Eye of the Wind – Ch. 7 – 5: By the Pricking of My Thumbs

• Posted by Kyrielle Atrinati October 13, 2012 - 383 views

  Half an hour later, the sun was higher and our weapons restrung, oiled, and sharpened.  We both felt that it would come to a fight, though I hoped we wouldn't have to risk our lives against a well-defended fortress.  With the brighter light, I scouted the area and found a slope in the rocks we could climb.  The height would give us a good vantage point, and hopefully, the bandits would be so accustomed to watching the roads, they would forget to watch the stones.

  It was a tough scramble, but we made it up onto a flat expanse of rock.  As we carefully crept forward, a fox trotted by us, a forcible reminder of the friend I had lost.  The canine paused and looked at me for a moment before continuing on with his morning hunt.  A hand took mine and squeezed it.  I stared down at the Argonian's fingers wrapped about my palm, surprised but comforted.

  "My people believe each soul is given back into a new body.  That is why we call our lives phases.  An Argonian's life doesn't simply end when he dies.  He's born again as someone else.  Maybe you'll see Jorin again someday," he said quietly.  I shrugged non-noncommittally, but smiled half-heartedly and slipped my hand out of his.

  Creeping to the edge of the ridge, we observed the gorge for several moments.  A wood bridge stood over the road, flanked by watch towers.  Each tower was manned with an bowman, and a third paced between the two.

  "Looks like there's no chance in sneaking along the roads.  Not with the horses," I said pensively.  Beyond the gorge, the river swelled into a small lake, preventing any swift passage.

  Behind the road squatted several tents of hide and leather, the small path reaching the waiting bandits was guarded by a heavily armored figure and a set of barricades.  Above the tents crouched a tumble-down shack crafted from washed up boards.  "We're going to have to fight them, Henny.  And I'm going to need all of my concentration to do that," Derkeethus whispered.  He looked at me for a long moment, and I could sense he question lingering in his mind.

  "I'll be fine.  I think the heart will try to make sure I live.  Whatever its designs are, it wouldn't work if I died," I smirked.

  "Are you saying an inanimate object wants you to do things?  What?  Are you hearing voices now?" he  spat critically, eyeing me in confusion.

  "Yes, no.  I don't know.  Maybe," I stammered.  My friend sighed heavily, and I felt his presence slowly leave my mind.  For a moment, I felt strangely empty before the space was filled once more with the poison of the briarheart.

  Standing up, I called down to the camp, wanting to try to pass peacefully, "Halloo!  We're nothing but travelers wanting to pass through!  We have little in the way of riches, but if you let us pass, we'll give you food!"  I saw one of the bowmen look about in confusion, then after spotting me, leaned over towards his compatriot and murmured something.  

  She shook her head fervently, and I ducked as a volley of arrows was sent in our direction.  In response, fire burned in my head as both the poison and monstrous mob arose in defense of my form.

  Taking a deep breath, I took a different approach and instead of fighting the poison and fighting the chaos, I welcomed both and rode astride the mounting tide, turning it towards my first target: the heavily armed guard.  

  My arrow found her kidney.  She fell and glared up at me hatefully, struggling to get up and crying for help.  On the bridge, the bowmen leapt to attention and fired a volley in our direction, their surprise in out attack evident in their lack of aim.  Over in the camp I heard a hiss and a raspy voice, shout, "You'll pay for that!"  

  I dragged Derkeethus flat against the rock, my right arm spewing forth uncontrolled magic that ripped apart the shards of ice that flew over our head.  Sharing a glance with Derkeethus, I shot to my feet, firing and watching the magic race down the arrow to guide it into the heart of the Argonian even as he threw spears of ice towards us.  The ice shattered harmlessly against the rocks as he fell.

  An arrow pierced my right shoulder, and mindlessly, I ripped it out of my flesh with an angry howl.  Blood oozed down my arm, but still I yanked the bowstring back and fired towards the archer on the southern platform.  I heard the arrow thunk into a wooden post, but I was already moving, drawing my sword and leaping down the rocks.

  The poison was filling my mind now, working with the chaos and predatory violence, an overwhelming rush I could no longer control.  Yet, the hatred that filled my mind in previous battles was gone; replaced by a cold, calculating need for action.  Instead of slaughtering my enemies, I neatly sliced them, my blade ending them swiftly and painlessly.

  The heavily armored woman I shot was gone, having run off somewhere in fear of our ferocity.  Instead, a befurred man took her place, wielding a pickaxe, but we was no match for Derk's prowess with the same tools.  He lay twitching in the camp.

  Forcing my body to stoop, I swiftly slid his eyes closed as we moved on through the camp, which ran amok like a stirred nest of ants.  Magicka crawled down my blade as I slid through the camp, hiding from arrows.  Derkeethus slipped ahead, drawing his bow.

  His arrows found the heads of remaining bowmen as he took up his stance at the top of the wooden platform.  I moved effortlessly into position as I found the heavily armored guard racing back towards the camp, a pair of wolves in tow.

  The Argonian ended them swiftly, and I felt a momentary burst of pride at his increasing skill with the bow.

  I raced towards the woman, snarling and feeling all the power in me pushing my legs to the ground with such force I felt I was flying.

  Defiantly she raised her shield and I crashed into it, rolling off the side and whirling to face her.  Deep violet tendrils of magicka flicked off the blade, alighting on her shield and sending a jolt through her frame.  Blood pattered to the ground as the wound on her back bled profusely.

  "What are you!" she shouted, once more pushing back with her shield as I struck at her again.  It was inefficient fighting, but I didn't care.  The bestial ferocity had taken control and I wanted nothing more than to end this fight now. 

  Derkeethus struck her in the back of the thigh with an arrow and she lowered her shield for a moment, tired and weakening.

  It was all the opening I needed, and I struck her down, cleaving my short blade through the gap in her armor at the waist.  She fell to her knees.

  "Hold still.  It's over now," I rasped, my voice a ruin from the overwhelming surge of energy in my blood.

  "Just make it quick," she ground out, her teeth gritting in pain.  I did, sliding the blade home into her chest and letting her drop.  I knelt and rolled her over, looking at her for a long time, feeling distant as the battle waned and the forces inside me receded.  

  Before the briarheart's poison took over my will, I placed a little of the blood from my blade on my tongue, ruminating on the bandit's last request with a vague sensation of guilt and pity.