Chapter 43: Way of the Voice: Part 12
I stared at her, my eyes more intense than I'd intended.
She straightened, spine stiff not with fear, but resolve, her next words came slower, and each landed like a weight.
"When I swore my oath to you, I meant it. I won't desert you, even if you order me to. And If that means disobeying you, then so be it."
My lips twitched into something between frustration and amusement. How do I tell her I can come back to life, literally, while she can't? I clicked my tongue. I can't tell her the truth; if I reveal such information, it'll just come back to bite me. Irileth has already seen me do that.
I shook my head, preparing another argument, when—a voice called from above.
"If you two are done quarrelling…"
Uthgerd stood atop the platform, near the stone door that Golldir had smashed earlier. Her armor was splashed with dried blood, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, hiding her pain and exhaustion. She had returned after escorting Agna out of the tomb, but there was something strange in her tone.
"I have something to show you," she added, confirming my suspicion, bad news.
My lower jaw moved right and left as I stepped closer to the stairs, my eyes narrowed, trying to read between the lines. "It's bad…" she muttered before I even reached her.
I knew it, I sighed, climbing the broken stairs—no, slope, that's what had become of them.
***
We stood outside the tomb entrance.
It looked the same sacred resting place we entered hours ago, with the entrance resembling a pig's snout punched into a hill. Agna leaned near the entrance, retching violently. Her hands shook as she tried to stay upright, but the trauma had caught up with her now that the shock and adrenaline had worn off.
The light of day was still soft, too peaceful for what we'd just gone through.
Uthgerd, Lydia, and I stood by the large tree where the horses had been tied before we entered the tomb.
And that's when I saw them.
The same horses that I bought in Whiterun two days ago, the same ones that had carried us here, now lay motionless. Their eyes had gone milky, lifeless. One had its stomach split open, entrails spilled across the roots of the tree, and the other, its neck.
Blood had dried in lines around their mouths and noses.
"Shor's bones…" Lydia whispered, breaking the silence, taking half a step back.
Uthgerd didn't flinch; she'd already seen them. Instead, she extended her hand toward me, holding something between her fingers, a small piece of paper. Its corners are soaked in blood.
"It was left on one of them," she said.
I took it from her fingers, unfolding it.
If you're reading this, then allow me the courtesy of congratulations.
Surviving a soul I dragged back with my own lifeforce is no small feat. No one has withstood the might of a Revenent before.
But I had expected that from you.
I knew you were special the moment I heard that Shout.
You're a worthy opponent, and soon, you'll make even a greater Revenent.
—Hahaha—
And because of that, I've taken precautions.
Your means of travel, I had to destroy it.
I can't have you chasing after me when I'm at my lowest… now, can I?,
But worry not.
We'll be seeing each other again.
Soon.
I exhaled, as my hand ignited, turning the letter to ash in my palm.
I stepped toward the corpses.
I raised my still burning palm forward and cast [Flames] as fire roared from my hand, lighting the horses ablaze in a controlled inferno.
Lydia and Uthgerd moved back a little from the heat, as I stood in silence.
Sigh! You're fucking dead, Vals Veran
***
We were back on the road, not the one the three of us had planned to take, but a different one. A shortcut Agna had told us about. She claimed it would lead us to Ivarstead faster, bypassing the long path that would take half a day's march on foot.
I didn't complain. My body ached from the tomb, and the quicker we got to our destination, the better. Still, I kept alert. The forest thickened around us, trees to the left, steep rock walls to the right. Every turn in the trail could be another ambush.
Uthgerd and Lydia followed from behind, quiet but not relaxed. Agna walked in the middle, just ahead of them, her posture tight, steps small, almost timid.
Eventually, I broke the silence. "Where are you from?"
She glanced up briefly, then back to the dirt beneath her boots. "Dawnstar," she answered, her voice lost in the breeze after reaching my ears.
"Do you usually travel this far for prayers?" My voice stayed low, matching hers.
"No." Her response came late, her thoughts clearly still half-buried in the tomb. "It's not every day we travel this far," she added after a moment.
Lydia glanced at her with narrowed eyes, assessing something, maybe the word 'We', before her focus returned to the forest around us, unlike Uthgerd, who kept her gaze on Agna's back.
"And today wasn't for prayers…" Agna whispered.
But it turned into one of those days.
I shook my head as the trees parted up ahead. We walked up into the clearing, as High Hrothgar stood on our right, and at the front, the land fell away, as a stream coming down from the edge of the mountain exploded down a sheer drop, thirty meters, at least, before vanishing in a cloud of white foam and dim light.
Our path ended at a gash in the cliff. And there, stretching from one broken ledge to another, lay a massive, old tree. It had toppled years ago, its trunk green and slippery with moss, and the perpetual spray rising from beneath formed a precarious natural bridge. The water's roar made talking nearly impossible.
I turned back to Agna. "Is this it?!" Yelling so she could hear me.
She wasn't looking at anything in particular, her eyes glassy, but she nodded.
Lydia stepped forward, standing next to me, as we eyed the bridge, then the mist swirling at the base of the drop, jaw tight behind her cascading midnight hair. She shifted, "If one of us slips-"
"We won't," I said, voice still raised.
"I'll go first," Lydia said, moving toward the bridge.
I gave her a look, but she was already removing her boots, face set. The kind of expression that said, You can't stop me, even if you tried.
I sighed. "Just don't die, okay?" A dry joke, though it barely landed.
She stepped onto the log barefoot, not even flinching, her arms outstretched for balance. Every step was slow and careful, her breath held as she moved. The wood groaned once, and her foot slipped for a second, but she caught herself. A few heartbeats later, she was on the other side in one piece.
Uthgerd followed without hesitation. She was light on her feet, like a cat, almost showing off. She made it look easy, pausing at the far side, hands on her hips, as Lydia wrung water from her tunic.
That left Agna and me.
She stood rooted to the ground, fists tight against her sides, her breathing sharp.
"You never crossed this before?" I asked.
"I-I have," she stammered. "It's just… I can't."
It would be a damn shame if I lost my money, again, and to a river, I thought; she's yet to pay me.
I stepped closer.
She looked up at me, startled by the sudden proximity.
"I'll carry you," I said simply.
Her mouth opened in protest, but she didn't get the chance as I swept her off her feet.
She gasped—a sharp, startled sound escaped her, as her hands clutched my shoulders on instinct. Her eyes shut tight, like bracing for a fall.
"Relax," I murmured.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, meeting mine. Round, stormy-grey, like cold mist rolling over the northern cliffs. Her lips parted slightly, still trembling.
She was light, lighter than I expected. Her body curled instinctively toward mine, arms looped around my neck. Her crown braid had come undone, strands of golden hair spilling loose in the air.
"J-just let me down, I'll do it myself," she stuttered.
"Don't worry, you're not that heavy," I chuckled low, her cheeks flushed hearing it, and before she could say another word, I took the first step onto the log, and she tensed again.
"B-be careful," she whispered low.
I smirked before continuing forward.
On the other side, Lydia and Uthgerd watched, putting their boots back on their feet. While I took my time, each step slow and measured as the log creaked under my weight and Agna's. She clutched my tunic, her head buried slightly against my shoulder as if not seeing the fall below would make it disappear.
Uthgerd shifted her weight to one hip, her arms crossed under her chest, watching us with narrowed eyes. She leaned closer to Lydia, lowering her voice. "Think he'll carry me too if I pretend to twist an ankle and act like a damsel?"
Lydia's expression tensed for a breath, eyes wide at the implication, then softened as she composed herself. She gave Uthgerd a quick side glance and said quietly, "He already has a woman."
Uthgerd blinked, her jaw slack, as if those words struck her harder than she expected. "What?" she hissed, turning fully to Lydia now, her brows drawn close together, "Who?"
Lydia hesitated, almost like she regretted saying anything, but eventually leaned in with a whisper, "Irileth."
Uthgerd stood frozen, like a truth of the universe had been revealed to her, before her expression contorted into disbelief and disappointment at the revelation, "The housecarl of Jarl Balgruuf?" she muttered, as though the name itself soured her tongue.
That hardass?
Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she clicked her tongue in resignation, "I never thought he'd be into a Mer," she added, voice just a notch above a whisper.
But… he was flirting with that Nord woman. What was her name… Her brows furrowed, trying to remember the name of the merchant woman, Carlotta. It finally hit her, and as she turned slightly to ask Lydia, her words stalled as movement caught her eye.
I stepped off the log and onto the wet grass, my boots appearing on my feet before they could reach the dirt. I let Agna down gently; her arms hesitated before releasing me.
"Thank you," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear.
I gave her a small nod before my gaze rose to meet Lydia's and Uthgerd's. Both of them stood still. Their eyes were locked on me like two hawks pretending not to be watching the rabbit.
"What?"
"Nothing," they said in unison, voices suspiciously synchronized. Then, they looked away and both whistled at the sky, as if children caught near a broken vase.
.
.
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****
Read +3 or +5 chapters ahead on my Pat*eon
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