Khasrin
Fusozayiit
And great were the Powers that breathed the void
And laid waste upon one another
And no oath might bind them, so deep were they in envy and perfidy.
- The Waters of Oblivion -
- Ahzirr Traajijazeri -
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Onmund muttered, pulling off his rain-soaked hood. It landed on the carriage seat with a wet slap. He picked up an empty sack from the pile, plucked away a stray piece of straw, and draped it over his head.
"What a fuss you make! It's only water, you know." Nikhaya shifted the reins to one hand and rummaged through her satchel with the other until she found an apple. She tossed it to Onmund, snorting back laughter as she caught a glimpse of his makeshift rain hat. "Here. Eat breakfast. Breakfast always cheers this one up." She squinted at the horizon, partly looking for the next road sign but mostly lost in thought.
Onmund rubbed the apple over his sodden robes and took a huge bite. "You sure got quiet in a hurry," he said through a mouthful of fruit. "Something on your mind?"
"Mm, yes. I never imagined you had so much hair under that hood."
"Huh. You're a fine one to talk."
The old carriage creaked and groaned over the wet cobblestones. If anyone else had taken the road from Whiterun to the Pale that morning, they would have arrived at their destination with an amusing tale to tell - the contents of this particular carriage were a memorable sight indeed.
For one thing, it was driven by a Khajiit. She was clad in leather armor and a mage hood, her pale green eyes alive with the glow of health and naturally high spirits. Occasionally she produced a bottle of mead and took a swig or two to supplement those spirits.
The real spectacle was in the back seat, for the former owner of said carriage was slumped in the corner, partially buried under burlap sacks and straw. He was bound and unconscious, and a large bump had recently appeared on his head. A thoroughly damp and unhappy College mage sat beside him with a half-eaten apple in one hand and an empty wine bottle in the other, ready to give the poor man another mysterious bump on the head if the need arose.
A great wooden box, long and narrow, took up most of the carriage. A strange odor like ancient moss and mildewed parchment permeated the wood, but neither of them had remarked upon it. After a few months of sleeping and studying in the Hall of Attainment, it practically smelled like home.
"I know. We'll sing one of your Nord songs. That will pass the time in the carriage, yes? Khajiit will sing the first part, and you can do the next bit." Nikhaya cleared her throat. "Ohhhhhh...there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red..."
Onmund was silent.
Nikhaya shrugged. She felt around under the seat for her bottle of mead. "Ah well. At least it's a fine day."
"It's raining. A lot."
"Of course, but the world smells so....delicious when it rains. Don't you think? Besides, a day without snow is as fine a day as you can ask for in Skyrim."
"Hmph."
They rode on in silence. The sky had lightened considerably since they'd set out for Winterhold at dawn, but the day was still gray and chilly and, in Onmund's opinion, far too wet to be going anywhere in a carriage. Nikhaya hummed the bards' song to herself - a local favorite, so they claimed - and patted her pockets in search of a snack. Ah! Salted gourd seeds.
"Why won't you tell me what's in the box?"
Nikhaya chuckled. "Aha, so that is what is bothering you. What you have a...what is it...a bee under your hat for."
"A bee in your bonnet. And no, I'm bothered by all of this! 'Follow me, I need your help', you said, and being the good friend that I am, I did everything you asked. I hired the carriage, I rode all the way out to the Barrow to meet you. But you never said anything about beating an innocent man to death and stealing the carriage from him!"
"Pfft. He's not dead." Nikhaya popped a seed into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Is he?"
"What? No! I mean..." Onmund leaned over the pitiful figure and frowned. "I don't know. He hasn't moved in a long time."
"Hm." Nikhaya spat the seed husk into the road. "Kick him and see what he does."
"You're horrible!"
She shrugged. Onmund stretched out his foot and gently prodded the erstwhile carriage driver with his boot. The bound man groaned and fell over behind the box."Alive?"
"Yep."
"Good. Give him another thump with the bottle if he starts coming around before we get to Dawnstar. And take that silly sack off your head. You look like this one's mad old grandmother."
Onmund sighed, exasperated. "The box, Nikhaya. You didn't answer my question."
Nikhaya turned and favored him with what was meant to be a charming smile, which necessarily meant favoring him with a view of her gleaming white fangs as well. Onmund closed his mouth and sat back, as far from her unsettling grin as he could get without actually moving.
"You should have more faith, friend. Khajiit is your friend, no?"
"Yes..."
"This one faced many dangers to recover your family treasure from Enthir."
"I know, I know you did, and I'm grateful. I am. It's just..."
"Hm?"
"Well, it's just what you said. You do dangerous things for people. Crazy things! There could be anything in this box, knowing you." He started ticking off possibilities one by one on his fingers. "Dangerous weapons...skooma...it better not be skooma...stolen goods..."
Nikhaya nodded sagely. "Stormcloaks, horkers, beehives, two hundred wooden ladles..."
"I'm not talking to you anymore if you're going to make fun of me."
She tried not to smile, but she couldn't help herself. "Ah, Onmund. My brave Nord companion. I offer you a humble apology for my bad joke. As for what is in the box, it is for Enthir."
Onmund snorted. "Enthir. I should have known he would be mixed up in this. What is it?"
Nikhaya was quiet for a moment. "He needed a specimen," she replied hesitantly. "For his research. He asked me to fetch it for him."
"A specimen." Onmund's face was utterly blank.
"Yes. He needed a fresh one. A live one, that is. Well, somewhat live..."
"Right. That's it. I am getting out of the carriage this instant and walking back to Whiterun if you don't tell me what's in here!" He gave it a vicious kick for emphasis and immediately winced. "Ouch."
A guttural growl of fury issued from the box. Onmund cried out and leapt to his feet, nearly catapulting himself out of the carriage. The box's inhabitant scratched frantically at the inside of its prison, croaking in anger at its captors through the wood. Nikhaya didn't speak a word of ancient Nord, but she fancied she knew a stream of profanity when she heard one.
She groaned. "Onmund, why? You've woken it up!"
Onmund was trembling...was it fear? Rage? Nikhaya thought she smelled both, and something dangerous besides, like living fire. He swayed rigidly where he stood as Nikhaya drew the horse to a stop. Lightning crackled over his clenched fists.
"A Draugr? You brought one of those...those monsters...out of the Barrow? For what?! What have you done, Nikhaya?" His voice cut into her like a shard of ice.
She turned to face him. Her eyes had lost all of their sparkle; she was now somber, subdued.
"Enthir made this one swear to keep quiet," Nikhaya murmured, "but really, what is the point? If the elf can't find a cure, all of Skyrim will know before long."
"What are you talking about? A cure for what?"
"Please sit down," she pleaded. "Khajiit will tell you everything, this very moment, but you must calm yourself first. Can you do this?"
Slowly, Onmund sat. He leveled a razor sharp gaze at Nikhaya. "Well then. Talk." His face was still flushed with anger, but the shock spell had vanished from his hands. "This had better be good."
Nikhaya nodded. She took a deep breath, trying to find her next words.
"Something terrible is happening," she said.~~~~~