The Apprentice
Readme: This story may contain references to my other story, Ahnassi's Last Stand, which I submitted way back in April. Obviously, the events of that story happened before the events of this story. Keep in mind that I'm not saying you have to read that story before you read this one, but it might be a good idea.
Also, this is an unfinished story that I started working on not too long ago, after about a nine-month break from I would have finished more before posting it, but I wanted to see what others thought and whether or not you think I should continue. I also want to hear any other thoughts you have on the story, whether it's moving too fast or it's not descriptive enough, etc. You too, flamers. Give me all you got. I'm a perfectionist; I need to know these things!
Thanks in advance for your reviews. Good writing.
-Killer D-
The Story: 80 years ago, Raja-Dee (nickname: Killer D) destroyed the metal monster Akulakhan and forever ended the reign of the devil god Dagoth Ur. House Dagoth, like House Dwemer, disappeared forever without a trace. Raja-Dee fulfilled his destiny in Morrowind and became the Nerevarine. Now, in the present years, all of his friends and family have passed on. The Nerevarine spends most of his time to himself, locked in his manor atop the Odai Plateau. He finds immunity to age an enormous burden, and a curse. And as Raja prepares to give his final farewells to the world a young Dunmer girl travels out of the city of Balmora, seeking aid from the legendary god-hero.
A quiet rapping was heard on the door.
Raja-Dee jumped into reality from his dreaded sleep. He was tired, almost as if he had just awoke into another dream. Each of his days was a twisted nightmare full of confusion and passionate longing s for the past. His body would wrap itself in tight coils of pain for days until he eventually gave in. His mind would assault him with bloody images of murder, fictional but believable, and his loved ones were always the victims. Sometimes he would find himself holding the bloody blade. It would weigh more than one could ever imagine, consuming every ounce of energy his muscles had to offer. And cold blood would always stream from the blade coating everything in its path; its handle, the Nerevarine's arm, and eventually the Nerevarine himself.
Raja ran his fingers over his forehead, examining the liquid that settled on his skin. It was nothing more than a cold sweat. No blood had been spilled, no murder had taken place. It was all just a dream. Raja tightened his throat and responded to the knocking.
"Who is it?"
A moment later, he heard the voice of a young, innocent girl. "Only a small child."
Raja forced a smile as he went to the door. The child sounded so sweet, so trouble-free that he wouldn't dare place his burden on her. He opened the door and found a quiet Dunmer girl, no older than eight, with her hands clasped together behind her back. Her skin was a healthy gray-blue, and her eyes beamed red with excitement. She had thick black hair that flowed smoothly to her neck. She wore an ear-to-ear smile and, beneath that, a dingy brown shirt tucked into a fresh clean skirt.
"Hello." Raja rasped. "Can I help you?"
The girl responded with a 'hullo' and said nothing more, only swayed from side to side. Raja waited a while before speaking up again.
"You've come a long way from town. Surely you've traveled here for a reason."
The girl nodded silently. Again Raja waited patiently for a response.
"Well?" He said with growing impatience. The girl looked into his eyes, froze momentarily, then turned and bolted back towards the city. Raja watched in utter confusion as the girl dodged corkbulbs and hurdled over roots, not once looking back. After a few minutes, the Nerevarine shrugged it off and returned to his solitude.
The next day, there was another quiet knocking on the Nerevarine's door. He was awake this time and quickly went to the door. He opened it and, once again, found the young Dunmer child on his doorstep. He was caught by surprise, but quickly pulled himself together.
"Oh. Hello again. Is there something I can help you with?"
Once again, the girl looked at him with pleading eyes.
"Yes." She peeped.
"Well, let's hear it!" Raja squatted down to the girl's eye level and perked his ears. The girl looked at him, bit her lower lip, and then ran of without a word. Raja stood and groaned. The kid was playing tricks with him, which he was sure of. He retreated into his mansion, quietly closing the door behind him.
By the third day, Raja had dragged a comfortable wooden chair to one of the windows near the front of the house, where he had a clear view of his doorstep. He sat intently, tapping his left index finger on a skooma pipe that he had between his lips, his gut telling him the girl was bound to return. Sure enough she appeared from beyond the hilltop, walking quickly, with a look of determination on her face. She hopped up onto his doorstep, and knocked on his door. When he was able to get a closer look at her, he noticed she wore a newer shirt, brand new in fact. It was only a simple traveler's shirt, nothing extravagant. Perhaps she or her parents couldn't afford a finer shirt. Or perhaps she was planning to do some traveling. If she was traveling, it was only unfortunate that she hadn't left today. He sighed and sat back in his chair, watching the girl tap her hands on the wooden door. He remained seated, watching a bead of sweat form on the girl's face. She shifted uncomfortably, then knocked again moments later.
So what's it going to be, girl? Thought Raja. As if the girl heard his thoughts, she turned and walked off back towards Balmora. Raja sighed, sat back in his chair, and closed his eyes. The girl was going to continue bothering him; he could just tell. He then decided that, later that day, he would go into the city. There were some questions he wanted to ask.
The streets were flooded that day; flooded with civilians. Flooded with shoppers, flooded with children playing games, flooded with rats picking at discarded waste. Flooded with husbands and their wives, young ones with their friends. Flooded with children and their siblings. Absolutely flooded with people.
The local clothier was enjoying every moment of the fiasco. One hand was reaching out to the swarm, everyone waving gold coins in the air, while the other hand swam in his desktop coin chest. He held a high smile in the heavenly deluge of gold.
"Good day, sera!" Called the clothier over the din. Raja replied with a gentle wave. "May I be of service to you? Perhaps a new robe from my most recent shipment?"
Raja forced his way through the crowd, which began to break apart in his presence. "Yes, a new robe sounds just perfect."
The clothier smiled and stepped to the side of the counter, revealing half a dozen hanging robes of exquisite beauty.
"I'll take the gold one in the middle."
"A fine choice, sera. Anything else I may get for you?"
The Nerevarine paused.
"Yes. Yes, there is. I'd like a shirt, my friend. A traveler's shirt, nothing fancy."
The clothier threw his hands in the air, accidentally spilling much of his gold. The noise became a roar as dozens of patrons threw themselves behind the counter in a frenzied attempt to retrieve the lost money. The clothier quickly shooed them away with a broom. "Forgive me sera, but I sold my last shirt. My last traveler's shirt went yesterday, but I've already sent a request to Caldera for a new shipment. Hey, you!"
A young Dunmer man made off with a handful of money, and the clothier groaned. "Damn vandals. Anyhow, um, what was I saying?"
Raja paused again. "You were mentioning to me the person who bought your last shirt."
The clothier held a confused expression, but it disappeared quickly. "Ah, yes. It was a young girl. Sweet little thing. Her parents weren't with her, but she asked so kindly for a shirt. She wasn't wearing one at the time, so I was more than happy to give it to her."
Fresh shirt? No parents nearby? Surely this could not be the same girl?
"I've heard rumors," the clerk continued, lowering his voice substantially, "that the girl has no family. I've seen her around the city for the past several days, I've talked to her many times, she's a fine young girl indeed. Told me she and her parents were going deep into the heart of the Ashlands to live like the Ashlanders do, alone and in solitude, you know. Haven't seen her since. If the rumors I've heard are true...poor girl. Wish I could do something, but I've got problems of my own. What do you think, sera?"
Raja handed him the necessary gold and draped the robe over his left arm. The clothier looked up at him and cocked his eyebrow.
"Sera?"
The Argonian left without answering. He shifted through a river of hands, reaching and stretching for blessings or the simple touch of his cloak. The sky grew dark and gloomy, crying heavy tears that drowned the streets. The ground became wet and muddy, and Rethan manor seemed to sink into the dirt, bound to be forgotten by society.
When Raja arrived at his home Lliryn, a Dunmer friend of his who also shared one of the houses on Odai Plateau, greeted him.
"Good evening, Master Raja." Said the Dunmer. "Need any special tools? My prices are the best."
"Not today, Lliryn."
Raja walked into his room and hung his new robe in the corner wardrobe, next to a full suit of glass armor. He began to get undressed for the undoubtedly bad sleep he was going to have, but hesitated. Thoughts of the young Dunmer girl, alone and helpless in the wastes of Vvardenfell, plagued his mind. He considered what the clothier had said said. A sweet, innocent girl with no parents, searching for a way to escape the world. Spending your life in solitude; that's no way to live. Perhaps she didn't even mean to be rude. Perhaps she wasn't trying to fool him. But why would she come to his house again and again and run off each time? There were several questions he had for the girl. However, now was not the time to trouble himself with his thoughts. Raja relaxed, pulling the sheets up to his chin and enjoying the overall comfort of his large bed. He forced a yawn and tried to sleep, knowing that he had to conserve his energy for the search that was to commence the next day.
Before the moons could rest themselves for the day, and before the sun could greet Odai Plateau with its warm light, Raja-Dee had been up and about preparing for the day's journey. Most of his night had been spent tossing and turning under the covers, waiting for at least a touch of drowsiness to claim his senses. At two in the morning, he gave up hope of falling asleep and took to repairing his glass armor and ebony sword until his arms began to pain him. Several hours later, he had awaken his strongest guar, Corky, and outfitted the animal with traveling bags containing three day's worth of food for two. Many of the early hours of the morning had been spent traveling from Balmora back to Odai Plateau with sacks full of extra provisions and a chitin shortsword for the girl, so she could defend herself if need be. That is, if he ever happened to find her.
When he finally loaded the last bag of supplies onto Corky's back, Raja slumped onto his bed and suddenly became drowsy. He closed his eyes to let sleep claim him, but he couldn't help but notice a small young boy sitting on a chair in a corner of the room that was layered by shadow. Raja could barely make out the features of the boy, but he noticed the boy was Argonian, between the ages of six and eight, and had a complexion much like the Nerevarine's. His face was battered and bruised with long cuts streaking his skin, and dark with stains of dried blood. The boy was thin and poorly built, and his limbs oozed blood from recently formed cuts, but he had a mischievous grin as if he felt no pain, or as if he was trying very hard to hide the pain. Raja stared into the boy's dark bloodshot eyes, watching the veins pulse, when suddenly the boy put a skooma pipe between his lips and asked in a very croaky voice "who are you?"
The Nerevarine shifted his weight nervously, not because of the question, but because of the dark atmosphere surrounding the boy.
"Who are you?" Asked the young Argonian again, louder this time. Raja felt a lump form in his throat, and cringed as it slowly began to choke him.
"You don't know me, boy?" Asked the elder Argonian. He sat erect with pride. "I am Killer D, the warrior, son. The Nerevarine. Slayer of gods, protector of all Morrowind. I am the greatest hero ever to ever set foot on this island. It would please me if you told me what you're doing here."
"That's interesting." Said the young one calmly. "You look in the least bit a warrior to me, let alone a god-hero."
"Surely your eyes deceive you, boy. I am the greatest warrior in Morrowind. Not once have I been defeated. You have heard of my achievements over the devil Dagoth Ur, have you not? Perhaps you've been given some background of my accomplishments over Hircine, or the goddess Almalexia?"
"Dagoth Ur was a fool, leading you directly to the Heart of Lorkhan while it was undefended. He was better off pointing it out to you on your map. He even dropped his heart ring while fleeing from you." He chuckled and extended his hand from the shadow, letting an object in his palm gleam under the sunlight entering from the window. "Hircine was none wiser. Letting you control your own destiny after you destroyed the frost mammoth Karstaag. He should have killed you in his true form as soon as you entered Huntsman's Hall, when you said you were most vulnerable." Another small object in his hand sparkled in the sunlight. "And Almalexia... Well, let's just say fate happened to smile upon you for the time." A third object fell from his hand and seemed to float in mid-air directly beneath his arm, also reflecting the sunlight. "A true warrior is built through hard work and dedication. A true warrior can channel power from within himself." Turning his arm over, he let the three objects tumble onto the floor. They rolled across the blue carpeting and came to a stop at the Nerevarine's feet. When he picked them up in his hand, he noticed each had a cloudy aura surrounding them. Two enchanted rings and one enchanted amulet.
"Where did you find these?" Asked Raja. One of the rings was the Ring of the Urshilaku, a gift given to Raja by the Ashkhan of the Urshilaku that pumped added amounts of adrenaline through the bearer's body and helped them run at greater speeds. The other ring was a Fighter Ring given to Raja by his Blades master Caius Cosades, a common ring that gave the bearer extra strength and endurance. The amulet had a rather unpleasant background. It belonged to a mad Bosmer by the name of Gaenor, and brought large amounts of good fortune to the bearer.
"A warrior does not rely on enchanted rings when his life is on the line," said the young Argonian, not even acknowledging that Raja had asked a question. "When Dagoth Ur had you on the ground in his chambers with his foot on your back and his nails digging into your flesh, you called upon a ring to grant you extra strength so you could throw him off your back and drive a sword through his chest, yet you yourself did nothing. When Hircine appeared in front of you in Huntsman's Hall in the form of a bear, you called upon a ring to grant you extra speed so you could avoid his blows, yet you yourself did nothing. When Almalexia evaded your sword and sliced through your armor with Hopesfire in the dome of Sotha Sil, you called upon an amulet to grant you extra luck so you could evade her attacks and burn her flesh with Trueflame. Yet still, you yourself did nothing. Why is that? I thought you said you were a warrior."
The Nerevarine hesitated. "Yes, I am a warrior. I just carry enchantments as a reassurance and a last resort."
"I've seen you fight," replied the young Argonian, putting a sarcastic emphasis on 'fight'. "Summoning daedra with a rusty amulet against a crowd of smugglers when you haven't the nerve to fight them yourself. Frantically chanting words from a scroll when a winged twilight is hastily making its way towards you with the look of death in its eyes. You're afraid on the inside. You show it a lot more than you may think."
"What do you want me to do? Destroy all of my rings? My amulets? Burn my scrolls?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I want you to do. I want you to rid yourself of every last enchantment you have. From the large to the small, from those bound to your shield to those bound to the ring on your little finger."
"Before I do, if I do, answer me this. Why should I listen to a child?"
The Argonian boy stood from the wooden chair, dripping purple blood into a pool on its wooden frame. Instead of having a mischievous grin, he had a stern look, and as he stepped forward into the sunlight Raja gasped in horror. He was now able to take in every detail of the boy's face, from the sagging skin on his face, to the scar traveling from just beneath his forehead diagonally across his right eye, to the nick on his left ear. The boy was him. He was the boy.
"How is that possible? Get away from me!"
The boy tore the cloak off Raja's shoulders, exposing the Argonian's bare flesh and the countless amulets that rested on it. The boy then began ripping amulets from the Nerevarine's neck, throwing them across the room in a haphazard fashion. Then he looked at the ten glittering rings on Raja's fingers, and pulled those off as well. Not since he arrived on Morrowind had Raja felt so cold and bare. Without the constant aura of the enchantments surrounding him, he felt as though a part of his life was missing. There was a hole in him caused by a sense of lost security. Without the magic surrounding him, there was almost a sense of hopelessness.
"A familiar feeling, isn't it?" Asked the boy. Raja said nothing. He could only gape with his mouth open. "You're the fighter I've always wanted to be. Protecting the innocent and destroying evil. A great hero, known by everyone throughout the land. That was my dream ever since I was five. Eighty years ago, I was delighted to look upon myself and realize I had become the Nerevarine. I had killed a god and freed an entire nation. I was living my greatest fantasy. But look at me now." He cleared his throat and spit a glob of fresh blood on Raja's bare foot. "I've forgotten why I picked up a sword in the first place, to become a great hero. Not to... not to turn up spending the rest of my life isolated from society in a desolate mansion in the middle of nowhere with no one to talk to except for myself, counting my teeth with an inane hope that someday blissful death will overtake me in my sleep!"
Raja felt long forgotten rage beginning to build up in him, until he could no longer contain himself. He exploded onto his feet, and with one hand grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck. He lifted him until his feet hovered above the ground. "The first thing you must understand is that I am a genuine warrior, and I have never nor will ever place my fate on a shoddy ring or amulet. The second thing you must understand is that the love of my life has passed away only recently, and the reason behind my isolation is the normal cycle of grieving that every being of intellect must undergo at some time in their life. And the third thing you must understand," he brought the boy to the window and smudged his cheek against the glass, "is that I am immune to death, and as long as a sword doesn't pierce this heart I will remain on this Earth, living out my duty as the god and protector of Morrowind. Nothing and no one can change that, not even myself. I won't let you!" He drew his arm back and, with a loud crash that almost seemed to rupture his spine, sent the boy through the second story window. The window shattered into a million tiny glass pieces, each one tearing at the boy's flesh with streaks of purple blood running down their surfaces and glowing in the sunlight. Raja felt thousands of sharp pains coating his entire body, as if he could feel each sharp piece of glass tearing at his own skin. A symphony of chimes followed as each small chunk of glass rebounded off the cold hard floor. Then there was a loud thud.
Raja was breathing heavily, and buckets of sweat were pouring down his face. After a moment, he heard the sound of footsteps climbing his stairs and two of his servants entered his room. They both stared in shock at the broken glass window.
"What happened here, sera?" Asked the first. He glanced at Raja's naked form then immediately turned away. "Oh...um...please excuse us, sera."
Raja hesitated for a second, collecting his thoughts. He looked at the wooden chair in the corner; there was no longer blood on the wooden frame and the area was as bright as any other part of the room. He went over to the window and looked outside; a sack full of guar meat lay on the ground just below. He paused again. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing happened. I just...I'm not feeling to well. I shall be off soon. Leave me."
The two servants nodded, then hastily made their way out of the room. The Nerevarine sighed, then opened his armoire and began getting dressed, all the while considering what his younger self had said to him. Hearing the boy's words had drained him of energy, and he felt tired enough to sleep, but he didn't bother. Eighty years ago, he made a promise to protect all of Morrowind's inhabitants, no matter how insignificant they were in the eyes of others. Now was not the time to give up on that promise.
He slipped on the glass cuirass and picked up Trueflame, which was resting in its golden scabbard. The burning blade emitted no heat, and the blaze emitted no light, but Raja knew it was there. The magic that had sustained him through countless fights was there whether he wanted it or not. He sighed and let the massive sword fall to the bottom of the wardrobe. He headed down the stairs and picked up a silver longsword that had been resting in his repair station. A servant noticed his haste and breathed a wish good luck. Raja responded by slamming the door on his way out.