The next few days Tarthas stayed in the market district, occasionally watching one of Zaknolu’s matches from a reserved seat. He started to learn the generally linear districts and how they worked. But his stay at the dunmer’s house was extending its limit. Or so he felt.
While walking through the quieter section of the market district Tarthas heard a shrill scream from what sounded like a young woman. It came from one of the secluded alleys. Action overrode thought and he ran to where the scream came from. The alley got darker and less managed as he ran farther.
Shit. Two roads she could have been round either. The scream sounded again this time in agony and surrendering. It was from the right and so carried on. Round the corner was a horrific site.
A young imperial girl had her skirt lifted from the back and her corset in tatters, pushed into the wall repeatedly by a dark skinned redguard ramming his spear into her rear cheeks.
Her screams were receding to whimpers with each thrust of the redguard. Why was he watching this? He shook is head to clear it. Unsheathing his blade he grabbed the man under his chin with his whole arm pulling away from the girl. She groaned as his meat pulled out and she sagged to the cobble ground. With a swift arch he thrust the sword into his neck and collar bone straight down through all of the vital organs that crossed it’s path. A last laugh escaped his lungs as they quickly filled with blood and bile that gurgled out of his mouth. Tarthas threw the sick corpse away while pulling the sword out, letting out a spray of blood.
The girl whimpered from a disarrayed fetal position. She didn’t move voluntarily, all of her actions where uncontrolled shakes and shivers. Her shoulder, upper arms and inner thighs were heavily bruised, her wrists as well. Blood slowly trickled from her rear. Her chestnut hair was in grimy streaks. From what was visible of her lips they were split and bleeding.
Tarthas knelt down softly beside her. “Hey. Are you all right, m’lady?”
Her eyes snapped open as wide as they could. Bloodshot and tear streaked violet and blue eyes. Fear as strong as if Sithis was looking at her. They shut forcefully and she squealed crawling farther and farther into the alley corner. The control she had over her own body left her again and she slumped under her own weight whimpering again.
He carefully moved near to her and thought up an illusion spell, a calming spell. Carefully he rested his hand on her temple and a green glow flushed over her body. She stopped shaking and her eyes weren’t tightly closed anymore. Her hands slowly unclenched.
“Are you feeling better?” he whispered soothingly. He remembered cooing Dorthe when she had come to him after her father. Of course she didn’t feel better but it was a must to start communication. “It will be alright. He is gone. He won’t violate you anymore. I’m with you, I won’t hurt you.”
She looked up finally, yearning hope shone from her teary eyes, “Gone… won’t hurt me? You… won’t… nooOOO!!!” she kicked him away sitting up back against the wall trying to cover her breasts with her bruised arm and covering her lower body with the remains of her skirt. Her breathing was rapid and haggard. “Don’t! Don’t come! Not Closer!”
Tarthas smiled sympathetically. “I swear to Stendarr and Mara I will not harm you, I mean to help. I promise. What is your name?”
“V-ve. Vera.”
“My name is Tarthas, son of Karsa. Come, I know someone with a home not far from here, he is trustworthy and won’t harm you either.” He took his leather vest off and handed it to her. She took it cautiously as if it would lash out at her at any moment. She carefully strapped on the elven leather. Her skirt was tattered and blood stained yet it was good enough to cover down to her mid thighs at the most torn.
He held out his hand for her, she meekly took it. Moving closer he went under her shoulder and pulled her up (she flinched at this). He took a step but she stumbled in pain. “You can’t walk, I am going to pick you up and carry you. I know a way without going on the main streets.” Like a lamb she nodded.
Bending over near her waist he picked up her legs under the knees with the skirt underneath. Her back rested in his other arm. She looped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest.
Once again, Tarthas was the knight in shining armour. How long would it last this time?
At Zach’s house he banged on the door. The stark-haired dunmer opened soon and his eyes opened wide at the sight of Tarthas carrying the trashed girl in his arms. “Come in, it’s bitterly cold tonight. Lay her down on the couch. Then tell me this coy damsel’s name and how you found her. Please don’t tell me you brought her into such a state.” He pinched his brows together in stress. Tarthas did as he was told and gently as he could he lay her down. He hadn’t realized she had fallen unconscious on his shoulder. Zach sat down in an armchair and beckoned for Tarthas to take a seat in the other cracked leather armchair.
“Her name is Vera. I caught her being raped by a Redguard. I killed him and won her confidence. She is just a bit younger than me, she needed help, I couldn’t let it go by me. You will help her won’t you?”
Zach’s red eyes were aflame he was livid. Tarthas was scared of that glare and even more scared because he didn’t know what he had done to earn it.
“I watched your prayer, wolf. You asked support to fight off the Princes that were after you. I do not care why they would be hunting you but you are the biggest fucking fool I know.” His voice was stalhrim, cold, smooth, hard. “You just let a Prince through your defenses, one of devastation to boot. That helpless vixen there is an incarnation of the Prince of Dreams: Vaermina.”
Tarthas didn’t know how to react other than angry denial; fire always clashes with fire. “That is not a Prince that is just a girl! My age! Being raped! You wouldn’t sit idly by and do nothing if a dunmer harlot were being raped by an Argonian would you? Why would a Prince let itself be raped in the first place?!”
Zach stood up like thunder “Maybe because she likes being buttfucked! Or maybe she knows what your weak spot is so she can get to you! …fine! Do not believe me. But if Sheogorath takes you by tomorrow morning so be it! Thank Azura that dawn will be a good one like that. In the mean time I’ll get that demon something that isn’t trashed.” He walked up the stairs with a stalhrim cool “I do not have much women’s clothing other than from left behinds of affairs with fans.”
Moments later he came back down and gave the still resting lass a stir. She flinched when she opened her dreamy violet eyes. He handed her a pile of fabric. “It isn’t much, since women don’t like wearing much in my company but it is more modest than the tattered rag you are wearing right now.”
Zaknolu did not give her the chance to move to a private place to change. Why? Tarthas did not know but it infuriated him. She turned her back from Zach, perchance giving Tarthas a side long view. She undid the elven leather vest revealing most of her upper torso. Tarthas couldn’t help feeling aroused and looked away in shame. The soft swish of fabric dropping to the floor told Tarthas she was nude. A pitter patter hit the carpeted floor she was crying. Zach was giving her similar treatment the Redguard had given her. How could he? She put on the lilac chiffon babydoll. It barely came down to her knees and was translucent; asymmetrically cut layers fluttered her chaste figure. When she turned around she was tear streaked, but as alluring as a nightshade flower.
In bed he had a lot to think about. Too much. How was Keri doing? Was Vera a prince? And when would he leave the capital to get to Weynon Priory? His door peeked open and small lithe feet patted towards his bed. From his head on the pillow he didn’t see more than a lilac ghost shimmer in the moonlight. Vera crawled and cuddled behind him softly. She soon fell asleep and so did Tarthas. Time stood still as Vaermina’s hour of shattered dreams approached.
Tarhas found himself standing in a cavern with way too many passageways to choose from. He wore nothing but white linen trousers. A little girl with emerald green eyes and long black locks ran up to him hugged him and ran off into the passage three from the left. Something urged him to follow the little girl. As he stepped into the shadowed cavern the floor crumbled beneath his feet and he was falling. But he landed softly. He was back in the Dragonborn’s house. Dawn’s rays shone through the windows. He walked up to the guest room to find Keri sleeping peacefully. He leaned in to cup her cheek only to his dismay to find that his hand went through her face. She stirred and woke up groggily but happily. She looked to the pillow next to her and her expression turned to confusion. “Tarthas? Oh yes, breakfast. He’ll be there.” She chuckled nervously as she walked through Tarthas and walked downstairs. Zaknolu and Glistel were having breakfast but Tarthas was nowhere to be seen. They talked hushed and seriously.
“Have you seen Tarthas, sera?” She asked getting worried.
Zach sighed and Glistel glared at him. “To say the least, he is not here.”
Panic washed over her “Where is he?! Is he safe?”
“As far as I know he is under my care.” What blasphemy was he saying?
“Dragonborn! This is not funny! If he is not here how can he be under your care?”
He looked exasperated “Akatosh has sent him back in time to Cyrodiil. He is with me. A younger me. As far as I can tell. He told me of this conversation, that he had dreamt it while sleeping with Vaermina. He was under my care at the time, so from my guess: he is safe. As safe as you can be in the arms of a Prince.”
Glistel glared at him “Zach! You don’t say such things!”
Her world was falling apart. “Tar... thas… sleeping with someone else?” She didn’t recognize the name Vaermina or register Prince. To her: she was betrayed. Tears started streaking her pale Nordic features. Her crystal blue eyes shattered like glass. But a gem is not easily shattered and determination returned. “Tarthas! I know you hear me! I know you are watching me! I do not know where the fuck you are. But when you come back… oh you’d better not come back.” A malicious grin crossed her shattered features and she pulled an akaviri dagger from under her night gown, strapped to her garter. She stretched out her arm and cut her hand. “I swear that I will kill you.” A little colorful bird danced on her shoulder. It flew off squawking as it flew through the window: “Wabbajack! Wabbajack”
The little girl was tugging at his trousers again. “Mister mister. You’re it! Catch me if you can!
He chased once again after the girl down to the basement and there the caverns were again. She ran through a different one. Once more the floor crumbled and he fell. He was less afraid this time of the fall. But scared of what this child would show him this time.
He was in a crude perversion of the Blue Palace; orichalcum and ebony. A throne with a huge humanoid beast with curved horns and goat legs. Broken and nude mortals were chained horrifically and uncomfortably, cut and bruised. An unconscious groaning came from them. At the beast’s feet was a Breton woman chained by the collar and held in his hand, her arms were bound and torso bare and scarred her neck and shoulder had more bite marks than he could imagine. Her hair was a blonde tint of ginger. Soft features cut in pain. She opened her eyes and they glowed that of a vampire, yet full of remorse, an empty shell. It was Vyctorya Gardner, Tarthas’ mother. He screamed his throat to shreds. This is what Marcurio had banished her to? Molag Bal laughed as he pulled his toy up tantalizingly, dangling like a rag doll. “Want your mommy back? Tarthas son of Karsa? You’re a son of my spawn. Join me!”
The little girl was there again. “Come on, you still haven’t caught me.” And she ran off out the doors. He ran after her. As he ran his soul split and two of him ran side by side, one ethereal. The ethereal one morphed into the jackal and ran by his side. The door would not come closer.
“Run, Tarthas, run while you can. I’ll be waiting!”
The orichalcum floor crumbled and he fell. Thank the Divines he was falling. But where to now?
A forest! Falkreath forest! Oh a safe haven. How he missed the lush trees and bushes. The aurora borealis veiling the two full moons: Masser and Secunda. Two red glowing eyes growled from a branch. There in the tree was a werewolf. It was Tarthas. His jackal was by his side. Large as a sabrecat. The lycan leaped at Tarthas. The jackal leaped at the lycanthrope and they fought rabidly obviously the ethereal jackal wasn’t taking a scratch but the giant wolf had fur like ringmail. It wouldn’t bleed so easily. Tartha just watched in awe.
A silver stag walked up next to him. “Fascinating. Two hunters fighting for the right to hunt. You truly are a twisted person Tarthas. You are a jackal; a guide for lost souls, my brother Molag’s domain as well as Shor. Yet you are mine because of your involvement with the Circle. Akatosh’s champion as well as Nocturnal’s. Mara governs your every thought to another mortal. Meridia and Stendarr have blessed you with a hatred for the undead and the wretched, yet you are a demon yourself. Mora has made the game of the Eras. The stage? Your mind: Vaermina and Sheogorath’s realm. He must be so pleased. I am enjoying this; good hunting Tarthas prey to all, hunter of all.
The jackal in their tumble had merged with the beast. And the ethereal lycan thundered at Tarthas jumping into his heart. He was still human yet an aura of a werewolf was around him made of golden light. He ran and soon leaped onto four paws and ran with the might and swiftness of the wolf but the cunning of the jackal. He jumped up at a tree and clawed from tree to tree through the branches crunching and cracking as he went. Freedom and hunger raced through him. Lorkhan’s remains; the moons gleamed at him and it filled him with pride.
He ran to the light of dawn. Azura smiled at him that morning, yet on the horizon stood a single gate. A gate to Oblivion. There, through the gate was Marcurio, he would pay.
I hope you enjoyed, comments would be appreciated.
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