Urberer makes his way through the usual maze of alley’s finding himself deeper into low-town. The moon served as a helpful source of light as he made his way. There were some houses whose’s inside lights spilled out onto the pathway, but beyond a few old iron post with aging magic lights, the area was fairly dark. However, he could see the cloaked figure ahead of him, several homes width away, and seemingly unaware of being followed.
We are getting closer and closer to the orphanage. I suppose my hunch was right. What bad guy doesn’t want a drink after a long nights work, or to start off their merry trouble making. Ha. If this is a trafficker he’s going wish he never stepped foot on this island. And I won’t have to worry about Gricrir getting in the way of me extracting information or in Dune trying to murder them outright. Gricrir with his honorable sensibilities and Dune with his, hm, sensibilities, are hard to manage sometimes. Wait, what the?
The cloaked person had entered a space that was not quite the size of a proper plaza, but definitely was still a frame out square with an old cistern in the middle. As soon as they had entered the space, they cut an angle to the right, whi caused for the walls to block his view. It was such a subtle but swift mood that Urberer almost lost them.
Damn. I can’t lose them here. No one else is out here. No guards. None of Dune’s eyes. I hate to chase.
Urberer increased his speed, careful not make his sounds heard. Getting the corner, he almost ran around it, but stopped.
Don’t run around corners. Peek about. Don’t run into an archers arrow.
He stayed away from the corner of the wall, and inched slowly around its corner, always trying to see more of what might be on the other side. By the time he was on the other side, he saw nothing.
There was no archer on the other side waiting to shoot him. There was no group waiting to wrestle him down. There was simply no one there. He kept walking out, eyeing the second floors of buildings and watching the rooftops. No one could grapple up a rooftop as fast and he got around the corner, so it was no a true concern.
“This doesn’t make any sense. There was a person right here. I’m sure I saw someone.”
The cawing of a bird overhead catches his attention, its shadowing falling overhead. He looks up to see a large crow flying to a rooftop. It lands, its wings flipping up debris and then stairs at him, cawing again.
A voice whispers to his ear “I’m right here.”
Urberer instincts rose up in. Someone who should not had been there was suddenly there, and had the ability to knife him right there. He used every bit of force he could to dive onto the ground. Landing, he slaps the ground with his hand to dissipate some of the force of the impact. He quickly rolls to his back, placing a stick in front of him.
“You and I have a lot to talk about, Monk,” came the voice from cloak, with expunged a dangerous sense of control of the area.
Urberer scrambled to his feet. He forced his voice to act the part of an easy going man, but his heart raced. “Yes, miss? Should I say miss or misses? Or lady? You looked like you were lost. Can I help you? Were you on your way to the orphanage?”
“You were here to help me Monk?” She steps towards him.
“Yes. How do you know me? Are you an admirer? I have many. And I must say, I am not speaking to any ladies right now in that way. If you would like to do a confession, we can wait until morning and go to high-temple. Or -“ the figure continues to move towards him. He takes a step back, an growing unease spreading through his being.
“Tell me Monk. Is that what you say to all your abductees? Huh? Do you wow them with their charm and then sell them off?
“What do you mean? I think you have me mistaken.”
“There is a special place in the abyss for people like you, Monk. People who break the faith and serve up their own people. Disgusting. And I’ve seen a lot of disgusting things.”
Calm down Urberer. Use your mind and communicate. This is not the first time you’ve been in a situation.
“I do think you have me mistaken.”
“I hade you mistaken for a follower of the faith. Now I see you for who you are. You repeap a harvest of innocent souls in the darkness of night. You go to and fro acting as the bringer of holy things for all the people on the island, just so that you can set up your mark. A strategic and well enacted plan; which makes it all the more vile.
“Can we talk about this. I think we are hear for the same thing actually. I’ve been tracking a group -“
The woman interurpts, her pacing starting to quicken as she shortens the distance “ And a man with a plan and the will to execute them one of the most dangerous beings around. Your plans end tonight monk. But I do have mercy as your faith dictates.
“I will kill you brutally, but swiftly if you give me the information I want. I will kill you brutally, but slowly if you do not. Fair?”
“Not fair. Can we skip the whole brutality thing and just talk.”
“You chose death when you kidnapped Abby.”
“Abby who?”
“So the slow and brutal death? My pleasure.” She then punches a hand towards Urberer, opening it at the last minute. He had not noticed, but her hands were closed the whole time. From them was black dust with glitter. It hit his eyes, agitating him, and then ignited into a blinding flash.
Ug. My eyes.
On instincts he raised his staff vertically in front of his body. The first blow was too blurry to see. But the second, was visible. The woman hand launched her whole body at him, was in air and kicking at his staff. She rotated gracefully in the air, her cloak twisting off of her and landing on top of Urberer.
This is bad.
He attempted to free himself, but the cloak was artfully placed and long enough to be complex to get off.
Snap. He took a hit to the right side of his head, causing him to stumble backward in the opposite direction.
Whamp. This time, he stumbled into a more forceful blow to the left side of his cranium. His thoughts left him momentary, now staggering backwards again. A solid blow, like that of a foot landed in his gut, taking his breath and sending him flying backwards.
He landed on his back. The weight of his body hitting the ground unhibited by any efforts to slow him down, took away his chance to regain his breath and sent him sliding across the cobblestone ground and hitting into something he couldn’t see.
Come on body. Don’t just lay here now. I promise I’ll drink less.
He strains to move his body.
Come on. I know I say that all the time, but come on ,really.
He strains once more and his begins to move. In an uncoordinated, but successful effort he removes the cloak, regaining his eyesight. Touching behind him realized where he was. The fight had moved him into the center of this makeshift plaza and his back was up against the cistern. Who is this woman?
He wiped debris from his face, and looked over it briefly, Pixie dust and charcoal debris? He looked up at the woman, she had not gotten much closer. She was bouncing, with her right side forwards, in an athletic combats stance. Her gear consisted of form fitting black leather. Black leather boots, leather leggings, leather chest guard and bracers. These items all had dulled color gems, magical genes he was sure. Her face and head were hidden by a shaw, and on her waist was a black belt with two daggers sheathed in.
I guess she was the stalker?
She stops bouncing. And points at him. “Where is Abby?”
“Abby who?”
“You will tell me where Abby is fuck- face,” the control of her tone starting to fluctuate. “Abby. Abigail. The girl who you kidnapped after she left the orphanage. The orphanage she used to play at as a kid and serves now. Your orphanage!”
Forcing a smile as he gets to his feet, surprised that his staff was still in hand. “Yes, Abby. She’s a good girl. A servant of the faith. If you give me a moment I can explain everything. We really, really are on the same side, I’m telling you. How about we just take a few moments to talk, we’ll compare notes onto what we know.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“I’ll help you find her and we’ll free who ever else has been captured. And if you find me to still be suspect I’ll gladly give myself in to be tried by the guards and the Grand Temple. Plus, it’s not like you can’t beat me. I am a simple monk after all! Heck, I’ll even throw in unlimited use of my tab at the Inn. What do you say?
Come on, I’m offering to give her everything I can. She clearly has the martial ability here, or so she would suspect. I’m offering her information. I’m offering to show her where to go, and free beer! This has got to work.
“No”.
Unable to hold in as a thought, he asked “what?”
“I said no monk. You will give me all the information I ask for and I will save my friend. But you die here. The scales of life must be balanced. ANd your life, for your artrosticites are forefeit.”
“I know Abigail was taken not long ago. From around here, like you said. It’s been reported to the guards. They’ll be looking into it.”
“Old news, monk” her voice sounds of disgust as she states his profession.
“Who are you?” He asked, forcing himself to sound weak and overwhelmed; he did not have to act too hard at the overwhelmened aspect.
In negotiations, always give something to your partner. Even if small, they’ll feel obligated to give something back. The law of reciprocation.
“I am the one they send when work must be done. And in this case, I am the one sent to make a small family feel at ease of the return of their daughter. I am commissioned and I do not fail.” She walks to him, hands going to her blades.
“Your name. Just your name. You can at least give a man that.”
“I owe no man anything.
Bad word choice.
“Please. If you will kill me, at least tell me that much.”
“I am Dusk Walker.”
Urberer blinked a few times. He had heard of this person before. Always involved in nefarious dealings that had gone wrong. But no one knew who she was, or how to reach her. All he knew was one thing. Carnage.
Her pace took up the speed of a charge.
I knew this was going to be a pain. Why did I sign up for this. Wait, I know, if I act like him...
His voice took on a more serious sound, his eyes grew tired and his breathing slowed “Please stop. I believe we are on the same team. I can help you.”
“You’re death will help us all.”
“Please stop.”
She continues her charge.
He closes his eyes and takes in a full inhale and then exhales.
“Fine.” He shifts his stance and extends his staff in a forward thrust.
Dusk Walker plants a heel and stutter steps to avoid an onward collision with his staff. It shoots out just past her ear. Not free of its range Urberer, flicks the staff towards her head causing it to hit her ear. She drops to a knee.
“What did you do?” She said.
Thinking to himself, My Gricrir act is spot on. And I have to admit, his style of counter-striking has rubbed off. I’m surprised I landed that. Now, what would he say to make her back down. I really can’t afford to fight her.
“You know exactly what I did. I gave you a concussion. You are vulnerable for the next few moments. On the battlefield, this would be your death, unless you had help. You do not.” His voice is distant and his eyes look through her.
“I do not want to fight you. I do not want to harm you. I just want to help you. If you’re goal is to find this Abigail, and return her to her family, than we are on the same team. Please take this as an offering of peace.” He extends a free hand of peace in her direction.
“You made three mistakes monk.”
“Yes?”
“You took Abigail. You think I’d fall for your false hero gimmick. And lastly,” she grits her teeth, trying for force herself up “you thought I didn’t have a battle partner.”
Even if she did, my back is protected by this cistern. That’s why I stayed here. He looks around.
“What?”
Dusk Walker points up.
Urberer looks up and at the same time a large black crow descends upon him, attempting to peck his eyes out.
“You’re mine,” Dusk Walker yells out.
Urberer tries to keep an eye on her through the bird attacks. He sees her being raised up but can’t quite keep clear.
Damn bird. I’m a monk. Birds like me. I like birds. Damn it.
Through one of the bird attacks he sees a blade coming to his face.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
******
Blood.
Life energy. Source.
Urberer was told long ago that some blades were laced with a malificient touch that altered them forever. An odd fact. But odd facts have a funny way of showing up in the most dangerous of times. This fact hit him as the blade flew through the raucous of fallen feathers and flapping wings; its edge aimed at his throat with the intent to leave a drowning victim.
Its blade did pierce him, feasting on his blood as it went by, hungrt for another bite of being. A hunger, beget by being denied part of its meal. While not a total escape, Urberer had dodged the attack. He hastily thrust his staff behind him, butted it in the angled between the cistern and the ground, used his under arm to ride the staff backwards until his body hit the cistern with a heavy sound.
He clutched his staff which had luckily remained within his control, and now back in front of him again after his slide. He did a weak sweep in front of himself until he could regather his grip. The crow, almost having taken a hit by this flew up and off. Dusk Walker had slid a step back, her posture still aggressive but her eyes, Urberer thought, hinted at a surprise that she did not hit her mark.
Thinking to himself, Well, my Gricrir expression didn’t seem to work. She doesn’t seem to be giving up either. Not just that, I barely escaped that last attack. I could have rolled it, twisting my body to left or right but I’m sure she would have cut my neck; not necessarily fatal but could be. He pushes himself up off the ground, weapon trained on the woman, blood now flowing from the crown of his head.
Urberer observed her as she stalked around in a circle. He used the shoulder of his lead hand to wipe the blood from his brow. The bleeding was not stopping, despite how many times he wiped it back, and each time it got closer and closer to his eye. Thinking to himself, Damn. And who’d thought she would have followed through so deep in that thrust. She’s not going to give up. And to top that off, I got pecked at by an attack crow. I mean who has an attack crow of all things?And why don’t I have an attack crow.
Urberer got his back from the cistern and said “you know, stabbing me in the throat isn’t going to get you any more information. You do know this right? It’s like, I don’t know, plucking the wings off a canary or,” he gestures to the crow off on a roof edge “A crow. They can’t do a good job warning you about danger.”
“Poor metaphor. Canary’s live in cages to die at their master hands. A slow death in the mines. An a crow needs only its eyes and voice.”
The crow caws loudly. It does so several times and beats its wings, while still staying perched. The woman looks up gesturing to the crow.
Urberer noticed this slight distraction. He grabs a flask from his cloak, splashes it on his hand. He hurriedly places his hand on the bleeding section. His hand now covered in blood, he places it on the tip of his staff.
The woman notes his actions and faces him again. “Booze before death? You are worthless. Do not worry. I shall clean your remains off this realm. If you wish to die with some goodness in your heart, you should tell me where Abby is now. It is your last chance.
I guess we won’t be able to avoid bloodshed. Her bloodshed. He thought to himself. He felt a weight behind his eyes as he considered the thought. Battle was something that he knew. Its fear. Its exhilaration. The nervousness in the hands and the feet at the first clash of battle with a worthy foe. The pit in the stomach that forms when you know this is not a sparring match. The dry tongue and thirty throat. The need to pee. And then the bliss of the moment. Of being fully engaged in the fight. But there is something else he knew. He knew what it was like to see the life leave the eyes of another. He knows the sounds of death. Gurgling sounds of drowning in one’s own blood. The wheezing sounds coming from a punctured lung. The labored breath like a hard snore until there was no more. If they were lucky, it was a quiet breath that just ceased as they, like the spirit in their eyes faded. He knew the sights and sounds of death, from one on one to the grand scale of war units. But there was something more that he knew about battle and death. This is senseless.
“Dusk Walker, I don’t want to fight. Nor do I want to die by your hand. There are others who I think would have better claim to my head than you do. If they wish to seek me out, that’s fine. But you are and I have no quarrel. I tell you, I am on your side. But I will not just let you take me this day either. I have people to protect here just the same, and even finding your Abby is on that list. I can’t do that if I’m dead.”
Dusk Walker shrugs her shoulders.
Urberer lets out a true sigh. “Damn it. As you wish.” He wipes away the blood from his brow, the wound itself mending at an accelerated pace. He holds his staff out horizontally in front of him and gives one respectful nod. He then slides the staff down until he’s hold the last quarter of the staff and has it aimed at Cahtri.
Cahtri comes at him, closing the distance with speed and grace. Urberer unleashes a flurry of jabs with his spear at her, aimed at her torso and head. The change in heights does give her pause, but she finds the tempo of his attacks and begins to parry and pivot like a graceful dancer.
I can’t keep her out of close range. She’s eating up this distance. If she gets close I’ll lose my advantage. Who in the abyss did she train under? Urberer thought to himself.
Urberer speeds up his strikes to which Dusk Walker, with effort keeps up. Urberer fakes a high attack, causing her to raise her guard. He then sweeps the staff straight down, aimed at smashing her toes.
Dusk Walker performs a perfectly timed pivot. The force she had to used unblanacers her slightly. Urberer noticing this begins to make wide arcing sweeps with his staff, attacking to the head, to the body, and to the feet.
Cahtri fights now at a disadvantage, going backwards. She’s dips down, dodging a number of head strikes. Several times she ends up hopping over swipes at her feet, which causes Urberer’s staff to scrape the ground.
At the last moment Urberer fakes another arcing swing. He cuts the swing short, pulls back on the staff and then thrust forward at her mid section. Dusk Walker flips one of her blades upside down and blocks the strike. But instead of knocking the staff out of the way, she keeps contact with her blade, and rides the length of the shaft down to her target.
“Got you.”
“No you don’t!” Urberer growls, sending out a piercing kick with his front leg, hitting Dusk Walker in the hips, and stopping her advance.
She’s gotten herself in. I won’t be able to use long range anymore. She’s, she’s good. Urberer thought to himself. He draws his weapon back so that both hands are near the middle and begins attacking with either end of the staff in combinations.
The fight turns into an exchange of strikes and parries between the two. For every strike Urberer would provide, Dusk Walker would catch it with her two bladed weapons and then strike back. Urberer would angle his staff and block.
Their weapons banged and clashed. The two were interlocked in flurry of strikes, parries, and blocks made it’s own symphony of sound and their offensive and defensive footwork and body angles were the accompanying dance.
And for a moment their union was perfect. Totally involved, equally matched, and internally at peace. It had been a long time since Urberer had felt this way. He was free to be his full-self. And not just that, but with someone else. For a moment he did not have to worry. He did not have to be responsible. He did not have to be fearful of harming someone. He was no longer tied to darken pass nor beholden to ambiguous future. He just simply was, being. In that moment he could not help but smile. He unconsciously looked Dusk Walker in the eyes and he was sure he saw it. The same quiet joy of true freedom reflected back in her own.
“It’s Urberer the monk. Get him.,” yell a heavy male voice.