In Over His Head Ch. 08

He couldn't celebrate just yet though. He had baited, hooked, and now reeled her in, but he still needed to land her in the boat. It was only a matter of time before she decided that crushing him was more important than winning the match. Being prone would end the match in his favor, but it would almost certainly end him as well! It was time to wage a different kind of war.

Baryk leaned his head forward over her shoulder, till his lips were inches from her ear, and starring whispering in a voice so low only she could hear it.

"Easy lass... easy. You put up a good fight, but it's time to admit the old man got the better of you. You're fast and strong, and you've got great skill, but your fancy Dwarven toys are no match for my experience, and as you can see... even the best weapon is easily turned against its owner," he whispered, the smirk plain in his voice.

He pulled harder on the cable to emphasize that point. It was working. She stopped spinning as fast, and her right arm began to flail less, easing into its wired prison.

She hissed between her teeth, and then said, short and sharp, "What??" Her head cocked at an angle, indicating she couldn't hear him.

Blast it. He didn't want to repeat himself a third time, so he leaned in till his lips were almost touching her ear. "I sai-"

BAAM! She whipsawed her head away from him and back, quickly smashing into his face with the side of her head. Baryk saw stars explode in front of his eyes as she crushed and broke his nose with her sudden attack, blood pouring from it onto her shoulder, as his face went numb with pain.

"COWARD!" she screamed, deep and guttural, like a wounded animal, "YOU'RE NO NORD! YOU USE POISON LIKE A CRAWLING VIPER TO WEAKEN YOUR ENEMIES...." Her voice dropped then to a low hiss... "Because you're too old to beat them in a fair fight..."

Few things got to Baryk. He knew well the psychology of war, and used it often himself. He was a lot of bad things, and had been called a lot of filthy words, but he was no coward. He had held his ground when kings had run! He pulled savagely on the cable, blood was welling from her throat. She made an ugly gurgling sound, staggered, and fell to one knee. She was desperately trying to pull off her right gauntlet but he had cut off all her air.

"Aye that's right. Forgot about the little chaser I gave you earlier... do you feel it lass, feel it burn inside you? Feel yourself getting weaker?" he asked her, even as his face was spurting blood, even as he was missing teeth and valuable chunks of flesh.

It was time to drop the big secret and shatter her confidence once and for all.

"Well I have news for ya lass. I AM beating ya in a fair fight! Unless you're allergic to medicinal TREE sap!"

The look of sudden realization on her face was priceless. Baryk went for the kill.

"Aye, that's right. NOW you get it... I never poisoned you. That sap keeps wounds from getting diseased. All that weakness you felt... it didn't come from me. You look all scary and you talk all big and bad... but inside... inside you're still the same scared little girl who showed up all feral and scrawny at our gates all those years ago with your big sister," he said.

He spoke this quietly, still close to her ear. This wasn't a show, this wasn't for the crowd. He wanted to cut her with his words, wounding more deeply than any blade.

He paused to sneer the next words as slowly and deliberately as possible. She had almost collapsed on to her second knee. She was done.

"Any weakness you felt? That? That was inside you. Alllll along," Baryk hissed.

He realized his mistake too late.

Thinking back on it, years later, after the fact, it was all too obvious, especially given her history. Her only response to his little speech was to slowly turn her head as far to the right as she could to look him in the face, and what he saw in her eyes chilled had him to the bone.

It was the fear of a man who thinks he is about to die.

And then the world exploded.

* * * * * * *

Edovan's mind was focused like a laser on the bloody duel. Bones crunched, blood spurted, even teeth flew! Some of the more savage Nords surrounding him had even scooped up a few and held them aloft like trophies.This was beyond any sparring he had ever seen. It was some deadly gladiatorial match where only the victor emerged alive. The only thing missing was the pit and the wild animals, though Mountains seemed to have that part covered as well. Her savage beauty, raw power, strength and speed were almost beyond any Nord he had ever seen. She was like some huge mountain cat in humanoid form. And Baryk must have been one of the toughest men in Tamriel to have gone toe to toe with her like that.

But it was not their skill at violence that drew him. It was their tactics and strategy. Both of them seemed able to discern each other's weaknesses and use their strengths to their full effect. The momentum had swung back and forth between them like a pendulum, each one escalating and countering in turn till most of the spectators had almost forgotten who they were originally rooting for (and which would lose them the most money!). To be certain, Edovan was no stranger to battle. He'd seen his share and more during his eleven month headlong flight from his homeland. He was just glad he'd never had either of these two killers trying to collect whatever bounty had obviously been placed on his head.

But even their tactics weren't the real reason Edovan had gone into an almost a trance-like state while observing the mayhem. Edovan also noticed things. Things other people missed. Imperceptible shifts in eyes that telegraphed where the next attack was headed, tiny changes in stance that preceded a feint. The flexing of muscles that indicated a move was 100% committed and therefore could not be stopped once in motion, thus setting up the perfect counter. He could also sense strength, both physical and magical. He could see the fields of magic emanating from the items they wore and wielded, and could even tell by its shape and pattern what type of magic was at work. He could see the auras around the old Nord from the scrolls he had used (regeneration and defense) and see the shifting patterns on his skin from the potions he had drunk (fortification, speed, stamina, fortify light armor, and resist poison?), but the woman... there was something there, something he had never seen before.

Her dwemer accoutrements were runed, of course. Nothing he hadn't studied at length, except some custom alteration magic he assumed had to do with how they functioned. But this was not something she wore... it was something that appeared to be coming from within her, or more precisely it was her. He could could only glimpse it on occasion, just below the surface... a dark fire that seem to feed and grow stronger with each injury, each wound. But it didn't grow bigger as he expected. Its size remained the same but with every new source of pain it grew denser, "hotter" for lack of a better word, smoldering inside of her. It seemed to coalesce from being evenly spread throughout her to a small place in her lower abdomen, where it "burned" steadily as the fight progressed. And even as her opponent turned the tables on her, it continued to get stronger and hotter and brighter.

He couldn't explain how a dark thing seemed brighter, but even as she staggered to her knee, it had gotten so bright he almost couldn't look at it. Its power was immense, so immense in fact, that he wondered how nobody else seemed to be blinded by it. It began to pulse outward and he felt its waves, though he seemed to still be the only one. He realized with a start that he was seeing things that no one else could see again. Feeling things that no one else could feel. Sensing danger that no one else could sense. And then he knew what no one else did... she was NOT getting weaker. She was getting stronger. Much stronger. But her strength was pent up, constrained, imprisoned within her.

It was an audible hum to him now, the pulsing thing inside her clamoring for its release. And he began to hear a sharp splintering sound, like ice when you've ventured out too far and it can no longer support you. Then there was a sudden ripping and tearing sound. Something was about to give. Something dark and massive and primal. Staan had started to mouth something but Edovan was already moving.

Even as the grizzled veteran was leaning forward to whisper something in the giant's ear from behind, even as she turned her head toward him in what seemed to Edovan like slow motion... the eldritch words of power were already flowing from the tiny Bosmer's lips. Without even thinking, he had dropped to his feet lightly in front of Staan, who had apparently sensed something as well, because he had turned white as a sheet and seemed to be trying to slowly shield Edovan from behind with his burly arms.

The little Bosmer's hands traced arcane arcs through the air as he spread them in a fan formation in front of him, with thumbs interlaced, his feet planted squarely to brace himself as the blue-white field emerged from them, and then raced outward in all directions, encasing him and Staan and his entire side of the circle in a shimmering dome. The crowd slowly turned toward them in confusion and shock, some of them slowly lowering their raised battle axes or clenched fists. There was a sudden deafening silence as the shield formed, then a whoosh as it sealed in place.

And then, as he had predicted, the world exploded.

Or more precisely, SHE exploded.

There was a deafening BOOM as an invisible shockwave raced out from her in all directions. It blew threw the unprotected side of the crowd like a hurricane gale through fall leaves. The unlucky souls on the front row were knocked flat to the ground. Those in the middle were bodily thrown through the air all at once, and those at the back found themselves flattened against the surrounding walls or smashed into various pieces of equipment. Edovan half expected to see a crater in the middle where Mountains had stood, but as the dust cleared he was even less prepared for what he saw.

Mountains towered over them, all of them. Somehow she was nearly twice her previous height, her bronze skin glowing reddish in rhythmic pulses, her muscles bulging as she stood to her full height, towering and statuesque. Her teeth were unnaturally white and sharply pointed as she opened her mouth and let out a blood curdling scream of rage. Her eyes burned with with a blue-white flame, stark and shimmering against her skin. At first Edovan could see no sign of the old man, and then he realized she had grabbed him, behind her, and was now holding his limp and lifeless body by the neck, her giant bare hand wrapped completely around his throat. The bracer with the buckler was gone. So was the one with the hook. In fact, so was EVERYTHING she had been wearing.

She stood there, impossibly huge, looming, completely naked. Muscles rippling like some primal goddess, her thick thighs the size of tree trunks. Her massive peaked breasts were as big as the large round shields that had previously adorned the walls of the keep before she had exploded them from their homes with the force of her transformation. That ripping and tearing sound had been her helpless clothes and armor disintegrating under the pressure of her sudden expansion.

Edovan could see that the dark fire was still there within her, but he noted it was no longer concentrated in her lower abdomen. It suffused her entire being now, pulsing steadily with every deep breath she was taking. She lifted the unmoving man off her shoulder and held him, hanging like a rag doll by his neck in front of her massive face, peering at him intently as if she was trying to discern if he was still alive or just faking. The poor fool had been at the epicenter of the blast. Edovan wasn't sure if he was even still breathing.

Somewhere alarm bells were ringing. The outer circle was now staggering back to its feet, people pressing hands to bloody foreheads or scraped knees. He heard cries of "Zerker!" and "Granzerker!" from around the keep, rippling through the crowd. Edovan wasn't sure how anyone unshielded was alive, let alone conscious, and yet around the ground people were starting to stir. These Nords were hardy people indeed! His shield had faded, unable to hold its proper shape and size for any longer. The people who had been protected by his magic had drawn their weapons and were cautiously encircling her.

Staan was right behind Edovan, looking at him in amazement. "How did you do that?" he asked, amazed that such powerful magic could come from such a small source. Part of Edovan's mind was wondering the same. The ward he had meant to conjure was personal only. He had purposefully tried to stretch it to protect Staan as well, but he never even even dreamed it would encompass his entire side of the circle. But the bigger part of his mind was focused on the female colossus, who was still peering intently at the man hanging in front of her face by his neck.

Granzerk? Was that like the berserks he had read about in Nord history? The legends said they were warriors who could enter a trance like state in battle where they had no fear and no sense of pain and, would attack wildly without concern for friend or foe, but he didn't remember reading anything about them exploding or becoming giants. He wondered what she would do next. Would she turn on the crowd? How could he defend against such a monster? Staan had slowly drawn his axes from his back. Edovan noticed that many in the crowd gasped when he did, and took a few steps back from him, now looking like they might be caught between a rock and a hard place. What was going on? Staan was slowly advancing forward, into the circle toward her titanic form, but everyone else took a step or two back as he approached her.

Mountains had taken the older man's comparatively tiny hand in her free one. She was examining it closely as it hung limp in her grasp a scant inch from her face. She was mostly still, but Edovan could see the dark flickers of her hatred and anger flaring across her body. She was clearly still enraged, but was still in complete control, somehow. Or was she? Staan was still approaching her from behind. He called out to her in a soothing voice, like he was trying to talk down a horse that had gotten spooked.

"Easy girl. That's it... you don't need to hurt anyone. Put Baryk down, okay? You won. It's over. You don't need to prove anything else... just put. Him. Down." Staan said, soothingly.

As he talked, he harnessed his axes slowly back on to his back, moving slowly and deliberately to show he was not a threat. Mountains made a grunting noise, but said nothing. Edovan saw her eyes flicker to the side, but she didn't' move a muscle otherwise. The dark flames were still dancing. Edovan was trying to think what to cast if this went badly.

Staan continued.

"See? It's just me Staan. I'm not going to hurt you. That's it... everything is going to be fine. You just need to calm down and let him go... see? He's beaten... you won. You don't need to hurt anyone now, it's over. Nobody needs to die here today, okay? Let's all just calm down and we will sort this o-"

Mountain's suddenly staggered.

The fires inside were starting to subside.

The strange new power that had filled her was starting to fade, but the anger was clearly still there. Without warning, she suddenly thrust the old man's hand into her huge open mouth, halfway to the knuckles, and then bit down savagely with her white, glistening sharp teeth. The horrified crowd groaned and turned their heads as they heard the bones and tendons crush and sever. Arterial crimson sprayed across her face and chest.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Staan cried out and as he re-drew his axes from his back in one fluid motion. Edovan had grabbed his staff from his back and pointed it at her. The entire crowd tensed. Then Mountains tipped her head back, and her throat moved as she slowly swallowed, like some massive serpent gulping its prey.

She staggered again. The flames were fading quickly. Her skin was no longer glowing and she seemed to physically dwindle a bit before them. She turned directly toward Edovan and began to walk toward him, with slow deliberate strides. She was a macabre sight, both beautiful and terrifying, towering over them, with her face and chest smeared with blood, still grasping the ragdoll man by his neck. Staan rushed back to stand between them, as Edovan began to charge a strong repulsion. She reached the edge of the circle, where the stone ring jutted barely out of the ground to delineate the combat area. She held her victim out over the line and simply released him. His body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud as blood continued to spurt from the severed stumps of his fingers.

The crowd had continued to surround her. Everyone had their weapons out, including Staan. She was only 10 ft from the two of them now, and staring at Edovan with that same burning hatred from before. Staan had moved smartly to Edovan's side when he noticed the Bosmer's staff had started to charge, so he wouldn't be in the way. But as she took another step toward them, Staan started to move between them. Edovan quickly put a hand on his elbow and whispered "Wait..."

Her fires were all but out. She grimaced and tried to take another step toward him. Everyone tensed, but Edovan lowered his staff and simply stood his ground. She took another step, slow and halting. She teetered there... looming over his tiny frame for a few seconds. He was barely over her knee caps. No one moved a muscle, everyone held their collective breaths. All at once she sagged down to one knee, just a foot in front of him, with her eyes heavy lidded, closing. She was so close he could smell her sweat and her musk. He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of her enormous wild blond bush that was literally just inches away from his face, and her gigantic breasts looming heavily directly over him like some sort of flesh avalanche waiting to bury him alive ("Yes please," begged lizard brain). He took an unconscious step backwards without thinking. Instantly her eyes shot open, each of them still burning bonfires of blue-white hatred.

"Yoooou're nexxxt!" she hissed, looking down at him through the huge valley of her cleavage. Then she flashed him a huge predatory open mouth smile, wider than his entire head. Edovan was suddenly reminded of how she had chomped on and swallowed the older man's fingers, easy as anything. What did she mean he was next? Was she going to eat him too? Why did everyone always want to eat him? Everyone tensed to attack, but then the bonfires in her eyes flickered out, as her pupils rolled back into her head and she slowly teetered forward. She was collapsing on top of him!

She was falling so slowly at first that everyone expected the little Bosmer to simply dodge or roll out of harm's way as the giant woman-tree tumbled over him. But they were stunned to see him not only stand his ground, but inexplicably drop his staff and throw out his small arms as he tried, instead, to catch her.

To his credit, he bore her whole weight for at least a second or two before disappearing under a thousand pounds of unconscious Nord. As a shocked Staan rushed forward to try to extricate him before he suffocated, Mountains suddenly contracted, almost as fast she had expanded, back to her normal gigantic size. Staan, with the help of a few others, gently rolled her off of Edovan and onto her back.

They checked her breathing as Staan reached a hand down to the smashed Wood-elf. Luckily for Edovan he'd been pinned under the softest parts. He accepted Staan's hand and rose to his feet, but quickly knelt beside Mountains with concern after thanking Staan quietly. He ripped off the heavy coat he was wearing and did his best to cover her with it. It only covered the most private bits, but he figured that would have to be enough for now. Healers were all around them, treating the wounded and trying to wake the unconscious.