I was pinned to a rock for several minutes, as the behemoths fought each other up above. Breath rattled in my ear, drawn between teeth and the arm that held me in place carried the entire weight of the person behind me. Eventually, the trumpeting of a mammoth followed by a stampede of heavy footsteps grew into a crescendo up on the rocks before fading away with the giant's grunting cry in tow.
"You can let me go now, Derk," I said, my voice muffled through my cheek pressed to the stone. The weight lifted off me, and I slumped to the loose gravel, watching it skitter down the slope in a scree. Then I looked at my friend, seeing him no worse for wear. My breath hitched a little. "I thought you were dead."
"Me? Never!" he replied with a grin.
"But the giant--I heard it hit..." I stammered, utterly gobsmacked.
"A vat of mammoth cheese," he finished for me, eyes alight with humor. Then, with a growl of anger, I slapped him across the face, magicka crackling with the blow. He cringed, rubbing the slightly singed scales.
"It's not funny, moron! You could have died and then I would have been left alone to face this mess! Don't ever do that again!" I shouted, the fury in my voice lacking any real heat.
Derkeethus looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then smiled. "All right, I won't."
"Good," I huffed.
"While you're watching anyway," he added hastily.
Shakily, I headed down the embankment towards the sound of water. My armor stuck to me in places it shouldn't; the plates would rust if I didn't remove the blood and grime. Not to mention the briarheart, which was still stuffed down the front of my tunic. Somehow I needed to remove it and clean the wound. At least, it had stopped puncturing my skin and was quiet within its pouch.
Down near the pool, I spotted a small waterfall. Derkeethus, turned his back to me and stood guard, watching the road. For a while I stood under the freezing water, soaking my armor for several minutes, before I loosened the plates and began wiping them down. I left my tunic on, not wanting to strip naked with my friend so close. As I unlaced the top and pried out the briarheart's pouch, I saw the skin was a violent black from bruising. Reluctantly, I set the pouch aside on a rock and cleaned the rest of what parts I could reach.
It was when I was cleaning my face that the pouch was knocked loose and floated down the stream. With a cry, I reached after it, and Derk turned in alarm. He grabbed the pouch, and seeing my face pale and frightened, held it out to me.
I made a grab for it, but he jerked the satchel away.
"Are you all right? You look as pale as snow," he asked, worry etching his features.
"I'm fine. Gimme that back," I snapped unreasonably.
Derk's eyes hardened. "No. I'm keeping it away from you. It's bad or you, Henny."
"Give it back or I'll make you give it back," I growled.
"You can't. Not with the--whatever it is--closed like this," he smirked, eyes like shards of malachite. He turned, taking my briarheart with him without another word.
"No! It's mine! It chose me!" I cried, lunging after him, every vein in my body on fire. The connection was forcibly ripped open, tearing the barriers between our souls and I plunged into his mind, seizing control of it with all the brute force of a bear tearing open a log.
"What are you doing!" he croaked in a strangled voice. I forced him to untie the pouch, and his body moved jerkily as I was unaccustomed to maneuvering it so delicately. I took the briarheart from him, reveling in the feel of the plant against my palm once more.
"Stop! This hurts..." he groaned. His frame slumped a little as I controlled him like a puppet. What was left of my will was shoved into the darkness of my mind, and I felt Derkeethus' self not very far away. We were both prisoners of the heart now. Still, I protested, trying to wrest control of my body away from the poison, but I was only shoved aside.
I settled for calling out to my friend in my mind, trying to find him in the darkness, but there was no one. Systematically, I called out to Y'ffre and Mara. To Akatosh. Even the Hist. Someone. Anyone with the power to stop this.
But there was no one.
I watched in horror as I drew my sword and advanced on my helpless companion, who crouched prone in the shallow water. Even though I was no longer in control of my body, I could still feel what it was doing, and now I felt the skin on my lips stretch unbearably tight into a grin.
"You've outlived your use, lizard," my voice said, its tone different--wrong. It buzzed unpleasantly like a fly trying to escape a closed window. The blade was pressed to his throat, but he remained still under the briarheart's control. A thin rivulet of blood seeped down his neck, and I could hear Derkeethus screaming in my mind. The power of his voice was useless here, though I could feel it shuddering through my frame.
Just when we were sure the briarheart would end my friend forever, it paused.
"No, I have a greater idea. I would have done this myself, but I see it would be far more enjoyable to have you assist me, Derkeethus." His name was said in a way that sounded filthy.
Turning the blade hilt first, it presented the sword to my friend, who was forced to grasp it in his claws. Derk's eyes rolled in his head as he tried to fight against the force sundering his mind. He managed to drop the sword and take one step backwards.
"No," he choked.
"Yes," my voice responded, pushing harder and forcing him to clutch the sword firmly. He held it this time, and to my horror, my hands unlaced the top of my tunic, pulling it down to reveal the dark bruise. Derk's form edged closer, and the blade rested against the flesh.
Holding out the briarheart to the Argonian, it said, "Carve it out. Flesh for flesh. Carve it out and eat her heart. Place me inside."
I reeled in terror, crying and screaming at Derkeethus to resist. To drop the sword, cut my head off, run away. Do something. His throat worked, and he swallowed, tongue darting between his teeth as he struggled against the heart's overpowering will. Seeing that force was not enough, it tried a new tactic.
"Please, Derkeethus. Please... I want this," it said with something approximating my voice more closely, though the beseeching, suggestive tone still sounded wrong. "Please... I can give you want your heart desires afterwards. I've seen how you've looked at my host in the dark, when her attention is turned away."
The blade pressed into my skin, breaking it. Inside, I sobbed uncontrollably.
Carefully, the Argonian clutched the briarheart and stared at me. "I'm sorry, Henny," he whispered, his voice thick and choked under the strain of resisting. "This is going to hurt. A lot." He drew back my sword, muscles tensed, coiled until they sprang forward and the blade pierced the flesh of a beating heart.
Comments
I'm not really into this kind of crowd...