Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[Black Hand]

Contrary to popular belief I have no idea what the next scenes are. Dang you Trey! Ill be biting my nails wondering what the next step is here! Nice Prelude, you've officially surpassed the Imperfect photo cliffy...and I forgive the 'Woods Incident'...for now...

[McBadgere]

Whut?!!... ...

Eh?!!... ...

And indeed...WHA?!!! ...

Looks forward to it....

Nice one!!!... ...

*Applauds*...

[treydog]

A quick note- I was in such a rush to post the Interlude (balding spells sizzling behind one are SO motivating)- that I forgot to respond to the wonderful comments. That is fixed now at the top of the Interlude 16 post. Many thanks to my wonderful readers and friends.

[Olen]

These interludes are getting more cryptic... I can see why in many ways, we now have two PoV characters so there is less need for laying background (especially given that one is telepathic). You make good use of the format though, the episodic author and PoV switching with interludes suits forum posting very well and keeps everything fresh and intriguing (while allowing for the reader to be reading several other things). It's nice to see the piece reflect that it doesn't need to pretend to be a book.

As to content - Athynae's first journal entries, I'm not sure what these represent. Then the prophecies which I suspect may pertain to Athynae though how I'm not sure. And then Trey and Seth leaving Indarys with it being time... All very intriguing, which I suppose is the point.

Can't wait for the next pert now.

[minque]

O_o....now what? Time??? Time for what? The amount of questions rise...Seth and Trey? Hmmm thats a good coalition or is it?

These cliffies are awesome but very much tormenting....

[treydog]

@mALX- Several have tumbled to the identity of “the assassin.” His role will become more clear- but not for some time.

@Black Hand- There will probably be more cliff-racer endings… And I do not think ANYTHING will ever equal that screenie of the Imperfect… Just saying.

@McBadgere- My thanks. The Interludes are as much to boggle as to inform- I must admit.

@Olen- My thanks about the way this works for the forum. Serial novel-writing is rather fun for that reason. The reason for the journal entry will become more clear with the first post of the new chapter. And yes- you correctly deduce the identity of “the assassin.”

@minque- Appears a more direct “intervention” is about to take place. But- with Seth and Trey- who knows? And especially with Athynae and myself doing the writing.

Where we are- Athynae and Athlain are together once more, and she has been cured of lycanthropy. The identity of the figure in Athlain’s dreams and of Athynae’s tormentor has also been revealed- Hircine, Daedric Prince of the Hunt. But even so, their path is far from clear.

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Chapter 16

The trek to the cottage from the cave was not a great distance, but by the time we arrived I was exhausted. It just made me realize the toll the lycanthropy and the healing had taken. The cottage looked the same as it had last I saw it, like a picture, perfect for a novice artist to attempt to catch the serenity and never quite succeed.

Athlain stepped onto the porch and opened the door and I was not far behind. I stepped in to the exact room I had left. Everything was just as it had been, every bowl, utensil and bottle where they belonged. Just inside the door my pack and the rest of my gear was leaning against the wall. The katana’s sheath was where I had tossed it when I departed to save the world… never mind.

I scanned the room again. Something- something just wasn’t exactly as I had left it or someone had been here. The hair on the back of my neck raised and every muscle tensed. Everything looked the same. I closed my eyes to enhance my other senses….

“What is it ‘Thyna?” Athlain had turned- I could tell by his voice that he was walking toward me.

I put up my hand to stop him “Sshh, just be still, be quiet.”

He stopped and I went back to my intense meditation to no avail. Still I couldn’t help but feel something was off, not quite perfect. “Do you feel anything different?” I asked Athlain finally.

“Like what?” And I couldn’t tell if his look was one of concern, or fear that I had lost my mind.

“It just, I don’t know, feels different. Everything appears to be the way I left it, but something is making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.” When I said that his expression eased a bit; he didn’t often question my instincts and this was obviously purely instinct because there was nothing out of place that should have set it off.

“Come on, sit down; maybe you are just over-tired.” Athlain pulled out one of the chairs at the small table where I had prepared potions for him what seemed like an age ago. I walked to the chair and sat, still on edge. Maybe he was right; maybe I was just too tired.

He started placing kindling in the fireplace. “What are you doing? We aren’t going to be here long enough for that. We don’t have time, remember? If it weren’t for my other weapons and the rest of my armor still being here, I would probably have come by myself to get the journals.” I raised an eyebrow in accusation because he had briefly resisted coming the cabin until I reminded him that everything I needed still here, except my katana.

“I don’t want to argue Thyna, not now. We are here and you need to be warm, regardless of where we are. One night isn’t going to make any difference now, one way or the other. A good night’s rest and you will be much better to travel tomorrow.”

I really didn’t like that commander voice; no I did not. But I didn’t want to argue either. Truth was I did really want to be warm, it seemed even my bones were cold, and the thought of sleeping on a bed, even the one in this cottage, that was almost flat, was a welcome reprieve from a cold stone and dirt floor with only a pallet. And blankets, I would never take a blanket for granted again, or a fireplace, or …I let the thought go; I didn’t want to delve that deep just yet. I knew it was there, waiting, and I would visit it and hold it close- just not right now. I wanted to be where I could truly savor all that held new meaning, after what had happened, a whole new understanding and appreciation.

“Thank you.” My lame response came after an indeterminate delay, but it was a response, and wasn’t argumentative or sarcastic or any of those other horrid attributes I seemed to be so skilled at using.

“I’ll fix us something to eat and you can rest. We will leave at first light, which will put us where we need to be by late tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

“Please stop coddling me, Athlain. You would not make a good mother. I am not arguing so just leave it where it is.” He turned from his task with a quick nod and that not quite a grin that said ‘Very well.’

I continued to scan the room until my eyes focused on my pack. My eyes locked on the strap that tied to keep it closed. Oh no! I started toward the pack, filled with dread. When I crouched in front of the canvas bag and put my hand under the tie to examine it more closely I heard Athlain.

“Thyna, why did you leave a note?” There was a bit of humor to the question.

“I didn’t.” I tossed the words over my shoulder as I pulled the string that would release the tie.

Suddenly the scene in my mind changed and I was sitting in Uncle Seth’s lap and he was showing me how to tie my pouch so I wouldn’t lose what I put in it. “Tie it like this, both strings together, make a loop then pull the loop through itself. Then if you need to open whatever is tied it is as quick as pulling the free strings.” I swallowed, knowing what I was going to find as I opened my pack.

“Um Thyna, the note is sealed with….”

I cut him off “Red wax.”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“It’s from Uncle Seth.” I reached into the pack and proved my theory; the journals were gone. Breath; it’s ok;Seth has them. I turned to face him and said matter-of-factly “The tie on my pack wasn’t mine, it was Seth’s.”

Athlain was staring at me like he had been hit in the head with a hammer but forgot to fall. I never did understand why Athlain was so afraid of Uncle Seth. I mean sure he was kind of eerie I guess, appearing almost out of nowhere, but even after reading his journals and knowing what he had done and who he was, something I didn’t think Athlain knew nor did he need to, I understood the heart of the mer. I felt like I did, anyway. He wouldn’t hurt those he counted as family and somewhere I knew Athlain was covered under that blanket.

“He was here?” Athlain drew the words out as if they were a death sentence, sitting hard in the chair.

I walked to the table and held out my hand for the note. “Good grief.” I added, “Breathe Athlain; you are going to pass out,” as I released the wax holding the note closed.

I stared at it for a moment, laughing at the irony, mad as a wounded rat that he had been here and didn’t … stay. Sadly, I realized how much I really wanted to see him, felt somehow like I needed to.

You need to rest, you look tired. I have the journals. I will return them to where they belong, unless you want to find me and get them. But Athynae, you need to talk to your mother!
And it was simply signed “S”.

Like I could find him, right. If Uncle Seth did not want to be found, he could hide in an open field.

“He was here,” Athlain repeated, this time looking “green around the gills,” as the ship captain had put it.

“No, he sent his trained pet to retrieve the journals and leave me a note.” I shook my head; he could be so dim sometimes.

“What did he mean by ‘you look tired’?” His eyes opened wide as he questioned me.

“Obviously he saw us, but didn’t see fit to hang around for another 25 breaths to say hello.” Now I was just mad. He was going to get as much as he gave when he scolded me about taking the journals. I would take the scolding; I deserved it, but so would HE!

“He saw us? And he didn’t shoot me with a poisoned dart?” Athlain slipped deep into his own thoughts for a moment, looking like a scared animal trapped between a fire and a sword. “Thyna what would he do if something happened to you while you were here with me?” His voice was almost shaking.

“What? What do you mean?” If he didn’t look so frightened I would have laughed, but something told me now was not the time.

“What would he do? He would surely feel the need to take it out on someone. What would he do to me?”

“Feed you to the slaughterfish, of course. Really Athlain, this is getting ridiculous. Why would he feel the need to do anything? One, he isn’t my father, and two, he isn’t really even an uncle.” Saying that lit a torch somewhere in my head, but I didn’t pause to think about it. “He’s just been a friend of Mother and Father since before, well you know. Besides he is NOT that bad. You act like he is death’s messenger.”

“That’s how he always made me feel.” I swear he shivered.

“He isn’t a soft, warm kitten.” But he had held me and dried more than a few tears, “but he has a heart, Athlain, and he cares about the people he considers family.”

“Well that makes me feel so much better. Really, I mean he’s spent so much time with me. Training me how to use a sword, how to shoot a bow. Oh wait- that wasn’t me- it was you. He didn’t train me to use those because I couldn’t use them!” What was that tone? He’d never acted jealous before so I didn’t think that was it. Maybe it was just because I really didn’t understand why he felt the way he did about Uncle Seth; I never had.

“But he has never hurt you, or even threatened you. He even gave you a dagger, did he not?” I asked in hopes that it would emphasize the point.

“He gave me a dagger, looking all dark and sinister, along with that threat you think he never made.” He said, in that voice from long ago that said ‘Please stop picking on me.’

It didn’t work back then and it wasn’t going to work now. “A threat, really? What did he say, Athlain? ‘Hold on to this so you’ll have it when I come to slit your throat?’ ” I knew it was going to be something that he had misconstrued- I just couldn’t imagine what it might be.

“Those journals were in my Father’s study; do you think I never sneaked a look at them? I know some of the things he’s done.” I wondered which “things” he was talking about, but knowing that he had read some of it was probably enough to stoke the flame of his unreasonable fear.

“What did he say?” I was getting frustrated with this nonsense; it was like that girl that came two summers ago with her parents to visit Mother. She was older than me and she was petrified of Cook. It was beyond explanation. Cook was tiny, not old and not young; she had been our cook since long before I was born and to my knowledge had never hurt anyone. Mother called it a phobia, just something she couldn’t control. I guess that meant Athain had Sethophobia, and I wondered if it was curable.

“He handed me the blade and he said, ‘Keep it with you always. When the time comes to use it- you will know.’ "

“What do you think he meant by that, Athlain? Use it to kill yourself? He gave it to you to keep you safe! He said the same thing to me when he gave me my dagger. How can you use it when the time comes if you don’t have it with you?”

“You didn’t see his eyes, Thyna. They screamed at me ’or else’!”

“I have seen him in some pretty dark moods, being the one that caused it more often than not, and he didn’t grind me up and feed me to the racers.”

Athlain reached behind his neck as if to rub the tension, but as he brought it from behind his head he had the dagger in his hand. He laid it on the table. I had never seen it before that I could remember, but I would have known it was Uncle Seth’s if I’d found it at the bottom of the lake. The dagger he had given me, I knew, he had had made himself. It fit my hand like my leather gloves, even accommodating my pinky that was just a tad crooked because I had broken it when I was 4 or 5 and tried to heal it myself because I didn’t want Mother to know what I had been doing when it happened. The dagger that lay on the table was black; not just the hilt, which was hand-wrapped black leather, but the blade as well. I reached down and pulled my own dagger from my boot and laid it on the table. Side by side the two blades looked like the absolute opposite of one another. His seemed to suck the light from the air; it was almost invisible on the table, where mine was like a mirror, a beacon sending beams of light from the facets in the blade as well as the carvings and stones of the hilt. Athlain’s was a bit smaller than mine, the blade not quite as thick, but just as wide; his had a slight curve, mine did not; his looked sinister where mine looked almost like jewelry. I was not fooled by appearances though; I had no doubt that one was just as deadly as the other.

“Athlain he made this dagger with his own hands.” How did I know that? “Do you think he would give it to just anyone?”

He still didn’t look convinced, but I do think he eased a bit. Looking somewhere beyond me he said, “It never needs sharpening. I have used a whetstone on it but only out of habit. I have used it to cut bone when I killed a deer for food and it sliced through it as if it were butter on the table.” He was far away, thinking about Azura only knew what.

“I don’t know what either of them is made of, but I have never seen one that glistens as mine does or absorbs the light as yours. Mine is the same though; ever sharp, and if yours is like mine in all ways except appearance, then it is perfectly balanced as well.”

“Huh? Oh, right, probably. Do you think he’s angry at us for taking the journals?” Athlain propped his head on his hand.

“Us? Which us are you referring to? Me and the mouse I carry in my pocket? Last memory I had of the events, I was the one who took the journals and you were half a world away at the time.”

“But you were coming to me.” He picked up his dagger and returned it to its hidden sleeve. I really was so proud of him, how far he had come since…and now I find out that he is even thinking, planning enough that he has his dagger behind his head in a sheath on his back that could not be seen; yes, he had come a long way. But I still liked mine in my boot; even though it’s where everyone put a dagger. I could drop, grab the dagger, roll and throw faster than most people could draw a sword.

“If he is mad it will be at me and me alone. It isn’t a day at the market, being on the receiving end of one of his tirades, but I have been there before and I am quite sure I will be there again. Although his bite is far worse than his bark, only someone truly deserving of it gets to know exactly how much worse.”

The sun was setting, so the cottage was getting dark. Athlain lit the lantern and a small candle on the table and picked up the bucket that had found a home under the bed when I threw it in to grab my weapon. “I won’t be long; I’m just going to fill ‘er up so you’ll have water for tea in the morning.” And he stepped out the door, looking around before he closed it.

I returned my dagger to my boot, glad to have it back where it belonged. I walked over to the small bed, more a cot really, but still a welcome relief. I sat on the edge and removed my boots and the rest of my armor, down to the clothing underneath. I pulled back the blankets and crawled in, folding my arms behind my head.

I stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast by the fire. I didn’t understand why Uncle Seth didn’t wait, he saw us and still…I pulled the note from my sleeve where I had put it and read it again.

“You need to talk to your mother,” jumped off the page and down my throat, or that’s what it felt like- a huge ball of parchment stuck like it was glued. So, he’d seen mother; he knew that I had requested sanctuary at Indarys and then found out it was all because mother and Aunt Baria thought they needed to save Athlain and me. He probably knew she’d left her journals too. The thoughts at that point started running over each other in an attempt to figure out what would cause him to come all the way to Solstheim, just to retrieve his and Mother’s journals. Had he seen Uncle Trey? That’s the only way he could’ve known I had them. He probably saw the note I had left:

“Uncle Trey,
I borrowed a few books. I hope you don’t mind. I will take good care of them- I promise.
Love,
Thyna”

But that held no clues that I could glean. And he obviously knew I had come back to Solstheim after our supposed “conversation” had gone nowhere. At least I had sent her a note. Obviously I hadn’t been disowned; she had helped as much as she could while I was quarantined. That still didn’t explain why he hadn’t waited or why he took Mother’s journals too. What had I done to him? And it wasn’t the journals; I knew that. He would just growl and puff and give me mean looks, but he wouldn’t avoid me over it. That just wasn’t like him. I felt a tear slide down my face to the pillow as I drifted off with a foreboding- of what I had no idea. Surely that feeling was just because of what Athlain and I were on our way to face, right?

[mALX]

@mALX- Several have tumbled to the identity of “the assassin.” His role will become more clear- but not for some time.

A scene on Vvardenfell:

The Dunmer appeared at the door of Indarys Manor. He spared a glance for Baria, but no words. Trey looked at him for a long moment and asked simply, "Is it time?" At the other's nod, he took his cloak from the hook by the door, kissed his wife, and stepped outside with the assassin.

Lol, even I was able to guess WHO it was, lol. But what and why - that was my dilemma, ROFL !!!

Will return to read this post when I have a bit more free time, lol. <3

[mALX]

This is the absolute best Athynae chapter yet !!! It was hard to see Athlain reverting to the old fearfull person he used to be, haven't seen that side of him in years (except in Athynae's childhood memories). Maybe that is something Athynae brings out in him because she is fearless, lol.

There were a billion places to quote, too many to actually do it - it was all great !!!! Awesome Write !!

[McBadgere]

Most excellent!!!... ...

Loved it from start to finish...

Full of humour and excitement...And a touch of creepyness... ...

Excellently done...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Olen]

A very good part. So Seth has made it to Solstheim though why he chose not to contact is uncertain. Possibly letting them work it out themselves? Or something more. I'm sure time will tell.

Athlain's dislike of Seth seems fairly reasonable to me, but I wonder what further hand he has to play. And if Trey might be present on Solstheim.

The interplay between Athlain and Athynae continues to develop - that they can now decide not to argue is a step forward Interesting that Athlain had a vaguely argumentative response even gived Athynae's (fairly) neutral reply, I suppose he must have always had that edge but it was lost under Athynae's, if it wasn't there there might have been fewer arguments. Although she didn't argue this time she still sees herself as superior:

I really was so proud of him, how far he had come since…and now I find out that he is even thinking, planning enough that he has his dagger behind his head in a sheath on his back that could not be seen

There's quite a lot of them captured there. In spite of him being vastly more experienced she doesn't see past him as he was. I suspect that will be chaging though.

[minque]

ohhhhhhh...I'd like to quote the whole installment.....but I'll take just this one, it made me giggle and I'm still giggling:

Athain had Sethophobia, and I wondered if it was curable.

Reading this over and over....my my , all things seem to knit together, it sends shivers to my spine!


Maybe this calls for an interlude...hmm

SS: Thyna you can always talk to me wherever you are... You know how

[Grits]

Why would he feel the need to do anything? One, he isn’t my father, and two, he isn’t really even an uncle.” Saying that lit a torch somewhere in my head, but I didn’t pause to think about it.

Hmm. And the mystery of Seth leaving before the ink was even dry. I am intrigued. Come on, Athynae, talk to your mother!

This is such a great section. I loved the part about the daggers the most.

[treydog]

Comment responses from Athynae:

@mALX- Thank you, thank you! Your support is invaluable, priceless. Athynae is learning what fear is and being 'fearless' may not always be a good thing.

@McB- I am so happy you are here and enjoying this!!! Now, on to more of the A and A show...

@Olen- Your comments always thrill me; I wait to see your interpretation of the events. I will say though, her apparent superiority is as much a defense mechanism as her sarcasm. The only fields where she actually is more adept are with a sword and bow; some of the coming soon journal entries in the memories thread will shed some light. That being said though, it's hard for a princess not to act like a princess.... just sayin...

@minque- The psychological phenomenon known as 'Sethophobia' is suffered by a larger number of people than may have been previously thought. It manifests in each of the sufferers differently and the symptoms aren't all bad (just ask Thyna).

Maybe an Interlude is in order but in whose thread?????????

AS- "Yes Mother, I know and we will talk soon but I have a bit of business to take care of first, seems a daedric prince is out to get me and I intend to stop his attack on me and the rest of this forsaken island. Love you, talk soon, really..."

@Grits- You picked my favorite part! I loved the daggers; that whole section said far more to me, not about A and A but about how Seth feels about them...and the mystery continues..

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Athynae fell into an exhausted sleep and I turned down the lamp and banked the fire. Although I had made myself a pallet on the floor, my thoughts would not let me rest. Thyna could not understand why her “Uncle Seth” frightened me. Nor would I have been able to explain it until I had spent time in the Legion and gone into Ashinabi cave with its smugglers. The Athlain who had gone into that place was not the one who came out. That experience had opened a window onto a world where “choices” meant something more than deciding which trousers to wear or what to have for breakfast. In that new world, they were about who lived and who died. But the ultimate lesson had come here on Solstheim, when I sought out the reavers who had robbed me of my goods and my sense of honor.

From them, I had exacted a blood price. And in those few minutes, as I had become one with the blade, with the darkness of the night- and the darkness that dwelt within- I knew Sethyas Velas. I understood how he had shaped fear and rage to his own purpose, hammering them into the blades he used to such deadly effect. It was not the charming Dunmer rogue who guested in my home that I feared, the tall figure who laughed with my father and complimented my mother’s garden- then slipped away like a shadow of a dream.

He had always been kind to me, in an aloof sort of way. So I did not really think he would be angry with me, no matter what had befallen Athynae while she was in my company. He might discuss how he would have done things differently, but no more than that. So- if it was not the assassin’s blade, nor the mer’s dark temper that terrified me, what was it? The answer had been hinted at in Ashinabi and revealed fully on the Isinfer Plain- I saw that the same darkness resided in both of us. And I was almost paralyzed by the idea that when next we met, he would acknowledge the aura that now hung now around me, as it did around him- an aura of violence and death.

Even so, I knew that she and the elusive assassin had always shared a special bond. He had trained her in the use of blade and bow, gifted her with her first set of armor, listened with grave seriousness to all her pronouncements. It would not be fair to say that he “spoiled” Athynae- in fact, he was sometimes the only person who could convince her to complete onerous tasks that she deemed “stupid.” In fact, he had- on one memorable occasion- banished that word from her vocabulary for an entire glorious week. There was much about Seth that I admired, some that I feared, and still more that I simply did not understand

When sleep claimed me at last, I was certain of only one thing- I had made the choices I must. If my dreams were haunted by dark figures or Daedric princes, I did not know it, for which I was grateful. A log dropping in the fireplace woke me, and I saw the light of day streaming through the windows. Athynae was burrowed into a mound of blankets, the slow rise and fall of her breathing the only sign of her presence. I tried to move quietly as I built up the fire and prepared some food. My efforts were not entirely successful; an annoyed voice soon issued from the heap on the bed:

“Must you clump around so?”

Given that I was wearing soft slippers and had mostly been sitting quietly for the past several minutes, I decided what had awakened her was actually the aroma of hackle lo tea brewing. Rather than engage in a pointless verbal battle, I poured a cup and carried it toward the bed. In my best “Imperial manservant” voice, I intoned:

“Your morning beverage, Milady Slug-a-Bed.”

I had judiciously stayed just out of reach before I said it. Long experience had taught me that rousing Thyna was a perilous undertaking. As the old saying had it:

If you are going to poke a sleeping bear, best to use a long stick.

My attempt at humor fell flat; her head finally emerged and she squinted at the full sunlight that patterned the floor. She threw off the covers and grumbled:

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

As usual, she was completely unaware of the contradiction inherent in her complaints. But it was too much to expect civility, let alone sense, from her before she had finished her first cup- or better still her second.

As she worked on that all-important initial mug, Athynae eyed me suspiciously over the rim. Then as she poured the second, she quizzed me peevishly.

“How many leaves did you use? You do know that you don’t have to boil the leaves- just let them steep? What do we have to eat? How old is this scrib jelly?”

I simply let the torrent wash over me, reveling in the fact that we were together and that my culinary skills- or their lack- was the most pressing issue before us. Besides, there was an established rule, followed by everyone who knew Thyna- discount anything she said until after her second cup of tea. I did use the time before she was fully alert to watch her carefully, looking for signs of fatigue; or weakness; or… I could not say it, even to myself. But my cursory examination did not reveal anything untoward. And, despite her expressed doubts, she made short work of the food I placed before her.

Pushing her plate away, she folded her legs gracefully into the chair and asked me about Hircine.

“You have been here longer than I, and have spent time with Korst. What can you tell me about this annoying Daedric prince?”

“Mostly what we got from lessons. He is the Hunter and the Father of the Manbeasts. He was not known until fairly recently, and so does not have as many worshippers as some of the others….” I trailed off as she shook her head.

“No, not the history or the religion. I need to know if he can be killed- and how.”

She touched the hilt of the dagger sticking out of the top of her boot and her eyes narrowed. I chose the words of my response carefully:

“I do not think he can be killed- not by us, at least. The most we can do is banish him back to his plane of Oblivion. Doing that will limit his ability to affect our world. And it will be some time before his avatar can manifest again."

Her eyes bored into mine and she hissed, “How many years?”

“I don’t know, Thyna. Hundreds, I suppose.”

“Does it hurt? When he is banished like that?”

“I cannot imagine that it is pleasant, and his avatar probably experiences physical pain.”

She nodded sharply and said quietly, “Good thing I am Dunmer then. I plan to live long enough to send his ugly, antlered head back where it came from several times before I am done.”

From someone else, it might have seemed an idle threat or a joke. But I did not laugh- and Athynae never made threats.

There was silence for a time and then she stood and asked me, “Can you bring some more water? I have not had a chance to bathe for far too long.”

She smiled at the flush that crept up my cheeks and added lightly, “I know you hardy Legion types can manage with a freezing river, but I prefer hot water when I can get it.”

Anything I could say would have been wrong, so I fled the cabin, taking the bucket with me. After I had filled the large kettle near the fire for her, all the while trying not to entertain thoughts of her ablutions, submerging myself in the cold river seemed like an excellent idea. Blue was more my color than red, in any event.

After that, it was time to leave. We would need to speak to Korst soon, but I wanted to stop by Thirsk on the way. As Thyna gathered the last of her gear, I looked around the single room of the cabin. It seemed impossible that such a small space could hold so many memories. If I had known of some magic that would let me move the dwelling to some more hospitable place, I would have done so. And I would ask Athynae to marry me and live with me there forever. But I held those thoughts inside. There might come a time for such a future, but it was not yet. Athynae’s hand reached up to caress the hilt of her sword where it rose over her shoulder and I mirrored her gesture, feeling the comforting weight of the Gift at my hip. Though he did not yet know it, the Hunter had become the hunted.

This post has been edited by treydog: Feb 18 2012, 08:30 PM

[McBadgere]

Love it!!...

The internal struggle and fear that he was like Seth was excellently done...

And I absolutely loved Thyna's threat and Athlain's total acceptance of it as fact...Brilliant...

And there was much to make me laugh throughout...

Brilliantly done...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Olen]

And the hunt continues. For all they reject and dislike Hircine they, particularly Athlain, certainly seem to stay within his sphere. Hunting for a cure, hunting bandits, hunting spriggans, hunting for an abandoned airship... and now hunting the lord of the hunt. It's interesting that this passes him by. In many ways just being on Solstheim seems to involve hunting, and therefore Hircine. I wonder if this contradiction will make itself known or if hunting in his name is somehow different to normal hunting.

Athlain shows another side to himself in this part. He is aware of the darkness the killing leaves and doesn't like it but unlike his father seems less inclined to whine about it. I suspect now he will understand, when he takes a moment to think, why Trey gave it all up, but I wonder if Athlain will. He joined the Legion and in some ways almost defines himself, or at least his progress, in terms of hunting and violence. I can't see him becoming like Seth and using that almost to the point of revelling in it but I can see him accepting it and moving on. I just can't imagine Athlain settled I suppose, though Athynae might make a solid attempt at changing that.

Athynae wanting to hurt and kill Hircine was classic too. I suspect her determination might lead them into the last bit of the bloodmoon prophecy...

[minque]

So things are moving on! I Like that...and the wonderful conversations between Thyna and Athlain! I must say I like that young man more and more! He's kind, caring and very very patient with Her Highness! That's impressive, she can be really annoying...

Makes me wonder...has Athlain always been so kind and sensible? Even as a child....I mean he must have had a hard time dealing with two annoying sisters..AND Athynae Sarethi!

As I wrote in Her Highness' thread...it's time for something...

[mALX]

It was not the charming Dunmer rogue who guested in my home that I feared, the tall figure who laughed with my father and complimented my mother’s garden- then slipped away like a shadow of a dream.

Love this line, beautifully done!

Yes, I well remember a scene several months ago - a line about Athynae before her morning tea, ROFL !!!

I plan to live long enough to send his ugly, antlered head back where it came from several times before I am done.”

Ugly antlered head - ROFL !!

Anything I could say would have been wrong, so I fled the cabin,

SPEW !!! Loved this chapter, Great Write !!

[Black Hand]

Hate to state that I loved the update, it seems self-serving in some fashion. Regardless, you continue too humble and inspire me Ser Trey and Athynae.

[Grits]

Athlain’s thoughts about his disquiet around Sethyas were very interesting. The whole process of defining and accepting parts of oneself is familiar, even though death and violence is thankfully not the familiar part.

This episode falls into before and after She awakens. There was much in Athynae and Athlain’s interactions to smile over. I thought the last paragraph was particularly heartwarming. He has definitely decided that she is worth the trouble. It is wonderful to see them together, both healthy again, and ready for the hunt.

[treydog]

@McBadgere- Thank you so much. From the beginning, I have wanted to make Athlain a more complex character than his dear old dad…. And Athynae is someone even a Daedric prince should have know better than to annoy. If Hircine had considered, he would realize the very qualities that make him wish to “have” her are the ones that make her a deadly enemy.

@Olen- You find a depth to the story that is undeniably there- now that it is pointed out to me. I will admit the existence of the hunting motif was also unintentional, much as I might want to claim credit. Athlain is beginning to see the burden Trey carried, the weight of the dead. Perhaps the biggest difference is one of autonomy. Athlain joined the Legion willingly- although with a head full of romantic nonsense about it. Trey got handed a package with the admonition - “you’re our boy- go out there and do what you are told.” Of course- whether he wants to admit it or not, Trey also had free will….

@minque- I think Athlain’s… patience… is a product of self-preservation. The future will show he is still quite capable of making missteps in that department. Better still though- there is also going to be a memory of how he was trained by none other than Serene herself….

@mALX- Thank you- that was one of those “pictures in my mind.” I think there are probably posters of Athynae throughout Vvardenfell with the notation- “Armed and Extremely Dangerous- Do NOT approach without hackle lo tea.” Of course- maybe that will be Athlain’s secret plan- wake her up really EARLY on morning and send her out to confront Hircine before she has had her tea. Yes, Bold Sir Athlain- faced with the prospect of an elven princess at her bath- decided that a hasty retreat was in order.

@Black Hand- It is so EASY to “borrow” vivid characters like Seth. And the enjoyment the crossover gives us is impossible to describe.

@Grits- From the beginning, I had hoped Athlain’s “Journey of Discovery” would be more mental and emotional than physical. That last paragraph owes much to Jerric and Abiene… Athlain finds himself torn between what he wants and what he knows he must do. But in the end, he only hopes that by finishing his task, he will gain his heart’s desire.

Where we are- Athynae and Athlain are beginning what they hope will be the final preparations to confront Hircine, the Daedric prince of The Hunt. Although they appear to be working well together, future posts will show that putting two young, strong-willed people into a small space will lead to sparks. And now, Athynae speaks.

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After Athlain emptied the last bucket of water into the vessel beside the fire I intentionally attempted, successfully I might add, to make him uncomfortable enough to leave me alone. I did want to bathe. I felt disturbingly contaminated, but I also needed time to roll some of this into some sort of acceptable form to be accessed later for full resolution.

The entire conversation about Hircine was disturbing; the werewolf attack- and what followed- did not feel random to me. It was not a simple game of cards. This was a calculated, choreographed plan carefully plotted and carried out with precision. The Daedric prince had only miscalculated one thing that I could see, the connection between Athlain and me. Something told me that had Athlain not been there, not found the scroll and prepared the potion; that any attempt I made to end my life would have somehow been thwarted by the meddling visitor from Oblivion.

This could bode ill for both sides of the ‘game’. Hircine, I felt sure, did not understand the implications of dealing with two people that were as connected as Athlain and I. And so he would underestimate that, trying to treat us as individuals. The other side was that I knew how angry he was at being bested, beaten at his own game, and so the challenges ahead would only become harder and darker. And even now, after taking the potion and being cured of the disease he had inflicted, I could hear his voice on the fringes of my mental awareness still trying to draw me to him.

I smiled to myself. Each time I overcame an obstacle it only served to make me stronger, wiser. In this situation it also served to solidify my resolve; I was determined to end the game he had set into motion- but in a way that he did not expect. I could not imagine walking away now, knowing what the population of this island, and perhaps even Vvardenfell, would suffer if I did.

Athlain faced many challenges, and sought a multitude of answers, but I couldn’t help but feel all the threads wove a web that led back to Hircine. It was just a feeling, but one I could not shake since he had told me what he knew of the Hunter, as little as it was.

The water was warm now and I removed armor pieces that felt like they had grown to me. I had never worn anything for more than a day, especially undergarments, but I didn’t even know how long I had been in this same outfit. I laid my cuirass, chausses and Athlain’s bracer to the side and removed the rest of my clothing. I examined my skin critically, perhaps fearing that I might see some sign or mark of the Daedric prince still upon it. But it was the same pale, luminous grey it had always been. At last, I picked up the piece of soap I had taken from my pack and scrubbed my body until it was practically raw, and then vigorously soaped my hair as well. A simple spell reheated the water, and I rinsed thoroughly. I donned clean under things and proceeded to wash the garments I had taken off. If they weren’t dry by the time we departed, then I would just leave them here. I was sure we would be back; we couldn’t seem to stay away from the place.

I draped my clothes over the edge of the shelf by the fireplace and sat on the floor, pulling my knees up and wrapping my arms around them and then stared into the flames. I had a picture in my head of Uncle Seth hidden in the trees, watching as we made our way from the cave and suddenly rushing to beat us here, grabbing the journals and penning the note and evaporating just before we opened the door. Why? It was eating me up not knowing what would make him do such a thing. He did not avoid me ever; even if he was in a rush and I happened to appear, he took a moment to speak before he departed.

Mother had seemed so distant the last time I had seen her, detached almost, like she was trying to weigh something but the scale wasn’t made for it. She was in pain, but she was holding a barrier to keep me outside. I was still angry with her for the meddling, even though it was my misinterpretation that had caused the biggest problem. But she should never have gone to the Duke without speaking with me first. Neither should Aunt Baria, for that matter, but she had asked for my forgiveness and I had given it.

Father had been different too, looking at me with the same smile on his mouth but a deep sadness behind his eyes. The last time I hugged him he had held me tighter and longer than was his norm. He had been drinking a bit more of late and taken to closing his study door, which was quite odd.

The world was spinning the wrong way or something. I found myself not only being drawn more toward Athlain but also feeling pushed away by the other people I cared for. I was so confused, sitting in the floor in front of a fireplace, in a cottage that held way too much to be as small as it was, on an island that was at times beautiful, and at others like a slice of Sheogorath’s realm.

“Thyna, I…” I stood and turned as the wood in Athlain’s arms hit the floor. His mouth fell open and his face- his face could not have been any redder if I had painted it with some of his mother’s paint. Then I realized the problem; I was wearing nothing except undergarments covered by a thin, cut off chemise. And he was absolutely frozen in place.

“Close the door please, you are letting all the warm air out.” And I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Yes, well, um, well, yes, yes, that’s what I’ll dooooo, I will just close the door, you just let me know, yea just um…”

“CLOSE THE DOOR!” and it slammed shut- with Athlain still on the outside.

* * * * *

What with my having to take a walk and then knock on the door before I tried to enter the cabin again, it was some time before Athynae and I actually got underway toward Thirsk. I had expected her to argue that we should go directly to the Skaal village and Korst, but she seemed to be somewhat preoccupied with her own thoughts. Nevertheless, I did not try to set a fast pace, still being concerned about Thyna’s recovery. What that meant was that the sun began to set when we were still some distance from Thirsk. We were going to have to make camp.

I would have liked a clear area, perhaps with some rocks to serve as cover- but what we settled for was a place under the trees. We got camp set up quickly and with a minimum of talk, and I wondered if Athynae was angry with me. But I quickly dismissed that worry- she generally let me know of her displeasure in vivid detail. Because there were worse things to fear than animals, we kept the fire small. Athynae, recalling her experience with the bear whose hide served as a blanket, decreed that the menu would consist of travel rations. The only exception was her hackle-lo tea. I did not protest; there would be time for real food when we reached Thirsk. But it was still more than the effort of chewing dried berries and jerky that kept Thyna silent. I thought over what had occurred and realized that the fact that Seth had been within arm’s reach- and had left without waiting to see her- weighed heavily upon her.

So, I was thinking more about Athynae and her troubles than about the future. It is not wise to allow yourself to become preoccupied with dark thoughts on a cold night on Solstheim. However, if you are so inclined, being in the company of an elven warrior with the hearing of a hypersensitive cat will mitigate the error in judgment. The first hint I had that we were under attack was Athynae’s katana hissing from its scabbard. Months of Legion drill, followed by more months of the wilderness, found me standing back to back with her, the Gift in my hand and my shield on my arm.

I wasted no time on foolish questions, but scanned my section of the darkness that pressed in on our tiny fire. Even so, the shape that leapt howling out of the night still startled me. No matter how many times I confronted werewolves, their bizarre conformation, part man and part wolf, made me doubt my senses. But, by then, the lycanthrope was upon me and the joy of battle sang in my blood.

Block and swing, set my feet, slide to the right- watch his teeth, dammit! Jab with the mace- didn’t expect that did you? And yes, those silver spikes burn when they hit. Now- bash with the shield, keep him off-balance while he is still smarting. A full sidearm swing to the ribs as he raises his… paws? Get your hips into it. “A warrior’s power is in his legs!” And that brings the… hands(?) down, leaving that horrible, yellow-eyed head vulnerable for the finishing blow. But… economical now- quick, don’t try to wind up for a big finish. There are no “points for style” here- only life… and death.

The monster fell in the weltered snow and it was only then that I remembered Athynae. Oh, by the Nine! How could I have forgotten? I turned as a wet, slithering sound came to my ears and I saw her withdraw her blade from another werewolf’s abdomen. He was clutching himself, wearing a puzzled expression that remained on his features when her two-handed swing removed the head from his shoulders. Before the headless corpse had fallen, Athynae stepped past me and decapitated my opponent as well.

I started to speak, but the look on her face stopped my mouth. Her normally soft features could have been carved from marble, there under the light of the moons. There was fury in her eyes, to be sure, but there was also a great, yawning… emptiness. I waited quietly as she flicked her blade to clear it of blood, in a gesture as casual as another girl might have used to push her hair back behind her ears. When, after an interminable time, she looked more like herself again, I stammered an attempt at apology:

“Sorry, ‘Thyna. I… have become so used to fighting alone that I did not think. I will do better next time.”

Her voice was hollow, distant- as she replied:

“This is all new to me, to us. We have much to learn about fighting together, especially at night." She stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and looking away into the darkness, before she went on, “And you need to make sure you stay far enough away that I don't hit you since I can't see you. I'm night blind."

She glanced at me and then away, firmly sheathing the sword at her back.