The Final Act (1/3) (PG-17)

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 6th September 2020

Characters: Varlin, Lusilk, Lorican, Khaggo
Description: Lusilk confronts the men who took her son
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 5, day 2 of Turn 10
Notes: Follows BLW: The End Game. PG-17 for violence
Rating: PG-17

Lusilk

Varlin stood in the middle of the clearing, slowly turning his head back
and forth, listening intently to the sounds of the forest. He'd chosen
the place carefully; large enough to give them space, but sheltered from
dragons flying overhead. A large skybroom grew in the center,
distinctive enough that he knew she'd recognize it from the description
in his note. He knew she'd have scouted the area around the Weyrhold,
just as he had.

At his feet, the little boy was curled up, leaning against the tree
trunk. He kept one eye on Khaggo, who'd been waiting impatiently for him
to leave, to go back to take care of Lusilk. He'd told the hunter he
wanted to be sure there was no pursuit, but he knew there was no need to
risk leaving the boy. She would come to them. Soon...

Khaggo privately gritted his teeth, but stood quietly and with seeming
patience. Fingering the hilt of his dagger, his eyes scanned the area
just as much as the man beside him, searching for the lithe figure of
the woman who he had hunted. Privately, he hoped the pair would kill
each other, leaving him with all of the reward that Rorrigraf had
offered. It would have made things simple.

Lusilk barely looked down at the prone man on the travois beside her.
Blood streaked over Lorican's face, evidence of the head wound.
Instead, she studied the two men from the cover of brush. The sight of
Varlin made her heart seize with a mixture of grief and fury. Beside
him, she saw Silgan and for a moment, her breath stopped. Was he dead?
Had Varlin killed him? Then she saw just a slight movement of his
chest and relaxed. Her eyes moved to the other man and narrowed. She
recognized him with a surge of additional fury.

**Calm. You can't do this in a rage. You can't lose control.** She
checked her daggers, then carefully hoisted the travois on her
shoulders and stepped out into the clearing, pulling the limp body
behind her. The moment she got clear, she dropped the poles
unceremoniously behind her and locked eyes with Varlin.

He watched, expressionless, as she emerged from the forest. How long had
it been since he'd last seen her? Months, perhaps as much as a Turn
since their paths had last crossed. She looked well, life at the
Weyrhold had been good to her, but she hadn't lost that edge, the coiled
tension in her bearing, the look of tightly focused determination in her
eyes. Varlin shifted, every nerve alert, knowing he'd have to keep track
of Khaggo as well as her.

"You got my message." His eyes flicked to the man, who lay face down,
his hair matted darkly with blood, and took in the smith's knots. So
this was the man she'd failed to kill, who she'd risked her life for. He
didn't look like much. "Is he dead, or unconscious?"

"Do you think I'd risk anything after that message?" Her reply was
cold and biting. "Give me my son."

Khaggo's lip curled in scorn as he stepped closer to Silgan. He cared
little for the man on the stretcher or their words. "Kill the bitch
and get this over with. We had a deal."

"Your partner," She spat softly, "is the man who captured me and
helped beat me. There really isn't anything you wouldn't do for marks,
is there? How much did he offer?"

"Enough that I could leave this life behind." Varlin's hand dropped to
slide the knife from its sheath, his eyes never leaving hers as he eased
into a fighting stance. "But that doesn't matter. I had a job. I told my
client you'd take care of the smith. My reputation depended on it."

His reputation. It had always been about that. He'd never asked her
about the marks she'd saved; never considered that if she'd been able
to leave the life, he should have been able to as well. Her eyes
deadened completely, becoming as flat and cold as a tunnelsnake's. She
noticed the subtle shift in his stance, and matched it, her own hand
falling on the hilt of her favorite blade. It wasn't the only one she
carried, but it was the one that she never hid. In a fight between
them, she didn't know who would win; she honestly didn't want to fight
Varlin, but knew at this point, it was inevitable. Her heart quietly
ached, but the fury of a mother over the endangering of her child
quickly stifled the pain. He'd never cared for her. It had always been
about his lauded reputation; well, he'd forgotten that she had her own
as well. She was younger, quicker, and she had far more to lose.

Khaggo watched the pair, studying the two facing off. The tension was
thick, but they were so focused...His eyes darted down to the boy. The
boy was his goal and he was certain that Varlin could handle the
woman. He swooped down, hauled Silgan over his shoulder and began to
jog towards the hidden runners.

It was enough to catch Lusilk's attention. "Lorican!"

A sudden movement behind her caught Varlin's eye and his eyes flickered
to watch in dismay as the bloodied corpse slumped on the travois
stirred, then sprang to his feet, clutching a smith's hammer in one hand
that had been hidden under his body. **Alive...** Bitterness burned
inside him. He should have known!

Lorican spared only a brief glance for the dark man who faced Lusilk. He
had one purpose here, and he focused on the other, retreating with the
small boy hanging limply from his shoulder. A sudden, fierce rage,
fueled by all the months of constant unease, of looking over his
shoulder, the separation from his loved ones, boiled up inside him and
for once he didn't fight it. Wasn't it enough that they hounded him and
Lusilk, but they had to harm an innocent child as well?

With a wordless cry, he charged, hammer raised, recognizing the heat of
his anger, he remembered Lusilk's voice, cool and mocking. **Don't do
what he expects.** And he couldn't risk hurting Silgan. As his strides
covered the last of the space between them, rather than sweeping the
hammer down towards the man's head he dropped to a crouch and swung low,
aiming for the knees.

Lusilk took immediate advantage of Varlin's distraction. It was only a
moment, but it was enough to hopefully grant her enough time to give
her a better chance of winning against his greater skill and
experience. She lashed out with her dagger and struck at his dominant
hand, burying the blade as deeply as she could into the back of his
hand before twisting it and yanking it out, She danced back, not
feeling the single tear that leaked out of the corner of one eye. That
was it, she had struck in earnest and that meant only one of them
would be leaving this clearing.

Khaggo heard the yell and looked over his shoulder. What he saw
stunned him. The man was alive? He had no time to do more than fling
the child away and pull his blade. Lifting it to parry the overhand
blow, he didn't expect the sudden shift from the smith and took the
crushing blow with a cry of agony. Fighting the debilitating pain, he
swung his blade downwards towards Lorican's neck.

Silgan fell hard, his body limp on the ground, but still breathing.
There was a little whimpering cry and his hand twitched against the
ground.

The flash of the blade barely warned Lorican in time to stumble back and
a hot, stinging line scored the back of his shoulder. **Don't stop!** He
turned, rising, and swung again, dodging another slash, the hammer
whistling past the man's head to force him back and away from Silgan.

He caught his breath, sparing a brief, anxious moment to glance at the
boy, lying crumpled on the forest earth behind him. Though his shoulder
burned, he could still move his arm and he'd felt the solid connection
of the hammer against bone in that first strike. The man would be
limping badly. If he scooped up Silgan and ran, he might make it...but
then he'd have to leave Lusilk to face both of their attackers alone.

Despite the promise he'd made to her, he found his feet wouldn't budge -
and then his opponent's blade flashed at him again and he had to bring
the hammer up, heart pounding, to turn it aside. Now he was on the
defensive, backing up and desperately blocking each of the thrusts which
came too fast for him to think, much less find an opening.

Varlin gritted his teeth against a howl of pain and he barely managed to
catch the knife with his free hand as it fell from nerveless fingers,
the hilt slick with blood. He bit back a curse. **My fault.** Forcing
his attention away from the other two, he focused intently on Lusilk,
circling, testing her with short jabs and feints as he tried to accustom
himself to his less favored hand.

"It's useless. The man's marked to die." He turned into her attack and
aimed a sharp blow at her chest with the elbow of his injured arm. He
was still stronger, if he could only get close enough... "You must know
that, Lusilk. Whatever happens here, it's only putting off the inevitable."

Lusilk circled round, dodging back from the blow on nimble feet and
keeping out of his much longer reach. She darted in again on his
wounded side, but behind Varlin, she could see Lorican struggling.
**Kill him! Kill him! Shaffit Lorican, break his stance!** She saw
Silgan on the ground and fury erupted beyond thought. She dashed
around Varlin, thinking nothing but getting to her son and getting him
away from the hulking man who stood near him. Snarling with a vicious,
savage intensity, she leaped on the back of Khaggo, making him stagger
from the extra weight on his mutilated knee. She yanked his hair back
and exposed his throat.

This was the man who had captured her, helped bring the nightmares
that she still struggled with. A knife was pulled from her hip and she
plunged it into the man's neck, snarling as she drove it in again and
again, She rode his back as he staggered down, gasping in shock and
confused pain as hot blood sprayed out, then straddled him as he fell
forward. Covered in blood and a manic snarl on her face, she looked up
at Lorican, her face locked in a rictus of rage. "Get. My. Son. Out."

For one moment his horrified gaze met hers, as if he was looking on the
woman from the fire in the smithy, all those months ago. Then Lorican
crouched and lifted the child into his arms. As he turned to glance
back, he saw the glint of a thrown blade and flinched as a sudden sharp
pain sliced across his arm. Across the clearing, the other man cursed.
Lorican didn't hesitate any longer. Cradling Silgan close to his chest,
he fled into the darkening forest.

Last updated on the October 13th 2020

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

The Final Act (1/3) (PG-17)