The Rune Stone

Bridge

The ranger woke himself up in a small log room with a roaring fire to the far end. He was laying in a simple hay bed and when he tried to move he felt his shoulder wound bite at him, forcing him back down. He let out a loud exhale and grunt, taking a better look at his surroundings. By the side of the bed was a chair with a basin filled with bloody water on top of it as well as a handfull of dried herbs and bandages to the side. It did not take long for Varonno to realize that whoever took him in treated his wounds. The light pertruding from the window to his left indicated that it was around noon. He stared at the celling for a long while, trying to process whatever had just hapenned to him during the previous night. The loss of Shadow still ached him deeply on the inside, but now, he atleast could hold back tears.

An eldery bearded man with long gray hair slowly crept into the room, he carried with him some food and fresh bandages. "Ah, you are awake. You should know better than to tangle with a wendigo. I barely managed to bring you back from the brink." he said in an oddly familiar voice. "How did you know it was a wendigo ?" asked the ranger, turning to face him better. "You are not the first one I saw with bites and claw marks like those. But you are one of the few that are alive. Glad atleast some of my lessons stuck with you boy." he answered, moving the basin and sitting down next to Varonno with a wide smile. Only then did the ranger recognize him. It was Alvor, his old master and teacher. The one who had taught him the ways of the rangers and the one who had bestowed Shadow to him. Varonno couldn't help but smile at this realizations, moving to embrace the man, taking him by surpise, but eventually getting the old man to return the hug.

After eating and discussing the circumstances of Shadow's death, which pained Alvor just as deeply as it did Varonno since he was the one who caught the pup and watched him grow alongside the trainee ranger that was Varonno in his youth, Alvor changed the bindings of Varonno's wounds yet again, but they were far from being healed. Then, he offered him a new dark green cloak with the complementary comment; "Take better care of this one will you ?" as well as a fresh pair thick breeches to complement his still intact boots and a new linen shirt to replace his torn one. In addition he was also gifted a leather cuff and matching gauntlet of northern ranger fashion to protect one's arms when firing a bow and a leather sleeveless, close-fitting, waist-length vest to better protect himself.

"If you are gonna go and set things straight with your father and all that, you are going to need all the help you can get, innit ?" said Alvor jokingly as he handed Varonno a freshly crafted long bow and a full quiver. "But in all seriousness lad, be careful. Your father... he has changed, and not for the better I'd say. But then again, I am an old man, hardly connected with their political schemes." he'd say with a huff, tossing another log on the fire burning in the hearth.

The ranger, with fresh clothing and supplies on his person, set off yet again, renewed in vigor and spirit albeit only slightly. He travelled the country-side of his youth in long strikes making his way towards the bridge that would lead to his father's keep. Here he found two guardmen barring passage.

"You. You are not allowed here. I thought we told you that years ago. Now go back, exile. Before things have to get nasty." said one of them, drawing his blade in a threatening manner. "I am going to get in there. It has been long enough. And I suggest you let me through." responded the ranger taking a long step forwards, prompting the other guard to draw his sword. Varonno sighed. "Have it your way then." he said drawing his own blade and taking yet another step.

The two men came at his in single file, with the first one sprinting, not even waiting for his partener. Beginner mistake thought the ranger as he parried the blow, the strain on his arm becoming more apprent to him now. He could not fight them properly, the wounds on him were too fresh. He then ducked and weaved around, letting the sword-man tire himself out, before kicking him in the stomach and sending him ringing away with a pummel blow of his blade to the head. The next guard was no different, he started with a shield bash, forcing the ranger to jump back, sending further strain on himself. The ranger retaliated with a s***h, cutting through the man's gamberson, letting blood out. With a pummel strike this second guard man was down. After a brief moment, the two picked themselves up eyeing the man up and down wearily. "Go on then, tell him I am back. Have him send his best for me, if that's what he wants. I'll wait." snarled the ranger.

An hour later, Varonno sat cross-legged at the center of the bridge with his long-sword resting on his knees. His home had not changed much since he was last here, but that didn’t surprise him. His father zealously protected his lands which had turned his soldiers into pretty decent fighters. Well, some of them, at least, he thought, wiping a spot of blood dripping from his sword.

He flicked the cloth he used over the parapet down into the river below and reached into his pack, which had been set to the side, against the parapet, to pull out a fresh orange, the last one he had from Wellspring. It no longer looked all that apetising, but he saved it specially for this, for the moment when he got here. He slowly peeled the shell as he heard the warriors at the end of the bridge try to decide which one of them would face him next.

The ranger bit into the orange as he took a deep breath, tasting the smell of the pine forest behind him that stretched for miles. Varonno sighed, to see his home after so long made him feel sad and some-what guilty. He shook off the chill of memory, knowing thoughts of the home that was right in front of him would only serve to distract him. His new clothing and armor felt akward and heavy on his wounded body, not yet properly adjusted.

A cold wind scudded over the snowcapped mountains to the north and a distant storm disgorged rain over distant fields and settlements to the far south. He heard the clatter of armor and the whisper of a blade cutting air. “Stand and face me” ordered a powerful voice.Varonno held up a finger while he finished his orange. He licked his lips before looking up at the warrior standing before him. The man was powerfully built, broad in the shoulders and thick of arm. Armored head to toe in gleaming war plate of burnished steel, he carried a double-edged, steel sword.

“You seem like a man who can hew iron-pine trees all day.” said Varonno

“I’ll not waste words on you, traitor” said the warrior, assuming the same fighting stance all the others had. Varonno sighed, disappointed the defeat of the two men before this one hadn’t taught him anything.“Traitor?” he said, rising to his feet in one smooth motion, trying to mask the pain of his wounds.

Varonno swung his sword around to loosen the muscles in his shoulders. Not that he needed to, but he’d been fighting, on and off, for the last two hours and it might make the man facing him feel like he at least had a chance of winning this duel.

“For House Forrester!” shouted the swordsman and he attacked with the same tired, predictable strikes all the others had. The soldier was fast and strong enough to wield his sword in one hand. Varonno swayed aside from the first blow, ducked the second and parried the third, wincing slightly, the pain in his shoulder creeping up on him. He spun inside the swordsman’s guard and hammered his sword pommel against the side of his helmet. The metal buckled and the man went down on one knee with a grunt of pain. Varonno gave him a moment to still the ringing in his head. The man tore off his helm and dropped it to the bridge.Blood dripped on the side of his head, but Varonno was impressed at how the man controlled his anger. His father’s men had always been sticklers for discipline, so he was glad to see that hadn’t changed. The man took a steadying breath and attacked again, a series of blisteringly fast cuts that went high and low, a mixture of sweeping slashes, lighting thrusts and overhead cuts. Varonno parried or ducked them all, his sword in constant motion as it deflected the knight’s blade and delivered a stinging jab into the man’s belly, making him fall on the ground and leaving him gasping for air.

“Had enough yet?” asked Varonno. “I can swap hands if it makes it easier.”

The man’s prideful grin started crumbling in the face of Varonno’s mockery, and when he attacked again, it was with a ferocity untempered by discipline and skill. Varonno ducked a risky beheading. It surprised the ranger to see that the guard was full intent of killing him. It gave him some pause on his father's orders regarding him. He spun his weapon under the man’s sword and rolled his wrist. The warrior’s sword was wrenched from his grasp and flipped through the air. Varonno caught it carefully in his free hand.

“Nice little weapon” he said, spinning the blade in a dazzling series of master fencer’s strokes. “Lighter than it looks.”

The soldier drew his dagger and rushed him. Varonno shook his head at his foolishness. He threw the sword from the bridge and sidestepped a series of blisteringly fast thrusts. He ducked a sweeping cut and caught a thunderous right cross in his open palm. He nodded toward the river.

“I hope you can swim” he said, and twisted his wrist, lifting the armored warrior from his feet and flipping him over the bridge’s parapet. The man splashed down into the river and Varonno resumed his cross-legged stance on the cobbles of the bridge.

As he sat down again, in his old spot, he saw a rider dismount at the other end of the bridge. A woman with golden braided hair, wearing leather armour and carrying a round shield on her back whoose sigil he could not see yet. Varonno got up on his feet again and tried to remember where he had seen her before. As she got closer it struck him like a thunder bolt… It was Amaya, the noble girl he fell in love with all those years back, the reason he was exiled. She started walking towards him and finally sat down on the parapet a few meters in front of him. She stood there for a few seconds then waved Varonno to come to her. He stood in the middle of the bridge, perfectly still, as if struck by an invisible blow, he finally took a deep breath, put his sword back in its scabbard and started walking slowly towards her.