Burning Today Options

[Olen]

Some of you probably remember my last piece, Yesterday's Shadow and that it had a rather unsatisfying ending. I spent the summer rectifying this and now have a sizeable sequel/ completion to it which is itself now finished. It would probably be better to read Yesterday's Shadow before this as it would make more sense, however you should get by without it. If anyone wants I'll put a synopsis here, though Yesterday's Shadow isn't very long so you could just read it here (enough plugs yet?)

Anyway without further ado:

Burning Today

Prologue

Dervas wore boots while he worked. Shoes didn't last long in the decaying mixture of blood, vomit, drink and drugs which floored The Black Guar. The dark man had finally passed out and for the first time Dervas dared look at him. A worn man with a broken soul. Who are you? The Black Guar didn't get passing trade – the mixture of pushers, heavies and racketeers who made up most of his patronage didn't appreciate strangers. In the first hour the man, who now lay face down on the table, had knocked two out cold and broken another's arm. They left him alone after that and he them. Dervas wiped the remains of a line of sugar off the bar and nodded to the bouncer who went to move the man to his room.

Someone knocked at the door. Dervas ignored it. They knocked again, for longer this time. He cursed and went to tell whoever it was where to go. It was late an he didn't need any more trade. He pushed open the door, a curse dancing on his tongue. A sack crashed to the ground, gold clinked within. A Breton in black clothes stood in the doorway.

“What's his tab?” There was no need to ask whose.

“Sixty.”

The Breton showed no surprise, and counted out the gold. “Listen,” his tone offered pain if Dervas didn't, “You keep giving that guy drinks, drugs, whores, whatever he asks for okay? For him happy hour doesn't end, tabs never have to be paid. Push as much as you can into him. Don't worry - I'll be round a couple of nights a week to pay you. That sack,” he kicked disdainfully at the one he'd just dropped, “Contains a thousand drakes, payment enough I'd say. If he asks don't tell him, just give him more drink. Understand?”

Dervas nodded, his mouth was dry.

The man disappeared into the night.

Dervas walked back into the bar. He looked towards the dark man's room. Who are you? he thought again, And what have I gotten into?

[Olen]

7. Fresh Morning

In the bottom of a dry gulch I dreamed. Blood and fear and flames. I dreamt of the mage, only in the darkness of my mind he wouldn't speak so I kept at my dark business. On it went, my discomfort growing by the moment. I didn't want to continue. But I couldn't stop. I woke smeared with sweat. It was cold, the sun only just peaking over the horizon. For a while I just watched it rise and shook, the memories of the previous day cartwheeling in my mind. The work of a monster, I hadn't been myself. But I knew that I had known full well what I was doing, even the consequences. That's what hurt.

I sat up, hungry in spite of the sickness at myself. There was no food. I stood, with luck I'd find a farm somewhere on my way south who would sell me victuals. And maybe some skooma, a voice inside me whispered. It would make the dreams and guilt go away. The madness of the previous day had covered the withdrawal but I felt it now. No. I climbed out the narrow ravine cut by the stream. Varnan needed me. Slavers... I could still hardly believe it. The weak sun shone over the moors to my east, cold and hard. But in that moment I knew that I would rescue him, or die trying. I was finished with skooma, finished with the guild and finished with my old life. The events of the previous night would haunt me, and so they should. If I freed Varnan I would have at least some absolution.

I had a strange feeling as I started my southward walk. Not nice, but determined, more so than I'd ever been before. Maybe this was what they called duty. If so it wasn't as heavy as the crushing void which it had filled. The moors were more hospitable than the mountains to the north. I headed inland and as the day passed were ever more signs of people. Not the mad wizards of the north but actual people. In the more sheltered valleys guar shielings nestled out of the weather. Small paths, most likely left by animals, crisscrossed the ground which bore scrubby heather and grass. Initially I gave the occasional hamlets which occupied some of the more defensible hilltops a wide berth. Helnim Wall was about twenty-five leagues south of Firewatch, I didn't know its location any more precisely than that so I was going to have to go to one soon. That and I needed food if I was to keep a pace which would catch the caravan.

As the miles passed the land became more tended. There were some paths which looked like more than animals frequented them. I saw more fields on the less rocky slopes and the settlements moved from the hilltops to the valleys. Even so it was a surprise when I came upon a lone farmstead in the cleft between two hills. Smoke rose from the chimneys and a pair of guar stood in the yard. I approached slowly looking for any other signs of life.

The farm buildings weren't what I was used to. The single barn was heavily built and glared suspiciously through windows narrowed almost to arrow slits. The farmhouse was built onto the back of it, it had no windows. I was nearly in the yard before a dunmer stood from behind a pile of hay. He held a drawn bow.

"What's your business human?" he called in a thick accent.

I stopped, "I want to buy food."

He let the tension out the bow but only half lowered it. "Fine. Don't try anything though."

"I won't," I said and continued my approach. As I reached him he turned and crossed the yard to the house. The guars rose their large heads then went back to picking at the hard-packed earth. By the door to the house there was a handcart with a broken wheel and the remains of a bench.

"Take a seat," he said. I did and he sat next to me, "What do you want to buy?"

"What food do you have? Anything which will travel well."

"Where's you pack?"

"I don't have one," I wandered if he was thinking of robbing me but my worries were dispelled.

"I might have a blanket I could live without, for the right price."

"I have coin."

"Good. Wait." he scurried into the house. I looked over the small farm, it wasn't bad. The bench was rotten as hell but the spot was a sun trap and was warm in spite of the season. A few fields grew a variety of plants. There must have been a fair family in the house to tend it all. I looked up at the building and saw another dunmer watching me from one of the narrow windows. I pretended not to have seen and leaned back. They wanted my money, but I doubted they'd have the courage to take it by force. My legs were weary anyway, perhaps more than they would have been normally, a reminder of the events of the past few days. And what they'd lead to...

That train of thought was broken by the re-emergence of the dunmer. He carried a sizeable knapsack with a thick, if lumpy, blanket rolled on top. "I've packed it with scrib jerky, pickled kwama egg, and lots of saltrice. The sack, blanket and food for fifty coins."

I smiled at him, "Even in a shop that would be thirty, but I'll be generous and give you thirty-five."

"Forty and I'll crack open this shein and we can have a drink. I need a rest."

"Done," I reached into the bag I carried and made a show of raking around, they didn't need to know just how much gold I was carrying. I pulled out the coins and handed them to him, "Thanks."

He pocketed them quickly save one which he bit, "Mmm," he said, "Imperial coin. Thank you, its purer gold than the local stuff, much softer," He put the coin away and transferred his teeth to the cork of a rough ceramic bottle. It popped out and he took a swig. "It's good," he said, "I make it myself."

I braced myself for what was to come as I tipped back the bottle. The comberry wine was remarkably smooth with its classic sourness. Strong too. "Its good," I said, truthfully, "I have a question."

"Ask away," he smiled. The rest, or the coin, had done wanders to his friendliness.

"What's the best way from here to Helnim Wall?"

He looked at me speculatively for a moment, "Is best the quickest? Or the quietest? We don't see many travellers here."

"Quickest," I needed to catch up with Varnan, and I doubted pursuit would come that quickly, if at all.

"Then I don't know why you didn't stick to the road. Just go over the hill due east for a couple of miles and you should pick up a cart track which is your best bet. It joins the road about another seven miles south, then its a day and a half to Helnim."

"Thanks. Is there much traffic on it?"

"Well," he took a deep swig and passed the bottle, "It ain't a midsummer fair but there's a bit. A few travellers and a bit of goods for the south. Mainly lighter more valuable stuff. Otherwise its easier to take it round by boat even with the storms and taxes and all. I swear those damned mage lords will tax us all to our graves, or better theirs. The weather's always foul, and it's them I swear. Not that anyone cares about the farmers round here." I made a noncommittal noise and he continued, "There was a day they farmed up north, now I'm near the most northerly. And these attacks, well I can't be too careful but it's only more costs. But after what's happened in Stent and then there was old Enrol found strung up with his family. It's getting worse by the year..." he trailed off, "Anyway the road," he said, "It ain't over full but there's enough for it to be a bit dangerous. Highwaymen and the like. Fetchers all of them."

"Thanks," I took the pack and a last swig of the wine, "I must be going." My legs protested as I stood but I ignored them. Sitting drinking wine had got me, and Varnan, into the fix. And brought about the last night. I shook my head to dislodge the memory.

"Going already? Very well sera, good journeying," said the dunmer farmer.

"Thank you for the food, and the wine," I said and turned away from the farm and to the east.