Monday, June 4, 2012

Flight or Fight, Chapter 12


The warning came just a bit late, Dafi realized. She also knew she really shouldn’t have thrown the beer pitcher, but damn it, these were not soldiers, they were jackals! She was not about to let them prey on the civilians!

As soon as they started dragging her towards the door, Dafi twigged that that this was not a night on the town for these scum. She caught sight of an insignia, improperly hidden by the jerkin worn over the cote of one of her attackers. The crest on the shoulder of the uniforms was of the Duchy of Movila, in subdued embroidery. She wondered if the Duke knew these mercenaries were wearing his colours.

Four of them, she might could take in an unfair fight. First priority was to make it as difficult as possible for them to carry her off. Unfortunately, the largest men of the brawlers were the ones that had grabbed her. Though she struggled fiercely, they had her by her arms and legs and were still able to travel well in spite of her struggles.

They had not blindfolded her, so she was able to note the landmarks as she struggled. They were not headed to the Wanderer’s gate, but other than that, she did not know the town. She thought she should be able to find her way back.

She got a leg loose and managed to kick the other leg carrier in the head hard enough to make him drop her. This section of town did not have as many lamps, and the fountain in the derelict square she managed to stop them in was dry. There were no curious bystanders, much to her chagrin, but at this point, anyone else showing up was suspect.
 
Kicking furiously, she managed to get herself free, tumbling across the square. Since they had not had time to disarm her, she still had her boot knives. But that was all she had been carrying when they went down to dinner. The full moon was rising over the rooftops, so seeing where her attackers were was not a problem.

The fact that each of them out-massed her by half again was a problem, however. Loose cobbles in the pavement made footing uncertain, and the odds, even if she did fight dirty, were extremely slim. Not that she was giving them the benefit of the proper École de l'Epée rules. They were built like shield-men, but that didn’t mean they weren’t able to fight like gutter-rats.

They did not give her but a few seconds to make these assessments before two of them lunged for her. A quick sidestep for one and a punch to the solar plexus to the other as she danced away made the other two pause. The first wheeled about, grabbing for her hair, and she tumbled out of his way.

Still not using the knives yet, she held them against her forearms. She had no wish to kill, even in defense, but they might not give her the option. Keeping track of the four of them was still possible, and they had not shown they were trained to fight together, yet. Keeping the fountain to her back, she watched the thugs re-evaluate the situation.


~=*=~

Not caring who got in his way, Dalibor ran through the streets, tracking her scent. Wholly giving himself over to the instincts to hunt, he ignored the cries of dismay as he plowed through the busy crowd in the pub district.

As the scent of her led him away from the crowds into the warehouse district, he growled. Ten years ago this was a bustling business area, but now there were derelict buildings and broken street lamps. The scents of decay mingled with boiled cabbage, rank water and a thread of opium smoke, but the other scents were merely pushed away in his tracking of her.

~=*=~

Dafi’s awareness narrowed to recognition of movement and the patterns they followed. From there her conscious mind focused solely on the estimation of possible next moves, dropping anything that did not involve getting out of this fight alive. Seconds stretched endlessly in her view as she dropped into her tactical analysis battle mindset.

The first one she had kicked was still gathering his wits, but the fact that he was getting up after a boot to the head meant she could be dealing with boneheaded muscle, or perhaps enhanced soldiers. For all their braggart's ways in the tavern, they were deadly silent now. The group had worked together before, if the half-formed hand signals were any indication. One was still getting his breath back from the punch to the gut, leaving two still on their feet and unfazed.

She moved, feinting a dash back for the street, and gauging the speed at which she was blocked. Good, they were heavy fighters, but not augmented, so she would not be dealing with inhuman speed.

Slipping sideways, she managed to connect with her boot to one knee, and the grunt of pain was satisfying, but there was no crunch behind it. They were wearing light armor under the uniforms? No, not all of them had it, but somebody had thought to wear cuisse and greaves under their trous. Damn.

The opening moves testing the defenses on both sides completed, the thought that her father would be disappointed in her if she should die in a street fight ran through her mind as she dodged another attack, alerted by the scrape of boot-sole on cobblestone. The two she had counted coup on earlier were beginning to get their feet back under them when she rushed the closest of them in a move normally learned on the rugby pitch rather than the drill field. Driving her shoulder into his stomach before he was fully on his feet, she was able to make him stumble on a hole left by a missing cobble. The crack of his head hitting the pavers was satisfying enough, but she could not stop to check - the other three were rushing her in point formation. She scrambled and rolled under the feet of another, pausing only long enough to drive the heel of her boot up. Her target twisted at the last moment, so she hit his hip instead of something more damaging, but the force of her kick left him off balance, and tumbling.

Unfortunately, the pause was enough for one of the others to get a grip on her hair. Hissing at the pain as he jerked her head back, she pulled back her elbow sharply, connecting with his ribcage, but the angle was not enough to cause satisfying damage. However, it was enough for him to loosen his grip on her braids, and she jerked free, hairpins flying. Rolling across the abandoned square gained her room to move again.

The one she had dropped on his head still hadn’t gotten up, but the one she had kicked in the hip was limping away. If she could not get out of this before he brought reinforcements, she was lost. She had trouble enough with the two that remained, as it was.

~=*=~
 
 Dalibor had just made the turn into a darkened alley when he caught the movement at the other end of the block. A drunk, staggering home, would not be in this district, and the dream-smoke houses were behind him. Running at top speed, he clotheslined the lone man before his light footsteps could echo.

Even in the dim light, the uniform was right, and the scent was dead on. Slamming the man up against the stone wall, Dalibor hissed, “Where iz she?”

The answer was a sleeve-knife, wielded under the cover of drunken flailing. Dalibor’s grip shifted to the throat of Dafi’s assailant, until the man passed out. His instincts screaming at him to drop the thug and keep tracking, Dalibor took a few seconds to secure the man, but he did not waste time looking for a peace officer to hand him over. Demons driving him, he ran, tracking her again.   

~=*=~

With their numbers halved, the thugs pressed her harder. Circling her, one would try to harry her into the attack of the other. She refused the invitations, slipping out of reach or skipping aside, which seemed to anger them more. When she was able to make one of the thugs forget about the unconscious one behind him, causing him to stumble, the other lunged for her. Unable to fend him off with simple application of force, she had to resort to the knife. Pulling the blade across his abdomen, and up, he was soon more concerned with keeping his innards from hitting the pavement.

The response from the one recovering from his stumble was the first time any had spoken since taking her from the tavern. “I don’t care if they do want you alive, bitch! They can reanimate you for the ceremony!” With that, he pulled out his long-knife - a blade long enough that with his arm length, he would be able to best her reach easily.

~=*=~

Dalibor saw the strike begin as he entered the derelict square, and roared as he sped over the cobbles. There was just enough conscious thought left to keep him from snapping the neck of Dafi’s attacker, but it was a near thing. He switched to a sleeper hold at the last moment, just as the thug swung his fist, steel glittering in the moonlight as his arm arced towards Dal’s neck.

Then Dafi landed a solid kick at the thug’s groin, causing him to drop the knife. The shrill exhalation coupled with Dalibor’s hold made the thug finally fall unconscious, with a chance to live later. Dalibor kept the hold a few moments more, making sure the thug had not played dead to gain an advantage.

However, he dropped the man unceremoniously when Dafi spoke, “Dal? I think that’s enough.”

“Nut for vot he tried to do to you,” He resisted the urge to kick the unconscious lump. Turning swiftly to her, “Are you hurt?”

“I think I might have strained some muscles, trying to keep at least one alive for questioning. One got away, and...” She sounded tired, but in control, and her voice only wavered when she admitted, “I think I might have mis-stepped with one of them...”

A fight with four street-toughs turned soldiers and she’s worried that she might have killed one of them? Dalibor gave in to his instincts and swept her up in an embrace. “Hyu’re  zafe, dot’z all dot metterz.”

He held her as tightly as he could without injuring her, carefully gauging his strength against hers. His conscious mind nearly made him release her when she squeaked in surprise, but it lost the argument when she returned the embrace just as fiercely. 

He reluctantly eased his grip on her, “Ve must secure de rats, ne?”

“Yes, We should.” She was slow to let go of him, as well.

The discovery that the one of the quartet that Dafi has to use her knife on had not quite expired caused some consternation until the patrol caught up with them. The city watch thankfully had a medic with them, who nodded at the wound description. “Sure, and this one will live to see tomorrow, but not be back to duty, I think. Let’s go, boys.” He and the stretcher bearers took off at a trot, leaving the rest of the patrol to mop up the rest.

The sergeant of the patrol interviewed Dafi on the sequence of events, while his second went over the particulars with Dal, both of them well outside earshot of the others in the patrol, standing guard over the two that were slowly regaining consciousness.

Dalibor spoke carefully, “Hy caught vun of dem a few streets over, same uniform und scent, knocked him out ven he pulled a sleeve knife on me.”

The second nodded, “Thought that might have been you. We got him, and they’re all headed for lockup tonight.” He looked a little nervous when he continued, “We need to get you all back to the station-house, because the sergeant will want the captain to take your statements, too.”

Dal lowered his voice, “Hyu gots more trouble than just some boyz gettin’ outta hand, ja?”

“Can’t say for sure, sir. Sergeant Valobos might defer to the captain on that .”

~=*=~

Dafi turned over her knives for inspection to the sergeant of the patrol, who secured them in an evidence wrap. “I’m afraid that’s all I know, sergeant.”

“Yes, ma’am. However, knife fights in the streets have a specific protocol. We will have to take you back to the station-house, have your statements reviewed by the captain and validated by the registrar. More than that we will find out from the captain.” His eyes darted over to the two sitting on the cobblestones. “We may need to take care of some other issues on the way. We should get moving, though.”

Dafi felt Dalibor looming over her shoulder as the sergeant’s second joined them. “Preliminary reports completed here, sir?”

“Aye. Those two able to walk?”

“Well enough.” The second seemed to pause a moment, “Sir, the commander and her sergeant were staying at my uncle’s tavern...”

“Yes, I know.” Valobos nodded. “We’ve got enough here to have three on each of the participants, let’s go.”

Marching order worked out, with the sergeant making one of the three escorting Dafi, she murmured, “We gave our word to attend the captain, but this means you don’t get accused of favoritism?”

“Too right, ma’am.” Valobos also kept his voice low. “One of the things we will have to do is stop at the tavern. Just because you made it out of this attempt doesn’t mean this is the end of it. Ionnesceu will take them on to the station, but we have to make a show of escorting you and your goods out of the tavern.”

Dalibor rumbled, just within the sergeant’s hearing, “You expect another attack on the tavern?”

“I’d like to keep the fire watch bored tonight, yeah. If you are publicly escorted out, there’s no call for untoward accidents.”

Upon reaching the tavern that is exactly what happened, but Dafi refused the refund the innkeeper offered. “You need to replace at least three beer pitchers due to my actions.” In an undertone, she added, “Check with the city armorer if they can make shield trays for the girls?”

The innkeeper nodded gravely, “As such, all balances are paid, no damages to follow. Thank you, commander.”

~=*=~

Once everyone was recorded in the incident book, Dafi and Dal were escorted to the Interview Room. Blank walls, no windows and a single door made it too much like a cell for Dalibor to be comfortable, but he did manage to refrain from pacing.

A medic arrived, performing a cursory medical examination of them both, documenting and treating what few injuries they had from the fight. When questioned, he shook his head, “I’ve not got leave to release any information, other than the captain should be here shortly.”

When the captain finally did arrive, it was with a corpsman and a tea tray. Once the corpsman had left the room, the captain had offered tea, and began speaking first to Dafi. “There are several things I am glad to have seen tonight. First, the man you sliced is stable, and in the lockdown infirmary here. The number of witnesses reporting you were abducted outnumber the few unreliable non-residents who tried to say you went willingly.” Returning her knives to her, he stated, “The knife-fight was within the rules of self-defense, but you are officially warned to not get in such a situation again.”

He referred to the reports in front of him. “There are papers with the four that are from the next duchy over that say they are looking for an escaped sanatorium patient. These papers seem to superficially describe you, but do not name you specifically. The level of white lung those papers say the patient has would be highly contagious, but I’ve seen people that sick. Yes, they can look fine, but not at the exertion level you have demonstrated tonight. That was the reason for the examination. Our medic has been able to confirm you are not the patient they seek.”

He then turned to Dalibor, “Sergeant, we did find the soldier’s knife, marking you as the one attacked in the alleyway, and you did report the incident as soon as you were able to find a peace officer. Therefore, no charges are to be filed by the city. I doubt your attacker will sue, considering the charges the city will be filing against the four aggressors.”

Then addressing them both, “This is the official line. You have been warned to keep the peace for the duration of your stay, and released on your own recognizance.” He sighed, and then spoke in a different tone. “This is not the only incident we have had with this type of soldiers from across the border. However, this one was large enough we can finally limit their movements in town. For that you have my professional appreciation. On another level, you also have my personal gratitude. My half-sister works in the tavern where you were attacked. As such, I’d like to offer you the hospitality of my family. This is not as Captain, but as a son of my house.”

Dafi was the first to speak, “Honored as we are by your offer, I would rather not put your house in danger, what with the warning we had for the tavern.”

The captain nodded, “Much as I would like to make a statement with a torchlight procession, we are still not able to note where the spies are here. My sister would be able to lead you through some... unorthodox paths to the house of our cousin, a scholar who lives by the Baron’s Gate, which was your stated destination when you entered the Wanderer’s Gate this afternoon.”

She looked to Dalibor, eyebrow arched in question. He considered a moment before giving a slight nod. “Thank you, captain. We would be honored to receive the hospitality of your house.”