Buffy - Book 4, Drodda the Icewitch Options

[Acadian]

Welcome to Buffy’s fourth book! As ever, her tale of continuing adventure remains one that is character-driven with more focus on her journey than the destination. Buffy is a magically inclined Bosmer. She travels intertwined with the spirit of an old ethereal paladin named Acadian who sometimes offers advice. Sometimes she listens.

Near the end of Book 1, Buffy helped the man she loved, Savlian Matius, free his city of Kvatch. They were successful, but the terrible cost included Savlian's very life. It was a physically and emotionally broken elf who retreated in grief and despair to her ancestral homeland. Book 2 picked up shortly thereafter and chronicled Buffy's journey of recovery and self-discovery through Valenwood. Book 3 took place in Cyrodiil and saw the Oblivion Crisis finally yield to the dawn of a new Era – even as Buffy accepted the challenges of walking an ancient path of her own and becoming a paladin of Kynareth.

Books 1 through 3, in their entirety, as well as an Executive Summary concise enough to comfortably be read in one sitting, can be found on our sub forum. That said, enjoying Book 4 does not really require more information than is contained right here in these few introductory paragraphs. I have taken care to have Buffy review significant aspects of her past as they become relevant. I welcome questions relating to her past though, that I may try and amplify or clarify things should our ‘review as we go’ approach prove wanting. More specifically, I want new readers to feel comfortable just jumping right into Book 4 without feeling obligated to read Buffy’s previous books first.

Book 4 joins Buffy in Cyrodiil shortly after the Oblivion Crisis. Soon, however, she finds herself confronted by a threat so vexing that the only path to resolving it will require the direct intervention of Kynareth, and for Buffy to forsake the life she knows.

I estimate that at one episode per week, Book 4 will require just under a year to post. My fervent hope is that you find our humbly offered efforts worthy of your time.

* * *

~ Part One – Cyrodiil ~

Episode 1

Reluctantly, I allowed my healing bond with Countess Odalys Goldwine to dissipate. She opened her eyes, saw the tears in mine and managed a weak smile. “Tell me the truth.”

I took her hand. “The wasting sickness that began in your foot has a Daedric taint. It strongly resists healing and has spread throughout your body. Were I to remove it now, it would destroy every organ it has infested. I’m sorry, Countess. Even with the assistance of Kynareth, I cannot save you.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Buffy," the Countess of Kvatch replied. "I will be at peace knowing that if anyone could have healed me it would have been you. Ironic,” a coughing spasm interrupted her words for several moments, “that Ormellius’ mage encased me in that magical ice to protect me from the Daedra. It almost worked.”

“I know they did their best,” I said. “Given the severe time constraint of Daedra breaking down the door, I’m not surprised that Count Goldwine’s court mage inadvertently left a small part of your left foot unprotected. That is how the wasting taint entered your body.”

“And I thought it was just an annoying limp I’d have to deal with.” Coughing wracked her body again as an attentive handmaiden quickly wiped away the blood it produced.

“In the months you’ve had since Kvatch was retaken from the Daedra,” I said, “you’ve largely restored this city to its former glory while inspiring your people. I’m sure the late Count would be proud. I know I will always be grateful for the mutual consolation we shared after both losing our mates. Let me ease your pain.”

“No,” she stayed my hands, “that will cloud my thinking and I have a request I must make of you while I still can.”

“I will do whatever I’m able Milady.”

“After I die, rule of Kvatch will be a ripe target. My city deserves better than the unproven offspring of some ambitious noble like the skooma-sucking son of Count Bravil.”

“I agree. How can I help?” I asked while trying to restrain a rising sense of panic. Please don’t ask me to try and become the Countess of Kvatch. As much as I love the city that Savlian Matius and I fought for and he died for, it harbors memories that are too. . . painful to make it my home. Not that the Elder Council would ever consider me – a Bosmeri orphan who can barely rule herself.

“I would like the Champions of Cyrodiil to succeed me,” she said. “Since moving to Kvatch and taking leadership of the Order of the Wolf, Sirs Agronak and Mazoga have proven their love for this city.” Her words were growing weaker and coming slowly now. “I have spoken with them and they are willing to accept the appointment if offered. I want you to be my advocate before the Elder Council. There will be resistance because they are orcs and neither is of noble birth. Will you do this for me?”

“I will advocate for you Milady, for I can think of no finer potential count and countess for Kvatch than Sirs Agronak and Mazoga.” Through her pain of trying to breathe, I could see a sense of relief in her eyes. “You must rest now.” As she almost imperceptibly nodded, I laid hands on her again.

I eased her pain then, mercifully, she slept. With her mistress asleep, the Countess’ handmaiden shifted her focus to me, bringing cool water, hot tea and fresh bread with soft cheese. We kept vigil through the night.

By dawn Countess Odalys was gone. “Join your Count in Aetherious now,” I said softly while her hands were still warm. As I left the Countess’ bedchamber, I was met by Sirs Mazoga and Agronak.

Their hopeful looks turned to despair as soon as they saw my face. Mazoga engulfed my shoulder with a massive hand. “Sorry, Buff.”

I tried to smile. “She died peacefully. I understand you're both aware of her request regarding a successor?”

Both orcs nodded. It was Agronak who spoke. “Countess Odalys was a fine ruler. We’d be honored if chosen to take up her mantle and finish what she started.”

I nodded. “I’m leaving almost straightaway to relay her wishes to the Imperial Council.”

After tearful goodbyes, followed by a quick visit to Savlian’s grave, Superian and I were on the road and riding into the morning sun.

**

My hands fidgeted as I sat on the hard chair. I’m sure I would have been tapping my feet had they been able to reach the floor. I looked up at the guard posted by the door. “How long do you think before the Imperial Council finishes deliberating and gives me their decision?”

The guard quietly replied, “No way to tell, Dame Buffy. You made a persuasive case. There are many in the Legion who well-remember what you, Captain Matius and the Champions of Cyrodiil did to free Kvatch. For what it’s worth, I think those knights could provide the strength and inspiration to make that city flourish once again.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I hope the Council agrees.”

The door opened and I was ushered back into the Council’s chamber. Those holding the future of Kvatch in their hands sat on the far side of a wide table as I stood before them. I could not read their faces.

“Dame Buffy,” began High Chancellor Ocato, “the Council has reached a decision regarding the late Countess of Kvatch's wishes regarding her successor. Odalys could not have chosen a better advocate. You certainly made a strong case that her success in rebuilding Kvatch should lend great strength to her recommendation. Further, you spoke eloquently to the character of Sirs Mazoga and Agronak, gained through your long history of friendship and fighting by their sides. You also made a strong argument for the superiority of earning one’s noble title via deed instead of birth.”

I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to breathe. Their words were encouraging. So far.

“That acknowledged,” he continued as my hopes sank, “the Council feels Kvatch would be best served with the Champions of Cyrodiil remaining at the helm of the city’s valiant order of knights. Further, with so many changes affecting the Empire, we feel the people need. . . stability, a feeling of normalcy regarding how the Empire has always done business. Therefore, during a subsequent deliberation, we shall choose the next ruler of Kvatch from one of the well-known and respected noble families of Cyrodiil. Please accept our appreciation for bringing the late Countess’ recommendation to us for consideration. This proceeding is concluded.”

My hands were behind my back but I didn’t need to see them to know how white the knuckles of my clenched fists were. Nor did I need to see the hot flush of anger that rose above the neckline of my buckskins to know the color that traveled up to my face and out to the tips of my ears. I looked at each Councilor. Round-eared Imperials with soft hands, every one of them. Not one had ever seen a day of combat. Easy, Buffy, Countess Odalys was an Imperial as well. That is not the problem. That these ignorant fools are leading the Empire is the problem. I need to restrain my tongue. Nothing good for Kvatch can come from a display of anger toward them. I swallowed hard and finally spoke, “Countess Odalys was a skilled leader and friend. I appreciate the opportunity to have conveyed her considered recommendation.” I turned and left the chamber hastily so they would not see the tears I fought to hold back.

[Acadian]

Previously- Despite Buffy’s best effort, she was unable to save the Countess of Kvatch from a protracted, wasting illness. As Buffy conveyed the late Countess’ wishes regarding a successor to the Imperial Council, she began to realize the Council’s goals for the Empire were more ignorant and short-sighted than she had hoped.

*

Renee- Thank you! Many aspects of Buffy’s journey ahead have been in conceptual form for a long time. It’s only fairly recently that we were able to work out some key decisions, enabling us to begin writing. I’m glad you noted Buffy’s healer side for, in her continuing evolution, that is becoming the dominating focus of her skillset. You may be right about Sirs Mazoga and Agronak. I’d like to think that Agronak displayed considerable wisdom as a natural leader among his fellow gladiators back when he was in the Arena but who knows? Buffy is certainly not qualified to know what it takes to run a city. She’s just loyal as a post to her friends.

Rider- Thanks for the welcome back! Our purpose with the Imperial Council scene was to display a possible small crack in the Council’s ability to wisely lead the Empire into the Fourth Era. We’ll soon see another and larger fault line indicating that having neither Uriel nor Martin Septim at the helm does not bode well for the Empire.

SubRosa- Thank you! Buffy will dwell somewhat on losing the Countess and, of course, blame herself. Just as she’ll lament failing to deliver on the Countess’ final request. She will not be returning to Kvatch though, for this next episode will set the stage for a more immediate problem.

macole- Thanks for pointing out the classic ‘You made a great case. . . BUT. . . .’ situation with the Council. Buffy’s been mistreated for being a ‘knife-earred bark biter’ enough times that it’s sometimes tempting for her to conjure negative racial generalizations. What tempers this is when she – as in the last episode – reminds herself of the many friends she has within whatever race she is currently challenged to deal with.

ghastley- But Rugdumph speaks eloquently while saying little that is understandable. What else does a politician need? Thanks!

Grits- Thank you! As you well know, Buffy is an emotional elf and I’m so pleased that her feelings came through clearly – and even a bit infectiously.

Lopov- Wonderful to see you posting again and thanks for your comments! I’m pleased that both you and Grits noted the introductory comment hint regarding Buffy’s destination.

* * *

Episode 2

Once south of Imperial City on the road to Bravil, Superian and I stopped at Pells Gate. Kitsune, my fennec fox familiar, hopped down from her perch in front of my hips and disappeared into the nearby forest. The assistant innkeeper, who also served as the stable hand, was an Imperial who had seen perhaps fifteen summers. He looked up from sweeping the stable floor. “Good to see you again, Superian. How’s my favorite palomino mare? Oh, hi, Buffy, does she need water?”

“No,” I replied, “we stopped at the nearby stream where she drank her fill. Just the usual, please.”

He grinned. “I’ll be right back.” With that he ran the short distance into the settlement’s tavern.

I dismounted and hugged the mare, burying my face in her white flowing mane and breathing deeply of her comforting scent. The lad returned as I was stretching my legs. He handed me an opened bottle of beer and a bowl. I pressed several small coins into his hand before he headed back into the tavern mumbling, “Mop the floors, make the beds. . . .”

After taking a couple small drinks, I poured the rest into the bowl and offered it to Superian. Rather than enthusiastically drinking, she took only a small amount of it and lifted her head, ignoring the rest. “Acadian, this is not like her.” I set the bowl on a nearby tack locker. “Are you all right, my precious mare? It’s not like you to turn down such a treat.” I knew some folk felt beer was bad for horses but at over 115 stone, I didn’t believe a beer occasionally would harm the mighty mare. After all, at only six stone, a couple swallows never hurt me. I was concerned about her lack of interest though. I laid hands upon her and established a bond of healing. After a few minutes, I allowed the bond to dissipate and lowered my hands, perplexed.

“Well?” asked my old paladin.

I frowned. “Physically there’s nothing wrong with her, but she’s . . . distracted by something and I have no idea what it could be. Perhaps I’m worrying needlessly.”

“Possibly, but when it comes to healing, your instincts are sound.” After a moment, he added, “I wonder if it could be something related to the dragon spirit of Phantom that she carries? I suggest once we get to Bravil, you allow me to recall the dragon-mare to spirit form within you. I will then be able to tell if Phantom is the source of the problem.”

I nodded, remounted and guided the mare from Pells Gate. Once on the road south, I knew Superian needed no direction from me to get us home, for we had made this trip countless times. Kitsune quickly joined us, loping alongside the mare. My mind turned to recent events. “I’ve failed, Acadian. I couldn’t save Odalys and I couldn’t even make good on her dying wish.”

“Buffy, the Countess was right that if you couldn’t save her, no healer in Tamriel could.”

“That’s just the point; I could have saved her,” I replied. “Damn it, I’m a healer, and I failed!”

“I don’t understand, Buffy. You said yourself that if you removed the sickness it would destroy her infested organs.”

“By the time Guildmagister Sigrid sent for me, it was indeed too late. Where I failed the Countess was when we first released her from that protective block of magical ice during the battle for Kvatch. I thought the problem with her foot to be mere atrophy due to lack of protection and blood flow.” Pent up tears spilled freely now. “Had I properly diagnosed her at the time, when the Daedric wasting sickness had not advanced, I could have saved her. My failure killed her. Every bit as much as those Daedra who killed her husband.”

“Nay, Buffy. What killed her was the incompetent court mage who failed to fully encapsulate her in that magical ice.”

I bristled. “What?!? That poor mage was under fire, and Daedra were literally breaking down the door into the royal vault – their last refuge. He did his very best with so little time, I’m sure. Remember how his lightning staff was completely drained of charges when we found it? He gave everything he had to protect his Count and Countess! Your accusation is unfair and unwarranted.”

“And,” persisted Acadian, “were you not also under attack with Daedra beating at the door when you rapidly assessed the Countess’ condition so Savlian could have her quickly escorted to safety? Your self-accusation is unfair and unwarranted.”

“You would turn my own words against me?” I retorted, even as I recognized his point. Still, I frowned. “What of the aftermath? There was plenty of time then.”

“As I recall,” replied the paladin, “you were unconscious for days, under the care of the chapel’s healer and fighting for your own life. Once you were able to move about, you and the Countess were both justifiably overwhelmed with the shock and grief of losing your mates. What you ask of yourself, if not impossible, is entirely unreasonable.”

“I. . . my head realizes you’re right but my heart tells me otherwise.”

“Buffy, there is much truth to your impassioned proclamation that you are a healer.”

“Then why do I feel so inadequate?”

After a moment he replied, “The same nurturing and empathic nature that is largely responsible for your considerable ability to heal others is precisely the reason you hurt so much and tend to blame yourself when you cannot save a patient. Yes, mourn those you cannot save, but do not lose sight of those you can. You are gifted, Buffy, and I am confident that those you heal will continue to vastly outnumber those you lose.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but then closed it again. The old paladin was right. Once again, his unwavering belief in me had made me feel better. “Thank you, Acadian. I’ll try.”

Magnus was embracing the trees to our west as a gentle breeze carried the welcome smell of woodsmoke from the chimneys and cooking fires of Bravil.

After dismounting at the approach end of the bridge leading to Bravil’s main gate, Acadian quietly said, “Ven Sah Liz, I need you.” Like most of her kind, Phantom’s name in the tongue of dragons consisted of three words that, in her case, translated to ‘Wind Phantom Ice’. Superian began to dematerialize into a pale bluish mist that was the color of an ancient glacier. Within moments the combined spirits of both mare and dragon were safely within me.

After crossing the bridge, the guard opened the gate for us. “I’ll never get used to how you can make your mare disappear into thin air and reappear when you need her.” He shook his head. “Mages.”

I smiled in return. “Good to see you Petronius. I trust your shift goes well?”

“Well enough,” he replied. “I heard you went to Kvatch to try and heal the ailing countess there. How is she?”

I winced and shook my head. “She didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Buffy. I’ve seen you heal plenty of our townsfolk and I’m sure if anyone could’ve saved her it would have been you.”

So everyone keeps telling me. I sighed and smiled weakly as we passed through the gate. Kitsune shadowed closely on my heels. Though the vixen often preferred to make herself scarce around others, she seemed comfortable in Bravil. She was unobtrusive enough though that I often forgot she was there.

After foraging a meal from the mages guild’s pantry and discussing what happened in Kvatch with Guildmagister Kud-Ei, I settled into my quarters upstairs. Thankfully, my roommate, Ardaline, was out for the evening and I was finally alone. I could feel Acadian begin probing Phantom’s spirit.

After quite some time, he said, “Buffy, I believe your mare is fine. Our dragon is the problem.”

“What’s wrong with her, Acadian?”

“I am almost as perplexed as you were after you checked Superian earlier in the day. It is very subtle, but something is . . . almost imperceptibly draining magicka from her spirit.”

I scratched my head. “What could be the cause of that?”

“Whatever is responsible is beyond my ken. I have an idea of who might know though.”

“Out with it, my paladin! I will not lose another patient due to delay!”

“As you know,” he dutifully replied, “Phantom was created by Kyne to be my mount when I served as her paladin during the Great Dragon War. If anyone can help us, it is she.”

“Then our course is clear,” I stated. Closing my eyes, I quietly spoke, “My Lady Kynareth, Goddess of sky and forest, I need your wisdom to understand the nature of what ails the spirit of your dragon, Phantom. As your paladin, I would ask audience with you.” I quietly waited, unsure what – if any – answer to expect.

It took but a few moments before I had my response. There were no words but somehow I knew. “Acadian, at dawn tomorrow along the Niben's shoreline nearby, we shall meet with Kynareth.”

“Well done, Buffy. In the interim, the day has been long. Your heart and body are weary. Rest.”