A sudden jagged bolt of red lightning lit up the sky and shot straight down, touching ground to the Southwest; surprising Embla and frightening her mount into rearing with a tremulous high pitched neigh. She clenched her thighs tight and clutched the mare's mane, gasping and struggling to keep her seat.
The beast's hooves had barely touched back down to the road when the deafening roar and clap of thunder trembled the earth. A shuddering cloud of powdery snow a foot high lifted up in a shock wave moving outward from the origin of the blast.
Embla cursed as her mount stumbled and squealed in fright before the beast lunged forward into a panicked gallop.
"Whoa!" Embla cried out, "Whoa! You blasted, braying cow!" It took her a few minutes to pull the mare's head around, who turned in circles a number of times before she finally stilled; stance wide, chest billowing as she snorted with her head lowered. She'd worked up a lather in her fear, and her eyes still rolled about searching for the danger she'd sensed.
Embla lowered her voice, and spoke soothing nonsensical platitudes to calm the animal as she looked in the direction the strange lightning had struck. It had come from the valley to her right, Southwest of the Karth River; which she was following on the way to Markarth. She could see streams of white smoke, or steam rising maybe a mile or two from her position. The light cast by both Secunda and Masser as they waxed full reflected brightly off of the snow, and despite the reddish tinge they held as they hovered close to the horizon, they lit up the night and revealed her surroundings clearly in a silvery monochrome.
Pushing back slightly on the fur lined hood of her cloak to get a better view, Embla chewed her lip in indecision behind the wool scarf wrapped snugly around the lower half of her face and neck. She was unsure whether to hurry on her way to avoid whatever trouble had visited the Reach; or diverge from the road, and into the valley that lay over the hills to the Southwest. It would probably take her but half an hour to ride over to the site to investigate... whatever it was, and Embla's curiosity was fired at the source of this anomaly; for the sky was clear of clouds, and there had been no warning before the bolt had struck.
It was a mystery, and Embla could never leave one of those unsolved; at least not without a quick look. She assured herself that she was just going to scout out the area to determine whether or not it was something her people needed to take care of. There was no telling what could have caused such a powerful spell; a Vampire coven, more of Harkon's followers practicing dangerous blood rituals, was her guess. If that was the case then she was obligated to find out what the abominations were up to, and at the very least it was just some crazy mage playing with magic that should be left well enough alone. If it was indeed the work of those foul blood drinkers then she could just rush back to Dragon Bridge to enlist the help of her fellow hunters, who she'd left with the Moth Priest; to protect him while he recuperated after his imprisonment by the Vampires, and to ensure his safe passage back to Fort Dawnguard. No sense in getting herself killed, or worse, turned into a thrall because of her curiosity.
Determined now to look into the matter, Embla wheeled her huffing mount about and set off in the direction of the rising column of smoke.
It actually took her the better part of an hour to work her way to the blast site. The hills surrounding it were steep and rocky, and she'd had to travel a bit out of the way to find a suitable path she could lead her horse through. She'd had to leave her skittish mount about a quarter mile back on the sparsely wooded trail along the ridge, reins loosely tied to a low hanging branch. The damned animal would likely break it's neck going down the steep slopes, and would alert the whole valley to her presence with the way it kept snorting and squealing at every little noise. Sound tended to carry for long distances in the valley, bouncing off the surrounding hills and the sheer rock walls that encircled the deep basin.
Embla kept to deeper shadows in the brush and rocks at the perimeter of the valley; still fairly high up in elevation, she had to watch her footing as she descended the rocky ice covered slope.
She was close now, the smoke had dissipated some time ago, but she had made note of the general area it had been in. She was counting on the hope that she would know it when she saw it; as the cause (or effects) of "red" lightning would be hard to miss.
Coming up on the steep hill that led to a plateaued bluff that over looked the valley, Embla checked to make sure her blade would easily clear it's sheath at her back and unshouldered her bow. She was a bit apprehensive about what she would find and preferred to scope out the area at a distance but there was no other way up, unless she wanted to climb up to the top of the cliff above it and come down on it. It was also probably the best lookout point on this side of the valley; so even if she found nothing at the top, she'd have a good vantage point to get her bearings and find what she was looking for.
Embla slowly made her way up, pulling and notching an arrow from the quiver behind her right shoulder; keeping it low and ready. She made sure to watch her footing so as not to slip in the snow and ice that ran down the steep incline. As she got closer to the top Embla got a sick feeling in her stomach and had to take a deep breath to stave off the nausea that rolled through her stomach. She caught the stench of blood and vomit along with the painful chill of freezing air up her nose and fought not to cough in reaction. She debated the wisdom of her current course of action as her unease skyrocketed, and she slowed her pace even further. Her guess, she'd found what she was looking for, and now she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out what it was.
Can't turn back now you s'wit!
Keeping herself close to the wall of the cliff face that backed the shelf to her right with the edge of a long drop off to her left, Embla cleared the crest of the wide ledge. Quickly she drew her bow taut, fletching brushing her cheek as she brought her hand up to her anchor point in a ready position,and knelt down to stabilize herself and present a smaller target, scanning the area for any hostiles.
At first she saw nothing, and it was eerily quite. The wind roaring through her ears inside her heavy hood, and whipping about her cloak the only sound she heard. A ring of monolithic stones circled the flat area, seeming to frame a raised jagged boulder topped by a squat and sick looking twisted tree. Besides that, nothing. No movement, no sound.
But a shrine? To who, or what?
Whatever it was, looking at it brought back that sick feeling again and she quickly turned away; eyes sweeping over a dark lump against the rock wall close to the "shrine". Embla did a double take, and gasped as she lowered her bow and rushed towards the crumpled figure.
It was a man! Slumped over and covered in blood and sick; which also lay in a freezing puddle close by. He sat on a perfectly circular section of ground uncovered by snow, no foot prints leading in or out of the area around him. No sign anywhere else that he, or anyone, had been up here; as if he'd appeared out of nowhere.
Or maybe fallen from the sky?
Embla looked about her nervously as she came up beside him. She re-slung her bow behind her, cross bodied and replaced her arrow before she knelt down to take a closer look at the stranger.
It was hard to make out his features with the bloody mess he was covered in, but he was mostly clean shaven, his hair an indistinct color matted down with gore, and he wore well made scale mail armor. Also covered in gore. A battered, bloody shield lay slightly across his lap, still strapped partially to his left arm, but she saw no weapon as she scanned him and the area close by.
"By the Nine, what happened to you?" She whispered, as she reached out gloved hands to search the body for clues.
Only to recoil with a yelp and fall back on her ass when the "body's" eyes slitted open, and he wheezed out a low groan.
Embla grasped the hilt of her blade frantically as she scramble to a crouched position. It wouldn't be the first time some undead Draugr or vampire thrall had popped up unexpectedly to start stabbing at her. But the stranger didn't move, didn't even moan again. Just stared out with half lidded eyes in an unseeing stupor. She suspected that he was in shock from the severe blood loss, not to mention that he was probably suffering from exposure as well. He had no cloak, no fur lining his gambeson or boots; even his leather gloves looked pathetically thin and totally inadequate. He was woefully unprepared for the harsh cold of Skyrim, even if it was in the middle of First Seed.
Embla relaxed, but was unsure of what to do next. For one, she wasn't exactly sure if the stranger was the cause of the lightning phenomena, or if he was a victim of it. She could heal him, but who was to say that he wasn't in league with vampires? Plus she needed to get back to Markarth to report back to Jarl Igmund on the Forsworn outposts and camps she had promised to scout for him. She didn't exactly have time to play nurse maid to a possible enemy while she carried out her duties as Thane, and as an agent for the Dawnguard.
Embla huffed in exasperation. She knew, even though she had good reasons not too, she just couldn't leave a man to die when she had the means to save him. That and her curiosity had yet to be satisfied. Gods damned insatiable beast that it was.
She moved next to the man, gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders and supporting his head as she laid him down flat on the frozen ground. She fumbled a bit as she pushed back her hood and unwrapped her thick scarf from around her head; sending her thick blonde braid tumbling over a shoulder. She folded the woolen material several times, then used it to cushion the injured man's head from the hard cold ground. Looking him over she couldn't see any lethal wounds, besides a large knot and deep gash on his scalp; head wounds could be tricky if left untreated. He suffered mostly from cuts, scrapes, and a nasty puncture wound on the back of his thigh. It was just that all the accumulated wounds put together had been too much for a body to handle. She had also noticed as she'd grasped his shoulders the left one was dislocated, but decided it could be left until she took care of his still bleeding head.
Embla extended both gloved hands towards his torn bruised flesh, cupping the air above him as she summoned her mana from within. Instantly, a bright golden stream of light flashed between her palms swirling into a tight ball of energy that looked like she held a small sun in her hands. It hummed and tinkled like a handful of tin bells, suffusing her palms with warmth. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she released the restoration spell over, and into the man; watching as his flesh fused back together, the cuts vanishing on his face and hands, and the swelling receded from where the scalp wound had been. It was sure to still leave a nasty scar but at least it would no longer leak. As her magicka coursed through him she noticed the sorry state of his ribs and took the time, and excessive energy, to pushing the bones into the correct position and knitting them back together. They gave a sickening popping sound as they were set in consecutive order. It was a relief to find that there was no severe internal damage, just a great deal of bruising.
Now that the worst was healed, Embla released her mana with a long exhale, and the light winked out instantly. She was no mage and her mana reserves were already exhausted, leaving her a bit weak and out of breath for a moment. She hunched over the stranger as she caught her breath and noticed that he breathed a little easier, and had settled into a more peaceful state of unconsciousness. While she could heal wounds there was no way she could replenish the amount of blood he had loss; it would take time, nourishment and rest for him to fully recover.
She scanned the area, wary of wolves and other predators who would eventually pick up the smell of blood. The last thing she needed was an attack from a hungry troll while her mana was depleted. She was also sure she wasn't the only one to see the red lightning strike, and thought to check it out. Forsworn were a prevalent danger in the Reach, especially in unsettled areas like the valley they were in. Embla puzzled over how to get her wounded charge out of this valley and to the nearest settlement, when she didn't have her horse on hand. She worried about leaving him to fetch her mount with the aforementioned predators and vicious Reachmen in the area. Also, they couldn't stay here. She had no supplies and he needed the warmth of a fire or the cold would sap what little strength he had left; but a fire would be a sure way to signal their location to any Forsworn in the area.
What have I gotten myself into?
Embla scrubbed her hand over her face, shaking off any residual fatigue and standing with a resolute manner. She laid down her weapons and unclasped the pin of her cloak, setting it aside and removed her heavy shearling coat dropping it as well. Embla stood in the chill wind in her heavy boots and leather trews with a long sleeved linen tunic and fur lined leather vest that was cinched tight to her waist by wide leather belt. Her only armor her leather and steel plated vambraces and greaves. She shivered for only a moment, her thick Nordic blood adjusting easily to the harsh clime; then moved into action.
Quickly she stood straddling the strangers waist, then crouching down low and drawing a hunting knife from her boot, cut the strap of the shield hanging from his dislocated left arm. She then braced the palm of his left hand against her right shoulder and took hold of his elbow to keep it locked straight. Taking her left hand, she firmly gripped the injured shoulder, and with a swift hard push down on his arm she popped it back in its socket with a wrenching crunch. She thanked Stendarr for the small mercy of the man's unconscious state, as he would have most likely shouted the mountains down after such treatment. As it was, he gave only a wince and a pained moan.
That taken care of, Embla covered him snugly in her coat and cloak as she bent to grab and unsheathe her longsword. Avoiding the disturbing tree shrine, she strode instead over to a line of saplings along the edge of the cliff just past the standing stones, and began hacking at the base of one.
"I sure hope you're worth all the trouble here stranger." She called back to the man who now owed her his life.
Author's note: Happy Thanksgiving!
