Evening Star, Book 1-Spring Options

[Fiach]

I'm very sorry that I returning and disappearing education and life are very distracting :/
This is a fanfiction that I've been working on for a little while, and I hope you enjoy it, now that I've graduated I suddenly have amble free time on my hands, and my muse has returned

------

The moons were red that evening, as if they were being bled dry.

Dalamus was crouching beside the door, his ear to the keyhole, his red eyes closed while he listened in on not just what was going on in the adjacent room, but what was around him. Sneaking and skulking about was not considered proper for a member of a noble house, even if that was pretty much the Telvanni family’s business model. Dalamus had to be careful; his attention was on what his father was saying in the other room, and he had been beaten for lesser things.

“And you’ve tried everything?”
“Everything in my power, your grace.”
That had to be Tolm, the finest healer in Tel Aruhn; and quite possibly the world.
“You’ve seen to his heart, liver, kidneys?”
“I’ve seen everything, checked and double checked. All are fine, his body appears to have just...given up.”
“What about poisons, have you checked for...”
“No toxins were detected in his blood” Tolm said firmly.

Dalamus heard the ring in his father’s voice as he continued the conversation and for a moment the young mage couldn’t identify what was in the man’s voice that made a chill run down his spine, as if he had just been pushed into a pool of ice cold water. His ignorance didn’t last long, as the emotion present stuck out like a broken nail. It was fear. His father was pleading with Tolm and Dalamus felt a cold dread in the pit of his stomach.

In his nineteen years he had never heard his father ask, beg or bargain for anything. In the seven years that his father was a Telvanni master, he could simply order for something, and it would be delivered expressly, often with an apology that it took less than an instant to acquire. Which was understandably of course, he had done much for the barren island, bringing in Western crops that had thrived in the volcanic enriched soil, making Tel Aruhn one of the few Telvanni settlements that didn’t suffer when slavery was outlawed, but instead prospered, making it one of the wealthiest towns in the province, people came from all over the empire to Tel Aruhn now, something that the Telvanni house was still getting used to.
But to hear the quaver in his father’s voice now, to see such a great man crushed by another’s mortality...no, it was too much.

Dalamus stepped up and brushed the dirt off his robes, turning to the bed where his brother lay.
This had once been their parent’s bedroom, wide and spacious, large enough for a servant to live in, but that wasn’t saying much. The candles by his brother’s bedside had melted down to tiny white stubs since he replaced them that morning and the fire at the end of the room had gone out. Dalamus stared at the cold hearth for an empty moment, deciding if it was worth the magicka to rekindle it, but gave up on the thought, sitting down on a small worn stool beside his brother.

Seren was five years younger, but at this point looked elderly, his ash coloured skin pale to the point that he could be mistaken for a human, his cheeks sunken and his red eyes (brighter then both moons at their peak, as his father once said) were now pushing out, as if ready to pop.

With a sad smile, Dalamus took the strip of cloth off his brother’s forehead and squeezed it, dipping in it a basin of rosewater placed beside the bed for that very purpose. It was strange, seeing his brother so tired, so weary. It was only a month ago that they were fighting, Dalamus was going out hunting with friends and Seren wanted to come and...Dalamus shook his head, as if to clear his mind from the thought. He wouldn’t cry, curse the heavens above for their situation, he was not weak. He was not like his father; he refused to be broken so easily.

“Sit tight little brother” Dalamus whispered gently.

“I have a plan”

The moons were red that evening, as if they were being bled dry.

[Fiach]

This one is far later then I wanted it to be, a lot of problems with losing my internet connection and my hard drive having to get wiped ><
But it gave me time to do some more planning for this, which is something I really overlook O.o

Hey Malx, it's been ages, I'm going to comment on your story soon, but I'm a like 50 pages behind so it might take me a while xD
Expect a super review though when I'm finished! (:

Thanks King Coin, I try far too hard on beginnings tbh xD
and danke Mr McBadgere (I'll try to remember the dialogue points!! ^^)

I'm actually pretty interested in what you think Dalamus's plan might be Acadian...I kinda wish I didn't have to let the cat out of the bag with this chapter D:

Thanks for reading guys, I hope you enjoy :')

____

The mist that hung over the water that morning broke softly against the hull of Dalamus’s boat, reforming in its wake only to be split again by the gently thrust of his paddle dipping into the water with one smooth motion. Dalamus shivered and tightened his cloak around him, the white cloud of his breath mingling with the swirling vapour over the water. The moons above were bright; round like cups and vast, no clouds obscured their view of the scene below. Dalamus paid them no heed, alone and lost in his own thoughts. As he travelled, he failed to notice the subtle change in the sky from inky darkness to a dull rusty red as the sun slowly rose. Had he known that this was his last sunrise, he quite possibly would have paid it greater attention, but instead he gripped his paddle tighter, ignorant of everything apart from the thump of his own heartbeat and the watery path in from of him.

His boat shuddered softy when it hit the shore, Dalamus sat motionless for a moment, staring at the small package at his feet with a look of such dull helplessness that even he could see how out of his depth he was. No pun intended he thought, glancing at the water.
Swinging the small burlap sack over his shoulder, he moved carefully onto the sand, there was a small cave nearby; the only sign of its importance was a small red candle that was lit at the entrance. Patting the hidden dagger on his side to reassure himself, Dalamus took a confident step towards the cave, guided by the light from the rising sun and the ever present moons.

The inside of the cave was warmer than expected; two worshippers were asleep in hammocks near the entrance, snoring helplessly as Dalamus passed them by. His breath halted for a moment, as he was confronted with that he had spent so much time researching, searching for and now ultimately, found. The shrine was cut from volcanic glass, darker then the inside of a beggar’s purse and just as cold, Dalamus carefully placed his hand on the pedestal, as if afraid that it was going to bite him.

With his other hand he opened the sack at his feet, pulling out a lion’s pelt, slapping it onto the shrine. Dalamus waited for a tense moment, the only sound being his tender heart beat, and the hoarse exhale of his breathing, it was then that the voice came to him, sadistic and cunning, laced with cruelty, it was the voice that was kept by something that had no interest except for its own tortured pleasures, the voice of Molag Bal.

‘A little mortal wanders to my shrine, how quaint... he has even brought a little pig sticker...come to slay the mighty beast, little mortal?’

Dalamus gripped his dagger uncertainly and cleared his throat.
‘Please ...sir, I’ve come to you tonight for..’

‘I know why you are here!’ the voice snapped, suddenly full of contempt.

‘You are Dalamus Indaryn, you are the first son of Alveron Setso Indaryn and you have come to bring tribute in the hope that I will return your brother’s retched life to this...mortal coil.’
The voice chuckled, and in the poor lighting Dalamus could imagine the shrine’s eyes staring at him with boundless hunger. Realizing that he was shaking, Dalamus attempted to steady himself, wiping his brow...which didn’t improve things.

‘I’ve come to bargain with you Molag Bal...they say you have great power, magic that can bring someone
from the brink of death.’

‘They do say that..’ the voice whispered, the pride evident in the way he spoke.

Dalamus waited for the statue to say more, before he realized that he was supposed to speak.
Clearing his throat he pulled out a small roll of vellum, written on it were the terms that he had thought could be considered.
‘The Indaryn family are very powerful my lord..’

‘Get on with it’ The voice snapped, suddenly restless.
Dalamus chuckled weakly, briefly considered running to the door, but the thought of Seren, sick and cold in his bed made him feel steady again. He wasn’t going to give up, he had to try.

‘We have gold, enough to fill up this cave many times over...’

‘Paltry trinkets’ Molag Bal muttered, his voice slick with disgust.
Dalamus tried to not be disheartened by the sound of the Daedric Prince’s voice.

‘Well..ehm, we have an island! If you did this great deed for our family we wouldn’t forget it, a temple would be built in our own tower, a shrine at every street corner..all of Vvardenfell will know of your benevolence and greatness’

A terrible sound came from the statue, like a live animal getting crushed against stone, it took Dalamus a moment to realize that the Prince was laughing.
‘No...clck, clck, no, no little mortal, you will not sway me with promises of shiny metals and the braying of the dozen sheep that live on your island...but I admire your spirit, few would go to the lengths that you would, especially a noble’s son...yes, very admirable.’

Dalamus had to try his best not to let the extent of his smile show, the poor fool.
‘That’s fantastic, what is your price then? Our family will match it I promise you!’
The chuckle came quicker this time, but not nearly as loud.

‘Price? I ask for old prices, long ago men used to make sacrifices in my favour, an eye for an eye, a child for a child, a life for a life..’

Dalamus felt a cold pit grow in his stomach, of course it wasn’t that much of a surprise, Dalamus had simply forgotten who he was talking to, forgotten how all the accounts that he had read about mentioned similarly trades, but simply decided to ignore it.
‘My...life? Dalamus whispered, his throat dry.

‘Of course little mud rat....Dalamus, anything else would be a waste of your time and mind. The prince spoke his name with the height of condescension, this was just a game to him, a chance to get a new toy to...murder? Torture? Dalamus had read enough books on the twisted desires of Molag Bal and knew better then to hope for a quick death.

For one terrible moment, Dalamus considered turning away, running back to the castle, barricading himself in his room and living as a hermit if he had to, as long as he never had give up his soul to a Daedra. But then he remembered the paleness of Seren’s skin, the brittle emptiness of his stare whenever his eyes were open, he knew what he had to do, perhaps he had known from the start but just didn’t want to accept it.

‘Okay’ Dalamus whispered. He paused.

‘But I want to see him...I want to see Seren first’
The statue gave a light chuckle.

‘I would expect nothing less my child. Run to him now, see that I have kept my word, I'll be waiting for you.’

Dalamus opened his mouth to say something else, but the room had gotten colder, the glint in the statue had faded, and the lion’s pelt was gone, the deal had been struck and even though he knew that he was doing the right thing, he could feel the erratic beating of his heart, like a wild bird in a cage, and the clammy feeling of his hand. Breathing softly he stood up, took one last look at the blackened shrine, before turning his back on it, making his way towards home.

This post has been edited by Fiach: Aug 27 2012, 08:07 PM