AN: Jfc I'm so sorry this took so long to update, I've had this chapter sitting unfinished for months but my muse has decided to jump ship and I couldn't bring myself to finish it. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so damn long to get done, gomeeennnnn
Also sorry I got into purple prose territory with my description of Elja, but it was more how Ra'Zhag saw her, I mean you'd have to think a woman that saves you from a torture chamber was the prettiest thing in the world, right? /
Yet he did awake. And it was an angel that roused him from his dreamless sleep.
Ra'Zhag always thought that on the day of his death, he would be greeted by a member of his family. Perhaps his Mother would come to him, take him in her arms, and he would finally remember how it felt. He was only a cub when he and his father left, seeking fortune across the sea. He struggled to recall her warmth, he never could quite recollect. Lately he had begun to stumble over his thoughts when he tried to remember what she even looked like.
If not her, then at least it would be a Khajiit like him. Many Khajiit women were beautiful, his sister Khinyeh back in Elsweyr was gorgeous by many accounts, with her fur the color of sands and tilled earth. He was sure there must be some Khajiit beautiful enough to be angels. But as his eyes struggled open through the layer of dried blood caking his fur that almost stuck his eyes shut, his vision focused on a Nord bathed in light.
He knew her to be a Nord because because of her pale, pearl toned skin, dotted with a series of dark freckles kissing the bridge of her nose and along her cheeks. Her cheeks themselves were flushed red as snowberries.
The eyes that met his were the color of honey, sparkling even through the shadows cast over her face by the light falling at her back. They stared out at him from under her knitted brow, and Ra'Zhag saw that small dots of black markings speckled her smooth white skin from just above the middle of her brow and up to meet the gold circlet gracing her forehead, cupping the twinkling ruby inset in the middle of the thick strands of metal twisting in an intricate design around her head.
Her hair had been pulled back to avoid being tangled in her jewelry and tied into a thin braid lacing the top of her head like a crown to accompany the gold circlet. It was red like her cheeks, and fell behind her shoulders in a waterfall of silky copper waves until it almost touched the small of her back. His eyes followed the glimmering strands as they caught the light and fell to the dingy robes she wore. He had always imagined angels dressing in something more extravagant than Mage College robes.
She reached her hand out to him, her long and elegant fingers patterned with the same black symbols as on her forehead. Ra'Zhag felt his heart hammering out an erratic beat. He moved his own hand to take hers, thinking this was what the angel was offering. But he felt something tighten against his wrist. The angel's plump pink lips moved as she said something Ra'Zhag couldn't hear, her face lining with concern. Ra'Zhag felt something warm press against his chest.
A wave of pain crashing into his body, fiercer than anything he'd felt in his life, brought him back to reality as he drew in a rattling gasp.
"I'm sorry!" He heard the angel shout frantically as she huddled herself against him. "Hold still, this will only be a moment, just hold still!"
Still sucking in painful lungfuls of the acrid air, thick with the smell of blood and decay, Ra'Zhag tried to push himself forward. He jerked sharply towards the young mage, only to be met with another snap like the crack of a whip against his shoulder. He knew it instantly to be his arm wrenching out of the socket. He slumped against his restraints, shaking violently as the fresh swell of pain burst up his arm and into his neck. The stone floors he dug his knees into were wet with something sticky and viscous, shards of rock pierced his legs. He was still in the torture chamber of the keep in the mountains.
She undid the clasps on his chains and caught him as he sank from the wall into her arms. His nose rested against the slope of her neck. Her clothes smelled like old books-the kind Ri'sien sold to passing elves with the curving fang symbols and trees on the cover- and her skin was warm, pearls of sweat beading down her throat.
"Can you hear me?" She shifted to tip his head up and look into his eyes. "Can you speak?"
Ra'Zhag flattened his ears against his head, growling softly in an attempt at an affirmative answer. His own hot breath filling his mouth made his tongue ache. He opened his mouth to warn the mage of the others that guarded this keep, but it felt strange, and words completely escaped him. He only ended up making moaning sounds. Inwardly cursing, he gripped to the mage and struggled to speak intelligibly. Nothing came.
He felt her lay a hand on his jaw, and he opened his mouth again, another stream of nonsensical sounds spewing out. She stilled him.
"His tongue's been cut out," she breathed in horror.
His breath caught in his chest. Only now did he realize it felt strange to speak because the tip of his tongue didn't brush against his gums or roll against the roof of his mouth when he did so. The mage tried to keep his hand down at his side but he shrugged her off and it flew to his lips, probing the inside of the mouth only to be met with the graze of his teeth at first until he touched a flat piece of flesh at the back of his throat. Every muscle in his jaw down his throat spasmed painfully when he did. He felt his breathing quicken in panic, but hyperventilating only caused heat to touch the still fresh reminder and was more hurt than it was worth, so he resolved not to panic. The mage, supporting him as he quivered from a mixture of weakness, the pain racking his body, and the cold that was beginning to hit him, called over someone else on the far side of the chamber.
A Redguard by her rich, dark complexion, dressed in tattered patchwork armor that hung awkwardly from her lean frame. Her hands were wrapped in dirty bandages, stained with blood and mud, and her left eye was hidden under the second roll of soiled bandages draped around her head. The other was a mulled brown like watered mead. Deep brown waves of hair spilled from the dressing, as messy and tangled as the rest of her. She didn't look like the mages Ra'Zhag had seen, and at first he wasn't entirely sure she was a woman, as her chest was hidden under a dented steel breastplate. But the angel called her by a feminine name, "Tameer", which sounded too ladylike and clean for her. What she was doing with the dainty, copper-haired maiden was beyond him.
She was stuffing something into a fur satchel, something shiny, Ra'Zhag saw, and slung the bag over her shoulder as she loped over to the two of them.
The angel said something he didn't hear and then the Tameer woman was wrapping her arm around his chest to hold him up. She smelled like rust and debris and ash, the stench of a sacked city.
The mage gripped him by the crooked shoulder and he nearly cried out, stifling it so it was only a pathetic sounding whimper, and the Redguard was holding him so tightly he couldn't thrash, though he felt the dire need to. Ra'Zhag was by no means a small Khajiit, he easily came in a head taller than most people when he entered a room, not to mention he outweighed most by a few stones of sheer muscle. But the average sized Redguard woman held him without a hint of struggle. True, he was weak and underweight from his time in this dank dungeon, but she only came to his chin and she pinned him against her with more strength than he had thought someone of her stature capable. While she kept him in place, the mage was carefully pressing on his wounded arm. He could feel the disconnected bone rubbing against the joint. With a sudden jarring motion, it audibly cracked as she jammed it back into place. He cried out at that.
In an instant the mage's hands were at his cheeks, urging him to stay quiet, her voice coming in soft whispers as she held his head against her breastbone. Only when he had caught his breath did she release him and lay her hands against his chest. So numb to the world, he simply hung, limp as a doll, while speckles of golden light flowered from the mage's palms and skittered along his wounds like so many little torchbugs, winking as they went down the burns and cuts he'd been given. They stitched together his flesh along the way, but he was only faintly aware of it now. He wanted so desperately to let sleep take him once more, give in and collapse in Tameer's surprisingly strong embrace and hope they could carry his body out of this torture chamber if he did. But there was a part of him, an irrational one he knew, that still thought this a dream. What would happen if he fell asleep in a dream? Would he ever wake up? Would he still be in this damned place if he did awake? He even thought that they may have already killed him. Maybe this really was an angel and her...foul smelling assistant. But no, he thought almost bitterly, there would be no pain if he was dead. His chest wouldn't ache where they had burned him, nor would his tongue, or his shoulder, or his entire body for that matter. This was his reality. And these were his saviors, it suddenly came upon him. This tiny mage and her wiry swordsister. He wondered if the others in the caravan would mock him or simply be glad he was home. Ak'ier would certainly welcome him back, then tease him for needing the help of women, if he had the tact to wait that long to ridicule.
Thoughts of his bard back home made him think of his bard in the cage, and he stiffened, eyes flying to the spot where Avari had once been. The cage hung open, deathly still instead of tilting in restless circles, and the long haired Imperial was nowhere to be seen.
He pawed at the mage's arm and pointed to it. Avari, he was just there, they've done something to him! Vampire or no, he was a decent person, Ra'Zhag's only companion here. He still refused to believe he was a Vampire in the first place. Either way, he wouldn't be rescued without him.
"What's he saying?" Tameer muttered.
"I-I don't know," the mage replied, sucking in her bottom lip, "Just hold still, try not to speak, alright?"
Just listen! He knew he made no sense. The words leaving his mouth came out as a bastards of what he was trying to say, senseless clacking and unsuccessful groans, made only slightly like actual words by the way he opened and closed his mouth. The mage was trying to still him, but he only shook his head adamantly and pointed to the cage. Finally, unable to stand the near derisive way they spoke to him, like a senile old man or a disruptive child, he dug his claws into the Redguard's forearm and she gave a satisfying hiss. Blood bloomed from the crescent cuts in her skin.
"Bastard scratched me!" She punched him hard in the back of the head, eliciting a shocked squeak from the mage.
"Tameer! Can't you see he's upset? You don't strike a man in pain!"
"You strike one that draws blood, look!"
"Don't be childish!"
The mage glowered at her a moment before going to stroke Ra'Zhag's head. As soft as her hands were and how nice it felt the way they traced into the skin under his fur, he was beginning to hate being pet like a broken kitten. He swatted away her hand and shoved away Tameer, grabbing the chain hanging limp from the wall and wrapping it around his knuckles to hoist himself to his feet. A light headed feeling made his mind swim, and there was a moment his feet felt like they hovered a few inches off the ground before planting firmly back down, the shockwave making his knees clack together, his body tilting drunkenly. The mage tried to force back down, but he'd already teetered off, grabbing a blunt shovel set against the wall. A rickety door lay on the other side of the room, and he made to shuffle closer. The women stood to follow.
"You can't really expect to fight," Tameer asked, more impressed than chastising, unlike the mage who fluttered after the both of them like an upset bird.
"Sir, please, whatever you think this will accomplish, it won't, you'll only end up getting yourself hurt worse! There are still-"
He bashed open the door and shuffled, limping his broken leg behind him, down a short corridor. Voices rose up down the hall to his left, alerted by the clatter of the door swinging on it's hinges. Robes fluttered about the corner in a matter of a moments, the inhabitants of the keep apparently so taken aback by the sudden appearance of the giant Khajiit, the first mage didn't have a chance to key a spell before the blade of the shovel caught him full force in the mouth. Even in this dilapidated state, Ra'Zhag had enough strength to shove the dark mage into the wall and nearly rend his jaw from his skull. His eyes rolled into the whites and he slumped, fountaining blood from the deep gash cutting his mouth open ear to ear. Ra'Zhag caught color flashing in his peripheral, only a moment before it sputtered and died with the sound of a gurgled scream, splitting flesh, and the hollow thunk of a blade burying into the chest of the second mage that had rounded on the wounded prisoner. He stole only a glance at Tameer, seeing she was short one sword from the pair on her hips, and one more look at the blade jutting out from the mage's chest. He nodded her a curt thanks and continued into the sanctum, ignoring the mage girl's protests.
He could only guess what a frightful sight he was, fur matted with blood and filth, as he burst into the next room with the bloodied shovel clutched desperately in his claws. Every tendon and tissue screamed in protest to the smallest movements, from his injuries, from laying stiff and prone on a stone slab for who knows how long, his body was in ruins and his muscles felt like they had been stretched too thin over his bones. But in the moment he took to look about the room he found himself in, his resolution swelled and the pain was lost, however momentarily, to absolute rage when he saw what it held.
Three deep alcoves had been carved on the opposite side of the wall, and at the far end of these swung three rusty cages like the one in his torture chamber. Bodies filled two of them. The one slumped in the cage to the right was little more than a charred husk, it's skin blackened over completely save for the whites of it's eyes as they whirled in their sockets, reflecting breathless horror. Ra'Zhag realized with sickening dismay that this one was still alive, it's chest crackling with shallow breaths and it's eyes wide and terrified as they swept blindly over the room. Was he not in such dire circumstances, the Khajiit might have retched or openly wept at the sight, for it was one of the most terrible he'd seen in his life, a life which was not without it's own horrors. The wretched creature in the cage caught his gaze only for a moment. Was it really looking at him? This was hard to tell, but those terrible eyes held in them the most heart breaking plea; End my misery.
Were there a moment to spare, Ra'Zhag would have complied. But the moment he made a step towards the blackened creature, a bolt of chaotic energy screamed across the room and struck him full force in the chest, bringing him back to reality and reminding him of the battle around him. He staggered and nearly fell, but the Redguard woman was on him in an instant and pushed him upright, having already felled the mage that struck him.
"Stand back, you furry idiot!" She shot past him and descended upon the next foe as wild magics flew about the room. He guessed a spell or two must come from the mage on their side as well, but it was impossible to tell as the cacophony of shrill noises and the barrage of colors all collided in utter chaos, utterly infeasible to distinguish from one another.
His eyes snagged a moment on the other cage that held a prisoner, relief ebbing his repulsion a little when he caught sight of the falls of black hair, the familiar form sitting slumped against his bars but unharmed from what he could see. With one last apologetic look to the other caged creature, he shuffled to Avari as the two women waged war behind him with sword and spell. Only a few steps away from it, he stumbled forward, catching himself by clinging desperately to the bars that held his companion. The sudden jostle and creak of rust made him bolt upright and the Imperial scurried to press his back against the opposite side of the cage.
"Ra...Ra'Zhag," he breathed in shock and a heart breaking amount of ease. His jaw was, thankfully, set back into its place. "Oh if I wasn't afraid you'd claw me, I would kiss you my friend. You are a beautiful sight..." He chanced a look up at the swordsister and the mage. That he was able to smirk and offer his wry banter was both infuriating and bettering to the Khajiit. "...And you've brought two even lovelier sights. I think I'll just kiss them instead, no offense." Ra'Zhag glowered at him. "Right, they'll be other times for witticisms and kisses. If you would be so kind?"
Ra'Zhag lifted the shovel as high as he could manage, which wasn't very, and clattered it against the padlock of his friend's cage, the metal shattering and clanging loudly to the stone floor. The two had to rely heavily on each other for support as Avari lowered himself from his prison, but they finally managed to both stand up. Tameer had beset the last of the mages, stabbing his abdomen with practiced flourishes, and he went down with pained gurgles and a final spitting curse. She glared at Ra'Zhag with the eye not covered by bandages.
"Are you quite mad? You could have gotten all of us killed running into a nest of mages like that!"
"Don't be rude, Ra'Zhag, introduce me to your pretty friends." Weariness laced the Imperial's voice, but still remained the infuriating charm.
"Ra'Zhag?" The little red mage came up behind her sister, brow knit with concern. For all her fight, she was not disheveled, hair still neat and dress spotless, unlike Tameer who was painted red. Her gaze turned on the Khajiit. "Is that your name?" He nodded. She tapped thoughtfully at her lips. "I see...Well, I am Elja. This is Tameer. I fear your friend here...I'm sorry to say, but these cruel bastards have maimed him. He can't speak."
Avari started, looking up at the man keeping him on his feet. The look of naked concern made Ra'Zhag avert his eyes in an inexplicable shame. "Pricks...I'm so sorry, friend. I did so enjoy your voice..."
Ra'Zhag gave something close to a chuckle, though it sounded more like he was choking on dust than anything, and shifted the bard so he supported most of his weight. He half-turned to the burned creature in the cage. Dead eyes stared back, but it was a far more welcome sight than the look he had given Ra'Zhag before. At least neither of us ended up like him. Tameer caught his slight turn of the head and recoiled.
"By the Nine...What are these people doing? What does any of this accomplish," she breathed in horror.
Elja- as he only know realized his angel was called- shook her head and shrugged her pack into her arms.
"We won't be staying long enough to find that out." When Tameer bristled and moved to argue, she held her hand up. The Redguard fell silent. "We didn't come equipped for this. We must get these two to safety, I promise Tameer, we will return in full force and you can slate your bloodlust for these atrocities. I will gladly follow. For now, we need to get back to Winterhold." She looked to the prisoners. "Do you think you could make the journey on horseback?"
"I would make the journey on my own two feet if needed," Avari replied, "I cannot see the last of this place too soon."
Ra'Zhag nodded in mute agreement.
"Then let us depart. Quickly, before any others are made ware of our presence."