The swarthy Nords had already reached the wreck. Half of the stranded crew was already injured or dead, and the remaining sailors had fled in a rowboat for Solitude in search of assistance--the captain included. The remaining man overseeing the casualties was little more than a cabin boy. As far as the Blackbloods were concerned, he was in over his head; he no more knew how to treat a man with a splinter the size of his arm sticking out of his gut than he knew how to run the ship in the first place. No, the Blackbloods granted him a kindness by finishing off those dying and in pain, which was a mercy in its own right. The boy they took for themselves, leaving him tied in their own vessel with Odalf as guard. He shuffled about, eyeing the boy and whispering reassurances to him. The boy's eyes were wide and terrified, and with good reason.
Odalf and the others would take him back to their hideout, where they would starve him, beat him, wheedle him until he broke. Then, Odalf would build him back up, introduce him to his new family. Aye, this one would make a strong Marauder. In the boat, the boy slumped against a stack of crates, his legs bound to a sack full of ore. If the raid went awry, the Nord was prepared to lose their prospective new member. They'd tip him over the side with the ore, as easily as returning a fish to the sea. No witnesses would remain, he thought, Still. A pity to loose such fine stock. He pinched the boy's thigh, testing the strength of the muscle. In the boat, the figure stirred.
"Let me go," he groaned.
"I can't do that, boy."
"They'll be looking for me. Please. I won't say anything to anyone! Just let me go." Odalf remained silent. He hated when they begged. "I know they'll be looking for me, and when they find you, they'll slaughter you all. Free me and I'll stop them!"
"No one's lookin' for you. Why do you think they left you behind? They never meant to save you."
"No they haven't! Jaques! Pelena! I'm here! I'm out here!" the boy cried. The grizzly Nord standing watch waited, barely moving a muscle. He waited, and cold wind cut through them like a knife. The boy's fiercely hopeful expression slid off his face. Then, ah, there it was. A flash of sudden doubt that happened so quickly, it might never have been. Odalf nodded and turned back to the marsh, having seen it. That was all he needed. The seed had already been planted.
When Odalf next looked at the boy, he'd fallen into a fitful doze. A sudden frenzy of movement among the crew startled him. They rushed to the railings of the ship's deck, holding their torches high in the misty night. The marauder grabbed the arm of one of his companions as she ran by. "What is it?" he snarled.
"Jaree-Ra's brought someone with him. Some hulking thing in armor. I don't like the looks of this."
What are you doin' 'Ra, he thought. The Argonian's pale voice floated over the ship.
"Give me back my sister! I know you're holding her hostage!"
That word. The Argonian said it different. Hostage. He was being held hostage. Every Blackblood knew this signal, and hands went to hilts and hafts, though no weapons were yet drawn. Slowly the pair approached, Jaree-Ra in his scraps of leather armor and ragged fur cloak; the armored man with his steel gauntlet gripping him, covered in large patches of mud. They couldn't see his face, and that did not improve their opinion of him. They waited; just to be sure.
* * *
With a yank, Arnau tugged Jaree-Ra's elbow closer, leaning forward ever-so-slightly so he was closer to the Argonian's ear without the men on the ship seeing clearly.
"These men are ready to fight. I have to let go of you to wield this spear. If you run to aid them, I will kill you."
"I-I think you're going to kill me anyway."
Arnau said nothing in reply. Slowly, he released Jaree-Ra and hooked his lantern to his belt. Straightening, he fought a yawn and stared down the Blackbloods waiting for them. He's going to run. No matter. At least I'll be able to deal with him alone. There was a beat of tense silence as each party waited for the other to draw first. Then, at last, a Nord standing by a longboat shuffled forward.
"We don't have your sister! Blasted lizard ran off somewhere."
"I know you have her. Unhand her and no one will get hurt," called Arnau.
"Please!" begged Jaree-Ra, "Help!"
With that, he bolted toward the ship and several things happened at once: A marauder drew her bow and fired an arrow that plinked off Arnau's armor. The knight in question drew his weapon and shoved the gangling Nord, the one that had spoken, to the ground. Another Blackblood charged Arnau with a greatsword. All the while, Jaree-Ra quietly slipped into the cabin and lower decks of the ship.
Arnau's spear pierced the Nord as he struggled to his feet. He was leaning over the longboat, and had been trying to cut something loose with a knife. Something moved and thrashed in the bottom of the vessel like a landed fish. The greatsword connected with Arnau's helmet before he could identify the squirming thing. Stars burst before his eyes. Blindly, he raised his spear like a bar to block the next incoming blow. He succeeded only in sending vibrations down his arm strong enough to rattle his bones. With a shove, he threw off his attacker, driving him up the gangplank and onto the ship's deck. The marauder stumbled as he tripped backwards over the hull's edge. As he recovered, the knight's spear slashed across his lightly armored midsection like a talon. Groaning, he fell to the deck, his insides fumbling out of his body in pink snakes.
Another arrow bounced off his left pauldron, landing with a clatter yards away. When Arnau turned to face the archer, his opponent's face went white. "Monster..." was the word that fell from her gibbering lips. At least, that's what Arnau thought he heard. The word went through him in a poisonous fire.
"I'm not a monster," he said. He reached an empty hand out and pulled with magicka so hard the archer fell forward on her own bow. The weapon gave under her weight with a loud crack.
Suddenly, the deck was quiet and the night sounds returned. The knight knelt on the heavily tarred wood, having found a bare space amid the clusters of crates. He removed his helmet and pressed an ear to the deck. Soft thumping floundered beneath him. He tried not to think of the way the Blackblood' organs lay on the deck, or of the wet sound they made. He put the word "monster" out of his head. They tricked me. They deserved it. They killed all those sailors. Arnau felt better.
He headed for the cabin door. "Take care of him," Aquillius said in his head.
* * *
"No, Deeja. When we get the chance, we're turning tail and swimming."
"But, 'Ra, what about the cargo? There's so much gold here! Who knew one of the East Empire Company's ships would come at this hour?"
"Forget the cargo!" Jaree-Ra barked, squinting at his sister in the dark. Her eyes shimmered phosphorescently like a cat's. She glared back at her brother, lips twisted into a snarl. He was always acting like a coward. Not once had he bothered to participate in completing a job. That he was forcing her to hide in this cramped little storeroom with the brooms and stinking, unwashed clothing made her skin crawl.
A heavy thump sounded above them. Jaree-Ra shivered, rubbing his throbbing elbow. Deeja pushed past him into the hallway. "What are you doing?" he hissed.
"I'm going out. You're lying again, 'Ra. There's nothing here but the other Blackbloods."
"No!"
But she was already halfway down the hall, heading for the stairs that led to the captain's quarters, the closet of a navigation room, then the deck. A door opened somewhere above. Deeja thought nothing about it. Suddenly, there were heavy boots clanking down the stairs. None of the Blackbloods wore heavy armor. Sweat beaded on her palms. What if 'Ra is right? There was a faint voice quietly humming a tune, something she'd heard through the windows of the Temple in Solitude once.
"We walk on water to land, Where rock and shell make gray sand. With his voice singing within our heads, 'Lay them down in mercy,' Stendarr says," it murmured.
Then, he was at the bottom of the stairs, and he was staring at Deeja, though she saw not eyes but black holes sucking her in. Her knees quaked as she drew her dagger. The armored fiend raised his hand, where a ball of magic curled and swirled darkly. The Argonian had seen its like before, and charged him. She leapt into the air and aimed her dagger at the joint in his gauntlet where it met the brace on his arm. If she could just stop him from casting that damnable spell--the one that surely would enslave her soul in a cloth used to wipe his ass. As she landed, her dagger swept through air and the man was gone.
"What? Where did he--?"
The thick shink of a large weapon being unsheathed rattled behind her. Down the hall where Jaree-Ra was hiding. 'Ra! Deeja pounded across the hold toward her brother, who was just peering beyond the doorway; his own dagger drawn.
"You!" he hissed.
"Ah, there you are, Jaree-Ra!" Arnau shifted in his armor--the padding stuck in all the wrong places. Phasing had never been his strong suit, and it exhausted him almost completely. As it was, he could hardly breathe or hold his spear in proper stance. But Deeja didn't know that, so she rushed him even as her brother edged around the doorway to stop her. Arnau hefted his weapon, turning it so the blade jutted forward. His arms trembled and felt rubbery, and his heart felt heavy. I don't want to kill her. She's terrified. As she came within striking distance, a colder thought insinuated itself into his brain. She killed those sailors. They were defenseless. Can you allow her to suffer no punishment?
"Get back, Deeja! Run! I'll be fine. Go!" the Argonian's brother shouted. Deeja kept coming. She dodged around Arnau's blade point only to be swept into the wall by the long haft. With a dull thump, her head collided with the wood. Metal shrieking on wood ground into her ears as Arnau choked up on the handle until his fist lie just below the blade.
A single thrust and it was done. The blade sank into her chest even as the human's hand cradled the side of her head, almost gently.
"Return to us cleansed," the knight whispered.
Jaree-Ra stood there, his eyes shifting in and out of focus as he stared at the slumped body of his sister. "Dee?" he choked. When he looked up, he realized Arnau was covered in her blood. That it was everywhere. It was all over him, though he couldn't remember how it got there. He stood from where he'd been holding her.
In the flickering candlelight of the hold, the Argonian raged at the knight, his dagger flashing like a gleaming tooth. "You killed my sister! You killed my sister!" he screamed in a rabid mantra. The blade met resistance against Arnau's timed blocks, but at last, it slipped around his defenses and dove into an exposed hole in his shoulder.
Jaree-Ra drew close and hissed his foul-smelling breath into the man's mask. "I want to see your face as you die." The knife twisted and was removed with a jerk. Arnau's arm shook uncontrollably as he tried to hold his weapon. Blood oozed into his tunic. As those knobby, scaled hands plucked and pried at his helmet, the knight pushed the Argonian back toward the end of the hallway, trying to shake him off. Jaree-Ra shrieked in delight as the helmet came off and his foe's weapon clattered to the floor. Already, the poison was doing its work.
One blue eye and one brown eye stared at him. They were filled with pain. That's more like it, Jaree-Ra thought. Then, impossibly, the Breton smiled. Not maliciously, but kindly, like a priest smiling at a non-believer. Before could completely experience confusion, a heavy glove smashed into the side of his head and the world went black.
Comments
I like the sinister take on the clichéd 'Noble Knight'.