B22

Bronwyn woke to the sound of stomping feet and the raspy voices of many Urghat around her. The sun was just starting to rise, and as she looked around in the morning light, she realized Urghat had surrounded her sleeping area; they had formed a circle around her and were waiting patiently. A sense of dread crept down her spine, and she scooped up the still sleeping Hops, depositing him in her backpack before she stood.

“It’ll be alright, buddy; they can’t hurt us,” she said in a hushed voice.

Bronwyn stood up and stretched, rolling out her shoulders and staring out into the crowd. “Little early to be killing Urghat; you’re sure this is what you want?” She called out, not shouting but loud enough for all of them to hear.

The crowd fell silent as she spoke, and she began to worry the Urghat had overcome their fear of exile and would swarm her. Then, they parted, and a huge figure strode through their ranks toward her. He was clad in plate armor and carried a massive maul over his right shoulder. He stopped as he entered the circle and dropped the head of his maul onto the ground. The Urghat removed his helmet, a long silver-colored mane spilling out, and held it under his arm as he addressed her, “My name is Ironhide, and I had intended on challenging the one known as Bloodfang. You now possess his title, so my challenge is to you instead. I hold no resentment for your actions, nor do I care that you are not Urghat. I simply wish to rise in rank. All I ask is that we fight fairly.” He slid the helmet back down over his head and gripped his maul with two hands. “Are you ready, Underclaw?”

Bronwyn bounced back and forth on the balls of her feet and shook out her arms to get the blood flowing through her body. This Urghat reminded her of Bloodfang; he was much more civil and matter of fact than the other Urghat she’d fought duels against. She bowed her head to him and said, “No tricks, I swear. I’m ready when you are.” She raised her fists and beckoned him forward.

Ironhide held his maul low, the head of it trailing behind him as he ducked his head and charged forward at her. Bronwyn attempted to cast Fetter of Stone on him as he ran, but his immense strength shattered the stone around his legs as it formed. He barely even seemed to notice. Bronwyn growled in frustration and channeled her Stone Fists, keeping her eyes trained on the head of his hammer. Just as he got into range, he heaved the hammer out toward her in a large sweeping strike, the air distorted by its force. The Urghat was not fast for all his strength, and Bronwyn jumped backward, the end of the maul missing her by an entire foot. Ironhide arced his swing upward at the end of its path with a tremendous roar and attempted to bring the hammer down onto her skull.

Bronwyn channeled a massive amount of Energy into her strike as she lunged toward the Urghat. Before he could bring his hammer down, her strike connected with his chest plate, the impact of her Stone Fists against his metal armor echoed out like a car crash as it crumpled inward. Ironhide dropped his hammer and fell backward, the concave shape of his armor only allowing him the shallowest of breaths as it pressed into him. Bronwyn leaped onto him, sitting on his chest and pinning his left arm to the ground with her knee. She ripped off his helmet and pulled Umberpaw’s dagger out of her pouch, holding it to his neck.

“What happens if I don’t kill you?” Bronwyn stared into the Urghat’s panic-filled, dark purple eyes as he struggled to breathe.

Ironhide couldn’t speak between gasping breaths, but another Urghat near the edge of the circle answered for him, “He’ll be marked and exiled; neither his clan nor any other would speak to or share food with him again.”

“Gahhh! This doesn’t feel right! Why would you challenge someone without knowing their power?” Bronwyn pressed the blade into Ironhide’s throat, a droplet of blood welling up at the tip. “You’re a fool for challenging me.” Bronwyn could see the fear etched into his face. “But you don’t deserve to die. You speak and fight with more honor than any of these bastards around us. If I let you live, none would take you in, no other Underclaw, no other clan. However, swear your life to me, and I’ll make sure you become stronger than any of them.”

Ironhide took in as deep a breath as he could manage, and, with a raspy, barely audible voice, he said, “I… swear….”

Bronwyn pulled the knife from his throat and slid it down the side of his armor, slicing the leather bindings, allowing him to pull the armor off and take a deep breath. The circle of Urghat slowly broke apart with muttered curses and a few spitting at their feet. Bronwyn ignored them and reached a hand down toward Ironhide, helping him to his feet. She smiled down at him as he clasped his large fur-covered hand around her wrist. “Welcome to my band, and, uh, sorry about the armor. I’m sure we can get you something better, though.”

Ironhide stood, removed the rest of his ruined chest piece, and then took the armor off his right arm. A blackened band of fur was slowly etching its way around his bicep. “A small price to pay for my life, I suppose. I thank you for your mercy, Underclaw.” Ironhide looked away from his arm and made eye contact with Bronwyn. “Now, I wish to know of this new clan, these new people, that I have pledged my life to.”

Bronwyn spent the better part of the day exchanging information with Ironhide; she taught him about the humans, and he taught her about the Urghat. When the sun was low in the sky, they decided it would be best to stay at that camp for one more night. Bronwyn had explained that she wanted to explore more of the Urghat camps detailed on her new map, and Ironhide seemed to know information about many of them already. He only asked that they avoid the camp of Earbite’s clan, his former home, and Bronwyn agreed.

In the morning, Bronwyn was a little surprised to find that another of the Urghat from the camp wanted to challenge her. Ironhide scoffed and said, “Why would you challenge? You couldn’t even best me?” The extremely rotund, black-furred Urghat spat on the ground and grunted, brandishing the cleaver-like axe that he held in both hands. Bronwyn fought him, easily overcoming his clumsy attacks, but he refused to yield. The victory once again improved Bronwyn’s Underclaw rank and even gave her a level.

Over the next two weeks, the trio of Bronwyn, Ironhide, and Hops made their way through many of the Urghat camps on her map. At most of the camps, at least one Urghat challenged Bronwyn, and she was able to force three of them to yield and swear fealty. With her slowly growing band of followers, she made her way ever northward, deeper into Urghat territory.

Ironhide urged her to avoid entering the northernmost camps, saying they should just scout them from afar. They were home to the most fearsome Underclaws and their followers, Urghat that Bronwyn may not be able to defeat should they challenge her.  From a distance, Bronwyn tried to estimate their number. These northern camps were more like fortresses; they held easily a hundred Urghat, possibly more. The largest of them was home to the Overclaw himself. Bronwyn felt half tempted to stride in and see who this legendary leader of the Urghat was, but she knew it would be a suicide mission and settled for taking stock of his holdings from a distance.

The Overclaw’s fortress was surrounded by a veritable city of tents and semi-permanent structures constructed from raw timber and clay. Her band camped about two miles away from the sprawling compound. She was watching this camp one evening, counting a column of Urghat that was moving off to the southwest when Heartseeker, a female Urghat that had sworn loyalty to her, came running up with her long spear held ready and her rust-colored brows furrowed with concern. “Underclaw, a challenger approaches. I know not how he knew of our location.”

“Alright, where are the others?”

“Watching them approach.”

“Them?”

“Yes, he has two retainers with him.” Heartseeker shrugged as if to emphasize that the situation was beyond her control. Bronwyn smiled at her; the lanky Urghat had grown on her over the last week, displaying a casual disregard for consequences that was almost inspiring. She hiked down from the small knoll from which she’d been watching the massive camp. She followed Heartseeker around a small copse of scrub-like trees where she could observe a trio of Urghat walking out of the northern foothills.

Bronwyn stepped out of the underbrush and stood with her arms crossed about a hundred feet from the leader. He was a wiry Urghat with black fur, a patch over his left eye, and long tusks protruding from his bottom jaw. She called out to the Urghat, “Who approaches my camp? Name yourself and your intentions.”

In a deep gravelly voice filled with resentment, the Urghat responded, “My name is Goretusk, and I come to claim your head.” He reached one of his hands out toward each of his companions, two smaller Urghat that looked to be children or, at most, adolescents. They were similar in features with bright white fur and red eyes. The one on the right was a female, who placed the handle of a long whip in his hand. The boy on the left fumbled with his dimensional pouch, and Goretusk slapped him across the face. “Hurry, you worthless twit!” The boy Urghat winced in pain but managed to pull a wicked-looking kukri out of his pouch and handed it to Goretusk before stepping back. The Urghat snapped his whip and grinned, “Are you ready to die, Underclaw?”

Bronwyn scowled at the way Goretusk treated his subordinates and summoned her Stone Armor and Stone Fists, “Come on then.”

Goretusk inched toward Bronwyn, slowly circling and closing the distance. Bronwyn couldn’t tell exactly how long his whip was, but she knew she had to close the distance before he could get in any free blows. She braced herself, with her arms covering her head and charged, rushing headlong toward the Urghat. She was twenty feet away when his whip cracked out toward her, it was faster than she could even see, and the next thing Bronwyn knew, she was tumbling forward, the whip wrapped around her ankles. She rolled across the ground and landed on her back. Goretusk was immediately upon her; he lunged down, dropping to one knee, slicing his kukri down at her neck. Bronwyn rolled to the side just in time, the blade sinking into the soft grass.

Goretusk scrambled forward and sat on Bronwyn's stomach. Bronwyn grabbed his wrists as he attempted to force the blade down into her neck. She strained with all her might to stop the advancing edge. She spat blood into Goretusk’s good eye and wrenched herself to the side, allowing the blade to plunge into the earth just an inch from her face. Her hands free, she reached upward and grabbed each of his tusks with her stone fists and wrenched downward, ripping one from his jaw and snapping the other in half. He screamed out in pain, reaching up at his face and stepping up and away from her. Bronwyn used his blade to cut the whip away from her feet and rolled to stand before him. Goretusk’s face was a bloody mess as he stumbled toward her, and it wasn’t long before her flurry of blows blew past his feeble guard. She landed a few blows to his head before he slumped down, and golden motes started to form around his body.

Bronwyn slumped to her knees, catching her breath as the motes flooded into her.

***Congratulations! You have achieved Stone Pugilist level 14!***

***Congratulations! You have earned Underclaw Rank 10!***

The two young Urghat ran up and fell to their knees at the corpse of Goretusk. The boy spoke up with silent tears falling from his eyes, “Y-you killed him, you actually won.” He looked toward his companion, a smile breaking out across his face. “We’re finally free; he can’t hurt us anymore!” He rushed to her side and embraced her, burying his face in her neck, his chest shuddering with each breath.

The girl spoke in a somber tone, “But where will we go, brother? He killed Da, we have no home to go back to, he burnt it all…” her voice trailed off as she stared blankly at the corpse.

Bronwyn watched the two for a silent moment; they were obviously twins. “I know you don’t know me or have any reason to trust me, but if you need a home, a family, we’d take you in.” She beckoned toward the woods, and Ironhide, Heartseeker, Shadoweye, and Fangripper jogged out to stand behind her.

The boy looked up at her and then back to his sister. “What do you think, Fur? You heard what Goretusk said at the other camp, this Underclaw’s been beating everyone that challenges her, and she even shows them mercy sometimes. I’m sure you’d be safe, even with the, uh, well you know, and….” He trailed off, looking back at Bronwyn. “I’m not a warrior yet, but I want to be. Could you train me?”

Bronwyn laughed, “Well, if not me, I’m sure at least one of us could.” She threw her thumb back toward her crew.

The boy Urghat practically beamed with excitement. “Well, whaddya say Fur, can we join ‘em?”

The girl took a deep breath and smiled, looking at Bronwyn and her rag-tag group. “Guess it can’t be worse than this scumbag.” She kicked at Goretusks body.

“Yes!” The boy pulled his sister into a side hug and stood in front of Bronwyn. “I’m Bright-tooth, and this is my sister Soft-fur, but you can call me Bright, and she likes to go by Fur!”

His excitement was contagious, and Bronwyn couldn’t help but smile, “Well, welcome to family Bright, and you too, Fur, we’re glad to have you both!”

Later that day, another Urghat rode furiously out of the Urghat encampment toward the low foothills where Bronwyn and her band had made camp. Heartseeker saw him coming long before he was a threat and said, “Guts is riding out on one of the raskii.”

“Shit, Guts?” Ironhide said.

“Who’s that?” Bronwyn asked.

“It’s the Overclaw’s son. He’ll be looking for you to challenge.”

“Well, bad news for him; I’m all outta challenge slots for the day, and we’re heading out tonight.” Bronwyn chose to wait in the open for the big Urghat. It took him a while to pick up their tracks, but after half an hour or so, he rode into the little hollow where she waited. He was riding on a pony-sized lizard, and its baleful eyes and flicking tongue made Bronwyn more nervous even than the three-hundred-pound Urghat sitting on its back. Guts had reddish-brown fur, wore heavy iron-ring armor, and sported three long tusks in his wide, frowning mouth. “Bah, you’ve already had a challenge today,” were his greeting words.

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint.”

“You’re lucky. I’d follow you until dawn, but I have an important task to complete.” His calm voice suddenly changed, and he screamed into the copse of wiry trees where her followers were lurking, “I’ll rip each and every one of your traitor heads off after I finish with your worthless, soft Underclaw!” His orange-red eyes went bloodshot with his scream, and saliva sprayed from his mouth. He growled one last time and spat on the ground between him and Bronwyn, then he wheeled his hissing mount and rode away.

Bronwyn watched the sprawling Urghat tent city for the rest of the afternoon, trying to get a count of the Urghat living there. She estimated at least a few thousand regular occupants, including the warriors and their families. Feeling like she’d seen enough, Bronwyn and her band of Urghat packed up their things and started the long trek back toward the human colony. Something had changed in the weeks that she’d been out in the plains; she wasn’t sure if the Urghat could sense the level of her title or if the word of her previous fights had spread, but none of the Urghat they passed on the way back to the colony challenged her.

When Bronwyn and her band were closing in on the colony, only a few miles out, the sun started to set. They made camp in the woods to the east; Bronwyn wasn’t sure if she should bring them all into the settlement while the Urghat threatened active war. The colonists might not take kindly to Urghat in their midst. In the morning, she charged them with scouting the plains and taking note of any Urghat movements close by. She then headed into First Landing, alone, to give her report.