"Debt" by Scott Colby

Here's a snippet from my first short story, "Debt:"

“You’re going to run, aren’t you?” Grastow asked. “It’s great sport when your kind tries to get away.”

At that point, Darin decided his best chance would be to catch his opponent off guard. He stood silent and still, pretending to brood as he waited for Old Man Grastow to continue his verbal assault. Just as Grastow opened his mouth to speak, Darin lunged forward, intending to tackle the old man and beat him down. But all he caught was air and a mouthful of grass, and a sharp blow across his lower back from Grastow’s cane.

“Runners usually try that first,” Grastow said casually as Darin spat out a wad of soil and pulled himself back to his feet. “Apparently I’m quicker than I look.”

And with that, Darin was off. It wasn’t far to the dense northern Easlinder forest that surrounded his property, and he’d soon torn through the first layer of brush and into the woods proper. He knew the area well, and he was willing to try to confuse Grastow in the dark forest and try to take him from behind.

When not plying his trade as a musician, Darin made a living as a trapper, and thus he was a more than competent woodsman. After his initial haste had put enough distance between himself and his enemy, he slowed to a more deliberate pace. He slipped in between the hulking trees as silently and stealthily as any predator on the hunt, leaving little evidence of his passing. He’d given Grastow an initial trail to follow; the Old Man would be well within Darin’s domain when that trail suddenly ended.

He swung to the east and down a sharp gulley, his heart beating in his throat as he tried to keep himself calm. The dry riverbed made travel easy, and the walls of the gulley would hide him from any onlookers. He quickly reached the game path that would take him back into the forest almost directly behind the point he’d started hiding his trail – and with any luck, directly behind Old Man Grastow. He paused at the start of the trail, knowing better than to rush things. He wanted to give his enemy ample time to reach the ambush point

“He’s going to get you, you know,” hissed a low, squeaky voice from behind Darin. “He’s a clever one.”

Darin whirled, wishing he’d thought to grab a weapon of some sort. A scrawny man half Darin’s height sat on the opposite bank, smiling down at him benevolently. The fine silver buttons of his expensive-looking vest and pants glittered in Diun’s waning light. Bright green eyes stared back at Darin from under a fine black hat trimmed with a long green feather.

“What do you know of our business?” Darin whispered sharply.

“Of the specifics? Nothing,” the little man replied confidently. “But I’ve seen this plot play out before. The master gives his student a few tidbits of the power that could be his. Just a taste, mind you. The student takes advantage of what he’s been taught, building his own personal empire, however large or small. Then the master comes for his due...and the student refuses to pay up. The inevitable conflict ensues...”

“Enough!” Darin snarled in annoyance. The little man had hit too close to home. “What exactly do you want?”

“In such situations, I’ve yet to see said student get the better of said master. And because of that, certain economic opportunities present themselves...”

“No more deals!” Darin said a little louder than he’d intended. He turned and stalked up the game trail.

“As if you’ll have a choice,” the little man called after him. “Huffnaggle will be waiting for you! Just call my name!”