A new story! This will be a bit longer, almost approaching the classic 50,000 word 'Novella' limit!
It may be slighty creepy to some - for it is a zombie story. But with a definite twist!
Enough talking...let's get to the story! Here goes part one!!!
A NEW story...with a twist! Featuring a Vampire unlike any other you have seen before!!!
.........The Beauty IS the Beast
"Seven murders" said Orlanc, the Head Ordinator "All within Vivec. And all in different places, and with different victims. An Orc, a Khajit, a Bosmer, an Argonian, a Dark Elf, an Imperial, and a Redguard. Ordinary people, too - not smugglers, not anyone who could be in a postion to offend the Morag Tong. And their possessions don't appear to be looted, either! So I think we can rule out any idea of a clan hit or a smuggler's turf war. No, this appears to be something else altogether.... and we have a suspicion of what that is..."
From her seat at the table, Feyne looked up from her silver cup of cyrodilic brandy, and arched a delicate brow, the effect incongruously matching the hariline scar on her left cheek. "Do tell us, Orlanc, we'd love to know what connects all those murders. Is it a madman or madwoman who's trying to see if he or she can off one of every kind of race and class in Vivec? We should then know where to look for our next victim, then!"
"When you learn what we know, you won't be so flippant, my Lady High Elf! There is one fact which we've learned, and which we are hiding from the public. All of the victims had their hearts cut out, and strangely, in place of the heart which was cut out, a small token, different each time, was placed. If the public knew that this type of madman or madwoman was on the loose, there would be panic - all the merchant's guilds would be open only for about five or six hours a day, and you can bet every one of your septims that there would be panic lynchings of every outlander who looked suspicious or did anything the least bit unusual! Which is why we've assigned quite a few people on this case. Including you, we hope - that is, if you're willing to come on board, and we hope you are...?"
Feyne frowned, the grimance suddenly making her scarred face look sinister. "I'm flattered, of course, but what's in it for me? Oh, I know you can afford my adventurer's prices, but I'm not exactly anonymous around here. There aren't many Scarred Female Adventurer-Mercenaries around, and quite a few people know that I was the one who took on nine armed and armoured dreamer priests in their cave, and came off the better! I'm hardly the quiet type who could worm confidences out of people...unless..."
Suddenly, her head jerked up. As she suspected, Orlanc was grinning.
"Orlanc, you old heretic, you're not thinking of usine ME as bait, are you??"
Orlanc showed even more teeth in a widening grin. "But my dear Feyne, you are perfect! A high elf, a race which hasn't been on his list yet - and an experienced adventurer, with a reputation! He will either go for you, or even if he doesn't, your high elf connections will stand you in good stead if and when there is a High Elf murder here. Of course, if you're afraid -"
"Don't try to taunt me into taking this, Orlanc - we know each other too well for that. I'd already decided to take on this job before you told me that...but I'll need more information -"
"You'll get that, and some special equipment and backup as well. But let me show you some things first..."
Orlanc went to a chest, and took out a tray. Returning, he laid it down in front of Feyne, who frowned again at it.
"Seven items, all arranged according to their sequence. In the first murder, a glove in the Orc's heart cavity. The Khajit had a ring placed there. The Bosmer had a length of string, and the Argonian a small slaughterfish! The Dark Elf had an amulet, and the Imperial a scroll...a blank one. The redguard's token was the most bizarre. It was an Ogrim's heart!"
Feyne looked up, puzzled. "Doesn't make any sense to me! But I'll have to think it over. And what about that special equipment you promised? And what do you want me to do?"
Orlanc showed her a cunningly designed exquisite shirt and skirt, as well as a cape, which were lined underneath with fine adamantium mesh armour. "We want you to wear these, and the cover story is that you're resting between assignments and so are not wearing armour...if anyone looks at you, I want him to see an adventurer who's off duty and totally unarmoured. You can't carry large weapons, but if you whip this cape around your left arm it works just as well as a high-quality medium armour shield, and here's a small but deadly daedric dagger. Don't lose these! We'd like them back after you do the assignment. And the last victim was killed in the St Delyn Canton, so we want you to walk around the St Olms Canton and see what news and vibes you can pick up."
Leaving the Office of the Watch, Feyne paused, thinking over what she had just heard as she walked over to the St Olms canton. The killer has to be insane, she thought, but perhaps there's a method to his madness...we shall see... she walked on, a caped and skirted figure in the gloom of the evening.
And from behind, another caped figure followed.
(TO BE CONTINUED!)
*makes himself comfortable*
Alright ... I'm waiting - eagerly.
You have a rare talent of captioning the attention from the very first sentence. I bow to that.
Greetings
Quentin
And now, a continuantion, for all faithful readers...and the 'views' show me that there must be some...
Why is the unconcious always stronger than the waking mind?
Feyne could not have told when she was aware that she was being followed, but the sixth sense she had acquired during her long years of adventuring informed her. The transition was abrupt. One moment she was walking, striding towards the St Olms Canton: the next, even as she was crossing the bridge, she was aware of being watched, and her hand holding the cloak of a Great Lady had moved subtly closer to the Daedric dagger sheathed and hidden near her left hip. She stopped, as in in thought, but did not look behind.
"There is someone watching me. I can tell" she mumurred to herself, ironically, as she looked for the nearest ordinator to do the 'Guard-Mirror' trick her first master had taught her, long ago. Ah!... there was one making his patrols to the left. She moved, in a fast walk, to the ordinator, her mind calculating.
My stalker will be moving fairly fast, to keep behind me. I'm approaching the Guard ordinator fast now...he's twenty strides away...ten...NOW!
Feyne suddenly stopped. At once the Ordinator's eyes automatically moved to her. Unseen to the stalker behind her, she raised her hands to her face, and appeared to close her eyes. The Ordinator at once relaxed: this was what he was used to seeing every day, another pilgrim who would make a circuit on the Saint's Canton of his or her choice, pausing to pray every set number of steps. At once his eyes slid away from her, and automatically moved to the next point of interest...
From under her half-closed eyes, Feyne watched with a trained glance the Ordinator's eyes focus on a point over her right shoulder. To the right, between fifteen and forty strides away from me, she registered before she started moving again, seeming oblivious of whomever might be behind her. She turned right at the corner, and stopped. In a single smooth swirl, she turned and simultaneously took off her cape and whilred it around her left arm. Holding the bundled, armoured cape at chest level, she hid her other hand behind it. Under cover of the bundled cape, her right hand flicked open the secret opening in her skirt, and wrapped itself around the handle of her dagger. She waited.
Soft footsteps, and then a Male Khajit appeared from around a corner.
She had to admire his aplomb. His face showed not the slightest surprise or dismay as he discovered her waiting around the corner. Nor did his eyes involuntarily slide away from her, not for even an instant. Instead, he looked at her steadily, and even raised a hand in greeting...and as he did, he spoke -
"May you walk on warm sands, pilgrim! Tell Khajit how to find Canton of St Delyn?"
No obvious weapons or armour. A common shirt, a cape, common trousers, common belt....she had watched the cape as he turned the corner, and it did not seem to swing heavily like a cape with a reinforced lining. Even as she watched, a gust of wind blew and billowed out his cape, which swirled around him and made him push it down with one paw. No, his cape was unarmoured....
"You are in the wrong canton, Khajit. St Delyn is on the other side. And what is your name?"
There. That should make him hesitate, even for a brief moment - or stumble in his speech, make him say a lot of words to mask the quick thinking in his mind -
But the Khajit spoke at once, bowing his head. "Others call Khajit Var-Shoon, Sera. Many thanks for the direction, and Var-Shoon makes apology for bothering Noble Lady. Now Var-Shoon wll go..."
He turned the corner and was lost to view, leaving Feyne thinking. No hestiancy in speech, no stalling for time with unecessary words. And his second repitition was as fast as his first. Perhaps he truly was a lost pilgrim. And yet...she quietly moved to the corner. Still keeping her bundled cape in a protective stance, she moved around the corner abruptly.
She saw the tip of the Khajit's tail disappearing over the edge of the parapet three heartbeats before she heard the splash, and even while she was running to the parapet she could not prevent the grin from spreading over her face. I was right all along! He was spying after me, and now he's gone swimming...to a boat - or -
Looking over the parapet, she saw the Khajit continue diving, swimming with sure, powerful strokes to the water overflow of the sewers. She understood. He was going to the sewer entrance underneath. She moved her head back again, swiftly, to avoid the possibility of being seen. And then she thought. Slowly, she nodded her head, and moved towards the nearest boat.
"The Foreign Quarter, and another septim for you if you can make it fast!"
In her chest in the fighter's guild, she desposited her rich clothes, and then took changed into her lightweight glass armour suit. She outfitted herself with a crossbow, fifty silver bolts, and a rope with a lightweight anchor. But the last item she put on only when she had looked around to see that no one was in eyesight.
A female redguard face mask.
(to be continued)
BTW hi, Sera Fortune! Thank'ee for the welcome!
And a Continuation....
Evening is the time of day when illusions are most sucessful, especially simple illusions that left no trail of magic's glammer to alert Mages and Adepts. A cunningly designed redguard mask, the dimmer light of evening, a cape with a hood, and Feyne's unmistakeable scarred High Elf face was now sunk in the anonymity of a Redguard Mask. The Masks of other races would be much more difficult to carry off sucessfully, she thought, but as the Redguards had such dark skins they were easier to counterfeit. Moving quietly but quickly out of the fighter's guild, she walke out into the central square. After spending some time there to be fully satisfied she was not being watched, she went down to the boat stand. Again she used the time rowing to the St Olmx Canton to think.
The Sewers? She had been down in the Sewers there only a week before, and the Ordinators had already cleaned out the hidden nest of smugglers who had been there. Every inch of that wall had been checked for hidden chambers by a skilled team of Ordinators and workmen, and she knew that there had been no chambers found.
"But that Khajit couldn't have been going to the sewers just to a meeting place" she said to herself "there was no need...a meeting place anywhere in the St Olms would have been much more convenient. And Khajits never swim unless absolutely necessary. They absolutely hate getting wet. So why did he go into the sewers? And why did he jump off and swim, instead of using the easier, completly dry way of going down the stairs?" She was still thinking these thoughts as the boat arrived at the St Olms canton.
Paying off the boatman, she lingered on the steps instead of climbing all the way up to the canton. Why did the water-averse Khajit jump down? "Well, Girl, you'll just have to see for yourself" she sighed as she took off her mask, tucked it away neatly into her backpack, and dived smoothly into the water. Kicking strongly, she swam near the sewer entrance, then dived towards the entrance. Expertly opening the grate, she swam into the canal....
Four hours later, drenched in sewer water and sweat, one very tired, grouchy and frustrated Feyne was ready to give up. She had twice gone over the entire Sewer system of the canton, not only the walls but the canals and gratings too, and discovered nothing apart from forty sewer rats, which she had dispatched, and a dozen slaughterfish. I should get a fee from the Canton Elders for clearing up their rat problem, she thought with annoyance as she wondered whether to swim out the way she came or to climb out from the ladder. Then she remembered. Your cover story, Girl. You climb out dripping, walk through the lower levels of the Canton with a trail of Sewer water behind you, people will start to wonder why. No. You swim out, and your story is that you fell into the water and had to swim back out....and the only one to hear that story will be one boatman. Well, back to the grating one more time, she thought with annoyance as she moved to the outlet. Blast, another slaughterfish. She swiftly killed it with an expert jab of her dagger, and deposited it with the others on the side of the canal.
And then she froze.
I know I killed all the slaughterfish when I checked the canals the first time. On the second time I saw no slaughterfish at all.
So where did this one come from?
Getting back into the canal, she examined the area near the grating intensely. Then she saw it. At the very edge of the lower junction between the grating and the outerwall, there was a thin crack. She slid the point of her knife into the crack, and moved it around. She felt and obstruction, and pressed on it. With a click, the floor of the canal nearest the grating seemed to move, and then the hidden hatch moved up and away. Feyne saw that the hatch was made of some wood much lighter than water, with a thin covering of stone on top. When the catch was opened, the wood floated to the top, and the tunnel underneath was uncovered.
Clever, Feyne thought. Very Clever indeed. Ever since the Ordinators started doing once-daily patrols in the Sewers, the smugglers knew that that they simply didn't have the time to hack out a large cave in the sewers...but a small hatch and tunnel like this, hidden under the water anyway, could easily be dug between patrols. And while they were digging, the water would have deadened the sounds and carried away outside any debris, so that they would be in no danger of being detected, she thought. And I'll bet this was the last part of their work...and that the tunnel doesn't even connect to anything in Vivec at all. Most probably they've built a cave on the Mainland, and only after they built the cave did they build a tunnel from it to an opening just inside the grating of one of the Sewers. In this way they could move from Vivec to their base without being seen...this looks too intelligent, even for smugglers. I wonder what I've gotten myself into?
"Well, let's go and find out!" she spoke to herself.
And she dived down into the tunnel
So now we know what skulls really enjoy reading, I'll have to get Foxy to write you one for you r birthday!
(And yet more!)
She suspected there would be a trap in the tunnel, and she was right. At first the tunnel went straight down - not surprising, she thought, they must have tunneled from the mainland to the foundation of the Canton, and only then they would have broken in and tunelled up to the grate. Minimal disruption of the Canton stonework, and minimal noise and debris while hacking in.
At the end of the descent there was another door. Feyne looked at the door, and then turned back and swam straight up. Breaking the surface, she took some long, slow breaths while thinking deeply. From here to the Mainland is a pretty long swim for an undersea-floor tunnel....and who's to say what's in it? Probably filled with water all the way, until the Mainland's reached. And some traps, probably, too. Need water breathing potions or spells....which give off a magic aura, and could be detected by an Adept....or...
And Feyne smiled to herself. Or, you smugglers or whoever-you-are, some fighter's tricks that you haven't heard about. Yet.
Fifteen minutes later, she was opening the first door of the Mainland tunnel. Again. And as she entered the tunnel - water-filled, as she had suspected - and began swimming down its length, she had not swum two bodylengths before she head the click of the door behind her closing. To check, she turned back and tried to open it. It refused to move.
Feyne's mind raced. Yes, as I thought. That door can only be opened from one side. This is a one-way tunnel - you can only go from it to the Mainland, you can't go back once you are in it. No doubt there's another tunnel leading to another Grate in another Canton that's a one-way tunnel for entry. I'm sure there must be at least one hidden or locked door somewhere along this tunnel, and if you don't know where it is, you'll drown in here, no matter how many water breathing potions you have or spells you cast. But I have this...She reached for her cured guar stomach, which she had spent ten minutes blowing up, and blew out some of the breath she had been holding before sipping from some of the air in it. Then she swam on.
Ten body lengths on, she found another door. Before she opened it, she looked at the catch.
And frowned.
Weed was growing over the catch. She thought quickly. Var-Shoon passed this way only six hours or so ago. Yet there's weed around this catch...so this couldn't be the way he'd gone. She thought: if I were designing this tunnel, how would I make the trap absolutely deadly, yet simple? And how would I make sure that my users of the tunnel would be able to go through it easily, without triggering the traps?
Suddenly, as if she had been present at the creation, a mental image of the tunnel system appeared to her mind's eye. Two tunnels. One, leading to the mainland, smooth and straight with no traps. Another, a twisting labyrinth of booby-trapped passages, leading finally to a dead end. This must be the entry into that labyrinth, and once you go in there's no turning back, she thought. So where is the entry to the real tunnel? Must be hidden somewhere back along this short section...and if I were a user as well as a designer, I would probably make the hidden door as near as possible to the first door...
Turning back, she swam to the first door, and searched the two walls and the floor and ceiling. Nothing that she could see - she blew out the stale air of her lungs, and sipped deep again from her guar airbag. Nothing like a catch. Only smooth stone, and seaweed here and there both growing up from the floor and growing down from the ceiling...suddenly she saw that the seaweed from the ceiling was a slightly different colour.
She pulled on it, and discovered two things. One was that the 'seaweed' was actually cleverly disguised rope. And the other was the door to the real tunnel.
It yawned open at the top of the trap tunnel, and Feyne kicked into the new passage without any hesitiation, being absolutely sure that this was the true path to the mainland. And she was right. Straight as a ruler it went to the Mainland, and there were even two large breathable air pockets along the way - she didn't even need to sip at her guarskin airbag again. At the third patch of light above she broke the surface, and was rewarded by the sight of a land tunnel...and a flight of steps leading upward.
Pulling out and cocking her crossbow, Feyne began a slow walk into the unknown.
(to be continued)
(And now....enter the villian of the story. Morrowind has many dark corners full of twisted beings in its Lore, and I thought "What If I could add a new villian to this mix - a vampire that feeds, instead of blood, on human emotions, and one which can also create zombies?" Heheheheh...
And without further ado, Readers, I give you 'The Beast!')
Hunger was his first memory: he knew nothing else.
As far back as he could remember, he had been born hungry. Yet whenever in his silent travels he had seen and heard people talking of eating, of consuming food and drink as satisfying 'hunger' he could only understand their words by the actions that he observed. The desires of the stomach had no meaning for him, a being solid enough yet neither flesh nor blood.
He knew not what he was. To the few Mages, Adepts and Necromancers who had glimpsed him, and to the underlings who worked for him with a surface layer of respect and loyalty underlying a vast lake of greed and fear, he was a Daedra. Yet none of the other Daedra whom he had encountered in his entire life ever acknowledged him as one of their own; they looked on him with both wonder and loathing, a being who had their characteristics and yet was not capable of being summoned. For this reason he at first assumed he was some kind of Ogrim, yet none would talk to him either. And he could not understand their speech.
Indeed, those who saw him could not place in any Daedra Hierarchy whatsoever. His face, as aetherally beautiful as any Winged Twilight's, had eyes as blind as a Golden Saint's - though his vision was excellent His body, though, was as squat, massive and powerful as any ogrim, although without the ogrim's paunch: and instead of the ogrim's beautiful green skin, his was a scaly and mottled slate-grey with dark red spots. His hands, though, were graceful, with long palms and fingers as slender as any high elf's - the direct opposite of his feet, which were shovel-shaped killing machines.
And in addition to his strange appearance, his appetites were strange, too. Daedra hungered for battle, for conquest.
He hungered to feel. And, having felt, to create with what he felt.
To emote.
To have a soul.
His earliest memory was of wandering at night through a village, looking through the bright, shining chinks of the doors and windows of houses, hoping to hear and see laughter, tears, anger, joy....life. A vast hollowness in his own psyche drove him on and on; capable of feeling nothing himself, he needed the feelings of others to feed on, to be real. It was from the snatches of emotion which he grasped that he understood his destiny: he was doomed to ever be a vampiric parasite upon the emotions of men and mer and all the races of Tamriel.
Wandering all over Tamriel, he came to Morrowind and there discovered a vast range of races, social strata, guilds, all contributing to the most varied range of emotions that even a glutton like him could want. He could no longer leave Morrowind than a skooma addict could throw away his pipe.
And here, too, he discovered slavery was legal: and from then on, his path was foredained. Collecting slaves through a proxy, he put them through various experiences to suck on their emotions: and he discovered that the most intense experiences that could be created from a slave was pain.
Torture soon followed. Both mental and physical.
Through the screams and sobs of his slaves, he felt the intense, searing emotions of physical pain, the deep ache of unrequited love, the black despair of hope lost forever, and the deep mourning of a loved one lost. Emotion, he realised, was like a drug: the more he got, the more he craved. In his intense desire to wring the last possible drop of emotion out of his slaves, he stumbled into the practice of necromancy: into secret practices which were not even written of in the forbidden tomes of necromacy, but merely hinted.
Using the hearts of creatures which were torn out while they were still alive, he found he could create an undead creature which could have a half-life of its own from one moon to the next. While the undead creature could have no life of its own, it could be animated by him, even from a distance; and from the heart of the original creature too, he could pick up many of the most significant emotions which it had enjoyed in its life.
And it was from those hearts that he had discoverd the existence of a new and strange emotion which he was bent of exploring: love. Love between parents and chlildren, between friends, but most of all sexual and romantic love: a whole new world of emotions which to explore and to combine with other emotions of which he already had knowledge of. What could he not create, what could he not manipulate, with the mastery of this basic instinct...
.....He broke off his musings, for he could hear his latest flesh puppet, the Khajit Var-Shoon, coming back through his tunnel. He had merely been manipulating the puppet with one part of his vast, many-chambered mind, but now he summoned all the other parts of his mind from their gluttonous feasting and viewing of the latest batch of memories, to download the latest memories from the undead Khajit now standing silently in front of him. The download took many hours of time, for Var-shoon had been away for more than a week, and he wanted to savour every instant of his puppet's actions...especially the pain he had caused. Then he saw the last part of the memories.
He frowned. An adventurer? A High Elf adventurer? Summoning all his stolen memories, he tried to envision her. Ah, yes, they have heard of her....bold, daring, resourceful...and scarrred as the results of many wars. He let his magic detection senses sweep his tunnel. No magic detected, either spells or potions, from tunnel's mouth to his lair.
At that moment he received a mental message from one of his sentry bats at the tunnelmouth, and even as his mind moved over to see from the bat's eyes he congratulated himself on having a second line of defense against any non-magic using intruder.
AH. The woman herself! He looked, and the memory of love in the other memories which he had stolen stirred in him....a thought took shape in his head. The woman is hardbitten, but suppose she could be lured into love? If so, what type of love would she be vulnerable to? She is an adventurer, the protector of the weak...and so -
Slowly, he smiled. And spoke to himself.
"Love, lust, pain, betrayal, and death....an excellent combination. It shall be a new mix."
You have a delightfully wicked mind. lol
naah, he just likes twanging nicker elastic!
Yes to both your comments, Galrina and Raggidman.
Oops how could I forget my :banana: ? Can't have a DFoxy Post without at least one :bananarock: !!!
And I see at least 12 views since I last peeked, so even if some people are doing a 'double take' there must be at least 6 regular readers of my stories...goody goody
And now the continuation...
Feyne had frequently cursed herself for her impetuous nature, but no more than she was cursing herself now.
For the first time since entering the tunnel from the underwater passage, she realised the danger of her position. She was alone, without any backup, in a cave she could now see was truly enormous. From the short entrance tunnel, there was a main hall in which she could see no less than seven other tunnels branching off in various directions. From the flickering light of the all-too infrequently placed torches in the wall, she could also see that there were many chests and urns, as well as quite a few weapon stands with weapons on them, in the hall too. All this could only mean one thing; that there were quite a few people here with weapons, and hostile - and she was alone.
"Stealth, my girl, stealth" she whispered to herself as she slowly scouted the hall and the nearest tunnel she wished to explore. There appeared to be no one, but just in case, she fitted a long, silken thread to the bolt of her crossbow, and drew it back to half-cock. Aiming at the torch nearest her chosen tunnel, she fired. The torch was hit perfectly, and it flicked out at once. After waiting many long heartbeats, she reeled her bolt back in with the thread, until she had got it back. Using every available shadow, she slunk towards the tunnel mouth.
And through the eyes of his bats, He watched. And smiled.
Sneaking through the tunnels, she was tense as she peered carefully around every corner before she moved, one foot slowly in front of the other, dark and soundless. She had already passed, and carefully scouted, three cells with doors set into the tunnel: she now realised the tunnel she was exploring was clearly some sort of prison complex. although she had seen no prisoners so far. The cells were all empty, but one looked as if it had been occupied only recently: there were some clothes neatly folded beside the sleeping mat.
She had been tense for so long that when she first heard the sound, she started. Crouching down into the deepest shadow she could find, she listened intently even as her eyes darted about, scanning for any danger from all points of the compass...the sound grew clearer. With a shock, she realised it was the sond of singing.
"Far from the light, I must delight in this night
Far from the light, Who shall set things right?
In a darkened cell
I dream of heaven
though I'm in hell
Love in my heart, whomever you may be
Love in my heart, wherevever you may be
I send this song, blind as a bat
I send these words, hoping that
you will hear, and see, my heart's for thee...
Yes, my heart was made for thee..."
And in his darkness, now watching through the eyes of his singing puppet, he smiled at the delicious irony. A heart made for thee. How very true.
Feyne moved towards the voice. While the training in her mind was telling her that the area ahead must be fairly safe, for even if there were guards, they must be distracted by the singing, another, growing part of her mind was discovering, with shock, just how beautiful that voice was. A male tenor voice...but the voice of an angel, a sweet true tenor with just enough husk on the voice to make her understand it was a man and not a boy singing. And he could sing, too, by Dibella, how he could sing, she thought, her fascinated mind ignoring the warnings of her training not to lose her concentration in the sweet, soaring notes coming from just ahead...
Ahead, she saw a single cell, with a torch inside. There was a prisoner. He was singing.
Feyne's eyes now were shocked, for the prisoner's beauty even exceeded his voice. He had a slim, almost girlish body, although his shoulders were wide enough...but it was his face that riveted her eyes. A combination of blonde hair and dark eyebrows, large, deep eyes of an electric blue with lashes as long as a girl's...but this was balanced by his firm chin, which was exactly balanced in shape between the rugged and effeminate. He was sitting with his knees drawn up, one hand on his knees, and his chin on his hand. And singing.
Looking around quickly to see if there was anyone nearby, she moved swiftly to the cell door, and spoke to him.
"Hush! Who are you, and why are you here? And speak quietly!"
The Boy stopped singing sunddenly, and whipped his head towards the door. As he did so he lost his balance, and put out his hand to steady himself: and as she saw what had been done to him, Feyne suffered her third shock of the day.
His right leg below the knee, and his right arm and hand at the elbow, had been cut off. The wounds had healed, but only recently: she could see the pinkness of the new flesh on his mutilated limbs as he hopped over to the door. With his face near the bars, he whispered urgently.
"You've been very lucky, but you better leave, quick! All of them are away now, doing I don't know what...some sort of raid, I suppose...but there's no telling when they'll get back! Leave, quickly, if you don't want to become like me!"
"Listen! Do you see that ring over there? If you pull it, it reverses the one-way doors in an underwater passage near here! I have heard that passage leads straight to Vivec. Go, now!"
"I'm going to leave...but I'm taking you with me. We can talk more later! Stand back...."
Swiftly, she picked the lock, her mind thinking of him so much that she did not wonder too much over how easy the lock was to pick. Opening the door, she put the truncated arm of the boy over her shoulder, and helped him along the path she had already come. His whispered beginnings of a conversation were hushed fiercely as she scouted ahead. Seeing nothing in her way, she pulled him as fast as she could towards the underwater passage.
"Listen. There's an underwater passage. It's long, but there are three air holes along the way. Can you hold your breath for twenty heartbeats?"
He smiled a heartstopping smile at her, and said "Yes...and I can swim a bit, too, with my good leg. Is that the way out? Then let's go!"
Together, they swam the way back they had come, and there was no pursuit, although she was tensed for one. The three airholes provided them with plenty of air for the underwater stretches: she was not at all out of breath during the swim back, and looking at him, it appeared that neither was he. They reached Vivec in less than an hour.
.....Later, back at her room, he asked her "Why did you rescue me?"
"I need to find out what's happening. Talk!" she said, brusquely.
And because I've fallen completely in love with you, her beating heart whispered from behind her impassive face.
(to be continued!!!)
Hee hee...