Eye of the Wind – Ch. 7 – 2: By the Pricking of My Thumbs

  • Once inside the Four Shields Tavern, I eased into a chair with some difficulty.  My right arm had gone slack, and dangled as little more than a dead weight.  Dismally, I plucked it by the sleeve and laid it on my leg in some semblance of normalcy.  The skin was clammy and hot, while frost rode down through the bones.  I could feel the faint, slow beat of the briarheart in my pack.

    "I think it's asleep," I said, peering at the vile blossom nestled in a pocket of leather.  In the meantime, my heart was hammering in my chest.  It was overworked and exhausted from the excess magicka building up in my system.

    "Good.  But you still look terrible," Derkeethus retorted, not unkindly.  He stood gazing at me speculatively for a moment.  I could feel him pressing against my mind through the connection before the sensation went away and he looked toward the door leading outside.  "I have an idea, but I need you to not move until I come back."

    "I don't think I'm going anywhere, Derk.  I can barely breathe as it is," I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut.  The tavern door opened and then closed with a snap.  For a while I sat there, half-dozing, mostly trying not to panic over the out-of-control beating of my heart.

    "You look done in, dear," spoke a woman's voice somewhere above me.  I peered up at her, feeling dizzy now.

    "Yes, very.  Do you have a room I could rent?  I don't even need a while night.  Just a few hours," I said, feeling my voice quiver ever-so-slightly.

    "Of course, I was going to offer you at no charge.  We get injured folks coming in from the wilds from time to time.  You're not the worst looking I've seen."

    "What comfort," I replied, dryly.  To my relief, she laughed and headed into a room to the right of the bar and I heard the muffled sounds of furs being beaten and hay fluffed.  My eyes were drawn to the fire in the center of the large room, its welcoming flames licking the air as smoke rose to cloud the ceiling in a sooty haze.  Drawn by the heat wafting towards me, I slowly got up and went to crouch by the fire, laying my arm on the capstones surrounding the pit.

    When Derkeethus returned, he glowered at me sourly before handing me an uncorked bottle.  "There was an apothecary on the other side of the bridge.  This is supposed to slowly drain your magicka."

    "Any plants in this?" I asked, skeptically.

    "No.  Though that cost me more than it should have," he sighed resignedly.

    "Sorry," I murmured, downing the gritty, slightly phosphorescent fluid in a swallow.  Grimacing as it went down, I started to feel the manic energy in my chest ease a little and my heart slowed.  "Thank you."  I breathed a little easier and my fingers felt a little warmer.  Looking up, I saw Derk grinning at me in relief before sprawling in the chair I vacated and gazing at the smoky ceiling in thought.

    We both flinched when the tavern door opened with a bang several moments later.  An exhausted, out of breath Imperial looked around for a moment, then seeing Derkeethus, brightened and staggered over to him.

    "Message for a Derkeethus of Darkwater Crossing, from a Legate Hrollod of Eastmarch," the Imperial panted, drawing a stained letter from the inside of his tunic.  Derkeethus took the letter and read it for a moment before handing it to me.  The ink was smudged from sweat and rain, but still somewhat legible.

    Messr Derkeethus and Company,

    I have located our Dear Friend.  Due to the sensitivity of this message and the possibility of interception, I request your presence in the town of Rorikstead.

    From there I will be in contact with you.

    Tormir sends her care.

    Regards,

    Legate Hrollod of Eastmarch

    "We haven't even found the last ingredient to repair the Phial.  How can we possibly go if we have nothing to bargain with?" I said, huffing in exasperation.

    Derkeethus took the letter and flicked it into the fire.  "I'm sure we'll find it on the way.  Don't worry about it," he said, smiling lopsidedly.

    "All right," I sighed heavily.  "I'll draft a response and then lie down before I fall down."  Shuffling into the room the innkeeper had tidied up earlier, I flopped into the chair at a low table where a quill and inkwell sat crowded by wine bottles and a bowl of fruit.  It looked like the setting for a veritable still life painting.

    It wasn't until I made to pick up the quill that I realized my dilemma.  I wrote with my right hand, and said hand was currently useless for anything outside of what the briarheart willed.  However, if it was a matter of will...  Furrowing my brow, I stared at my arm, gathering all the power within my body, including the overwhelming wellspring of magicka surging through me.  And then I pushed it down into my arm, meeting resistance.  At first the flesh only quivered, then, feeling Derk's will merging with my own as I drew power from him, the energy surged down to my fingertips.  I wriggled them.  I wriggled them.  No one else.

    Sighing in relief, I scribbled a hasty response before my luck would leave me.  Still, I rejoiced in once more having control of my entire body.  As I was reading the letter back to myself, my luck ran out and I felt a snap within my head as the resistance trebled and I lost control.  In the other room, I heard Derkeethus let out a breath and murmur something.  The hand clenched into a tight fist and refused to relax.

    "Gwaihen?" I heard a familiar voice say.  A Bosmer stood in the shadows, but I still saw the sickle-shaped smile that reminded me of an afternoon sitting on the Riften boardwalks.

    "Valindor, I--um...  Thank you for the bow.  It was too much.  You didn't have to do that for me," I stammered, confounded that he should appear here of all places.

    "I wanted to," he replied somewhat awkwardly.  "It was worth it.  Anyway, I didn't expect to find you here!" he said, grinning even more brightly.  He could be utterly charming with a smile like that.

    "Nor did I," I replied, smiling in kind and tucking my stubborn right hand away as I awkwardly crossed my arms.  Valindor's eyes followed the motion, concern etched on his features.  "I suppose this is part of your goal to see all of Skyrim?" I asked, trying to redirect his focus.

    "Absolutely.  I met a bard travelling the Rift on my way to Riverwood, and we spent several days discussing his travels.  After seeing you and the monumental efforts you went through just to climb the Throat of the World, I decided to become a bard myself.  I'm on my way to Solitude to attend the Bard's College, and was passing through when I heard the guards grumbling about an elf and a 'lizard' causing trouble."  

    I looked away, thinking of the dragon.  It hadn't been my fault that dragon came to the town when we did.  "I knew it had to be you and your companion," he finished with a wink.

    "A bard.  So, I suppose you'll spend your nights serenading the stars with your head full of drink," I teased.

    "Well, maybe not stars.  Maybe just lovely ladies."  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I laughed.  

    A harsh grumble came from just beyond the doorway and Derkeethus leaned against the frame, frowning.  "I said she was ill, you know."  He sauntered over and took the letter from me, firmly guiding the young Bosmer out of the room.

    "Perhaps when I next see you, I'll be able to sing one of the old songs for you!" the elf called as he left the room.  

    There was no door to close, so I settled for shoving my pack under the bed to discourage any quick fingers.  Sitting on the edge of the crinkling hay mattress, I removed my gloves and turned up the sleeve of my tunic.  Rivulets swam up my arm in slowly undulating worms of dark green into the crook of my elbow.  The red preceding its advance had burned all the way up to my shoulder.  I could see its flaming progress mingling with the almost-invisible marks of the Argonian's bite.

    With a grunt, I bent forward as the darkened arm groped for my pack, removed the briarheart and set it on the table.  I fought with it for a moment as I tried to put the heart away so I wouldn't have to look at it, but my uncontrolled hand eventually twisted my left wrist until it threatened to fracture and I gave in with a cry.  

    The blossom sat, sickly red in the candlelight, beating a slow, steady, sleepy rhythm until, at last, I fell into a doze.  Strange dreams plagued me once more, each more unnerving than the last and accompanied by the omnipresent sound of a frenetic heartbeat.  The briarheart was awake once more.

Comments

3 Comments
  • Eviltrain
    Eviltrain   ·  October 14, 2012
    Yes. Nice subplot.
  • Kynareth
    Kynareth   ·  October 13, 2012
    Poor Derk...he does not stand a chance against a sickle shaped smile.    Excellent weaving of several plot lines here...with the insidious heart beat of the briarheart echoing in the background.  I am really in awe of this whole briarheart plot line...it ...  more
  • Jake Dassel
    Jake Dassel   ·  October 8, 2012
    Gwaihen's relation with the briarheart is starting to remind me of Smeagol and his precious for some reason.