Bram: Erint's Call

[Undisputed]

Chapter 1: Old Beginnings


It was a beautifull summer day, some may even call it perfect. The sun shone brightly in the sky, and a cool breeze whispered contentedly through the trees, on its way to new lands. A doe walked lazily along with its foal, picking at plants along their way. In this small forest, it seemed as if all were peacefull in the world. Ignorance, it seems, is truly bliss and is just as easily taken away.

The doe jerked its head up as a sharp crack rang out, and let out a frightened cry as Bors came barreling through the brush towards it, throwing anxious glances over his shoulder. The two deer ran off into the forest as he came to a stop, breathing fast. His eyes darted around searching for the enemy that hunted him, his sword held steadly in front of him. A hint of movement on his right was the only warning he had before a man sprung out from behind a tree, sword flying in a high arc at him. Bors' dove hard left, feeling the bite of the sword as it knicked his shoulder. He immediatly hopped up, sword ready to defend another blow, but the other man just stood there with a confident smirk on his face. Bors' circled him warily, looking for any opening he had.

“So, the rat has been cornered again.”

"Ye be a thorn in me side, royal dog," Bors growled. "There be a thousand other men to hunt, yet ye always on me tail." Bors suddenly grinned, "And ye 'ave yet ta catch me, eh James?"

James' smile widened, "Aye, yet here we stand with your blood on my sword."

Bor's spat out a curse and drove forward, sword aimed for his heart. James parried the the lunge away and swung his sword down at Bors' neck. Bors pulled his sword up, bracing his second hand on the flat of the blade as their swords met with a loud clash. They both strained with all their strength, glaring at each other over their blades. With a grunt of effort Bors shoved the taller man away, and was immediately forced to bring his sword up to block a thrust at his neck. His sword was a blur as he used every bit of skill he possessed to block the rain of blows James threw at him, sweat beaded up on his forehead from the effort and small cuts appeared seemingly out of nowhere as blows slipped past his guard. About to become overwhelmed, Bors suddenly dropped to his knees sword flashing out at James’ legs, forcing him back. With a wordless cry Bors leapt forward, pulling out his parrying knife and swinging with wild abandon, hoping to overwhelm him.

[Gadreille]

James backed away as his opposition slashed wildly at his legs. He was a head taller than the fellow, but it wasn't always an advantage. With his gangly stature, it was no surprise that during his retreat, his feet tangled among the underbrush and he came crashing down. He twisted to break his fall, and for a moment feared the end as he felt the enemy lunge at him, sword drawn. As Bor's sword arched and fell ever closer to James' face with increasing momentum, James rolled onto his back and brought his own sword up to meet it, one hand on the hilt, the other pushed against the flat of the blade. The two weapons smashed together with a loud thunk, and James gritted his teeth as Bors' blade inched towards James' face.

"Gaaahhhh!" James screamed as he kicked at Bor's stomach with all of his might. Bors flew backward, and James kicked up his legs before throwing them down again, the movement bringing his back off the ground and weight back onto his feet.

"Brigand!" He shouted again as he charged. His voice felt unfamiliar even as it carried past his lips. Normally James was not one for words, but in the heat of battle, even that disappeared. There was nothing but him, and his opponent. Before the fight was done, there would either be him...or nothing.

The swords clashed again; one, two, three times as they both struggled to gain the advantage. Their feet moved backward and forward as they circled one another, each waiting for the other to strike.

"What ye gonna do, dance me t' jail?" Bors taunted.

"I'll hav' you, shortshanks!" James replied as he stepped forward, meaning to swipe off Bors head with one thrust. Bors ducked, and James felt his opponent's weapon bit his ribs. Angry now, he brought out his small knife and tossed it toward Bor's gut; it hit him point first but then glanced off whatever armor Bors had hidden under his shirt. Bors kicked away the weapon and advanced.

James moved in close and managed to disarm Bors, but he deftly moved behind James and caught him in a chokehold. James struggled for air, dropping his own sword to tear at Bors' arms. There they remained tangled, James unable to escape, Bors unable to free an arm to reach for his parrying knife.

James fell to his knees, but his assaliant did not relent. James let himself go limp and waited....vision going dim....waited longer....there! Bors gripped had loosened ever so slightly, but it was enough. James pulled Bors overhead, letting his shoulder fall into the man's chest as he threw himself down atop Bors. They both rolled away from each other, winded, but the fight was not yet over.

[Undisputed]

Bors coughed hard, trying to catch his wind again. He silently cursed himself for loosening his grip on the man's neck and falling for such a simple trick. Starting to rise, he winced as his palm hit a rock. Quickly picking it up, he glanced towards the other man, who was just beginning to push himself off the ground as Bors leapt forward, throwing the large stone he picked up. James ducked out of the way, but the stone had served its purpose and provided Bors with enough time to grab his fallen parrying knife and lunge at his foe. Spinning to the side, James grabbed his arm and wrist, twisting hard as Bors yelled out in pain and dropped the knife. Mustering all the strength he could, Bors slammed his fist into James' side, causing him to gasp in pain and loosen his grip on Bors' wrist. He jerked himself away from the man, and they stood apart glaring at each other and rubbing at injuries.

"Let us see how ya fare now, wit' no of yer pretty little sword dances, aye?" Bors said tauntingly, giving him a lopsided grin. "We face 'chother as God intended!"

As James opened his mouth to reply Bors stepped forward on the balls of his feet, snapping two quick jabs at the other mans jaw and following them up with a hard hook. James brought his hands up in time to barely block the first hits, and ducked under the last. Side stepping, Bors threw two hard hooks at the mans head, causing him to cover his his head, and leaing his middle open. With a wordless cry, he slammed his fist hard into James' stomach, sending him reelling back coughing and gasping for air.

Bors let out a mocking laugh. "Aye, thought so. Royal brat can handle th' sword, but can no use yer fists!"

Stepping forward and arm cocked back in preparation to continue the fight, Bors suddenly froze in place as razor sharp steel flashed at him, only inches from his face. James stood facing him, his sword that he had just picked up off the ground in his hand. Looking around desperatly, Bors let out a growl of frustration as he spotted his weapons behind the other man. Slowly backing away, Bors thoughts were in a panic as he looked for any means of escape. He stumbled as his feet hit a plant behind him, and his back hit hard against a tree.

"Oi, there be no need to be hasty, friend!" Bors said quickly, raising his hands and smiling shakily. "Suppose we can come ta some accord, aye? A bit o' gold in yer pockets would be right nice, ya?"

James shook his head. "This be the end for ye, cretin."

Bors pressed up hard against the tree, and opened his mouth stall for time when a thought flashed through his head. He had almost forgotten. He had a trump card yet to play.

[Gadreille]

James face flushed with triumph as he closed in on his foe. Finally, he was about to bring justice to the world by ridding it of Bors Chandler. James raised his hilt to his ear and pointed the blade toward Bors' heart. This was it, the long fight was about to end. I have done it.

An uneasiness suddenly crept over James. As grey eyes met the light brown of his victim's, James noticed Bors panic had dissipated; his cocky grin once again returned. James moved in quickly to end him, but he was not fast enough. Bors' arms flew out in front, and in his hands he was holding a gleaming flintlock pistol.

James heart leapt in his throat and he stumbled backwards, twisting behind the nearest tree. He took a shakey hand to his ash brown hair and pushed it back out of his eyes. He willed himself to calm down before venturing to find out Bor's location. James tilted his head to the side, slightly beyond the confines of the tree. He didn't see Bors anywhere. Finally, he called out to Bors:

"That's not...real, is it??"

He heard his friend laugh just beyond. "Aye, it's me Da's! Come take a look!"

James stumbled out from behind the tree and sauntered over to his friend. He had very little interest in guns for a lad of fourteen. In fact, they flat out scared him. Swords and knives he felt at home with...but guns? They were so...scary! He stayed back a couple of paces and asked, "It's not loaded, is it?"

"Come 'ere before I show you w' the bullet!" Bors mockingly threatened. James elbowed his friend in the ribs as he stepped up to his side.

"Oi, watch it!" Bors cried out, waving the gun a little as a reminder. James shrugged.

James watched as Bors held it up and pointed it to an old, gnarled tree in the distance. He cocked it, and James tried not to flinch as he squeezed the trigger.

James flinched anyway as a branch shattered in the distance. Bors' grin went from cocky to sheepish; his eyes were full of pride. "What else should we shoot?"

James didn't like guns, but he had an idea.

---

The two lads were laid out on a hill overlooking a farm. "I bet you can't hit one." James taunted.

"I could hit three," Bors replied indignantly. James arched an eyebrow.

Bors' eyes dropped. "Well, if I had three guns anyway..."

The chickens grazed lazily in the field as Bors took aim. James felt no shame in covering his ears.

Bors took aim and fired. Nothing happened.

"Oh...I forgot..." Bors mumbled as he cocked the gun. He moved back into position, and silence once again overcame them as Bors aimed at the innocent chickens. A loud growl broke the silence. A large white dog bounded on James, tearing at his ankles.

"Ah, get off!" James kicked at the dog, trying to whack it with his wooden sword. Bors tried to push the dog off of James, and the gun went off as he did so. The dog yelped and ran off, leaving a faint trail of blood behind him.

"You SHOT Old Dorigg's dog!" James whispered. The two boys looked at each other, stunned.

They took off running.

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