The Challenge - Draft One

Harrok's back!

Harrok circled his opponent, his new trolltooth dagger in one hand, his iron knifethe other. The tribe circled the pair, silent and staring. No cheering for their faveroites, no support was given to either member, for this was a solem occasion. Hurorkap, literally translated as "Bad blood spills" but meaning closer to "The spilling of bad blood/emotions" was a ceremony of the most dire kind, a ritual dual to either death or surrender. Due to the nature of the tradition, death was almost always the result.

Rejk faced Harrok in the circle, moving slowly and readily, his norscan-forged iron sword in two hands. Between the pair the tribes shamman, Krajh, stood tall. His bare chest was tattoed with occult designs, and ritual scars, which extended to his upper arms, neck, back and lower face. Holding a ceremonial dagger his hand he help it above the pair, in view of the surrounding crowd. The whole tribe watched as Krajh spoke, telling the tale of Orik and Bjorn, and the enmitty betwene the great ancestor-gods that was tearing the pair apart. Where Bjorn wanted to go south and fight the horse-riders and the hill-warriors, Orik thought that the tribe should flee north where the southern armies would not follow. Bjorn called Orik a coward, and a fued between the pair begun. Their conflict was tearing the tribe apart, and if something was not done, the tribe would schism and be crushed by their southern foes. The pair decided to fight a single combat, the winner would continue, and the loser would not trouble anyone, leaving the conflict solved one way or another. Since that legendary fight, any fight between tribe members or any personal hatred within the tribe that threatened the tribe as a whole were decided by Hurorkap.

Krajh lay the dagger in the centre of the circle, and then stepped back, joining the circle. Now in order to complete his challenge Rejk must throw the dagger in the air, and the moment it hit the ground, the pair would begin their fight. Neither must intentionally touch the dagger, for that symbolised surrender. The copper dagger flew high in the air, glittering in the low sunlight before plumeting down within the circle. The blade sunk into the soft snow, and the combatants lept at eachother.

Rejk swung his sword for a low hit, was parried by Harrok, reversed his sword and flicked his blade up attemping to cut Harrok's jagular. Harrok ducked, and stabbed with his trolltooth dagger as Rejk jumped back and lept on the offencive agian. Harrok jumped a second low swing, ducked a thrust to the throat and tackled his opponent, arms around Rejk's legs, holding the daggers out. The shock of this move caused Rejk to drop his sword, and Harrok dropped his dagger as his arm hit the ground. Freeing his arm, Harrok pulled his knife out from under Rejk, the cold iron dark against the slowflakes that adorned the crude blade. Rejk kicked Harrok in the face, spraying crimson blood over the pair, and possibly breaking bones. Spitting blood and teeth Harrok held Rejk down, barely flinching at the blow, despite the pain. He must seem relentless if he was to succeed. With a witheringly powerful headbut Harrok broke Rejk's nose, the younger fighter screaming in pain. Harrok placed a foot on Rejk's chest, and held the dagger over Rejk's neck. Asking Rejk if he would yeild he emphasised the point by placing the edge of his dagger against the soft skin on Rejk's throat. It was painfully cold, the rough blade raising pricks of blood from the exposed flesh.

Rejk suddenly stabbed Harrok in the leg with Harrok's dropped dagger. Again, unflinchingly Harrok took the blow. Deamons cried out in his head, but no outward sign of the agony was forthcoming. Pushing harder with his wounded leg, he felt intense pain but thanked Bjorn that he had missed the major tendons and muscles. Sudenly beneith his foot a rib broke, snapping loudly and painfully. Repeating in a voice that Harrok hoped was louder and more intimidating then it felt, Harrok one more requested "Yeild".

Rejk paniced beneith Harrok's boot and blade. He gave a scream of pain, and asked Harrok to finish it now. Instead Harrok stepped back and stood behind the dagger burried in the ground. He remained silent. The only noise that could be heard was the howl of the wind, and the heavy breaths of Rejk. Harrok stood there, breathing deaply, taking great pains not to sound laboured. He felt as if he would collapse any moment. Wondering whether he had chosen correctly, or if he would pass out and be finished by the younger warrior, and leave his wife a widow. His determination and reslove returned in full measure and he straightened, dispite the pain. The dagger was still in his leg, bleeding slowly as it tortured Harrok.

Rejk saw his choice. The message was easy, chose to surrender by touching the dagger, or fight Harrok, and die. He realised his fued wasn't worth dying for, and attempted to rise, but collapsed. He knew if he passed out he would die, Harrok would be forced to kill him. Marsheling his resources, he stood, stumbled a step forward and then fell. He began to crawl towards the dagger, and then collapsed. He almost passed out, and he felt his conciousness slipping away. Suddenly friendly hands lifted him to his feet, and helped carry him towards the ceremonial dagger. He knew the tribe couldn't interfere, and looked up to his benefactor.

Harrok carried the young warrior over to the knife, gritting his teeth, refusing to gasp in pain. He could't give in to pain now, not now when he had almost succeeded. Lying the young warrior down next to the knife, he kneeled over him. After a moments thought he grabbed Rejk's sword.

Rejk reached out for the dagger, and life. Suddenly he saw Harrok grabbing his sword, and bringing it over. Collapsing barely concious, he failed. He couldn't muster the strength even to grab the dagger. The blow to the head must have concussed him. "What a way to die" Rejk thought "Killed with one's own sword." He waited for the death blow, and he realised that Harrok had placed the sword next to him, and didn't mean to kill him. He summoned the last of his reserves of energy and grabbed the dagger. He then passed out, sinking into blackness.

******

A week later Rejk came to. Lying in a bead of moss, next to a fire, he was covered by the skins of many animals. Tossing them off he gasped in pain, as his ribs ached. Looking to his chest, he saw the sign of Orik cut into his chest. The sign of honourable defeat. But he surrendered? How could he have earned the sign of Orik? Pondering to himself he went back to sleep.

Over the next few days, Rejk heard the tales of how Harrok had spared him, carried him across to the dagger and how, after he had passed out, Harrok had carried him to the shaman's hut, and only after he had made sure Rejk's wounds were bound, had removed the knife in his leg and bound his own cuts. How as he slept, Harrok carved the sign of Orik into his chest.

A week after the fight, Rejk could sit up and walk unassisted, his head injuy fully healed. His rib still hurt badly, particularly when he moved, but Krajh told him that he could hunt in another three weeks or more. Sitting in the shamman's hut, his tempory abode until he healed, a visitor walked in. Harrok sat down next to Rejk, and handed him the ceremonial dagger. Freashly sharpened the tip gleamed with a copper sheen. Rejk took the dagger and carved the sign of Bjorn into him, sealing his own loss, but graciosly with honour. Harrok smiled, and calmly worked on the open cuts on his chest, first covering them in healing salves, then binding them closed with cloth made from the hair of the Trakun, the great hairy yak of the northern mountians.

Rejk's next move shocked Harrok completely. Rejk took the ceremonial knife to his own skin again. Calmly cutting into his own arm, Rejk cut a stylised skull of a great bear into his own arm. As he did so he said to Harrok "Brothers in mingled blood, your family is mine*. Your enamies are my foes. Any fight you are in, I will watch your back before mine, defend your hut and fire as if it was mine own. If you take my oath, take this dagger now." Finishing these words of submission, he offered the knife to his potential leige. Harrok took the knife, and placed it in his belt, before returning the traditional responce. "Brothers in mingled blood, your family is mine*. Your allies are my friends. Any fight you are in, I will fight alongside you, defend your hut and hearth, for it is now mine."

Clasping eachothers forarms in the warrior grip the pair exchanged a smile. Rejk understood now that he was Harrok's man to command. His own disagreement was elipsed by the service he owed his new Jorg. (Roughly translates as leige or honour lord.) Harrok said to him "Rest now, sleep. When the dawn breaks, we will have much to talk on. Now I must return to my hut and family."

____________________
Notes:
*The word used was "Myln", which translates from Norscan to something close to mine. No ownership is inferred, and it is used as one would use mine in english reffering to one's own family.

Chapter 10 - Shadow sounds

G'day readers. Here's chapter 10 - Shadow sounds. If you want to read from the start, chapter one is here.

AEgon moved to the front of the marching order with Jarrod, finding that today the long and dreary march tired him not at all, despite the lack of sleep the night before. Iryl was walking next to Marie, renewing her hold on the physical world with a charm. "I know you haven't showed any signs of fading though yet, however I can't promise that I'll be with you when you do start to fade. This should keep you here until you are ready to go on. This magic will draw mana from the world around you - so if you start to fade go to a graveyard or a crypt and rest there for a few days as the charm builds strength again."

Turning to Bjorn he continued "Now, I couldn't re-create what I did with AEgon here, there were other forces in movement, and to be honest I'm not exactly sure how I did that. But this should help you instead. You haven't faded since your time - and if AEgon is correct you're an ancient ghost, much older then any I have met. I can sense some kind of magic already in play upon your spirit, although I can't tell what. Rather then tamper with it, I have added a layer of magic over it, that will take excess mana from that spell and allow you to use that to become corporeal at will." Iryl happily bubbled on about magical theory and the new spells he had placed upon the pair.

AEgon and Jarrod kept an eye out for the rest of the group, still worried by the events of the night before. Although the forest was thick they were traveling on a scrub path though the forest - not easy going by any means, but infinitely preferable to wandering through the forest at random, and much easier. The maps they were supplied with had no directions concerning the inside of this forest, but they were going roughly west, which was a good sign. Occasionally the forest crown would break, and they could see the sallow sunlight steaming in from behind them. The group would stop momentarily at these rare glimpses of light, before setting their shoulders and marching back into the silent shadows of the forest.

A low mournful sound wailed, causing the group to halt again, before stopping as suddenly as it started. "You hear that?" Jarrod piped up, breaking the eerie silence. Unconvingly Iryl dismissed it "Probably just a wolf, best to keep moving." They started their march again, this time with a watchful silence settling over the group. Even AEgon felt nervous, despite the fact that being already dead, whatever it was probably couldn't do any more to him.

The noise sounded again, this time the group sped up, nervously picking up the pace. Their watchfulness became jumpy, every forest noise made them jump. Again the noise sounds. It starts to become more frequent, every few minutes it echoed out through the forest, always from a different place; sometimes as if from nowhere, other times as if from everywhere. Like an invisible chorus it sung its mournful howling dirge from around them.

Soon it was calling out in a matter of seconds after it stopped, and then started to overlap itself. It had a sense of a predator closing in on helpless prey. The group began to run, but then Bjorn called out reassuringly, and commanded them to hold. They gathered into a circle, facing outwards, and watched, waiting for whatever it was to show itself.

The sound began to rise in pitch, becoming a scream, then a screech, then cutting out altogether. Jarrod went to talk, but found that he couldn't hear himself. Either could anyone else. Panic ensured. AEgon and Bjorn stood like levians above the panic, as the group screamed soundlessly to each other, desperate to be heard.

Bjorn began to stride forwards, an ethereal axe appearing in his hand. AEgon peered into the darkness, and then saw it, a ghost amongst the trees. Almost invisible in the dark, its ethereal form was like an un-shadow. Following bjorn, he drew as much mana as he could from the area around him, and willed it into a short sword in his hand. As he approached, he could see it was a woman. She turned as gave out a screech. AEgon heard a cry behind him, and looked back over his shoulder to see Jarrod and Iryl spasming on the ground, Marie kneeling over them, trying to calm them. He turned back, and it was gone.

*********
That evening a recently recovered Iryl revealed what he had surmised about their attack. "Basically, we're dealing with a banshee. A spirit of a a person, usually a woman, who has been killed in childbirth." Marie giggled and asked "Ummm, how can a man die in childbirth?"
"It's happened before, mainly magical pregnancies. Backfiring fertility spells and such. Irrelavently, the spirit will remain near the mortal plane, unless it is banished, destroyed or its child is burried propperly. If the child is alive, they are peaceful, and don't have much to do with the mortal plane, but once the child dies, it is a different story. Which is part of the reason orphans are sought after by unscrupulous aenecromanc-" AEgon coughed loudly, interrupting Iryl's flow. Iryl stuttered and then continued "But that is something to be explained another day. In order to eliminate it if it attacks again, we need to banish or destroy it, since the alternative is largely inconvenient. I propo-" Again AEgon interrupted, with a loud and altogether fake fit of coughing.

"I was getting to the heart of the matter AEgon, so be patient. We need one of you three ghosts to kill it. You'll need to find the correct spectral resonance dep-" This time Bjorn interrupted.
"We need to kill it, by hitting it. AEgon, you know how to touch another ghost, right? Good. Plan is, if it turns up again, we hit it, until it goes away, since Jarrod or Iryl won't be able to do much if it turns up. Marie, make sure if they're 'urt that you look after them. Talking done, now get ta sleep. I want to get out've this forest tomorrow if we get the chance. AEgon and I will take care of the watch."

18th delays

G'day any readers I might have. I turned 18 yesterday, so odds are I won't be getting much work in on this any time soon. The next chapter is in progress, so it won't be too long. Cheers all, take it easy.