storm winds will follow

Chapter eight - the silver cage

The next days came and went, and Gwendolyn remained mostly alone in her wagon, though now listening was far more rewarding, and far more interesting. She had gathered that the new prisoner was, indeed, a sorcerer, and she suspected she was beginning to understand where he had come from.

It made her heart pound faster, thinking she would be only a few feet apart from a child of the old world, one of the arch traitors who tore the kingdoms apart. She had been assured that he posed no threat to her, and yet...  it sent shivers up and down her spine to imagine him. Often she lay in her wagon with her eyes glued to the carved runes in the ceiling, contemplating, overturning the name she had heard. Ahzek Ahriman. She couldn't have forgotten about it if she tried.

It was a crisp but sunny morning, when unfamiliar voices joined in with the familiar ones, exchanging greetings and well wishes.

Gwendolyn stretched, and quietly crawled towards the door to her cart so she could listen in on the conversation like she had many times before, and maybe catch a peek at the new hounds through a crack in the wood. She counted seven new voices, six men and one woman.

"How's he been these last few days?"
She heard Ulfric ask, and one of the men replied.
"Quiet, too quiet. He's up to something, best we hurry on as fast as possible before he can go through with it, whatever it may be."

Gwendolyn's breath came shallow. Through the gap in the wood she could see a second prison cart, but it was much different from hers, made of metal, windowless, with only two small horizontal slits for air at the very top of the nearly 8 foot tall structure. It glistened in the early morning sun, like an omen of doom. Two figures flanked the wagon, tall staffs in hand. She recalled hearing a phrase before. Rune priest. They certainly looked like something that would be called a rune priest, with their heavy grey woolen robes and ornamental furs cresting their deeply drawn hoods. She thought she saw the twinkle of a golden talisman on the female priest's chest, though it was hard to tell with her limited field of view.

While Gwendolyn was not known to pray, the urge was strong in this moment. Even through the magic inhibitor in her cell and the hounds between them, she could... feel him. He was staring at her... through her. She thought, for a moment, she could see the vicious twinkle of an eye at the ventilation slits, so high off the ground the thought made her head spin.

It took all her power to tear her gaze away from him.

"Ahzek Ahriman..."
The name escaped her lips, and suddenly the air in her cell dropped, became frigidly cold and dead. Gwen shuddered, and wrapped her blanket around herself. It did little to help.

The cold bore down on her like a wall of solid ice, and she shivered uncontrollably. The nights she had spent on the streets of Morvitzka had been summer breezes compared to this cold. It did not freeze her skin, but her soul and made her teeth chatter.

Then there was something else, for a moment. A familiar yet unfamiliar sensation, like hands on her shoulders, a last defense against the attack on her very being... warm air caressed her face.

The door to the cart was yanked open suddenly, and Freki leapt to her side. The moment sunlight streamed into the cell, and her magic was no longer inhibited, her soul built its shield, sturdy and warm. It was a relief.

"Lass! Are you alright?"
Ulfric called out to her, more panicked than she might have expected.
"Yeah, I'm alright... what happened?"
She cradled her aching head and blinked into the light. She could imagine what had happened, but she wanted to hear it out of his mouth.

"He... the other prisoner."
Gwen swallowed hard and peeked past her friends broad frame. The woman and one of the men, the rune priests, had raised their arms up and were forming a shield around the sorcerer's prison.
"I was suddenly so cold..."
She wrapped her arms around Freki's thick neck.