Eye of the Wind – Ch. 5 – 3: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

• Posted by Kyrielle Atrinati September 29, 2012 - 377 views

  I awoke with the feeling of my brain sticking to the inside of my skull and a massive headache rolling all the way down to my stomach, which clenched and cramped disconcertingly.  With a groan, I turned over on the bed and lifted the thin sheet over my head.  I felt a hand tighten around my waist and a restrained, sleepy complaint from behind me.  

  Instantly I froze.  Questions erupted in booming explosions of adrenaline.  Where was I?  Who was that?  What happened?  Slowly, I surveyed the room, taking in every detail.  The room was made of stone, decorated with Dwemer designs.  I could hear steam coursing through pipes in the walls.  There was only one city that employed steam to create a kind of plumbing: Markarth.  So I was in Markarth.  Next, I noticed the empty bottles on the floor.  Some of them wine bottles; others containing something called "Cow's Wine" according to the label.  In the corner lay my bag, repaired in a haphazard way and stuffed to the brim with silver ingots and green ore.  Gold coins and a few gems lay scattered about the floor, glinting subtly in the candlelight.

  What did I do?  Rob the treasury? I thought.  Finally I looked down at the hand draped over my frame.  It was green.  And it was scaly.  And I was, for all intents and purposes, naked.  With dawning horror, I listened carefully to the sound of the person behind me, and recognized the breathing rhythms of Derkeethus.  In realizing this, I leapt out of the bed, landing my bare feet on the cold floor with a slap.

  "Oh, no," I whispered in a strangled voice, hugging myself and trying to keep the bile from rising up in my already sensitive stomach.  I tried in vain to remember what had happened.

  I remembered going hunting for mammoths for some bizarre reason.  Running.  Seeing Nael again; the thought gave me some degree of comfort.  Riding and racing across the grasses and into the canyons.  Walking into a building full of treasure.  A strange mess of limbs and a feeling of desperate loneliness.

  Derk struggled into consciousness stared at me blearily before he realized what he was starting at.  A similar realization dawned on his face.  "Henny, I...um...  We..."

  Panicking, I backed away from him.

  "Henny, please."  He tried to take my hand, but I threw it away from me.  To my greatest displeasure, I discovered the connection between us no longer felt like a faint thread.  It now was like a rope or a band, and along that tie I felt confusion and shame.  "Gwaihen," he said more firmly.

  "Don't talk to me," I spat, yanking on my clothing with more force than necessary.  Glancing down at my bag, I decided to take it.  Maybe to dispose of the ill begotten silver and gems or return them to their owners.  I didn't think about it too hard as I heaved it on to my back.

  I pulled my hood down over my face and stalked out the door.

  "Please don't leave," I heard the Argonian say quietly.

  I paused in my step for just a moment, remembering that feeling of loneliness.

  But it was just that:  a moment.

  I pressed on, striding down the hall, trying to ignore the emotions coming in along the band: sadness, disappointment, shame, confusion, longing, horror.

  "Hist guide me, what have I done," his voice echoed almost inaudibly in the hallway.

  This wasn't what I needed.  I didn't want to get involved with my friend this way.  I could only hope that the fact that we were stewed would continue to block the complete memory of that event.  That we could leave it be and forget about it.  Nevermind the strengthening of the connection.  Surely that was brought on by the union of our bodies.  Nothing more.

  So I continued to rationalize as I stepped out into blinding daylight.  Grumbling, I shielded my eyes and fought a wave of nausea.  Not succeeding, I bent, retched, and vomited into the stream running in front of the inn.  Strangely, I felt better as I sipped the water to wash the sour taste out of my mouth.

  I glared up at the clear sky, cursing the sun and its existence as my head was still squeezed by a vice.  The city towered above me, a vertical mastery of masonry and metalwork.  In spite of the debilitating hangover, I found enough mental space to feel awed by the craftsmanship.  Light reflected off the light stone evenly, and even the veins in the rock managed to contribute to the overall design rather than detract from it.

  Getting to my feet, I watched the market goers browse the few tiny stalls in the main square.

  "We need to talk," I heard a familiar voice growl.

  "I don't want to talk about it, Derk."

  "At least let me apologize!"

  "Apologize for what?  Are you saying that you were fully aware of what you were doing?"

  "No, yes.  I don't know.  I didn't mean for anything to happen,"  Derkeethus hung his head.

  "Whether you meant it to or not, it still happened." I scowled at him.  "I still don't want to talk about it."

  "But what if it means something?  Can't you feel that the--whatever it is between us--is stronger?"

  "I said I don't want to talk about it!" I snapped, turning from him.

  The Argonian huffed irritably.  "You can't avoid this forever."

  "Watch me," I called.