"Now here is a riddle to guess if you can
Who is the monster and who is the man?"
-Clopin, Hunchback of Notre Dame
The first thing that struck Savari was the pain; her head felt as though someone had tried to use it as a chopping block for firewood. The second thing was the heat; her tongue felt as though it was stuck to the roof of her mouth and the sun was beating down on her.
Slowly she opened her eyes. The world was badly blurred and her head immediately began to spin. It took her three tries to get her arms into position beneath her, and twice that many times to stagger to her feet. It only got worse once she was upright, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to take stock.
She was an adolescent Khajiit, with fur black as an Elsweyr jungle night, and eyes that burned with cold, blue fire when angered. She and her parents were traveling Skyrim to buy and sell. Merchants…. She and her family were merchants...
Her stomach plummeted and she forced her eyes wide open despite the brightness of the sunlight. "Fado!" [Mother!] Savari cried, "Ahnurr!" [Father!] She looked around wildly.
It took less than a heartbeat to put together what had happened… Their cart was smashed, their horse was dead, and her parents lay in pools of blood. A humid breeze blew off of the hot springs nearby, stirring her mother's tail gently and causing her father's shirt to move slightly, giving them both the illusion of life.
But when she touched them in desperate hope, both were cold under their fur. Their eyes, once sparkling and full of life, were silvered in death. No longer would her father's smooth voice call out his wares. Never again would her mother jingle coins, wink at the young Khajiit and whisper that the three of them would soon build a trading post for travelers and hunters to come to visit.
Her head gave a painful throb and she winced, reaching back to delicately touch the back of her head. Her fingers encountered something warm and sticky: half dried blood. Someone had struck her on the head and left her where she had fallen, presuming her dead.
The stench of unwashed human still hung about the site, particularly around the cart. A painfully slow investigation revealed what Savari had already suspected… Bandits had struck, and stripped the cart of nearly everything. There was nothing left, save what her parents wore and a single, heavy chest that showed signs that the bandits had tried and failed to open it. It had been left behind as too heavy to cart off with the horse dead.
Grief washed through the Khajiit and she sank into the scant shade cast by the remains of the cart. She had no one, and virtually nothing save the clothes on her back and the dagger she carried to defend herself against wolves. She curled up into a ball and whimpered, grief and helplessness overwhelming the thirst that still parched her throat. She didn't know how long she huddled there, but a voice snapped her back to full alert.
"By the Nine, what in Oblivion 'appened 'ere?"
Her head jerked up and she found herself staring at an armored Dunmer, kneeling by Savari's mother and putting two fingers to her throat. His back was to her.
Silent as a Sabrecat, Savari rose to her feet, teeth bared. She drew her dagger. She didn't know who this man was or why he was manhandling the body of her mother and she didn't care. It was going to be the last thing he ever did.
She took a step, and her boot scuffed.
The Dunmer spun, hand on the hilt of an elven sword at his hip. The two stared at one another, muscles tense.
"Get away from my fado!" Savari snarled, "Haven't you done enough to her?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy! Slow down. I was just checking for her pulse." He held up his free hand in supplication, but she noted that the other remained firmly on the hilt of his sword.
"You won't find it. She's dead," Savari snapped, "My father too. Now, you renrij, you huna izra!"
"Hold it, hold it!" The Dunmer now held up both hands in a clear sign of both surrender and non hostility, "I'm sorry sera [madam], but I am not fluent in Ta'agra. Please calm down a little and try again.. In plain Cyrodilic, if you please."
Savari's tail slowly and reluctantly swung to the right in acknowledgement. She took several deep breaths and growled slowly and clearly, "I said, 'Now, you bandit, you back off!' "
"Ah." The Dunmer exhaled slowly and dropped his hands. "That makes a bit more sense. But m'fraid you got me all wrong, sera. I'm no bandit. I'm just a lone adventurer. I just 'appened upon this place by accident."
Savari stared into his eyes for a long moment, then slowly sheathed her dagger. "Wish you'd come a bit earlier then."
His mouth tightened and he looked sadly at her parents' bodies, "Wish I 'ad too, sera."
They were both silent for a moment, then the Dunmer looked a bit more closely at Savari. "You're swaying a bit in the breeze there, little one. Are you 'urt?"
"Hnnngh… They knocked me out; hit my head." Gingerly she touched the back of her head again. The blood had crusted and matted in her fur, and her head gave another throb in protest.
" 'ere. Drink this potion." To Savari's surprise, the Dunmer rummaged in his backpack and produced a vial of red liquid.
"I… I cannot. I have nothing. No money. Nothing to exchange." Savari shook her head in refusal, even as pain made her wince at the motion.
"Don't worry about it." The Dunmer popped the cork and pressed it gently into her hands, "It's pretty clear you need it."
Savari hesitated, then downed the potion. As the liquid poured down her throat, she felt it settle in her belly like a drop of warm sunshine. But rather than sitting there, it rapidly diffused through her, filling her with warmth that was entirely different from the sun. The pain in her head faded away, as did the burning thirst.
" 'Ere, drink another."
The Khajiit hesitated only briefly, then downed that potion too.
Her head immediately began to clear, and she felt strength beginning to flood through her body. She still had nothing, and no one, and she had no idea where to go to start her life over, but she no longer felt quite so helpless anymore either.
The Dunmer's kind red eyes were watching her face, and he smiled a little. "Looks like you're feelin' a bit better. Me name's Daryn, The Deft. I'm an adventurer, on me way to Kynesgrove for a bit of a rest after me last adventure."
"Savari," she returned. "Merchant's daughter." She swallowed another surge of grief, then narrowed her eyes coldly. "Tell me Daryn, are there any places where a bandit might hole up around here?"
" 'Round 'ere? No, sera." Daryn's eyes were kind and sympathetic, "The nearest place be a rundown bit o' fort called Mistwatch, and they be 'alf a day's walk from 'ere. But they aren't in the habit of killing, like. Prefer to capture rich looking folk and ransom them for a bit of gold. They be a right nuisance, but as I hear of it, they like their gold easy-like, without the bloodshed. They like their goods and valuables in good working order, see?" He glanced at the smashed carriage and dead horse and shook his head sadly. "M'fraid you got hit by a small, roving band. They'll 'ave 'eaded into the sunset with things they could carry."
Savari couldn't help but growl in frustration, tail lashing.
"Listen," Daryn said quietly, "Like I said, 'm going to Kynesgrove. I'm gonna pick up some rumors and see if there's somewhere I can explore. But I 'ave an offer for you. I can take you to a town and you can find a caravan to join… Or you can stay with me."
Savari turned slightly to give Daryn a sideways stare, "With you?"
He gave her a small smile, "Told ya, I'm an adventurer. If you're willing, I can teach you 'ow to survive in tombs and ruins. You can learn the skills necessary to make a fortune, and 'ow to live long enough to enjoy it. I could also use a partner… someone smarter than the average villager who can 'elp me get out of tight spots."
Savari looked at the bodies of her parents and felt tears prick her eyes. "I have nothing better to do..."
Daryn nodded, "Please excuse me if I seem a bit callous, sera, but I think we should take what we can." Daryn knelt by the chest and pulled out some lockpicks.
Savari looked away but nodded. Her parents wouldn't be needing anything from the chest.
The Dunmer soon pulled an iron mace out of the chest. "You never know what kind of fight you'll get into," he advised, handing the mace to her, "Always 'ave backup weapons. We'll get you a bow for ranged weaponry and some daggers for throwin' when we get to a proper town."
The young Khajiit nodded solemnly, and Daryn showed her a few fundamental strikes.
He paused then, and looked at Savari with a deep sadness in his eyes, "I am sorry, sera. I do not have a shovel. The ground here is too 'ard to bury them without the necessary tools, and we 'ave no way to transport their bodies to a place where they can be buried."
Savari swallowed hard, then nodded, "It.. it is all right. They are gone. They are… not here anymore. Nature will claim their empty shells. I am sorry… for what I said before. For calling you a bandit."
The Dunmer smiled kindly, "Forgiven. Let us go."
.
She spent five years with the Dunmer, learning and exploring. He taught her how to spot traps, how to trip them safely, and how to avoid the ones she couldn't trip. She learned how to make camp in secure places. He taught her how to scout an area and make sure it was safe before lying down to sleep.
"There's no greater gift to those you care about than giving them the power to protect themselves," he often quoted with a kind smile.
By the time she was an adult, she had learned nearly everything there was to know about adventuring. She was quick, agile, and not afraid to face danger with teeth and weapons bared. Her natural talent for seeing in dim light meant that she was soon spotting pressure plates before her mentor did, and deft hands soon sprang traps safely. Picking locks came as second nature to her, as did sneaking. As the daughter of a merchant, her knowledge of the value of objects came in handy, and she found them good prices when they went into town.
As for Daryn, he was calm, steady and skilled in magic. He taught Savari the use of the bow, and in the heat of battle, she never feared the whizzing of his arrows around her. What he aimed at, he hit, and even when the missile impacted close enough for her to feel the air moving, she never flinched. It was Daryn, more often than not, who patched the pair of them up during bad trips. And, bewilderingly, it was Daryn who ended up needing patching up far more than the Khajiit.
After Savari had long since lost count of the times she had to extract her mentor from a situation that he couldn't get himself out of, he wryly remarked that the Dumner race was said to be ill favored by fate.
"Me own favor in fate 'as been a bit dodgier than most." He told her with grim good humor. "Though they say 'aving a Khajiit's clever claws can make things easier on ye."
"In other words, you keep me around to try to mitigate a fate that seems to have taken a personal offense to your very existence," Savari teased, "I see how it is, ser.[sir] You get your pointy ears in trouble and I am the one who gets to haul them back out again."
He chuckled and gave one of her own ears a gentle tweak. "And don't think for a second that I am not grateful, sera," he retorted. "I would 'ave died many times over without you."
"As would I, without your teachings." Savari twitched her tail to the right.
"Let's just call it even, then."
"Ha, call it even if I can get a shot of Cyrodilic Brandy into my belly by tonight. After those Falmer, I need a bit of fire back in my veins." Savari put her hands on her lower back and arched backward, feeling -as well as hearing- her spine crack. "Nasty little beasts just about drove me into the ground."
"Fair enough, my girl. Fair enough." The Dunmer grinned at her.
Savari's cool blue eyes softened and she smiled back at him. She loved him, not as a husband, but as family. The pair were close as kin, and cared for one another as such. He had earned her trust, something she normally guarded with a jealousy to rival a Jarl and their most prized possessions.
Her parents weren't forgotten, of course. But he had taken her in when she had had nothing, and had given her healing potions for free, even when his own scars told the story of how often he got hurt in his line of work. He had not hesitated to extend a hand to help her, asking nothing in return. That level of kindness was virtually unheard of, especially in a hard land where everything had to be worked for with difficulty. The older she got, the luckier she realized she was to have met him.
The next morning, they would be leaving the cave they were adventuring in and head south past Darkwater Crossing before swinging east and then south to Shor's Stone to pick up rumors and to replenish their bags.
Hopefully they could avoid having to deal with any more trouble for a while.