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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 19:21:51 GMT -5
The doctor had Asger moved to his room and faithful to his practice to the end, he stayed, cleaning pus and blood from the wound constantly. His servant also remained by his side, pouring the alcohol concoction down his throat and onto the wound every few hours or so.
Of course by the time Ulfr reached the slave pens up the hill at the stadium, no one was there. Riordan's body had been turned onto its back and the lock of hair, thick and shining, lay on his chest. There was dried blood everywhere. Around his body, on the post, leading to the door and back again. At the top of the post, a single, delicate handprint was clear where she'd had to reach up at some point to support herself. The chains and shackles, also bloodstained, lay open and empty around the post, undamaged so they had not been forced open. In the bloodstained mud around the post there were many footprints and round indentations where several people had been kneeling, forming a wide circle around the post. There were snips of cloth, bits of healing herbs, and tiny splashes of wine here and there.
More blood touched footprints, these made by small, bare feet led away from the stadium, across the fields toward the woods. Eira had made it to the treeline around the same time Ulfr had cleared the hill up to the stadium and was making her way upward, surefooted in the forest even in the dark, though she wasn't moving nearly as quickly as she could in the daylight.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 10, 2014 19:41:17 GMT -5
The Celtic slave was no where in sight, and anyone that had remained for a time had made themselves scarce. He dismounted slowly, always conscious of the wound which sang out sharply at jerking movements, in order to examine the area inside the slave pens near the fairground. There was blood everywhere, likely the slave woman’s, and he marveled at the violence that Asger must have caused her. But then again, some of it was Ulfr’s own blood, and some had pooled, and dried, around her kinsman’s body. He sneered in disgust and discontentment, and used his boot to roll the large Celt’s deceased body to the side, dislodging the lock of hair. He bent down to retrieve it and cast it far away, scattering it upon the wind coming in from the storm. He was reminded of her so-called witchcraft and it made him sick to think upon it.
He frowned as he observed the well-trod and muddy earth around the post to which she had been bound, examining the tell-tale signs that others had come to assist her when all other Nords had left. He had the mind to track them down one by one to berate them, but what had been done was done, and he could not identify them by footprints alone, though by the healing herbs he suspected a midwife or a kitchen maid that had access to them. His eyes lifted lastly of all to the bloody handprint, which could not have been placed there while she had been tethered, so she was still bleeding, and freed, as the others healed her.
And there was not many who would have a key. He suspected the slave master, Audun. He would have a word with him once he had taken the witches head. Following the footprints he tracked them, reaching out as he neared his horse so that he may lead it while walking by foot. The lightning assisted the tracking, and the wounded Celt had no mind to stay hidden while out in the open, for at this late hour there were no witnesses. When he saw that it led into the forest, in the direction of his own sanctum in which he held his daily exercise routines and excursions, he growled and spat on the ground, feeling that her presence there would taint it.
He led the horse into the woods, also being slowed by the dark, and tracked the slave. The dawn would be muffled by the storm clouds that were rolling in, and the daylight would be thin at best until the storm passed. Soon, spattering of rain began to fall upon the canopy, so the leaves acted much like a shelter from the rain. He stopped and strained his ears to listen for movement from time to time, in case she was bumbling about the woods. He hissed and clutched at his side, seething breath in and out of his teeth. He should not be so active, but he had sworn to bring back her head.
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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 19:49:43 GMT -5
He found the bits of cloth at the very edge of the woods where she'd paused and torn the bottom of the dress off but she had folded it into a small square and taken it with her in case she needed it. Even wounded, she was most certainly not bumbling about. She'd grown up in the woods. There were broken branches, however, and more prints and even bandaged she was leaving blood here and there.
Eira, for her part, was still close enough to the forest's edge she had heard hoofbeats coming. She froze halfway up the hill. She certainly had not expected someone to come after her so soon. She looked up at the nearest tree. She couldn't climb it in the dark, not in her condition. If she slipped and fell, she would be as good as dead even if the fall didn't kill her outright. Instead, she moved to a grove that reminded her so vividly of home it brought a fresh wave of grief through her. She pushed it back firmly and turned, standing near the tree in the center and pulling the bow, nocking and arrow and waiting tensely, her eyes scanning the trees, every sense on alert.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 10, 2014 20:06:40 GMT -5
He heard nothing but the occasional snapping of twigs, though it could be a stag or any other animal passing through the woods. If it were she, her path was weaving back and forth, for she, unlike him, did not know her way around the area. Rather than continue to follow her path, he made way to cut her off, if she intended to move towards the grove. She would see piles of boulders placed here or there of which Ulfr used to lift and, at times, throw in order to keep up his strength. If she were to approach the sheer cliff face just to the north of the open grove, she would find a few boulders wound with stretched leather tethers which he employed by binding to his waist when he climbed up the mountain side. If she knew anything about climbing, this would be extremely challenging for any novice, for as the cliffs yawned skyward one would have to rely on their arms to pull them up and dig their toes into crevices and crags in the rock. The trees to one side of the grove were pockmarked by where arrows had struck them, some of the shafts had been embedded so deeply, they were broken to make use of the feather blades to affix to new ones. To her dismay, this area was clearly used regularly by an athlete, and likely Ulfr himself.
A prickle ran down Ulfr’s spine, warning him that something was off. His prey was not some dewy-eyed doe, she had been something of a fighter herself, he was sure of it, for the skill she had shown during their first meeting. The guardsman she had thrown a jar at was forced to endure the slow process as glass shards were pulled out of his face and neck, and he was forever marred and scarred by the wounds. She was clever, all right. Realizing that she would have heard him coming from the sounds of the horse, he tethered it to a tree and then crouched low, taking another route so that he may take her by surprise.
When he had moved some distance away from the horse, his feet sure and careful because he knew the terrain like the back of his hand, he paused to take the bow out of its fittings and strung it, though this was indeed the most painful movement of all, since much force had to be used to string the longbow. He gasped as at last the loop was fixed to the second notch of the bow, slid out an arrow and knocked it to the bowstring. He took his time, smiling a little, keeping his eyes on the grove.
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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 20:19:59 GMT -5
She took those details in too late to do anything about it. If it was her 'master' coming for her...and she suspected it was...she was at an extreme disadvantage, since he clearly knew this area far better than she.
Eira had heard Asger bellowing, but was unaware of what had happened to him. She didn't know he'd been bitten by a snake. However, she'd observed Ulfr's wound and knew how bad it was. She might have been able to heal it to the point it wouldn't have needed stitches but even she couldn't heal a wound like that without the aid of her herbs and salves. He shouldn't have been moving about, much less hunting someone down on a storm filled night. She felt a twinge of concern to what that had to be doing to his stitches and was startled by it, where had that come from??
She had positioned herself silently at the tree so she was between it and the cliff face, giving her some measure of protection, and kept absolutely still. Her one real advantage was the fact he was wounded and she could hear him far better than he could hear her. She kept the arrow against the bowstring and the bow held at ready at her side but didn't draw it yet, wanting to conserve her strength and listen for him. She was also slightly curious as to what in the world had driven him so much to come after her immediately. The idea of it being concern for her well being, no matter what he claimed about treating his slaves well, was laughable after he'd tossed her to Asger without a thought. Pride, then? Even for a Viking- a race proud to the point of idiocy in her opinion -that was stupid. She pressed close to the trunk, relying on her other senses other than sight (which did her no good at this point in time anyway) to tell her what direction he was coming from.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 10, 2014 20:25:41 GMT -5
The rainfall began to quicken, soon drenching whatever area was not beneath the canopy, and even then as the rain began to drive down forcefully, raindrops pattered down the leaves. Ulfr stopped and crouched often, for it was quite painful to keep going on like this, and simply listened, though the raindrops were muffling any useful sound. He crept forward again, quietly, enough to startle a stag who was taking shelter beneath a tree, who flared it’s nostrils when Ulfr was sighted, and bound away for its life. This arrow was not meant for the stag, but he cursed when it bounded away. His position had been compromised.
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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 20:27:28 GMT -5
As if to confirm that, an arrow thudded into the trunk of the tree about two inches away from his head. Eira spun back behind the trunk as she nocked another arrow.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 10, 2014 20:43:14 GMT -5
Ulfr breathed in and out a sound of aggravation as his fears were confirmed, and further still, he had discovered that she was armed. If she knew his position, it would not do to stay hidden any longer. He stood up, pulled the bowstring back, and prepared to let loose the arrow as soon as she showed herself, perhaps to fire a second. He could hold that position for a long time, despite the pain in his chest. Indeed, had he not held up her body for nearly a quarter of an hour at one time? But he had been in full health then… the fact that he could be wounded by this woman, by this Celtic bitch, angered him. He did not want to give her the satisfaction.
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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 20:46:19 GMT -5
There was dead silence for a long, long while. Finally her voice came from a different direction than the arrow had come from. "I could have killed you right then and there." That was a lie, she had truly missed, firing a shot instinctively when he'd made a noise, but she saw no reason for him to know that. After a moment, her voice came from another direction. "You're going to tear your stitches."
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Post by Jenny on Jul 10, 2014 20:51:45 GMT -5
“It matters not, alive I remain.” He spoke bluntly. “Any harm that this wound has caused me is only flesh-deep. I would have you dead before my stitches break.” His arrowhead followed the voice, not allowing himself to be spooked. It was just the shifting of the wind…
He shifted to the side, moving to gain the cover of a tree, though he no longer knew of her position. He loosened the force of the bowstring only slightly, pressing his shoulder against the trunk, listening as she spoke. “How fares your face? It must be hard to see what with the blood running into your eyes. Asger was right to punish you.”
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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 20:55:19 GMT -5
"You made that clear when you let him at it." Her voice was very quiet, coming from yet another direction. She was moving silently from point to point, never staying put for too long, using the wind and rain to her advantage.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 10, 2014 20:59:53 GMT -5
His arrow always moved at the sound of her voice. He may be annoyed with her, but he had the patience of a tracker. He resigned himself to wait until she made herself known rather than simply a voice. “You have been nothing but misery to me from the day I allowed you to live. I was mad to think I could break you.” His voice changed into a growl. “To avenge Asger, I must take your life, for he will surely die from the wound your snake suffered him. Does that make you happy, witch?”
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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 21:05:03 GMT -5
It took her a moment to process that. "Asger was bitten by a snake?" She sounded genuinely surprised. Then she laughed, that clear, velvety sound that echoed off the trees. "And you think I sent it. If I could control snakes, I would have sent them to sink their fangs in that old bastard before he killed my family, then I never would have been brought here in the first place." A pause. "Although if my Bright Lady sent one of her own to bite him, I'm glad of it. He deserves worse."
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Post by Jenny on Jul 10, 2014 21:08:13 GMT -5
As she had stood still while taking his bated words, he crept forward, straightened, and drew back the bowstring, letting one loose in her direction, then reaching back and immediately knocking another, moving back into the trees. “Lies from a heathen witch,” he grumbled to himself.
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Post by KD on Jul 10, 2014 21:24:27 GMT -5
Whether she had heard him or not, her only response was a weary sigh that seemed to echo through the leaves. She had let her guard down and his arrow had very nearly nicked her. She leaned back against the tree silently, saying nothing and not moving, suddenly so tired she felt like her limbs were weighed down. Tired of him. Tired of everything.
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