Balancing Scales (Yuli) - [memory]

[Eddrick Brodon]

Balancing Scales

87th Trial of Vhalar, Arc 713

The weather north of the "Slaver's Corridor" was only a refreshingly scorching 95 at this cool time of year; 'cool' being a very relative term. Eddrick had not nearly grown anywhere near what one could call "accustomed" to the heat, but found that it was not that much more oppressive than the humid upper 80's of the Crescent Peninsula, where his home town of Athart was situated. Of course, those upper 80's in Athart were during the hot cycle. The same upper 80's were probably what would be found inside the Slaver's Corridor, and Eddrick was looking forward to them.

He had now suffered through his first Saun season and had counted himself fortunate to have decided to turn north from the inland boundary of the peninsula just before the second sun made its appearance. He'd come across the canyon retreat soon enough, but had avoided revealing his presence to what was obviously a gathering place for small slaver groups. Eddrick was very familiar with the signs of that trade.

Having been motivated as much by a false accusation of murdering a Nashaki diplomat as a simple growing guilt over being part of the slavery trade, he'd deserted Athart, and its Slave Raiders, and headed to that small area of jungle due south of Nashaki, which bordered a small cut-out on the eastern coast of the Crescent Sea. He'd reasoned that any pursuit would not expect him to head toward Nashaki. But in truth, he had not yet seen any indication that had ever been any pursuit, regardless of the standing policy of a bounty being placed on the heads of deserters. So he returned to the shelter of the canyon area from time to time.

He supposed it was to the real murderer's benefit for him to have run. It made it unlikely that any story that might run contrary to Eddrick's assumed guilt would ever even be heard. And they probably assumed as well that he would never survive the Hotlands. Eddrick swore, for the hundredth time, that he would find out who the true killer was and surprise him upon his return to Athart to deliver a righteous sentence. But for now, he sat in what shade his Poko mount, and his cloths, could manage against the relentless desert winds.

It was a fool that traveled in the daytime hours; even in this cool cycle. Averaging 90+ degrees in the general environment meant a good 110 within a few inches of the sand. Eddrick made it a point of collecting brush while he traveled, and using it to prop his "bedroll" at least 8 inches above the sand; this term used loosely to define the alternate use of his spread out leather armor. His tent was rarely set up in the standard wedge design found in military bivouacs around the world, as its height was insufficient to allow a raised sleeping platform. No, mostly one side of it was hung on spikes and draped down upon the extended poles for a larger area of shade to rest beneath, like half an A-frame.

The thought of how only a fool traveled the Hotlands during the day came back to him as he wondered at first if the shimmering heat was playing tricks on his eyes. 'Was that a group there in the distance?' he asked himself. He thought of dispatching his hawk, 'Arrow' to fly a quick recon mission, but decided it would only suggest his possible presence to whoever it was. Most likely, it was not a friendly group.

Within a few bits doubt was no longer an issue. This was clearly a traveling band of some sort. And a few details made it pretty sure that he knew what sort of band it was. A central core of indeterminate number, all very close to each other, and all afoot; a perimeter of elevated figures keeping distance, but also keeping strict positions in relation to the middle core; the outer figures coming to be clearly identified as mounted, thus explaining their elevated appearance. These two factors, plus their direction directly toward the "Slaver's Corridor" added up to one thing only:

Slavers...with "goods" to be delivered for sale...possibly in Athart...

A tense guilt began to percolate in Eddrick's gut. He needed to take advantage of this opportunity to atone for some of his past.

[Yuli'anyh]

The base of her bare feet burned with each faltering, pounding step upon the scorching sands of the Hotlands. The coarse rope bondage, rubbing, slicing, chafing around her wrists only added to her torment. Trials without a bath, the teenager’s usual shimmering mane of snow, now a dull grey and filled with sand and grease. Plaited in a singular braid, though dishevelled from a rough journey, her long hair fell over one shoulder as she stumbled forward, struggling to keep her balance as she fought to keep up.

The hastened gait of the horse towing them in line, only told the teenager that they were nearing the slaver’s intended destination. Her throat burned, her lips cracked and cut. Her emerald gaze flicked to her left, taking in her brother’s condition for a moment. His breaths came laboured, his eyes drooped and his head flopped. He was holding on, always the warrior at heart.

Yet, she knew that despite their fight to survive, to endure everything they have the last few Arcs, it would all be for nothing. As soon as they reached the ‘Slaver’s Corridor’, they would again be sold off to another master. Every time they were shipped from owner to owner, their strength and will waned. The fire burning deep within their hearts, yearning to be free, was slowly being extinguished as they fought against accepting slavery as their fate.

She could see it deep within her twin brother’s olive eyes, he was losing hope. He had vowed to protect her, to protect them and ever since their ship had been sacked, he saw himself as a failure. She couldn’t let him give up. She couldn’t give up. They still had family that lived, a family in Athart waiting for them.

No she refused to believe this was their destiny. Fate would not rule her.

Panting with the efforts of marching across the scorching lands of wherever they were, Yuli’anyh shook her fuzzing head. Exhaustion and dehydration, malnourishment pushing at the corners of her mind, unconsciousness encroaching as her vision wavered. They had to escape and they had to do it now. They had little to no strength left, soon it would be gone altogether. If they had any chance at success, they had to try it now.

Swiftly glancing at the troop of capturers and slaves alike around her, the teenager quickly assessed their situation. By her count of 11 slaves, marching within the tight knit circle surrounded by the 6 slavers on horseback, they could surely find the strength to overthrow them.

The desperate teen searched the forlorn and broken faces of those also in bondage around her. Attempting to grab their attention, to somehow facially express to them her intentions. A few noticed her gaze, though swiftly, sombrely looked away.

She knew they would fight… but fear paralysed them to their core. They but needed a beacon of hope, someone to show that they weren’t afraid to stand and rise up against fate. To fight and scream ‘Not today! I refuse to give in.’

Yuli’anyh’s iridescent gaze took on a dangerous sheen as her jaw set in determination. Summoning up what little courage she could muster, she peered over at her stumbling twin beside her. Glancing up he caught the fiery look of defiance within her pale, milky features. His eyes bulged as he realised what she intended.

His fearful gaze shot around to the slaver’s on horseback, before returning to his twin as he shook his head, silently miming the words ‘No!’

A sorrowful smile creased her cracked lips as she mimed back, “We have to.”

His heart hammering in his chest as fear battled with his own courage, his own flame yearning to fight, to be free warred with each other. Swallowing, though he had no saliva, the young Beorn’s gaze scanned the sandy dunes all around. Even if they did manage to escape, they were in the desert. With no civilisation around for miles, they would surely die. Yet, if they didn’t fight, they would surely die anyway.

He guessed it would be a better way to go fighting for freedom, than wasting away in chains, wishing for the end. However, his promise to protect his twin walled his mind from taking action. He was prepared to die, but he wasn’t prepared to see her die too.

As tears welled in his eyes, this inner struggle battling out in his mind, Yuli’anyh glanced to the wavering horizons, appraising which direction might be the best option to flee towards should their attempt to escape be successful.

Surprised, she blinked furiously, squinting harder at the shadow. She must be going mad. The heat must have finally driven her crazy, for a split trill she could have sworn she saw someone. Someone edging closer. No, it couldn’t be. Who else would be mad enough to travel across this waste land in the day? Who else would even choose to be out here?

Yet there it was again! It couldn’t be her imagination. The shadow was definitely getting closer, the rider’s appeared to not have noticed, their posture relaxed as they jested with one another. Her heart racing, she wondered if this person was a friendly. Were they coming to help? Or were they one of the slavers? Come to greet their comrades.

There was no way for her to tell. Did she dare attempt her escape now? Who else could be hiding among the sands? Sucking her lower lip through her teeth, Yuli’anyh was torn.

What she should do?

[Eddrick Brodon]

Atonement was not the only issue though. Eddrick would not try to fool himself into thinking this escapade was entirely humanitarian in purpose. The woman back in Athart that he'd been accused of killing was a Qi'ora; one of the two main races settled into Nashaki. Eddrick knew there was a good chance that the Nashakians - or whatever they called themselves - were not likely to take the word of an Athartian Slave Raider at face value. He also knew that Nashaki was the only big city in the Hotlands. Sure, there were nomadic encampments and bandit strongholds; the Slaver's Corridor itself was a good example of that.

Eddrick had come to the recent conclusion that he needed to find out where he stood with Nashaki. Did they truly hold him to be guilty? Would he be killed on sight? Would he be given a sham trial first? Would he he be dragged through the streets to be spat on and pelted with rocks and garbage as he was led to...what? Hanging? Beheading? Skinned alive and boiled in oil? Was the woman - a woman he'd actually become quite friendly with before her murder - a popular figure in Nashaki? Whose death would not be assuaged by a lenient sentence? He'd already spent an arc and a half in the desert, so the Nashaki authorities would not be likely to settle for exile.

No, he needed someone to go into Nashaki on his behalf and drop his name here and there and see what sort of reaction resulted. But he had no money to buy such a favor. But he reasoned that a newly freed slave, one freed directly by his efforts and intervention, might feel obliged. And he had several assets at his disposal, as well as an understanding of slavers' levels of tactics.

They were both brutal and lazy. Any infraction was repaid with harsh reprisals. They wanted to break their "cargo' as quickly as possible, so as to reduce resistance as soon as possible. They did not want to bother with physical efforts. They would be happy to drag their victims to the block and accept less pay, rather than take some time to keep them in good shape to get more. At least that was obviously how this band worked.

This meant that they had little military training, little knowledge of misdirection and distraction tactics. These were the types that sim[ly bought already taken slaves. They were the ones skilled at negotiation and haggling, but too lazy to go the trouble of actually catching slaves themselves. It was probably a difficult philosophy to defend, but Eddrick had a measure of respect for what he considered true slavers. They were the ones running down people with desperation fueling their defense, with nothing to lose; and they had to take them without killing or maiming them. Eddrick knew a number of his old raider friends that had been maimed horribly in the process of taking down a slave unharmed.

But that was just fate. He'd wrestled with this notion for as long as he'd been a slaver. If they were slaves, there must be some force of fate, or maybe just an Immortal, that willed it so. He himself was just an instrument of that fate. But he'd reasoned recently that there was no reason he could not also be an instrument of freedom. After all, if he freed a slave, it must have been the same force of fate guiding his effort. He'd tormented himself long enough with inner debates on the subject. He shook it off and focused on the position of the approaching band. '...Almost there...'

True to their lazy nature, the slavers were directing their path between two small dunes, rather than going around either. Eddrick had counted on that. He'd positioned his hawk behind the southern one, and his poko mount behind the northern. And he'd buried his ball-and-chain and dagger beneath a sand-covered board right in the middle of the path. There were also a dozen arrows, which could be used as stabbing weapons in a pinch.

A lot of slaves and slavers fully understood that the chains they wore could make good weapons up close. But it took group coordination, because other chains kept them tied together to restrict any one slave's ability to lash out from the group. Eddrick knew he was gambling his life on this pack of slaves' ability to work together once the distractions occurred.

A few ticks before they group reached the spot where the weapons were buried, Eddrick, buried shallowly in the sand, his face hidden behind a clump of Lakilaki, whistled loudly. He did not need to look to know there would be an immediate halt called. The sounds of commotion would reach his ears in a few ticks. But before that, his hawk 'Arrow' shrieked and flew in a streak over the narrow passage between the two dunes.

He pictured the slavers looking his way first, uncertain of what they'd heard, then tracking the hawk to end up looking back the other way. By this time Eddrick had sat up from the sand, nocked bow in hand, and quickly locked on the one slaver with a bow in hand, trying to get a lead on the hawk.

He was a much larger, and now closer, target. Eddrick had no trouble planting a shaft in his enemy's back. Only the two slavers nearest him realized their partner had been struck. But in the ticks it took them to turn and look in Eddrick's direction, he had dropped his bow, leaned forward to grab the end of a buried rope, and leaned back, pulling with all his might to resume a lying position.

Several things happened at once; and Eddrick was rewarded a couple of ticks later by a significant increase in the sounds of chaos and dismay. 'Arrow's cries had brought the Poko charging over the top of the far dune, thinking it was time to eat. Eddrick had positioned a crude dummy, wearing his red leather, in the saddle of the giant insect, and the three slavers that were still unaware that their brother had taken an arrow in his back started shouting orders and challenges. Two of them fired ineffective shots of their own, which bounced off the Poko's carapace.

The rope, which Eddrick had buried in the sand, had been tied to the end of the board covering the weapons. Pulling it had flipped the board up to reveal the weapons. Eddrick now reached again for his bow and stood up, as much to re-nock another arrow as to draw attention away from the weapons, which were now in easy reach of the slaves.

'Arrow' now circled back, screeching loudly. Eddrick gave a cry of his own, and his hawk responded by diving towards one of the slavers firing at the Poko. The slavers now had three different "fronts" to face, though only one was truly a lethal threat. They were as yet unaware that the slaves had weapons within their reach. The slaves were the last thing on their minds at the moment.

Eddrick could only hope these slaves would exploit this opportunity. His life depended on it as much as theirs...

[Yuli'anyh]

Yuli’anyh’s viridescent gaze swivelled across the expanse of rippling sand dunes. Squinting, she scrutinised the horizon, concentrated her mind to focus to find even just another glimpse of the shadow. She needed to know she wasn’t going crazy. She needed to know if it was safe to rebel. At least, safe enough without the possibility of other slaver’s being nearby to quell their surge of resistance.

With a confused, furrowed brow her older twin Beorn, followed Yuli’anyh’s meandering gape. What was she looking for? Before he even had a trill to guess, a sharp whistle resonated behind a nearby sand dune.

“Woah! Everybody stop! What the heck was that?!”

The shrill cry and flickering shadow of a hawk in flight swiftly followed the surprising whistle, throwing the slavers into a jittery, high alert. Yuli’anyh’s heart jumped into her croaky throat, her pulse pounding in her ears as the course of adrenaline began to surge through her. What was happening? Was it that shadow? Was he helping them?

Instinctively Beorn edged protectively closer to his twin, lowering into a defensive stance, ready for anything that might jump out at them. In a daze of indecision, the slavers barked orders at each other, their glares searching the sands, their swords and weapons ringing through the tense atmosphere as they were drawn from their scabbards.

The attentions of the slavers directed in all ways, searching for the threat, their minds slipped from the bunched up group of captives in the middle. All of them huddled together in fear, cowering in low positions, praying for a saviour.

Eyes wide in fear herself, Yuli’anyh caught the split trill movement of Eddrick’s arrow flying through the air before it thunked home in the back of its target. Yuli’anyh instantly reacted! Ducking low she tore the rope leash from her captive hands, Beorn following her lead. Throwing his tied arms defensively over his sister, the pair hunkered down.

Yuli’anyh peeked through the gaps in her brother’s protective embrace, searching for where the arrow came from, observing the slaver’s mad dash as two realised one of their comrades had fallen. Instantly the whole caravan was thrown into chaos. The slaves cowering in the middle screamed and cried, their captor’s horses rearing and jostling around. The slavers themselves were in complete disarray, all coordination with one another thrown aside as fear swallowed them whole.

On one side of the offensive, a Poko charged across the dunes distracting Yuli’anyh’s captors! Sand suddenly flew into the air as a wooden board burst from its concealment. Yuli’anyh blinked furiously against the grainy dust cloud, the glint of steel catching her eye from the small deposit in the centre.

Beorn was already ahead of her, the teen warrior threw himself towards the weapons cache, his bound hands finding the ball and chain. Yuli’anyh kept low as she raced for the dagger, falling onto her knees she quickly turned the sharp blade to the rope chains around her wrists. The slaves all began to scatter, yelping and whimpering as they threw themselves to the sands for cover.

“C’mon! C’mon!” Beorn growled as he urged Yuli’anyh to hurry and slice through both their bonds! The cord snapping as she tore her wrists out of her chains, Yuli’anyh used all her strength and with one swift, jerk of the dagger released her brother. The instant his hands were free, Beorn jumped to his feet, releasing a battle cry he charged one of the slaver’s atop his mount.

At the same time, Yuli’anyh’s gaze spotted the sudden appearance of a silhouette, shrouding her in brief shadow. Glancing up, she saw him - the man from the horizon. He had come to help them! Already nocking another arrow to his bow, his courage fuelled her own.

As Beorn swung the spiked ball at a slaver’s back, the sound of his ribcage cracking, echoing above the tangled web of cries, Yuli’anyh pushed herself to her feet. She screamed as loud as her cracked voice would allow her at the stumbling slaves, lifting the dagger into the air, its steel blade glinting in the sun,“Let's get 'em!!!”

As the others saw the silhouetted man, perched atop the dune, bow in hand and Beorn as he toppled the slaver from his horse with another devastating blow of the ball and chain, their fear dissolved. Angered cries replaced those of panic as they turned upon their oppressors!

For those bound in rope as she was, Yuli’anyh raced to free their hands for battle. Those unfortunate to be encased in metal chains grouped together as they surrounded a slaver – his horse bucking and rearing in defence.

A mass skirmish ensued.

Yuli’anyh charged at the exposed side of a slaver as he fired shafts against the tough shell of the Poko. Growling she released all of her pent up anger, thrusting the dagger upwards into the waist of her imprisoner. She could feel the steel blade slice through flesh as the impact vibrated through her fingers. A river of warm blood enveloped her hand as she attempted to yank the blade free, rivulets of red trickling down the length of her arm.

Screaming in pain the slaver turned from the Poko and smashed his elbow into Yuli’anyh’s temple. The blast to her head threw the young twin tumbling from her feet with a cry. As the young twin slammed into the ground with a grunt, the slaver turned his bow onto her.

Beorn jumped onto the freed saddle of the slaver’s horse, turning his mount around to face the centre of the skirmish, only to see the nocked arrow training his sister,“Yuli!!!” His heart missed a beat as fear almost paralysed him in place.

[Eddrick Brodon]

Fury and satisfaction shared equal measures in Eddrick's spirit as he saw his next arrow sail true and transfix a slaver drawing to fire, point-blank, on a slave girl. There was always something more heinous about a man targeting a woman. Maybe it stemmed from it having been a woman that he himself had been charged with murdering. Maybe not. He only knew that there was something singularly cowardly and vicious about it. The slaver was not dead, but he jerked as it struck, and his own arrow flew off into the harmless distance.

But the drawback of such fixation found its way suddenly through his own thigh. Eddrick cursed in pain and self-recrimination. He had let himself get caught up in one drama and not remained aware of the entire situation; and now he had an arrow through his leg. A flash of reconsideration, however, made him aware of his luck. Had he not been crouching to fire, he'd have made his chest just as easy a target as his leg had been.

And now the combatants were so interspersed, he dared not fire another arrow for fear of hitting those he hoped to save. He tossed aside his bow and quiver, but not before pulling two to use as stabbing weapons. He knew his leg would only get more and more sensitive if he favored it. He needed to work it as normal. There would be an initial burn of pain, but it would grow numb soon enough. Nor would he die of blood loss any sooner than he was likely to die anyway. He charged in, the pain in his thigh only adding to the ferocity of his attack scream.

His target had either believed his hit to have been lethal, or he'd been distracted by a more immediate concern. A pair of slaves were now threatening him from both sides. The training of the slaver was keeping them at bay easily enough as they circled him. But as his field of vision turned to once again include Eddrick, he apparently decided further stalling was counter productive. He lunged for one of the two, luring the other to press what he thought was an opportunity to attack from behind.

Eddrick knew the tactic well enough and shouted a warning. But it was too late as the slaver whirled around, thrusting his sword into the spot he instinctively knew would now be occupied by the other slave. The slaver did not take time to gloat into the face of the dying slave, yanking the bloody steel free of the collapsing body instead, and whirling back around to face the other slave with renewed confidence.

'Such a simple tactic, yet so effective against the inexperienced.' Eddrick scowled, but he had one of his own; especially here where sand was so prevalent. He ran at the slaver, shrieking in seemingly maddened fury, and then pulled up short to kick sand in the man's face.

The slaver fell back, coughing and wiping at his eyes with one hand, while swinging his blade in wide sweeps before him with the other. Eddrick turned to the other slave with a hand up to stall any more foolish attempts, then pointed to direct him back to where numbers were making the difference. Without a word he indicated his own intent to deal with this one.

He ran to nearby slaver body, the one he'd dropped with his first arrow, and freed the man's whip and sword from his belt-sash. he took several steps to draw its length out, and to cause it to sink somewhat into the sand, then stabbed the man's blade into the ground next to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sand-blinded slaver begin to move toward him. The nature of approach indicated his belief that Eddrick was not aware of him, or the danger he represented. Eddrick fueled this misconception by feigning an attempt to pull the arrow from his leg, his cries of pain covering the sounds of his enemy's approach and only adding to the deception.

At the last tick, he grunted with genuine pain as he rose to his feet and lashed the whip at the man's knees. It coiled several times around the joints and Eddrick took off, pulling the slaver off balance onto his back. He called to an ex-slave he had seen mounting one of the now-ownerless horses. He handed up the handle of the whip to the man and grinned. "If you're leaving, why not take him for a ride."

[Yuli'anyh]

A swift exchange of arrows, whistling sharply as they flew through a mess of combating limbs. With a fuzzy head, Yuli’anyh shook her mind to focus, the dull throb pounding in her temple dragged her concentration inward. Momentarily stunned from the blow, she had not been aware of the imminent danger she had been in.

As the young twin recovered a breath, pushing the pain rattling around her head to the farthest reaches of her mind, her wide-eyed gaze jumped to the slaver upon his horse. His macabre screams pierced her ears as he flailed from the impact of the arrow now protruding from his shoulder. Her head shot around, those emerald eyes following the arrow’s trajectory backwards, searching for the one who fired the shot that saved her life.

The moment Yuli’anyh’s gape ran up the length of the sand dune, her attention was instantly drawn to the wooden shaft jutting from the man’s thigh. Horrified that the stranger had suffered injury, risking himself to save her, only fuelled her frenzy.

Almost in exact timing with Eddrick’s stark battle cry, Yuli’anyh roared her own. Shoving herself to her feet, the young twin launched herself at the impaled slaver. One hand reaching for the dagger sticking out from his crimson soaked side, the other grasping for the wooden shaft pierced through his shoulder – she yanked on both as hard as she could. Ripping the weapons from the slaver’s flesh, she could feel the man’s muscles tear, his tendons snap with the force.

The slaver’s ear-splitting squeals were swiftly drowned out by the throng of the ongoing clash. Yuli’anyh’s grip slippery around the dagger, her hands and fingers drenched in the man’s warm blood, she ignored the gruesome feel. Yuli’anyh leapt off the ground, hoisting herself up the horse’s height as she arced the dagger around, driving the steel blade through the slaver’s throat.

Refusing to lose the dagger a second time, her fingers remained glued to its handle. As gravity pulled the young twin back down to the undulating sands, she tore the dagger through the slaver’s oesophagus with her. As she stumbled backwards, her arms up to her elbows soaked in the warm cerise blood of her foe, the slaver gargled as he fell from his horse.

Yuli’anyh’s chest heaved with the fire of battle running through her veins, her intense olive gaze lingering on the dead body before her, crumpled in a heap. Gripping the steel dagger in a death grip, her eyes were caught on the lifeless form in front of her. Transfixed, her mind slowly began to catch up with her actions. The rush of battle, the natural instinct to survive had motivated her limbs into action before she had even had time to realise what she had done. She had killed a man. She had valued her life over his.

As the young twin peered into the spark-less gaze of the slaver by her feet, an inner battle of morality tore at her very being. She was numb. It worried her that she felt nothing. She expected a tempest of remorse, sorrow, shame, but it did not come. Yuli’anyh simply stood staring at the body and all she could think was ‘Better him than me.’

When did she start caring more about her life than someone else’s? Her father had raised her to value each and every life as one and the same. She did value all life by the same token. Yet the instinctive drive to survive overrode those rooted beliefs. In that moment, living was all that had occurred to her.

Was this a natural conflict that dawned upon everyone at some stage in their lives? When truly faced with the decision to kill or be killed, did everyone have the same urge to live?

The young twin’s gaze glazed over as the war of her beliefs vs morality raged fiercely within. Yuli’anyh suddenly forced her numb body into action, jolting her conscious mind to focus on the ongoing skirmish. She would have time to process recent events later.

A quick appraisal of the battle field, Yuli’anyh caught sight of her twin brother, Beorn, upon horseback, the man with the bow approaching him with a whip in hand. Quickly wiping some of the blood from her hands onto her rags, the young twin raced over to meet them. Her light footfalls were drowned out by the vibrating sound of hooves thundering through the ground.

As she reached the warrior man and her brother, Yuli’anyh pointed their attentions to two fleeing slavers with her finger,“Look they’re running away!” Indeed, two of the remaining three slavers now bolted across the sands. The majority of their posse dead, the last one surrounded by slaves batting at him with their metal chains – outnumbered, they obviously believed their quarry not worth dying for.

Elated, Yuli’anyh shook Eddrick’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze in silent appreciation. Grinning from ear to ear, whip handle in one hand, ball and chain in the other, Beorn boomed heartily “You did it! You saved us!”

[Eddrick Brodon]

Eddrick looked back in the direction the young woman pointed and saw the last two slavers riding off sharing a single horse. For a moment he thought of his bow, but thought it was more likely he'd hit the horse, and did not value the death of two slavers to be worth risking an innocent horse. It did, however leave three horses and two wagons, with whatever loot was aboard, to be divided up between them.

He looked up at the young man grinning on the back of the horse. "Well, give me back my ball and chain and I'll make a deal with you." the young fellow seemed only too eager to comply, and Eddrick whispered to him to stay on the horse, to claim it, then limped to a spot where everyone could see him if they chose.

"Okay, listen up. I am Eddrick Brodon, and there is probably a sizable bounty on my head, as a deserter from the ranks of the slavers of Athart..." he paused, noting the shock and transformations from gratitude to suspicion on the faces of several of the people before him. "Yes, that's right, I was once a member of them. You can tell by the red armor on the dummy on the back of my Poko there." he pointed to the stuffed armor that had served as a diversionary dummy.

He waited for the grumbling to quiet; the fact that it did being a hopeful indication that these ex-slaves would willingly hear him out. "I can only say I was indoctrinated into the mindset of justifying slavery from the day I could walk, in a town where the whole economy and culture is based on it. I don't expect you to say 'oh, well that's okay then' But it's not so easy to think past what everyone is telling you when you're a kid, and the villains are the people everyone looks up to."

He had started pacing, but his wound made him wince and stumble. He squatted and continued, knife in hand, "So, when I became a young man, I had the good fortune of meeting a woman from Nashaki, a Qi'ora diplomat. She made me look back at my life and question what I was doing...where I was going...I didn't much like what I saw." He was sawing through the shaft of the arrow as he spoke, his words coming through gritted teeth and emphasized by beading pain-sweat. The flow of blood resumed in full, turning bright red and clean as he finished cutting through the wooden rod.

"Would someone please check the wagons for some disinfectant of some kind?" he gasped. Taking several deep breaths as one of the small group searched the nearest wagon, Eddrick continued. "Anyway, she was murdered and I was blamed for it, and I realized that people don't always deserve what happens to them. I'd like to think I'd have left the slavers anyway, but the murder charge, coupled with the added political element, led me to it that much sooner."

He went on to describe the rationale, prevalent in Athart, that slavers are just a tool of fate, carrying out the directives of inevitability, and that if they captured someone and put them into slavery, it must be what they deserved. Several of the group gave looks suggesting they'd heard this excuse as well. "But the Qi'ora told me that there was no reason not to justify the other side of this as well; that if I freed slaves, it must also be what they deserved. This was the first time I came to question how I'd been raised."

The ex-slave found some dried red leaves in the second wagon, that he said were Rhyth Flower, and that they would serve as a disinfectant. Eddrick thanked him as the fellow set to building a fire from additional supplies he'd found. "No pain killer, eh?" Eddrick said with a semi-delirious grin, "Well, I guess I must deserve it!"

He spoke with the youngster for a few bits and then they agreed on a medical procedure. Then Eddrick turned back to the gathered es-slaves, "Well, before Jeth here and I sterilize this shaft and pull it through my leg...and I pass out from the pain...I should also inform you that normally I would be accompanied by a crew of bandits, and we'd take most all the goods here. But I'll forego that if one of you will just go into Nashaki and ask about the status of my name. Whether I'm really being accused of this murder. I honestly find it hard to believe the Qi'ora would take the word of a bunch of Athartian Slave Raiders at face value."

By this time, the young ex-slave medic had sterilized the exposed end of the arrow shaft with fire and nodded his readiness. Eddrick swallowed hard and nodded back. As the ex-slaves considered their predicament and options, how they would divide the goods in the wagons, who would ride horses or ride in the wagons, and if they would seek out the information their "savior" had asked of them, the desert winds were drowned out by Eddrick's screams.

[Yuli'anyh]

Beorn complied almost immediately, handing Eddrick’s ball and chain back to him from his perch atop the horse. Yuli’anyh squinted her eyes at her twin, wishing he hadn’t relented his weapon so freely. They didn’t know this man. Granted he had risked his life to help free them, he had even gotten injured, but Yuli’anyh was not so quick to trust as her twin obviously was, favouring a firm grip of the dagger in her bloodied hand.

Her brow creased unpleasantly as her suspicions of the bandit grew at the mention of a deal. What was his angle? She didn’t like the way the man whispered things into the ear of her brother. As Eddrick turned to address the gathering crowd of newly freed slaves, Yuli’anyh shot her twin a questioning look, silently asking what the hushed tones had been about. Beorn simply shrugged, raising an eyebrow, but remained seated high up in the saddle of the Namib Stallion he had procured during the skirmish.

As Eddrrick relinquished his name to the crowd, the young twin repeated his title over and over in her mind as she burned his features into her memory. ‘Eddrick Brodon’ She wanted to be able to remember this man, he seemed a tricky character that warranted a careful eye. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, stunned to learn he had once been a slaver himself. What would make a man turn a 180 on who he used to be? The slave trade was very lucrative around these parts, especially in Athart from whence he came, why abandon such a cosy living?

The fact that he openly admitted his past and freely revealed that he was indeed a hunted man by perhaps two nations, Yuli’anyh became intrigued even more by the Trill. He was an enigma, yet willingly allowed strangers to see him for what he was. Whether Eddrick was simply an honest man, or whether it was purely a tactic to gain trust for his own benefit, Yuli’anyh respected his candour.

While the bandit went on in his speech to explain the doctrines of Athart, Yuli’anyh folded her arms across her breast with a darkened frown. Knowing that she had family awaiting her in Athart, Yuli’anyh was not pleased to hear about the pro-slave conditioning culture of the city. She didn’t much care for the bandit’s reasoning behind his history. What had happened to him and why didn’t concern her in the least, she hung on his every word, merely because she was attempting to suss out his intentions.

Carefully watching how Eddrick was attending to his wound, Yuli’anyh’s expression twisted to mirror her interest in finding out he was in fact rolled up in an incident of political intrigue. Some seed of doubt lingered in her mind though, questioning if he truly was innocent of the crime he said he was framed for.

The young twin took a vigilant note of how he sawed the arrow shaft, preparing it to be pulled out and strained to listen to the hushed tones of the other slave as the man told Eddrick of the disinfectant properties of the Ryth Flower. It’s distinctive red leaves a stark contrast to the usual green of most plants and vegetation that she had ever seen.

Yuli’anyh found the rationale of the native Athartians that those who were captured somehow deserved their fates to be almost comical. It was ludicrous that a nation could think such a thing. This whole ideal of believing in fate, that things happened for a set purpose always seemed to Yuli’anyh as though they were just excuses for people not to act. One’s life was made by their own hand and their hand alone.

“But I'll forego that if one of you will just go into Nashaki and ask about the status of my name.” And there it was, the reasoning behind every action the man had made this Trial. Yuli’anyh glanced to her twin brother perched atop the Namib Stallion knowingly. The pair shared a long look, almost as if they were partaking a silent conversation on the matter, without even so as muttering a word aloud.

The crowd of newly freed slaves erupted into a roar of chatter, the allocation of the left over resources seemed to have most of them riled, arguments exploding among them. A few of the quieter, more trusting slaves mumbled with one another about how they owed Eddrick for their rescue.

Yuli’anyh remained silent, watchful as she listened to the garbled mass of voices and opinions flying across the crowd. The sudden outburst of Eddrick’s ear-splitting screams caused the crowd to jump and momentarily fall silent.

An apprehensive atmosphere descended over the small gathering. Yuli’anyh’s first thought was to grab what equipment she could and haul ass. Almost as if he had read his twin’s fleeting thought, Beorn decided to take charge and chimed in his two cents on the matter. “Alright everyone calm down! No one is going to be left without. I elect, that we should divide the slaver’s loot equally among ourselves. We’re in the middle of nowhere so we all need a fighting chance to survive the wasteland.”

Arguments split open across the worried, anxious mob. Most crying out that they would never survive, that they should all stick together. Others debated these points as they pointed out the issue of trust, that they wanted to flee on their lonesome. A third point was bellowed above the rumbling mass of voices, that they couldn’t leave Eddrick here to die. Again this was combated with the drive that if they took on his request, that they risked capture again, or worse...

Tempers began to flare as the quarrels inflamed. Yuli’anyh grew tired of the group’s cowardice and indecision, taking an assertive stride forward she growled as loud as she could with her dry throat, “Oi! Shut it!”

“Beorn and I will distribute the resources as we see fit,” Protests exploded from the stunned and angry mob, to which Yuli’anyh’s icy glare darkened, her grip on the dagger tightening. The crowd took note of her threatening demeanour and slowly quieted, especially after seeing how the twins had fought during the riot.

Not wanting to remain in Eddrick’s debt, her life owed to him in more ways than just her freedom from slavery. The man had saved her from being skewered with an arrow, she owed him. “After you have received your share of the goods you are free to leave however you wish.”

Yuli’anyh turned around to peer into the gaze of the wounded bandit behind her, her emerald eyes glaring with the fire of her determination and with the validity of her word, “Beorn and I will see to Mr. Eddrick’s request, relinquishing the duty from the rest of you.”

As the relief of having the weight of decision lifted from their shoulders, the tension between the slaves seemed to almost vanish. Some disgruntled mumbles resonated through the ranks, but none openly voiced any opposition to Yuli’anyh’s verdict. Most were simply pleased that the responsibility of helping Eddrick Brodon was taken out of their hands.

Although, Yuli’anyh did not take the mission for information upon her shoulders out of altruism. No, it was a purely selfish endeavour to free herself from debt to the man.

* * *

After Beorn supervised the distribution of the slaver’s loot among the throng of now ex-slaves, Yuli’anyh the ever watchful guard, ensuring that no one rioted or tried to steal more than their share, the twin’s waited tensely as the slaves disembarked on their journeys for survival.

After making sure each of the slaves disappeared over the horizons, the crowd dispersing across the sands in all directions – some alone, some huddled together – Yuli’anyh then turned to the wounded bandit seated on the sandy dunes of the wasteland, “What is it exactly you're after?”

Beorn finally dismounted from the horse he and his sister opted to keep for themselves, shooting his sister an irked glance as he stepped closer, “What she means is, what’s your plan exactly? We can’t leave you here like this.” Hunkering down next to Eddrick, Beorn gestured to the bandit’s bandaged wound.

Yuli’anyh squinted into the back her brother as she folded her arms defensively across her chest, “We can’t?” It was more of a statement of her opinion, than a genuine question.

[Eddrick Brodon]

Eddrick suppressed a grin at the show of intimidation the young woman flung in the faces of the indecisive ex-slaves. He could only suppose she and the man that had stayed by her had not been slaves long enough to have their spirit crushed so completely as the rest. Looking again, he suspected they were brother and sister. It was one of those details that found a spot in his subconscious but would probably never be of any significance.

He had a few subtle conversations with a few of the milling ex-slaves as the woman and her associate took control of distribution. She named him as "Beorn"; and as he thought back, there had been a point where the man had called out to her. It had been when one of the slavers had been drawing his bow on her. Beorn's dismayed concern was another reason the two must be either siblings or lovers. No one else had cried out like that when another had been threatened. He had cried "Yula", or something like that, and their subsequent embraces had not shown any sort of romantic leaning, so he felt a blood relation was most likely.

The few slaves Eddrick had spoken with had now left, leaving only the healer, Jeth, who continued to cause excruciating pain with his ministrations in and around the arrow wound. Some of those who'd left were going to be heading north toward the Rahkrii holdings, having decided to seek membership within the bandit's ranks. Jeth was likely to do the same, and would stand a far better chance of immediate acceptance. The Raiders were wanting for healers right now, their current ones being all too inexperienced. In fact, Eddrick was nearly as useful in this regard as they were. It was not so much the amount of medical knowledge he had as it was the calm under pressure and the complete lack of concern over the sight of blood. Jeth appeared to possess both these qualities. The other prospects would likely just be 'soldiers', unless they had some crafting skill or connections or something.

Jeth was now wrapping the leg, the winding tight but not so much as to overly stem circulation. The pair approached and the woman asked him what he was after. Eddrick could only assume that "Beorn" thought her phrasing to be undiplomatic or something, as he rephrased what she'd asked, with a bit more emphasis on concern for his condition.

Eddrick tossed a thumb behind him to indicate the healer, "I appreciate your concern, but Jeth here will see to my needs. I thought I had made it pretty clear what I want." He noted the furrowed brows and half scowls exchanged between the two, "If you want brutal honesty, okay, I already admitted what sort of man I am. I am a deserter from Athart, where slavery is the foundation of the economy; and a man that can not go to the other main city in this part of the world due to false charges. Given that those two options were out, it pretty much left bandit, slave or corpse." he counted off the three choices with fingers across his palm.


"You resent me calling in this favor in exchange for your freedom? Then you shouldn't have chased all those others off. I'm not going to apologize for who I am or what I ask; any more than I'd ask you to apologize for killing those men, who in all likelihood were only trying to provide for their families. This is a harsh land, and forces harsh choices upon us all. No, I don't come to the rescue of every slave chain I come across. I did this one other time, and not one of them would do me this favor. Admittedly, I was not alone, nor did I get wounded, so maybe it didn't count." he shrugged.

"Jeth here will ride with me back to the caves. He may even decide to join. And we may yet come across other Rahkriis as we get close, so don't worry yourself about me. I'd offer you the same deal...Well actually, I DO offer you the same, but I get the feeling you're not interested. If you are willing to go to Nashaki and find out if I am wanted, or condemned there, I thank you. But if not, I understand. Life throws us both obstacles and opportunities, and maybe some other chance will arise for me to find out how I stand there."

He hobbled over to the Poko as he spoke, with Jeth's help, stopping at the stirrups to turn back. "Also, if you decide to do this for me, I can't possibly know right now where or when you'd be able to find me to let me know what you've found, other than to come to one of our strongholds...here." He reached into one of the boxes strapped to the back of the poko and handed back a red cloth with a wide diagonal stripe.

He held it out to the two ex-slaves. "If you think you might come north to the caves...or the cliffs...you should take this. Hold it up, it will get you in unharmed. You'll be searched of course, but no worse. But do NOT give it to anyone else thinking they could use it to get in. It would be assumed that you were forced to give it up to one of our enemies, trying to infiltrate. They would be dealt with harshly."

It was a marker cloth for the Athartian Slave Raiders, left over from the gear Eddrick had grabbed when he'd first deserted. Among the Rahkriis, it was exclusively meant to indicate himself alone, as no one else had come from his exact background. As he took a few breaths in anticipation of the pain of mounting the giant insect, he waited for any last comments by either of the pair of siblings. If none were forthcoming, he would wish them good luck, with genuine sincerity, and head north to Rahkrii lands.

[Yuli'anyh]

　
When Eddrick rhymed off the solutions that had been presented to him upon his escape from Athart, Yuli’anyh shrugged to herself. The man had a point, still, the young twin found it hard to believe that all he really wanted was information… surely there must be more to it? Some other hidden agenda as there almost, always was with seemingly simplistic deals. Right?

Eddrick almost hit home when he called out Yuli’anyh’s resentment, almost. It wasn’t him she resented. It was having allowed herself to have fallen into the debts of another that left a bitter taste in her mouth. A prideful creature, it was a struggle admitting she had needed help.

At the mention of the man she had killed with her own hands, Yuli’anyh froze, her jaw clenched tight as the guilt threatened to overwhelm her. She could still feel his blood all over her, drying, crusted. She could still see the light fade in the man’s eyes as he had been before her. Eddrick was right of course. The man had been someone. The slaver would have had friends, family, memories and by her selfish need to survive, she had snuffed it all out. She had valued her own life more than his. She had disgraced the teachings of her father.

Tears threatened to tumble from her sorrowful emerald eyes, as she swiftly looked away. When Eddrick offered positions within his crew of misfit bandits – the Rahkrii was it? - Beorn glanced back at his twin. The two exchanged knowing looks, but said nothing to either affirm Eddrick’s suspicions, nor to deny them. At this point, the twins were at a loss as to what their next move was to be. After Arcs of living in shackles, they were finally free – free to make their own choices and they would be choices made together.

The twins slowly followed in Eddrick’s wake as he limped over to the enormous insect. The creature was unlike anything Yuli’anyh had ever seen – it was creepy. When offered, Yuli’anyh accepted the piece of red cloth, listening intently to the bandit’s words as she studied the diagonal, white stripe on both sides of the material curiously.

She repeated the directions over and over in her mind. 'North, cliffs or cave. North, cliffs or cave.' She thought it brazen of the bandit to disclose two of the Rahkrii strongholds. Then again, maybe not. Maybe it was his way of signifying to the vast numbers that must comprise the Rahkrii Bandit crew.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she rolled the bandit’s words over in her mind, weighing up his sincerity, she finally glanced sideways to her twin, locking with Beorn's gaze. “Alright. You have yourself a deal.”

Flitting her fiery, emerald gaze to the mounted bandit, Yuli’anyh offered up the man’s dagger, hilt first, that had still been clenched tightly in her crimson soaked fingers. “We seek out this information for you and our debts are repaid? No strings? Avowed?”

With the deal struck, unease stirred in the young twin’s gut. The gnawing apprehension that they could be double crossed ate away at her. She hoped every word of this man’s candour could be trusted. She would have to believe it could be so.