Chapter 39

A Wild Welcome

XxXxXx

4E 96 – Blacklight, Morrowind

Veleth grunted as he hit the ground for the umpteenth time. Despite being told numerous times he wasn't old enough, he had finally convinced his father to teach him how to fight after months, years even, of begging and pleading. Whatever his expectations had been, he certainly didn't think his primary view to be that of the sky.

"You keep leaving that flank open, son." His father said, leaning on his practice sword, watching carefully. "It's going to bite you in the ass one day."

"I don't get why we keep doing this over and over." He groused as he got to his feet. "Those are Dunmer stances. I'm not going to fight Dunmer."

"Oh really?" Jorun raised an eyebrow. "And just what do you think you'll be fighting out there once you grow up?"

"Argonians." He folded his arms across his chest. "They keep attacking the Safepoints. I want to fight them off once and for all!"

"A worthy cause, but what makes you think you can accomplish that on your own?"

That instantly took the wind out of his sails and he sputtered, at a complete loss at how to answer. Well, he wasn't at a complete loss. He had imaged this scenario over and over again until it was in perfect clarity in his mind but now it seemed utterly ridiculous and there was no way he was going to tell his father. It was extremely annoying how his father managed to puncture his perfectly well-thought plans with just a few words.

His deflated look of defeat must of shown on his face but his father gave him a small smile and sat on the grass. "Come sit."

Veleth moodily flopped next to him, ready for the boring lecture that was sure to follow. It didn't start right away though. In fact, his father was...distant. They had ventured all the way out to their favorite spot in the foothills that rose above Blacklight to the west during Jorun's very rare full day off. It had been something Veleth had been looking forward to for weeks. It just wasn't going quite as he thought it would.

His father sighed finally, puncturing the now-boring silence. "Boy...you are fifteen. You are old enough now. I'm going to pop that naive, yet highly noble, bubble you've created. You might envision yourself fighting Argonians but it's not going to be like that at all. You are going to be fighting more humans and mer than giant lizards any day. You will have killed dozens of them before you even see an Argonian."

Veleth felt the world shift under him. "I won't kill a Dunmer."

"You'll kill Dunmer too, Modyn, if you choose to continue down this path." His father gave him a look he couldn't quite decipher. "A soldier's life is...mostly boring but when there is something going on, it's incredibly dangerous and very bloody. The ones at the Safepoints? It's even worse. Boring and tense all at the same time. Our homeland is in turmoil. If the people here aren't running for their lives, they are turning to less-than-savory professions just trying to survive and you will have to deal with both. The purpose is to protect Morrowind...even if you have to kill a mer who has lost everything and sees his only choice as becoming a bandit. Do you think you can stomach that?"

"What if that bandit had made it to a safepoint? Maybe he wouldn't be a bandit then." Veleth said, conveniently shoving aside most of what his father said. He didn't want anything to tarnish his view of what he wanted to do most in life. "Shouldn't have been a bandit then."

"Stubborn." His father said but there was no heat behind it. Just a simple, highly irritating, observation.

"That's not gonna stop me!" Veleth burst out. "I'm gonna fight Argonians and then we'll be free! We can take back all of southern Morrowind!"

Veleth's sharp, little ears caught the barely there sigh. "I hope you're right, son."

"Da?" There was a note of resignation and dejection in there that Veleth had never heard before from his father. It spawned a small note of doubt in his belly. He didn't like that feeling, not one bit.

"Come on. Again." Jorun picked himself up abruptly and nudged him up. Veleth picked up his wooden sword and threw everything he had into just trying to land even the slightest, glancing blow on his father's weapon.

He never once got that satisfaction.


Later that night, he lay in bed, trying to ignore all the aches and pains in his body to try and sleep. Unfortunately, to his great frustration, every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the stinging slap of yet another humiliating hit from a wooden sword. He sighed and rolled over gingerly. Sleep just wasn't going to come easily tonight. Nothing hugely new there. The soft murmur of voices from downstairs caught his attention. Again nothing new. The conversations between his parents generally didn't interest him. Good thing too, as he usually got caught by his rather alert (paranoid) father. This time though, he heard his name mentioned, stirring his interest. Curiosity overcame his reluctance of getting in trouble for listening in on something he had no business poking into. Slowly, carefully avoiding all the spots on the floor that made noise, he crawled over to the doorway. He eased the door open and scooted out just enough to clearly hear his parents' voices from down the stairs.

"How did the first lesson go?" His mother asked.

"It went well. Boy is stubborn and determined...almost to his own detriment." His father said. "Actually, not almost. He's going to land himself in trouble at some point. My goal is make sure he can protect himself when that happens and hope harsh reality sets in his mind so he won't do it again."

"Sounds very much like his father."

"And his mother." His father snorted in amusement. "Don't deny your part in this. I had nothing to do with that temper." There was a slight pause. "He's going to make one hell of a warrior though. Most kids give up after getting whacked a few times in the shins with a wooden sword but he put up with it all day long. I daresay he'll have me on my ass one day instead of the other way around."

"That'll be the day, though I don't think you'll retire, as tradition requires."

"Ha! Never!"

"Shh, don't wake him up."

"There's just...one thing that bothers me." Jorun sobered up suddenly. "I know it's just childish dreams and that he'll hopefully grow out of it but… I'm just not sure how to really break to him that, true, you can't ignore the Argonian situation, but focusing all your energy and drive on that leaves you blind to the enemies that are right on your flank." His father sank deeper into his seat. "How do you tell your own son that his worst enemies are here? Surrounding him in his own home? That this city is filled with just as many snakes as the swamps?"

Veleth didn't hear his mother's reply. He slithered back towards his bed, where he was supposed to be, his mind buzzing. What was his da talking about? There were no snakes in Blacklight, as far as he knew. Almost every Argonian inhabitant in the city had long since moved on after a backlash against them for their brethren invading the southern half of the province. The only time he had even seen an Argonian was by the docks but he hadn't stayed long. He couldn't think of anyone that could possibly be an enemy. It was, he decided, his father being paranoid again.

He rolled over and pulled his blanket over his head, trying to block out the small squirm of doubt in his belly. He wasn't going to let this get in the way of his dreams.

XxXxXx

4E 201, 5th Sun's Dusk – West Gash Region, Vvardenfell

The sound of rushing water reached through the murky dark. Ebbing and flowing. It wasn't the gentle gurgle of a stream though. It was stronger than that. It was a more powerful clawing that reached towards his face. Like the ocean. He hated the ocean. Nothing good to him had ever come from the ocean.

He opened his eyes just in time to see a wave finish rolling out onshore like a rug, just barely reaching his fingertips. He jerked his hand away, the movement awaking the deep chill in his limbs. It stabbed at him like thousands of white needles in his flesh. Or that was the sand being driven into him by an incessant wind. He couldn't tell and it didn't really matter.

He dragged himself up, groaning as he did so. Everything hurt and not just from the cold. His head throbbed, his throat was rough and he felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had no idea how he managed to get these aches and pains. The last thing he remembered was watching the storm build. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't. He sat for a moment, shivering as he tried to brush off the worst of the wet sand, trying to get his bearings. He didn't recognize this beach but from the muted gray color mixed in with the normal brown of beach sand as well as the sudden abundance of kreshweed all around him, it was safe to say they had managed to land ashore in Vvardenfell. That was something at least.

He looked around and saw his pack had washed up a little ways down shore from him, mired partway in the surf. He sighed in relief. That thing had been dragged through every cave, bandit den, volcano, near death experience and bumpy horse ride from Bravil to Blacklight and still somehow managed to come through without dropping his belongings all over the road. The many-patched up bag was as loyal as a dog. He knew it was foolish, a bag was easily replaced, but the thought of losing it hurt as much as losing a friend. He didn't like losing things.

Stumbling on frozen legs, he clawed his way to it and opened it up to see what had survived. A rather disgruntled fish flopped out and wiggled in the wet sand. Alright, so as loyal as a dumb dog. He poked the fish back into the water and returned to inspecting his bag. Unfortunately, every map or bit of parchment he had in there was completely ruined. It just left him with the random assortment of items that he usually carried around that were more or less waterproof or would dry out eventually. Somehow the lenses had come through without getting destroyed. Lucky those. He pulled them on purely to keep the sand from whipping into his eyes further. Nothing else in his bag provided any further use unfortunately. His stomach growled loudly. He probably shouldn't have kicked that fish back into the water...

Nevano dragged himself back to his feet and looked back the way he had come. Veleth was lying a little ways away from where Nevano had been. He was still unconscious, face down in the sand. All of his armor was missing, leaving him with only the thin clothes he wore underneath. He had a few minor cuts but what worried Nevano most was how pale his skin was. Instead of the hue of hot volcanic ash, he resembled the cold winter sky overhead. Just as frigid too, Nevano realized with a start when he put a hand on Veleth's shoulder. He needed to warm the younger mer up quickly. Nevano hooked his hands under Veleth's arms and tried to pull him off the beach with the intention of getting him into the slight shelter of the scrub trees nearby but was jerked to an unwelcome and sudden stop face down in the sand. Veleth was dead weight. Nevano rubbed at his shoulders. He remembered when this kid was small enough to hang off his neck. Now he couldn't budge him.

"Didn't realize when I called you Bull that you would weigh as much as one." He groused to himself. He scrambled back to the tree line, picking up whatever looked like it would burn readily enough, piling it up as close to Veleth as he could. Thank goodness the gods blessed Dunmer with the ability to withstand fire. He clumsily snapped his fingers, trying to get the only meager fire spell he knew to work through chilled fingers. Small sparks jumped from his pale fingertips but it mercifully caught, lighting up the dry twigs quickly.

Nevano scooted around to try to block the wind as much as he could from his little fire and huddled close, his own hands shoved into the warmth of the flames, watching Veleth. After several long minutes, color finally began to return to Veleth's skin and he began to shiver, his body finally working to warm up on it's own. Nevano felt his spine relax, releasing the tension that had locked up his limbs. They were going to be ok. He just needed to find some food and, he decided as his tongue rolled gritty sand around his dry mouth, fresh water. Once those needs were met, they could start to figure out where they were and work from there.

There was a sudden shift in the air. There was nothing he could see or really feel in the sense of touching it with his hands but he could feel it deep in his chest. Everything around him, the wind, the sand, the plants, even the sea, seemed to cringe and withdraw into itself. He sat up straighter, his dry mouth instantly forgotten. The flames of the fire shrunk and the wind faltered. For an instant the world seemed to splinter into thousands of cubes, each spinning in on itself. Beneath the fragments, Nevano could see flickers of light. It was magic. Magical energy. The energy of all things. It lay in lines, weaving through everything in perfect harmony like a the threads of a rug but as the cubes flipped, the lines tangled and trembled, stretching beyond their limits, threatening to break. The world cried in agony, so shrill that Nevano thought his ears would pop and bleed. Then it was gone. The fire crackled as normal, the wind howled, the dry sedges nearby rattled gently and the surf rolled.

Nevano realized he was shaking, though this time not from the cold, sweat breaking out along his spine, his lungs nearly paralyzed from the sheer magnitude of the episode. That was a powerful pulse of magic to affect nature so. Powerful and dark. He had a deep sickening feeling he knew exactly what that was.

Veleth twitched and rolled over in the sand. "The hell was that?"

"Trouble. Big trouble." Nevano shoved the sick feeling in the pit of his belly as far back as he could, looked back at the younger mer as he sat up gingerly after a few tries. "You feeling ok? You didn't look like you were knocked out by anything. I think you just passed out from exhaustion and just got cold."

"Considering we unwillingly disembarked into the middle of the sea and then I got to swim the both of us through some slightly turbulent waters while trying not to freeze to death...yeah, I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine." Veleth rubbed at his face, futilely trying to get all the sand off.

"Sarcasm doesn't sound good on you."

"I had a few extra hours to rehearse that rant." Veleth moved back closer to the flames. "Do you have Trueflame, Hopesfire and Bonebiter?"

"Yes."

"Good, because that makes you the only one armed...and armored." Veleth shook his head. "I had to drop mine. I didn't think being armed at the bottom of the sea was practical."

"Well, at least you got pants on. Count that as a big plus." Nevano said cheerfully, earning a growl from the disgruntled mer. "There are far worse situations to be in. We aren't really hurt, somehow, and we ended up where we need to be. Roughly at least. We're on Vvardenfell. That much I can tell you with confidence. The rest is a bit up in the air."

Veleth chose to ignore him, instead looking around. "I've only heard stories that this was a miserable place of ash and dust. I didn't expect to see any plants at all."

"Stories from people who never stepped foot on Vvardenfell?" Nevano smirked.

"Mostly talk from what we could see from Solstheim and from what it did to the island. Wasn't the prettiest sight in the world and the constant ash on Solstheim was enough to drive anyone insane. Actually did, to a few of the weaker souls there."

"Solstheim was covered in snow for most of the year from winds driven from Skyrim. The plants and animals there were made for cold and snow. When a hot blast of ash covered it, the plants simply couldn't survive." Nevano motioned in the direction he knew the volcano to be. "Vvardenfell grew around the volcano, to the point where it actually relies on it. The ashy soil is actually good for the plants here. Go kick some ash and you'll find something green growing under it. The eruption might have chased civilized life away, but everything in the wild is doing just fine on its own here. Some parts of Vvardenfell are wastes, yes, but every province has parts that are like that. It's no different than anywhere else."

"Didn't you say you had a dream where all of Vvardenfell was this wasteland?"

"Let me tell you about the daedra princes and their dreams." Nevano said. "Are some things they show you true? Yes. But they will only show you a truth they want you to see. Generally, Azura shows me the truth...but she likes to twist things a bit to ensure that I do them instead of, oh I don't know, asking politely? The others? I'd be even more suspicious that they are showing you something not true. They are daedra. Truth means nothing to them unless they want it to. Sometimes I even wonder if they know what truth is, since they can so easily twist it to serve them."

Veleth nodded silently, his gaze suddenly distant.

Nevano narrowed his eyes. He had had suspicions for a while that a daedra was targeting the younger mer but Veleth had been infuriatingly quiet about it. He really wanted to question him in depth over it, indeed was opening his mouth to ask the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue, but a slight whisper of movement out of the corner of his eye distracted him. It was barely more than a leaf bending to a slight breeze but the way it bent slightly wrong in comparison to its neighbors was all the warning Nevano needed. He was a bit surprised. Not that this was happening but that it took a lot longer than he thought it would.

"Bull? I need you to look at me." Veleth gave him a strange look. "I need you to stay calm and, most importantly, stay quiet. Don't get mad, don't act, don't argue. Just do as I do. Yes?" He smiled as Veleth, his head tilted slightly in confusion, nodded slowly. Calmly, he stood and raised his hands in the air. "Spread your fingers so they don't think you are hiding a knife in your palm."

"They?" Veleth cut himself off abruptly as he realized that there was a dozen drawn arrows pointed right at his chest. Carefully he got to his feet and raised his hands in the air, fingers splayed as instructed.

Nevano shrugged as rather wild looking Dunmer appeared out of thin air like ghosts. "The Velothi aren't very fond of visitors."

XxXxXx

Veleth was not a total stranger to certain aspects of Ashlander behavior. Mostly, the twins back in Solstheim had been his biggest insight to their habits even though, by their own admission, the twins had gotten more used to living with city mer. They could still move silently and disappear into thin air when they felt like it though. The reavers had thoroughly hated the twins and their surprised cries when one seemingly popped into existence next to them with a blade at their throats always put a smile on Veleth's face. It wasn't quite as amusing on the wrong side of the situation however.

A dozen Ashlanders, their bodies dressed and painted to match the harsh landscape around them, surrounded them, each armed with bows and arrows but also with sharp knives that seemed too small to be much use but Veleth knew better than to ever underestimate the size of a weapon or its wielder. He had learned that lesson the hard way after getting stabbed in the back with a dinner knife by a jilted ex-lover. These knives were significantly sharper.

Strangely enough, he felt nothing other than a small bump of irritation. Maybe because he had just found himself stranded on a beach after swimming through a storm or maybe it was because he was just still that sore and tired but he simply felt that this was just another annoying set-back in their annoying trip. He wanted them to hurry up and figure out what they wanted to do so that they could get back on their way. He was very much done with these set-backs and hiccups.

Without wavering his intense gaze, the hunter nearest Veleth spoke. Veleth didn't have a perfect grasp of the language; usually when Nevano spoke it, he would pick out enough words to piece together the general meaning. There was no such word picking this time. The hunter's accent was so different than the Cyrodillic tilt Nevano had, different even from the accent the twins had, that his mind heard only gibberish.

While the hunter spoke, a petite woman stepped forward. She was tiny, nearly child small. Even Nevano looked stocky in comparison and he was short for a Dunmer. Her outfit consisted of scraps of netch leather cobbled together into something that was clearly designed for stealth and speed rather than modesty. It made Veleth's ears burn. Fierce red eyes flashed from under a fringe of messy dark hair, running over the two mer in front of her. Veleth felt like an animal being considered for slaughter, causing a stronger thump of annoyance to flop in his belly. The rage monster stirred in its cage, annoyed at being challenged like this. It must have showed on his face for she glared at him for a moment longer before barking an incomprehensible command.

"Seh." Nevano said. Stop. Veleth knew that that meant 'Stop' in Velothi. Then he went on to say, in an accent Veleth could understand, that not only could he understand them, and their insults, perfectly but that they were here to stop the surges of magic, not add to it. Veleth got a bit of dark satisfaction in watching the subtle widening of eyes in pure shock at how perfectly Nevano spoke to them. The little woman, on the other hand, was not the least bit impressed. She demanded something in a clipped tone, Veleth could only guess that she wanted to know their names, judging by the way Nevano hesitated.

The little woman did not like that in the slightest. She had made a demand and she wanted answers immediately. She charged over to Nevano and ripped the lenses from his face. As soon as she got a good look at his face she hissed and jumped back. The other hunters shifted and murmured. Even after all these years, everyone still knew what those yellow eyes meant. Next to him, Nevano gave a resigned sigh.

"Are you him?" She demanded, switching to a heavily accented Dunmeri.

Tiredly, almost reluctantly, Nevano turned his right hand around, Moon-And-Star dazzling in the weak winter light as brightly as if it were full sunlight. As one, their faces paled and arrows wavered, making Veleth a bit wary one would slip past nerveless fingers.

"You live."

"I never died." Nevano said. By his clipped tone, his mood was souring quickly as it always did when he had to talk about being the Nerevarine.

"Why…?"

"I need to see your ashkahn."

"That is...a rude..."

"I know I'm breaking your rules but we don't have time. You felt that surge, you know we don't have time." Nevano said shortly. "We don't, Morrowind doesn't, which means you don't have the time either. We are here chasing trouble."

"The Thalmor." The tiny woman didn't sound the least bit surprised. "The ones causing the magic surges."

"Yes."

The girl was quiet a moment before barking yet another indecipherable command. The arrows disappeared in the blink of an eye and several hunters melted into the brush around them.

"Come. It's long way."

Nevano dropped his arms. "As before, as always, we are not your enemy."

"As before, as always, we honor the Nerevarine."

They took off without another word and, after exchanging a brief look, Veleth and Nevano followed. The Ashlanders set a brutal pace through the wilderness, darting in and out of trees and bushes as if they didn't even exist. Veleth was determined to keep up, despite his aching body protesting every move and his feet getting more and more cut up the deeper into the wilderness they got. He didn't want to appear weak in front of them and the concerned looks Nevano kept shooting over his shoulder was becoming downright maddening. He could feel eyes on him. He was being watched and judged. These young hunters wanted to know if a city mer could keep up. His pride demanded he prove them wrong. The smoldering irritation in the pit of his belly helped push him on. It would rather he die before he hit the ground.

The ground grew rougher. Sharp volcanic rocks hid below a thin layer of dust and ash that managed to elicit a wince from him every time he managed to step on one, no matter how swiftly he bit down on his tongue to hold it back. His muscles had been beaten and frozen and now were cracking under the strain. He honestly didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. Judging by how hard Nevano was panting next to him, even he was starting to think this was getting a bit ridiculous. Just as he was positive the next step would be the death of him, the gods took mercy on them and a huddle of yurts came into view. The band of hunters slowed down to a fast walk. While it was still excruciating movement, it was very preferable to the death run they had just completed.

"You run well...for an outlander." The tiny woman said, walking past him. It was a back-handed compliment but it was as high of praise as he was going to get from these unforgiving people. He nodded in acknowledgment, hoping they couldn't see how badly he wanted to give in to screaming muscles and collapse on the ground.

"That was a somewhat polite way of saying you probably just outdid every Dunmer on the mainland with the possible exception of scouts or runners since, you know, they are like half your size and have the world chasing after them." Nevano said.

"Did I ever tell you that I really don't like running?" Veleth said. "I'll travel all day long but I'd rather pick a pace that won't drop me at the end of the day. Besides, heavy armor and weapons are not the best things to run with. Tends to make things a bit more difficult."

"Then you probably chose the best possible time to drop them at the bottom of the sea."

He was trying not to think of that. He didn't like feeling so vulnerable, especially with an entire tribe of Ashlanders glaring at them as they were led through the camp. There was some curiosity there but it was mostly from a child here and there peeking out from a hiding spot. Every other stare, though, was naked contempt. He felt as though he was a criminal being led through the city in a display of public shame. Fortunately the camp was small so they didn't have to endure this walk of shame for very long. They stopped in front of a tight cluster of yurts, the netch leather sides more elaborately painted than the others and the entrance guarded by an older mer, scars from past fights liberally decorating his tightly crossed arms. Judging by the thunderous look on his face, he was not the least bit pleased to see them.

The ferocious little woman stormed up to the warrior and, without so much as a greeting, both launched into a rather heated argument that made even the tough hunters squirm a bit. Veleth had seen fights like this break out between his men before. If he wasn't able to head it off early, it almost always ended in an all out brawl, dragging in anyone unfortunate enough to be close. In all honesty, he'd probably put his gold on the little girl coming out of that fight on top.

Nevano's face was unreadable as he watched the increasingly heated exchange between the stone-eyed warrior and their fiery, little captor. "Our bold friend here is not a simple hunter."

"Oh?" This came as no surprise. No one of any insignificant rank would dare act out the way she did.

"She's the Ashkhan's daughter." Nevano said. "The one she's arguing with is the clan's Gulakhan. Have to go through the Gulakhans first to speak to the Ashkhan. As impatient as I'm feeling and as demanding as I was earlier...I can't and won't force their customs. Won't end well."

"The Ashkhan's daughter has no sway?"

"Apparently she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be." Nevano finally looked at him. "Not as bad as going to a dockside tavern with the intention of seeing the bar wenches up close."

Veleth felt his ears catch on fire. "You are never going to forget that, are you?"

"Never." Mercifully Nevano dropped off teasing and turned serious again. "This bit isn't really about us. I mean, no Ashlander is pleased to see an outlander in their camp but we just got pushed to an afterthought. Apparently we are merely reigniting an old argument." He tilted his head a little. "They aren't going to hurt us but I'm not sure how much help we're going to get from them in all this mess. Apparently things are as bad for them here as things are bad for us on the mainland."

The Gulakhan threw his hands up with a disgusted huff and stormed off to the large yurt behind him.

"That was what I was hoping for."

"What?" Veleth asked as the girl waved them to follow.

"We're going to meet the Ashkhan." Nevano gave him a look. "I don't know what's going to happen. Just sit, be quiet and what happens, happens."

They were led into the yurt, where they found themselves in an entry room, separated from the rest of the yurt by a woven mat hung as a door. Thick rugs covered the walls and floors and a small fire crackled in the center of the room. Veleth shifted a little. It was a relief to stand on something softer but he didn't feel much like leaving bloody footprints everywhere. Nevano elbowed him to be still.

The Gulakhan and the little huntress wasted no time slipping right back into their previous argument, even more animated now that they were mostly out of sight of others. Nevano rolled his eyes. Apparently the fight was starting to devolve into stupid little barbs that had absolutely nothing to do with the task at hand.

"It is customary to speak in a tongue that all can understand." Nevano said, shrugging a little when both looked at him. "Or would you prefer I translate for everyone?" It was a slight barb, perfectly delivered as to not fully insult everyone but to remind them of their manners.

The girl waved her hands at them. "Speak Dunmeri then. They need to know. One outlander does not speak Velothi good."

The Gulakhan spat out a string of overly sarcastic insults but Veleth was well-versed enough in those he easily understood how everything from his heritage to the air he breathed was being shit on. He almost piped up to say he understood the insults but decided to hold his tongue. There was some advantage in keeping up the pretense he understood nothing at all.

"They will help us!"

"We do not need outsiders help!"

"Enough!" The air settled into a reluctant calm in the yurt as the Ashkhan finally came in from the back portion of the yurt. "Enough fighting. We have guests. Not just any guests, but one worthy of honor. Neither of you are representing our people well."

The Ashkhan turned to them. He was no older than Veleth's own father but the lines of strain in his weathered skin made him seem much older. Veleth got the impression that while his people were sharp and suspicious, this man was weary and preoccupied. His daughter taking her band of young, reckless hunters and his Gulakhan exploding in anger at every rebellion was only making things worse. It reminded him strongly of the times he had rebelled against his parents, though he had never worn them down so badly. At least he didn't think he ever did.

"The Nerevarine was thought to have gone to Akavir, thought to be dead." Though his voice was heavily accented, his Dunmeri was perfect. Even more so, Veleth mused to himself, than some who had never spoken a word in another language their whole lives. "I am very curious what you are doing back here, alive and well."

"I have been everywhere." Nevano said. "All over enough that I have seen that while one problem ended with Dagoth Ur's death, more arose in the world. I couldn't fix them all and I wasn't about to kill myself in trying. Morrowind needed to learn to fend for itself without me. Unfortunately, the problems of the empire that have spilled over into Morrowind were a bit too much for me to leave it alone this time."

"The Thalmor. That is it, is it not?" The girl spoke up.

"Zula!" The Ashkhan scolded her.

"No, we been bearing them here too long!" The girl Veleth now knew was Zula shot back. "They are worse than empire!"

"They are none of your concern, little girl." The Gulakhan snapped. "These are matters for those other than you. Your job, as a hunter, is bring home food, or is that too much for you now?"

"Hasnat..."

"Ours has always been, and always should be, survival. The land is even less giving now, more so now. Our people are suffering." The Gulakhan said hotly.

"It's because of the Thalmor that we can barely even find food anymore!" Zulu gestured wildly in his face.

Nevano coughed, effectively bringing their attention back to them. "I see I brought a testy subject with me."

"It is a subject we have been unable to come to an agreement over." The Ashkhan said, ignoring twin disgusted snorts from Hasnat and Zula. "Though I can see it's something you wish to discuss. I will discuss it with you, but not right now. I must speak to our wise woman first. Until then, you are welcome in our camp. You will have a place to sleep for the night."

Nevano didn't argue but Veleth could see the muscle in Nevano's neck leap suddenly, signifying that the smaller mer was struggling to stay polite and not pop off what he really wanted to say. He was impressed. Nevano usually didn't show such restraint. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality. We gladly accept."

Veleth stayed quiet as they were led across the camp, past the now openly curious tribe whose stares had at least lost some of the disdain but none of the distrust. If they were to gain their trust at all, it would be through a monumental effort, he realized. Nevano said nothing, didn't even glance around as they walked through. It wasn't until the netch leather flap to the yurt they were given had closed behind them that his shoulders even relaxed.

"You didn't push it." Veleth said as he dropped down. This yurt was far more sparsely decorated than the others but there was a rug separating his ass from the ground and there was a small fire to keep the biting wind at bay. It felt good to finally relax even if every stress and strain and injury was now making itself very well known with nothing else to distract him from it. He would be feeling this for days.

"No." Nevano pulled Trueflame into his lap and began to meticulously inspect the blade. "It wouldn't have done any good even if I had, though I really wanted to shake sense into them all. This tribe is split in half. The young hot heads are wild for a fight but the older generations are more concerned with the tribe. Neither is wrong, really...but this Ashkhan is indecisive. It's rendered the whole tribe unable to move in any direction and it's caused tensions to flare up to...well, you saw. I can't tell if it's because he's truly torn or if he doesn't like making decisions. He's going to stubbornly sit there until a choice is forced."

"Those never end well."

"No, they don't. I'm willing to wait to see what the wise woman says but I'm also very prepared to just up and take off if nothing happens here soon. I can't save them from themselves and I don't have the time to even try." Nevano looked up. "Try to get some sleep. They deliberately ran us ragged and you are torn up. We're safe here, that I can assure you of."

"Are you ok?" He asked, remembering how Nevano had shifted every time someone brought up the whole Nerevarine thing. It was hard to remember that Nevano was known to everyone as the Nerevarine when he had never known Nevano as anything other than Nevano. Here, to the Ashlanders, he was known as something entirely different than he was to the rest of the world.

Nevano slowly set Trueflame down, his eyes distant. "This is...bringing back a lot of memories I hadn't really thought of in a long time. This is harder than I thought it would be."

"You never really did get much closure, did you?"

"I guess not." Nevano shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably, turning his attention to his sword again. "Once the volcano erupted, that was it. I never really looked back. There was too much to do and I just...I wanted a different life, especially when everything here had just been erased. Like it never existed at all. That doesn't always work out though, as we've both found out. Though you haven't fully found your path yet." Before Veleth could respond to that, Nevano looked up sharply at him, hard yellow eyes telling him he wouldn't get much else out of the short mer. "Get as much rest as you can because we won't have this luxury for long."

He didn't argue against the sudden dismissal. Pushing Nevano was futile and besides, he was tired and that reasoning made perfect sense. It wasn't something he was about to admit, would ever admit, but every fiber in his body was screaming at him to shut up and give in. All he wanted was to do was pass out and he wasn't picky as to where. He felt completely beaten up and worn down. However the gnawing monster in his gut was not the least bit tired. It was clawing at the cage he had managed to corner it in, enraged at being unable to vent its frustration on anything.

"Oh shut up..." He murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing." Bed consisted of a woven blanket thrown over a thin mat but right now it felt like the most comfortable bed in the world. Once the raging beast retreated, grumbling, to its corner, Veleth was able to enjoy one of the rare moments of falling directly into sleep.

Of course whatever was controlling his dreams wouldn't allow him the oblivious rest he so desperately needed. That would simply be asking for too much. It felt as if as soon as he was released into the realm of sleep, something gripped his mind and jerked it from his control, sending him spiraling down through blood and fire. There was no patience tonight, no subtle message. Whatever he was supposed to see, he was going to see and understand immediately.

It was a gladiator ring, pitted with boulders and lava pools, one that changed depending on the master's will. Currently there were ten stone cells, the walls high enough to keep impatient fighters from climbing over and killing their opponent next door before the main event, all encircling a main arena in the middle. All the cells were occupied, save one. That empty cell was infuriating. The fighter it was meant to contain had thus far ignored all orders to attend. At first it was amusing, like watching a lively horse kick out at the unwary, but not anymore. He would obey and come, or he would die. Defiance could be a good thing, but not against The Master.

The Master has been patient up till now, something nigh unheard of. It made all the other fighters eager to see this newcomer that The Master was willing to wait on. They were eager to best him, to prove that they were far more worthy of this special attention than he was.

The missing fighter was close. He was where The Master wanted him to be, had already bested the challenges that had been thrown at him, even if some unsanctioned help had been provided. That would be dealt with later; the uninvited players would know The Master's displeasure. What needed to happen now was for The Master's final champion to begin making his way to his place. You. You, my stubborn Bull.

'No.' Veleth jerked away, determined to not be tempted, shoving away the growing eagerness in his belly to fight, to rip apart anything that stood in his way.

You will obey.

'I am not a puppet. I am not a little sycophantic minion that dances to your whims!' He screamed in his own mind, the words managing to echo out for all to hear. The fighters in the cages roared in rage. Typical, mindless, worthy of nothing but contempt.

Then prove it.

'I have nothing to prove.'

You have everything to prove. You think you will survive on nothing more than stubbornness and defiance when nothing and no one cares. Prove your worth. Prove your name and maybe you will earn the slightest bit of infamy to use in a future where you will need every bit of recognition in order to even get noticed. You are nothing and no one and you will continue to be nothing until you stain your hands with more blood than you ever thought you could stomach. You will obey and come to my call. You will...

AWAKE!

Veleth jerked as if he had been struck by lightning, barely able to keep up as he went from a sound sleep to ready to fight in an instant, his heart striking a beat against his ribs. He took in a deep shuddering breath to try to calm himself but a nervous energy raced through every fiber in his body, forcing a cold shudder through his limbs. He wanted to get up, he needed to move. No...no. It was more than that. He needed to leave. He knew what this was. It had finally come. He couldn't ignore this any longer. He had to face this once and for all. More than that, he was late for it. Impatience not his bore into his gut, forcing him to his feet. He was to go. Now. The monster in his gut had escaped from its cage but instead of raging and railing against him, it was running in frantic circles. Run. Now!

Nothing stirred as he slipped from the yurt and simply walked from the camp. No one, not Nevano and not the highly alert Ashlanders, stopped him or even seemed to notice him. That erased the last vestiges of doubt in his mind that this was more by design than by accident. He was finally doing what he had been ordered to do. He couldn't say for sure that that was a good thing, nor could he even say that what was coming was going to be pleasant in the slightest. If anything, going forward would probably be one of the most foolish things he had ever done in his life.

Without giving it a second thought, he walked off into the night.

XxXxXx

A/N: My apologies on such a long wait. Life put on boxing gloves and has a nasty left hook. Actually, it's more of a sucker punch in the gut, grad school has the left hook. Bear with me as things slowly grind out.