It's memories of wood elves!!!
'the way a tongue can’t help testing a sore tooth.'
This conjures images of the stringy redhead sticking that tongue into the spot where Vols knocked out a molar.
'I hope I know what I’m doing'
This, on the other hand could apply to quite a few of the decisions made by another wood elf - a scrawny blonde.

Ok, sorry. Couldn't resist. ^

The pep talk and bear/sprig encounter were magnificent. Martin got the pep talk that he understandably needed. He also got a chance to show his grit. More charge in and kill 'em by Jerric. I'm glad you paused their trek to bring us this scene. It blended heart pounding action with rich character development. Fabulous touch with the iced rat cube.

I am in awe of how you come up with these perfect injections !! You have made an amazing character in Jerric; everything we know about these quests becomes secondary, a backdrop to your story !! Your ability is extraordinary !!!

Oh my this is so true! ...stupid wisdom tooth....



His anger is so true. Its so natural to want to pin it on someone, whether its fair or not



This made me laugh! A certain other Nord felt the same way, and now look at his mess!

haute ecole rider: He’s very flexible. The doomstone part was a little tricky, because Martin had to get it a little wrong with the renown points. Reading the lore and then figuring out what an undereducated Nord would know has been fun. Especially since he has eclectic reading habits. Glad you liked it!!

SubRosa: Dislocated knee, yikes! Yeah, that’s the kind of pain that removes all other immediate concerns. I had a hip situation occur, but I didn’t have to see it go back in. Just heard it. No yoga for me. But hey, now we know when a storm is coming. If Jerric ‘watered’ the spriggan, it would sure keep the deer away from her! Thank you for the nits, I changed them. Glad you liked the doomstone part. I had never seen a scary one until the Jone stone.

ghastly: That’s exactly how it was for Jerric. Gaaaaaah oh I’m all right now. The superfast healing was a touch of Martin Septim badassery, Jerric couldn’t have pulled it off. Yep, the dead spriggan victory dance cut short by a real bear. Bears are scary, especially when they roar in surround sound right behind my ear. Glad you liked the frozen rat.

Acadian: Oh my gosh you’re right, it’s the wood elf tribute episode!!! As I recall, another Bosmer also recently encountered a bear. And a fourth is presently in Chorrol which is near where… well, that connection is a little thin. I actually did check to make sure I didn’t write ‘what we’re doing.’ The doomstone side trip is due to Buffy’s influence, by the way. I never bothered to figure them out before. Thank you, Acadian!

mALX: I could not write anything for Jerric and Martin until they had that little spat. They ran all over the Imperial Reserve in the game, and nothing. No rapport at all. I was really stumped for awhile! I thought, oh great, my main character hates Martin. Is it too late to abandon the MQ?! I have a bunch of non-quest stuff coming up in a little while. I enjoyed Maxical’s extended stay in the Bloodworks so much, it inspired me to go ahead and make stuff up!! Thank you so much, mALX!!

Jacki Dice: Wisdom teeth, ugh! That quote was the turning point for Jerric and Martin, thanks for pointing it out. It took me forever to figure out what the problem was. I’d better keep Jerric away from Niben Bay! I’m off to save the world… oh look, a door. I really shouldn’t go in there. Oh hey, butterflies.




Chapter 8: Running, Part 3

Abiene stood in the guild hall library, bored nearly senseless. Her student was late, and Marc Gulitte had her cornered. His impromptu lecture on destruction magic held no interest for her. Neither did he. Marc paused to take a breath. A commotion from downstairs reached them, even through the closed door. Abiene bolted for the stairs without excusing herself from Marc’s company. Days of waiting for news from Kvatch had frayed her nerves. Every time the front door opened, it made her jump. She had held on tightly to her hope. Now she was afraid to lose even that.

Darnand and Felen had returned from Kvatch, and the other mages were mobbing them for news. Her eyes searched behind them for Jerric’s broad frame. Now I’ll know, she thought. Her stomach clenched with fear. “Settle,” Carahil said from her office doorway. Her quiet voice commanded attention. “Felen and Darnand, do you need a moment to refresh yourselves? We will gather in the dining room. No, let them pass. We shall all listen to the news together.”

The travelers dropped their packs and went straight to the dining room. Felen began as soon as they had assembled. “Of our guild’s Kvatch chapter, Sigrid alone survived. She will remain in Kvatch.” He held his hand up to silence the burst of chatter. “Vigge the Cautious from Skingrad has joined Sigrid, as has our own Glafeviel. The Kvatch guild hall is a tent, but they are operating. Feather and healing magic are in greatest demand. They can use all of the alchemy supplies we send them.” Felen paused. Abiene felt her heart pounding in her throat. “The Lion of Kvatch is Jerric,” he announced. “We did not see him ourselves. Sigrid spoke to him after the battle. He has left Kvatch, his destination unknown. We made a list of the survivors who are living in the encampment, as well as those who departed but are known to have survived. Here, Carahil.” Felen handed over the parchment.

Chaos broke out again as everyone wanted to see the list, but Carahil’s stern gaze quieted them. “Peace,” she said. “There are too many of us who want to look and too few names on this list. I shall read them out. We have held on to hope, but soon we may be grieving. Please allow me to finish.”

Abiene leaned back against the stone archway, arms wrapped around herself to still her shaking. She had already accepted Kvatch as lost, and Sigrid’s survival seemed almost odd to her. She watched Darnand slip out the dining room door. I’ll give him a little time, she decided. Then she closed her eyes and let the tears come. Jerric is alive, she thought. Somewhere, he’s alive. The depth of her relief showed her just how frightened she had been.

She felt a hand on her arm and opened her eyes again. Thaurron stood before her, face broken with grief. Her heart went out to him, and she held him as he sobbed against her shoulder. When he calms, I’ll look for Darnand, she decided. She watched her own tears fall onto Thaurron’s shoulder.

It was more than an hour later when Abiene found Darnand in the library. He sat gripping a quill pen, hunched over piles of parchment. His damp hair still held the marks of his comb. As she watched, a curl fell over his forehead. I wonder what he’s working on, she thought. Maybe notes from his trip. She stepped over to his table, standing in front of the window’s light. Her fingers wanted to reach out and smooth his hair. After a moment, he glanced up in irritation. Her stomach dropped. Then the polite mask slipped over his expression, like she’d seen when he spoke to other people. It hurt to see it on his face when he looked at her. “Yes?” he asked. His voice sounded neutral, at best.

“Never mind,” she said hastily. “You’re busy, it can wait.”

His eyes were back on his work before she finished speaking. She walked back to the stairs, flushed with embarrassment. She felt a surge of annoyance for giving him this kind of influence over her mood. I guess that’s why it’s called a crush, she told herself ruefully. As she reached for the door handle, Darnand spoke. “Abiene.” She saw he was really looking at her this time. “Apologies. Are you free after dinner this evening? I would like to walk with you. We could speak then.”

She tried to keep her expression cool, but it was hopeless. “Yes, that would be nice,” she said with a smile. “After dinner, I’ll see you then.”


Jerric and Martin stood looking down at the dead boar. The struggle had left the grass trampled and bloody, but he had killed the boar without burning or freezing it. Martin put out his hand and slapped Jerric’s arm. “This is much better than the last thing you killed,” Martin told him.

“You didn’t want charred troll for dinner? It might have been better than the wolf we ate last night.” Jerric heaved the boar onto a slanted rock so that Martin could hold it up. The rock supported most of the weight.

“The wolf was tough and dry, that is true. Your cooking skills were not at fault,” Martin added quickly. “I confess, I would be reluctant to dine upon something that goes about on two legs.” Martin held the boar’s hind feet while Jerric gutted it. He turned his face away, Jerric guessed from the smell.

“Two legs and two fists, I’d say. Anyway, troll fat is bad for you. I doubt troll meat is any better.” Jerric moved the carcass to the ground, away from the slippery pile of guts. He knelt and began turning the body into meat with his knife. “Cook it here, or wait? We might not find a safe campsite.”

Martin broke off some ferns to wrap the meat. “Let’s cook some here and eat it, then look for a safe site tonight. Perhaps we shall have two meals today.”

“All right.” Jerric leaned his head back to get some clean air. “Let’s do the rest of the potatoes while we’re at it. If you watch the pot, I’ll go gather us some greens. And maybe some mushrooms. We can let Flash graze while he waits.” Jerric smiled down at the carcass. “I’m sure glad this fellow tried to kill us.”

By nightfall Jerric had found a sheltered place to camp, and they decided to risk a small fire. Even if someone smelled the smoke, they wouldn't be able to easily see it. They had dined on fatty meat cut from the boar’s belly and fried in Jerric’s pan. Now Martin cleaned the skillet with dry grass while Jerric mixed up some potions. They sat companionably on opposite sides of the fire. The pines sighed above them in the light wind. Jerric thought how easy it was to pretend they were just out camping. The sounds of the fire and his pestle grinding flax seeds and mushroom caps could take him to almost any night in the last decade or so.

A piece of wood snapped in the fire, sending up a glittering veil of sparks. Martin spoke. "Do you remember the day I met you, when your mother first brought you to the chapel for lessons? You were at that gangly age, all legs and feet.”

Jerric looked across at Martin. His hands didn’t need his attention to finish their work. “I was eleven.” Tonight he didn’t mind thinking about home as it used to be. “She made me learn to heal myself before she let me go out with the caravan. Then I helped the cook for years while I trained before they let me carry a blade.”

“I had just come to Kvatch when we met. That was a dark time for me, Jerric. The deeds you asked me about.” Martin tossed the grass into the fire and pulled up a clean bundle. “When she went back out the door, the sun shone through and lit you up like a torch. Look at this boy, I thought. Unspoiled, and full of promise. See how the sun loves him.” Brother Martin looked at him intently. “Jerric, this might sound strange.”

Jerric made his hands still and gave Martin his attention. “All right. I’m listening.”

“When you came to speak to me at the fire in the encampment, of course I knew who you were. But more than that, when you walked up I remembered that moment. I had tended you as you slept after the battle, and I helped Oleta with your healing. But I didn’t remember that day until you came to speak to me.”

The hairs stood up on Jerric’s neck. “Go on,” he said.

“I am afraid my words will be disquieting. You told me you know we are both part of a plan. Perhaps you wonder why it was so easy to convince me. I believe that day in the chapel you were pointed out to me. Singled out for what was to come.”

Chills ran over Jerric’s skin. He thought for a moment. “Maybe you can help me understand something your father said to me. The Emperor. He said ‘In your face I behold the sun’s companion. The dawn of Akatosh’s bright glory may banish the coming darkness.’ That was right before he died. The Dragonfires are out, right? So the darkness he spoke of is now. We’re in the darkness.” Jerric scratched his hands through his hair. “He said the dawn of Akatosh’s glory. The sun brings dawn. Did he mean Akatosh is the sun? And now you tell me the sun pointed to me the first time my feet hit the floor inside Akatosh’s chapel. You’re right. I feel like a puppet.”

Martin rubbed his chin, the grass in his hands apparently forgotten. “The Emperor saw you as the sun’s companion. What do you think that means?”

Jerric picked up his mortar and pestle again. “Well right now I’m your companion. I guess you have some work to do if you’re supposed to be the sun.” He ground the seeds some more. Almost ready for the water, he noticed. “What do the Dragonfires do, exactly?”

“They keep a magical barrier between Mundus and the planes of Oblivion.”

“So the Oblivion Gate couldn’t be opened until the Dragonfires were out. That’s why they came for you, it has to be. So they could keep the Dragonfires from being lit again. Kvatch wasn’t the whole plan. We may be in the darkness, but there’s more coming.” Jerric was surprised that the idea didn’t carry fear with it. Only a sense of knowing. “I’d better not wear the Kvatch Wolf until you’re safe. At least not the surcoat.” He dipped a fingertip into the mush to test it. “What did you say I was, unspoiled? Ha! How long did you hold on to that idea?”

Martin smiled absently. Jerric guessed that he was one who could talk and think at the same time. “At least a few moments. I've always wondered what kind of trouble you might have caused with that frost spell I wasn’t supposed to teach you."

"That frost is still my favorite spell, I can throw it harder and faster than anything else. Back then I tried to freeze my nephew's bath water, but it didn't work. We're almost the same age. There are always pranks in the making with my family. Where’s your family, are they safe?"

“My parents were older when I came to them, and they have both been gone for many years. We lived on a farm near Chorrol until I was grown. I was told that my natural mother died in childbed.” Martin stirred the fire. “I don’t tell you this as a priest, but as a son myself. Your mother often spoke to Akatosh on your behalf.”

"I was a terror," Jerric admitted. "I'm sure I used up all the grace she might have gained for me. My family was my life. I’m sorry you’ve gone so long without yours, Martin.”

Martin was silent for a moment, then he spoke again. "What are you going to do after this? Do you have any place to go after Weynon Priory?"

"I haven't thought much about it. I have friends in Anvil. Mages Guild. Or my Fa's partner, he'll give me work. I don't know."

"Have you ever thought of attending the Arcane University?"

Jerric snorted. “School didn’t work for me, I left when I was twelve. My penmanship was awful, and my writing worse. I remember an essay we had to write about a trip we took to Trumbe, do you know that place? I was thinking how the arches rose up like the mountains, and the low buildings must have spread out like the sea. Looking up at the heights from the solid ground reminded me that we can’t change the lot we have been given, but we can hope to rise above it. I wondered if the beings who could think up such a place had the cruelty it must have taken to build it. Maybe they had slaves who were willing to do the dirty work for them, against their own kind. Then when I tried to write, all that came out was ‘White stones are old,’ and I forgot if ‘stones’ has an E in it, and four words filled up half of the parchment. It was humiliating.” Jerric was surprised at how bitter the memory still tasted. “Besides, there’s far too much sitting still.”

"You have half a dozen books in your pack. Your books probably weigh more than our food supply. Are they for trade?"

"No, they're mine," said Jerric. "I just haven't felt like reading since... Anyway, they’re just for fun."

"What do you mean?" asked Martin.

"It's reading what I want to know, not some assignment." Jerric searched for an explanation. "It's like pleasing yourself with a book." Martin's eyebrows went up, and Jerric felt his cheeks burn. "No, that’s not what I meant. Apologies, Martin."

"I wasn't born a priest, Jerric," Martin remarked.

Jerric poured some water into the mortar and swirled it around. The last of the water went down his throat, then he held the empty water bag and looked at it. “This one has Jerric’s Juice,” he said to himself, out loud. “Remember.” He started slowly pouring the gloppy liquid into the water bag’s mouth.

“Is that a potion?” asked Martin. “Jerric Juice?”

“Jerric’s Juice,” Jerric corrected him. “Yes. It restores my magicka. Sign of the Atronach. I’m out of bottles, I should have grabbed some in Skingrad.”

“Oh,” Martin said. He sounded genuinely interested. “Is it supposed to be so… lumpy?”

“Are you an alchemist?”

“Not at all,” said Martin.

“Then yes, it’s supposed to be very lumpy.” Jerric tipped up the mortar and drank the last of the gritty solution. The magicka that bloomed inside him brought a familiar comfort. “Where did you learn that frost, Martin? I don’t suppose they teach that at priest school.”

“I began my study with the Mages Guild.” Martin stared into the fire. “I left the guild when I was an apprentice.”

Jerric could tell that subject was closed. He finished putting away his equipment. “I think I’m ready for sleep,” he said.

“You have given me some things to ponder,” Martin replied. “I will stay awake a little longer. If you dream, do you want me to wake you?”

“No. I might get a little more this time, if I dream.” He rolled himself into his blanket. “Maybe if I don’t wake up, it will stop. It’s the same every time. I don’t think it’s just remembering.” He closed his eyes. “Sorry if I disturb you, Martin.”

Home for lunch, and just in time for a bowl of Grits!

Poor Abiene, trapped by Marc Gillette and one of his lectures on shaving!

So Vigge has gone to Kvatch? I wonder what the sleeping arrangements are like there? One thing is for certain, everyone visiting the Skingrad chapter will be breathing a sigh of relief!

And Abiene cannot decide who she wants, Darnand or Jerric? Well, she could not have picked two more polar opposites that is for certain! What about Vidkun though? She seems to have completely forgotten about him.

So the hobbits are cooking dinner in the wilderness. I half-expected Jerric to pull out his box of spices from the Shire to season the boar!

A piece of wood snapped in the fire, sending up a glittering veil of sparks.
This was a wonderful line of description, that really sets the scene.

I guess you have some work to do if you’re supposed to be the sun.
Unless he is the son, as Julian has pondered in an alternate reality.

"It's like pleasing yourself with a book."
It seems The Lusty Argonian Maid is at the top of Jerric's reading list!

This was a wonderful male bonding moment. I really enjoyed the reminiscing that the two men shared - it made them more real and less cardboard.

I wonder how Vigge and Sigrid are getting along? Somehow I don't see our Sigrid letting dear old Vigge getting away with the antics he pulled in Skingrad!

The scene in the Anvil Mages Guild when Carahil read off the names of the survivors really brought home the devastation that was Kvatch. It makes me think of the people crowding around the telegraph offices after every Civil War battle, searching for names of loved ones on the list of dead and wounded.

Loved this bit.

SPEW!!! OMG, ROFL !!!! Poor Sigrid, I foresee deflated breasties when next we spot her.




Sigrid will always float to the surface !!!





Powerful, POWERFUL !!! I got chill bumps reading this whole section !!!







ROFL !!! You must have set that line in there specifically for Foxy and me to stumble across and spew - I was laughing before I even saw the end of that line and Martin's reaction below, lol.





- AHA !!!! So Martin and Foxy think alike !!!! Uh oh, I do see trouble now !!!








ROFL !!!! What great characters you create !!!!


*

I enjoyed seeing how you reflected the devastation to the Kvatch guild via the Anvil guild. I'm glad Sigrid has some company (and I hope Vigge causes no trouble). Wonderful that the Kvatch chapter is still operating, albeit from a tent.

Nice hunting/dinner scene with Martin and Jerric.

'Jerric looked across at Martin. His hands didn’t need his attention to finish their work.'
I really liked this phrasing!

Poor Sigrid, I foresee deflated breasties when next we spot her.


... You mean....he was a bottle fed baby, too???

Oh noes! I'm lost!

I've been away so long I think I've lost my place. Argh! I really need to get myself back to reading this, I'm missing out on quite a well-written tale here.

SubRosa: There’s a hobbit-inspired bag of salt in the story, but it won’t show up for a while yet. Abiene is definitely conflicted. Poor Vidkun, the old boyfriend left behind in Leyawiin. Unless of course he decides to take her advice and join the Mages Guild.
The thing Jerric’s really upset about losing in Kvatch is his collection of Dunmeri erotica.

haute ecole rider: I think you’re 100% right about Sigrid! Maybe we’ll have to check in on them later. Carahil’s list was inspired by such events. It is a relief to start thinking about Kvatch rebuilding.

ghastly: That was my favorite part!

mALX: Sigrid, I need your help, my ring is on the bottom of that pond. Oh, never mind. The sun’s companion thing is hard for me to figure out. What the heck was Uriel talking about?! And Martin thinking hmm, did he bring along a copy of Nord Girls Gone Wild? Thanks, mALX!!

Acadian: Kvatch is kind of taking on a life of its own, it’s been interesting. I wouldn’t worry about Sigrid, I’d guess she’s an expert in deflecting unwanted attention. I never really thought about the Kvatch to WP road trip from Martin’s perspective before this story. I guess it would be a pretty big transition for him. Thank you for noticing the Accidental Alchemist at work.

D. Foxy: Hi, Foxy!! Always nice to hear from you. I’m so glad you’re reading!

Thomas Kaira: Don’t worry, it will be here whenever you get to it! I’m glad you’re still reading.



Chapter 8: Running, Part 4

Jerric had lost track of the days, but he guessed nearly a week had passed while they walked through the wilderness. He thought it might have been a month since he headed south from the Odiils’ Farm. The trees had changed from shades of green to all the colors of fire. High on the mountainsides he could see the dark shapes of evergreen groves. Snow capped the peaks and reached pale fingers down into the shaded hollows.

The men climbed up through a bright meadow. Exertion kept them warm now, instead of heat from the sun. Jerric believed that he had steered them too far west. His thoughts were confirmed when he saw the tops of Chorrol’s crenellated city walls. “Look, Martin!” he said. “We’re almost at the road. Tonight we’ll sleep at Weynon Priory!”

Martin gave him a tired smile. “The Priory at last. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since that terrible night.” Jerric let the comment skim over the surface of his mind and away. He had learned to keep the days for moving forward and let his grief have the nights.

Foot traffic was light on the Black Road, and they were able to pass slower travelers. When they turned onto the path to Weynon Priory, they found it empty. The massive oaks lining the road wore autumn cloaks of brilliant crimson. Acorns crunched on the stones under their feet. Tree rats filled the air with busy chatter as they raced about gathering them. “Big trees from such little things,” Jerric remarked. “There are a lot. No wonder we didn’t have any trouble from the real bears.” Martin looked at him as if he was speaking Argonian. “Acorns,” Jerric explained. “They’re not hungry. The bears.” Jerric decided that emperors might not spend much time thinking about such matters. He cleared his throat. “Priory’s just ahead,” he said.

Distant shouts and an agonized cry jolted Jerric into action. “Stay back,” he said to Martin. He started down the road at a run.

A Dunmer was dashing toward them, shouting. “Help! You must help! They’re killing everyone at Weynon Priory!”

Jerric’s gut tightened at the sight of the panicked mer. He glanced up at the sky for signs of red clouds as he ran. “What’s happening?” he called to him.

“I don’t know!” Eronor had nearly reached him. “I think they’re right behind me! Prior Maborel is dead!”

Eronor was correct, they were right behind him. Two armored figures pelted up the road, maces in their hands. They wore the same armor that the assassins under the Imperial Prison had conjured. Jerric’s mind filled with cold fury. Redeemer hissed into his hand, and he realized he had left his shield on Flash. Again. His Woad shimmered over him as he closed with the first assassin. Man or mer, he didn’t care what he faced. He wanted to smell their blood.

When the first assassin reached Jerric, his companion still lagged several steps behind. Jerric noted wild eyes and a small frame. Redeemer’s tip pierced the assassin’s face before he could finish his strike. A surge of magicka and black joy sent Jerric toward his next opponent. This one was taller, but the reach advantage still belonged to him. He saw the assassin begin a weak swing from the wrist. Already unbalanced from his strike, the man couldn’t dodge when Redeemer sought his throat.

Jerric looked down the path through the red mist of their dissipating armor. A brown-robed figure danced around another assassin in the Weynon House courtyard, his blade glittering in the sun. Brother Piner. Another enemy approached him from the rear. Frost hurtled past Jerric and boomed against the advancing figure as Jerric ran toward them. Piner’s blade darted faster than Jerric’s eyes could follow. By the time he reached the courtyard, Brother Piner stood alone. “God’s blood!” he gasped. “They came out of nowhere! Have you seen Grandmaster Jauffre?”

“Eronor said he was in the chapel,” Martin said from behind Jerric. Jerric whirled around and stared at him.

“Quick!” cried Brother Piner. “He may need our help!”

They heard shouting as they entered the small chapel. Piner led the way, blocking the path through the pews. “You’re just in time,” Jerric heard Jauffre remark to Piner. By the time Jerric got around his flashing blade, the air was full of red mist. Three bodies lay on the floor. Jauffre stood uninjured with a long katana in his hands. Jerric looked at the small Breton, impressed. Grandmaster, he reminded himself.

“You’re back,” Jauffre said to Jerric. “Thank Talos!” He glanced at Martin, and Jerric saw recognition flare in his eyes. “They attacked without warning. I was praying here in the Chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. I had just time to arm myself.”

“Prior Maborel is dead,” Brother Piner said heavily.

Jerric spoke over him. “How did they know…?” He looked over at Martin.

“The Amulet of Kings!” Jauffre started toward the door. “I fear that was the target of this attack. I keep it in a secret room in Weynon House. We need to go see if it is safe.”

Brother Piner dashed after Jauffre, but Jerric held on to Martin’s arm. “It could be a trap,” he said. “I don’t know who to trust. We’ll follow in a moment.”

Martin looked aghast. “The monk was fighting for his life! You don’t think—"

“I don’t know enough to think,” said Jerric. And this anger isn’t helping, he realized. “All right, let’s go. This time, stay behind me.”

They crossed the courtyard, stepping around the dead. Jerric saw Eronor walking toward them, leading Flash. Prior Maborel’s black-robed corpse sprawled beside the Weynon House front door. Jerric almost hoped to meet opposition. His muscles twitched with energy he wanted to spend in blood.

They found Jauffre upstairs pacing in a room that had been concealed by shelving when Jerric had been there before. “They’ve taken it!” he told them. “The Amulet of Kings is gone!”

Jerric pulled Martin into the small room. “Grandmaster Jauffre.” He kept his voice low. “I have brought Martin Septim.”

Jauffre composed himself and turned to them. “Then it has not all gone against us. Thank Talos for that!” He looked Martin over, but his face did not betray his assessment. “Martin cannot stay here. We have driven them off, but they will be back once they learn of Martin’s survival. Which they will.”

“Where will he be safe?” Jerric asked. He realized he still had a grip on Martin’s arm, and he let go.

“We must take him to Cloud Ruler Temple. The hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. We should leave at once.” Jauffre turned his piercing gaze on Jerric. Jerric nodded his answer, and Jauffre turned to Martin. “We must postpone formalities until you are safe,” Jauffre said to him. He indicated the second loft area. “Over there, the trunks. Get yourselves some woolen clothing. Blankets too, we’ll be sleeping rough. There will be snow on the ground where we’re going.” Jerric found some Nord-sized clothing, and Martin had a significantly larger pile to choose from. Jauffre joined them with a leather cuirass for Martin. “Piner is packing the food. Get it from him, Jerric. We’ll meet you at the stable. Watch the road. I don’t know how quickly they will decide to send someone back here.”

“Does Brother Piner know where we’re going?” asked Jerric.

Jauffre gave him a sharp look. “He has not betrayed us.”

“No, that’s not my meaning. If they come back here looking for Martin, won’t they take whoever’s here? For information?”

“You can trust that I have taken such things into consideration,” Jauffre replied crisply.

Jerric knew it was time to shut up and move on. He headed downstairs. Piner gathered the packed food and followed him. Eronor took the blankets from Jerric when they got to the stable. He watched the road while Eronor and Piner readied the horses. Flash was wearing a saddle now, as were the bay and chestnut. “I’m sorry about the Prior,” Jerric said to the men.

Brother Piner didn’t spare him a glance. “We’ll put him to rest as soon as you are gone,” he said. “And the others.” For the first time Jerric realized that some of the forms on the ground could be residents of the Priory. These attackers hadn’t worn red robes. Piner led Flash out onto the road and gestured to Jerric. “Come on.” As Jerric walked after him, he saw Piner glance back at Eronor. “We heard about Kvatch,” Piner said. “Jauffre told us it was your home. I’m sorry, Jerric.”

“Kvatch will rebuild,” Jerric told him quietly. He felt the shadows rising again, and he pushed them back. “Will you be all right here, Brother Piner?”

“I will serve Talos, whatever comes. I hope there will be a day when you may visit us here in peace.” Jerric gripped his arm in farewell.

Jauffre and Martin joined them. While they made their final preparations, Jerric addressed Flash. “This may be the end of our friendship, fellow,”’ he said. “I hope we can agree that I should stay on.”

As they rode away from the Priory, Jerric heard the sounds of grieving. Jauffre set a brisk pace up the Black Road, and the Orange Road proved winding and steep. Gaps in the trees provided breathtaking views down across Lake Rumare. The White Tower showed them the colors of sunset, then faded to grey in the twilight. Jerric concentrated on keeping his seat.

As night fell, Jauffre slowed the horses. The road was empty and wide enough for them to ride abreast. They talked as they rode through the dusk. “Those assassins weren’t trained fighters,” Jerric said. “One of them didn’t even know how to use his mace. Still, I can’t help but worry about the folks back at the Priory.”

“The attack was a distraction while their agents searched for the Amulet,” Jauffre explained. “I believe that retrieving it was their only purpose today. The enemy will learn of Martin’s survival. Our hope lies not in secret, but in speed. We must reach Cloud Ruler Temple before they realize that Martin lives. A few men can hold it against an army. There is no place that Martin will be safer.” They rode for a few moments in silence. The evening air held a chilly bite. Jerric wondered if they had come far enough north for snow. Stars glittered in the darkening sky where he could see it between the trees. He guessed he wouldn't find out tonight. Jauffre spoke again, as if Martin was not riding right between them. “The enemy has defeated us at every turn. We gained Uriel’s heir, but lost the Amulet of Kings. Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us. But we must play for time, at least.” Jauffre’s voice sounded grim, with a disturbing edge of hopelessness.

Jerric looked over at Martin, then past him at Jauffre. He couldn’t read their expressions in the dusk. “Have you ever played stickball?” he asked them. Neither of them replied. “Well, you’ve seen it played. You know what you do when you drop a pass. Go get the ball. Make the next play.”

To Jerric’s surprise, it was Martin who spoke. His rich voice filled the cool evening. “Once we have reached Cloud Ruler Temple, you must advise me of our resources, Grandmaster Jauffre. Then we shall locate and retrieve the Amulet of Kings.”

Quite the homecoming. It was hard to lose Prior Maborel in the game, especially after he was so nice to loan you his horse.

And the end of the road turns out to be the start of another, much harder road. Poor Martin. He is still coming to terms with being the Emperor, but I see in your fiction he is already ahead of the game.

This was confusing for me. Didn't they want to go north anyway? Did you mean too far west of their ultimate destination? Or did you mean north instead of northwest in the sense of the direction of their travel? When Chorrol and WP lay on an east-west line like they do, I would think that if you ended up at Chorrol, you steered too far west in relation to your ultimate goal. In either case, both are north-northwest of where you started from. (I'm assuming you left the Gold Road at the same point I typically do when going cross country - at the bridge east of Ra'Sava Camp.)

The 'd' in unbalanced got scared and bolted from the fight.

This triggered another brief moment of confusion for me. To me, wool means the rough fiber you get from the sheep/goats/yaks etc. And blankets are often made of wool as well, especially those in northern climates, so using wool and blankets as two separate things in the same sentence gave me pause. Did you mean woolen clothing perhaps?

Overall, still a great job and an intense read. I quite enjoyed myself here.

Okay, I've finished Chapter 7 now, so I'm going to comment on that. Very powerful stuff you have going there, Grits. You handled the Battle for Kvatch very well, and Jerric's sorrow when he discovered his family was truly lost was quite moving.

Now it's time for the legendary "Escort Martin" quest. I've actually found a mod that adds a small road through the forest north of Skingrad, and I can give it to you if you are interested. I feel that that would defeat the purpose of your foray into the Reserve, though, so I will not comment further on that.

I look forward to what hi jinks the two of them might have together!

You continue to do a wonderful job here! Your descriptions, dialogue and action are a pleasure to read.

'He had learned to keep the days for moving forward and let his grief have the nights.'
This is lovely.

Very powerful moment at the end, seeming to say that Martin is truly beginning to realize the nature and responsibility of the position he has been thrust into.

Tree rats
A great name for squirrels. Plus an excellent observation on Jerric's part about the acorns keeping the bears well-fed.

An exciting battle. Jerric is certainly getting good at this sort of thing.

“You can trust that I have taken such things into consideration,”
This was an excellent conclusion on the part of the author as well. Of course the Mythic Dawn would scoop up whoever was left behind and torture them. It makes me wonder if Piner has been lead to believe that they are going somewhere else, and is being sacrificed to buy time? Cold, but brilliant.

It kills me that Jauffre didn't carry the amulet on his person since he was armed and still alive at the end of the battle ... he puts it in an unlocked cupboard made of wood (smashable if it was locked) - in a room with a door (how secret is that?) - and then leaves it alone to go pray in the chapel ?????

- and then gets haughty when Jerric is thinking of strategic tactics !!!


Jauffre is the Grandmaster of the Blades whose only job is to guard the Emperor and that amulet - he loses one personally, the other is lost by men he trained - Er ... would you buy a used car from this man ???? ROFL !!!!


Great Chapter !!!!

haute ecole rider: You are correct on all three quotes, I meant what you said, not what I wrote. I fixed them, thanks for pointing them out. In my mind, I always put Chorrol where Sancre Tor is on the map. Oops! I felt so bad when Jerric and Martin were walking toward the Priory. No hot bath and fresh socks for you, guys! Thank you for your support, haughty echo rider!

Thomas Kaira: I’m playing on the PS3, so no mods for me. I appreciate the offer, though. Thank you for the kind words about the Kvatch chapter. It was a pretty important section for me, so I’m glad to hear it worked for you. They do get a little break in the wilderness.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! You are correct about the last line, right there is where Martin decided that he was not going to be a puppet. The line about Jerric really highlights what he is still going through, and probably will be for some time. Thank you for drawing attention to it.

SubRosa: Yep, Jauffre is not a warm and fuzzy type here. I can’t help but think that Brother Piner had an I-am-so-screwed moment when the three of them rode off. Glad you enjoyed the acorns and tree rats. It was fun to do a little Jerric thought before things heated up again.

mALX: Yeah, Jauffre losing the Amulet is a real ‘because it’s a game’ situation. If they found him in a pool of yuck with his guts opened because he had swallowed it (or otherwise), then I might believe he did his best to hide it. Thanks, mALX!!



Chapter 8: Running, Part 5 Cloud Ruler Temple

Jerric reached up to the woolen cloth covering his mouth and nose and cracked off the ice that clung there where his breath had frozen. Flash snorted, and Jerric wondered if he was having similar issues with his whiskers. He could see Martin on the bay riding in front of him, and in the lead rode Jauffre on his chestnut. Snow drifted down around them, turning their world to grey. The powder on the road muffled the horses’ footsteps. When the wind quieted, Jerric could hear the crystalline music of tiny ice particles tumbling over tree branches on their way to the ground. Gusts scoured the road in places, piling the snow in white ridges. They had reached the Silver Road and climbed into the Jeralls under low, heavy clouds. As the path finally leveled out, the grey granite walls of Bruma had come into view ahead of them. At that moment the snow had begun to fall in a fast, dry shower.

The road was rising again, and Jerric paid close attention to Flash’s footing. Swirling clouds of powder obscured the view, but Jerric had the sense of a great open space beside them. He would hate to measure how far up the mountain they had climbed by how long it took him to fall. “Not much farther,” Jauffre called back to them. The cold didn’t bother Jerric, but he wished he could see through the snow. Martin was the one who seemed to suffer the most. On their first night above the frost line, Jerric had quietly transferred some of his own blankets to Martin’s bedroll.

The horses made a sharp turn. Jerric looked up, squinting against the stinging snow. Dark walls loomed above them with a pair of massive doors set in their middle. Jauffre dismounted, and Jerric and Martin followed his lead. A cloaked figure appeared in front of Jauffre. Jerric realized he must be a sentry.

“Grandmaster, is this …?” The Redguard soldier’s eyes were fixed on Martin.

“Yes, Cyrus,” Jauffre replied. “This is the Emperor’s son, Martin Septim.”

“My lord!” Cyrus executed a crisp salute. “Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple! We have not had the honor of an Emperor’s visit in many years!”

“Ah, well, thank you,” Martin replied. “The honor is mine.” If Cyrus noticed the uncertainty in Martin’s voice, he did not show it.

Jauffre nodded to Cyrus, and the Blade tapped sharply on the metal doors. With a groan, they swung slowly open. A broad set of stone stairs lay beyond. Cyrus ran up ahead of them. “Come,” Jauffre addressed Martin. “Your Blades are waiting to greet you.”

They led the horses up into Cloud Ruler Temple. Shouts and running feet were audible above them. Jauffre halted them at a wide landing. Two teenaged Imperials dashed down the stairs and took the horses, nodding respectfully to Jauffre and Martin. Jerric received a matching set of curious glances. After a moment, Jauffre seemed to receive some signal. He nodded to Martin, then led him up the steps. Jerric followed. He gazed up in awe at his surroundings.

The stairs rose between terraces built of massive stone blocks, each one as tall as Jerric and perfectly smooth. Large fire bowls lit the steps and plaza above. The main temple building rose up in three sections, the tallest symmetrically placed in the middle. Each forward-facing gable possessed a concave roof that swooped down to wide, overhanging eaves. Jerric wondered how they did not collapse under the weight of the still falling snow. When a rush of wind completely cleared the courtyard of its accumulated powder, he got his answer. He saw the horses’ rumps disappear into a low building along the left side of the plaza. The snowfall drew its pale curtain over whatever lay behind the main building and to the right.

The Blades had lined up along both sides of the central walkway. Jauffre and Martin passed between them as they proceeded to the final low steps and broad landing in front of the main building. Jerric paused at the top of the long stairs, uncertain. Then he found he was unwilling to walk between the assembled Blades alone.

When Jauffre and Martin reached the final steps, they turned and faced Jerric down the double line of soldiers. Martin had thrown back his hood. Even standing on the low stairs, he looked small and slim between the armored figures. Jerric suddenly felt he should be by Martin’s side. The crackling flames in the nearby fire bowl and the snow hissing against its hot metal sounded overly loud to him.

“Blades!” Jauffre called out. “Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos. But there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!”

As one, the Blades drew their katanas and saluted Martin. Their voices rang against the stone. “Hail, Dragon Born!” they cried. “Hail, Martin Septim! Hail!” Jerric felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snow on his neck.

Jauffre’s voice carried down to Jerric as he addressed Martin. “Your Highness, the Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne.”

Martin answered him immediately, speaking both to Jauffre and to his Blades. There was no trace of the hesitation he had shown talking to Cyrus. “Jauffre. All of you. I know you all expect me to be Emperor, I’ll do my best. But this is all new to me. I’m not used to giving speeches. But I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That’s it. Thank you.” Martin’s voice projected both confidence and humility, but Jerric could hear the fatigue under it.

“Well, then. Thank you, sire,” said Jauffre. “We’d all best get back to our duties, eh, Captain?”

The Blades dispersed without further comment, as if by some signal that Jerric didn’t see. His feet carried him across the open plaza to Martin before he decided what to do, and he realized the extent of his exhaustion. Jauffre stood to the side, speaking with the man he had addressed as Captain. Martin waited on the steps, looking slightly down at Jerric. “Not much of a speech, was it?” Martin asked quietly. “Didn’t seem to bother them, though. The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim… I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I know I would be dead by now if it weren’t for you. Thank you. But everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven’t the faintest idea…”

“I’m sure Jauffre will tell you what they expect,” Jerric told him. “Anyway, if you’re an Emperor, then I guess you get to decide how to behave. As for what to do, you told us what was next when we were on the Orange Road.”

Martin nodded and gave Jerric a tired smile. “Of course, the Amulet of Kings. So we … I … can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion.”

“And you will be the Emperor,” Jerric stated.

“The Emperor... That’s an idea that will still take some getting used to. In any case, we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start.”

The Captain strode away, and Jauffre joined them. “Your chamber is being prepared, sire,” he said to Martin. “We will dine together in our great hall, then you must rest. Jerric, we have no guest quarters here. I invite you to sleep tonight in our barracks in the west wing. Tomorrow I would like to discuss what comes next. For now, let us rest and recover from our journey.”

Jerric followed Martin and Jauffre through the tall wooden doors and into the central hall. Jerric stopped and looked around in amazement. The high ceiling rose to a peak running the length of the room, lit by windows tucked under the eaves. A wide walkway led straight through the space between rows of tables with benches. Thick, plain wooden columns marched along both sides with arches between them. Doorways, cupboards, smaller tables, and shelves filled the lower walls to the right and left. A massive fireplace dominated the far wall. Jerric guessed he could stand in it with Martin on his shoulders, and ten men could stand shoulder to shoulder across the opening. The roaring fire within it both lit and warmed the hall. Fire bowls hanging from dragon-shaped brackets also provided illumination. Jerric’s wandering eyes halted at what he saw glimmering in the fire bowls’ light, and his breath caught in his throat. The high arches along the entire hall were lined with katanas, hanging evenly spaced and pointing down through open space. The wall over the fireplace also gleamed with blades. Awe prickled over his skin, but the empty spaces tightened his gut. He realized the katanas that would someday hang there were now carried by the men and women who had just filled the plaza with their voices.

Jauffre must have noticed his gaze. “It’s how we honor our fallen brothers and sisters,” he said reverently. “This is the Hall of Blades.” He gestured to Martin, and when he spoke again his voice held a note of cheer. “Come, sire, I see a table has been laid for us. The others will dine together at the usual hour, but by then you should be resting.” They seated themselves at the table closest to the fire. Jerric had been too tired and saddle sore on their journey to notice his empty belly, but now every meal that he had missed made his stomach rumble. Crusty bread, a clay pitcher of beer, and bowls of thick stew awaited them. Jerric identified carrots, onions, and chunks of beef in the dark gravy. He picked up his spoon and glanced at Martin. The former priest appeared to have already concluded his blessing, and Jerric sent up his own silent thanks for Martin’s brevity. The three of them demonstrated that they were equals at least in their appreciation of the meal.

Jerric looked around as he ate. The floor was mostly constructed of wide boards, but there were sections of stone blocks or pavers in between. As he studied it, he realized that the stones actually ran in continuous lines with wooden sections between. “What’s below this hall, Jauffre?” he asked. “Are there rooms underneath?”

Jauffre took a swallow of beer to clear his mouth. “Indeed. Living quarters for our staff and families, work areas and storage, even the baths lie below us. Winter brings bitter cold to these mountains, but this fortress does not require fires for heat. Hot springs can be found all over this area. Our lower levels are quite warm. The water in our baths comes out of the rocks already heated. We must mix in water from the cold springs, or it would be too hot to bathe in.”

Jerric took another slice of bread and passed the basket to Martin. “I wouldn’t say no to a hot bath,” he said. He guessed he might be the pungent reason that Jauffre had mentioned it.

“You are a most welcome guest, while you are here with us. Please enjoy what hospitality we may offer. Clean garments will be provided until your own can be laundered and returned to you. I would suggest that you send your weapons and armor to our smithy.”

Jerric nodded and swallowed his bread. “I appreciate the help. Jauffre, I trust you that we’re safe now. But I have to ask. How is this place a secret? We followed a cobbled road to get here, and you found it in a snowstorm.”

“This fortress was built by Reman Cyrodiil’s Akavari Dragonguard at the founding of the Second Empire. The enchantments that conceal this place were laid down with the very stones. When you leave, you will not be able to find your way back unless you are one of us. Even those few who are born within these walls cannot find their way home unassisted, unless they are inducted into the Blades.”

Jauffre’s answer brought more questions, but Jerric decided that they could wait. He pushed back his plate. “I’m almost too tired, but it’s either hit the baths or sleep in my armor. Thanks for dinner.”

A look from Jauffre brought another young teenager over to the table. “Delain, bring Jerric’s bags. Show him to the baths, then take care of his gear for him. He’ll need clean clothing. When I see you again, I expect you will report that he is resting.”

Jerric quickly sorted his gear with Delain’s help, stripping off his armor and adding it to the pile destined for the smithy. He followed the lad through wood paneled hallways and down into the bowels of the fortress. The walls below were made of the same massive blocks of smooth stone. Metal sconces lined the passageways, and Jerric couldn’t identify the source of the cool, white light that glowed from them.

The baths were a wonder to Jerric. A long, warm room was filled almost entirely by a pool carved out of the rock. Benches lined the wall along the right, and shelving filled the back wall. Jerric felt cool air pass over his face as he followed Delain to the shelving. “Here are your soaps and towels, sir, help yourself. I’ll take your clothes to the laundry and bring you back some clean ones. Don’t drop your ring in there, it might go down the drain. If you get too hot, stand under these vents here. Don’t fall asleep in the pool. I’ll be back shortly. Would you like to shave, sir?”

“Uh, no thanks,” said Jerric. “I think I’ll be back out in the cold soon enough. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir.’” The water had a heavy, mineral odor. Jerric thought it was only a slight improvement over his own unwashed traveler smell.

“With respect, sir, I do.” Delain flashed him a grin.

Jerric bundled up his clothes and handed them to Delain. “Some of those might be best put on the fire.”

“Cordus runs the laundry, sir. He says there are no tasks too small to do well, only men who are too small to do them. He won’t quit until your things are better than new.”

“Then I suggest you drop that lot and flee before he gets you to help him.” Jerric picked up a block of soap and eased into the steaming pool. The water was hot enough to make him hiss, but then he had to stifle a noise of appreciation lest he alarm his attendant. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall asleep in here. Though a little drowning might be worth it.” Delain took off up the passage at a run in the way of the energetic and eager to please. Jerric got busy with the soap.

He discovered that the water on the far end was waist deep, but the pool sloped up to shallow steps along the side closest to the door. He found the place where the fresh water entered and the drain where it left at the same rate. He marveled at the planning that kept it from flooding or draining completely. When he remembered that he was wearing the Jewel of the Rumare, he sank to the bottom and spent a blissful period just lying there, completely submerged in hot water. Eventually he realized what that would look like to Delain when he returned, so he got out to towel off and stand under the air vents. Fresh air flowed gently in, making clear ribbons in the steam. The heat made his limbs unbearably heavy, so he wrapped the towel around his waist and sat on the bench. His head went back against the stone, and before he could completely apologize to Delain in his mind, he was asleep.

I like the idea of thermal springs under Cloud Ruler Temple. I hope there's enough fresh water available, too, as you've just eliminated snow as a source by blowing it all away! Just don't over-reach and have the beer bubbling out of a third well


Now that's a better reason than you get in the game! And the enchantment makes Cloud Ruler Temple a much better place for Martin than you'd normally think. It never made sense before that the Oblivion Gates that open are near the other gate of Bruma, and nowhere near the Temple. Especially with spies operating in town!

He would hate to measure how far up the mountain they had climbed by how long it took him to fall.
Indeed!

Jerric suddenly felt he should be by Martin’s side.
Perhaps Jerric's mission is not yet finished then?

He guessed he might be the pungent reason that Jauffre had mentioned it.


Do I sense a hypocaust rearing its terrifying head? Seriously, I also thought it was brilliant of you to incorporate a thermal spring into the foundations of Cloud Ruler Temple. Even more brilliant was the "lost" spell associated with the temple. Now that was a work of pure genius on your part. It reminds me of how the Psijiic Order makes their island invisible to all but those they want to find it.

Lots to like here!

Your opening scene description was chillingly immersive. I was reaching for my furs!

'The cold didn’t bother Jerric, but he wished he could see through the snow.'
So much better than having that thin Valenwood blood!

Your Hall of Blades was magnificent!

Let me join the echo of praise for the 'cloaking' enchantment! I think I may someday steal the idea for Frostcrag Spire!

Especially after that snowy arrival, the hot bath was incredible! And how clever to remember the Jewel of Rumare! Jerric is so practical.

Nit:
'As one the Blades drew their katanas and saluted Martin.'
A singular/plural mismatch here. Not sure if you meant one (singular) of the Blades drew his katana, or perhaps the Blades (plural) drew their katanas.

EW !!! The first way ... it would have to come out eventually!!! The second way ... EW !!!! GAAAAAH !!!!

Mankar Camoran: "I have it! The Amulet of Kings is mine at last! ... Er...what's that smell?"




GAAAAAH !!!! This is AWESOME !!! And the bathing pool !!! I love what you have done with Cloud Ruler Temple !!! Awesome Write !!!!


*

ghastley: A beer well, the Akaviri keg-o-rator!! That’s brilliant. Then the Blades wouldn’t have to stick their beer kegs in the snow banks, Bruma-style. Or on the back porch like in Grits World. I did think that Jerric should have brought the pitcher of beer to the baths. It always bugs me that they say Martin is safe, then they leave the front door open. I appreciate your comments, ghastley!

SubRosa: I couldn’t think of an ES friendly way to say ‘geothermal’! And once the hot springs appeared, the baths were a must. I mean, they have to find some way to keep all those Bretons and Imperials from transferring to the Heartlands. Thank you for your kind words, SubRosa!

Acadian: I made myself cold writing about the snowstorm! I’m glad you liked the renovations to Cloud Ruler Temple. I think any place with “Frost” in the name should come with hot springs and a cloaking enchantment. I missed a comma when I was trying to say the Blades did everything in unison. Thanks for finding it! I appreciate your support so much, Acadian!

mALX: I was having a Calgon-take-me-away kind of week, but Jerric got the hot bath. I really enjoyed CRT, once I figured out why everyone in the world can’t just look up and see it sitting there. Thank you, mALX, your comments made me smile!


Chapter 8: Running, Part 6

Jerric woke, gasping for breath. His hands clawed at the phantom pain in his chest. Dreaming again, he realized. The fire he had thought was consuming him had disappeared, replaced by the dim interior of the Blades sleeping quarters. A glance down the double row of pallets on the floor showed him that he had not disturbed his fellow sleepers. He rose and quietly straightened the blankets. Delain had brought him here last night, asleep on his feet. He supposed his gear was still scattered throughout the temple in the hands of various laborers. His borrowed woolen tunic and trousers should be warm enough for now, he decided. He stepped into his boots and headed out, in search of fresh air.

The wooden door swung quietly on its hinges. Jerric stepped through into the silent dawn, nodding his greeting to the Blade standing watch. He flapped his tunic to fan the crisp air over his skin, still sweaty from the nightmare. No snow today, he noticed. As he walked out from under the front portico, the sun’s edge appeared over the eastern mountains. He drifted to the low wall along the edge of the plaza, his mind suddenly empty of everything but amazement.

White peaks rose up behind Cloud Ruler Temple, but not much higher. Jerric felt that he must be standing near the top of the world. Grey granite ridges poked out of the drifted snow in the hollows far below him. The sun rose through a pink haze without warmth, but he realized that he didn’t need its heat. He wandered along the battlements, looking down the road they had climbed in the snowfall. Dark fir and spruce trees dotted the high mountainside and filled the lower slopes with their groves. Wide, open meadows looked like pale blankets, brightening to coral where the dawn light touched them. Bruma’s dark mass was visible to the south in the distance, but beyond that the land dropped away into a blue mist. His heart lifted in a way that felt like home.

“It’s something else, isn’t it,” remarked a voice at his side. Jerric glanced over. The Blade’s stature and thick features marked him as a Nord. “Roliand,” the man introduced himself.

“I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.”

Roliand nodded, looking him over. “You were at Kvatch,” he stated. Jerric waited, but Roliand didn’t continue.

“Did you have people there?” Jerric asked.

“No. Went there as a lad once, saw the Arena. What a view from the plateau. There’s something about standing up high with the world at your feet. It wasn’t quiet like here, though.”

“Well, it’s quiet there now. I guess the view’s the same as when you saw it.” Jerric wondered what the man wanted. “Not many Nords here?” he guessed.

“I’m the only one.”

Jerric hooked his thumb under his tunic. “Thanks for the loan, then.”

“Keep it.” Roliand was giving him another assessing look. “They say you went into the Gate to Oblivion and closed it.”

“Yeah.” Jerric decided to get the explanation over with. “Kvatch was my home. I thought I could save my family. I’m sure you would have done the same thing.” Roliand still did not appear to be satisfied. Jerric looked him straight in the eye. “Do you want to spar with me or something?”

Roliand nodded. “I’ll be off duty this afternoon. Pelagius and Fortis should be out soon, they spend most of the day training. Over there.” He pointed to a square of brown turf. “They’ll want to talk to you. Grandmaster Jauffre said we should expect more Gates to open.”

“I’ve told him everything, and Martin, too. He was there. They’ll get you ready for whatever comes.” Jerric felt uncomfortable reassuring the older man, like a child instructing his tutor. He decided to change the subject. He had noticed the white columns and arches of an Ayleid ruin above the trees far to the west. He pointed at them. “What’s that over there?”

“Rielle. There are no complete structures left standing. Full of undead, but they stay underground. Captain Steffan sends out a patrol periodically. It’s not a threat.” Booted feet and voices sounded in the plaza behind them. Steel rang against steel. Jerric turned with Roliand still beside him. Two Blades had begun sparring on the practice ground, and others spilled out of the doors into the open square. “There they go, already started. The watch is changing, and the grub’s on in the dining hall. Grandmaster Jauffre may want you with him, you should stop in the great hall first. I saw him there with our Lord Martin.”

“Thanks, Roliand.” Jerric resolved to remember Martin’s new title.

“I’ll see you later.”

Jerric walked through the crowd of Blades, trying not to gawk. The morning sun gleamed on their armor. He pulled his hands through his hair, suddenly feeling young and scruffy. The Blade at the front door greeted him. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning. I’m Jerric.”

“Yes, sir. Caroline.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Jerric gave her a closer look. “Is Delain your boy?”

“He is.”

“He’s a good lad, you must be proud.” He turned and looked back over the plaza. “I guess there are worse places to grow up.”

“There's no place more secure in all of Cyrodiil. I just wish... I wish we could have gotten our Lord Uriel here....”

Jerric continued into the great hall. His second look was no less awe-inspiring than the first. He spotted Jauffre and Martin back at the table by the fire. Kahve’s rich aroma reached him along with the smell of wood smoke. As he walked to join them, his stomach growled its hope for a meal.

“Ah, there you are,” remarked Jauffre in greeting.

Martin poured a mug of kahve and slid it to Jerric. “Good morning,” Martin said with a slight smile. Jerric wondered how long he and Jauffre had been at the table. Delain burst into the hall bearing a loaded tray. A young Imperial woman followed him, similarly burdened. They quickly filled the table with steaming bowls and platters. “We didn’t know how long you’d sleep,” explained Martin. “But now we don’t have to start without you.”

Jerric stared at the food in surprise. “And I thought I was the early riser. Where’s the rest of the army?”

Jauffre snorted. “They’re cooking for a Nord and an emperor. Their Grandmaster alone doesn’t get this kind of breakfast. We’ll see if there’s anything left to eat by winter.” He glared over at Delain. The young Breton returned his look with an unrepentant grin. Jerric noticed that Jauffre was one who could smile with his eyes while the rest of his face was scowling. The smell of sage and fennel teased his nose while he waited for Martin and Jauffre to fill their plates. Jauffre gestured with a serving fork. “Go ahead, Jerric. Help yourself.”

Fried potatoes with peppers and onions made the first mountain on his plate. Crisply browned sausage patties proved to be the source of the fennel and sage. He passed on the plate of sweet rolls to leave room for a pile of the orangest scrambled eggs he had ever seen. Then he found something new. He caught the Imperial girl’s eye. “What’s this?”

“Porridge made from ground corn. There’s sausage gravy in that pitcher to go with it.”

“You put gravy on your porridge?” he asked, incredulous.

“What do you put on yours, sugar?” she shot back impudently.

Jerric smiled and filled his bowl. If he was getting sassed in front of the next emperor, he guessed the mood at Cloud Ruler Temple must be improving. He imagined it must have been grim since the news of the last emperor’s death had reached them, as well as the deaths of all of his guard save Baurus. He tasted the porridge. “It’s kind of gritty,” he remarked.

The Imperial opened her mouth to answer, but Delain’s elbow in her ribs seemed to shut it for her. “Dismissed, you two,” said Jauffre. They disappeared through a door, and Jauffre got abruptly down to business. “Have you ever considered military service, Jerric?”

“Uh, not really. I mean, I don’t have any problem following orders, as long as I agree with them. But I like to think I could tell my boss to hump himself and go my own way.”

“Many Blades serve the Empire independently, as agents. Only a few reside here, and at smaller fortresses throughout Tamriel.” Jauffre was giving him a significant look.

Jerric put down his fork. “Grandmaster Jauffre, what are you trying to say?”

“You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin’s side during this crisis. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honored to accept you into our order as a Knight Brother. Will you join us?”

Jerric was stunned. “Jauffre, I’m no knight. I’ve spent most of my time looking for something cold to pour down my throat and someplace warm to put my stick. I don’t live by a code. I’ll kill someone when they’re down, or when I’ve kicked their weapon away. Whatever it takes to get the job done. I’m not going to apologize for my talk, either. I think you should know what you’re dealing with.”

“I’m dealing with the man who went through a Gate to Oblivion and closed it on his own, then picked himself up and took Kvatch back from the daedra with the Guard.”

“Not on my own.”

“I’ll give you that. But you took the Sigil Stone. No one handed it to you.”

“I was working on anger and desperation. I kept making the same mistakes. It’s a miracle I survived.”

“Yet here you are. Your tactics are not under scrutiny. You have earned this invitation with your loyalty.”

Jerric scratched his hands through his hair. To stand by Martin’s side. The sun’s companion. His heart knew the answer before his head could accept it. “I need to get my mind cleared up, and train. I don’t have much experience against heavy armor, and it seems like that’s what our enemy is going to throw at us. Zealots in heavy armor. They’re not afraid to die, they’re just attacking. Even untrained, they have enough of them to take me down. I need stronger shock spells, and better summons spells to fight the daedra. I’m not ready.”

“I’m not going to negotiate, so I’ll tell you how it is and you decide. You’ll be an agent for the Blades, if you accept. Go train, prepare yourself. Come back when you’re ready for orders. Here, or you can find Baurus at Luther Broad’s Boarding House in the Imperial City. He’s gathering intelligence; we hope that soon we will be able to identify the enemy. You’ll follow your orders and complete the missions you are given. When you decide you’re through, then you’re through. I’m not going to chase you down, but I expect that you’ll tell me and report on your current mission. You should know that once you’re a Blade, you’ll always be one.” He nodded over his head at the Hall of Blades above them. “In time they all come back here. Are you with us?”

“I’m with you.”

Jauffre rose and stepped away from the table. When Jerric saw the Akaviri katana in his hands, he guessed that Jauffre had anticipated his answer. “It is my honor to welcome you into our ranks as a Knight Brother of the Blades.” Jauffre extended the sword balanced across his open palms. The simple gesture spoke louder than pomp or ceremony. Jerric took it from him with the sense of a door closing behind him. Jauffre sat back down and addressed his plate again. “Get measured for your armor before you go. Your allegiance is a secret now, but there will come a time when we’ll all stand together.” He gestured impatiently. “Sit down, finish your breakfast.”

Jerric did as he was told. He cleared his plate, then filled it again with a stack of griddle cakes. “I guess we should work out a code, so you can get me back if you find out something.”

Jauffre nodded and speared a griddle cake. “That’s good thinking. A signal telling you to return here, and one to find Baurus in the Imperial City.”

Jerric thought for a moment. “Send me a letter. I don’t have any relatives left alive, so it could be from Auntie or Uncle Someone. Auntie for Baurus, Uncle for here.”

“Where should we send it?”

“Anvil Mages Guild. Wherever I go, I’ll make sure they know it.”

“You should take Flash.”

Jerric shook his head. “I can’t afford to keep him. I don’t even know if I have a coin purse anymore.”

“He can carry enough grain to get himself through the snow. You might need to return quickly, faster than your feet can bring you. We can’t rely on caravans, the daedra are likely to cause disruption.”

Martin spoke, and Jerric stopped eating to listen. “We know that Mehrunes Dagon is the source of the attacks. It seems that his worshippers are working on his behalf here in Cyrodiil. When we find them, we must move quickly to retrieve the Amulet, before they remove it forever from our reach.”

“All right, I’ll take Flash,” Jerric decided. “I think you should go ahead with your plans when you make them, though. A lot can happen between here and Anvil.”

Jauffre and Martin exchanged a look. “There is another thing you must know, Jerric. Your concern for Brother Piner was well founded. All who serve the emperor are at risk. If he is captured by the enemy, he will not be able to lead them here. You, however, number among those who must not be taken alive.”

Jerric had already come to this conclusion. “Right. Then I guess I’d better not be too conspicuous.”

“On the contrary, wear your Wolf with pride. The more places you’re seen, the harder it will be to track you. Rumors spread quickly, and might only contain a crumb of truth. The people need a hero, and you will need favors. Others carry Akaviri blades, though they are rare. In fact I believe there is one presently for sale in the Imperial City. And when the enemy does connect you to Martin, it may tell us even more about them.” Jerric stared at Jauffre. He hoped that his casual tone reflected confidence in Jerric’s skills instead of disregard for his life. The Grandmaster continued, gesturing with his bite of griddle cake for emphasis. “I doubt they will come for you soon, but it would be unwise for you to let your guard down.”

Captain Steffan entered the hall and stood to the side, waiting. Jauffre rose and went to speak with him. Martin looked over at Jerric. “You are going back into danger. But don’t worry about me, my friend. I know I’m in good hands here.”

Jerric spent the better part of a week at Cloud Ruler Temple, training with the Blades. “A storm’s coming,” Roliand told him one day on the battlements. “This old shoulder always knows.”

“And my knees,” added Jena. “You’d better get going.”

Jerric and Flash followed the Silver Road down out of the mountains, then headed west along the busy Red Ring Road. Folk all along the way told him rumors of daedra. He told them of Kvatch and the heroes there who were rebuilding it. They got all the way to the Gold Coast before they saw one. A dead clannfear in the road with pools of blood around it. Two Legion horses stood placidly nearby, attended by a young legionnaire.

Jerric left Flash in her care. He checked his canteen and made sure he remembered his shield this time. His eyes scanned the landscape as he descended through the meadow. An oval of fire glinted far below, brighter than the sun. He walked toward it, pulled along as if in a dream. Thunder rolled and the sky blackened. Red clouds began to swirl above him, laced with lightning. He had found a Gate to Oblivion.

I love this line !!!!



Another perfect example of how your writing can be visualized totally by the reader - I could see this scene in front of me as if I was watching a movie !! AWESOME WRITE !!!!

The whole section from the point Jauffre begins talking about Jerric joining the Blades - all the way to the paragraph before Captain Steffan walks in was outstanding !!!





WHEW !!! Powerful, POWERFUL ending !!!!!!

A lovely description of the sights from the battlements of Cloud Ruler.

Jerric noticed that Jauffre was one who could smile with his eyes while the rest of his face was scowling.
I love this!

And a big meal. Everyone eats so good here at Chorrol. But gravy on polenta? Well, it is better than popcorn and beer on rat stew!

But I like to think I could tell my boss to hump himself and go my own way.
Exactly my own attitude. Teresa's as well.

I’ve spent most of my time looking for something cold to pour down my throat and someplace warm to put my stick.
Okay, here is where Teresa and I part company from Jerric!

Jerric took it from him with the sense of a door closing behind him.
And indeed it has!


nits:
as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin’s side during this crises
I think you meant crisis, crises is the plural form of the word.


Jerric and Flash followed the Silver Road down out of the mountains, then headed west along the busy Red Ring Road. Folk all along the way told him rumors of daedra. He told them of Kvatch and the heroes there who were rebuilding it. They got all the way to the Gold Coast before they saw one. A dead clannfear in the road with pools of blood around it. Two Legion horses stood placidly nearby, attended by a young legionnaire.


Jerric left Flash in her care. He checked his canteen and made sure he remembered his shield this time. His eyes scanned the landscape as he descended through the meadow. An oval of fire glinted far below, brighter than the sun. He walked toward it, pulled along as if in a dream. Thunder rolled and the sky blackened. Red clouds began to swirl above him, laced with lightning. He had found a Gate to Oblivion.
The forum threw in an extra space between your last two paragraphs.

I have been away from Cloud Ruler Temple for so long that this chapter nearly made me homesick! It's a beautiful place, good for meditation and for regrouping. And the Blades are warmer than that fire in the Hall!

I quite enjoyed this chapter, even though your vision is a bit different from mine. Your CRT is a wonderful place to be, with the baths and the kids.

And the line about Jauffre's eyes smiling above a scowl is exactly how I think of him! I just write it differently!

Well done!

'Porridge made from ground corn. There’s sausage gravy in that pitcher to go with it.”
Gritty indeed!
Yummy breakfast overall!

I liked the understated dialogue between Jerric and Roliand. It really worked.

The details of how you presented Jauffre's invitation to join the Blades and Jerric's decision were wonderfully done!

Oh. . . crap. Mehrunes Dagon can open more than one of those things!?!

OK, all caught up again! A very nice breakfast you served today!

I hope Jerric is ready for the coming darkness. He's going to need every ounce of his Nordic strength quite soon, it would seem.

And poor Cliff has been hung again! You would think he would eventually learn to stay away from them there gallows!

mALX: Thank you, mALX! I’m glad you liked Jauffre’s sales pitch to Jerric, he had to be pretty persuasive. The ending was Jerric’s doing, he won’t quit going in the damn Gates. He’s not cooperating!

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! I like all of the places with a view. Jauffre’s warm side comes across to me in little touches, since he’s the one who has to make the cold-hearted decisions. I’m glad you liked it.

haute ecole rider: The civilian support staff at CRT is such a departure from the game, I was wondering how it would be received. I’m glad you enjoyed it. It all started when I asked who got to dust all of those swords. Thank you, h.e.rider!

Acadian: I’m so glad the Jerric and Roliand part worked for you. I’ve only witnessed those kinds of exchanges, and I really have to guess what’s behind them. Thank you so much for the reassurance! And we are indeed having Gate issues. I keep saying don’t go in there, but he doesn’t listen!

Thomas Kaira: I’m glad you enjoyed breakfast. It’s getting dark in a hurry, we’ll see what happens next!



Chapter 9: Anvil, Part 1

Darnand Penoit walked east along the Gold Road in the morning light. The Brina Cross Inn lay behind him, and he hoped that two Imperial Battlemages were following out of sight. Carahil had tasked him with helping them solve a series of murders between Gottshaw and Brina’s Crossing. They suspected a rogue mage was robbing merchants. His reward would be her recommendation. His eyes searched the road’s edge, watching for danger. Carahil’s words echoed in his mind.

“We are still getting reports of daedra on the Gold Road,” she had told him. “The Legion has discovered a Gate to Oblivion south of Garlas Agea, and they are monitoring it. Some would stay inside the safety of city walls until this danger passes. However, we have work to do, work that matters. Take care, and do not let your guard down.”

Darnand believed that his own work was important, but his private research did not earn him an income. Pursuing his goals would require coin, and that meant seeking more responsibility. He had to interrupt his work in order to continue it.

A tall figure in a bright blue gown stepped out into the road in front of him. It’s that Altmer from the inn, he noticed. I wonder what she’s doing all the way out here?

Red magicka swirled around Darnand, and he halted in surprise. He realized she had cast a spell on him. Weakness to something, he guessed. This must be the rogue mage. He quickly reached for the scroll Carahil had given him.

The Altmer sneered as she filled her hands with frost. “I’m afraid your journey ends here, traveler!” His fingertips found the scroll, and he readied a fire spell. The scroll’s protective shell bloomed around him as her frost attack impacted his chest. The air left his lungs, and he staggered back in pain. Fire roared out of his hand at the Altmer, but he knew the flare wouldn’t kill her. She shrieked with fury when it hit. “I’ll be taking whatever you’re carrying!” she howled. Darnand looked around for the battlemages. Frost boomed against him again, driving him to his knees with shock and pain. “After you’re dead, of course!” He cast more fire, cursing his stars. The Apprentice gave him a vast well of magicka, but it weakened him to magical attacks. He didn’t realize how much until today. I should summon something, he thought dully. The Altmer raised her hand, and the white glow of healing magicka flowed down over her. “I do hope it’s more than the last few had,” she crowed. “They were most disappointing!”

Darnand heard a shout and turned his head toward the source. A large man ran down the road toward them, out of the sun. Darnand got the impression of a round shield and stained surcoat, then he found himself on his back looking up at the sky. Agony gripped his chest like an icy fist, consuming his attention. He used his healing spell three times before his ears stopped ringing. Shrieks and fire attacks split the air. It isn’t over, he realized. He thrashed over to his side in a panic, bent double with a spasm through his middle. Another healing spell, then he sat up to see what was happening.

The Altmer lay sprawled on the road, a puddle of sapphire velvet. Her pale golden hair gleamed against the dusty stones, incongruously pretty. The man turned away from her and stalked toward Darnand. He held his long sword pointed at the ground. Blood ran off the blade in a bright thread, shining in the sun. Darnand sat frozen. I’d better get a spell ready in case he attacks me, he thought. Fire spell, that has to be a Nord. More shouts came from up the road, this time from the direction of Brina’s Crossing.

The man removed his battered helmet as he approached Darnand. His shoulders seemed to block out the sky. Shaggy blonde hair and a thick beard obscured his features. “You all right?” he asked with concern. The deep voice sounded rough, but familiar. It’s Jerric, Darnand realized with a shock.

The two Imperial Battlemages dashed up, shouting. They both wore blue hoods and armor. Arielle and Hanus, thought Darnand. Finally. Jerric turned toward them and dropped his helmet. He took a step back, raising his sword and shield. Darnand suddenly realized how the scene must appear, and he scrambled to his feet. “Drop it!” Arielle shouted at Jerric, raising her mace. Hanus planted his feet, and a ball of fire coalesced in his hand.

This was not in the plan, Darnand thought frantically. He leaped in front of Jerric, arms outstretched. “Wait! He’s a friend! He’s with the guild, too!” Arielle lowered her mace, and Hanus let the fire blaze out against the road. Darnand turned around and saw Jerric standing in a way that must have meant something to the other two. He still looked extremely menacing to Darnand. Jerric moved to the side of the road without speaking to them.

Hanus walked over to the Altmer’s body. Arielle addressed Darnand. “We saw him attack that woman. Is she the rogue mage?” Darnand nodded. She gestured at Jerric with her mace. “Did he just happen to be walking down the road at this moment?” she demanded.

Darnand looked over at Jerric for confirmation. He knelt beside Hanus, cleaning his sword on the Altmer’s gown. He seemed to be ignoring them. “His name is Jerric,” Darnand replied crisply. “He’s from Kvatch, and I haven’t seen him since before the attack there. Do you suppose I could have arranged this meeting? That’s what you need to decide. Then we can discuss where you were while the rogue mage was attacking me.” I’m an Associate dressing down an Imperial Battlemage, Darnand realized with horror. Better just brazen it out.

Arielle gave him a piercing look. “We were briefing a Legion Rider. I’m sure you saw him when he passed you. They have increased their patrols since the last Gate opened. He informed us that the Garlas Agea Gate has closed.” She stared past him at Jerric. “I don’t believe you planned this,” she told Darnand. “We will stay and clean this up. Report our success to Carahil.” Hanus returned to his position at Arielle’s side.

Darnand nodded. “Thank you, Arielle. Hanus,” he said respectfully, and with a great deal of relief. He walked over to where Jerric stood near the body, watching them impassively. His eyes appeared have sunk into their sockets, and there were new lines and scars on his face. His nose was a crooked ruin. “Jerric,” Darnand said cautiously. “It’s good to see you.”

Jerric put out his mailed arm, and Darnand grasped it. “Darnand,” he replied. “I almost didn’t recognize you without a book in your hand. And wearing a dagger now, I see.” Darnand thought he could see teeth under the beard. Jerric indicated Darnand’s trousers. “Where’s your gown?”

Darnand sighed inwardly. Here was the Jerric he knew, and it gave him some comfort. “Carahil sent me out here. I’m posing as a merchant, so I couldn’t wear a mage’s robe. The knife is Felen’s, it’s part of my disguise. I’m starting my recommendations. Do you have any yet?”

“Just one,” Jerric said. “Kvatch. Heading back to Anvil, then? I’ll walk with you.” He turned and gave a piercing whistle. A moment later a paint horse laden with packs ambled over the hill.

“I’m happy to have the company,” Darnand said. Something of an understatement, he thought wryly. When he brushed the ice crystals from his borrowed shirt, he realized that his hands were shaking. So were his knees.

Jerric rubbed the horse’s neck when it reached them. “Flash,” he said to Darnand, indicating the horse. Then he looked at the horse and tipped his head toward Darnand. “Darnand,” he told the horse. Darnand began to wonder about Jerric’s mental state.

They started walking. The sun cast their shadows in front of them, and the early winter light seemed to glow on the rocks and trees. Darnand always forgot how nice it was to be outside. When the weather was agreeable, of course. The morning was unusually warm, and he couldn’t understand his sudden shivering. The cold from the attacks had faded with the ache when he healed himself. When his teeth started to chatter, he glanced over at Jerric. “D-don’t know what’s gotten into me,” Darnand stammered.

Jerric nodded. “It takes some that way. Afterward. The shakes.” They walked a few more paces. “I throw up a lot,” he added.

Eventually Darnand’s body came back under his control. “I looked for you in Kvatch,” he said. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Wandering. I had a few things I needed to do, then I headed back this way. I saw a Gate, and I closed it. It was bad, Darnand. I don’t even have the words for what I’ve seen. Then I found another one. I just got lost for a while.” They walked for a few more steps. “What’s the date?”

“Evening Star the fourth.” Darnand saw the shock in Jerric’s face.

“I had no idea,” Jerric said. He started looking frantic, then he visibly calmed himself. I really need to watch him, Darnand realized.

“We heard there was a Gate near Gottshaw, but it closed about a month ago. Was that you?”

“Yeah.” Jerric’s flat tone did not invite further questions.

Darnand wanted to be respectful, but he wanted information more. He decided to start with an easy subject. Swords or women, he would let Jerric choose. “By the time I got to Kvatch, you had left,” he remarked. “Sigrid didn’t know where you had gone. We heard about it in Anvil, but we weren’t sure it was you. Do you have a blue sword?”

“I had one. Chillrend. It was enchanted with frost damage and weakness to frost. Dropped it in the Deadlands.”

“What happened?”

“I was outside on a bridge. I saw a spider daedra, so I attacked it. They like to cast shock spells out of their mouths, it’s pretty unnerving at first when they’re aimed at you. Did you know the real ones summon little spiderlings? Well, the big ones are hard to hit, I have to get in close. I was trying not to trip over its legs, and the spiderling paralyzed me. I went down hanging partway off the bridge. They have lava in the rivers there. I dropped my sword into the lava trying not to fall. That was Chillrend.”

“Why did you attack it?” Darnand asked, astonished.

Jerric looked at him as if the question didn’t make sense. “Why else would I go in there? Besides, spider daedra are even better than fire atronachs for me. I absorb a lot of magicka fighting them, and my frost spells do a lot of damage. The Gate near Skingrad led to some kind of nest, I wouldn’t have made it through without them. Those big dremora are hard for me to kill, and I can’t sneak past them in the towers. That’s why I’m coming back, to train. And I have some sigil stones, I need to figure out the best way to use them.”

Darnand halted in surprise. “You have sigil stones? Where?”

“In my pack, Flash doesn’t like them. Look.” Jerric reached under his mail and started rummaging in the front of his trousers. Darnand stepped back, alarmed. “Stendarr’s beard, I’m going for my pocket. And I sure don’t have a sigil stone in my pants. I guess you’re still jumpy after the head-humping incident. Can’t say I blame you.” He held a ring out to Darnand. “Here, look at this.”

Darnand took it. “What does it do?”

“You can’t tell?” Jerric’s glance was a challenge.

Darnand examined the ring warily. “I can tell it’s magical. Not everyone can read enchantments so quickly, Jerric.”

“Really? Well, it lets you see life energy. Try it, I made it myself.”

“How did you… you enchanted this with a sigil stone?” He looked at it more closely. “A brass and pearl dinner ring?”

“All right, give it back then. I had to use what I could find. I got this ring off some fool who wanted to kill me. Don’t remember which one. You’d think with daedra around, folk would quit attacking each other. Anyway, it fits whatever hand you put it on. Even your lady fingers.”

Darnand handed the ring back. “You said you have sigil stones?”

“I’ll show you when we get to Anvil. They’re packed pretty well, and if I dig them out now, Flash will cause a fuss. Understandably,” he said, directing his last comment at the horse.

Darnand looked over and saw that Jerric looked uncharacteristically reflective. “Glafeviel is with the guild in Kvatch now,” he said quickly, “and Vigge from Skingrad.”

Jerric nodded. “Glafeviel and Sigrid, sparks are going to fly between those two until they work things out. Shouldn’t be boring, that’s for sure. And Vigge in the mix, I didn’t know he planned to stay. I guess he’ll be in charge, he’s a Conjurer.” Jerric shot a glance over at Darnand. “What did you think of Sigrid? Is that the first time you met her?”

Darnand understood Jerric’s meaning. “She is an impressive woman,” he replied coolly. “I have never seen her equal.” He caught Jerric’s grin. “Back to the guild hall when we get to town? What’s the plan?”

“I don’t have one. The guild hall is a good place to start.” His grin faded, and Darnand could see that he was getting agitated again. “Listen, let me just walk a little with you. I haven’t used so many words since Heartfire. Tell me about your studies. I swear I’ll stay awake.”

“All right, Jerric. I think we can make it to Anvil by late afternoon. That should give me enough time to tell you. Even a Breton mage can make good time going downhill.” Jerric smiled at that remark, and Darnand felt a little relieved. He launched into the tale of his research, hoping he could somehow make it sound interesting to the man they called Lionheart.

The Altmer sneered as she filled her hands with frost.
Wonderfully put!

Here you had me about to comment on Darnand (or Darnit? ) being a Breton and having a 50% resistance to magic. Then you throw in that he was born under the Apprentice. So instead he has a 50% weakness! Clever girl.

Then we can discuss where you were while the rogue mage was attacking me
No kidding. Great help those two were.

He informed us that the Garlas Agea Gate has closed.”
And I can guess who closed it...

I love seeing Jerric from Darnand's point of view. Like a wild animal come in from the cold. You can see that the time he has spent fighting has changed him. Worn on him. He has forgotten what it is like to be part of the civilized world.

I cracked up at this. When I play the game, the slashin' and smashin's always over by the time those two show up, and all they have left to do is defend themselves against the Legionary that's always there (if you have already started the MQ and Gates are opening up all over).

This used to happen all the time in the Old West (American Old West), when a cowboy would be out on the range for days on end with only the horse for company. Prospectors and mountain men suffered the same malady, talking to what ever animal was their companion (such as burros or even a grizzly bear ) To me, this emphasizes how long Jerric has been on his own.

'Hanus planted his feet, and a ball of fire coalesced in his hand.'
I both chuckled and wrung my hands at the battlemages' tardiness, but this is an impressive picture you paint of the battlemage preparing to fry Jerric.

I absolutely loved the idea of having Darnand do this quest and having Jerric in a 'support' role. Brilliant!


'I’m starting my recommendations. Do you have any yet?”
“Just one,” Jerric said. “Kvatch.'

Oh my! I wanted to cheer over this. Closing that damn gate at Kvatch should certainly earn a strong recommendation from acting chapter head Sigrid! Speaking of Sigrid, I heartily concur with this for many more than two reasons:

“She is an impressive woman,”


Now I realize that I travel with a horse-crazy elf, but introducing Flash to Darnand seemed so perfectly the right thing to do of course!

Another wonderful episode!

Very powerful statement !!




Excellent description, SubRosa !!

I was stunned at the difference in Jerric from the bouncy guy we love up at CRT - to the changes seen in this chapter - and the way you slipped in how quite a bit of time had passed and he had been closing gates all that time - this chapter is HUGE!! The subtleness of clues as to the state of his mind - you have taken this from fic to epic with this chapter!!



I have never seen a closer example to the way my son came back from his first tour in Iraq. The changes in him are the same that you detailed here in Jerric - this write is HUGE, Grits. It couldn't get any more powerful than this - AWESOME WRITE !!!!!

Then in the same chapter you gave us this:




And then this:





I have been reduced to gobbling like a turkey at the end of the read - can't even begin to express what a tremendous write this was. This is absolutely my favorite chapter of all of them, I don't think there is a way to top it. Awesome Write ... gobble, gobble, gobble ...

You're already at PAGE 10??!!! I've got some serious reading to do! I'll be back to say something very long-winded (if not intelligent) when I've caught up.

SubRosa: Whew, I’m glad I got the birthsign reference in there! It took me a while to figure out how to make Darnand powerful but still vulnerable. I’ve never played a Breton in the game, but the Apprentice seemed like the way to go. Not sure he’d agree with me, though! What you saw in Jerric is what I was hoping Darnand could show you, and you put it so beautifully. Thank you so much!

haute ecole rider: In Jerric’s game I finally timed it so that the Legion Rider would pass before the fight, then afterward I couldn’t find Hanus. He was still standing over in the bushes. Bird watching, maybe? Sheesh. The prospector is a great analogy! Wild-eyed and hairy with a pack full of daedra hearts, and a little too attached to his horse.

Acadian: I’m glad you liked Darnand’s role in the MG quest. Sadly, I ended up cutting Arielle’s super-spy part, but it didn’t really fit. I’ll be taking some liberties with the recommendations, hopefully it will work. I’m glad we both see eye-to-eye with Sigrid. Thank you for your kind words, Acadian. A cheer from you warms my heart!

mALX: This part did not go as I planned. It’s a shock to me how a story about a fun guy and some monsters is sometimes not about that at all. Certainly more than I intended to attempt, especially on my first time out in fiction land. I’m sure we’ll find him with his pants down at an inopportune moment again, since this is Jerric that we’re dealing with. But it seemed disrespectful not to address the rest of it. I’m sure you can guess this part has been uncomfortable to write. Your affirmation means so much to me, mALX. It really, really does! Thank you!!!

Destri Melarg: Wheee, I’m glad you’re back!!! This story will be here whenever you get to it, I’m delighted that you’re reading. Page 10, I can’t believe it either!! I guess this turned out to be something I want to spend time doing. I have learned so much from your comments. You are very much appreciated, and you have been missed!

Note: Now that we are in Chapter 9, I realize that we have started sort of the middle of the story. If there was a natural break for a Book 2, I just blew past it. Ooops. Still learning!



Chapter 9: Anvil, Part 2

Jerric and Darnand parted company at Horse Whisperer Stables. Jerric took his time getting Flash settled and rearranging his packs. Now that he could see Anvil’s walls, he felt reluctant to close himself within them. The short walk to the Mages Guild hall did nothing to ease his disquiet. Townsfolk greeted him with curious stares, and he could hear the trail of excited talk he left behind him. He dropped his packs in the entry hall. Carahil was not at her counter, so he stepped into the reception room.

Marc Gulitte sat there, reading. “It’s Jerric!” he called out, and voices in the dining room passed on the news. Soon the small reception room filled with babbling mages. Jerric didn’t recognize most of them. Students, he thought. And folk on the move, seeking safety in the cities. The pity he saw in their faces turned his stomach, and the morbid curiosity in some was worse. There were too many questions, he couldn’t even connect them with people. He felt the ceiling closing down on him with the weight of the building above it. The urge to bolt for the door was nearly overwhelming.

“Jerric,” said a voice at his shoulder, and he turned to see Darnand beside him. His solemn face held concern and the last thing Jerric would have expected. Understanding. “I’m finished with Carahil. Let’s go.”

Jerric followed Darnand’s back through the crowd, but Carahil stopped them in the front hall. “Jerric, I am pleased that you have returned to us. I wish to see you when you’ve rested. I would like to discuss today’s events.” Jerric looked at her numbly, and part of him saw Darnand cast a spell and lift up his largest pack from the pile by the door.

“Get the rest, will you,” Darnand said quietly. “Remember, I’m just a Breton.” The ghost of a smile touched Darnand’s face, and Jerric realized that he wasn’t alone any more. He followed Darnand over to the evergreen oak in the middle of the plaza, and they stopped beneath it. “All right, breathe.” Jerric did as he was told. “Now look at me. Are you going to want to drink? A woman? I need to know where to take you.” Jerric just shook his head, he had no idea. “I’m taking you to the Count’s Arms, then. I know it’s not your kind of place, but it’s close and they have the best food. In a day or two we can decide what’s next. You were feral for a while, but you can come back from that. Just trust me.”

The next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of the Count’s Arms common room listening to Darnand argue with the publican. “He’s getting that center room in the front. I don’t care if you’re expecting the High Chancellor this weekend, that man is a hero. Unless you wanted an inn full of daedra, you should be thanking him. No, he’ll stay until he’s ready to leave. Don’t bother him. Send someone up with water, and a hot meal with some meat. I don’t care what time it is, he’s not waiting for dinner. Someone from the Mages Guild will probably check on him, you should give them your cooperation.”

Darnand returned to his side and picked up the pack with a grunt. “By Azura, what’s in this thing?” He cast another spell and headed for the stairs. Jerric followed him again, and he found himself in the finest suite he had ever seen. A highly polished dining table sat to the right of the door, and a linen press gleamed against the wall to his left. Deep burgundy rugs covered the floor, and their colors were picked up in the bed cover and matching wall hangings. Three wide steps led up to the massive bed placed under wide windows. Jerric stood in the middle of the space feeling like a wild creature that had found its way indoors.

Darnand dropped the pack and opened the windows. “Look, you can see that big tree you like from here, and you’ll get a breeze. Get your armor off, I don’t know how you do it. Ugh, all this hero business hasn’t made you smell any better. If you can stand it, you could really use a trip to the bath house. Do you have anything left that’s clean? Not even close. Look, give me your laundry and I’ll drop it off. The bath house is behind the inn. I’ll meet you there with something that will fit. Did you lose your shaving kit? Then bring it, unless you like being mistaken for a yeti. We can deal with your hair later. It looks like you’ve been cutting it with a sword.”

Jerric finally found his voice. “Thank you.”

Darnand gave him a steadying look. “Just get through the next thing, all right? I’ll see you soon.”

He was true to his word, and Jerric was shortly headed back up the inn stairs with a towel around his neck, tripping over a borrowed robe. “I’ve never worn a dress before,” he told Darnand, but he couldn’t quite find a smile to go with the words.

“You’re hilarious. I don’t know anyone whose trousers would fit you. Carahil had this robe.”

“I wonder where she got it.” Speculating on Carahil’s sexual history got them back to the room, and Jerric’s meal was waiting. When he sat down in front of it, he realized he was starving. Darnand declined the food, but he poured himself a goblet of water and sat down at the table. His quiet company was an anchor for Jerric. He pushed back his empty plate and drank the rest of his water, then he looked across at Darnand. “How did you know?”

“I lost both of my parents when I was seventeen. It was a carriage accident. My brother threw me out of the house before the end of the week. My friends didn’t know what to do with me.” Darnand met his eyes without pity. “Keep doing the little things, they’ll remind you how to live.” Darnand stood and gathered up the dishes.

“I need to get my head straight. I thought I was ready for people, but I’m not.”

“I believe tomorrow will be better. They’re all talking about you now, maybe they’ll get it out of their systems. Get the door, will you? You should go to bed before you drop on the floor. Abiene will probably be here any moment, I saw her watch which way we headed. She won’t be satisfied until she sees you herself. She can be a little overbearing even for a healer, and there isn’t anyone alive who isn’t her patient.”

“Abiene was there? I didn’t see her.”

Darnand stood in the doorway holding the tray. “I’m not surprised, you looked like you were about to come apart. I didn’t get you a nightshirt, mind your manners.”

Jerric smiled a little. “I’m sure she’s seen it all. You know, healer.” He watched Darnand turn toward the stairs. “Thanks, Darnand.”

“Get some sleep, Jerric.”

He climbed into bed and thought that somehow it didn’t seem real. The sheets felt cold and smooth against his skin, but when he closed his eyes, all he could see was fire. A soft knock on the door got him back out of the bed.

“Abiene.” He stood in the doorway looking down at her face. Her expression was calm, but her eyes showed him the depth of her concern. I never even let her know I was alive, he realized. The wall he had built around his grief began to crack.

“Let me in, Jerric. I’m going to look at you.” He shut the door behind her, and she walked briskly to the bed. She pulled the covers all the way back. “Lie down so I can reach you.”

“I don’t need healing.”

“I’m the one who gets to tell you that. You look better than you did a few hours ago, but that’s just the surface. What do you think you’re hiding with that towel? Come on, Jerric.” She looked stern enough to make him think her interest was professional. He hadn’t thought of her in weeks, and now she filled his mind. He did as he was told. She sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

Jerric watched her face as she began to examine him, but he had to close his eyes against the pain he saw growing there. He felt her cool hands moving over him, finding and testing his newest scars. Her gentle touch lingered the longest on his face. She soothed away the hurts he didn’t realize he still carried. When she finished, he found she had tears on her cheeks.

“What is it?” he asked. He pushed himself up to reach for her. Her sadness was too much for him, and his own grief closed over his head like a suffocating wave. He held on to her for a long time, shaking so hard he feared they both might break.

Finally he could breathe again. “I’m all right,” he told her. He slipped out of her arms and lay back on the bed, exhausted. The relief he felt came as a surprise. He caught her hands when she wiped the tears from his face. “I’ll sleep now,” he whispered against her fingers, and he didn’t recognize his own voice. His heart began to fill with the things he knew he wouldn’t say to her. “I’m glad I got to see you again, Abiene.”

When he closed his eyes, he found that for now the fire had receded. He let her pull the covers up over him. The last thing he heard as he fell asleep was the door clicking shut behind her.


Abiene stood in the hall outside Jerric’s room, composing herself. The thought that she could dismiss him as a summer fling seemed so childish now. What am I going to do about this, she asked herself. Why does he make me feel this way? I wish there were two of me. “First things first,” she murmured aloud. She walked quickly down the stairs and out into the slanting sunlight. The chapel bells rang out across the city five times as she passed through the Harbor Gate. She felt safe walking along the docks to the warehouses. Her position as a healer endeared her to many, and the rough sort who made their living on the waterfront often faced injury.

The door to the Running Wolf office stood open to the pleasant air. She nodded to Shasana as she stepped through to the small office. “Hail, Ongve. May I speak with you?”

Ongve rose and indicated the chair in front of his desk. “Indeed, Abiene. Well met. What can I do for you?”

They sat. “I want to thank you for your assistance the last time I came here. I’m afraid I was too upset to do so at the time.”

“Completely understandable. It has been difficult for many.”

“Did you get the message I sent when I learned Jerric is alive?”

“I did, and I’ve been hoping he would walk through that door every day. He’s a hard working man for all the trouble, and I have a job for him if he should want it.”

“That is what brings me to you today, Ongve. Jerric has returned to Anvil. I don’t know what he plans to do, but…” She looked down at her hands twisting together in her lap, then she met Ongve’s eyes again. “I know it’s not my place, but I want to know what his options are. I want to encourage him to stay.”

Comprehension grew in Ongve’s in face. “Well, you can tell him he has a job with me. He’ll need to find a place to live. He can ask about homes for sale at the castle, or I can tell you what I know about places for rent. He can always stay with me and Shasana. You did well to come to me, Abiene. ”

“Would you give me some idea what to tell him about a place to rent? It should be available for the short term, I don’t want him to have to make much of a commitment. And I think he wants…” She looked down at her hands again. This is what I want, she realized. “He’ll want some privacy.”

“Well that narrows it down quite a bit. There’s no privacy in a boarding house. I know Newheim the Portly has some small houses he rents in the Westgate district, but I don’t know if there’s one available. You can find him most evenings at the Count’s Arms. Norbert Lelles has some beach huts, they’re not much, but they’re private. They’re outside the city wall, of course. You can usually find Lelles Harborside in the evening at the Flowing Bowl. I’m sure there’s more to be found, but that’s a good place to start.”

“Thank you for your help, Ongve. I’ll tell him.”

“How did he escape, do you know? Is it possible that anyone else from his family made it?”

“No. He wasn’t there during the attack. He arrived the next day, I don’t know why. No one else in his family survived.”

“His father and I were partners since before Jerric was born. I’ll do whatever I can for him.”

Abiene nodded gratefully. “I’ll tell him.”

She hurried back to the guild hall and penned a quick note in her room. The bell rang announcing dinner as she blew across the ink to dry it. No time to freshen up, she sighed to herself.

Carahil walked out of her small office just as Abiene scooted through the dining room door. Since Glafeviel had gone to Kvatch, Abiene didn’t have to fight to get the spot between Darnand and Thaurron at the table. Darnand held her hand as she stepped over the bench, and she slipped him the note when he sat down beside her. “Some places Jerric could rent,” she said softly.

Darnand looked surprised. “Thank you, Abiene.” It seemed he would like to say more, but he just nodded and tucked the note into his robe. Abiene’s stomach gave a nervous little jump. She peeked sideways at his lean profile, remembering how he had opened a path through the crowd with a single glare. He had looked so commanding, and Jerric had looked so lost. What am I doing, she wondered again. When he glanced back at her, she smiled at him and picked up her wine.

This chapter was short on action, but that's okay, because it was long on emotion!

Jerric's shell-shocked condition was quite real, as were Darnit Dammit Darnand and Abiene's reactions to it. And Abiene seems even more confused now than ever. Nothing like seeing the man you love being beat up like this to really bring those feelings home.

So Abby, which is it going to be? Jerry? Or Darnit?

You did a great job of demonstrating Jerric's PTSD in this, very realistic. Another very powerful write, especially all the scenes that included Abiene and the emotions of both her and Jerric, her inner turmoil. It is impossible to see this as your first stab as writing, if it is - you have found a niche you belong in. Once again you have left me speechless and gobbling like a turkey. AWESOME WRITE - yes, but it doesn't begin to cover what you have given this story.

A delightful interlude!

Darnand took great care of Jerric. His actions and gestures speak volumes about his character, and all of it good. Nice that you revealed how Darnand learned to understand what he felt Jerric might be going through.

And Abiene. You captured her caring and healing wonderfully. Nice touch to relay her 'real estate' research to Darnand by note at dinner - and the perfect opportunity to again emphasize her indecision about the two men.


Nit:
'Jerric followed him again, and he found himself in the finest suite he had ever had ever seen.'
An unintentional repeat of 'had ever' near the end of this.

Jerric stood in the middle of the space feeling like a wild creature that had found its way indoors.
This one sentence really sums up Jerric's return to Anvil, and civilization.

Jerric is lucky to have two friends like Darnit Darnand and Abiene. As the healer observed at the end of the story, our intrepid Nord has been lost in a fog these last few episodes, and would be in even direr straits without them to lean on.

haute ecole rider: I’m glad those three came across for you, thank you very much for letting me know. You’re right, Abiene is even more confused. Getting him back damaged was not something she had thought through, and Darnand hasn’t given her much to work with.

mALX: What a tremendous compliment, mALX! Everything I’ve written is right here on this forum. Well, not the equipment specs, sales proposals, and the like, but all of the fiction. That’s why I can’t emphasis enough how much the support and guidance here means to me! I have rough ideas about what’s going to happen with the characters, and of course the main quest plot, but the feedback you provide has a big impact on what I’m writing. I can’t thank you enough for it!!!

Acadian: This is perfect!!! Jerric's Story illustrated. Thank you for your kind words about Darnand and Abiene. Jerric and Darnand are like a dog and a cat, even Jerric wondered why he was helping. Thank you for spotting that nit so I could fix it.

SubRosa: You’re absolutely right, he is no loner. Anvil is a long walk from CRT, I doubt if he would have made it without the vague hope of a soft landing at the end. Thank you for pointing out that quote, it is sort of a one-sentence summary.



Chapter 9: Anvil, Part 3

Jerric and Darnand walked out of Anvil’s Dock Gate and turned toward the harbor. The castle made a distant hump in the mid-morning glare. Jerric’s feet caught in his robe, and he staggered again. “Drunk already?” Darnand inquired. “I thought you said you missed breakfast. Pick up the front, if you must.”

Jerric lifted his hem, then he realized that he was mincing along in a fashion that might be described as womanish. He glanced over at Darnand. The Breton strode forward with his head up and eyes forward, cloak billowing out behind him. He would look like some High Rock prince, if not for the smirk barely evident on his face. Aha, thought Jerric. He imitated the way Darnand kicked his robe out as he walked. An arresting scent interrupted his Breton impression.

“Redguard food!” he exclaimed. “Look, a dumpling stand. Come on, loan me a Septim.” They made the exchange with a smiling, round-cheeked lass. While Darnand secured his coin purse, Jerric quietly rolled his eyes over the first savory mouthful. He neatly rewrapped the fried triangle and held it out to Darnand as they walked. “Here, you must be hungry.”

“I suppose, but I don’t think about it.”

“How can you not think about it?”

“I think with my mind, not my…” he gestured at Jerric, “general belt area.”

“Well try it, and let me know how it is.” Darnand bit off a corner and handed it back to Jerric, nodding his appreciation. “Ugh,” said Jerric. “Was there already a bite taken out of that?”

Minced meat, dough, onions, and spices flew in a swath onto the cobbles and two approaching Nords. Jerric couldn’t make out their objections over his own wheezing laughter. He leaned against a lamp post, wiping the tears from his eyes. Darnand was busy trying to swab his tongue while apologizing to the dock workers. Eventually they went on their way, each with another of Darnand’s coins in his hands. Darnand glared at Jerric. “Now that’s three you owe me.”

“Add it to my tab.” Jerric thumped him on the shoulder. “I took the bite. I guess you don’t mind my spit.” He unwrapped the dumpling and bit off another mouthful, then offered it back to Darnand.

“You saw a healer last night. I doubt you have had time to catch the pox since then, although it is possible.” Darnand took a huge bite. “You will be lucky if I give this back,” he said around the food. “You are right, this is delicious.”

Jerric and Darnand proceeded down the harbor. Low, chinked log buildings lined edge of the boardwalk, with warehouses looming along the city wall behind. The shops and taverns were open for business, but foot traffic was still fairly light. It was easy to spot the Redguard woman swaggering toward them. Her tall, heeled boots were folded over in a wide cuff. She wore low slung, tight leather pants and little else. Her hair was a mass of beaded braids, and they swung and clacked around her shoulders as she walked. Both men slowed their pace. “Whoa, would you look at —”

“Indeed,” Darnand agreed. “I have seen undergarments that cover more than that top. She must be freezing.”

“Well, she’s at least a little cold. Look at the muscles on her. I bet she could ride to Sentinel and back.”

“I doubt either of us will receive such an invitation.”

“There is no place on that woman that I wouldn’t put my– Morning,” Jerric said to her as she walked between them. She laughed, and it was not a friendly sound. They turned to watch her saunter up the boardwalk. “Did you see that cutlass? I’d love to get my hands on that,” he continued.

“She must have come from one of those ships. I expect she is a sailor.”

“How does she even get into those pants?” Jerric looked over at Darnand as they started walking again. “So, brothel?”

Darnand snorted. “Not for me, and you lack the coin.”

“What’s the situation? Do you have a girlfriend somewhere?”

“No. I just happen to think it should mean something, with someone special.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Darnand. Good thing I think all women are special.” Jerric saw that they were approaching Lelles’ store. “Look, I think you should negotiate the rent. You can say it’s not safe to live out on the beach. I don’t think he’d accept that argument from me.”

Darnand eyed him. “Indeed, you look quite capable of mayhem in that fur trimmed velvet robe. You should have worn your hero armor. He might have given you the first month for free.”

“Morvayn has it until tomorrow, maybe longer. I can’t wait for that, Wilbur wants me out of his inn.”

Darnand scowled. “What has occurred? I thought he agreed to let you stay as long as I paid.”

“Doesn’t like the noise, or something. Guests are upset. He said they thought someone was being murdered last night. I woke up, but I didn’t hear a thing. Don’t know what he’s talking about.” Jerric finished the dumpling. “Maybe you can charm Lelles. I mean a spell, not your natural charm.” He smiled at his own joke.

“I agree, I will talk to Lelles for you. I have seen you negotiate, it best resembles a puppy rolling over to have its belly rubbed. I am certain you could bargain my entire savings away.”

“What are you saving for?”

“A place where I can work in peace, free of curious Nords and other children.”

“All right then, don’t tell me. I know an Altmer near Aleswell you should meet. He turned himself invisible so he could avoid people. You two could have a hating contest.”

Darnand looked over with interest. “Was this a sustained invisibility?”

Jerric snorted. They had reached the shop.

“Wait outside,” Darnand told him. “I don’t want you to interrupt me with a sudden need for Lelles to like you.”

Jerric stood in the cool sun, enjoying the relative peace of the harbor. Gulls cried in the cloudless sky, diving and fighting for scraps from the fishing boats. Longshoremen shifted cargo with minimal shouting, but with a great deal of crashing. Some children were crabbing at the edge of the boardwalk. They dangled baited lines into the water. Jerric ambled over to view their catch. “Do you want to buy some crabs, sir?” asked a deeply tanned Imperial boy.

“No thanks.” He watched the Redguard sailor strut past again. A tattoo covered most of her back, but he couldn’t tell what it was. The sun caught a ridged scar over her hip. She turned down one of the docks, heading for a galleon. “What’s that ship, there?”

“She’s the Serpent’s Wake, sir. Just back from the Summerset Isles.”

A creaking door drew Jerric’s attention back to the shops. He turned to find Darnand stepping out of Lelles’ store. “If I find it is a pile of dreck, I shall have words with you,” he snapped at the merchant.

“It’s the only roof left for rent in Anvil. I’ve thrown in a cleaning, what more do you want?” Lelles called after him. He spotted Jerric and nodded to him. “Good day to you.”

Jerric opened his mouth to answer, but Darnand yanked him by the arm. “Let us remove ourselves while he still thinks he has bested me.” Darnand stomped up the harbor for a few paces, then he relaxed and turned to Jerric. “Here is your key. It is the hut on the end. There is a well behind the dunes next to the privy, which sounds ill-advised. If I were you I should carry my water from town.”

“Thanks, Darnand. My own place, hard to believe.”

“Your own as long as you pay him. Speaking of which, what is your plan?”

“First I need to buy some clothes. My laundry isn’t ready yet, and I’m not joining the Fighters Guild wearing a velvet dress.” Darnand was giving him a patient stare. “Oh, you mean for money. Well, I’ve been thinking. Running Wolf would pay my bills, but I need more than that. Fighters Guild might have something, but they might not pay well to start. I’ll ask around about some high-risk jobs.” He glanced over to make sure Darnand was still listening. “You said you were saving, too. More risk means more reward. I think we can help each other out.”

Darnand did look interested. “You also spoke about training.”

“Yeah. That’s why I need coin, to train and buy better gear. And spells. For when I go back into the Deadlands. The Sigil Towers are more heavily guarded now than the one at Kvatch. I guess they were surprised that I closed that one. I’ve seen daedroths in the wastelands, too. I can’t kill those on my own, I need to be able to summon stronger allies. I’d be dead many times over if I didn’t have that little pearl ring to show me the big fetchers. I need more experience against armored dremora. It takes me too long to finish them with a blade, and sometimes they have company. And the last Gate I closed had a storm atronach guarding the sigil stone. I had to grab the stone and jump, I didn’t even know how to fight it. I need a strong shock spell I can use. A touch spell, it’s too hard to aim while I’m moving in that terrain. I have sigil stones that carry powerful enchantments, but not weapons I want to use them on. I need coin to recharge Redeemer, too. Also I’ve used up all of my potions. I wouldn’t last five minutes in the Deadlands right now. I’ve been lucky, Darnand. I hope you can help me get ready to go back.”

Darnand looked thoughtful for several minutes while they walked. “I can summon dremora for you to fight. I can summon a daedroth as well, but I hesitate to do so inside the city. I have been doing some reading that might help you, I shall take another look before we speak again.” He thought for another moment. “Athragar in Chorrol has the summons spells you need. I will not try to teach you the ones I know, that would be far too dangerous. If you are an expert in destruction we can go to Adrienne Berene. Otherwise, Vigge the Cautious will have the shock spell.”

“Vigge. We’ll go to Kvatch then.” He looked at Darnand to make sure he meant both of them. “You can get your recommendation while we’re there.”

Darnand nodded. “Now, you need to be able to trap soul energy in a gem, so you can recharge your own weapons. That means you need to reach apprentice level in mysticism. You can start by learning how to detect the energy in living things, and then practicing. I am certain I can teach you that, but let us keep that knowledge between ourselves. It is the same energy you capture when you cast a spell to trap a soul.”

“Like my ring shows me, it looks kind of pink. I have a sigil stone that carries an enchantment to trap energy, but I’m not going to steal any souls. There has to be another way.”

Darnand grabbed his arm as they walked, his face alight with excitement. “One of your sigil stones? That would be ideal, it would save so much time! You could start right away, and sell filled gems back to Gulitte. Now just listen. You know the energy in soul gems?”

“That’s souls?” Jerric asked, aghast. He had never connected the name with anything.

“We are talking about the energy that is released when a soul leaves the body, not the soul itself. The life energy of a living creature, not plants. Even a mudcrab has it.”

“But the souls might need it. For their journey. Maybe that’s where ghosts come from.” He scratched his hand through his hair in agitation.

“Let us consider it. Have you ever heard of a ghost mudcrab? A rat haunting? It is just energy, Jerric. You call it magicka when it is in your sword. You can make a chair out of a piece of wood, or a bow, or put it on the fire. It is still wood. Giving it a different name and use does not make the thing different. Besides, you need black soul gems to capture human souls. Which is wrong,” he added quickly.

Jerric thought for a few moments before he could accept Darnand’s explanation. “It sounds like we have a plan. Earn some coin, go to Kvatch, then on to Chorrol.” He sighed. “I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to have to go underground. Fort ruins, bandit lairs, places that fall between the Legion and the Anvil Guard’s jurisdictions. I know an Altmer who will pay for some old wine, maybe we can find some of that. She said it’s rare, though, so I guess we’ll just have to get started and see what we find.”

They stopped, and Jerric looked at Darnand curiously. Darnand gestured to the building beside them. “Clothing. You said you need some. This is a clothier’s shop.” He handed his coin purse to Jerric. “Just add it to what you owe me, I think you can handle buying your own breeches.”

“Thanks, Darnand.” Darnand raised his hand as he walked away. Jerric took a deep breath and entered the shop. Every kind of trim and fabric in all colors of the rainbow assaulted his eyes. There wasn’t an inch of space in the room that wasn’t stacked or packed with clothing.

“Greetings, Nord,” said the shopkeeper. An Imperial woman, about his age and softly pretty. Her sweet brown eyes made him think of Abiene.

“Greetings. I need some clothes.”

“Well, you’re in the right place,” she said pleasantly. Her hands were filled with some frilly thing. “I’ll be with you in a moment. You can go ahead and get started. Step behind the screen and remove your robe, if you please.”

Jerric walked over to the corner where a curtain screened off an area of the shop. He ducked behind it and pulled the robe off over his head. I guess she’s going to bring me some things, he thought. “Is this your shop?” he asked her. His boots thumped when he dropped them on the wooden floor.

“It is. I am the Tulia of Tulia’s Threads.”

“I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.” He heard Tulia walk briskly over to the alcove. He jumped when she whipped the curtain back. Both of them stood frozen for a moment. “I, uh, also need to buy some drawers,” said Jerric. “As you can see.”

“If you need drawers, why on Nirn did you take off your clothes?” He couldn’t tell if she was more amused or astonished.

“Well, you told me to!” Jerric was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “Why do you need me to be naked?”

“I don’t! I just want to get accurate measurements.” She lifted the end of the tape measure she wore draped over her shoulders.

“You want to measure it?”

Tulia’s eyes flew back up to his face. “No! Well, yes. Your waist. And inseam. And your – I’ll likely have to make what you want, you’ll order it from me. My goodness, how old are you? How is it possible you don’t know how to buy clothing?”

“My Ma used to buy them for me.” Tulia looked skeptical. “Really.” Jerric noticed that Tulia was standing very close to him, and she smelled nice. He decided that her gown was quite flattering, especially at the top. He crossed his hands in front of himself. “Look, in a moment this is going to get embarrassing.”

“I’ll find some undergarments for you. Normal people wear them in these situations. I didn’t think I would ever be surprised again, but you’ve managed it.”

“All right, now I know. I mean, if I had them, I wouldn’t need to be here.”

“Then let’s just forget about this and start over.” The twinkle in her eyes told him she had no intention of forgetting. She closed the curtain, and he heard her light steps moving about the shop. A moment later a pair of linen shorts with a drawstring waist appeared over the curtain. “These should fit. And I’m sure I have some simple trousers that you can wear, and perhaps a knit shirt. But I’ll need to measure you for whatever else you’ll want.”

Jerric pulled on his new drawers. He smiled and shook his head. “Ready,” he said.

This is absolutely delightful!


Somehow I'm not surprised he said that! That's some big-hearted man!

So now Darn and Jerry are gonna go adventuring together? Do I sense a budding bromance coming up? I always did enjoy a bit of male bonding, you know!

Your ability to set mood with dialogue is amazing !! The two quotes I would make as my faves (if I was on a working PC, that is) - Jerric realizing he was mincing in the dress, and of course the clothing shop !!!

I have a sneaking suspicion Darnand would like to see Jerric's interest go in the direction of Tulia rather than risk Jerric enticing Abiene away from him with that natural charm of his.

As always, AWESOME WRITE !!!!

So Jerric and Darnand are swapping spit now? What a cute couple they make. I guess Abiene is going to have to look elsewhere for romance!

Good thing I think all women are special
Yep, typical male.

Sounds like Jerric snores too, given Wilbur's complaints!

You show a wonderful contrast between Jerric and Darnand. Like you said before, a cat and a dog indeed. Darnand's discussion on soul trapping was enlightening, and Jerric's laundry list of what he needs to learn was truly daunting!

I know an Altmer who will pay for some old wine,
And she cuts hair too!

“If you need drawers, why on Nirn did you take off your clothes?”
This is the kind of situation only Jerric can get himself into!




nits:
Sommerset Isles.
Normally that is Summerset, unless you are changing it.

An enjoyable walk along the Anvil boardwalk, with plenty of local flavor!

Seems like Jerric is planning some time to significantly upgrade his capabilities, and his wardrobe. Sounds like a prudent plan, and it is nice that he has some help.

Here is yet another story that I am just now getting around to reading. I started it this morning and so far I am thoroughly enjoying it. I picture Jerric as looking like Bill Fagerbakke (from Coach and The Stand), but with a touch more intelligence than Fagerbakke's characters. He seems carefree, clumsy, and oafish, until he is armed and fighting. The overnight antics, first with Velwyn at Brinna's Cross and then Jerric waking up in 'chew your arm off' mode, are hilarious.

Great writing and I'm looking forward to reading more.

haute ecole rider: Jerric gave Tulia a blonde moment of her own. You’re right about the adventuring, but first a little more business.

mALX: Thank you mALX, it was nice to have a little fun. Darnand should definitely be paying closer attention.

SubRosa: My germaphobe friend inspired the spit swapping. One time we accidentally switched wine glasses, and I thought he might throw up on my shoes. Instead he said, “Oh, well I don’t mind your spit.” That was real acceptance! Thank you for the nit, I fixed it.

Acadian: It’s good to have friends. Sadly no one has explained the concept of matching shoes to Jerric, so he still won’t need a magical bag to carry his wardrobe.

TheOtherRick: I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story so far! Yes, Jerric is definitely the big blonde in the room. I really like Bill Fagerbakke, but let’s imagine a different voice for him -- now I keep hearing Patrick Star!! I’m glad you’re reading, and I hope we can keep your interest.

Recap: It’s Jerric’s first full day back in Anvil. This morning he rented a house and did some shopping with a little help from friends.


Chapter 9: Anvil, Part 4 Moving In

Jerric walked along the beach in the afternoon sun. Surf crashed along his left, sending cold spray into the breeze. A row of small, wooden huts backed against the dunes on his right. Smoke trickled out of a few chimneys, but he didn’t see any of his neighbors. He walked to the hut on the end and looked in through the open door.

A middle aged Imperial woman stood there with a brush in one hand and a dust pan in the other. She possessed a round little figure, lively gray eyes, and tidy hair in an unlikely shade of red. When she tipped her head to the side she made Jerric think of a busy little sparrow. He quickly decided not to voice the comparison. She eyed him speculatively.

“I’m Jerric,” he said.

“Vania. I’m the cleaner. I suppose you’re the new tenant.”

“Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you.”

“We’re not finished, it’ll be a few more hours. The girls are on their way back with your new mattress. I’m not even going to tell you what was on the old one.”

“All right then, probably for the best. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked him up and down. “I don’t know. Is there?”

“Well, I can shift anything in there. And I guess I can sweep.”

She gave him a brisk nod, and he thought he saw a dimple. “In that case, get that lot outside so I can scrub the floor. I don’t think it’s been done since the day they laid it.”

Jerric dropped his packs and packages on the dune grass and got to work. There weren’t many pieces of furniture in his hut, and all of them were plain, solid wood. He supposed that’s how they had reached their current advanced age. He carried two small chests of drawers, a cupboard, a trunk, a tall set of shelves, one sturdy chair, and a small table outside into the sun. When he dragged the bed frame out he decided that while it looked long enough for a Nord, it could stand to be a little wider. He stripped off his shirt and swabbed his face with it, then stuffed it into the back of his waistband so he’d know where to find it. Somehow the room looked smaller without the furniture.

Vania eyed his bare torso. “It’s Evening Star.”

Jerric shrugged. “I’m hot.”

“Grab a broom,” said Vania. “We’ll sweep, then I’ll scrub.” Jerric started in one corner, Vania in the other. He had raised a decent cloud of dirt when Vania started shouting. “Nord, what are you doing?!”

Jerric looked up, perplexed. “Sweeping.”

“And where do you think all the dirt is going?”

He looked around. “Away.”

“It’s going up, then it will come back down in here again. It needs to go out. Make a pile and sweep toward the door.” She watched him sternly, and he smiled to think how this small woman was suddenly the boss of him. Imperials, he thought.

“How’s that?” he asked her.

“Better. In my opinion, you should stick to your heroics and leave the cleaning to professionals. Lion of Kvatch.” Jerric saw that she was smiling at him. “Everyone in these parts owes you a debt of gratitude. I know I’ll never forget it.”

“Uh…” Jerric was saved from his discomfort by a shriek from the dunes. He and Vania stepped through the wide doorway and looked around behind the hut. Two teenage girls walked along the path carrying a rolled mattress between them. Their shouts and laughter floated down on the breeze. Jerric glanced over at Vania.

“Two of my daughters,” she said. She gave him another stern look. “Fifteen and seventeen. Hero or not, don’t even think about it.”

“Right.” Jerric decided this was a good time to put on his shirt.

“Over there, girls. Now go fetch the water. All of this needs a good scrubbing. You two wash down the furniture, I’m doing the floor.” She looked at Jerric. “You might as well go off for a while, I don’t know what will happen if I turn you loose on some soap and water. Go get yourself a new cook pot, it seems the last tenant couldn’t be bothered to walk to the privy.”

“All right, Vania. I guess I’ll go for a run and maybe a swim. It’s been a talking kind of day.”

“Do you want me to come back and clean for you, or are you going to do it yourself?”

It took Jerric a moment to figure out her meaning. He had always thought that things just stayed clean. “All right,” he said uncertainly.

Vania nodded. “I’ll come once a week for ten drakes, or every two weeks for fifteen. I’ll charge you more if you turn out to be a slob. Sweep, dust, wash the floor, dishes, change the sheets. That means you’ll need two sets, I can’t do your wash out here. Do you want me to do your laundry?”

“Sure, but I don’t have a week’s worth of clothes. Uh, I don’t have sheets yet, either.” Jerric realized that he’d never given much thought to his domestic arrangements.

Vania shook her head. “Bachelors. You’re my bread and butter, but most of you still need your mothers.” A sudden look of horror crossed her face. “Apologies, Jerric.”

“No, Vania, you’re right. I was about to ask you how many pairs of drawers I should buy.” He smiled at her, and some of the discomfort left her face. “Once a week then, plus laundry. How do we do it, I take it to your house?”

“I’ll pick it up when I clean, then I’ll send my girls out to drop it off when it’s ready. It’ll take longer if it’s raining. Where should they leave it?” The two of them looked around the small covered porch.

“I tell you what, I think I’ll just leave the door unlocked. I’ll latch it from the inside when I’m home, so you don’t have to worry that they’ll open the door and get any surprises. I don’t have anything worth stealing out here. The salt air is bad for metal, so most of my gear is up at the guild hall.”

“That sounds good, Jerric.” She looked up at him and smiled, and this time he definitely saw dimples.


Jerric made a small fire more for its crackling company than for its heat. He looked around his new home. He had what he needed here, but it didn’t give him any comfort. The peace he had found in the day’s activities had evaporated. He tried to pace, but there wasn’t room. He considered going for another run, but the moons weren’t up yet. Shadows already crept up in his mind. Tonight could be a bad one. He realized that he missed his horse.

A light knock on the door brought his attention back to the room. He knew Abiene would be there before he opened it. She stood with the darkness at her back, her face lit by his small fire. She held a small satchel in her hands. “Moving in?” he joked, but he couldn’t quite manage a smile.

“I want to take another look at the scar on your shoulder. It bothers you, doesn’t it?” She gave him a little shove to get in through the door.

“It itches. It’s not the end of the world, though.” Jerric winced at his choice of words. He took Abiene’s cloak, watching her warily. He had avoided her at the guild hall, worried how he might react to her.

“Come on,” she instructed. She pushed him into the chair and pulled his shirt over his head. “Cooperate.” She moved behind him, and he felt her smooth hands running over his skin again. The scar did pull and itch. “It’s adhered,” she told him. “I’d like to work on it some more.”

“All right.”

“Not here. I’ll need to cut you a little. I want Carahil to observe.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. He felt her face against the top of his head, then against his neck.

“Abiene, what are you doing?”

“Trying to get close to you. You’re making it difficult.” She moved to the table and opened the satchel. “I’ve brought you kahve beans, bread, cheese, and apples for the morning. Would you like some ale?”

“Not now, but thank you. Look, we had some fun this summer, but I’m not the same.” Jerric stood up and offered her the chair, but she shook her head. There was nowhere else for him to be, so he sat back down. “There’s work I need to do, to get ready for what’s coming. I’m already behind.” He wanted to reach for her, but fear stopped his hands.

“You’re right, I see the change in you. There’s a part of you now that I can’t reach. But the rest is still you, Jerric. Torn apart inside, and hurting. Please let me help you.”

“Is that why you’re here? To fix me? Don’t.”

Abiene’s face was solemn, and her eyes looked almost black in the firelight. “I’m far more selfish than you think. You don’t want to be alone, I know it. You came back here where people care for you. But you have to let me, Jerric.”

“Today I felt almost like myself again, but I know I could just crack. Remember the Count’s Arms? What if it happens again? I need to get my head right, not go backward.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, then pressed them on his knees to still them.

“I’m not afraid, no matter what happens. Let tonight just be tonight. I’ve missed you. If you don’t want me here, you can show me the door.”

Jerric could see the strain in her face, and his own tension coiled inside him. “You should know, I’m not staying. But you’re right, I don’t want to be alone.” The moment he decided to trust her, he saw that she could tell.

“I knew you would leave before. I don’t want any promises, and I’m not offering any. That hasn’t changed.” She moved over and sat sideways on his lap with her legs between his knees. Her arm felt like it belonged there when she slipped it around his neck.

“How long ago did we say goodbye?” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I guess I should be glad you didn’t know I’d be back so soon. You might not have been so generous that morning.” You're not going to lose her, he told himself.

“That’s nothing compared to how I feel right now. And out here we don’t need to be quiet.” Her first kiss felt as soft as a whisper.

Jerric breathed in the light fragrance she wore in her hair, and under it the warm scent that was just Abiene. “I don’t even have sheets yet. I’ve aired out my bedroll, but it’s still pretty ripe.”

“I don’t care about that. Anyway, this chair would do just fine.” Her smile was also a challenge. “Besides, it’s your first night in a new place. Starting off right is important. For luck.”

“I’ve never had my own place before, so it’s probably even more important.” When he smiled back he saw the joy leap up in her eyes. “I guess we better do what you say. Wouldn’t want to risk it.” She hiked up her skirt and shifted around to face him. He wanted to touch her everywhere at once.

They wound up on the bed eventually. Jerric looked around his fire lit hut with new affection as they rested together. That’s my favorite chair, he thought sleepily. Abiene may be a child of Stendarr, but Dibella has blessed her far more than this Nord deserves.

“Jerric,” Abiene murmured.

“Hmm.”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m trying not to. I don’t want you to walk back to the harbor alone.” He lifted his head and smiled down at her. She looked flushed and happy. He wouldn’t have believed she could make him feel this way again. “Stay tonight, Abiene.”

“No, I don’t want the gossip. But that’s not what I meant. I’ll be fine walking back on my own.”

He closed his eyes. “I won’t hear of it. Get me up if you have to. Don’t go alone, promise.”

“What’s going to get me, a mudcrab? I’m sure I can outrun it if I see one. Anyway, wake up.”

“I’m awake.” His next breath was undeniably a snore. He forced his eyes open. “See?”

Abiene laughed, and it tickled his chest. “I want to ask you something. It’s serious.”

Jerric picked up his head and tucked his arm behind it. “All right, I’m listening.”

“I was wondering if you thought in a little while, maybe we could go again.” She had her chin braced on his chest now, and the look in her eye was pure mischief.

“What’s this maybe? I’m Jerric, have we met?” Her laugh turned into a squeak when he scooped her up and rolled her under him. “You’re going to have to wait a little, though.” Now it was his turn to get comfortable on her chest. He made sure he wasn’t crushing her on the narrow bed. “Tell me a story,” he said.

I loved Jerric's comparison of Vania to a sparrow. Especially after the excellent description you gave of her.

I’m not even going to tell you what was on the old one
Ewwww!

She looked him up and down. “I don’t know. Is there?”
Score one for Sergeant Apone! I was half-expecting Jerric to get in a load lifter afterward. Or fight an Alien Queen!

Jerric shrugged. “I’m hot.”
So Abiene says, or was that Darnand?

Go get yourself a new cook pot, it seems the last tenant couldn’t be bothered to walk to the privy
You certainly know how to paint a disgusting picture!

'He had always thought that things just stayed clean.'


A pair of delightful scenes with a pair of delightful ladies in Jerric's new home.

I enjoyed meeting the little sparrow, Vania. You really brought her to life!

And a visit from Abiene that was welcome, sweet and touching. And touching again after a short break.

What a wonderful way to begin recovery from shell shock! First a little hut on the beach complete with its own dimpled leading lady. Then a sweet visit from Abiene! Could this get any better? I can't wait to see!

A wonderful chapter from beginning to end, would have to quote the whole thing to pull out any part that struck me especially. I see big trouble ahead for Darnand and Jerric's friendship, though. Awesome story - I have been hooked from the start on it, but each new chapter adds a new draw !! Awesome Write !!