Old Habits Die Hard Part Four, old habits really do die hard Options

[haute ecole rider]

In Thread Four we continue Julian’s adventures with Chapter 19. Brace yourself!

For those joining the party late, here are links to the previous three threads:

Chapters 1 through 7
Chapters 8 through 13
Chapters 14 through 18

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Chapter 19.1 Leyawiin Mages Guild

Jenseric would have found out by now that his name is cleared with the Watch. My mind returned to my interview with Hieronymus Lex. After I returned to the Imperial City with Seridur’s armor and claymore, I had reported the situation to Lex. He had agreed to send a messenger to Jenseric’s cabin to let the man know the outcome. Then I had sought healing from Jeelius in case I had contracted porphyric hemophilia.

That had been yesterday. I did not linger long, but instead returned to Paint and the Yellow Road south from the east coast of Lake Rumare. We had spent the night at the Imperial Bridge Inn before resuming our travel along the east side of the Niben Bay.

Paint threw his head up, his hooves clattering to a halt on the cobblestones. I looked down the twisting Yellow Road. The rain reduced visibility to less than a couple hundred meters. I dismounted when Paint remained tense, his ears flicking back and forth, his nostrils fluttering. What is it? Wolf? Troll? Spriggan? His reaction suggested it was something he had never seen before. I stepped forward, my katana ready.

A sizzling sound reached my ears, then a swirl of sparks coalesced in mid-air between me and Paint. The gelding tossed his head and stepped back as the will o’wisp solidified into its visible form. Cacat! Reflexively my katana leaped toward its glow, passing through it without any visible effect.

Paint whinnied and reared as a crackling bolt of orange lightning joined the will o’wisp to him. Flame-colored reflections sparked off the hilt of Daedra Slayer, attached to the cantle. I sheathed the katana and called on Domina Incendia to try and distract the insubstantial creature. As the will o’wisp slowly rotated in response to the flame atronach’s fireballs, I ran past it to Paint, who backed away, trembling violently. I laid a soothing hand on his shoulder and reached for my enchanted katana. Sliding it out of its scabbard, I turned around in time to see Domina Incendia dissolve from the will o’wisp’s counterattack.

Fortunately, Daedra Slayer proved as effective against the flame-shaped monster as it did against the vicious Dremora I had faced in the Deadlands. A few swings of its fiery blade dissipated the last energy of this foe, leaving behind softly glowing embers on the cobblestones.

A groan behind me spun me around. I watched horrified as Paint slowly crumpled to the slick surface of the road, his labored breaths loud in the pouring rain. “No!” As I ran to him, his head lowered to the stones, and his respiration slowed. Falling to my knees, I dropped Daedra Slayer at my side and laid my hands on his arched neck, tangling my fingers in his mane. I felt the overpowering weakness in his body as I called on my remaining magicka. The convalescence spell drained the last of my energy, and all I accomplished was a mild improvement in his stertorous breathing.

Frantically I searched in the saddle bags for the vials of magicka restoration I had purchased in the Imperial City. Finding them, I fumbled one out and hastily drank it down. Feeling the surge of energy in my core, I forced myself to calm, laying my hands on Paint’s still trembling form. I leaned my cheek on his smooth coat. “Paint, stay with me,” I whispered, concentrating on another convalescence spell. His breathing smoothed out, but the tremoring and weakness persisted.

It took all my willpower to fight back the terror I felt when I realized I might lose my traveling companion. Don’t die, Paint. You have to get up. You have to walk with me to Leyawiin. We can’t stay here in the wilderness. I drank another potion and cast another spell to help him recover.

Six vials, my entire supply of restore magicka potions, lay empty on the cobblestones, and I was shaking with the repeated spell-casting before Paint attempted to rise. His first attempt was unsuccessful, and left him blowing hard. The second try was better, and he swayed on his feet, muscles tremoring as if from a hard gallop over a long distance. Paint was too weak to lift his chiseled head, and his round brown eyes were half-closed and sunken into his skull. I rose to my feet, my hands on his shoulder as if trying to hold him up. When I was certain he wouldn’t collapse again, I gathered the empty vials, stowing them into the saddlebags. I strapped my plain katana to my back, and removed the scabbard for Daedra Slayer, attaching it to my belt at my left hip. My plain steel bow was traded for Akatosh’s Fury, which I strung and made ready in case of more of these dangerous creatures.

I led Paint off the road down to the river bank. The mud crabs clattered away from us as I gathered wood. Paint drank from the Niben, then stood motionless, his head low, while I made a rough hearth and built a fire. I watched him anxiously as I added wood to the flames. I have some restore health potions in the pack, but how to get him to drink them? How many potions would be effective for a horse his size? I could feel my magicka slowly replenishing. As Paint did not seem to worsen, I decided to wait until my energy was fully returned and try another convalescence spell again.

The night passed with agonizing slowness as I sat with Paint. Every time my magicka replenished to its full strength, I would cast a convalescence spell on him. I dozed fitfully in between, torn between the need to reach Leyawiin as quickly as possible and my promise to the deceased Prior who had so generously given me such a wonderful traveling companion. The rain soaked me to the skin, but I paid it no mind.

By the time the overcast sky lightened with the dawn, Paint was no longer trembling, and was able to walk, albeit slowly. His head remained low, and his eyes did not sparkle with his usual humor. He showed little interest in the grass at his feet, and did not snatch at the edible forage as we slowly walked back to the road.

Though I cast convalescence on him whenever my magicka replenished, I could not restore Paint’s vigor or strength. To spare him, I walked down the Yellow Road, leading him behind me and stopping often to let him rest.

The shadows of Leyawiin appeared through the rain a few hours later as we trudged along the Yellow Road. The city, built on the west bank of the southern Niben, seemed to disappear within its surroundings of black oaks and bald cypresses draped with tillandsia - better known as hangman’s moss, according to the Guide to Cyrodiilic Flora. The stuff was everywhere, giving the trees a sinister appearance in the rain.

As I approached this newest city in Cyrodiil, I caught my breath in dismay to find - not one, but two - Oblivion Gates crackling ominously on the eastern banks of the Niben, across from Leyawiin. I was reluctant to bring my horse down to the eastern city gate, not with daedra swarming the road nearby.

After we backtracked up the river to a bridge, I brought Paint around to the far side of the city, where I found a stable. The Khajiit Atahba assured me that she would do the best she could for my weakened horse. She purred soothingly to the gelding as she led him within the shed. The knot of worry in my chest remained as I reluctantly put him out of my mind and focused on my mission.

When I entered the city, I decided to head to the Mages Guild first, and get a feel for the situation. I had never been to Leyawiin before, and knew next to nothing about its Count, Marius Caro.

Entering the Guild chapter house, I was glad to find it dry and not too warm. A young Nord, somewhat taller than me, turned around from the library table set in the center of the hall. After he laid the broadsheet down, he greeted me, putting his hands together and giving me a half-bow. “Greetings, ma’am. Kalthar, mage journeyman. How may I help you?”

I eyed him warily. Though his greeting seemed friendly enough, I thought I saw discontentment in his black eyes and beetling brows. “I’m Julian from Anvil,” speaking slowly, I watched him. This anger of his is not directed at me. “I’ve just joined the Guild, and am gathering recommendations to gain admission to the University.” Aha, there it is.

Kalthar’s gaze turned even darker as his brows drew together into a furry caterpillar. “Oh, boy, good luck getting that,” he muttered. “You’d need to talk to Dagail about that. Only thing is, do you even want to?”

Schooling my face to remain bland, I frowned inwardly at his attitude. What’s with this Mages Guild? Open hostility and overt disrespect for one’s superiors? This would never last ten seconds in the Legion! “Where can I find her, sir?”

He pointed up to a flying passage above the main floor, connecting the two wings at the second level. “She’s up there, pretending to read.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said to him, seeing the scowl ease on his face. Moving to the staircase at the back of the hall, I climbed slowly up the steps. When I reached the landing, I looked around. An aged Bosmer woman sat quietly, book open in her lap, her gaze on some distant horizon visible only to her.

After I set my pack on the floor some distance away, I walked quietly to the bench and sat down next to the old woman. “Dagail, ma’am?”

“Hmm?” she turned her head to me, her ancient gaze still remote. “You seek wisdom from me, child?”

“I’m Julian, from Anvil,” I began, uncomfortable with the way she seemed to stare through me. “I’m looking for the chapter head, Dagail.”

“No, you seek words,” the old mer spoke, her voice as faraway as her gaze. “Words are . . . difficult. I hear so many voices, so loud I can not hear the words they say.” Now her faded eyes seemed to focus on me. “Will you lift your hands to help another? Will you help me find the word?”

Puzzled, I considered my answer. A seer? “Yes, I’ll help,” I said finally.

She smiled at me. “Then speak to Agata, child. She will see the path, and set you upon it.”

“Hello?” a more grounded voice reached me. I looked up at a plain Nord woman, her worn face showing a concern that I felt was not for me. I introduced myself and explained my purpose. She waved for me to follow her into the north wing. After retrieving my pack, I followed her through a heavy paneled door. As she closed the door behind us, she gestured for me to proceed ahead of her into a small room containing two beds. “Put your things there for now,” she said. “I’m Agata,” she continued. “I help Dagail with the administrative tasks. You may have noticed that she’s -” her eyes shifted uneasily, “- not well.”

“She mentioned voices, and trouble finding the word,” I said. “She did tell me to talk to you about it.”

Agata sighed and sat on the other bed, motioning for me to do the same. “She has visions, you see,” she looked down at her roughened hands. “They’ve been helpful in the past, but now they have become problematic. She had an amulet,” her fingers touched her breast, where such a piece of jewelry would lie, “a family heirloom that helped her focus these visions. Without it, all she sees and hears is chaos.”

“And she has lost it?” I asked quietly, fingering the Jewel of the Rumare on my little finger. It had become such a part of me, I never thought to remove it. It allowed me to swim long distances underwater without surfacing, and had served me well in Cheydinhal. It also reminded me of my good friend, who loved Paint as much as I did. Sadness at the thought of his condition choked my throat, and I forced it away with a swallow. Looking up in time to see Agata’s nod, I considered the situation. “Have you spoken to the other mages about it?”

“I’ve tried to keep it from them, for fear they would be less - accepting of her.”

“Of Dagail, or of her authority?” I asked, thinking of Kalthar.

Agata considered my words. “Both,” she said finally. “Dagail had a good reputation within the guild, and was valuable to the Council of Mages. But as she became older, she became less coherent. The Council sent her here.” She rose and paced to the leaded window, looking out at the rainy day outside. “There are some here who resent her presence, and wish she’d disappear.” She shot me a fierce glance. “I do not. I am proud to help her with her daily tasks.”

“Well,” I said after a moment, “I promised Dagail that I would help her.” I rose to my feet and started pulling out my civilian clothing. Fortunately the bag had kept everything dry. “Let me change, and I can get started.” I glanced at Agata, already unbuckling the cuirass. “There are a couple of things I need to do in town,” I paused to shrug the armor off with a soft susurrus of mail. “But I keep my promises.”

“Talk to the other mages, see if they know anything about the Seer’s Stone,” Agata moved away from the window. “That’s what Dagail calls her amulet.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Oct 13 2010, 03:17 PM

[haute ecole rider]

@Foxy: Thanks for the compliment! Yes, old habits do die hard.

@mALX: It will be a while before we know of Paint’s fate. It’s very heartbreaking to write this, but I have experienced similar episodes twice with my old mare (though not with a will o’wisp!), and I know the feelings Julian experiences all too well.

@Acadian: Julian’s like me - travel as light as you can and still survive. When Dagail gets her focus back, some of the things she tells Julian will send chills up her spine. But Julian still sees the good in both women. As for Kalthar, not to fear!

@SubRosa: I consider Agata to be the kind of person one loves to have running the day to day in a vet clinic - the go-to person for personnel issues, inventory control, and handling the ubiquitous sales reps. I’ve been lucky to work in a couple of clinics that have such people on staff, and they are a godsend! If it wasn’t for Agata, the Leyawiin chapter would be utter chaos!

@trey: I understand girls and horses all too well, having been a girl once myself (a loong time ago!).

@Destri: It sure seems that way, doesn’t it?

It’s only fair to send up a warning to our male fans. Julian is long over-due for a dose of chickness. Here it comes!

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Chapter 19.2 - A Woman of Intrigue

It was late in the evening when I returned to Leyawiin. Weary, drenched, and grumpy, I stopped off at The Dividing Line to leave my armor and weapons for repairing. Back outside, my lightweight feminine clothes were quickly soaked in the rain. Lightning lit the streets before me in flickers as bright as day.

In the Mages Guild, I encountered Alves Uvenim, the local alchemist. She took one look at me puddling on the stone floor and ushered me upstairs to the room Agata had assigned me. “My dear, how can you walk around in the rain like this!” she exclaimed. “You’ll catch your death of bloodlung doing that!”

“I’m a Redguard,” I commented in response, “I don’t get sick easily if at all.”

“Even so,” the slender Dunmer countered, “you don’t want to take chances! You need a rain cloak in this climate.” She moved to one of the dressers in the room, and drew out a towel. “Here, get out of those wet clothes and dry yourself off. I’ll find you a clean and dry dress for dinner.”

Her back to me, she kept nattering on about the ill effect of rain on people’s health, especially those new to the southern climate. Her treatment of me brought a smile to my lips as I stripped out of the sodden clothes, my grumpy mood dissipating with her solicitation. I couldn’t help liking this golden-haired Dunmer.

She drew out a fine blue velvet dress and turned around, shaking the heavy folds out and holding it up to me. My eyes widened at the lush silver-trimmed fabric. “This should fit you just fine,” Uvenim mused, tilting her head at me. She shook the dress at me. “Go on, try it on.”

The blue velvet settled around my frame as if custom-tailored to me. The neckline was more daring than any I had ever thought to wear, revealing my shoulders and dipping a little lower in the back than in the front. The long sleeves hugged my arms to the wrists. The bodice clasped my ribs in a gentle embrace once the golden laces on the sides were snugged up. Below my hips, the fabric flared softly like the petals of tulips to just barely brush my toes.

Uvenim stepped back, twitching the skirts so they fell smoothly to the floor. “Oh, and there’s something that would go perfectly with this!” she exclaimed at a thought. Kneeling before a chest between the two beds, she drew out a pair of flat-heeled blue suede shoes. “Here, put these on,” she urged me. As I slipped my feet into them, I found them just a little too tight.

Which is worse? I wondered. Boots too big for my feet, or shoes too small?

“Oh, don’t worry about the fit,” Uvenim assured me, looking up at me. “The material will stretch given time.”

“Well, I do have big feet,” I muttered, self-conscious in the fancy clothing.

“You’re tall,” Uvenim countered. “Your feet match your height.” She rose gracefully to her feet. “Now, about your hair -”

“What?” Now I felt a sense of alarm. “No, my hair’s fine,” I put my hand up to my head, touching my ponytail.

“Nonsense!” Uvenim exclaimed. She drew me before the pier glass at the far end of the room. Turning me to face the mirror, she stood on tiptoe behind me to look over my shoulder. “Look at yourself,” she commanded. Her fingers worked the thong away from my hair as I regarded my smoky reflection.

That’s not me. That’s some noblewoman. My image was unrecognizable as the woman I knew myself to be. This stranger looking back at me, with my white hair, my dark skin, and my grey-green eyes had the regal bearing of some privileged lady, not a scruffy old soldier.

“I thought this dress would complement your figure beautifully,” Uvenim turned from me to bring up a chair. With light fingertips on my shoulder, she indicated for me to seat myself before the looking glass. “Why, you would fit in at one of the Countess’s dinners!”

“Um, I don’t think so,” I muttered. “After all, I wouldn’t know how to handle all the extra forks and knives.”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Uvenim chuckled as she started brushing the snarls from my hair. “Just do what the Countess does!” She picked up my locks in her free hand. “My goodness, your hair is so silky! Not like typical Redguard hair. Who’s your father?”

“What?” I met Uvenim’s gaze in the mirror, startled by the question. “I never knew my father,” I admitted, suddenly ashamed. “My mother never spoke of him.”

“Well, there’s quite a bit about you that isn’t typical Redguard,” Uvenim continued matter-of-factly. “Your height - you’re as tall as most Ra’Gada men. Your eye color - a most unusual shade of green. Though now,” she leaned down to place her face next to mine, meeting my gaze in the mirror, “they’re more blue, because they’re reflecting the color of the dress.” Straightening back up, she resumed brushing my hair. “And this is very thick and heavy, but so smooth like silk. Hmm,” she set the brush down, and began twisting the white locks into a long, thick cord. As I watched, bemused, she continued twisting my hair until it coiled around itself, forming a thick serpent’s knot at the back of my head.

“There!” she looked at me again in the mirror. “See how that shows off your neck and shoulders? Wait!” she dropped the knot. As my hair cascaded down my back, Uvenim returned to the dresser, where she opened a jewelry box sitting on the top. My eyes grew even wider as she drew out two long, thin objects, both black with silver banding, both with small silver beads dangling from the slightly thicker ends.

“No woman of intrigue should be without some means of protection,” she smiled at me as she handed me the sticks. “These are used to secure hair coils,” she continued, returning to my coiffure and restoring the serpent’s coil. “Go on, pull them apart,” she encouraged me, holding my hair up with one hand.

Obeying her, I tugged on the opposite ends of one of the sticks. As it came apart to reveal a needle thin stiletto, I nearly dropped the pieces. Woman of intrigue, all right. Who brought these things to the Mages Guild? Hurriedly, I sheathed the stiletto. Uvenim reached over my shoulder and plucked one of the hairpins from my fingers and worked it into my hair from top to bottom, one side to the other.

Silently, I handed her the other stick and watched as she placed it in the opposite direction. My reflection stared back at me, breathlessly beautiful as I had never considered myself to be. Uvenim beamed over my head at me, her red eyes glowing in the smoky glass.

“Now, if you were to go to the Countess’s dinner,” Uvenim’s voice sparkled, “even the Count himself couldn’t refuse anything you ask of him!”

How does she know of my mission to the Count? I had not yet sought an audience with Count Caro. Those Oblivion Gates outside the city rested heavily on my mind. Sooner or later, I would have to deal with them, if only for the sake of travelers on the road and river.

“How did you know of those sticks?” I found myself asking instead. Uvenim flushed deeply.

“Family heirloom,” she responded curtly. “Mother made me take them when I left for the Mages Guild. As if I would come to any harm from overly amorous mer here in Leyawiin.” Her tone took on a slight tinge of bitterness. Turning in the chair to face her, I raised an eyebrow at the slender Dunmer.

“If these are family heirlooms,” I reached up a hand to touch the ebon hairpins, “then I have no claim to wearing them. You should be the one wearing them, not I.”

“You would know how to use the stilettos better than I,” Uvenim responded. “I’m no fighter, nor do I feel the need to learn. My mother’s grandmother was rumored to have been an assassin, many years ago.” Firmly she drew my hand away from my coif. “My mother always said Great Grandmother was a courtesan and a woman well-skilled in conspiracy. It’s true that during that time, the royal court was experiencing a time of intrigue.”

“I don’t intrigue,” I responded firmly. “I’m a soldier, I fight honestly.”

“Then these shall be nothing more than mere hairsticks,” Uvenim countered, equally firm. “Besides,” she tossed her golden bob back from her face, “my hair is too short and fine to use these. They would look ridiculous on me!” She clapped her hands in a signal that the subject was done. “Come, let us go to dinner.”