Serene Of Cyrodiil, Chapter 4, Ashlander Affairs Options

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Ok my dear readers.....here starts chapter 4....hope you will enjoy it!

Chapter 3

It's not enough that we do our best; sometimes we have to do what's required

Sir Winston Churchill


I stayed another week at Arvs Drelen, being a devoted scholar of Baladas Demnevanni, who in fact was more of a father to me than Rufus Vantinius back in Cyrodiil ever had been. I learned a horde of spells suitable for, if nothing else, keeping me alive in the harsh country I was to encounter.

It was with mixed feelings I took leave of Baladas and Shulki an early Turdas-morning as I was bound eastwards to the Ahemmusa Camp. Master Demnevanni had given me a nice set of potions and scrolls; Shulki gave me a wonderful cloak made of softened netch-leather, dyed in dark green with complicated embroideries along the edges. She had spent over a year making this robe and it was originally meant for her wedding. I first refused to accept it but Shulki urged me to it, since she was convinced that I saved her life by revealing the Talos Cult plot, and she was now to move in with Master Demnevanni and devote herself to follow in his footsteps; therefore she was not going to marry anyway. I then embraced her, tears running down my face, and accepted the wonderful gift and wished her all luck. I was really sorry to leave Gnisis; Shulki and Baladas Demnevanni were the only family I had....so far.

I went by Silt Strider to Khuul, a small fishing-village on the north-west coast of Vvardenfell. The rain was pouring down as I arrived and I hurried along the road leading from the Strider port to the village itself. Luckily my cloak was impregnated with Shalk-resin so it resisted the rain very well. Nevertheless I arrived at the actual village dripping from rainwater and extremely hungry. I asked around for some services and was shown to Thongar´s trade house, a rather simple place but where I at least could buy some bread and Scrib-jelly.

I also found out that in order to get to Ahemmusa Camp the best thing to do was to take a ship to Dagon Fel and then walk from there. I wasn’t all that happy about going by boat, since the weather still showed no improvement; in addition to the pouring rain a rather hard wind had started whirling around and the sea did not look friendly at all. I can’t stand the sea and I did not fancy losing my lunch to the sea-creatures, so I decided to ask Thongar, the Nordic proprietor, if I could wait a couple of hours in his house. I was allowed to sit down in a corner and so I did.

I must have fallen asleep sitting there because suddenly I was aware of some movement just beside me and when I opened my eyes I spotted Thongar´s hands deep down my in backpack, I immediately grabbed his wrist muttering:”'M feinedd balf fferrir”, and watched him grow pale as my grip turned his arm to a frozen piece of meat. Master Demnevanni´s spells were indeed very efficient and this one, “Icy Grip” was no exception…

“So, what are you looking for?” I asked coldly and relieved my grip so the blood could circulate freely in his arm again. The incredible pain as the frozen limb started to gain normal temperature was clear in his face; sweat was dripping from his forehead and he moaned as he desperately rubbed his arm.

“N-N-nothing, nothing at all” he gasped, looking hatefully at me, “Get out of here immediately. You cursed Witch”.

I saw no reason to disobey him, so after checking that nothing was actually stolen from me I went out of the Trade house and down to the docks. The wind had eased a bit and I bought a one-way ticket to Dagon Fel. I must have been rather exhausted, because I slept most of the trip, and arrived the following morning in Dagon Fel, the biggest Nordic settlement on Vvardenfell. It was a rather nice town, a mixture between grey wooden shacks and some patchwork stone houses surrounded by a wall….partially torn down though.

A tall blonde woman greeted me as I stepped off the ship, wondering if I needed some accommodation during my stay. She told me her name was Mette and that she could recommend “The End of The World Renter Rooms” where she currently was employed, as a scout. I found the name of the accommodation rather amusing considering that I actually was at the End of Vvardenfell at the moment, so I followed her there. I was offered a rather large room, with a bed, a small table and a large drawer in it. On the table I found a book that caught my interest, not so much the title, but the author: “The True Noble’s Code” written by Serjo Athyn Sarethi. I remembered Neminda mentioning him back in Ald´Ruhn as I joined the Great House Redoran…..

I laid down on the bed and started reading the book…..getting more and more doubtful the more I read; How could I possibly fit into The Great House Redoran? A house filled with noble warriors, worshipping the Tribunal, a thing I had not even the faintest clue what it really meant…..I shrugged and put the book aside…….closing my eyes for a bit.

Until this day I can’t tell what exactly woke me up, I only know that if something had not wakened me that bright morning at The End of The World, it really would had been The End of Serene Catraso, that’s for sure!

I don’t know what happened besides that I was sound asleep one minute and standing beside the bed, sword in hand, the next. I saw nothing, but a distinct prickling of my neck told me there was something there waiting for me. I turned around once more when a dark figure seemed to materialize out of the shadows, with a shiny sword in its hand. I realized that his armour was made of a light-absorbing material. I had no time to notice anything more, as he attacked with a ferocity I had never before encountered. I was able to use the greater reach of my long sword to advantage, keeping away from many of his attacks. Still, a significant number got through, and I felt something warm and wet run down the left side of my body. I fought without thinking, the instinct of survival made me launch a series of strokes that finally pressed my opponent into a corner of the room where I could finish him off with a lethal stroke to his stomach. As he sank to the floor, severely bleeding and his intestines visible through the deep cut I had given him I myself fell to my knees, panting from exhaustion, sobbing hysterically from grief of having to kill someone.....again!

I eventually calmed down and started to investigate my own wounds. Luckily I had taken off Shulki´s beautiful cloak or it would have been completely ruined. My shirt, soaked with sweat, had a long bloody rift in the left side, showing where the attacker had hurt me the worst. The cut was about 6 inches long and rather deep, since blood still was emerging from it in a rather heavy flow. I felt dizzy for a moment but managed to put my hand on the cut and concentrate. It was hard this time; my heart was still beating heavily and the sweat made my skin slippery so I wasn’t able to heal myself as swiftly as I used to. Finally I just tied a bandage made from the sleeves of my ruined shirt around me and hoped that would be sufficient.

Then I remembered the potions I got from Master Demnevanni, and I indulged myself with a small healing-mixture. Feeling much better and invigorated I started examining the body of my attacker. He was a young skinny Dunmer with a strange tattoo on his forehead. His armour was of very high quality; in addition to its light-absorbing properties, it also was designed to dampen sound. That would explain why nobody came to my aid in this fight. The sword was made from a material I never encountered before, strong yet very light and shiny. I decided to take custody of that sword and somehow find out what it was made of. I reckoned some Armourer would have the answer to that. I thoroughly wiped the sword clean from my own blood and put it on top of the chest of drawers.

Now the problem remained; what was I supposed to do with the corpse? I had no intention whatsoever to stay at The End of The World; if there had been one attack there could very much likely be another, especially since this attacker was unable to get back to whoever employed him and report me as being dead.....I was almost certain there had to be an employer of some kind- too many strange unexplainable things had happened to me since I got to this Island; an attempted murder did not really surprise me, just made me feel very sad, mostly because I had to kill another human being, something that I had already done a couple of times even though I resented it deep in my heart.

I took the sheets from my bed and wrapped the corpse in them and shoved him in under my bed. Then I unwrapped my bandage, seeing that the wound was almost healed, just a red scar remained stretching from under my left breast to the hipbone, the scar was sore and prevented me from bending and moving freely, but didn’t really bother me that much. Obviously the sword that made that wound was extremely sharp, otherwise it wouldn’t have cut that deep.

I also realised I’d have a problem finding something to wear, that ruined shirt was my last one, as were the trousers I was wearing, dirty, stained with blood and sweat, they were at least not torn but I did not fancy wearing then anyway. It seemed as I had nothing left except a dancing dress that Shulki had given me because it was anyway too small for her. It was an extremely short black one with shoulder straps, not much to wear during a journey and definitely not anything I would think of wearing when walking around in Dagon Fel.......

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It turned out I had no other choice than put that dress on, together with my leather cloak and step down the stairs to the bar at the ground floor of The End of The World. I was freezing in my odd outfit and could hardly prevent my hands from shaking when I approached the counter. Standing there, calmly sipping from a large goblet, was a tall well-built Nordic woman with a shiny red-blonde hair floating down her back. She was dressed in a brown and blue woollen shirt with a fur-collar, over a brown long skirt and gave me a curious look as I came closer.

“Ye look as if yer freezin´ Miss” she gave me a friendly smile, “C’mon `ave a Mead, it’ll warm ya up.” The woman nodded at the barkeep and gave me her hand.

“Anja Swift-Sailer, at yer service. Drink’s on me tonight; me longboat’s all ready by now, time te celebrate!”

I felt at ease hearing that Nordic tongue again, it reminded me of Sonya and thus my eyes filled with tears; the recent events rushed back upon me and my legs felt weak so I had to lean on the counter for support.

“Aye, lassie, wassup?” Anja grabbed my shoulders and led me to a chair and sat me down; really, she carried me to the seat, for my legs just bent under me and all went black for a minute. Anja pressed my head down between my knees in order to prevent me from fainting...and the blood slowly went back to my head again. I then tried the drink that was put in front of me and it really did warm me up a bit, but not as much as the friendly confident Nordic woman beside me.

Anja was very cheerful this afternoon; she was the proud owner of a small freight-company inherited from her father. This very day her new longboat had been delivered and now she could take passengers as well as freight. Unlike the open boats of the type, this one had a deck covering the hold and was powered by sails instead of oars. That made it easy for one person to operate in the islands off the north coast of Vvardenfell. We had a couple of drinks in the bar and I told her I was going to the Ahemmusa Camp. She offered to take me there by boat, which I welcomed. I just had to get myself some clothes first so she followed me to Heifnir the Trader. I bought some plain warm clothes that were also suitable to wear at the Camp. I had a feeling that it would be a mistake to appear at an Ashlander camp in Imperial finery; the Ashlander’s antipathy toward the Empire was well known. If I were to have a chance with the nomadic Dunmer, the first impression would be critical.

Anja and I got on very well together; she was well liked throughout Dagon Fel and being with her granted me the same friendliness among the mostly Nordic population. We went to her house and she cooked me a hearty dinner as well as letting me use her washing-facility. I felt very good sitting in the large wooden barrel that she used as bathtub, deep down in hot water seasoned with Heather.

“Ye like ´aving a bath, lassie?” Anja smiled as she washed my back with a piece of sload-soap, “My, my ye´ve ´ad a good beatin´up I reckon, lots a bruises ´ere, them must be botherin´ya!”

I was still rather sore from the fight with that assassin in black armour, but the hot bath and Anja´s gentle rubbing of my back relaxed my tense muscles and eased the pain of the bruises.

Since Anja was kind enough to let me sleep on her couch that night I was rather refreshed when I woke up the following morning. No assassination-attempts disturbed my sleep. Just as the edge of the sun peeked over the horizon, we set sail on Anja´s new ship.

The sea was calm and clear this morning as we went south-east through the Dagon-Fel archipelago, small islands and pointy rocks were scattered along our route. I who could not take the sea did not get sea-sick at all; I enjoyed very much sitting on deck in the bright sunshine watching the surroundings. I did see a couple of cliff-racers though, which made me feel a bit uneasy!

We reached the location of the Ahemmusa Camp at sunset. The boat drew too much water to go near the shore so Anja took me there in a small dinghy. We parted on good terms and I had to promise to let her know next time I went to Dagon-Fel....so we could meet.

There I was now, all alone on a strange shore. According to a map Anja had made, the Ahemmusa Camp was right behind the hills in front of me. I enjoyed the beautiful landscape as I headed up the small hill, but was abruptly interrupted by a hoarse voice;

“Stay exactly where you are woman, or you may greet your ancestors on the other side.”

I froze and held my breath, I berated myself for not being attentive; this was the wilderness and such behaviour could easily be fatal. I heard footsteps behind me and soon enough I was grabbed by the shoulder and briskly turned around, facing a young Dunmer with fiery red hair in two braids embracing an emotionless face. He aimed at me with an impressively big crossbow, circling around me, smirking;

“What are you doing here Imperial? You are not wanted in this area; its Ahemmusa land here, we want no interference.....Get out of here!”

I swallowed, cleared my throat and told him I had to speak to the Ahemmusa Wise Woman. Apparently he did not believe me, for he grumbled something, and spat on the ground deliberately near my feet. Still, he couldn’t be sure, so he scowled and pushed me forward.

“Move it, outlander, let’s see what our Gulakhan will say about this!”

I entered the Ahemmusa Camp as a prisoner, and was lead directly to a huge yurt surrounded by other huge yurts situated in a half-circle around a fireplace. There were not many people strolling around in the camp, and those who were did not pay any attention to me and my guard.

“Dutadalk, it’s me Sallit, may I speak with you on a matter of great importance?” My guard announced before we could enter. A dark voice answered from inside; apparently granting the audience, for Sallit pushed me inside and followed tight behind.

The interior of the tent was simple but completely functional, a fireplace in the middle, a bedroll, some urns and sacks, even a small table and two chairs were standing on one side. Since the tent was circular all things were placed along the sides in circumference to the fireplace. It was rather dark inside; the tent was only lit by two minor lamps, one at the table and one hanging on the wall beside the bedroll.

The man who appeared out of the darker area was tall and skinny, but seemed rather friendly; he pushed his long black hair out of his eyes and looked curiously at us asking;

“What is it this time Sallit? Weren’t you supposed to try and find those missing guars? What you have brought doesn’t look like a guar to me.....”

“Gulakhan Dutadalk, I found this Imperial walking on the shore. What shall we do with her?”

“I ....” That was as far as I got before Sallit hit me hard in the face and I tasted blood. Fury at the blow rose up in me, but I did not say anything. My mission was too important, and I knew that I had to succeed.

“No need for that!” the Gulakhan snapped at Sallit, “Let her talk!”

“I would like to speak with the Ahemmusa Wise Woman,” I said, “I have this letter of introduction.”

I took out the piece of parchment Imsin had given me and showed the Gulakhan. He turned away from me grumbling, trying to pretend not to see it. Instead he told Sallit to take me to the Wise Woman’s yurt. Sallit started to protest but was immediately given a sign to be quiet.

The Wise Woman’s yurt was considerably bigger than the others, and was situated outside the main circle of yurts in splendid solitude to mark the importance of its inhabitant.

Sallit just pushed me forwards and told me to enter, and then he disappeared. I hesitated for a moment, and then went inside. When my eyes got used to the darkness I noticed that this yurt was like and yet not like the Gulakhan´s yurt. It was bigger; the walls were covered with beautiful pieces of tapestry, woven in intricate patterns in dark earthy colours, and the floor had lots of carpets, lying almost on top of each other, in order to entirely cover the ground. Behind a screen I noticed a bedroll, a lamp and some books. Big urns were standing around the walls and there were also a chest of drawers, with some alchemical equipment on top.

But most conspicuous was the woman who came towards me, a tall slender woman with a noticeably fair complexion for being a Dunmeri, dark red eyes and silver hair, clad in a shirt that was like a piece of art, made from softest leather, embroidered throughout its front, with pearls, precious stones and cliff racer plumes put together in an intricate pattern. I was stunned and it took a second or two before I noticed the woman was talking to me, in a melodious voice.

“You wish to speak with me?” I then looked at her face; there was something familiar about that face, as if I actually knew her.....

“I greet you, Wise Woman of the Ahemmusa,” I said bowing my head out of courtesy, “I have been sent to you, and I have this letter, issued by Imsin The Dreamer of Fort Buckmoth.”

I handed her the letter, still not knowing what was so familiar about her. She took it but did not open it; instead she looked straight into my eyes, took my hand and said;

“The Ahemmusa welcome you, Serene.”

Her hand touching mine sent a whirling sensation right through me and then I knew where I’d met her before......