The buzzing that reached our ears was first thought to be a result of his magicka affecting our senses but we were all left in awe at how the moonlit night thickened and a horde of flying insects began streaming down from the sky. Mosquitios, flies, enormous dragonflies and moths all twisted and swirled in a horde numbering in the tens of thousands. Underfoot and between the rocks set in the semblance of a makeshift road, squirming things began digging themselves free from the earth’s embrace. Frogs, lizards, crickets, centipedes and even the odd snake or two began wriggling and pulling themselves into the moonlit night. The sheer numbers were dumbfounding as the ground began heaving from the swarm, and swearing and invoking the names of our various deities pressed ourselves into the walls of the huts and as far away from the rolling tide as we possibly could.

  While not many of us saw it, I at least could feel and hear the way that something burst from the river, dragging itself along the ground on the far side of the village. I caught glimpses of the reptilian thing that heeded the shaman’s magical commands with my vampiric eyesight and was left with the impression of something that while looked like one, put daedroth to shame in size and power.

  This horde of insects, spiders, snakes and reptiles streamed past us without as much as a sideways glance and within seconds the bandits’ shouts and battle cries were exchanged for shrieks of pain and terror. The entire group became the sole focus of the magical summons from the village shaman and were borne down to their deaths. More than one ran screaming as the cloud of biting and stinging insects fell upon them so completely that they were little more than darkened shadows in the midst of the swarm. Others simply keeled over and died as the dozens, if not hundreds of venomed fangs and spines punched into exposed flesh and we were all left staring in absolute horror as one of the bandits rushed right at us, choking to death on the writhing mass of tiny amphibians that were crawling over his entire body and forcing themselves down his screaming mouth and throat.

  As quickly as it had begun, the magicka died and vanished and the shaman fell flat on his face as he was suddenly released from the strange powers of the Hist Sap. The buzzing swarm dissipated into the shadows, the giant river lizard stomped back to the waters while messily feasting on an unlucky bandit and the ground was left littered with wriggling and hopping beings no larger than my fingernail as they all attempted to return to the forest or the ground.

  “So why didn’t he do that sooner?” Taking a look around the village as dozens of scaled muzzles began poking out of darkened doorways, Viconia shuddered and flicked the frog clinging to her arm in utter disgust.

  “Hist sap is toxic in large quantities.” Weebam-Na explained as he moved forward in front of the rest of us while checking for signs of life from the bandits. “That amount probably killed him, and is several years’ worth of harvesting at least.”

  Surprisingly, the shaman wasn’t dead, but he certainly wasn’t in a good way after such an experience. The Sap that he had poured over himself had changed yet again from the honey like substance and now was flaky and dry and falling away in slivers as though all semblance of moisture had been removed. With the bandits utterly defeated the rest of the village was appearing from the safety of their homes, battling the few fires that had begun to burn a hut or two or shooing the various animals and creatures that were attempting to flee into their homes. A few had rushed to the aid of the shaman who was struggling to rise at all, hissing in pain every time that one of the villagers touched him.

  Whatever power the sap had provided him was gone and there was no longer the terrible throbbing energies being directed from within his soul. As a group we ended up looking over him and the others attending him and seeing the way that his hunch had grown ever more pronounced, his hands twisted as though he was suffering a crippling arthritis and his eyes were now incapable of looking the same direction. Blood was puffing from his mouth with every cough but he managed to look at us all with an amused grin and gratitude at our actions.

  “He apologises for no longer being in the condition for taking us to the fort.” Weebam-Na translated as the shaman painfully wheezed. “But once we are ready he will instruct a member of the tribe to take us there.”

  “We better go and have a chat to our friend.” Wiping the blood off his sword, Alexi returned it to its scabbard until it clicked. “If he’s still alive at least.”

  “You are bleeding, orc.”

  Mazoga shifted, looking over her shoulder to the sneering Detane who looked even more disagreeable than usual. At some point during the battle an arrow had lodged deep into her back in the gap between the pauldron and breastplate. The fletching twitched in the wind as she tried to turn to look at it, twisting one way and then the other in full circles before sighing loudly and giving up. “Can someone help me with this thing?”

  Moving over to her, I regarded the fact that she had an arrow in the shoulder and seemed annoyed more than hurt. Blood was pulsing slowly around the wooden shaft where it had broken the underlying chainmail but I had seen grown legionaries rendered invalid from the pain of such an injury. My own shoulder pulsed in sympathy where a Mythic Dawn Cultist had been lucky with a crossbow so many months before as I quickly looked about the injury and drew my dagger.

  “Just pull the damn thing out. It tickles.”

  Muttering ‘orcs’ under my breath I wriggled my dagger alongside the length of the arrow’s shaft where it had punched through armour and flesh and dug about with the point. Other than the way she grunted as I used the knife to dig the trapped arrowhead free she seemed to ignore the pain and sensations. After a few moments I pulled the arrow free, handing it to her before sealing the wound with a small burst of magicka.

  Snapping the bloody arrowhead away and pocketing it, she flicked the shaft and fletching away into the night before prodding at my handiwork. “You’ve done this before.”

  “More times that I probably should’ve.” I replied as the others turned away from where the curiosity had been holding them. “A forester in the legion is a scout first, an archer second and a field medic last.”

  “So you fill people full of holes and then save their lives.”

  I laughed out loud. “Not really. A surgeon or healer saves lives. A medic simply makes them comfortable while they die.”

  Her own snicker was loud and drew an annoyed stare from Detane as we moved back to the hut, moving past the bodies that we had left strewn throughout the village even as the locals wasted no time in stripping them of anything that could be of use. There were cries of the handful of wounded that we had left scattered about the village but none of us were expecting them to survive the wrath of the villagers now that their grip on the village had been broken. The only bandit who was in any healthy condition was the one who had become extremely well acquainted with Mazoga’s fist.

  He was conscious as we entered, sitting with his back to the wall with his nose horribly broken and at least one tooth missing and he eyed us all suspiciously and in a growing terror. At our presence, covered in mud and blood of his fellows he grew increasingly anxious but there was no mistaking the way he was more concerned of the handful of Argonians that had entered our hut to begin stripping and removing the dead.

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  “Good evening.” I said as I moved closer to him, feeling the way that his eyes darted from mine to the others with me. The way that he gritted his teeth in fear and eyes widening as he had to tilt his head back to look Falid in the eyes was all too obvious until he took off his horned helm. But as it had been expected, he remained entirely silent and pressed himself further into the wall, grimacing at the pain in his face that made his eyes water.

  “We’re going to ask you a few questions. Give us satisfactory answers and you might live to see another sunrise.”

  A mouthful of blood splattered over my boots and was lost in the congealing amount already covering them. “Fuck you.”

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “I don’t give a fuck.” Anger was building into his voice and I knew that it was his way of dealing with the situation that he had found himself in and the fear that accompanied it. “The rest of us are going to have fun with you lot.”

  “And just who are you lot?”

  “They are the Black Bows.” Alexi answered, glancing between the rest of us as we turned momentarily to look at him.

  He shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the injured bandit while picking one of the fallen bows from the floor and handing it to me. “They used to be the biggest bandit group in all of Leyawiin county until a few years ago. One of the primary duties of the Order of the White Stallion was hunting these bastards down. Obviously it appears that we didn’t finish the job.”

  Turning the strung bow in my hands, I saw how the wood had been painted with a black paint many, many months before and had a lot of ash rubbed into it to stain it into their namesake. What I also noted was that the bow was of poor quality, barely larger than a teenagers training bow and showing clear signs of rot and poor maintenance as the humid conditions of the region slowly destroyed it. My experienced allowed me to guess that in less than a month or two it would have been little more than kindling, and only if the owner had been exceptionally lucky.

  “So you know a lot about them?”

  Again shrugging, he gestured to the bandit watching us all warily. “Used to. It’s been a while since anyone in the Order encountered them. Guess we’ve found where they have been hiding.”

  “Still good to know.” I replied, stepping closer and keeping an eye on the wounded man as he sat there trying not to look like he was threat. “So, how many are there of you and your merry band?”

  “Choke on a cock.”

  My hand smashed across his face and he was left howling and grasping at his injured face. It wasn’t anger or insult that had forced my hand to move but intent. I also had ensured that I hit him in such a way that would create pain but not knock him out or otherwise incapacitate him.

  “Not nice. I’ll ask you again, how many of you are there?”

  “Fuck… you…” he hissed through clenched teeth and eyes streaming with tears.

  Behind me I heard Viconia’s customary sigh as she stepped forward. “We’ll be here all night at this rate and I don’t have the patience for fools.” She tapped me on the shoulder and gestured for me to step out of the way, looking down on the bandit like he was something foul she had stepped in.

  Turning his gaze from me to the Drow who carefully knelt down over him, the bloodstained grin grew wider even with the way he was clutching at his face. There was amusement in his eyes behind the tears of pain that didn’t seem to take into account her cold, dark expression.

  “You lot need a woman’s help eh? Going to sweet talk me?” For a second he chuckled wetly before spitting another mouthful of blood. “I’ll tell you what, how about you wrap those pretty little lips around my co-augh!”

  The flash of silver was the first sign of Viconia moving and not once did she take her eyes away from his as her dagger sunk to the hilt in his thigh. Shrieking and the pain in his face forgotten, he was left scrabbling at her hand and its iron like grip on the dagger as she slowly twisted it in his flesh.

  “Aaah! You fucking whore!”

  “How many are there in your group?” She said very simply, her voice cold and completely oblivious to the way that more than just myself were wincing at her actions.

  “I don’t know!”

  Slapping his hands away from the dagger, there was a burst of magicka and the blueish glow from her free hand as she pressed a finger against the metal pommel. There was a crack of lightning, the smell of burnt hair and the bandit began truly howling.

  “How many?”

  “Fuck you! I don’t know!”

  Another tiny crack of thunder and he continued shrieking as she electrified the dagger buried in his flesh. He was crying now, sobbing and begging as the cold yellow eyes stared into his without the slightest hint of emotion. I was left feeling strangely concerned but not by how Viconia’s nature and past was being shown but by the fact that I somehow didn’t feel shocked or discomforted by the acts. Alexi was trying his best not to look sick, Mazoga had changed to a different shade of green and both Weebam-Na and Bejeen were busying themselves with their equipment to take their minds off Viconia’s actions. Only Falid and myself looked disinterested and unconcerned, and the way the towering Redguard had appeared during our journey I doubted that anything short of an Oblivion Portal opening and disgorging one or more Daedric Princes would have elicited a response beyond a mild shrug.

  Even as I watched her torture our prisoner I couldn’t bring myself to feel disgust or anything of the sort. It was this fact that left me feeling deeply troubled but not as much as how I was trying my best to ignore how I was somehow enjoying it. Her actions were speaking to me on a much deeper level and similar to the way that I enjoyed dominating and feeding on people, the vampire was enjoying the way that she commanded pain itself in the bandit.

  As she went to electrify the dagger again he began weeping, pleading wordlessly and trying desperately to stop the hard faced dark elf inflicting pain on him with as much emotion as brushing her hair.

  “Going to talk now?”

  There was a nod, shakily and leaving tears and blood from his nose dripping down the front of his leather armour. For a moment she seemed to hold herself in place as though struggling to resist the lure to continue but she drew the blade out of his leg, healed the wound with a quick burst of magicka and rose to her feet.

  “How many?”

  “I… I don’t know exactly, but there’s about a hundred of us.”

  “Been recruiting have we?” Alexi asked, trying his best to retain his composure and to move away from Viconia as she stood up from the bandit. without appearing to do so.

  Shaking his head, the bandit spat a wad of pink stained drool that hung from his nose and mouth in several long strands. “Not really. Greagious managed to get a couple of other groups to join up with us. Promised loot and somewhere to get away from the local guards.”

  If Alexi managed to inject any further sarcasm into his voice it would have been able to cut with a knife. “And I see that it has been working wonderfully for you so far.”

  “Greagious?”

  “Used to be captain of the guard in Leyawiin.” There was anger in Alexi’s voice as he answered my question, which seemed extremely unusual for a man with his sense of humour and optimism. “A real piece of work. Quite a few years ago, well before the Order was founded he was caught with the Count’s daughter but somehow got out of the castle before he could be brought to justice.”

  “The count’s daughter? I didn’t know that the Count has children.”

  “He had a daughter.” Weebam-Na added from behind us all. “From his first marriage. The little girl never recovered and the Countess threw herself off the castle walls in the months after the funeral. Alessia Caro is his second wife.”

  Rubbing my jaw and the stubble I suddenly found myself wishing that this Greagious was under Viconia’s knife instead of the hapless bandit in front of us.

  “How well do you lot know him?” Viconia’s voice was still cold as ice off a Skyrim glacier without the slightest hint of emotion.

  “You could say extremely well.” There was no mistaking the way that Alexi’s hand had found its way to the hilt of his sword or the way he clenched his jaw. “He was one of the several sword masters who taught the original Knights of the White Stallion. After he fled, he united a handful of the bandit groups in the county and practically declared war. Count Caro might have a thing for the military but he also founded the Order to deal with Greagious and his Black Bows.”

  Now wishing to be helpful in an effort to stave off Vicona’s attentions the bandit nodded. “I was part of a group near Border Watch when he grouped us all together and came this way. Said there was better plunder and that we were going to have some space away from the likes of you.” He flinched as Viconia’s eyes narrowed and stammered something that could’ve been an apology if not for how quickly and fumbled his words were in the effort to force them out. “Mogens said there wasn’t going to be enough coin if we stayed in the County.”

  It was Mazoga’s growl that caught us all by surprise and the way she shifted forward like a jungle cat on the prowl. “Mogens? Mogens Wind-Shifter?”

  The confusion in the bandit’s face was overwhelmed by his fear of the orc moving towards him threateningly. “Y-Yes.”