The Longest Road – Ch. 7 – 3: Jone's Shadow

  • "Get a move on!'  Durak's heavy boot stamped on the planks, sending a shudder that traveled violently through the wood.  Val's balance wavered.

    "Either you jump of your own will or we throw you off.  Your choice," Celann called lightly from where I stood. His face lit in excitement and triumph, as if he felt he were finally allowed an opportunity to see justice meted out by his own hands.  As Durak continued to stomp on the planks, he gradually edged toward my friend with his axe raised, ready to send the Bosmer's head and body into the pool far blow.  Eventually, the wood began to bend and creak from the stress of too much weight, and I watched Val stumble to his hands and knees.  He glanced back at me in apology, as if he were considering just walking off into thin air.  In that moment, Valindor turned into Derkeethus, and I saw him falling through the air, Constantius laughing.  Always laughing.

    I don't know how I managed to free myself, but the ropes frayed into nothing around me and magicka crackled all over my body.  With a surge, I groped blindly, angrily, toward the figure at the end, whose eyes were the green of an Argonian.  "Out of my way!" I snarled as I flung away the hands that sought to restrain me.  I won't let him die again.  Not again.  Not this time.  This time I can stop it.

    "Now, now. Calm yourself.  The boy will jump.  No need to make a fool of yourself in trying to help him--wouldn't you prefer to watch?"  Celann's voice was hot in my ear, and I twisted and struggled against him.  We danced in a tight circle, neither wanting to slip on the narrow walkway, and our commotion managed to distract the single-minded Durak.  The Orc spun around with a grunt, his slab-like brow furrowing in consternation.

    Suddenly, Celann tipped backwards as I sent a left hook into his jaw, the moisture on the walkway left his feet sliding futilely against the stone.  He pulled me down with him, his hands locked around my throat as he attempted to choke me even as he was falling.  My eyes watered and I coughed fitfully, clinging to the thin bridge.  Then, his eyes widened at something over my shoulder, his fingers loosened, and he fell through the air, tumbling like a crashing eagle.

    As he neared the bottom, the mists swallowed him whole.  The look of utter disbelief on his face etched into my brain, and I couldn't seem to stop myself from shaking as I stared at the waterfall.  He's gone.  Relieved, I turned to find the spriggan clutching shorn segments of rope in her claws, staring down Durak.  Leaves sharp as knives flowed about her so rapidly, they buzzed like furious bees.

    "What is this!  What demon have you summoned?"  When he noticed the disappearance of his comrade, his confusion deepened until his entire face seemed twisted the wrong way.  "Where is Celann?"  My lips pressed in a thin line as I waited for the understanding to reach him.  When it did, I was surprised.   He looked triumphant.  Victorious--like a dream long in waiting had come at last to fruition.

    "Stand aside, fallen one.  There is much we need to do."

    "Silence your pet!  And you!  Don't move a muscle or I'll have your guts for garters," growled the Orc, glaring at Valindor, who had managed to steady himself.  Durak swung his axe at the spriggan, expecting the runed weapon to dispel it, but it passed right through its body.

    "Stand aside."

    I glanced at Val, then at the sword on Durak's back.  My sword.  Understanding, my friend nodded, eyeing the slender weapon slung so casually over Durak's shoulder.  He must have taken it from the Forsworn when they confiscated everything.  In that same instant, the spriggan charged, her claws glowing bright green in the fading afternoon light.  The Dawnguard's weapon continued sail through her form as she slashed at his armor, rending the air with shrill shrieks of wood on metal.  I clapped my hands over my ears.

    In the meantime, Valindor seized the sword on Durak's back, nearly losing his balance as the Orc spun to face the presence behind him.  With a shove, he sent the Bosmer stumbling to the end of the walk, where the planks at last snapped under my friend's weight.  Scrabbling frantically, Val managed to heave his torso onto a more stable surface.  Durak, with a snarl, stamped at his fingers, chuckling darkly as the mer winced in pain.

    Flailing, he stabbed the shortsword into the Dawnguard's calf just as the spriggan charged the Orc from behind.  They both fell to the ground, and Valindor scrambled to his feet.  "Run!" he called, as he handed the sword to me.  I was glad to have my weapon back, and I considered turning to finished off the fallen figure, whose bloodied screams were smothered by the high-pitched buzzing of angry bees.  However, Val's repeated command had me following him in a helter-skelter dash down the walkways of the canal.

    When we reached the center, we panicked, searching frantically for an escape route as Forsworn from the camp began to converge on us, drawn by the sounds of violence and pain.  Val snatched my hand and started to pull me away into the mountains, but I resisted.  "We have to get the Elder Scroll!"

    "Forget the scroll, that thing is too dangerous for us to have."

    "Well, we can't let them have it!" I asserted, charging down the stairs and avoiding the reaching grasps of the Forsworn closing in.

    "This is suicide."  Val's voice was lost in the sudden shouts from a group of familiar figures 

    "Get her!  She's our prisoner!"

    "Ancus, Celann is dead!"

    "Father is dead?" several of those surrounding us echoed.  I dodged the swipes of their blades as I tried to think of where the Elder Scroll might be.  Celann had it last.  It must be at the base of the waterfall.  Leaping to evade a dagger that slashed at the back of my knees, I hurtled down the path we took to reach the summit, blazing by curious Forsworn that were only just becoming aware of the commotion.  Many stood, tools in hand, pausing while chopping wood, scraping hides, or pounding roots into powder.  Some of the women shrieked when they saw the body floating in the pool at the base of the waterfall.  I could see the Elder Scroll at the bottom, its leather covering torn asunder and floating placidly toward the aqueducts.

    "Henny!  Help me!" Valindor cried, the sounds of victory clustering around him.  But the Elder Scroll was there.  I could see its golden glimmer underneath the water.  I could reach it.  If only I could run faster.

    "Hang on, Val.  I've almost got the Scroll!  Just hang on!"

    "Forget the damn thing.  I'm surrounded!"

    "Just wait.  I'm almost there..." I was on my hands and knees searching through the freezing water for the Elder Scroll, which started to roll away in the current.  Then I was on my stomach, stretching, and all the while my friend's cries for help became increasingly panicked.  "Almost got it!"

    A boot collided with my side and the wind rushed out of me.  "No!  Leave her alon--"  Another crushed me to into the mottled stone, chunks of rubble pressing into my cheeks.  Through a forest of legs, I saw Valindor bound and gagged, trussed like a downed hog.  I struggled to get up, slicing at ankles and shins with my sword, pushing with all my might against the weight on my back.  My friend's face turned to me in shock, then bleak disappointment.

    My sword was wrenched from my hands, but I still resisted, wanting to atone for my mistake in forgetting my friend.  Then a golden flicker caught my eye, and I gazed longingly at the scroll as it slowly rolled down the aqueduct.  I almost had it.  Rough hands yanked my arms behind me as my hands were, once more, bound.

    "Take them to Father's tent," someone ordered.  It sounded like Eugal.

    We were thrown unceremoniously into a hide tent near the falls, where I stared at the plunging water disconsolately.  Valindor lay trussed for a while, unconscious from a blow to his head received when he was tossed against one of the rib-like posts.  We lay on dirty bedrolls covered in oily hides that reeked of old sweat.  Outside, the Forsworn hurried to and fro, talking animatedly in their strange tongue.  I watched them, frowning as I reflected on what I'd just done, or rather, not done.

    Essentially, I left Valindor to die, preferring instead to go after the Elder Scroll.  Why had I done that?  Guilt began to consume me as I wondered.  My friend's face looked so peaceful in sleep, and I wished I could touch him--show some kind of apology.  I swallowed thickly around the gag cutting into my mouth like a bit on a horse.  This is all my fault, I thought, waiting for some part of me to disagree.  Even the voice that reminded me of Derkeethus seemed to concur, "You've really mucked things up this time."

    "Good to see you are awake."  I looked up from where I'd been staring at the ground between my knees.  Ingjard stood in the doorway, her stern features made even more austere by the growing shadows as twilight approached.  "Bloodsucker friends like you should bear witness to your fate."

    I felt the question on my face, given that I couldn't speak it.

    "Oh, just wait until moonrise.  You're in for a treat."  Her cold smile was not encouraging, and I was grateful when she left to join Durak as he limped by, his face covered in bleeding wounds.  Distantly, I wondered where the spriggan had gone, and why she had deserted me.  It wasn't long before the resentment at her inability to dispose of the Orc became the reason we were trapped here.  Stewing in fury, I stared out of the tent.  And I waited.

Comments

1 Comment
  • Matt Feeney the New Guy
    Matt Feeney the New Guy   ·  May 19, 2013
    Constantius was an Imperial legion commander that, I believe, was the one who killed her father's cult devoted to the Wild Hunt.
    **Spoiler if you didn't read the previous series/chapters**
    And the Derkeethus bit was a flashback of how Derkeeth...  more