My armchair-seat belt is now firmly in place but it wasn't needed for this enjoyably relaxing chapter, Julian trying to explain her joining of the mages' guild was nice and you have done a great job with Orania and Cirroc. More please, but don't leave out the tea, it's my favourite!

Lophophora, isn't Peyote addictive? I thought it was. (or was that just something they tell you as teens to keep you from...


I think Julian has a super-sensitivity to any drug, it could be because she was an addict previously or the reason why she became addicted before - but these visions seem to be fueled after she has taken a concoction each time. That does not take away the validity of the vision though. Native Americans used peyote in rituals to bring visions, did they not? Yet those visions foretold what decisions they would make in future events - and showed the events in advance.

Of course we have foreknowledge that she will need Akatosh, the One - so we know the vision is valid - but are they being fueled by the concoctions? And if so...wait! Are any of those you mentioned double agents for the Mythic Dawn? (Like Hans Black-Nail, etc. are?)


Wait! Let me get my coffee and re-read this !!!!!

Oooh! I hope our wonderful (but s t u b b o r n) Julian follows her orders and rests that knee to optimize her recovery!

This piece showcased your superb skill throughout. I limited myself to just 3 quotes:

Wonderfully telling, clever and efficient.

Well, there you go. If anyone ever asks, 'Who is Julian from Anvil?', you can simply paste this in as a reply.

Simply wonderfully immersive writing - painting with words.

Hey, two days beats six weeks in traction any day. Julian should count her blessings. Maybe she can get Jauffre to run down to Bruma to fetch her some more tea and hot sweetrolls!

This is my favorite sentence in this chapter. At first I thought it might be a mistake. But then I realized how you meant it, my-self.

I also love the symbolism in Akatosh keeping her from joining her family in the cottage. It fits in with both her former legion career and her new career as Hero of Kvatch, closer of Oblivion Gates.

And it seems that you have a great deal of company when it comes to regard for Julian. I keep seeing her pop up in other people’s fiction. Now, if there were only some way to get her into Interregnum . . .

@Remko: I liked that movie Gladiator for pretty much the same reasons you do (and admit to a certain fondness for Predator), even though I’m of the female species. It’s just that the tragedy of Maximus’s family lifts the movie up above the crowd, so to speak. As for whose hand that is on her shoulder, well, let’s say the dream will be explained in 15.6.

@Treydog: I wanted to bring home the fact that once you leave home, you can’t go back again. And yes, that is the Julian Credo, as borne by her actions. And again, you guess correctly - Orania has some history with the Blades, or rather with an agent. It is probably something left unspoken in this story.

@SubRosa: Sometimes simple is better. No, the Dragon is not Julian’s spirit guide, but rather some one who claimed her, as Azura has claimed Acadian’s Buffy.

@mALX: According to the Columbia Encyclopedia, peyote is not physiologically habit-forming the way better known psychedelic drugs such as cocaine, heroin, etc are. It is banned in many locales in the US because of its association with the Native American Ghost Dance - the whites were afraid the natives were going to run off the reservation and kill them all! Nowadays, if you are a member of the Native American Church, you can legally use peyote in your rituals. Julian does not have a sensitivity to drugs per se - her flash backs occur because she is at a loss as to what her new purpose in life is, and she is remembering things from long ago. The most recent sequence is technically not a flashback, but rather a message from the one Divine that has figured the most in her life - Akatosh.

@Acadian: Stubborn is right! I’m delighted as always at the things you notice and your insight into one of the most enduring characters I’ve ever written.

@Destri: The hot sweetrolls would be cold by the time Jauffre gets back from Bruma! I see you noticed the symbolism of Akatosh holding her back from entering the cottage - it is not quite what you think, but your impression fits the entire concept just fine. As for Interregnum, well there is a common link, or rather four of them: Casnar, Valdemar, Alain, and Rielus. How to connect the dots over four hundred years? Hmm . . .

Julian suffers through enforced inactivity - the price one has to pay for recovery! This is a bit long at over 2300 words, but I think you’ll enjoy this. No seat belts required, I think. But do grab your favorite beverage, sit back and enjoy!

****************
Chapter 15.5 Healing Among the Blades

“Good morning, Julian,” Roliand greeted me as he ducked around the curtain that shielded my cot from the rest of the barracks. “Paint is doing fine,” he smiled. “Though I think he misses his daily apple from you.”

I miss seeing Paint, too. I picked up the round globe from my breakfast tray and tossed it to him. “Here, take it for Paint.”

Roliand caught it effortlessly and chuckled. “Ah, but it’s not from you.”

“Pretend you’re me, then,” I countered, keeping my face straight.

The tall Nord shook his close-cropped head. “I’m not as pretty as you, Julian, but I’ll try.” I laughed as he disappeared. Pretty? Me? Yeah, right. I drank down a dose of Orania’s potion, and chased it with the last of the tea. It was the second day of my confinement, and the dull ache in my knee had nearly disappeared.

Jena entered my makeshift cubicle. “Finished with breakfast?”

“Yes,” I answered. “And I took the potion already.” Jena took the teapot and refilled my cup, then took the breakfast tray from my lap. “Thanks,” I added as she turned to leave.

“No problem at all!” she said over her shoulder. “After all, we’re Blade sisters, aren’t we?” I smiled as she left. Caroline and Jena had been taking turns bringing me my meals and making sure I had everything I needed. After being out alone for the past couple of weeks, it felt good to be back among soldiers again, like a well-worn cuirass that rubbed only in the right places.

******************
“Nirim: ‘Only - only what if it ain’t a ghost, Theophon. What if it’s the same creature, and it’s still alive - and it ain’t ate nothing since five years ago -’” Belisarius’s voice was hushed in the quiet of the late afternoon gloom. Outside I could hear the wind picking up, which added to the spookiness of the play he was reading to me.

“The footsteps begin a slow, heavy stomp up the stairs, though whatever it is, we cannot see it. Nirim notices the light beginning to dim from the lantern despite Theophon frantically trying to fix it.” Belisarius’s voice had taken on a neutral narrative tone, before switching to a tone of panic. “Nirim: ‘You said you refilled the lamp!’”

I closed my eyes against the shudder that crawled up my spine. It’s just a play, Julian, just a play.

“The light goes out entirely, and the stage is filled with darkness. Nirim: ‘You promised me you refilled the lamp!’ More footsteps and a horrible, horrible howl. The men scream. The curtain falls.” Belisarius closed the book and looked at me.

Suppressing the tremor that ran up my spine at his effective reading of the play, I smiled at him. “Thanks, Belisarius. I hope I never see that play!” It makes me think of my mother and brother. Only I hope they’re not ghosts.

“It’s pretty scary when you read it,” Belisarius cocked his head, his gaze drifting upwards. “Especially when there’s a snowstorm outside.”

“I think I liked Beggar better,” I responded. “Though Glories and Laments was interesting.” That book described Ceyatatar, the Ayleid ruin I had passed on the Gold Road just northeast of Greenmead Cave.

“If you like the history books, there’s The Battle of Sancre Tor,” Belisarius responded. “I read it once, years ago. Unfortunately, we don’t have a copy of it here, but it’s a fascinating read.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open for it, then,” I promised. “If I find a copy, I’ll bring it to Cloud Ruler.”

*****************
“Hello?” Ferrum’s voice reached me from the other side of the curtain. “Are you decent, Julian?” Caroline and I exchanged amused glances.

“Yes, I am, Ferrum,” I answered. “Come in if you’re not practicing.” Caroline stifled a snicker as she switched teapots and moved to the flap. She pulled the curtain back to let the tall Breton in before leaving with the empty pot.

Ferrum sat down on the stool next to me. “I wanted to tell you that I found the Wolf when I was cleaning your gear,” he said. “I’m sorry that it can’t be repaired anymore.”

I felt another twinge at the reminder. “I’m sorry, too,” I answered. “But it’s only a light iron shield, not meant to withstand clannfears and the like.” Not to mention the abuse it took from that Orc deserter in Fort Grief. “I’m actually surprised it held up so long.” I shifted against the pillows at my back. “I used to go through a shield a month when I was on combat duty in Skyrim. And those were steel shields.”

“I can only imagine what that Wolf means to you, Julian,” Ferrum met my gaze. “I understand it was hard for you to leave a certain Kvatch Guard behind when you closed your first Oblivion Gate.” He glanced up as Captain Steffan pulled the curtain back and entered to stand behind him. “Captain Steffan told me that in the Legion you leave no man behind. To do that at Kvatch must have rubbed you the wrong way.”

“Yes, it did,” I took a deep breath against the reminder of the tortured guardsman. May peace be with you, wherever you are, Menien Goneld. “I carried that Wolf to remind myself of the courage of the Kvatch Guard in the face of a terrifying unknown.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “When it broke, I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind in the Deadlands. In the Legion, we don’t leave our signum on the battlefield either.”

“That’s what I thought,” Ferrum nodded agreement. “Roliand got me some wolf pelts that he had tanned, and I wrapped the pieces up. Captain Steffan showed me your armory chest, and that’s where I put it.” He regarded me for a moment. “I noticed you have another Wolf in there.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. “And my leather cuirass is beyond repair, too.”

*********************
“How’s the knee tonight, Julian?” Martin asked as he and Baurus sat down at the small table next to my cot. Baurus loaded my plate with ham slices, roasted squash covered with melted butter, and sautéed greens while the Emperor poured more tea for the three of us. They had been sharing the evening meals with me, keeping me company.

“Pretty good, Sire,” I answered. “But I’m waiting until Cirroc lets me out of bed. One day is too long, let alone three!” Baurus grinned at the impatient tone in my voice.

“Well, we’ll find out tomorrow if you can start walking around,” he responded encouragingly. I had a feeling he knew exactly how I felt about being a convalescent. Our plates filled, we took a moment for grace, then started in on the hearty fare I had come to associate with Cloud Ruler Temple.

After the first couple of bites, I glanced at Martin. “How are things coming along with the Mysterium Xarxes?” I caught the glance Baurus sent him. Martin’s looking haggard these days. Is he still having trouble sleeping?

His hazel eyes pensive, Martin shrugged evasively. “It’s coming along slowly,” he answered. “Though I know the Daedric script, it’s very difficult to translate the meaning into Cyrodiilic.” After another bite of the ham, he met my gaze. “I heard your Wolf is beyond repair. I’m sorry to hear that, Julian.”

“It has served me well, Sire,” I answered. Martin nodded.

“As Kvatch has served the Empire,” he added. “But all things come to an end.”

“Sometimes I wish I had seen Kvatch before - “ my voice trailed off. Martin smiled.

“It was something in its day,” he murmured. “The food vendors in the market always had something delicious to eat, no matter what mood you were in. The Count would walk around the city every day after holding audience in the Great Hall. He knew most of us by name.”

“That makes his passing even more tragic,” I mused. “Such civic leaders are few and far between, Sire.”

“True, that,” Martin agreed. He met my gaze. “Did you know Savlian Matius was one of his bodyguards?” Both Baurus and I looked at him in surprise. Though Baurus had never met Matius, I had told him of the man’s courage and tenacity in holding the line against the daedra, and his compassion for the refugees.

“Bodyguard?” I repeated. “I thought he was Captain of the Kvatch Guard!”

Martin shook his head. “Only by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” We were silent a few moments longer, finishing the last of the meal. “But he showed exceptional leadership during the most terrible crisis Kvatch has ever faced. No wonder the remaining guards looked to him for orders and guidance.”

I recalled how Matius had pursued his goal of rescuing Count Goldwine from the daedra. “If he was the Count’s bodyguard, no wonder he was so determined to reach the castle,” I muttered. Baurus sent me a dark look. I knew he was reliving his own failure as bodyguard to Emperor Uriel. “Matius took the news of the Count’s death very hard,” I added. “Now I understand -”

***********
Finally, on the third day, after tending to the healing wound on my right knee, Cirroc placed a less bulky brace on my leg and handed me a sturdy crutch. Startled, I saw the smile in his black eyes.

“I can get up?” I asked, hardly daring to believe my confinement was over.

“Yes,” the Redguard healer said, his smile reaching his generous lips. “You still need to keep weight off of that knee for another day or so, but you can now get up and start walking around. The brace,” he pointed at the contraption on my leg, “is to keep you from flexing it too far. Keep the foot elevated when you are sitting or laying down, and don’t stay on your feet too long at a time.”

With Cirroc’s strong hands steadying my efforts, I struggled to stand up from the low cot. The pain in my knee, which had subsided to a mere ache, flared up as I gingerly put my weight on the right leg. With just a slight wobble, I managed to get the crutch under my right shoulder, taking the stress off the injured leg.

Determined to get outside, I listened intently to Cirroc’s instructions on maneuvering with the crutch as we made our way into the great hall. Martin turned from his study table, and Baurus saluted me, as I clumped past them for the front doors, Cirroc shadowing me. Belisarius put down his ever-present book and dashed ahead of me to open the left panel, grinning as I flashed him my gratitude.

My momentum carried me out onto the plaza before I could stop. The clashing sound of swords ceased as Pelagius and Fortis stopped their sparring to watch. Lifting my face to the sun, I closed my eyes against its dazzling light and breathed deeply of the frosty air. Never had the cold made me so happy to be alive. My right toes rested against the cobblestones and I looked up into the sky to the west of the sun, my vision filled with infinite blue.

Strength coiled within me, and with it came laughter. Laughter at being alive, at being outside, at the biting cold that was fast numbing my bones. Laughter at my breath puffing visibly in the air, the tall mountains surrounding Cloud Ruler Temple, and the diminishing of the pain that had worn me down for four years.

Akatosh, thank you for being here for me.

I brought my gaze down to see Grandmaster and Captain striding towards me from the gate wall. Past them, Pelagius and Fortis saluted me with their blades before returning to their constant sparring.

“It’s good to see you up and about, Julian,” Jauffre said, his light blue eyes sparking with good humor. “You’ve made a lot of progress in the past couple of days.” A shadow moved through his gaze and was gone.

“It’s good to be outside, sir,” I answered, wondering if I had imagined that darkness. A whicker drew my gaze over my right shoulder towards the stables. “If you’ll excuse me, sirs,” I included Steffan. The two men nodded. Pivoting awkwardly around on the crutch, I hobbled towards the stable.

A brown and white form appeared in the shadow of the open stable door, then Paint came trotting out to me, tossing his head and snorting. He pranced around me, making me laugh again, then stopped in front of me when I reached out my left hand to him. He insisted on sniffing me all over, blowing on the brace covering my right knee, before he would let me touch him. Then he sidled a little, turning his shoulder to me so I could scratch the sweet spot at the base of his neck near the withers. Amused by his antics and his not so subtle hint, I dug my fingertips into his crest, making him arch his neck and wobble his upper lip in the equine expression of bliss.

“Julian!” I heard Steffan’s voice behind me. I turned my head and caught the blur of his hand as he tossed a round object at me. My left hand came up and caught it, and I recognized the apple and looked back at him. The Captain’s grin flashed white in the shadows of his helm. I nodded my gratitude, and bit into the sweet, crunchy flesh of the fruit, sharing it with Paint, keeping the juice from my bites only for myself.

When the apple was all gone, Cirroc touched my shoulder. “Time to go inside, Julian,” he said quietly. “Don’t overdo things the first day out of bed.” His eyes were kind, and smiling. With a rub on Paint’s long nose, I pushed his head towards the stable. The gelding touched my cheek with his soft muzzle, then turned and walked back to his shelter, as sedate as a Prior’s mount.

A nice chapter to enjoy with a steaming cup of tea!

Belisarius! yay! A good book (Or post on a fanfiction site ) will take your mind off almost anything. If Julian is ever in need of something to read, the Argonian sitting next to me recommends 'The Argonian Account' series.

Do I detect a little romance with Roliand lol.

More! please?

What a lovely time!

On the length, your warning, and breaking the story into multiple separated scenes evaporated any concerns. No worries.

Argghh! Julian, can you not see what others do?

The play-reading scene was very clever. Ah, I begin to sniff some foreshadowing now at the mention of Sancre Tor perhaps?

Wonderful full honors and closure for the trusty shield that served Julian so well.

This does several things for me. Firstly and most importantly, you fed me - and a wonderful meal it was! Secondly, it shows how important Julian is to Martin and the Blades; they care enough about her to take their meals with her at her bed. Thirdly, when viewed within the chapter overall, it is one of many gentle ways you have showed how much Julian's Blade brothers and sisters care for her. Meals and tea from her sisters, salutes from her brothers, caring words and actions from all. . . . I'm sure that Julian cannot help but feel a warmth of belonging - I hope that feeling brings her some comfort.

The reflections on Kvatch were powerfully poignant. Your vision of Kvatch prior to its destruction was most welcome. . . especially for a young elf that is yet to realize she may someday assist in the rebuilding of that city.

Beautiful!

Yay, Paint!

Ok, shut up, Acadian, before you write a book to tell Rider how much you love her story.

There are many things to like about this one. The rest during Julian’s convalescence is welcome after all those Gates.

I like the revelation about Savlian- it makes a great deal of sense. And the references to the Kvatch Wolf are also quite symbolic- not just of the defenders’ courage, but if Julian’s journey from addict to Blades sister. She has earned that shield many times over, whether she likes to admit it or not.

The personalities you give the other Blades are also a treat- none of that “third spear-carrier from the left” in your story. And that adds tremendous depth.

Normally I try not to quote large passages, but the following must be taken as a whole:



By the same token, I will not attempt to improve upon that perfect, lyrical text by trying to analyze it- I will just admire it.

And finally, the moment with Paint was simply wonderful.

“But all things come to an end.”
This sounds quite prophetic, especially coming from Martin.

Very good twist with the background of Matius being a bodyguard rather than the official captain of the Kvatch Guard. As Julian noted, it brings his determination much more into focus. Likewise the reaction of Baurus. The first thing I thought of was how similar the situations.

A nice calm segment that moves us through the early stages of Julian's recovery, leading to the elation that comes with finally having a sense of belonging and purpose in life once more under the outspread wings of the dragon. Finally, a reunion with one of my favorite characters of the JF, Paint. I really love the depth that you are able to put into your animals. It is one of the things I envy about your writing.

This chapter is filled with rich dialogue and natural flowing scenes. I love that they tossed the apple for Paint to her and she caught it - My fave part is when she actually brings the apple to Paint (of course) - but ARGH !!! ARGH !!!! Julian is beautiful !!!!

Let’s see:

- hazmick seized on the fondness that I too detect between Julian and Roliand. I’m not sure if it’s romantic or not, but I can feel it just the same.

- Acadian already covered the aspect of Julian’s belonging amongst her brothers and sisters in the Blades, and of how important she is to them.

- trey gave voice to the same thoughts I feel about Julian and her beloved Kvatch Wolf. And he quoted my favorite passage from this chapter. ‘My vision filled with infinite blue’ . . . perfect!

- ‘Rosa nailed the poignancy of the similarity in circumstance between Baurus and Savlian Matius. I could feel Baurus’ pain even as Martin continued speaking.

- And mALX even skewered the apple!

Not much left for me to do. Post length is irrelevant when something reads this well.

MORE!

@hazmick: I agree about the good book!

@Acadian: Julian may be a tough old pilus, but she is still a woman, and women seldom believe they are as pretty as others think they are! The paragraph(s) you and Trey quote are my favorite parts of that segment. Oh, yes, and the part about Paint, too. That was right out of my gelding’s book.

@Trey: I’m glad you liked the little bit about Savlian Matius’s background, and that he and Baurus have something in common there. I wanted to show why Julian has so much respect for the two men, though they have never met each other.

@SubRosa: That’s what Martin said, and as I wrote it, I thought oooh! I’m glad you enjoyed the interlude with Paint as much as Julian did. Paint is a lot of fun to write.

@mALX: I’m glad you enjoyed the conversations. I love using dialogue to ‘tell’ when I’m not ‘showing.’ It just feels natural.

@Destri: Both Julian and Roliand love horses. Whether they love each other or not, that’s for me (and JulIan) to know and you (and hazmick) to wonder! I appreciate your comments as always.

With Martin’s help, Julian experiences a startling revelation. This is the end of Chapter 15. With Chapter 16 we will return to the drudgery we euphemistically call the Main Quest.

******************
Chapter 15.6 Akatosh’s Claim

A couple days later, I chafed at the bit again, this time anxious to get rid of the knee brace and the crutch and start practicing the Way of the Crane once more. Cirroc agreed it would be a good way for me to regain my fitness, but insisted I wait until he was satisfied that the knee had fully healed. “It may feel great now,” he warned me, “but it isn’t strong enough yet for the lifestyle you are accustomed to leading.”

Returning to the Great Hall after my daily visit with Paint, I spotted Martin hunched over the study table. I hobbled over to him, sitting down opposite him and surveying the growing pile of books. Deep in his study, Martin did not notice me at first. I waited patiently, for there was something I wanted to discuss with him in his role as a priest of Akatosh.

As he shifted his attention to scribble in his notes, Martin noticed my presence. “Oh, Julian, I’m sorry,” he met my gaze. “I didn’t see you sitting there.”

“No wonder, Sire,” I tapped the stack of books between us. “I can barely see over this pile.” His hazel eyes crinkled, rewarding me with a flash of humor. Then the weariness and care returned to his expression.

“What can I do for you, Julian?” he asked. I hesitated, regarding his careworn face. Would I be adding to his burdens? “Out with it,” he insisted.

“Something’s been on my mind lately, Sire,” I responded. “I’m hoping you can be a priest of Akatosh for me.”

Martin straightened up and set his graphite stylus down. “Of course, Julian.” He looked around, then rose to his feet, stretching his spine. “I’ve got an urge for fresh air,” he remarked, picking up his fur-lined cloak. “Mind heading out with me?”

“Of course, Sire,” I rose to my feet, not quite gracefully. Baurus fell into step behind as we headed outside. Martin led me across the Plaza to the gate wall, where we walked up to the western watch tower. He nodded at Baurus, who dropped back onto the walkway and turned his back to us. At Baurus’s signal, Achille, in the eastern tower, turned from his watch and walked back to the Plaza, leaving us alone.

For a few minutes, we stood quietly, looking out over the dramatic vista spread out below us. I could just barely see the spire of White Gold Tower to the south, blued by the distance. “Sometimes,” Martin spoke into the crystalline air, “I just like to come out here and see.” I glanced at him, but his gaze remained on the land spread out below us. Looking down the mountainside at the walls of Bruma, I remained silent.

See what? I lifted my gaze to the faraway horizon, barely distinct against the blue sky above. The sky? The mountains? Bruma? The forest? As I gazed, a strange sensation crept over me, a feeling that my eyes were filling up with the beauty that was Tamriel. Even the air was full of heartbreaking splendor. It seemed to be the perfect counterpoint to the sight of fire and blood of the Deadlands that still haunted my vision from time to time.

“What is it, Julian?” Martin asked after several moments.

I blinked to bring myself back to reality and took a deep breath. Where to begin? “When I first met your father Uriel, Sire,” I began slowly, “I felt something here,” I pressed my fist into my belly, just under my breastbone. “At first I thought it was nausea, because, believe me, I was horribly sick at the time.”

Because Martin did so, I kept my eyes on the horizon. Somehow I knew he was listening to my halting words. “But when it moved, that smith’s hammer stopped.” I stopped, trying to remember when it happened again. “It moved again when Jauffre asked me to find you, and when I was looking into the fire at Kvatch, the fire that was the Oblivion Gate.”

Martin turned from the beautiful vista before us to look at me. I kept my gaze on the vista below while I considered what to say next. “Every time I faced a fork in the path before me,” I mused softly, “I would feel it.”

“Did it scare you?” Martin asked. I shook my head.

“Rather, Sire, it seemed I found the courage to make my choice and go on.” My right knee started complaining from standing still so long. I shuffled to my left and leaned against the corner post, taking some of the weight off of the still healing leg. The crutch cradled in my crossed arms, I watched my breaths dissipate in the frigid air.

“What does it feel like, this something?” his voice was very quiet.

What does it feel like indeed? “Something coiling, Sire, not tightening or loosening, just turning.” Considering the sensation for a moment, I found the words I needed. “Like a snake shifting in its sleep.” Now I found the courage to meet Martin’s gaze. “But I’m not Tsaesci at all,” I muttered defensively. His brows lifted.

“Is that what you thought?”

With a shrug, I looked away from his level stare. “It occurred to me, Sire, yes, since I never knew my father. But my mother was a low-born Redguard, no noble would have taken up with her -” I stopped myself, silently cursing myself for my stupidity. And what is Martin, but born of a low-class Imperial? Or was he?

“It’s happened before,” Martin’s voice was amused, not offended. “Besides, no one knows for certain that Akaviri are capable of interbreeding with Tamrielic men or mer. It could just be a claim by certain noble families to raise their own status.” He watched me silently for a few moments. “Well, then, if it’s not Tsaesci blood or power sitting in your gut, what do you think it is?”

Suddenly afraid of his scorn, I turned my head to meet Martin’s steady, honest gaze. “Sire, when I drank Orania’s sleeping potion, so Cirroc could work on my knee -” Unable to look at him anymore, I closed my eyes and turned my face away, “I went back home, I mean home.” I told him of my vision, of my family’s homestead in the hills above Anvil. Of my mother and brother as they had appeared when I last saw them alive. How I stood before them in my old, grey self.

My voice caught with remembered grief as I told him how they had left me standing in the garden outside that cottage, how I had tried to follow them, but a scaled, taloned hand held me back. I told him of the Dragon-shaped shadow behind mine, falling across the amber grass in the westering sun. Hearing the tears again in my voice, I stopped and turned to look at Martin once more.

He stared at me, his face pale beneath its wind-tan, his hazel eyes wide. Taking a slow breath, I pushed myself off the corner post, placing the crutch into my right armpit. “Sire, what is it?” I asked him. He shook his head. “Please, Sire, you’re scaring me!”

“Where are your mother and brother?” he managed to get the words out in a whisper, as if he already knew the answer. I couldn’t hide the flinch in my eyes.

“Dead,” I said. “Twenty-nine years ago. Goblins tore them apart in our home.”

“And you saw them as they appeared, before their deaths?” Martin murmured, some of the color coming back into his face as he considered the implications of my vision. “Yet you stood before them as you are today?” I nodded. Martin turned away from me and stepped to the low wall of the watch tower, sitting on the edge and leaning forward, hands on knees, his eyes on the floor.

Beyond him, I caught the glint off Baurus’s helmet as he glanced at us. The Redguard’s dark gaze was hidden by his helm, but I could sense that inscrutability emanating off of him. That scared me even more than Martin’s reaction.

“Julian,” Martin’s tone became very quiet. “That potion Orania gave you had an unexpected effect. She watched you while Cirroc worked. You did fine, apparently, until Cirroc was just finishing up. Then Orania reported that you had stopped breathing.” He looked up at me then. “Much like you’re not breathing now,” he reminded me.

I inhaled sharply. “Are you saying -” I couldn’t get the words out.

“Your heart slowed down, almost stopped.” Martin continued, his gaze holding me up against the unnerving shock I felt. “Captain Steffan, who was assisting Cirroc, said your pulse was almost too weak to feel.”

A wave of vertigo spun my vision as I turned away and stared out at the far horizon. “I died?”

“You came very close to it,” Martin responded. “But before Cirroc could cast a restoration spell of any kind, Steffan said your pulse was coming back.”

“Does it have anything to do with this?” I shoved my clenched fist into my solar plexus. As I spoke the words, I knew the answer. Oh yes, it has everything to do with this.

“Did you see the hand on your shoulder?” Martin asked. “The hand holding you back.”

I shook my head. “I felt it, Sire,” I answered. Unable to suppress a shiver, I turned back to Martin. “Am I losing my sanity?” Did Sheogorath give me more than just that cursed Wabbajack?

“I don’t think so,” Martin shook his head, but his gaze on me still held some wonder.

“So what does all this mean, Sire?” Again, I reminded myself to take a breath.

“I’m not sure,” Martin spoke slowly, straightening up and stepping over to stand before me. “But I believe you’ve been chosen by Akatosh himself.” Again dizziness seized me, and Martin gripped my left shoulder to steady me. “Had you followed your mother and brother into that cottage, you would have died,” he continued, his implacable tone somehow soothing. “But Akatosh kept you back, because he still has need of you.”

His hand gripped my shoulder tighter when I shook my head. “I’ve served Akatosh for twenty-five years in the Legion, Sire,” I muttered. “I’ve never felt him in all that time.” I met Martin’s hazel gaze. “Most certainly not when I was drunk and addicted. Why now?”

Martin considered my question thoughtfully. “Indeed, who knows? You say you first felt this when Uriel Septim spoke to you in the Prison?” I nodded. “Would you say that was your lowest point, then?”

“It was the bottom for me, Sire,” I answered. “When I surrendered to Maro, I fully expected to die. Gods, I wanted to die.”

“You were at your weakest, then,” Martin eased his hold on my shoulder, lowering his hand away. “You were most open to Akatosh.”

“But why me, Sire?” I slumped back against the corner post. “I never amounted to much of anything in the Legion.”

“Are you certain of that?” Martin countered. “From what Baurus told me about your Legion record, you were pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort in the Sixth. You were trusted with raw recruits and poor fighters. Time and time again, you whipped them into fighting soldiers.” He shook his head. “Over forty percent of your century moved on into the First Cohort of other Legions. That’s an impressive figure, Julian.”

He smiled at my startled look. “What, you think I don’t know what the Ninth Cohort is in any Legion - the rawest and the worst fighters? The dregs of the Legion? Good only for arrow fodder?” His words hit close to home, making me shift uncomfortably. “Any soldier who found himself or herself in your cohort didn’t stay there long, and more importantly, most of them lived to move into more prestigious cohorts.”

Martin stepped back, still holding my eyes with his own. “You are much, much wiser than you give yourself credit for,” he continued. “Your mother named you well, when she named you for Julianos.”

“Then how come Julianos hasn’t claimed me, Sire?” Coming to terms with Martin’s statement was still difficult. “Why Akatosh?”

“Ah, but Akatosh is the Father God,” Martin responded. “From him comes all the other Divines.” He smiled again at me. “Who knows why you?” he repeated my question. “What matters is that he claimed you, Julian.”

“Do you really believe it, Sire?”

Martin smiled, his face transformed. “Did I believe you when you told me I am Uriel’s son?” As I gazed at his face, I saw a new serenity beneath the weariness of long hours of studying. I smiled in spite of my inner turmoil and shook my head.

“Do you believe it of yourself now, Sire?” I countered. He nodded. I straightened myself off the corner post and took a deep breath. “Then I won’t fail you, Sire.” Again something shifted beneath the end of my breastbone. Then a sudden realization hit me. “Oh, by the Gods!” I exclaimed to myself.

“What is it?” Martin frowned at me.

“I hate being called ‘Hero of Kvatch,’ Sire,” I admitted. “But if people find out about this -” I groaned.

This time Martin’s eyes crinkled in humor at me. “Then you must accept it, Julian. But they won’t hear of it from me.”

“Promise, Sire?” I could hear the plea in my voice.

Martin nodded, then turned his head towards the Blade standing a few paces away. “Baurus!” My first friend of my new life turned and saluted Martin, slamming gauntleted fist against his breastplate.

“Sire!”

“Did you hear any of that, Baurus?” Martin kept his gaze on me.

“Heard what, Sire?” Baurus responded impassively. “I thought the two of you were just admiring the view, Sire.”

Martin chuckled. “Good, Baurus, keep it that way.”

“As you command, Sire,” Again Baurus saluted Martin.

Martin nodded, then turned his head towards the Blade standing a few paces away. “Baurus!” My first friend of my new life turned and saluted Martin, slamming gauntleted fist against his breastplate.

“Sire!”

“Did you hear any of that, Baurus?” Martin kept his gaze on me.

“Heard what, Sire?” Baurus responded impassively. “I thought the two of you were just admiring the view, Sire.”

Martin chuckled. “Good, Baurus, keep it that way.”

“As you command, Sire,” Again Baurus saluted Martin.


Now this Baurus is a man after my own heart - I've seen him in real life, in my line of work...

.... soldiers are both born, and (self) made.

I like your version of Martin, he is a hard-working kinda guy who is developing into an Emperor before our eyes. I do hope, however, that someone will slip a copy of 'The Lusty Argonian Maid' into his pile of books--he needs a laugh.

You again force me to break my rule against large block quotes with this one:



You draw the parallel between Martin and Julian beautifully. “Son’s companion,” indeed.



Scary folk, those Blades. And I have a feeling (perhaps a flutter of leathery wings behind me) that Julian will soon be back where the fire is the hottest.

Ahh, so now we finally learn the fate of Julian's family. It seems that goblins are her nemesis.

Also, a good touch in bringing out more about Julian's service in the Ninth Cohort. A good bit of world-building there by incorporating the role of that irl cohort into the fiction. You always mentioned it before, but Martin's words really bring it home. Dragonguts Julian it is then!

“Like a snake shifting in its sleep.”
Or a dragon...

By Akatosh! She's a hero!

So, I gather Julian's knee injury was inflicted by goblins that ended her service. Now I realize that goblins claimed her family as well.

Oooh! This was just reading at its best. I curled up and was swept away to the rails of CRT. Loads and loads of stuff in this, and all of it yummy!

ARGH! When I was first reading that chapter I wondered if she had died because her hair was white! And the reason she couldn't follow them into the house was because she was being brought back to life !!!! ARGH!!! I should have followed my first instinct and not tried to think of a different aspect to it !!!!!

What you have done with Martin and Baurus is nothing short of amazing. They have come to life. Julian has been as alive as any of us you have written her so well - Awesome Writing Nauty Hauty !!!!!!!!!

And it's writing of this calibre that causes idiots like me to unthinkingly use his characters without permission.

New revelations!! Julian’s family was slain by goblins?! Now we see why her failure against the Goblin Shaman led to both her dismissal from the Legion, and her subsequent descent into the personal Oblivion of addiction. Powerful stuff!

The fact that the Dragon held Julian from death itself makes her ‘dream’ resonate even more. She now finds herself entering the rarified territory inhabited by the Nerevarine and the Eternal Champion! She has been claimed as a knight in the eternal game of chess being played by Dagon and Akatosh. And she was uncomfortable being known as the ‘Hero of Kvatch’! It is too bad that Baurus is such an exemplary Blade. If I were there I would have left melted snow in the heat of my rush to Bruma to spread the good news!

Gah, I was right, it was a NDE And Akatosh kept her from crossing the point of no return...... wow.
Loved the revelations in those last few installments Hautee

@D.Foxy: I’m glad you like this Baurus! I do too!

@hazmick: Ah, either that book or Edward the Imperial!

@treydog: Again you quoted my favorite passage in that segment. As for scary folk, well, I love ‘em scary!

@SubRosa: I’m glad you picked up the history of the ninth cohort of a legion - when I was researching Roman legion structure, I came across this tidbit, and Julian was whispering in my ear: That’s exactly what I used to do . . . When I thought about it, it made perfect sense considering the person she is.

@Acadian: I think the fact that she lost her family to goblins just adds a certain - drive - to Julian our Goblin Hunter; but that career ending injury put an end to that motivation, IMHO. Now she’s got bigger game to deal with.

@mALX: I’m glad you enjoyed Martin and Baurus in this segment - I loved them both as I wrote them.

@Boxee: Ah, I actually appreciated the compliment! In a way I’m sad it didn’t work out, but Bruce is pretty darn memorable in his own way!

@Destri, Destri, Destri: That is why you’re not a Blade!

@Remko: Thanks!

Julian returns to work as Hero.

******************
Chapter 16.1 Oblivion Approaches Bruma

Ferrum and I sparred with each other, while Fortis and Pelagius coached from the sidelines. The knee brace had come off two days ago, and I had lost no time in resuming the Way of the Crane and taking up the Sunbird Dance. Cirroc had shaken his head, but I could tell he was pleased with the way my knee had healed. He did warn me to keep casting my healing spells. Refusing payment for himself, he accepted the drakes I pressed into his hand as a donation to the Chapel of Talos.

Now Ferrum and I circled each other, engaged in a deadly dance with sharpened blades. Instead of the battered leather cuirass, which had seen its last days in that last Oblivion Gate, I wore Savlian’s mail cuirass, which was a little heavier, but provided me with additional protection. Besides, I couldn’t stop carrying the Kvatch Wolf, only I now bore it on my chest instead of on my left arm. I had decided not to select a new shield, for my struggle in Fort Grief had taught me it would be preferable to keep my left hand free for spellcasting.

Sweat rolled down my healed nose, and my breath came in hard puffs in the icy air. Ferrum, on the other hand, was barely winded in the heavy Blades armor, and his face was dry. Still, I looked for ways to push him, to probe his defenses without dropping mine. The sun shone down on us, alternatively blinding Ferrum, then I as we moved around the practice sands.

A faint roll of thunder broke my focus, drawing my attention south. My heart sank as the sudden wind brought the smell of sulfur and fire, the roar I knew all too well. Ferrum took advantage of my distraction to charge me, but I managed to dodge his attack and step out of the practice area.

“What is it, Julian?” Fortis, my coach, moved to me as I turned to face south. I couldn’t see more than sky over the gate wall, which rose higher than the plaza, but what I could see was discouraging. A clot of red and black thunderheads collected in the otherwise blue sky, just visible past the east watch tower. Fortis, Ferrum and Pelagius followed my gaze in time to see Achille, standing eternal watch, turn from his post in the east watch tower and shout for Captain Steffan.

Sheathing my blade, I followed the Captain along the walkway above the gate wall. I stopped as soon as I could see the walls of Bruma below. The orange flicker of an Oblivion Gate glimmered just past its northeastern corner.

Damn! Jearl and Faram are dead! Who opened that damned Gate? “Ferrum,” I said to my sparring partner, who had followed me, “Go find Grandmaster Jauffre, quick!” Without a word, he spun away and ran for the Great Hall.

Captain Steffan turned at the sound of my voice. “Julian,” his command was unmistakable. I winced, thinking I had overstepped my bounds by sending Ferrum for the Grandmaster. I should have waited for orders from my Blades Captain. I entered the watch tower to stand before him.

Instead of berating me as I expected, he pointed at the red glow. “Is that one of those -?”

“Yes, sir, it’s an Oblivion Gate,” I answered. Frantically, I searched my memory for what Savlian had said. “It’s a small one -”

“Small!” the single word was a muted explosion. “That’s small? That thing is higher than Bruma’s walls!”

“The Great Gate at Kvatch is easily a third again as tall, sir,” I replied. “They’ll need to open three of those smaller Gates before they can open the big one.”

Captain Steffan stared at me wordlessly, his jaw clenching. Then he whirled away from me and stalked to the front of the watch tower. “If they open that Great Gate, what will happen then?” his tone was icy calm.

I took a deep breath to match his composure. “They’ll send a siege engine to break the city walls,” I answered. “That’s what they did at Kvatch.”

“What’s going on?” Jauffre’s voice reached us. I stepped aside to let him by, but his eyes were on the portion of the Gate visible above the city walls. “What in Oblivion -!”

How appropriate, considering that’s Oblivion down there, the thought crossed my mind. Silently I listened to Captain Steffan brief Jauffre, telling him what I had just said about the Gates.

The Grandmaster spoke quietly to Captain Steffan, who swung into action. “Ferrum, man the west watch tower! Cyrus, Belisarius, close the gates!” Striding back to the plaza, Steffan’s blue gaze fell on me. “Julian, Grandmaster wants you.” Then he passed me, shouting more orders as he placed the fortress on combat footing.

Moving to stand beside Jauffre, I watched him while he studied the Oblivion Gate. “Julian, you’ve closed six of these Gates,” he said softly. “I know you’ve just recovered, but I think Burd’s Guard may be overmatched for what’s in there.”

“I can close it, sir,” I volunteered, though I hated the thought of entering yet another Gate. “I have my shock bow, and a new Daedra Slayer. I’m ready for those clannfears.”

“Julian,” Jauffre stopped me with a hand on my left arm. “You can’t keep closing Oblivion Gates, not while more keeps opening up all over Cyrodiil.” He shook his head. “That’s not the task Uriel Septim laid on you. I want you to take Burd and his men in there, show them how it’s done, so they can take care of any further Gates themselves.” He shook my arm firmly for emphasis. “Martin is getting close to identifying the other components of the ritual needed to recover the Amulet. You need to be free to help him.”

“Yes sir!” Jauffre’s strategic thinking became clear to me. “I’ll offer to help Captain Burd, but will he accept?”

“He likes you well enough,” Jauffre responded. “I think he will be glad of it.”

“I’ll leave as soon as I get my gear, sir,” I turned to run for the armory. Jauffre’s hand, still on my arm, stopped me.

“Julian,” he said quietly, “you’ve just recovered. Let Burd and his men do the heavy lifting. You be the brains of that operation. For Martin’s sake you need to stay alive.”

“I won’t fail you, sir,” I answered.

You've done a great job here, Julian seems calm under-pressure and the Blades have jumped into action to protect the temple. You have also described the Oblivion gate very well, the red sky has really 'brought the fear' rather than bringing the sense of annoyance that we feel in-game. I have a feeling that the next chapter will be quite exciting.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!!! Julian in the Battle for Bruma !!!!! I don't know why it didn't occur to me that I will get to read about her doing that !!!! I CAN'T WAIT !!!!!!!!!

Ha! Reason number six hundred and forty-two!

Things are hotting up in Bruma, literally! After adjusting myself to the rhythms of Julian's reflective convalescence, the advent of new action came as quite a shock. That is the hallmark of good writing! I detected a hint of, I don't know . . . fatalism perhaps in Jauffre's tone as he surveyed the Oblivion Gate. To my knowledge this is the first one he has seen. Now he sees first hand what Julian has been facing while he reads in the library! Maybe he will curb his condescension from now on (but I doubt it).


Yeah, like that's going to happen!

An excellent, heart-pounding chapter! Excuse me while I go catch my breath.

It was wonderful to see Julian don the Kvatch wolf again, albeit in different form.

No shield, so she can cast with her left hand. I love how that address this! With a bow in her left hand all the time, Buffy has to continually choose whether to fill her right hand with the tail of an arrow or a spell. We envy the flexibility Julian has wisely chosen - to carry a blade in her right hand and keep her left hand free for spell casting. Spoken like a battlemage - and likely just as deadly. No wonder Julian is on her way to great things!

Send me in, coach! Seriously, Jauffre's counsel is wise. Julian is the best and only gate closure in Cyrodiil. The Empire is well served by having her share what she has learned with others. And I suspect there are few better qualified than Julian to train others.

As expected, our Dragonguts Julian is not one to sit around and just smell the roses. Instead she is out of bed and working out with the boys. I could almost hear the theme for Rocky in the background as she practiced with Ferrum.

Julian is showing her expertise as well. When it comes to Oblivion Gates, no one outside of the Mythic Dawn knows better than her. Likewise, Jauffre shows why he is a leader by instructing Julian to show Burd how to close the gates, so that he can do it rather than her. His observation that she has to be held back in reserve for more important things is spot on. Pawns move first, and Julian is no longer one of those, but rather a knight.

I thought my doggie ears had detected a sound of thunder from over the horizon! (And for once it wasn't Princess Juneipurr galloping through the house.)

Several things here to love- Julian's pushing herself to get back into condition; the reactions of the Blades to the Gate versus Julian's instant threat-assessment; her reverting to the Pilus of old- and then realizing this isn't her command; Jauffre's admonition to "use her head."

On that last, I imagine she will strive to obey, but... Dragon-claimed indeed, for she always goes where the fire is hottest.

@hazmick: Julian’s calmness just underscores the fact that old habits die hard. I’m glad you liked my touch with the red sky/clouds. I know what you mean about the annoyance in-game - Oh, no, not again! The time inside the Gate will take up quite a few segments in this chapter.

@mALX: I think you’ve got your quests mixed up. The Battle of Bruma doesn’t come until much later; this is the Bruma Gate.

@Destri: I felt it was time for a change of pace, and so did Julian! As for Burd and his men, I took some liberties with the pair that accompanies us in-game - I’m sick and tired of the two lame grunts that are pretty useless (running into harrada vines, impaling themselves on the claw traps, getting slammed by fire towers, etc, not to mention dying before we actually get to the tower).

@Acadian: I almost posted without an explanation of why Julian no longer carries a shield. The way I have visualized the Sunbird Dance in my head, no shield is necessary. Not to mention all the cool swordfighting I’ve been seeing in the historical dramas I’ve been watching . . .

@SubRosa: Good thing I didn’t have liquid (or solid) in my mouth when I read your comment about the Rocky theme! Yes, I figured it was time she got promoted, but old (and new) habits do die hard . . .

@trey: It’s amazing how much noise a little cat can make running through the house, isn’t it? My three-legged con artist is incredibly loud! Julian will heed Jauffre’s orders, but will find it difficult to observe them to the letter.

Hi ho, here we go again . . .

********************
Chapter 16.2 Into the Bruma Gate

The Oblivion Gate stood near the edge of the cliff, south of the Silver Road and Bruma’s East Gate. I spotted several yellow surcoats working on temporary barriers, much like the ones at Kvatch. Burd, distinguishable from the others by his height and bare head, moved from one barrier to the other, speaking to his soldiers. As he turned away from the Gate, he spotted me standing beside the road.

With a wave in my direction, he stumped across the rough ground toward me. I met him halfway. He had the same grim set to his jaw as Captain Steffan, the same hard look in his level blue eyes. “We’re kind of busy right now,” he said curtly. “What is it you need?”

Looking up at him, I knew what to say. “Grandmaster Jauffre sent me to see if I can be of assistance, sir.” I tilted my head at the Gate beyond Burd. “I’ve closed six of them so far, counting Kvatch, sir.”

“Six?” Burd’s brows climbed his forehead. “Well, I don’t see you limping anymore,” he raked his gaze up and down my frame, “and you look like you’ve filled out since I last saw you.” He turned and scowled at the Gate. “Well, that’s more than we’ve managed to do.” He turned back to me. “Any advice?”

“You’ll want your sneakiest men and your best archers in there,” I answered. “I can’t tell you what you’ll find in there - every time I’ve entered a Gate, it’s been to a different part of the Deadlands.” I shrugged. “Grandmaster thought you might want someone along to show you how to reach the sigil stone, where to watch for claw traps, fire towers, and bouncing bettinas, and how to deal with the scamps, Dremora, and clannfears you’re likely to find in there.”

A barely visible wince flickered through Burd’s steady gaze. He considered my words while I watched the Gate for the appearance of daedra. “Well, Julian,” Burd’s quiet voice was barely audible over the roaring of the Gate, the rolling thunder overhead. “You’re here, you may as well show us the way.”

“I’d be happy to help, sir,” I unshouldered my new enchanted bow, Akatosh’s Fury, and strung it. “I’ll be your scout in there.”

“All right, thanks,” Burd seemed distracted, already planning ahead. “Bor, Soren, Senarel!” he shouted to be heard over the thunder. Two guardsmen and Burd’s second in command came running over. Burd gripped the Imperial lieutenant’s shoulder firmly. “Julian’s taking us in that Gate, she’s going to show us how to close it,” he shouted at the three men. “Senarel, you’re in charge out here. Don’t let any daedra get by you!” Senarel nodded curtly and returned to the barriers.

Burd shifted his gaze to the two guardsmen. I eyed them. Young. Scared. Barely more than tironii. But they’re ready to give all they’ve got. I could see the grim determination behind the fear in their eyes. “Bor, Soren, you’re with Julian and me. Listen up, this skinny Redguard closed six of these gates by herself. You’d best listen to her, and listen well!” He clapped me on the back with his other hand, nearly unbalancing me. “Believe me, I certainly will!” Now he shook his finger at them. “For the duration of this exercise, she’s in charge! Am I clear?”

I glanced at Burd, startled. Exercise? Me in charge? I swallowed against that now-familiar shifting in my gut.

“Yes, sir!” the two young guardsmen shouted. “Ma’am!” they saluted me crisply. As I eyed them, I decided to take on my old mantle as pilus prior.

“Which of you is Bor, and Soren?” I asked. The young Redguard raised his hand.

“I’m Soren, ma’am,” he pointed at the gangly Nord next to him. “That’s Bor.” I repeated their names, looking each in the eye.

“All right, men,” I could hear my command voice coming back. “Are you sneaky?”

“Sneaky?” Soren repeated, and both young men glanced at Burd. He only cocked an eyebrow at them. “Yes, ma’am, we’re sneaky!”

“How do you think I closed six Gates by myself?” I challenged them. Again, they glanced at each other.

“By being sneaky?” Bor offered hesitantly. I felt the right side of my mouth quirk upwards.

“Listen carefully,” I leaned towards them, pleased to see all three mirror my movement. “Every one of them is different. What I’m going to do is show you the tactics. The environment in there is nothing like anything here on Nirn. It’s all blood, fire, and hostile creatures. There are traps waiting for the unwary. I’ll teach you how to get yourselves oriented, how to move through the environment, how to identify the traps and dodge them, and how to fight the creatures you’re going to find in there.” I regarded them, and all three of them nodded their comprehension.

“You don’t go in there running, slashing and smashing,” I continued. “That’s been tried before, and it didn’t work.” I thought of Matius’s men. “You go slow, you keep low to the ground, you keep your eyes open, and you be as sneaky as you can be.” The two guardsmen nodded uncertainly. “Engage them from a distance whenever possible, and avoid getting yourself mobbed.” I held their gazes steadily. “Above all, identify the sigil keep, because that is where you must go to get the sigil stone. Once you have it, the Gate will close and you will return to Nirn.”

Looking from Soren, to Bor, to Captain Burd, I held each man’s gaze long enough for them to nod their understanding. “Then I’m ready whenever you are, Captain.” He may say I’m in charge, but technically he outranks me.

“Give me a moment, to speak to the rest of the Guard,” the tall Nord strode to the barricades, the three of us following him. We stepped through the barricades, then Burd stopped and faced his gathered Guard, nodding at Senarel.

“Atten-SHUN!” the lieutenant’s command voice was respectably loud in the face of Oblivion’s roar. The guardsmen shuffled to stand in a crisp line behind the wall of spikes. Spotting Brugels among the gathered men, I nodded at him when he recognized me.

“Men,” Burd shouted, his voice carrying well over the clamor from the Gate behind us. “We’ve got to close that Gate now,” he started stalking parallel to the barricades, making eye contact with each man. Though most of them were young, like Soren and Bor, and probably scared, each man straightened up under Burd’s steady gaze. “If we don’t close it,” Burd continued, “Bruma ends up a pile of smoking rubble like Kvatch. That won’t happen,” he stopped before the center of the line, facing his men, his feet apart as if straddling all of Tamriel, “while I’m Captain of the Guard!” he jabbed a stiff thumb at his broad chest.

Now he turned partially away, keeping his face towards the guardsmen, and gestured his thumb emphatically towards the Gate beyond. “Now the four of us are going in there and closing that Gate. I’m counting on you to hold the line here,” that thumb indicated the barricades, “and kill every single damned daedra that comes out of that Gate!” He paused, again looking each man in the eye. “Are you going to do it?”

“Aye!” the men chorused, the ringing of drawn weapons momentarily drowning out the sound of the Gate.

“What?” Burd cupped his right hand at his ear. “I can’t hear you!”

“AYE!” the response was a roar that almost matched the fury of Oblivion. The men pounded their hilts on their shields. Beside me, Bor and Soren did the same. Again, I felt the right side of my mouth quirk up. Burd makes a good commander, but I wonder if he’ll let me be in charge. He certainly got their blood up - he’s got mine up!

“That’s more like it!” Burd drew the great claymore from its back sheath and swung it down so its tip touched the ground, then back up so its blade was in front of his face, saluting his men. Then he turned away from them, and caught my eye. At his nod, I turned and led the small group across the rough ground towards the Gate.

Scamps and clannfears appeared out of the Gate, snarling and hissing. Pausing to notch an arrow to my bow, I targeted the nearest clannfear. “Leave the clannfears to me!” I shouted. “Watch the fireballs from the scamps!” Calling on Cieran’s teaching, I drew and fired the arrow at the hulking reptile. The missile, charged by the shock enchantment on my bow, hit my target with a white flash, followed by a boom. Gods, that was loud! So much for sneaking! Already, tactics shifted in my mind while I lined up a second arrow on another clannfear.

The scamps ran out of their magicka one after the other, and charged the men. Though the creatures were fierce, they could not withstand the sharp blades of the guardsmen.

One of the clannfears turned and ran for Burd. As I tracked it with Akatosh’s Fury, I held my fire when one of the guardsmen ran between me and Burd’s attacker. The Nord Captain braced his feet and waited until the last minute to dodge the clannfear’s charge, dropping the claymore in an overhand arc onto the creature’s back. Unlike my lighter katana, the heavier blade smashed through the tough hide into the reptile’s spine. The beast crashed to the ground, flailing in agony from the paralyzing blow. Burd wrenched the blade out of the clannfear’s spine and dashed towards a scamp that was attacking two young Guardsmen.

I turned away from the Captain, who obviously could take care of himself, and started targeting clannfears again before they got too close to the more lightly armed guards. Akatosh’s Fury lived up to the name Ferrum had given it, knocking clannfears off their clawed feet and stopping their attacks with lightning and thunder. Around me, guardsmen were tangling with the scamps. Soren and Brugels stuck close to me, keeping scamps away from me, leaving me free to focus on the clannfears.

After what seemed like an eternity, the daedra lay dead, and the guardsmen stood panting, looking at each other. Burd cast his glance at them, his eyes ticking off each guard. They’ve been blooded, I thought, following his gaze. They still looked young and scared, but now I could see a grim determination in most of their faces.

Burd walked up to me, nodding at Soren and waving Bor to join us. “Ready when you are, Julian,” he said quietly to me. I nodded and stepped before the Gate. I had referred to it as a small Gate, but standing in front of it, I felt dwarfed by its immense fire and rage.

“Touch it, to enter the Deadlands,” I suited gesture to words, and my fingertips brushed that fire -

Julain is back in action! She resumed the role of pious excellently and the fighting scene was awesome. Good Job! I can't wait to see how Burd's Bruma Bruisers handle Dagon's realm.

Yeeehaaw!! Go Julian!

Several moving parts here, and you handled them well.

I enjoyed how you portrayed Burd's use of his claymore.

Nice to see Julian with a good bow. Those melee guys are handy to have protecting you, but they can get frustratingly in the way too.

Centurion Julian is back, and in action at her peak, throwing around lightning and thunder as if she were Zeus herself. Whoo Hoo!

“and you look like you’ve filled out since I last saw you.”
Did Cirroc give Julian breast implants too?

I held my fire when one of the guardsmen ran between me and Burd’s attacker.
Don't you hate when they do that? No situational awareness at all.


nits:
“Grandmaster thought you might want someone along
This sounds a little odd. Did you mean The Grandmaster? or Grandmaster Jauffre?

I'm not sure if you remembered, but Clannfears reflect damage, so Burd's deathblow should have put a hurt on him as well. Unless you are changing things from the game. Or unless he has an absorb health on his sword (very handy for fighting clannfears, it cancels out what they reflect back at you).

Bouncing bettinas? Is that the technical term?

Most people rehab slowly after knee surgery, but not Julian! She strengthens her repaired knee with a leisurely jaunt through the Deadlands!

Usually I have to worry about Julian and her tendency to go toe-to-toe. But with her standing at range laying down the proverbial smack with Akatosh’s Fury, I find my concern shifting to Captain Burd. Don’t worry; I am still eager to see how Daedra Slayer performs. But, in the meantime, SubRosa and I had the very same thought. Tell Burd to be careful with those clannfear. They reflect a portion of the damage aimed at them. After such a rousing speech, and given the way he swings that claymore around, I would hate to see him felled by his own enthusiasm.

The meeting with Burd was classic Julian- she definitely knows how to manage the delicate sensibilities of officers, especially those who are under duress. And his response is a brilliant bit of understatement:



Since you just happened to come along, and just happen to have closed six of these….

Excellent name for a bow- particularly Julian’s bow.

But the guard captain shows he knows what he is about with the orders he gives to his men.

I wanted to quote the entire scene as Julian sizes up her “helpers” and their responses- but I restrained myself. Consider the whole passage QFT.

A rousing fight, with good tactics- so far.

And a cliff-hanger- ARGH! I shall simply have to press my dachshund snout against the base of the door until Julian returns.

I hate any of the quests where I am responsible for other NPC's due to a marked inability in melee - I get tired of hearing - "Hey, I'm on your side!" or seeing, "Your killing has been observed by unknown forces." I have a feeling Julian will handle melee with the same calm she faces everything - and emerge victorious and with her full crew!!!

PS - I knew this was the "training gate" - but still it just occurred to me at that last chapter that Julian will be handling the Battle For Bruma - AND I CAN'T WAIT TO READ IT !!!!!!!!! YEAH !!!!!

@hazmick: Yes, it’s time Julian got back into action. She’s never one for sitting still for long.

@ Remko: Hi Ho Silver is right!

@Acadian: Burd is a natural for that claymore! He definitely has the shoulders for it.

@SubRosa: I couldn’t resist putting that bit in about having to hold your fire because of the stupid guard!

@Destri: You know, I never noticed that reflect damage in those clannfears. I guess it’s because after my first encounter I decided that those were better put down by sniping. I believe it’s the only one Burd encounters, so he would shrug off the hurt that thing put on him and keep going. Typical berserker Nord. As for bouncing bettinas, I was trying to come up with something for those mines, and I kept thinking of Bouncing Betties of Vietnam fame.

@treydog: Burd can’t show how glad he is that Julian came along! That would be unseemly of an officer! I’m glad you liked his speech to the men - I took the in-game dialogue and embellished it a bit.

@mALX: Well, Julian wouldn’t be a pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort in the Sixth Legion if she wasn’t good at getting green recruits through Oblivion and back relatively intact, would she? As for the Battle of Bruma, it hasn’t yet been written, so I’m not sure if you should hold your breath waiting for it. Instead, I humbly offer you the Cheydinhal Oblivion Gate in Chapter 18. Huzzah!

This was one of the more frustrating Gates for me, second only to the Cheydinhal Gate. Huzzah! We all know how stupid followers in the game can be - I usually tell these three to wait in place while I sneak ahead and clear the path for them. Even so, the idiots manage to get zapped by harrada root, fire towers, et. al. So I’ve taken some creative license and gave these guys some brains and common sense. Enjoy!

****************
Chapter 16.3 Showing the Ropes

- and I crouched down as the heat washed over me again. The roar of the Gate nearly drowned out the gasps from the three Bruma men on either side of me.

“Down!” Burd’s voice snaked through the chaos behind us. In the corner of my vision, I watched Bor and Soren drop into low crouches. Glancing over my shoulder at Burd, I noticed he had already done so.

“Always take a moment to look around, first,” I said to the men. “First find the sigil keep.” I scanned the area, and spotted the tall tower across an inlet of lava to our left.

Bor shivered beside me. “Gods, it’s cold,” he exclaimed. “I thought it would be hot, but -” The blood left my face when I realized the implications of his words. We each bring our own Oblivion to these Deadlands.

“Cold?” Soren repeated, his gaze already scanning the horizon around us. “It’s burning hot!”

“That’s not important,” my voice snapped through the rolling thunder. “See the sigil keep?”

“There,” Soren pointed north, at the tower across the inlet.

“Good, now look closely at it,” I turned to face the two men, including Burd in the lesson. “Sometimes there’s more than one keep. The sigil keep is the biggest, but sometimes it’s hard to tell which one. Always look for the one with the yellow fire in it,” I pointed at the narrow streak of yellow that marked the top of the sigil keep. “That’s because the sigil stone focuses the power of the Deadlands. Inside there, you’ll find a pillar of fire shooting up through the heart of it.” Now I pointed at the wide path that led eastward away from the Gate.

“Look before you walk,” I warned them. I had already spotted the movements of at least three enemies about ten meters away. “Let me scout a little, but watch what I do.”

In a low crouch, I eased forward, keeping my eyes on the horizon. In a chaotic environment like the Deadlands, I had found that maintaining soft eyes, on the distance, allowed me to see movement further in my periphery and count my enemies. Now, I was able to confirm my initial count of three - two scamps and one clannfear. Kneeling in the red sand of the path, I drew my focus in and scanned the ground around me, still keeping track of the three enemies.

No traps here. Broken bridge up ahead, past these three. Probably another one or two on the bridge itself. The structure in question jutted out over the lava towards the north, another twenty meters beyond the three creatures. It was too far away, and the atmosphere too turbid with heat and smoke, for me to see it clearly.

The three creatures were scattered across the path, one down in the weeds near the inlet, one pacing in the road almost directly in front of me, and another appearing and disappearing among the tumbled boulders forming the right side of the path. My gaze on their movements, I targeted the clannfear in front of me, then loosed the arrow. I didn’t wait for the flash, but moved immediately to the right, into the boulders, which would give me cover. This forced the scamp on my right to enter the path to reach me. Two arrows later, the two scamps lay spread-eagled in the red sand, near the crumpled clannfear.

I crept back into the road, kneeling next to the nearest scamp. After a quick scan of the area revealed no new enemies, I turned to wave up the three Bruma men. My hand open, palm parallel to the ground, I moved my arm up and down to signal low and slow.

“The best way to move through open areas like this,” I said as soon as the men had huddled around me, their eyes darting around the Deadlands, “is to clear one area at a time. Always know your cover.” Pointing at the scamp next to my grounded knee, “These are scamps. They’re fast, as you saw back there, and they like to shoot fireballs from a distance. The nice thing is, those fireballs are slow, and you can dodge ‘em if you see ‘em coming. Just be sure of the ground around you - there tend to be traps.” Now I pointed at the weeds to the north of the path. “Those are mostly harmless, but see the clumps of tall grass?” At their nod, I showed them the fine scars on the back of my right hand. “They’re bloodgrass. They’re sharp, like razors, and slice through your skin. Their sap burns in the cuts. They’re not disabling by themselves, but they are distracting.”

“Now, I’m going to move ahead,” I continued, pointing out the bridge fragment ahead. “There are usually something on those structures, so check them out before you get close.” I locked gazes with Burd, who seemed to be listening as intently as the young men. “I’ll keep scouting ahead, and you follow behind. But keep your distance in case I trigger traps.” Now I looked at Bor and Soren. “And cover my back, guys. It’d be nice for a change.” They nodded grimly. “One last thing, keep your eyes open and your hearts true,” I gave them the Blades proverb.

Back on the path, I sidled over the bodies and crept forward, arrow nocked to string. One step at a time, I kept my eyes on the horizon. As I expected, movement on the bridge indicated a scamp running in my direction. The lightning and thunder of Akatosh’s Fury brought another clannfear out of the leafless shrubbery hiding a second broken span to the south. Again, my bow made short work of it. As I started between the bridges, claws appeared out of the ground in front of me. Spinning around, I saw Burd yank the Guardsmen back from the black talons. They looked along the barrier, as did I, and spotted a gap in the weeds near the foot of the bridge. I shook my head at them. No, there may be more traps there, or deadlier plants.

After a few moments, the claw trap sank back into the ground, and I gestured for them to follow me - quickly. We reached the far side of the trap before I signaled a halt. “The thing about traps,” I said to them, “if you’re moving slowly, they trip before you get into the danger zone.”

“That one was clearly for those following the leader,” Burd commented, his voice quieter now that we were away from the howling Gate.

“Or it was meant to keep me in one place, sir,” I responded, pointing at the bridge fragments on either side of the path, now behind us. “There was a scamp on that side, and a clannfear on the other. This trap was meant to keep me in their combat zone.”

Burd’s gaze gained new respect as he considered my words. “I never thought of it that way.”

“You’ve never been in the Deadlands, before, sir,” I turned east again, signaling the others to remain some distance behind. As the path dropped down a steep slope, I looked ahead to see more clannfears. After I picked them off, I followed the road as it turned north to spiral towards the sigil keep. I noticed we were now on the main part of the island. The road swooped up over the crest of a hill, passing between two stone spires. The gnarled fingers of harrada vines draped the bases of the spires facing the road, and I stopped and waved the men up.

“See those?” I pointed out the roots. “Those are lethal. Wait and watch,” I advised them. I sidled up to the right hand spire. As I drew within two meters, the roots darted up and swept across the path with a rattling of dry wood. They missed. I turned as they kept whisking, and moved to the far side of the spire, into the weeds. I looked for spiddal sticks, for they liked to grow in clumps of grassy plants, but I didn’t see any.

I waved for the men to follow in my footsteps, avoiding the harrada vines and leaving the path. Crouched to keep my outline below the top of the ridge, I peered over, signaling the men to do the same.

Two scamps paced the valley floor on the other side of the ridge. Beyond them, I spotted the segmented pillars of the fire towers. Partial walls rose on either side of the road, near the banks.

“May I, ma’am?” Bor unshouldered his bow, stringing it. I liked what I saw in his pale blue eyes and nodded. Moving back a bit to give him room, I notched an arrow just in case. His arrow, a bodkin point, sank deep into the nearer scamp’s chest as Bor sighted another arrow. From my angle, I couldn’t be sure which one he was aiming for, but seconds later the other scamp went staggering back, arrow through its scrawny gut. Bor did not stop, but shot the nearer scamp again before it could heal itself. The creature crumpled to the ground, and Bor raised his bow again. This time, I placed my right hand on his arm to stop him.

“Don’t waste your arrow,” I said.”Watch.” The staggering scamp had stumbled away, blood dripping black from its belly, directly towards the nearer of the two fire towers. As I anticipated, the head of the structure started spinning, sparks wafting off of it like sparks from a bonfire, then a fireball slammed out and engulfed the slow-moving scamp. The whirring sound reached us as the fire tower became inactive again.

“By Talos!” Soren breathed, his eyes wide.

“Did you hear that sound?” I asked him. He nodded. “When you hear it, backtrack fast. It means you just tripped one of those things.” I pointed at the burning scamp. “Mark that body, that’s the outer edge of its fire zone. Their zone is a fairly wide circle about ten meters out from the towers.” Now I pointed out the second tower, just past the first, on the opposite side of the road. “Their zones don’t quite overlap, or the scamps wouldn’t be able to get by them. You can picture their zones, and the safe path that lies between them,” I sketched out a diagonal line that slipped between the towers. “See the wall over on the left? Use that for cover from the fire towers.”

I’m starting to sound an awful lot like old Carius.

Interesting thing about the title of the segment, I was watching Horatio Hornblower a while back and the dvd extras had a section on naval slang from the era. There were thousands of ropes on a ship of the line. A midshipman had to learn the name and function of each one before he could become a lieutenant. Hence the phrase: "learning the ropes". It is amazing how much of our modern slang comes from the same source.

First off, right off the bat an excellent touch of personalization. Soren experiences bitter cold rather than blazing heat. Perfect for a Redguard, whose home is the blazing sands of the desert. I love it!

Second off, this whole segment is a wonderful introduction to the Deadlands. By showing it to us through the eyes of the experienced Daedra Sage that Julian has become, you really hammer home how (3 alliterations ftw!) just how incredibly dangerous the place is. You tend to forget how inimical to life it is after the umpteen-hundredth gate dive in the game. Julian's patient tutelage brings it all home just like the first time.


nits:
There are usually something on those structures
I believe you want is, as the subject is singular.

You described Bor as using a bodkin arrow. Unless you meant an iron arrow (bodkin points were made of iron) you might want to rephrase that.

I agree with SageRosa. Bor experiencing bitter cold instead of warmth gives us an interesting glimpse into the personalized nature of Oblivion. Isn’t it ironic then that he would wind up as a city guard of Bruma?

Julian combines scouting and briefing effortlessly, as befits the former Pilus Prior. Having Burd accept her assessment and acknowledge it with respect told volumes about the professionalism of both characters.

The use of the word ‘turbid’ was another of those interesting choices in Julian’s vocabulary. I confess that I found it a bit confusing, coming as it did. When they stood together they could all plainly see the sigil keep in the distance. As Julian scouts ahead, she remarks that she kept her eyes ‘trained on the horizon’ to discern movement from the three targets on the path. Was her visibility impaired by the lava flowing under the bridge? If so, wouldn’t that have compromised Julian’s aim?

Wonderful job of driving home the experience that Julian has garnered within previous gates. She is doing a good job teaching and taking care of her 'followers'. Ugh, that is hard, isn't it?

I can hear Julian now: "Well, the good news, guys, is that the clannfears aren't poisonous!" Lol.

I wish I had had Julian with me, in my past...

Julian has made a science of taking down the Oblivion gates! Burd is getting better training from her than he ever got in my games, ROFL !!!!! Great write !!!!!

I really like the idea that each person’s “Hell” (or in this case, Oblivion) is individual to an extent- and that eternal torment for a Nord is never-ending cold.



Wouldn’t it, though? As opposed to charging ahead, blocking my shot, getting into trouble, and jostling my sword-arm… grumble, grumble (stupid followers).

Having the scamp trigger a fire-tower was a good way of showing one of the dangers of the Deadlands. In fact, all of Julian’s hard-won lessons are a textbook to anyone entering a Gate.

Even as I felt the tension of the Deadlands twisting inside me, Julian’s calm voice kept it from becoming unbearable. Simply wonderful.

@SubRosa: Actually, it is Bor that experiences cold. We’ll see the differences again in this segment. I found this to be the ideal place to show how Julian has developed her tactics from that Kvatch Gate to now. I used bodkin point to indicate the narrow point as opposed to the broadhead point. If there is another name for the former, I’d appreciate knowing it! Otherwise, I’d stick with bodkin for now.

@Destri: Perhaps turbulent would be better than turbid. I’ll think about it and revisit that. I meant that the atmosphere obscured details, much like a hazy day; objects and the horizon are still visible, but details are not visible.

@Acadian: Heh, heh, I think she kind of liked teaching the youngsters and letting them do the heavy hitting.

@Foxy: Thanks for the compliment! How far in the past are we speaking of?

@mALX: Burd didn’t learn much from me in-game, either!

@treydog: I enjoyed your take on the frustrations we all have concerning TES IV followers’ general IQ level.

Julian continues her lesson on How to Close an Oblivion Gate.

********************
Chapter 16.4 At The Summit

Reaching the sigil chamber, I let the three men through into the rock passage that wound up to the top of the keep. The corridor empty of enemies as usual, I knelt down to catch my breath. Burd lowered his claymore, resting the tip of the blade on the floor, and grounded his knee next to me. The silence of the corridor was deafening after the constant roaring of the column of fire that rose through the heart of the keep.

I felt Burd’s hand grip my shoulder. “Julian,” his battle-roughened voice touched my ear, “are you all right?”

With a quiet cough to clear my throat, I nodded. “Just out of shape, is all,” I remarked. The concerned faces of Bor and Soren hovered in front of me, and I smiled one-sidedly. “After all, I’m not young like these two.” The two guardsmen returned my smile hesitantly, looking at each other.

“Now this part of the keep,” I continued my ongoing lesson in surviving the Deadlands, “is where I usually use my bow. It’s loud, very loud, in there,” I pointed up the passageway where it curved around the dome of the sigillum. “You can use that to cover your approach. It’s also very large inside, so keep your eyes peeled.” Quickly, I described the layout of the sigillum, the ramps up to the balcony, the second set of ramps to the platform at the top. “Usually there’s three daedra there,” I finished, “though once I only found one.”

“Right, there will be three,” Burd repeated. “Ready, boys?” he asked Bor and Soren, who nodded. “Julian?”

After I cast my childhood healing spell, I rose to my feet with little difficulty. “Let’s finish this,” I said. The three men followed me to the two entrances that led into the heart of the sigil keep. Within, I moved to the right, toward the blood-tipped spikes that jutted out of the wall.

I climbed the taloned ramp slowly, scanning the balcony above, arrow notched to Akatosh’s Fury. My feet felt each step before taking my weight, and I kept moving sideways until I was high enough to see two Dremoras patrolling the far side of the balcony. They were hard to see, due to the glare from the sigil fire and the turbid atmosphere within the keep.

The act of raising my bow alerted the three men, who paused on the steps and turned to look. On the balcony, I kept moving to my right to let the others off the ramp onto smoother footing. When they had spotted the two Dremoras, I drew and released the arrow in one movement, taking out the one on the left. My bow went to my back, and my katana flashed into my hand. Above our heads, light flared as the third Dremora, unseen until now, activated a spell at the sound of the arrow striking home.

“Now!” I shouted, running widdershins for the second Dremora, already charging for us with his mace high. I dodged his attack, slicing my katana across his side as I moved past him. My blade slipped beneath his pauldron and bit into flesh. Ahead, a Dremora spellcaster leaped off the leathery ramp, flinging shock beams at me. I stepped aside in time to avoid them, but felt the crackle of their potent energy pass over my mail.

Old Bones swirled into being and I started for the spellcaster as soon as he formed. That was a mistake, for the spellcaster summoned a huge Dremora, easily the biggest one I had ever seen, who demolished my Bones with a fell swoop of its battleaxe. Then that summoned monster turned for me, and the act of dodging his feint slammed me against the wall. I almost lost my footing, stumbling over the rough surface where the ribbed wall met the floor of the balcony. I fall here, I die. As I scrambled along the wall, I searched for the spellcaster. Kill him, and that monster goes away. Kill him, kill him, kill him.

“Julian!” Burd’s voice reached me from beyond the summons, snapping my head around in time to see the hulking Dremora loom above me, his battleaxe swiping horizontally at me. Before I could drop below the weapon’s arc, the curved blade caught me in the side and flung me along the floor. Incredibly enough, Matius’s mail did not give in to the edged weapon, though the pain in my left side sucked the breath out of my lungs. A roll to my left cleared my katana, still clenched in my right hand. I looked up to see the spellcaster standing over me, his expression of victory changing to rage when I made eye contact with him. He brought his hands together as I struggled to my feet, and backed away from me. The broken ribs in my side stabbed as I ran after him. My approach forced him into the wall and I slashed my katana across his abdomen.

The spellcaster snarled as his hands dropped to his belly, bowel loops slipping out past his grasp. Heavy footfalls shaking the balcony floor warned me of the oncoming Dremora. My katana flashed as I stabbed the tip of the blade into the spellcaster’s throat, then rotated my weapon to tear out the soft part. As I whipped the blade around, ready for the Dremora, I saw only sulfurous smoke drifting apart by Burd’s slashing claymore. Our eyes locked over the dissipating spell, then I staggered, lost my balance and fell heavily to the floor.

Burd gave a last glance around, finding no more enemies left standing, then sheathed his claymore. He knelt beside me and grabbed my shoulder. “Julian!” he shouted, for that pillar of fire screamed and howled incessantly, drowning out normal voices. “How bad are you hurt!”

I shoved him away and took the pain in the palm of my left hand, held it, held it, until my knuckles hurt, before releasing the healing magic. My ribs knitted back together, and I was able to take a deep breath. Foamy blood came up on a cough, and I took another breath, testing my lungs. This time, the breathing was easier, the pain diminished.

“Damn, Akatosh!’ I exclaimed. “That was too close!” I noticed the hand Burd held out to me. He easily pulled me back up to my feet. I looked around the balcony, and spotted the two young guardsmen. Bor knelt next to Soren, who lay writhing on the floor. Burd was already starting for them. Running after him, I saw that Soren had scorch markes on his cuirass and down his left arm. That shock spell I ducked!

“Hang in there, Soren!” Bor was shouting, his hands on Soren’s shoulders, trying to keep him from rolling off the balcony.

“Captain!” I shouted. “Get him away from the edge, sir!” Burd was already kneeling next to Bor. Together, the two men managed to drag the flailing Soren towards the wall and relative safety. I fell to my knees next to the injured Redguard and grabbed his face in my hands. Now I could hear him screaming. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and I didn’t like the clammy feel to his skin.

“Soren!” I shouted. “Soren!” I couldn’t break through the agony I knew he had to be feeling. Desperately I slapped him hard across the cheek. Ignoring the stinging in my hand, I watched Soren come back to himself a bit, his black eyes blinking in surprise at me. “I know it hurts!” I leaned back down to him. “But lie still!” This time, I felt his pain, the white fire that ran along every nerve in his body, that squeezed the very blood out of his heart.

“Akatosh!” I hissed. Can you hear me? Feel me? Give me the strength to help this young man. You know I don’t want to lose any more tironii! I closed my eyes, taking Soren’s pain into my left hand. Fighting the suddenly overpowering compulsion to take my hands away from Soren, I sent the last of the healing power I had into the young Redguard. His shaking and gasping stilled under my hands, only now I began shaking myself. Opening my eyes by force, I looked down into the dark gaze of a scared boy. Then Soren blinked, and the man came back. He took a deep, shaky breath, his hands rising to my wrists.

“I’m better, now, ma’am,” he panted, his voice barely audible above the roaring of the sigil fire.

“You certain?” I held his gaze. He nodded, his grip strengthening. My hands dropped away from his face, and I sat back with a groan. “Lie there a moment, get your breath back,” I ordered him. Let me get my breath back, too. As I watched, his face returned to its healthy color, his lips no longer so pallid blue. He closed his eyes, and I looked up at Bor. Both he and Burd looked pale, their noses and cheeks white. Reaching across Soren’s prone body, I touched Bor’s face. Ice cold.

“Let’s get out of here,” I struggled to my feet and sheathed my katana. “You’re getting frostbite, and Soren and I are getting burnt.”

Once the two Nords gained their feet, they reached down and helped Soren up. I led them to the leathered ramp and we slowly walked up to the platform, just beneath the roof of the dome. I pointed out the dark, crackling stone that topped the sigil fire, sparking and shooting bolts of red lightning into the air.

“Stand real close to me,” I said over my shoulder. “I’m not sure how far this extends. I’ve never left anyone alive to follow me through.”

“Shall we hold hands?” Burd shouted. I glanced at his completely serious expression. Then his mouth quirked upwards slightly.

“Won’t be a bad idea,” I answered. I held my right arm back for the three men to grab onto. Once they nodded their readiness at me, I reached for the sigil stone with my left hand and grasped it.

Tense, smooth, natural. The way warrior prose should be.

Well done, Rider! There was so much I liked here!

The noise. It cuts right through you and makes your ears (even round ones) tingle. I'm so glad you described it.

The taloned ramp - I love this description.

I almost fell to the floor as well. Wow, this was good!

Healing. I was impressed by your description of how Julian healed her ribs. Then I was amazed to realize that Julian is an empathic healer! How very precious that makes her willingness to heal others.

Holding hands. I see Julian will never forget the one soul left behind in that gate at Kvatch. Wise and safe move, Julian. I'm so glad you discussed the 'physical proximity' to the sigil stone when the gate is closed.

Yeah! Julians 'schooling' of the Bruma guard throughout the last two chapters was brilliant, as were your descriptions of the deadlands. Bor has my sympathy here, his idea of hell is freezing cold yet he is stuck being a Bruma guard, poor guy. Haa-Rei is yet to visit the deadlands (I'm about to go on the xbox so he might pay them a visit) and he was hoping that it would definately be as hot as everyone says!

Julian's healing skills keep getting better and better, heal other on target is the next step i think I can't wait to see if they all make it back in one piece!

The entire episode is powerful and heart-pounding. After reading that, I don't know if I will ever again think: "Oh great, another stupid Gate."



Hope for the best; plan for the worst. That way, everybody comes back alive. That's how you survive to become an outstanding captain.



Nothing to say about that one- just wanted to place it there to admire.

The healing- of herself and of Soren- your own experience shines through and adds realism and emotion to these scenes.



I just love the personality you give Burd through those tiny gestures and expressions.

My blade slipped beneath his pauldron and bit into flesh.
But Oblivion does not have pauldrons! (much to the disappointment of many Morrowind players).

The entire piece flows very smoothly, testament to a perfect pace throughout. You keep it exciting as again you show us the same old endgame to a sigil stone run, only once more through new eyes. Julian shows that she is at the top of her game to be certain. Not only does she live up to what her old form what must have been, but the old dog pulls out her new tricks as well. I do not think the old Julian would have survived that one.

Finally, the icing on the cake is Julian's observation at the end that the actual environment is physically harming them, either from frostbite or burns. An excellent bit of added depth to the Deadlands.


nits:
In the fight with the summons and conjurer, the summons knocks Julian down. Then it seems to vanish as Julian has plenty of time to stand back up, chase down, and kill the conjurer, all while it does nothing. Perhaps you should add in a sentence saying that Burd is engaging it? That brings me to my only other nit. Julian takes on all three dremora while Burd and the others seem to be standing around with their fingers up their english ships. Perhaps you should give them a more active role?

I think you should keep the word ‘turbid’, especially after encountering it again in this chapter. It sounds very ‘Julian’ to me. The point that I was making is that, even though the figures before her had been obscured to the point of being little more than silhouettes, Julian’s aim is still assured and true. That seems like it would be very hard to achieve, especially for one who is not a master with the bow.

Onto this chapter:
What can I say that hasn’t already been said? I had to pause for several minutes after reading this to catch my own breath! The fight with the Dremora was fantastic. I remember a while ago I told you that Julian’s fights seemed too easy. You remedied that in Fort Grief, and it certainly wasn’t the case here! When that battleaxe hit home I almost fell out of my chair. Is there any mithril mixed into that mail of hers?

I caught her praying to Akatosh twice during this chapter. It appears that Martin’s talk with her was taken to heart, and she has accepted the Dragon as her patron.

And someone please teach Soren how to duck!


You have a small repetition here.