Chapter 8

Skeletal Remains

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Ash still warm from the volcano swirled around him, sticking to his hair and eyelashes and settling in every tiny crevice in his armor. It was worse than sand. Sand would shake out but ash would cling and it if came in contact with the slightest bit of moisture it would melt into mud then harden into cement, coating the entire body in a cast. The Dunmer had adapted over the centuries to their ashy environment. Their bodies were able to process and dispose of the toxins in the ash, their eyelashes were longer than their kin, keeping ash away from their eyes. Many non-Dunmer had far more issues with the ash, especially during the ash storms. Many newcomers to Vvardenfell would fall ill after their first ash storm, some so severe that they would choose to leave soon after arriving. Their lungs simply couldn't handle it. Vvardenfell was not a place for the weak.

Nevano took a step forward, his bare feet shifting as he found sharp rocks through the layer of ash. He had no idea why Azura usually insisted he be minimally clothed during these so-called visions she put him through. Privately he felt she enjoyed the show. She was a deadra after all.

He could smell an ash storm brewing. There were always signs; the air would go still and the world would take on a red hue. Wild creatures would take cover as the smell of burning tinged with rotten eggs would permeate the air. Then the wind would pick up, gentle at first, with just a few bits of ash floating along with it. It was the final warning, the final moments to take cover before the storm struck. Then the wind would take on a new fiery passion, sometimes driving the ash so hard it would sting all unprotected skin and could even cause damage to buildings. The ash would be so thick that only a red light from the sun managed to filter down, making the world seem like it was on fire.

He had no idea where he was. The dusty ash was already billowing up, making everything seem far spookier than it actually was. He passed by several crumbling ruins, bricks falling out of plaster that had been blasted by harshly driven ash. He could see the massive build ups of ash leaned up against walls, hardened into concrete as layer pressed upon layer. He guessed he was in the remains of a village that had either been abandoned by its residents and reclaimed by the ash storms or the ash had forced the inhabitants out. It had happened to many small villages. But the more he walked through the wreckage, the more he realized this wasn't a small village. The crumbled walls and outlines of buildings sprawled on and on. This was a good sizeable city, but what city?

His feet suddenly felt smooth rock laid out uniformly beneath the ash. With one foot he kicked away the ash to reveal a stone paved road. He…knew this road. Had run along it many times, balancing precariously so he wouldn't fall…

…Into the Odai River. Nevano felt himself shaking as he saw the ash-choked river slog along in the canal. Balmora. He was in the ruins of Balmora, destroyed by the volcanic eruption. The foyada Mamaea had apparently served its purpose, keeping the flow of lava away from the city. Instead Balmora had been blasted by super heated ash blasting at incredible speeds down from the mountain. Nothing, not even the sturdy brick and mortar structures of the city, could have withstood that. Thus, the bones of the city, and all the unfortunate victims who couldn't flee, were frozen in time beneath the ash. He knew about the Red Year, of course, but to actually see what it had done, especially to a city that had been very dear to him was overwhelming.

"The remains of Balmora. Remember it well, my champion."

This time Azura spoke out loud, her voice making the very air shudder. Nevano winced as it made his head throb. He truly hated it when the deadra did that. Or when someone used a Thu'um. It always gave him a massive headache that took a full day or an incredible amount of alcohol to cure.

Then he was in the air, being pulled up higher and higher. He could see the ash storm rolling in from the volcano, a plume of red ash, still hot. The ash storms, despite popular belief, were not the creation of Dagoth Ur. He had simply taken advantage of the natural occurrence to spread the Blight. The ash storms were purely a natural force, as destructive and occasionally deadly as a violent rainstorm in Anvil or a blizzard in Skyrim. He had once heard a kahjiit compare the ash storms to dust storms in Elsewhere.

As he rose higher he saw something that gave him hope; further down the Odai river, after it started to flow clearer of ash, he saw structures, a city still being built. That had to be Balmora being rebuilt through the relief efforts of House Redoran. It had to be.

"It's always darkest before the dawn."

This time Azura's voice echoed gently in his head.

"Now wake up."

The world began to spin, whirling around in a vortex that blended grey and red into one bland color.

"Wake up."

Nevano tossed his head, the ash really clouding his senses and bothering him. Everything was muffled and dark. He couldn't shake it off.

"C'mon, you can do it. Open your eyes."

Nevano's eyes flew open in panic as hands struggled to keep him still.

"Easy EASY! Lay back down, we aren't trying to hurt you." Slowly Nevano's vision cleared and his brain caught up a robed figure swam into view.

"There you go." A breton man sat back as the mer in front of him settled down, "You were starting to fight us quite a bit there."

Nevano looked around. He was lying on a bedroll, a fur blanket covering him to the waist. The hastily erected tent above his head swayed in the constant wind, always threatening but never quite falling over. From what he could see, his body seemed to be intact and he wasn't being restrained in any way. Other than a lingering twinge in his chest he felt fine.

"I was taking a few young students here to the College in Winterhold when we found you on the road. We were hoping you could tell us what happened." The human explained a little shyly.

"I…have no idea." Nevano shrugged, "I just remember my chest hurting so bad it just…dropped me. No warning, no reason for it to."

"Hnn, well you don't look old enough for a heart attack."

Nevano nearly laughed at that. Nearly. His chest was still sore and he didn't want to aggravate that. Didn't look old enough. Well, no he DIDN'T look that old. In fact he looked barely out of adolescence. But his youthful appearance did not match his actual age. His physical appearance and numerical age no longer had any congruence to each other. He was actually 240 years old, 241 in Heartfire. When Divayth Fyr poured that vile potion down his throat it not only halted all the negative effects of corprus but it also halted his age. He had been 33 years old at the time, young for a mer. He hadn't physically aged a day since then. While being ageless had its drawbacks, he couldn't complain too much; women had no idea he was over middle aged for a Dunmer.

"No it wasn't that." Nevano shook his head, "It was like every muscle, starting in my chest, just seized up. I don't know what caused it."

"There's not much I can do for you out here." The mage poked at his chest, making him grunt, "Colette Marence is the restoration instructor at the college…actually I would recommend doubling back to Danica Pure-Spring in Whiterun. Far more adept at actually healing the wounded and far easier to get along with. I haven't figured out what happened to your shoulder though."

"No, no…" Nevano forced himself to sit up. He hated healers and, especially the healers in Balmora and Chorrol, the healers hated him. Telis Salvani had been driven to near insanity with all the random injuries he had come in with that couldn't be cured with a healing potion. In Chorrol, he had come in so often for stupid random injuries he actually made one new healer break down in tears. That had been a great day. Then Gureryne Selvilo had come in. He had caught on to Nevano's tricks pretty quick and started to leave Nevano's ears torn so his earrings wouldn't stay in or threaten to learn alteration spells to start changing the color of his hair or skin. Fetcher. "I think I'll be ok. The shoulder was much earlier than this. It'll heal up on it's own in a day or so, especially in this cold."

"Are you sure?"

"I was headed to Solitude on an important mission. I really don't want to delay more than I need to."

"Tell you what. To make sure you don't collapse again, why don't you come with us on the road north? Then you can go west towards Solitude."

Nevano considered this. That road would take him north of the mountain range he had originally intended to hike across the wilderness south of. It would be a much colder route but he could also help keep the mages safe from bandits and whatever else preyed upon travelers in Skyrim. He did owe them a debt of gratitude for taking care of him during…whatever that episode was.

"I have to admit…if you're good with that bow it would make me feel better. Skyrim is treacherous enough without having a group of easily scared students running in all directions when a saber cat attacks."

Nevano smiled as he carefully pushed himself up and took his offered armor from the man, "I was in the Fighters Guild in Cyrodiil. I know how it goes with new boots. I need to ask though; what is a saber cat?"

"Ohh a newcomer eh?" the mage turned to put things back in a trunk, "Big cat with big fangs and an even bigger appetite. Mean things. You come across one of those they don't hesitate to add you to the menu. Generally the wolves won't bother a wagon with two big horses pulling it. The horses stomp them to death see. But when you get a big pack led by those white wolves? Then there's trouble. Also got bears and trolls that make trouble. And bandits. Damn bandits. Thicker than mites on a bear's ass."

Nevano finished pulling his armor on, ignoring the disappointed noises from behind the tent. He thought he had heard feminine giggles earlier... "In other words, pests that you find all across Tamriel."

"Correct!" the man waved his hands and the tent collapsed flew up and collapsed on itself, settling in the wagon nearby, "Oh, I'm Arniel Gane, by the way. I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I'm a scholar of alteration in the College of Winterhold. Normally I don't escort students like this but the arch mage himself asked me to."

"Nevano." The Dunmer slung his bow over his shoulder and pulled his hood back over his head.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the same name as the Nerevarine?"

"My parents named me after him." Nevano lied smoothly, "Not many people know his name. Kinda faded into history."

"Faded into history?" Arniel eyes widened, "Oh no no no. The Nerevarine will live on in history forever. What he did was nothing short of amazing. And the TOOLS he wielded…now THOSE were something special."

Nevano blinked. He was used to hearing praise and, on occasion, criticisms, for his actions but he had never before heard of anyone talk about the "tools". Of course the tools meaning Kagrenac's tools; Sunder, Keening and Wraithguard. By using the tools, one could tap into the Heart of Lorkhan, to give themselves divine powers. They were extremely dangerous and he had gone far out of his way to make sure the tools were secure and no one could use them ever again.

"Actually I've been working on something and…ah. Erm…never mind." Nevano watched in amazement as the man went from shy, to incredibly excited and back to really shy and nervous. Humans were just strange…

"Well, I won't ask then." Nevano looked around at the group of students, some of them looking comically small in their robes. They ranged from small kids who definitely didn't look old enough to be away from their mothers to the small cluster of teenage girls who kept giggling every time they looked at him. That was going to get annoying quickly. "Shall we go then?"

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A/N: When Skyrim first came out and I found out that Vvardenfell had been pretty much destroyed I damn near cried. First five minutes "The gods really have abandoned your people, dark elf." Say what now? I had to play Morrowind again for a while after that nasty shock.