No ballerina for Holga? So close!

It was great to see Ferir relatively untroubled and getting ready for the future, even with a blistering hangover. I guess that shows how rough things have been for him lately.

It took him a moment to notice the hulk of a man bustling through the crowd at speed but then he did. Ruben.

He was red faced and wheezing slightly. "We need to leave," he said.

Uh oh. So much for the Carbo’s Camp version of brunch.

As mALX said, I was deeply absorbed in Ferir's shopping trip.

McBadgere - Glad you're enjoying it. Here's another part.

SubRosa - Thanks for picking up on the nit, I do try! I just can't see the difference between them until someone points it out. The 'tail oil' line just came to me as I was writing. As for what Ruben did, well...

mALX - It's good to know that this piece is growing on you. Glad you liked the lines.

Grits - Shopping trips are great, I find writing normal stuff just as fun as the magic/ action etc.

The last part saw Ferir doing some hangover shopping before Ruben appeared looking flustered.


2.4 Fortune

"What?" Ferir looked at Ruben with mixed confusion and irritation.

"Dreck went down badly last night." Ruben glanced behind him, there was nothing but other shoppers perusing the stalls, "people are trying to kill me."

Azura's balls, what is his problem, thought Ferir. "It happens sometimes. Kill them back, better." The distraught look didn't shift. He waited a moment before continuing with a sigh. "Details?"

"I had a few drinks, chatted with a few people. Kept it safe and close like, everyone here seems to. Anyway I got a buy in on a poker table-"

Ferir groaned, that was rarely a good start. "Who with, where?"

"A dingy hole over the other side. Called itself the Caravan Club-"

"Dreck," Ferir cut him off, "Frek." He spat. "Any mention of the Orum gang? Walker camp perhaps?"

Ruben's face told him all he needed to know.

He shook his head. "You only hooked up with the frekking Camonna you plank. What happened?"

Ruben swallowed and glanced around again. He looked more rattled than before. "There were a few. They were playing Low Bravil, that should have warned me. It was a big table to start with but I'm good, and I know the tricks. A couple of the dark elf scum were daubing, once you see the system it works for you too, or you can wipe them..." He coughed. "The dealer started double duking. Anyway once you're know they're cheating you can piggy back. I won five hundred drakes."

The terms meant little to Ferir but he understood numbers. "So you cheated."

"No," Ruben held up his hands. "I wouldn't do that. Not here anyway. They cheated, I just made sure it worked to my advantage."

"So you wandered away from a game the Camonna had rigged with half a grand? And that didn't seem like a bad idea?"

"They tried to kill me! I managed to escape into a crowd and hide in a logpile for the night." His voice was almost whining.

Ferir paused. It was bad, but he'd dealt with bad before. He could send Ruben on his way and be rid of the man, but he already knew he wouldn't. Friends were few and far between, Carbo's Camp probably wasn't safe for him and certainly wasn't for Ruben. Ruben would follow him too and bad company was better than none, especially company who could handle himself.

There was always Relthas. He could go crawling back - the five hundred would almost cover the debt. Never. That was one vow he had no intention of breaking. The five hundred might be enough to convince a suitably large, and insane, group to sort out the Camonna problem. It was attractive but other than the issue with dealing with marauders there was politics to be thought of. Hitting the Camonna, even in Carbo's, would upset the balance and if it led back to him his life expectancy would suffer.

He sighed. "We run," he said. Ruben nodded and Ferir continued, "it would be too hard to sort out here, and frankly keeping the money sounds better."

"Good," Ruben nodded, his gaze hadn't stopped roving. He was breathing hard too. "I have my pack... Do you need to collect yours?" He added it as an afterthought.

"No," Ferir snorted, "I wouldn’t let anything out of my sight in this place, I've grabbed most of the supplies we need too." He turned to Holga, "Looks like I need to bounce," he gave a half grin, "I'll stop by next time I'm in the area."

"And cause chaos again no doubt. If I'm not here I'll leave word with someone."

"You're thinking of leaving?"

She made a face. "What is there here really? I was going to talk about it but-"

A shout cut her off. Ruben almost spun he turned so fast, Ferir was only an instant behind. "Oi, there he is."

Three imperials pushed their way through the crowds towards them. Ruben already had his sword out, Ferir reached for his axe but kept the head down for the moment. Instead he freed his right hand for casting and let a smile flicker around the edge of his lips.

The three stopped just out of lunging range. Each had the brown hair and sharp features of a Colovian and wore mismatched armour. The man in the centre had the best of it, a face like a rotten apple rose from a battered steel cuirass. It was more scarred than even his equipment. But it was the woman on the right who spoke first. Her hair was long, but in need of care and her nose had a kink where it had been broken.

When she spoke her voice had the gritty sound left by smoking heavily for a long time, or taking the cheap stuff too often. Ferir shuddered. "We hear there's a hit out on you," she said to Ruben in the cocky tone of someone who was used to bullying others.

"Yes," the man in the centre took over, "but we also hear you have coin. We might be willing to let you live." He tipped his head.

"I might be willing to let you live," said Ferir. Holga had dropped back into the onlookers - nothing attracted a crowd like a promise of death - and was working her way behind them. Ferir allowed the smile to linger, "but I'm not sure about my friend."

Ruben made a big show of lifting the coin bag and looking at it. Then he tossed it halfway between him and the leader and met the leader's eye, "I'm willing to die picking that up," he said with with a calm certainty. "Are you?"

For a moment the leader looked uncertain under the fury of the nord's gaze then the woman shouted, "Frekking get them!"

Ruben sprung into action. The leader scarcely blocked a thunderous swing which sent his sword arm back as it passed then whipped round at his leg.

Ferir looked away and back to the woman who was surging forward at Ruben. He called on the thread of magic inside and let it form in a torrent to his fingers. It glowed and he threw the flame. It was weak though and did little more than scorch her dry dandruffy hair. It was enough distraction though as he swung in with his axe. There was a male scream, not Ruben. It was all his attention bothered with as the axe was deflected by a sword and scratched other the edge of the woman's armour getting a snarl from her. As the weight carried him on she flicked her sword into his arm.

He felt the flesh open and dampness pour out. He jumped back but her blade was up to defend and she didn't press. He shifted the axe to his left hand and she stalked forward. He needed a moment to stop the blood. Pain blossomed in the arm, he couldn't feel where exactly, as he threw it forward. She flinched back expecting a fireball. He took the moment to cast a frenzied healing spell, the biting cold of it burned in the wound for a flash then the pain was less. He swapped the axe back as she pressed again. He blocked the first then as she returned with the back swing he leapt forward with a speed she couldn’t match in her armour and was behind her. He left hand raked at her face finding eyes and he dug his fingers in and pulled back. Her head tipped as the swing carried her round and off balance. A firm stamp through her knee felled her. Ferir didn't waste an instant in delivering a solid axe blow to her gut. The narrow blade struck plumb and went though the armour effortlessly. He twisted it and pulled it out in a torrent of red.

He turned to see the leader in a pool of blood with his face caved in and Ruben pressing the final mercenary hard. He stepped back then a large figure in a checked shirt stepped from the crowd with a bottle. Holga. She broke it over his head and swore viscously as she drove the broken end into his side. He fell dropping his sword as he did.

Ruben stepped up to finish the job.

"Don't," said Holga, "Jerine doesn't like fights in the streets. Says it lacks decorum, whatever that is. She'll want words with this." She prodded the writhing man. "You boys had best run before more come," she gave half a smile then turned to the stall keeper behind her. "And so had you worm. Sheen jars aren't meant to break when you hit people with them. That was full."

Ruben scooped up the coin bag and Ferir grabbed his arm and headed for the edge of the camp.

Likee!!!... ...

An excellent chapter...Most excellent!!...

Loved the fight, and yet again, made me laugh all the way through...

Excellent writing that person there!!!... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

"It happens sometimes. Kill them back, better."
Sounds like good advice!

"Frek." He spat.
I like the addition of the new swear word.

I liked Ferir's internal monologue as the weighed his options, whether or not to cut Ruben loose, whether or not to give to money to Relthas, or try to pay off some marauders to deal with the Tong, and finally, to run. The last seems like the best choice to me as well.

But I see some bounty hunters got to them first! If nothing else, Ruben is certainly good in a fight. He more then carried his weight there. And a wonderful end assist by Holga with the bottle. Now they are not only on the run from the law, but from the criminals as well!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 12 2012, 06:46 PM

Do not come crying to Ferir about a minor death threat. This makes me laugh every time I read it.

Ruben screwed up but showed his worth. Now Ferir has chosen to stay in his company. I’m relieved!

I loved the fight, fast and furious. Holga was a riot at the end, mad about her spilled liquor. I really enjoyed this part!


Maybe I imagined it but was that a little Malcolm Reynolds tribute in there?

Sorry for the delay again... a mixture of uni and RL dramas.

McBadgere - glad you're enjoying, things should speed up a bit for a while now (in pacing of the story that is, posting is likely to remain erratic to be honest).

SubRosa - The 'new' swear words are nesecary really, when I write dialogue I try to let it flow as people talk, and people swear. There's only so many ways of conveying the same intent as @#$&! It's good to know Ferir staying with Ruben is making sense too.

Grits - Thanks for the comment, it's always good to know the piece is going over well. Not sure who the Malcolm Reynolds tribute is... I certainly am a massive Firefly fan though and on thinking of smugglers he would spring to mind so there's probably a bit thrown in.


3.1 Western Glow

Ferir hummed a snatch of a tune as he stretched in the late afternoon sun. His cloak was spread under him over the dry leaves at the base of a large beech tree, his newly oiled armour next to it along with their gear. Perhaps later there could be a fire, but for now it was warm enough and he didn't want the smoke. A stream babbled a short way from him. The spot was just too perfect to pass up even if there was a couple of hours of good light left.

They would be followed, he was certain of that much. You didn't leave Carbo's without protection and with that much money unnoticed, and there would be commotion over the Camonna. Jerine was going to be annoyed, that tended to end badly for someone. None of it mattered though. He'd kept to the wilds mainly using the tracks cut by animals rather than those laid by men. He was a pathfinder, and knew how to track and more importantly how to avoid being followed. Avoiding the Legion Foresters was part of smuggling, and they were far more skilled than any bandit was likely to be.

So he wasn't worried and the sun was shining and the day was clear. Words joined the hummed tune and soon he was singing softly to himself looking at nothing and thinking of less. Ruben had wandered downstream to wash. Ferir had done so by the camp but the Nord sought privacy. It seemed unlikely that Ruben had anything Ferir hadn't seen before, but he supposed it was possible and didn't care either way. He paused his singing until the first line of the next verse came to him then started again.

Ruben emerged from the trees with his blond hair plastered to his head. He wore a checked shirt Ferir assumed he'd picked up at Carbo's with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and had a bundle of firewood under one arm.

"Don't stop on my account," he said.

Ferir shrugged. He presumed Ruben hadn't heard the words, or that the innuendo had gone clean over his head.

After a brief pause Ruben continued, "I didn't know you sang anyway."

"Doesn't everyone?"

Ferir stretched back into the soft loam as Ruben frowned slightly. "Well I don't."

"Fair enough." The sun was bloated and red above the western sky, the river a ribbon of fire amid the ancient oaks and lengthening shadows. Soon the air would cool so Ferir drank the last of the sunlight.

When Ruben spoke again he turned and saw the nord's gaze was also on the westering sun. "What else do you do? I know precious little about you."

Ferir paused with the thought it brought then voiced it. Why not? "More than I know about you."

"What?"

"You know plenty about me. You know I was cooking skooma and running it. You know I killed two Imperial Legionaries, in self defence as much as anything. I think the story more or less fills itself in. All I know is you were a guard and you killed and Imperial Agent, then others in the guard sprung you."

There was a long pause. "Things went awry. I made some bad decisions." There was a rustle of leaves as he fidgeted.

"I figured we'd get into the wilds then you'd head your own way, if you're following me I'd know more. What led to the guard's death?"

A heavy sigh. "I said," a pause, "I made some bad decisions. Dug a hole." The second pause was longer. Ferir said nothing and hoped the truth would be drawn into the vacuum. Eventually Ruben spoke again. "You know why I'm following." It wasn't a question. "I have nothing else, but where are you heading?"

Ferir took a moment before answering. The night was a pleasant one and if he evaded it would be awkward. He didn't have any reason to anyway. "Where the wind blows. I'll drift, but for now that's towards Sundew."

"Sundew?"

"The cave I lived in. I need to see."

Ruben nodded. "I had wondered. You know it's risky so I won't tell you that, but I will tell you this: it'll hurt."

"So does pulling an arrow, it doesn't make it any less necessary."

"And after that?"

Ferir smiled and let out a half laugh. "I haven't even begun to think about it."

"Oh."

Ferir stood and stretched. There was a hollow pop from between his shoulder blades and another as he pulled his neck. The sun was melting into the hills of the western skyline and the temperature was dropping. He picked up his cloak and the firewood. "Do you want to get some food from the packs? I'll lay the fire." Ruben stood. "There's a couple of bottles in there too," added Ferir.

He'd piled the logs in a circle of stones and was about to put light to them as Ruben dropped some sausage, lard and a bag of oatmeal. An onion and a flint and steel joined them.

"No need for the flint," said Ferir with a grin and raised his hand. Ruben crashed backward as he thrust it towards the wood. The little fireball happened almost by itself. He'd used it so many times there was no need to catch the magic and form it. If it had been a physical action Ferir supposed he would have called it muscle memory, and he'd read books which compared the mind to a muscle.

Ruben picked himself up, "Warn me before you do things like that."

Ferir shook his head, "I assure you it's safe. I assume you're planning on cooking, I have no idea what I'd do with that."

"Skirlie and sausage. An excellent combination. The wine should cut through the grease well."


Ruben was right, Ferir decided, as he washed the last of the lard from his mouth with the wine. It was cheap stuff but that worked, the harsh tannin seemed to lift the layer of grease left by the fried oatmeal and it had enough body to overcome the taste of onion and pepper. It wasn't what he'd usually eat, but the energy was exactly what he needed. He lay back with a satisfied groan.

Ruben's bottle glugged as he tipped it back. He prodded the fire and sent a shower of sparks skyward to join the first stars which were appearing in the night sky.

"You seem to like plans," Ferir broke the silence, "What are yours?"

Another glug from the bottle. Ferir heard a rustle which might have been a fidget and might have been a shrug, his eyes were on the low fire. After another moment Ruben spoke, "I don't know. Maybe see if I can start in another town with a new name after this has blown over a bit. Kvatch perhaps, there's work there and it's on the move, not dead like Skingrad and Chorrol. Or I suppose I could get a job on some caravan in some backwater and skip Cyrodiil, though I'm not sure I'd want to live in the other provinces."

"Morrowind might be okay."

"Are you joking? It's the worst of the lot, full of dark elves and madness."

Ferir shrugged, "Each to their own." He threw another stick onto the fire.

"Anyway there's the Camonna."

"They're nasty fetchers," said Ferir, "but not so much worse than others. Why them."

"History." Ferir stayed silent and the poison started to ooze from the wound. "You know the Orum Gang?"

Ferir nodded. Inefficient, brutal, bunglers, but the best the Camonna had in Cheydinhal.

"When I was young, probably before you were born, I moved with a rough crowd. Got out of it in time mind but kept some contacts after I started training as a guardsman. My wife settled me a bit I suppose, about all the wench ever did except moan."

Ferir left the pause which opened.

"She never liked the gambling, well not when I lost. It was fine if I won of course. Then there was the patrol..." He grimaced. "I'd hardly got my uniform and I was selected for a job into the wilds. They all died. And..." his tongue snaked over dry lips. He sighed, "I saw things." He opened his mouth to say more and paused, "No." He shook his head.

Ferir took a slow draught from his much diminished bottle. Ruben's matched his in length but was far from slow. There were only dregs left once he was done.

"Open another," said Ferir. "They were the necromancers you mentioned?"

"Yeah," said Ruben as he rummaged in the packs. "Only I returned, things weren't the same. The wench never understood why I drank. You know the drill. I made some bad decisions. She left."

"Dreck." Ferir finished his bottle, Ruben was well into the second.

"I gambled more, and more often, and hit the bars harder. A guards salary ain't much and I never did get promoted. Same old story I suppose. Owe the wrong people the wrong drakes. I couldn't pay so I hit up some contacts."

"How long ago?"

"Four years. It was small stuff at first, just info. Then just a small thing, a record erased or some evidence lost. Nothing major."

"To start with." Ferir didn't much care if he insulted Ruben, the man needed it. The story seemed to repeat like a mill horse in its worn circle.

"Yeah. It got bigger, there were more of us in it, more leaks and harder to cover all our tracks. We sprung a few people. Someone noticed and the Imperials were called in."

"How did you end up killing one?"

"He got too close. Enough evidence to send us all down so I paid him a visit."

Ferir was stunned for a moment. He knew Ruben wasn't that bright, the last few minutes had confirmed that, but to think that murdering someone investigating you in cold blood could ever go well. He shook his head, the man really was a wolf. There was something hard in there, a rock of psychotic self interest hidden like a cat's claw. There were nutters in the skooma trade, but Ruben held is own among them.

Ferir held out his hand for the bottle and took a drink until he thought he was steady again. "Damn," was all he could manage.

"I know it sounds silly now, but I felt trapped." Ruben took the bottle back, "Anyway it's hardly different than you."

"He was doing his job and you killed him to try to cover it up."

"And the two legionaries you killed?"

"Yours didn't burst into your home in the early morning and set about butchering your friends with similar intentions for you."

"Near enough. If we escaped the gallows how well do you think prison goes for a guard?"

"No, it's diff-" Ferir didn't get further. His eyes were on the northern skyline.

Ruben said it first. "What in oblivion is that?"

This post has been edited by Olen: Feb 29 2012, 01:15 AM

Ooooh, that's nice that is!!...

Love it...

Bit o'history there!!...Nicely done...Much darkness to our tale there is...Mmm!!...

The campfire meal and drink has made me all hungry now... ...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds heartily*...

I made some bad decisions.
I am thinking that is an understatement of English proportions.

It was good to learn more of Ruben's past. His slow and stead slide down to the wrong side of the law was delightful, at least in the fact that it was so wholly understandable. I was nodding my head the entire time thinking, "yep, no surprise there."

But now, what in Oblivion is that on the horizon? Something to do with those rumors of foul things issuing from the Dark Fissure perhaps?


nits:
Ruben had wondered downstream
The old wander/wonder got you again. Wandered this time, or perhaps just went?

"You know the Ourum Gang?"
If you changed it on purpose, no worries. But in the game they are the Orum gang.

It was just a line that made me think of Mal. Here’s the clip from Our Mrs. Reynolds.


I love that Ferir’s reaction to Ruben’s cold-blooded murder announcement was to reach for the bottle and then argue with him. It makes me think that he has the nerves to deal with whatever remains at Sundew as well as whatever is visible at the skyline.

Another thoroughly enjoyable update. I love this story.

The story, the characters, the color of the writing absolutely do not disappoint. I like Ferir and Ruben, I get the feeling I'm supposed to and at some point I'm going to say to myself "wow, I didn't see that coming". I am looking forward to more very soon.

Your writing is simplicity on the surface but the undercurrent, the feel, is deep and profound if I am not reading it wrong. Loving it.

And another delay... This will progress albeit slowly. More RL, uni and a failing hard drive to blame this time.

McBadgere - Glad you like it, and yeah there is darkness. It tends to creep into things I write, and trust me this gets darker.

SubRosa - Good catch on the nits, both fixed. I'm glad Ruben's past makes sense there will be more at some point I should imagine.

Grits - Passing a bottle can be a good way to subdue bad memories, and it takes about 20 minutes so regardless it's probably more convenient to have him drunker... As for what's on the horizon, well we meet some if it in this chapter.

Athynae - I glad you enjoyed it, welcome to the slowest moving story here... It's good to know that you like Ferir and Ruben too, it was my intention to make them likeable protagonists even if they are a bit morally questionable at times, it's a fun thing to play with.

Where we were: Having fled Carbo's Camp they are now in the wilds. Ruben told a bit of his past then they were distracted.

3.2 Old Secrets

A purple glow blazed on the northern horizon. It flashed into being like exploding lamp oil. The light seemed greasy against the moonlit cloud, shimmering and ethereal like a mirage. As they watched a burning filament reached down. Or up, thought Ferir, it was hard to focus on it as if his eyes were afraid to see. When he stared it hardly seemed there, but when he looked away it blazed like a column of eldritch fire connecting heaven and Nirn. And whatever lies beneath. The thought came unbidden.

"Its like nothing I've seen before. Magical I'll bet though."

"It looks evil," muttered Ruben; his tone did not make light of the words. "Every time I look away I half see a column of light as well as the glow."

Ferir paused. "You don't see it all the time? It's clearer if I don't look at it..."

"What? How..."

"No idea," Ferir shrugged, "I can do a few spells but I'm no mage." He paused. There was no sound, the still night had fallen silent but for the rustle of the fire and Ruben's heavy breathing. "What do you think it is?"

Ruben didn't answer.

"Doesn't it make you curious?"

Still no answer. Ruben glared into the darkness.

He knew it was foolish, but risk had never stopped him before. It was only later he wondered how much the wine stilled his nerve and filled his soul with Leyawin courage. Ruben had drank all but a mouthful of the third bottle too. Curiosity had its claws in him, he couldn't quite imagine what foggy ruin might have awoken or what ancient ritual might be happening. Treasures lost to time fleeted through his mind replaced by old secrets and arcane knowledge. Chanting elven figures robed, or better without robes...

Wild conjecture. "We should have a look," he said.

Ruben looked at him. "Sounds crazy."

"Why not?"

"We don't know what it is?"

"Exactly, and what else are we going to do?"

"Stay here? Sleep?"

"Really," Ferir flowed up onto his haunches, "With every shadow staring at us, ever whisper a breath of darkness? Better to be out hunting than waiting by this fire."

Ruben's gaze flickered to him than went back to darting around the trees. Ferir stood. "Gather the stuff in case we don't want to retrace ourselves."

A few minutes later Ferir was picking his way through the moonlit forest on a northerly path towards the light. Ruben followed. The man was trying to be silent but without much success. Ferir had suggested that Ruben watch his own movements as a crash course in sneaking. Light was not a problem in the trees, they were sparser here where rocks jutted from the ground like broken teeth. The two moons and the weird glow cast shadows tinted with blood and madness.

A feeling was growing in his gut. It coiled his nerves like a spring. He had felt similar and generally sought the comfort of his bed in Sundew with its other distractions until the morning sun brought peace. Tonight was different though, there was a dark undertone to it. But Sundew was gone, many things seemed dark now, and after the preceding days was it any wonder he felt odd? He returned his focus to the night while his fingers sought the loop from which he had hung his axe.

There was a crash from behind him as Ruben fell over. The nord swore as he picked himself up. "Bloody tree root or summin," he muttered.

Ferir glared and nodded. "Shhh," he hissed.

He was about to continue when he half heard something in the darkness ahead. He froze and held up his hand. A foot crunched down then Ruben was silent. Ferir strained into the trees but the wild shadows confused and twisted his gaze. The purple glow covered most of the northern horizon now. Either it was close or truly vast.

A crack. Not from behind but to his right.

Tension thrilled through him, his left hand found soft loam and his gut drew in ready to spring. His eyes tried to penetrate the darkness and bored into shadows. Was there the sense of a more open space there?

"Probably nothing." The voice was muffled. Even so the bottom dropped from Ferir's stomach. An instant of nausea passed as feet crunched to his right receding away.

With infinite care Ferir twisted on the spot. He held his hand flat at Ruben. Wait. The nord nodded. His pupils were huge and made his eyes eerie in the gloom.

Ferir kept low and used his hands to steady himself as he slipped into the shadow of a tree. It was hard. The wine isn't helping, he thought. Walking on a bottle was fine, but sneaking required speed and dexterity. He wanted to fall back, but not without knowing who might be following. His mind was sharpened, but not to the fine point it usually would. He felt sickness return as he crept further forward.

There was a clearing and they had been only paces from it but the confused shadows of overlapping red, white and violet had concealed it. He stopped and looked, not staring this time, just letting his eyes wander. Sometimes not looking worked better than glaring at the dark. Sure enough three figures resolved in the shadows. The first was given away by its slow swaying movement. The second stood still next to it. The final one, that he could see at least, was barely visible sitting on a rock behind. As he looked the second figure turned towards him.

Ferir's heart lurched. He was suddenly acutely aware of its pounding like a drum in the dark, of his breathing and the noise it made. The air was hot in his lungs. Stifling. He knew no more of who these people were, but they were three and in the wilds and whatever the purple light was they didn't seem to be giving it much attention. Dreck. He wanted out and away from the place. Could they sneak it? He hoped so. Why had this seemed like a good idea?

He steeled himself to ease back into the shadows when there was a definite crack of a branch breaking from across the clearing.

"What is this," the sitting figure stood, it's voice a breathless growl. A hand shot out from a deep sleeve and suddenly a blazing light illuminated the scene.

Ferir blinked the burning from his eyes. Three figures, two wore black robes the third... rotting flesh. There wasn't time to think. The nearer robed figure turned to him as the bushes on the other side of the clearing exploded. Ferir's distraction was matched by the figure who half turned. A woman burst for them with a scream and levelled a staff. Lightning erupted from it and arced between the zombie and other mage. The zombie staggered back, flames licking it but the mage didn't move. His hand flew out and there was a ripple in the air. It lifted the woman from her feet and she landed backward.

Ferir tore his attention back to himself, it had only been an instant. "Ruben!" he screamed. The second figure's hands were moving. Mage. Ferir stepped from the trees and the hands flew towards him, a purple light flew towards him. He dived sideways.

Too slow. Too clumsy. He should have dodged but he took it in the abdomen. A weird feeling suffused him, he felt oddly disconnected and pulled. It was deeply wrong. The mage frantically wove another spell. He was already moving when this one came. Fire. The mage was trained and the ball tight and hot, it brushed his side and under his arm before vanishing behind. The clothing was consumed, there was an instant of empty still then the white pain burst in. A scream escaped him and he glanced and saw black charred flesh.

Glancing back up he saw the mage working again, more slowly this time. The face under the cowl was that of a young man and was contorted in effort. Ferir knew he wouldn't survive another. How long did he have before his injuries incapacitated him? The spell couldn't finish. He charged.

It was a risk. But the gamble was the best one. One step, two, each bound he pushed into the earth as hard as he could gaining all the speed and momentum he could. At two yards he threw himself headlong. The mage was distracted, his spellweaving, whatever it might be, slowed. The magic dissipated as a flicker of awful light as Ferir hit him shoulder first in the gut. They both went backward in a heap.

There was no pain. No time or light or clearing. Ferir's world narrowed to him and the mage and the bare ground around. The mage flailed a feeble punch into Ferir's face. The fist hovered where it had hit above his jaw. Ferir saw it and sunk his teeth in. He bit without thought and closed his teeth until he heard the crunch of bone through his head and released. The mage wailed as his other hand made its way down. Ferir brought his elbow across the man's face and followed it. His burnt arm was useless now. The mage was going for a dagger. They reached it at the same time but while the mage went for the dagger Ferir grabbed his hand. It slipped leaving him two fingers. He broke them both backward grabbed the knife and drove it into the mage's gut.

Ferir knew screams, but even the darkest moments had never held anything like the one he heard now. It was agony. He could almost feel it himself, a burning in the gut, spreading in clawing lines of malignancy. He glanced down and saw the flesh around the wound was decaying, black tendrils crawled under the man's flesh at an unnatural rate. Then the burning began, his scorched side and arm started to burn, they felt sickly wet. He couldn't see the mage as his eyes watered for a moment they screamed as one then the mage gurgled to silence. A moment later the pain faded to an ache, then nothing.

Ferir gasped and pushed himself upright. The he realised he'd used his injured arm. There wasn't time to think. He was dimly aware of commotion behind but it paled to nothing compared to the walking nightmare which approached. The zombie staggered, half its face had burnt away under the lighting, the blacked flesh and bone still smouldered in places, its other eye rolled at him with with a milky gaze. One side of its chest was a nest of maggots writhing like a sea creature.

Ferir staggered back and let the rage he'd felt moments before back in. The thing advanced, its jaw hung limp. Rotten gasses farted from splits in its yellowed skin. He felt for the magic and found an inferno. Fear drove any question from his mind, he seized it. All of it. The power blazed through him like a tempest, his thoughts clung to the spell like a drowning man to a barrel. The magic twisted and rolled as he wrought it, melded it with his rage and fear. The raw emotion opened more. Sundew. The legion. The Empire, how he hated the Empire. The devouring self serving beast which chewed lives and crushed people into their place. He could barely hold the magic, his rage and will stretched paper-thin under its onslaught and still he fed it. Prejudice. Hatred. Hypocrisy. Everything the Empire stood for.

The creature was almost on him when he let the spell out. It burst forth in a torrent of flame. It erupted over the creature blackening it and scorching the earth behind. It fell back and Ferir stepped forward holding the blaze on it. He realised he was shouting incoherently, spittle flying from his mouth and running down his chin. He didn't care. The black yet slightly porky stench of burning flesh rose into the air. Where bones were exposed they had started to crumble, any sharp edge glowed like iron in a forge.

The spell petered out and Ferir staggered back slightly slumped. The corpse was a burnt ruin with steam and smoke still rising from it. The ground around was blackened and scorched bare and dead. Sound from behind permeated and he turned. Ruben stood over the final figure plunging his sword in and out of its back in splashes of red. Ferir assumed it was excessive until he realised the figure was still struggling. A final huge sweep made the muscles in the nord's back stand out and the sword crashed into the mage's neck taking the head half off.

Only then did Ferir notice that the mysterious woman had her hand pointed at Ruben while mouthing a spell. He grabbed his axe and ran at her. She dropped her hand and collapsed down to one knee. "No," she was breathless, "I'm not with them. Stop."

This post has been edited by Olen: Mar 28 2012, 11:57 PM

That was just brilliant!!!...Incredible stuff...

Shockingly enough, I loved it!!...

The fight!!...The zombie!!...The absorb health/healing thing...

Absolutely fantastically done there!!...That really was some amazing writing, right there...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds most heartily!!*...

The Necromancer's Moon! I loved your description of the weekly corpselit event.

the wine stilled his nerve and filled his soul with Leyawin courage.
I love the ES-ized version of liquid courage!

The two moons and the weird glow cast shadows tinted with blood and madness.
This was a wonderful description. After that, I haif expect to see Nyarlathotep, or Cthulhu, make an appearance in his macabre tale. Considering what they met in the clearing, it looks like I was not far off!

Why had this seemed like a good idea?


The wrestling between Ferir and the mage was excellently done. Nothing graceful, skilled, or practiced here. Just a primal, ugly fight for survival where there are no rules, except that the loser dies.

Then a wonderfully disgusting description of the char-broiled and maggoty zombie advancing upon Ferir. Poor guy just does not get a break!




"It looks evil," muttered Ruben his tone did not make light of the words.
I think you mean to have a period after Ruben, and then capitalize His?

He stopped and looked, not staring this time, just letting his eyes wonder.
I think you meant wander?

A women burst for them with a scream and levelled a staff
I am sure you wanted the singular, of woman.

The second figure's hands were moving.
Figure's needs an apostrophe where I added it, as it is possessive.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 11 2012, 07:32 PM

"Really," Ferir flowed up onto his haunches, "With every shadow staring at us, ever whisper a breath of darkness? Better to be out hunting than waiting by this fire."

I love the image of Ferir galvanized and impulsive, sort of fueled by curiosity and his own imagination. It’s a glimpse of what he must have been before the legionaries raided Sundew. Wow.

The two moons and the weird glow cast shadows tinted with blood and madness.

This was a beautiful way to show the night and Ferir’s state of mind. Double wow.

From the time Ruben fell over making me snort, the tension and then explosive action had me as breathless as the surviving mage. The magic was particularly awesome. I have been thinking about glowing bone-ends at otherwise lovely spring moments. Ruben’s struggle with his mage was scary even for only seeing the end of it. It took two of them to survive this fight. Or three, as the mystery woman seems to be on their side.

This whole update was a joy to read, even the dribbling maggoty parts. I love it!!

McBadgere - Thanks for the comment, it's good to know the action sequence worked. Thanks for pointing out those nits too...

SubRosa - I'm glad you enjoyed that section, it was fun to write. Thanks for pointing out the nits, I do proof read these, several times, but there are certain errors I just don't see...

Talking of writing... any news on TotFS? *puppy eyes*

Grits - Thanks, less dribbling maggots this time and more mystery mage.

All - Less of a delay this time but still a rather glacial pace. Might pick up a bit now most of uni is done as I look for things to do which aren't revise... Also, to forestall any mobs with pitchforks, I wrote this section prior to reading Jerric's Story so certain parallels drawn between healing (or absorb life more specifically) and necromancy weren't lifted from there. However as Grits did it rather better than I did I have changed various terms to differentiate them (mine applies only to absorb health as of the moment, though I'm not promising I won't steal borrow from Grits' idea)...

Where we were - Ferir and Ruben have stumbled across some necromancers on the night of the shade and got into a fight involving a mysterious third party...

3.3 Hedge Magic

Ferir slowed.

"She's alright," said Ruben.

Ferir lowered the sword and she spoke again, "I thought you intervened to save me. Who are you, I didn't realise the guild was involved."

"I could ask you the same question," Ferir could feel that shakes starting. They did after a fight. "And guild?"

"You're not mages guild, or with them?" She took a breath and sat up straighter. Her cloak, dappled in leafy shades of green, fell from where it had puddled on her shoulder. "That was quite a spell." She shook her head, "I'm Adriel."

"Ferir."

"Thank you for saving me."

Ruben spoke then. His face was white and he looked ill, "I think perhaps I should be thanking you but we need to leave this place."

Ferir paused. It was unfair to keep him there and most questions could wait but one he thought couldn't. "You're a mage."

"Of sorts," replied Adriel.

"Take a look at this corpse, I've never seen anything like it." He walked to the man he had killed. Now the rage had passed he noticed how young the man was, probably little older than himself. Messy blonde hair showed under the hood and the face which peaked out was fine featured. Slim too, Ferir shook his head, fetcher still tried to kill me though. He bent and pulled the robe open revealing an oily mass around the wound which stretched like dark tentacles grasping the creamy skin around.

Adreil appeared behind him. He wrinkled his nose at the soft floral smell of whatever she washed with. "Looks like direct magical damage to life," she said and squinted at him with a confused look, "powerful too. Though by the way it spread... You were hit by a fireball."

"Yes but it healed."

"Then this was absorb life," she sounded confused now. "An unpleasant spell, not quite like healing."

"It hurt."

"Yes it's very harsh. Do you know the difference between healing the resurrection of flesh?"

"What?"

"I'll take that as a no. Just know that this spell is like a storm, the absorbed health restored flesh to what it should be as well as simply helping it heal. But it does so as an onslaught. Now we should leave."

"Oh," Ferir frowned.

She shrugged, "He made his choice and got what he deserved."

Ferir looked at the ruined body. "I suppose," he muttered. "Let me get my pack then we leave. I've no desire to meet more."


Adriel had the easy grace of one accustomed to the wild places. She moved through the darkened trees much like Ferir did. No magic was needed, it was a rare night that there wasn't enough light to walk by, but only if you trusted your instinct. His wry smile was hidden in the gloom. Who am I fooling? She moves far better than I do. Ruben crashed along behind them.

"My camp is near, but it should be far enough that they will not find us," she said. The arrogance in her voice mirrored her movements.

"Good," he replied. "How did you come to be there?"

"They are organising, I caught the first signs well over a year ago and have been tracking them since." She stopped at the crest of a low rise and turned. Ferir saw a smile he didn't wholly like. Then she dropped down out of sight.

Ferir followed and saw her camp. There was already a natural gouge in the landscape but a fallen tree had carved it deeper and the tangled roots obscured it from one side. Unless you fell into it it was more or less invisible. He climbed down to find it dry and surprisingly homely. The thick loam was a softer carpet than that of any noble hall and at some point someone had dragged a pair of logs in. Their bark was polished to a sheen by successive trousers. He dropped his pack and took a seat on a log.

Her smile was less disconcerting this time. "The question is more who are you?" She paused but not long enough for him to reply. "I thought guild mages to start with but that's not the case. You smell of wine, yet you dealt with those three handily. You can cast fire like that, but don't know about damaging life-force. Who stalks dark artists on a night of the shade?"

Ferir blinked in the torrent. She sounded almost angry. "We saw the light, we went to investigate."

"That doesn't tell me who you are."

"Perhaps we like going for walks in the wilds."

She tipped her head. "Very well. Most out here value privacy," she paused for a moment, "and are running from the past." Ferir frowned slightly then cursed as she nodded. "I don't understand you though. Most would retreat when a soultrap was set, especially given those present."

Ferir paused in confusion and glanced to Ruben who stared at his hands. It was impossible to know if the nord was present in more than body. Then the memory of the first spell which had hit him returned. It's apparent lack of effect beyond the deeply wrong feeling. He felt the colour drain from him. "That was a soultrap?"

Her mouth opened slightly and she glared as if seeking the lie. "Yes," she said as if it was obvious. "How can you not know that but be trained enough to cast the inferno which immolated that zombie?"

"My casting is unreliable, but that might have been the biggest. I was angry, and the magic just kept coming."

"Interesting," she said and then rummaged in her pack. "Hackle-lo?"

"Thanks," Ferir took one, "Any chance of a light? I don't trust myself not to incinerate it just now."

Adriel lit hers with a casual flick of a finger and passed it across. "Perhaps the soultrap fed your magic when you killed him. Who can truly say, you don't hear much about people killing their trapper."

Ferir coughed out a mouthful of the pungent smoke. "Wait what? I was using his soul?"

She shrugged. "Possibly."

"But..." Ferir didn't know what to say. It was too wrong, unclean somehow.

"What do you think powers the trinket you took from him?"

Ferir paused, he didn't understand enchantment.

"It's powerful, I doubt it's wielder would have worried about using a human soul to get that power."

"So someone's soul is in this?"

She smiled and chuckled. The sound made his hackles rise. "Do you know what a soul is?"

"It's... what lives beyond..." Ferir paused, did he know? "What makes you alive."

"Meaningless. You do not know what a soul is. Neither do I, nor anyone else and those who say otherwise are lying. Is there anything beyond death? Who knows, perhaps the soul holds the answer. What is known is that there is energy released upon death, whether that essence of a person dissolves into nirn to the countless aedra who form it, or becomes a ghost, or continues onward?" She shrugged, "Who knows, but if it is stolen in a soul trap whatever eternal fate awaited that person is done."

"Are they aware?"

"Ghosts often are. But in truth I know not. The guild mages do not study this area, at least not openly, and those who might know," the black smirk returned, "are not free with their information."

Ferir took the dagger and looked at it. What poor soul was in there? No, who was in there, imprisoned. Trapped from ending their voyage.

"Do not look so grim. Power comes at a cost, and that is a powerful artefact."

"A blade forged with someone's soul, with the purpose of consuming life and gifting it to the wielder? That must be wrong."

"It saved you did it not. Without it you would be facing that same fate, and the necromancer free to continue."

Ruben sat up slowly. His voice was heavy when it came. "Such tools want to be used. Give a man a hammer and he hits things, what will that make of you?"

"Better than the case without. You kill an enemy, what of it if you benefit from his death?"

"A dangerous path."

"You chose to meddle in the affairs of wizards," she spoke to Ferir not Ruben, "You need all the advantage you can get. Do not throw it away idly."

Ferir nodded. "Perhaps, I would not be worried if it consumed them with fire, so why worry if it heals me?"

Adriel's unnerving smile answered him.

"You said the necromancers are gathering."

"The guild outlawed them, even you must know that. The logical step was to form their own guild, outwith the constraints of morality and the law."

"Sounds charming."

The smile flickered over her features again. "I suspect there is more, however it is hard to find out much and those who watch them are few and disorganised."

Silence fell. Ruben glared at the ground. Ferir was slightly surprised at the urge to comfort the man, whatever had happened those years ago he knew he hadn't heard all of it. He was just as sure that there would be no getting through to it while Adriel was around. There was something unsettling about her. Something he didn't understand, or like entirely.

"So what about you? You're not guild, but you track them."

"I track them because someone has to. It used to be a few in old ruins. If some fool thought they could handle them and went in too deep they got what they deserved. But the cult is different, they hunt, and disturb the balance. Perhaps I am too caring, perhaps those who live in the backcountry deserve to die if they cannot manage there. But many have no choice, and it is not always death which finds them."

"What of you?"

"What of me?"

"Who are you? It's clear enough you know magic, and you're not guild."

"You know well enough they don't control it." Scorn. That was what was layered into the smile, the steel edge Ferir had half noticed in her tone. "What am I? The guild would say a hedge mage, and true enough I practise and study without their remit, but do not be fooled into thinking I lack power. Some might say I'm a witch but that term has just as little meaning, or perhaps too many. A wise woman? Or am I too young? A soothsayer, for I watch the augers." She paused the smile was fuller this time, she was enjoying it. "Perhaps I am just a woman who is too fond of her own voice."

Ferir nodded and yawned. The adrenaline had worn off and exhaustion had replaced it.

"Quite, it is time for rest. It would be unwise to tarry tomorrow." Without another word she rose and made her way to a bedroll.

With her back turned Ferir allowed himself his own wry grin. He was going to sleep with one eye open that night.

Brilliant!! As ever!... ...

This Adriel sounds cool, also she sounds ambiguous...Like we still don't really know if she's good or not... ...Brilliant!!...

The whole magic thing is most excellently done...Loving the whole "massive magics by untrained instinct" type of thing...*Applauds*...

Glacial pace or not...When it appears it's an absolute joy... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Yep, yep, yep, joy it is as always. Somewhere while RL was happening I missed the last post but that's all resolved now.

The magic, the imagery of the use of it and the way it works was wonderful, any descriptions like that are more than appreciated as it gives me a bit more insight into world Bathesda as I am still a new arrival to the games. I've played through Oblivion, very quickly, once, and have now started on the second go at a much more adventurous pace. Also playing Morrowind, one on PC the other Xbox 360...interesting differences...anyway, I'm rambling, sorry.

I do like Adriel, seems to me she is not good or evil she is there for her own reasons and has no intention yet of sharing. I get the feeling if and when we find out 'who' she is we will also know 'what' she is, not that it matters. I like the way she handles herself, not quite likeable but not altogether dislikeable either.

Nice one Olen, and glad to hear about the letting up of study pressure as it will hopefully bring more of your writing to our hungry eyes.

More please.

No worries about the nits. That is why every professional author has an editor after all. Sometimes it takes a new set of eyes to see things.

Ferir could feel that shakes starting. They did after a fight.
This was a good nod to the reality of adrenaline that has nowhere to go.

"You chose to meddle in the affairs of wizards,"
And they are subtle, and quick to anger. Sorry, The LOTR in me could not resist.

"Perhaps I am just a woman who is too fond of her own voice."
Is there any woman who is not? Another I could not help. Adriel is a fascinating character. Certainly well versed in magic, and no stranger to killing. I wonder if there is something personal driving her to hunt necromancers? In any case, I believe it was wise of Ferir not to completely let his guard down around her.

btw. I have about 20,000 words written for the next chapter of the TF. But that is only about halfway through it. So it will be a while yet before I post anything. I have written some little pieces about other characters in the Skyrim section's "Today in Skyrim" topics, both the general and spoiler versions.


nits:
outwith the constraints of morality and the law.
I think you meant without?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 12 2012, 10:31 PM

I actually like the use of "outwith" here better, as both meanings of "without" would make sense of the sentence, and this variant makes it clearer which one applies - i.e outside or beyond.

Outwith is synonymous with without in being the opposite of within, without being the opposite of with.

I liked that first shaky moment while they all confirmed that the fight was over.

As usual I was completely swept up in the moment, and then Adreil said the resurrection of flesh. That made remember Ferir’s early thoughts about returning to Sundew, and the idea that he moved away from before he actually articulated it. I could be completely wrong, but what a deeply chilling thought!

The whole discussion at the sunken camp was fascinating, especially Ferir dancing along the edge of how wrong he was willing to be with Ruben on one side and Adreil on the other, at least on this issue. I love that she is another shade of grey.

Ferir’s concern for Ruben also caught my attention along with Adreil’s disregard of him. I hope that Ruben also sleeps with one eye open. I can’t guess what Adreil wants with them, but it’s probably not all nice.

As McB said, this story is an absolute joy. I’m savoring the details, fascinated by the magic, and impatient for more, while the characters keep coming back to mind when I should be thinking of other things.