Warnings: As usual my english skills which definitely are deteriorating in some areas of spelling. There is a hint of slash here and there – some kisses and looks but nothing more and I'm shocked to say there's not even strong language in here. O_o
Disclaimer: Viranus Donton, Modryn Oreyn and all the others are property of Bethesda. I just wanted to put some meat on the prescripted plot. No money was made with this.
As always, feedback would be greatly appreciated. Have fun! =)
Elegy for a mute man
Mists lay heavy on the meadows surrounding the southern borders of the city of Chorrol. Early morning light painted the world in gold and fresh greens, promising a hot day and more than enough sun to dry even the dew in the lower parts of the rolling countryside. Harvest had already started and on the higher grounds reapers could be seen, mowing wheat and barley with languid strokes of their scythes. Larks flew around them. Having been startled from their nests on the ground they sang in flight and gladly took the opportunity of feasting on likewise startled insects. A few yards behind farm hands and older teenagers could be seen who gathered the stalks in sheaves. Sun's Rest, a work free holiday, was only a few days past and everyone of them was still full of song and stories to share with their workmates.
No one saw the small trek of people at first which emerged from the shadowy woods along the road to the Imperial City. As they drew nearer one or two farmhands looked up and discovered the handful of warriors who led two horses between them. They stared and wondered at the decidedly dejected feeling the small group was emitting and nudged their mates to stop with work.
„Do you know …?", „Can you see …?", „Who is this?"
More and more people stopped with work and watched the approaching figures with apprehension. The fact that they were travelling on foot indicated that they were from around County Chorrol, an assumption that was further assured by the two chestnut horses they were leading – a breed that was typical for Chorrol's North Country Stables.
„This is Harold!", cried one girl suddenly and started to run towards the group.
„Fighter's Guild?", asked another uncertainly and was answered with an insecure nod from a third. „But …" She didn't have to speak further as everyone was suddenly thinking the same: Could this be the large Fighter's Guild host that had set out a week ago? Twenty men and women, all seasoned fighters and under the personal leadership of Vitellus Donton, the Guildmaster's older son? What had happened? Suddenly all work was forgotten as they rushed towards the defeated warriors to see who had returned and who hadn't, urgently praying that it wasn't someone they knew and loved.
The city itself was still in the early morning sleepiness with barely a citizen around as the now larger trek arrived in the central plaza that harboured the Great Oak, the city's heraldic symbol, and was home to the major guilds. By chance both the Guildmaster of the Fighter's Guild and her steward, the Fighter's Guild Champion Modryn Oreyn, were already present as the group arrived to hear the report the most senior survivor made. Oreyn's face remained stony as he listened to the accounts but Vilena Donton's became gradually whiter. She reached for support on one wall, but swayed in silent agony as the lump figure that was tied to one of the horses was uncovered to be the corpse of her older son. A thick bandage around his head did little to cover the cloven skull and with a small moan she fainted. Modryn Oreyn caught her before her head hit the wall and carried her inside the dark guildhall, leaving only the younger son standing in the doorway, white faced and big eyed, to watch as the sad trek of warriors led the horses around the house into the yard where the corpse of their late commander was unbound and prepared for burial.
In latter weeks Viranus Donton knew that only his year long training carried him through that day. The abysmal battle had been fought five days ago and it had taken every ounce of self control he could muster to step next to the coffin and kiss the brow of his brother's corpse which had begun to turn in the hot weather. But Vitellus had been washed and clad in his best armour, flowers had been strewn into the coffin and incense lit in the Great Chapel of Stendarr, so he got through it, while his mother could not. Oreyn stayed next to her, supporting her with his presence and not with kind words and he loved the Dunmer for that.
Later on was the burial in the small graveyard next to the city walls, a green and usually quiet place but Vitellus had been popular with the local youth and many lads and lasses came to say their farewells. And finally the sun set over a fresh grave and Viranus walked back to the guildhouse, feeling the cotton slip from his mind, allowing the bitter truth to surface and the gut wrenching pain that came with it. His feet automatically carried him up the stairs and then to the right, into the small corridor that led to the archer's tower and lower storerooms. He climbed up the stepladder to the small round room at the top of the tower, yearning to be alone and found Eduard Hodge waiting there for him. Wordlessly, the Bard opened his arms and Viranus walked straight into them, clinging to the other man as if to a lifeline and cried.
It was still dark outside when Viranus awoke. Suddenly wide awake he sat up in his bed and tried to will his beating heart into silence so he could listen properly for any strange sounds in the house but couldn't make out any at first. He swung his legs out of bed and carefully crept towards the door that separated his room from the rest of the house. A crease appeared between his brows as he heard a faint sniffing noise from the kitchen, followed by the chink of a closing door.
The thought of a burglary never crossed his mind as he walked back the small hallway to a window that overlooked the central plaza and right, the shadowy figure of his mother could be seen walking briskly towards the other end of the town, taking a short-cut over Arborwatch and chapel premises. He leaned his forehead against the cool windowpane and glanced sideways at the third door that led away from the hallway – Vitellus' room was behind there, horribly devoid of life and a gaping, festering wound in their family's home. The familiar stabbing pain in stomach and throat appeared but he didn't cry any more. Vitellus, he knew, had fought valiantly to cover his comrades' retreat and thus had died in the way he would have wished for. Viranus had come to realize this and was glad for his brother who had often shuddered involuntarily when seeing old warriors limp along on crutches, trying to manage the aftermath of a life that had left them crippled.
Of course, it would have been better if Vitellus had lived to his prime but there was nothing to be done if fate or the Gods had willed it otherwise. But it was small comfort, he knew, for his mother who had to deal with the guilt of having sent her child on a mission that had caused his demise. He had been awoken like this a few times over the last two weeks but he was sure that his mother went to his brother's grave every night as her gaunt looks and hollow eyes told him.
He shuddered as he became aware of the cold that was creeping into him through his bare feet and went back to bed. There was no point in waiting. His mother wouldn't come back until early morning and he would not disturb her in her chosen solitude. As his glance fell on the small leather bound diary on his desk he hoped that she had at least one confidant to share her sorrows with.
The slam with which Modryn Oreyn closed the door behind the daily messenger resonated through the whole house and made the glasses in the cupboards jingle. The few occupants of the guild hall's ground floor looked up in dread. Ever since the Blackwood Company had established business in Cyrodiil they had gotten fewer and fewer contracts and Oreyn's mood had become darker and darker in response. Wary eyes followed the Dunmer as he went up the stairs to Vilena Donton's desk, the open structure of the house carrying his voice well around it.
"Only four contracts today and two of them small fry", the Champion opened and, by the sound of it, slammed the letters onto the guildmaster's desk. A few minutes of silence followed as she read through them, deciding whom to entrust with fulfilling them. Downstairs, Viranus tried to concentrate on the training schedule he was drafting for the new recruits but like every day he felt the small flutter of nervousness and anticipation, hoping that finally he would be given a contract again.
"These two go to Burz in Cheydinhal", he heard his mother say with a sinking feeling. "They are close to his hall anyway and this one's for Azzan. Escorting mages and clearing out a Deadra shrine is something for the more experienced fighters, which leaves the scouting mission …"
The small flutter came back.
"May I suggest someone?", Oreyn asked and his tone hinted strongly that Vilena should already know whom he meant. Her answer surely showed that she interpreted it that way.
"No", she said thoughtfully. "This is a stealth mission. I thought of sending Hodge – he's good at scouting."
A long silence followed in which Viranus absentmindedly rolled the quill between his fingers, wondering whether Oreyn would object and whom the Dunmer had had in mind. Eduard was a good choice, he had to admit, as the man had shown more than once his ability to find his way in foreign terrain. And he surely could use the money. But it was hard to cope with the disappointment.
"I'll tell him then", Oreyn said just before heavy steps heralded the descending Champion and Viranus, along with the others, hurried to return to work. He cursed as he spotted the mess his quill had made on the schedule and the table and wiped it clean with his elbow. Oreyn arrived at the foot of the stairs and, after casting a look around, vanished through the backdoor into the yard where Eduard was giving archery training to the new recruits. Viranus tried to concentrate on his work again, swallowing the bitter envy that rose and tried to feel grateful for his friend. But being holed up in Chorrol was getting harder every day and since he had been given an instructor's post in blade training he couldn't venture out of town on his own, as he had to see to the new boot's training first. It left him restless and grouchy, unable to vent his frustrations in the secure environment his mother was restricting him to.
He had spoken with Eduard about it – well, ranted more like it – and his companion had agreed but also had appealed at his patience: less than a month had passed since Vitellus was brought home and it was only natural that any mother would try to protect her only child left. Viranus understood and tried to be patient, but the lack of contracts for him was also interfering with his authority inside the guild. Some of the new recruits, most of them naturally only a few years younger than him, were not so secretly questioning his ability to teach them when, by all means they could see, he owed his position only to the fact of being the Guildmaster's son.
He had just finished next week's appointments as the backdoor opened again and Eduard strolled in, swinging and massaging his arms in a way that indicated that he had been doing most of the shooting outside instead of the recruits. He grinned at Viranus, slumped down into a chair and reached for a pitcher of water.
"They're yours now", he sighed in contentment as he had filled up and emptied a large glass of water and wiped his brow. "It's damn hot outside."
"Ideal conditions for training then", Viranus answered and stood up, rubbing his hands with a gleam in his eyes that made Eduard laugh.
"The poor bastards!", he chuckled in sympathy and stood up himself. "I'm going for a swim. See you later." He stomped up the stairs to the living quarters above, sending Viranus a last mischievous wink before disappearing, and, by the sound of it, shed his armour where he just happened to be along the way to his bed. Viranus grinned and walked to the door. It was never very tidy around Eduard anyway.
Another unruly sight awaited him once he stepped outside where the four new boots had used the absence of any instructor to get rid of their respective armour and splash themselves with water from the nearby well. The afternoon sun had just rounded the guildhall, burning into the training grounds and Viranus could understand the urge to shed one or two additional layers of clothing but he could not tolerate equipment and armour being strewn around. He readied himself for a major telling-off but thought better as his gaze fell on a clay pitcher which stood next to the door. With a grin he rushed back inside and gathered another seven of the pitchers in a basket.
"Okay, guys, gather round!", he yelled once again outside and the four men walked towards him more or less enthusiastic. Especially a dark-haired Imperial named Marcus Divonius made a point of sidling over as slowly as possible. Viranus knew his type. You could encounter it everywhere: bullies who had been the leader of their personal club of friends all their life and because of the largeness of their minions and the social standing of their families had never had to cope with authority or resistance. What made it even worse was that Divonius was the only one older than him and with actual fighting experience. Viranus stifled a sigh.
"Since you enjoy the water that much", he opened, „here's your task for warming up before training: each of you takes two pitchers of water and circles one time around the city – on the outside of course. The first one being back here is spared weapon and armour cleaning afterwards." He pointedly glanced towards the discarded armaments and added. „You are to finish this task in your full battle gear, including weapons, but I'll be nice and allow you to leave the shields behind. And you have an hour", he added as an afterthought. „Everyone outside the limit gets additional kitchen duties."
He watched them as they grudgingly put on their armours, grumbling just under their breath about the inhumanity of the task but none of them daring to openly disobey. As they trudged towards the North Gate and Viranus filled the water clock they used for time measurements Divonius made a point of slinging a wooden shield onto his back. Both men exchanged dark looks before the latter slipped through the gate the guard was holding open for him.
Viranus tried to shrug it off but felt, as so often lately, unsure about the orders he had given just now. It was more a test of fatigue and careful management of resources than brute strength and power. An hour was more than enough time to circle Chorrol, which was, after all, only a small town, and the pitchers, even when full, didn't weigh more than two pounds each. He remembered when he himself had to do this exercise under Modryn Oreyn's watchful eyes a few years back. The trick had been to walk fast without actually breaking into a run, locking the arms at your site and pausing only in the last third of the round. He had finally managed it in three quarters of an hour while Vitellus – well, Vitellus had always been the better man.
„Don't let it get to you." Viranus jumped at the rough voice behind him and turned around to find Oreyn staring thoughtful at the North Gate. „That Divonius is too full of himself."
„I can handle him", Viranus said to his former teacher but doubted it nevertheless. Oreyn seemed to think along the same lines and raised an eyebrow.
„Maybe it's time you reminded him why you are the blade instructor and he is not."
Viranus forced a smile. „Maybe. He has to return from the round first."
Which he didn't.
It was a fisherman who brought the news. Still out of breath the elderly man recounted how he had been fishing for trout in one of the small mountain rivers and was on his way back to town as he saw a giant minotaur breaking out of the shrubbery closely followed by a young man who was pursuing the beast.
"Pursuing it?", Oreyn had interrupted the man incredulously. "Not fleeing from it?"
"Upon my word, sirs, he's running after the beast and it leads him towards the deeper woods in the north and with all that caves up there I knows it's minotaur country. 'What are you doing?' I yells after the boy, but he doesn't listen and, well, I'm no fighter so I come 'ere instead."
"You did the right thing! Get inside and grab something to eat and drink! Tell 'em I said you could", Oreyn said hastily and grabbed a shield from a nearby rack. Viranus had his gear already at hand and the two fighters broke into a dash towards the North Gate. If luck was on their side they would find him before the minotaur could lead him towards one of their dens where Divonius would surely meet a gory end.
Once outside of earshot of the city walls they could easily find the path of broken and trampled shrubbery and followed it at top speed. As the old man had said it was leading straight forward into the deeper mountains around Cloud Top, where the steep hills and fewer trees made it difficult for a human to evade a pursuing beast. Both prayed they wouldn't come too late. Before long they heard outdrawn battle-cries roll around the hills adorned with the clash of steel on wood. They doubled their speed, already panting but nevertheless trying to be faster than time. They broke through a pine thicket and came face to face with three minotaurs which bent over the broken body of the Imperial, pillaging his body for any piece of weapon or armour they deemed worth having.
With a hoarse cry Oreyn punched his hand into the air, summoning the ghost of an ancestor to even out the odds and as soon as this was done the two fighters were engaged in heavy battle with the three beasts. For a few minutes all Viranus could do was concentrate on surviving. Minotaurs were creatures even the most experienced fighters were cautious about, vicious with their horns which they used to gore anything that came within two feet of distance and deadly if they could struck you with their weapons. So Viranus wove in and out of his opponent's reach, trying to strike it with his sword and evading the blows himself. Whenever one of his hits struck he danced away again, feeling very much like a hornet, but this was in fact the only way to fight a minotaur – apart from blasting it to bits.
As the beast readied itself for another thrust Viranus took his chance: as it lowered its head to charge at him with glowing horns, he pivoted out of the way and brought his sword down on its neck in one swift motion. The blow didn't sever the bull's head from the shoulders but another one took care of that and he was free to support Oreyn, who was fending off against the other two after his ancestor guardian had dissolved. An unexpected stab from behind made quick work of the smaller of Oreyn's attackers and the last one didn't last very long after two fighters could give their attention to it.
And then they were free to take a look at the victim. It was obvious that Divonius hadn't had any chance against three minotaurs, but the fight couldn't have lasted long as the corpse didn't bear any wounds apart from the large, gaping hole that had been punched through his torso.
"I guess, he died instantly", Viranus heard Oreyn say as he bend down to retrieve Divonius' sword from where it had fallen after its bearer was killed. Minotaurs preferred warhammers over blades so the sword had been discarded by the beasts.
Viranus was more than angry, partly at Divonius' stupidity to raise to the minotaur's bait but mostly at himself, for giving him the task, for not keeping an eye on him, for not being able to get his respect. This wouldn't have happened if Divonius had accepted him as his superior, Viranus was sure.
"Don't just stand there and stare, Donton", Oreyn snapped and roused him from his musings. "Help me build a stretcher!"
They were busy for the better part of two hours and when they arrived back at Chorrol, bearing the body and its gear between them, evening had fallen and half of the town was gathered by the oak. Their plan had been to enter the city as quietly as possible but they were spotted as soon as they came through the north gate and within the hour even those not having been around the Fighter's Guild knew they had botched a job, again.
Viranus lay on his bed, arms crossed behind his head and was staring unseeing at the ceiling. Eduard Hodge said next to him on a chair, leaving idly through a journal. Both men had the air of someone who's forcing himself to be quiet on a subject to let the other start with it. Barely a minute ago the front door to the house had slammed shut behind Modryn Oreyn and another slam a few seconds later had heralded Vilena Donton leaving the house via the back door. The row they just had had been spectacular and Viranus was thankful that they hadn't fought it back at the headquarters but as the main subject of it he would have liked not to have heard every word of it.
He was being demoted as of tomorrow. He lowered his arms and crossed them over his chest and let out a shaky breath. Demoted! It was shameful. How could he ever show his face in the Guild again after even his mother has lost faith in his abilities?
Oreyn had fought valiantly against the verdict but had to yield in the end to her superiority of rank. His main argument had been that with the Blackwood Company out and about in Cyrodiil demoting a high ranking member of the Guild because of a stupid accident was like heralding the Guild's incompetence all over the province.
"You're wrong, friend", his mother had returned, trying to keep the tone pleasant but already speaking through clenched teeth. "Letting Viranus take the consequences of his subordinate's fault shows our dedication to firm hierarchic structures and our approach to the Guild as one organism where the actions of one member affects us all."
They could only imagine the Dunmer's expression in the silence that had followed, but his words shortly after showed his open incredulity. "People will interpret it as a mission that went wrong and when they hear about one fighter against three minotaurs they will loose respect for everything we do", he said darkly. "You're making Viranus the scapegoat, undermining the boy's confidence in himself just to keep him at your heel!"
"That's not true!", his mother had yelled.
"Then why hasn't he been given any worthwhile work to do in weeks?", Oreyn had yelled back. "Training with the new boots and cleaning weapons will do nothing to improve his skills."
"You know perfectly well that with the Blackwood Company at large we don't have either – worthwhile contracts and the numbers to carry them out! We lost fifteen excellent warriors on the last mission and we keep loosing the less experienced, too."
"We won't get our numbers back if we prematurely wuss out on the Blackwood Company!" Oreyn almost shouted. "Didn't you hear? They boast to have fulfilled the Blackheart-contract instead of us. I know that's a lie and if you'd just let me investigate –"
"I will not risk another host of guildmembers for your ghost-chasing, Oreyn!" His mother's voice had been as cold as ice.
"Fine. Have it your way, then. But I won't sit there and let you muck up the boy's future!"
"OUT!"
And that was that. His mother had won and he would stay at the Headquarters as an associate member, demoted and dishonoured, just to keep him safe. His eyes stung and he wiped angrily at them, then another thought presented itself.
"Does she think I'm a failure?", he asked around a constricted throat. This was a dreadful thought but everything fell into place! Her reluctance to give him work outside Chorrol and now his demotion – his mother clearly must think him unfit to serve the Guild in any important matter! She might be depressed about Vitellus' death but she was also the most experienced of them all, the Guildmaster, and her judgement, even when cautious, was generally right. So he'd better … This train of thought was interrupted as Eduard sat down next to him on his small bed and looked him straight in the eye.
"Don't go there!", the Bard said firmly and punctuated every word. "She is wrong. She will see her errors in due time and until then we have to be patient."
"We?", Viranus asked perplexed.
"Yes. I decided to give the scouting mission to someone else and stay here with you."
"Why? You need the money! I saw your tab at the Grey Mare!", Viranus cried indignantly and tried to sit up, but Eduard pushed him onto the bed again. The flutter he felt now was congealing in his lower abdomen.
"Don't tell me you don't want me to spent time with you?", the other man asked in mock hurt and bend down to kiss him. It was clearly a planned diversion from his earlier dark thoughts, but a pleasant diversion nevertheless.
'Thank Talos for Modryn Oreyn!' ran in never ending circles around Viranus Donton's head. Even as he erected himself from the grave-digging he was currently undergoing just outside of Nonwyll Cavern and stretched his aching back he could barely hide the small satisfied smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Oreyn had shown faith in him and given him a mission.
It had been nothing spectacular, unfortunately, nothing to boast or show those perpetual sceptics at the guildhouse that he was capable of finishing jobs and keeping subordinates alive. But nevertheless, he had been outside of Chorrol and had fought the trolls at Nonwyll Cavern to recover a missing man – or his remnants as it had turned out. Not even his wounds and the one or two broken ribs could diminish the glowing sensation of being useful.
The new boot startled him by jumping into the hole. "My turn", the Dunmer said gruffly and reached for the spade. Since they had found this one and other mining tools in the cave they had decided to bury the man up here instead of carrying him all the way back to Chorrol. As Viranus climbed out of the hole with difficulty the mer shattered the rocky and packed earth with a well-placed destruction spell and started digging with surprising speed.
Viranus laughed quietly. It was typical, he thought, for fighters like them to have every tool at hand to destroy obstacles or enemies, but when it came to their own bodies to have to resort to nursing them as best as they could without aid. He carefully removed the dirty bandage he had slung across a deep gash on his upper thigh and was pleased to see that the wound had finally stopped bleeding. He would have to see one of the brothers or sisters at the chapel about this when they came home, or even spend a few coins at the alchemist's, but right now he felt too elated to worry about gangrene.
With a satisfied grunt he leaned backwards against the next rock and stretched his limbs. A small nudge of his stomach made him reach for his bag and the provisions of cheese and bread he had brought with him and he started to eat his share of the meal, occasionally washing it down with long draughts of still fresh beer. Live was good right now.
"Modryn Oreyn generally operates behind the back of his superiors?"
Viranus startled from a doze and sat up. "What?", he asked dazed and watched the other fighter climb out of the hole and dust himself off. He idly asked himself whether the permanent scowl he had seen on all male dunmer faces so far was inbred into the whole race or whether he had only met with the more unfriendly specimer of the lot.
"I asked if Oreyn often gives orders your mother knows nothing about", the other repeated and sat down himself, reaching for bread and cheese, absentmindedly scratching his bandaged head.
"No", said Viranus faithfully. "You are familiar to the situation regarding my mother and me?", he asked and continued as the other nodded. "I think he wants to prove a point to her. Several points", he added as his eyes fell onto the broken shield they had found next to the dead man's body.
The other followed his gaze. "You think it's got something to do with the Blackwood Company, he's always ranting about?", he asked.
"We'll see", Viranus said and stood up. "If it's so it's one more reason to have an eye on them." He carefully let himself down into the grave and reached for the dead man. "How about heading home once I've finished this up?"
"Alright."
"By the way", he grunted as he laid the corpse to rest, "what's your name? You never introduced yourself …"
Several days went by, then a week. Sun's Height had been long replaced by Last Seed and the month was drawing to a close. Harvest's End, the 27th of Last Seed, was nearing and everywhere around Chorrol the last haystacks were driven home, the last apples and pears plucked from golden trees and more and more colours could be seen around town as the youth was wearing their best clothes and houses were decorated with long garlands of flowers and colourful ribbons.
Even things in the Fighter's Guild looked bright: Viranus' successful mission had been noted, although his mother had refused to speak with Oreyn for two days in a row because of his insubordination, and a few more contracts had been flowing in after the old Dunmer had been able to prove that the supposedly finished Blackheart mission had been a ruse of the Blackwood Company. Needless to say that Oreyn had greatly enjoyed driving out Azani Blackheart from his new hiding spot in Atatar and afterwards gleefully gave a step-by-step-account of it to the Black Horse Courier.
"'… and cut this ring from Blackheart's hand as proof of his death', closes Modryn Oreyn, currently reigning Fighter's Guild Champion. It appears that we have proof now that the Blackwood Company's nothing more than a band of liars and thugs, willing to go to any lengths to defend their business in Cyrodiil. Let's see how long they can go about this unchecked. Go, Fighter's Guild!" Viranus grinned and looked up from the Black Horse Courier he was reading aloud to Eduard. The Bard had his eyes closed and his cheek pillowed on his arms and gave every impression of being asleep. Feeling mischievous, Viranus rolled the paper slowly up and raised it to whack his friend over the head with it.
"Don't you dare." Eduard said in mock warning but didn't bother to open his eyes. A soft wind blew from north-east, just cool enough to make the bright sun in the backyard feel like a warm blanket.
"What?" Viranus dropped the paper with a laugh. He had envied the recruit who had been chosen to accompany Oreyn on his personal vendetta against Blackheart, but not even the guild-champion would have dared to take him to second mission so shortly after stepping on the guildmaster's foot by giving her son a first mission at all. The satisfaction about his mission had long evaporated and Viranus tried valiantly to believe that Oreyn would find another contract for him in the next batch that arrived, or the one after it. The diary he kept was the only witness of the dark hours when his faith broke and anguish washed over him never to leave Chorrol again.
Eduard rolled onto his back with a grunt and blinked owlishly in the bright sunlight before sitting up. "Time for lunch", he announced just before Sabine Laul, the guild smith, stepped out into the yard and rang the bell.
"A wonder we can even hear the bell, with your stomach growling", Viranus said and stood up. His mending ribs were still hurting but the chapel healers were positive that a few more days of treating would bring them around fully. Together with a handful of other residents they entered the ground floor of the large house to find a laden table and a surprise.
"Lashana! Ashtus! How come you are here?" Several fighters were already surrounding the newcomers but they broke apart as Viranus stepped through and greeted each of his old mates with a clap around the shoulders. Lashana was a Redguard, currently stationed in Anvil and true to her race she was a fearsome warrior with the sword. Viranus still had several scars around his lower arms testifying the speed with which she handled her weapon. Ashtus Chenius, however, was usually found in and around the Imperial City, where he provided escorts for the city's nobility whenever the Imperial Legion would have been too conspicuous. As someone who specialized in Destruction magic he wasn't very often seen in the Fighter's Guild halls at all. Both smiled in greeting and followed Viranus invitation to join them for dinner which was, finally again, a loud and merry affair.
Both fighters, it appeared, had been ordered here by Vilena Donton, but hadn't been given specifics about the contracts that awaited them and so interest was high as Modryn Oreyn approached the dinner table and ordered both newcomers, Eduard and Viranus alike into the Guildmaster's office. They exchanged looks and went up.
Vilena Donton was, as often these days, pacing restlessly behind her desk. She still wore her armour and weapon but old age and sorrows had taken most of her zest for action. It had been a while since she had actually fought, restricting herself to government and organisation of the guild. She turned around to look shortly at the four fighters who stood in front of her desk, the dark glance she gave Viranus didn't go unnoticed but he was too glad to heed her silent pleas. Being summoned here could mean only one thing – a contract – and he wasn't going to let this chance for action pass.
"I'll come straight to the point", she opened in curt words. "You are given a contract to clear out Forsaken Mine east of Leyawiin. Trolls have been reported to settle there, several miners have been killed already and the East Empire Company, who has major holdings in that mine, needs it cleared out as soon as possible. Four more combatants will join you at the Leyawiin hall. You're leaving tomorrow morning, get down there quickly and dispose of the trolls. Dismissed."
As they turned to step down into the main hall again Vilena Donton called her son back. "Oreyn talked me into this", she said briskly. "I'm sorry, I doubted your abilities, but I still want you to take extra care." She stepped around the desk and came to stand in front of her son. Viranus had never noticed that she was a head smaller than him. Somehow this hadn't mattered until now but because of the new wrinkles in her face and the dark shadows under her eyes she appeared old and tired to him for the first time. "As of tomorrow you are promoted into your old rank", she continued and Viranus couldn't hide the burst of joy this brought to his face. "And you'll be leading this excursion." She had to stop there because her son had suddenly grabbed her around the shoulders and was smothering her against his steel-clad chest. She stiffened at first, then patted his back timidly.
She spoke softer when they broke apart and she had resumed her post behind her desk: "Viranus, this mission will be a training for the time when you take on more responsibility in the guild, so take it as an opportunity to learn leading your subordinates and delegating duties."
"You worry too much, mother", he tried to console her barely concealed concern. "I see no reason to shirk my part in the rough work and heave it onto another's shoulders. Beside, it's a few trolls we're talking about and there'll be eight of us." He smiled at her. "What could possibly go wrong?"
Her returning smile was slow in coming but she finally eased up a little. "Modryn keeps telling me this, too. I guess, I'm just silly. You may go."
He flew down the stairs, into Eduard's arms and kissed him hard, feeling giddy despite the cat calls and the shouted "Get a room!". He had never thought he could be this happy.
As always when a long travel is ahead a lot of last minute things were to do. After they had rented some horses (and Eduard replaced the beast which he had got at first against one that actually did like to have him on its back), hunted down equipment one didn't necessarily needed every day, stocked their provisions and got their personal belongings the small group was on their way on early morning the day after the intended set off. As they rode off along the street towards Weynon Priory they saw small groups of farmers and their families walking towards town, carrying baskets full of fine cheeses and the best fruits their orchards. Harvest's End had begun and all through the day the citizens would feast and dance and thank the Nine for the plentiful harvest.
"Good morning!", a voice shouted. "You're leaving town?" A young couple, both clad in the richer clothing of well-to-do farmers, had broken away from their family and were jogging towards them.
Viranus gave the signal to stop and turned his horse around to meet them. "Greetings to you, too, Jiles. We're off to Leyawiin", he said.
"That's a pity. I was looking forward to a good chat", said the man and looked crestfallen but his wife laughed and winked at the fighters.
"Looking forward to have a drinking companion, more like it", she jested. "But it's sad that you won't play the flute tonight, Eduard."
"I guess he'll play for someone anyway tonight, Joana." This made them burst into giggles and Viranus felt his face grow hot. He grinned nevertheless.
"We must be on our way", he said. Their friends nodded.
"Safe journey, then", Joana said and took a small sack out of her basket. "Here are some walnuts for the road and look out for ogres, we've heard some where around Spitnettle Brook." And with a wave of goodbye they returned to their family. Viranus eased his horse into a trot, a speed that could be held for hours. The ogres didn't wait for them to get to Spitnettle Brook although, two of them ambushed them just below Odiil Farm – the last civilized outskirts of Chorrol. A short battle ensured and that was about all they encountered on their one-week journey to Leyawiin.
"Good. This is it", Viranus heaved a deep breath and reached for the beam of iron wood that lay across the rickety door to Forsaken Mine and withdrew his hands again. "Does everyone have everything he or she needs?" Several nods and a grin from Cargas. "I mean, once we're in we can't just turn around to resupply", Viranus explained and turned around to the door again. "Did anyone think of –"
He was interrupted by Ariente, a graceful and solemn Altmer, who had been in the guild for several decades and had joined them in Leyawiin together with Cartrus, Cargas and Mattius. "Everyone is ready, Viranus", she said in her deep and musical voice. "Let's enter the mine and you'll see how fast your anxiety will vanish once you've had some troll to hack on."
"Yeah", Mattius said and twirled his longsword in hand. "We've been sitting around Leyawiin for eternity with the Blackwood Company right across the street. I feel dirty and need some blood to wash it away."
"Mind if I put that in a song?", Eduard quipped. "It's a great line for ogres, y'know."
Viranus stepped between them before any casualties could happen. "Save your energy for later", he said. "We're going in, remember what I told you: Ashtus, Cartrus and Cargas enter after us and stay in the back. You shoot anything that looks furry or has to many legs and we'll see that you stay clear." Around them the three Imperials nodded. "Weapons and shields at the ready?" He heaved the beam aside and the door to the mine swung open with a loud creak. "Go!"
The first few steps were only a steep ramp down. Far ahead they could sense a larger room, dimly lit by one or two beams of sunlight that poured through ventilation shafts. Two torches were thrown ahead, their flames flickering but evenly burning as soon as they hit the ground and cast light on a tall, apelike figure that stood surprised in the middle of the room. It shrieked in rage as Viranus and the others approached, shields in front of them, and launched itself at the fighters.
"Stay together!" Viranus cried but his warning was unnecessary. They had stopped at the junction between tunnel and cave, shielding each other.
Other trolls appeared. The first one's cry had roused them and they poured in from the deeper cave. Man-high, covered in green fur that looked like lichen, with blank eyes that told nothing of the inhuman fury that hurled them at the fighters. They staggered back as they were hit. Viranus' sword drew a demi-circle in mid-air, coming down hard on a sinewy arm.
Two trolls exploded, hit with two firespells from the back. The air was full of smoke and the taste of burning hair. Whether they screamed in agony or fury none could tell.
In the dying light of one torch on the ground Viranus noticed several corpses: dead miners were lying around, some of them missing body parts. The trolls, it seemed, were retreating further into the mine to collect themselves. He gave a wave with his hand. "Proceed!"
They were halfway through the room when they heard Ashtus' scream.
They shot around, their line breaking, and Ashtus staggered out of the tunnel leading up- and outwards. Blood streamed over his face. The darkness behind him thickened and spat out twenty figures in arms. The one at the front took a swipe with his hammer and killed him like swatting away an insect.
Noise came back with Ariente's scream of rage. Without regard for safety she ran towards the attackers, brandishing her sword, flanked by Cargas' and Cartrus' fireballs. She died in the tidal wave of their assailants.
"Retreat! Retreat!" Viranus shouted, but battle order was broken. The black tide swept through them, breaking their ranks, pushing them to the outer areas of the room. He could see Cartrus and Mattius swept to the other end of the fray, were a dark patch in the wall signalled a tunnel. If they could get inside … He parried a swipe from the right, dealt by a huge warrior with a mace. He brought up his shield and could do nothing but stem all his weight against the heavy assaults that rained down on him. He noticed the crest on his attacker's breast plate – Blackwood Company! But why?
A shriek heralded the return of the trolls. Instantly his assailant left him and ran towards the other end of the room, from where a mass of greenish beasts were arriving. Viranus didn't have time to get his wind back, a new fighter materialized in front of him and raised a sword. He dashed forward and dealt a great swipe at the momentarily exposed abdomen of the man, grazing his blade point along it, cutting through doublet and skin. His opponent didn't even flinch.
A strike pushed him to the side, into a supporting beam for the casing. He staggered back from the impact, seeing a sword appear out of nowhere wedged into the beam where his head had just been. He ducked, swung around with his blade and was hit with another body. He scrabbled for a hold, trying to avoid certain death. Something grabbed around his neck and pulled him backwards. He tried to scream but couldn't, then walls were closing in on him and a body jumped in front of him and raised a sword –
"Stop struggling, idiot!"
"What?"
The figure in front of him was hit by a morning star and staggered towards him. Perspective returned in a rush: he recognized Lashana who stood in the way of a new fighter and was covering the entrance to a side-tunnel Eduard had pushed him into. The other Imperial released him and jumped into the ensuing fray before him. Lashana stumbled in and leaned heavily on the wall, clutching a broken arm. Bones were visible through mangled leather.
He scrambled up and pushed forwards. Yelling relief, Eduard flattened himself at the wall and Viranus took charge of defending their retreat further into the tunnel. Cargas broken body lay in a thin ray of dusty sunlight, his blood a dark red pool beneath him, soaked up by sand. Other bodies turned out to be trolls. No sign of Cartrus and Mattius. What on mundus was happening here?
"Damn it!", he swore furiously and kicked at the kneecaps of the man in front of him. Three Blackwood Company members had gathered around the entrance he was defending. From further back troll's screeches could be heard, sounds of weapons clashing, moans of pain but the main cavern was empty apart from them. Viranus used his attacker's momentum to fall one or two steps back into the tunnel, hoping to lure the other into it, too, where he could pick him out one-on-one but the burly fighter stayed at the tunnel's mouth where his two companions could back him up. This could not go on forever …
"Viranus! Back!" He pressed himself against one wall and felt a lance of fire singe past his cheek. Magic, Eduard's last resort of fighting when everything else seemed useless. The blast was too weak.
Their attackers suddenly pressed forward, swords swinging and thrusting as far as the small space allowed. Viranus stemmed himself against the tide, using his shield to knock the formost warrior into those behind, cutting and hitting with his sword at every part of unprotected skin he could see, but to no avail. Those three didn't seem to notice at all that they were hurt! The biggest fighter suddenly rammed his shoulder into his comrade and hurled him towards Viranus, who was lucky that the other's weapon missed him by inches but stumbled backwards into the cavern from the impact.
Eduard and he stood shoulder to shoulder in the room, all three attackers in front of them, Lashana's sightless body in plain sight. Two on three were horrible odds, especially with their eerie attackers, who had yet to show that they knew exhaustion and pain. The blows were raining heavily and Viranus felt himself go numb with distress: those three wanted them dead and he still couldn't think of a reason. His sword, bloodstained and heavy, weighed him down like lead. Yet he swung it with all his might. He couldn't believe that an hour ago they still had been in Leyawiin.
Eduard stumbled. The world lost focus. With an enormous shout he jumped in front of his lover's attacker and blocked the hit that would have cloven Eduard's head. The blade slid from his upraised shield and bit into the juncture between neck and shoulder. He barely noticed the pain the sword's edge was that sharp.
His opponent crumbled down, taking his sword with him and thus deepening the cut at his shoulder. Viranus looked down at Eduard who had stabbed the man under his breastplate, disregarding safety and received in his turn a thrust through his back. Viranus screamed and wrenched the other to his breast, keeping the assailants at bay with wild swings of his sword and retreated into the next tunnel.
"Viranus?", came Eduard's muffled voice from his chest and he felt his knees go weak with relief.
"You're alive!"
"Yet."
He released his companion and pushed him behind himself, trying to keep his sword pointed at the two remaining Blackwood fighters at once. The third was thrashing on the floor, dying the slow death of the disembowelled.
"There's a door", came Eduard's quiet voice from behind.
"Get through and keep it closed!"
"I don't think I'm up to it."
Viranus shot around in alarm and saw his companion hunched down against a rough wooden door, blood pooled around him. A metallic clank was the only warning he got, a thrust against his back and he looked down in bewilderment at a bloody spike that protruded from his lower abdomen. He was pushed backwards and the spike vanished. Blood gushed from the wound.
He stumbled around to face the finishing blow, but saw only the backs of the retreating men.
"What …?"
"Viranus?" He turned around again and saw Eduard's outstretched hand. He had opened the door, behind lay yet another dark tunnel, but they stumbled along it nevertheless. A small cave lay at the end of the tunnel, enlightened by a tiny pinprick of sunlight, troll territory without doubt but empty for the moment. They laid down in a small hollow on the ground, partly obscured by stalagmites.
They would die. The thought rushed through Viranus so hard it numbed everything else. Shock had them enabled to go this far with their wounds but none of them would ever leave this place again. All the years he had envisioned for the two of them vanished and a few moments were all that was left.
"To think that I wasted a year until I asked you out …", he said bitterly.
Eduard smiled wanly. Every breath he took sounded more raspy than the last. "I was … ready to … throw in the towel", he gasped. "I tried everything … to get your … attention."
Viranus coughed. The pain made him see stars. "… low self-esteem", he murmured. It was good they were talking, it made waiting easier and kept the insanity at bay.
"Viranus?"
"Yeah?"
Eduard didn't say anything and he panicked. Rolling himself on his side he saw that Eduard was giving him one of his far-away looks. He breathed relief.
"It all comes down to words", the bard whispered. "Art, craftsmanship, music … on the base of all are words." He spasmed and took a few moments to calm down. "No epos for you, my friend, no minstrel's song." He sounded hurried. "Just an I love you."
Viranus broke into tears.
When he looked up again he was alone. A last sense of purpose filled him and he reached into his breastplate were he had stored away his most prized possessions: the only letter Eduard had ever written him and his diary. He would at least tell someone what had happened here.
Eduard is dead, along with the rest. I fear I will follow shortly. The fighting grew heavy with the trolls, but was under control. Then came the Blackwood Company. They were like madmen. Trolls, men, mer fell to their blades. It was inhuman.
His pencil broke in his shaking hand. He tried to steady it for the last moments and perked up as he heard shuffling sounds from the tunnel they had used to enter here. The trolls that had been pooled up into the upper galleries were returning.
Blackwood Company gone quick as they came. Eduard fought bravely. All did. Rest now.
Black walls were closing in and the prickling, numbing sensation that had spread through his body filled him completely. He shivered. The rancid smell of troll filled his nostrils.
I hear trolls. I'm sorry Mother.
The pencil broke again and rolled out of reach. It was too dark to write anyway.
Viranus exhaled and closed his eyes. Maybe there was –