Seven, An Aela & Ungarion Prequel Options

[SubRosa]

The inspiration for this story came to me last week. As will probably be evident to many, this is an homage to the masterpiece by Akira Kurosawa. It is my humble attempt to translate that great story to the Elder Scrolls Universe. Following the old adage of striking while the iron is hot, I decided to put the TF on hold while I write this instead. Once I am done, I will get back to the TF, and wrap it up with one more chapter.

This is also a prequel, taking place eight years before the events of the TF, shortly after Aela and Ungarion graduated from the Arcane University.


Seven

Prologue

25th Second Seed, 3E425

Vishta-Zaw slithered through the mud with ease. In fact, he had to take care not to move too quickly, lest he overtake Dark-Eye. The other Naga would look upon that as a challenge for leadership of the company. A challenge that Vishta-Zaw was not ready to make, yet. For while his one-eyed leader's age was beginning to show in the fading color of his once dark green scales, his killing power had not subsided. The way he had dealt with the hackwing the day before had made that clear...

Soon the land began to rise, and the mud turned to drier, hard-packed dirt. That made the going slower for the pack of Nagas. Where folk with two legs had an easy time on such ground, it was more difficult for his race to propel themselves upon their serpentine lower halves. Unlike ordinary snakes, they had a torso, head, and arms to balance aloft above their thick tails. It was much easier moving through the swamp's water and muck, where their tails could whip them forward at speed. Yet still they managed without complaint. The latter was a sign of weakness, and weakness was not tolerated in Dark-Eye's company.

In time they topped a ridge and Dark-Eye came to a halt. Vishta-Zaw slithered up beside his leader and followed his one-eyed gaze down into the valley below. Stretched out there in the small, oval-shaped bowl of land stood the settlement of Agrigento, a collection of simple timber and reed homes raised up on stilts in the traditional Argonian fashion. At the center of the village rose a tall structure of the Imperial style. It's walls were entirely of stone, pierced by numerous windows filled in with hinged glass panes, and topped by a roof of glazed red tiles. A fence of simple woven reeds bordered the settlement, and beyond that water-logged rice paddies stretched in all directions. Dykes of hard-packed dirt spread out in a grid through the fields, dividing them up into numerous flooded squares.

Imperials, they just loved to impose their straight lines, squares, and rectangles upon everything. They seemed to think that their geometry would somehow bring them closer to the gods. Any Naga could have told them that nothing on Nirn was straight and neat. All their efforts did was separate them from nature. The Naga wizard knew that would only doom them to extinction. It was only a matter of time.

His eyes fell upon the Imperials laboring in the rice paddies. They went barefoot through the water, wearing simple dark tunics and conical reed hats to ward off the sun. Alongside them toiled their tamed Argonians. Once the Saxhleel had been a strong, proud people, Vishta-Zaw mused. But like so many of them now, these had abandoned the ancient ways of the deep swamp, and now what had they become? They were little more than slaves for the smoothskins. The Naga race would never fall so low.

"They are bringing in their crop," Dark-Eye observed. "Good, I grow thirsty."

"It will take them time to dry and husk the rice," Vishta-Zaw leaned against his staff, which was tipped with a large chunk of flame-red crystal. "Then they will need more time to brew their soju."

"To brew our soju," the chieftain corrected him. The side of his head that faced the wizard was gouged with deep scars leading through the ruin of his eye socket, which was covered with a jeweled eye-patch.

Dark-Eye turned to level his remaining indigo eye upon his lieutenant, and then the gang of other Nagas behind them. "We will give them six weeks," he cried. "Then we will return to wet our throats, and have some sport!"

That brought a chorus of assenting hisses from the other bandits. Some banged their spears against the rims of the small, bone shields. Others simply stabbed their weapons skyward in expectation of the revelry.

* * *

Hathei held his breath until the Nagas had gone. Even then he still waited, just in case any of them returned, or were still lurking in the shadows of the trees. Magnus crawled through the sky, and several lesser creatures crawled across the Argonian's washed out yellow-brown scales. Still he waited, not moving an inch, in the way that only his race could do.

Finally Hathei rose up from his belly and stood straight. His gaze darted through the trees that lined the top of the ridge, seeking anything out of place. Yet there came no hisses or croaks of discovery, no spears came flying out to pierce his scales, and no magicka crackled to snuff out his life.

The aging Argonian was thankful for the bundle of reeds that was slung over his back. If not for them, surely the Nagas would have seen him. He had been lying on his stomach, just inches from their bellies, with only the camouflage of those reeds between him and certain death. Now that bundle of reeds slowed him down as he turned and ran for the village below. He was tempted to throw them aside so that he might run faster. But he knew he would only have to return for them later. At his age, he did not have the energy to do the same thing twice. So he labored on, as farmers always do.

His mind whirled as he made his way down the slope of the valley to the settlement below. They were coming back, again! They would take all of the soju, just like the last time, and the time before. Worse, the Nagas might take another of the women again, just as they had Rullianus' wife. What had been left of her after they had finished would have made a butcher sick. Who would they take next? His own daughter Meen-Sa?

No, not Meen-Sa. He could not let that happen to her. They had to do something this time. They just had to.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 5 2019, 11:00 PM

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: Thank you, I put a lot of time into Valens' training session. You are correct that Valens and Seridwe have done this many times. I see them as similar to Green Berets, often going into remote places and training the people there to fight, as well as fighting themselves.


McBadgere: Now you will know what to do if you have a pointed stick! I could not resist the Chico homage there. I will have more of that this episode in fact.


Acadian: I think the extra time spent on the boat ride has been paying off too. It is giving us some time to get to know some of the characters better, in a way would not if I just wrote a few transitional paragraphs of the journey to Agrigento.

You called it, dunking Talun-Lei is probably just going to make him happy!


King Coin: Talun-Lei is one of those examples of how hunters often take a step up and become warriors. In many cultures the warrior caste either began as hunters, or actually were hunters doing the war part-time, when needed.

But brooding is cool! As Willow said in Buffy the Vampire Slayer "He can brood for 40 minutes straight, I've clocked him!"


Grits: This was a rare opportunity to show something underneath the emotional armor that Valens wears, even if it is just something as macho as teaching people to fight.

Talun-Lei's fishing is an homage to the films, in both those the Chico/Kikuchiyo character provides the others with meals along the way.


ghastley: One thing I have noticed from reading history is that there is nothing accidental about the weapons and armor that different cultures use. The place they live in, and their level of technology, always influences what they develop. So I thought about the deep swamp, and tried to imagine what people there might use.


Previously On Seven: In our last episode Valens and Seridwe began teaching Talun-Lei and the Agrigentans how to fight with a spear. Aela noted that during the lessons Valens himself seemed to come to life, and briefly escape from his morose, brooding shell.


Chapter 1.11

The settlements thinned out as the days went by. In time the Arimer ruin of Welke slid past, rising high above the river on a steep bluff. The Panther branched at the ruin, and they turned north, following its main course upstream. Afterward Captain Lidell gave a wide berth to several camps they passed along the watercourse.

Screenshot

"Bandits," the wood elf explained to Aela when she asked after the second such occurrence. "These backwoods are infested with outlaws, and worse. Some will trade for goods and news. Some will cut your throat as soon as look at you."

In one stretch of river the captain even forwent their usual nightly stop for sleep. Instead he continued on through the darkness, using spells to restore the flagging stamina of his horses. He warned them all to be wary of strangers, and not to let anyone on the boat, even if they found them in the water.

"Why?" Seridwe asked. "What is wrong?"

"Vampires," the Bosmer replied. He pointed to a scattering of cave mouths yawning within the bluffs to the south. "Those are Bloodrun Caves. Nothing living ever comes out of them. But dead things still do…"

Soon they passed another set of caverns on the opposite side of the river, which the captain identified as Kindred Caves. "I think they have a different clan of vampires," he said. "I've seen them fighting each other by the river's edge."

Aela could see Ungarion taking mental notes each time, weighing the danger versus the possible profit. The Breton Witch had to admit that she was doing the same herself. Perhaps when their quest for the Agrigentans was finished, they might revisit some of these caves?

Finally they came to a stop at the ruins of an old Imperial castle. Only the crumbling stones of the outer walls remained, and even half of those were missing, having been replaced with wooden timbers. Sweet wood smoke curled up from within, and a mixture of humans and Argonians could be seen standing guard at the single entrance, as well as around the rest of the site. A dock stretched out into the river from the ersatz fortress, and it was here that Captain Lidell docked The Niben Queen head on.

"This is the end of the line," the Bosmer waterman declared. "Welcome to Castle Redwater, the last bastion of Imperial civilization."

"Aye," Stalks-The-Marshes said. "This one has been here many times. The Empire abandoned the castle ages ago. Now it's a trading post, inn, smithy, whatever folk need it to be."

"From here we walk," Rullianus added. "At least for the good part of the journey."

"This one is almost afraid to ask about the bad part…" Do'Sakhar said dryly.

"You will see," Ulpia murmured. "It's… an experience."

The Agrigentans would say no more, leaving Aela to wonder if whatever they alluded to was almost a form of initiation? A magical initiation could not be explained to another. It could only be experienced. Because experience is subjective, it is different for everyone. The only thing for certain was that it changed you forever. While she doubted the Agrigentans had anything so dramatic in mind, she could not help but to wonder what they did mean?

As Stalks-The-Marshes had intimated, he knew his way around the trading post. Its denizens - a hard and none too clean bunch - knew the Argonian as well, and several greeted him by name. Aela discovered that the bailey was filled with several daub and wattle buildings. Stalks-The-Marshes led them to one of these, which turned out to be the eating house. A meal of fried sausages and tangy onions filled their bellies. While the wine was hardly Tamika's, it was far better than the travesty offered at the Lonely Suitor Lodge, nor was it served in mugs.

Since it was only midday, they decided to press on overland until dark. They followed a road that was little more than a pair of ruts worn into the ground by wagon wheels. The trees grew thick around them, and it was only through the occasional break in the growth that Aela was able to glimpse a low range of mountains to their left.

"That's the Valus Mountains," Valens followed Aela's gaze with a black-mailed finger. "They end right there, up near the headwaters of the river."

"You have been this way before then?" the Breton asked.

"Not that I remember." The Nibenean rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully.

Talun-Lei vanished somewhere during the trek. Hours later they came across a dead pheasant dangling from a tree limb by a rawhide cord. Do'Sakhar declared that it had been slain by a javelin, the same kind as several which the young Argonian carried along with his spear.

"That Argonian is going to make us all fat before this is done," Seridwe laughed.

They made camp for the night soon after, and were once again rejoined by Talun-Lei, who now clutched a duck in one hand. While he might have been inexperienced in war, the young Argonian was certainly a proficient hunter.

They struck out again at dawn's first light. Valens was even more silent and moody than normal, and Aela realized that he was again entranced by the dawn. The Nibenean spent the entire time staring at the rising sun, and the brilliant colors it splashed across the horizon. Aela wondered what it was he saw there, since it was plainly more than just the start of a new day to him?

"I'll do it just to go east, if for nothing else."

The Nibenean's words rose up in Aela's memory. What doom awaited him in the east? Did he even guess himself?

The forest grew darker as they went on. At the same time it grew hotter and damper than even when they had been on the river. Soon sweat began to drip from their pores. The Agrigentans stopped, and Stalks-The-Marshes announced that they were in the Black Marsh. Talun-Lei and the four villagers spread out then, searching through the underbrush to either side of the path. Soon Hathei called out for the rest of them.

"I have found a root!" the old Argonian exclaimed.

"A root?" Ungarion cocked an eyebrow, "in a forest? How remarkable!"

Still, Aela and the others congregated around the Argonian, who stood in a copse of moss-covered trees. At Hathei's feet was a pool of viscous black mud, which boiled with a sea of bubbles every time he poked at it with a stick.

"Excellent!" Stalks-The-Marshes declared. "This will save us many days from our journey." Without another word the Argonian trader stepped into the mud. In just a matter of seconds he sank completely down into it, and vanished from sight. The other Agrigentans did not seem perturbed. At least Hathei did not. In fact, the old Argonian leaped into the muck a moment later. Rullianus and Ulpia looked at one another. With a grimace, the young man stepped into the bubbling mud, and he too sank out of sight.

Ulpia looked back to the rest of them and explained. "This is the midsummer migration. It will take you south. When you see a mass of bubbles, that's a hole you can use to get out. But don't do that until you see us do it first. Otherwise you'll be lost somewhere in the marsh. And whatever you do, don't stay inside after we leave. We'll never find you then."

The Imperial stepped into the mud, and paused to look back one more time. "Oh, and don't panic." Then she stepped in, and sank out of sight.

"What on Nirn is this?" Do'Sakhar scratched his head as he stared at the black puddle.

"These are the roots," Talun-Lei said as he too stepped up to the bubbling mess of goo. "Have no fear, one can live for months in the belly of a rootworm. Just push up when you see the way out."

He vanished from sight, and Aela found herself stepping up to the hole next. She seemed to recall something about this at University. There was some way that the Argonians traveled through the roots of the Hist trees. But for the life of her she could not recall the details. She had never paid as much attention in History or Anthropology classes as she had in Restoration and Conjuration.

Well, she was going to find out.

It took every ounce of her willpower to remain calm as she sank into the mud. Aela told herself that it was no different than using a water breathing spell as the goo spread across her face and covered her head completely.

Aela felt warm, which surprised her, and discovered that she could indeed breathe just fine. She found herself encased in some sort of transparent goop, like a baby chicken inside an egg. She had the sensation of moving very quickly, and saw that she was flying through a warren of roots. Indeed flying was the right term, for she did not feel like she was underground at all, but rather soaring through a midnight sky as she spun and turned and shot forward faster than an arrow fired by an elvish bow.

The Breton saw something ahead of her. It was a long, slender blob about the size of an ogre. It had no limbs, nor head, nor any distinguishing features. Except there was a dark shape that seemed to lurk within its translucent hide. As Aela neared it, she realized that it was Talun-Lei within! The Argonian seemed to wave for a moment. Then he shot forward, too far away for Aela to make out any details.

That is when it struck her. She was inside the stomach of a rootworm! So were all of them! Her heart leapt into her throat, as if it was trying to pound its way out of her chest. Her mouth felt drier than the Alik'r Desert, and her palms wetter than the Niben. She was being digested!

She remembered what Ulpia had said about not panicking, and Talun-Lei's observation that one could live for months inside the worms. It did little to help. Yet clearly the Argonians - and the humans from Agrigento - did this often. So evidently there was no real danger. With that in mind, Aela willed her heart to slow, and concentrated on breathing deep, steady breaths, just as when she meditated.

In fact, she soon found herself reflexively assensing the area around her. She felt for the spirits of the land. They answered her call, albeit coolly. Unlike the essences of soil and rock and tree that she was accustomed to, these beings were altogether alien. They felt ancient, powerful, and aloof. While they acknowledged her presence, they seemed to have no desire to interact with her. It was just as well, for what she could feel of them sent a chill through her bones.

The Hist, Aela realized. For the first time in her life, she pulled back from her spiritual sensing because she did not want to touch what she found.

Instead Aela watched the roots in front of her, and the worm that carried Talun-Lei. She had no idea how long they sped through the web of roots. There was no way to tell the time in the gloom. Eventually she saw a spire of bubbles rising up through the mud ahead of her. Talun-Lei burst out of his worm as it passed through the fountain, and she could see him riding the tide of air upward.

In moments she came to the same spire of air. She remembered to push up when she came upon the bubbles, and the next thing she knew, her body was being drawn aloft by the current of air and mud. Then she burst from a pool of muck and was back on the surface once more. A proffered hand from Talun-Lei pulled her onto solid ground, and the young warrior helped her to her feet.

"Welcome to the Black Marsh," the Argonian said.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Sep 8 2013, 02:19 AM