All was silent in the little prison as Mo'aksa entered. Along the wall were four cages raised from the ground slightly with metal bars in a lattice pattern. In one of the cages laid a rotting corpse no longer recognizable as any particular race. In the cage to the right of it held an older man who seemed rather feeble and was clothed in a rough-looking garment which was stained in many places. Two cages down from him held a man who had been beaten black and blue and cowered at the back of his cell, and in the cage between them sat Ysolda, looking dirty and ragged, but otherwise fine. Mo'aksa took a step towards the cage and felt the familiar sense of eyes on him from all corners of the room. The atmosphere was tense as the prisoners all stared, unsure what to make of the man who entered.
He took another step. Ysolda backed herself deeper into the cage.
He took another step. Ysolda held tightly to the metal bars opposite the door.
"It is alright. It's me," Mo'aksa said, kneeling down at the door of the cage. He slowly lifted his hand and held it up to the cage. "It's Mo'aksa" he said, his voice tender and gentle. Ysolda only shook her head and gripped the bars more tightly. Mo'aksa frowned. "Mo'aksa has come to help you. Let me just-"
"Don't come any closer!" Ysolda shouted, hoarsely. Mo'aksa felt the words come at him like arrows firing past his head. He looked at her terrified expression and was at a loss for several moments.
His wounds were deep and his breathing was ragged, though he did not yet feel any pain from them thanks to the adrenaline of fighting Skuli. His claws were exposed, and aside from being long and sharp, they were dripping with blood. Further, his torso had been splattered with all manner of blood and dirt, and from the smell sticking in his nostrils, he could surmise that his face was just as frightening as the rest of him. He looked down at his hands pensively, examining the drying blood which covered his palms.
He turned to the other prisoners. The beaten man hid his face from Mo'aksa and shook as though he had been left out in the cold. The old man watched carefully, but did not hide from Mo'aksa's eyes. Their eyes connected and were still for a few moments. The old man then motioned towards the back wall, and Mo'aksa followed his gesture to a rack with several levers on it. Slowly, he backed away from the cages and pulled the levers down one by one.
"I thought some wild animal had broken in. It sounded like a pack of wolves or a bear had attacked," the old man said, his voice bearing in it the exhaustion of a lifetime of troubles. He stood and slowly hobbled out of the cage, taking a moment to look at Mo'aksa as his feet made contact with the ground. "I guess I wasn't wrong," he said. Mo'aksa's expression became a bit nervous, and he attempted to wipe his face and chest as clean as he could. The old man released a weak smile. "But I have been wishing for that Skuli to die a painful death for weeks now. Far as I'm concerned, you're a hero," he continued, walking over to the exit. Mo'aksa nodded in response, but he couldn't seem to focus on what he had said, his mind still on Ysolda.
The injured man limped out of his cage. "Th-thank you, stranger," he said with a weak and scratchy voice. "I'm never g-getting involved with bandits again. I-I swear, I'll lead a clean life from now on," he said pathetically. "I used to be in charge of g-guarding the secret entrance until Skuli t-took a hit from a draugr a while back a-and blamed it on me... I'll show you how to open it, so let's just get out of here." Mo'aksa wondered if his words were true, but he decided it wasn't his business anyhow. He had come here with a goal, after all.
"Are you alright?" he said quietly. The other two looked at each other and then back to Mo'aksa, who knelt beside the open door of the cage and called out gently. Ysolda, slowly, lifted her head, but did not look at Mo'aksa. "Can you walk?" he asked, holding a hand out to her. She saw the other two, impatiently standing by the door, waiting for her to join them. She gripped the cage more tightly and bit her lip.
Her ragged voice let loose a few quiet words on her breath, still not daring to look Mo'aksa in the eyes.
"Is it true… are you a killer?"
His ears flicked in her direction and his face became unreadable. He became increasingly aware of his mangled fur, the red stains of his blood mixing with that of his enemy's. His coarse palm, outstretched and shaking slightly from the dwindling adrenaline. He stared at Ysolda's face, trembling and gaunt, which reflected in his eyes. Surely she was not wrong. But even to himself he had yet to admit this fact.
"It was not always the case," he said at last.
At this, Ysolda slowly sank to her knees, only releasing the bars of the cage when she had at last touched the ground. Her eyes traced the patterns of the wood on the floor of her cell until they met with Mo'aksa's tail, resting at his side. Slowly, very slowly, she lifted here gaze. His wounds looked terribly painful, she thought. Finally her eyes rested on his face. His ears seemed to perk as they locked gazes.
"I can't walk…" she said simply.
"Then Mo'aksa shall carry you," he replied, taking a tender step into the cage.
"Ok…"
He gently grabbed her by the waist and pulled her in close. One arm under her knees and one supporting her back, he backed out of the cage and extended his legs. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her left leg dangled at his side, and in the candlelight she could see exactly how swollen it had become. Slightly above her ankle was a large knot which had purple bruises around the edges. It stang at first, but after relaxing into this position the pain subsided.
The four of them made their way out from the main chamber. The injured ex-bandit hobbled to a lever on the far side which opened a secret passage. A few steps through the hall and they arrived at a pull-chain, which when yanked, revealed the vast plains of Whiterun hold.
After a few pitiful attempts at gratitude, the old man and the ex-bandit went their separate ways. Mo'aksa carried Ysolda back the way he had come, straight through the grassy hills and up to the familiar walls of the city.
In silence the two moved. Mo'aksa hadn't noticed while he was in the crypt, but quite a lot of time had passed. The night had already moved across the sky and the first rays of sunlight were beginning to break over Mundus. He felt Ysolda rest her cheek against his chest and his heart began beating faster. 'Ah, the first light of dawn. It brings warmth after a cold night,' he thought.
When they finally reached the wall, Mo'aksa stopped just a bit short. How on earth was he going to get her inside looking the way he did.
It was at that moment he heard a quiet hiss from a few feet away. "jer etofa!" His eyes widened and he flicked his head in the direction of the words.
Before him was the same sharply dressed khajiit from that morning. He stood outside his tent, teeth bared slightly. "dan ahziss iiliten" he said, gesturing to Ysolda.
"jer zatayse roj?" Mo'aksa said. The khajiit nodded, and Mo'aksa handed Ysolda off to him. "Kha'jay krimir iso jer."
The khajiit scoffed. "If you know what is good for you, siirto vardariit, you will not return to this place." Mo'aksa's tale fell slack behind him.
"Who are you to say this?" Mo'aksa growled.
"Ri'saad, leader of the trading caravans in Skyrim. I know this one, and I know what he hides." Mo'aksa narrowed his eyes, the fur on the back of his neck standing up. "You may have fooled Ysolda, but I know what you are. Keep coming around here and it won't just be the wolves after your hide." With this, Ri'saad walked off, carrying the unconscious Ysolda up to the city gates.
Mo'aksa looked longingly up at the towering walls. By now the rush of his fight had worn off, leaving only the searing pain of his wounds and the weight of the night's events on his shoulders. He walked unevenly off in the opposite direction of the city.
The yellow morning light spread across the billowing grasses of Whiterun Hold. Mo'aksa collapsed into his bedroll, eyes heavy, and fell into a deep slumber.
~Chapter 7 END~
AN: Sorry for the 100 day delay, I hope you guys enjoy as I work on wrapping up this arc of the story! Also sorry to anyone who tried to check it a minute ago, I messed up the copy and paste and the entire doc became garbled html. Sorry!
If you're curious about the Ta'agra, I have a little translation here:
jer etofa! ... You there!
dan ahziss iiliten ... give me the girl
jer zatayse roj? Kha'jay krimir iso jer ... Will you help her? Moon smile on you.
siirto vardariit ... white killer