Vorstag sat in the empty kitchen and tapped the arm of his chair. His fork stuck out of the chicken and honey pie on the small round table beside him, leaning over slowly and threatening to fall so Vorstag reached over and plucked it out along with a clump of pie and stuck it in his mouth. He rapped his fingers along the wood again nervously. He looked out the window and watched the sun climb closer towards the middle of the sky. He stood up quickly and started towards the door before scolding himself loudly and turning to sit again. He fidgeted and argued with himself out loud, the sound bouncing off the walls of the otherwise empty house. He looked out at the sun again and swore loudly, got up and made his way towards the main door, his heavy armour clunking rhythmically with his pace. He reached out for the door but it swung in just as he reached out for the handle. They looked at each other in surprise for a moment and as Thomas's eyes started to soften Vorstag filled with anger.
"Where the fuck have you been?" He yelled causing Thomas to recoil back down the steps
Vorstag followed him with clenched fists.
"I-I just went-" Thomas stuttered, fear closing up his throat as he shrunk away from Vorstag.
"Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" Vorstag growled
Thomas's back hit the wall of the stable and he slid down to cower submissively from his husband's anger.
"I-I just go walking" He whimpered
"What are you up too?" Vorstag accused, standing over him
"Nothing!" Thomas insisted desperately
"Weird shit starts happening and suddenly you're just gone every morning, what-"
Vorstag paused as a different emotion crept up from his stomach and sat like lead in his chest.
"Are you seeing someone else," He hissed "is that what this is all about?"
"I would never!" Thomas said tearfully
Vorstag stood and walked away into the trees.
"Where are you going?" He heard Thomas call fearfully after him
"Why should I tell you," He fumed "You never tell me anything anymore"
He let the branches scratch his face as he pushed past them briskly, forcing his way through the thick tangle of foliage until he came to the edge of a short cliff. The grass was golden and sharp before it was cut off at the edge by jagged white and grey flecked stone jutting out of the earth. He ran his fingers through his hair and breathed out through his nose. He paced the edge of the cliff merely from the adrenaline pulsing through him. He stood at the edge of the drop finally and let the wind whip his hair around his eyes. A sudden stab of guilt entered his gut. He turned his head back in the direction of his home. He didn't actually have any proof of his accusations and tried to believe it wasn't true. But what other option was there? Over the past month his husband had continued to receive the gifts and as much as Vorstag hunted he could find no trace. But searching for a quill one day had led him to find that Thomas had been keeping some of the strange letters that had appeared addressed to him behind the desk in the library. The kitchen had started to stand empty as he had spent his days hidden away in the library instead of his usual routine. He wished there was nothing to his suspicions but the sudden change of Thomas's behaviour, the secret walks late at night and early in the morning, the secret hording of the letters- they wouldn't let his mind rest. He finally began to sag as a wave of sadness flowed through him. He shouldn't have been so hot-headed and snapped at his husband. What if none of this was true and Thomas truly had no idea of the circumstance? He'd probably just broken his heart. Vorstag paced again, now wanting to go back but unsure about what to do when he got there. He looked in the direction of Falkreath and decided he'd go in and have a drink and think over his apology and calm himself properly before going home. Vorstag turned and headed towards the remote town.
.
Flags of green light flapped in silence over the mountains. The planets looked down in observation accompanied by an audience of new-born and dying stars glittering and fading in. The night buzzed with insects and the cries of nocturnal animals. Vorstag stumbled through the darkness and cursed at a branch his foot got caught on and him-self for staying so late. He finally made it to the familiar clearing and stumble towards the door. He was at least glad he hadn't drunk too much, like he usually did when he was upset, he had remembered his apology needed to be genuine when he went home. The lantern outside the door wasn't lit so he pulled out his matches, fumbled with them, stroked one across the stubble on his chin and held the flame to the wick. He shook the match harshly to extinguish it and threw it away turning towards the door and freezing. His hands started to shake ever so slightly. He circled the front step to stand in front of the object resting on the second slab and squatted down. It was smooth and white, the way it was meant to be, but with a rune carved into the forehead, almost hidden by the wreath of white roses brides sometimes wore on their wedding day. Vorstag wanted to put his head in his hands and cry, but a stronger feeling made his heart throb and he leapt up and pushed open the door, jumping over the stairs and the orc skull and running inside.
"Thomas!" Vorstag cried franticly, his breathing was rushed in his panic and made his head throb.
He burst into the kitchen and searched under tables and behind furniture as if it was a septim he searched for and not a full grown male orc that could shame even an Altmer in height. He rushed back out and went upstairs sweeping through the rooms and interrogating the library for traces of him. He stood in silence for a moment; the only sound his strained breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. He turned slowly to look down the stairs. He didn't remember starting to walk but next thing he knew his legs were taking him shakily towards the bedroom. He reached out and looped his fingers around the curved, vertical handle and pulled it open slowly. Vorstag couldn't remember the last time he cried, but he did it for a long time then. Nothing very much was upturned, a few objects lay scattered on the floor, the sheets from the bed lay half fallen off and crumpled on the wooden floor boards. A candle still burned on a side table letting Vorstag see the blood. It drenched the sheets, sat in sticky dried puddles on the floor and a small squirt of it painted the walls.
"I'm so sorry," Vorstag sobbed "gods forgive me"
He wobbled over to the bed and touched the sheets; the blood was a few hours old.
"This…," Vorstag's voice shook "This is the chance they were waiting for…I gave it to them"
He let himself slump onto the bed and felt gravity pull something off the pillow and bump against his leg. He cast his blurry vision down to see a light tan book, almost a gold colour with a simple border and what looked like a phoenix embellished in the centre. With shivering fingers he reached out and held the book up, rubbing his eyes to clear them. The book was clean, placed there after the attack. A sudden jolt of urgency stabbed at his heart then and he opened the book quickly.
The Exodus, it announced. Vorstag rushed through the first time looking for clues, but upon finding nothing forced himself to read it slowly.
Vralla was a little girl, beautiful and sweet-natured, beautiful and smart, beautiful and energetic. Everything that her parents had dreamed she would be. As perfect as she was, they could not help but have dreams for her. Her father, a bit of a social climber named Munthen, thought she would marry well, perhaps become a Princess of the Empire. Her mother, an insecure woman named Cinneta, thought she would reach greatness on her own, as a knight or a sorceress. As much as they wanted the very best for their daughter, they argued about what her fate would be, but both were wrong. Instead of growing up, she grew very ill.
The Temples told them to give up hope, and TheMages Guildtold them that what afflicted Vralla was so rare, so deadly, that there was no cure. She was doomed to die, and soon.
When the great institutions of the Empire failed them, Munthen and Cinneta sought out the witches, the sorcerer hermits, and the other hidden, secret powers that lurk in the shadows of civilization.
'I can think of only one place you can go,' said an old herbalist they found in the most remote peaks of the Wrothgarian Mountains. 'The Mages Guild at Olenveld.'
'But we have already been to the Mages Guild,' protested Munthen. 'They couldn't help us.'
'Go to Olenveld," the herbalist insisted. "And tell no one that you're going there.'
"Is that my clue," Vorstag questioned the emptiness "What kind of game are you going to make me play?"
But a new spark of energy rose up in him. He pressed the sheets between his fingers.
"He's not dead." He told himself with certainty
Vorstag looked out into nothingness for a moment forcing himself to breath steadily. He jumped up and went to the kitchen filling a bag with health potions, food and a few pouches of coins. He hurried up the stairs and went over to the library pushing the spiral towers door open and went over to the map of Skyrim and searching it, referring back to the book. The story was right and Olenveld wasn't listed on the map even though it was only a few years old, but he was able to pin-point it from the directions in the book. He tore the map from the wall and folded it placed it in his pack and headed for the door. He accidently kicked the skull in his hurry, making it roll through the clearing and lose it flower crown. He paused and walked over to it, picking it up gently. He studied the rune for a moment before placing his pack on the ground and pulling out the map scribbling the rune in the corner with a piece of stray charcoal. Vorstag replaced the items in his bag and put the skull out of harm's way on a post that held up part of Harrow's stable. He quickly saddled Harrow and swung up onto his back turning him towards the north and flicking his reins.
"Hyah!" He called, kicking his heels into harrow's sides
The horse galloped away through the trees and out onto the nearest road towards Winterhold. Vorstag rode Harrow as hard as he could, stopping too let him rest and drink before charging away again. The ride was long but Vorstag sacrificed his sleep to be as swift as possible. He had no idea how quickly Thomas's kidnapper was travelling, but he intended to match it the best he could. He often had stabs of anxiety that he was wrong and they may just be leading him astray or he may have the wrong idea entirely. But it was the only clue he had, he had to take the chance and pray he wasn't wrong. Whoever had taken Thomas either wanted to throw him off their trail or set him on it, and he wasn't eager to find out which it was.
He arrived at Winterhold a day later just as the sun was sinking down over the horizon. He dismounted Harrow and led him to a nearby house and knocked on the door, a nord woman answered.
"I'll pay you 50 septims to look after my horse for a few days, his names Harrow, he likes apples not oats and you'll need to keep him under cover or throw a blanket over him so he doesn't get cold of a night"
"I haven't got room for your beast here, all we go around back is-"
"Look, I'll give you 500 fucking septims to do it alright, I'm in a bloody hurry" Vorstag snapped
The woman looked taken aback but the promise of gold prompted her to agree.
"If I get back and he's dead or you've sold him or…look he just better fucking be here when I get back, alright?" Vorstag said handing her a coin pouch hastily before turning to sprint towards the inn.
It smelt of wet wood and vomit but Vorstag hardly noticed as he strode up to the bar.
"What can I get ya?" The barkeeper asked gruffly
"Information," Vorstag said quickly but kept his voice down "I need a boat"
"We don't have any of those kinds of services around here"
"I need one" Vorstag insisted pushing a small coin pouch across the bar.
The bar tender looked down at the offering before discreetly taking it and slipping it into a pocket in his apron.
"I think I can arrange something, just let me go have a chat to someone for a moment"
Vorstag nodded his head in gratitude and let out a sigh. He didn't have to wait long before he was motioned over.
"This is Captain Lonely-gale," the bartender gestured to the dark haired nord "I'll let you work out the details; I have work of my own to do"
"So where do you want to be in such a hurry?" Lonely-gale asked when the barkeeper was out of earshot
"I urgently need to get to an island to the North; a day's sail from here," Vorstag said "name your price"
"Am I allowed to know where you're headed exactly?" The captain scoffed
"Olenveld" Vorstag said in a hushed tone
The captain was quiet for a moment.
"I want nothing more than too be dropped there and left with a means of returning when I'm done, although if you were willing to wait, I'll double the amount" Vorstag said very seriously
"How…How much exactly?" The captain asked, his curiosity spiked
"I'm not shitting you when I say name your price" Vorstag said impatiently "Whatever something like this is worth to you"
"10,000 gold" The captain said quickly
Vorstag took a heavy pouch from his pack and held it out.
"I'll make it 50,000 if you take me there and wait for me to return"
"You have yourself a deal" The captain said taking the small leather bag and looking at the pile of shining gold slices it held.
"I need to leave immediately, as in this very second" Vorstag demanded
"I'll see what I can do" Lonely-gale said
.
The boat wasn't very impressive, which wasn't surprising as Vorstag had learnt Lonely-gale was in fact retired from sailing and had been for a while. He had been grateful at that point to learn he even owned and maintained a boat still after that and for the fact it had a lower deck where he could finally sleep out of the spray of the sea.
"If you're all ready to go, we can proceed"
The words had hardly left the captains mouth and Vorstag had boarded.
"May I ask why you're headed there, a lot of dark rumours about that place" The captain asked as he threw off the rope anchoring them to the shore and kicking off to get them started.
They had left a lot later than Vorstag had hoped, but he thanked the gods it had only been by a few hours.
"Something precious to me has been stolen, I must get it back" he replied
"Big risk you're taking" He said loosing the sails and going up to the helm
"It's more than worth it" Vorstag said and walked up the bow as the wind caught the sails and the boat lurched forward.
The wind threw his hair about as they came out of the cover of the craggy inlet and cut through the great expanse of thick black water, one of the twin moons had sliced up its belly and left a glimmering white wound in its wake. Vorstag pulled off the golden band on the second finger of his left hand and held it up to the faint light; twirling it between his fingers and watching the soft gleam run around the outside. He paused at the delicate engraving curled around the inside and stared at it for a moment before fitting it on his finger again and turning to head below deck.
