Yesterday's Shadow Options

[Olen]

Its been a while since I wrote anything of length but, after a few false starts, I have churned out the first few thousand words of something which could get fairly large. I'm not totally happy with it (though I doubt I ever would be) but it should improve as I get back into writing, any comments et al would be appriciated.

1. Gold

I shivered as an icy breeze touched me. Was it real? Yes. I brushed aside my doubts. The Wolverine Hall was built by dunmer: of course it was dark, damp and cold. So cold. I pulled my cloak closer about me and looked around the gloomy room of the Mages Guild. A few guttering candles cast a sickly light on heaps of shadowy grimoires. Crazy reflections scattered from the grease-smeared tangles on an alchemy table. The creation of a deranged glassblower with hiccoughs. In spite of it being Evening Star there were still a couple of mages braving the winter on Azura’s Coast. They kept their rheumy eyes fixed on whatever devilry they were working on and ignored me. I waited idly and rubbed at my arms.

A door opened and I got a brief glance of a small room behind before it was shut again by the old Argonian who entered. A frown flickered over his features as he regarded me with sharp red eyes, “You must be the man from the Fighter’s Guild. Not what I expected, but no doubt Hrundi knows what he’s at,” Skink-in-Trees’-Shade smiled, his teeth were green from chewing hackle-lo, his sour breath twisted my stomach, “I have work for you.”

“I know. What I don’t know is why you couldn’t have left it with Hrundi like any normal contract, your demands are already weird enough.” My breath left a plume of steam in the air.

“I think eight thousand drakes is enough to allow me to make demands,” the lizard paused, I shivered but said nothing. I couldn’t afford not to get the contract. “I know well enough what is required and agreed it with Hrundi but the job itself requires discretion. Hrundi lacks discretion when he drinks…

“Three months ago I sent a group to investigate a ruin on the coast north of Firewatch, just south of Ilethi Point. The last report I received was dated late Frostfall, over six weeks ago. I want you to find out what happened.”

“What sort of ruin is this?” I said warily.

“Its… unusual. That’s why we want to investigate it and why this situation requires subtlety. I would send my own mages but it is deep in Telvanni lands.”

“Has it occurred to you that four men might be hard pressed to clear a ruin full of Telvanni?” I never understood why mages just didn’t get fighting. Another icy draught brushed me. I shivered and scratched an itchy patch on my arm.

“If it is then you will know what happened, investigate as far as you can and return. But I suspect that it is not. Most likely messages have just gone missing, as they do.” Argonians are hard to read but it didn’t take any guile to know Skink didn’t believe it. Neither did I, why spend eight thousand septims to get the best and go to such lengths of secrecy for missing reports.

I said nothing. Nothing I was likely to say would be helpful. I needed the job.

For a moment Skink was hesitant then he said, “If that is all you had best prepare. I will have a boatman waiting for you at dusk,” I nodded and turned to go but he continued, “A word of warning: do not use any teleportation near the ruin. We do not understand why but the only attempt to date prove quite… messy. If you do get into a tight spot read this,” he proffered a scroll and a money pouch, “I will know and do what I can. Otherwise do not rely on magic.”

He stopped abruptly and turned back towards his room. I was about to leave again when he called back, “And by the nine get yourself a fix with that gold. You scratch like a nix with mange.” He shut the door behind him.

For a moment I was too shocked to move. Was it that obvious? It was four days since my money had run out. I’d gone longer, but only once. Descending the dank spiral stair made my stomach shrivel and, backed up by the bag of gold, firmly killed any thoughts of going another hour without. I paused outside the fighter’s guild to fight down nausea before I went in.

Hrundi was waiting for me, “What did the old lizard want?” he asked.

“They’ve lost a bunch of folk investigating some ruin.” I wasn’t sure if Skink wanted Hrundi to know and I didn’t care.

“Same old,” Hrundi ran his fingers though his greying beard, “If I had a hundred drake for every mages’ guild expedition I’ve bailed out the mages would have paid me,” he rumbled a laugh, “So where’s the catch? You don’t give four folk a year’s wage for nowt.”

“He wouldn’t say but he wants us at the dock this evening.”

“Then Lysander won’t be joining you, news is his silt strider crashed, driver was probably pissed. I can’t see him arriving before tomorrow night.”

“Damn, that’s a problem,” it was too. Lysander was the only person I had directly asked for. The fighter’s guild in Morrowind was a shadow of what it had been before the oblivion crisis. “Are any of your local boys a quarter competent?”

Hrundi laughed mirthlessly, “You ain’t got a whole lot of choice. I’m too old, Sondryn’s already on a contract. That only leaves young Varnan.”

“There’s only three of you in the guildhall?”

“Yes. Who would want to be here? It shouldn’t matter though, the other two are good.”

“So you keep saying. Where are they?”

“Stocking up in town, I sent them to get the supply list you left.”

“Good,” I turned away from Hrundi. Now Skink had given me means to get it skooma was all I could think of. I hurried though the damp corridors and out into the squalid courtyards of the Wolverine Hall.

I kept close to the wall out of the wind-driven sheets of rain. The guard on the bridge looked as grey as the iron sky. The instant I stepped onto it I was soaked to the skin, to my left, and mercifully downwind, the giant fungus houses groaned in the storm. I turned away from them toward Muriel’s, golden light shone though the windows. I pushed the polished doorknob and stepped into the warm air of conversation and rich smell of roasting meat and beer.

However inviting I had no intention to take a seat in the common room. I hadn’t been in Muriel’s in years and didn’t remember the place. It didn’t matter. All corner clubs are essentially the same. I started upstairs and sure enough found a much smaller room full of distinctly shady characters. A grey-haired altmer looked at me as she would a gaur’s leavings on the street. I barely noticed, I could smell a sickly sweetness in the air. A dunmer opposite caught my eye and nodded. Apparently it was that obvious.

I wandered over to him. “You got skooma?”

“Yes, the finest in all Vvardenfell. You got money?” I hate pushers. There’s something about them which makes my fists itch. And they all claim to have the best.

“Let me see the goods,” I growled.

The dunmer paused to brush an imaginary piece of lint from his opulent, yet slightly too gaudy, clothes before reaching into a bag and withdrawing two vials. “This,” the dunmer gestured to the larger one with a bejewelled hand, “Is good stuff, Hlaalu import. Came in though Lake Hairan along with the standard stuff. This, on the other hand, is Tenmar white – costly but well worth it to the discerning palate.”

“How much?”

“Forty gold a quarter for the standard, sixty for the Tenmar.”

The bag had two hundred and fifty in it, even allowing for the high prices on Vvardenfell I expected more. “Half a bottle of the cheap for two hundred.”

“Not a chance. That should be five hundred.”

“I’m buying bulk. Two hundred.”

“Three hundred.”

“Ok two fifty and you’ll throw in a dash of that Tenmar white or I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

The dunmer scowled then got out his scales. I got out my pipe. His eyes widened momentarily as I measured out my dose.

[Olen]

Just a short one. Cheers for the comment, there's not so very much to go now.


12. The Past Resurgent...

The blue dawn brought with it a chill. I dressed quickly and enjoyed the comfort of not wearing a sword and armour while I wandered at how much I had said the previous day. It had been a long, long time since I'd opened myself so much. I'd paid for it before but for now I felt something of the weight lifted. What surprised me even more was that I felt any interest in Varnan.

The dawn was bright, but dark clouds conspired in the south. The mountains were silhouetted darkly against them. My eyes scanned them for any interesting places to avoid. Staying near, though not directly at, the shore seemed the best course to avoid the panoply of lairs, towers, keeps, citadels and dungeons which litter the wild lands north of Firewatch like warts on an orc. A tendril of smoke showed up in front of them. It rose from the next valley, visible only because of the cloud streaked sky behind it. Whoever warmed themselves there knew enough to use dry hardwood, but they weren't burning it hot enough.

Varnan shouldered his pack and stepped beside me. “To Firewatch then?” I nodded, hunger stirred slightly in my stomach but it was far from bad yet. We didn't have a bow so it might be a hungry day, or two.

The sun was slow to show itself, it had risen in the cleft of two mountains and peaked from behind the southern peak like an agoraphobe unwilling to expose herself to the new day. I walked the dusty path and, though lightened by the knowledge that the every step took us further from the valley, I was far from peace. The grim landscape of crumbling peaks and dead plants was a place for dark moods and we spoke little.

The sun had passed its zenith when we crested the low ridge and looked down into the next valley. It might as well have been any other. Poisoned plants clung to grey dust tinged with ash blown over the sea from Dagoth Ur’s black crater. A greasy stream oozed its way down to the sea. A short way towards the shore a lone alit chewed carrion. I approached it purposefully. I only had a kinfe but that I was watching it before it was even aware of my presence was advantage enough.

About twenty yards separated us when it looked up. Yellow puss ran from under one of its eyes. It stood for a moment but then ran away. I relaxed.

Varnan was staring intently down into the valley, “There was smoke this morning, I’d say from somewhere not so far from here.” Before I could reply he spoke again, “And that plant can be eaten.” He hurried over to a cluster of parched leaves I had over looked as lifeless.

“Great, dead leaves,” I said. I didn't recognise the plant.

“You can eat the root under the leaves,” he said kicking away the dust to expose them, “But the tops are no use raw.”

I frowned at this unexpected knowledge and wondered if he would be insulted if I expressed my surprise. I found I didn't really care, “How do you know this? You can barely tell bunglers bane from a netch.” He glared at me. A slight twinge of regret surprised me, “The plants here are different. Where did you learn about them.”

For a moment I thought Varnan wasn't going to reply then he said, “I don't know. I just recognise the plant and know its good to eat. Well not good but not poison.” He scooped some up and wiped the earth off them. “Want one?” The woolliness of his knowledge was somewhat troubling but my stomach growled and I took the proffered root. He bit into the crisp white flesh and chewed. “Yes I remembered they taste like a bitter radishy potato.”

I took a nibble of my own, thick starchy juice ran into my stubble and I made a face. It was quite like raw potato, but with much more taste. I wasn't fully certain whether that was an improvement.

I finished it off as quickly as I could and we continued down the slope. “How far is Firewatch?” asked Varnan.

“Not fully sure,” I replied, “We should reach it by tomorrow - if we're lucky.” At that moment something caught my eye. I put a hand on Varnan's shoulder and he stopped. I looked again but caught no sign of movement, in spite of the open landscape I didn't hold many hopes about seeing anything, the dusty hollows would easily hide several men, even without a spell. And given the types who live north of Firewatch magic was most certainly on the cards.

Even magic, however, has its flaws. It might help the person to hide but it doesn't stop their feet kicking up dust. It was hard to say exactly where the person, or, gods forbid, people, were but once I looked for it I saw it. There was a small haze of dust directly below us, more than would be kicked up by wind alone.

“Did you see anyone?” I whispered and immediately wandered why when moments before we had spoken normally.

“Where?”

“See the dust haze below us? Someone has put that up but I can't see them.”

Varnan squinted down the valley, “Do you think they've seen us?”

That was the crux. Our dusty cloaks would offer some camoflague but Varnan's blond hair and red tunic were only a little worse than my own green attire. “What do you think?”

He looked around the valley then at us, “I think I'm going to get some less colourful clothes for this sort of thing. What do we do?”

I raised an eyebrow, he was seeing his mistakes now. Still green but perhaps not so wet behind the ears. “We pretend we haven't noticed anything and hope they give themselves away.” I started to walk again, I kept my pace even and unhurried.

“I'll keep my eyes peeled,” said Varnan. I grimaced. The memory the phrase conjured was unpleasant.

We carried on down the hill, my outward calm fooled even Varnan but my eyes worked overtime. My gaze jumped between every bush, stone and hollow like a Khajit on hot stones. The haze dissipated. They had bedded down and weren't moving. They could see us, we knew nothing about them. My thoughts tumbled. I wanted to run. It would be futile, we didn't know the area, we had no weapons or equipment or food.

Fortune favours the bold, I ran the old idiom though my head. It was the veteran of too many desperate situations. I walked on, tense as a lute string.

Seconds later a figure rose from the shadow of a rock less than twenty paces ahead. My fingers flew to my knife. The person pushed back the hood of a travel-stained cloak to reveal long black hair. The woman raised a hand.

My hand didn't leave my knife as I glanced around for any other people. I saw none, “Good day,” I called. Varnan followed my lead and looked about for any ambush.

“I'm looking for some people,” she called back.

This post has been edited by Olen: Jan 7 2009, 04:08 PM