Eye of the Wind – Ch. 3 – 3: Playing the Ruse

  • The dinghy reached the southern shore with a thump before sliding along an ice shelf.  Derkeethus scrambled onto shore, stretching and flinging water from his tail.  Still crouched, I whistled a nightbird's call.  Nael and Burrs came trotting up the road, the buckles of their tack jingling sharp and loud in the otherwise silent, snow-filled darkness.

    Jone and Jode had risen high into the sky as the evening stretched into the depths of night.  Distantly, I heard the howl of wolves and rumble of the ground shifting as it cooled.

    "How much time do we have left before dawn?" Derkeethus asked.

    I looked up at the sky for a time, searching the stars.  "Six hours at best," I answered at length.  

    "We could make it to Darkwater Crossing.  We could stop them.  If we ran."  Derkeethus gazed at his horse hopefully.

    "And when you got there, what exactly would you do?" leered a voice ahead of us.  "Kill all my soldiers?  Save the people of Darkwater?"

    Legate Contantius stood further up the road, his fists planted on his hips.  "And after they were all dead, what would you do then?  Ask the Stormcloaks to help you?"  At that notion, the officer howled with laughter, sounding not unlike the wolves of the hills.  Each peal of sound sent a wave of hatred through me, and a cry responded in kind in my head until I heard a rhythmic kind of wild chanting.

    Nael pushed her head in front of me, trying to block them from my sight, but I ducked around her.  I darted up the road swift as a hawk in a dive and had the first soldier down on the ground before the others could draw their weapons.  I made for the Legate and sank my fingers into his throat.  He yanked my hands away and sent me sprawling.

    Landing next to the solider I'd incapacitated, I saw this was the one that had my knives.  With a yank, I took them from his clenched hands and faced the other soldiers that were closing in.

    I stabbed and slashed at the Imperials recklessly, leaving them in a bleeding heap on the ground.  And still, as they lay dying, I screamed as I pierced them with a knife over and over.  Blood was flung in all directions, and I cared not for ending their existences quickly.  They were still crying faintly in pain and I was still stabbing them when I felt an arm close about my waist and lift me off the ground.  

    Frantically, I bit and sliced at the arm--a trapped animal that could not decide whether to be mer or something else.  My teeth met scales and I heard a voice rasping, "We have to go!"  I was placed on a horse and my hands tied to the saddle horn.  My knives were taken away from me and the blood coating my hands made them slip, and later, stick to the thongs holding me in place.  Nael, smelling the blood, bucked wildly, trying to throw this unrecognizable thing off her back.  Dimly, I clung to her, though I still screamed and raved, spitting out words that made no syntactical sense.

    Derkeethus leapt onto his horse and tore away into the night.  Mine followed, nostrils wide and eyes wild.

    "No!  The Phial is mine!" I heard a rough voice shout, and turning my head I saw the Legate drawing his bow.  My mouth vomited sounds and curses at the sight of him.  Arrows whistled by, sticking into the surrounding snow with soft pats as we raced away.  Passing a tree, I heard the loud whir of something large thrown, and a steel sword plunged its point into the bark, missing me by inches.

    We rode up into the rocks and snow, and I heard the Legate shouting at his last remaining soldier.  The sound of a sword being drawn and then plunged into flesh echoed up to meet us, followed by a small creature yipping and barking.

    Nael carried me into the night, following Eater-of-Burrs breakneck pace with ease.  Sweat beaded on my wrists under the ties in spite of the chilly air, and once we edged onto the main road, I twisted and wriggled my hands free.

    Trees swished by us, and the road unfolded before us in the dim starlight.  I rubbed my hands together, trying to wipe the blood off of them, but failing to do more than smear it all over my skin.  

    The effect was horrific, and the overwhelming realization of the past day crushed me under its terrific weight.  Tears welled and spilled onto my hands as I stared at them, heedless of where we were going or of actually guiding my horse.  It was too much to think about, and I rode for a while, racked by silent sobs of guilt and confusion.

    Derkeethus and I were silent for a long time.  I, attempting to reconcile the various divisions in my mind and heart, tried to decide if I should continue on this journey or leave Derkeethus to fend for himself.  Such a thought shocked me, and I instinctually clung to my friendship with the Argonian, not wanting to face the darkness alone.  He, looking pensively off at the river rushing to our left, finally broke the silence.

    "Gwaihen, whatever we find, I'll follow you to the end," he swallowed thickly, "Even if it means the Imperials making a game out of kicking my head into baskets."

    I sighed, praying to Mara for guidance, and finding my wits clearing at last.  Feeling more myself than I had in the last day and a half.  Thoughts of vengeance ebbed away, and I focused on the task at hand--a task I had always set out to accomplish since arriving here: protecting the people of Darkwater.

    As the moons wheeled overhead and began to set, and as the sky began to lighten, we clattered across the drawbridge to Darkwater Crossing.  Already, I picked up the sounds of fighting further down the path, near the mine.  Dismounting, I dashed by a small figure running fearfully into a house.  It was the girl, Hrefna.  Her eyes were red and haunted.

    Drawing my knives I advanced, hearing Derkeethus scraping around in a crate for a pickaxe to replace the ones taken from him.  Behind me I heard a low growl, and, turning, saw Jorin come bearing my bow in his teeth.  He must have stolen it from the Imperials when we ran away.  My chest lightened at the sight of my beloved weapon, and I grinned to think of the Legate bereft of anything he could use against me.  Fingering the new bite marks and scratches with a sense of pride, I continued on, following Derkeethus with his pickaxe.

    Down by the mine in the camp, however, my amusement hardened into a knot of worry.  The battle for Darkwater had already begun.

Comments

2 Comments
  • Eviltrain
    Eviltrain   ·  September 16, 2012
    I see the struggle you had in these last entries that you mentioned elsewhere. You pickled yourself didn't ya?
    Hmmm. This becomes a game of finding the right details in a given set piece and expounding on that I've discovered. I don't believe for a ...  more
  • Kynareth
    Kynareth   ·  September 15, 2012
    Oh no!  Hopes dashed at the sight of the Legate!  More clues here about the voices that she hears...I am wondering if that references the chanting that she vaguely remembers from her childhood and her parent's activities?  
    Really excellent prose an...  more