A rhythmic thrumming like a heartbeat coursing through my veins. Foggy impressions of birds soaring around a fire, crying in wild voices like the cackles of feral dogs. Mother and I, sitting close to our wagon on the northern prairie of Anequina as the Khajiit of the plains danced in the distance. The moons were high, full, like "Nirni ready to litter". We were on our way to Cyrodiil, and we had been long warned of the Khajiit of the plains and their hatred of outsiders. Our guards whispered tales to us of the plains people turning into giant cats in the night that devoured Y'ffer's noisy children when the moons were right. The cries of so many wild animals, as if they wished to evoke the very part of us that we shunned so vehemently. And those shadows, stretching and thinning as they grew from the fire. Coming for us with thick, yellow eyes...
"Henny. Henny... Wake up."
I opened my eyes to see the Forsworn dancing around their own fire, sending their spirits climbing with mushroom and strange drinks until they burst forth and became one with the other. With a frown, I turned away, trying not to think of what the climax was meant to entail. Instead, I looked at Valindor, whose eyes shone in the faint light from the fire. His gag lay limply about his neck. Seeing his success, I worked at removing my own, but only managed to fold it away from my lips just enough to articulate them.
"Val, I--" His expression hardened into obsidian.
"Spare me. I've heard it all before from you, and it's pointless to worry about it." I ground my molars together, biting down on the apology I felt compelled to say. When his face softened a little, I relaxed. "I certainly don't."
Flexing my hands, I felt the leather thongs digging sharply into my wrists. "If only I had my sword, we could be out of this mess," I murmured. As if I had summoned the weapon by pure will, my sword was tossed haphazardly at my feet. It was followed by my pack and Ingjard, who lit a foul-smelling bowl lantern. With an effort, I sat up while Ingjard slouched against the walls of the tent--no doubt in a display of her advantage over us.
"I was told you had many interesting things. Let's see if that heathen Ancus was right."
Her thick fingers haplessly emptied my pack, upending its contents onto the ground without a care for order. Pawing through the mess, she threw aside bits of dried cheese and meat, books, notes, whetting stones and arrowheads. Idly she peered through the letters and bits of gold I carried with me, pocketing the latter. At last, a wide, condescending grin split her face in twain.
"A love letter? For you? How amusing. I wasn't aware your kind knew of love the way Mara intends it." Fighting the heat rising to my cheeks, I stared intently at the ground as she read aloud the letter Valindor sent to me while I was recovering in Whiterun--the one sent to me with the bow I so often wielded.
"How sweet. And I suppose this is the bow in question?" Those greasy, dirty fingers turned my prized weapon this way and that, smearing dark marks along the carefully oiled bone. I struggled to my feet as she tried to draw it, but found the weight of the bow too heavy for even her to move the string more than a couple of inches. Disgust crossing her features, she tossed it aside and our eyes met. "Useless anyway."
"What do you want?"
"Well, I had come in here to bring you food, but then I realized you wouldn't be needing it."
"And why not?" Val asked with some hesitation.
"These pagans here seem to be under the impression that your bodies are animal enough to sacrifice to Masser. They have been underfed as of late, you see. Meat has been scarce. Yet, here are a pair of stringy roasts walking right into their waiting jaws. How could they possibly say no to such a gift from the Great Mother?"
I opened my mouth to protest.
"Don't look at me like that, Bosmer. It's not like you wouldn't do the same given the chance. Now, I should quiet the two of you before Durak gets back. He doesn't like chatty prisoners." Roughly, she retied the gags around our mouths, pulling them even tighter than before. Val's gaze was deadly when she leaned very close to his face. Then, she returned to perusing my effects, this time more leisurely now that I couldn't comment on her progress.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the book she was reading. "Ingjard, if you're done playing warden, it's time for us to go. The Elder Scroll has been retrieved from the aqueduct, and the Forsworn will grant us safe passage. They will not wait." Durak's stubby hands clutched the scroll, now wrapped in a new covering of goat hide. For a moment, a brief flicker passed across the Nord's expression, but it was gone before I could define what it was. She nodded stiffly, and clambered to her feet. With several rough kicks, she scattered my things about the tent, treading on the food and shredding documents with her boots. As almost an afterthought, she picked up my sword and tucked it under her arm as she left the tent with the Orc.
Outside, the inhuman cries shifted in tone and the drums beat ever faster. It's almost moonrise then. Would they come for us with yellow eyes like the Khajiit? Eyes as dead and cold and hungry as the basilisk? I worried, for I knew of my own barbaric actions in the previous year would never engender any kind of acceptance into Nordic society. In glancing at Valindor, I knew, he too, had experienced the wild hunger of the Bosmeri bloodlust, though he never made any mention of it. He caught my eye and I felt a question hanging there.
Silently, I posed the question, How do we get out of here? But the message was either missed or misinterpreted, for he hefted himself onto his hands and knees, balancing his weight on clenched fists. Thinking he was crouched in some form of despair, I flung myself on the ground, inching with my knees and toes, as my ankles were bound as tightly as my wrists. Just in front of my nose, I spotted a forgotten arrowhead, its knife-sharp point a beacon of hope and escape.
Gripping it with my teeth, I carefully dropped it into my hands and twisted them upwards. Slowly and awkwardly, I rubbed the arrowhead against the leather, watching as it rather ineffectively cut into the material. Next to me, I watched Valindor begin to contort and wriggle his feet and toes. What the hell is he doing! Has he lost is mind?
Then, to my surprise, one boot finally slipped down his calf and off his foot until the appendage was free. His bare toes grappled with the binding around his ankles, pushing it down over the empty boot until that, too, fell loose. The arrowhead had only managed to break halfway through one thread of my own bindings, and I found my progress slowing even further as I observed my friend tearing into the knot at his wrists with his teeth. Not violently, mind you, but delicately plucking and pulling like a cat cleaning a bird. It was, admittedly, strangely fascinating and attractive to watch.
At last, he pulled the strings loose enough that he swiftly took apart the rest of the knot. In seconds, he was free and so was I. We began to return all my items to my pack, restore what weapons our captors had neglected to destroy onto our backs, and replace any wandering apparel. "How did you do that?" I asked as loudly as I dared.
"I never just up and decided to work at the fishery. The Thieves Guild 'allowed' me to work there to pay off a debt I never actually owed. When I didn't make my payments, they liked to tie me upside down to ship masts, naked. In the middle of winter. I learned how to escape very quickly." Though his voice was low, I heard more than a little bitterness laced in the words.
"Oh--" I was about to change the subject and suggest a way to escape the camp, but I shut my mouth with an audible click as a rushed snuffling came from under the hides of the tent. We both stiffened, reaching for our bows as silently as ghosts. A shadow ran along the underside, and we crouched at the back near the bedrolls, waiting to rush whatever came for us.
Around the front of the tent appeared a black nose followed by a wolfish head, and accompanied by an equally wolfish grin. A tightly curled tail wagged ecstatically at the sight of us. Meeko emitted a restrained whimper of excitement, and it was then I had a better idea for how to leave that place. Fishing around in my pack, I found a little vial containing powdered mammoth tusk I'd saved from Derkeethus and I's attempt to repair the White Phial. Examining it, I saw the fire through the glass of the vial, knowing it would do exactly what was needed.
"Meeko, come here. Are you ready to be a big, brave boy?" I hissed, tugging Valindor closer by his tunic. The dog huffed in acquiescence. "When I say go, you do exactly as I say."
