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]

Cheers for the comments, there's still pleanty more of this to come, as ever any critique is most welcome.

18. Rest

I got wood.

Rough boards. The metallic tang of blood. Pain. I tried to piece it together, the parts like a reluctant jigsaw. I was falling. Yes. In to water. Through the air. Water! Air. Drowning.

No. I tried to collect my thoughts. Might as well herd clouds. Wood not water. Wooden boards.

A boot prodded me. I ignored it. Go away, I'm trying to think. It touched me again, insistent. My mind coalesced, thoughts all running together to one place like wine in an inverted bottle. Another prod. I looked up. More planks then a rail, and a strange post rising from it out of view. And closer a boot.

I moved my hand up to my face. My lip was split. I looked up and saw the owner of the boot looking down at me. He said something. I blinked, my thoughts untangling themselves. I was on a boat. The nord whose boot had prodded me, I still hadn't quite forgiven it, was probably the captain. He spoke again.

"You're awake then, and about time. Would you like to tell me what that little show was about?"

"What?" I asked.

"Honestly I'm not sure," he said, "I was just relaxing in my cabin with a bottle of brandy when the warehouse bursts into flame. Just like that," he still sounded a little shocked, "No build-up or nothing. People are everywhere, running and screaming; well I gets my crew and decided to sail away before the Breaker's Grace, that's this ole lady," he motioned to the deck under me, "Catches herself. Then I get rammed by Arethi's tub and you're running down the breakwater shouting and screaming. Next thing I know you're hanging from the futtock shrouds and then falling onto my deck." He paused, apparently out of steam.

"What?" I said, then shook my head violently, some of the fluff disappeared from my thoughts, "The boat that rammed you where is it?"

"Looked like it was going south, Arethi was bound for Vvardenfell, not that its relevant..."

I remembered what Renera had done to the captain of the boat she commandeered and shuddered, "I don't think he'll be going anywhere," I said.

The captain paused. "Quite. Now would you like to explain what happened, if you know? Then we can get onto why I should have you on my ship."

I sat up and looked around, the boat was a fair way from land. I wandered how long I'd been out, half an hour, maybe. "I've been following a dangerous mage for some days now, she was responsible for he killings backcountry. It was she who started the fire, presumably so she could steal a ship in the turmoil. The captain of the ship she chose, Arethi from what you say, wasn't keen on whatever she proposed. So she... dealt with him. I was trying to catch up with her but wasn't fast enough to jump to her ship and didn't stop in time to avoid yours."

"There's a story here, quite a story, but I think I'd rather hear it inside. Come down below deck and tell me over a meal," he turned, "Oh and I think these are yours," he threw me the skooma bottles.

***

I'd told Hulgar, as the captain introduced himself, a version of how I'd come to be on his deck, omitting, of course, the ruin, any details of Firewatch and various other bits and pieces to make myself look at least half respectable. Once I finished he was silent for a time.

At length he said, "That's quite a story you have yourself. I doubt that's all of it either, but I shan't press and what you've said is enough to convince me. No one would be stupid enough to make something like that up," he laughed and took a swig of mead, the sickly stench of the stuff was choked the small cabin, "There's no way I could catch up with Arethi's boat, she cut her own bowstring in killing him, he's a fast sailor, but it's still a fast boat and I saw them jettison what they pretend is cargo. It's a smuggling ship really, from what I hear he specialises in dwemer stuff, not that I'd let any of that stuff on my ship, bad luck they say. Anyway without the weight they'll be moving some and honestly even if I could catch them from what you say I don't want to. Still a story like that deserves thanks so I'll give you a cabin down as far south as you want, well at least as far as Droynyon Bay, about forty leagues north of Tear. Any further is Dres water."

I nodded, only slightly surprised by the large nord, he didn't strike me as the type to throw me overboard and from his reactions I suspected there was more between him and Arethi than he'd said. "Thanks," I answered, "But one question. Did you notice a slave train come through Alt Bosara a couple of days ago? About ten Dres heavies with a mage and maybe thirty slaves?"

He glared at me, "I saw that scum, what about them?"

"Where were they going?"

"They had a ship waiting, Dres boat so south. Some of my crew gambled with them, loaded dice of course - normally I'd not allow it but the Dres get what comes to them. They might have said but I'd wager a fair bit they were headed to Tear. Why?"

"They're involved in this too. I have... business with them."

He put down his beer, his face serious, "What kind of business. If its the kind I don't want to know about I might have a contact for you. If you intend on buying, well." He cracked his knuckles, "No doubt you know how to use that overgrown knife," he nodded to the sword at my belt, "But I have a crew backing me up."

"You won't need it, I have no intention of buying anything." I gave a predatory grin.

Hulgar only nodded.

After putting what little I had into the small cabin I'd been given I had a quick smoke then went to talk with the crew. They were clearly somewhat apprehensive of me but interest generally won out and I spent the evening drinking and laughing with them. I also discovered a bit about their captain; none of them knew why, but he hated slavers with a passion. Even to the extent he refused to deal with the Dres and had even killed a couple in his time. I decided not to pursue it any further. When later I made my way, somewhat unsteadily, to my cabin with the warm glow of drunkenness and the promise of a good bed for the first time in what seemed like ages I realised how much I missed the camaraderie of the guild. I stretched out on the mattress and timed my breathing to the gently rocking swell and dropped into a sleep I deeply needed.

***

I was in Irrith again. The dark wooden houses and barns crowded out the meagre light, and somewhere out in the forest something slouched in the gloom. I knew it approached, but I needed to see it, to catch it: I did not warn the townspeople. I could not have them stir from the warm fires and good food to run like panicked sheep from a burning barn. The beast, I could not remember exactly what I sought, must not know I was there, so the townspeople must act as if unaware. They must be unaware. I waited, my nerves vibrating in my tension. I looked into the blackness under the trees, and saw nothing. I glanced behind myself but shook my head. Only shadowy phantasms, drawing away my gaze like a sailor to the rocks. It would not come from that side. Probably. I controlled my ragged breathing and tried to relax. It would be alright I told myself. A promise full of worms. The shadows behind continued their nightmare mockery. I shuddered. It would be alright. I waited. And watched.

A stir, like darkness congealing. My blood curdled, I felt sick but had nothing to vomit. The beast emerged from the woods, it wore a coil I knew. Renera, but I was deeply sure she was not there. Inside was the darkness, the nightghast, the fear and hopelessness of the grave assured, the despair and terror. I had found my beast.

Fire, screams and dust and ash.

Morning. A bleak sun afraid to see the work of the night. Burned buildings and broken bodies. A village wiped away like so much dirt. I stood and I wandered which had been the worst monster in the forest. I had responsibility. Blame for the deaths and the destruction; a sour taste, even for my mouth. Then amid the broken rubble a sign of life. Bruised and terrified a child unfolded from the dead ruins like a spring plant. My heart sank. But already I knew I dreamt. The illusion fading as I departed. I caught a final glance of his bewildered eyes before he was gone. But it would be alright.


I awoke in the creaking belly of the ship and sat up. My face fell into my hands. The boy had been the same one I'd seen as I ran from Irrith, but I remembered another little boy, far away, in Cyrodiil, more than three decades before. I remembered the ruins of another village, if I thought back I remembered looking at the clutter of a life destroyed.

But something last night had changed. I thought of the words of the forester who had found me half starved in the wilds so long ago. "Depression is just anger without enthusiasm." I still remembered the words after all the years and all the horrors they'd held. I don't think I'd understood them at first, but overtime I'd wrung meaning from them and it oozed forth like blood. Those few words entailed so much more than at first glance; just like a fresh corpse. Now was their time, their sense sung to me and drew me on. I felt I teetered on an edge between what I had been and what might be. The words drew me like a lodestone, the last tiny effort needed to tip the balance. A dreadful, dark force.

Now I recalled the words. Now I would live by them. And my rage began to grow.