Burning Today Options

[Syndelius Daerleth]

LOVE the prologe very good! i havent read the rest yet but i like it alot so far very good hook.

[canis216]

Again, fabulous storytelling. You really get inside the head of this character.

One small point: you have a habit of spelling "wonder" with an "a" instead of an "o". You see how this causes problems.

"I wonder what is going on?" v. "I wandered aimlessly about the land."

Other than that, I am once again impressed by this detailed picture of a rough land inhabited by rougher people.

[Olen]

Yes... My utter reliance on spellchecking shows it's head again. I'll endevour to watch out for that (and ensure that first drafts never see the light of day).

Anyway here's the next bit.


12. A Mirror to the Past

Stars appeared like points of hope as the world darkened. A meal of hardtack was all that broke the monotony of my vigil. The people had gone inside, lights still showed in some windows and the sound of drunken laughter drifted on the night time breeze. I pulled my cloak tight about me. Hours passed and I took a swig of skooma and a mouthful of hackle-lo to keep awake.

Even so I dozed. A muffled crack stirred me and I shook the tiredness from my head. I stared into the dark forest but saw no movement. Another broken twig, this one closer to me. Silently I rose and slipped away and down towards the sleeping village. A rustle of leaves. The stalker was inexperienced and probably alone. If there was another they were better. I glanced around but the dark trees held their secrets. I moved on back, near to a low timber barn at the edge of Irrol. Then I caught a glimpse of a figure against the sky, closer to incompetence than inexperience. Long hair, showed, but no more. A woman then, and no sneak either. A mage.

My heart beat faster. I'd intended to play it by ear but now cursed my lack of planning. I knew fine well she could tear me apart before it happened. But she hadn't seen me, and with luck neither had she seen my pack by the tree. I continued back, silent, towards the barn. It was low, more a shed for curing firewood than a proper building. Inside was black. I felt my way and crouched, sword ready to the side. My free hand found a rock on the floor. I waited, tense as a coiled spring.

I glimpsed the figure through one of the many gaps between planks in the wall. She wasn't being very careful now. And she was making straight for the shed seemingly unaffected by the darkness. I cursed inwardly. She was a skilled mage, of course the dark wouldn't help me. Even so I remained still, how well did their night vision work? I didn't know. She continued on, breaking twigs and stirring leaves marked her progress towards the shed. So much good had the villagers been in diverting her. I pressed myself into the deepest shadow between the door and a woodpile.

She was careless and walked right in. It was that carelessness that saved me, I knew I couldn't kill her, or even strike her without warning, without trying to cure her, to talk her down. I was about to say her name but the inattention didn't seem right. I looked again, the hair was a bit long, the stature to short and Renera moved more like a soldier than a mage, the figure did not. Whoever she was she was not Renera.

I moved in a flash before she had looked to my corner. The stone hit the back of her head and she folded, dark ooze seeped from the wound. In an instant I was at her side. She groaned.

"Who are you?" I hissed, the point of my dagger tickling her throat.

She tensed, about to try something. I pushed the dagger just a little and some blood seeped out. She relaxed again with a sigh, "They said you were dangerous."

"Who said?"

She paused and moved her head gently then shuddered. "I assume you're Firen Varian?"

"Yes." It was a long time since I'd heard my surname.

"I saw what you did to Ernard in Firewatch. If you promise to let me live I'll talk." She shivered.

"Who sent you," I asked. She paused, before answering and I thought I heard a noise on the breeze, "Are you alone?" I added.

"No," she replied, "But the other four are over the next ridge and weren't to follow. The Mage's guild sent us."

"Why?" I asked, mystified.

"Well there was Ernard," I looked skeptical and she quickly continued, "I got the impression there was something else, maybe a job, or something. Did you sell out?"

"Don't play with me," I said and ran the knife up her throat and along her cheek leaving a shallow gash. She stayed impressively quiet.

"I'm not," the whimper in her voice was one I'd heard too recently, "They didn't say why, just that you were to die."

I thought for a moment. What was I in? I knew what I'd seen but plenty didn't make sense, they'd tried to keep me but when I ran they were trying to kill me. I looked up again and thought I caught a glimpse of movement, but there was nothing. Just someone making a noise in their house probably, "Are you sure you're alone here?"

"Yes. I ordered them to stay until I signalled."

"What signal?"

"Red fire into the sky if I needed backup." Probably true, it was fairly standard guild practice.

"How did you find-" I was cut off.

Fire erupted from first one house on the opposite side of the town then just as I caught my breath the one next to it exploded. It was no normal fire, in an instant the damp wooden houses were infernos. Even at my distance I felt the blistering heat. Screaming yellow light cast sharp shadows in the low shed.

"What the hell," breathed the mage.

"What's your name?"

"Arrsa," she replied.

"Well Arrsa, you know there's been back country killings." I didn't wait for a reply. It was a statement, "Irrith was next in line. The Blackwater Company operative the Guild sent when it all went wrong is out of her mind. I was here to cure her, or stop her failing that. Now for the sake of these people help me."

I stood and hauled her up before running out into the wild dancing light and flames and heat. A house to my right exploded into fire. It was already too late for many of the inhabitants, others milled about terrified and confused in the town square. Then I saw her opposite. She wore the same clothes she had when she ran into the night, but the were torn and dishevelled. She looked far from pitiful though, a black madness radiated from her, her bearing spoke of power, utmost confidence. She raised her hands.

The spell made no sound. There was not even a flash of light. I think that's what made it so terrible, helped it to stand out in my bleakest nights above all the other horror I'd seen. The towns people simply started falling apart. And arm would drop, severed from the body. Blood would pour from the massive wound. People screamed as their limbs turned to mince, then stopped as their jaw or head fell off or when blood loss silenced them. Children clutched their mothers, then the embrace broke along with the sinew which attached their arms. Behind it she stood with eyes like caves full of capering shadows. Then I knew that if there was anything left of the woman I'd loved it was beyond any earthly reach.

But even so I tried. Perhaps a secret streak of romanticism, though more likely the black suicidal well in the depths of my mind, made me step forward. "Stop this," I called, "You remember me, please stop."

Another house erupted, its burning inhabitants spilled screaming from the door. My only answer. I turned, Arrsa was behind me, wide eyed.

"Do something?"

"Against her? I couldn't."

"Send lighting, if you can, then red sparks. None of this would have happened if you left me alone."

"but-"

"Do it, she isn't that powerful." I didn't know exactly what she was, but the lie worked.

Renera stood on a throne of destruction. The conductor of havoc. The mage lowered her hands and threw a blot of lighting. It struck squarely, Renera fell back and the infernos slowed and were just fires, unaided by magic.

Then Renera staggered back to her feet. "Call the others," I said.

"I can't," replied Arrsa, "That spell took almost all my magic."

"Do it." I growled, "Or what I might do to you will seem mild."

She nodded, white with terror. She made a quick gesture, her hands shook. A weak red flame sprouted but died. Renera, if the name could still be used, was easing her hands to cast a spell. Arrsa took a deep breath and made the sign in the air again. A plume of red flame leapt up and burst high in the sky. Renera stepped forward and swept a hand. A few frightened villagers hiding behind a chicken coop fell dead. She raised her hands.

Then fire burst from the house beside her engulfing her. It looked like lamp oil bursting but it was enough to knock her again. She stood, took one last look around then turned and fled.

I swore. A field of dead was all that remained of the towns inhabitants. The buildings burned. I had gambled them, and won nothing. I turned on the mage. "I was waiting for her. To stop her doing that." I was aware my voice had a maniacal pitch, "Why did you stop me? Are you happy now? She'll get to Alt Bosara now, then what?"

She shrank back, "What was - is - she?"

"The result of your messing around. Poking at things buried. That's what."

"There are five of us, I'm sure we can take her. If you wait for the rest you could help." Fear showed in her eyes.

"Nice try," I said and grabbed her, my knife at her back.

"But you promised-"

"Yes and trust a snake before a mother of mine and a mother of mine before an addict. But trust and addict before a mage." With the final word I pushed the knife between her ribs and let her drop off it into the corpses. She screamed.

I had missed the heart but didn't take the time to rectify it as I fled though the embers and fields of the dead. The last thing I saw as I left the town was a young boy, somehow alive, looking at the ruins and horror though wide tear-filled eyes. Only then did I see the similarity. Feel what I'd wrought. And as I ran and cried I also hated. I hated myself for risking it, but mostly I hated the Mage's Guild for causing it.

[Captain Hammer]

Finally managed to get caught up on this one, Olen.

Gritty doesn't even begin to describe it. This stuff is great, dirty, rugged, and cathartic on a number of levels.

Keep it up.

[minque]

Uhh....jeez I like this one! A bit brutal but very well written! More please?

[Olen]

Cheers for the comments, it's appriciated. Yes I agree that part was brutal but it's part of the point of the story really, both in an action sense and in it's general idea.


13. Different Ends

The clear morning seemed to eschew the darkness of the night before. Yet smoke still rose in the east, the remains of Irrith. I'd followed Renera's trail for a couple of hours by moonlight but weariness overcame me and I spent a cold uncomfortable night propped in the bowl of a tree. My pack was still at Irrith, unless the mage's guild operatives had found it. Either way I didn't have it and so after a brief stretch I set off along the trail again. I'd gone barely two miles when I found the spot Renera had rested, the tracks after were fresher, crushed leaves bruised but not yet dead. She'd made scant effort in covering her trail and I started to feel hopeful again - by their freshness I would catch her before sundown, and more importantly before Alt Bosara. Of the mages I found no sign and assumed they must still be behind me.

The day stayed fine and cold but the sun warmed spirit. The signs I followed became fresher and I became more confident that this time I would catch her and could do something. I wasn't sure exactly what but it seemed significant that she hadn't killed me the night before, perhaps I could talk her back into her senses. I'd just have to play it by ear. My mind buzzed with a heady mixture of worry, plans and hope as the trail into a deep valley cut by a boggy stream at its base. Sparse scrub clung to the grassy slope I descended but the western side opposite looked less forgiving. Boulders clung amongst rocky outcrops just too green to be called a cliff. Still I could see a way up, it wound between two grey escarps like a green snake. The tracks made straight for it. I stopped briefly at the bottom and drank some of the cold stream water before fording it and continuing over the short flat by the stream bed to the cliff base. The tracks were a little confused, there seemed to be too many which doubled back on themselves or tried unlikely routes up the cliff face, perhaps it had held her up, I doubted she was much more than an hour ahead anyway. I ignored them and took the route which had seemed most obvious.

The footing was slippery and I had to push my sword along my belt so it lay behind me and stayed out the way as I half climbed the slope. Enough large rocks jutted from the steep ground to offer good purchase. They became more frequent nearer the top. The going was quite hard and I was surprised how out of breath I was by the time I reached the serpentine path of grass which curled like green smoke between the worst two outcrops. I navigated it and was about to start climbing again when something stirred in the corner of my eye. I froze. Nothing. Just the dancing ghost images from my pounding heart. I carried on up between the large boulders and slowly the ground flattened. I stopped on one and turned to look back down the way I'd come and catch my breath. I was admiring the cold, tree strewn moorland and the long sinuous valley when I heard something move behind me.

"Hello," said a voice, it wasn't a welcoming tone.

I turned slowly and caught movement from the corner of my eye. I dropped. The spell flashed though the air where my head had been an instant before. I looked and saw a mage standing next to one of the huge boulders their hands weaving another ball of maleficent light. I flicked my hand up throwing a cluster of grit and stones at the mage. The throw was well off but he flinched instinctively. I leapt into the gap between two boulders and scurried away between them. I heard him curse behind me and give chase.

A small ball of fire splashed on a rock I'd just passed. I jinked right and round another then left, the pursuing mage just behind. I ran along the gradient of the hillside leaping and dodging around stones trying to avoid offering a target for any magic. A breathless incantation then another spell. This one fell short and hit the ground with a dull thump spraying me with gravel. There was a large boulder just ahead, I risked a glance back and saw my pursuer just behind already casting. I jumped right down the slope and round the boulder, he held the spell. I ran a short way by it became steeper. With a sinking feeling I saw my way blocked. I heard the crackle of magic behind.

There was nothing for it. I glanced back to see the mage wreathed in ethereal light. I leapt at the cliff face my fingers scrabbling for holds that were barely there, my booted feet desperate for any purchase. I grabbed a tiny ledge and pulled, at the same moment I saw a jet of light stream from the man's hands. Time slowed, the spell split the air at a crawl, fizzing and spitting flickering streamers of magic behind its sharp front. It eased towards me like a lazy fish swimming after a hapless insect. I tried to power up the slope but I was heavy, slow. I saw my legs tense and push and scraped against the barren rock... They moved as slowly as the spell advanced. Then one found a hold and I was pushing up but at the same moment I knew I'd been hit. I felt the heat seep through my armour, and smelt scorched leather.

How bad? A flurry of activity in my head. Strangely detached from myself. My leg hurt, but seemed to work, the pain wasn't agony. Perhaps it had just brushed me, or the spell had been a dud. Then reality reasserted itself. It didn't matter. I struggled on up the cliff and hauled myself over the top.

And almost on top of another mage. My hand went for my sword of its own accord but it wasn't there. Behind you idiot. There wasn't time, the mage looked up, confusion plastered on her face. I flashed out with a left jab and she reeled, the following cross missed but a hook caught her cleanly. I brought in a final elbow and felt something in her face break as the first mage's head emerged over the cliffedge. I let the woman fall to the ground and ran on, away from the valley. I ducked and weaved.

The man showed exactly what he was and ignored his fallen comrade to follow me. I cursed and raised my pace heading west again. I heard him stumble and glanced back to see him picking himself up and running again. A moment later I saw my shadow before me silhouetted by the red light of a flare spell. How many were there? Their leader had said four, the truth? I doubted she were dead, a healing potion would have fixed the stabbing, but equally doubted she'd be getting up to fight any time soon.

I jumped another rock, cover was becoming sparser now. Then from a dense bunch of boulders directly directly ahead a red light suddenly blossomed. Another mage. I almost fell in throwing myself right and continuing in my new direction. Then from back towards the valley, a figure rose, light dancing in his hands. I dropped and rolled as the spell flew. It would have missed anyway. He pulled a slightly glowing dagger and ran to intercept me. I tried to push ahead of him but distance was on his side and my leg stung from the spell which had hit it. Just before we met I slowed. This time I drew my sword properly and slashed it across him slicing open his torso. He screamed and dropped his blade. Enchantment or no swords will still beat knives. Unfortunately I hadn't time to finish the idiot as a weak fireball ploughed into my back. I smelt scorched leather but it must have been small. I glanced back and saw the first mage wheezing and clutching his side as he tried to keep up. I ran. He didn't follow past the mage I'd cut.

I was tired, I didn't know if there were more mages. It wasn't hard to leave no tracks on the rocky ground and when I found a concealed hollow where a stream disappeared into the ground I stopped and hid and struggled to regain my breath. After a few minutes enough of the adrenaline had seeped away and I was no longer shaking. I heard the occasional shout and some disant walking but the mages seemed to have missed my refuge. Still I didn't dare to leave it as they were clearly watching out for me, waiting for me to break cover. As much for something to do as anything else I removed my greaves and took a look at my leg, the flesh was an angry red and sore to touch so I poured a small amount of water from my canteen onto it but there was little I could do so I put the armour back on and sat in the cold nursing my hatred.

[Olen]

This was meant to be part of the previous part so just a short one today. I blame the cold affecting my ability to think.


14. Hiding

The sun, already in the west when I hid, crawled down towards the horizon. The mages patrols were less frequent and their shouts less wild. It took an effort to stay hidden knowing fine well that with every minute Renera drew further away, I would be hard pushed to catch her before Alt Bosara now. If the mages hadn't stopped me I'd have already caught up with her, for better or worse. My thoughts turned down the same rutted track of hatred offering another permutation of bitterness. I'm not stupid though, I knew that they hated me just as much and that trying to run would only end one way. I would wait until dark to make my move. The sun continued its slow cycle while my mind rushed though its, faster, yet just as futile, circle.

Night fell, and in the dark before the moon rose I made my move. I loosened muscles which had gone to sleep and vaulted out over the rocks of my hideaway. I crouched and stared into the darkness. The weak light of a campfire flickered a way to the north, some would be there but not all. I looked a moment longer then moved west darting from rock to shadow and keeping low. In the black shadow of an overhanging boulder I paused, I heard something. Footsteps. A voice too, though I couldn't make out words. They were coming towards me, and their camp, from the south. I shrunk further into the gloom and froze, one hand on my sword. The measured steps continued to approach. Had I been seen?

I forced myself to relax, tension would just tire me. If they knew where I was they still had to get close enough, and there was little enough I could do anyway. I would assume they didn't. The footsteps grew nearer. The urge to run, or fight, rose. Anything but waiting like a rat in barely concealed hole. I crushed it but I was a tense as a lute string, my nerves hummed and my fingers quivered. I took a breath, but quietly. It didn't help. The footsteps were near now. I hardly breathed. Then I saw a booted foot and a leg only a couple of dozen yards from my rock. They hadn't seen me. Unless it was all a trap. I brushed away that thought. The walking man continued on towards the fire and I let out a shudder. I had to move, another encounter like that and there would be nothing left of my nerves. And no wander. Suddenly I wanted a dose of skooma very much, but my pack was gone. I crawled from under the boulder and out in front of another mage.

For a horrific moment we regarded each other in utter surprise. Then her face twisted in hatred, a mirror to my own. I leapt forwards and ran away into the scrubland at full tilt. I heard her scream in rage behind me, a fireball flew away to my right. A wild shot. I ran and cursed myself as seven kinds of fool, the skooma withdrawal was worse than I'd thought. Why hadn't I considered who the first mage had been talking to? Still if I held my pace for another hour and didn't take the most obvious route... I cursed again, I didn't want to run for an hour, and I'd loose all trace of Renera's trail. A few more fireballs flew but all in the wrong places and directions.

[Olen]

15. Running

In the end I just headed west for Alt Bosara. I hoped to pick up Renera's trail on the way. There was little enough doubt over where she was heading and if I was to have any hope of catching her before she got there I couldn't afford the time it would take to find and follow her trail. The mages hadn't chased me far, and with two of them injured they wouldn't be moving fast. At least so I hoped. I allowed myself to relax as I walked over moorland and through the clusters of trees which clung like warts on the barren landscape. Where possible I followed rough paths. Sometimes they were no more than animal tracks, others looked like they'd seen the work of men, or more likely mer, in the past, though precious little maintenance in recent times.

I was following one of the latter paths in a small wood when I found rather more evidence of Renera's passing than I'd expected. The pines were dormant for winter but still green and at first his clothes hid him amid the branches, but the dark stains on the ground, and the rank smell of spilled blood and excrement gave him away. He'd been a forester by his garb, and the axe which stood at the base of a tree. Now he was very much a corpse. Had I not already vomited all I had for lack of skooma I would have, instead I looked with a sort of grisly fascination at the work that could only have been Renera's, or whatever she was now. Thick strands of intestine, like blanched snakes, spilled from his gut and were entangled in the branches. He dangled from them, dripping blood and swaying listlessly in the breeze, and obscene decoration. His eyes bulged and his face had a tinge even bluer than dunmer skin usually is. I wasn't sure exactly how he'd died, and I was fairly sure I didn't want to. I looked away from the corpse and to the ground. The trail was a few hours old. I left the body hanging, even had I cared there was neither shovel nor time. The crows would take him soon enough, like the sky burials of the desert people in Hammerfell.

The path got better on the other side of the clearing and bore steadily west. The moonlight was strong and the marks of Renera's passing clear. Freshly crushed plants, scrapes in the moss on stones and even footprints. I amended my guess, these tracks were a whole lot fresher, two hours at most, maybe less. I quickened my pace, almost to a run. I jumped over fallen trees and forced though knotted tangles of briars which clawed at my clothes like twisted hands. I forced on ignoring the frost-blasted remnants of stinging nettles and the slimy puddles which lay stinking in my path. How far was Alt Bosara? How long would it take her to get there? How fast was she moving? Questions danced through my mind but the were all aspects of one: could I catch her before she reached civilisation? And close on its heels, what would happen when she got there? So far she'd only struck tiny backwaters, I only hoped the reason was that she wasn't powerful enough to take large towns.

The trees thinned. I followed the path up the slope and paused at the top. Moonlight shone on the silver land below, and glinted of the not-so-distant sea. My wheeling thoughts broke free from their axles and skipped away, shattered. Below me on the night landscape the dark line of the road cut through field and forest towards the darkly glittering sea. At that juncture of land and water stood the tangled towers and tumescent fungous dwellings of a Telvanni town, like toadstools emerging from rotten wood where it lies in water. I gazed at the road but couldn't make out whether anyone travelled it or not.

Once on the road I ran, tripping roots and clawing bushes were no longer a risk, and neither did I need to conserve my energy or worry about the skooma cramps ruining a muscle. It wasn't far to Alt Bosara, either I would catch her or not. Few people travel the roads of Morrowind by night, and those who do are not inclined to talk. I only passed a couple of travellers and stopped for neither. One was a shadowy figure, alone and clearly male. His armour was black leather, like mine, but unlike mine even the metal fixings were blackened and it had fringes to break his outline. Many knives and daggers bulged under his cloak. The others were four men leading ten guar, they were armed and dressed rather better than normal merchants, and the baskets the guar carried were wrapped away from prying eyes. I had no interest in them.

I rounded a corner to see Alt Bosara before me, two watchtowers flanked the road where it entered the town and in the light of the torches I saw a pair of guards keeping watch. One stamped his feet against the chill. A movement on the road between us caught my eye. I stopped to look. For a moment I saw nothing then I saw a figure silhouetted against the torchlight. Had it not been for the glow of the town it would have been completely invisible. Could it be Renera? I'd thought the same for the other travellers, but that didn't mean this wasn't. I ran on but lost sight of her as I panted.


So it was that I arrived at the entry to Alt Bosara, sucking air and sweating despite the night cold. A guard approached.

"What's your business in Alt Bosara?" he asked.

I panted for a moment while I formulated a suitable answer. "To find," I paused to breathe, "Some shelter and then maybe a boat south."

"You are not Telvanni." it was a statement.

"No."

"There is a charge for outlanders to stay the night here."

"I am meeting a friend here. She probably arrived in the last few hours, quite tall, black hair, green eyes." I was pleased with the ruse.

"Flerith," the guard called to the other, "Have we had any human women through today?"

"Don't think so," the other guard answered.

"There you go."

I nodded, "Very well... You haven't noticed anything strange around town have you? In the last few hours?"

He gave me a quizzical look, "No... Why, you planning something?" He took a step forward.

"No, no. Just well... There might be a rouge mage headed this way."

The guard guffawed, "Of course. That'll be right."

"Keep an eye out," was all I could say. I started into town, she was here, and I would find her.

"Not so fast," the guard put a hand on my shoulder, "We need to put you in the ledger. What's you name?"

I brushed the hand away, "F-" I turned it into a cough. "Sorry, it's Hassius Johanson, messenger by trade." People tend not to get in the way of messengers, you never know who they're delivering to.

"Very good," the guard turned away and black into the shelter in the lee of the fungus.

I hurried into the town, with luck there would be a tavern where I could get a hit of skooma and some answers. Ideally without being arrested in the fights which would no doubt follow when people discovered I had no money.

[Olen]

16. The Fire of the Moment

On my way to the tavern I realised just how badly I needed skooma. I'd put the shaking down to tiredness and the pace I'd held but if anything it got worse as I walked across town. My arms itched furiously too. I ignored the first, more upmarket, tavern I passed and walked down towards the docks. I tried to look for anything amiss, any sign of Renera. I could barely concentrate for the mere thought of skooma had me squirming for a fix. I cursed myself and my addiction; not for the first time, but with unusual vehemence. Near the harbour there was a rough looking establishment, the red lantern by the door promising more than just drink. I entered, hoping for information, looking for skooma.

Inside was the same as a thousand other dockside taverns: dull, dank and dilapidated with an overgrown sense of its own importance which, doubtless, only exacerbated the locals own inflated egos. Before I had a chance to enter the main bar I heard shouting from a back lounge. I went to investigate and found a small reading room, a couple of bookcases sat by the walls. A half played game of cards lay abandoned on a table, several people stood in the room arguing over a number of vials on the table. There were three pushers, easy to spot in their affected finery. Four dunmer surrounded them.

"You owe us three thousand," one growled. I assumed he was a smuggler.

"We paid in advance."

"Only two thirds. And there's transport-"

"Get lost s'wit."

"The house will not be pleased..." said a smuggler, he was clearly in charge. His clothes were better and his hair was oiled back. He also looked more intelligent than his larger cronies.

"What house? It's dead, just a group of jumped up smugglers-"

"N'wah. Four thousand or you might meet with a little accident."

There was a pause. I stepped forward, "Is there a problem here?"

"Piss off outlander before I gut you," said the lead smuggler. I met a pusher's eye. He gave the slightest nod.

I stepped forward and before anyone reacted punched the nearest smuggler in the side of the head. The punch was a thing of beauty, a flash of fist which caught him right in the temple. He fell forwards, out before he hit the ground. The lead smuggler's expression went from anger to shock to pain as I drove my knee into his crotch. He folded, hitting the table and sending cards flying.

By then the second two smugglers turned on me. They advanced as I fell into a stance, ready to move to the side. There was a flurry of movement behind them and one staggered in an explosion of glass. A pusher jumped back clutching a hand he'd sliced open on the breaking bottle. He turned to face the attacker and I leapt forwards with him between me and his accomplice. I landed a quick cross then a hook from the left but the second cross missed. He swayed but stayed up. I took a step back, he was one hard fetcher. He swung a massive punch but what it had in power it lacked in finesse, I ducked under it and poked him in the throat. He staggered back and into a chair wielded by the pusher with the bleeding hand.

The final smuggler looked at us then drew a heavy mace. I drew my sword, "Try it," I said to him. I didn't try to look menacing, I didn't need to, "There's four of us and one of you. Lets see how it goes."

He took a slow look at us the swore and ran away.

I stepped over the, now vomiting, lead smuggler and turned to the pushers. I waited for them to speak.

"Alright," said the first, "That was pretty good. Callan's the name." He made the Camonna Tong sign that I recognised from a couple of jobs I'd done for the Hlaalu. They probably weren't much worse than the smugglers I'd just kicked around, I comforted myself.

"I'm not a member," I said.

Callan raised an eyebrow, "You aren't now? Then why did you just help us out against those fetchers?"

I looked pointedly at the table with the little vials. Each was marked with the crescent moon of Elswer.

Callan nodded, "I suppose we could cut a deal..."

I cracked my knuckles, "I just saved you some money. And got you a bit more respect - good work with that chair by the way," I nodded to the dunmer with the bleeding hand, "But hold the other end of a bottle - so I was thinking you might give me a cut. Just a small one mind you."

He looked dubious but the third, and as yet silent, dunmer spoke up. "It's a pity to lose a supplier but old Vernil here was getting a bit to big for his own good. Weren't you," he stepped over the lead smuggler who lay in his own vomit and casually put his heel on some outstretched fingers. There was a crack and the prone mer whimpered. "Now piss off." The dunmer half staggered from the room clutching his hand. "So," continued the mer. The lamplight cast shadows off a nose which spoke of violence as did the scars around his cruel mouth, "As head of the Camonna's operations around here I, Golen, would gladly give you two vials for your help in this matter. Perhaps you would consider helping us further? I'm sure we could come to an... arrangement?"

Two vials! I'd expected a fraction of that, still I had no doubt it was to lure me in, and if this was how they recruited... Well I'd crossed paths with the Camonna in the past and had the sense to let them be. This was no exception, "Thank you, but I'm afraid I have urgent business-" I took a vial from the table broke the seal and uncorked it before taking a sip. I blinked, it was strong.

"Careful," warned Golen, "We haven't cut that with anything yet, its still at full purity. Anyway if its trouble with the guards that can be dealt with I assure you."

"No. I'm looking for someone but the guards couldn't help..." I let it hang.

It had the desired effect, Golen laughed, "No surprise there. We have an arrangement, and that involves them doing as close to nothing as possible for a little more... pay," I was starting to hate the greasy pig but if he was who he claimed to be he'd be useful, "Now myself, I know things. And people, it is my business to. Perhaps if we help you..." he tilted his head.

"I'm looking for a woman, human. She'd have arrived here in the last few hours."

His lip curled, "Anyone could walk in or out of this town. What's she like."

Here we go, I thought but I'd wasted enough time getting the skooma. "She's a... witch," the word tasted sour, "She was responsible for Stent, Aldram, Irrith... I think-"

"What's that about Irrith? I've family there," said the mer with the cut hand.

"Not any more you don't," I said, "The towns dead, I saw it. And I followed her here."

"Dead? You're lying," his tone convinced me he wasn't sure.

"She's here now. She needs to be-"

"Here?" said Golen, it just sinking in. "Malacath's balls. Did you tell the guard."

"Yes."

"And they did nothing. They're useless. What do I pay them for? Follow me." He strode out the room, I scooped up another two vials, bringing my total to three and followed. The other two didn't notice.

Outside we had to go a short way up away from the docks to find a guard. When we did Golen strode right up to him. The guard stood to attention, "You. Tell the captain there might be a dangerous witch in town, the one who did Stent and Aldram, or so my friend here says. And have him send a group out to Irrith. Go."

The guard went.

"Are you sure you're right?" he asked, "This is going to be bad for business unless-"

There was an explosion from down by the docks. The harsh yellow light briefly cast Golen's cruel face into brutal relief then faded. I turned. A yellow glow shone over the tangled buildings and clouds of mushroomy smelling smoke rose into the night sky blotting out the stars.

I turned back to Golen but he was already running. I sprinted after him.

This post has been edited by Olen: Mar 21 2010, 02:05 PM

[canis216]

Ah, excellent work once again. I look forward to seeing how this plays out.

[Olen]

17. False Light

Pandemonium ruled. People ran, or staggered, depending on their level of inebriation, along the harbour-side, all in different directions, like a stirred anthill. At the south end a warehouse burned, the mushroom like dry tinder. The stagnant pools of salt water which covered the ramshackle quay reflected it like a hundred tiny fires. Some people tried to put out the burning building but most were more concerned with batting out the sparks which landed on their own houses or boats. I cast about the darkness for a moment, Golen had already vanished. Then I hurried towards the fire.

Someone emerged from the crowd, "Take this bucket," he sounded desperate.

"Stick it," I said and ran on. I tried to ease the tension in me but couldn't. Any moment, something kept saying. Any moment another fire would erupt, or a flash of light would crush a bunch of the scurrying ants. Nearer the blaze the scene was stranger, the frolicking flames painted the sweating faces a ghastly yellow. Soot and brimstone fumes rose from the burning goods. Momentarily I was reminded of the tavern in Firewatch, but the comparison didn't hold. These were more akin to the fires of hell.

Ships nearby were attempting to cast off, though many were becoming stuck on the harbour bottom at the low tide. A couple already burned, their sailors giving up the fight and leaping from the sides into the inky waters. I cast about, looking for anything wrong. What might she do next? Then I saw a figure, hunched, walking away from the spreading fire. It didn't move right, didn't seem to share the panic. I started after it.

In the false light it was hard to keep her in sight. People jostled and pushed, I punched and kicked, and vanished before there could be retaliation. The crowd boiled and swirled, eddies pushing me towards or away from my goal like fickle ocean currents. I forced my way through, and tried to divine where she was headed. It seemed like she was making for the harbour itself. I pushed a small group aside and the crowd thinned. I sprinted, a group of sailors worked on a boat in front of me. It looked like they were dumping their cargo to lighten the boat enough to get it out, while also trying to keep the sparks which fell like glittering rain from igniting the sailcloth and caulking. She was making straight for the captain and a couple of others who stood by the gangplank.

I realised what she was doing.

I cursed and sped up, the wet cobbles had a slick film of wet ash on them and twice I nearly fell. She was much closer. Then I felt something under my foot. With a senseless fascination I realised it was a broken creel as it slipped away. I crashed down onto the cold cobbles in a heap. My elbows hurt, I made them work just in time to see Renera, for I had no doubt it was her, reach the trio by the gang. She said something.

The captain made a motion which looked like go away.

There was a short heated discussion at the end of which the captain turned his back. I was up and running again. An instant later he started clawing at himself, my insides sank but I watched, then quite suddenly he appeared to turn inside out. There was no other way to describe it, one instant he was clawing at his throat and chest the next he was twisting, breaking and then falling to the ground, a mess of organs and blood. The other two took a step back. One held out his hands warding away Renera, the mate I assumed. Then he was nodding and they all got onto the ship.

I tore my gaze from the tatters of the captain and ran after them, but too late. Already they were casting off and, with remarkable speed, heading for the harbour mouth. It was narrow enough to be worth a shot, I put my head down and ran with everything I had. My feet skittered over the slick ground, I ignored what might happen if I stepped on another creel, or old fish, or any of a hundred things which lie around docks. Just as I ignored the burning cinders which fell and somehow seemed to find their way down my neck or through gaps in my armour. I glanced over to the dark water and saw the boat struggling to navigate round another which had become beached. One beyond fell over and broke up as if hit with a giant fist. I wandered what the sailors made of having a witch on board. Not all bad luck curse her.

I rounded the corner onto the breakwater, my feet slipping. I recovered my balance and ran, all I had to do was make the harbour mouth before them and I could be on the boat. Briefly it crossed my mind that these might be the final seconds of my life. I had no time for the thought though, just as I cast aside the idea of gaining some speed by dumping the skooma bottles: it was good stuff. To my left in the harbour a couple of other boats were sailing out. They should have delayed Renera but her boat pushed the lead one aside. I heard the crash and the swearing sailors. Only two hundred yards, but already I could see I'd need a miracle. The boat was faster, and closer. Perhaps if I hadn't already ran and walked so far... But I had, and I wasn't on good terms with the gods. The ship left the harbour, with me still running to reach the mouth.

I'd failed.

There was no point in stopping. I'd just run on and into the black waters. Lets them swallow me, enveloping like a lover's arms, smothering like a mother of mine's perfume. But self-preservation acted for me and I tried to stop. The film of rank seawater which covered the polished cobbles offered no resistance. I skidded trying just as desperately to stay up as I did to slow but it as too late. My foot felt the edge and then nothing. It is not easy swim in armour, impossible even. Drowning held a strange terror for me. The second ship was close behind the first. Very close. I fell with a shriek I didn't expect and braced for water.

[canis216]

Wow! Intense!

[Olen]

Cheers for the comments, there's still pleanty more of this to come, as ever any critique is most welcome.

18. Rest

I got wood.

Rough boards. The metallic tang of blood. Pain. I tried to piece it together, the parts like a reluctant jigsaw. I was falling. Yes. In to water. Through the air. Water! Air. Drowning.

No. I tried to collect my thoughts. Might as well herd clouds. Wood not water. Wooden boards.

A boot prodded me. I ignored it. Go away, I'm trying to think. It touched me again, insistent. My mind coalesced, thoughts all running together to one place like wine in an inverted bottle. Another prod. I looked up. More planks then a rail, and a strange post rising from it out of view. And closer a boot.

I moved my hand up to my face. My lip was split. I looked up and saw the owner of the boot looking down at me. He said something. I blinked, my thoughts untangling themselves. I was on a boat. The nord whose boot had prodded me, I still hadn't quite forgiven it, was probably the captain. He spoke again.

"You're awake then, and about time. Would you like to tell me what that little show was about?"

"What?" I asked.

"Honestly I'm not sure," he said, "I was just relaxing in my cabin with a bottle of brandy when the warehouse bursts into flame. Just like that," he still sounded a little shocked, "No build-up or nothing. People are everywhere, running and screaming; well I gets my crew and decided to sail away before the Breaker's Grace, that's this ole lady," he motioned to the deck under me, "Catches herself. Then I get rammed by Arethi's tub and you're running down the breakwater shouting and screaming. Next thing I know you're hanging from the futtock shrouds and then falling onto my deck." He paused, apparently out of steam.

"What?" I said, then shook my head violently, some of the fluff disappeared from my thoughts, "The boat that rammed you where is it?"

"Looked like it was going south, Arethi was bound for Vvardenfell, not that its relevant..."

I remembered what Renera had done to the captain of the boat she commandeered and shuddered, "I don't think he'll be going anywhere," I said.

The captain paused. "Quite. Now would you like to explain what happened, if you know? Then we can get onto why I should have you on my ship."

I sat up and looked around, the boat was a fair way from land. I wandered how long I'd been out, half an hour, maybe. "I've been following a dangerous mage for some days now, she was responsible for he killings backcountry. It was she who started the fire, presumably so she could steal a ship in the turmoil. The captain of the ship she chose, Arethi from what you say, wasn't keen on whatever she proposed. So she... dealt with him. I was trying to catch up with her but wasn't fast enough to jump to her ship and didn't stop in time to avoid yours."

"There's a story here, quite a story, but I think I'd rather hear it inside. Come down below deck and tell me over a meal," he turned, "Oh and I think these are yours," he threw me the skooma bottles.

***

I'd told Hulgar, as the captain introduced himself, a version of how I'd come to be on his deck, omitting, of course, the ruin, any details of Firewatch and various other bits and pieces to make myself look at least half respectable. Once I finished he was silent for a time.

At length he said, "That's quite a story you have yourself. I doubt that's all of it either, but I shan't press and what you've said is enough to convince me. No one would be stupid enough to make something like that up," he laughed and took a swig of mead, the sickly stench of the stuff was choked the small cabin, "There's no way I could catch up with Arethi's boat, she cut her own bowstring in killing him, he's a fast sailor, but it's still a fast boat and I saw them jettison what they pretend is cargo. It's a smuggling ship really, from what I hear he specialises in dwemer stuff, not that I'd let any of that stuff on my ship, bad luck they say. Anyway without the weight they'll be moving some and honestly even if I could catch them from what you say I don't want to. Still a story like that deserves thanks so I'll give you a cabin down as far south as you want, well at least as far as Droynyon Bay, about forty leagues north of Tear. Any further is Dres water."

I nodded, only slightly surprised by the large nord, he didn't strike me as the type to throw me overboard and from his reactions I suspected there was more between him and Arethi than he'd said. "Thanks," I answered, "But one question. Did you notice a slave train come through Alt Bosara a couple of days ago? About ten Dres heavies with a mage and maybe thirty slaves?"

He glared at me, "I saw that scum, what about them?"

"Where were they going?"

"They had a ship waiting, Dres boat so south. Some of my crew gambled with them, loaded dice of course - normally I'd not allow it but the Dres get what comes to them. They might have said but I'd wager a fair bit they were headed to Tear. Why?"

"They're involved in this too. I have... business with them."

He put down his beer, his face serious, "What kind of business. If its the kind I don't want to know about I might have a contact for you. If you intend on buying, well." He cracked his knuckles, "No doubt you know how to use that overgrown knife," he nodded to the sword at my belt, "But I have a crew backing me up."

"You won't need it, I have no intention of buying anything." I gave a predatory grin.

Hulgar only nodded.

After putting what little I had into the small cabin I'd been given I had a quick smoke then went to talk with the crew. They were clearly somewhat apprehensive of me but interest generally won out and I spent the evening drinking and laughing with them. I also discovered a bit about their captain; none of them knew why, but he hated slavers with a passion. Even to the extent he refused to deal with the Dres and had even killed a couple in his time. I decided not to pursue it any further. When later I made my way, somewhat unsteadily, to my cabin with the warm glow of drunkenness and the promise of a good bed for the first time in what seemed like ages I realised how much I missed the camaraderie of the guild. I stretched out on the mattress and timed my breathing to the gently rocking swell and dropped into a sleep I deeply needed.

***

I was in Irrith again. The dark wooden houses and barns crowded out the meagre light, and somewhere out in the forest something slouched in the gloom. I knew it approached, but I needed to see it, to catch it: I did not warn the townspeople. I could not have them stir from the warm fires and good food to run like panicked sheep from a burning barn. The beast, I could not remember exactly what I sought, must not know I was there, so the townspeople must act as if unaware. They must be unaware. I waited, my nerves vibrating in my tension. I looked into the blackness under the trees, and saw nothing. I glanced behind myself but shook my head. Only shadowy phantasms, drawing away my gaze like a sailor to the rocks. It would not come from that side. Probably. I controlled my ragged breathing and tried to relax. It would be alright I told myself. A promise full of worms. The shadows behind continued their nightmare mockery. I shuddered. It would be alright. I waited. And watched.

A stir, like darkness congealing. My blood curdled, I felt sick but had nothing to vomit. The beast emerged from the woods, it wore a coil I knew. Renera, but I was deeply sure she was not there. Inside was the darkness, the nightghast, the fear and hopelessness of the grave assured, the despair and terror. I had found my beast.

Fire, screams and dust and ash.

Morning. A bleak sun afraid to see the work of the night. Burned buildings and broken bodies. A village wiped away like so much dirt. I stood and I wandered which had been the worst monster in the forest. I had responsibility. Blame for the deaths and the destruction; a sour taste, even for my mouth. Then amid the broken rubble a sign of life. Bruised and terrified a child unfolded from the dead ruins like a spring plant. My heart sank. But already I knew I dreamt. The illusion fading as I departed. I caught a final glance of his bewildered eyes before he was gone. But it would be alright.


I awoke in the creaking belly of the ship and sat up. My face fell into my hands. The boy had been the same one I'd seen as I ran from Irrith, but I remembered another little boy, far away, in Cyrodiil, more than three decades before. I remembered the ruins of another village, if I thought back I remembered looking at the clutter of a life destroyed.

But something last night had changed. I thought of the words of the forester who had found me half starved in the wilds so long ago. "Depression is just anger without enthusiasm." I still remembered the words after all the years and all the horrors they'd held. I don't think I'd understood them at first, but overtime I'd wrung meaning from them and it oozed forth like blood. Those few words entailed so much more than at first glance; just like a fresh corpse. Now was their time, their sense sung to me and drew me on. I felt I teetered on an edge between what I had been and what might be. The words drew me like a lodestone, the last tiny effort needed to tip the balance. A dreadful, dark force.

Now I recalled the words. Now I would live by them. And my rage began to grow.

[Olen]

The story changes direction somewhat now so if you've got any overall comments on the first 'act', as I tend to refer to phases of stories, I'd be interested to hear. Also how is the post length/ frequency? As I think I've said it's all written and half cleaned (the final polish being directly before posting) so this can be varied easily. Thanks for reading

19. Lighting the Way

We arrived at the port town of Droyn seven days later. During that week I became increasingly sure that the crates of redware in the hold were for the excisemen and the ship was actually smuggling. I also suspected that the larger argonian portion of the crew, and the fact Hulgar spoke argonian fluently had something to do with it. I quickly ruled out any other passenger but I couldn't work out what they were into, and in the end I decided I didn't care.

Although at the far northern extent of their influence the town had a distinctly Dres look from the water. The whitewashed buildings had blue windows and the richer ones had pillars and the domed roofs which the Dres favour. Closer I saw that the market reached right down to the docks so incoming ships wasted no time before engaging in the favourite activity of the Dres: commerce. Before we had even tied up a small rowing boat had sailed alongside offering fresh fruit and sweetrolls. But in spite of its varied grandeur I couldn't help sensing a dark bruise just under the surface of the bright colours. I knew the origin of that stain, it came from the same place as all the wealth of the Dres.

We tied up at a poorer corner of the docks, the plaster front on the buildings were cracked and stained. After being cooped up for a week I was more than ready to be off and was already on the deck with my bags. Once the boat was tied up Hulgar came over to me, "Seems we part here. Good luck with... things."

I nodded, "Likewise, thanks for the journey."

"Anything for someone... like-minded. Here I said I'd put you in contact with someone who might help you find that slave train. I'm afraid I'm really busy, you know how it is," he nodded at the customs building, "So I can't take you personally. Go to the Westwater Club and tell Nakuma Hulgar showed you the light. She's alright but watch yourself."

I hefted my pack and nodded, "Goodbye then."

"Aye and good luck, and if they catch you with that stuff you didn't come in on my boat."

I smiled and left away down the gangplank. I didn't look back as I walked across the rutted quayside.

***

The Westwater Club was a run down building in the warehouse district west of the docks. A couple of crooked tables sat outside, a redguard smoked a hackle-lo at one. "Afternoon," he said, I nodded back but didn't answer. "Another drink out here," he called though the open door behind him.

Inside was a welcome break from the burning sun of southern Morrowind. Carved screens let a gentle breeze waft though the plain room but kept the heat at bay. But as I grew accustomed to the gloom I noticed that every eye in the bar was on me. The weight of just stopped conversation was every bit as oppressive as the heat outside. The second thing I noticed was that, unlike the rest of Droyn which had a high portion of dunmer even for Morrowind, there wasn't a single local there. Men and Argonians dominated though there were a fair few Khajit and even an Altmer. The hostile gazes didn't bother me and I went to the bar.

"What do you want?" asked the barman.

I wasn't sure he meant drink but I decided to miss the hint. It was like dodging a half brick, "What do you have squire?"

He paused, frowned then replied, "The usual imported stuff, and some other stuff from up north, shein, mazte..." his tone said what he thought of that, "Or you could have some local stuff. My sira and rasde are quite good."

"What are they?"

"Sira is wine made from saltrice, rasde is the same but distilled."

"A jug of rasde then," I lent over the scarred bartop, "and can you tell me who Nakuma is?"

He paused with the jug half-filled, I heard people stir behind me. "Why?"

"I wish to speak with her."

"Very well," he said and put a jug of cloudy white liquid on the bar, "She's sitting at the table by the wall behind you. Don't try anything."

I looked and saw an argonian sitting alone at the table with a book. A glass of something sat by her scaled hand. I took my rasde, which smelt largely like any other spirit except for a slight tang of lavender, over to her.

"Nakuma?"

She looked up, "That's my name," I noticed that she was quite old, the scales along the side of her head were dulled and her throat was greying, "Though I wouldn't mind knowing who told you it."

A dozen pairs of eyes bored into my back. The bar was silent, menacing. "A captain called Hulgar, he said to tell you he showed me the light."

With those words the atmosphere changed instantly. Conversations restarted and the other patrons largely, though not completely I noticed, ignored me. "Ah Hulgar, he's a good man. Pity he's never joined us fully... Still he helps when he can. So," she levelled her gaze at me, "By the sounds of it you don't know what you just did. Either that or you've a hell of a nerve."

She was old so I decided to allow her to ramble. Besides she might well know things I needed to, "So what did I just do?"

"This club is Twin Lamps territory. Everyone here is involved, if only slightly. I am involved rather more than slightly. As you can understand we don't always get on with the local authorities, we like our peace and don't like outsiders. 'Being shown the light' is an introduction. So why did Hulgar send you here?"

"I'm hunting a slave train."

Nakuma paused, then shrugged, "Well we tend towards rather more peaceful methods, but I might be able to help. I know most of what goes on."

"They were buying up north, Dres bunch. They have a... friend of mine." I hadn't ever thought of Varnan as anything more than a millstone, but friend was the word, "I tried to catch them before they reached Alt Bosara but failed."

"Alt Bosara... Alt bosara," she drummed her claws on the table top and swished her tail slightly, "Yes I think a ship did arrive. North of Tear to one of the holding areas before they sell them on in Tear itself," she spat the last bit. "Inren Dres, that-"

"That was the leader," I finished for her.

"Well that's right at the belly of the beast. This is the nearest base we have to Tear, the Dres there take a rather more... proactive approach that those here, and, of course, we don't have enough dirt on the head of the guards to help them forget us." She paused and took a drink. I sat across the table from her and took a draught of my spirit, "No. There's no rescuing him from there. Best wait until someone buys him then rescuing him from the plantations."

"No," I said, "I won't wait. If you tell me where this holding area is I'll leave tonight."

She smiled in a faintly infuriating way, "And do what exactly, the place will be thronged with guards, you'll cause more problems than you solve. Join us, help us and once he's out where we can reach him we'll make a move, not before."

"No," I repeated, "I leave tonight, now what's the name of this holding place?"

"As I said, won't tell you if you're just going to get yourself killed." She wasn't either, not without more persuasion than I was willing to give. Pushers and agents are one thing, roughing up an old lady, even a well connected one with a tail and scales, is another.

"Then we have no more business together." I turned and walked out. Any hopes that she would call me back went unanswered.

This post has been edited by Olen: Feb 9 2010, 07:47 PM

[Olen]

20. News in the South

Outside the high sun beat mercilessly on the ground. I swore and kicked a stone across the street, it splashed into the turgid waters of the harbour. The useless lizard knew but wouldn't help. I cursed again and drew startled looks from passers by; I wasn't used to this sort of messy subtlety, point me at what needs bashing and I'm fine. I smiled wryly at the thought, didn't that just say something.

Briefly I entertained the idea of a quiet smoke somewhere secluded but decided to sit on the urges. To pass the monotony on the boat I'd had far too much and one of the vial was already finished. It was strong stuff too and although I had said I would leave that day in truth I didn't think it possible, I had nothing but the armour on my back, my sword and just under two vials of skooma. I needed food and, I thought, feeling the sticky sweat in my warmer northern clothes, something else to wear. It was fearsomely hot. First though I wanted another drink of, I took a moment to remember, rasde. That had been good stuff.

I made my way along the docks to the bustling market. It was an astonishing array of rough wooden stalls with brightly coloured awnings where merchants and pedallers sold almost everything I could imagine, and plenty I wouldn't have. A whole aisle of tightly packed stalls sold nothing but potions and elixirs and alchemical contrivances. Bizarre apparatus imported from Summerset Isle, odd jars of green stuff and dessicated fish insides from Argonia, fungi in every shape and colour from Cyrodiil, barks and roots from Valenwood, oil of vitriol and sal ammoniac from High Rock and condiments from Elswer vied with more mundane things like ashyams and racer plumes from Vvardenfell. Everywhere people bought, sold, bartered a thousand things I didn't recognise. Then I was out the far side of of the alchemical quarter and into one where I was more at home. Weapons. More weapons than I'd seen in my life, from light chitin axes to massive ebony maces - the value of which I wouldn't dare guess at - the panoply of armaments spread around me. I cursed my lack of gold for I had little doubt that if my perfect sword existed it was here. Even so I wandered around wide eyed drinking it in.

A dunmer approached me, "Would sir like to buy?" his voice was as greasy as his slicked back hair.

"Just looking," I replied.

"I see the sword is your weapon, I have blades of the finest steel from Hammerfell," somehow he had led me to his stall, a selection of blades lay on this white fabric. Their intricate tooling made them close to art but I didn't doubt they would be effective. "Or perhaps," the merchant continued, "You're looking for something special? Oh, I know a connoisseur when see one, and you sir, look like you know blades." With that he drew an elaborately sheathed sword from under the table, it had a gold coloured hilt and a light silvery blade, "An elven longsword, made by the ancient Ayleids of Cyrodiil and, I assure you, the best sword you've ever seen."

It was a beauty. It also made me shiver, it brought back memories too recent and fresh. I'd kept them out as best I could but the oddly golden material was too similar to the ruin. My mind hovered over images of the bodies and burned supplies... "No, no thanks," I managed somewhat breathlessly.

The dunmer looked confused but had the sense not to pursue it, "Well sir, if you do want a blade you know where to come. Say would you be interested in selling that blade, or perhaps your armour, I'm sure we can arrange a good price."

"No I'm quite happy," I said. I wanted to see more of the market and in honesty the sword I had was serviceable and the light armour was all I could bare in the heat.

"Even so you must see my brother's armoury, come," I allowed myself to be herded though a narrow gap between two stalls and into the next brightly coloured aisle. This one was dedicated to armour.

"Gleril," said a jolly voice, "Hows things, and who's this you've brought?"

"Ahnvas this," replied the salesman, "Is an aficionado of the finer things."

"Ah you want some armour sir? This is the place, no stall has better," he did indeed have an impressive display of armours in varied styles and materials.

"Really I'm just looking around,"

I didn't get any further, "Ah sir is from the north, Vvardenfell I'd say by your voice. I have a fine suit of chitin, or perhaps," he looked me up and down, "I think bonemold might be more your thing. Unless you prefer foreign armour. Certainly we have little enough ash here but plenty heat, perhaps Dres armour would better suit you. I can give you a good price on that leather suit. It's a curiosity, though I'm sure you know how little protection leather offers."

"Thank you," I managed once his tirade finished, "I shall bare it in mind, however, I've just arrived in town and would like to freshen up. Could you direct me to an inn?"

"Of course, just head that way," he pointed to the town centre, "There are plenty, just avoid the Old Stone Inn. Place has rats something awful I hear. And remember, if you need armour just ask for Gleril," he smiled, "I'll give you a good price for that piece, shall we start at two hundred?"

"Maybe later," I smiled back, "I shall bear you in mind."

"Well what's you name sir," he proffered a hand.

"Fir- Hassius." I shook the hand, "Now I must be going."

I set off through the market staring at all the wanders on sale. The silks and clothes and wines and spirits all tried to outshine the assorted curios and oddments. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before and, I had to admit, I rather liked it. But what I saw at the town square at the far edge of the market soured my good mood like vinegar in milk. The source of this panoply of wealth and pomp. By one high wall set slightly aside from the market was a row of cages, from within peered eyes, some wild, others haunted and some, the most chilling ones, simply broken. My hatred of the Dres steeled. They stared blankly without looking, the soul behind retreated to some other place.

The slaves were a mixed bag, mainly Argonians though there were a few Khajit and even a man who paced round the small cage in tight circles tapping one hand madly against the bars until the slave dealer threw a stone at him and shouted for him to shut up. My hand went to my sword but the square was full of guards and dunmer who relied on just this source of income. There was nothing I could do so I looked for a moment than passed by on the far side of the street. After Firewatch and after this I knew I would get Varnan out, soon, and by any means at my disposal.

***

The first inn I came to was the Old Stone which I had been warned about, but I had no money and I thought perhaps I might be able to get myself a free room. I went in. The salesman hadn't been joking, the place stank of rat leavings. It was gloomy, dirty and above all empty, and for once this wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Everything about the barman screamed slime, his unwashed smell overpowered, at least locally, the pervading stench of rot and faeces. He wore a filthy shirt and had greasy unwashed hair which hung around a face like a rotten apple. "Good day," I said as cheerily as I could.

"I doubt it," he replied.

"I hear you have a rat problem."

"Yes," I didn't think it was just the rats which kept business away.

"I can sort that problem, if you agree to give me a room, some food for a journey and some money. And some rasde." I added. A month before I wouldn't have been seen dead killing rats - leave that to the associates - but I had little choice.

He looked at me, "Fighter's Guild are you?"

"Yes.... I was anyway." I doubted I'd be working for them again.

"And from the north," it wasn't a question. Did I really have that much of an accent? It seemed so, "Yes, tell you what I'll give you two nights in my best room, a sack of saltrice and some jerky and fifty coins."

"The rasde?"

"Two bottles."

His generosity surprised me, I hadn't expected to get any gold. Perhaps he was really that desperate to have the rats gone. But then why not hire a local? I decided I didn't care, "Fine point me in the direction." I was shown to a cellar, the barkeep was suddenly more friendly, though in a clumsy way as if he was unused to the activity. I took a lantern and went in.

The reek was enormous, almost a physical force which knocked me back. I screwed up my face and went down the stairs. There were rats everywhere.

A few minutes later there weren't. There was a lot of blood which turned the hard packed earth floor into slippery mud. I too was plastered in it, they were big, and I had just given a first class example of why you kill rats with a blunt weapon - if you use a blade they squirt. A lot. There was a hole going down in the corner and almost a worse smell emerging from it, almost certainly the main nest, and source of the problem was down there, but I reckoned I'd killed enough to convince him and didn't really care if they came back in a few days so I cut the tails from the carcasses and stuffed them all down the hole before dragging a crate over the entrance.

When I re-emerged, covered in blood, into the main bar I had sixteen tails. I thumped them down next to a crust of dried vomit on the bar, "I'm done," I said, "Have you get a water butt? And some oil for the leather."

The barkeep looked at the tails, "Butt's out the back, oil's in the stable. There's a clean table and your rasde on it in the corner. I need to go out to... get the saltrice, yes, I don't have that much so I have to get it. Watch the bar," his dour tone evaporated into mother of mine's friendliness for the last bit. I wandered why, but not much. I wanted to wash.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon drinking and, intermittently, puffing at my pipe. The barkeep seemed too preoccupied to care. The bar was horribly warm and the heat seemed to rise all sorts of smells from the foul tables and squalid straw floor. I managed to swap some local clothes for my northern ones, which were apparently foreign enough to be of interest, if not value, which relieved me somewhat. But mainly I drank rasde, which wasn't as good as the stuff from The Westwater Club, from a cup which wasn't even slightly clean. I went to bed early.


The night was cloudless and the shutters broken so a pale light crept though the window screen and dimly illuminated my room. Once it might have been nice, but like the rest of the inn it had seen better days. A crooked chair sat at a scored table with a fine pottery bowl with what might, at some time in the distant past, have been an orange in it. It was now closer kin to the dessicated undead than to fruit. The room had a cupboard and bookshelf of temple texts, and even a garderobe, which was broken. It was the best room I'd been in for a long while, yet for some reason in spite of the deep, if lumpy, mattress I couldn't sleep. The soft blur of mild drunkenness had passed and still I lay awake looking at the whitewashed ceiling and listening to the sounds of the night.

Down stairs I heard the barkeep, who was yet to tell me his name, pacing. There was a strange one and no mistake. After a while I heard the creak of the door and the footsteps stopped. Silence from below, at last. I lay back and tried to relax into sleep. Then footsteps on the stairs, strange at this time of night, perhaps he had a delivery to wait for and was going to bed? But then why two sets of feet? A mother of mine? Certainly he wasn't married now if he had ever been, the state of the inn made that clear enough. Probably just a mother of mine, he was nervous someone might see though gods know why. I settled down to sleep.

My door burst open.

[Olen]

21. Glittering Opportunity

I rolled off the bed. An instant later a bolt buried itself in the pillow. I hit the wooden floor with a thump. The figure in the doorway swung the crossbow down. He's shot his bolt... I grabbed the bedside table and threw it at him. There was a second twang and some plaster fell from the ceiling, another bolt was buried there. Two bolts. Fancy. He was clear of the wreaked table before I stood, but I had my sword now. He rolled to his feet and pulled out a dirk, enchantment glittered on its surface. For a moment we faced each other, calculating. I was horribly aware of my nakedness.

He lunged, viciously fast so I barely blocked and before I could counter he was out of range again. He darted to the side and again I was hard pressed to do anything. The tactic would tire him, but what if he was fitter than me. It was more than likely. I backed away. He pressed forward but I had retreated to a window alcove so he could only attack my front. The dagger licked out again, I went to block but suddenly it wasn't there. A few hairs fell as it sliced the air where my head had been an instant before I ducked.

I pressed my own attack. Risky but it would end this. He backed off, inviting me to step out of the alcove. I broke the attack. He paused for a moment then rushed me. The slice was low. It was also another feint, but I'd seen this one and only made a cursory attempt to block. As he flicked the swing high I caught the blade on my sword. They locked. This time I reacted first. I raked my finger nails into his eyes. He screamed. Before he could break away I dropped my sword and kicked the side of his knee. He spun before it broke but that left me behind him. It wasn't beautiful or flowing, or particularly honourable, but grabbing his throat to tip his head back then driving my elbow into his face worked. So I did it again. And again. And again.

His nose broke first, then I think a cheekbone. It became harder to land the hits as his face became slick with blood. My elbow started to ache a bit too so I stopped. He slumped but that he was conscious was a credit to whoever trained him, and whatever potion he was using. He still held the dagger, I grabbed his wrist and plunged it at his chest. He tried to twist out but it still scraped his ribs.

And suddenly his was still. Ridged still. The dagger was a jinkblade. I looked at him, knowing he could see me though his bloody eyes. The paralysis would last a few seconds, more than long enough to restrain him. But I wasn't going to; jinkblades are dirty weapons. I never pretended to fight with honour but neither would I use paralysing magic. I looked at him, I could see his fear, he knew how they're hated. I took the blade, it felt slithery and unsavoury in my hand, and held it to his throat so he knew what was going to happen but was unable to do anything. After a moment I ran it across. He fell, spouting blood.

I looked at the corpse, perhaps I should have let him live, but I was angry. Someone would regret that assassination attempt. I bent and rifled though his pockets but there wasn't much to go on. A few coins, all Mournhold minted. Could be from anyone, I pocketed them. His clothes were black with thin strips of metal as protection. Again any assassin might have them. The crossbow was something though, light but powerful, and with two bolt lines. I couldn't see well enough in the gloom but it looked like one bow did both, either individually or simultaneously. I tossed it towards my pack, it might be worth selling. In the mean time, though, it seemed prudent to disappear. The mer, my attacker had been a dark elf, had known what he was at. Professionals cost money, lots of money. Enemies with lots of money are the worst kind.

A few moments later I had dressed and took my pack, complete with bow to sell and jinkblade to drop into a river. It struck me as odd that the barkeep hadn't taken any notice of the noise. It also made sense, as did his clumsy attempt at friendliness and generous offer. My name and description was out there, someone was offering good money for my death and he'd sold my whereabouts. He was right to keep low, had my mood been a shade worse I'd have paid him a little visit but I kept my rage at bay, killing more barkeeps wasn't going to do wanders for my reputation. Instead I settled with taking several bottles and some money from behind the bar on my way out.

Outside I stopped in the shadow of the door and looked. I saw no one. What should I do? It briefly crossed my mind to seek shelter with Nakuma and her bunch, but I doubted they would have me. Did they know who I was now? I didn't want to risk it, better to get out of town. Find some backwater farm and get any more supplies there, and a haircut at least.

I didn't know any quiet routes out of Droyn so I took the main ones, staying as much in view as I could. The clock in the town square read four, but there were still some people about, and music and laughter from some bars. I hurried along, avoiding eyes but glancing around. Even so I didn't see anyone in the dark alley until I'd passed it. A clawed hand grabbed my wrist. I wheeled round. Its owner wore black, I tore free and drew my sword.

"Stop," said a harsh voice, "I'm not here to kill you."

I paused, sword still ready.

"I'm with the twin lamps, you spoke with Nakuma earlier. The captain Hulgar showed you the light."

It was all true, I lowered the sword slightly, "Who are you?"

"My name is Keel-ha, I've been following you since you left the Westwater Club."

"A tail then?"

"Yes," the lizard sounded uncomfortable, "I saw the assassin go into the Old Stone."

"And did nothing?"

"You managed. That was impressive, enough to convince people you'd be an asset. I didn't dare let the assassin see me, he knew what he was at."

I didn't answer. Silence often draws people best.

"Anyway, that was impressive but I think you'd best return to the Westwater Club with me. Whoever sent that assassin is sure to send another."

"Do you know who that would be, or why?"

"I don't, but Nakuma may well. Knowing things is her business."

I paused. There was no doubt the lizard was from the twin lamps, and of any faction I knew of they seemed to have least motive to kill me. "Fine," I said, "Lead on."

***

Even in the small hours there were people in the Westwater Club. In fact there seemed to be more activity there than there had been when I'd visited earlier that day. A few argonians looked up from the map they had spread on a large corner table as we entered but they ignored us. "Take a seat," said Keel-ha, "I'll be back soon."

He hurried away towards a back room and I made my way to the same small table by the wall I'd sat at earlier. Looking at the room it struck me how different it felt. Earlier had been quiet, the sort of place where revolution might be discussed, motions brought and passed or rejected and further discussed, but where little would ever be done. Now it bustled, the group in the corner spoke animatedly over some feature of the map, at another table scrolls and ledgers were poured over by another group, this one with some Khajit and even a dunmer. Someone left with what looked to be a roll of weapons.

The barkeep came over with a small jug, "Rasde?" she asked.

"Thank you," I nodded and she poured me a cup.

"Nakuma is a little busy with some incoming... business. She should be here soon though."

I nodded but said nothing. A small group had just appeared at the door, a pair a darkly dressed Argonians, similar in appearance to Keel-ha, lead a few heavily robed figures. Talk stopped and chairs scraped back and the other occupants of the bar rose. It would have been impossible to determine their race had it not been for a draught briefly catching one robe and showing a small length of scaled tail. They were hurried towards a back room but as they passed I caught the glitter of an enchanted manacle. I glanced around again. They were stealing slaves. In Dres territory. In spite, or perhaps because, of it being exactly my plan, I shivered. What had I got myself into?


Nakuma arrived a few minutes later. She took a seat across the table and levelled her red gaze at me. "I hear you had quite a night?"

"Some might say."

She blinked slowly, Argonians always seem to. It was slightly disconcerting, "Still you seem to know how to handle yourself. Wouldn't you say so, Firen, unless I'm mistaken?"

Here we go, I thought. "Yes, though I wouldn't mind knowing how you know that."

"Same as how that miser at the Old Stone knew. I'm glad you didn't kill him, it shows... restraint. I wouldn't be helping you if you hadn't shown that restraint. He's not been the same since his wife died, poor thing..."

"How did he know," my patience was beginning to wear.

"Word's out on you. And after Firewatch there's no surprise. Managing to have contracts on you from the Camonna Tong, Telvanni and Mages Guild as well as having the Fighter's Guild rather interested and the watch wanting to speak to you about a certain set of murders is quite a feat." She paused to let it sink in.

It felt more like being hit by an orc with a hammer. I'd known I was in trouble, but outrunning the law isn't so hard. Escaping that many contracts is. "So who was the assassin?"

"Well it's hard to be certain, but he's often seen going in and out of the Morag Tong guildhall-"

"Wh-" I spluttered. The words running though my mind were less savoury.

"But he was known to freelance, and by your reaction you didn't find a writ. That's a good sign, there probably isn't one, yet anyway. Still it means he was good, and you survived, that means you were better. We might have a use for you."

There it was. They had me by the balls and there was nothing I could do about it, if I refused they might just sell me out. Even if they didn't how far was I likely to get? Perhaps if I made it to a small town... But the Dres are a strange bunch, I'd be remembered. I was probably in the only place where I had so much as a hope of help. I nodded, "In return for which you hide me?"

Nakuma smiled, "As you can imagine, we have something of a talent for hiding people."

"What of the man I must rescue?"

"You'll be going straight to him. I said we didn't operate that far south, but I didn't say nobody does. You'll join a group of my brethren who have more... extreme views on the Dres," a frown flickered over her features, "And most other races. You can fight so you'll get along though. Once you've rescued your man, assuming you survive, you'll report to me and I'll help you disappear."

"And the catch?" It was too good.

"What? Am I not offering you exactly what you asked for? More even?"

"Very well," they were. When it turned sour I could always try my own disappearing act.

"Good, you should drink up. Keel-ha will take you to see them in ten minutes."

[Olen]

22. Reasons and Excuses

It was the small hours of the morning when we left the dark alleys and silent market of Droyn behind. Even so we avoided the roads in favour of the marshy saltrice fields. My greaves were neatly folded in my pack and my boots and britches hung around my neck to keep them out the brackish ooze which had attempted to steal them with every squelching step. Keel-ha seemed unbothered by the occasional creature underfoot which slithered wetly like a damp nightmare. The fields extended for miles. Each bordered by a raised heap of stones picked from the marshy land to provide firm ground for carts. In the corner of one we found the week old corpse of an argonian slave discarded like an unwanted doll. We ignored it - the living give more pressing business.

The first hint of rose touched the eastern horizon as we trudged though another field, set apart only by the thinner consistency of its ooze - closer to gruel than porridge. "How much further?" I asked. The night had been wearisome and I wanted time to let the knocks I'd taken settle out.

"A bit," he answered.

Keel-ha had been distant since we entered the fields, he spoke only when I asked him a direct question, and then only a couple of words. Always his gaze flickered from side to side, near and far, before and behind. He twitched like the madmen you could pay to laugh at in the asylum in what remained of Ebonheart. When the moon cleared the clouds I could see he licked his lips without knowing, and rubbed his arms more than I would after a week's withdrawal. I could guess, but I didn't ask. I didn't really care.

The rose glow was distinct when we breasted what passed for a rise in the miles of stinking swamp. We could see over a few fields to a river flanked by high embankments. Beside the river was a raised patch of land, dry enough for a few trees to grow.

"This is where we go," Keel-ha pointed.


It didn't take long to cross the three rice paddies which lay between us and the rise. As we neared it Keel-ha raised his hand. I stopped and crouched.

"What is it?"

"Unless you want to do a good pincushion impression stay low. We take certain precautions." He unslung his bow, fitted a cord to it and pulled a green fletched arrow from the arrow-bag which hung from his shoulder. That was a soldier's set up, not like the quivers used by hunters from which the arrows would spill if you stumbled. He fitted the arrow to the bow and loosed it at the copse.

"What-"

"Now we wait," he said, "They come to us, not the other way."

We didn't wait long. And to give them their due the two Argonians were good, but not so good I couldn't trace them by sound from about fifty paces. One circled behind us and waited, in bowshot I presumed though I gave no indication that I'd noticed him, the other came close and gave a low hoot. Keel-ha responded with an equally inhuman sound. A moment later the high rice plants to our right parted and revealed a scarred argonian wielding a falchion.

He said something I didn't understand, the language was guttural and full of unexpected sounds. It had the harshness of an argonian speaking any other language, but multiplied tenfold. Keel-ha replied in the same language and a brief argument ensued before he addressed me in a language I could understand.

"There is some... anxiety about your race. He doesn't like having a softskin around. However," he turned to the other argonian, "I think Nakuma's recommendation should at least allow us to discuss this in camp."

The other said something in a foreign language.

"Firen doesn't speak argonian while you, Hassde speak cyrodiilic fine. I suggest you do."

"Fine," the argonian called Hassde glared at me,"We go to the camp and decide there." His accent was heavy, but intelligible.

It looked like they had used the place before, but it was far from permanent, just a ring of stones with a low fire and a few clusters of branches leant against trees to keep off the worst of the elements. A couple of argonians sat by the fire, one stirred a pot of broth while the other ran a whetstone over the end of a spear. His broad shoulders and general bearing told anyone that he knew how to handle himself. Another sat at the far side looking over the river. They looked relaxed but the instant I walked into the camp they were all on their feet.

"Who is this?" demanded the spear wielder. I noticed his tail was a mass of scar.

I opened my mouth unsure but Hassde cut over me, "This," he said in a scorn greased voice, "Is Nakuma's suggested addition to our ranks."

The broth stirrer said something fast in argonian.

"She will have her reasons," answered the first, "We shall have to see how good they are."

Keel-ha nodded, "He can handle himself, I saw him walk away from an encounter with a morag tong assassin."

"I think I've heard of you," said the first, I suspected he was the leader, "Fighter's guild yes? With that reputation I don't doubt you can fight."

"I don't question his ability to fight so much as how much we can trust him," it was Hassde who spoke.

"Who could I be working for," I replied, "About half of Morrowind has a contract out on me at the moment. I need the shelter you offer as much as I need your help in rescuing someone in the south."

They didn't look that impressed, the contracts would be hard, and possibly fatal, to fake but the rest was just my word. It was Keel-ha who spoke up, "Nakuma vouches for him. That is enough."

"It is indeed," replied the leader.

"So," said Keel-ha, "Introductions are in order," he paused. I was glad I was no longer an object to be discussed, "This is Firen, and these," he gestured to the assembled argonians, "Are the Argonian Defence Front. Myself and Hassde you already know. Our leader, Grey-tail, is holding the spear. This is Tehei," he gestured to the female who'd been stirring the broth, "And that lazy sack of meat is Kieras." He pointed to the argonian lying in the loam and looking over the river.

"And I," said a new voice emerging from the undergrowth to my left, "Am Hides-in-shade, or more normally Hides."

The way she moved reminded me of the second of the two who had met us, "I am guessing it was you who circled behind when Hassde met us then?"

"Yes," she looked surprised I'd noticed. Looking round the other faces they looked equally impressed.

"As Keel-ha said I had to leave town... promptly. Nakuma tells me you're heading south for something big, what are you planning?"

"Crushing the filthy Dres burden from the freelands of Argonia, driving the Empire from the marsh and slaughtering their legions." Hassde spat into the fire, "Forward Argonia." He performed an elaborate salute.

"Indeed," nodded Grey-tail in a less frenzied tone, "We shall free all slaves and cull any who have owned or profited from the practice as the animals they are."

I raised my eyebrows. "That would include all the Dres."

"That would include all the Dres and any who have traded with them. And any imperial officials in Black Marsh or Morrowind as they have done insufficient to stop it. They shall all die in time, however I intend to expediate as many endings as possible."

I nodded slowly and wandered who Nakuma thought I was to put me in with this bunch of homicidal lunatics. Though given the reputation which proceeded me I could hardly blame her, I decided to test the waters of their madness a little more before deciding, "And this mission, what's the target and to what end?"

"We scourge the country southward to the holding camps outside Tear where we will attempt to free as many as we could. With luck we can panic the Dres into doing something rash, if we kill enough of them they will recall their hunters. That's the real aim, give us some breathing space, maybe only a couple of weeks. It will be enough to change a lot in the marsh."

Again all I could do was nod. A tactic of random murder of civilians. It was a... novel idea, if not a new one. Not that I was about to say anything in front of them. I was simply glad that most niche groups do little but talk about their revolution: once they get crazy enough to see the enemy as objects, or worse irredeemably evil, it got messy. I'd done jobs cleaning up this sort of group. Cleaning in a sort of terminal way, once they'd gone this far there was no recovery. And now I was considering joining the murdering whoresons. I couldn't help but wonder how it had come to this. Desperation I supposed, not so different now. I needed to get to Varnan, I needed to stay clear of those who wanted me dead - which seemed to be half of Morrowind by now, why not add the Dres to the list? And, the thought came unbidden, I needed, perhaps more than anything, somewhere to unleash my rage. Something for it to sink its teeth into, to rend, to tear, to violate until it shrank exhausted away from the injustice the world threw at it. For I was angry now, the seeds of my fury, planted in Firewatch, maybe before, had found fertile ground. I hated the raiders who had destroyed the village of my childhood and left me nothing but poisoned memories. I hated the Empire for failing me, the legion for taking me, forging me into one of them. I hated the Fighters Guild for saving me again, for giving me somewhere to sell my unwanted skills. But mostly I hated myself for being too weak to force events, and for allowing the skooma, that loathed but so precious vial in its bag by my heart, for becoming the lock on the trap I'd laid around myself.

My rage had grown, black and stronger than my heart. I remembered Firewatch, I remembered the choice I'd made there and it was too late to turn back.

"I'm in."

[canis216]

I really enjoy the grit and intensity of this story. Makes me want to recommit to my own writing and step up my game.

[Olen]

Thanks for the comment, this piece wasn't the easiest to write or redraft but I've got it as good as I can I think. Enjoy.


23. A Spark on Tinder

We moved out southward at dusk the following day and travelled by night. The argonians had a highly organised network of stopping spots, mainly in trees and always by water. Each morning as we made camp one would go down to the shoreline and dive down. A few minutes later they would reappear bearing supplies from underwater caches. That way we travelled unburdened and fast. After the fifth day we were deep into the territory of the Dres, the saltrice paddies stretched endlessly broken only by the occasional netch ranch or patch of mire too boggy even for rice. Not that these were left fallow, in their search for profit the Dres had these planted up with marshmerrow. As dawn came there were no trees and the only dry ground held roads or houses, we stopped in a boggy hollow by a stream. Further down the course of the water a large white walled compound glowed red in the sun's first light.

Grey-tail joined me by the lip of our camp, "A plantation. It is time, I think, for us to begin causing the havoc we vowed to."

"What do you plan," I replied.

"We wait until the late afternoon when the handlers are at their most complacent and kill them here in the fields. Set our brothers free."

"How many do you hope to get to?"

"All will be freed, sixty or so would be my guess, there will be one handler for every seven or eight, and maybe the same number of guards. We shall kill them all."

I ignored his vehemence and spoke my mind, "You'll never manage."

"Why?" anger touched his voice.

"There's seven of us. So we could hit two slave forces, maybe three but that would be a risk and as soon as we do the alarm will go up. If they have any sense, and from the plantations I've seen up north they do, there will be more guards and retainers within the compound who will come running. A few slaves might escape, but most will be retaken and we'll have to disappear."

Grey-tail was silent for a time, "That is," he inclined his head, "How several raids have gone."

He was sensible enough, and a good with weapons, but he was a guerilla fighter none the less. "That is because you haven't had anyone with sufficient experience in planning these things." He glared at me, but said nothing. I knew I was walking a knife edge, but the plan he outlined would be a small success at best, but more likely a disaster. "I would propose something different. I suggest we attack the compound itself."

He looked at me aghast, "You said yourself there is only seven of us. Maybe with a force of twenty-five, but its years since an attack on a compound has gone well, I'm not sure its even been tried this far from the marsh. It would be suicide."

"It would cause exactly the panic you want among the Dres, and if what you say is true they will not expect it."

"What's this you're discussing?" said Hassde joining us. I scowled, barring possibly Hides, and only possibly, he seemed most against my presence. Against the impurity I put in the ranks. For its many flaws the fighter's guild had never had any of that. It was deeper than just race I suspected, he had been the most competent fighter they had, but I was fairly sure I could take him, and also thought he knew this.

"He is suggesting," said Grey-tail, "That we attack the compound rather than the handlers in the fields."

Hassde looked at me for a moment, "I didn't have you down as a fool," he said and paused, "A filthy human perhaps but a fool? No. I'll hear this plan, if you have one?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Well they won't be expecting it, that works in our favour. I don't have enough knowledge of the layout of the place but I'll bet that stream goes through the centre of the plantation, and more importantly through its walls, somehow. That would be an obvious way in. At night the guard will be at its thinnest, Hides is light on her feet, she can swim in, if it's possible, and kill any who might see the rest of you. Keel-ha and myself will scale a wall after he's shot a guard off. Then inside I'll be able to enter the guardhouse without rising too much suspicion, see what's what and report back, or open a back door. With the guards dealt with the handlers and retainers will be easy pickings and then freeing the slaves couldn't be easier." I was planning on the fly and it had some issues, but overall would work.

"And if the alarm is raised? Say someone gets seen, or a corpse is found, or Keel-ha misses? Then what?" replied Grey-tail.

Hassde raised a hand to stall him, "Then we jump into the stream and disappear into the night having struck a far greater blow than killing a few handlers." The plan was sound, and he saw that. But it surprised me that he accepted it from me, even if the escape route was likely one I couldn't use.

Grey-tail looked unconvinced then turned to face the dip where the others were making a sodden camp, "Hides, get yourself up here."

She put down the knife she'd been peeling some ashyam from the nearest stash with and walked up to the lip. The morning sun threw our shadows long before us. "Yes?" she said.

"You reckon you could sneak into that place?"

She studied it for a moment, "Now? No. But maybe at night; if the river runs though it and I can swim down it then definitely."

"Good," Grey-tail nodded, "Then I think this plan might work, now for some reconnaissance... Hides, find a way in," he turned back to the camp, "Keel-ha, Kieras come here, I want to know everything possible about that compound by sundown."

***

There was little for me to do during the day so I intermittently napped and ignored the frowns while I smoked. I had a brief attempt at conversation with Hassde but, except the current plan, there was little we didn't wholly disagree on. The other female, Tehei, didn't speak any cyrodiilic so it wasn't until the scouts got back in the late afternoon that I had anything to do except wait. Hides-in-shade was first back, she wandered into the camp and slumped as she dumped her knives and a belt of dart tubes.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

She scowled at me, "Couldn't be easier, the stream is dammed at the far side of the compound, they use the pool for soaking the grain. It's a stinking pit of slime though."

"You'll love it then."

She only glared. I couldn't care less, the stuck up bint had worn though my meagre patience in record time.

After a while she set a pot over our low fire of tree fungus which burnt with little smoke. She pulled out some fresh fungi, a small paper pack of dried herbs and a block of resinous black gunge wrapped in more paper. This all went into a small brass pot along with a handful of the ashes she raked from the fire. I filled my pipe while I watched, the pot was spouting white spume which she scraped off and flicked into the flames. I was on the dregs of the skooma when she drew the pot from the fire and poured an oily black liquid from it and into a vial. The smell was bitter.

"Poison," she said without looking up, "Would you like to try some? Its victims die quickly, but in considerable pain. One of few which works on argonians."

"What in hell do you need that for?"

"Killing guards. Your plan is functional, but you need me to silence guards. I don't like the risk of being captured, I wouldn't fancy it without some of this."

"You expect argonian guards?"

"Probably not, but conceivably handlers and you seem to be quite happy to send me into the fire while you stay nice and safe." I didn't push the point, I didn't like the real reason she needed such a potent poison. She continued, "Sure you don't want a bit. You seem to like poisoning yourself." She gestured to the pipe.

"Boil your tail," I killed the conversation.

A few minutes later the uncomfortable silence was broken by the return of Keel-ha and Kieras. The latter's spear had some blood on it.

"What's that?" asked Grey-tail rising from the bed of leaves he'd made himself.

Kieras said something in argonian, I caught the word for rat. Keel-ha confirmed, "We met a couple of rats."

"Got the meat?" I asked. Meat was the one thing ration stores always lacked, the climate was so wet that even salted meat would fester here.

Keel-ha and Grey-tail looked at me, Hides voiced the thoughts painted on their expressions, "You humans are foul. Rats are unfit as food."

I shrugged, "Better than nothing, and fine with enough spices... Anyway what can you tell me about the plantation?"

Kieras spoke first, his cyrodiilic was no better than my argonian and he used the latter. I'd known a bit of argonian before meeting them and picked up more in travelling south but even so I only got a vague idea of what he'd seen. From what I could make out the walls were not overlooked so they only had some idea of the layout inside. The manor, guardhouse and a store towered over the walls at the north so were definitely known, there was something important about the storehouse but other than the word hidden I couldn't follow. The slave quarters would almost certainly be on the other side of the river he said. Away from the nobles I guessed.

I turned to Keel-ha who stopped Kieras, "I think it might be better if I do this in Cyrodiilic," he said.

"Yes," said Kieras, murdering the word.

"From what I gleaned the storehouse will be the key to my getting in, and misdirecting the guards," I said.

"Indeed," said Grey-tail, "We'll have you speaking argonian yet." He laughed.

"It backs very close but not right against the outside wall so that section cannot be seen from inside the compound. It's the only place I would risk escalade-"

"What about the slave housing at the south?" I interrupted him.

"We don't know for sure it's there, and it puts you on the wrong side of the bridge they surely have." Keel-ha was a good scout I decided. He offered his analysis, but also gave the facts for mine.

"Good, what of the surrounding area?"

"No shelter anywhere, that's why we're using this pitiful hiding place and hoping no one happens to walk this way."

"The gate?"

"Narrow, only slightly wider than a laden cart and right by the guardhouse."

"Then the river will have to be you way out with the slaves, does the wall cross it?" the plan was forming and reforming in my mind. Fluxing between possibilities, being analysed refined. This was what I was best at, apart, perhaps, from winning drinking competitions.

"The river goes though an underwater culvert," answered Hides, "I swam down it, it's just under the level of the wall and maybe ten feet long. Downstream is dammed, and impassible I'd guess."

"Damn," that left the issue of how I was to get out, I couldn't know without seeing it, "How high are the walls?"

"Fairly standard, maybe twelve feet," Keel-ha frowned, guessing my thoughts, "The ground is boggy by the river..."

"Okay," I nodded. "Here's what we do..."

[Olen]

Sorry for the late reply, the last few days have been rather busy. Anyway I thought it wise to mention that the second half of the story has increasingly heavy referances to the other story with Firen in it (Yesterday's Shadow) and though it should more or less make sense without having read it some things may not be so clear. It's still quite a while before the referances get frequent though.


24. Sealing Night

It was dusk, the undramatic sunset was smothered by the fog which rose from the warm marsh. A shrouded night to hide my plans from the gods above. We slouched in the shadows of the bank of the stream until we were just fifty paces from the compound wall. There was a dip in the ground by a meander in the water, I squatted on the driest tuft I could find, trying to keep too much mud from reaching my fresh washed clothes and polished armour. The argonians were already plastered in it, brown shapes against the mire.

Hides shifted and fidgeted like a Khajit on bad sugar. I turned to her, "It's time. Try to give the sign, if you can't and we hear no alarm then we'll proceed in five minutes." She frowned, for a moment I expected another argument but then she just nodded and dove into the waters. Instants later she was gone.

Grey-tail and Hassde rose from their crouches and began to stretch, "If this comes off," said the Grey-tail then paused as he stretched a series of pops from his back, "It is going to shake the Dres up badly."

"What will we do with all the escaped slaves?" I asked, "Send Tehei and Kieras with them?" Tehei looked up at her name but I'd discovered she spoke no cyrodiilic, I managed the argonian for escaped slaves in an attempt to explain. Kieras, who had half followed, rattled off his own explanation too quickly for me to follow.

"We'll see," said Grey-tail, "Now where's that Hides? It'll do her good to do this, however much she didn't want to. That girl has too many demons."

I didn't reply, I didn't care and was running though the plan in my head. Seeing what might go wrong, guessing reactions and counters. It was unlikely to be a catastrophe, but it could easily fail, my lack of escape route was particularly bothersome but I had to show bold action if I was to get a better hold in the group.

The silence stretched, I wandered about my escape route. "If I don't get out there's a man I need you to rescue from the compound down by Tear," I said to Grey-tail, "His name is Varnan..." As I said it I realised how long it was since I'd uttered his name. The only other survivor of up north.

I pushed the thought away, I'd kept busy, or drunk, enough not to face it. Now was most definitely not the time. I watched the walls, and waited. Not long now. But I wanted that sign. I was aware of the others glancing to me occasionally and knew that soon I would have to send them. Then I saw something on the near wall above the river. I stood for a better look, a guard had fallen and was draped limply over the parapet. Then he was pitched over the edge, I saw Hides scaled head. She half raised a hand to make the sign then glanced behind her and jumped back inside. I cursed inwardly and crouched again. My thighs ached.

"That was the sign," said Hassde.

"No that was half the sign, then she saw something."

"We should go in and help her," said Keel-ha. He'd been little keener than Hides herself on this bit of the plan.

"Shh," I listened. Nothing but the blissfully unaware cicadas chirruping in the fen grass, "No alarm, whatever it was she dealt with it. Go." I nodded to the river. They needed no second urging. Four soft splashes later and only Keel-ha accompanied me. "North," I said to him, "Let's see this storehouse."

We kept low and skirted north round the compound, there weren't as many guards as there might have been and we could, possibly, have tried climbing somewhere else. But I preferred to lessen the risk where possible, and wanted to be near to the guardhouse. Keel-ha was a mud stained shadow flitting from one hollow to the next, I was less inclined to sneak and more worried about my clothes. Dusk falls quickly so far south though so I doubt they'd have seen us had we walked upright. Once at the north we paused again, the three buildings were black monoliths against the dark sky, blunt monuments to the subjugation of Argonia. A fire burnt on the flat roof of the grandest, the manor I assumed. It was further into the plantation but I could just make out drifting figures in rich clothes circling the flames like moths in the evening heat.

Keel-ha bristled, I could see why. We crept closer to the dark back of the storehouse which loomed over the wall. Once we were quite close I put out a hand and stopped the argonian. "Do you see a guard?"

Elsewhere they had been easy to see against the sky but here the wall behind blotted out the silhouette. "He's patrolling," I heard surprise in Keel-ha's voice. I looked along the wall and sure enough a guard whom I'd assumed was guarding the end nearer the gatehouse was wandering back towards the store. And, my heart rose, he was carrying a torch. We might as well have danced round the walls wearing a pink guar costume from a Curio play for all the night vision he'd have. I motioned forwards and crept on until we were just a few paces from the wall.

"String your bow," I whispered, "Can't miss eh?"

Keel-ha took his longbow from his back and loped a sting round the nock bent it and looped the other side. I wandered what the bowstring was made from not to fail with water on it. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it. We waited. The guard wandered along the wall, paying no attention. When he came behind the store I nudged the argonian and nodded. He half-bent his bow but waited until the guard was at his closest before loosing. The arrow flew straight and took the left side of his chest. He fell with a wheeze and the muffled clatter of armour. The torch fell to the wall-top but didn't go out.

I swore.

"We need to move, if anyone sees that..." Keel-ha said.

I glanced along the wall and my heart sank, "It's worse," I pointed to another guard who was idly patrolling the other way towards his fallen comrade.

This time Keel-ha swore with impressive vigour.

"Could you take him out before he sees it?"

"Kill him? Yes. Silently? That's up to the gods." Keel-ha shook his head and stuck two arrows into the ground in front of him and stood straight.

I waited and tried to remember to breathe. That damned torch. If it had gone out he would have been near before he saw the corpse, an easy job. Now he needed shot at range. I wasn't sure whether Keel-ha was going to wait until he was behind the store. It was a risk either way. I left it to him.

He chose the middle ground and waited until the guard was just in line with the wall. He pulled an arrow from the ground and drew.

In that moment I saw it was warped. "No-" I managed before he let fly.

It flew awry but we had a bit of luck and it missed altogether. The wind of its passing was enough to rouse the guard from his thoughts though. He looked up and saw the torch.

And did something fatally stupid: he ran towards his fallen comrade. The second arrow was true and took him though the head. He was dead before he hit the ground. I sigh relief, I was already running at the wall. It was smooth but I put a foot against it and leapt up it. My fingers found only plaster, but it was old and the damp had gotten to it. It crumbled like stale bread. I slipped down a little then it held. I reached up with my other hand and gouged another hold with my finger nails. Then repeated, cursing when I tore one. It took me almost a minute to get my fingers over the top and pull myself over but no other guards came. Keel-ha followed.

We were in.