Deathsworn Vol. II

9 - The Bridge of Lost Bones

The blood rage had never come to Bard as it had to his brother Elfrik. When battle was joined and men were dying about him he wasn't offered the mercy of the demon that possessed others; that beast that parlays with violence and forgives all sins in the name of survival. He hadn't been when they were caught in the ambush on the Cheese Road, when the Marcher Quarrels had begun and he had danced the death song for the very first time. Nor as those same quarrels had come to their grisly conclusion almost a year later, when shield wall had met shield wall and the marcher rebel Erulius Scabor had lost his head.

No, instead his nerves facilitated the seeing of the world in unsullied clarity. He saw Farai lower Kana onto the bridge, saw him make a show of dropping his wicker shield and beating his short spear upon his chest as he approached. He marked the intricacy of the patterns painted onto his muscled breasts in a dye of onyx, and for the first time the different colours of the headdress the Ooamanee had given Tall Toyne; of lemon yellow, of deep indigo, of magenta and cyan and summer gold. The Congana on the other side of the river exploded in a bestial roar of appreciation. 

Bard held his axe across his body, just as his uncle had taught him on the day he had handed the weapon down. It was the twin to the one his father had left Elfrik, one half of the deuce his grandfather, Oswyck the Grey Fury, had carried and cleaved with. It was a heavy thing. Yet I must be quick, or my end will be written.

With a quarter of the bridge left between them, Farai stopped and bared his pointed teeth. Savage he may be, but he's not entirely without sense. Bard had planned to permit his foe to cross the entire span, whilst keeping his own feet on firm ground where he could swing his axe without fear of losing balance. As it was, Farai held his ground and bid Bard come to him. And go I must. He edged onto the bridge tentatively, ears full with the sound of rushing water. The floor beneath him moved differently depending on where he placed his feet. The wind became a daunting force unto itself.

"Can you understand me?" he asked, slowly and distinctly, when he was close. Farai appeared different in the blanched hue of morning. In the village Bard had taken him for a seasoned warrior, but any claim to that had been purged with the coming of the sun. He was young. Certainly younger than Bard, in any case. Nineteen winters, perhaps, and eager to prove himself.

In response to the question, Farai lashed out with his spear. He was out of range, but Bard stepped back all the same.

"We don't have to do this. I'll give you this axe for the girl's life," Bard explained, presenting the weapon as Pono had but an hour ago. "Trading it will bring you many things."

Farai advanced two steps and tried with the spear again. Bard was forced to parry the second thrust with the head of his axe. "I won't ask again," he warned. "You can have my axe, or you can have my axe. Don't die for nothing." But Farai had already drank his fill from the goblet of promised grandeur. Bard could see it in his eyes. The brown pools betrayed his hunger; hunger to put on a show, hunger to prove his valour, hunger to claim a life. "Fine, have it y-"

Farai leapt forward, viper quick, his spear a blur that licked out and sheared the air. Bard felt a sudden searing pain high on his right arm, but before he could react he was stumbling backwards, the steel of the spear jabbing either side of his face as his head weaved from side to side. The bridge rocked dangerously as they danced, and yet Farai came onward at speed, a feline elegance to him as he skipped on the balls of his feet. Every spear thrust was accompanied by a passionate scream. He wants to end this quickly. He's young and he's fast and he's ... rash. 

Farai's attack petered out when Bard was nearly backed up to the end of the bridge again. Bard seized the opportunity and swung his axe in a sweep from right to left. Faria leapt well clear though, only for his spear to come shooting back without pause. So, that's the way of it ...