revenge: natural born killer
The last time Kauff had encountered the bandits had felt very different from this. It was nearly spring rather than the dead of winter, and last night's storm—most likely the last of the season—had passed. The blazing sun reflected off of the pale, perfect landscape, forcing anyone trying to traverse it to squint. Kauff's hasty movement left behind tracks obvious enough for a child to follow as he trundled along the designated path, eyes held half shut. This time he wasn't trying to hide. This time he would find Baenek on purpose.
About fifteen minutes from the village and still a good distance from the well, he found the bandits' camp. They had made no real effort to hide themselves, though from what the barmaid had said, they had no reason to need to. No one was fighting back. This town was terribly easy pickings. That Baenek would choose to prey on such a peaceful society only stoked Kauff's anger.
Though he hadn't actually attempted any form of stealth, the Wind circled wide around the tents and bedrolls now, trying to determine if there were any people to watch out for or places to hide. Although he was a rather obvious addition to the area, no one sounded an alarm. If he had to guess, he would have said there was simply no one around to notice him. They were so certain of their invulnerability that they hadn't even left a watch. At least he was here to make sure they regretted it.
Kauff so desperately wanted to start a fight that his hands shook, and it was only the sight of something that would bring even greater destruction than his fists that stilled them. The hammer was a gaudy thing, long, golden handle and gem-encrusted face not suitable for fighting, but that didn't matter overmuch. He wouldn't be using it for long. Careful to keep as silent as he could, the Wind crept deeper into the camp to retrieve the hammer. He made no effort to cover his tracks as he left, deliberately dragging his prize behind him.
As it turned out, his destination wasn't very much farther, about another ten minutes once he got going. The sheer audacity that the bandits displayed in planting themselves between their targets and the only place those targets might have found help was maddening, but Kauff could no longer muster any anger in response. He was topped off, his mind a white-hot blaze of fury. Leaning against the well's edge, he propped the hammer at his side and waited.
- - -
Roughly forty minutes later, he noticed a group of men approaching in the distance. One carried a sword, its empty scabbard at his hip, while the other two appeared unarmed. Kauff knew they weren't. He waited until they were almost upon him before he spoke.
"Hey."
He had hoped they would have initiated the conversation long before this. Had he known they would stay so silent, he would have come up with a better opening.
"I believe you've got something of mine," Baenek said, his golden eyes narrowed.
"I believe you had something of somebody else's. Maybe I'm taking it back for them."
The thief paused, his gaze shifting from the hammer back to Kauff in appraisal. The Wind hadn't thought he would be recognized at all, but there was anger in Baenek's glare, more than a simple weaponnapping would trigger. Kauff supposed inadvertently distracting the Ice long enough for his father to be murdered by a vengeful mob had made him worthy of remembrance.
"Heh. I haven't seen you in years, kid," the bandit said, his voice clear and curious. "I'm glad we're meeting here, of all places. And now." He flicked his fingers in Kauff's direction, issuing a silent directive. The other previously unarmed man unhooked a whip from the back of his belt, abruptly lashing it at the Wind.
Kauff grabbed the hammer's handle, swinging it around to catch the whip more quickly than he thought possible, at least in his hands. The thin leather cord circled the hammer's grip right above his hands and he yanked back, jerking the whip out of his assailant's grasp.
"You should go while you still have the chance," he told Baenek's thugs. "This is between me and your boss."
The Ice who had been holding the whip took a careful step back, but the man with the sword ran forward as if Kauff's warning had been a direct threat. The Wind swung again once the bandit got within range, the extra length on the hammer's handle just enough to catch his opponent in his side, just under his armpit. Kauff only had enough time to hope that the man was truly incapacitated before Baenek was on him, using the distraction to his advantage.
Kauff pulled the hammer in close to his chest and used it to block the bandit's dagger, receiving little more than a glancing blow to his knuckles as punishment. With a sudden shout the Wind launched himself at his opponent, dragging them both to the ground with the hammer in between. It pinned Baenek's forearms to his chest, giving Kauff the opportunity to rise to a half crouch and put his full weight onto it, the golden handle grinding into skin and bone. Baenek held any audible reaction he might have had in check, even when a veritable river of blood began to run from the wounds. Kauff pressed harder through the silence, waiting for the satisfaction of Baenek's scream. A sharp stripe of pain lanced across his back instead, startling him into letting up. The swordsman was back in the mix.
The Wind knew he couldn't afford to remain on the ground now, so he pushed to his feet, scrambling for the dagger in Baenek's hand as he rose. It slipped from the Ice's numbed fingers easily, but Kauff still held the weapon by the blade and he was far from proficient with small knives. He turned around as quickly as he could, counting on the fact that it would take Baenek more than a moment to get up, and as he spun he tried sliding the dagger's handle more securely into his palm. By the time he completed his rotation and the knife met the sword-wielding bandit's face, most of the blade was out of Kauff's hand, leaving plenty of its length to jab through the Ice's cheek and tongue. Unlike Baenek, this one screamed, and the Wind grinned at the sound of it.
Friends and family had often affectionately described Kauff as soft in a fight, but anyone watching now would have thought them a little crazy. He twisted the blade with a grunt, blood from the bandit's mouth spilling down his hand and mingling with his own until he let go, wrapping his tacky palm back around the hammer's grip. Only just registering that Baenek was almost on his feet behind him, Kauff swung his temporary weapon in an enormous arc over his head, bringing it down on the swordsman's head. There was a wet crunch, a spray of miscellaneous fluid, and then the man crumpled.
Leaving the hammer embedded in what was left of the Ice's skull, Kauff stood still as he caught his breath, his back to the person he actually wanted to kill. He was beginning to tire, his build not suited for quick strikes, but he couldn't stop, not when he was so close to ending the man who had terrorized so many. For a second or two, he tried to convince himself that his cause was a noble one, that these acts of murder would be justified if they kept countless people safe, but he knew that wasn't why he persisted. Kauff had been one of those people. So had Alek. Any killing he did here today would be the product of vengeance, plain and simple.
Another of Baenek's daggers that had been aimed for Kauff's back sank into his shoulder instead, the Wind already spinning to face the Ice responsible, hands empty and eyes blazing. He barreled forward, closing the short distance between them in a pair of bounding strides and pulling them both to the muddy ground once more.
Last time he had gone for the throat, but crushing suffocation was almost kind compared to what he longed to do now. He clenched both fists, the right one stinging as the slice across his palm broke and bled once more. Kauff jabbed, knuckles connecting with the bridge of Baenek's nose and bending it until it snapped. He laughed again in surprise, his left fist repeating the strike. This was so simple. So exhilarating.
The punches continued, one for Alek of course, one for himself, one for the dead woman at the inn, but soon he was hitting Baenek for his own past, his choice to leave Sauti years ago, his family's smothering love, his father's death. There was no fight. It was a one-sided massacre that only ended when he felt a firm hand grasp his wrist and found he was too exhausted to pull away.
"It's done." The Ice with the whip dropped Kauff's hand when the Wind growled back at him. "It was done ten minutes ago, but I don't think you were."
Kauff's breath slowed in silence, his bloody, aching hands coming to rest on his thighs. He couldn't look down. He didn't want to see what he had done.
"That other one with you..."
"I took care of him. He didn't have long anyway."
Kauff nodded, his throat closing with disgust. He swallowed convulsively as he pushed away from the corpse he straddled, unable to stomach being near it any longer.
"Don't follow me," he muttered. "Don't touch that town ever again. Or any other."
He didn't wait for an answer, stumbling back toward the bandits' camp as his stomach churned and bile threatened to rise.
