I giggled when the Leigionairre food her she ought to stay overnight.

That last bit was properly spooky! The tension while she evaded whatever stalked her was palpable!

You know, you're really being quite cruel here! You're building the tension up to such an extent, that sections like this do nothing good for your poor readers nervous systems.


You've certainly managed to time these updates well, seems like it's turning into the perfect Halloween section. The way you're playing with shadows and colours here as well.

Very evocative. Now, I'm grabbing wine to settle my poor shredded nerves, and to fortify me for tomorrow.

Previously: Abiene and Toby traveled toward Hackdirt as night fell. They found themselves at the washed-out bridge, having missed both the shortcut and Dar-Ma's turnoff. Four humanoid figures frightened Abiene while she looked for a way across. She and Toby headed back to Fort Carmala at speed. No one followed.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I'm always amazed at how beautiful Cyrodiil is at night. And at how noisy Grits world is at night in the spring.

treydog: Thank you, treydog! It has been interesting to shake Abiene's confidence and see how she handles it. I drafted this chapter in a past November, and I remember creeping myself out with a cold, dark window behind me at a write-in.

SubRosa: She's had one setback after another, but so far hasn't considered quitting. There will be some speculation over who/what she saw, but I'm sure she'll want to get to a friendly campfire first. Thank you, SubRosa!

Kane: She didn't want to hear it, but turns out he was right! Thank you, Kane!

Burnt Sierra: I was delighted when I realized that this chapter would hit over Halloween. We can all take a breath with this section, but pretty soon she'll be back in the woods. Keep that wine handy! Thank you, Burnt!

Everyone: Travel and surgery (it's minor, no worries) will keep me from posting next Tuesday, but I should get the next post up within the week.

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Nine

When Fort Carmala's outer gate guards came into view I gracelessly dismounted, my grip on the cantle barely preventing me from crumpling to the ground. I would check Toby for injuries and soothe my abused posterior as soon as I felt safe. Both guards stood in a way that made me want to cower behind them, but I was not on the right side of their shields yet.

"Hail the gate," I called, leading Toby toward their circle of torchlight. "I'm Abiene Metonne, healer from the Chapel of Stendarr in Chorrol."

"State your business," the one on the right said. Her voice told me she was a local. These two had replaced Corporals Guntien and Hertzog. If this outpost kept the same shifts as city guards and healing halls, it was past eleven bells of the evening watch.

For a moment I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out my fears. "I was traveling to Hackdirt," I began.

"That's back the way you came," said the second guard. "You're heading in the wrong direction."

'Thank you, Captain Obvious,' is not a reply one should give to an actual military person, nor indeed anyone who is not one's sibling, yet that was what sprang to mind. Instead I said, "Indeed, I was traveling toward Hackdirt when I saw something in the woods. Four somethings. People, I think. They moved in an odd manner. To be frank, they frightened me. I don't know this area, so I came back here."

"Did they attack you?" asked the woman.

"No. They were across the stream. I saw them at the washed-out bridge."

The two guards exchanged a look.

"What?" I said, my skin prickling again. "Do you think they were waiting there? For travelers?" Now I wondered if Dar-Ma had seen the turnoff that I had missed, or if she had also found herself at the bridge. What if she and Blossom had encountered those strange figures while Toby and I were at the farrier?

"Unlikely," the man said. "Not enough folk take that road to make the wait worthwhile. Unless those packs are full of gold, or something."

"And they knew you were coming," the woman added.

"Just trade goods," I said.

"They could have been moving stolen cattle," the man said.

"I didn't see any cattle. I was using a Detect Life spell."

"Could have been scouting the bridge in advance of moving stolen cattle," the woman said to the man.

The man turned toward her, head tilted. "Could have been skooma smugglers."

"Or akkvit."

"Ah! Akkvit." He nodded in a knowing way.

"Please," I said, "I just need to rest until dawn, then I will continue my journey. I was delayed, you see, this morning my horse threw a shoe. I separated from my companion and came to the farrier here at the fort. Perhaps… Is there any accommodation?"

Their attention snapped back to me. "We don't allow civilians to stay at the fort overnight," the man said. "There's a camp over the hill in that direction. You'll be safe from the daedra, but if you cause any trouble you're in the hands of the camp's leadership. We patrol, but they police."

"I'm no troublemaker," I said, though it seemed certain that they cared less about anything than my intentions. Either I behaved, or I found a shallow grave and the camp gained a horse.

"Could be necromancers," the woman said to the man, turning back to their speculation. "Mages Guild has sent a bunch of those bone pirates into the hedges."

"Or… slavers!" he said. "House Dres renounced the slave trade, I've heard. With no slaves in the markets, the dark elves have to get them somewhere."

The thought of Dar-Ma encountering slavers made me feel sick. I swallowed the new lump in my throat. "Thank you. I'd better find that camp while there's still moonlight."

A well-beaten path brought us there. I cast a small mage light as Toby and I approached the camp's outer ring, more to show my unarmed state than to light our way. Close to forty tents and various soft-sided shelters stood haphazardly in a trampled meadow, lit by scattered watchfires. I halted outside the implied boundary. It wouldn't do to lead a horse thumping past a host of sleeping heads.

A sturdy Orsimer stood up beside one of the fires, sheathed sword in hand. At my wave she started toward me. I kept my hands in sight, hoping she would find no reason to draw steel. She wore a leather jerkin over a roughly made but clean tunic and trousers. Her hair was neatly twisted into perfect rows of little knots tied with red string. As she held her silence, it seemed up to me to speak.

"I'm a healer from Chorrol," I said, looking up at her. "I'm moving on in the morning. I just need to rest." Toby snorted hot breath against my cheek. I ran absent fingers over his nose in reply. "Oh, my name is Abiene."

"Water's in the creek. Picket line there. You can sleep by that fire, or I've a space in a tent for ten gold. No noise, no cooking. There'll be oats in the morning."

Though she surely meant an oat-based porridge would be served in the morning, an image of myself nosing into Toby's feed bag flashed through my mind. I wondered what she wasn't telling me. "How many are already in the tent?"

The Orsimer's upper lip curled off her tusks in what I took to be amusement. "Seven."

I glanced up to see a sky filled with moons and stars, nary a dark cloud in sight. "Thank you, but I'll take that spot by the fire. May I ask your name?"

"What if I said no?" She gave a snort. "Name's Mazoga."

At least I have amused her. "Well met, Mazoga. May we have a quiet night."

My muscles were tired and sore, but I needed to tend to Toby. A spell to fortify my strength eased the process of unpacking and minimized my noise, particularly the potential for grunting. I made a neat arrangement by the fire in the space Mazoga had indicated. Somehow I felt comfortable leaving the packs with her. She had the aggressive cockiness that I associated with ruffians, yet she held a position of responsibility in keeping night watch on the camp. I wondered who had styled her hair.

I checked Toby with a spell while he drank from the creek. As we approached the picket line a lad lifted his head from a pile of blankets that he shared with two sprawling hounds. The hounds remained still, but the lad pointed me to the line's near end. I gave Toby a rubdown while he ate the oats Bongond had packed for him.

My mount's needs taken care of for the night, I walked as short a distance as I deemed absolutely necessary to relieve myself, then washed my hands and face in the stream. I spared no time to retrieve supplies, but simply rubbed a finger over my teeth and resolved not to kiss anyone. The freezing water reminded me of the icepack in the mountains above Chorrol. No doubt my night's wash water had sparkled under the sun as snow earlier today.

Before I left the streamside I debated the early rising trick I had learned from Jerric. Whatever illness this water might bear, I could heal upon the onset of the first symptom. I filled my waterskin and drank deeply of the ice melt, hoping that the morning would not bring regret.

As I walked back to the campfires, I lifted my dear friend Dar-Ma and her beloved Blossom in my heart to the Divines. Though I had more faith in the work of my own hands than in the possible intervention from Aetherial realms, the repetition of familiar phrases soothed me. By the time I wrapped my cloak around me and cast the spell I simply called Sleep, my head was ready to meet the satchel I used for a pillow.

No sooner had I closed my eyes than it seemed they were opening again. Dawn was a pale promise at the horizon, and stars still winked from the center of the sky. The cold drink from the night before had done its work. I trotted over to empty my bladder and check on Toby, then sought out the only fire that had a pot over the coals.

The cook was a Khajiiti woman around my own age. The shawl tied around her shoulders showed skillful work made from poor yarn. Her hair was braided and tied in an intricate arrangement. Red string ran through the braids.

"Good morning," she said, a cautious smile angling her whiskers.

"Good morning." I retrieved the coin purse from my waistband. "I'm Abiene. May I purchase some breakfast?"

"Certainly." She stooped to pick up a wooden trencher from a stack near the fire. The scoop of gray porridge hit the plate with a splat then sat in a lump, barely spreading outward. "Five Septims. This one is called Ra'vindra."

"By Mara!" I said before I could stop myself. I was a poor steward of coins, but the price surprised even me.

Ra'vindra's smile broadened when I handed her the thin, thumbnail-sized coin. "Pleasure doing business," she said.

"We shall see." I returned her smile to sweeten the words. With no spoon offered I slid my belt knife from its sheath. Determined not to be the wilting flower that I must appear, I ate a bite neatly from the blade.

The oat porridge had a good texture and there were no off flavors. Unseasoned and unsweetened, it tasted as if it had come from the chapel's kitchen. I decided to start carrying my own little tin of salt.

"Mazoga said you're a healer," Ra'vindra said, her tone and expression as bland as the porridge.

"I am," I said between bites, "but my time is short. Does someone need healing?"

"No," she said. "Khajiit just makes conversation."

As I pictured the steps that would take Toby and me back to the Hackdirt trail, I remembered the oddly menacing figures from the night before. My stomach clenched, but I took another bite anyway.

"Say, Ra'vindra, I saw a strange thing in the woods last night. I wonder if you've heard of anything like it, or maybe seen something like it yourself?"

"Oh? What did Abiene see?"

As I described how the figures had appeared to leap and float, Ra'vindra's ears flattened back.

"Khajiit knows who that was. There is a dark elf who can brew a potion... Damn her eyes! Ra'vindra hoped she had left all that behind."

"What kind of potion? I know some alchemy, but I've never heard of an effect that can accomplish what I saw."

"This one has seen it. In Morrowind." Ra'vindra turned her head to the side and spat, fangs fully visible. "Have a care in your travels, healer Abiene. Many trails weave through these woods, and few Foresters patrol them. A lot of folk have been lost out there. The Legion blames daedra, but this one suspects bandits. Now Ra'vindra knows she is right."

While we talked and I ate, an Imperial woman of middle age emerged from one of the tents. She limped over and passed a small packet to Ra'vindra, then scooped some porridge into the bowl she had brought with her.

Ra'vindra sniffed the packet and nodded at the woman, her warm smile returning.

"Dried apples," said the woman.

"So this one smells," Ra'vindra replied. "Nanny, if you watch the pot while Khajiit is gone, half of the earnings will be yours. And when you see Mazoga, tell her to pack up. We are moving on as soon as this one returns."

"It was nice to meet you, Ra'vindra," I said holding my empty plate out to her.

"Likewise," Ra'vindra said. She pointed at a murky wash bucket and walked away.

I had paid five Septims for my lump of porridge, while Nanny gave only a handful of dried apples for a bowl full! Five Septims should have bought all of the porridge and the pot. I had a moment to satisfy my curiosity.

"How much will you charge for porridge?" I asked Nanny.

The Imperial's eyes went from my boots to my belt to the clasp on my cloak. "Five Septims," she said. "Want some more?"

Looks like being a damsel in distress did not impress those Fort Carmala guards.

"Could be necromancers," the woman said to the man, turning back to their speculation. "Mages Guild has sent a of bunch of those bone pirates into the hedges."
- - Nice nod to the rule of unintended consequences. . . .

Mazoga! Made even better by the introduction of her friend, Ra'vindra. We only hear a smidge of her demise at the hands of Mogen and his gang later from Sir Mazoga.

Looks like porridge in this camp is priced by one’s outward appearance of the ability to pay. Despite the lighter coin purse, Abiene is now rested, has an empty bladder, full belly and some daylight to support continuing her journey.


Edit: Oh, safe travels and a speedy recovery!

I want to quote the entire "Who's on First?" routine by the guards... so just take that as a given.... Could just feel Abiene resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she tries to decide what is worse - shadows in the darkness or Clueless Joe & Josephine of the Legion....

And an auspicious meeting with the future Sir Mazoga! Along with the closely calculated "the oatmeal costs what we think a person is able to pay."

Excellent as always.

While the gate guards do not seem to be too useful, at least they are not outright scoffing at Abiene either. Smugglers, rustlers, bone pirates (love that one btw.) are indeed sensible assumptions for someone who has not read HP Lovecraft.

I do wonder what Akkvit is though?

Mazoga! Abiene will be able to tell people that she knew her back before she was a famous knight.

I envy Abiene for her sleep spell.

Dawn was a pale promise at the horizon
This was a wonderful turn of phrase.

Meeting Ra'vindra however, is a morose gift, burdened with foreknowledge as we are of her fate.

"Five Septims? Five? What is this world coming to? Back in my day, five Septims would have bought a full suit of armour, a bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy - Vintage I might add, none of this new unaged rubbish - to go along with a hearty meal, a new pair of shoes AND a down payment on a house! But, what should I expect, this generation just doesn't realise how easy they have it. When I was younger we didn't ride about on horses, we had to walk everywhere, hot or cold, snowing or raining, but now they just get on a horse, pull up their hood - a HOOD I tell you, we didn't have the luxury of hoods - and..."

(TM - Every grumpy old person in Tamrielic history)

But this part jumped out at me:


What kind of Bandit is capable of that? Seems like Abiene is getting herself mixed up with some very dangerous people indeed, and she still has to meetup with Dar-Ma - assuming she manages to get to Hackdirt, it seems like everything possible is going wrong and the Universe is screaming "don't go there!"

But, of course, it's great fun for us happy readers

Previously: Abiene and Toby spent the night safely at the civilian camp outside Fort Carmala, watched over by the orc Mazoga. In the morning Abiene bought porridge from Ra'vindra, who believed she knew who Abiene had seen at the washed-out bridge. They were a particular group of bandits that included an alchemist from Morrowind.

Acadian: A long time ago I thought I could work the entire Mages Guild questline into this story. I hoped you would be happy to see Mazoga before she became a knight! And of course her best friend Ra'vindra. I adore Buffy's Sir Mazoga and her consort Sir Agronak, Champions of Cyrodiil, so I had a smile on my face when she popped up at the camp. Thank you, Acadian!

treydog: Gate guards always strike me as funny for some reason. Probably because in the game they give the most random comments and rumors. Also they have a lot of empty hours to fill between bouts of guard action, so they surely must tell each other stories. Thank you, treydog!

SubRosa: Akkvit is Winterhold whiskey, illegal in Cyrodiil. It's made up for Jerric's world. Lildereth found broken bottles in Hrotanda Vale, leading her to believe that Valdi's mother and gang were Akkvit smugglers. I would also like to have a Sleep spell! I was glad to give Ra'vindra a life before Mazoga's knightly oath, but it was of course bittersweet. Maybe I'll get an idea for a Mazoga and Ra'vindra best pals story. Thank you, Rosa!

Burnt Sierra: I had some fun looking up magical effects from Morrowind. I don't know if it's possible to make a potion with both Jump and Slow Fall, but it seems like it should be! Abiene has had lots of adventure on this trip but little forward progress. Will she proceed cautiously or run twice as fast back into the woods? Thank you, Burnt!

Everyone: It took a little longer to bounce back than I thought, but here we are! Next week I plan to resume Tuesday posting. Ha! Let's see what happens.

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Ten

It took little time to get Toby tacked and packed, though I could have used some help balancing his load. What manner of giant-kin had decided to train this long-legged specimen to a pack saddle? We stepped out under a clear dawn, Toby's head up and ears forward, both of us eager for the road.

Today I did not let my Detect Life spell lapse, though I imagined that any predators we might meet would be of the four-legged variety. No doubt Ra'vindra's bandits were asleep in their lair, wherever that might be, and not inclined to look for travelers so early in the morning.

What had they been doing out in the woods last night? Surely they were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. If they dwelt nearby and had been returning with their spoils, they might not have been inclined to chase one person and a horse through the trees in the dark. Or perhaps they were traveling and had not heard that the bridge had been washed away. Given ten more minutes, Toby and I would have met them on their side of the creek.

I mentally shook myself. That had not happened, and today was a different day.

By mid-morning I spotted three blaze marks on a tree. I decided not to take Corporal Guntien's shortcut, but rather look for the trail that Dar-Ma and Blossom would have taken. At the worst I would miss the turnoff again and risk meeting Ra'vindra's bandits in daylight. At best I would find myself embracing Dar-Ma before nightfall having made my last mistake yesterday. She must be worried by now.

Once I saw the trail that Seed-Neeus described, I understood how I had missed it in the dark. I guided Toby off the road and across a meadow to reach it. Someone, certainly Dar-Ma, had broken a branch on either side and bent them to draw attention to the trail head.

Less than a half-day's ride from a Legion outpost I felt we had entered the wilderness. Trees formed a tunnel over our heads, casting us into cool twilight. The trail twisted and wound, preventing me from seeing very far ahead. As we dropped further in elevation I heard the creek. If I had followed Seed-Neeus's directions correctly, we were upstream from where the bridge had washed out. When we finally reached the place where the creek widened, Toby splashed across and back into the woods without so much as an ear flick.

I gave his shoulder a firm pat. "A lot of bother to get across this water, but we made it. Well done, Toby."

The trail followed the creek for a time. Here the undergrowth formed a wall on either side of us. Mist drifted in tendrils like the hair of a drowned crone. Whatever we might meet here we would have to confront on the trail or turn around and flee rather than slipping away into the woods. Had Dar-Ma been frightened yesterday when she came this way? I shivered even under my cloak.

Toby carried me along at an easy pace of his choosing. As we moved up out of the valley, the trail-side thickets gave way to sparse brush. Eventually we reached open woodland. Though we had left the creek behind, mist formed a ceiling as if we rode under a thin cloud. At ground level it was barely visible. The only sound that accompanied our travel was the muffled thud of Toby's hooves. I wondered what had become of yesterday's raucous birds.

The sharp tang of freshly split timber cut through the smells of leaf mold and damp wood. I slowed Toby to his brisk walk so that I might take in our surroundings. I was no forester, but even I knew these were pine trees. We began to pass stumps on the left side of the trail. Branch piles and sawdust told of a logging operation. Deep grooves had been pressed into the trail's surface. Rainwater still stood in some of them, while others had turned to mud. I realized they were drag marks from felled trees. Toby stepped carefully, his feet rarely splashing into the water-filled trenches.

Ahead I saw light between the trees, and soon we reached the clearing that produced it. We walked for nearly a minute before I halted Toby, my stomach in a knot. Foundations of stacked stone stood all around us, choked by vines, brush, and even small trees. Only fragments of blackened walls rose above them. We had reached Hackdirt, and now stood in the ruins of the town that had been destroyed thirty years ago by our own Imperial Legion. Toby blew and shifted his feet. My skin crawled even in the welcome sunshine.

As we moved further into the village the scent of fresh cut pine tickled my nose again. Several foundations had been cleared of their ruined walls. One housed a platform saw, and stacks of lumber lay nearby in various stages of finishing. However the saws were still and unattended. The town was utterly silent, as quiet as the lifeless woods.

In County Chorrol many communities laid their villages out in squares. Hackdirt had been built around a central circle. Twenty-odd structures stood in an outer ring with eleven fronting the village green. Laundry hung on a line outside one house, but nearly every one had dirt piled as high as my head where there should be kitchen gardens. I saw several plots of tilled earth, but no late winter crops or spring green poking up from the rows. If Marta or Ruby were inside one of these cottages, they made no move to attract my attention.

In the middle of the village stood a well, stone built and wider in diameter than most. A peaked roof sheltered it, but the structure held no pulley system.

I dismounted and led Toby onto the weedy village green. Though tempted to shout a halloo, the strangeness of the situation stopped me. Dar-Ma was here somewhere in this silent town. If no one came forward, I would simply have to start knocking on doors.

The first place to look was the inn where Dar-Ma and I had planned to spend last night. Moslin's Inn loomed above its humble neighbors, a three-story building with front-facing gables. Though it conformed to the region's sense of architecture, something about it gave me an uneasy feeling. Perhaps it was the absence of inviting touches. Where other inns such as the Wobbly Goblet near Weynon Village offered a covered entry, foundation plantings, window boxes, and a clear indication of where one's horse might be housed, this building stood stark on its stone ground level, staring into the town center with blind eyes.

With Toby secured to the hitching post, I looked around for a watering trough. Finding only a bucket, I carried it to the center of the circle to investigate the well. Its wooden cover was bolted and locked with a padlock. As I turned away the ground rumbled, almost below my ability to sense it. My feet wanted to run, but I took a slow turn around the well, hoping that Dar-Ma, Ruby, or Marta would see me.

Toby snorted and tossed his head as I walked back toward him. I gave him a pat on my way past to the back of the inn. There I found a privy and a water pump, ill-advisedly close to one another. The pump handle was stiff and slick with algae. Annoyed, I fortified my strength with a spell and forced it. Despite my misgivings, the water ran cold and clear.

I hadn't seen an obvious stable arrangement, and no one had come forward for my horse. Holding the bucket for Toby to drink, I decided to leave his packs in place and check inside. There was no sign of Blossom, which meant that Dar-Ma could be out somewhere. She may have left instructions for me regarding Toby's packs.

The hair on my arms rose up as I paused at the inn's uncovered stoop. The urge to whirl around and stare wildly in search of hidden observers nearly overwhelmed me, but I controlled myself and pushed open the door.

I remember the Wobbly Goblet, from before it became the Lucky Mudcrab. Not many inns got that level of detail.

You captured the strange emptiness of the village nicely, and the odd nature of the well. And Dar-Ma is nowhere to be seen.

All of yesterday's trials and travails on the road becomes a simple trip this morning. What a difference a day can make.

The nearly tunnel like forest and layer of mist Abiene passed through on the way gives one a sensation of traveling from one world to another. Which is a classic of both horror and fantasy/adventure stories. Our protagonist goes from the ordinary boring world like Tattoine or the Shire, and travels to an exotic world of wonder and danger, like Mos Eisley or Mordor where the normal rules of quiet life no longer apply.

Nice call out to the Wobbly Goblet!

Hackdirt certainly appears to be less than inviting. Less than anything in fact. It looks like the town is deserted. I wonder where everyone could have gone to? *Looks down at the ominously rumbling earth below*...

Abiene has to be thinking - "I finally made it to Hackdirt! Yay? Is there an echo here?"

Wonderful descriptive writing which builds the creepiness factor, even without the zipping of string music or ominous organ chords...

And so many questions, such as "Who locks a well?" and "Why are there no crops?" and most of all "Where IS everyone - most especially Dar Ma?"

But Abiene is no wilting violet, even if perhaps sometimes she should be.

Most effectively spine-chilling.

Great to have you back, and here’s hoping your recovery progresses smoothly!

*

Tacked, packed and under full detect life, Abiene and her long-legged companion set out.

Aside from nervousness about the road behind and ahead of her, the trip went smoothly. Spooky channeling by the misty forest around them notwithstanding.

You’re doing a wonderful job building mystery and suspense. And clues! A well with no pulley system that seems oversized and is padlocked. Large piles of dirt – suggestive of digging. Rumbling beneath. All hinting that what Abiene seeks may be underground.

Moslin’s Inn certainly appears much less inviting than mALX’s wonderfully Wobbly Goblet!

Yay, she's arrived. Well, maybe that yay is a tad premature.

I can see why Trey made reference to string music and ominous organ chords, it's an incredibly creepy and cinematic description (in a really, really positive way!) You can almost sense the camera panning out and showing the village, zooming in to show all the little weird details, then of course the shot through Abiene's eyes as she takes her slow turn around the well. It's so descriptive and visual I went back over it with a fine tooth comb, and I was caught by surprise. Not only is there a wealth of non-visual sensory description, but the sound effect I could hear whilst reading, doesn't actually exist! My imagination had been so triggered, it had actually added one (a slow, repetitive windchime clanking in case you're curious ), despite you mentioning the complete and utter silence. Guess it's fair to say I got dragged into the atmosphere.

Very beautifully written, roll on tomorrow!

Previously: Abiene and Toby reached Hackdirt and found it creepily quiet. Abiene decided to look for Dar-Ma at the inn.

ghastley: I wonder if I still have the laptop with my Wobbly Goblet install on it. There were so many fun details inside and out. Jerric even used the apartment as his home for a while. Thank you, ghastley!

SubRosa: I've had road trips like that. One leg is a nightmare, and the way back is a breeze. That's a very interesting point about traveling from one world to another. I knew how I wanted that part to feel, but I hadn't put my finger on the why. Thank you, SubRosa!

treydog: Exactly! She's finally here, but what the heck? Any other characters would be checking their weapons by now. So of course it had to be Abiene who went to Hackdirt. Thank you, treydog!

Acadian: I remember that wonderful stable at the Wobbly Goblet with the grape press and the horse Sapphire wandering around. Poor Toby has to stand there all by himself, not even a Blossom for company. Thank you, Acadian!

Burnt Sierra: Very much a qualified yay on arrival. A phantom wind chime, I love it! I spent a lot of time visualizing that scene, so I am delighted to hear it came through to the page. The fine tooth comb, whoop! Thank you, Burnt!

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Eleven

The door creaked open onto a spacious foyer, two stories in height. A reception desk stood in front of me about three paces away. Beyond it I could see the tavern, light filtering in through dirty windows. Twin staircases rose up from the reception area, one on each side. A small landing with a closed door stood at the top of the left staircase. On the right a dark passageway led out of sight.

I stepped up to the desk and raised my voice. "Hello?"

The reception desk's broad surface was empty and free of obvious wear. I saw no guest register with ink pot and quill, no posted menu or hours for meals at the tavern.

When no one answered my call, I slipped around to peek at the desk's business side, expecting to find scrolls, safe boxes, ledgers, and containers of supplies all stashed away perhaps by an overly tidy innkeeper. However the shelves and cubbies stood empty. The single indication that the desk was ever used was a small rug for the innkeeper to stand on, the only one in the otherwise bare ground floor.

The open hallway above suggested that the guest rooms occupied the right-hand side of the second floor. The closed door on the left made me think that perhaps there lay the innkeeper's private quarters. A few steps brought me to the base of the left-hand staircase. "Hello!" I called up at the closed door, sounding impatient even to my own ears.

I received no answer, so I walked into the tavern. A long bar stood along the room's right side, with shelves behind. Three round tables made up the dining area, though there was room for a dozen more. Each table housed two chairs. The occupants of this silent village must not like much company when they came out for food and drink. The usual tavern smells of spit-roasted meat and spilled ale were absent here. I could barely detect wood smoke. The fireplace along the left side of the room held no ready wood nor even ashes.

A single keg sat at the bar's far end, the tap oriented toward where the barman should be standing. I supposed that this would not be the place to look for a selection of fine wines. The door against the back wall must lead to the rear yard, and the one behind the bar to the kitchen. I debated my next move. Perhaps I should run through the streets shrieking Dar-Ma's name. The mental image of the town's blank windows witnessing such an act made me shiver.

Before I could call out again, a thump sounded above followed by the scrape of boot heels. I held myself just below a run on the way back to the base of the left-hand set of stairs.

Slow footsteps continued behind the closed door. I imagined a reluctant individual loathe to answer a customer's call. What sort of welcome had Dar-Ma received here last night? And why had she not flown down the stairs when she heard my call? Perhaps she had found a kindred spirit in one of the village's other buildings and was even now chatting away, heads together over tea or some project. Or perhaps my dear friend was comfortably ensconced above in her guest room, blissfully napping.

Those hopes evaporated when I sighted the author of the footsteps. The door opened to reveal a lean, bald man wearing soiled breeches with suspenders and a rumpled shirt left unbuttoned to the waist. With his olive skin tone and aquiline nose I took him for an Imperial. In the dim light I couldn't be sure, but his eyes seemed overly large and protruding. His wide slash of a mouth was drawn into a frown, lips thinned so much as to be indistinguishable. Even as I wondered whether he shared Ravenna's skin affliction, he reached up and scratched his neck. The fingernails made a scraping sound, as if drawn over a turtle's shell.

"I'm Abiene Metonne," I said in a rush, biting my tongue on the rest of my usual greeting. It would not serve Marta and Ruby to betray my purpose as a healer here. "I— "

"Good for you. Now get going."

For a moment I was taken aback. When he turned to the chamber whence he came and moved to close the door behind him, I found my tongue. "Wait! I'm looking for my friend, Dar-Ma. Is she still here?"

"Who? Nah, I ain't seen no young women around."

"What? Do you mean to say she didn't spend the night here?"

"No lizard woman was here. What would I know about her? I ain't seen her." The man shifted his feet on the landing.

I felt my eyes narrow. "How did you know she is a young Saxhleel?"

He turned his head so slightly that he may as well not have done and spat onto his own stairs. "Well you're young, and you gave me a lizard name. Now I got things to do." The man closed the door practically on his heels.

"Oh, you wretch!" I said under my breath. I didn't need to pry around with diagnostic spells to detect that he was lying. Pounding on the door and demanding the truth seemed imprudent. Dar-Ma was still outside my reach, and this man had some reason to deceive me. My worries flared into anger.

I retreated to the front stoop and slammed the door like an adolescent. Toby swiveled his ears and snorted at me.

A few steps brought me to his side. I slid an arm under his mane and leaned into his warm side. "Good boy, Toby." His wholesome scent calmed me.

The innkeeper was not cooperating, but he would not have been the only person who saw or even spoke to Dar-Ma yesterday. My eyes went to the faded general mercantile sign hanging crookedly over a doorway across the circle. There was my next stop. But first I had a more urgent need.

The outhouse behind the inn had certainly seen some use. A chamber pot stood tilted against the single-seat structure. I glared up at the back of the inn. Unless the innkeeper had left behind his night jar, he had a guest last night. I resolved to confront him again once I had more information from Seed-Neeus's trade partner.

With the privy door bouncing against its frame and a Cleanse spell still swirling around my fingers, I strode across the circle toward the shop.

The inn certainly seems as desolate and abandoned as the rest of the town. And its keeper certainly has the Innsmouth Look about him.

Like Abiene, I also instantly homed in on the innkeeper's slip up in describing Dar-Ma as an Argonian. But even before that when he described her as a young woman. How would he have known that either? Most definitely sus. I hope Abiene remembers how to use her Absorb Health spell...

Keep on looking Abiene! Perhaps she will find more signs of Dar-Ma's passage. Blossom had to go somewhere, and I imagine horse droppings are easier to find than Saxhleel ones.

Well, the tavern, with its dour innkeeper, was quite unhelpful. Although his explanation about Dar-ma being a young Argonian woman was possible, I agree with Abiene that he is likely lying about having not seen her. One thing for sure is that he wants to be rid of Abiene.

Imagining the outhouse to be dirty and spider-infested, I’m glad that Abiene did not succumb to a likely urge to retreat into the nearby forest to relieve herself. Her stop there yielded a clue that the inn had likely had a guest the previous night.

With few clues, her plan to visit the general merchandise shoppe next seems reasonable – especially as that should have been Dar-Ma’s destination for her delivery.

The ominous atmosphere you are building makes me wish Abiene knew a ‘summon Nord’ spell. . . although SubRosa's hope for an absorb health spell is more likely, given Abiene's skill with restoration.

The mystery deepens in Hackdirt. (Or, as Mrs. Treydog likes to say, "The plot clots.")

Probably not even a "dry white", which would go well with the tone of her thought.

Whenever someone runs into an unhelpful and downright rude inn- or tavern-keeper, I am reminded of the scene in "Lonesome Dove" where Augustus (Robert Duval) pistol-whips the bartender and remarks, "Ain't much of a crime, whacking a surly bartender." To her credit (and despite her impulses), Abiene was more raised more genteelly.

A graduate of the Mage's Guild is many things, but "stupid" is not one of them. If someone slips up, not just once, but twice, and that someone is obviously lying... Abiene is going to find out why. Now, we can argue whether or not she should go and ask for the assistance of "Guard" and his other brother, "Guard," but... she is on the scene, has good reason to believe Dar-Ma is also nearby, and her temper is up. Besides which, the brothers (and sisters) of the family Guard would probably turn down an offer to investigate....

So sound the trumpet - Abiene is on the case.

Most excellent as always!

Previously: The innkeeper claimed he had not seen Dar-Ma. Annoyed, Abiene decided to ask at the shop. Some of these updates run a little short, but some of the upcoming ones run a little long. I think it will even out in the end.

SubRosa: I laughed out loud at the thought of Saxhleel droppings! Too true. Thank you, Rosa!

Acadian: Abiene will be wishing for a 'summon Nord' spell before long! She can't even try to call Darnand on her crystal ball, since she traveled light to get here. Thank you, Acadian!

treydog: The plot clots, indeed! My favorite surly innkeeper is Basil Fawlty. You are exactly right in why Abiene doesn't retreat and return later with help – especially now that she has the bit in her teeth. Thank you, treydog!

Everyone: Happy Thanksgiving! Jerric's Story will take a holiday pause next week for family and a hopefully obscene amount of pumpkin everything. See you in the first week of December!

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Twelve

Moslin's Dry Goods looked like any of the other buildings, half-timbered over a ground floor of stacked stone. Dead leaves littered the wide front porch. All but one of the shutters were closed. Around the side of the building a covered area sheltered work benches strewn with various implements. A cart of the size used with a single horse rested there with its braces up on supports.

The porch boards creaked under my boots. Though it was customary to simply enter a public building without knocking, I felt ill at ease doing so. Still, I was not going to knock.

I pushed the door open to find myself in a smaller space than I had expected. The walls were lined to the ceiling with open shelves, mostly empty. A brown-haired Imperial woman leaned against the counter. From her vantage point she could look through the open shutter right across the town center. She must have watched me examine the well, enter and exit the inn, use the privy, and then approach her shop.

The woman stared at me from wide-set, bulging eyes.

I cleared my throat. "Good day. I am looking for Dar-Ma, Seed-Neeus's daughter. She made a delivery here yesterday."

"I don't know any Dar-Ma," she said. "If you're talking about that cursed Argonian swindler from Chorrol, I'd like to know where she is, too. She never showed up. How am I supposed to run a shop without merchandise? You tell her I want half off on my next delivery."

I glanced around the shop without any purpose beyond controlling my impulse to slap her. Why had she said 'She never showed up' instead of 'She's late'? Surely Dar-Ma had been here yesterday and made her delivery. A prickle ran across my skin. If something foul had befallen my dear, sweet friend, these strange folk were covering it up. It would be at least another day before we would be missed enough for Seed-Neeus to send someone after us. I did not wish to find myself at the mercy of these odd people. I must find Dar-Ma without becoming the next victim.

"Well, while I'm here I might as well do some shopping," I said. "I'm afraid I haven't properly introduced myself. I'm Abiene Metonne. And you are..?"

"Etira Moslin. Look around and then you'd best move on, if you know what's good for you."

Moslin. Is this whole town related? I walked slowly along the shelves, trailing my fingers through the dust.

Not everything on the back wall was coated in filth. Some linen-wrapped haunches of meat shared a shelf with bolts of new cloth in patterns I had seen at Seed-Neeus's store. Tins of the brand of salt that she carried were there as well, along with some other goods that were new but did not look familiar by their labels. I could have kicked myself for not paying closer attention when I packed and unpacked Toby's loads. Then I mentally slapped my forehead.

"I have some of Seed-Neeus's goods on my horse," I said. "I'm looking for Dar-Ma so that she may fulfill your order. I don't know what else to do with the delivery. Without Dar-Ma I'll have to pack the goods back to Chorrol."

Etira's frog-looking eyes squinted when she frowned. "Bring the goods to me. I'll make the trade."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm not authorized."

"Leave the goods, and I'll have Seed-Neeus bring a bill when she comes next."

"Let me think," I said. "Maybe Dar-Ma will show up with the rest of the delivery, since she hasn't come yet."

While I continued my casual stroll pretending a nonchalance that I didn't remotely feel, I rounded the corner and could see behind the sales counter. Along with the expected ledgers and coin box was a worn axe of the type meant to be wielded in one hand. I looked at it for a moment, at first not comprehending what I saw. Realization dawned with a chill that froze my limbs while sweat broke out on my forehead.

The axe had two nicks at a particular place on the blade. The weathered grip was wrapped in a pattern that I had noticed just a few weeks before. And when I stepped closer I could see the diamond shaped finial and the runes scratched into the base of the blade.

Valdi's axe!

"Where did you get that?" I said, before I could stop myself.

Etira gave me a long stare. "Some Nord slut came through here a while ago. Traded her axe for... food. Told her she should move on if she knew what was good for her, just like you've been told. She wasn't just any dumb Nord. She listened."

This was as much a lie as anything else I had been told, and now I had a new concern. Whatever had separated Valdi from her Ma's axe had not been voluntary. I had two young friends to find.

"I suppose I'll wait around for Dar-Ma," I said. "Maybe get a meal at the inn."

"Suit yourself."

I stepped outside and walked down the porch to where steps led into the loading and work area. I didn't have time to be nervous before a sight took my breath. A hide had been stretched onto a frame to dry, which in itself was unremarkable. This one was a brown paint on a field of white. Like Dar-Ma's beloved mare Blossom. Those wrapped cuts in the shop must be horse meat.

I ran to the hide with my heart in my throat. "Oh no," I whispered, brushing the short hair with my fingertips. "Oh my dear Dar-Ma, you will be so sad."

A soft wicker spun me on my heels. Around the back of the building was a small, fenced paddock. It housed a water trough, a feed bucket, and a brown paint horse, very much alive.

"Blossom!" I hopped the fence with no regard for my dignity or clothing.

This was certainly Dar-Ma's horse. I pressed my face against hers in both sudden relief and confirmation of my fears. Here was proof. I spent a moment and some magicka checking Blossom's condition. She was in robust health.

"I'll be back for you, girl!" It wouldn't do to try to hide a horse even in this empty town, but now with the fresh hide and meat for sale I had new worries for my four-legged friends. "I have to find Dar-Ma and Valdi."

When I marched back inside I smacked the door open so hard it rebounded against the racks on the wall. "That is Dar-Ma's horse in your back yard," I said before Etira could make a sound. "These are her trade goods on the shelves. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Etira crossed her arms over her chest. "I already told you, she never showed up. That's my horse. Owned it for years. Now buy something or get out."

I managed to prevent my jaw from dropping at the bald-faced lie, but her arrogance shocked some sense into me. It was going to take more than honest indignation to get information out of this hostile woman.

"I beg your pardon," I said in a soft tone I hoped she would take for humility. "You see Dar-Ma is also my friend, and I'm worried about her. You know there's talk about this town, though it doesn't seem fair, but you can see why I would worry. They say something awful happened here, to your people. How do you cope?" As I spoke I gathered my will to overcome hers and concentrated it into my hand.

Etira's scowl didn't soften and her posture remained wary, but she let her eyes run over me again. "We get by with no help from outsiders like you. The good times are coming back, though, everyone will see. You'd best be moving on if you know what's good for you."

"I don't want to cause any trouble. You're right, if Dar-Ma doesn't arrive soon, I should deliver her goods to you. Perhaps I'll just wait at the inn." With a practiced gesture I brushed a curl from my face, sending the spell swirling in a lazy tumble toward Etira. Its pale green light should not have been noticeable to her. I had learned to conceal my Illusion spells.

Etira leaped aside as if I had flung a bucket of slops in her direction. "No spells! You try another one of your mage tricks in here, and you'll be sorry! Get out of here, witch!"

Heat flooded my cheeks. I hastily left the shop.

Enjoy your pumpkin fest next week and I shall look forward to sharing our long distance traditional day after Thanksgiving pumpkin pie and coffee breakfast.

*

Well Etira was no more helpful than the dour innkeeper, but Abiene’s look around did yield clues and when she found Blossom (happily in good health), that confirmed Dar-Ma had been there, made the delivery but not departed. Worrisome indeed! And, as Abiene notes, she now also is concerned about Valdi.

Clever using an illusion spell that should have traveled unnoticed but damn – that green illusion magic just travels so darn slowly it is easily dodged if detected.

The horse hide caused my heart to drop... almost more than Valdi's ancestral axe. Sadly, I fear Valdi's fate is not so happy as Blossom's....

As to Hackdirt and its history (as well as its current inhabitants).... Most of the time, when a town is burned to the ground, it is a tragedy. In this case, I think Abiene is looking for a fire spell - a strong one.

Wonderfully slow build to what is going to be a frightening revelation.

Looks like the dry goods store is long on dry, short on goods... Plenty more of the Innsmouth Look represented here however...

And there are Dar-Ma's goods on the shelf. Even January - who is normally about the kindest person you can imagine, would have been hard-pressed to keep from sending Moslin through the wall.

Still, that was some quick thinking on Abiene's part, to bring up the rest of the goods for the delivery. Now she has some leverage. I wonder how much she will be able to pry with it?

Valdi's axe too, and Blossom in the back yard? Abiene is truly a very considerate soul for opting to go with the illusion spell rather than Absorb Health...