Beware the Mare of Purple Hue
It wasn't a day much different than any other day; people came and went up the road to the Imperial City. The Imperial Watch came 'round at every shift, each man somehow recognizing his own personal steed, despite the almost exact coat coloring of the beast, the dark shiny brown of the coat and the jet black of the mane and tail, so unlike the chestnut beasts she used to sell.
Not that Snak gra-Bara paid much mind to the coat colors of the horses, aside from the fact that certain breeds were a bit more tender than others. She of course, laid not one hand on the Imperial steeds, the guards were not so fool hardy to believe bandits would dare steal a horse so close to the city, that and most every permanent resident of the place heard rumors of what had happened to all her earliest stock. No, she had to pick and choose her moments carefully; some fool that only came to the city once in a very great while, or a foreigner, yes, their horses always went nicely with broth and onions.
Even so, she had to be careful, the imperial man who worked for her knew her habits, and would send her a warning glare as he lead in the newest horse, warding off her lustful stare as she watched the shimmering shoulder muscles of the animal ripple over it's bones.
Still, this day had seen mostly men on foot, tired and dirty from the long walk across the land, or caravans loaded with goods to barter to the town shops, their great bodily horses tied, what seemed permanently, to the stiff yokes about their long necks. And so she sat back against the hard wooden stool of her covered deck, leaning her well muscled back against the rough wall of her home. The hot, early summer sun sending waves of premature heat over the land, and causing her to sweat lightly through her thin clothes.
Stoically she sat, quietly vexed at having been prohibited from a proper feast. Only a few days ago a fat diplomat had come through astride a tall white horse laden with the necessary muscle that came from a lifetime of service to the portly Breton. She had never seen this man before, and if she was to believe the chitchat between him and the imperial woman who served as a stable hand, Snak would never see him again, something about a onetime trade deal.
It was a perfect set-up, preordained by the Nine, the fat man could use a good long walk home anyway, and the poor beast suffered under his weight, she would be doing everyone a great service, really. But alas, it did not fall through as she had hoped, the afternoon after that had been unusually busy, many steeds coming and going as people rushed about, and a great deal of work for all three of them. It left her tired and irritable at the end of the day, but the thought of the meal she would be having kept her cheerful all through the twilight. Then, late at night, when she was sure her hired help would be fast asleep, she pulled out her wicked little dagger and made for the corral, her long, tusk like teeth wet with anticipation. She knew her prey, given their royal expense, the diplomat's was the only white horse in the pen, and she was going to get a proper meal out of the beast.
She had only just crept around the side of the shack and was making her way over the fence when she heard a quiet nose in the dark; Alarmed she had looked quickly around, and, seeing no one, had continued forward after the white animal at the far corner. Then sound came out again, louder and more persistent this time. She quickly looked up, only to find herself staring into the hard little eyes of the imperial man, a deep and disapproving frown gracing his earthy features. He was sitting atop the low roof of the house, his knees slightly bent with his elbows resting upon them, his bare and dirty feet set firmly in front of his thin body.
She glowered up at him, a warning matching his own. But he did not yield his stance, and she knew that this time he would report her if she moved in for the kill.
Reporting the slaughter of a diplomat's steed would net him better reward than that of a simple farmer or common traveler (she never even considered the guard steeds, she was reckless but not stupid).
After a few more moments of the stare down, Snak walked back to the front of her shack, glowering at him all the while.
She snorted in the heat of the day, recalling the memory with distain, she would fire him under any other circumstances… if he wasn't so damned good at taking care of the beasts she was paid to board. The Nine curse the luck.
The sudden hard drumming of a galloping horse broke her from her thoughts, and she quickly looked down the road, beady amber eyes searching out for the source of potential prey. The thunderous drone slowed pace even as the noise grew closer, until it was the even *clip-clop* of a trotting horse.
Then the horse and rider came into sight over the steep crest of the hill. At first glance, they looked like a single creature, so swathed in black was the man sitting atop the midnight colored mare. But after a second, longer look, it was apparent that the mare had a great deal of purple in her coat.
Snak started. Purple? In the coat of a horse? Was the mare some kind of strange Dunmer breed? But that didn't seem right. From what little that she could see of the man under the hooded cloak draped over his tall frame, his skin was pale cream, perhaps Imperil, Nord, or even Breton, but definitely not elf, his frame was to broad for that.
Regardless of his race, Snak know she had never seen this man before, and most assuredly not his horse, perhaps she was some rare imported breed from Morrowind.
Oh, how delectable would her flesh be, such a strange creature as she. Snak mused as the pair trotted over to the house. Once they became level with the porch, the mare was reined in, and the cloaked man swiftly dismounted, landing silently upon the ground, his boots and leggings just as black as the rest of his outfit, it would've been fair to say he looked as though he had been cut out from a shadow on a moonless night.
"Is this the right place to stable my horse for the night?" the man's voice startled her out of her observations, mostly because it was completely unlike what she would have guessed it sounded like. From his bearing, she would have said his voice was low, oily, with just a note of simpering to it, the wheedling kind that sank themselves into politics, but it was strong, deep, with a carrying tone that made people sit up and listen, there was also just an edge of rust to it. A hint that made her immediately wary.
"Yea," She grunted back, leaning forward slightly, and clasping her large, knotty green hands in front of her. "Welcome to the Chestnut Handy Stables," she made a vague gestured to the corral behind the shack. "We only board now though, don't sell anymore."
He gave her an oddly knowing look as he patted his sweaty mare's broad neck. "Well then, it's quite a good thing I am in no need of a new horse." His pale hand moved around to stroke at the soft black muzzle, and she was instantly reminded of a spider.
She only gave a low grunt and a slight rising of her shoulder in response. "My stable hands should be in the corral somewhere, if your animal has any special needs, you'll have to let them know."
He nodded his thanks, took a firmer grip upon the dark brown reigns, and began to lead the mare past the house.
Snak pushed herself off her seat as he went, walking around so that she could follow their progress to the corral as casually as she could, while still giving the mare a good look over. Aside from her highly unusually coat color, there was nothing else that seemed apparently different about her. No more or less intelligent than any of the other beasts in the pen, just a touch more exotic in color, no tribal marks burned into her coat, no horns or fangs, nothing else at all.
The strange man exchanged a few words with the Imperial woman, and she listened attentively, nodding through the whole conversation, her eyes flicking towards the animal every few words.
Apparently satisfied, the man gave his horse one last pat on the shoulder, brushing a few loose strands of long black mane away from the leather saddle. Then walked back out of the corral, with a long loping gait.
He gave her one last nod as he walked past her, moving his way up to the great double doors of the city. His head bowed so low that it was imposable to make out any part of his face under the depth of the shadowy hood.
Snak waited until he had slipped into the city, before turning back to the corral and fixing her predatorily eyes upon the newest guest who stood calmly at the far end of the pen, the stable hand in the process of removing the heavy tack.
The Imperial man had caught her look, and was now staring over at her, frowning darkly over his rake, thin hands clutched tightly to the splintered wood.
She matched his look with one of her own, adding a dose of venom to her gaze. Her jaw set rigidly, shoulders pulled back.
He dropped his dirty brown eyes quickly back to his work, refusing to look at her, or at any of the horses. He knew he couldn't refute her forever, she was in charge, and it was her business, if she wanted to risk charges of steed slaughter that was her choice.
A thrilling feeling of triumphant coursed through her chest, and a large grin spread across her broad face, her long tusks cutting brutally against the air.
She'd have to go into town later to pick up some fresh onion and perhaps a bit of radish. Horse should never be served without fresh greens
The hot afternoon gave way to a mild evening, with a few spotted clouds flowing across the orange and red sky as the dusk slowly approached. Slowly, the dark purple edge of the sky crept in on the horizon and the tiniest sparks of stars began to peep out into the sky. It wasn't long before night closed in its dark wings across the land, the blackness only broken by the tiny orange specks of the Imperial Watch torches on the distant roads.
It was when the night was at its deepest darkness, when the silence of the land was at its most cloying, that the rough wooden door to the shack opened up.
Slowly, silently, the roughly hued door swung away from its frame, guided by a thick green hand.
Snak's little amber eyes flicked around the abandoned landscape, the enlarged slits of her eyes catching the smallest details in the dark.
Carefully, she eased her broad bulk into the looming darkness, turning her head in all directions in wary alertness of other life. Satisfied that she was alone, Snak quietly slid the door closed behind her, and crept off the front porch.
Something thin dangled from her black belt, the glittering sliver bit into the dark with lustful hunger, greedily drinking in the shadow the orc cast. Briefly, Snak fingered the fang of steel, as if to remind herself the dagger still clung to her side, then, satisfied that the blade was still there, she tread quietly along the cobbled road.
It was nearly impossible to see anything in the darkness, yet Snak knew the trail to the corral better than anyone alive, and she flowed along the worn ground with deft confidence. She didn't bother to open the large corral gate, but instead placed her hands upon the top rail and leapt over it, landing lightly on the other side.
A few of the horses closest to her jumped, jerking their long heads up and jumping ahead a few paces before coming to a standstill and staring blankly at her.
She made a low irritated growl in the darkness, the last thing she needed was for the beasts to become spooked and cause a panic, the high strung Imperial bays could be much more trouble than they were worth.
Peace returned quickly enough, most of the animals were resting easily and what little movement remained was limited to a few meandering beasts who had their heads bent to pull at the short grass.
Crouching against the fence gate, Snak took one last conspicuous look at the roof of her shack, then, seeing that it was unoccupied, skulked deeper into the corral.
Her prey should have been easy to spot amidst the more plain colors of chestnut, bays, and the occasional paint, -the single white horse of the diplomat stuck out in the middle of the corral as a diamond amidst dirt-. But it wasn't merely as simple as that. Though the mare in question was of a strange hue, she was also very dark. Dark enough to blend into the background of the jet encased night.
The sliver of the moon slid out from behind a single grey cloud, and the dim white light turned the horses into ghostly silhouettes as they slunked about the corral.
And there she was, right in the corner of the enclosure, near the end wall of the shelter. Her long, well muscled neck curled over with her head low, her back left leg curled up slightly so that her hoof was resting on the ground by its tip. The classic sleeping horse posture.
Snak couldn't help the sly little grin from stretching across her thick face. So unawares, and such a fine beast for a meal, this would be enjoyable.
Closer and closer the orc crept, slipping between the other horses, being careful not to move too quickly least she spook them and wake her newest victim, her peaceful prey.
She slipped the dagger slowly from her black belt, dragging it out slowly so that it pulled at her rough brown slacks longingly, thirsting after blood soon to be split.
"Hello there, my pretty." She hissed softly coming right up to the horse; the mare looked much bigger now than she did during the day, and just the slight shade of moonlight made her purple coat shimmer strangely.
Well, the bigger the horse, the more meat there was to last.
"One quick slice," Snak hissed reaching out a hand to hover over the shoulder of the animal. "and it's all over, no more hard work." she chuckled ironically "for you at least, I'll have to clean up all the blood by morning, but you'll be worth it, won't you pretty?
Dagger in hand she curved her arm slowly, almost lovingly, towards the long curve of the mare's neck and all the vital veins that she knew lay just below the surface. Snak drew back her hand, preparing to strike, then froze.
The mare was awake. Though she had not shifted even one muscle of her body, Snak knew she was very aware of the orc, knew because the single eye was wide open and starting straight into the knarled green face.
For the first time since the arrival of the strange man Snak was close enough to the horse to see the true color of her eyes.
Red.
Bright shiny red irises and blood red pupils leered at her out of that deep purple face. For an insane second, Snak fancied she might as well have been staring at hot coals in a blackened fire pit.
Then, and quite suddenly, the sliver of a moon fell behind the cover of another dark cloud, the dim white light illuminated the area vanished completely, and in the frozen silence of the night, Snak's horror increased tenfold at the newest revelation.
The red eyes glowed.
A soft, almost pulsated light shimmered out from the unblinking orbs, falling over the face of the mare and creating deep shadows across her fine cheekbones. The effect was one of dark foreboding, of mortal peril.
The mare suddenly looked a lot less like a fine meal, and a great deal more like deadric spawn.
For the briefest moment, Snak and the large beast started at one another, the orc feeling her heart pounding cold blood through her ears as she looked on in horrified fascination, the mare still as stone, watching the orc carefully though the single red eye turned on her.
Then, acting upon deepest instinct and prodded by fear, Snak flung her blade forward, aiming for the thick neck of the mare.
Faster than any creature Snak had ever seen, the mare whipped her back end 'round so that she was fully facing the orc, and in the same movement, curved her neck around to snap her long teeth around the blunt edge of the blade. The sound of thudding hooves and the clack of teeth on steel reverberated though the air startling the other horses.
Snak clung desperately to the blade, trying her best yank it from the pearly grip. The mare's flared nostrils snorted hot breath onto her wrists, as she twisted and pulled back on the hilt, but to no avail.
With the barest hint of effort, the mare wrenched her neck up and back, tearing the blade from Snak's hand and releasing it a moment later to send it spinning into the dry ground, where it plunged into the earth with a soft *SHINK*.
Snak let out a stifled howl of pain, the muscles in her arms protesting the abuse, and her fingers going numb from shock.
But the horse wasn't finished yet; she lunged at Snak, red eyes wide as she snapped her broad teeth at the orc and brought her front hooves up and then crashing down, over and over, trying to beat Snak under-hoof to crush her bones to jelly.
Snak barley had enough time to doge the attacks while she scrambled back the way she had come, nearly being trodden on by a spooked bay.
Failing to strike her target, the mare let out an ear splitting whiney of anger, her long, unclipped mane flying wild around her head and neck as she shoved past the bay and made for the orc again.
The sound, coupled with the quick motions, and already frightened demeanors of the horses finally pushed the situation past the breaking point.
The entire corral spooked. Coats of every color twisting this way and that as each horse acted in instinctual herd panic, thronging against each other as they vainly turned to flee a perceived threat that didn't exist, pounding heavily against the ground in a thunder of hooves, seeking an exit where one wasn't to be found.
Unfazed at the sudden chaos, the black mare continued her struggle against the orc, the panicked throng apparently no hindrance to her momentum, her glowing eyes fixated on her target.
Snak, for her part, had brought up her fists and was snarling back at the enraged horse, throwing a punch at the dark fur whenever the opportunity arose.
The complete chaos of the night was an utter reversal of the calm only moments before, the neighing of panicked horses, the thunder of hooves, the angry screams of the purple mare, and Snak's retaliated cries of "Die deadric spawn!" utterly split the night in two.
As chaos does, the moment was over rather quickly.
From a tree on high, the single witness to the whole ordeal -a solitary brown owl who watched with a silence only owls are capable of- gazed down at the panicked throng, saw the black mare make ready to leap at her would-be assistant again, only to be circumvented by a freighted chestnut who happened to get in the way.
The golden eyes watched as the lone humanoid figure quickly darted around several thrashing horse bodies and run towards the gate, leaping over it in a single bound, rush 'round to the front of the shack and fling itself through the door.
The black horse, seeing its quarry flee, stopped all movement, letting the other horses thrash around her form for a few moments, as if she was waiting to see if the figure would return.
She appeared to grow irritated at the hubbub all around her, and she let out a single growling bay, a sound which ruffled the feathers of the owl in all the wrong ways.
It wasn't the only creature whom was bothered by the sound, as if a spell had been cast, all the other horse ceased movement all together. Their momentous panic stilled, they watched the mare with tense apprehension.
A few more seconds of utter stillness passed, and then the mare snorted and slowly trod her way back to the corner of the corral she had vacated earlier. Resuming her sleeping posture, she fell still once again, and after a few troubled minutes, the rest of the horses fell back into calmed quietness.
The moon slipped out from behind cover, a child peeking out it's eyes to check if the coast was clear. If it weren't for the single discarded knife laying at the edge of the lean-two, the night looked as if nothing had happened.
Hooting softly, the owl spread its wings, and flew away into the darkness.
The next morning dawned bright and cool, a few sparse wisps of mist trailing slowly through the trees and down the main road, languid travelers on the edges of time, waiting for when the sun would catch them and pull them away from the earth.
The Imperial Watch traded shifts and steeds, tall armored men and woman astride twitchy bays taking the place of slow and weary animals, much as they did every day. If the guards noted anything different about their horses, they said nothing to the sable hands, nor indeed to Snak herself.
Not that anyone could have gotten a word to the orc if they had wanted too, she sat on the shack porch as always, but her position had moved, her bench no longer near the path to the sables, but on the far end, closer to the shack door. She was leaning far back into the shadows the roof cast, and the barest amber gleam could be seen, glaring out at all those who walked to and from the corral gate.
The shadows cast by the mid morning light obscured any other part of her face, but given the tense stance of her silhouette, the orc was less talkative than normal. Which, considering that her normal vocabulary of kind words retained about as much as a tea strainer retained water, was saying quite a lot.
The stable hands, quite used to their employer's temperament, went about their morning chores without much preamble, in fact, if one was to be so bold as to say, they looked a rather bit more cheerful this day, rather than when the orc was helping them.
While the position Snak was in was not wholly uncommon, the pace of the day was, during normal days, people would be rushing back and forth from the city, jumping on or off their horses to run off and attend to important business. But on this morning, everyone wanted to stop and gossip.
Even from her position on the porch, Snak could see the faces of the travelers as they spoke in hushed, unbelieving tones to one another. Their eyes wide, the grin of well rehearsed gossip plastered all over their faces.
The clusters of people swarming out of the city where banded too close together to hear anything specific, but she could guess it was something rather troubling, considering the way the people clustered together in packs, sneaking little glances over their shoulders as if waiting for an attack.
"Nasty business that."
Snak jumped off of her benched and whipped around to see the dark man from the day before lingering near her porch, his hooded head turned away from her.
Letting out a long breath with a rumbling growl in the back of her throat, Snak settled back down and crossed her arms, wincing at the pain in the pulled muscles.
"Yea, what's that?" she glowered at him.
He turned his head, but not enough for her to see his eyes under that hood.
"Gossiping, the rumor mill, chewing the fat," he supplied in that even rumble of a voice. "such talk encourages the ignorant and the ill intended to action, a less than desirable outcome."
Snak narrowed her eyes at him, a painful action as both were bruised and slightly swollen, then snapped. "If you want your beasty back, go talk to one of the idiots I've hired to work here, I'm off duty."
The hood rose further and she caught a glimpse of glittering ice blue eyes over an eerie little grin, before he turned away and glided to the corral.
It was once he vanished around the corner that she realized she was shivering.
Minutes later, the hooded man walked by with his purple mare in toe, the two of them pausing when one of the stable hands said something to him.
Snak couldn't hear the conversation even if she wanted to, she was far too preoccupied with leaning as far back into the shadows as possible, gaze glued to the evil horse.
As though she sensed Snak's gaze (or her fear), the mare slowly turned her head to stare right back, her reigns hanging loose in the black man's grip, her eyes unblinking.
She swallowed hard and pressed herself against the shack wall, willing Malicath's divine strength that she might simply vanish and never have to see the living, breathing, nightmare of a mare again.
As if in answer to her prayer, the hooded man pulled himself up into the dark saddle like smoke over water and tugged slightly at the reigns.
The Nightmare snorted but obeyed, snorting in Snak's direction one last time before turning to front and walking forward a few paces.
"Thank you for taking such good care of Shadowmere, she seems in good spirits today." The hooded man commented with a pat to Shadowmere's neck. "I'll certainly be leaving her in your care if I ever have business in the Imperial City again."
'May that time never come.' Snak thought maliciously as the shadowy pair turned into the road and broke into a full gallop.
She started to get to her feet when a shrill whiney that pierced to her very soul echoed up from the road.
The woman stable hand found her on the bench hours later, still shivering and muttering strange curses under her breath.
"Did'ja here the news?" she leaned against the wall casually, completely ignoring Snak's glare. "That fat Breton, the one who dropped off the white horse? He's dead, they found him this morning with his head face first in last night's dinner. The word is he was poisoned." She glanced down at Snak again, "What's we gon'a do about his horse then?"
Snak felt the tiniest of grins creep across her split lips, and for the first time since the night before, she relaxed. "Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something."
AN:
GOOD. GOD. OLD.
This is, I mean, this fic.
Like back when I first got into Oblivion, '07, '08?
Whatever, it was a while.
Been trying to finish the damned thing on and off for years now, and now it's finally done. Yay.
Man my writing style has really changed.
I mean, I'm better now, of course, but I kinda like the weird flare I used to use…