Bound as we were, we marched back across the landscape in single file. A soldier was placed in front of us and behind, and any attempts to speak between us were quickly silenced with rough jerks on the line. The cold air dampened the madness inside my head, and I found myself thinking and seeing a little more clearly.
Dekeethus vacillated between grinning to himself and looking uncharacteristically solemn. I watched as he spent more and more of his time staring despondently at the ground, particularly after he would turn to glance back at me. In the distance, I heard the soft clop of horse hooves. Too far away for the men to hear, in fact, it was only loud enough for my sharp ears to pick up if I concentrated every nerve on listening.
"Your lizard is going to get it when we get to Windhelm," the soldier behind me disdainfully whispered in my ear, causing me to jump a little at the seemingly loud voice in my ear. "I, for one, can't wait to see his insolent head sent flying over the city gates."
Darkness fell quick and cold as we descended the valley and passed the mill. As Legate Constantius marched us through the hamlet, the inhabitants quickly hid in their homes, but I could feel their pitying eyes watching us.
The torches the Imperials carried did little to stave off the dark, but it seemed to make the men feel more comforted. However, as we crossed the bridge spanning the river, Derk and I were shoved rudely under the bridge itself. The rest of the company crowded on what little dry ground there was to stand.
"Douse those torches!" spat the Legate. When they were out and the hiss of the flames died away, I heard footsteps tramping across the bridge. Thick Nordic voices washed over the stone, and I resisted the urge to cry out.
"I'll be happier when I have a belly full of mead," one of them growled.
"Only three leagues to the city. Hurry up, Ulfric wants us to report before dawn and I'm sick of this damn countryside," said another.
I knew the Nords wouldn't help us, but they might at least provide enough of a fight with their enemies for us to sneak away into the dark.
As if sensing my thoughts, I felt a warm, dry, callused hand insinuate itself over my mouth, squeezing my face tightly. "If you so much as think about uttering a sound, I'll carve out your kidneys and wear them as earmuffs." The sharp point of Constantius' sword prodded my lower back in emphasis. He kept his hand over my mouth until the Nords had passed.
Silently, we continued our march towards Windhelm, and after another hour of walking in the cold, we crept under the great arching walkway that spanned the river and allowed access to the city gates.
Down on the ice sheet, the Imperials clustered about us, eyeing the freezing water warily. A low mist rose ominously from the surface. Overhead, the clouds had cleared and the sky was a riot of aquamarine and emerald folds of color.
Legate Constantius stood looking out at the docks for several moments before turning to us. His eyes were glittering points of light in the dim light as he assessed our condition. When my furious stare met his maliciously cold one, I felt my hands shake and fists clench controllably within the bonds.
"You have one hour to return with the Phial repaired," he said, his voice a heavy weight in the air. "Days ago, I sent a detachment to Darkwater Crossing. If I fail to return with the Phial at dawn, everyone in the village will die." A grin revealing iron-toned teeth crawled across his face.
"We had a deal!" Derkeethus hissed, struggling as the soldiers restrained him.
"Funny, you never made any deal with me. Legate Hrollod of Eastmarch is a weakling and Stormcloak sympathizer. I'll have him tried for treason before spring. You should have chosen me."
"Derk, what is he talking about?" I felt my hold on reality slipping away as I realized what my friend was implying.
"It's nothing," he said evasively.
"You haven't told her? My, what a loyal friend you are!" Constantius laughed icily. Then his face hardened in an instant. "You have one hour."
We were released and shoved up the embankment; the soldiers kept themselves out of sight behind the wall. "I'll explain later," Derkeethus whispered, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the city. I resisted his grip as we crept across the bridge, slowly approaching the tall gate. Increasingly I felt the urge to rip my long-time companion apart before laying waste to the soldiers below. And the Legate. The Legate would be last. And I would take my time.
Finally ripping my arm free from his claws, I pinned the Argonian against the dark stone of the dike, my hands closing around his throat in a tight squeeze. "Explain now!" I growled. The clamor of voices rose and my head felt as if it would crack open. A rotten egg filled with darkness. Distinctly, I saw Derk's Adam's apple slide up and down beneath my fingers. I squeezed harder, ignoring his claws pulling frantically at my wrists.
"Henny," he strangled, "Henny... Please... Don't do this." He worked his fingers like worms under my hands and pried them loose from his throat. I scrabbled after his neck, wanting more than anything to see the light leave his eyes. Deep inside my mind, what was left of me was keening, screaming for me to stop.
With every ounce of willpower, I heaved my gaze away from my hands about his neck and looked him full in the face. The sadness in his expression. The fear. Not of the Imperials or some other foe, but of me. Vaguely, I could see my face reflected on the surface of his bulging eyes. It was contorted into a snarl in which every muscle pushed forth the expression. My eyes were so red-rimmed, they glowed and in them I could see a loathing unfathomable and senseless. The image shocked me and I recoiled, flinging myself away from Derkeethus, as if he were something that burned my skin.
I tried to smooth my face with my trembling and clammy hands and felt the need to rip and tear still twitching in the small muscles.
Very gently, Derk pulled my hands away from my face. "I was not always a miner," he began, carefully herding me into the city. The main square was empty save for a few guards. Snow fell softly around us, while Jode and Jone peeked through their lashes.
"Years ago I worked on the Waterfront in the Imperial City as a longshoreman with other transplants from Black Marsh," he continued. "One day, we stowed away on a vessel bound for Solitude, intending to commandeer it."
I said nothing as we stole our way through the back alleys of the city, ignored by the guards and everyone else. Every moment felt like an eternity as the battle for control waged through my head.
"We managed to take control of the ship before it reached High Rock and sail it to the meeting point where a fence would be waiting for us. Instead, we disembarked to face Legate Hrollod and an Imperial platoon." Derkeethus swallowed and frowned at the memory. "I was terrified. I begged for my life, and he gave it provided I agreed to a deal."
Quietly, we paused in the corner of the market square and crouched in the shadows, observing the door of the White Phial and the guard standing nearby. Derkeethus picked the lock and we slipped inside. The store was empty, and I could hear the heavy breathing of the sleeping inhabitants.
Whispering so low I could barely hear him, "In exchange for a pardon, I was to ship ore from Goldenrock Mine in Darkwater to the Imperials instead of the Stormcloaks as well as watch over Hrollod's bastard child, Hrefna. Eventually, the Imperials forgot about the mine and neglected to collect the shipments."
Still reeling and trying to master myself, I glared at the Argonian. "Were there ever any sick miners? Or was that a lie to get me to come on this charade! Is that child even sick? I've never seen her sick!" I spat venomously and loudly enough to cause someone upstairs to mumble and cough.
"I--no. It isn't a lie. Not completely. I may have exaggerated...a bit. Hrefna is sick, though. There's something wrong with her, and I was hoping that by getting the Phial, Hrollod wouldn't need me anymore and would forget I exist. If she died or he discovered she's unwell, I go to the block. Before I met you, she was the closest thing I could call a friend." Derkeethus sat wringing his hands and staring at the floor, his back pressed against the wooden display cabinet.
Never had I seen him look so insecure and uncertain. I was no longer sure where the truth ended and the ruse began, but I knew Derkeethus well enough to know he did care for the small Nord. That was the truth. Getting the White Phial would benefit someone he cared about as well as serve his own interests. That was the truth. I did not want him to die. That was the truth. I felt the discord in my head ease a little as I realized these were the only things that mattered at the moment.
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