Whether she initially registered my presence I was uncertain but for those few moments that I began looking over the myriad of injuries she had sustained during the battle she knelt there quietly. It was as though she was feeling the wind and the cool night time air on her flesh for the first time even as it caressed her dozens of braided ponytails and began drying the copious amount of blood she was bathed in.
“He was obviously the reason why you came to Blackmarsh?” I said as I began shifting her armour as best I could and determine which of her injuries were the most serious. By rights she shouldn’t have been able to stand at all from the pain alone and while her flesh was pale and waxy she was still conscious at least.
“Yeh. Been hunting that bastard for three years.”
Digging my fingers into a split seam in her plate armour I felt the weakening pulse of blood from the gash in the armpit and sealed it as best I could with a burst of magicka. It was taking a lot of my concentration to call upon my magicka after such a battle but at that point I knew that without treatment she could simply fall asleep and never wake. “What did he do?”
For the most part she put up with my ministrations, barely reacting as I sealed some of the more grievous injuries with restoration magicka that I knew from experience felt like someone pressing an icicle into the wound. Taking a couple of deep breaths as I carefully pushed the flap of skin hanging from her head and healing it very carefully she sighed and clenched her fists.
“I didn’t grow up in Orsimium, never knew who my folks were either. Whoever they were, they dumped me shortly after I was born. The only reason why I’m still breathin’ is that I was found by a Khajiit Caravan.”
“So you were raised by Khajiit?”
Partially understanding that I was only half listening despite my interest, Mazoga nodded and winced as I began probing the axe and spear heads lodged in her chest. “Yeh. They treated me like one of their own and taught me everything that I know. I know that they liked having an Orc around to keep the thieves off their stuff, but they were my family.”
Using both hands and a considerable amount of effort I managed to rip the axe head free from where it had been lodged between a rib. “Keep pressure on that for a sec.” A gauntleted hand almost twice the size of my own pressed down hard enough for me to hear the metal creak in protest. Due to my vampirism I could sense the way that the blood flow was staunched from the wound which while useful was still disconcerting. “Mogens did something to them?”
Another nod and she grunted with the sensation of me pushing my fingers under her hand and sealing the wound. “After we got old enough, Ra’vindra and I set out on our own for a bit. Founded our own caravan trading silks between Camlorn and Kings Guard and were making a pretty pile of coin when he and his gang showed up. He demanded tribute for passing through their turf, which we paid but when we got to the next town Ra’vindra reported them to the guards.”
Her voice was suddenly constricted with a pain that had nothing to do with the physical damage that she had sustained at the hands of the Black Bows. Despite her best efforts there was a hint of moisture in her eyes and a tremble that coursed through her body. “He and his gang attacked us a couple of days later. Some of us he killed and they did… things to me and the other women. Then, he killed her. My sister… Ra’vindra.”
She must have seen the look on my face at the prospect of any number of beings smaller than Falid being able to take her prisoner and there was a feral grin around her tusks. “Ya’ll wouldn’t have recognised me those years ago. I was half the orc I am today.”
“He let you live though?”
Another nod and while she was still grinning there was a shadow in her expression. “Out of all of us I was the only one to see the dawn. He and his goons left me tied to a tree, telling me ‘an Orc who can’t defend themselves is already dead.’ a couple of days later a group of Knights passed by, saw me and cut me loose.”
“I thought that the Knightly Orders in Highrock and the Bretons overall didn’t like Orcs.”
“They don’t.” She grunted in pain again and pressed her hand over the hole where the spear had punched through a weak portion of her armour. “An Orc wandering about on their own can be slain without repercussions and you are allowed to shoot at Orcs in groups of three or more with a crossbow from the walls of most cities in Highrock. These Knights though saw me as someone in need and their honour made them help me. Ra’vindra and I had been raised on tales of the great deeds of the Knightly Orders and while most of them are still stuck up bastards they still try to be good and fair. When they set me free I knew that I had to be one of them. I made a Knightly Oath and now after all this time that Oath is fulfilled.”
“What will you do now?”
With a wince of pain from her attempt at shrugging she chose to gesture hopelessly instead. “I dunno. Never thought that far ahead.”
“You’re welcome to join us.” I replied honestly. “If you live through the night, your injuries are extensive.”
She caught my sarcasm as I pulled my blood covered hands away and looked fruitlessly for a part of my body that wasn’t covered in gore, mud or stinking river water to wipe them on. While she was still deathly pale she still managed a choke out a painful laugh. “Good. The boys in Orsinium love a gal with meat on her bones and some scars to show she isn’t a wuss.”
“They’ll be lining up for your hand at this rate.”
A crunch of stones and the clink of metal as someone behind me kicked a discarded weapon and I turned to see Viconia moving over towards us. She was still limping despite her best attempts to force her unwilling body to ignore the injury but there was no sign of how some of her ribs were cracked and broken.
“Once you are done, Alexi needs your attentions.”
Looking between her and Mazoga kneeling in front of me I nodded. “I’ll be over shortly. This one isn’t going to die on us just yet.”
“Yer definitely good with that pansy magicka stuff.” Mazoga gingerly pulled herself to her feet with my assistance and she gave me a look from my boots to my head. “And yer stronger than yer look.”
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“I wasn’t always a knight and an adventurer. I used to be a forester.”
“Yer mentioned so earlier.” As I followed in Viconia’s footsteps I could hear Mazoga’s armour clanking as she felt around at the various wounds she had suffered and became satisfied at my handiwork. It would take days, if not longer for them to heal fully but unless she did something overly strenuous there shouldn’t be much threat of them reopening.
“It’s part of a forester’s training to be battlefield support. All of us are taught the basics of restoration to take care of ourselves while we are scouting and during pitched battle we help heal the legionaries as their ranks rotate the wounded to the rear. It helps the legion fight for longer and allows cohorts to outlast our enemies.”
Stopping in place I blew out a loud breath at the sight before me and for a moment tried not to laugh. Viconia’s expression was one of immense amusement despite the situation and Mazoga snorted.
Alexi was sitting patiently on a scavenged chair from one of the nearby tents and unlike the rest of us his helmet was still on his head and being greatly assisted by the fact that an arrow was lodged deeply in the visor.
“A littlth helpth pleath?” Came his muffled voice and despite myself I laughed out loud. His duelling sallet was superbly designed and allowed him considerable range of movement without overly hindering his vison, but couldn’t and didn’t offer the same protection as Falid’s greathelm or Mazoga’s orchish helm. The arrow had struck his visor in the portion covering his cheek and had penetrated through the weakened portion where the collection of tiny holes allowed him to breathe.
“Looks to me like someone finally found a way to shut you up.”
“Ha ha. Very funnth Kaiuth.”
Mazoga turned and wandered off in the direction of Bejeen supervising the bandits shifting and moving the wounded towards one of the smaller stone buildings constructed against the outer walls and I motioned for Viconia to move over to assist me. The arrow had clearly punched through the helm and judging by the blood slowly streaming down from under his helm and down his bevor it was lodged in his face. Going by the way that he was breathing and the almost constant spitting and attempts to clear his mouth it was in his cheek or jaw.
“So much for luck.” I said as I knelt down in front of him. “You’re lucky that these bows aren’t worth their weight in kindling and they don’t have the strength to draw them back far.”
“I donth feel lucky.”
“I bet. Now try not to speak while I get this thing out of your face.”
Viconia snorted as she moved closer and looked over the way the metal visor had been buckled in by the arrow punching through it. “This one would be able to speak around a mouthful of mud.”
A pained groan was all that he was able to do as he attempted to laugh and clear his mouth and throat. The only portion of his face visible under the sallet was the strip revealing his eyes and I knew that if the arrow had hit a few centimetres higher he would have been dead.
Choosing not to use my dagger to try to break the shaft of the arrow, I instead used the Light of Dawn to effortless slice it away to reduce the amount of jerking and the threat of twisting the arrowhead in his face. I was hoping that the arrow would have been a bodkin which would have been easier to remove, but due to the nature of the Black Bows and their reliance on their weapons for hunting I would have bet a sizable amount of money that it was a jagged and hooked broadhead instead.
“Right, brace yourself Alexi.” Looking into his eyes for a moment I saw the anticipation and the way he winced at what was to come before they closed. After nodding to Viconia she knelt down behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around him to hold him still but as I began feeling around his collar and the visor itself to find the best way to lift and pull the arrow free I heard someone cry out behind me and rushed footsteps in our direction.
“By the light of Julianos don’t do that! You’ll shred his flesh even more.”
Panting from the sudden run, the young man that skidded to a halt under our bemused expressions seemed to ignore our wariness and almost physically slapped my hands away from Alexi. “You could sever the arteries if you aren’t careful and you can’t just pull it out.”
“Ver’bol? Who are you supposed to be?”
While just as filthy, the young man who glanced between Viconia’s dark expression and my own questioning one was not as drenched in blood and gore as we were. He flinched away from her for a moment, fumbling with his belt and trying not to meet any of our gazes as he produced a pair of heavy metal snips. “I’m Thedret D’urnar, Knight-Errant to Lord Jenshwode of Dunlain.”
I shrugged at the names and title he provided and looked over him with some curiosity as he began carefully studying the way the arrow was lodged into Alexi’s helm and face. That he was young was obvious, but he had the appearance of a Redguard and yet spoke with the accent of Highrock that sounded similar to Detane’s. “Were you one of the prisoners?”
His nod was quick and succinct, his eyes for the moment solely focussed on the arrow as he moved closer with the snips in one hand and gesturing for me to hold the cut arrow shaft and Alexi’s helm. “Yes. I have been for some time now along with a few others.”
With myself holding the helm, and Viconia keeping Alexi as still as possible he began cutting the visor away, sweating as he had to put considerable effort into each squeeze of the snip’s handles to cut the hardened steel of the visor. Centimetre by painful centimetre he managed to cut the visor off entirely near the hinges and allowed us to see the injury much more clearly.
“Broadhead. Thankfully it was mostly broken when it penetrated the helm.” Thedret muttered as he saw the way that it was lodged in Alexi’s face. The pain that the sword champion was feeling was obvious in the way how his normally pale features were almost translucent in the flicking torchlight. His eyes would alternate between being open and scrunched shut depending on whether we moved him or the arrow, and for a few seconds he grimaced in agony as the young esquire used a pair of thin pliers to dig the arrowhead out of his cheek.
“Not too deep, didn’t break any teeth and mostly superficial damage. You’ll live but unfortunately I am not skilled enough to remove the chances of heavy scarring.”
Watching with curiosity as the young man carefully stopped the bleeding with a burst of magicka I saw the way that he was also extremely well built, if suffering from the weakness that a prolonged imprisonment would bring. There were collections of scars up his bared forearms that were obviously from practice with blades but I could also see that his flesh was darkened and mottled in places that was not from his ancestry but from bruising.
“So you’re a Knight as well?”
Again he nodded as he carefully looked over the wound that was now a mass of scar tissue and lightly rested his hand on one of Alexi’s to stop him from prodding at the injury. “Yes Sire, of the Holy Order of Julianos. It seems that I have you all to thank for our rescue but you have also provided me with an overabundance of work. You will have to excuse me.”
His eyes darted about and despite the strength in his words there was an edginess as though he expected us to retaliate for such brusqueness. After however long he had been in the clutches of the bandits it was not surprising and after the moment of hesitation he retrieved his crude collection of chirurgion tools and scampered in the direction of the wounded bandits.
“Well, that was different.” I said after a moment of amusement. “And don’t play with it Alexi, it won’t heal otherwise.”
Looking much paler than normal, but better now that the arrow had been removed from his face Alexi’s eyes fixed on me and he sheepishly lowered his hand from where he was going to poke the injury. As he went to speak Viconia’s dark laugh was enough to chill the blood mas she too began moving in the direction of the bandits.
“It might be best if you don’t speak until it heals a little more. As torturous as it may be, it’ll be for your benefit.”
“You mean ours?” I added with relish. “A day or two without his mouth is going to a blessing from the Nine themselves.”
Alexi didn’t appreciate our joke as much as we did but his eyes were still flashing with amusement as he kept his wounded face very still with willpower alone. He did however raise a hand and a very particular finger in our direction as we all moved to supervise our prisoners.
