Another Path - Part 4

"I'll take five of them, then."

Even Blackbeard seemed taken aback by that. The rowdy raiders lapsed into silence, and Usar paled as Vol met his ideas, the full effects of Vol's -12 charisma taking hold. The ageing guardsman didn't see a boy in that moment, he saw a monster.

Finally, the silence was broken by Blackbeard's raucous laughter. He slapped Vol on the shoulder. "Then you'd better do it!" He said loudly. "I'm an admirer of confidence. That will do for the test, for me, what say you, fellas?"

His men raised their axes in agreement. The faintest trace of respect, but it seemed more to be delight that they would be promised a good show.

"Well then, Usar, you have your deal. The boy against five of your men. If he wins, we rob you clean, taking whatever we want – but we'll spare your piglet lives. If he loses, we'll withdraw quietly, 'cos I'll have made a mistake. We'll take our anger out on the next town over instead. Sound good?" Blackbeard said.

It most certainly did not sound good to Usar, especially the ending threat, that they'd attack the next town over. Blackbeard said that as though he expected them to rejoice at it. What kind of people were these raiders that they thought even ordinary men were as heartless as them?

The winning prospect, though, the terms were… fairer than he'd expected. To have his men escape with their lives in both instances, that was the important thing. It was he that had lit the fire under their arses, after all, and made sure this pursuit had proceeded as swiftly as it was. He felt that it was he that should shoulder the burden in making sure they all got back safely.

"…Five of us? We just need to kill that boy?" Usar asked, doubtful. He knew it can't have been such a simple task just by looking at Vol, and judging his size. But he was injured. The boy couldn't even draw himself fully upright from the pain, and yet he'd so confidently declared that he would kill five of them. Was that confidence, or mere bravado?

Bravado, Vol decided. Five men was a barrier difficult to overcome. Even taking on two men at once was a distinction in strength that was impossible to overlook. It would place you amongst the very elite of the town's guard.

"That's right, that's all you need. We're honourable folk, after all," Blackbeard said, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. His men jeered their laughter at the comment, slamming their axes against the shields, urging them to hurry up.

"You hear them, Usar, pick your men, and let's have this fight done… And damn it, will you shut those hounds up, else we'll have to cleave them quiet."

The dogs had continued to growl and bark as the two men spoke. Usar gestured to the kennel master to quiet them. They did, quickly, being the well-trained beasts that they were, but they still couldn't allow their hackles to settle. They smelt the blood on the raiders. 'Clever beasts,' Usar thought. 'Cleverer than us.'

"…Who wants to fight with me, to see this done?" Usar asked. He'd volunteered himself immediately. He had to.

"I will," a man said quickly. Usar recognized Joshua. He'd courted Lydia for a time, before Lydia decided on her current husband. It had wounded the man something chronic, but he'd never lost his affection for her. Of course he'd want his vengeance.

"I will as well," another man volunteered for the same reason. Lydia was well-liked. Usar nodded at both of them appreciably.

The last two that volunteered were more bloodthirsty men. Men of the guard that were confident in their skill. "I will as well," they said, stepping forward to join the rest. Usar dismounted from his mule, handing it off to someone as he gave his allies an appreciative nod.

"Well, I suppose that will do. You ready, kid?" Blackbeard asked. "Want me to pull those arrows out before you go for it?"

"Snap the longer one, if you would," Vol said gruffly. His regeneration reward would not kick in until these men were all dead, and until the arrows were removed. Until then, he couldn't die of blood loss.

Blackbeard mercilessly did as he was asked, his hands far from delicate, he snapped the thick arrow shaft between two fingers as though it was nothing more than a dry tiny dry twig. Vol grunted from the pain, and Blackbeard slapped him on the shoulder, before pushing him forward. "All ready then, off you go."

Vol eyed his opponents as the shield wall parted for him. Four level three guardsmen, and one that was level four – a man with darkly tanned skin, like dried leather, with a vicious axe. The rest carried swords, with Usar at the front of them.

"Kill them, boy!" A man said as he passed, slapping him on the shoulder as he passed.

"Don't blue ball us! We want our goods!" Another said, by way of encouragement.

"Or don't. I'm fine waiting, and burning the next town right to the ground," a more moody-looking man said.

Vol ignored them. They reminded him of the hounds, so hungry for blood, and for flesh. He couldn't allow them to distract him from the task that he had in front. Once he was past the shield wall, Blackbeard came to stand at the front of it, and then it closed up again, behind both of them, seemingly on instinct.

"Both sides ready?" Blackbeard asked, calling it as though it were a sporting event rather than a blood duel to the death.

Vol's axe hung from his right hand. It was all the strength he had. All that he could rely on. He'd collected several new skills, and his weapons proficiency was better than it was… but would it be enough to make the jump from beating four men with two arms, to beating five men with just one? It was hard to tell.

Blackbeard gave out the command to begin before either side could respond. "Get started there, it's bitterly fuckin' cold."