Hunting the Hunter

"Armion?" and stepped into the light. She saw the body just as the arrow was careening towards her in mid flight and she stepped back gasping. The shot hit, but in the shoulder since she was already pulling away. It drove her back, but she was able to cast something before the next shot came at her. This one hit as well, but she was ready for it, and the damage was minimal. A red-black cloud swirled beneath the mage's feet and a swaying headless monstrosity articulated rapidly before her. Inanna resisted the urge to curse. The thing wasn't running yet, just staggering around providing a body shield, no one had spotted her.

She shot an arrow off into a side hall, making both the mistress and her meat puppet move in that direction. She sneered. Weren't sorcerers supposed to be intelligent? Who actually fell for that trick anymore. This opened the little witch up for another hit, which thankfully made solid contact.

The down side was that she was clearly using a protection spell and was still standing, that and the fact that they'd finally figured out where the shots were coming from.

The headless pile of rot came careening towards her. She fought the rising panic that was clawing up her throat and re-aimed her bow at the sorceress. She'd learned the hard way that without the sorceress the summoned creature would disintegrate; otherwise you could kill zombies all day and not make headway. They just kept summoning more. She struggled to maintain her focus as it neared her with a sickening howl, and tried to ignore the fact that headless things shouldn't be able to howl.

Her gloved fingers parted and another shot went flying. The second necromancer crumpled, and the zombie vanished in an oily grey smoke.

Inanna dropped to a crouch and exhaled, letting her suppressed shudder run its course through her. She had to focus, had to keep alert. These creeps always ran in packs. She searched the rooms attached to the hall and found nothing more interesting than a few soul gems and a bit of gold. Still no cup.

"It had better be here" she griped as she stealthed her way into the last hall. The room was wider and grander than the previous ones and was lit with four great fires in massive oil basins. The floor was streaked with blood, and the walls hung with the black and white arms of their illicit trade. This one clearly had potential. She was blessedly high up in a walkway overlooking the charming scene, which gave her plenty of time for cheap shots before they figured out what was going on. There were two of them again, though their hoods were up so she couldn't determine what they were.

' No matter', she thought cheerily, 'everyone responds the same way to a steel barb through the back of the skull'.

They were leaning over a fresh looking corpse doing gods only knew what to it and were completely distracted. She aimed at the nearer one whose back was turned to her and caught him in the center of the upper back. She followed, as usual with a second arrow in more or less the same place, though this one caught closer to the neck. Her third shot caught the stunned, still standing, partner in mid cast, halting the spell and sending the necromancer stumbling back, gaping at the arrow sticking out of his chest. He looked like he was about to cast again so she took aim for the head.

Her mark was moving around too much and the arrow missed entirely. She cursed and crouched back against the wall. It was possible they hadn't seen her yet. She heard a terrible noise as another zombie was summoned. She readied her arrow and swung her bow over the banister, but nothing was there.

"Where in oblivion..." she turned down the hall and made a gurgling sound of shock at the sight of the putrid thing bearing down on her. With a terrified cry she did the only thing she could think of and grabbed the banister and jumped. She threw herself against the wall, trying to use the friction to slow her momentum as she fell. She tried to roll when she hit bottom, but the floor was moving too fast towards her and she contacted with a terrible sharp pain in her ankle that shot up her leg making her shout. Stupid move...very stupid. But zombies did that to her. Made her panic, without fail...Meridia take them.

"Die!" Screamed a high pitched voice as a diminutive robed figure lunged towards her. She had her bow, but it was too late for that. She dropped it and pulled a knife from her thigh and lunged back using her good foot for propulsion and nailed the figure with her shoulder, twisting to take the knife wound in the arm, and sliding her own knife into the figure's side. It went in like butter with nothing more than robes between her steel and the flesh. She twisted the knife and the figure screamed.

The zombie over head howled in rage and confusion. She wrested the fine looking glass knife away from her opponent and got on top of what she could only assume was a wood elf, he felt so small, and drove the blade into the hooded cowl.

A little flame welled up as she sliced into him. There was a fire enchantment on it, but it must be weak, she'd not even felt the heat of it, never mind a burn. Of course, she was Dunmer, and this little Mer was not. The figure twitched and screamed, and finally stilled. She peaked under the cowl. Bosmer...good guess on her part.

Inanna rolled off, taking the glass blade with her. It was much nicer than her own knives. She got up, testing her ankle gingerly. The pain was incredible, she could only hope it wasn't broken. She'd have to get to a healer as soon as she returned. She'd never been good at healing. It was one of the reasons she wasn't chosen to apprentice with the wise woman. They usually sent most girls with strong wills to her, but Inanna was only ever good at one thing, charring things.

She'd always joked that it was the blood of the mountain itself that was in her veins, turning her mouth and hair red, and making her set random things on fire. In truth it had always bothered her a little that she could never heal anything, just destroy. At times like this it was a little frustrating as well.

She hobbled over to the other body and pulled him off of the alter. Much to her chagrin she saw a rather elaborate looking chalice next to the body of a naked, still bloody imperial man and saw that it was filled with viscous looking black stuff. She poured the stuff out on the floor, making sure it didn't touch the bodies, or herself for that matter, who knew what this stuff could do. She wrapped it in a bit of cloth from the alter and shoved it in her bag.

"Am I seriously doing this for a house?" She asked. "Well it's this or move back to the Ashlands for an exciting career chasing kagouti through the wastes." She screwed up her nose at the idea, that wasn't too high on her list, she was still young, there were too many interesting things to see in the world first.

"Then again, I swear if I never see an Ayleid city again it'll be too soon." She grumbled as she limped out the far door. There were two halls, the right looked like it was to an ante chamber, the left to a metal gate, and for all intents and purposes the exit.

She didn't even care to check the other room. She could barely walk, the smell of death and rot was in her nose and she was sure it would take weeks to get the image of those zombies out of her head again. To Oblivion with loot, she just wanted out. She limped to the door to find it locked. Well that's what all that lock picking practice was for right? She pulled out a couple picks and started working.

She broke five before she stopped and took a deep breath. She was being impatient, she had to focus. She pulled another pick out and started from the beginning. She was down to the last tumbler when a rumble behind her made her turn away from her work.

"kill me now." She groaned and watched a stumbling shadow against the far wall. She turned back, took another deep breath, prayed to the ancestors and turned the pick. It snapped. The rumble got louder and the zombie teetered around the corner. She pulled out her bow and started shooting.

Five arrows later it was still closing in, and she had nowhere to run. She made a last ditch effort and closed her eyes, praying for real this time. She opened her eyes to find a bluish white figure swaying before her. It screeched once and turned as the zombie took a swing at them. She cringed against the gate and watched as the ghost slowly drove the zombie back.

She took another breath and went back to the lock. She almost cried with relief when she felt that only the one tumbler had fallen. She tried again, pushing the sounds behind her out of her mind, focusing, gently prodding, waiting for the right click and...it opened. She let out a cry of pleasure, then a scream of terror as a hand closed around her good ankle.

The ghost had done a respectable job and the zombie was missing a leg and crawling towards her, some of its insides leaking onto the floor. She crawled backwards trying to pull away, trying to pull through the door. If she could just get through the door.

She couldn't focus to draw up her inner fire, and its grip was too strong to shake off, not with one fractured ankle. She winced and leaned in towards it against every instinct and drove the little glass dagger through its wrist. It loosened its grip reflexively and groaned as a lick of flame crawled up its arm and she yanked away slamming the door shut with her good leg and holding it as the monster banged against the door. She was exhausted and in pain, and it was winning.

She whimpered in terror as she reached shakily for her bow which she'd managed to drag with her. She aimed through the grating and fired. It was enough to make it stop pushing, so she fired again, and again, and again, and kept firing until the thing on the other side of the gate looked like a gooey pin cushion.

She thought briefly of retrieving her arrows, and quickly thought better of it. She'd be sick for sure. Her fear and pain were already making her nauseous. Slowly she half crawled, half dragged herself to the end of the passage and let out a laugh of relief to see the big entrance door beneath her. She'd been right after all. Now how was she going to get down? It wasn't much of a drop, but it was more than enough to be excruciating with a mangled ankle. She sighed.

She hated to do this but there wasn't much choice. She gathered her will, focusing until her head pulsed with concentration and her vision blurred a hazy blue as it always did when she tried to use healing magic, and wrapped her hands around her ankle. Even with all her force behind it, the restorative spell was weak. It would be enough though to get her to a healer though. She considered taking her boot off to check the damage, but then decided against it. She might never get it on again if she took it off, and it might be what was holding the bone together if it was broken.

Feric paced below the hidden catwalk. She'd been right, and it had irked him that they'd not noticed it sooner. They'd only been here a few days, but that was a few days worth of potential ambushes. He growled low in his throat, the fur on his back pricking in irritation.

A soft sound, like a voice, came from up above. He quieted himself and listened. The sound was followed quickly by a low moaning growl, and a minute later by an unearthly screech that made his hackles rise. He stood stiffly, listening as the moans and screeches continued until they were ended, or punctuated by a soft cry, and a sickening scream.

The scream was almost above him, or near to it, and it was a woman's. Was it her? His claws dug futilely into the stone. There was a terrible racket like someone thrashing against a metal door, and then silence. He listened closely, desperate for some sign, some hint as to what he'd just heard, and he was answered with a soft low laugh. It was directly above him. He stretched up the walls, his head nearly reaching the walkway, and sniffed the air. It smelled like death and putrescence...like fire and blood, but under that it also smelled ever so faintly of her. But then she she'd smelled of fire and blood before. And something else, something earthy and spicy that made his mouth water slightly. Was that what Mirisa was talking about?

He lowered himself and walked up to the door, trying to see if he could spot her as well. He turned and there she was. Blazing black-red eyes set in a striking angular grey face peered down at him framed with tendrils of dark red hair that had pulled loose from her tight braid. She looked like a disheveled Dremora. She waved weakly and gave him a crooked smile.

"Looks like you can understand me after all. I told you about the back door, and here you are Green-eyes. Either that or you heard the commotion."

Green-eyes? He would have laughed. It just came out as a snort.

"Hold on, I'm coming down...you might not want to be under me, I'm not as light as I look."

He chuckled to himself. 'Under her, she looked light enough for that...and what about under him...'he tensed, where had that thought come from. Perhaps Mirisa was right. He shook his head, then jumped with a growl as a body landed in a heap next to him on the stairs.

"I warned you." She pulled herself into a seated position and slouched against the wall. The passage was narrow so he moved lower to give her space.

She reached down and felt her ankle, wincing. "I landed badly playing tag with a necromancer and a zombie. Don't worry, I made sure the Mancer was 'it' " She explained as he watched her.

She must have read the shock in his expression because she laughed. "That's right, I bet you didn't know you had those in your cellar did you, Serjo?" She leaned back against the steps with a grimace. "You really can understand me can't you?"

He tipped his head in confirmation and she shook hers.

"Incredible." She looked at him a while then shook her head again. "Anyway, I killed everything I found down there, but if you go exploring, you might want to work in pairs...or groups, I don't know how many of you there are, but don't go alone, just in case I missed something. Plus, look out for suspicious long narrow hall ways...most of them have traps."

'You went alone and did alright', he thought as he watched her remove her armored leather shirt and pull the light undershirt over her head. She wore a wrap around her chest, but it still didn't stop him from noticing her smooth flat stomach and gently flared hips as they disappeared into her formfitting leather pants.

Her movements distracted him from the view and he realized she was tearing up her shirt. Then he realized why. There was a long deep bloody gash across one of her arms, not to mention several large bruises and scratches all over the rest of her. They were hard to notice at first because of the already blue tinged ash color of her skin. They appeared as slight dark spots instead of contrasting obviously as it might on paler skin. The gash was still bleeding, and she was dabbing at it ineffectually, hissing through gritted teeth.

Innana froze in surprise as she felt her hand nudged away from her arm and looked up to find Green-eyes practically standing over her. He lent his head to her arm and to her amazement began licking the wound with his slightly rough tongue. She could only gape and sat perfectly still as she watched him.

She felt herself shiver as the fur of his body brush against the exposed parts of her skin. He stopped then and his head shot up, looking to her face. She could only stare back, her lips parted slightly in surprise and awe. She thought his own eyes registered a similar surprise and he moved back and turned away, putting a great deal more distance between them and turned his head away even as he turned back to face her.

"Ah...tha-thanks." She offered softly feeling her face heat strangely, and looked down at her freshly cleaned arm. It seemed to have stemmed the blood flow as well.

She took the still clean bits of her shirt and wrapped them around her arm, tying them in a knot with her teeth. She replaced her leathers and rose, using the wall for support. "Well, ah, thanks again...for letting me, you know, get the, ah, artefact." She paused and looked down. "I'm getting a house with it." She offered, as if that meant something. "I..I just mean I appreciate it." She smirked. "I know Blue wasn't thrilled about it...so thank her for me would you? Anyway...I'd better find a healer for this ankle..." 'just stop talking and go,' she admonished herself. She cleared her throat.

"Well, good bye." She turned quickly before she could change her mind and left.

Feric went down stairs and relieved Owyn from his watch. Tomorrow he'd take him and Mirisa down there to see just what had been crawling around in there, and what more needed clearing out. Necromancers, he though with another shake of his head.

He sighed and thought again about what he'd done on the stairs. He hadn't even thought about it until he felt her shake. What the blazes had gotten into him? It had seemed the most natural thing in the world at the time, as if she was part of his pack. He was thinking of following her like last time, but after what Mirisa had said earlier, and that bizarre display he didn't think it was such a good idea.

Still he felt guilty for not going. She was wounded, and he could at least help by discouraging any would be attackers. He started back to the door, then stopped. No, he thought, his responsibility was here, she would have to take care of herself. He growled at himself and went back into the maze. He should probably check on the little ones.

****

Inanna trudged miserably up the road casting an irritated glare at the legionnaire swaying by on his bulky looking horse. Where were you ten minutes ago, she groused mentally. He looked back at her and frowned.

"Is there some trouble citizen?" He asked looking her over. Was it the blood spatter that tipped you off, or the sliced up leather amour, genius? She bit down her post fight bile and smiled tightly. At least they were more polite than Ordinators.

"Not anymore." She smirked and saluted with one finger to her temple and went back to trudging up the road. All she wanted to do was get a few personal items and take them to her new house without having to kill someone...was that too much to ask? And here she thought Cyrodiil was supposed to be quaint and civilized.

Bloody bandits. Bloody goblins. Filthy bloody Minotaurs. Honestly.

"That does it, I'm saving up for a horse." She didn't like the idea or learning to ride those things, she liked having her feet on the ground, but this was getting ridiculous. She felt a tickle on her face and wiped at it with her glove, which returned smeared in blood. She wondered just how much was smeared all over her face. No wonder the imperial had given her such a disgruntled look. A Dunmer smeared in blood could be a pretty chilling sight. She grinned ferociously, no doubt making her even more chilling. Maybe that will keep the fetchers at bay.

She saw a movement up ahead, and grinned at it. That's right, try me, she thought staring down the figure. Bloody Bandits.

It was a dark-skinned Redguard man, He was leaning against a rock, and had picked up a mean looking axe, and was started towards her...then stopped.

She grinned wider when she was close enough to see his eyes, and he hers. He put down his axe and went back to leaning against the rock.

Hmm, maybe this look was working for her. She should just walk around smeared in blood all the time, maybe then they'd leave her alone.

She cast another look over her shoulder as she passed him, but he was already watching down the road for an easier mark. On second thought the drying blood was making her skin itch, and she smelt like goblin, which was not a pretty smell. It was already getting dark, and she still had a solid hour of walking before she got the Chydinhal. She didn't really want to walk in covered in blood and smelling like roasted goblin, nor did she want to spend the next hour or two enjoying the sensation of gooey gob blood drying all over her face.