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]

Thanks for the comments, so many have inspired me to start writing again...

SubRosa - correct as ever, I only wish I could see mistakes so well. Part of what I was playing with in this piece was having morally (dark) gray 'heros' but from a sympathetic point of view. I'm glad you like the argonians.

mALX - thanks, chapters will continue as before then.

Destri - I'm glad you like Firen, he's a fairly easy character to write. I somewhat agree keeping Keel-Ha could have added another dimension but...

canis - now that is praise...

haute - twice?! High praise indeed. The section after the fighting is done is the part I enjoy writing far more, it's when the characters are laid bare and you can really get at them. The fight is more a means to that than the point in itself.

Again thanks all


33. Enemy of My Enemy

We left four graves behind the following evening. A darkness hung over our souls that night and silence held sway. I pondered what could be done in Tear. The only sane option would be to attack something undefended but therefore unimportant on the outskirts. But that would not rescue Varnan. That ruled out sanity. The shadow of a plan was forming, but even though it looked as though it could work I did my best to think of other things. It was black work and would muddy my name, and many others, for all time. Could it serve a greater end? As ever my mind circled the mist between wrong and right and picked at the plan like a scab.

At midnight it was well enough formed that I suspected it could not work. Not because of any flaw but because of the resources it required. "Is there anyone who might help us this far south?" I asked. It was almost the first speech of the night.

"For basics some outlanders might. Others wouldn't, but we can steal food and other necessities," said Hides.

Problem solved, "Very well."

"There was one," said Hassde, "A breton enchantress named Mabrel. She lived a long way south, near the marshes, and would sometimes help us. But she moved close to Tear, away from us. We didn't follow."

Something in his tone made me ask, "Why?"

"We weren't sure why she helped us. She was against slavery but much in the way most humans are. They give only words. It was a hatred for the dunmer which drove her, she would only lend if it helped to kill."

"She may be of use," it was a lie. She would be ideal, "Where did she move?"

"A small town northwest of Tear, we could be there today. But that was many years ago, she may have moved again, or have died even."

"We shall try."

"What is your plan?"

"As yet? Nothing, merely ideas. Possibilities. I shall see what she says." I wasn't going to tell my plan. Not yet. Once I had the pieces they would less likely object.


We didn't make it far that night and were still two miles from the town of Nelmora when we stopped in amongst some rocks. While the others set about making camp I took off my armour and, using the reflection in my sword, set about shaving and cutting my hair which had become long in my travels.

"What are you doing?" asked Hides.

"Smartening myself up. I don't want to wait until this evening to go into town so I shall do it by day."

"But you'll be seen."

"Yes, but not recognised. They won't expect that we are so far south for a few days yet. Loghash was unreliable, he won't be missed for a while. I shall simply walk in as a traveller and look for this Mabrel. I could even ask for her if necessary."

"It's too much of a risk," said Hassde.

"It's not going to be safer with one of you accompanying me is it?"

They made no reply. In truth I didn't like it much but the nerve required would be good practice for what I had in mind for Tear.

By full light as the others rested I made my way towards the road looking, I thought, smart enough, or at least not too filthy, to pass unnoticed. The road was quiet so early and it was only close to Nelmora that I came across the first strangers. By the look of their tools they were joiners. My heart beat faster as I approached. How well had my appearance been circulated? Did all humans look somewhat alike to the dunmer just as they to humans? I hoped so. I swallowed nervously but I forced my pace to remain steady and breathing even. I made myself not to look at them, but not to appear to be doing so. Perhaps it wouldn't have fooled someone suspicious but neither dunmer gave me a second glance. Past them I breathed relief, there was a slight urge to run but I was far from the worst of it yet.

Nelmora was small and barely warranted the title of town. It had no walls and no guard watched the road. Indeed the only two I saw were stood smoking Hackle-lo in the square and seemed more interested in whatever gossip they shared than watching the populace. I had little doubt that everyone knew everyone's business here. There was no magic shop on the square but I saw a sign down a narrow side street which might once have shown a soul gem and lightning bolt. On arriving I was met with a worn door covered in peeling paint. From the outside it looked derelict, but then how many people in a village can afford enchantments? I doubt if she'd ever sold anything except the occasional intervention scroll to worried parents.

I tried the rusty handle. It turned but the door was stiff. I put my shoulder to it and with a crunch it opened. There was a tinkle of small metal bits hitting the floor. I stepped in to see fragments of a cheap lock scattered around. Good way to start. I shut the door behind me and looked about the shop. Dust lay thick on mounds of scrolls piled against the walls. A long cabinet stood against one wall, though its grimy glass front I saw some cheaply enchanted weapons and armour. Rubbish all of it. Prone to fail exactly when it's most needed.

Even the counter was filthy. It was covered in clutter with varying thicknesses of grime. There was a less dusty patch where the dark wood showed around a glittering bracer. A slave bracer no less. That was an ominous sign. Of Mabrel there was no sign, I assumed she would be upstairs asleep, and I intended to let her stay that way while I had a poke around. Everything in the shop was dusty, so where did she spend her time? The cellar, I thought, typical eccentric mage. One look at the doorhandle, gleaming through use, confirmed this. I fingered my sword making sure it was loose in its sheath before trying the door. It was unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped onto a stone stairway. Candles burned in alcoves, their jaundiced glow only highlighted the gloom and sent shadows chasing each other like nightmares cast on the dank walls. There was an odour in the basement, like old earth newly turned and the harsh tang of magic. The smell brought memories I'd thought buried by my excesses in Firewatch. The vaulted madness of the ruin and the creature. Renera. I pushed them aside, for the stench here was a breath in a storm compared to that place. I descended.

As I rounded a corner in the stair I caught my first glimpse of Mabrel. She sat at a desk working with a great tome open before her and many candles. I froze but she appeared not to have noticed me to I let my gaze wander. In one corner was a forge, the fire low but burning. A few desks lay scattered around with soul gems on them. They were unlike any soul gems I'd seen though, to say they were black in an understatement. They sucked in light so they sat in their own pool of darkness. I'd heard the stories, human souls are strong. In the corner by the forge lay the corpse of a dunmer.

"Good morning," I said.

The witch's head whirled round, "Who are you? You must die." She stood.

"I seek help for a certain group you used sometimes to aid. Our need is desperate, and what you choose to do," I glanced at the corpse, "Is between you and the law."

She lowered her hands slightly, "What group? If you're from the Twin Lamps then Dagon take you fetcher. Weak. Useless. Be gone before I get myself a decent soul to work with. It is odd that I must use these black soul gems for dunmer because they barely count as thinking beings."

"Your reputation proceeds you," I said, "I wondered why you chose to live here."

"The filthy creatures provide satisfactory souls and no more. I do my bit for Tamriel by killing a few, it's just a shame more don't follow suit. Now what's your business."

I wondered what the dunmer had done to drive her quite so mad. Still it could use it, "You will have heard of certain events at the Edril Plantation?"

"Yes," she laughed, "I wonder which splinter group did that - excellent work anyway. The Twin Lamps would be far to weak willed to try such a novelty."

"The Argonian Defence Front, were responsible. I planned it, my name is Firen Varian, perhaps you have heard of me." She went absolutely still and, I was surprised to see, the colour left her face slightly. "Clearly I too have a reputation, but I assure you there will be inaccuracies in the stories spirit, if perhaps not their detail." The look on her face chilled me, was I really that feared and hated? Though after all I'd done it was hardly surprising.

"I see, and now you seek my aid. It seems we share a passion," I tried to hide a grimace, "I will listen."

I told her of my plan for Tear. The smile that grew on her face didn't help me convince myself that I did the correct thing. But it would be for a greater good. Probably.

This post has been edited by Olen: Apr 22 2010, 09:17 PM