Old Habits Die Hard Part Three, The old dog practices new habits Options

[haute ecole rider]

Here is the first of a third thread for Old Habits Die Hard. I appreciate all of you staying with Julian and I this far, and hope you stick with us to the end!

For those who want to go back to the beginning, here you go:
Old Habits Die Hard Chapters 1 - 7
Old Habits Die Hard Chapters 8 - 13

[haute ecole rider]

Now Julian has to confront her old nemesis.

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Chapter 14.1 Skooma Cravings

Neen-zun paused in his rowing to catch his breath. Slumped in the bow of the skiff, I glanced at the thin Argonian, then at the Bay surrounding us. Before we started out, he had cut the arrowheads out of my arm. The wounds still throbbed, but at least they didn’t grind when I moved my arm. I lowered my hand to the scabbard of my katana.

“I am ssorry,” the Argonian caught my wary movement. “I am tired today.” He shook his head, rubbing at his right shoulder. “Give me a moment.”

“How did you come to owe gro-Dragol so much?” I decided to learn a little more about him. It would help me decide if I trusted him or not.

“I wass addicted to skooma, yearss ago,” Neen-zun looked down at his hands, loosely clasped on the oars. “I sstarted borrowing from gro-Dragol to pay for it after I losst my job and ussed up my ssavingss.” Shipping the oars, he rubbed his thumbs into his palms. “I owed him a couple hundred drakess, and had become quite ill and usseless.”

I watched him as he fell silent, his eyes growing distant. “What happened, then?” I asked quietly when he didn’t speak for several seconds.

Neen-zun blinked dull eyes at me, his thumbs stilling in his palms. “My hatchling, my beautiful daughter -” his voice caught momentarily. “Sshe was ssupporting uss by gathering herbss for the Magess Guild. Banditss caught her while she wass outsside. They raped her, and killed her -”

I closed my eyes against the grief threading his tone. “I am sorry, Neen-zun.”

“I losst the will to live,” Neen-zun resumed after several moments. “I tried to kill mysself with sskooma. Ssilly me, Argonianss can’t overdosse on sskooma. Marz found me at the bottom of the bluff behind the Magess Guild.”

“She healed you?” I asked, thinking of what she had already done for me. “She’s very good at it.”

“Yess, sshe got rid of the cravingss,” Neen-zun nodded agreement. “But sshe couldn’t heal my heart. Nor could sshe make my debt to gro-Dragol go away. I had to go to work for him.” He picked up the oars, placing them back into the water with a soft plop. “I ferry people back and forth to Fort Grief to pay off my obligationss.”

We were silent as he rowed the rest of the way across the Bay. By the time we tied up at the Bravil city dock, the sun was already down. Neen-zun jumped onto the dock and turned to give me a hand out of the rowboat. With grateful acceptance of his help, I limped onto the weathered boards and turned to look at him. The thin Argonian, grey with ill health and malnutrition, returned my gaze steadily.

“Thank you,” I said to him. I fumbled the Khajiit’s drakes out of my wallet and gave them to him. He stared at the six heavy coins in his hand, then looked back at me. “Get yourself a good meal,” I said, “and some new clothes.”

“Thank you, Julian of Anvil,” he hissed gladly at me. He remained by the rowboat as I turned and began climbing the steep stairs back up to the top of the bluff overlooking the canal. The pounding headache caused vertigo, making me stop halfway up the steps to catch my breath. I fought down the craving for the wine in the makeshift sack I held in my right hand.

Finally at the top, I turned right, towards the Fighters Guild, instead of left, where the Chapel and the Mages Guild stood. I caught myself only when I reached the building housing the skooma den. The faint glow gleamed between the chinks in the shuttered window on the uppermost floor.

The flickering light of candles. The acrid taste of the skooma. The warmth cascading around me, enveloping me, shielding me from the world. The easing of the constant pain. The silencing of the smith’s hammer. The sensation of floating a meter above the malodorous bedroll I lay on. The stretching of time and space. Finally, limbo.

“Julian!” The voice broke into my fragmented memories and brought me back to the present, with the smith’s hammer, the bitter taste in my mouth, and the pain of my half-healed injuries. I turned my head to look west, towards the Mages Guild. A tall figure approached me, shrouded in shadows. I reached for my katana before the other stepped into a pool of flickering yellow cast by a nearby streetlamp. Carandial.

My hand moved away from the katana’s hilt and I turned to face him. The concern and worry on his face gave way to alarm when he took in my battered appearance. Halting before me, he reached for my shoulders, but I stepped back, avoiding his hands. “Julian?” he repeated, more hesitantly this time. “Are you all right?”

Slowly I shook my head, wincing at the pain the movement caused. “No, not at all,” I answered, my voice dry and crackling. He regarded me silently for several seconds, then his gaze moved upwards towards the skooma den above us.

“You need healing, not skooma,” he stated flatly. “Come, walk with me to the Chapel. I will get Marz for you.”

Again I shook my head. “It is late, and she is probably asleep. I do not want to wake her.”

Carandial was silent for another few seconds. “Can you make it through the night without going there?” he pointed at the top floor of the rickety building.

He is right, I won’t last the night. I hung my head, shamed by my weakness. Carandial laid one hand gently on my right shoulder. “Come on,” his voice turned quiet. “I’ll walk you to the Chapel.” He stepped to my right side and gently nudged me in that direction.

I didn’t argue, but limped west down the cobblestoned street. The tall Altmer matched his stride with mine, but did not speak again until we entered the Chapel. My eyes on the altar at the far end of the nave, I turned to him. “Wait, let me try something first,” I said. He nodded and waited near the stairs to the Chapel private quarters while I continued on.

Reaching the altar, I placed my right hand on the cold stone rim. Please, Akatosh, don’t turn your back on me now.

The smith’s hammer softened as the healing coiled from my belly over me, taking away the pain in my left arm and right knee. The horrid taste in my mouth dissipated, and my vision sharpened. I leaned forward onto my braced right arm in relief. Is it really so simple? Pray to Akatosh and trust in him?

“No, it iss not so ssimple,” Marz’s voice sounded behind me. Startled, I turned to look at her over my left shoulder. “But it helpss, doess it not?” she continued, joining me at the altar. My gaze slid past her to Carandial, where he remained near the stairs. I saw his shrug in the dimness. He didn’t get her. Marz came up on her own.

“Let me ssee you, Julian,” Marz held her hands up and touched my temples with her fingers. “You came sso closse tonight.” Her beautiful orange eyes closed, and I felt her warm healing pass into my skull, silencing the smith for good.

“Why is praying not so simple, Marz?” I whispered as she took her hands away.

“If praying iss automatic, and done without thinking,” she answered, holding my gaze with hers, “it iss meaninglesss. But when done from the heart,” she laid the palm of her right hand over my breastbone, “the Godss can only resspond.” Now Marz took my right hand in both of hers. “Tonight, you came closse to falling again. But you didn’t.”

“Carandial stopped me,” I began, but Marz shook her head.

“No, it was your own dessire,” she countered softly. “You knew what lay down that road, and you didn’t want to travel it again. Though your body may cry out for limbo, your heart would not let it go.” I looked down at her long-fingered hands, seeing the beautiful colors in her scaled skin. She gave me a gentle squeeze. “Carandial was there, yess, but ultimately you made your own choice to come here insstead.”

With a shake of my head, I stepped away from the altar and sat down. “I have no choice, really,” I murmured. “There is something I must do.”

“Yess,” Marz followed me, sitting beside me. “You have to tell Urssanne that her hussband iss dead.”

I glanced at Marz. “How did you know?”

“I knew you went to ssee the ussurer after Urssane sspoke to you,” Marz’s hissing voice was soft. “I knew you went with Neen-zun. He takess people to an island in the Bay. Ssometimess they come back, ssometimess they don’t. I guessed that Aleron had gone there when I found out he had dissappeared.” She shook her head, her eyes sad. “I didn’t think he would come back.”

I looked down at my hands. “Aleron is dead,” I confirmed Marz’s guess. “But that is not the only task before me.” For the first time that day, I let myself think about Martin and the daedric artifact I needed to obtain for him.

I realized that I hated the idea of going to a Daedric Lord, especially after seeing the sacrificial altar at Mehrunes Dagon’s shrine. The thought of Jeelius being killed for some tenuous being still made my blood run cold. With the recognition that I had been postponing this task as long as I could, I shivered.

Marz sat quietly, her eyes on me. Meeting her steady gaze, I stifled a sigh. “I must see Ursanne in the morning, give her the news,” I said. “Then I have to leave Bravil.”

“You need time to resst,” Marz protested. I shook my head.

“I’ve delayed this task long enough,” I answered, hearing the implacability in my voice. I tried to smile at the concerned Argonian. “Thank you, Marz, for your healing. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me tonight.”

Marz smiled, her pointed teeth gleaming in the dim light. She rose with me, and grasped my upper arms firmly. “Remember, if you are hurt and far from help, the Nine are alwayss near. They will hear you if you call them.”

“Even in the Deadlands?” I asked her. Her hands fell away.

“You would go into more Oblivion Gatess?” she asked. “Issn’t two enough?”

“If they’re opening outside cities all over Cyrodiil,” I answered, shrugging, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Call the Divines, even in the Deadlandss,” Marz said after a moment. “Who knowss, they may hear you and give you aid.”

“Who knows, indeed,” I answered. “I will remember.” Grasping her hands in mine, I smiled, more easily this time. “Good night, Marz.”

“Good night, Julian,” she answered, as we walked to the stairway, where Carandial still waited. She murmured a greeting to the Altmer mage before descending the stairs. Carandial fell into step beside me as we headed for the doors.

“I’m glad to see you feeling much better, Julian,” he said quietly as he opened one of the heavy panels for me.

“Yes, I’m glad, too,” I answered. “Now I need to sleep.”

“Of course you do,” Carandial fell silent as we walked the short distance between the Chapel and the Mages Guild. He paused at the bottom of the steps as I moved to the door.

When I turned to look at him, I was startled by his expression, revealed by the double moonlight. Then he smiled that crooked smile, and the expression was gone. “Good night, Julian. Sleep well.” He turned and walked away.

“Good night, Carandial,” I murmured to his retreating back.

Locking the door behind me, I leaned against it, my breath shallow. That look Carandial gave me. Was that a trick of the moonlight? Or a figment of my imagination? It reminded me of how Jared looked at me all those years ago, when I was young and foolish. He had stolen my heart, then cruelly destroyed it. After that, I had joined the Legion, vowing never to be so vulnerable again. Since then I had not received that look from a man, not until recently. First that Redguard -no, Blackguard - from the Marie Elena, now Carandial. Why him? What does an Altmer see in me anyway?

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 20 2010, 04:25 PM