Chapter 17: The Mazken
A paralysis spell couldn't have kept Siena as motionless as she now was, bow in hand and aimed at the two toad-men. Hanging from the bow were two strings; strings that were once one. And the arrow that should have soared, should have sickly stuck in slimy flesh and ended the battle, instead pathetically clattered to the stone ground beneath her, completely harmless. The bowstring had finally snapped, and the loud crack it caused had brought the attention of both beasts, who turned in a daze, saw her, and in wide pupil-less yellow-eyed surprise drew their little serrated daggers and sloshed towards her.
It was an archer's worst nightmare. A broken bow and the attention of the target and their company. Siena's heart ticked from cold still to pounding as they drew closer and she was forced to act.
The bow was the first to go, but it was discarded with purpose. The toad-face grew wide, caught off guard by suddenly having to dodge a chucked bowed stick of wood. That bought Siena time to draw one of the three remaining spear-tip daggers and fling it into the monster's face, while drawing a second to charge towards the final one.
Her last opponent between her and freedom from the beasts never reached her though. It ran up the slope leading to the root cavern entrance, sure, but it got halfway there before being violently thrown to the side rag-doll style, slamming into the side of a spike log barricade and collapsing it.
Siena instantly crouched and stepped back, eyes roving like a beast being hunted. Only one thing could have caused such a sudden jerk of motion. And she saw that thing sticking out of the toad's skull, a long shaft of dark material that gleamed with a glossy shine in the sun. An arrow dead on its mark; she was in no condition to be challenging such an opponent, and so crept further back towards the declining slope of the root cavern entrance.
A shadow grew on the ground, coming from the other side of the large tree root-trunk on her left. It was definitely humanoid in shape, and feminine. Siena gripped her dagger looser, preparing to throw it at a moment's notice.
But when the owner of the shadow was revealed, Siena found herself frozen; unable to throw, unable to retreat, unable to doing anything but stare.
It was indeed a female; the large bust attested to that along with the curved hourglass form. But it was unlike any man, beast, or elf Siena had ever laid eyes upon. Her skin was darker than a Dark Elf's, more violet than ashen, and her eyes; those eyes were unnatural in every way. The whites of the woman's eyes were not white at all but void-black and her irises were bright sapphire, bright enough to actually glow from her eye sockets like tiny stars.
The woman's blue star-eyes turned and locked upon Siena, and the Dunmer found herself still incapable of movement, seduced into inaction. She held a long, serpentine blade in her hand that resembled Daedric weapons in their wicked, rune inscribed design, but black as coal. That blade had a glossy sheen in the daylight, just like the arrow earlier.
The wickedness of the blade went well with her armor. The entire suit of armor was angular, with ridges rising to edged peaks and extending into spikes from the edges of the shoulder plates and crown of the shield, and the shield itself looked like large dark grey shell. But Siena noted the armor was skimpy, leaving the gut and collar exposed. Her chest was protected only by a brassiere of metal, and a skirt of dark green cloth kept her waist decent. If she had any hair, it was concealed by a tight fitting helmet.
But there must be a reason for her to wear so little protection on her torso. Unless it's merely to draw attention to her assets. Siena pondered with disgust, the spell that held her eyes when she first saw the woman beginning to ebb the more she looked upon her.
"The Grummites were hunting a mortal." When the woman spoke Siena found herself once again caught by surprise. Her voice was remarkably echoing, like two women were saying the same thing within half a second of each other. It was a deep female voice, too, adding a more foreboding element to the already intimidating figure.
"Is it Blessed Kiskedrig?" Came another, identical voice. Siena's eyes darted towards the second approaching figure, and fear gripped her heart. This second was identical to the first, only wielded a glossy black bow. Even the voice was identical. Blessed? Could they mean the same as Relmyna?
"It looks Blessed." The first with the sword remarked back, stepping towards Siena. She stepped back instinctively, the spell of the women having worn off. If they meant the same thing by 'blessed' as Relmyna had, she could divine their meaning. They wondered if the mad god had touched her.
She probably did look the part of a lunatic splendidly, no matter how lucid she felt. Her adventure in the cavern had given her plenty of smudges and bruises, not to mention the odd bits and ends of twigs from her wrestles with the tree-beings that caught in her chain links. Her hair was sweat-matted to her skull and her drawstring fingers raw from her archery, along with her left inner forearm. If anything, she looked as bedraggled as a beggar in Balmora.
But as Siena drew back from the approaching violet-skinned woman, she also began to devolve into a more animalistic, cornered stance. When she finally spoke it was through grit teeth; she was on the edge, nearing the fight or flight desperation of cornered animals. "Who are you?"
It was the unnatural woman's turn to pause now, and she regarded Siena coolly for a time, her glowing eyes piercing through Siena's shaded glasses and into her own. It was like the being was staring into her very soul, analyzing her. The serpentine blade was sheathed, and likewise the archer of the two removed her arrow and slung her bow on her back.
"Blessed with amnesia likely." The sword-wielder remarked with a hint of jibe. "If she was Heretic or Zealot, she would have attacked us by now."
"A feral Blessed… She must be fresh from the Gates of Madness, looking for New Sheoth." The archer continued, and Siena notably perked up at this, looking to the archer expectantly. "You will find Him in New Sheoth, in His palace." Haskill's voice echoed in her mind, which only served to bring her irritation, but she quelled it. New Sheoth… that's my destination. They know it!
"I need to get to New Sheoth." Siena spoke up, beginning to rise to a standing position, slowly.
"Perhaps you are correct. She is a lost Blessed." The warrior replied to her archer companion, not to Siena. Like the Dunmer didn't even exist. Or her words meant nothing to the violet woman's ears. But then both beings turned to look at her, and the warrior gestured to herself.
"We are the Mazken."
"Maz… ken?" Siena repeated, rising now to a full standing position and giving the woman a quizzical look. If they were going to kill her, they would have done so much sooner. It seemed the title of 'Blessed' also meant you were safe in this realm. Safety in insanity! How ironic.
"The Mazken guard Crucible in New Sheoth, and the lands of Dementia." The archer replied calmly. "We ensure the Demented remain orderly and respectful to our Lord Sheogorath."
"Sheogorath is our Lord, ruler of the Shivering Isles. It is by his whim that the Mazken walk, and we serve our Master to the death." The warrior completed, and Siena gulped down the lump growing in her throat. Guards… Sheogorath's guards. "If you require assistance to New Sheoth, Blessed Mortal, you can accompany us. We were patrolling Dementia, and were about to return to Crucible." The woman's echoing voice never wavered, always sounding like two women speaking a second apart.
I could accompany them. I mean, so far my trip through Dementia hasn't gone well. I got attacked by a tree-thing… attacked by something else I still don't know, kidnapped by a bunch of… "What did you call those things?" Siena asked out of the blue, cutting out of her contemplative silence.
"This is a Grummite." The Archer answered. "They are amphibious beasts with primitive tool abilities. Some are capable of magic as well."
Grummite… I got kidnapped by a frog-faced beast with a bug name. Great. She dispatched them so easily, and now I have no bow, only three daggers. Two of them primitive. "If it's okay with you, I would like to follow to New Sheoth." Siena declared, moving her right hand towards her belt, and placing the grummite dagger back where it belonged.
"Very well." The warrior responded, turned, and headed down the path eastward. The Archer followed with a small smirk on her purple lips. Siena followed about a yard behind, wary of her new companions. They traveled as if the dangers of this dark, gloomy swamp -where the rays of sunlight shone through clouds of swampy fog and tree canopy, making it dinged grey despite the midday sun- meant nothing to them.
They passed by a broken, abandoned dock on the side of a pond, and Siena found herself entranced by the strange additions to the massive tree roots and trunks that hung over the water. There were these strange, slimy sacks, bumpy and uneven, looking like an enlarged collection of elderberries. But they had a sickening color, and reminded Siena of pus. Curious, she ventured closer to the water's edge to look at the nearest one.
She let out a sharp gasp and stumbled back when it squirmed, and echoing laughter made her face flush. The warrior Mazken was there beside her, a grin on her dark face. "Those are Grummite egg sacks. I'd be careful, mortal, around them. Usually there is a Baliwog in their vicinity."
"Baliwog?"
"Definitely an Amnesiac, Kiskedrig." The Archer remarked from afar. Siena pulled her lips taunt, annoyed with the Archer's jab at her. Did they not realize she was completely new to the Isles? But they did have Grummites in Passwall, so they probably expected her to know the wildlife already, having spent some time in Passwall.
Regardless, Siena would figure out what a Baliwog was later. For now, the Mazken were on the move, and she intended to keep them in her sights. She got off the ground agilely and followed silently, watching her escorts.
They reached a fork in the path, where it split into left and right around a large moss-covered stone. The path seemed to be carved through the rock, though, as there were large boulders and cliffs of stone around the path as well, like the central rock and surrounding had once been connected, before the path had been made. It also meant whatever was on the other side of the rock could not been seen, until one was on that side of the rock.
Both Mazken stopped, reaching for their weapons, and Siena followed suit, crouching into the shadow of one of the crags of rock. She was tempted to remove her shades, so that in the gloom of the Dementia swamps she could better watch the battle; but without her corrective lenses she'd likely miss the details anyways. They heard something, and she slowed her own breathing to try and hear it as well.
There; the heavy, snotty breathing of those fish-beasts, the Grummites. Just as Siena registered the sound the Mazken moved forward, splitting to each side of the rock and heading around it with speed that made Siena feel slow. The sound of battle touched the afternoon air as she moved towards the other side, but the Grummite was already dead upon her arrival. She'd missed her chance to watch them fight, to see the technique of the guards of Sheogorath. But it did tell her one thing; they were quick about the kill. Siena bit her lip at the thought. Both Mazken relaxed their weapons, and a feeling of calm came upon the area.
The calm was eviscerated by a hideous, ear-grating screech, and a small, long mass landed on Siena's back, causing the Hlaalu agent to scream and thrash, her right hand reaching for a Grummite dagger at her hip while the left hand sought the arm of her aggressor, intent on tossing it off. She rolled, and it with her, still clinging to her back.
She could feel its body beneath her. Long and thin as a bow shaft, it was squirming and thrashing beneath her, and her heart raced as she felt long, sinuous fingers around her shoulders and thin, fang-like protrusions near the back of her head. Pulse pounding, she thrust her dagger under her back, trying to keep the beast pinned. After several stabs, it fell still, and she no longer felt those fangs upon her skull. Rolling off, she looked up from her elbows at her kill, and her heart leaped into her throat.
It was a dark brown, sand-papery skinned beast, and its body was so thin it may as well have been starved. The arms were long and thin, ending in hands with similar fingers, and the double-jointed legs were even thinner. But it wasn't the near skeletal appearance of the beast, or the taunt skin around the ribs that made her choke; it was the head.
Long and conical, it gave off the immediate impression of a leech. Beady eyes stared lifelessly into the sky, and the face elongated into a circular mouth opening with rows of small, sharp teeth, and a long, purple tongue lolling lifelessly from the lips. If the spines along the back and the thin form hadn't told her what it was, the head did. And the appearance of a leech was completely appropriate.
It was a Hunger. On rare occasions during her mercenary work in Morrowind Siena had come upon these demonic Daedra, summoned by bored warlocks or fool-hardy magicians. They were reputed to embrace their victims in those arms, which were longer than proportionally proper for the body size, as they pressed their leech-lips to the victim's face and took the life from their bodies. They were thin, fast, terribly strong, and their spiny tails a force to be reckoned with. But this one was smaller than others she remembered; it must have been starved for some time.
Still… the prospect of Hungers in this realm made Siena very uneasy. And now, with that single fight before these Mazken, Sheogorath's guards had an idea of her fighting style, while she was still clueless about theirs.
Great… this just gets better and better.