Eye of the Wind – Ch. 2 – 2: Hunting the Phial

• Posted by Kyrielle Atrinati September 4, 2012 - 462 views

  As the dragon's body erupted into flames, I, once again, removed the creature's heart.  I felt it still beating like a trapped bird and the power of that creature seeped out of its most vital of organs.  The thumping of the heart filled my head until I thought it would burst, and I felt compelled to eat it--compelled to consume its power.  Voices and presences jostled inside my head for dominance, fighting with each other, hating each other, until at last I began to lose track of myself in the chaos.

  I raised it to my lips, unable to stop, wanting this power so desperately on behalf of the multitude of beings inside me I would have done anything to have it.  As I bit down on the burning flesh, I heard the only clear voice amid the pounding in my head.  It was faint and far away, tinny, as if I heard it through a wall, but distinct.  "Take good care a Betsy, girly." 

  I was struck by the memory of Filnjar running towards the dragon, cloaked in frost, and the steel of his mace shining like a bright star in the sunlight.

  Suddenly, clarity reigned and the multitude found itself restrained by some greater force which felt clear and cool like rain.  The greed that consumed me only moments before was replaced by sorrow for both the dragon and the fate of Filnjar.  I looked at the heart, whose beating had slowed to the regular pulse of a sleeping human.  The power that had inhabited it was seeping slowly into my form, a languid pulse that felt more like a gift than a theft.  "Thank you, Mara," I murmured.

  "What was that?" asked one of the guards.

  "Nothing you need to be concerned about," growled Derkeethus in warning.  Derk had known for a long time that I absorbed the power of dragons, and until recently, my mental anguish had not been a factor and so the matter was never discussed.  He always equated it to 'a Wood Elf thing'.

  "By the Nine!  You're Dragonborn!" said another, noticing the tendrils of the dragon's power twisting around my arm.

  "No.  I'm not this Dragonborn."

  "Then what are you?" she said, drawing her axe, suddenly uneasy.

  "I don't know," I answered and walked away.

  "Then what happened--"

  "I said it was nothing you need to be concerned about," grumbled the Argonian, stepping between the suspicious Nord guards and me.

  I headed over to Filnjar's forge, still holding the heart and feeling the beat beginning to slow.  Nearby was a young pine, spry and feisty, sticking it's branches straight out into the air.  It was a proud tree, and I felt it would serve my purpose.

  I knelt before the tree, taking Betsy and leaning it against the trunk.  At the roots, I half-buried the heart which contained a few flickering remnants of both the dragon's and Filnjar's souls.  The bite mark I inflicted stared up at me in an accusatory, moon-shaped blemish.

  Quietly, I sang the song taught to me by my mother; a rolling dirge that mimicked the sound of rain tapping forest leaves and the shapes of the grasslands.  It was part of the song of Valenwood itself, describing the closing of the day and the failing light.  My mother told me the song was so old, no one remembered where it came from.

  "Goodbye Filnjar," I said at last.  "I take with me your simple strength and clarity."

  I got to my feet, and noticed the guards were still eyeing me warily, superstitiously.  Since I was not the Dragonborn, I was thus something unknown to them.  Something to be feared as this was clearly magic I was sporting.  I was in league with the dragons somehow.  Maybe I summoned the dragon, only to kill it to gain their favor.  Maybe I was a disciple of Alduin.

  All of these things I heard whispered about me as I mounted my horse and turned away from the village, Derkeethus following only after threatening to pick out their brains if they followed us.

  

  We headed down into the Eastmarch basin, following the road this time and finding the way much easier than before.  In the distance, Hrothgar glowered over its domain, a grim king on his throne.

  "We need to talk," said Derkeethus, riding abreast with me.

  "About what?"

  "All this time, I've never once questioned the weird thing with you and dragons.  I never once worried that it might be something dangerous.  If anything, it seemed like a perk to watch your strength grow and have it at my side."

  "But...?"

  "But back there, you looked different.  You looked like you wanted to kill everyone in that place, then burn it to the ground and dance on the ashes.  I saw that same expression back at the fort, when--when the battle was over.  I didn't want to say anything at the time, because I thought maybe you knew what it meant."  I did not reply.  I just stared off towards Hrothgar's white peak.  "Henny," he said, more softly, "What's happening to you?"

  I looked over at my friend, for the first time feeling frightened, "I wish I knew."

  "Do you think you're this dragonblood, thing?"

  "Dragonborn.  I don't think so, but I don't know what I am, either.  But," I looked again towards Hrothgar, noting the tiny, toy-sized fortress jutting out of the northern face.  "Maybe there's someone who does."

  We rode on for a while, coming level with the basin once more, only this time it stretched far and away to our left.  The sun's light, burnished gold, filled the world with a somnolent glow as the bright eye sank lower towards the horizon in a tired slump.

  Ahead, there was a khajiit standing by the roadside.  He wore a gold cowl about his head, such that I could not recognize his face, but I did not recognize the garb from any of the caravans either.  Silently, he stood with his arms folded, as if waiting for us.

  I hopped off Nael and approached on foot. "Have you seen a caravan headed by a tall, dark, khajiit?" I asked, hoping he would know.   But he didn't reply.  The khajiit only looked back and forth from Derkeethus to me and back again.

  "M'aiq knows much, and tells some," he finally said.  Then his face lit in a smile of deep, cosmic amusement.  "M'aiq has heard of a man born with one body and two souls, but all M'aiq sees is two bodies and one very confused soul."

  Derkeethus and I shared a bewildered glance.  "Confused about covers it," he muttered.

  "M'aiq has also seen this caravan, but they are far away now in the harbor of ice."

  "And where is that?  Windhelm?"

  "M'aiq is tired now.  Go bother somebody else."

  "Why you..." I heard Derkeethus grumble and start to get out of the saddle.

  "No, don't worry about it.  We have to keep moving anyway," I said turning to my friend.  "Thank you...for..."  My words tumbled out into the air, sentence incomplete.  For when I turned back to face the strange khajiit, he was gone.  The two of us stared at the space the khajiit occupied with identical, stupefied expressions on our faces.  

  I searched the ground for tracks or signs, but all I discovered was one short set of prints coming from the road in one direction.  He had vanished, somehow, but I was barely able to use magic and Derk had no understanding of the stuff, so we couldn't come up with a true answer.

  "Come on, the light's failing and we need to make camp," I said, my gaze lingering on that strangely empty space of air and then on Hrothgar's tiny fortress.

  We passed by a dell where a couple of hunters were camped and decided to join them, seeking safety in numbers after the sudden dragon attack from this afternoon.  In the twilight, Derk and I joined their hunt, losing ourselves in the process and forgetting the various mysteries and woes that plagued us.