Distractions
"I don't think that it's wholly unreasonable," said Rusty in his ingratiating way, "to expect a simple answer to a simple question."
Runa grunted.
"Yes, of course. How silly of me. But of course it's unreasonable."
"I hate to take his side," Hroar said, "and I mean it. But Rusty's right. You've scarcely said a word all morning."
Runa grunted.
Hroar threw up his hands, dropping his horse back to Rusty's pace.
Runa had woken in a downright foul mood. They had declined the invitation to join the band of bandit-hunters and decided there was no need to head back to the city, either, so they'd made camp in the wilderness. She had slept terribly. Now, as she rode a good few horses ahead of the boys, she wanted to get down to kick at every stupid boulder and clump of snow in her path. Not that it was their fault, but then again, who could say that it wasn't. Far as she was concerned, the whole universe had decided to align itself to pull one over on her, so every part of it was suspect in her book. At least the sun had the good sense of not showing its face.
What had she really hoped for Vigrod to give her? The Nightingale's daily schedule and a detailed list of his weak points? No, in truth the elusive man had given her plenty—if it turned out that there really was a passage to the Nightingale's personal hideout, why, that would give her an extraordinary advance over him. A shot at him on a silver platter. So what was she so miffed about?
It's simply because now you're beginning to realize the hopelessness of your situation. You've managed to strut and pose your way this far, but now that it's getting to be time to do something, you have to admit that failure is as imminent as it is inevitable.
"Too many words, fool," she muttered. "And besides, you don't know anything about me."
Know about you? Fool, I am you!
Runa grunted.
"Where are we going?" Rusty insisted behind her, sounding increasingly less patient.
"Back to the Rift," she said over her shoulder.
"Back to the Rift," he repeated. "Yeah, that's real helpful. Could've never figured that out."
See that? Even your most trusted men have lost their faith in you. And who could blame them—
It was obvious that she needed something else to occupy her mind with. Thoughts of naked flesh usually did it, though those hadn't exactly been on top of her mind today. Still, it was worth the try. Let's see, now. Maybe a—
A sudden flash: an image of a man, knifed to death in his bed. A woman crouched on the floor with a toddler boy underneath her, both stabbed through and through. Smell of death. A little girl through whose eyes she viewed the horrid spectacle. A family.
Her family.
Runa shook her head. Not her family. Her family consisted of the most famous and revered heroine in Skyrim for a mother, and a dead sister, Lucia, a strange quiet little girl who had died unexplainedly.
No, scrap that. All in the past. Her current family was right here with her. These two miserable bastards. Loyally backing her up, as they always did . . .
She drew rein.
The boys caught up with her, stopped their horses on each side.
Hroar frowned. "You alright?"
"Yeah," said Rusty. "Suddenly realize you have no idea where—?"
Runa reached out to swat his arm.
"Ow!" he cried.
"What is it, Runa?" Hroar asked.
Runa studied him. Such an earnest face. Loyal to a fault. Like a dear, dumb dog.
"I'm sorry," she blurted.
Now he really looked concerned. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"I'm . . . fine," she managed. She cast a look around, then at her men each in turn. "Just, I'm sorry, that's all."
"Are you . . .," Rusty said in disbelief, "apologizing?"
She scowled. "Don't make me take it back."
"Just to clarify," said Hroar, "What, exactly, are you apologizing for?"
"Well . . . you know. For, everything."
Rusty nodded with mock reflection. "Yes. Yes, I've been waiting for this for quite some time."
"Can you be serious for a second?" Hroar snapped.
Rusty rolled his eyes.
"Listen, fellows," Runa said. "I have an idea—"
"Well, well, well. Look who we should run into!"
All three heads swung in the direction they'd come from. Five familiar faces. Dirty and ugly, as usual, with a few new scuffs and grazes to boot. Torn clothes, fresh blood stains. The Meathead posse. Something about their step did not seem entirely steady.
As the men caught up with them, Thorgir the Meathead flashed Runa a self-satisfied grin. "Well met. This is as far as you got?"
"You're done sooner than I expected. Forced to a retreat, were you?"
Thorgir barked a laugh. "In your dreams, maybe! Nah, me and the boys, after some more guidance sought from the spirit of the bottle, decided to forgo sleep altogether and surprise the bastards in their sleep. A grand idea that turned out to be, the fools were caught wholly unprepared! Some fierce bandits, hah!"
"Feiri dead, then?"
"Indeed, the bitch bites the dust. Had my way with her before laying her to waste though."
"No, you didn't!"
"Ha! Aye, you got me there. Can't say I didn't try, though. Turned out it was easier to simply kill 'er."
Hroar wrinkled his nose. "You're disgusting."
Thorgir gave the man a minute glance. "Aye, well that ain't no news, boy, now is it?"
"Bet she killed herself once she figured out what you were up to," said Runa.
Thorgir snorted. "My gentle love would've been no worse than what she deserved!"
"You said it."
"You gentlemen going to walk with us?" asked Rusty.
"It'd be an honor," Thorgir said. "If only you'll have us."
It looked like Rusty swallowed a comment. Likely wise.
"But of course," Runa said. "You can tell us all about your night."
"I'll be glad to!"
"I didn't mean it, you know."
The man actually managed to look disappointed.
And so they continued together, the three getting down to walk their horses. Runa couldn't deny welcoming this sudden diversion. She didn't at all mind the uncouth travel company of fellow warriors: some more mouth-shooting, general bragging, and crass jokes instead of whatever unhelpful thoughts and feelings her own head seemed intent on churning.
Yes, distractions were most welcome.
You can't avoid it forev—
"Say, Thorgir," she called. Thorgir was in the process of chiding one of his men over some detail or other from last night. "How about the Redguards?"
"What Redguards?"
"Surely you ran into them as you were headed this way?"
"Didn't head this way. Took the long route via Valtheim Towers. Had some passing business there." He cracked his large knuckles as he came to walk beside her.
"Ah, then you're in for a treat!"
"Treat, eh? So these Redguards buxom, scantly-glad female Redguards?"
"Not exactly. Well endowed, though. At least some of them."
"How do you— Hah, never mind! What was I thinking? It's you we're talking about here, after all."
"You said it."
His eyes narrowed. "That reminds me . . ."
"Forget it."
"Now, where's this coming from? Have I ever left you wanting me before?"
"You've left me scratching, that's what."
"Ah, that. I've had that little problem fixed."
"Haven't I heard that before."
The banter between them lasted a while longer. Runa dug out a couple of the ales she'd stashed in her satchel before leaving Whiterun and offered one to Thorgir. They bantered, and they drank, and Runa dug out another pair of bottles, feeling only a little miffed about the drain in her storage. The drink was nice and cool. It made her almost forget her worries.
Eventually the drink, including the couple she'd had for breakfast, took its toll and she had to take a break to relieve herself in the shrubs. No need to wait around, she told the others and so they walked ahead. For some reason it took her a long time to squeeze everything out satisfactorily.
The band had moved on by the time she clambered back onto the path. Only Vigrod had dropped back, and was waiting for her halfway.
"Better?" he asked.
"What's up, Vigrod?"
He regarded her. "You're really going through with this, are you?"
Runa shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"
"Aye," Vigrod replied at length. "Well, there is something—" He glanced about. "—something else occurred to me."
"Is that so?" Runa replied. "What's that, then?"
"Well, it might not be anything of note."
"Out with it, I've no patience for your charades."
Vigrod chuckled. "Alright. Fair enough. Well there's talk of mysterious excavations the Nightingale's been running lately. He's been looking for something. Must be important."
"Unless he's there swinging the pickaxe himself, I don't see how that helps."
"He does seem to show a significant interest in the digging. I'd wager there's a chance you could meet him there."
Without asking for specifications about where "there" might have been, Runa gave Vigrod a suspicious glare. "How come you know so much about the Nightingale's business anyway?"
"Now, Runa. Would I really give up my secrets?"
"You make me regret letting you off the hook too easy last night. Would be interesting to know just what you were willing to give up."
A flash of something like greed. His eyes quickly scanned her up and down. "Are you coming on to me?"
Runa snorted. "You wish."
"I wouldn't say no."
"I wouldn't ask, if I was of the mind. Which I ain't."
He clicked his tongue. "Shame."
"Don't know nothing about that," she replied. "So. You got anything else?"
"What else do you need? There are no shortcuts, you know. You've picked yourself one hell of a challenge. You might not make it, this time."
"I'll be the judge of that," Runa said. "Hey! We're almost there." She hopped onto Frost. "Gotta get a look at Thorgir's face when he sees them." She picked up her pace to catch the rest of the posse.
"See what?" called Vigrod from behind him.
That was the question. And as Runa reached the vanguard, as they reached a spot from where they'd be able to spy the Redguard roadblock, it became apparent that the answer was not quite what she'd expected it to be.
For the course was clear.
"Well, I'll be damned," she said, pulling her horse to a stop.
"You most definitely will be that, Runa." Thorgir said. "In that regard, you're no better than the rest of us."
"You don't understand," she said. "They were just here. With no apparent hurry to relocate. Where could they have gone?"
"The Redguards, I presume. Could be you made 'em up?"
Runa rolled her eyes, gesturing at the site. There was no doubt that a camp had stood here not a sunrise ago. Faint smoke still rose from some hastily stifled embers. "I suppose I'm seeing things, then, and there aren't these signs even a blind halfwit could decipher?"
Thorgir snorted. "Aye, I'm just messing with you, girl. No need to get all worked up." He shrugged. "So they're gone, what of it?"
"I agree," said Rusty, ignoring the other man's vicious glare. "Good riddance, I say, needlessly blocking good people's path!"
Thorgir barked a laugh at the chosen adjective, clearly missing Rusty's sarcasm.
"Just don't make sense to me," Runa insisted, not knowing herself why it bothered her so. What was, after all, her motivation? Had she really been so eager to see how Thorgir would react? Or had she perhaps secretly been hoping to see Kamid al-Kalad again? I can't deny it, wouldn't pass up another roll with that one. Knew exactly where everything was, he did.
The mere thought was almost enough to improve her mood. Then it darkened again, as she realized she wasn't getting any action any time soon. At least any good action. Hell, she'd settle on killing someone, but even that wasn't looking so strong at the moment.
"I fail to see," said Thorgir, a meaty finger deep in one nostril, "what the problem is here."
Runa shook her head. "Just feels like something ain't—"
"Fair-Shield!"
Runa's head snapped in the direction of the snarl.
Ahead, perched atop a grassy knoll, a familiar ugly female face leered down at them, making Runa grit her teeth.
The spite in Loria's grin was plain as day. "Surprised to see me, are you?"
"Actually," Runa called, "I can't say that I am!" Her hands went to the pommels of her blades.
Loria did not miss that. Her grin quirked, and after a quick scope of Runa's bristling entourage, she gave a sharp whistle.
And then she was no longer alone on that hill. On each side of her, unmounted and well-armed folks appeared on the hill. And then more on foot from behind trees.
Loria looked around, grinning. "I see that this time you brought along more friends . . . and so did I."
Without further ado, Loria waved her hand towards Runa's gang, and the armed thugs attacked. She herself turned her horse and, laughing, vanished over the knoll.
With a curse, Runa grabbed Frost's reins and heaved herself atop the horse. A nudge and he was agallop. The two thugs in her way had time to neither jump aside nor lift a weapon.
"Wait up!" Runa screamed as she crested the knoll. "I knew you were still alive, but there's an easy fix for that!"
A hundred yards ahead, Loria grinned over her shoulder, and the damn woman was giggling. Well, she won't be for much longer!
Runa smiled as Frost was rapidly gaining on the other woman's roan mare. She'd soon catch up to the bitch and, well, that clunky hammer strapped to her back would not be much of a defense. In these circumstances, a well-aimed backstab would not be beneath Runa.
"You should have planned this one out better!" she cried. "This time you won't vanish on me."
Loria looked back again and locked eyes with Runa. Still grinning, the fool. Then her eyes traveled to her right, and those thin lips spread out wider.
Frowning, something moving in her peripheral vision, Runa followed the bandit's gaze. "Goddamn", she muttered. Two more riders had appeared from behind a bank to the left. More bandits, coming at her. "Not so dumb after all."
As their eyes met again, the smirking small woman gave a small shrug. Then Runa noticed the two other bandits coming at her from the trees on the right. She had to admit it: looked a lot like she was the fool here.
She'd let herself be lured into a damn trap!
Runa set her jaw and sawed at Frost's reins to bring their pace a down a notch. She'd have to give up catching Loria . . . for now. She'd have to deal with these bozos first.
Then she noticed one rider on each side sporting a bow: aimed at her, as one might assume. "Shit." There was little she could do about arrows right now, and so the best she could think of was to press herself lower against Frost.
Which helped with the fist missile swooshing at her head from the left. Missed by hair's breadth. The other one snapped against a rock on the ground. Yes, of course. Shooting her horse would do the trick as well. She'd rather the poor boy did not need to take her hits, so she'd better clear the situation up and quick.
She pulled hard on the reins, and Frost swerved to the left. The look on the horsewoman's face was worth seeing as the white stallion rammed into the slighter horse. Runa used the confusion and swung one sword at her. Despite the commotion, however, the bandit proved agile and was able to fling herself backwards to evade the blade. From behind the bandit, then, the leftmost bowman fired another one, and the shaft hissed just past Runa's nose.
She had barely enough time for a breath of relief before a bitter curse passed her lips. Sharp, biting pain in her right thigh. She could picture the arrow jutting out of it before her eyes could affirm the fact. Damn. Those breeches were almost new!
Nice set of priorities you've got there.
"You keep your mouth shut," Runa muttered through the pain. "Got enough on my hands here."
The bandit on her left was preparing for an attack, a thin blade glimmering in the sunlight. Her own weapon in her right hand, her left one busy holding the rein, Runa would be unable to switch hands fast enough for an efficient parry. An arrow in the leg was one thing. A stab wound in the side would prove a whole another thing to contend with.
Regretfully, she looked at the woman's horse. "Sorry girl," she said softly.
Then, just as the bandit prepared for a lunge, a scream of anticipatory victory at her lips, Runa jabbed over Frost's head, and the tip of her sword sank into the flesh in the other horse's neck. Made Runa wince, the animal's piteous scream.
But it got the job done. The animal jerked violently to the opposite direction, and the rider, eyes hilariously wide, first struggled briefly to stay on, and, failing pretty much immediately, lost her balance and was thrown off. One foot would not disengage from the stirrup, and so the woman first hit her head on the ground and then was dragged unconscious, and quite likely unalive, behind the panicking horse looking for a safe place to go bleed out.
There was no time for feeling either glee or regret, as Runa's life might very well have been the next one forfeit. The bandit on the right was coming for her now. The pain still throbbed in her thigh, although a numbness was starting to set in around the wound. If she'd had the time she would've snapped the shaft, though of course she knew enough that it was better to leave the arrow in for now instead of trying to yank it out.
She caught the horseman's blade with her own: once and then twice, without much trouble. The man fought with his left hand, and it was evident that not only was he was less comfortable with it, but that even with the right one he wouldn't have a prayer against Runa on a level playing field. Meanwhile, the two bowmen kept firing at her, but were luckily missing for now. Though she by no means counted on that luck holding.
With the bandit's relative incompetence, Runa thought it best to spare the horse and so continued to swat at the man, who at least showed a decent efficiency in parrying. At least given the conditions.
Runa had just gotten her first jolt of optimism about the situation when her luck gave out, and there was another piercing pain heralded by a hiss. An arrow jotted out of her left shoulder. She screamed a curse.
No time for worrying about that, as the man kept coming. Runa gave a furious sideways blow to swat aside his sword, but had not enough strength left for a follow-through. It wasn't the arrows, the adrenalin was taking care of that, but rather the difficulty of controlling the horse and fighting at the same time, and keeping an eye on the bowmen as well. Not that Frost needed much controlling. And this was hardly her first time dancing. But still.
An arrow from the left passed narrowly in front of her face and nearly hit the other bandit as well. The man craned his neck to scream furiously at the bowman. At a whim, seeing her opportunity arise, Runa reached out at and cut the reins the man was holding. A clean cut. Good thing she'd just sharpened the sword in the early morning, unable to sleep.
Wide-eyed, the bandit struggled to stay on his horse, trying to grab the mane with his free hand. Runa fouled this by swatting as hard as she could, landing a satisfying blow with the flat of her blade which slammed into his face. He fell backwards and off the horse.
Which still left the bowmen, the leftmost of which fired another near-miss.
Runa decided to make offence her best defense. The archer was too slow in nocking a new arrow before Runa's diagonal dash reached him. He was quick enough to evade her wide sideways slash, however. Little wonder, as the blade was still in her left. She cursed, and then reluctantly and awkwardly switched hands with the blade and the reins. She cursed again as she rolled the left shoulder. With the arrow still jutting out, the pain was not going to help the fact that, despite generally favoring dual-wield, she'd never felt as confident with that side to being with.
It was times like this she thought she could have at least taken the time to learn even the rudiments of healing magic.
The time it took for her to switch had given the archer the chance to pull away to his left and to nock another arrow. Meanwhile the other man had missed at least twice. This wasn't getting any easier.
Screaming, she urged Frost to the left, brandishing the sword above her head. The arrow came loose. Her eyes widened as she gauged the arrows trajectory—headed straight between her eyes—and before any conscious thought had formed, she clumsily lowered the sword for haphazard protection.
Turned out she was both lucky and unlucky. The motion kept the arrow off her face, and yet she was too slow in getting the blade in the way. The upper rim of her vambrace took the brunt of the impact, but as the arrow grazed her arm, the sudden jolt brought about a fresh pang of pain in her punctured shoulder, causing her hand to loosen its grip, and so her blade fell to the ground. For the time being she was unable to reach down to unsheathe her other blade as well.
A new arrow was nocked before she was finished with her curses. She lowered her head and the missile sailed over her.
She cursed again as the muscles of the left arm spasmed when she tried to bend it. So much for trying to unsheathe her blade. She glanced over. Another arrow being fished out of the quiver. At least the other archer had been temporarily struggling with his horse on the uneven terrain and wasn't currently in active offence. But that would not be the case for long. Unarmed—rather literally!—Runa would not fare well against two archers for long.
The fingertips of her left hand happened on a bump near the rim of her boot. Yes, of course. The dagger she kept sheathed there. She dragged the leg of her breeches up to place her hand on the hilt. At least her fingers could still squeeze alright.
Well, I got nothing to lose. Runa steered Frost hard to the left, just as the archer aimed. Just a little closer. She ducked down on the saddle, flipping the latch of the scabbard open with her thumb.
The arrow came loose, and she flinched. Then almost lost her balance as her screaming horse bucked a bit. She opened her eyes. The bastard had hit Frost's flank.
The stallion screamed, and Runa hissed a curse. She yanked the dagger out of the scabbard, then concentrated all the strength she could force into her arm. Now, that the fucker's face was turned towards her! Pain shot down the arm as she threw it forward loosening the numbing fingers.
Not exactly a stellar toss. With the pain and the riding and the fact that it was her left hand . . . well, the best she could manage was a weak lob, fast enough for the archer not being able to evade it but too slow for anything else. And badly angled to boot—the dagger slammed into the rider's face flat-first, not making as much as a scratch. It deflected off, and after the initial shock the bandit flashed her a triumphant grin. Then went for another arrow.
With a wave of equal exhaustion and sense of defeat, Runa pressed her head down, preparing to take the impending arrow. Frost had continued to drift closer to the other horse and so they were now almost abreast.
All the easier for the archer, I suppo—hey wait, am I stupid or something!?
Only now did the obvious recourse come to her. She was just about to pull rein to make Frost stop.
But the horse was faster. The animal's head suddenly snapped out towards the other horse. The horse screamed in turn as Frost's teeth bit into its shoulder. It made a sudden, panicked swerve to the right, making to both get away from its murderous conspecific and to stop in its tracks.
Runa, still moving, turned to look as the archer, his hands on his bow, failed to meet the sudden change of events in time and was tossed clean off. He landed, ungracefully, right on his head, and his limbs thrashed as his neck snapped.
The dumbfounded Runa then whipped her head toward the last remaining rider, and the fellow looked no less bemused. Rage bloomed inside her. She switched hands on the rein to whip out her other blade. She shot the bandit an eyeful of fervor, raised the sword high above her head and let out a screeching war cry.
The archer, abandoning all plans of skewering her, pressed his head down to ride away as fast as his weary horse would allow. She contemplated going after him for a few moments of hazy thought, then pulled rein. Frost stopped, and Runa slumped on his back.
She gave the horse a weak pat on the side. "You did good, boy. You did real good. Fresh hay for you tonight."
Frost gave a snort. Whether it was pride or derision, Runa cared not to wonder.
After a moment's rest and profuse cursing she turned around to go collect her fallen sword and then headed back to the others.
What she found was more of a slaughter than a battleground: the bandits slain to a man, whereas the band of warriors looked virtually unscathed.
"Runa!" cried Bjorick son of Bjorick as she approached. "What the Oblivion happened to you! The lass didn't look that tough." The jovial man was wiping blood off his face. Didn't look to be his own.
Her shoulder smarted like a bastard when she shrugged. "Looks can be deceiving," she said. "You of all people should know."
Hroar was frowning at the arrows jutting out of her. "Ambush?"
"If not that then something awfully analogous."
"You need healing?" asked Jorun Threehands, the mostly silent mage among them.
"No, thanks. I'll just wait for the arrows to fall off by themselves. Of course I need a damn healing, numbskull!"
Jorun got to it, and she tried her best not to feel awkward about needing someone else to tend to such little scuffs. She would make of point of letting ma teach her some healing of her own the next time the old lady offered. She watched Jorun work with quiet fascination. Something surreal about watching the arrows push themselves out and the holes in her skin closing in real time. Didn't fix the armor, though.
"Stop wriggling, damn you!"
Thorgir's gruff barking stole her attention. He'd likely run after retreating bandits and looked as though he was bringing one back. Either for questioning or for simply letting off some steam.
As Runa got a look at the supposed bandit, she frowned. Then her brows arched. No, not a bandit, exactly.
"We-hell!" Thorgir said. He was dragging a blond young man by the scruff of his neck, like the unruly neighbor boy caught stealing his apples again. "Look what I found skulking about!"
Jesper scowled defiantly and gave his neck an ineffectual shake against Thorgir's firm grip. Thorgir grinned, then shoved the boy forward. He just barely kept himself from diving into the muck, then did his best to stand rebelliously straight. Just like the apple thief would've.
The way everyone eyed him was just on par as well.
Thorgir the Meathead spat. "What the hell is this? The quality of bandits has certainly taken a dive lately."
The big man's demeanor seemed to spark fear in the lad's eyes, although he did his meager best to hide this. Then, as his eye happened on Runa's, a sequence of different emotions rapidly crossed his countenance.
Runa grinned. "You don't learn easy, do ya boy?"
"You know this pup?" Thorgir asked
Runa shrugged. "Define know." To Jesper, "What are you doing here?"
"My business in my own!"
"So far it don't look like you handle it too well."
Jesper scowled.
"Now, wait just one minute," demanded Thorgir "Who is this fool?"
"Maven's pet," Runa said.
Thorgir whistled. "Really? A good catch, then!" He gave the boy a shove.
Runa shrugged. "Depends on your taste, I suppose."
Thorgir then wrapped his meaty hand around Jesper's throat and lifted him to his tiptoes. "Runa's way too kind, what with that soft ol' heart of hers and all. But I don't have that problem. Now tell me, what the fuck does Maven have to do with this?"
"Something tells me strangling him isn't gonna help him talk," Runa noted.
"Aye." Thorgir held the kid just a moment longer, then, reluctantly, let him fall to the ground. "Better speak quick, then."
Jesper picked himself off the ground, shot Thorgir the Meathead a glare of wary hostility. When he spoke his addressed his words to Runa. "I'm here of my own volition. Maven's got nothing to do with it."
"Is that so?"
He said nothing.
Runa snorted. "So what of this volition of yours? Death wish?"
Jesper regarded her for a while. Then said, "You'll need me."
Now it was Thorgir to snort. "We all know Runa, but I seriously doubt you're her type."
Ignoring this, Jesper said, "There's something I know that you don't."
"I find that difficult to believe."
"Regardless, it changes nothing," Jesper said. "You'll need me," he repeated.
Runa studied him for a few minutes, eyes slightly narrowed. There was something endearingly earnest about him. And yet something profoundly pathetic. She found that she felt pity for him. She felt the need to—
"I need nothing from you," she said, and turned away.
"Wait—"
Thorgir cut Jesper off by grabbing him hard by the neck. "You've wasted enough of my time," he growled. "And I've a mind to make you make good on it. You might not be Runa's type, but I ain't that picky!"
He then dragged the horrified looking boy past leering, dirty warriors over to a waist-high boulder over to the side. He shoved Jesper's face onto the boulder. "Hold him down, lads!"
And so they did. Jesper writhed and cursed against the strong hands holding him in place, someone dragging down his breeches and revealing a lily-white ass.
Runa observed the pathetic kid struggling in vain, thinly veiled terror erupting as every insult and threat that he had in his vocabulary. Meanwhile Thorgir the Meathead was getting ready, stroking his cock while spitting on the crack of Jesper's ass and rubbing it in. "Don't worry," he growled. "It'll be over sooner than you know."
"Aren't you gonna do something about this?" Hroar hissed beside Runa.
She eyed him. And did nothing. "Aren't you?" she replied.
Anger twisted the big fellow's features. And yet he did not do anything either.
Runa snorted humorlessly, then turned back to the grotesque display. Thorgir was still rubbing himself, slow to harden as usual. It was the drink, she reckoned. Or perhaps he was just shy.
Thing was, she didn't like it any more than anyone. But if there was one thing about the companionship of hardened killers and mercenaries, it was that you wanted to keep on good terms with them. And that meant trying not to piss them off. Sure, fuck with them a bit, brawl with 'em if needed. But stay away from a few crucial things: don't cheat them, don't steal from them, don't cross them.
And whatever you did, do not go between them and their prey.
Thing was, it was a careful balance and you did not want to fuck around with that balance. Enemies were the easiest thing to acquire, and friends therefore all the more important. That meant overlooking some of their uglier sides. And, let's be honest, ugly sides are a damn sight easier to find in them than the other sort!
No. Thing was—
"Stop," Runa said.
Of course no one heard her, as it was more a mutter. Thorgir was pretty much hard now. At least, it seemed he'd concluded, hard enough. His cock glistening with spit. At least, for Jesper's benefit, it was hardly anything to write home to mama about.
What are you doing? demanded the familiar voice in Runa's head. You'd better not—
"Stop!" she said.
Everyone stopped, Thorgir frowning at her over his shoulder. Then he grinned. "Oh, you changed your mind, did you?" He glanced down at his prick. "I'm afraid you lack the proper equipment for the way I think this one ought to be handled." He gave Jesper's ass a resonant slap. The men around him laughed, but a bit uncertainly.
"Let him be."
The grin turned into a frown again. "I assumed you're joking."
"'Fraid not," Runa said with a shake of her head. "Not this time. Let the boy go."
Around Thorgir, everyone shared unsure looks, but doing nothing to release Jesper. They looked to Thorgir to make the call.
"Sorry, Runa," he said. "But it ain't happening. You know how it goes. I'm gonna have my fun here. But tell you what, afterwards I'll let him go. Won't take a longer than a few—"
"Let," Runa said, and unsheathed one blade for the breadth of two fingers, "him go . . . now."
The hard stares of the two pierced the air between them. Everyone knew that neither had the habit of standing down in situations like this. And no one much liked, she was aware, the inevitable outcome of such an impasse: fights to the death had been sparked by smaller embers. And while Thorgir had behind him the manpower in numbers, there was no doubt that Runa and her gang could cut an ugly swathe in those numbers. Hell, it was likely they'd come out as the winner. Should it come to that.
And Runa for one was now fully prepared that it should.
As she was just getting certain that Thorgir would bark the order for his men to get ready, an ugly grin marred his already plenty ugly features. He gave a harsh cackle. "Alright, Runa. Have it your way!" He waved at the men. "Release the pipsqueak." As they seemed disinclined to believe what their ears told them, he waved an impatient arm, and barked, "As in fucking now!"
They let him go.
"Don't worry, Runa. No hard feelings on my part."
To dispel the unsureness of how she felt about his words, she grinned while gesturing at his once more tucked-in cock and said, "I don't even know where to begin commenting on that."
"Ha!" Thorgir the Meathead threw his head back in supposed mirth. "Never misses an opportunity, does she. She's alright, ain't she lads?"
Runa didn't seem to be the only one having difficulties in interpreting the situation. Cautious laughs seemed the best course of action.
She went to take Jesper firmly by the arm and tow him aside.
"Now I hope you have the good sense," she muttered irately, "to at least appreciate what I just done risked for you."
He glared at her. "I was doing just—"
She smacked him hard across the face.
The men, looking over because of the slap, laughed.
Pressing her furious face right next to his stricken one, Runa hissed between her teeth. "Make another comment like that, and I so swear to every god of this forsaken cosmos I'll see to it you don't sit right for a fucking month!"
Despite looking no less surly the kid at least seemed smart enough to not try and argue.
"So," Runa said. "Speak and speak soon, 'fore I decide that maybe you serve a better purpose as Thorgir's cock-holster after all."
Hroar and Rusty had gathered around them as well. The former frowning at the lad in that way of his, which didn't permit you to decipher what exactly it was that he was thinking. The latter smirking so that it left little need for imagination—he was, after all, known on occasion to take the leading role in the sack as well, but only with fellows who were even more soft and feminine than him.
Poor Jesper no doubt tried his best to not appear soft and feminine, but the truth was that no amount of glowering or defiant posturing was going to accomplish that.
Runa rolled her eyes. "Sit," she said, grabbing him by the shirt and forcing him down on his ass on an outcrop, "down." As he tried getting back, one warding finger from her was enough to dissuade him. "And open your pretty little mouth while no one's yet trying to stuff it with anything."
It took him a little while longer to put aside enough of his oversized dignity to start. "Maven is setting you a trap."
"You're a little late with that," Runa replied. "I found it, and I untangled it. Got anything else?"
Jesper snorted, shaking his head. "Nah, it ain't that at all. Just a little distraction, with the riders. She's got a bigger one waiting still."
"Is that so? What's got her all riled up of a sudden? Because I chopped down some of her cronies? That bitch must've gotten even more—"
"She's working with the Nightingale."
Runa's weren't the only eyebrows that rose at that. "Is she now?" She thought about it for a second. "No, she mused. "Guess I can't say that that surprises me any. I mean, I knew she was in his pocket, just like every other shady type in this province. But I suppose I never took her for an errand girl, exactly."
"She's more than that!" Jesper hissed.
"Huh? Oh yeah, I forgot she had you bewitched." She frowned. "All the more pertinent: why are you telling me this?"
Blushing, he suddenly glowered at something at his feet.
"I repeat," Runa said, trusting that her tone kept her from needing to put a hand on him, "why should you of all people, Maven's favorite little pet, come to warn me about her evil intentions? Surely you see how that would be considered just a touch suspicious."
The tone was enough to force him to look at her again, but at first he didn't say anything.
When that silence lasted for a few more seconds, Hroar dragged the boy to his feet. "Answer her!" he growled.
Runa rolled her eyes at her comrade's apparent uncouth brashness, then laid a calming hand over his big arm. He let go.
"Sorry," Hroar muttered, backing.
"Now," Runa told Jesper softly, "the second big strong man wanting to manhandle you now—albeit in a considerably different manner—you'll understand I can't ward them all off indefinitely?"
"My reasons are my own!"
"I'm sure they are," she said. "But sometimes we need to share what's ours. Did you know that?"
He made a face.
"Yes, Jesper. I am speaking to you like you were a child. But you know why that is?"
He studied her, confusion in his frown.
"Because you're fucking acting like one!"
Her sudden scream, together with the hand she raised as if to swat him, made Jesper shy back. Behind her, men laughed.
Now it was Hroar holding her back—even though she wasn't really going to strike the fool. This was an interrogation tactic they'd polished a long time ago. Well, perhaps polished wasn't exactly it. But damned if it wasn't effective!
"Hold on, now Runa. I'm sure he's going to tell us what we need." Hroar shot Jesper a look, "Aren't you, lad?"
"What does it matter why I'm doing this? The main thing is, they're out to get you!"
Hroar pretended to hold Runa back. "What it matters", he said calmly, "is how can we trust you? Why would you rat Maven out?"
Jesper seemed to consider. Runa made a show of calming down. She took a deep breath. "Alright. You get one more chance, kid. Then you're on your own."
"There's something not quite right with him," he said finally.
"The Nightingale? You don't say."
"And unexplainable evil trails him. Like, he's not entirely from this world."
"Now, that's where you lose me. Ain't nothing so evil it doesn't fit right in this ol' world of ours. Better get that in your head."
"It's different with him," Jesper muttered.
Runa shrugged. "Whatever you say. So, that's it? You'll betray Maven because you're jealous of him?"
"I'm not—!"
She waved him silent. "Save it. Bottom line is, I still don't see any reason to trust you."
He studied her. "I can take you to him."
"Can you, now?"
"I can. I know where he's going. He won't suspect anything."
"I see," Runa said after thinking. "So, he tries to set me a trap but I surprise him by getting him first? That's cute."
"Cute?"
"Cute for Maven to think I'm that dumb, that is. She sent you to sell me this poppycock so that you could lure me into their trap. Yeah, not transparent at all!"
Jesper shook his head. "That's not it."
"No? Well my instinct says it is. And I'll take the word of my instinct over some butt-boy of Maven's any day. That's why I've still got my head."
Jesper looked frustrated, but Runa found that she could not quite gauge the reason. Her instinct was not in fact entirely clear on what was going on. This was, there was a chance he was speaking the truth, which meant this could be the chance she was waiting for. Then again, it could just as easily be that—
"So, you're going to let him out of your hands because you don't trust me?"
"I'm going to live another day because there's no way I'm trusting the—"
"I think he's telling the truth."
Runa cocked a brow at Hroar, who was scrutinizing the young man solemnly. "You do?"
"Aye," he replied slowly. "Honestly, I'm not sure if he's smart enough to deceive anyone."
At first Jesper seemed as though he intended to protest, but then closed his mouth, giving Runa a look. Smart enough not to argue.
Runa nodded. "I see your point. Rusty, what are you thinking?"
With a smirk, Rusty eyed Jesper up and down.
Runa rolled her eyes. "About him lying."
"Ah. Well, he might be. Then again he might not be."
"Helpful as ever. Alright." Runa reached down then, dragging Jesper up by his shirt and pulling him right up close. She squinted into his intimidated eyes for a minute or two. "Alright," she muttered. She pushed him back onto his butt. "Maybe."
"Give him a chance?" asked Hroar.
"A chance of what?" Rusty said.
"I'm thinking . . ." Runa said. "Maybe we can hear him out." She looked about. "But not here. We better rid ourselves of—"
"Runa!"
Speaking of the devil. Thorgir waved at her, not looking like he was harboring a grudge over his spoiled fun. But you never knew. "A word with you, please." When she didn't answer right away, he cracked an unsightly grin. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna bite."
Runa snorted. Over her shoulder, she told the others. "A minute. Make sure he doesn't try anything."
"Which one?" asked Hroar.
She snorted again. She gazed toward Thorgir. "This shouldn't last long. I'll tell him we'll be heading off." Sharpening her gaze on Jesper still on the ground, she pointed. "And you best be ready to convince."
Then she headed out to join Thorgir. Wondering how many people she'd still see dead before the day was done. And which people.