It happened while we stopped for water and lunch on the Karth River. I agreed with Valindor to head home, at least for a while, and we decided to take the back route through the Reach to avoid suspicion. The glimmering gold power of the Elder Scroll tended to attract unwanted attention, and I knew the Dawnguard were likely still looking for it. While I sympathized with their cause, I didn't want them to have it just yet. It's there. The way to free Derkeethus is there, I know it.
The water was cold as I splashed my face and drank. When we returned home, I'd visit Runil to see if he knew anything about the Elder Scrolls--if I could use it the way in which I intended. Going back to the Dawnguard was largely out of the question at this point. They couldn't be trusted. Not now. Not when I had something they wanted, but I needed. Knowing them, they'd sooner take it away from me for their own purposes than let me even have so much as a peek at the thing. Flicking a glance over to Brelye, I caught a glimpse of a corner of the oiled leather wrapping the scroll. I could read it now. Just get it over with.
"And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!" Validnor waved a branch of driftwood in what he must have thought to be a swashbuckling manner, though the half-empty bottle of wine in his left hand meant the maneuver was unsteady at best. "Come on, Henny. Join me. I know you know this song!" As he sang, his voice carried over the river bank in a pleasant tenor, and for the first time in a while, I smiled.
I hesitated, knowing my song would come out in a noisome croak to rival an Argonian. It was, for better or worse, something inherited from my attempt to become the Wild Hunt. My throat had been so shattered, I could barely utter a sound for months. Still, no Bosmer, not even I, can easily refuse a song...
"And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more," we cried in unison.
"When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"
"Henny, look out! No! Let go of me!"
"What?" I spun on my heels only to be met with the flat of a blade. With a splash, I tumbled onto the wet sand, moss prickling the side of my face. The string of a bow creaked from somewhere up in the rocks. As I started to roll out of the way, a fur-clad foot shoved me back into the bank.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," leered a stout man adorned with furs, claws, and a helmet sprouting antlers. Inches from my nose glared the end of a bone-hewn sword. Behind my assailant stood an archer, whose thin frame balanced on an escarpment.
For a one confused moment, I gaped at the figure in disbelief. "Y'ffre?" But the face was wrong, and the wreak of an unwashed and unkempt body sank over me along with dismay.
"Tsch, Eugal, listen to that. Looks like you're an Elven god," laughed the archer. The man with the sword snorted from underneath his strange hood. "We shall name you Deerheart!" Howling with laughter, the archer loosed an arrow that landed with a soft hiss right by my head.
"Watch it, you idiot!"
"Get up! Get up, now! We have to run!" Val shouted, his feet scuffling wildly in the gravel.
A feral barking boomed closer as Meeko thundered across the bank and sank his teeth into Eugal's leg. The fur-clad man fairly howled and kicked the dog out of the way. "No! Leave him alone!" Scenting fresh blood, the horses skittered and shied away to the opposite bank.
"Call off your dog or I'll kill it." I opened my mouth to comply, but the beast's body went sprawling past me into the water. An arrow flailed like an oar against the surface as the dog tried to return to the bank, fury blazing in his eyes. A third man kicked Meeko in the head, sending him further out into the current where his strength failed and he was carried downstream toward the rapids in the northern part of the canyon.
"Why did you do that? I was going to tell him to stop!" I croaked.
"Should've been faster. I thought you Bosmer were supposed to be fast talkers. Guess your precious animals leave you tongue tied." Eugal's teeth flashed unpleasantly in the mouth-hole of his helmet, while the archer was sent into a second bought of hysterical cackling. He reminded me of a jackal I saw once on the border of Elsweyr.
"You've had your fun, Eugal. Bind them and search the horses. You know what we're looking for," said a horribly familiar voice, "Once you find it, we're heading back to camp."
"No!" I cried, knowing what they were going to find.
"You traitor!" Valindor's voice held enough venom to fell a basilisk.
"Oh, I'm not the traitor, boy. You are the traitor. You betrayed the Dawngurd the moment you dug that bloodsucker out of her hole. And you!" Durak strode over to me like a bear on a warpath. The cold edge of his axe turned my head to face him. "I should have cut your damn head off the morning we dragged you out into the sunlight. I knew you were trouble, even if you weren't a bloodsucker. I bet you've let that she-beast lap up every ounce of blood you possess--and I bet you loved every minute of it. Your kind make me sick. Can't even stick to the same side."
"What are you going to do with us?"
"You're going for a bit of a jog," Durak grinned, his tusks pushing his lips upward into an ugly grimace. In his stubby hands, he gripped the leather-wrapped scroll as if it were a weapon.
We were shoved, beaten, and bullied into a slow lope along the bank. The river broke off into a narrow tributary that tumbled from a series of step-like cliffs. Thick, rank grass clumped on the lee sides of rocks and stones, green heads waving seeds against the breeze coming off the water. At first, Valindor and I ran next to each other, our shoulders brushing occasionally as we sought some small form of comfort. "Don't worry, we'll get out of this," the Bosmer whispered in my ear, his breath coming in short bursts.
"How?" I cast a worried glance at him. I wasn't so sure he was right.
"Quiet, you!" A heavy hand swatted me on the shoulder, shoving me forward. Durak glanced behind him, his deep brow furrowing as he crested the hill ahead of us.
"Split them up. Keep one man beside them at all times. I don't want anyone escaping."
So, we were divided: I with the axe-wielding Ancus, who seemed to be having more fun on this venture than anyone else; Valindor with the brutal Eugal, who delighted in yanking my friend about like a straying pony. The hill we climbed led to a pass in the mountains, and all the while, a low fog clung to our bodies like an illness. By the time we began to head back downhill, I was winded and cold, my feet slipping on the dewy grass and moss.
Eventually, thunder rolled across the sky, lighting the mist into a luminescent amoeba that squirmed as if alive. Rounding a particularly rocky portion of the deer track we followed, we stopped to rest for a moment. The archer, whose name I learned to be Manis, sidled up the Eugal as he kept Valindor chained to his side with an iron grip.
"Deerheart, why don't you let me hold the whelp. I promise I'll be gentle." The words came out almost lovingly, coyly.
"You and that limp grip of yours will have the boy running loose."
"Please, for me?" Eugal hesitated, seeming to give the thought some careful consideration. Manis wrung his hands, holding them this way and that, seemingly unable to keep them to himself as he petted and patted his burly friend. At last, the swordsman grunted and shoved Valindor over to the groping archer, who plied my friend with an incessant whisper of disturbing promises and pawing touches.
"Disgusting. I don't understand why Eugal tolerates him," sneered Ancus. "Listen here, lass. When we get to camp, you keep your hands to yourself and stay in line. I don't want to have to take your pretty little head off. That'd get me in a heap of trouble, but you step out of line, so help me I will." In spite of his tone, his face betrayed a hint of sincere concern.
"Get 'em up, boys. Break's over!" Durak once more led a breakneck pace through the mountains along a winding track that rolled ever eastward.
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