"Here's your coin, lad."

Ulfar checked the pouch to make sure nothing was missing. He turned around and began walking away. A battle had just ended, and those who survived got a nice bonus.

"Hey, we could use more guys like you." The recruiter began. "You seem to know how to handle a sword. What say you join us?"

There was no response from the man walking away.

"Come on, there'll be more coin in it next time." 

"There won't be a next time." 

That's all Ulfar said. Just his tone seemed to convey his meaning, and the recruiter got the message. He left him alone. 

Ulfar walked until sunset. He managed to make it into the coastline of Dufair's famous forest. The vegetation wasn't all that thick out here near the edge, and living conditions weren't as harsh as it would have been in the center. After a long battle, Ulfar tended to retreat to the trees before starting his journey to some other land in need of a sell-sword. Something about the sounds of nature made the resting experience a lot more enjoyable than a night at the inn. He gathered firewood, set his greatsword down, and began making camp. With some bread to eat, water to drink, and a few bandages to seal the rare wounds here and there, life was alright. The soft breeze caressed his cheek as it rolled by; its touch had the chill of the night.

After finishing his food, Ulfar was ready to get his much deserved sleep. The fire would keep the animals at bay, and he was at least a day's walk from civilization. It was safe, and he was ready to lie down...

A rustle came from the brush nearby.

Ulfar reacted fast. He reached for his sword, and his fingers were just about to touch the hilt-

A gust of air knocked it away from him. Incandescent chains spurred from the ground, their metal giving off a blue hue. They wrapped themselves around Ulfar's neck and arms, and then dragged him down so that he was kneeling before his fire. His arms were kept down at his sides. Ulfar grimaced; his eyes were widened with a life or death sense of urgency. The chain around his neck was getting tighter and tighter by the second.

"Relax, child." An old female voice spoke from the darkness within the woods. She sounded like she was dying. "I have not come here to take your life."

Ulfar remained silent, but the look on his face clearly showed that he was struggling.

"I have other plans for you." The weary voice said from the dark. An old woman stepped into the light, dressed in a tattered old blue robe. Her white hair was tousled like a spider's web, and her face had so many wrinkles that it resembled old tree bark. Ulfar was shocked by what he saw... but then his mouth slowly turned into a smile, and he let out a chuckle. Even the old woman was confused.

"Why do you laugh?"

"Thought I was being ambushed by wild spirits..." Ulfar said, slowly. He was still smiling. "Turns out it's just some old hag who knows a few parlor tricks."

Within the next moment, the chains around his neck tightened. They began to sear with heat, and it sent a burning sensation across his skin.

"You still think this is a parlor trick, boy?" The woman hissed.

She eased the magical grip on his neck so that he could reply. But all Ulfar could do was catch his breath. Satisfied, the witch moved on to her main topic.

"I have a use for you, child." She said again. "And... unfortunately for both of us, you're the best candidate I have."

"Go to hell." Ulfar spat. 

"There's someone I need you to protect." The witch continued, ignoring him. "And you can fight. I've been watching the battles nearby. I've been looking for someone like you."

One of the chains wrapped itself around Ulfar's jaw and forced his mouth open. The old woman pulled a glass vial with red contents from her robe. She uncorked the top and poured it down Ulfar's throat, despite his attempts to resist. It tasted like blood, but there was a funny accent to the taste... like something wasn't quite right about it. Then the chains around his jaw eased and fell off. His mouth was free again. He began coughing; some of the liquid had slipped into his windpipe.

"That was a concoction with the life essence of whom you are to protect... along with some other magical ingredients." The woman explained, her voice wheezing. "Any pain she feels, you will feel. Try to harm her, and you will undergo the worst torment of your life. Mark my words, boy, from this day forth, you are to obey this and keep her from all harm. When she dies, so will you."

And before he could tell the witch to go plough herself, Ulfar's vision faded. He fell into a deep sleep.

[center]---[/center]

There was a smell. It was the rich aroma of boiling tea. Ulfar groaned, tried to open his eyes and sit up, but all that did was sent a rush of pain into his head.

"What's happening?" He asked into the darkness before his eyes.

"Relax." A voice answered him. It was a female voice... a young one.

He felt a wooden cup pushed into his hands. It was hot. A few lithe fingers guided it to his mouth and urged him to drink. So he drank.

Slowly, his vision came back. The brightness scorched his eyes at first, but he slowly adjusted to it. A girl was sitting in front of him. She had long, black hair, and blue eyes that stared at him, void of any emotion. 

"Your body is still adjusting to the concoction you drank two nights ago." She stated flatly, like she was reading from a book. Except her eyes kept staring. It was unsettling. "Keep drinking this tea, and it should help." She turned around as if nothing was out of the ordinary and sat next to a table.

Ulfar noticed his surroundings. He was inside some hut, with strands of light penetrating through the straw roof. The whole place was cramped, filled with books, vials, and potted plants in every corner.

"Where's my sword?" He asked. "And where am I?"

"Your sword is outside. You're in Dufair." She said. "Before you ask anything else, I will explain everything to you."

She paused. For a very long time, she didn't say anything else. Ulfar was just about to tell her to speak, but she started again on her own.

"My mistress is the old woman you met two nights ago. She handpicked you to protect me on a journey. The vial she has contained my blood, among other ingredients, and-"

"Yeah, I got that part." Ulfar said. 

"So I won't have to explain it to yo-"

"Take me to my sword, and then show me where that old hag is."

The girl looked at him coldly, her eyes scorning him.

"She's dead." She said. 

"Damn. That's a shame." Ulfar said as he sat up. The girl moved out of his way as before he even got out of the bed. When Ulfar stepped outside, he saw his sword and gear laid down next to a large rock. He picked up the pieces and put everything on.

"Are you planning on leaving?" The girl asked as he put his armour on.

"Damn right I am."

"But you heard what mistress said about the concoctio-"

"As if I'd believe that." Ulfar said. He picked up the final piece of his equipment, the greatsword. It slid into the scabbard on his back.

"Then please watch this." The girl said. She walked towards a batch of roses in the garden next to the hut. She moved her hair behind her ear, knelt down, and plucked a rose from the dirt. Then she placed it into her open palm, and then closed it into a tight fist. Within that same moment, pain shot up through Ulfar's hand, as if tiny needles were pricking his palm from the inside.

He was feeling the thorns of the rose in the girl's hand.

"What kind of sorcery is this..." Ulfar was shocked, but he didn't really know what to say. He looked into his hand to see that there were no physical wounds, but it definitely hurt as though he had them. In truth, he knew not a thing about the arcane.

"Before her death, my mistress made preparations to aid me on a journey I am foretold to take." The girl began once again, in her monotone, lifeless voice. "But I cannot protect myself just yet. For this reason alone, mistress has chosen you to guard me through my voyage. I'm afraid you have no choice or say in this matter." 

"So I'm to just become your slave?"

"Not slave. Guardian." She corrected matter-of-factly.

"Does calling it that make you feel better?" Ulfar asked. It was a rhetorical question, but the girl answered.

"No. It doesn't make me feel better or worse. But I understand how you must feel." The way she said it, however, betrayed no emotion. It came off as cold.

"Sure you do." Ulfar muttered to himself. 

"My name is Eila." The girl said. "Would you tell me yours?"

"Just tell me where you're going on this journey of yours so we can get it over with."

"The great plains." She said flatly. "If you follow me, I will show you what I need you to carry."

And Ulfar followed her, though he felt like he was signing his freedom away in the progress. If his head hadn't been so dizzy from the side effects of the concoction, he would have been angrier. But for now, he just wanted to get through this mess as fast as possible. The girl lead him back into the hut and showed him a backpack with some books and alchemical tools in it.

"I cannot carry it." She stated. "Besides, even if I tried to, it would make me very tired, which would wear down your body as well. But since you are stronger than me, carrying this yourself should prove you to be more effective."

Ulfar picked up the backpack and slung it over his shoulder. 

"Careful!" Eila, for the first time, had some emotion to her voice. Although it wasn't much, her alarmed voice had the faintest touch of worry. "The contents in that bag are fragile." She added, and her she was back to her normal self. She stared up blankly at Ulfar. Her eyes weren't angry, or alarmed. Just neutral.

"So when do we set out?" He asked.

"When you have recovered, which should be tomorrow." Eila answered.

"I'm fine now, let's go."

"No, we will wait until tomorrow morning to make sure that you are in good condition."

"Fine, which way will we go tomorrow?"

As he had expected, the girl was rather gullible. 

"It's in that direction, but-" She was cut off once again as Ulfar picked her up and carried her over his shoulder.

"Please, set me down!"

"You have anything else you need to pick up from here?" Ulfar asked, ignoring her.

"No, but please do set me down." 

They walked that way until sunset, when Ulfar finally put her down so that they could make camp for the night. 

[center]---[/center] 

Up until the third day of travel, Eila and Ulfar rarely talked. The girl didn't really show it, but she was clearly angry at him for what he had done earlier. In Ulfar's eyes, his freedom was the one that was taken away from him, so he wasn't on good terms with the Eila, either. He still hadn't even told her his name. 

"Halt!" A voice came from the trees above. Ulfar and Eila came to a stop. A man stepped out from behind a tree. "You are to pay a due for passing through this turf." He said to Ulfar, who had already begun to reach for his sword. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you." The man added. Two other men, one of them an elf, approached from the trees, bows drawn at the ready.

"Let's start with that sword of yours." The man said to Ulfar. "I like the way it looks." He added.

"I'm afraid that can't happen." Eila spoke up. "He needs that sword to protect me."

The bandit looked at the girl for a moment, and then began laughing. 

"Did you hear that, guys? He needs the sword to protect the lass!" 

The other two bandits joined in. Their focus was off for just a moment... Ulfar dropped the bag of alchemical tools and books on the ground.

In one fluid motion, before the bag hit the ground, Ulfar tossed a throwing knife at the bandit on his left, and then grabbed the leader. He turned the man to the elf bowman on the right, using the leader as a human shield. The elf couldn't let the arrow go, so Ulfar kicked the leader towards him, and drew out his sword in the process. The bowman and the leader collided, and Ulfar dashed out of the way to avoid an arrow from the first man he had thrown a dagger to earlier. The leader and the second bowman were still on the ground, so Ulfar charged the first bowman - the human.

The bandit made a mistake. He attempted to switch to his sword to parry the attack, but Ulfar's blade was already through. The force of his blade crushing into the bandit's ribcage, and then bursting out through the back, sent ripples through the metal of the handle. Ulfar could feel them in hardened flesh of his palms. It was a feeling he was used to. He pulled out the blade in one single motion, the bandit began to fall, and Ulfar saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was the bandit leader.

Ulfar went down on one knee, and a blade swept over his head, almost cutting some of his hair off. He drove his left fist into the attacker's stomach, and rose to his feet in the process, adding more power to the force. Ulfar coupled this with a shove from his shoulder, which pushed the attacker a foot away from him - the perfect distance for his blade. With both hands back on the handle, Ulfar sent a sweep with his sword that cleaved the air in two. The blade landed and dug into the supple flesh, making its home on the area between the bandit's neck and shoulder, about four inches deep. He pushed the bandit leader away with his foot while pulling his sword out in the process.

The last remaining bandit was the second bowman, the elf. His hands were clearly shaking, and the only arrow he fired was a wide miss. He dropped the bow and took out two daggers from his belt.

"Don't you have a family to go back to?" Ulfar asked. The elf didn't say anything. Instead he charged him with both daggers extended out ahead of him. Ulfar lifted his sword out to his right side. Just at the exact moment, he brought his blade across to his left side in a horizontal arc. The greatsword collided with the daggers, and knocked them off of the elf's hand. The elf lost his balance and fell face fist on the ground.

"Who the hell charges with daggers?" Ulfar said, amusedly. He flipped the blade over just as the elf was about to get up, and plunged it down onto his back. The elf was forced onto the ground, and when the sword was pulled out, he let out a pitiful cry.

Three bandits lay dead on the ground. They were amateurs, one could tell from their clothing and lack of tattoos. There was no colour code among them, no souvenirs, dried skulls, or anything that could pass off as a show off. Their leader had even had somewhat of an ale-belly. It would have been comical to Ulfar, had it not been so pathetic. 

The girl was down on her knees. Her eyes had fear in them, but she wasn't moving or saying anything. She just stared forward, blankly, at no one and nothing in particular.

"Hey," Ulfar called out. "You alright?"

The girl didn't say anything.

"Just stay there for a moment, I need to see what these guys have on them." Ulfar said as he began rummaging through the corpses. He found nothing worth mentioning. The closest thing of use were the two daggers, but neither of them were balanced, meaning they would serve poorly as throwing knives. Instead, Ulfar went to the area where he thought his own throwing knife may have landed - the one he threw at the beginning of the fight. He knelt down and began combing the ground for it.

"Are they dead?" The girl's voice came from behind him. 

"Yeah," Ulfar said, still looking for the balanced blade he had thrown. "now come help me find this damn knife." 

"All they wanted was some gold." Eila said, her voice was beginning to get shaky. "We could have talked them out of wanting your sword."

"They would have robbed us of every coin." Ulfar said. He cursed under his breath. The throwing knife was nowhere to be found. That meant he was down to two, now. "You don't negotiate with bandits." He added as he got up. When he turned around, he was surprised to see the girl still sitting on her knees. She was looking at the dead, now.

"Come on, let's keep going." Ulfar was about to grab the girl by her arm and bring her to her feet, but she recoiled away instantly.

"Don't." She said.

"We're not going to stop just because your stomach can't handle the death of some scum." Ulfar said, he was beginning to get angry. He grabbed the girl by her arm, and put her on his shoulder again, but she began screaming. It was loud, and she was right next to his ear. He had to stop, so he put her down.

She was quiet again, almost instantly. She sat on her knees once more and kept staring ahead.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ulfar asked. She didn't say anything. He just stared at her for a moment, finding it hard to believe how the girl was acting. "Fine, what's it going to take for us to keep walking again?" He asked.

"Bury them."

Ulfar was almost offended by the idea. Bandits were about as low as it got in his eyes, and having to prepare their burials was an embarrassing thought to him.

Despite hating every second of it, he didn't protest. 

With just his hands, Ulfar spent the rest of the day digging the graves. They weren't six feet down, and they were hardly holes on the ground. But it was enough to be something that could pass as a "grave". In the meantime, Eila went into the forest by herself. She came back at sunset with some flowers and herbs in her hands, and spent the rest of the night grounding them in her mortar.

By the next morning, they continued on their path. It took them nearly two weeks to make it to the Great Plains. Thankfully, the only trouble they ran into were some wild beasts. At least Eila didn't want those to be buried.

The next four days were spent walking across the grassy plains, until they heard of a mystical voice booming across the land. Eila insisted that they were to follow it, and so they went. The two came across a strange formation of stone, seeing as others had already arrived.