The Longest Road – Ch. 8 – 3: Jode's Wrath

  • I followed the canid through the dense ferns and shrubs, pushing the sticky arms of pine saplings aside.  The path was a well-hidden track ribbed with roots and clustered trees that sloped gently downhill.  Wherever we were going, we were headed toward Falkreath in its shallow basin.  In a few minutes, the forest was so dense, I could barely squeeze through the trees.  I was about to try climbing upwards to traverse the branches, when the trunks suddenly stopped and I stood outside a crumbling ruin.

    Distantly, I heard Valindor and Meeko slipping through the brush, calling my name.   The wolf cocked an ear and loosed a throaty howl as if to alert my companions of our location.  Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the creature turned and trotted away into the deep green.  For a moment, I dawdled outside the ruin, wondering what might be inside.  I was reminded of my old home by the banks of White River, where I languished for months after my return from Solitude, puttering around the dwelling with a dreadful listlessness.  I hadn't even the heart to clean up the tattered remains of the goat--a memento of Legate Constantius' cruelty.  Rubbing my eyes with the backs of my knuckles, as a small child might, I willed the imagery away.  

    Valindor stepped into the clearing with a sigh, and in his presence I felt encouraged.  "Watch the entrance.  I'm going inside," I said with a sidelong glance.

    "Be careful."

    Meeko pushed against my legs as I turned to leave, butting his way ahead of me.  I seized the scruff of his neck and pulled him back.  "No, Meeko.  Stay outside.  Make sure Valindor doesn't get into any trouble."

    "You're the one who attracts trouble like Coire Rat."

    "Coire Rat..."  I grinned and shook my head at the reference to the children's story I hadn't heard since my family's first weeks in Chorrol.  In a way, he was right, trouble did seem to follow me as it did poor Coire Rat.

    Nodding, I drew my sword and stepped into the ancient dwelling. The air was cooled by the constant shade, though unpleasantly sticky and thick.  A storm was approaching.  Just inside the doorway, a bandit lay collapsed in a pool of her own blood.  Her armor was ripped to shreds, and in the places where iron rivets held large pads of leather together, deep gouges lay caked in amber sap.  On the floor next to the body, I found several twigs, curved as if carved into claws.  A spriggan?

    Cautiously, I circled around the edges of the ruins, and the tang of charged air and crushed vegetation was almost overwhelming.  Why did the wolf bring me here?  Did it...think I was hungry?  That wouldn't have been the first time other species, or even races, seemed to believe Bosmer subsisted on human flesh as if they were wild animals.  As I rounded the the center courtyard toward the back of the dwelling, I heard a faint whistling breath seeming to come from the moss that choked the cracks in the cool stone.

    "Child, come here."

    "Who are you?  What do you want?" I asked, dropping into Bosmeri in surprise.

    "Please...  Come closer."

    Gripping my sword tightly, I moved beyond the door to the well-lit courtyard toward a collapsed section of the ruin.  Another bandit lay face down.  Something pink and fleshy was clutched in the man's hand.  It was his tongue.  I swallowed in empathy.

    Suddenly, as if appearing out of thin air, a spriggan emerged from the moss.  She leaned against the inner stone wall, air whistling into her lungs with a faint wheeze.  The fingers on her left hand were snapped off and amber sap oozed from various slashes on her tree-like body.  "Who did this to you?"  Her faintly glowing eyes drifted listlessly to the bandit near her, and she sighed as if in regret.

    "You are as He said you were.  I see one of my sisters has blessed you."

    "He?  Y'ffre?"  Y'ffre had been speaking about me.  My heart leapt at the idea.  Maybe he was the one who covered me in these leaves.  But why?

    With a nod, the creature continued, "I am almost fallen like my brothers in the forest.  Every day the humans cut deeper, closer, to my home.  I suppose it was only a matter of time before they found me."  A scowl disrupted my features as I thought of Falkreath's mills with their constant sawing.  Then, I recalled my own wanton destruction as I built my house, and decided a faint crack in the floor was the most interesting thing on the planet.  "No.  Do not resent them.  Or yourself.  They are only living as they must.  It is the Way."

    "What would you have me do, then?  What can I do to ease your passing?"

    "My sister's spirit branches with yours.  Let me go, too, so that I may see the world for a little while longer.  I have not left this home in a long, long time."

    In that moment, I almost turned and walked away, leaving the dying spriggan to her fate, blasphemous as that was.  Valindor's disappointment and accusations of selling my soul "like a common prostitute" filled my head.  I didn't want to have yet another argument over the matter of my soul and what, or whom, may be borrowing it.  Surely this was more "natural".  Sighing, I nodded, and the spriggan's body disappeared into a glowing tendril of green light that merged with the spiraling leaves.  Some part of me felt full, almost whole, as if the hole torn open by the fragment of a dragon's soul leaving my body was now filled in by a new one.

    Feeling lighter and sprier than before, I padded out of the barrow, omitting the event to Valindor as we headed toward Falkreath.

    Afternoon was falling in earnest by the time we stood perched on an outcropping overlooking the town.  I clutched Ingjard's orders in my hand, hoping Dexion was safe with Runil, and that Runil was safe in turn.  Vaguely, I remembered Runil mentioning the Great War when we spoke of dreams, but I never knew what side he had fought on.  Seeing as he was in Skyrim, I assumed it was on the side of the Empire.  Summerset expatriate.  That's what Celann called him.  Maybe, then, he had been with the Dominion at one time.

    "Are we heading into town, or are you going to burn a hole in the inn's roof first?"  I cast a glance at the smirking Valindor, shaken as I realized my thoughts had been so transparent.

    "Of course.  I'm sorry, I was...thinking."

    "You make that sound as if it's a difficult task."

    Gaping at him, I shoved the Bosmer down the hill with a scoff.  He only continued to grin, his eyes taking on an almost predatory sharpness.  "We all know I'm the brains of this operation," I retorted.

    "I see, and does being the brains mean we're led into every trap imaginable?"

    "Of course not.  It's not my fault you can't see the brilliance of my long-term planning!"

    "Uh-huh," he grunted skeptically, "And what plan would that be?"  His voice hovered very close to my ear.  It was almost a suggestive question.

    "Obviously being able to get out of sticky situations is a skill I'm trying so desperately to teach you.  But, I'm afraid you just don't have the knack for it."

    "Whose nimble fingers got us out of our bonds?"  To my astonishment, I felt Val's fingers creep up the back of my head like a spider, and the sensation made my blood run hot and cold.  As if ignoring this, the Bosmer continued his verbal assault against my claim.  "Who bagged a couple of rabbits while little miss Coire Rat went gamboling with the wolves?  And who managed to hold on to the last shred of your soul?"  His arm draped in front of me to waggle the faintly glowing soulgem in front of my face.

    The witty reply I had prepared died in my throat as my expression sobered.  "All right, Val.  You win."

    "Win what?"  I didn't answer as we passed the town guard, who eyed me suspiciously, his hand creeping to his axe.  Like an owl, his head swiveled to follow our progress, likely waiting for the strange mer to immediately begin wreaking havoc.

    As dark clouds gathered at the north end of the basin, we marched into the inn, where I was certain Runil would be drinking his afternoon away.

Comments

2 Comments
  • Kynareth
    Kynareth   ·  July 26, 2013
    That was certainly a kindness that Gwaihen granted the spriggan.  It certainly explains her change in attitude and demeanor, that lightness that you described so well!
  • Matt Feeney the New Guy
    Matt Feeney the New Guy   ·  April 27, 2013
    D: Aww, poor Spriggan.