McBadgere - Thanks for reading, glad you're enjoying it. The nit - I agree the grammar is wrong but as it was in dialogue and I think it's closer to how people talk (here at least) I've left it. Thanks for making me try to remember why I left that though.

SubRosa - Aegnoth was a throw away character really. He appeared in Morrowind but comes across as out if his depth, I just imagined that things got too hot for him and he ran. He might reappear later, or not. And yes there is history with Relthas.

HER - Nit is fixed, it's probably a typo as its/it's is grammar which I can do, it's spelling which bothers me. Glad the PoV hopping is working, that's the reason why I abandoned 1st person for this piece, as good as it is for immediacy and focus it makes it harder to build other characters. Back to Ferir for this bit though.

All - A longer part this time, but there wasn't a convenient place to cut it.

The last part saw them enter Carbo's Camp to a not wholly friendly welcome. Ferir had enough history with the man he owed to smooth it over and shift blame elsewhere though.

2.2 Tashba's

Ferir stepped out of Relthas’s house and looked around. Carbo’s camp was the same as ever. People came and went, shelters were dismantled and rebuilt. But between the few old stalwarts, like Relthas, nothing ever really changed. You could get anything here. Anything. If it wasn’t available someone could source it, or knew who could. In many ways he liked it, it was freedom, but in others it bothered him. Much in the way Relthas had always bothered him. The dunmer was unpredictable. He would be true to his word and would put a hit out on Raj’arn, he’d had enough killed, but it could have been them. Ferir supposed you didn’t get to his position any other way.

Where would he buy the hit? Ferir didn’t much care, but there were some things he thought money shouldn’t buy. All of them were available in the camp, and if you went digging there was plenty he hadn’t imagined no doubt.

“What was that all about?” Ruben stepped alongside him. The former guard’s gaze hopped around like a strung-out khajit.

He might have seen near everything as a guard, and done enough most likely. But he looks green here, thought Ferir. “Stop looking around so much, you’ll attract attention you don’t want.” Ruben’s gaze slowed, but he continued waiting. Ferir filled the silence. “We... go back I suppose, but things change. People age, well some do. More recently he was our main buyer. We had a big deal with him but our supplier vanished, I suspect to the commona.”

“Not the guard? We catch some people you know.”

Ferir winced and glanced around. It was early evening and quiet, here at least. “Make that slip up again and you might not survive,” he said it plainly. If Ruben was too stupid to hide who he’d been he’d get what was coming. “And no, I asked someone who knows what goes on in the guard and it wasn’t them. He wanted his first payment back but he's being okay, and as I said we go back a fair way.”

“He deals in death happily enough.”

Ferir nodded, “He does. I didn’t say he was nice and I wouldn’t get on his bad side. But he also gave us some money which we desperately need.”

Ruben opened his mouth then closed it for which Ferir was glad. The former guard frowned then said, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

“I’m going for a drink with some acquaintances-"

“That crazy bark biter?”

Ferir snorted, “No.”

“You told him where you were going.”

“And Ulgaf, his guard, overheard. He’s got the brain of a tree but he’ll let his sister know.”

“Ah.” Ruben nodded in a way Ferir couldn’t be bothered to correct.

He dug into the coin bag and pulled out a couple of handfuls. “I need a strong drink, and to find out what’s going on. In that order.” He passed the coins to Ruben. “Go do whatever you do and try not to get killed.”

The man looked taken aback. The surprise made a scar which ran across his right cheek stand out like a plough track. “Oh… right.”

“Shouldn’t be hard to have fun. Just remember two things, don’t let anyone know what you were, no one here will ask much anyway, and don’t frek with Jerine.”

“Jerine?”

Ferir shook his head. “She only runs the place. See the big house in the middle? It’s hers. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

“But where are we staying?”

Ferir gave a shrug and wandered off into the labyrinthine streets.

***

Tashba’s was one of the few constants in Carbo’s ever-changing camp in much the same way as a bone in a maggot filled corpse. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but compared to some of the other bits there it was fantastic. Ferir hurried towards it. Usually he would drink the atmosphere in with a sort of fascination. Here in this place where people could do more or less anything it was fascinating that it ended closer to a cesspit than utopia. But it was a glittering cesspit of wonders.

There were a couple of men in loose jackets wandering in seemingly aimless circles. Dealers. He was half tempted, but nothing flirted with his mood, it was morbid, all the pleasures his mind could imagine, and many he wished he hadn't, were available. But they were grey ashes, pointless fleeting things more akin to butterflies to be smashed apart in a hurricane. They were tragic in their brevity. In a land where one portion of the populace measured their lives in decades and the other centuries wasn’t that always the case?

He shook the thought away. Drinking in this mood was a terrible idea. He knew it fine, but he also knew it would help in the long run. He could feel the loss pushing at the walls his mind had erected round it, a pressure waiting to burst. Alcohol eroded those walls, and dulled the pain when the miasma behind escaped. More correctly it dulled the memory of the pain, but he didn’t care.

Neither did he care for the occasional person who recognised him and waved, or the imperial recruiting for something. The noisy display, complete with scantily clad woman, was an art-form in persuasion. He walked past it, his eyes trying to find somewhere to look and avoid the unpleasant gazes of the whores who would be clustering in the rose glow of the brothel on the corner. As always their heavy perfume failed to quite disguise the stench from within.

What’s wrong with me, he thought. Normally he liked the camp for its deranged freedom which flapped wildly to the four winds. I don’t know who I am now. It wasn’t quite right. He was still who he’d been, but the anchors were torn. Tomorrow didn’t know and as much as he longed for it when direction was taken away it was disconcerting until he had the tiller again. Like being in a ship drifting blindly in a rocky bay.

The coloured awnings of Tashba’s brightened his mood a shade. But as he passed through the batwing doors into the marquee which housed the tavern he still had one intention. He saw Senril at the bar, the dunmer had his usual herbal liqueur, the bright green twinkled in the multitude of lanterns. He was dragging on a rollie with smoke just a little too white.

“I thought you’d given that stuff up,” said Ferir as he approached.

Senril shrugged. “Have a drink,” he gestured to a very generous measure of something dark and cloudy which sat by an empty barstool. Ferir took a sip and sat. It tasted of aniseed and fire, the water added had been enough to make it louche and no more. Senril met his eye. “Are you alright?” His tone told that he’d heard.

“I’m alive.” It came out bitterer than Ferir intended. “You?”

“Yeah," Senril shrugged, a lump of ash fell from the rollie, "money comes money goes. Bit of a rough patch but it’ll pass.”

“Don’t know why you stay,” Ferir took a generous gulp of the spirit and winced.

The dunmer man shrugged, then grinned. “I like being in one place, we’re not all like you. What will you do now?”

Ferir took another swig. “Drift I suppose. Even here might not be safe enough, and I’ve no intention of staying anyway.”

“You’re going back to Sundew.”

Ferir shrugged. The accusation had been in the tone, and yes it was stupid. But he needed to. The deaths sat heavy, not crushing like they had been but when he considered them... He turned away from the thought’s sting. It was a thousand times more bitter than the spirit he washed it away with.

“They’ll expect it.”

“I know.”

“Then why go? What draws you back there above anywhere else? Above here?”

“I need to see it.”

Senril shook his head. Ferir noticed that he’d made a greater then usual effort with his hair, it was cut into a stripe again. Freshly too. He was not the only one drawn to a dead past.

He drained his glass then thumped it down on the bar and nodded to the khajit serving it. She raised her ears.

“A whisky,” said a voice behind him, “Make that two. Doubles.”

“Holga,” he said turning. “How are you?”

She nodded and gave a half smile. “Alright,” the smile melted. “More to the point how are you?”

Ferir shrugged. “Not great. Not dead. I’m coming to be glad of that much.”

Holga nodded and took two glasses from the khajit. “Here, you need spirits at a time like this.”

“Thanks,” Ferir took a sip. It was cheap stuff, but they didn’t water them at Tashba’s which was more than plenty of places in Carbo’s Camp could claim.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not much.”

“Well if you change your mind after a few drinks, or tomorrow I’m here.”

“Likewise,” said Senril pushing himself back in.

“Thanks.”

A silence opened. Ferir filled it with a sip which went on slightly longer than was pleasant. The stuff wasn’t smoky enough for his tastes. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but under the gaze of companionship a chasm yawned.

“Been some strange stuff going down here recently,” said Senril.

Ferir caught the glance which passed between him and Holga. “Yes," the nord woman continued, “rumours of rogue mages and sightings of zombies to the east.”

“And the lights.”

“The lights?” asked Ferir. Carbo’s Camp was always full of tall tales, but this one wasn’t like most.

“We see them from camp,” said Senril. “At night when Masser is just past half full, there’s a violet glow to the east. I went to take a look the second time it happened, over a month ago now. Got scared though,” he gave a laugh that tried to be self mocking but ended unpleasant, “and turned back.”

Ferir’s interest was piqued. The sip he took before speaking was cursory. “What is it?”

“No one knows. No one’s found anything, well no one who’s returned anyway.”

Holga made a hissing sound and rolled her eyes. “Yes, there’s no chance a few disappearances, at night, in the backcountry, from Carbo's weren’t something unnatural. I’d be more surprised if they had all returned.”

There was more gossip, Ferir could see it dancing in Senril’s red eyes. “What else?” he obliged.

“There was a damned strange woman passed through here day before yesterday. The sort who puts you a bit on edge you know. A mage I reckon.”

“Off to join whatever cult is responsible for the lights?”

“Who knows.”

“Men,” Holga shook her head. “You’re no better than a sewing circle. All dramatic stories. Now you know Elsen Roleen down by the southstream?”

Ferir let the mingled gossip wash over him. They were friendly faces, and by the gods he’d needed some. The following day would bring what came, for now there was company. And there was drink.

The company I want though?

The dialogue rules this chapter, Great Write !!

Fair enough!... ...

Most excellent chapter...

I remember this feeling very well...



So I think that was my fave lines of the whole thing so far...

Oh, and this line...


...Most excellent...*Applauds*...

Nice one... ...

Oh, I really enjoy this! Really great write!

More specifically this,

What’s wrong with me, he thought. Normally he liked the camp for its deranged freedom which flapped wildly to the four winds. I don’t know who I am now. It wasn’t quite right. He was still who he’d been, but the anchors were torn. Tomorrow didn’t know and as much as he longed for it when direction was taken away it was disconcerting until he had the tiller again. Like being in a ship drifting blindly in a rocky bay.

and

Senril shook his head. Ferir noticed that he’d made a greater then usual effort with his hair, it was cut into a stripe again. Freshly too. He was not the only one drawn to a dead past.

looking forward for more!

“That crazy bark biter?”
Teresa is one of his old acquaintances? Oh, I guess not.

in much the same way as a bone in a maggot filled corpse. It wasn’t exactly pleasant
Not exactly pleasant? I would hate to see what Ferir considers unpleasant!

I loved Ferir's grim musings in the bar, about how the lack of constraints leads to ruin rather than utopia, and especially the balance of lifespans, between centuries and decades.

I also enjoyed his lack of ease caused by being in a transitional state. He is neither one thing, or another right now. His old life is gone, and his new one -whatever that might be - has yet to begin. Rather he is in between. That is a very difficult place for most people to be in.

Hmm, it sounds like the necromancers from the Dark Fissure are restless. Zombies, the Necromancer's Moon, disappearances.




nits:
Ferir gave a shrug and wondered off into the labyrinthine streets.
That is wandered.

There were a couple of men in loose jackets wondering in seemingly aimless circles.
Again in this sentence too.

I love your decision to show the meeting with Relthas from Ruben’s point of view. We have to infer things from Ruben’s observations and the minimal explanation that Ferir offers in the next section. Very engaging.

Nearby necromancers and Ferir’s desire to return to Sundew add up to an uncomfortable possibility.

Sorry for being slow. RL is devouring me just now. I have chapter three finished though so there will be more updates now.

mALX - glad the dialogue worked for you. Just as well seeing as this story seems rather dialogue heavy.

McBadgere - glad you like it. The line you quoted was an important one, so I'm glad that worked. Also thanks for prodding me into polishing another part for posting...

Fawkes - I'm glad you like it. Good eye with the quotes too.

Subrosa - Nits were fixed. I think I've found everything in this piece (though probably haven't). You seem to have picked up on all the foreshadowings, there's no sneaking anything past

And yes I've stolen the odd phrase from the TF world, it's just so much more real to me than the game world now, though there are some differences.

Grits - I'm glad the PoV hops are working. It's easier to avoid bogging things down with back story with the odd head hop. And Ruben is quite fun to write.

This part begins the morning after Ferir met a couple fo old aquaintances for a drink in Carbo's Camp.


2.3 Shopping

"No poppy, I need to be awake today." Ferir's voice was hoarse and his tongue felt like a strip of leather. How can I be so thirsty when I drank so much last night? It was one of life's mysteries.

The trader smiled, "I can give you something for that too."

Ferir shook his head. The stall claimed to be an alchemists but the decent potions looked stolen and the rest was a mixture of wortcraft and snakeoil. "Just the willow bark one with syrup and liver salts please."

"It's your hangover."

Don't I know it, thought Ferir as he handed the coin across. He downed the flask and tried to ignore the nauseating taste, a cheap healing and stamina draught followed it. It was probably unnecessary but at least it felt like he was doing something.

"Thanks," he muttered and carried on to the next stall to catch up with Holga.

"Feeling any better?"

"Nope."

"Me neither," she said. "Still having seen the rubbish in your pack I think more shopping should distract us."

"True, I need soap, and a towel. Guards are disgusting."

"I was more thinking some armour, and a decent weapon."

"That too," Ferir stopped at a large stall. Several tables were laid out with a bizarre range of items. A large and ornate claymore nestled among a mountain of chipped crockery. Books half eaten by mice lay next to soul gems, alchemy equipment in varying states and an unusually tasteless statuette of a ballerina. "I'll get you that if you're not careful," he muttered pointing it out to Holga.

"Please don't," she said. "This can be a good place, it's cheap and stuff moves quickly but sometimes they have something worthwhile. Just don't ask where it came from."

Ferir smiled. "There's shops enough like that everywhere." He turned his attention back towards the clutter. A few mortars and pestles had caught his eye. There was other equipment too but he ignored it. A saucepan would do calcine ingredients in the few occasions that was necessary and distilling was too difficult without a proper bench.

He glanced up and suppressed a grin as the store owner appeared. He couldn't have imagined a more likely candidate. The redguard wore a confused mixture of Cyrodiilic clothing and that of Hammerfell from where he clearly originated. His curly hair stood almost straight up from his head and showed the first signs of grey.

"Ah, what are you looking for?" The stall owner's eyes darted around, "I have the finest silks from Elswer," a yellow scarf emerged from nowhere. "Just your colour and feel the quality."

"No thanks," said Ferir.

"But feel the quality!" There was a manic energy in the man's voice, but the smell emanating from the scarf was even more unsettling. "This silk is the finest. Only the khajit know who to make it so fine from the worm's bottom!"

Ferir could only imagine something had been lost in translation. "No thanks. Do you have any armour? Light stuff and decent quality."

The man put the scarf down and scratched his head. "I have some mail," he rooted through a trunk under a table and pulled out a rusted heap of junk.

"No thanks, too rusty." The seller went to reply and Ferir cut across him, "I don't have time to clean it, I want it to wear now. Mail is too heavy too." It was better to agree with people like this and manipulate them. Arguing was like banging your face against a tree, but less satisfying.

"Leather offers less protection."

"I know."

"Have a look." With unexpected strength the man lifted the trunk onto the table sending pots and pans scattering with a clatter which made Ferir's brain grate the inside of his skull. Before Ferir could look a second trunk joined the first and the seller had pulled a suit of leather armour out. The cut was poor and the build looked shoddy to Ferir.

He grunted and began to look ignoring the seller's spiel. A suit of dark cuir bouillie caught his eye. He lifted it out and was surprised to find it in reasonable condition.

"Ah," the seller sounded almost regretful, "an excellent piece. Very good, feel the waxiness. This piece was made with beeswax, that gives a good waterproofing you know."

Ferir nodded. You haven't got a clue have you? The question was how much did the man know about price? "How much?"

"For you? Fifty drakes."

"Hmmm," Ferir wobbled his head. The rest of the box was musty and foul smelling. As he raked his hand through another piece caught his attention. It was the studded leather the Imperials used in some provinces, how it had come to be in Carbo's was a mystery. It's condition was okay but not great. It needed a waxing that much was certain. So why had it caught his eye?

It hadn't. That was the simple answer, it had caught his attention. He picked it up and felt it again. Enchantment, but there wasn't the characteristic glitter and it was hard to detect. A decent pawnbroker would know, and know exactly what it was worth. But the man was a lunatic.

"I'm not sure that cuirass will fit me, this one will though. The quality isn't quite the same but I didn't really want to spend that much."

"But it's not a set then."

"You're left with a better cuirass though," said Ferir. Will you disagree? If he did that was an excuse to pull the price down, and the man might believe him anyway. "How does twenty five sound?"

"No no. This is worth much more. With this cuirass forty five."

"I only wanted to spend thirty. Sorry." Ferir started putting the armour back.

The man blocked him. "Thirty five. My final offer."

Ferir made a show of looking at the suit again. "I need to get other things though. I wanted a mortar and pestle from somewhere."

"I have many mortar and pestles," the man threw his arms wide to indicate just how many. Coupled with his beard the frantic gesticulation made him look like one of the strange men who spent their time on street corners alternately damning passers by and soiling themselves.

"Put in a cheap one and we call it thirty five."

The seller smiled and raked in another pile which seemed mainly to consist of over-stuffed dead furry things and plaster busts of past emperors. The smile was still evident when he put down a slightly battered and very thin mortar and pestle. As Ferir picked it up the seller spoke. "For another three I give you a better one. That one very thin." He pronounced it 'theen' with a slight screech.

As Ferir looked at it it was his turn to smile. The man hadn't got a clue. "No no. This one will do, I'm only starting anyway." He counted out the coins, three larger gold ones and a smaller one. The sellers eyes darted to them the back to the merchandise with a sort of longing. "I assume you will throw in some neats wax, the leather needs it and you'd have to do it soon if I wasn't buying."

The seller paused then threw his hands up. "Fine. Yes." He scooped up the money and pulled a small bottle from yet another case. "Good bye, unless you're interested in-"

Ferir shook his head and smiled. He met Holga's eye and raised his brows. She grinned. He wandered a short way away to look at the wares of another merchant, by the range a fence, before he spoke. "He doesn't have a clue does he?"

"No, he pulls prices out the air. You did alright, well except for that mortar and pestle which looks like junk."

Ferir raised his eyebrows.

"It's not is it," Holga said, "I know that look."

"It certainly isn't. I'm not sure exactly what it's made from but it's strong. Mithril doesn't work, but there are other unusual materials. Either way it's definitely light." He spun it between his fingers to demonstrate.

"I saw the same look when you switched the cuirass."

Ferir nodded and drifted on to the next stall. It was a lizard place, all scale polish and tail oil. There was a stand of the musty stuff which passed for perfume between them too. "You did," he said. He glanced back to check the seller wasn't too close but saw something quite different. It took him a moment to notice the hulk of a man bustling through the crowd at speed but then he did. Ruben.

He was red faced and wheezing slightly. "We need to leave," he said.

YAY!!... ...

A pleasure...*Bows*...

Love this story...It's ace!!... ...

Brilliant chapter...I laughed at the way he played the Redguard...

Loved it!!...

Nice one...Glad it's back... ...

*Applauds heartily*...

Ferir is perusing the priceless treasures junkpile for something useful. At least he came away with what looks like some decent armor and a mortar & pestle.

It was a lizard place, all scale polish and tail oil.
I loved this!

Uh oh, what did Ruben do? I get the feeling he opened his big mouth about being with the city guard...

nits:
He wondered a short way away to look at the wares of another merchant
Ferir is wondering when he should be wandering again.

*



ROFL !!!



Love that line !!!

*



ROFL !!


SubRosa already quoted this, but I had to anyway - Loved this line !!




Really great chapter - now this has the feel of your old stories, where you can take a shopping expedition and keep the reader rapt and unable to tear themselves from it !!! This is Olen !!! Loved it !!

*

No ballerina for Holga? So close!

It was great to see Ferir relatively untroubled and getting ready for the future, even with a blistering hangover. I guess that shows how rough things have been for him lately.

It took him a moment to notice the hulk of a man bustling through the crowd at speed but then he did. Ruben.

He was red faced and wheezing slightly. "We need to leave," he said.

Uh oh. So much for the Carbo’s Camp version of brunch.

As mALX said, I was deeply absorbed in Ferir's shopping trip.

McBadgere - Glad you're enjoying it. Here's another part.

SubRosa - Thanks for picking up on the nit, I do try! I just can't see the difference between them until someone points it out. The 'tail oil' line just came to me as I was writing. As for what Ruben did, well...

mALX - It's good to know that this piece is growing on you. Glad you liked the lines.

Grits - Shopping trips are great, I find writing normal stuff just as fun as the magic/ action etc.

The last part saw Ferir doing some hangover shopping before Ruben appeared looking flustered.


2.4 Fortune

"What?" Ferir looked at Ruben with mixed confusion and irritation.

"Dreck went down badly last night." Ruben glanced behind him, there was nothing but other shoppers perusing the stalls, "people are trying to kill me."

Azura's balls, what is his problem, thought Ferir. "It happens sometimes. Kill them back, better." The distraught look didn't shift. He waited a moment before continuing with a sigh. "Details?"

"I had a few drinks, chatted with a few people. Kept it safe and close like, everyone here seems to. Anyway I got a buy in on a poker table-"

Ferir groaned, that was rarely a good start. "Who with, where?"

"A dingy hole over the other side. Called itself the Caravan Club-"

"Dreck," Ferir cut him off, "Frek." He spat. "Any mention of the Orum gang? Walker camp perhaps?"

Ruben's face told him all he needed to know.

He shook his head. "You only hooked up with the frekking Camonna you plank. What happened?"

Ruben swallowed and glanced around again. He looked more rattled than before. "There were a few. They were playing Low Bravil, that should have warned me. It was a big table to start with but I'm good, and I know the tricks. A couple of the dark elf scum were daubing, once you see the system it works for you too, or you can wipe them..." He coughed. "The dealer started double duking. Anyway once you're know they're cheating you can piggy back. I won five hundred drakes."

The terms meant little to Ferir but he understood numbers. "So you cheated."

"No," Ruben held up his hands. "I wouldn't do that. Not here anyway. They cheated, I just made sure it worked to my advantage."

"So you wandered away from a game the Camonna had rigged with half a grand? And that didn't seem like a bad idea?"

"They tried to kill me! I managed to escape into a crowd and hide in a logpile for the night." His voice was almost whining.

Ferir paused. It was bad, but he'd dealt with bad before. He could send Ruben on his way and be rid of the man, but he already knew he wouldn't. Friends were few and far between, Carbo's Camp probably wasn't safe for him and certainly wasn't for Ruben. Ruben would follow him too and bad company was better than none, especially company who could handle himself.

There was always Relthas. He could go crawling back - the five hundred would almost cover the debt. Never. That was one vow he had no intention of breaking. The five hundred might be enough to convince a suitably large, and insane, group to sort out the Camonna problem. It was attractive but other than the issue with dealing with marauders there was politics to be thought of. Hitting the Camonna, even in Carbo's, would upset the balance and if it led back to him his life expectancy would suffer.

He sighed. "We run," he said. Ruben nodded and Ferir continued, "it would be too hard to sort out here, and frankly keeping the money sounds better."

"Good," Ruben nodded, his gaze hadn't stopped roving. He was breathing hard too. "I have my pack... Do you need to collect yours?" He added it as an afterthought.

"No," Ferir snorted, "I wouldn’t let anything out of my sight in this place, I've grabbed most of the supplies we need too." He turned to Holga, "Looks like I need to bounce," he gave a half grin, "I'll stop by next time I'm in the area."

"And cause chaos again no doubt. If I'm not here I'll leave word with someone."

"You're thinking of leaving?"

She made a face. "What is there here really? I was going to talk about it but-"

A shout cut her off. Ruben almost spun he turned so fast, Ferir was only an instant behind. "Oi, there he is."

Three imperials pushed their way through the crowds towards them. Ruben already had his sword out, Ferir reached for his axe but kept the head down for the moment. Instead he freed his right hand for casting and let a smile flicker around the edge of his lips.

The three stopped just out of lunging range. Each had the brown hair and sharp features of a Colovian and wore mismatched armour. The man in the centre had the best of it, a face like a rotten apple rose from a battered steel cuirass. It was more scarred than even his equipment. But it was the woman on the right who spoke first. Her hair was long, but in need of care and her nose had a kink where it had been broken.

When she spoke her voice had the gritty sound left by smoking heavily for a long time, or taking the cheap stuff too often. Ferir shuddered. "We hear there's a hit out on you," she said to Ruben in the cocky tone of someone who was used to bullying others.

"Yes," the man in the centre took over, "but we also hear you have coin. We might be willing to let you live." He tipped his head.

"I might be willing to let you live," said Ferir. Holga had dropped back into the onlookers - nothing attracted a crowd like a promise of death - and was working her way behind them. Ferir allowed the smile to linger, "but I'm not sure about my friend."

Ruben made a big show of lifting the coin bag and looking at it. Then he tossed it halfway between him and the leader and met the leader's eye, "I'm willing to die picking that up," he said with with a calm certainty. "Are you?"

For a moment the leader looked uncertain under the fury of the nord's gaze then the woman shouted, "Frekking get them!"

Ruben sprung into action. The leader scarcely blocked a thunderous swing which sent his sword arm back as it passed then whipped round at his leg.

Ferir looked away and back to the woman who was surging forward at Ruben. He called on the thread of magic inside and let it form in a torrent to his fingers. It glowed and he threw the flame. It was weak though and did little more than scorch her dry dandruffy hair. It was enough distraction though as he swung in with his axe. There was a male scream, not Ruben. It was all his attention bothered with as the axe was deflected by a sword and scratched other the edge of the woman's armour getting a snarl from her. As the weight carried him on she flicked her sword into his arm.

He felt the flesh open and dampness pour out. He jumped back but her blade was up to defend and she didn't press. He shifted the axe to his left hand and she stalked forward. He needed a moment to stop the blood. Pain blossomed in the arm, he couldn't feel where exactly, as he threw it forward. She flinched back expecting a fireball. He took the moment to cast a frenzied healing spell, the biting cold of it burned in the wound for a flash then the pain was less. He swapped the axe back as she pressed again. He blocked the first then as she returned with the back swing he leapt forward with a speed she couldn’t match in her armour and was behind her. He left hand raked at her face finding eyes and he dug his fingers in and pulled back. Her head tipped as the swing carried her round and off balance. A firm stamp through her knee felled her. Ferir didn't waste an instant in delivering a solid axe blow to her gut. The narrow blade struck plumb and went though the armour effortlessly. He twisted it and pulled it out in a torrent of red.

He turned to see the leader in a pool of blood with his face caved in and Ruben pressing the final mercenary hard. He stepped back then a large figure in a checked shirt stepped from the crowd with a bottle. Holga. She broke it over his head and swore viscously as she drove the broken end into his side. He fell dropping his sword as he did.

Ruben stepped up to finish the job.

"Don't," said Holga, "Jerine doesn't like fights in the streets. Says it lacks decorum, whatever that is. She'll want words with this." She prodded the writhing man. "You boys had best run before more come," she gave half a smile then turned to the stall keeper behind her. "And so had you worm. Sheen jars aren't meant to break when you hit people with them. That was full."

Ruben scooped up the coin bag and Ferir grabbed his arm and headed for the edge of the camp.

Likee!!!... ...

An excellent chapter...Most excellent!!...

Loved the fight, and yet again, made me laugh all the way through...

Excellent writing that person there!!!... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

"It happens sometimes. Kill them back, better."
Sounds like good advice!

"Frek." He spat.
I like the addition of the new swear word.

I liked Ferir's internal monologue as the weighed his options, whether or not to cut Ruben loose, whether or not to give to money to Relthas, or try to pay off some marauders to deal with the Tong, and finally, to run. The last seems like the best choice to me as well.

But I see some bounty hunters got to them first! If nothing else, Ruben is certainly good in a fight. He more then carried his weight there. And a wonderful end assist by Holga with the bottle. Now they are not only on the run from the law, but from the criminals as well!

Do not come crying to Ferir about a minor death threat. This makes me laugh every time I read it.

Ruben screwed up but showed his worth. Now Ferir has chosen to stay in his company. I’m relieved!

I loved the fight, fast and furious. Holga was a riot at the end, mad about her spilled liquor. I really enjoyed this part!


Maybe I imagined it but was that a little Malcolm Reynolds tribute in there?

Sorry for the delay again... a mixture of uni and RL dramas.

McBadgere - glad you're enjoying, things should speed up a bit for a while now (in pacing of the story that is, posting is likely to remain erratic to be honest).

SubRosa - The 'new' swear words are nesecary really, when I write dialogue I try to let it flow as people talk, and people swear. There's only so many ways of conveying the same intent as @#$&! It's good to know Ferir staying with Ruben is making sense too.

Grits - Thanks for the comment, it's always good to know the piece is going over well. Not sure who the Malcolm Reynolds tribute is... I certainly am a massive Firefly fan though and on thinking of smugglers he would spring to mind so there's probably a bit thrown in.


3.1 Western Glow

Ferir hummed a snatch of a tune as he stretched in the late afternoon sun. His cloak was spread under him over the dry leaves at the base of a large beech tree, his newly oiled armour next to it along with their gear. Perhaps later there could be a fire, but for now it was warm enough and he didn't want the smoke. A stream babbled a short way from him. The spot was just too perfect to pass up even if there was a couple of hours of good light left.

They would be followed, he was certain of that much. You didn't leave Carbo's without protection and with that much money unnoticed, and there would be commotion over the Camonna. Jerine was going to be annoyed, that tended to end badly for someone. None of it mattered though. He'd kept to the wilds mainly using the tracks cut by animals rather than those laid by men. He was a pathfinder, and knew how to track and more importantly how to avoid being followed. Avoiding the Legion Foresters was part of smuggling, and they were far more skilled than any bandit was likely to be.

So he wasn't worried and the sun was shining and the day was clear. Words joined the hummed tune and soon he was singing softly to himself looking at nothing and thinking of less. Ruben had wandered downstream to wash. Ferir had done so by the camp but the Nord sought privacy. It seemed unlikely that Ruben had anything Ferir hadn't seen before, but he supposed it was possible and didn't care either way. He paused his singing until the first line of the next verse came to him then started again.

Ruben emerged from the trees with his blond hair plastered to his head. He wore a checked shirt Ferir assumed he'd picked up at Carbo's with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and had a bundle of firewood under one arm.

"Don't stop on my account," he said.

Ferir shrugged. He presumed Ruben hadn't heard the words, or that the innuendo had gone clean over his head.

After a brief pause Ruben continued, "I didn't know you sang anyway."

"Doesn't everyone?"

Ferir stretched back into the soft loam as Ruben frowned slightly. "Well I don't."

"Fair enough." The sun was bloated and red above the western sky, the river a ribbon of fire amid the ancient oaks and lengthening shadows. Soon the air would cool so Ferir drank the last of the sunlight.

When Ruben spoke again he turned and saw the nord's gaze was also on the westering sun. "What else do you do? I know precious little about you."

Ferir paused with the thought it brought then voiced it. Why not? "More than I know about you."

"What?"

"You know plenty about me. You know I was cooking skooma and running it. You know I killed two Imperial Legionaries, in self defence as much as anything. I think the story more or less fills itself in. All I know is you were a guard and you killed and Imperial Agent, then others in the guard sprung you."

There was a long pause. "Things went awry. I made some bad decisions." There was a rustle of leaves as he fidgeted.

"I figured we'd get into the wilds then you'd head your own way, if you're following me I'd know more. What led to the guard's death?"

A heavy sigh. "I said," a pause, "I made some bad decisions. Dug a hole." The second pause was longer. Ferir said nothing and hoped the truth would be drawn into the vacuum. Eventually Ruben spoke again. "You know why I'm following." It wasn't a question. "I have nothing else, but where are you heading?"

Ferir took a moment before answering. The night was a pleasant one and if he evaded it would be awkward. He didn't have any reason to anyway. "Where the wind blows. I'll drift, but for now that's towards Sundew."

"Sundew?"

"The cave I lived in. I need to see."

Ruben nodded. "I had wondered. You know it's risky so I won't tell you that, but I will tell you this: it'll hurt."

"So does pulling an arrow, it doesn't make it any less necessary."

"And after that?"

Ferir smiled and let out a half laugh. "I haven't even begun to think about it."

"Oh."

Ferir stood and stretched. There was a hollow pop from between his shoulder blades and another as he pulled his neck. The sun was melting into the hills of the western skyline and the temperature was dropping. He picked up his cloak and the firewood. "Do you want to get some food from the packs? I'll lay the fire." Ruben stood. "There's a couple of bottles in there too," added Ferir.

He'd piled the logs in a circle of stones and was about to put light to them as Ruben dropped some sausage, lard and a bag of oatmeal. An onion and a flint and steel joined them.

"No need for the flint," said Ferir with a grin and raised his hand. Ruben crashed backward as he thrust it towards the wood. The little fireball happened almost by itself. He'd used it so many times there was no need to catch the magic and form it. If it had been a physical action Ferir supposed he would have called it muscle memory, and he'd read books which compared the mind to a muscle.

Ruben picked himself up, "Warn me before you do things like that."

Ferir shook his head, "I assure you it's safe. I assume you're planning on cooking, I have no idea what I'd do with that."

"Skirlie and sausage. An excellent combination. The wine should cut through the grease well."


Ruben was right, Ferir decided, as he washed the last of the lard from his mouth with the wine. It was cheap stuff but that worked, the harsh tannin seemed to lift the layer of grease left by the fried oatmeal and it had enough body to overcome the taste of onion and pepper. It wasn't what he'd usually eat, but the energy was exactly what he needed. He lay back with a satisfied groan.

Ruben's bottle glugged as he tipped it back. He prodded the fire and sent a shower of sparks skyward to join the first stars which were appearing in the night sky.

"You seem to like plans," Ferir broke the silence, "What are yours?"

Another glug from the bottle. Ferir heard a rustle which might have been a fidget and might have been a shrug, his eyes were on the low fire. After another moment Ruben spoke, "I don't know. Maybe see if I can start in another town with a new name after this has blown over a bit. Kvatch perhaps, there's work there and it's on the move, not dead like Skingrad and Chorrol. Or I suppose I could get a job on some caravan in some backwater and skip Cyrodiil, though I'm not sure I'd want to live in the other provinces."

"Morrowind might be okay."

"Are you joking? It's the worst of the lot, full of dark elves and madness."

Ferir shrugged, "Each to their own." He threw another stick onto the fire.

"Anyway there's the Camonna."

"They're nasty fetchers," said Ferir, "but not so much worse than others. Why them."

"History." Ferir stayed silent and the poison started to ooze from the wound. "You know the Orum Gang?"

Ferir nodded. Inefficient, brutal, bunglers, but the best the Camonna had in Cheydinhal.

"When I was young, probably before you were born, I moved with a rough crowd. Got out of it in time mind but kept some contacts after I started training as a guardsman. My wife settled me a bit I suppose, about all the wench ever did except moan."

Ferir left the pause which opened.

"She never liked the gambling, well not when I lost. It was fine if I won of course. Then there was the patrol..." He grimaced. "I'd hardly got my uniform and I was selected for a job into the wilds. They all died. And..." his tongue snaked over dry lips. He sighed, "I saw things." He opened his mouth to say more and paused, "No." He shook his head.

Ferir took a slow draught from his much diminished bottle. Ruben's matched his in length but was far from slow. There were only dregs left once he was done.

"Open another," said Ferir. "They were the necromancers you mentioned?"

"Yeah," said Ruben as he rummaged in the packs. "Only I returned, things weren't the same. The wench never understood why I drank. You know the drill. I made some bad decisions. She left."

"Dreck." Ferir finished his bottle, Ruben was well into the second.

"I gambled more, and more often, and hit the bars harder. A guards salary ain't much and I never did get promoted. Same old story I suppose. Owe the wrong people the wrong drakes. I couldn't pay so I hit up some contacts."

"How long ago?"

"Four years. It was small stuff at first, just info. Then just a small thing, a record erased or some evidence lost. Nothing major."

"To start with." Ferir didn't much care if he insulted Ruben, the man needed it. The story seemed to repeat like a mill horse in its worn circle.

"Yeah. It got bigger, there were more of us in it, more leaks and harder to cover all our tracks. We sprung a few people. Someone noticed and the Imperials were called in."

"How did you end up killing one?"

"He got too close. Enough evidence to send us all down so I paid him a visit."

Ferir was stunned for a moment. He knew Ruben wasn't that bright, the last few minutes had confirmed that, but to think that murdering someone investigating you in cold blood could ever go well. He shook his head, the man really was a wolf. There was something hard in there, a rock of psychotic self interest hidden like a cat's claw. There were nutters in the skooma trade, but Ruben held is own among them.

Ferir held out his hand for the bottle and took a drink until he thought he was steady again. "Damn," was all he could manage.

"I know it sounds silly now, but I felt trapped." Ruben took the bottle back, "Anyway it's hardly different than you."

"He was doing his job and you killed him to try to cover it up."

"And the two legionaries you killed?"

"Yours didn't burst into your home in the early morning and set about butchering your friends with similar intentions for you."

"Near enough. If we escaped the gallows how well do you think prison goes for a guard?"

"No, it's diff-" Ferir didn't get further. His eyes were on the northern skyline.

Ruben said it first. "What in oblivion is that?"

Ooooh, that's nice that is!!...

Love it...

Bit o'history there!!...Nicely done...Much darkness to our tale there is...Mmm!!...

The campfire meal and drink has made me all hungry now... ...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds heartily*...

I made some bad decisions.
I am thinking that is an understatement of English proportions.

It was good to learn more of Ruben's past. His slow and stead slide down to the wrong side of the law was delightful, at least in the fact that it was so wholly understandable. I was nodding my head the entire time thinking, "yep, no surprise there."

But now, what in Oblivion is that on the horizon? Something to do with those rumors of foul things issuing from the Dark Fissure perhaps?


nits:
Ruben had wondered downstream
The old wander/wonder got you again. Wandered this time, or perhaps just went?

"You know the Ourum Gang?"
If you changed it on purpose, no worries. But in the game they are the Orum gang.

It was just a line that made me think of Mal. Here’s the clip from Our Mrs. Reynolds.


I love that Ferir’s reaction to Ruben’s cold-blooded murder announcement was to reach for the bottle and then argue with him. It makes me think that he has the nerves to deal with whatever remains at Sundew as well as whatever is visible at the skyline.

Another thoroughly enjoyable update. I love this story.

The story, the characters, the color of the writing absolutely do not disappoint. I like Ferir and Ruben, I get the feeling I'm supposed to and at some point I'm going to say to myself "wow, I didn't see that coming". I am looking forward to more very soon.

Your writing is simplicity on the surface but the undercurrent, the feel, is deep and profound if I am not reading it wrong. Loving it.

And another delay... This will progress albeit slowly. More RL, uni and a failing hard drive to blame this time.

McBadgere - Glad you like it, and yeah there is darkness. It tends to creep into things I write, and trust me this gets darker.

SubRosa - Good catch on the nits, both fixed. I'm glad Ruben's past makes sense there will be more at some point I should imagine.

Grits - Passing a bottle can be a good way to subdue bad memories, and it takes about 20 minutes so regardless it's probably more convenient to have him drunker... As for what's on the horizon, well we meet some if it in this chapter.

Athynae - I glad you enjoyed it, welcome to the slowest moving story here... It's good to know that you like Ferir and Ruben too, it was my intention to make them likeable protagonists even if they are a bit morally questionable at times, it's a fun thing to play with.

Where we were: Having fled Carbo's Camp they are now in the wilds. Ruben told a bit of his past then they were distracted.

3.2 Old Secrets

A purple glow blazed on the northern horizon. It flashed into being like exploding lamp oil. The light seemed greasy against the moonlit cloud, shimmering and ethereal like a mirage. As they watched a burning filament reached down. Or up, thought Ferir, it was hard to focus on it as if his eyes were afraid to see. When he stared it hardly seemed there, but when he looked away it blazed like a column of eldritch fire connecting heaven and Nirn. And whatever lies beneath. The thought came unbidden.

"Its like nothing I've seen before. Magical I'll bet though."

"It looks evil," muttered Ruben; his tone did not make light of the words. "Every time I look away I half see a column of light as well as the glow."

Ferir paused. "You don't see it all the time? It's clearer if I don't look at it..."

"What? How..."

"No idea," Ferir shrugged, "I can do a few spells but I'm no mage." He paused. There was no sound, the still night had fallen silent but for the rustle of the fire and Ruben's heavy breathing. "What do you think it is?"

Ruben didn't answer.

"Doesn't it make you curious?"

Still no answer. Ruben glared into the darkness.

He knew it was foolish, but risk had never stopped him before. It was only later he wondered how much the wine stilled his nerve and filled his soul with Leyawin courage. Ruben had drank all but a mouthful of the third bottle too. Curiosity had its claws in him, he couldn't quite imagine what foggy ruin might have awoken or what ancient ritual might be happening. Treasures lost to time fleeted through his mind replaced by old secrets and arcane knowledge. Chanting elven figures robed, or better without robes...

Wild conjecture. "We should have a look," he said.

Ruben looked at him. "Sounds crazy."

"Why not?"

"We don't know what it is?"

"Exactly, and what else are we going to do?"

"Stay here? Sleep?"

"Really," Ferir flowed up onto his haunches, "With every shadow staring at us, ever whisper a breath of darkness? Better to be out hunting than waiting by this fire."

Ruben's gaze flickered to him than went back to darting around the trees. Ferir stood. "Gather the stuff in case we don't want to retrace ourselves."

A few minutes later Ferir was picking his way through the moonlit forest on a northerly path towards the light. Ruben followed. The man was trying to be silent but without much success. Ferir had suggested that Ruben watch his own movements as a crash course in sneaking. Light was not a problem in the trees, they were sparser here where rocks jutted from the ground like broken teeth. The two moons and the weird glow cast shadows tinted with blood and madness.

A feeling was growing in his gut. It coiled his nerves like a spring. He had felt similar and generally sought the comfort of his bed in Sundew with its other distractions until the morning sun brought peace. Tonight was different though, there was a dark undertone to it. But Sundew was gone, many things seemed dark now, and after the preceding days was it any wonder he felt odd? He returned his focus to the night while his fingers sought the loop from which he had hung his axe.

There was a crash from behind him as Ruben fell over. The nord swore as he picked himself up. "Bloody tree root or summin," he muttered.

Ferir glared and nodded. "Shhh," he hissed.

He was about to continue when he half heard something in the darkness ahead. He froze and held up his hand. A foot crunched down then Ruben was silent. Ferir strained into the trees but the wild shadows confused and twisted his gaze. The purple glow covered most of the northern horizon now. Either it was close or truly vast.

A crack. Not from behind but to his right.

Tension thrilled through him, his left hand found soft loam and his gut drew in ready to spring. His eyes tried to penetrate the darkness and bored into shadows. Was there the sense of a more open space there?

"Probably nothing." The voice was muffled. Even so the bottom dropped from Ferir's stomach. An instant of nausea passed as feet crunched to his right receding away.

With infinite care Ferir twisted on the spot. He held his hand flat at Ruben. Wait. The nord nodded. His pupils were huge and made his eyes eerie in the gloom.

Ferir kept low and used his hands to steady himself as he slipped into the shadow of a tree. It was hard. The wine isn't helping, he thought. Walking on a bottle was fine, but sneaking required speed and dexterity. He wanted to fall back, but not without knowing who might be following. His mind was sharpened, but not to the fine point it usually would. He felt sickness return as he crept further forward.

There was a clearing and they had been only paces from it but the confused shadows of overlapping red, white and violet had concealed it. He stopped and looked, not staring this time, just letting his eyes wander. Sometimes not looking worked better than glaring at the dark. Sure enough three figures resolved in the shadows. The first was given away by its slow swaying movement. The second stood still next to it. The final one, that he could see at least, was barely visible sitting on a rock behind. As he looked the second figure turned towards him.

Ferir's heart lurched. He was suddenly acutely aware of its pounding like a drum in the dark, of his breathing and the noise it made. The air was hot in his lungs. Stifling. He knew no more of who these people were, but they were three and in the wilds and whatever the purple light was they didn't seem to be giving it much attention. Dreck. He wanted out and away from the place. Could they sneak it? He hoped so. Why had this seemed like a good idea?

He steeled himself to ease back into the shadows when there was a definite crack of a branch breaking from across the clearing.

"What is this," the sitting figure stood, it's voice a breathless growl. A hand shot out from a deep sleeve and suddenly a blazing light illuminated the scene.

Ferir blinked the burning from his eyes. Three figures, two wore black robes the third... rotting flesh. There wasn't time to think. The nearer robed figure turned to him as the bushes on the other side of the clearing exploded. Ferir's distraction was matched by the figure who half turned. A woman burst for them with a scream and levelled a staff. Lightning erupted from it and arced between the zombie and other mage. The zombie staggered back, flames licking it but the mage didn't move. His hand flew out and there was a ripple in the air. It lifted the woman from her feet and she landed backward.

Ferir tore his attention back to himself, it had only been an instant. "Ruben!" he screamed. The second figure's hands were moving. Mage. Ferir stepped from the trees and the hands flew towards him, a purple light flew towards him. He dived sideways.

Too slow. Too clumsy. He should have dodged but he took it in the abdomen. A weird feeling suffused him, he felt oddly disconnected and pulled. It was deeply wrong. The mage frantically wove another spell. He was already moving when this one came. Fire. The mage was trained and the ball tight and hot, it brushed his side and under his arm before vanishing behind. The clothing was consumed, there was an instant of empty still then the white pain burst in. A scream escaped him and he glanced and saw black charred flesh.

Glancing back up he saw the mage working again, more slowly this time. The face under the cowl was that of a young man and was contorted in effort. Ferir knew he wouldn't survive another. How long did he have before his injuries incapacitated him? The spell couldn't finish. He charged.

It was a risk. But the gamble was the best one. One step, two, each bound he pushed into the earth as hard as he could gaining all the speed and momentum he could. At two yards he threw himself headlong. The mage was distracted, his spellweaving, whatever it might be, slowed. The magic dissipated as a flicker of awful light as Ferir hit him shoulder first in the gut. They both went backward in a heap.

There was no pain. No time or light or clearing. Ferir's world narrowed to him and the mage and the bare ground around. The mage flailed a feeble punch into Ferir's face. The fist hovered where it had hit above his jaw. Ferir saw it and sunk his teeth in. He bit without thought and closed his teeth until he heard the crunch of bone through his head and released. The mage wailed as his other hand made its way down. Ferir brought his elbow across the man's face and followed it. His burnt arm was useless now. The mage was going for a dagger. They reached it at the same time but while the mage went for the dagger Ferir grabbed his hand. It slipped leaving him two fingers. He broke them both backward grabbed the knife and drove it into the mage's gut.

Ferir knew screams, but even the darkest moments had never held anything like the one he heard now. It was agony. He could almost feel it himself, a burning in the gut, spreading in clawing lines of malignancy. He glanced down and saw the flesh around the wound was decaying, black tendrils crawled under the man's flesh at an unnatural rate. Then the burning began, his scorched side and arm started to burn, they felt sickly wet. He couldn't see the mage as his eyes watered for a moment they screamed as one then the mage gurgled to silence. A moment later the pain faded to an ache, then nothing.

Ferir gasped and pushed himself upright. The he realised he'd used his injured arm. There wasn't time to think. He was dimly aware of commotion behind but it paled to nothing compared to the walking nightmare which approached. The zombie staggered, half its face had burnt away under the lighting, the blacked flesh and bone still smouldered in places, its other eye rolled at him with with a milky gaze. One side of its chest was a nest of maggots writhing like a sea creature.

Ferir staggered back and let the rage he'd felt moments before back in. The thing advanced, its jaw hung limp. Rotten gasses farted from splits in its yellowed skin. He felt for the magic and found an inferno. Fear drove any question from his mind, he seized it. All of it. The power blazed through him like a tempest, his thoughts clung to the spell like a drowning man to a barrel. The magic twisted and rolled as he wrought it, melded it with his rage and fear. The raw emotion opened more. Sundew. The legion. The Empire, how he hated the Empire. The devouring self serving beast which chewed lives and crushed people into their place. He could barely hold the magic, his rage and will stretched paper-thin under its onslaught and still he fed it. Prejudice. Hatred. Hypocrisy. Everything the Empire stood for.

The creature was almost on him when he let the spell out. It burst forth in a torrent of flame. It erupted over the creature blackening it and scorching the earth behind. It fell back and Ferir stepped forward holding the blaze on it. He realised he was shouting incoherently, spittle flying from his mouth and running down his chin. He didn't care. The black yet slightly porky stench of burning flesh rose into the air. Where bones were exposed they had started to crumble, any sharp edge glowed like iron in a forge.

The spell petered out and Ferir staggered back slightly slumped. The corpse was a burnt ruin with steam and smoke still rising from it. The ground around was blackened and scorched bare and dead. Sound from behind permeated and he turned. Ruben stood over the final figure plunging his sword in and out of its back in splashes of red. Ferir assumed it was excessive until he realised the figure was still struggling. A final huge sweep made the muscles in the nord's back stand out and the sword crashed into the mage's neck taking the head half off.

Only then did Ferir notice that the mysterious woman had her hand pointed at Ruben while mouthing a spell. He grabbed his axe and ran at her. She dropped her hand and collapsed down to one knee. "No," she was breathless, "I'm not with them. Stop."

That was just brilliant!!!...Incredible stuff...

Shockingly enough, I loved it!!...

The fight!!...The zombie!!...The absorb health/healing thing...

Absolutely fantastically done there!!...That really was some amazing writing, right there...

Nice one!!... ...

*Applauds most heartily!!*...

The Necromancer's Moon! I loved your description of the weekly corpselit event.

the wine stilled his nerve and filled his soul with Leyawin courage.
I love the ES-ized version of liquid courage!

The two moons and the weird glow cast shadows tinted with blood and madness.
This was a wonderful description. After that, I haif expect to see Nyarlathotep, or Cthulhu, make an appearance in his macabre tale. Considering what they met in the clearing, it looks like I was not far off!

Why had this seemed like a good idea?


The wrestling between Ferir and the mage was excellently done. Nothing graceful, skilled, or practiced here. Just a primal, ugly fight for survival where there are no rules, except that the loser dies.

Then a wonderfully disgusting description of the char-broiled and maggoty zombie advancing upon Ferir. Poor guy just does not get a break!




"It looks evil," muttered Ruben his tone did not make light of the words.
I think you mean to have a period after Ruben, and then capitalize His?

He stopped and looked, not staring this time, just letting his eyes wonder.
I think you meant wander?

A women burst for them with a scream and levelled a staff
I am sure you wanted the singular, of woman.

The second figure's hands were moving.
Figure's needs an apostrophe where I added it, as it is possessive.

"Really," Ferir flowed up onto his haunches, "With every shadow staring at us, ever whisper a breath of darkness? Better to be out hunting than waiting by this fire."

I love the image of Ferir galvanized and impulsive, sort of fueled by curiosity and his own imagination. It’s a glimpse of what he must have been before the legionaries raided Sundew. Wow.

The two moons and the weird glow cast shadows tinted with blood and madness.

This was a beautiful way to show the night and Ferir’s state of mind. Double wow.

From the time Ruben fell over making me snort, the tension and then explosive action had me as breathless as the surviving mage. The magic was particularly awesome. I have been thinking about glowing bone-ends at otherwise lovely spring moments. Ruben’s struggle with his mage was scary even for only seeing the end of it. It took two of them to survive this fight. Or three, as the mystery woman seems to be on their side.

This whole update was a joy to read, even the dribbling maggoty parts. I love it!!

McBadgere - Thanks for the comment, it's good to know the action sequence worked. Thanks for pointing out those nits too...

SubRosa - I'm glad you enjoyed that section, it was fun to write. Thanks for pointing out the nits, I do proof read these, several times, but there are certain errors I just don't see...

Talking of writing... any news on TotFS? *puppy eyes*

Grits - Thanks, less dribbling maggots this time and more mystery mage.

All - Less of a delay this time but still a rather glacial pace. Might pick up a bit now most of uni is done as I look for things to do which aren't revise... Also, to forestall any mobs with pitchforks, I wrote this section prior to reading Jerric's Story so certain parallels drawn between healing (or absorb life more specifically) and necromancy weren't lifted from there. However as Grits did it rather better than I did I have changed various terms to differentiate them (mine applies only to absorb health as of the moment, though I'm not promising I won't steal borrow from Grits' idea)...

Where we were - Ferir and Ruben have stumbled across some necromancers on the night of the shade and got into a fight involving a mysterious third party...

3.3 Hedge Magic

Ferir slowed.

"She's alright," said Ruben.

Ferir lowered the sword and she spoke again, "I thought you intervened to save me. Who are you, I didn't realise the guild was involved."

"I could ask you the same question," Ferir could feel that shakes starting. They did after a fight. "And guild?"

"You're not mages guild, or with them?" She took a breath and sat up straighter. Her cloak, dappled in leafy shades of green, fell from where it had puddled on her shoulder. "That was quite a spell." She shook her head, "I'm Adriel."

"Ferir."

"Thank you for saving me."

Ruben spoke then. His face was white and he looked ill, "I think perhaps I should be thanking you but we need to leave this place."

Ferir paused. It was unfair to keep him there and most questions could wait but one he thought couldn't. "You're a mage."

"Of sorts," replied Adriel.

"Take a look at this corpse, I've never seen anything like it." He walked to the man he had killed. Now the rage had passed he noticed how young the man was, probably little older than himself. Messy blonde hair showed under the hood and the face which peaked out was fine featured. Slim too, Ferir shook his head, fetcher still tried to kill me though. He bent and pulled the robe open revealing an oily mass around the wound which stretched like dark tentacles grasping the creamy skin around.

Adreil appeared behind him. He wrinkled his nose at the soft floral smell of whatever she washed with. "Looks like direct magical damage to life," she said and squinted at him with a confused look, "powerful too. Though by the way it spread... You were hit by a fireball."

"Yes but it healed."

"Then this was absorb life," she sounded confused now. "An unpleasant spell, not quite like healing."

"It hurt."

"Yes it's very harsh. Do you know the difference between healing the resurrection of flesh?"

"What?"

"I'll take that as a no. Just know that this spell is like a storm, the absorbed health restored flesh to what it should be as well as simply helping it heal. But it does so as an onslaught. Now we should leave."

"Oh," Ferir frowned.

She shrugged, "He made his choice and got what he deserved."

Ferir looked at the ruined body. "I suppose," he muttered. "Let me get my pack then we leave. I've no desire to meet more."


Adriel had the easy grace of one accustomed to the wild places. She moved through the darkened trees much like Ferir did. No magic was needed, it was a rare night that there wasn't enough light to walk by, but only if you trusted your instinct. His wry smile was hidden in the gloom. Who am I fooling? She moves far better than I do. Ruben crashed along behind them.

"My camp is near, but it should be far enough that they will not find us," she said. The arrogance in her voice mirrored her movements.

"Good," he replied. "How did you come to be there?"

"They are organising, I caught the first signs well over a year ago and have been tracking them since." She stopped at the crest of a low rise and turned. Ferir saw a smile he didn't wholly like. Then she dropped down out of sight.

Ferir followed and saw her camp. There was already a natural gouge in the landscape but a fallen tree had carved it deeper and the tangled roots obscured it from one side. Unless you fell into it it was more or less invisible. He climbed down to find it dry and surprisingly homely. The thick loam was a softer carpet than that of any noble hall and at some point someone had dragged a pair of logs in. Their bark was polished to a sheen by successive trousers. He dropped his pack and took a seat on a log.

Her smile was less disconcerting this time. "The question is more who are you?" She paused but not long enough for him to reply. "I thought guild mages to start with but that's not the case. You smell of wine, yet you dealt with those three handily. You can cast fire like that, but don't know about damaging life-force. Who stalks dark artists on a night of the shade?"

Ferir blinked in the torrent. She sounded almost angry. "We saw the light, we went to investigate."

"That doesn't tell me who you are."

"Perhaps we like going for walks in the wilds."

She tipped her head. "Very well. Most out here value privacy," she paused for a moment, "and are running from the past." Ferir frowned slightly then cursed as she nodded. "I don't understand you though. Most would retreat when a soultrap was set, especially given those present."

Ferir paused in confusion and glanced to Ruben who stared at his hands. It was impossible to know if the nord was present in more than body. Then the memory of the first spell which had hit him returned. It's apparent lack of effect beyond the deeply wrong feeling. He felt the colour drain from him. "That was a soultrap?"

Her mouth opened slightly and she glared as if seeking the lie. "Yes," she said as if it was obvious. "How can you not know that but be trained enough to cast the inferno which immolated that zombie?"

"My casting is unreliable, but that might have been the biggest. I was angry, and the magic just kept coming."

"Interesting," she said and then rummaged in her pack. "Hackle-lo?"

"Thanks," Ferir took one, "Any chance of a light? I don't trust myself not to incinerate it just now."

Adriel lit hers with a casual flick of a finger and passed it across. "Perhaps the soultrap fed your magic when you killed him. Who can truly say, you don't hear much about people killing their trapper."

Ferir coughed out a mouthful of the pungent smoke. "Wait what? I was using his soul?"

She shrugged. "Possibly."

"But..." Ferir didn't know what to say. It was too wrong, unclean somehow.

"What do you think powers the trinket you took from him?"

Ferir paused, he didn't understand enchantment.

"It's powerful, I doubt it's wielder would have worried about using a human soul to get that power."

"So someone's soul is in this?"

She smiled and chuckled. The sound made his hackles rise. "Do you know what a soul is?"

"It's... what lives beyond..." Ferir paused, did he know? "What makes you alive."

"Meaningless. You do not know what a soul is. Neither do I, nor anyone else and those who say otherwise are lying. Is there anything beyond death? Who knows, perhaps the soul holds the answer. What is known is that there is energy released upon death, whether that essence of a person dissolves into nirn to the countless aedra who form it, or becomes a ghost, or continues onward?" She shrugged, "Who knows, but if it is stolen in a soul trap whatever eternal fate awaited that person is done."

"Are they aware?"

"Ghosts often are. But in truth I know not. The guild mages do not study this area, at least not openly, and those who might know," the black smirk returned, "are not free with their information."

Ferir took the dagger and looked at it. What poor soul was in there? No, who was in there, imprisoned. Trapped from ending their voyage.

"Do not look so grim. Power comes at a cost, and that is a powerful artefact."

"A blade forged with someone's soul, with the purpose of consuming life and gifting it to the wielder? That must be wrong."

"It saved you did it not. Without it you would be facing that same fate, and the necromancer free to continue."

Ruben sat up slowly. His voice was heavy when it came. "Such tools want to be used. Give a man a hammer and he hits things, what will that make of you?"

"Better than the case without. You kill an enemy, what of it if you benefit from his death?"

"A dangerous path."

"You chose to meddle in the affairs of wizards," she spoke to Ferir not Ruben, "You need all the advantage you can get. Do not throw it away idly."

Ferir nodded. "Perhaps, I would not be worried if it consumed them with fire, so why worry if it heals me?"

Adriel's unnerving smile answered him.

"You said the necromancers are gathering."

"The guild outlawed them, even you must know that. The logical step was to form their own guild, outwith the constraints of morality and the law."

"Sounds charming."

The smile flickered over her features again. "I suspect there is more, however it is hard to find out much and those who watch them are few and disorganised."

Silence fell. Ruben glared at the ground. Ferir was slightly surprised at the urge to comfort the man, whatever had happened those years ago he knew he hadn't heard all of it. He was just as sure that there would be no getting through to it while Adriel was around. There was something unsettling about her. Something he didn't understand, or like entirely.

"So what about you? You're not guild, but you track them."

"I track them because someone has to. It used to be a few in old ruins. If some fool thought they could handle them and went in too deep they got what they deserved. But the cult is different, they hunt, and disturb the balance. Perhaps I am too caring, perhaps those who live in the backcountry deserve to die if they cannot manage there. But many have no choice, and it is not always death which finds them."

"What of you?"

"What of me?"

"Who are you? It's clear enough you know magic, and you're not guild."

"You know well enough they don't control it." Scorn. That was what was layered into the smile, the steel edge Ferir had half noticed in her tone. "What am I? The guild would say a hedge mage, and true enough I practise and study without their remit, but do not be fooled into thinking I lack power. Some might say I'm a witch but that term has just as little meaning, or perhaps too many. A wise woman? Or am I too young? A soothsayer, for I watch the augers." She paused the smile was fuller this time, she was enjoying it. "Perhaps I am just a woman who is too fond of her own voice."

Ferir nodded and yawned. The adrenaline had worn off and exhaustion had replaced it.

"Quite, it is time for rest. It would be unwise to tarry tomorrow." Without another word she rose and made her way to a bedroll.

With her back turned Ferir allowed himself his own wry grin. He was going to sleep with one eye open that night.

Brilliant!! As ever!... ...

This Adriel sounds cool, also she sounds ambiguous...Like we still don't really know if she's good or not... ...Brilliant!!...

The whole magic thing is most excellently done...Loving the whole "massive magics by untrained instinct" type of thing...*Applauds*...

Glacial pace or not...When it appears it's an absolute joy... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Yep, yep, yep, joy it is as always. Somewhere while RL was happening I missed the last post but that's all resolved now.

The magic, the imagery of the use of it and the way it works was wonderful, any descriptions like that are more than appreciated as it gives me a bit more insight into world Bathesda as I am still a new arrival to the games. I've played through Oblivion, very quickly, once, and have now started on the second go at a much more adventurous pace. Also playing Morrowind, one on PC the other Xbox 360...interesting differences...anyway, I'm rambling, sorry.

I do like Adriel, seems to me she is not good or evil she is there for her own reasons and has no intention yet of sharing. I get the feeling if and when we find out 'who' she is we will also know 'what' she is, not that it matters. I like the way she handles herself, not quite likeable but not altogether dislikeable either.

Nice one Olen, and glad to hear about the letting up of study pressure as it will hopefully bring more of your writing to our hungry eyes.

More please.

No worries about the nits. That is why every professional author has an editor after all. Sometimes it takes a new set of eyes to see things.

Ferir could feel that shakes starting. They did after a fight.
This was a good nod to the reality of adrenaline that has nowhere to go.

"You chose to meddle in the affairs of wizards,"
And they are subtle, and quick to anger. Sorry, The LOTR in me could not resist.

"Perhaps I am just a woman who is too fond of her own voice."
Is there any woman who is not? Another I could not help. Adriel is a fascinating character. Certainly well versed in magic, and no stranger to killing. I wonder if there is something personal driving her to hunt necromancers? In any case, I believe it was wise of Ferir not to completely let his guard down around her.

btw. I have about 20,000 words written for the next chapter of the TF. But that is only about halfway through it. So it will be a while yet before I post anything. I have written some little pieces about other characters in the Skyrim section's "Today in Skyrim" topics, both the general and spoiler versions.


nits:
outwith the constraints of morality and the law.
I think you meant without?

I actually like the use of "outwith" here better, as both meanings of "without" would make sense of the sentence, and this variant makes it clearer which one applies - i.e outside or beyond.

Outwith is synonymous with without in being the opposite of within, without being the opposite of with.

I liked that first shaky moment while they all confirmed that the fight was over.

As usual I was completely swept up in the moment, and then Adreil said the resurrection of flesh. That made remember Ferir’s early thoughts about returning to Sundew, and the idea that he moved away from before he actually articulated it. I could be completely wrong, but what a deeply chilling thought!

The whole discussion at the sunken camp was fascinating, especially Ferir dancing along the edge of how wrong he was willing to be with Ruben on one side and Adreil on the other, at least on this issue. I love that she is another shade of grey.

Ferir’s concern for Ruben also caught my attention along with Adreil’s disregard of him. I hope that Ruben also sleeps with one eye open. I can’t guess what Adreil wants with them, but it’s probably not all nice.

As McB said, this story is an absolute joy. I’m savoring the details, fascinated by the magic, and impatient for more, while the characters keep coming back to mind when I should be thinking of other things.

Thank you for your glacial pace!! It allowed me to catch up on this story fairly easily (compared to certain others)

I continue to enjoy the trip through what I consider to be one of the most beautiful areas to be found in Oblivion. And I really like how "Necromancer's Moon" starts here, not as a go-and-see-what's-going-on-because-we're-too-frecking-lazy-to-do-it-ourselves quest as we have in game. I am interested to see what happens next.

And as you continue to develop Ferir and Ruben's characters, I continue to be awed by how you can take characters that are neither heroic or evil and make them into people I care about.

Hey Olen, I'm Renee. This thread bounced up so I just started reading it. I think I'm reading something like 10 stories now here. I had a little trouble in the OP understanding what's going on, but once I "got" what it's about, wow, am I hooked.

Early on when I showed up at Bethsoft forums a couple years back, I wrote a thread that was supposed to be seen through the eyes of a typical Cyrodiilic enemy. I wrote about what a bandit, a necromancer, and other typical NPC's actually feel and witness when one of my adventuring characters discovers their lair, or camp, or whatever. Sadly, Bethsoft has a habit of "cleaning up" its forums, and this particular thread got lost.

...What I'm trying to say is this story reminds me a lot of that thread I started, and Bethsoft destroyed.

Also, as a struggling (I hate the word 'recovering') drug-addict myself, I can certainly relate to the early skooma scenes! Take care and I'll be reading up as time permits.

Bookmark: P26

Sorry for the massive delay in posting. As it turns out a few of my exams were a bit hard. Posting should resume it's sporadic pace now though, there's still a small amount unposted too. This part is very short I'm afriad but the next one has no obvious break for quite a long section and I didn't want to make a monster by attaching this to it. This also serves to get things going again before the next bit which is a biggy.

McBadgere - Glad you like Adriel, to be honest I'm not exactly sure who's good in this piece either.

Athynae - I wouldn't take my view of TES as anywhere near cannon, I'm quite willing to modify it for fiction and fill in blanks. Where there is lore I try to useit as a foundation but in places there either isn't or it makes no sense...

SubRosa - Goos to know you're enjoying, and yes that little reference was waiting to be picked up.

In this case I did mean outwith, that meaning of without isn't one I would ever use. I think it's a dialect thing.

Ghastley - Without meaning to confuse things

Grits - Your comments are always very much appricited, I can guage whether half saidthings are noticed and that the characters are going the right way from them. I'm so glad you picked up on that half formed thought, and as awful as it is who wouldn't think it? The dagger is another shade of grey to play with, there will be more.

Haute - I always aim to create characters who people can sympathise with while they do often questionable or even just wrong things so I'm glad I have people liking them. It makes the whole moral thing more fun to play with. The mages guild quest line is going to be very loosely interpreted in this piece, as you may have guessed.

Renee - Confusion in the OP, I suppose I agree. I like to start in media res and explain after, I glad the hook worked

Where we were: Ruben and Ferir had gone to investigate a purple light (the Shade of the Revenant), been attacked by a pair of necromancers and a zombie before they got to it and then escaped with the mysterious Adreil. We join them, all still alive, in the morning.


3.4 Old Ways

"So where are you headed?" asked Ferir. The sun still lurked below the jagged peaks of the Valus mountains. The pre-dawn light washed the forest in blood.

Adriel gave a short laugh. It was shrill like a weird echo to the absent birdsong. Ferir felt the hair on his neck prickle. "Where the wind blows. We are few, and disorganised."

Ferir let a half smile creep onto his features. Where the wind blows. The phrase could mean a thousand things but Adriel lived it. It took one to know one, and he saw the signs. Ruben was quiet and it wasn't just his obvious malaise. It had been close the night before, had there been another, had luck been against them, had the wine been stronger. Had any of a thousand things happened differently they would be dead, or worse.

But they weren't and the sun was rising and the wind was blowing under the free sky. "How long have you stalked them?"

Adriel went to her pack and started filling it before she replied. "Hard to say. I've noted where they are for years now but never taken much interest. They are changing though. Even so I still walk the wilds more than I watch them. And you? What brings a vagabond and a..." she paused. "I'd say mercenary, but I'm almost tempted by guard..." Ruben looked with a scowl. "It's in your movements, if you don't want people to know don't make it blatant. What brings you here?"

"The wind," answered Ferir as he started on his own pack.

She smiled, this time it reached beyond her mouth, but was no less unsettling. "And you're following it?"

"We're headed for a cave, my former home."

She paused at his tone. "I may follow for a bit, with you if I am welcome."

Ferir looked sidelong at her. "Why?"

"Don't worry I mean you no ill, but you interest me. The timing, the circumstance, you. Can it all be chance?"

***

The trail had been laid by men of some description but had seen no traffic in a long time. Briars and vines crawled over the rounded cobbles. The fingers of nature scratching an old scar. In places tree roots ripped up the surface, in others water had torn trenches though it, the dead grass and dried scum the only remains of the power of winter's floods. Ruben watched the witch jump one where she walked ahead of them. He'd motioned Ferir back almost half and hour before and was grateful the man had kept his silence. His face almost ached from the scowl etched on it, she was out of earshot now surely?

Even so he whispered, "I don't like her."

"I'd noticed." Ferir's tone was dry as ever. At first Ruben had taken him as odd, then unfriendly but there'd been enough chinks in that façade now. True it was probably his way, but it was holding a lot back and Ruben was worried what might happen at the cave. That in itself was a surprise.

He snorted a dry laugh. "There's something weird about her."

"Something you're not used to you mean? She might well have followed anyway so might as well have someone else to gather wood."

Ruben snorted. "At least she's easy on the eye before she kills us."

"If you say so. I doubt she wants to harm us though, she already could have done."

"Fine comfort," said Ruben. A silence stretched between them. What had happened at the cave? What would happen? There was afterward too, what then? Too many questions filled his mind but at least they helped obscure the memories of the previous night. Necromancers. Like before. "Are there many necromancers in the wilds?" he asked.

"Not if you avoid obvious places," replied Ferir, "Ayleid ruins often harbour them but I've never heard of anyone coming across them like that. Though I suppose you wouldn't."

Ruben winced at the half jest.

Ferir glanced then returned his gaze to the road. "Sorry," he said after a moment. Ruben said nothing. "I don't really know about..."

"About my squad being wiped out?" Why wouldn't he drop it?

Ferir didn't reply.

"There were a couple of skeletons, barely anything we smashed them. The place was a maze, all dancing shadows and ancient magic. The stones whisper you know. Then they sealed the door behind us. Picked us off, played their games. Only I escaped." He still felt the fear, like the echo of a shadow and even so it was dreadful. Not quite helpless, but futile. That was the crux of it. And the deaths, and blood. Awake or asleep they occasionally returned.

"And you can't escape things, but a deep enough bottle gives brief relief."

Ruben nodded.

"She's waiting for us."

Ruben glanced up along the long disused track.

The pre-dawn light washed the forest in blood.
It seems not just the light that is doing that...

It looks like Adriel is taken with Ferir. I wonder if that is a good thing, or a bad one? She is more than a little creepy.

And a little scene from Ruben's pov, and a little more insight into what makes him tick. A sole survivor thanks to necromancers.

So far your tale seems to be sending us in a distinctly necomantic direction. I expect we have not run across the last thing that goes bump in the night by far.


nits:
Ferir felt eh hair on his neck prickle.
I suspect that was meant to be a the?

So Ruben isn't so certain about Adriel, is he now? Honestly, I don't blame him. It's good to see him developing a sense of paranoia, because that's what keeps one alive in uncertain times. And with necromancers all about, it's a good thing. Just as long as Ruben doesn't take it too far . . .

Adriel (or as Ruben thinks of her, “the witch” ) may be easy on Ruben’s eye, but she is definitely creepy! Especially when she said “we are few.” I get a feeling that she might be considering a new recruit.

But they weren't and the sun was rising and the wind was blowing under the free sky.

That says a lot about how Ferir copes, even as he is drawn back to Sundew.

Funny how while Ruben was wondering what happened at the cave, Ferir was wondering what happened with Ruben’s squad. Adreil’s new strangeness sort of emphasizes how much Ruben and Ferir are getting used to one another. Ruben is surprised by his own concerns about Ferir’s crumbling reserve, and then Ferir shows his perception with the deep bottle remark. A lot in a short episode.

Well I do...Mysterious, powerful, hot...Cryptic to the point of confusedness...Sounds like the wife... ...

Excellently done...Loved the heart to heart the lads had...

Looking forward to the giant next post...*Rubs hands with glee*... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...