A new companion

This must be their leader. He must have known we were coming, at least heard the fight outside his door, yet he seemed relaxed. He stood opposite a table across the room, facing us with a strict look. He wore a light armor with Imperial braces, so far he had made no sign of reaching for his sword.

"So the Jarl finally sent someone" He started, arms crossed.

Farkas leaned against the wall next to the door behind me, and gave me a look that said ¨They always talk too much.¨

"Do you even know why he hired you to kill me?" he asked. the tone in his voice sounded more rhetorical than asking and I got the feeling he was about to tell us. "I was a commander in the Great War. And when I returned, I was thrown to the streets like some dirty beggar!" His eyes were intense as he spoke, clearly, he was quick to anger. "He wouldn't even hire me to his guards!" he suddenly slammed his clenched fist in the table. "¨Untrustworthy¨ he called me… sure I did some questionable things. But it was war! I did what I had to! We all did!" He was shouting. "I served in the Great War, and this is the thanks I get? Hollowed up with some fools? Having to steal to get food on my table? Where's the justice in that?!"

Did he feel justified? He was a bandit. Did he really feel his actions were justified because of his past? My father had served in the great war, yet he hadn't turned rouge. Quite the opposite. He found my mom, bought a farm and made a life for himself. Yet this man spoke as if the Jarl was to blame for his now bandit-life. Or was he talking to himself more so than Farkas and me? If it was a genuine question, I honestly didn't know what to say. I looked at the man as he began to walk around the table.

"Well… not much I can do now…" he said as he leaned back on the table. "The Jarl wants me dead. So he sent you. Yes… nothing I can do about that…" His eyes set on the floor as he finished, and then returned to me. "Well!" He stood up, straightening his back, and drew his sword. "You're here to kill me, so let's get on with it. But if you think I'll go down without a fight, you're wrong." He seemed certain. His eyes sharp and filled with confidence.

Had he finished? No more speeches of justice? No more insults towards the jarl? Now he simply stood there as if he was expecting something from me, a drawn sword in his hand.

This man was different. His eyes were sharp, not like the drunkards we had fought earlier. No… those were the eyes of a man with a purpose. A man with dreams. Had his followers not been bandits and drunkards he might have become someone, and were I to take him by his words he had once been. Those were the eyes of a man who wanted to live. And they were staring straight into mine.

Still… He just stood there, sword in hand… Was he waiting for me to make the first move? In that case.

My left-hand softy tightened around the handle of my bow. I felt the string and arrow between my right-hand thumb and index finger. The atmosphere had suddenly turned tense. I could feel this man was dangerous. More so than the men we had fought earlier. It was the same feeling I always got before dueling Vilkas a certain calm before the storm.

The distance was enough for my bow to be sufficient. And so I decided to use it. I lifted my bow and took aim.

Instantly his knees bent and his body weight shifted forward, turning into a sprint.

He was fast!

I inhaled. Felt my heartbeat. Exhaled, and let the arrow loose.

I saw the arrow bend in the air as it adjusted its flightpath, straight towards the man's chest. Suddenly he sidestepped, ducked, and continued forward. I missed! A second heartbeat, this one stronger, gushing adrenalin down my legs. A slight sense of panic? The man didn't even flinch as the arrow flew past his head, grazing his left ear. He still hadn't broken eye contact.

No time for a second arrow. My left hand let go of the bow as my right hand reached for the handle of my great sword above my right shoulder. He pulled his arm backward and up. My bow hadn't reached the ground before he was on top of me. His sword, an extension of his arm, swung down towards my head. My own sword not even halfway out of its scabbard.

This is bad!

By instinct, I bent my knees into a crouching position and broke eye contact as I leaned forward.

Breaking eye contact… ¨Never let your opponent out of sight.¨ Vilkas had said after our first duel. And now I had broken that very rule…

I felt a hard thud against my back followed by a metallic sound as his blow was blocked by my half-drawn great sword. More luck than skill. A third heartbeat pounded in my chest. I straightened my legs and pushed my body forward and up, slamming into his chest. He went airborne and landed hard on his back on the stone floor, letting out a grunt of shock as the air left his lungs. No time to draw my sword! I raised my foot and stomped down toward his head. I'll never forget those eyes. He raised his arms in defense, but he was to slow, as I felt my heel go down, reaching for the stone floor beneath his skull and crushing his head.

A fourth heartbeat.

I stepped back. Remembering to breathe again I inhaled deeply and exhaled. With my hand, I brushed aside the black strands of hair that had fallen into my face as I calmed myself. That exchange had been dangerously fast. It could have ended badly. I turned towards Farkas, who was now holding his sword in a stance. He had a stunned expression on his face, and as his brain caught up to what his eyes had witnessed he let out a whistling sound.

"Welcome to the companions… Shield-brother."