Chapter 41
Trouble
XxXxXx
4E 201, 8th Sun's Dusk - Blacklight, Vvardenfell
Jorun stared at the ever-present mountain of paperwork on his desk but didn't really see it. A nigh overwhelming warning in his gut had hit a few days ago and hadn't let up, making him feel sick and more than a little anxious. Something had happened and he knew it was something to do with Nevano and his son. That coupled with recent events that reached his ears just made him want to drop the careful facade he had built and just start murdering Thalmor in the streets. It wouldn't solve a damn thing but it sure would make him feel better.
A single knock on the door to his office was the only warning he received before the door opened and a well-armored figure strode in as comfortably as if he owned the place. Ordinarily this would earn the interloper only a cold stare and deliberately misleading information but General Relas was one of the few that could get away with this behavior and they both very much knew it. Plus, Jorun was quick to note, he carried a bottle of Cyrodillic brandy. As unsocial as he was feeling, it was a good start on Relas' part to making this a more pleasant visit.
"You have been very busy." Relas greeted warmly, plunking the bottle on desk, label facing Jorun. 4E 89. A very good vintage indeed. Jorun idly wondered who Relas had stolen this off of. No way this was simple contraband.
"What makes you say that?"
"Where should I begin?" Relas grinned wolfishly, settling in the chair opposite. "Besides the Thalmor muttering your name with more than a little venom? How about my favorite recruit suddenly having a change of heart and is no longer in charge of beating sense into Redoran's cast-offs in Solstheim? Funny, I can't find any sort of official orders dictating his return. In fact, his entire file is missing. Like he no longer exists. Why would I think I'd find that file hidden in here somewhere?"
"What file?" Jorun asked easily, twisting the bottle slightly to see if he could find the vintner's mark on it. If he were honest with himself, he wasn't nearly as fond of the stuff that came from the West Weald. He had more of a taste for the Gold Coast liquors. To his delight, Relas hadn't disappointed him.
Relas sighed and offered his boot knife. "Get a drink. I see I won't get anything from you without letting you get into that bribe."
"Oh, this is a bribe is it?" Jorun grinned and took the proffered knife, slicing the wax sealing the bottle. "I have to say, this is a good one."
"Well, things have been happening. Call me paranoid but if anyone is behind the strange going-ons around here, it's you."
"That thing we talked about decades ago? The reason why we didn't protest Modyn getting sent to Solstheim?" Jorun produced two small cups and poured out some brandy. "That."
"So it begins." Relas readily accepted a cup. "I daresay your son was less than thrilled."
"He still isn't fully aware. Don't give me that look. He knows why we are doing this, just not the reason behind it." Jorun sighed. "It was hard enough to get him to focus that stubbornness."
"And the rumor going around is that a certain long-lost hero is running around with him?" Relas raised an eyebrow. "One that supposedly caused a massive stink at the Thalmor embassy in Skyrim?"
"He's dead." Jorun said flatly.
"Of course. You conveniently switch the truth over whether he's dead or alive depending on who's asking I see. So a dead man and a ghost soldier. It really shouldn't surprise me at all that that one isn't dead. You've always been right all these years, I should have never doubted for a moment the one thing you've been quietly saying all along. I wonder how long it'll take others to realize it." Relas took a sip and made a slight face. "I have no idea how you stand this stuff. Gold Coast liquor is strong, even for me. Speaking of coast, I overheard the Thalmor talking about a freak storm off the coat. That a pirate ship was caught up in it and it sank. No survivors."
"Wonder how they knew that."
Relas finally dropped the act and became his usual blunt self. "Modyn and the Nerevarine. Are they ok?"
"They are not dead." Jorun knew that for a fact. He was deeply worried and concerned for his son and his friend but they were alive. His gut had never steered him wrong. "One is far too resourceful and the other is too damned stubborn. Neither will just keel over. We just have to trust them to handle things over there." Jorun drained his cup in one swallow. "Relas, it's no coincidence that you got put on this rotation off."
"My safepoint is in the dead center of the front lines. Take me out, there's one less known ally for you to use, cutting you off from Mournhold and Necrom. Strategic, really. Most councilors won't even look at those of us on leave. Thalmor take a different view though. Took me quite some time to lose the tail on the way here. I doubt my small offering here fooled them."
"No, they are well aware we are plotting. They just can't prove what yet." Jorun frowned. "Yet."
"We have decent enough cover. For now." Relas took another drink. "Anything else you'd like to add?"
"Actually yes, something interesting did happen. Something I didn't expect and I'm not sure how to play this. I do know it's going to cause an uproar." Relas waited quietly, his face neutral but his eyes were darting in anticipation. "The emperor is dead."
Relas rocked back in his chair, steepeling his fingers and pressing them to his lips. "Thalmor?" He finally asked. "I know he was old but not old enough to just drop dead."
Jorun shook his head. "That's the most surprising part. Dark Brotherhood."
"Ambitious…" Relas murmured. "They haven't killed an emperor since they killed Tiber Septim's heir, Pelagius way back in the day."
"I rather doubt they did it on a whim." Jorun frowned. "The Dark Brotherhood has been heavily weakened over the past few centuries, nigh wiped out in many places. While killing an emperor would certainly send the message that they are still around and still strong, I've also gotten reports that a den was destroyed in southern Skyrim. I rather doubt they had the strength to do this without having a very powerful motive behind it. For them, that would be a monetary motivation."
"So who do you think hired them?" Relas asked. "Surely you've heard something."
"No idea. With the destruction of that den went the destruction of any written record. Stupid Imperials stabbed themselves in the foot on that rash move. They thought they killed them all but apparently didn't check thoroughly enough. A stupid, amateur move born of anger and impatience." Jorun huffed. "However, the price for killing anyone in such a high position of power would be exorbitant. There hasn't been any reports of the Thalmor moving funds large enough to pay off the assassination of an emperor and the Dark Brotherhood doesn't take payment plans."
"The Thalmor are arrogant enough they don't think like that anyway." Relas said. "They like to flaunt. I've heard about those stupid parties in Skyrim. They invite every person of any significant rank in an attempt to kiss ass. They tried that here once but three people dropped dead of poison and no one showed up since. But the question is why would they want to kill the emperor anyway? They already made it clear that they aren't after his death. They already beat him in the war. He was under their thumb. Why kill a puppet? Why cause chaos in the heart of their campaign while conflicts are going on multiple fronts? That's including the open warfare in Skyrim."
"Could be he was starting to resent it." Jorun shrugged. "He might have been thinking about rebelling again. He is the one who lost. Pride would demand he try to regain his lost kingdom. He won the Battle of the Red Ring, why wouldn't he want to try to push them out once and for all? He's regained strength since then. Perhaps he thought with the Thalmor turning their attention to those multiple conflicts, he had perfect opportunity. Several battlefronts means a weakened army. I would have tried, were I him."
"So then, why the Dark Brotherhood?" Relas argued. "Why not kill him outright? They had far better access and it would be far cheaper than paying off a group of assassins, not to mention a far greater guarantee of success. Granted it was a success but why take the chance?"
"Scapegoats. Blame the assassins and people's ire shifts." Jorun said. "The Dark Brotherhood never reveals their clients. Have to give them that, they are an extremely efficient business that way. Not to mention the rise in infamy again. Plus the people will easily take blaming the Dark Brotherhood." He went quiet then, his gaze fixed on the tabletop, sitting perfectly still save for one finger quickly tapping. Relas knew that expression, knew that Jorun was thinking hard and fast to try to turn the situation around to his advantage. He knew better than to try to break his concentration. "However interesting a topic it is to discuss and debate, who killed the emperor and why is inconsequential."
"…It is?"
"He's dead. It doesn't matter by who or whoever is making a play for a useless throne. They can squabble with his sons over that, if they still live." Jorun said brutally. "My worry is about the ramifications. You and I are both old enough to remember the Oblivion Crisis, when the Mythic Dawn murdered the emperor. It was utter chaos then. Everyone was scared, every faction was scattered, the guard was next to useless. Even the most competent among us was rendered useless, say nothing of the horrible death toll that happened when daedra poured out of those gates. Whole cities were wiped off the map. The Imperials pulled out of Morrowind, leaving us to die. No, my worry is that in the midst of the confusion that will inevitably occur, the Thalmor will make a move and a hasty one at that. They must move and move fast to not only strengthen their hold here but solidify the Imperial court. Their hold in Skyrim is shaky at best. Morrowind and Cyrodiil are their last frontiers. Let's not forget to mention the chaos it will cause among the Great House councilors and the stupid decisions they'll make made out of fear. Mephala's webs this couldn't have happened at a touchier time."
"Touchier?"
"There are councilors still very loyal to the empire. More than half I'd wager to guess. An empty throne is a scary thing, even if someone sits an ass in there to try to placate the masses. The last time this happened, the Hlaalu lost their position of power and fell into disgrace. Every single councilor will be very reluctant to move in any direction, especially the more timid ones." Jorun frowned. "I didn't plan on letting our plot of breaking away from the empire and the Thalmor become public until we found some way to make them look bad enough that it would be an easier choice to swallow. I really don't want to have to reveal everything in the midst of panic. I didn't want to force it down their throats, but make them believe it was their idea all along."
"Your job just got harder."
"Worse. In the middle of all of this mess, the Thalmor decided to send their best spy. My old friend has finally put in his appearance."
Relas finally showed some alarm, sitting up straighter and nearly spitting out his drink. "Are you certain?"
"Positive. All the reports indicate that the Mute has arrived." Jorun made a face. "Probably because of the s'wit that fell out of the window a few months ago. Apparently one too many Thalmor have mysteriously gone missing or turned up dead here for them to overlook any longer. I allowed things to slide a bit more than usual lately. They are catching on to our dissent."
"We will have to work faster." Relas said. "The military might of Morrowind, such as it is, is in your favor, spymaster. As long as all the other generals can unanimously agree, and they will, the High General will push the councilors. But the councilors themselves..."
"Those fools would rather focus on the fighting over who will claim the throne. They are more than willing to waste time trying to see what ass will sit in that throne so they can start up kissing it rather than doing anything useful. Skyrim is a wonderful example of this." Jorun's lip twitched, as close to being nasty as he would allow himself to get while maintaining control of his temper. "I will do what I can. I just didn't expect the Thalmor to send their best spy so soon."
Relas rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You are going to have to tell your boy the whole story, you know."
"I know." Jorun sighed. "He still blames himself for what happened in the swamps despite the Mute being the one to compromise his whole mission. I'm just not sure which mole was in his employment." He drained the last of his drink in one swallow. "He's going to be...rather upset. Hopefully he's learned to reign in his temper enough to not go out and light the whole province on fire."
Relas pulled a face. He didn't believe that for a moment. Jorun didn't either but he hoped the fallout was kept to a minimum at least. "Well, while you work that over, there's something in Skyrim I would like you to work on, if you can, spymaster."
Jorun raised an eyebrow. Whenever Relas asked a favor of him, it was always interesting and lucrative. The general had his full attention.
XxXxXx
4E 201, 8th Sun's Dusk – West Gash Region, Vvardenfell
The going was slow back to the Velothi camp. To say that Veleth had been torn to ribbons was a bit of an understatement. Nevano had cringed seeing him in full light that morning. Dried blood had been flaking off like a lizard shedding its skin and Veleth had winced at every small movement as it tugged and pulled at the cuts that flayed just about every inch of him. They had found a pool of fresh water for him to clean up in but many of the deeper slashes had reopened and were still oozing blood. Despite the obvious pain he was in, Veleth didn't utter a noise of complaint. He had simply pulled on the armor that fit him perfectly, strapped on his new sword that Nevano took more than a passing interest in, and had trudged on, putting one bloody foot in front of the other.
Despite his obvious exhaustion, it only took about an hour before Veleth finally had enough of the worried looks Nevano kept glancing his way. "Don't."
"You look like you got trampled by a herd of kagouti." Nevano said. "How can I not be worried?"
"Nine combatants and a Daedric prince, actually." Veleth shrugged. "It wouldn't have been so bad had Boethia not been irritated with me to start with. Said I was late. Made for an interesting fight, I have to say. Hurt like bloody hell."
"Late?" Yes, that could indeed be an issue. If they knew exactly what the tardiness was about, that is. For that there could be a thousand obscure reasons. Too bad neither of them could even hazard a single one.
"I wasn't sure what she meant by that." Veleth shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "She didn't see fit to explain that to me. I can only guess."
"Trying to guess what a Daedric Prince wants is an impossible task." Nevano shrugged. "You can do exactly as they ask and it's still not right. Or it's a trick. Or you get cursed."
"Are you talking about daedra still or your luck with women?" Veleth kept his smirk on even when Nevano punched him in the still bleeding hole in his arm. Fetcher.
Veleth fell into silence the closer they got to the tribe's camp, concentrating instead on not falling over. Nevano hated pushing him so but once they got there, he could rest. Before he could open his mouth to encourage him the last short ways, Nevano got the now-familiar sense that they were being followed. He had to hand it to the little Velothi princess, she was very good at what she did. He was just getting a little bit better at guessing her arrival.
"Getting the drop on someone works better if they aren't already expecting to be followed." He said out loud. Veleth glanced up but, like Nevano, was hardly surprised.
Zula put in an immediate appearance, her hunters hanging back, looking both astonished and disgruntled at being discovered. "What happened? Why did you both disappear?"
Nevano raised an eyebrow at the tone that was more demanding than questioning but relented when she glared back. He snorted a little; she wasn't going to give in to anybody. He didn't have to say anything, though. He simply pointed to the highly impressive Ebony Mail currently covering Veleth's torn hide. Despite his haggard appearance, the blood only seemed to heighten the armor's frightening appearance.
Zula's ferocious facade crumbled like a biscuit and her eyes bugged wide. "What is THAT?!"
"What do you think it is?" Veleth snapped, his frustration snapping. "It's not like I woke up one morning and said 'Let's go hide this set of armor on an island for absolutely no fecking reason!' just in case I get into a shipwreck on the way here!"
Nevano laughed but had to admit that Zula was perfectly justified, he had hardly recognized the armor himself at first. He had seen it once before over two hundred years ago but it had looked far different then. It had taken him a moment to remember that artifacts such as the Ebony Mail tended to change their appearance to suit their new wielder. In this case, the armor took on less the formal soldier appearance it had before and better reflected Veleth's rather demonic temper. It had left his left arm less armored and more mobile while his right had interlinking, spiky plates that covered him from shoulder to fingertips. The rest of the armor was similarly impressive; the black mail allowing far more mobility than other heavy armor while the spiky black plates protected more vulnerable places. It was frighteningly gorgeous. Boethia must have really liked his performance in the tournament to allow this much effort be put into the armor's appearance. Nevano was going to pry the full story from him later after he teased that the armor seemed to put a bit of emphasis on protecting his sides. Boethia apparently agreed that he had a problem with being flanked.
Zula spat out a stream of curses that insulted everything from Veleth's attitude to his lineage. Veleth might not have the steadiest grasp of Velothi, but even he got the gist what she was saying, judging by his increasingly thunderous expression. As amusing as it was, Nevano knew he needed to step in before the two ended up at each others throats.
"Let's go, kids." He stepped between them, pushing shoulders so they both faced forward. "I have a feeling that I owe an Ashkahn an explanation and you two yapping at each other is giving me a headache."
The whole tribe seemed to be waiting on their return, making Veleth hesitate the briefest of moments. Nevano knew he had told him how the tribe had been perturbed at his sudden disappearance but it apparently hadn't fully sunk just how rankled their pride was that some seemingly random city mer had just up and left without anyone noticing. Returning wearing the Ebony Mail only made them murmur even more, though this time in begrudging admiration and some concern. Several reached out to touch it as they walked by, making Veleth as twitchy as a wet cat. Nevano surreptitiously put himself in between, giving a small buffer just in case Veleth, or the Ebony Mail for that matter, decided enough was enough.
Before they got too far, Hasnat the Gulakhan appeared behind them and pushed them both roughly towards the Ashkhan's yurt, leaving the tribe to murmur all the more excitedly. This was normally the type of trouble Nevano enjoyed causing but there was a bit of a shift in the mood. Veleth was looking like he was going to bite the next person to try to shove him around and Hasnat looked as if he wanted nothing more than to throw them both out. Something was about to happen and Nevano wasn't all that excited to figure out just what.
"You cause trouble." Hasnat spun on them the instant they crossed the threshold, his face sour.
"We are merely following it." Nevano said.
"THAT is not following trouble." He pointed at the Ebony Mail. "That is bringing trouble. More trouble than we want around here."
"Oh, but I believe that it is." Nevano said, elbowing Veleth in the ribs as his eyes flashed. "Boethia follows no mortals' plan. We were not going to ignore the Prince of Plots. Perhaps this was her idea all along. If so, then there's not a whole lot you, or even me for that matter, can do about it."
"While it is apparent that Boethia's involvement was a surprise to everyone, we do not appreciate it being brought to our camp." The Ashkhan finally put in an appearance, looking far more harried and irritated than last time. "This is not our fight. We do not wish to bring the Thalmor to our door."
"The Thalmor are already at your door, in case you haven't noticed." Veleth's eyes flashed alarmingly again.
"You both keep speaking of the trouble we bring without once considering the trouble that is going on all around you." Nevano shoved him behind him. "Is that no longer a concern? I didn't come here to bring you trouble, I didn't come here with you in mind at all, truth be told."
"Even the Nerevarine forgets his own people." Hasnat spat.
"You seem to have forgotten there is a world outside these four walls." Veleth growled, ignoring all Nevano's attempts to shush him. "No one is targeting you. The Thalmor don't even care about you, unless we fail. Then they will care about you and I don't think you want that. If we succeed, you can go back to being forgotten for all I care."
"We are not the one who forgot his oath."
Nevano raised an eyebrow, realizing just then what all this was about. "You ended up with Vvardenfell all to yourself, did you not? All the outlanders have declared this island unlivable, save a few brave souls. Dagoth Ur is dead. My job was done."
"Yet here we are now." Hasnat argued. "With Thalmor at our door and our people suffering."
"I had nothing to do with the Thalmor. They rode in on the chaos of the Oblivion Crisis." Nevano felt his chest tighten with indignation. "Unless you'd like to blame me for that too. Despite what you may think, I cannot fix every damn wrong on Nirn."
"You never finished what you started here!"
Veleth's eyes were fully glowing by now, like molten rock. The Ashkhan was halfheartedly holding Hasnat back but was obviously considering not. Nevano wasn't even going to try to pretend to not be insulted. He was beyond even trying to hold Veleth back. He wanted to flay them both. In fact, he had the perfect reply that would probably set everyone back on their heels but would destroy any hope of a relationship with the Velothi. At this point, Nevano just did not care. He was not going to take the blame for something not his fault.
Before things could truly blow up the flaps of the yurt opened and an older woman walked in, instantly silencing all arguing. Nevano didn't need to see the distinctive markings on her face and clothes or the magical jewelry liberally decorating her to know that this was the tribe's wise woman. Only the wise woman had the command to silence the khans of the tribe with her mere presence. As angry as he was, he stopped and gave her the respect she was due.
"Tashari..." The Ashkhan looked equal parts relieved and irritated at her timely interference.
"I would speak with these two." She said shortly, sweeping Nevano and Veleth away with one arm. "Go calm yourself and your people. Tell them that Boethia and Azura have sent their champions. What you choose to do beyond that is for you to decide, though I remind you to think of our talk. Come, champions, before more things are said that cannot be undone."
Every man in the room immediately fell to do as she commanded. Such was the power of the wise woman.
The wise woman, Tashari, had set her yurt across the camp, a bit separate from all the others, and was second in grandeur only to the Ashkhan's. Unlike the Ashkhan's, her yurt was devoted fully to her position as the tribe's historian and seer. The walls were covered in drawings of the history of the Velothi, the rugs were woven with depictions of past events and scrolls overflowed from a small chest, each carefully drawn with historical events, though not all of these were Velothi in nature, Nevano noticed. Herbs hung in drying bunches from the yurt's roof supports above a small smokey fire. In a small room to the side, the firelight glinted off the surface of bottles that Nevano could smell contained various alchemical potions. Chimes and charms made of wood, bone and kresh fibers rattled gently as they walked in. Tashari threw a handful of dried herbs on the fire. It flared up briefly before filling the yurt with a heavy, warm scent that put them both at ease. She said nothing as they entered, merely pointing to the ground. It wasn't until they both settled on the thick rugs in front of her like children that she spoke. "Do you even know what tribe this is, Nerevarine?"
"I have my suspicions."
"Nibani Maesa was the greatest of wise women, blessed by Azura herself." Her sharp red eyes bored into them. "Her dreams were not limited to just fulfilling the Nerevarine prophecies, but also the future of all the Dunmer, Velothi and city mer alike. Before the mountain erupted, it gave us signs. The land was unwell, it screamed in agony. We knew something was to happen. Some tribes chose to leave for the mainland. We did not think less of them for this. Some tribes chose to stay and perish on their lands. We did not think less of them for this. Nibani told Sul-Matuul to make a different choice. They would not leave and they would not perish. Instead, they walked to the Bitter Coast, warning the towns and villages along the way. The Urshilaku saved many."
"They survived the eruption."
"Yes." She said. "They survived and brought in other members of other tribes who managed to survive, as well as adopting those in from the towns and cities who had lost everything but their lives. We are still the Urshilaku but we remembered Veloth's teachings. We became different than what we had come from. We became the Ald'vel. It was the legacy Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa left us with. To be reminded of our past and reunited as it was foretold. We all once followed Veloth to Resdayn, where he threw down his weapon and turned his attention from war to caring for his people. There is a time to fight and there is a time to not fight."
"What time is this?"
"That is not for me to decide. I am no fortune teller. I receive visions. I dream dreams. I tell others what I see, I follow the wisdom of the wise women before me and I remind the people of what we came from, but I do not tell them what to do or how to act. I merely help guide those by the dreams I have, to help them make the best decision. Dreams can be interpreted in many ways, after all."
"Most wise woman receive their guidance from the stars and the ancestors." Nevano said slowly. "If you are one that dreams, then Azura favors you. She likes sending her messages in dreams. What dreams have you dreamed then?"
Tashari studied him for a while, as if trying to tell if he was worthy to hear what she saw in her non-waking moments. "I see ash. A large fire is burning in Tamriel, the ashes from the fire spread far over the other provinces, suffocating them. But another fire burns bright in Morrowind. Instead of laying waste to the earth behind it, life springs up from the ashes. It was a cleansing fire but, like most things, sometimes things must burn, must be broken, before being remade strong."
Silence reigned heavy in the yurt.
"I tell you these things not to frighten you, for you already know what you face, but for you to understand fully what you are fighting for." She looked at them. "There are many leaders at the head of this conflict, many who hold the flint to this fire, but most of them are misusing their power. Some do not light the fire at all while others make it burn as hot as possible. Their fire destroys instead."
"I told you power is a poison." Nevano muttered.
"A smart man avoids such poisons, yes, but a true leader recognizes those temptations and repels them instead of leaving them for others to pick up instead." The wise woman said. "Something both of you did."
"Well, that stung."
"It was intended to." She fixed them both in place with a hard stare. "There are quite enough stubborn people around here without adding to it. Our Ashkhan means well but his concern for the tribe has begun to cloud his judgment. The help you seek, you will not find it here, not now."
"In that case, we must leave." Nevano sighed. "We don't have time to waste. Thank you, though, for taking the time to speak with us. I'm sorry this did not go as well as I hoped."
"You will leave in the morning." She eyed Veleth critically. "After I have seen to this one. He is about dead on feet that are too torn to even walk away from here. If you two are to fight, you need to be whole. I am well aware of what he went through though I am unsure if I should think him brave or foolish for doing so without armor or weapons."
"You spoke of stubborn." Nevano grinned. "That's something this Bull carries in spades. Even Boethia recognizes that, I think."
"So much so that she rewarded him with the Ebony Mail." She smiled. "Yes, I know what that is. Even those blind to the world around them could tell this was not made by mortal hands. Though I will admit I have never seen anyone return from serving Boethia so bloodied. She must have been feeling particularly vicious. I suppose that's what happens when you seek Boethia mere days after her summoning day."
"After her..." Veleth sighed. "That explains a lot. Gauntlet was on the second and it's the...I don't know, the fifth?"
"It's the eighth." Tashari picked up a jar, plucking a few herbs that hung overhead. "You may go now, Nerevarine. Think on what I said. Prepare to leave. There is still much to be done."
XxXxXx
After spending the rest of the day of dodging incessant questions while trying to get everything together to leave, Nevano chose to sit outside the camp, away from all the curiosity that demanded to be sated. A tiny campfire kept him company as he watched the sun sink below the horizon, trying to let the power of dusk settle his nerves. He had been trying to find the solace that usually came with the dawn and dusk for several days now but it had been eluding him. Aside from waking him to go find the wayward Veleth, Azura had been oddly silent, her power absent from the place she normally permeated. Though her constant nosiness was often an annoyance, it was still something to stave off loneliness when he hadn't been in civilization in weeks. He wasn't used to such total silence.
"Have you disappeared as well, Azura?" He murmured to nothing, twisting the Moon-and-Star ring around his finger. "Am I losing everything one at a time?"
Of course, there was no response. Nevano hadn't expected one. He curled himself up tighter to stave off the chill in the air and the sense of loneliness that had started to press on him ever since Nerevar had gone silent.
Tashari the wise woman seemed to materialize out of thing air and settled across the little fire from him. Nevano caught more than a faint whiff of hackle-lo and several other herbs he couldn't quite place. It reminded him of far warmer places, bringing him some desperately needed peace than the waning dusk had declined to offer.
"Your Bull is resting now. He is a strong thing. I see why Boethia favors him." She said. "Though he carries the weight of things he shouldn't. Once he learns to shed those, he will be even more formidable. Something I could say for you as well."
"Do you see any visions for him?" Nevano asked in a bout of curiosity.
"None that are mine to share." She glanced at him. "I can tell you that though you and he walk this path together, but you both have different lessons to learn. He is a bull calf now, but he has already begun to learn and grow. Have you?"
"I'm told I have a part in this, I see how I'm dragged into this. Learning something along the way? Probably not." Nevano shrugged. "If I had fully learned my lesson, I would have run far away the first chance I got. Instead, I continue to offer help to those that don't want it."
"Do you remember the prophecies you followed, Nerevarine?"
"Yes." Nevano said before he could stop himself. "Every day. Every night. I hear Nibani's words in my head almost constantly."
"Do you remember your destiny?"
" 'He speaks the law for Veloth's people. He speaks for their land, and names them great.' " Nevano repeated without hesitation. The words of the prophecy had been burned into his mind like a brand. "I remember. I never forgot."
"You did not fulfill that." She said without reproach. "Nibani told us the story. There are many that are upset and feel a bit deceived, as you have seen, but, as I see now, it wasn't the time. It wasn't that you wouldn't, it was that you couldn't."
"I did everything I possibly could." Nevano protested. "I think even if I gave my life, it still wouldn't be enough."
"Listen to me. Prophecies are tricky. They say many things but leave many things out. They are very literal and very not." She threw a few roots onto the little fire, coaxing a bit more warmth from it. "The Seven Visions were made for you to do all together, obviously, to rid us of Dagoth Ur and the false gods. The destiny however was not part of that. It was separate. To be done in its own time."
"I'm not quite sure what you are trying to tell me."
She turned and looked him full in the eye. "Morrowind is broken. Beaten down, trod on and in ruin. To be beaten down anymore is to be wiped out entirely. In our darkest hour, you returned. You returned to speak Veloth's law to all our people. You are speaking of returning the land to the Dunmer. You, the bull calf and the spymaster. Speak Veloth's law to these Thalmor. Make our people great again, lest we become as the Imperials' empire."
He realized with a start that all this time she had been speaking of everyone involved without ever once being told. Had he or Veleth told her without realizing? How could she possibly know of Jorun's role in all this? Unless..."Are you telling me that this is all still part of the Nerevarine prophecies? That you are continuing Nibani Maesa's work? Is that how you know about everything? I was never willing to go along with those in the first place but it's still all going on?"
"Heroes rarely are willing. Only children's stories tells of those that are." She turned back to the fire. "You still have your lesson to learn, even after all this time, but such things do not mark time as we do. Try to remember the lessons you have learned thus far. You are not a tool. You can still shape this destiny however you choose. We are still at your mercy, Nerevarine."
Nevano, far from feeling comforted by her words, shivered in spite of the fire and stared into its depths. Nerevar was still cold and silent, Azura wasn't reaching out and now he was thrust right back into the heart of everything he had thought he was done with. He shivered again. He felt more cold and alone than ever before.
XxXxXx
4E 201, 9th Sun's Dusk – West Gash Region, Vvardenfell
Nevano had to admit, he had seen some pretty good healers in his life but the wise woman here outshone them all. Aside from the worrisome deeper injuries that would eventually heal up on their own, Veleth no longer looked like he lost a fight with a Dwemer blade trap. Tashari had wrapped up the stubborn injuries, found a pair of boots that reasonable fit and shoved him out the door. She didn't have to push too hard. He was more than a little eager to get going again now that moving around wasn't causing so much pain.
In many ways, Nevano was happy to have Veleth back with him. Ever since his talk with the wise woman, the feeling of loneliness has become more poignant. He hated it and hated more that he felt he needed to have the younger mer around. He valued Veleth quite a bit more than that.
"You look like shite." Veleth said by way of greeting, taking the new bag Nevano had dug up for him. "Something worse happen?"
Nevano, who in truth hadn't slept at all, merely pointed at the rugged guar leather boots. "We are finding you a new pair of boots. Those do not go with that armor."
"I am less concerned about the aesthetics of it and more with the utility..."
"Too many big words there." Nevano cut him off with a grin. "I might need to find a new pair for you. Ones that fit you a bit better. You are taller than most here."
"I just need them to last while we are here. I got another pair back home." Veleth sighed, pinching his nose in exasperation. "Exactly where on this damned island were you going to find another pair of boots?"
"Exactly where we are headed." Nevano pointed south. "To where a lot of this mess began. Balmora."
Balmora, the place where so many strange adventures had started. The place where an old moon sugar addict had started him on his strange journey. The place where he had hidden Sunder long ago. Nevano felt like he was starting things over again. It made him feel slightly sick.
As they walked away from the camp, the hazy sun barely starting to light the sky, Nevano felt watchful eyes heat his back. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the wise woman watching them. She raised one hand, a bone charm wrapped in her fingers, blessing them, and returned to the camp. The pit in Nevano's stomach widened as he shivered.
XxXxXx
A/N: So apparently the last chapter was the cork that was blocking all the writing inspiration. Either that or the stress of trying to move is causing a massive shift in inspiration. Won't say no to it though!
