The road dust tasted like iron. Finally, after so many days of travel they caught sight of the first Black Fang City sign of their territory. Just a matter of a few kilometers. Safety. Warmth. The end of biting wind that had eaten them for so long.
"Almost there, lads!" Borin's normal voice like thunder in the distance. "Last ride before the snows close the passes!"
William, pacing alongside the front wagon, experienced a familiar knot binding his stomach. "Soon now." He told himself.
He'd kept his chin down, played his part, said little. Loneliness was his shield, his tactic. Friends were weaknesses, weights that pulled you down when the water got rough. He'd learned all about that in blood through out the past .
Jax trailed a few steps behind, observing William. The younger man is like a spring coiled, eyes darting over the forest trees that lined the road.
Jax had attempted, in the beginning, to get William to open up *a shared flask of thin tea, a remark about the weather *
but William's answers were monosyllabic barriers. Jax was respectful, for the most part. Everyone had their demons.
Suddenly an attack came not from the mountainside, but from the narrow road just before the last push. A bunch of tattered men, mask cover their faces, burst from around rocks, glinting blades held at hand. They strode with the famished urgency of men who knew this was their last opportunity before the winter trapped the country.
"Bandits!" Borin bellowed, whipping out his massive broadsword. "Form up! Guard the wagons!"
There was chaos. Horses screamed, men yelled, steel rang against steel.
William took out his own short sword and faced the first of the attackers – a thin man with eyes like chips of flint. They exchanged blows, the ring echoing off the rocks. William fought with cold, calculating efficiency, parrying, thrusting, economical movements, no wasted motion, a flawless deployment of 'Dragon's Lash' in close combat.
He watched Borin shouting orders, the caravan guards closing a rough circle about the wagons, pushing the bandits back in sheer, desperate strength.
Then, a rock thrown poorly but with intensity, hit William's temple. Stars burst behind his eyes. He staggered, sight blurring, sword arm numbing for a moment. In that instant of weakness, two bandits attacked. He was able to send one off with a kick, but the second's rough-hewn axe handle caught him in the ribs, forcing the wind from his body. He fell hard, gravel crushing his palms.
Through the mist, he could see the caravan. Borin, looking at the sheer numbers and the nearness of the city, made the brutal decision. "Fall back! To the gates! NOW!" The wagons lurched forward, guards falling behind, chopping at the bandits attempting to overwhelm them. They were abandoning him. "Leaving me." He thought.
Panic, icy and surgical, sliced through the agony. He attempted to stand, but his legs refused to listen. The bandits, realizing their captive fleeing but one man fallen, turned on him, eyes aglow with hatred and the promise of easy spoils.
And then a blur of movement. Jax. He hadn't pulled back with the wagons. He'd spotted William fall. With a bellow, Jax hurled himself into the fray, his own sword a blur of frantic defense. He deflected a sword thrust into William's neck, kicked another thief in the knee, and pulled William upright with a strength that was more than Jax's.
"Run, you stubborn ox !" Jax exclaimed, pushing William into the woods in the direction away from the road and the bulk of the bandit unit. "They'll be upon us in a matter of seconds!"
Staggering, ribs screaming, head pounding, William stumbled after Jax. They had climbed up the loose scree, the shouts of the bandits and the diminishing clatter of the caravan lost behind them. They did not pause until they were far within the forest, concealed from the road. Falling back behind a big boulder, they panted for breath, the only noise their labored breathing and the far-off, fading cries of the skirmish.
Silence fell, heavy and oppressive. William braced against the chill rock, winced as he tested his ribs. He glanced at Jax, who stood staring into the forest for bandit ,his face smeared with dust and perspiration, a new cut oozing across his cheek. "Why?" William grated, his voice rough. "Why remain? The caravan… security…"
Jax finally met his gaze, his eyes wearily steady. "Couldn't leave you to the crows, Will. Not when you were on the ground." He shrugged, a movement that seemed to pain him. "Seemed like the right thing."
"The 'right' thing kills you," William growled, the sour bitterness welling up like acid. "Companionship is a chain Jax. It slows you down. Slows you up. Makes you *care* when you should be running." He glared away, across the distant, out-of-reach shine of Black Fang's walls. "I learned that the hard way. Lost everything… because I trusted someone to cover my back during my scholarly years in military. They didn't."
Jax sat in silence for a while, observing a hawk soar far overhead. "Sounds like you lost a person who didn't deserve your faith," he said at last, his voice low. "Not that faith itself is wrong." He turned to face William, catching the guarded look that William gave him. "Out here, Will, In this Black Fang Forest , a chain can be a lifeline. When you stumble, somebody hauls you up. When you are blinded with pain, somebody guards the ridge. When the biting memories attempts to steal the breath from you in the dark…" He extended his hand between them. "You give your heat."
Jax pulled himself up, wniching slightly. "That bandit there? He wasn't shooting for your ribcage. He was shooting for your throat. If I'd been thinking only about myself, fleeing with the wagons. you'd be dead. And I'd be shouldering that guilt into Black Fang, questioning if I could've prevented it."
He held out a hand, not to help William stood, but simply… there. "Sometimes, the hardest thing you can do is allow someone to stand by your side. Even if it's only for a few kilometers."
William gazed at the held-out hand, then at Jax's sincere, bloody face. The armor of isolation weighed suddenly heavy, crushing. He recalled the fear of being left, the completeness of loneliness. He hadn't only been abandoned by the caravan; he'd been abandoned by his own strict philosophy.
Gently, agonizingly, he pushed himself upright without taking Jax's hand, but he didn't refuse it either. "Just… watch the bandit," he said, the words strange.
The road to the city gates was a gauntlet of fatigue and vigilance. They traveled like shadow ,using the side road, lying in wait in the forest. William's ribs must have been broken, each breath a jagged reminder.
Jax led the way, his eyes never ceasing to scan, his movements guarded. William, in spite of his natural tendency to push Jax away, found himself reflecting the other man's vigilance, watching his back when Jax had to blink for a second.
They saw one final bandit scout, off on his own, stripping a dead pack mule by the road. The battle was brief, vicious, and wordless. William, driven by agony and the echo of Jax's words, fought with a newfound, concentrated rage, pulling the man's attention while Jax attacked from below hard. It was teamwork born of necessity , but it was effective. As they pulled the corpse behind a huge boulder William met Jax's glance. There was no victory, only mutual comprehension. A nod.
At last, as the sun painted the sky in bruised oranges and purples, they saw it: the great, iron-bound gates of Black Fang City, torches bursting to life along the walls. Relief, sharp and knife-like, washed over William.
They walked the final hundred metres leaning on one another more than either of them would care to admit. The guards at the gate, in the city's black-and-silver armor, stared at them suspiciously – two dirty, bloodied men emerging from the wild at dusk.
"Hold! State your business!" a guard cried, hand on his sword hilt.
"Survivors," Jax croaked, moving slightly in front of William. "Bandits attacked Borin's caravan. We were separated."
The guard's eyes narrowed, then flickered with recognition. "Borin made it through an hour ago, shouting about bandits and a man left behind."
He looked William up and down, taking in the blood, the pallor, the way he favored his side. "You're the one?"
William just nodded, too tired for words.
The guard growled, moving aside. "Get in there. Report to the Quartermaster's post just through the gate. He'll get you fixed up. Winter is on its way; we don't leave men to freeze on the outside of our walls." He slowed, his eyes tracing the two of them, close together despite their clear fatigue. "Guess you didn't leave each other, either."
As they walked beneath the great archway, the hot, acrid air of the city embracing them like a physical hug, William halted. He gazed at Jax, truly gazed – the fatigue, the dry blood, the unspoken resolve that had refused to let him be abandoned.
"You were correct," William said, the words plain, weighed with unspoken thanksgiving. "Regarding the lifeline."
"From now on," William says quietly, "we walk together. Blood or shadow, it doesn't matter."
"Blood, then."Jax grins.
Putting a hand on William's shoulder, a gesture that would have caused him to wince days prior.
"Told you, brother," he said, title ringing true, not taken. "Now, let's go find that Quartermaster before you fall out on me. I'm not dragging you around the city."
William did not protest. He walked with Jax, the ache in his ribs still keen, but the greater burden of loneliness, for the first time in years, was gone. The way forward in Black Fang was uncertain, but he would not be going it alone. The bond of blood .They were brothers-in-arms now, not by preference, but by the indissoluble bond of survival. And for William, that was a chain he didn't mind wearing anymore.
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AN: Today due to some personal issues I have not gotten any chance to proof read this chapter . So if you find any mistake please inform me.
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