I don't think so, remember Athlain doesn't actually know her in advance, and the sentence said....-of my aquaintance...so..nope it's not her....I think

Um, wanted to reread to make sure I didn't miss anything, and found this.

Warning, potential spoiler, though based entirely on Trey's previous material.



From way back when during the midst of being Carnius's lackey due to that whole moon-sugar addiction.

The young woman who approached with a sure step and confident bearing was Apronia Alfena, the sole survivor of the ill-fated supply ship who I had “rescued” from the draugr. She had stepped out of a small dwelling, and the proprietary way she secured the door told me that she had found a home at Raven Rock. Idly, I wondered what she had found to do there, for she was obviously not a miner. Close upon the heels of that thought, I decided that a woman’s perspective on what to build would be useful.

As I greeted Mistress Alfena, an odd experience occurred, one which would be repeated with other women in other places over the remaining years of my life. I looked at her, noting that she was in all ways an attractive woman, looking healthier and in better spirits than when I had last seen her. She possessed youth, grace, and all the physical attributes necessary for beauty in the female form. And even as I recognized that, I also realized none of it mattered to me, for my heart belonged to another.

That did not mean that I could not speak to her, of course. In fact, it made doing so somewhat easier, as I no longer needed to worry about making a good impression. So after a brief exchange of pleasantries, I explained:

“Mistress Alfena, the Company has the means to build either a smithy or a trader’s shop here. Which do you think would be most beneficial?”

She considered the question for a moment and then said,

“A trader would be wonderful. I do hope they have a good selection of shoes!”

I looked around the rocky ground upon which the colony was built, and was about to express the opinion that a pair of sturdy boots likely would be useful, but she was off again, speaking in her usual rapid manner:

“And hats! I simply must have some new hats! The only things available here are those metal or fur monstrosities the soldiers and the natives wear. I do not understand how a girl is expected to make a good showing when she’s dressed up like a wild animal.”

I managed, just barely, to refrain from saying that I knew of at least one girl who looked quite well in her wolf-hide armor. It most likely would have made no difference; Mistress Alfena was already cataloging the variety of soaps and scents that were the minimum necessary for civilized behavior. It was enough- I had my answer. As I walked away, I heard her exclaim:

“Oh, and chocolate! We absolutely must begin importing chocolate! Immediately!”

I waved a hand to acknowledge that I had heard and continued to walk toward Falco’s post under the trees. I reported my findings:

“Most everyone I spoke with seemed to feel that a trader would be the most beneficial. Some were more enthusiastic about it than others, but that was the consensus.”

Falco nodded in satisfaction. “Good. We can order the materials and start work immediately.”

Then his expression grew troubled.

“Athlain- I… didn’t think. Carnius is still in charge, and he will have to sign off on the order for the trading post. I can’t leave the site, but someone has to take the information to him. I hate to ask you to do it, considering all that has happened, but there really is no one else. I can’t spare any of the miners or other workers.”

He trailed off and looked at me apologetically.

I had been careful to avoid Carnius since I had returned from the northern part of Solstheim- and from my addiction. I was usually even-tempered, and Senior Trooper Carbo’s training had helped remove most traces of unthinking violence from my nature. But I had inherited my father’s attitude toward injustice- and some of the quicksilver personality that went with my mother’s red hair. At times, that could be a volatile combination. But I knew several things that Carnius did not- primarily that I was no longer dependent on the skooma he had used to enslave me. Though he might sneer and threaten, he no longer controlled me. So I smiled at Falco and clasped his arm, saying:

“Do not concern yourself. I will have to see the man sooner or later, and I promise to be careful. Too much depends on my actions for me to make a foolish mistake. I will have my due- but at a time of my own choosing.”

Before I left Raven Rock, I found a secluded spot and again placed a magical Mark, a point to which I could transport myself instantly at need. In part, I did so for practical considerations. But it was mostly because the ritual calmed me and forced me to find my emotional balance. And I would need that, despite my reassuring words to Falco. In facing Carnius Magius again, I would be confronting the worst of myself- and I could not give in to it.

Upon completion of the spell, I saw the telltale flash that signaled success. I waited for the after-image to fade from my eyes and then drew out the Divine Intervention scroll that would carry me to Fort Frostmoth- and Carnius.

(Ed. Note- There is no chocolate in Morrowind- or in Cyrodiil. Which may explain the violent tendencies of so many of the female characters. Ducks into secure location to await the coming storm.)

laughed my british boat off with the chocolate comment!!

Can't wait for Athlain to face his nemesis, the Skooma.

ROFL!!! Chocolate responsible for the downfall of Mournhold - Black Horse Courier Special Edition!

I can do without the chocolate myself. I cannot stand the stuff, far too sweet. Now shoes on the other hand, That is another matter entirely! The importance of properly accessorizing cannot be understated!

So Athlain is going to confront his own personal demons. Good. Given the quest he is on to heal the land, his meeting with Carnius is a necessity. For he cannot exorcise the demons of Solstheim until he can face his own monsters and overcome them.

And I am surprised at the number of people who jumped to the conclusion that the sword-wielding woman must be Athynae, when she is a bow-wielding woman.

Blasphemy!

Okay, just when I get used to the idea that I'm going to have to wait at least a little while longer to see Athynae you get me all primed for a big comeuppance for Carnius. Now I can't wait for that . . . you are a sadist, trey. Please tell me that you don't sit around mumbling gibberish and wringing your hands with delight as you dangle us over the flames!

I loved the chocolate comment, who needs calm humanoid when you have chocolate and smelly soap?

I'm loving this, I can't wait to see how things go down between Athlain and Carnius. I'm sure it's almost time he did something else unwise.

Brilliant, now we just need RL to stay quiet so there can be another part.

OK, but since her mother is pretty good with her sword, I am convinced that Thyna is as well!


Anyway, I didn't think about Pronie....but of course it had to be her! I just loved the chocolate thing! It's just brilliant....

Now then if Athlain had asked me , I, of course had agreed upon getting a decent trader to Raven Rock!

(ahem well I do have black belt in shopping so...)

So ends the speculation of the sword-wielding chatterbox's identity.

Like so many others, I enjoyed the chocolate comment. Like SubRosa, I'm not fond of chocolate candy. However, I love chocolate/cocoa in my cooking (chili, beef tenderloin, etc) because when unsweetened, it is very bitter, much like coffee. As a matter of fact, chocolate and coffee, both black, is my favorite flavor combination. Throw in a touch of chipotle and yummm!

Anyway, I digress. It is good to see Athlain thinking about Carnius's comeuppance. It is time to put that British boathole back in his place.

This caught my eye, however, and made the secret romantic in me smile:
Then this made me laugh out loud:QFT!

GAAAAAAAAK !!!!! Chipotle in coffee? Bleah!

Yes, I purposely tried to lead folks astray with the “sword-wielding” comment, although several of you were not fooled. Athynae is quite good with a sword, too, though the only example we have seen was a conversation regarding her taking lessons and being called “a natural” by the sword-master. However, there is one still earlier moment that I think has fooled at least some of my readers. But that will be illuminated later in the chapter. (I think- I haven’t written it yet).

Remko- I felt that things had been a bit gloomy- and are likely to continue so. Therefore, Apronia gave me a chance to inject a little humor (the other part being the bit about shoes, and Athlain’s total cluelessness when it comes to women and their “special relationship” with footwear….)

mALX- I figured Maxical (and Shivani) would understand and approve…

SubRosa- Trust our eagle-eyed (raven-eyed?) resident witch to spot the shoe remark! And also to pick up on the fact that dealing with Carnius is a necessary component of the personal healing Athlain must complete.

Destri- I admit it- I am a serial offender when it comes to serial novel cliff-racer- um, cliff-hanger endings. I am just old enough to remember the old Lone Ranger and other episodic stories that always ended with the hero(ine) about to be run over by a train- or boulder, or herd of buffalo, or…. And yes, I do take a perverse pleasure in stopping an installment at a pivotal moment. What can I say, I am a bad doggie with an “over-developed sense of drama,” as a certain young lady once said of our hero. If I was writing a bit faster, the suffering wouldn’t be so bad, but I hope the wait makes it worth the pain.

Olen- Thank you, my friend. Yes, I think there ought to be more “bribe” options in TES than just offering money. Now that would be a fun add-on for TESV- being able to offer NPCs “gifts” of food or clothing, etc. to improve their disposition!

Minque- A ninja-shopper? You? Who only travelled all the way from Sweden to Pigeon Forge, TN to go to the outlet malls? Never! It is a source of great joy for me that you, one of my earliest readers, are still following my characters and their adventures.

Haute- The passages you quote are some of my favorites, too- revealing my own (not-so-secret) romantic nature. What can I say, I am a Southerner of Irish ancestry. And I have experienced both of those phenomena- in fact, still do after 21 years and counting…

All- I have the first 2 pages of the next part finished, and I even know “what happens next.” What I am trying to decide is whether to post the 2 pages (complete with cliff-hanger ending- cue evil laugh), or to actually complete the quest stage that is involved. I lean towards the less-evil option, but it does mean it will be probably Saturday before I can post. Anyway, I wanted to stop by long enough to say thank you for reading and to promise that your patience will be rewarded.

Yeah !!!!

You have stolen my Wood Elf's heart with that!

Acadian- I was thinking of a certain wood-elf when I added that... Although I think it may actually be part of the in-game dialogue for that quest. If so, Bethesda must have some female writers...

All- I mispoke earlier on two counts- 1) I have managed to post before Saturday (barely); 2) The quest stage is not finished in this part- it would have pushed it over 2000 words, rather than my more comfortable 1500. But at least I do not end with a cliff-hanger..... I may post some screen-shots for this one- depends on if I can do a little Photoshop tomorrow.

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As soon as the disorientation from the spell had worn off, I entered the Imperial Cult shrine. If I had waited in the bailey, some of the troopers would have recognized me, and I did not have time for distractions. Although I was not much of a believer, I stopped at the Cult altar and made a donation. Since I had rescued their missionary, I thought the Nine should be inclined to look favorably upon me- if they existed. Then I climbed the stairs and walked to the door of Carnius’ office.

Before I knocked, I straightened my uniform and gave the bright-work a quick polish. There was little hope of impressing the Company factor, but I was bloody well going to look like an officer of the Legion, not a beggar. Then I tapped on the door and, without waiting for an answer, entered the room. As I had expected, Carnius glared at me, his lips at last twisting into a sneer.

“Someone told me that you chose Falco. Well, that’s fine- it just leaves more for me. Now, did you come here for a reason- or are you just lost?”

He pointedly looked at a row of flasks lined up on a shelf behind his desk and then back at me. My fondest wish at that moment was to lunge across the desk and strangle him. What I did was to stand perfectly still, keeping my expression as blank as possible. Athynae had given me back my life and my honor. Killing Carnius now, no matter the provocation, would be spurning that gift. The situation did not call for anger, but for control.

When I said nothing, he continued:

“If you’re here to beg for your old job back, you can forget it. I remember who is loyal- and who is not. Now go away. I don’t have time for this; I’m expecting a decision from Falco.”

Control, I reminded myself. It would not do to get into a shouting match with him- I was not sure I could keep it from going beyond mere words. So, I stared at a point on the wall above Carnius’ head and replied crisply,

“Yes. In fact, Falco has made his decision. At my suggestion, he has decided the next building at Raven Rock should be a general trader’s shop.”

I kept my tone even, but I could see that the words surprised the Company man, especially the part about my assistance in the decision-making process. He drummed his fingers on the desk and stared at me, naked hatred gleaming from his hooded eyes. Abruptly, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a heavy pouch, saying:

“So you’re his errand boy now? Fine. I really don’t care. Take this gold for your trouble. Maybe Falco will give you a pat on the head to go with it. Now get out of my sight.”

I replied coldly, “With the greatest pleasure.”

Then I turned and left, closing the door softly behind me.

Even as the door swung shut, I knew that the confrontation was simply the opening skirmish in a long and deadly war. Words from Athynae’s report echoed in my head- “Carnius is dangerous….” Yes, but so was I, especially now that I was clear-headed and confident. In our first meeting, he had caught me when I was vulnerable, feeling alone and friendless. That description no longer fit- I knew now that I had many friends, a number of them here on Solstheim. And that reminded me of Korst Wind-Eye and the Skaal test.

With an effort, I stilled the adrenaline-fueled trembling of my hands and forced myself to breathe slowly. What I needed now was to be- away. I needed the wilderness. Although the creatures of Solstheim were deadly, they were honest about it- they did not pretend to want anything except to kill and eat you. At the moment., that sort of clarity would be most welcome.

Exiting the fort, I wandered to the seashore and examined the map showing the locations of the Standing Stones. Unfortunately, the piece of deerskin was more of a drawing than a true example of the cartographer’s art. It had no scale, so distances could only be guessed. And, beyond the rivers and a few coastal features, there were no indications of landmarks to provide guidance. So perhaps this was a test of faith as well as a test of loyalty. Whatever the case, it was good to be back out in the clean air of the forests, away from Carnius’ suffocating plots.

I stayed near the coast and walked east until I found the mouth of the Iggnir River, which I followed a short distance to the north. I studied the terrain on the opposite bank of the river, and crossed over when I saw the initial slope of a high hill. The regular shape made me wonder if it was completely natural, or perhaps instead a monumental work of the ancient Nords. Given sufficient motivation, people could achieve remarkable feats of construction. I had only to look at the remnants of the Ghostfence to know what was possible.

At the summit of the hill, a rough spire of black stone rose some 60 feet into the air. It had clearly been worked by human hands, but it had also been shaped by the elements. Still, a sun symbol stood out sharply from the south face of the stone. I removed the gauntlet from my left hand and reached up to touch the center of the symbol. When I did, I felt a mild shock go through my arm and straight to my heart. Then a deep voice spoke in my mind:

The gentle warmth of the Sun is stolen, so now it only burns. Free the Sun from Halls of Penumbra.


Trusting to instinct, I turned and saw a path running straight west, down the hill and back across the river.

Any doubt that I was on the right track was dispelled when I saw that the stones on either side of the sunken path still bore faint traces of ancient runes. Although the air was filled with the howls of hunting wolves and the low growling of bears, none of the predators approached me. It was almost as though the path I trod was not of the world that they inhabited. That suited me, for I wanted to be rested and prepared for whatever was to come.

About an hour after leaving the sun stone, I found a cave entrance at the end of the path. Although no symbols or runes marked the entry, I knew this must be the place, for the darkness that spilled out seemed to pulse like a living creature. It was more than a shadow, more than the mere absence of light; it was the… antithesis of light. And into that living, breathing blackness I had to go.

As soon as I passed the entrance, I knew two things: the darkness was not normal, and I was not alone. My sense of smell told me there were undead about, and that they were probably draugr. Trying to fight such creatures in pitch blackness would put me at a severe disadvantage, one that might even be fatal. Fortunately, I had a solution for that problem. I stood completely still and felt in my pack for one of Athynae’s potions, one designed for just such a situation, and bearing a special raised mark. As I did so, a memory came to me:

One of the earliest lessons they taught us at the Mages Guild was how to cast a Light spell. The mage instructing us explained loftily how useful it was for seeing in dark places. I had asked, quite seriously:

“But doesn’t that also make it easier for whatever is hiding in the dark to see you, as well?”

I was sent home with a note requesting that Mother teach me to be more “respectful.” The next day, Mother went to the Mages Guild with me and informed the instructor that an honest question deserved an honest answer- and that respect is something to be earned- not given. Thus, the curriculum was changed to include the spell called “Night-Eye.”

Ironically, though I was not forced to learn the Light spell, I also never managed to master the precise hand movements necessary to make Night-Eye work, either. I imagine the Guild instructor was always rather pleased by that development. That was the beginning of my education in the fact that victory can take many forms- and that the gods have an especially nasty sense of humor.

So Athlain survived his encounter with Carnius without becoming a murderer. I guess we can still hope for the future though...

I liked your description of his travel west from the Sun Stone to the cave. The sounds of the animals howling, yet also of not being part of the normal world. Followed by a literal descent into darkness. Very strong Hero Quest stuff. Joseph Campbell would approve.

Finally, this gave me a (naturally faint) smile:
“But doesn’t that also make it easier for whatever is hiding in the dark to see you, as well?”
I have always thought that myself.

Good stuff as always, Trey. Can't wait to see what comes next.

Though wouldn't Athlain's dad, being a preeminent alchemist, have been able to show his son how to make a Night Eye potion?

Just me being nit-picky.

I was mighty proud of Athlain, keeping his cool like that!

Great set up at the Sun Stone, and wonderful description of the path leading down to the cave.

The comment of the Light spell making you literally shine in the dark made me chuckle!

I love the school memories! And the detail about a certain movement causing certain spells is something I have always pictured too! Great Write!!!

Wonderful treydog!

I loved two parts especially. Firstly, that mention of Athynae was carefully woven into several passages. Secondly, the lovely lingering and detail on light vs night eye. Just brilliant!

Have just recovered from ... well, am still recovering from...don't ask.

But prose like this helps greatly! Oh, and since recovery takes precedence over diet, I am reading this over a cup of hot chocolate, hur hur@Old Andy. quotes. com

Athynae would have been so proud of Athlain, seeing how he dealt with Carnius, and the evil temptations he had...oh aye!

Now we're in for a great tale...The stones! How Athlain will conquer all of them, described in your funny, brilliant treyish way

Oh what joy lies ahead of us all!

Nice touch bringing in the dubiousness of a light spell!

Penumbra... where is that from? I have a MtG card called Penumbra Worm and whenever I play it my friends hate me lol.

I believe there was a Club Penumbra in the old Pen and Paper RPG Shadowrun...

SubRosa- I have to admit being influenced by your own depictions of mysticism as I wrote that passage. It just seemed to me that undertaking a mythic quest should set the protagonist apart in some literal, as well as metaphysical way... In actual game terms, it was just a matter of running too fast for the critters to bother him. The light spell goes back at least as far as my paper and pencil D&D days- "Yes, a light source allows you to see. But it also allows you to be seen."

Captain Hammer- Thank you for reading- and especially for the thoughts about alchemy, which caused me to ruminate and eventually include the first paragraph.

haute- My thanks. Yes, just never could see the value of turning yourself into a beacon for every creature within range...

mALX- I was thinking of a certain Khajiit's own school experiences when I added that- and your descriptions of magic use were a major influence.

Acadian- Thank you so much, my friend. Yes, you caught me at it- keeping Athynae present in the story even when she is not... And that was the other purpose behind noting that the potion was from her, instead of Athlain's own creation.

D.Foxy- Welcome back, vulpine D! Prose we have in plenty here, lyrical and lovely or dark and brooding. Must stop now as I fear I am about to start channeling Corambis from the players scene from Hamlet.

minque- Indeed, Athlain is saved from himself by the reminder that there are more important things in life than revenge. I have an idea about... hmmm, no I will save that spoiler for a better time- assuming I can manage the bit of plotting I want... Some humor (I hope) below, in your honor.

Remko- "Halls of Penumbra" is, of course, in-game. However, I had to look up the definition. It actually does not mean "complete darkness," but rather a shadowed area, such as occurs during a partial eclipse. Rather like "penultimate," which I once discovered to my chagrin, DOES NOT mean "final," but rather "next to last." SubRosa (and Joseph Campbell) could tell you that there are many myths and legends surrounding eclipses.

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But my inability to cast the spell was not an issue, because I had a potion that would provide me with the ability to see in the darkness. When Athynae had come searching for me, she had brought along enough potions and ingredients to stock a respectable apothecary. However, I did not chafe her for being- perhaps excessively- well-prepared, since I had been the beneficiary of her alchemical generosity. In the past, before the skooma, I would have been more than happy to prepare my own potions. But I had spent several months distilling moon sugar with my alchemy apparatus, and I could not convince myself that it was free of all traces of the drug. Beyond that, what had once been a restful occupation had become an experience tainted by shame and regret. I would take up the practice of alchemy again one day- when I felt that I had once more earned the privilege.

Meanwhile, I quietly broke the seal on the vial Athynae had so lovingly filled and sipped the contents. The vision imparted by the potion was disorienting at first- colors were muted and almost indistinguishable- everything appeared in shades of gray. But the lack of color was compensated by the clarity- I could see every crack and curve in the icy walls and floor of the cavern. And it seemed to somehow enhance my hearing as well; I believed I could distinguish the shuffling steps and angry groaning of the undead Nord warriors who guarded this place.

I readied my shield and mace and moved to the left side of the passage, reminding myself that the draugr could sense my presence, too. It was said that the undead could not only smell the blood of the living, but could sense our warmth, as well- and that they hated what they could no longer have. Even as I recalled that bit of lore, movement further down the passage alerted me to my first opponent. The draugr slowly turned in place, head up and eyes glowing red, as if it sought confirmation of an elusive scent.

If I had possessed Father’s skill with a bow, I would have sent arrows out of the darkness to disable or kill the creature. While I might hesitate to attack man or elf from ambush, I felt no such moral nicety in regard to the undead. However I might dispatch one of these unnatural constructs, I was doing the world- and the creature- a favor. And besides, it would allow me to stay as far from the awful thing as possible. But, since I was barely competent at archery, such considerations were largely pointless. I began to run as silently as possible toward the reanimated guardian, and smiled as I heard Carbo’s admonition about battle-cries echo in my head.

At the last moment, the draugr sensed me and turned to face my charge. Rather than trying to check or swerve, I swung my shield in front of me and lowered my left shoulder behind it. I kept my legs moving, driving the creature into the wall. Flesh, even the sinewy flesh of a revenant, is not proof against being crushed between steel and ice. I let the impact push me back, then quickly set my feet and swung the ebony mace in a sidearm blow. The draugr dropped to the cavern floor without a sound, the red light of its eyes fading to darkness.

I dealt with another of the undead at the point where the passage curved to the south, then came to a cross-corridor. I considered the choices before me- I could go left or right, or straight ahead. No markings or tracks provided a clue as to which path was best, and I was about to let Fate decide when I remembered my purpose- to free the Sun. If I was facing south, as I believed, to my left was the east- the direction of the rising Sun.

After a brief straight stretch, the passage turned sharply south again, and I wondered if I had made the correct choice. But then I realized that a faint glow was coming from the walls of ice. It could not be a reflection, since I carried no light source, so I pressed onward, following the slowly brightening light west and finally north. At last, I saw that the light was coming from behind a wall of ice that blocked the end of the passage. And I saw something else.

A creature such as I had never before heard of stood before the ice wall, a nightmare assemblage of spikes, talons, and tusks. At first glance, it appeared to be a made of stone and ice, risen from the very bones of the cavern. It stood upright, like a man, but the skin looked like a mixture of ice and rock dust, almost as if the very essence of Solstheim had become animate. The light from behind was enough to show that it was overall a bluish-grey, except for the eyes, which glowed with a furnace heat- white-hot.

The Guardian

Just for a moment, I wondered why the final battle- or what I devoutly hoped would be the final battle- in these missions always seemed to involve a mobile mountain of teeth, claws, and muscle. Why couldn’t I enter an epic struggle against, say- a kwama forager or a scrib? The bards could always embellish events after the fact; and I would be more than happy to keep quiet about what really happened.... Or maybe, instead of fighting, we could have a pleasant conversation. I could tell the demon about Athynae- he could tell me what it was like to be an evil, cave-dwelling monster. And then he could hand over the light of the Sun and we could part on good terms. Or perhaps not. Even as these whimsical thoughts flitted through my mind, the creature raked the claws of one foot back across the floor, leaving deep gouges in the ice and stone.

The strange mood still held me, and I responded to the aggressive gesture with an elaborate bow, saying,

“Very well, Sir Beast; though we have not been introduced, you may begin the dance. If I don’t know the steps, I imagine I will pick them up quickly enough.”

The guardian made no sound in response, but shook its head from side to side and then charged. My hope that its size and seemingly clumsy physique would make it slow was immediately dispelled. In addition to being horrible to gaze upon, it was horribly fast. It swung its clawed arms wide, as if to embrace me, and thrust its head forward, seeking to impale me with a curving tusk. Almost, I despaired- every part of this beast seemed to be a weapon- and I had only the one shield with which to protect myself. But I ruthlessly stepped on those doubts, for I knew that I had much more; I had been trained by the finest soldier in the finest army Tamriel had ever known.

If your opponent is bigger, use your speed. If he’s faster, use your strength. If he’s bigger AND faster, use your brains. Don’t let him hit your shield straight on- turn the blow and let the force slide off. Strike where you can- even a light blow with a mace is going to hurt. Go for the elbows, the wrists, the knees. A sharp rap on the top of the shoulder can numb the arm, even if it doesn’t break the bone. Keep moving. Set your feet long enough to get power behind your blow, and then- MOVE. Never give him a stationary target.

I did not hear the actual words- I did not need to. Hour upon hour of grueling practice had converted words and concepts into automatic responses, movements executed without thought or hesitation. The beast was stone and ice, but I flowed like water. And water will wear away stone and ice. At times, I felt like a stonemason, chipping away at a great boulder, seeking to shape it to a more pleasing pattern. It did not all go my way- the monster was too strong and possessed too many weapons for me to avoid every attack. But there, too, training came to my aid.

Sure it hurts. That’s Nature’s way of telling you not to get too cocky or do anything stupid. But if it hurts, it means you aren’t dead- yet. If it hurts, it can be healed- as long as you don’t quit and don’t get yourself killed. Dead can’t be healed.

When the monster finally fell, I was almost surprised. It seemed like we had been spinning, smashing, and clawing for eternity. I felt no great sense of triumph- the creature had been magnificent in its own way. I looked at the carcass and noted that, even in death, the furnace glow of its eyes had not dimmed. And I recalled a passage from the Story of Aevar:

He plucked the flaming eye from one of the Unholy Beasts and threw it at the ice with all his might. A small crack appeared in the ice, then grew larger. Slowly, the light crept out between the cracks, widening them, splitting the ice wall into pieces. With a deafening crack, the wall crumbled, and the light rushed over Aevar and through the Halls.

So I did the same, plucking the glowing orb and throwing it at the ice wall as hard as I could. The ice shattered and the light burst forth, illuminating the cavern as if I stood in the open air under a clear blue sky. I knew that I must return to the Sun Stone to complete the ritual, but first I drew a quick sketch of the dead guardian in my journal. Perhaps Korst would be able to tell me what it was… and whether there were likely to be any more of them around.

For some reason Beowulf confronting Grendel in the halls of Hrothgar flashed through my mind. I wonder if that was exactly what he was thinking? (Before he realized the creature had no pintle, that is.)

I really liked the thoughts on the tactics of combat - they almost exactly echo mine, and do a great job of explaining why Athlain is so good at what he does.

Glad to do so, and to see what came as a result.

As always, I remain fully engrossed by the story and the style. Well done.

Nothing to nit-pick at, just eagerly awaiting what comes next.

Nice job of keeping Athynae in the story, as you remarked to Acadian about. The potion of hers, and the explanation of why Athlain was not making his own, both provided wonderful insights into his character.

I also liked your description of the draugr (I so love that name, Cyrodiil's generic undead lack the same style), and their ability to smell the blood of the living and feel their warmth. The sensory facilities of the undead in this game are left wholly to the imagination.

Good deduction on Athlain's part to go east to find the sun. I especially loved Athlain's musing about why there is always a boss-level monster at the end of every quest!

but I flowed like water
This was always my advice to people when using horse archers in the game Rome Total War. As Bruce Lee said:
Don't get set into one form, adapt it and build your own, and let it grow, be like water. Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water. Now you put water in a cup, it becomes the cup; You put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle; You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.

Good part, I remember that quest and must say you caught the 'What on nirn?!' moment when you first see the grahl. A nice bit of humour with Athlain's thoughts too, so like him (and this story) to have a bizarre side thought at such a time.


Yay for the subtle approach!

Great stuff.

Keeping up with it, Sir Trey, worry not. Fantastical writing as ever, and getting better with each entry.

Athlain shoulda had a cup 'o tea with the beastie, but maybe heat is bad for it? That woulda worked too.

Fabulous as ever, Treydog.

Just for a moment, I wondered why the final battle- or what I devoutly hoped would be the final battle- in these missions always seemed to involve a mobile mountain of teeth, claws, and muscle. Why couldn’t I enter an epic struggle against, say- a kwama forager or a scrib? The bards could always embellish events after the fact; and I would be more than happy to keep quiet about what really happened.... Or maybe, instead of fighting, we could have a pleasant conversation. I could tell the demon about Athynae- he could tell me what it was like to be an evil, cave-dwelling monster. And then he could hand over the light of the Sun and we could part on good terms

AND

“Very well, Sir Beast; though we have not been introduced, you may begin the dance. If I don’t know the steps, I imagine I will pick them up quickly enough.”

AND ALSO


If your opponent is bigger, use your speed. If he’s faster, use your strength. If he’s bigger AND faster, use your brains. Don’t let him hit your shield straight on- turn the blow and let the force slide off. Strike where you can- even a light blow with a mace is going to hurt. Go for the elbows, the wrists, the knees. A sharp rap on the top of the shoulder can numb the arm, even if it doesn’t break the bone. Keep moving. Set your feet long enough to get power behind your blow, and then- MOVE. Never give him a stationary target.


WOO HOO!!! Deadpan humour, Courtly Clint Eastwood, and INTELLIGENT FIGHTING ... WHAT MORE COULD A READER WANT???

TEN THUMBS UP FOR TREY!!!

Oh I loved two things, he had the potions Athynae gave him and thought of her as he drank them, the other was remembering, then plucking the eye out and smashing the icy walls with it - I would love to have seen that! (is it in the game?)

Wonderful as always!
A favourite quote:


Just love it! You know I have a file on my comp, where I keep wonderful quotes from your stories....The file is named "Treyish quotes"

When I feel like I need to smile....I open that file....and smile!!

Oooh... loved that! Pain's good, lets you know you're still alive. QFT!

As I moved back through the Halls of Penumbra, I was pleased to see that the light I had released had incinerated the bodies of the draugr. I had not relished the prospect of trying to dispose of the corpses myself- still less, the idea of leaving them where they might be reanimated. Healing potions cured my injuries and the sun was warm on my face when I emerged and followed the path east, crossing the river and climbing the hill to stand before the Sun Stone once more. I reached out and touched the Sun symbol and the entire Stone began to glow with a comforting light. Within me, I felt a similar warmth, dispelling a cold I had not even realized was there.

I consulted my journal and the map of the remaining Standing Stones and decided to go back to Raven Rock to see Falco. And while I was there, I could repair my armor. Activating the Recall amulet brought me near to the colony, and I reported my “interview” with Carnius to Falco. He shook his head at the Company factor’s harsh words, but then switched to practical matters:

“It will still be several days before we can begin construction of the Trader’s shop. But it will go quickly once the supplies arrive; the Company designs all of its buildings to a standard plan.”

He placed a friendly hand on my shoulder and added, “I appreciate your restraint in dealing with Carnius. But we should be on guard more than ever, now. If he senses this opportunity slipping away, he might do something desperate.”

I thanked Falco and sought out a quiet place along the shore to make quick repairs to my equipment. What I really needed was a smithy, but I did not want to go back to the fort just then. Something had happened when I touched the Sun Stone, and I felt compelled to continue. Beyond that, the feeling of being somehow “apart” from the physical world also remained.

With the worst of the damage repaired, I considered where I should go next. The map of the Standing Stones showed that the Earth Stone was not very far to the northwest. With good fortune, I should be able to find it and complete that portion of the Skaal test within the day. With a wave to Falco, I left the colony and strode into the trees. I was barely out of sight of Raven Rock when I saw a familiar black spire rising from a low hill.

On the east face of the weathered stone was a simple rune, depicting a symmetrical curved line rising above another, horizontal, line. The symbol could be interpreted as either “mountain” or “land.” In this case, I knew it meant the more general “earth,” from the Nordic term for Nirn. When I touched the rune, the low voice in my head responded:

Travel northeast to the Cave of Hidden Music and learn the Song of the Earth.

I turned in that direction and saw a steep peak, with a Nordic barrow dug into the western slope. When I examined the burial however, the runes on the entry seemed to translate as “Bloodskaal,” so I realized that this barrow was not my goal. Although it was kind of the guiding voice to assist me, I would have appreciated it if said voice could have been a bit more specific. “Northeast” took in the greater part of the island of Solstheim, including Thirsk and the Skaal village itself. And I knew that the Cave of Hidden Music was not near either of those places. Nevertheless, I set out in the indicated direction, trusting that some sign or clue would present itself.

As I walked, my mind wandered. The word “music” reminded me of Athynae. Well, to be honest, everything reminded me of Athynae. But in this case, it was a particular memory. Her speaking voice was as attractive as her appearance- low and lyrical, with just a hint of the characteristic Dunmer rasp, which became more pronounced when she was tired. But, the odd thing was that she, who it seemed did all things well, could not sing. That did not prevent her from trying, however, and doing so with her usual energy and enthusiasm. The results were- painful… all the more so because she loved music passionately. Therefore, none of us could find the heart to tell her that her efforts were about as tuneful as a lovesick cliff-racer giving its unwanted amorous attentions to a reluctant guar. There was such joy on her face as she slaughtered innocent notes by the score that we simply waited quietly until her eyes were closed in the ecstasy of the music- at which point we stuffed cotton into our ears.

But the memory, like the pleasant days from whence it came, could not last. I was no longer at home, and I had greater worries than trying to find a way to tell my friend that her singing scared the livestock. Soon, I had gone far enough to the north that I reached the edge of the snow cover that blanketed the island year-round. I paused to rest beside a tree and stared at the icy precipitation that still fascinated me. And as I watched, I noticed something even odder than the snow itself.

Periodically, the grains or “flakes” of snow would vibrate briefly upon the ground. I had inherited Father’s interest in natural phenomena, so I watched closely. It appeared that the snow would move slightly four times and then cease. A few minutes later, it would happen again. If there had been herds of large animals on Solstheim, I would have deduced that the passage of one such was causing the ground to shake. But the cycle of the vibrations and the fact that they neither grew nor faded in intensity indicated that the source was fixed. I looked up to see if there was any other sign of the cause, but saw nothing except trees and snow and distant mountains. And the sight of the mountains reminded me of the Earth rune, which brought back the words “…the Song of the Earth.”

I shook my head in frustration at my obtuseness. Would the Song of the Earth be heard in the Air? Of course not- it would come from the ground. Now that I knew how to sense the muffled “song,” I could follow it like a lodestone. Before long, I beheld what appeared to be the entry to a Nordic barrow set on the northwest flank of a hill. The runic inscription identified it as the place which I had sought- the Cave of Hidden Music. When I placed a hand on the stone slab that served as a door, I could feel the low vibrations from within, even though I could still not hear any sound.

Inside, the cave still resembled a barrow more than anything else, walled with large slabs of unmortared stone, laid so as to leave niches at about waist height. The distinctive opened grave odor of draugr reinforced the impression that this was a burial site- or at least the home to some number of undead. I only hoped there was nothing like the guardian from the Halls of Penumbra- I was not sure I could survive another fight like that.

The entry hall was mercifully empty, but a gap in the south wall showed what appeared to be a much older, perhaps naturally-formed, cavern. Occasional stones were marked by runes that had eroded beyond translation. Although the low notes were a constant presence, there was no obvious hint as to what direction I should take. Therefore I wandered the tunnels for what seemed like hours, frequently fighting the draugr that seemed to rise from the very floor. At last, with my armor scored and smeared from numerous nasty fights, I found a door inscribed “Chamber of Song.”

I passed through the door and was able to hear more clearly a low series of notes. It could not really be called music- it sounded more like a giant who was snoring- or perhaps suffering from digestive troubles of a socially-embarrassing sort. Regardless of the peculiar quality of the “song,” I was certain my goal was near. Turning west, I followed the sounds until I reached a high chamber. At the far end, I beheld a series of rock formations that perfectly fit a passage from the Story of Aevar:

He found himself in a large cavern, where the rocks hung from the ceiling and grew from the ground itself. He listened there, and heard the Song of the Earth, but it was faint. Grabbing up his mace, he struck the rocks of the floor in time with the Song, and the Song grew louder, until it filled the cavern and his heart.

Even as I remembered that section of the story, I saw the stone columns briefly emit vapors in a series of four flatulent notes, the very sounds I had been hearing for some time. The nature of the sounds was such that, instead of immediately following Aevar’s example, I found myself overwhelmed by a bout of helpless laughter. Song of the Earth, indeed! It was not a song, but a play- and a particular type of comedy at that!

Athlain's feeling of being partly divorced from the mundane world was a good touch. It reinforced the feeling that he is on a visionquest, with one foot in the spirit world, and one in the physical.

Earth is the Nordic word for Nirn? Is that from the game? Or something you did on your own?

The description of Athynae's musical predilections, and qualifications, was simply hilarious! Especially the part about the cotton!

Yay update. The quality was top notch as ever.


There's a lot of this piece that I could quote but I'll restrict myself. I love the dry humour your work has, that line made me laugh particularly.

"Earth" as the Nordic word- Since "Earth Stone" and "Song of the Earth" are used in game, I had to give a reason that the Nords used a different term than the Cyrodiilic "Nirn."

To my delight, the etymology of "Earth" is Proto-Germanic, Old English, and Old Norse. (er[th]o, eor[th]e, jorfi) Brackets [th] used in place of thorns, since I don't know if one of our forum fonts has those.

Well, I just figured that the Beth writers were too lazy to use the word Nirn, and the editors (do they even have editors?) just as bad. It is a good reason for fantasy writers to call their world Earth, as it avoids problems with things like earthenware jugs, falling to earth, good green earth, etc...

Aye, that's me! Between my deafness and my mother's lack of musical ability . . . At least I slaughter my notes in private, out of consideration for others!

Amazing that my two sisters and brother can play the piano and saxophone between them! Of course, the sax made the dog howl . . .

Wonderful chapter, again! And well worth the wait!

Just read the last two chapters. Wonderful (as always).

This passage really struck me, and shows much, much wisdom.

I see Foxy migrating to the end of this chapter like a magnet and then spewing some form of non-alcoholic drink all over his keyboard !!

I loved this chapter Treydog!!!!!

Athynea's musical incapability had me laughing out loud. Cotton indeed I cant carry a note either but then again; I dont have to sing cause I can play an instrument

Of course, the sax made the dog howl . . .



the sax made the dog howl . . .


the sax made the dog howl . . .


OH ... er... SAX...


For a moment I was thinking...


No. Fuggedaboutit. You dont want to know. Trust me. You DONT WANT TO KNOW.

What kind of TERRIBLE ANIMAL is a magnat?



Is it a MAD GNAT???

Or is it a MA GNAT... visions of a queen gnat with brood begin to appear...


Or is it a volanic magma born creature???


WHERE CAN I FIND A PICTURE AND AND A DESCRIPTION OF A MAGNAT????

Here is a picture of one:

I knew you would post that!!!

I almost put Alix the Mouse up.

Ah, well played good sir. I especially enjoy how Athlain avoided going into Bloodskaal Barrow, and thus avoided the mighty sword of same name. Reminds me of a certain ring in a certain tomb that a certain reluctant Nerevarine managed to not find, thanks to his scruples about robbing graves.