The Broken Man Part 2
Red sat on a small hay bale by the bed. The change in his posture caused his burns to flare up again, but he tried his best to ignore it. His best just happened to be a little less than optimal.
It may not have been a great idea to keep him down here.
Even if Red had cared to, it's not as if he had many options either way. There were three beds upstairs; one that he and Derkeethus shared, one for Valdimar, and one that they kept empty for guests. He could've used that bed for RIP, but he knew Valdimar wouldn't have gone for it. Being attacked tends to sour one's feelings toward sharing a space with one's attacker.
Red stared at the sleeping argonian, examining his features. If he hadn't known RIP from before, he'd have thought he was a corpse a summoner had raised.
Once glossy, dark brown scales were now cracked and flakey. Several had started to peel backwards, revealing his soft skin beneath (though now it was as dry and cracked as his scales were). They made Red itchy just looking at them.
Scars of varying shapes and sizes adorned this man's hide. The most notable was the one around his neck. Red vaguely recalled the story RIP had told him. A crazed beggar coming at him in the dark, rusty knife swung violently. Somehow managed to slice his neck open cleanly in his psychosis.
Red knew this was a lie. RIP's talent lay in his ability to find out information through eavesdropping, not lying.
Still, he had never pressed RIP on it. Whatever had actually happened was probably something he didn't wish to discuss. Red understood. He was mostly just impressed RIP had managed to survive having his neck split open in the first place. RIP's story was that one of the chapel priests happened to wander by and heal him, but this too could have been a lie.
Red's eyes left the scar on his neck to the second most prominent; the one above and around his left eye. It looked like a crescent moon. He had never seen this one before, and after a few seconds realized why. The scar was hardly a scar at all. The flesh around it was more brightly colored, more puckered. This was new.
RIP groaned in his sleep and rolled over, now revealing the right side of his face. The bandage he wore was considerably more weathered than the last time Red had seen it. It had small tears in the cloth, and a few small blood splotches from their recent battle together.
Red stood up slowly. The burning pain had subsided, finally. The potion he had taken had done wonders.
He hobbled around the other side of the bed to examine RIP's back. RIP was not a small guy, and the blanket could barely cover up his front, let alone his back. It was almost completely visible.
Scars adorned his back like twisted designs. They reminded Red of the roots of the Hist trees he had seen in books when he was a child. The danced along his spine and led to what had once been RIP's tail.
Now, it was hardly more than a fleshy stump. The end was a mass of jagged meat that had been cauterized to prevent RIP from bleeding out. Another story Red didn't know the truth about.
The injured party once again changed his position while he slept, releasing a soft snort as well as what was probably a fart.
Red wondered why the strain of moving didn't cause RIP's wounds to wake him up screaming in pain, but then he thought about it more. This tough son of a bitch has been through a lot. It'd probably be more surprising if he did wake up.
The creaky sounds of the wooden steps caused Red to turn his head. His burns flared up again at the sudden movement.
Derkeethus reached the bottom of the step ladder slowly, but without bumping his foot. A proud moment for him.
"You should be in bed, resting." Red rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to soothe his skin.
"Valdimar told me what happened. And now you're keeping this guy in our basement? Who is he?"
Red picked up the dirty clothes they had had to cut off of RIP when they brought him down. Even if they hadn't been soaked in blood, they would've still smelled obscene. It was fairly obvious RIP hadn't bathed in awhile.
"He's an old acquaintance. No one you need to be bothered about. Go back upstairs, I'll come to bed shortly."
Derkeethus lowered himself on the hay bale Red had previously been resting on. The bandages on his foot were sopping.
"You fool, do you want your foot to get worse? I told you several times: DO NOT saunter around the house with such a serious infection. And I wish you'd use your cane if you MUST get up. Now look, I have to soak your foot in--"
Derkeethus burst out laughing. His right hand came up to his chest and he held it there, as if trying to keep his heart from coming loose. RIP snored.
"Mind telling me what's so damn funny?" Red couldn't feel his burns anymore. All he felt was anger at being left out of this "joke".
"Red, you should see yourself. You're frantic! I've never seen you so frenzied before! Has this 'acquaintance' knocked some of your sense loose?"
Red stood straight and still, his hands subconsciously clenching into tight fists. He could feel his face getting hot.
"I don't see how this is a laughing matter, Derkeethus." His voice was full of venom. "Unless you relish the thought of having to have your foot cut off due to gangrene."
A shorter, quieter laugh. "Red, listen to yourself. You NEVER fuss over anyone like this. Even when I got the bite, you were completely level-headed. Now, you tend to dying strangers and look like you're about to jump out of your scales. What's going on with you?"
Red bit his lip and wrung his hands. He couldn't help but shiver as the thoughts pervaded his mind.
"You want to know who this guy really is, Derkeethus? He was one of my crew. From Cyrodiil."
The smile faded from Derkeethus' face.
"He was sent by Him. To kill me. Probably as an insult to RIP as much as an insult to me. He's too cowardly to come after me Himself, so He sends one of my most trusted to assassinate me."
Derkeethus shifted uncomfortably on the hay bale. He suddenly regretted coming down here.
"He didn't even want RIP to kill me. He knew he would be no match for me."
"You think He sent him after you so you'd kill him?"
Red turned to look at the sleeping argonian. His eyes were drawn to the scar around his eye again.
"I think that's not a bad guess. He knew that RIP was one of my most loyal. Probably felt threatened keeping him around. How hard would it be to come up with an excuse to send him on a suicide mission?"
Derkeethus shifted his own focus on RIP. When Red and Valdimar had brought him in the house, he had wondered why they even bothered. Just another brigand Red was going to kill. Now, he felt intense pity.
"You're not actually going to kill him, are you?"
Red turned his head quickly in Derkeethus' direction. His eyes visibly narrowed and his nostrils flared.
"Was that a question or a request?"
Derkeethus' expression turned to one of surprise. "I...I didn't mean anything by it, Red. I just mean...well look at him! He looks so..."
"You expect me to spare him just because he looks like a dragon shit him out?"
Red turned his back on him and rubbed his temples. This was accomplishing nothing other than manifesting a headache.
He turned back. Derkeethus was staring at the floor.
"I'm...sorry. I just don't know what to make of all of this. Too much has happened. He wasn't this ruthless before. He's getting bolder. Closer."
Derkeethus got up with some difficulty and tottered over to Red. He gently squeezed his shoulder.
"I understand. Just do what you think is right."
He kissed Red's cheek gently and approached the stairs leading back to the main floor.
An angry sigh. "Don't even think about it."
Red offered himself as balance and Derkeethus leaned back, letting his legs go limp. Red scooped them up slowly, cautiously, and carried him up the steps.