Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[Grits]

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Abiene’s Interlude

Abiene woke to the click of claws tapping on the outside of the window. “Good morning!” she called in reply. It was impossible to tell which Argonian had delivered the wake-up message. Seed-Neeus had her own early business to pursue, but Dar-Ma would be in and bouncing on the bed with little encouragement. “Thank you, I’m up! I’ll see you in the shop!”

The fire had died out, but Jerric’s ring kept the chill from her nose. Abiene rolled over and buried her face in his pillow, sliding a hand down her belly. It was no use. After a week his scent was finally gone. It was time to go back to sleeping in her cell at the chapel.

She rose and moved quickly through her morning routine, then packed her small bag and stripped the linens from the bed. There was no point in trying to keep secrets from the laundress, but her hosts didn’t need to wonder whom she had been entertaining in their guest house. She opened the windows a bit to let the cottage air. It wasn’t until she had a hand on the latch that the emptiness hit her.

He was gone. He was gone. She leaned against the door, shaken and furious with her sudden grief.

Their last night had started well with a companionable meal at the guild hall. The four of them had lingered over brandy and wine in the library, Lildereth and Abiene tucked together into one big chair while Jerric lolled on the floor with the dog. Darnand had stared into the fire, his books and scrolls already packed for their next journey.

Lildereth had been the first to say good night, wandering off to bed half-asleep and leaning on the hound. Then Darnand had stood and reached for Abiene’s hands. He looked like he had prepared a statement.

“I will say farewell, my friend,” Abiene said quickly. She reached up and kissed his cheek. “We will speak soon, as we planned.”

Darnand’s grip began to hurt. He started to speak.

“Let’s go,” said Jerric, stomping into his boots. “I’ll walk you to the chapel, Abiene. Do you have a cloak?” He clapped Darnand on the shoulder. “See you in the morning, Breton. I’ll be back before breakfast is served at the Mare. Maybe you can get up early and save me some of that bacon.”

Once they had passed out of Great Oak Place Jerric had insisted on an elaborate plan that brought them to the guest cottage separately. She had waited there impatiently while the chapel bells marked the hour, begrudging every minute that slipped away from them. His step on the stair was her signal.

Abiene lifted some logs from the wood pile, leaving the door open behind her. When she moved back inside she found Jerric now visible. His face was lined with sorrow, just as he had looked three months ago when he first returned to Anvil.

Abiene dropped the logs. “What has happened?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?” He picked up the wood and began to tend the fire.

Fear stiffened her back at the same time wanting him made her knees wobble. He looked so remote. And resigned. She moved to the bed, fumbling with her laces.

Then he came to her, and she forgot her uncertainty. But this time there was no joy in his touch, only hunger.

Later she had hidden her face against his chest until her eyes stopped burning. Of course there would be loss when they parted, but she had not been prepared for its bitterness to taint the time they had together.

Eventually she had swallowed her disappointment enough to speak.

“Will you stay the night, my love?” Abiene adjusted herself at Jerric’s side so that she could look at him.

“No. I should sleep at the Mare. Let folk see me leave from there. At least anyone who’s up that early.”

She decided not to argue until she knew which battle to fight. “Lildereth said she’s going with you to Bruma.”

“Yeah.” Jerric tucked an arm behind his head so he could watch her.

Abiene sighed. Now that he knew she was working up to something, she might as well spill it. “Will you come back this way again? Perhaps when you have finished in Leyawiin? I could even meet you in the Imperial City when you report to the University. I don’t know how, but I’ll have time to think of a way.” She squirmed around until her knees were under her. “Jerric, I know you can’t guess what will happen. But something will, and it might bring our paths back together. I always know what steps I’ll take next, because I’m the one who builds them. Let me do that for us.”

Jerric had pushed himself up to sit next to her. Then he took her hands just like Darnand and made one of the longest speeches she had heard from him.

“You know about my dreams, and the fire. But that’s not all. Sometimes when I sleep my da comes to me. He’s young, but I know him. I’ve seen others with him, standing at his side. Once there was a man who could be his brother, or maybe my grandfa. But the way they look at me they can only be my kin. They’re real, Abiene, it’s not just a dream. Do you understand? They’re alive in Sovngarde, and I can’t take you there. You and I will be apart, no matter what happens. There’s no hope for us.”

“Are you talking about after we’re dead? That can’t be what this is about.” Abiene’s eyes began to burn again. She wanted to punch his chest, but he was holding her hands so tight. “Why must the next life haunt us in this one? It’s no different from when we parted in Anvil. I know you won’t make a promise, but can’t we just be together now and grieve later?”

Jerric had touched her face so softly it made the tears fall. “We were together. We took more than we were given. But now there’s no more.”

Even remembering made Abiene set her jaw in defiance. He may have let hope slip away, but she had not. And she was certainly not going to surrender her judgment. Jerric was simply wrong and worse, he was being stubborn about it. Somehow she would make him see.

She paused with her hand on the door as Darnand drifted into her mind. He was close to Jerric, closer than she had guessed. And though he had thankfully still not declared himself, his feelings for her had become hard to ignore. A pang of guilt shot through her middle before she even finished the thought.

No. She would leave Darnand out of it.

Bells jingled above the door as Abiene let herself into Northern Goods and Trade. “It’s me!” she called. “May I come up?”

Seed-Neeus’ raspy voice came from the ground level. “Throw the latch, I’m in the back.”

Abiene made her way to the stock room where the Argonian bent over an open crate. A cotton apron and sleeves protected her velvet gown.

“Here’s the key,” said Abiene. “I’m not sure when I’ll use the cottage again. Will you go ahead and deduct the bill from my balance?”

Seed-Neeus straightened and gave Abiene one of her thin smiles. “Of course. You leave the place as neat as a pin, my friend. You should charge me when you stay with us.”

Abiene was not fooled. She had invested most of her stipend in Northern Goods and Trade because Seed-Neeus was a shrewd business woman. A discount now would surely cost her later.

“The laundry does not work for free, nor does the woodcutter.” Abiene changed the subject. “Do you know when Dar-Ma plans to leave for Hackdirt? I’ve gotten approval for my trip to the wayshrine, so I would be grateful for the ride.”

“Middas. Does that suit your schedule?”

Abiene smiled her satisfaction. “I am commanded to take the earliest transport in that direction, and of course your cart is the first I could find.”

Seed-Neeus raised an eyelid the way a human might lift a brow. “Dar-Ma is beside herself with excitement over her first delivery, and I am grateful that she will have company for at least part of the way. But with the hours you keep, how have you managed to arrange this trip?”

“It’s healer’s business, of course. The priestess in charge of the wayshrine is a dear friend, and she petitioned our chapel for my aid. Of course that’s just between you and me. As far as my superiors know they’re sending me on a mission of mercy to a fellow servant of the Divines. I mean, I really am going to treat one of their knights. But I’m sure it’s not as urgent as her request made it seem.”

“Why does she not simply cure the knight herself at the wayshrine?”

“Well…” Abiene hesitated. “Perhaps the shrines are not… entirely what some might suggest. They are of course a great comfort to the devout. But no substitute for a healer’s touch, I’m afraid.”

The Argonian’s lips curved upward at the corners. “And your priestess friend wishes for your company.”

“Yes! And I wish for hers, and the knight’s. I know her from Anvil as well. You and Dar-Ma have been so generous and kind, but I do long to see my old friends.”

The Argonian tilted her head ever so slightly. “The knight is a she?”

“Certainly. The Order of the Swan is devoted to women. Even the knights who protect the wayshrine are female.”

Seed-Neeus gave Abiene a speculative look.

Abiene laughed. “I’ve not been invited to an orgy. We’re Dibellans, not Sanguinites.”

“Oh,” said Seed-Neeus. “Of course there is a difference.”

Dibellans drink better wine and make love on finer sheets, thought Abiene. But she decided not to tease Seed-Neeus.

The morning’s list of patients and treatments ran through her mind as she made the bracing walk to the Great Chapel of Stendarr. Kahve and a roll bought from a street vendor made her think of Jerric’s outrageous flirting. Her stomach was still upset from too many magicka potions. Even as she choked on her breakfast the memory made her smile.

Chapel bells rang the quarter hour as she slipped into the healing hall. There would be time to put her things away later. For now she quickly changed into robes. With luck she might have a few moments to herself before the meeting that began her shift.

An Imperial in a novice’s robe bustled over before Abiene could finish collecting her notes. “Master Selvilo is asking for you. He’s taking his ease out in the yard.”

Abiene sighed. “Thank you.”

She found the Master Healer leaning against the well in a cloud of fragrant smoke. Tobacco laced with hackle-lo, she guessed. The Dunmer’s choice of morning stimulant would not interfere with a case of healer’s stomach.

“One of your strays, Abiene,” he said, nodding toward a slim figure standing back by the fir trees. “Nord. They say she asked for you by name.”

“Stendarr’s mercy does extend beyond these walls, Master Selvilo.” She didn’t need to be told how this woman came to be waiting outdoors instead of inside the hall. Many who needed a healer had no chapel recommendation and no funds to buy one. A single act of kindness could quickly become a crusade.

“Indeed.” Gureryne gestured with his pipe. “Carry it forth as you will, my dear. In time you will come to understand why we let the burden of travel rest on those who seek.”

The woman pushed back her hood and freed her hands from the cloak as Abiene crossed the grass. The gesture put Abiene on alert. An axe leaned against the woman’s pack, near her feet. Not quite within easy reach, but a quick lunge would take her there.

Abiene shivered. Jerric’s paranoia has gotten to me, she decided. Then she saw the bruises. The girl looked so young.

“I’m Abiene. You asked for me?”

“Yes, miss.” She shuffled her feet and glanced away past the chapel. “I don’t have enough coin. To go inside.”

Abiene looked her over. This girl couldn’t be more than fifteen, though she was tall even for a Nord. She smelled of dirty hair and infection. Abiene’s reservations slipped away. “Come with me. We can talk over here in the garden.”

The girl moved as if her leggings were filled with broken glass. Abiene didn’t need to ask what had happened. They settled themselves on a garden bench.

“Have you spoken to the Chorrol Guard?” Abiene kept her voice even.

The girl lifted her chin. “There’s nothing to report. I didn’t get a good look at them. And anyway they threw down some coins when they was finished.” She braced her palms against the bench and shifted herself. “Will you help, or do you just want to talk? Because I don’t need no more talk.”

“Of course you don’t.” Outrage tightened her throat. Crime was on the rise with more folk seeking shelter inside the city. Refugees made easy targets. Abiene gave herself a mental shake. “I can already tell I’ll need to see you more than once. My work in the hall doesn’t let me do much on my own, but I’ll heal you all I can. There are some herbs you should take in case… just in case this sort of thing happens again, so you won’t be left with a child. You’ll have to trust me, and I’ll have to trust you.”

The girl nodded. “They said you was all right, miss. Nermus and them others.”

Abiene boiled with questions, but this girl would need the gentlest touch or she might not return. “I’ll cast a spell now to evaluate your injuries, and I’ll take away at least some of your pain. It will just appear as if I’m holding your hand. We’ll meet somewhere else when I have enough magicka to properly heal and cure you. They don’t approve of unsanctioned treatments right here on chapel grounds.”

The girl nodded. She slipped her palm along the bench. “By the big statue. I think that’s safe. You know, the one with the soldier and the healer. Is that a good place?”

“That’s a very good place. From there we might walk in the park for some privacy.” Abiene took the girl’s filthy hand in her own. Torn nails, calluses, and surprisingly warm. “You know my name is Abiene. What shall I call you?”

“Valdis, miss.” The girl looked at their hands and then into Abiene’s eyes, wounded but unflinching. “Or my friends call me Valdi.”

.

[mALX]

*

Oh no, I suspected it was Valdi. Bless her heart!

Jerric's reasons for ending it with Abiene would also preclude Lildereth, and I don't believe he was just making excuses to Abiene. that is doubly upsetting:

Have to quote this for the laugh factor:

Abiene laughed. “I’ve not been invited to an orgy. We’re Dibellans, not Sanguinites.”

“Oh,” said Seed-Neeus. “Of course there is a difference.”

Dibellans drink better wine and make love on finer sheets, thought Abiene.

Now what is going to happen to poor Valdi? And where is Jerric? GAAAAAH!

Awesome Write, but leaves a lot of questions hanging in the air - which means you can't wait so long to update next !!!!!!!

This story is so missed !!!!!! I was so glad to see you update it!


EDIT: I meant to say something about poor Darma going to Hackdirt too: "GAAAAAAH! NOOOOOOO!" I hate that quest! Urk! Still, I would absolutely LOVE to see what you do with it!


*

This post has been edited by mALX: Feb 10 2013, 04:49 AM

[SubRosa]

Dar-Ma would be in and bouncing on the bed with little encouragement.
This had me laughing out loud. It is exactly what I would expect from Dar Ma!

Sounds like Darnand wants to spill some beans. Unrequited love, ain't it a umbrella seller... (I did not write umbrella seller! )

But this time there was no joy in his touch, only hunger.
This was a particularly powerful passage (alliteration FTW!), that resounds with desperation.

Jerric was simply wrong and worse, he was being stubborn about it
This made me smile. It is so utterly female!

Do you know when Dar-Ma plans to leave for Hackdirt?
No, No, No!!!!!

I like the world-building you are putting into the wayshrines. Them actually having a staff for one is nice. It makes them feel more like real places of worship, rather than a bunch of forgotten old magic gizmos crumbling away in the wilderness. Likewise with the implication that they do not actually heal people. That is something that I have always sort of grappled with in Oblivion. If the altars and wayshrines always heal people and cure all diseases, why bother with having people who can do it? Everyone could just walk up and touch the shrine and poof! All better.

“Oh,” said Seed-Neeus. “Of course there is a difference.”
Yes, Dibella's orgy will not be about over-indulgence to the point of it being harmful.

Dibellans drink better wine and make love on finer sheets, thought Abiene.
That too!

Many who needed a healer had no chapel recommendation and no funds to buy one.
This is another good piece of world-building. Just as in the real world, medical care is not free, or for the destitute.

Poor Valdi. She survived the horror of the ruin, only to be raped back where it is safe and sound in Chorrol. I will not say this is a 'nice' touch of world building, but it is certainly a realistic one.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 12 2013, 10:05 PM

[McBadgere]

Aw hell... ...That's just...Wow...

A brilliant interlude there...Amazing writing...Her sadness and bitterness at the loss of Jerric came across very clearly... ...

That bit about Jerric and Sovngarde was brilliant...So sad though...brilliant...

The Order of the Swan is devoted to women.

As a very wise man once said...Hel-lo what have we here?... ...

Looking forward to meeting her...

Hackdirt!!!...Nooooooo!!... ... ...Knighty swipes ahoy!!! (he says hopefully )...

And then that bit with Valdi... ...Brilliantly done, but - obviously - sad...

So, for the whole, lest people think me odd...

...What d'ya mean, too late?...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds most heartily*...

[Elisabeth Hollow]

Poor Valdi :[

[Acadian]

‘Abiene woke to the click of claws tapping on the outside of the window.’
The first culprit that came to mind here was Ulfe!

Wonderfully done, as you so gently moved us around in time during Abiene’s morning ruminations. It all flowed with crystal clarity. My goodness, the bond between you and Abiene is close indeed for you are able to bring every nuance of her feelings to bittersweet life. I was quite spellbound.

A delightful use of Seed Neeus, that feels so comfortably familiar.

‘The girl moved as if her leggings were filled with broken glass.’
This sentence is stunningly well crafted for the heartbreaking image it instantly conjures. Poor Valdi.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Feb 10 2013, 04:36 PM

[King Coin]

What a delightful intro! Threats of energetic Argonians getting Abiene out of bed!

Oh man, I think Darnand had something he wanted to say there and both Abiene and Jerric quickly headed that off. Poor guy’s going to be frustrated.

Jerric was simply wrong and worse, he was being stubborn about it. Somehow she would make him see.
Both of them are so stubborn! Didn’t they both start this off with the knowledge it couldn’t last? Not that it would make it any easier.

What an interesting trip she has planned at the wayshrine.

Oh, that poor girl! Abiene seems to know how to deal with this however. I suppose healers would see everything.

This post has been edited by King Coin: Feb 10 2013, 05:00 PM

[Destri Melarg]

I had to go all the way back to chapter 11 to find my place in this story. One of the hallmarks of great writing is that you can pick something back up and instantly rekindle your enjoyment of it. I was going to wait until I was caught up to comment, but I just had to tell you how much I enjoyed the battle in Fort Strand. From the opening moments with Jerric's indecision over whether to kill the sleeping Altmer to your remarkable use of the command spell (which, I must say. left me just as disoriented as it must have felt to Jerric... talk about immersion!)

I could have spent all day reading the banter between the three of them on the (too short) walk back to Anvil. I must confess to being slightly infatuated by Lildereth, but I can imagine that if Jerric had produced that warhammer from his nethers her bravado would have burst like a soap bubble!

Saturalia was a treat, but give me Jerric's more subdued (albeit drunkenly painful) celebration over the goings on at Castle Anvil. All of those planned dances and dance cards to fill out sounds suspiciously like work to me! I find myself back enjoying everything that I've missed about Jerric... now it's on to Kvatch (and hopefully I won't keep barging in to tell you how much I enjoyed something you wrote last year!).

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Feb 12 2013, 09:54 PM

[Grits]

Previously: After Jerric had been gone from Chorrol for a week Abiene packed up to move back into her room at the chapel. Jerric seemed to think he was allowed to end their relationship. Abiene determined to show him that he was wrong. But first she plans to pay a call at the local wayshrine to Dibella. Luckily her friend Dar-Ma will be passing near there on the way to her first delivery at Hackdirt, so Abiene has a ride. When Abiene got to work she found a new project in the form of the battered and homeless Valdi.


mALX: You’re right, Jerric doesn’t see a future for himself and anyone. The next few updates should hit more regularly. I’m not sure where I’ll put Dar-Ma’s Hackdirt adventure, but I’ll get it in somewhere! Thank you so much for your encouragement, mALX!

SubRosa: Yep, neither of them wanted to hear what Darnand had to say. I’m glad you liked the wayshrine. I want the game world to be familiar, but I want it to be a world rather than a game. Valdi is having a tough time. All of those bones in the ruins made me wonder about the people they used to be. Now Valdi wants a bigger piece of the story. I should have thought twice before making her a redhead! Thank you, SubRosa!

McBadgere: I thought the Order of the Beaver Swan might be a hit. I’m glad you mentioned the Sovngarde bit. It’s never far from his mind. Thank you, McB!

Elisabeth Hollow: That’s exactly what I was thinking when I wrote about her. She could have used Kayla's help with some mouth-punching!

Acadian: Abiene is so loud and clear in my mind that she’s constantly threatening to take over the story. Plus she’s bossy. I have to keep her busy. It means a lot to hear that the flashbacks worked out. I’ve tried to do that before and quit, so it’s been a learning process! Thank you, Acadian!

King Coin: I just adore Dar-Ma, so I had to mention her even if she couldn’t appear in person. You’re right, Darnand would have said something they couldn’t ignore, and right then neither of them wanted to deal with him. The same quality that lets Abiene connect with Valdi is what her masters warn will burn her out. Thank you, KC!

Destri: Yay, it’s so wonderful to hear from you! Your comments are most welcome, no matter how many years after the story’s writing. I remember I wrote the Saturalia part during the summer. It was a particularly happy time. I’m glad you like Lildereth. She sticks around. (And you're right, she was totally bluffing!) Thank you, Destri!


Next: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth have departed for Bruma. Jerric and Darnand are seeking recommendations for the Arcane University while they search Cyrodiil's book stores for volumes three and four of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries. Lildereth is collecting Welkynd stones to trade for master Illusion training. Way back before the attack on Kvatch, Jerric traveled up the Black Road with a group of Bretons who were moving to a kahve farming community off the Orange Road. Lildereth and Darnand have agreed to visit their settlement with him, a promise Jerric made as he would put it, “before.”

[Grits]

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Chapter 16: Valley of Hopes, Part One

Lildereth was tired of the rain. For two days they had ridden along the Orange Road enshrouded in mist. Two more days of climbing through fog had brought them to the high valleys where the Colovian Highlands met the Jeralls. They had not gotten lost despite the downpour robbing them of mountain views. Jerric seemed to sense which way he was facing regardless of the weather. Darnand’s confidence came from his enchanted map. Lildereth simply knew where the trail led. Practice and preparation kept them moving forward in health and relative comfort, but no charm, potion, or spell could ward away the chill that seeped into their spirits.

The road was wide enough to accommodate passing wagons, but the three of them rode in single file. No one seemed to want conversation. Today Lildereth took up the rear, riding the new mare. Rose, Darnand called her. Lildereth had to admit that he had chosen well. Rose was tolerant of Banner’s assertive ways and not inclined to harass gentle Kip. Her appearance was completely unremarkable, bay with the requisite black points and no white markings. Lildereth had no idea why Darnand decided to call her after the empress of garden flowers, but somehow it suited her.

Lildereth ran an affectionate hand under Rose’s mane. She looked up at Darnand and Banner in front of them. As usual Darnand rode blindly with his face buried in some parchment, trusting Banner not to walk them over a cliff. His map, she suspected. Today they should reach the trail to the settlement newly named Hope Valley. A Legion rider had marked Darnand’s map for them, a crime that the Breton was unlikely to forgive. A greasy thumb print did not fall within his accepted cartographic techniques.

Jerric rode Kip at the head of their procession. A switchback brought them into Lildereth’s view. The Nord wore his guard expression, distant and calm. His eyes passed over them without any acknowledgement. She knew his attention must be occupied with scanning for life signs. Only a deep line between his brows betrayed the new grief he carried. Lildereth didn’t need clairvoyance to put a name to it. Abiene had abundant smiles and blushes for Darnand, but her eyes always returned to Jerric. Lildereth’s chest hurt with emotions she didn’t want to claim. She felt drawn to these humans as if they were a circle of firelight. But now that she had a place with them the urge was even stronger to slip away.

When Banner took the steep turn Darnand shifted his weight to compensate without appearing to notice the effort. Lildereth marveled at the strangeness of his mind. At times he became nearly catatonic, retreating into himself while allowing ridiculous pranks upon his person. Jerric had once quietly disrobed him while Darnand cooperated like a child, only realizing his situation when Jerric’s big arm obstructed his reading. But then he was capable of repeating entire conversations that had occurred while those around him assumed he hadn’t been listening. She wondered if permitting jests was just part of his own long-term prank. Lildereth snorted. Probably not, but she would like to be there if the Nord ever got what was coming to him.

Lildereth continued to let her mind wander, secure under Jerric’s watch. They rode out of the open woodland and into high meadows. She marked the time by Ulfe’s occasional reappearances and Darnand’s spells. No doubt he was cold and tired, but by Julianos he would keep that map dry. The thought made her smile.

Eventually the rain tapered off revealing a low overcast sky. Jerric called a halt beside a cairn, six flat rocks piled onto a stack of four larger ones. A rag tied onto a nearby shrub confirmed it. The trail to Hope Valley.

“Piss break,” Jerric announced. He enacted his own suggestion. “We’ll get there in daylight, I’d wager. No idea if they’ll remember me so we should plan on camping. You might get an invitation, Breton. You still look almost civilized.”

Lildereth could hear the smile in Jerric’s voice. Her own heart lightened.

The trail was narrower than the road but well-maintained. Brush had been cleared away on both sides, and ditches had been dug for drainage. Lildereth knew that the valley taken over by Jerric’s kahve farmer friends had hosted communities before, though she had never seen it occupied. She wondered how the current residents might have changed it.

Low clouds still obscured the mountains, but visibility was good on the ground. The smell of woodsmoke told Lildereth that they were almost there. As soon as they rode over the ridge they were spotted. A youngster’s shout alerted the village that visitors were approaching.

Jerric dismounted, handing his reins to Lildereth. He walked slowly away down the trail toward the buildings as they had discussed. Lildereth decided to stay mounted for the moment to take advantage of the view.

They stood at the crest of a low ridge facing north. The long, narrow valley lay between them and the foothills of the Jerall Mountains. A series of ponds stretched away east into the mist. Thatched buildings clustered around yards on the near end of the valley, arranged in groups rather than lined up along streets. At least three dozen folk were visible moving about the settlement. A small party approached up the trail to intercept Jerric. Most of the villagers stopped to watch, but their arrival seemed more a curiosity than a cause for alarm.

Jerric raised his voice to cover the distance. “Hail the village! Is this Hope Valley? It’s Jerric Kjellingsson. I’ve come taste the finest kahve Bretons can grow!”

“Jerric of Kvatch?” came the faint reply. “Arkay’s balls, man! We thought you lost with the rest of them!”

A great deal of talk ensued, punctuated with back-thumping, hugs, and broad gestures of greeting. Names were exchanged, most of which slipped out of Lildereth’s mind as soon as she heard them. Jerric went with the Bretons to tour their holdings. Darnand and Lildereth settled the horses near a sheepfold and set up their camp. She was surprised that Darnand held himself apart from the Bretons but grateful for his company.

Ulfe trotted into town as darkness fell. The local dogs approached. She began the stand and sniff ritual with her usual air of mild condescension.

Jerric returned with their hosts while the villagers were gathering in their central pavilion. Lildereth and Darnand exchanged a look. He nodded at their leggy hound and then toward Jerric. “Neither of them would miss a meal.”

The shelter housed enough long tables and benches to hold the entire village. Lildereth was seated with Darnand and Jerric at the head table. Young women moved between the outside support posts, casting wards against the chill. Other folk passed platters of bread and bowls of stew ladled from a cauldron over the central fire. Children found their seats, dogs wiggled under the tables, and by some unseen signal the meal began.

Jerric sat to Lildereth’s right. He and a grizzled man picked up what must have been an ongoing conversation. Igren was his name, she remembered. He seemed to be one of the community’s leaders.

“So it grows on vines,” said Jerric. “In the ponds? And you flood the ponds at harvest.”

Lildereth mentally rolled her eyes. For a time she had assumed that Jerric’s wildly varied conversations were calculated to get into people’s pants. Now she knew he was just broadly interested.

Igren nodded. “Bogs, they are. We comb the vines and the ripe berries float to the surface. Nothing eats them. The fruit’s poisonous you see. But the seeds! The seeds are the kahve beans. It’s the seeds that we’re after.”

Jerric looked like he was pondering the mysteries of Aetherius. “How do you get the seeds out? You have a lot of bogs and that must mean a lot of berries. But you don’t have many folk.”

Igren’s pride was obvious. “There’s different ways. Trade secrets. I’ll tell you ours, though, because what’s the harm? We use a spell. Ha!”

Darnand came to attention at Lildereth’s left. “A spell from the school of Destruction?”

“Your Guild of Mages doesn’t teach our magic. But I suppose you’d say it was alteration.” Igren made an elaborate wink. “Trade secret.”

“Kahve isn’t cheap,” Jerric remarked. “You folk don’t even have a wall. I’m not planning a raid or anything, but what do you do for security?”

Now the old man had his cheeks full of bread and stew, so a younger woman answered. “Hired guards come at harvest time and leave with the caravan. We load up the wagons and they take it to our buyers. We don’t sell at the markets, just directly to the roasters. The rest of the year there’s nothing here to steal. Stone houses keep the bears out, and even the children know spells to scare away whatever old wolf might come sniffing after our sheep. Kahve grows itself. Most of the year we tend our food crops and all the other tasks that come when there are no shops to run to.”

Grumbling began at the far end of the table and swept through the pavilion. Igren slapped his palm against the table. “None of that! We have guests.”

Darnand put down his spoon and glanced at Lildereth.

A young man stood up near the fire. “That one’s a mage, and Jerric’s a warrior!” he called out. He addressed Darnand. “Forgive me magister, but will you hear our plight?”

Lildereth felt Darnand’s unease as if it was her own. Her whole left side prickled with it.

Jerric glanced apologetically at the two of them. He spoke to Igren, but his tone included the group. “You offered me friendship on the road those months ago, and you’ve welcomed us to your table. Will you tell us your troubles? Maybe there’s some way we can help.”

Lildereth pressed Darnand’s arm with her hand. It was that or reach over and slap Jerric. The Nord was quick to risk his own safety in service to his friends. In return there was no way that she and Darnand would let him run off on some kahve bean rescue by himself. It was just their misfortune that Jerric found so many more friends than she and Darnand did.

She took a calming breath. Perhaps these farmers only needed some rocks shifted.

Igren leaned in. Jerric tilted his body back so that they could all see around him.

“We’ve had… disappearances,” Igren told them. “First a hunting party that hasn’t returned. Then our terramancer wandered off somewhere. We’ll have nine hells trying to drain the pools for planting without him.”

Jerric’s face contorted. Lildereth knew he was counting daedric princes in speculation. She could practically hear him doing the math.

The old man continued. “We’ve sent young Davin to the Arcane University to try and recruit a replacement, but he hasn’t returned.”

“He could be home any day now,” a woman interrupted. Her face told of an argument many times repeated.

Igren waved a hand at her. “He will return, that’s not the issue. But even with a night watch our troubles continue. Last week we lost one of our young couples. Now sit down, Louis, no one’s accusing your girl of impropriety. But the youngsters will try to get some privacy at night. Sneaked off, probably. However it happened, two of them are gone.”

Lildereth felt the familiar hope and dread sweep over her. These hills were riddled with caves, and new activity in an old settlement tended to awaken things that should be left sleeping. “Have you seen any tracks?” she asked. “Any blood trails or drag marks? Has anyone seen a creature that they can’t explain? Even if you just thought you saw something and didn’t mention it, we should know.”

Jerric and Darnand stayed silent. They had heard this line of questioning before.

A few moments passed while folk muttered to one another. Lildereth realized that Darnand’s sleeve was clenched in her fingers.

Heads began to shake across the pavilion. Igren summed it up for all of them. “No.”

Lildereth glanced first at Jerric to gain his assent, then they both looked at Darnand. He nodded.

“I’m a tracker,” she told the Bretons. “And you’re right about my friends. We can’t drain the ponds for you, and it’s too late to start tonight. But in the morning we’ll see what we can do about finding your people.”

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This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 10 2013, 07:58 PM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

I remember this mission. -cringes-

[Acadian]

Despite being from Lildereth’s perspective, it is Darnand that really shines early in this episode. His magic map, riding while reading, taking affront at a Legion soldier daring to mark the mage’s map with a fat dirty thumb! And the story supporting how absent-minded he can be.

It was fun to meet Rose as well-
‘Lildereth decided to stay mounted for the moment to take advantage of the view.’
When one is as short as our elves, this is a given!

Valley of Hopes, the village and its people were a treat to read about. Between a hot meal and wandering magical maidens, the chill in the air was well warded. But alas, no one eats for free and it looks like our elven tracker will have to earn her keep in the morning. No doubt, Darnand’s morning will be spent studying up on terramancy while Jerric and Ulfe eat breakfast. Hopefully Lildereth will at least get a wonderful and warm cup of the local brew before she sets out. An intriguing mystery.

‘Then our terramancer wandered off somewhere.’
I cheered when I read this! What a magnificent and ever so logical term! Bravo!

[ghastley]

I agree with Acadian that this one really brings out Darnand.

Igren’s pride was obvious. “There’s different ways. Trade secrets. I’ll tell you ours, though, because what’s the harm? We use a spell. Ha!”

Darnand came to attention at Lildereth’s left. ...

This just fits him so perfectly.

I think you missed an opportunity for more of Ulfe in this. Each of the travellers (and their horse) get the full treatment in the opening paragraphs, but I didn't even know Ulfe was there until half-way through.

[SubRosa]

First off, I loved how your opening chapter not only introduced each character we will be seeing this episode, but also described them so subtly via how each knew their bearings in their own special way.

Interesting name for their new horse. Not a Doctor Who fan are you by chance?

A Legion rider had marked Darnand’s map for them, a crime that the Breton was unlikely to forgive.


A nice description of the coffee kahve settlement. The villager's use of magic to help them farm was a lovely touch, as was the girl's casting resist frost spells about the place to keep out the cold.

“Forgive me magister, but will you hear our plight?”
Uh oh, why do I get the feeling that our trio is about to be dragged into some damn fool crusade?

Yep. I love how in spite of her initial reluctance (to put it mildly) Lil was the first one to declare that they would track down the missing folk!

[mALX]

*

First off, I am so sorry it took so long to get here and read this! I have been sick as a dog this week, haven't felt well enough to read/write/sit up for long. I am so sorry, because you know if you are updating I will be here asap.

Loved Lildereth's musings on Rose, and got a huge kick out of Darnand and his map!

What a fascinating introspective Lildereth did on Darnand! This line especially:

She wondered if permitting jests was just part of his own long-term prank

Darnand's depth has been creeping into the story slowly, but is gaining momentum through Lildereth's keen eyes and insights. I absolutely LOVE her POV chapters!

I loved this (below) line, Lildereth is like a balm that senses the pain of those she is close to and is drawn to ease it:

Lildereth felt Darnand’s unease as if it was her own. Her whole left side prickled with it.

Followed by this:

It was that or reach over and slap Jerric.

SPEW! ROFL!

new activity in an old settlement tended to awaken things that should be left sleeping.

Whew, what a line! Loved that!

What a mystery you've left us with! If this is a game quest, I don't recognize it yet. Wonderful chapter and update, and again I am so sorry I was late getting here for it!


*

[Diamandis]

What a great chapter!

I love the idea of the enchanted map... makes a lot of sense

I love Lildereth's opinions on Rose (love the name, btw!). Such a wonderful description of something so simple

[King Coin]

Loved the different ways the crew kept their sense of direction. Jerric just seems to be one of those people that through either stubbornness or just dumb luck doesn’t have problems with some things. Darnand of course has his magic. Lildereth has what she does through practice and experience.

Like everyone else, I loved the offense committed by the legion rider. Darnand is hilarious in his oblivious focus. Does that even make sense?

The Nord wore his guard expression, distant and calm.
Nice little reminder of the family business and Jerric’s life before the Gate. Lil doesn’t seem to want to be bound to anyone or group.

The village description was nice. I thought it was interesting that they eat as a community rather than as individual families. The Breton’s magical influence is on show.

Lil was very reluctant, and then suddenly was enthusiastic. What got her attention with these disappearances?

[McBadgere]

That was brilliant!...

Loved it...

The whole welcoming vibe was brilliant, as was the ride to and into the valley...Brilliant stuff...

I'm with Acadian, the terramancer was an excellent idea... ...

Always a joy to read, looking forward to much more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Grits]

Previously: Jerric, Lildereth, Darnand, Ulfe, and the horses reached the settlement of Hope Valley. They learned that some of the locals had gone missing. Jerric volunteered to look for them. Lildereth and Darnand agreed.



Elisabeth Hollow: Hmm, this may not be the mission you’re remembering. Hope Valley, Igren’s settlers, and kahve bogs are not in the game. But they will eventually find an enemy that is familiar. Thanks Elisabeth!

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! This did turn out to be a very Darnand episode, didn’t it? I tried to make the dinner a little more nourishing to the imagination, but Lildereth does not share Jerric’s devotion to food! I thought fondly of Buffy and Superian when Lil was enjoying that lofty view.

ghastley: You’re so right, I added a line to indicate that Ulfe is also along on this trip. It was fun to give Darnand that moment at the dinner table. Thank you for pointing it out!

SubRosa: The whole community became quite magical in the writing. It just suddenly made sense that Bretons would have more casual magic than say Imperials. I’m glad you mentioned that it was Lildereth who spoke up. The fellows definitely respond to her leadership. Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: I’m glad you’re feeling better, mALX! Mysteries will soon be resolved. Thank you for your kind words about Darnand and Lildereth! The next three updates are from Lildereth’s POV. This quest is new, but there will be something that is familiar!

Eva: Welcome to the story! I’m glad you’re reading. Darnand’s map reminds me of people driving while looking at their GPS instead of the road. Thank you, Eva!

King Coin: I know just what you mean about Darnand’s oblivious focus. You’re right, Lil is reluctant to be bound to anyone. She wants to be but is very torn. We will soon hear more on that subject. The guys have heard Lil asking around about people disappearing just like has happened in this village, but they don’t know what she’s up to either. Soon! Thank you, KC!

McBadgere: Thank you, McB! Those Bretons were a jolly bunch of folks on the Black Road. I’ve been waiting for a long time to get them back in the story.



Next: Lildereth, Darnand, and Jerric look for clues.

[Grits]

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Chapter 16: Valley of Hopes, Part Two

After dinner they decided to trust the village watch and get as much sleep as possible. The night passed without incident. Lildereth curled at the back of the tent just out of kicking range. Jerric slept between Darnand and Ulfe. The Nord got the most rest with a limb flung over something that was breathing. All of them slept better when he was peaceful.

At first light Lildereth began to search the settlement’s perimeter. The loss of the young couple had occurred at night. It made her suspect that something had been stalking the village awaiting its opportunity. The rain would have obscured any tracks from a pacing animal, but there could be signs if something had lain in ambush.

She found the hiding spot behind one of the low outcrops on the mountain side of the valley. Dead grass had been pressed deeply into the soil over a time when the ground had been soft with moisture. The temperature had dropped below freezing overnight. Now frost glittered under a clear mountain sunrise. But not in the hollow behind these boulders.

Lildereth could see footprints and a faint trail through the frosty grass. She followed it with her eyes up to a fold in the terrain. There something could move in either direction along the valley without being seen. Her heart fell. Their quarry walked on two booted feet, and she was looking for magical creatures. Jerric and Darnand had made their preparations and were now waiting down out of her way in the village. She signaled for them to join her.

Jerric wore his steel cuirass and leather trousers. Her pack dangled from one hand and the other held a steaming pitcher. His shield was slung across his back. There were more blades strapped to his person than anyone should require. She glanced away from him before he could start another argument about his greaves. The enchantment on his cuirass would do nothing to muffle the noise he made with the plates over his legs.

Darnand strode up behind Jerric looking like a hedge wizard from a picture book. His cloak billowed and his robe swept open as he walked. Lildereth noted that he had worn his thickest leggings and tallest boots as she suggested. The Breton preferred to completely secure his robes in the formal manner, but today there would be rocks and brambles to trip over. His hood slipped down over his forehead, causing the back to rise up like a pointy hat. He nearly bashed himself with the lich’s staff that he carried as he tried to adjust it.

Jerric passed her the pitcher of hot kahve. Black, the way he liked it. She took a sip anyway.

“Someone comes down at night and lies here to watch the village,” she said, pointing. “They went in that direction some time after the sky cleared last night. See that path where the grass bends? I can guess where we’ll find tracks heading up into those rocky hills. I know there are caves up there. That might even be what happened to the terramancer. Went exploring and saw something that he shouldn’t have. Anyway, that’s where we’ll search first.”

The men exchanged a look. Lildereth realized that the obvious trail was not visible to them.

“Someone, huh? So it’s not a creature that we’re after,” said Jerric. “That means they’ll likely have a weapon. Since you already know where to start, then you could wait while I—”

“No,” said Lildereth. “I’m not waiting while you go get the rest of your armor. You’ll have to do without it. Besides, your atronachs could slaughter a whole village, and it’s likely just some withered up old hermit. Nothing in those caves should even touch you.” Disappointment made her peevish, but she wasn’t sure how to get over it.

Darnand cleared his throat.

“Breton...” warned Jerric.

“He is carrying it in his pack,” Darnand confessed.

“Traitor.”

Lildereth stared at Jerric. “All of it?”

“His greaves and gauntlets. His boot plates are in my pack,” said Darnand. He shifted his feet, peering owlishly out from under his hood.

She took her pack from Jerric and shrugged into it without comment. With the Nord’s potions and Darnand’s spells they could carry half of an armory between them, so it shouldn’t bother her. And they probably would just to prove the point.

“Where’s the tent?” she finally asked. Her own pack felt as if it had not been tampered with.

“Ulfe needs it at the settlement,” Darnand declared. His face was as bland as butter.

Jerric laughed. “You have your bedroll, elf. It’s not going to rain. We’re camping Bosmer style on this outing.”

They walked along the valley as the sun climbed up behind the Jeralls. Migrating snow geese sent their ghostly calls drifting down as they flew north and east in formation. The light caught their wings, marking them as points of white against the sky. The meadows offered little cover for wildlife, but the kahve ponds teemed with water birds. As soon as one flock took off another coasted down to take its place. Their overlapping wings cast great shadows as they passed overhead.

The frost melted as the sun broke over the mountains. Lildereth’s annoyance faded with it. As they walked she watched for bent grass and faint scuffs in the dirt. To her surprise the trail cut left toward some low hills rather than straight up into the rocks.

“That way,” Lildereth said. The three stood for a moment while she watched for distant motion. Whoever had spied upon the village all night was likely now sleeping, but she was not going to blunder up to it like some… Nord.

Jerric offered her his waterskin and a roll stuffed with cheese. He must have finished the kahve. Lildereth marveled at his internal capacity. She took a sip of water.

“There is a marking on my map,” Darnand announced. “Unlabeled, but the symbol is for a fort.”

“Up here?” said Jerric. “It’ll be ancient and abandoned.”

Darnand pointed. “Do you see the shadows on that hilltop? I expect we will find that is our destination.”

“Well it seems as if someone still lives there,” said Lildereth, thinking out loud. “We’re too far east for the Colovian warlords. Besides, that place is a ruin. I wonder…” The men gave her another look. “Those communities still exist, you know. Never mind what you read in the Black Horse Courier.”

“Right,” said Jerric. “The great twig and pebble barons of old Colovia. And I’m the Grey Fox.”

Lildereth ignored him. “Things that dwell in ruined forts often keep dangerous company. It could be necromancers. You were right to drag along all of that metal, Jerric.” She pointed to a patch of high brush somewhat sheltered by a rocky outcrop a short walk from the distant hill. “We’ll go over there. You two can wait while I look around. Try not to make too much fuss getting the Nord into his party clothes. When I come back we’ll make the plan.”

Lildereth found the ruins where Darnand had predicted. The fort appeared to be uninhabited above ground. Shattered and tumbled walls left the structure open to the sky. Lildereth followed what had now become a path beaten into the dirt around to a short flight of stairs set into the ground. An entrance opened darkly at its base, its door long ago rotted away.

A suspicion had grown in her mind as she canvassed the ruin. Now she acted on it.

She soon found a second entrance mostly hidden by vines and tumbled stone. A sip of Jerric’s Juice ensured a steady flow of magicka. She cast her spells of nighteye and life detection, then slipped silently underground.

One set of fresh footprints in the dust led into the ruin. No life glows were visible. Lildereth crouched down to examine the signs and listen.

The tracks had been made by small feet, bare-heeled and clawed. Brush marks between the footprints told of a furred tail. A Khajiit, she realized. The old anger welled inside her. Lildereth pushed it down and sharpened her focus. This Khajiit was moving cautiously. Stalking the ruin.

Lildereth made herself invisible and moved further in. She did not wish to harm a fellow intruder, but abandoning the hunt was not an option. The villagers deserved answers. Jerric was determined to provide them.

The passageway was narrow with solid-looking stone block walls and ceiling. Soft dirt was all that remained of any debris that had drifted in over the years. Her feet made no sound. Soon she saw the glow of a living creature through untold walls ahead.

Lildereth crept forward until she could see the Khajiit. It took several turns of the passageway to reach her. The tiniest noise would give her away, and she knew that the Khajiit’s natural vision was superior to her spell in the dark. Lildereth crouched down and watched.

The Khajiit moved slowly down the passageway, intent on what was before her. She wore fine armor of Elven make. Lildereth recognized the feather patterns over the back and pauldrons, and the small noises were characteristic of the golden metal now washed blue like everything else by Lildereth’s spell. The Khajiit wore a sword on each hip. Her unusual footwraps left toes and heels bare, Lildereth guessed for traction. The Khajiit paused at a turn and tilted her head, listening. Her helm was made in a bird design with metal feathers curving down to protect her cheeks and neck while leaving her ears free. They pricked forward now. Lildereth took note of the quiver across her back and the short recurve bow in her hand.

The Khajiit did not have an arrow nocked, but she might still get a shot off before Lildereth could turn and run. She called a calming spell into one hand and invisibility into the other in case she needed to recast it and retreat.

Lildereth whispered in Ta’agra, soft as a breath. “Da’aqin, shanjiri.” Her voice broke the spell, making her visible.

The Khajiit’s head snapped around. In a fluid instant she was facing Lildereth, one hand on the hilt of a sword.

“Peace, friend,” Lildereth whispered again. This time she spoke in Cyrodilic.

The Khajiit did not relax. “You play a dangerous game, Bosmer.”

“Perhaps we hunt the same quarry.” Lildereth began to move backward toward the exit. “Will you come outside and speak with me? My friends are waiting nearby. A mage and a warrior. I’m just in here scouting.”

The Khajiit took a few steps forward. “Then you have had a near miss. Vampires can sense your heat and smell your blood. It’s only a scouting trip until the first one discovers you.”

Lildereth cursed silently. She cared even less for vampires. “I’m told they also have sharp hearing. Let’s go out where we can talk.”

She turned and walked to the exit, the skin on the back of her neck crawling with unease. Showing trust might help her gain trust, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it could be the end of her.

Outside Lildereth dispelled her detection magicks. She and the Khajiit looked each other over.

The cat-woman had pale fur with auburn hair and dark leopard spots. An old scar marked the right side of her face. Her armor was golden metal as Lildereth had suspected, beautifully designed and crafted. It bore the marks of many, many repairs. Leather wrapped her feet and forearms. She wore gold rings in her ears and one on her finger. Her eyes were a clear, lovely green. The same as mine, Lildereth realized. And she’s not much taller than me. Short for a Suthay-raht, and slim. They headed toward the brush thicket.

“You’re a vampire hunter?” asked the Khajiit. Her voice was soft but still tense.

“No, we’re just looking for some folk who were lost from a nearby village. Hope Valley, do you know it?” Lildereth nodded in that direction.

“I saw their smoke from my camp.” The Khajiit moved with easy grace, but her ears and tail were far from relaxed. “Let’s go to your friends.”

Lildereth called to Jerric and Darnand while they were still a distance away from the thicket. She did not want the Khajiit to think she was being led to an ambush. “Come on out, fetchers! I may have found a partner.”

Jerric looked gigantic in his armor, Darnand slight as a lad beside him. The four stood and exchanged looks for a moment.

The Nord spoke first. “I’m Jerric.” He extended his arm.

The Khajiit stepped forward and gripped it in a warrior’s clasp. “My name is Aravi.”

“Pleased to meet you. This is Darnand Penoit of Chorrol. You’ve met Lildereth.”

Aravi exchanged nods with Darnand. Lildereth managed a nervous smile. She hoped this Aravi would join them. Anyone who entered a vampire lair alone and on purpose must be formidable.

“You are with the Mages Guild?” Aravi asked Darnand.

“Yes. All of us are members.”

Aravi looked Jerric over again, reassessing.

The Nord grinned. “Now, what’s the situation?”

“Vampires,” said Lildereth.

“Oh fetch it,” said Jerric.

“Indeed,” said Darnand. “This will complicate your information gathering, Lildereth.”

“I know.” Lildereth tried not to sound as worried as she felt. “I found two exits, but I didn’t get any kind of look inside. I’m not sure how we’re going to make a plan.”

Aravi’s lips curved up at the corners, and her ears swiveled forward. She reached into a pouch. “I brought a map.”




***
Of Special Note: Many heartfelt thanks to King Coin for lending his wonderful character Aravi to Jerric’s Story! She will also appear in the next four updates. We started planning this over a year ago! It has been tremendous fun to collaborate with you, KC. And thank you very much for the screen shots of Aravi! (Yes folks, there will be more!! )

Aravi’s Oblivion story can be found in the thread King Coin's videos, and her ongoing adventures are in the thread Aravi in Skyrim, her video story.

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This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 10 2013, 11:58 PM