As the sun rose behind a veil of clouds and the day became hot, we reached the base of the hill. Closer to the rocks, the air was unbearably stuffy. A pervading stench of rot and sulfur stuck to the insides of my nostrils. "I'll be smelling this for days," I grumbled.
"No worse than that cave you pulled me from."
"And only you would have the cheek to stand behind that secret passage acting like I was coming over for a visit. 'Oh, good day to you mad'am. How may I assist you?' " I mimicked. I remembered then, how floored I had been at that blasé address to my rescue effort.
"I'd say because of that, we got along rather...swimmingly." Derk's eyes glinted darkly in amusement and pride in his utterly ridiculous pun. I stifled a reluctant chuckle, not really wanting to encourage him to go on one of his pun parades.
Our smiles gradually faded as a vague sense of foreboding washed over us, chilling our insides delicately.
Scrambling over the rocks at the base of the hill, we stumbled upon a path to the top on the eastern face. The vague since of foreboding that began only moments ago increased into the heavy weight of dread. Jorin whined thinly. "Henny, I can't go up that path," whispered Derkeethus.
"Why not? Whatever is up there, we will be fine."
"Not so loud! There's something there that wants me to stay away. I hear...whispering...I can't bear it. Every step I take it gets louder." The Argonian crouched behind a ledge. "Don't you hear it?" he hissed. I paused, listening, flexing my ears this way and that. All I heard was the incessant hiss of air escaping vents and the occasional tocking of ravens, but looking at my friend and Jorin, I knew nothing I could say would get them to follow. "Go," he finally said, "I'll be waiting here for you."
With a nod I ascended the steep and narrow path, sending down runnels of scree over the sides of rocks.
As I mounted the summit, I found little in the way of life. Bones and empty, rotted coffins were strewn upon the ground. A mammoth carcass with hair and skin left on the bones rotted away in a corner; at least I knew where the smell came from. Dragonflies buzzed excitedly about as they chased the hordes of flies. Near the carcass was a large chest, but there was nothing of value inside. Unless Derk counted moldering cheese and a scrap of a tunic valuable.
Turning, I spotted the strange wall I had glimpsed as we circumnavigated the hill. I stepped towards it, wondering at the intricate designs and markings. Reaching forward, I touched the deep, claw-like scratchings in the stone. They felt strangely warm, but there was nothing else remarkable about them. Belatedly, I realized the markings formed words in some kind of language I did not recognize. I searched a journal I kept with me detailing useful words and phrases in other languages I had learned in my travels, but I found nothing alike to those before me. For a while I sat on the stone dais, staring intently at the marks, trying to discern their meaning. Still, they eluded me.
Giving in, I scrounged around on the ground for a fragment of deeply charred bone and sketched the words in the journal. I would have to devote time to deciphering these later. It would be a long road to Riften after all. That matter completed, I descended and rejoined Derkeethus on the path.
"Find anything?" he asked excitedly.
"Nothing more than bones, bodies. Oh, and this." I handed him the cheese.
"...Thanks," he muttered with not a little dejection in his voice. We made our way back towards Darkwater Crossing.
The sun was riding high when we found the village much as we had left it that morning. With the cries of the dragon silenced, everyone went about their work with a little more spring in their step and vigor in their stroke. All was peaceful, and though they offered no word of thanks, I knew gratitude was in their hearts.
It was time for us to leave, and so, gathering our horses, we made a last stop by the trading post.
Ulfvidr
, as usual, refused to part with anything without charging an arm and a leg for it. I attempted to barter for dried meats and cheeses, but after haggling for several minutes, Ulfvidr finally admitted to not having any such items available, but he did seem particularly intent to selling me a wicker basket.
My temper got the best of me and I shoved the cursed thing over his head before leaving. Derkeethus followed a moment later gnawing on a scrap of leather. "Gerd fer my teef," he said with the thong dangling beyond his chin.
After checking our supplies, I managed to barter for our sundries with a fellow Bosmer. "May the trees shade your path," I intoned, handing her the gold as well as a few shards of dragon bone that would serve well for arrowheads.
Nael stamped her foot impatiently. She was ready to be off, as was Eater-of-Burrs, Derk's trusty, but mentally lopsided steed. At last, with the morning waning and afternoon blooming, we cantered up the path and into the forest.
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