Blood-bound

The water had reached her neck. She felt nothing. Cromm was awake now, and
had tried freeing them from their watery grave, but could get no purchase in
the tight quarters. K'tarin too had briefly tried, but he was as tired as the
rest and lapsed into silence. Only Joran seemed determined to talk, but his
words were soft and he addressed no one in particular, rambling about a fair-
haired girl he hardly knew.

The rocks shifted and a pale light came softly from above. It was faint and
inconsistent.

'I'm hallucinating,' Loriella thought. 'The cold has reached my mind.'

The stone nearest her head lifted and a dark bloodied hand pushed through. It
felt around until it found the khajiit's matted hair. It stayed there a
moment, then quickly withdrew.

'If that's not real, then I'm a nord,' She immediately thought of Alduin and
excused him this minor fault.

"Hhhhh..." She tried to shout 'help,' but the word wouldn't come. That exhale
of breath, however, was enough to cause that saving hand to work faster. The
hole gradually widened, but not fast enough. The water was crawling up her
chin and Cromm was having to breathe through his nose in fast pants. She only
hoped K'tarin could still breathe. His leg was next to her hand, but she had
not the strength to squeeze him for a response. Joran was still mumbling. It
was small comfort.

A silhouette eclipsed the light and a thick arm snaked down and grasped her
about the chest. The arm squeezed her hard as the man pulled her free of the
natural cairn. Without the buoyancy of the water, she left heavy and could
only lie like a spent fish on the gravely rock. She looked up and saw the
grinning face of Holm'ka. Though his skin was dark, she saw his many bruises
an welts. His teeth were blood-stained but that did not lessen the joy of his
smile. All this she saw in a moment, for no sooner had he placed her gently
down, than he turned to push aside more rock to get at the others.

Loriella lay back and listened to him work; the grind of stone, the groan of
over-strained muscles, a gasp of one newly-freed. The tunnel and cavern
were still rocking under the crumbling citadel above. Pebbles rained down on
her, coating her wet body with a fine layer of damp dust. She could only
imagine how she looked. Hardly presentable. She was sure that even Elfiran,
co-owner of The Angry Porcupine and used to such adventures as this, would
turn her away, 'take a bath' on his lips. She giggled at that, but cut
herself short when she felt a dull pain in her side. She was becoming aware
of the punishment her body had gone through. After all that desperate combat,
her body found the bruising of falling rock overwhelming. She wondered who
would be carrying them all home. If she was in this poor shape, she could
only imagine the state of the others.

Her attention wandered and she found herself staring at the tenuous light
about Holm'ka's body. It was a blue-white corona so faint, she had to look
slightly away to see it, but it was there.

'Is he a ghost?' she thought.

She would have laughed had her weariness been any less. As the numbness
slowly receded, the ache in her muscles advanced. Her attention was brought
back with a passionate kiss on her lips. Cromm has leaning over her, her head
in his hands. She managed a smile, careful of her tooth. The Werre all lay
down in a pile of humanity. Body heat was meager, and no one had the energy
to begin the long crawl out. A gentle puff of warmer air could be felt above
and behind. Holm'ka told them there was a small tunnel farther up their perch
and that was knowledge enough for them at the moment. The rock bucked under
them, but they paid no heed. Let it buck and roll and crack. They were free
of the water.

Loriella also didn't want to leave for she saw something in Holm'ka's eyes
she did not like. Somehow, she knew as long as they lay there, they'd all
stay alive. It was not to be. Holm'ka finally roused them, but Cromm stumbled
to his feet only when he couldn't take being booted any longer. The upheavals
were getting more violent again as well.

"We must move now! No rest yet." Holm'ka's voice was tense, and he gestured
with his good arm to the opening above. Despite the water having reached
their ankles again, the party moved slowly. With unsteady feet on moving
earth, they plodded upward, Holm'ka in the lead.

"Your wounds must be treated as soon as possible, friend," said K'tarin.
"Your arm has reopened. You're losing blood."

The Werre waved off K'tarin. "Too much blood..."

Loriella understood what she saw in his eyes. He knew he had little chance of
escaping. He looked for death. It came upon them soon enough. In a mighty
upheaval, fissures opened in the ceiling and the warm tunnel ahead began to
collapse.

With a last burst of speed, Holm'ka raced forward and stood astride the
tunnel's mouth. Rock pummeled his back, but his legs did not give. A small
boulder came down in thunder, but he held its weight. The light about him
brightened for all to see. It was not a corona but three figures; broad
warriors like the Werre. They were supporting Holm'ka. One had a hand over
his worst wound, but only slowed the free flow of blood.

In answer to the silent question, he said: "They are naugh. Not all fled the
black water heedlessly. Now pass under me!"

Wordlessly, K'tarin and Joran pass between his trembling legs, then Cromm
forced Loriella through. She wanted to argue with the man. She could help
hold the stone. They could dive out together, but Cromm knew better. There
was nothing to be done. He slithered through last and stood to face his
comrade in arms.

"You have fought with honor. Now you spend yourself with more than honor."

Holm'ka said nothing, but stared fixedly ahead. Cromm reached under the man's
breast plate and brought out an ancient Denigroth talon.

"No. Not that one... My pouch."

Cromm nodded and picked out a black talon which gleamed in the spirit-light
of the naugh. It burned to his touch, but his magicka-proof flesh remained
untouched.

"With the fresh talon of our mortal enemy, I mark thee."

The words almost stuck in the to'khar's throat. He had known this man for
almost a decade, and now he was performing the short form death-rite for him.
There was no greater honor. He would normally have pricked Holm'ka's palm,
but both arms were outstretched against the heavy rock. Quickly, Cromm loosed
the man's pauldron, baring a bloody arm. He wiped the blood aside, and with
ceremonial precision, he cut a graceful curve in the forearm with the razor
claw. Dark blood welled up and Holm'ka's eyes started with the pain.

Cromm knelt and scratched an identical sigil in the dusty floor, then drove
the talon into the earth.

"With the fresh talon of our mortal enemy, I mark your passage to the earth
from which we came."

Cromm kissed his friend's forehead, then turned swiftly on his heel. The
tunnel had become violent, and he led the remainder of his party up the
narrow passage. It was actually a fissure that had opened in the floor of a
hand-hewn corridor above. They entered into it, and found themselves near the
fork, down who's right hand they had found the great cavern. With unsteady
pace, they fled down the passage to the desert above. Even as they did so,
Holm'ka's voice rang out below.

"Holm'ka djori fafsha! Ni kothka n'tor. See oth'shur domveen ko. Ko n'tor!"

The ceremonial words gripped Cromm's heart. His friend was blood-bound; one
who belonged to the inner-most Brotherhood. He was one of Th'Sollar's Men.

"Au nauth Penterah, for nauth Osthula."

There was no greater honor than to serve by a blood-bound except if it were
to be a blood-bound.

"Pere osthula!"

He never knew Holm'ka was such a man.

"Pere Penteran!"

The words ended in a rolling rumble. As they fell out into the world above,
Cromm, for the first time, wept for someone's death.

                                   * * *

Holm'ka stood in a black place. He could see nothing, hear nothing. He was
aware of the three naugh passing away, but he remained in this place. A deep
voice boomed from behind.

"Thou hast lived a true warrior's life, Holm'ka, Werre and blood-bound."

The redguard spun about to face a towering figure arrayed in ebony plate. No
hint of race or form could be seen under that complete armor. The Werre
looked up in silence.

"Thou hast faced thine mortal enemy and defeated it many times over. Thy last
act was one of selfless bravery, born of honor and duty.

"I am the Great Lord of War. There is a place for thou in my Dreadarmies."

Holm'ka stood erect. There was no need for words.

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Alduin dor Lammoth