war of the jack pines (vedette)
Ulbarich heard the solid slap of an arrow as it buried itself in a tree. He heard this because his head was not half a foot away from where the arrow landed. On a night such as this one - deep in the mountains, with snow drifting instead of falling, and the hiss of boots in slush all around - such sounds seemed louder than they actually were. Bark sprayed out from the mortal wound the tree had suffered. Some of it kissed his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to scratch, and he winced as he took a knee behind the tree. Lucky shot, Ulbarich decided, instead of aimed. If it had been aimed he would already be dead. Plates of armor were secured to his jacket, and for the love of life they were not grinding against one another loud enough to hear.
They were getting close.
Another hiss of boots behind him. Yet he knew who it was, thankfully. Carolmin was a good second, if somewhat obnoxious to the men, but he was not a fine shot with a bow. Ulbarich had done everything he could short of battering the man in his miserable head to teach him how to guide his shots. They were hustling through these woods without the benefit of a light, looking for someone close enough to riddle with holes, and you could not afford to miss at range. Every arrow fired gave away your position. Shouting for help only drew them down faster. You had to be fast, you had to be accurate, and you had to be quiet. The bandits who found themselves stacked against these soldiers of the crown were all of those things. Ulbarich worried that his men might be overmatched, but there were several hardened veterans among the group.
They knew their duty.
"I took one in the back," Carolmin whispered.
Ulbarich grunted, his face peering over his shoulder - only his eyes were visible, above the pauldron - to tell Carolmin to shut his damn mouth before both of them were taken in their backs. Nervous and sweating above his uniform coat, Carolmin seemed to take the hint with understanding enough. The man's bow was down, an arrow was nocked, and his shoulder rested against the broad tree which was their cover. You could hear a rabbit piss in this quiet. Yet even the rabbits had enough sense to quiet down and wait for this storm to pass. Ulbarich had been inundated with letter after letter after report after report detailing the bandits that were raiding small military outposts in this area. They were also striking villages where they could, operating with impunity as orc attacks continued to increase. No one could have guessed their identity. And so far, no one had been able to capture or kill them.
Tonight was going to be different.
Ulbarich jerked his head toward the next good cover; a boulder rested in the middle of the forest, rolled there by nature and the grind of time. Carolmin only nodded, hair drooping into his eyes as he did. That was their cue to move. Both soldiers stayed low, hustling with rapidly twisting shoulders to fire out into the darkness. Crossing open ground in this murder pit was never a good idea. It was even less of a good idea to do so with a man who sounded like a boar crushing into a glass cabinet at your back. Carolmin was not known for his stealth, or for his prowess with the bow. Ulbarich arrived at the rock far ahead of his second.
From Carolmin's right, an arrow snapped. The thing barely missed taking Carolmin's leg. Yet Ulbarich was there, peering over the rock, and the fletching brushed his jaw as he pulled back. Snap. Fire. Someone screamed in the darkness. A bandit's movement at the hit gave him away. He slumped against a tree, and then spilled onto his side. In this near darkness one could see only the steam rising from his body as hot blood met cold snow. That was Ulbarich's cue to drop to a knee, and nock another arrow. Only the fellow's shot at Carolmin had given him away. If not for that, the bastard would have continued to circle around them and probably would have shot them both in the back.
"Excellent, sir," Carolmin gave unnecessary praise. "He must not have seen you."
Ulbarich didn't even bother to grunt, this time.
Their mission in this forest was simply to patrol. Not for orcs, as most were told, but simply to patrol. It was a measure of uncertain times - and the skill of these bandits - that their orders were so unusual. It was also a measure of their madness that they'd taken to the woods in full dark to intercept an unknown number of bandits despite seeing only two on the road. Those two, out in the open with only knives at their hips, had died quickly. These in the woods were showing their true cunning. At least one of them had to have military training that he'd passed on to the rest. There was no other reason Ulbarich could think of that they were so skilled.
And so lethal.
"Here comes another," Carolmin whispered.
Ulbarich could hear it well enough. A snapped twig. A brush of branches, dry as they were, that creaked. Snow sloshed beneath someone's feet. They were coming right for the boulder. Did they know that it was occupied by a pair of soldiers? Was this fellow a soldier, himself? If he was then he ought to have been a little more gods-damned quiet. There was no excuse for the noise the fellow was producing if he was one of Ulbarich's troop. The Captain thrust out his heel, tripping the bastard as he rounded the corner, and the arrow came back at the same time.
Through the fletching of blue and white, Ulbarich saw a bandit's grime and grease. He fired the arrow into the man's throat.
This time, the steam was much more noticeable. As was the pool of blood.
Someone fired to their left.
The Captain's hand closed on the shaft of the arrow, near the head, and he twisted while he pulled. Certainly there was enough force behind his tug. From the throat emerged his arrow, bloody but none the worse for wear. Ulbarich wiped it on the bandit's trousers, decided it was filthier after than it had been before, and placed it against the hard curve of the bow. Carolmin looked as though he was about to be sick. Surely he'd seen blood before, or tugged an arrow out of a man who was still in the process of dying. Those gurgles were too soft to be heard. And though the bandit was clutching his throat with one hand and tugging at Ulbarich's boot with the other, he was already dead so far as the Captain was concerned.
A snap, to their left.
Time to be on the move again. Ulbarich kept his knees bent and ran into the darkness.