Burning Today Options

[Remko]

what hautee said goes for me too; loved it. Consequences and introspections... great!

[minque]

OK, Olen, so now you naturally think I'm NOT reading your story? Well that's not true, because I do! I'm having a hard time trying to keep up with all the literature on this site...yessir a very hard time!

But I read....and enjoy....and I'm so impressed of all the excellent reads here...



(gah I'll never dare to post Serene again! )

[Olen]

Thanks for the comments.

SubRosa - I think we might just be seeing Renera again... Thanks for pointing out the nits, I kept 'They needed led,...': to me 'to be led' felt more cumbersome, it's possibly an accent thing.

Destri - you've captured the essence of the story there, event keep conspiring around him and pushing him on. I'm glad you liked some of the lines.

Haute - thanks, that's mighty high praise there.

mALX - glad you liked it, though I think I may have briefly peaked. This part is a bit of a filler really to get from one place to another.

Remko - thanks

Minque - it's quite a feat keeping up with all the litrature on this site if you've not got endless free moments through the day like myself... As Destri said Wise Woman indeed. I'm glad you're enjoying it. And don't stop posting Serene I'm enjoying it (albeit at a bit of a snails pace though that will change when I have time again).

All - there might be a bit of a hiatus now as I'm knackered. I've not had a day off since mid april and come friday will have done the eigth (and blessedly final) exam so won't be next to the computer all day every day. I'll try to get something up before I move house at the begining of june though.


41. Reunion

I shot Varnan a look to check he wasn't going mad again but his face held only melancholy. Sparks rained on a street I would have taken as the canton to one side blazed, at the other end some dunmer formed a frantic bucket chain. For all its fevered energy it would fail, the fire was established and the cries for help would go unanswered. We hurried on another way and heard more cries from our right. They were argonian but also from deeper in the slave pits. The interest of the group was to ignore them, but it was not what they wanted, that was clear. I had a penance to do for my decision, compromises to weaken its power. I lead them down the alley from which the screams emanated.

Pipes dribbled sewage from above and the stench was strong enough even to obliterate even the pall of smoke which shrouded Tear in shades of grey. The fighting had been less intense here but the pens lay open and there were fewer corpses. The dark walls crowded us, I hurried between them, suddenly the urge to be out of Tear was strong in me but the cries continued. Through the smoke ahead I saw their source, a handful of argonians were still in a cage at the corner were the smoke was thickest. I rushed forward to aid them. The sooner they were out the sooner we could be away, the smoke really was thick, it was hard to judge in the narrow wynds between the cantons but the fires seemed to be spreading. It would go badly for any in the pits if they were.

I rushed to the front of the cage and caught a hint of movement behind me. My only option was to drop and roll as the arrow whooshed where my head had been only to plunge into the crowded cage. I tried to use my momentum to propel myself up but an armoured boot hit me. I looked up into the blank armoured face of a Dres guard. An ambush. He raised his sword for a killing blow. With desperate fever I slashed my own at his groin, he brushed it away. I tried to scrabble up but he kicked the side of my head and I collapsed back into the dirt, my sword flew from my hand. I grabbed for it with my left but the wound was bleeding again and I couldn't grasp it. With awful slowness his sword rose. I saw the grim red stains on the blade, it was notched with minuscule inverse gravestones, each a monument to a death. The mud under me was cloying, the pain in my arm a deadened throb. This was how it ended. I watched the blade.

Then the guard gave a start, shock blazed in his shadowed eyes before they retreated back into the helm like dying embers. The sword fell from his grasp. It landed on my chest cutting to the bone, but had not the weight to break through. I gave a cry of pain but it was deadened by the urgency of the moment. I pushed myself upright to see an arrow sticking from the guard's back. Varnan had run into the fray with a dagger but he was being hard pressed by a single guard. I looked for the source of the arrow. As if in answer a second story door, like the one I'd hidden in, burst open and a few argonians spilled out. They were armed to the hilt with swords and spears, a single archer still stood up there.

Another arrow missed its target and hammered into a barrel. I bent to scoop up my sword and an argonian with a billhook ran past and into the guard behind me. I'd thought the billhook was an unusual choice, then saw the mutilated tail. It was Okun. I grabbed my sword and stood. Varnan held his own against the guard he faced, but no more, my group of escapees stood watching in fear. I moved awkwardly, I wasn't sure of the extent of the wound, and pushed my sword into the guard's back. His sword fell and Varnan, rather unnecessarily, stuck his dagger into the corpse's side.

My rescuers had already dealt with the rest so I staggered to a wall and leant against it, the heavy sword dropped from my fingers. The wound was long, and the blood had already soaked my trousers, together with my arm I had lost enough to feel sick and a little weakened. The flow had slowed though and the wound wasn't deep enough to be dangerous. But it hurt. Okun walked towards me.

"Firen," he said, "I wondered where you were. Getting that lot out?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Mind if we join you? The battle for Tear is over, not that it ever began. We've lost, there are barely any who remain free in the north or by the docks. There's just no will to fight in any of them," he shook his head, "I don't think there ever could have been a victory. Certainly not now."

I nodded and wondered how long I'd suspected that. They were slaves, my perception of normal had been more skewed by a life among fighters than I'd thought. "Yes. Did any good come of it?" I meant it rhetorically.

But Okun answered, "Yes. Most have been recaptured and many more will be. They will suffer, but so have the Dres," he looked to the dirty sky. "Their capital burns, their populace has been massacred, their income decimated," he gestured to the dead slaves which lay here and there forgotten on the ground, "And enough will escape Tear that some will return to the marshes."

So it was a victory to kill those we sought to rescue, not that such had ever been my first intention. I looked at Varnan who stood ushering the group of slaves forward. I had succeeded but the pall of smoke and stench of death across a land lay heavy on that victory. How many had been killed? I wondered what I had intended, or was I just thrashing away like a blinded beast?

"We should be moving," said Okun.

"Yes," I replied then shouted, "follow me again," and set off back down the narrow alley towards freedom.

I was careful as we moved on, wary of another ambush. I glanced round corners to see only the blank stares of the dead. We walked though a city made a necropolis, I hated even to consider the blood cost of that day, and pondered what place in hell there was for me. After a while in silence I turned to Okun, "Anything of Hides and Hassde?"

He frowned, "I think Hides may have lead a small group away. I could be wrong but a few things I heard point that way..."

"Hassde?"

The frown changed to a grimace, "We found his corpse... well most of it."

I couldn't think of a reply.

[haute ecole rider]

Another well-written chapter. I like Firen more and more as I watch him struggle with the consequences of his decision. I was glad to see Okun again, and to see the two link up in the way of comrades without too much discussion. After all, the aftermath of a failed battle is not the place for discussion. It was good to see the two characters (and insane Varnan, in his moments of lucidity) share the same common goal - get as many of the slaves out of Tear as possible.

You can't save them all, but as in the story of the starfish, it matters to the one you do save.

Good work! I'll be sorry to see a slow down in the pacing, but I recall exams all too well. Take your time to recover and recharge your batteries, and come back when you feel like writing again. Please don't forget us, or Firen!

[mALX]

I'm with Hauty on this one. I understand the final exams stressors and the need to just sink for a while when it is over - but ARGH!!!! Lol. An Awesome write as usual !!!!

PS: I'm glad you followed up on Okun, I had gotten attached to him, lol.

This post has been edited by mALX: May 19 2010, 04:48 AM

[SubRosa]

The Dres soldier put notches on his sword to record everyone he killed? Wow. It is guys that like who make Firen look good in comparison. Which is important to do when you protagonist is an anti-hero as he is, rather than your standard hero.

We also see that in spite of everything he has been through, Firen still grasps onto his conscience. I suspect that many people who have through the same would have forced themselves silence that sense of right and wrong by now. Then again, that was one thing the skooma was for, and now Firen no longer has its comforting oblivion to lose himself in. I can almost feel sorry for him.

[Destri Melarg]

A bittersweet ending to the battle of Tear. Like everyone else I was glad to see Okun again. I also like that he held on to his billhook even though there are swords around for the taking.

I hope that at some point Firen and his group reunite with Hides and her group of slaves. She was a character that I was really starting to enjoy.

Speaking of enjoyment, after all those exams you need to get out and enjoy yourself! Don’t worry about us; we’ll be here when you get back.

[Olen]

Well less of a break than I thought probable, though there remains the potential for a larger break now I have no regular set of things to do. But equally there might not be.

Haute - I think you've more or less captured the point of this bit of the story as Firen struggles with his conscience... I'm glad you like it. As for recharging it's amazing what a decent night of sleep (without physics based dreams) does.

mALX - funny you should say that about Okun. He didn't appear in any of the plans and then was meant to be a throw away character to mirror on Firen but I got to like him and he ended up being fairly central.

SubRosa - the notches in the sword were more meant as the effect of swinging it into someone and chipping the blade on armour, jewelery (even bone if it's poor iron) then not reedging the blade often. As far as the skooma comment I can say ":)", changing his surroundings and so him was pretty much what I was working towards.

Destri - thanks, I rather enjoy writing though and now have pleanty of time to...

All - this piece is somewhat brutal and I considered cutting or watering it down somewhat but ultimatly decided not to as I don't think it serves a purpose beyond gratuity.


42. Virtuous Evil

Around the next corner the smoke was an obscuring blanket. I didn't like the look of it, not only would it be unpleasant but we couldn't see enough down there. There was no way of knowing if the fire was in it, or if it was blocked, or full of guards. I stopped, as did those behind me with a series of grunts and complaints. I looked to Okun.

"That looks bad," he replied.

"We might be able to cut onto a service access," said Varnan behind me.

"What?"

"I know a bit about the structure of these cantons, I saw some while they tried to cure me," a shadow crossed over his expression, "the poor live near the bottom and often there is an access to the centre, like a corridor, but filthy. If we broke into a house we might get there and to the other side without detouring so far."

Go through a canton. I didn't like it. But how pressing was time? With every minute how many guards might be arriving, how much ground gained? "Okay, lead the way."

We used a bar from a broken cage to prize the grating from a low window in the side of the canton. "Give me a leg-up," I said to Okun.

"You're injured, I should go first," he replied.

"I'm still tough enough. Now give me a hand through here." He assented and I ignored the protests from my varied injuries and hauled myself through. I dropped down the other side and into a small bedchamber. It was bare save for a straw mattress with motheaten blankets and a crate, and little wonder I couldn't imagine sleeping so close to the pits. I put my head back out the window, "It's someone's bedroom," I said. "Start getting yourselves through, I'm going to scout ahead a little."

I didn't wait for a reply but instead went to the door and eased it open, the hinges were worn but didn't protest too loudly. I slipped through as soon as the crack was wide enough and found myself in a general kitchen cum living-room cum second bedroom. The door was behind a great pillar in the structure of the canton so I couldn't see much, but I could hear whispers. I peeked round the pillar and my heart sank, a family crouched fearfully by the unglazed window glancing out. The man wore some of the armour of a slave driver and held one of their cudgels nervously, his wife was trying to settle two children unsuccessfully with the help of a much older lady. I watched them for a moment then ducked behind the pillar to think. Simply put it was a disaster, they would raise the alarm if we tried to pass through, the man might even attack us. But how safely could we try to back off and use another route? The slaves were entering as I thought, it was too late for that.

I knew what needed done, but had no taste for it. Was there a correct choice? What would a good man do? In one hand I held the freedom of a large group of slaves, and Varnan, and Okun; in the other the lives of this family, the choice was there, but it was impossible. Could I really do it? Could I not. It was only a few, and for many. The argonian's depended on me, and a far worse fate awaited them should I fail. At least for the family it could be quick. I wanted to ask Varnan or Okun for advice, but knew that I needed no advice and really only wanted to spread the guilt. The sword felt sinister under my fingers, it was a tool but the brutal harvest was death and pain, now more so than ever. All they had wanted was to hide. And to be able to carry on their atrocities once they'd hidden and survived, probably he already planned for his advancement. My sympathy could only go one way, but I did regret that my sword point need go the other. I stepped out from behind the pillar, the demon at home, an angel of necessity.

The others crept into the room to find me standing amid the dead staring at a floor reddened with the same cheerless paint as soaked myself and the walls. I had done what needed doing, but there was no argument as to what it had been, I knew that full clearly. Multiple premeditated murder. For a higher cause, yes, but how much greater an end justified my methods? I looked at the argonians who looked back, their gazes red windows to the burning stew of emotions they carried. They were afraid, of the Dres, but also of myself, yet they looked to me with hope too. Hope and fear, how different were they? Not very I suspected. A similar monster viewed from different sides. I wiped my sword clean and sheathed it.

"Shall we continue?"

Varnan nodded and walked over to me, "That was a bit... brutal," he spoke quietly enough that only I could hear.

He wilted under my glare, "What should I have done? What would you have done? They would have raised the alarm, I prevented that to give all these a chance."

"Yes... but..." he paused. "You could have discussed it."

"To what end? The same one but with delay and with murder on more consciences. I'm trying to save these people," the imploring tone in my voice embarrassed me. I let him walk on ahead.

Okun drew up to me and saw my expression, "It needed doing," he said, "hold onto that. I had to kill some innocents to release a couple of cages. Bad work, but for a good end."

I nodded but my mind lusted for skooma and in its absence picked at the thought like a scab. How many had I murdered? In the eyes of the law, several. Morally? This had been my idea. The plantation had been my idea. I'd upset the equilibrium, however bad, and a great many had, and would, suffer for it. I shook the thought aside as we passed from the house and into a gloomy corridor, to one side doors clustered onto it leading to hovels like the one we passed. We went the other way toward a low square of light at the end of it. The smell was horrid, festering rubbish and effluent from a cracked pipe mingled with the stench of the pits. Only the desperate would live here.

Abruptly we came to a halt. I looked ahead and saw Varnan in the lead peering round a corner then ushering the nearest argonians back. "What is it?" I asked when I reached him.

"Take a look round that corner. Carefully." I peered round the edge of the crumbling plaster and cursed silently. It went into a low communal area, a washroom by its looks, the door was wide and there were more windows all along. The inside was full of people, all commoners hiding from the madness outside.

I squeezed my eyes shut but there wasn't enough left in me for rage,"Why now?" I asked the air, "What now?"

"We could sneak past, perhaps."

I shook my head, "Too many of us and too many eyes watching. If we go that way they're going to see us."

Okun joined us and looked round, "Ah," he said, "What do we do?"

"Go back?" Varnan suggested.

"No," I said, "If we do that family died for nothing."

"They died for hope," said Okun, "But I agree, we can't go back."

Varnan looked blank. I waved my hand in front of his face and he startled but said nothing.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Okun.

"I don't know, perhaps I can find a healer when we're out. If we ever manage it. The gods seem intent on thwarting me."

"Perhaps," Okun's tone was disapproving, "Perhaps but look how far you've come. And I might have an idea." His tone fell from desperate to pained.

"What?" I was wary.

"I still have that scroll of Monden's Instigator. If we directed it into the room... Well I dare say tensions are already running high. They might not notice us, or be too busy fighting each other to care."

It would work, and unlike Mabrel's unexpectedly monstrous experimental ones it wasn't going to cause total havoc, just enough that we might pass. "It will be tantamount to killing several of them, when the dunmer fight it never ends well."

"Yes," he said, "It will, but that sacrifice has been made once, and to use it we must make it again."

"And the next time? Are we to cut a bloody swathe through Tear?"

"If we manage the end will be remembered for a long time after the means is forgiven."

"With the argonians' perhaps, but it's not glory that interests me. Is it right to do this?" I felt a twinge of guilt at his unhappy expression. The decision was impossible, I had borne it once and I should have again.

"They made their choice being here," Okun replied at length and pulled out the, somewhat bashed, scroll and lifted it in front of him.

I grabbed his wrist, the bracer slimy under my touch and he glared at me. "I shall do it," I said, "There is no choice, but my name is already tarred. Keep your soul while you can."

Confusion and relief blended on his features as he handed it over. I lifted it before me and steeled myself to beat the final nail into my coffin.

[haute ecole rider]

Tough decisions. You said this was brutal, and it was.

Ordinarily I wouldn't like the character that makes these same decisions, but you have done your job well. I still like Firen, but now I'm even more sympathetic to him than I've ever been. When weighing the value of one life against another, one has to live with the decision one makes - there is no right or wrong decision here. Only shades of grey. The carnage is saddening, even tragic, but it happened.

I've read of similar moral choices in times of war, and I think you've handled Firen's character very well here.

Again, well done!

Oh, for me, it was dreams filled with organic chemistry (boat and chair forms, anyone?), so I relate!

[SubRosa]

As haute said, this was brutal. Very well done. I do not envy Firen for the choices he has to make. No matter which way he goes, he is damned. You really write this dark fiction well.


This really stood out for me:
I wanted to ask Varnan or Okun for advice, but knew that I needed no advice and really only wanted to spread the guilt.

[mALX]

There were so many places to quote I could have just copied the whole story! I struggled to pick a favorite line, there were five that made me gasp they were so powerful. It always amazes me that people like you and Destri have access to the same vocabulary I do, but you can turn out masterpieces with it! AWESOME Write! Here is my favorite line:

The sword felt sinister under my fingers, it was a tool but the brutal harvest was death and pain, now more so than ever

[Destri Melarg]

I concur with everything that has already been said (except the part about me turning out masterpieces). I wonder if you have purposefully forced Firen into more and more self-reflection the longer he goes without skooma. It has gotten to the point where it seems that the drug was the only thing that made Firen able to tolerate himself.

It is a subtle thing but one of the things that I enjoy most about this story is the difference between who Firen is now as opposed to who he was when he was interrogating people looking for clues to Varnan’s whereabouts.

As always, excellent work.

[Olen]

Cheers for the comments.

Haute - I think shades of grey sums up the orginal concept of the character fairly well. I'm glad you still like him, but I can imagine that most of Morrowind doesn't much... As for chemistry dreams I know boat and chair well enough, even the dreaded curly arrows if memory serves. I'm a chemical physicist so did a year of organic before I was allowed to drop it.

SubRosa - I'm glad you liked it.

mALX - you're turning out quite a masterpiece as well. I'm glad you like some of the lines.

Destri - the development of Firen is deliberate, one fo the reasons Yesterday's Shadow was somewhat dissatisfying was that he didn't really develop enough. It's good to see his change has been noticed

All - talking of Yesterday's Shadow... well read on...


43. The Gathering Past

The hair crawled on the nape of my neck and the scroll trembled in my fingers like a small creature trying to escape. I sighed, you did a long time for murder, but I was already past that, if they caught me it would be a short drop and a last jig. What was another murder but another challenge for whatever deity oversaw the creation of my place in hell. It was for the greater good. The stale sentiment had worn a trench in my mind. I looked at the first symbol and began to read.

But I could not. When I opened my mouth no sound would go forth and the magic remained dormant. I gagged a little when I tried to spit the words out with more force. A glance behind showed that I was electing some interest, but Okun and Varnan had rejoined the main group leaving me out in front. I was about to try again when a voice spoke from my right.

"There are more subtle magics than you can imagine," it was an old voice, but with the harshness of an argonian. The slaves were all behind me though. Then from the shadows stepped Skink.

"You n'wah," I said, the power of my voice returned to me.

"If you would be calm for a moment," he said. I didn't reply. "Good. An... interesting little stunt you managed here. Cost the Dres a fortune, you're already major news. Even got orders asking of you from the Arcane University itself."

"Come to finish the job then? Make a bit of money along with it," I gripped my sword ready. He had to have something planned to stop me using it, but I had no idea what.

His frown was full of festering hackle-lo stained teeth. "If only. If only... It would appear that your little accident in the cave was more problematic than we had feared."

"And you want help? Okay I'm sure I ca-" I exploded. There is a skill in the perfect burst of motion. Going from relaxed to a killing blow in an instant without warning. Even strung out pretty thin for want of skooma it was a skill I had. The blade sailed up from my side, my foot pushing to my hips and back, all lending power to the sword point. A point aimed straight for Skink's throat. This had all been his fault, and now he would take the punishment. He sent us to the ruin where whatever nightmare had befallen us, I still did not understand fully, he tried to keep, and probably kill, me, and managed to enslave Varnan. My rage flew red hot with the blade's sharp edge, needing his lifeblood to quench it. It was a mere inch away when my arm fell away, limp and useless like so much meat. I teetered then regained myself, the blade hovered for a moment then clattered to the ground.

"That was quick," Skink nodded with maddening calm, "but as I said magic is a subtle art. Perhaps now you will listen? I understand as well as anyone that a deal must work both ways."

I nodded my assent.

"From what we've pieced together that ruin contained some vast magical source and an ancient necromancer who had used it and become stuck. It is clear it is exceptionally skilled, but it also appears to be weakened compared to what it will be. Does this sound right, you were... ahem, a little under the influence, or rather influences, when we had you report."

I glared at him, I didn't remember any report and wondered if there might be more influences than I already knew. "Yes, the necromancer killed two of my party and briefly inhabited Varnan before moving onto Renera."

"The mercenary?"

"Yes."

"That explains much, you hunted her briefly I think-"

"She escaped, no thanks to your fools."

"Quite... I will admit we were a little confused in our actions at first. However it is a threat, and that it first controlled one, maybe both, of you explains much. It's been following you since you lost him."

I looked blankly at Skink. So I could not even run from whatever nightmare had happened in that ruin? The second hand light was greyed by smoke now, its sharp tang lanced my nostrils, "What do you mean?"

"I've been directing considerable guild resources to containing this... accident. Following news from our informers of travellers being ambushed, villages burnt. The group we sent to deal with you-"

I cut him off. "You mean murder?"

He ignored me and continued. "They realised that we could be sitting on a disaster. Anyway the boat it commandeered washed ashore on Indoril lands with all the crew dead and the, not so mysterious, killing continued from there. We tried to deal with it but it was fast and unpredictable, and, above all, dangerous. But it ran rather than destroying you, and after a few days it always went one way: south. And as it drew further south it became clear it was towards certain disturbances here," he gave me a mock bow, "or Tear. That is towards the ones, which if what you tell me is correct, who were inhabited."

I needed a moment for it to sink in, "It never inhabited me."

"Really?" Skink shrugged his head frills. "So Firen Varian, one of the Fighters' Guild's more prolific members would have shown the ruthless single mindedness you have on the way here? Drawn to Tear and Varnan?"

I thought about it. Put simply the answer was no. But surely it hadn't affected me, I'd never even pondered that it might, but it had the mages at the ruin and it most definitely had Thyra, but even so events could just as well have changed me. I had changed though, and Renera, or whatever was in her, hadn't wanted to hurt me. It wasn't a nice thought. "I'm guessing you didn't come to spread the news," I said to Skink, "so what do you want?"

"I want to catch it. It must be driven from its host and destroyed. I bent most of the resources of the guild into this but I've failed. And you've seen more of it than the rest of us."

So I was to be bait. "If the guild is on this why doesn't the guild-master speak to me?"

"What old Geontene? He's a fool, barely knows what's happening. After Trebonus had that... incident with the fruit bowl, retort and the golden saint we decided that an archmage who's incompetent is the best kind: he leaves us to it and only has ceremonial power. If anything I have more sway than he does, so will you help us?"

"No, I have my duty here," I waved to the assembled slaves. They were becoming restless but hadn't the gut to move themselves. Skink looked surprised, but before he could reply I continued. "Not that you'd understand helping your fellows, or anyone for that matter."

He frowned, "There are greater matters. The guild cannot be seen to meddle, but I have in the past given aid to the Twin Lamps. Perhaps I can here, I will see to it that they are rescued."

"Guild first, brethren and justice later?" His eyes widened and the frown deepened, I had spoken in argonian and it was clear I spoke it better than he. I returned to cyrodiilic. "It is not enough. The Guild has power. Use it against the Dres and against slavery."

"No. As soon as I suggested it my influence would dissolve, just as would the Guild's were it to be passed. The days of forced imperialisation are over, the dunmer will do as they will."

It was true, the Guild was tolerated, much as with the Fighters Guild, as long as they stayed away from politics and remained useful. "True, but you do have the power to see that those involved in this escape are not punished excessively and to funnel your resources into the twin lamps, and other groups."

He shook his head, "This group, no more."

I met his red eyes, they were clouded with age and depth. "Then it appears we do not have a deal. The necromancer was a problem of your making. It remains yours to undo."

"I am a powerful mage," he said darkly, "you would do well to consider this. This group will get to the marshes, that I guarantee you. As will another if they can get far enough from Tear for me to pick them up. This I also guarantee you. I will see to it that a motion passes allowing our members to deal with all other organisations. The hint will be clear enough, indeed as clear as I dare. In return you help us."

The threat was clear, one way or another I would be bait and I preferred to be bait which could still run. That didn't mean I wasn't going to draw for more, if they wouldn't be the hammer to strike a blow to the whole then they would be a scalpel to sever some links. "That I will. But I would like it if the leader of the pits here met with a little accident, and also the grandmaster of the Dres. You have considerable resources, lets hope those accidents happen. And Varnan, get him out and cure him, I don't know what's happened, but you will help."

He frowned but nodded. "The leaders will find themselves unlucky if my aims are achieved, as for... your friend?" I nodded, "I suppose you will suffice alone. I shall see he is cared for."

"Then," I said, "we have a deal." My hand weighed a ton, the shake which sealed the deal a thousand, the crash of change.

Skink called out another two mages who had been hiding in the shadows, no doubt aided by some wizardry. As one marshalled the argonians I drew Okun aside. "You heard us, the Guild will see you and the rest back to the marsh."

His nod was slow, "I didn't understand much but yes. And I thank you, but what do I do when I get there?"

"I'm not sure you want my advice. Just..." I fought for words. Know your aim? That had lead me here. Do what you want? Not my best moment. "Follow what's right." I finished weakly.

"Thank you," he said, and meant it.

I only nodded. "I suppose this is good bye. Look after Varnan until the guild takes him for healing." I put out a hand.

"I will," he said and ignored my hand putting his arms around my shoulders. "Good luck," he said breaking away.

I watched his retreating back for a moment. He paused to help an elderly slave before vanishing into the group. I turned to Skink, and to that future. What lay there? The tunnel was dark, and though the ghost of hope remained that I might see Renera again that light was far off and weak, like the half-imagined afterimage of a bright wish.

[Remko]

I do love dark stories and this one just rocketed upwards in my favourite list. Awesome Olen. Words fail me to properly describe it.

[SubRosa]

Interesting turn of events with Skink, and the news he brings. A shadow from Yesterdays Shadow. I have been expecting something like this since we first saw Renera. We also see the reason Firen was simply dumped in the bar and his tab paid up ahead of time. I have always wondered why the Mages Guild would do that, rather than just sell him into slavery as they did Varnan. Now we see he was bait all along.

We also see that this mysterious force, the necromancer?, was perhaps influencing Firen earlier in the story? It does explain his change in attitude later in the story, how he could be so ruthless earlier, and becomes more and more conscientious later. Personally though, I have never been a fan of "the Devil made me do it." But that is an entirely personal observation.

After Trebonus had that... incident with the fruit bowl, retort and the golden saint
Now this begs the question of what on Nirn happened there!

nits:
when we had you report.
I believe that is your there

[Destri Melarg]

The first time I read the name Skink-in-Trees-Shade in Morrowind I knew that he was going to be one of my favorite characters. It is nice to see him brought so effectively to life here. The mysterious quality of whatever spell (burden I assume) he used to stay Firen’s hand, coupled with his cryptic explanation of magic as a ‘subtle art’ went a long way toward establishing his character. While he unabashedly proclaims himself a powerful mage, he also laments his impotence when it comes to imposing change amongst the Dunmer. This makes him three dimensional. I was absolutely riveted by both the discussion of Guild politics and by the insight that Firen gleans into his own motivations. I do think that Firen’s actions are more complicated than can be accounted for by the explanation that Skink gives him (as SubRosa so eloquently put it, ‘the Devil made me do it’).

I am glad to see updates to this coming more frequently, because now I am completely hooked.

[mALX]

Amazingly powerful writing!!! The paragraph with Skink has to be my favorite, but the first paragraph is such a close second - WHEW !!!! Your writing never ceases to amaze and inspire me!!!

[haute ecole rider]

All I can say is that I echo the above.

This is getting more and more powerful!

[Olen]

Remko - thanks, I only hope it stays good...

SubRosa - hmm I'm almost tempted to take out the necromancer having changed him part, it was never meant to be so cut and dry as that. I wholly agree 'the devil made me do it' is wrong but he would have been happy enough to do the same during Yesterday's Shadow so it was never meant as that.
As for the incident... I'll leave it to your imagination (though perhaps not to Foxy's)

Destri - I'm glad you like Skink, he was an interesting character to flesh out. I agree completely with your comment about Firen being wholly more complex than Skink might think.

mALX - thanks That's high praise coming from the genius behind Maxical

Haute - thanks more high praise

All - unfortunatly I move house on june 2nd but my stuff all disappears tomorrow so I'll be without computer (or guitar, or wieghts, or books, or baking stuff...) until the 2nd. This seems a perfectly good place for a pause then the post rate will rise for the next bit


44. Baited Trap

We didn't speak as Skink and another mage lead the way through the chaotic and often smouldering city. We went east, towards the docks, and fast. I was out of breath when we came to the edge of the dark channels between the cantons and the light seemed bright and new through the torn down gate. The breeze held the strong scent of dockyards. The last section of the pits hadn't been slave pens, rather it was devoted to trade and goods. We emerged onto the quay, gantries jutted from the canton sides like gallows fit to hang countries. Most of the ships had put out to sea to escape both the troubles and the threat of windblown cinders. Skink ran to the left.

"We have a wharf set as the trap," he said, "not far now."

A short way along the quay we came to a pair of guards standing ready. Most seemed to be running around in disarray, the organisation flailing like a headless snake, but these had clearly decided to watch the docks. There was no avoiding them. I slowed by the mages did not, the breton whose name I didn't know nodded to Skink who cast a spell. They ran on and I followed. The guards saw us but took no notice. Something about that made my skin crawl, such beguilement of the senses had no place in nature. Might I be being so deceived? How much had the ruin affected me? I fell back on my standard answer, at least when there's no spirits to be had: it didn't matter. To ponder the unanswerable was futile so I settled on maybe, but assumed not. Either way it made no real odds, and to pretend not was quite likely and unsettled me far less.

We passed into a district of warehouses, wharfs and cellars, interspersed with grim taverns and cheap brothels. My sort of place, or at least it had been. As we ran through it all I felt was a twinge of disgust, there would be skooma here but I didn't try to find it, the moment was too important to flee. A few turns through the maze brought us to a dark wooden building. The overlapping shingles were warped and rot had set in leaving white stains against the black timber. We avoided the front door and wandered up behind it, Skink glanced around, his anxiety so obvious as to be infectious. There was something compelling about the warehouse, as if fate focused there, hot like the point cast by the sun through a lens.

Round the back a ladder went to a door on the second floor, from the platform at the top a rope was strung from a gantry higher up. The bottom was a wide loop. "Put that round you and they'll haul you up," said Skink.

I went to but didn't fancy the wound in my side against the hemp. I pointed to it. "Not with that cut."

The breton witch stepped forward, "If I may?" She didn't wait for an answer but put her hands over the top of it. I felt a cool itch along the seam where the sword had landed. When she withdrew them it looked a few days healed and my hand moved better too. She regarded it momentarily. "That'll do," she muttered.

I didn't reply, I don't like healing magic, but it's effectiveness is undeniable. I looped the rope around my chest and gave it two quick tugs. A moment later my guess was confirmed and the rope jerked up pulling me from the platform, even with my wounds healed it hurt. The breton witch passed me flying straight upwards. It was probably for the best she wore trousers as, even though she was a little old, my glance upward was reflexive. At the top I was surprised to see a pale weed of a man had hauled me up, I lifted the rope from me and threw it back over the edge. As I passed him I noticed an empty potion bottle behind him. It raised questions if the rich could buy such and be what they want with no effort... But I had neither time or inclination to follow the thought. Such was life.

I crept to the edge of the high walkway which encircled the warehouse. A similar walkway was on the opposite wall lower down with a steep stair between them, below where I stood it joined a mezzanine at the level of the loading bay, more mages crouched behind a pile of dilapidated crates there. Another loading rig stood idle at the end, the ropes descending to the gloomy depths made it seem more like a pit with the heavy rotten air of a cave than a towering wharf. The deep bottom was stone-floored and piled with more crates, a single guard sat near the door with a steaming mug and a hackle-lo. I drew back and turned to see Skink had joined us at the top.

"This is the only property in Tear owned by a mages guild front," he said quietly, "we intend to draw the lich here. It seems to be drawn to powerful enchantment like a moth to a candle, and to you and Varnan like a lodestone to north. Varnan would have been a better lure perhaps, but there is something..." he tailed off but I waited. "Unsettling about him." Skink said at length.

"The guard?"

"We pay enough to see that this is well guarded. It took a significant bribe and some misdirection to have him stay here in the chaos but he should keep it occupied for long enough for us to move." He said it in such an offhand way I felt it necessary to ask.

"Occupied, she... it, won't kill him?"

Skink shrugged. "Oh possibly, but isn't that what you want?" There was something appalling in the lack of emotion. How many had he killed?

"No," I said, "there must be a reason."

Skink raised his eyebrows, "We're catching a dangerous necromancer, maybe the most dangerous of our times. Surely that fulfils your definition of reason?"

I thought but had no answer. Maybe it was necessary, or maybe many of my own murders, I used the true term, had not been so. Neither pleased me though why one more should matter I knew not, just that it did and my conscience, that deformed and shrivelled thing like a corpus monster, had finally found north again. I was tired of killing. Soon Renera would be back, the necromancer driven away just as she had attempted to draw it from Varnan, and where she had nearly succeeded Skink would. He was, for his many faults, a famous mage and had several retainers backing him. Would Renera be like Varnan, a mad thing, or how much worse for the longer infestation of her mind. The thought of what might remain terrified me.

I returned my gaze to Skink who was looking carefully at the set up below, the line of mages, spells primed and to whatever lure lay within the crates the blissfully ignorant guard smoked by. "It isn't right," I said, "that is all."

Skink didn't take his eyes off the scene below. "Right and wrong," he said only half paying attention, "Justice. Honour. What are they but shadows which flicker when the fire changes? They are but the shade of the constructs of man and mer, they are built by the strong in their own image. Today we are the strong, and it is necessary and just that he die... Soon now."

The final two words were breathed, I think he didn't mean to say them. But I had time neither to challenge his nihilistic beliefs nor question further. With a mighty crash the door opened and measured clicking footsteps drew in.

[haute ecole rider]

So you go away for a week or more, and leave us with a cliffie? That's torture, Olen!

I'm going to get even with you by leaving you a boat-load of posts to catch up on my thread!

Again, good story telling. The revulsion Firen felt at the healing process is very interesting. The ability to heal self and others is very important to all of my characters. Guess it's the vet in me talking.

Have fun moving! Having done it ten times in five years, I know all too well whereof you speak!