Eye of the Wind – Ch. 2 – 3: Hunting the Phial

  • Our hunt resulted in no success, though the hunters did not seem ready to give up just yet.  All they would say on the way back to camp was, "It's still out there."

    "What is?" I asked.  But they wouldn't answer while we were still looking.  Jorin seemed particularly on edge as we headed back to camp.  He continued to growl and flatten his ears towards copse on the hillside.

    We had only just gotten settled around the fire, when we heard something crashing through the undergrowth and come blazing into the camp in a blur of shadowy fur and claws.  It immediately made for the horses, rearing up so that it towered over them.  Opening it's toothy maw so wide it could easily swallow one of their heads, it howled right into their ears.

    Naturally, the horses went wild, even Burrs, who normally loved to sink his hooves into skulls, and ran in terror.  The werewolf had appeared so quickly into the camp that we all scrambled to get a hold of ourselves and protect the horses.  Our reactions were sluggish and stupid compared to its terrifying speed, and as it turned on us, I was, for the first time in a long time, terrified of dying.  Werewolves didn't just kill people, they tore them apart and ate them while they were alive.  Even recognizing some of my own ferocity in this creature did nothing to impart any kind of courage.

    I ran.  We all ran.  No bond was laid upon us that could contain this terror.  It chased after us, seemingly unable to decide which one to kill first.  Scrambling over a rock, my boot slipped on a pool of gravel and I fell on my stomach.  Panicked, I scrabbled with my nails at the stone, breaking them and tearing the skin.  I heard the Child of Hircine barrel towards me and felt its long fingers crush my right ankle with terrifying force, yanking me down off the rock and onto my back in the dirt.  

    It then proceeded to drag me across the ground, and never have I been more aware of exactly how many tiny, sharp blades of stone regularly litter the earth as each one of them bit into my back.  Wildly, I kicked at its arm screaming Bosmeri obscenities, hoping it would let go.  When it didn't and instead jerked my leg into an angle it was not meant to go, I wailed, feeling like a child trapped in a nightmare, helpless to do anything else by make noise and thrash about.  The hunters stood atop the dell and fired arrows into its flesh.  Each of them left burning holes in the fur that lightly smoked, but none of them were enough to down the beast.  When it had almost pulled me away into the trees, I heard Derkeethus bellowing and charging through the underbrush.

    "LET HER GO!" he squawked, swinging a glowing red pickaxe head in a wide, blazing arc that left an afterimage behind my eyes.  The pickaxe embedded into the head of the creature, the sheer force of the impact breaking through the tough skull.  

    When it fell, it twisted my ankle painfully and I heard a definite snap.  I screamed before blacking out.

    I came to a while later and found my ankle had been bound in a rough splint of leather strips and wood.  Slowly, I struggled to my feet, using the frame of the cooking stand to support my weight.  I felt hot tears run down my face as the bones ground against each other in spite of the splint.

    Limping, I made my way over to the werewolf's corpse.  There was a blacked hole in its head right behind it's ear, I touched the spot and then looked around for Derk.

    "Your lizard is over there keeping watch," the female hunter said from behind me, pointing off towards the road.

    "And the horses?" I asked, squinting my eyes in pain as my leg throbbed alternatively hot and cold.  I scrubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands, and hoped no one had seen my moment of weakness.

    "Your mare led them back safely enough.  Seems we should thank her for that."  She disappeared over the rim of the dell to continue to mark the werewolf's passage and ensure there weren't any others about.

    I staggered and stumbled back over to the fire, collapsing in an ungraceful heap on my good leg.  For a while I sat with my right leg stuck out at an uncomfortable and awkward angle, staring at the embers of the fire.  How was I going to continue my journey like this?  Somewhere I knew the bones were snapped in two, and I shuddered remembering the sound.  Like dry twigs.  It was then I remembered the dried ingredients I had taken from the dragon kill that happened less than ten leagues west of this place.  Unfortunately, I didn't know anything about the healing properties of dragon parts, but I thought the vial of blood I stored might be useful when combined with powdered butterfly wings, which did have healing properties.

    Clumsily I crushed the ingredients in a natural hollow in the rock I sat on into a gritty paste.  I smeared some in the places I could reach around the splint, knowing if I took it off, I would probably vomit as the bones shifted in my ankle.  The rest I smeared under my tongue, grimacing at the awful, steely taste.  After a while, I felt a little better and in a little less pain, though I knew the effect was only temporary.

    Eventually, I was able to manage a kind of ungainly sitting position and I warmed my hands around the fire.  The two hunters sat across from me on stumps they had hewn from old logs.

    "You're lucky you weren't killed," said the female hunter.  "I don't know where you dug that lizard up, but he saved your skin back there."

    "I know," I said, realizing that any life-debt Derk ever conceived of owing me was fully repaid.  As far as I knew, the thought had not occurred to him in any serious manner.

    "That werewolf called itself Petrovsk and has been a terror on this side of the Eastmarch for the past month.  We've been trying to hunt it down, seeing it as the ultimate challenge gifted to us by Kyne," said the man.  "But I suppose we won't be able to claim that success," he sighed.

    Night fell about us and the air grew a chilly from the mountains.  Above, I was treated to a rare sight.  Instead of stars I beheld the sky shorn by ribbons of undulating light.  I laid on my back and watched them, feeling more tired than I had in ages and my eyelids drooped until finally, they met the lower lids and became inseparable.

    Birds chirped overly loud in my ears and I woke to the sun shining on my face.  My leg ached and felt leaden and stiff, and my back itched from the hundreds of small abrasions that were healing well thanks in part to the paste.  Derkeethus had the horses geared and ready to go, and sat on a nearby stump, waiting for me to wake up.

    "Derk, why didn't you wake me at dawn.  We should have left by now," I slurred blearily.

    "Why?  Are we in a hurry to go somewhere?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.  "Hrefna and the villagers won't suddenly become worse because we waited a few hours longer than usual.  Now the phial, we might have missed out on that," he grinned, unable to be serious for more than a moment or two.

    Slowly, I got to my feet with his assistance, secretly hating that I needed it.  Determined to walk on my own, I limped, stumbled, swerved, and staggered over to my horse...until I was presented with the problem of how to get on Nael.  Nael, a companion since I had arrived in Skyrim, relieved me of that issue by awkwardly kneeling and slowly rising to her feet once I had clambered on her back.  It was bad for her knees, I knew, and I hoped I would be back up and walking normally soon.

    And then I was very grateful I had a horse and could, at least, complete the journey to Windhelm, if nothing else.  

    We bid farewell to the hunters, leaving them with the werewolf pelt, which surely, would be of value to them.  I simply hadn't wanted to touch the thing that had almost savaged me.  Travelling around the bend, we passed the inn and mining camp of Kynesgrove, a few chickens following us in curiosity until they felt too uncomfortable to go any further.  

    Snow covered the hills ahead of us and through the trees, I caught glimpses of the formidable stone city of Windhelm with its towering palace.  From the small pieces that peered through the tree branched, I was reminded of stony cakes stacked on top of each other.  "Like a wedding cake," I said to myself, trying to distract my mind from the jab of pain each step of the horse caused in my ankle.

    "What's that?" Derkeethus called.

    "The city palace.  It looks like a wedding cake made for giants."

    "Maybe it was, but Ulfric was so unpleasant he was left standing at the altar."  My friend crowed laughter and I couldn't help but join in, knowing the Jarl of Eastmarch was obnoxious on his good days, and a complete beast on bad ones.

    "Do you remember the time Sondas almost got arrested because he thought the Jarl was some kind of highwayman?"

    " 'I don't give a damn if you're High King Torygg, get out of my village or I'm calling the guard!' " impersonated Derkeethus.  We passed out of the sparse woodland and onto the shelf of a large canyon and rolled up a gentle and sloping hill.  Still laughing to ourselves and making fun of the various Jarls we had heard stories about, we crested the hill and found ourselves suddenly face to face with Windhelm itself.

    Up close, the city looked far more cold and formidable than it did from the woods.  It didn't help that the snow and chilly air put a bit of a damper on the mood and I became aware of my throbbing injury once more.  We paused to look at the city for a moment.

    "Let's go find that phial," I said, nudging Nael down the hill.  Burrs automatically began to follow his sworn leader.

    "I hope he simply forgot he hid it in a drawer."

Comments

4 Comments
  • Piper Jo
    Piper Jo   ·  December 12, 2012
    I love the way the story and the photos supported each other. And I love-love-love the photo of sitting around the campfire under the borealis.  Amazing!
  • Eviltrain
    Eviltrain   ·  September 13, 2012
    "staggered and stumbled back over to the fire, collapsing in an ungraceful heap on my good leg."
    Again, a wonderful but I'm sorry to say, you lost me a little bit. I had the "good fortune" to break my leg once hearing the description I copied and pa...  more
  • Kyrielle Atrinati
    Kyrielle Atrinati   ·  September 6, 2012
    @Bilal
    I'm a fan of naming my characters using Sindarin, so it is rooted.  Gwaihen is "Wind-Eye" (or Eye of the Wind, hence the name of this blog) and Gwaihir is "Wind-Lord", thus gwai = wind.  It sounded the best out of all the options I was thinki...  more
  • Kynareth
    Kynareth   ·  September 5, 2012
    The screenshot of the borealis is breathtaking, and really captures for me one of my favorite parts of the game...the sky.  This is an absolutely terrifying chapter, and reminds us that no matter what Gwaihen's special powers might be, she is still very m...  more