Reyes had no idea how long he slept. He had never been anywhere other than Sadrith Mora, and didn't know how far away, or even where, Molag Mar was, so he felt disoriented, not to mention dizzy, after his first night in the hold of the Drowning Mer.

It was already a few hours past dawn; he could see that from the quality of the light streaming in from the infrequent cracks in the keel. He lay still, not yet fully awake, feeling the roll of the ship. It was slightly more pronounced than the day before, and he could hear the scraping of barrels and crates as they moved slightly in the undulations.

Reyes up out of his crude hammock, constructed in a makeshift fashion from a fishing net. Under-Leaf was still asleep in his one hammock, and as Reyes thought how extraordinary the snoring of an Argonian sounded, there was a cry from above deck.

'Molag Mar in sight!' bellowed the voice. Under-Leaf stirred and opened his eyes. Reyes noticed with fascination that the eyelids opened from the top down. 'Where are we?' he asked drowsily as he tried to support himself on his elbow.

'Near Molag Mar, I suppose.' Said the Dunmer boy. He peeked out the crack in the bow keels. 'I can't see much, but it looks like we're sailing into a river.'

'Ah, yes.' Under-Leaf said, not getting up. 'Molag Mar is on a river that leads through the Molag Amur region. This must be that river.'

'Have you ever been to Molag Mar?' asked Reyes.

'Me?' The Argonian shook his head. 'No, I have not, but I was brought through Molag Amur when I was moved from Seyda Neen to Sadrith Mora. It's the most treacherous place on Vvardenfell. There is always the threat of attack from bandits, and the creatures of the region are far from friendly. The sun is also very hot, and ash storms are common. Don't expect it to be an easy journey.'

'I'll be fine.' Said Reyes, hoping he was right.

There was the sound of footsteps above their heads, and tiny particles of dust floated down from the roof. A burly Redguard sailor appeared on the stairs. 'Your master wants you up on deck.' The sailor informed them. 'Sharpish.'

They wearily got up and followed the beleaguered sailor up the stairs and through the musty-smelling ship. The trapdoor creaked as it opened, and they stepped onto the deck. Reyes flinched in the light, narrowing his eyes to examine his surroundings.

The day was so clear, they could hardly tell where the sea that spread out behind them ended and the sky began. Light zephyrs blew over the deck, causing the single dirty white sail to crease and flutter, the sound of which could be heard all the way to the rear of the ship, where the captain was standing with the helm. To the east, Reyes could see a few small rocky islets in the ocean along the coast, and running all around the coast was a dreary grey beach of ash and sand, littered with driftwood and sprinkled with boulders, and hollow snags could be seen clutching at the sky further on. Directly in front of them there was a river curving slightly to the right. A distance away, on the river, there was an enormous structure, a huge, rectangular building rising out of the water. The scorching sun reflected off the polished stone, half blinding the two slaves who looked out at it.

'That must be Molag Mar.' said Under-Leaf, blinking.

'Indeed it is.' Said a voice behind them. They turned to see their new master, Edris Valyon, looking out across the choppy water at the canton. He wore a plain brown traveling outfit, a broadsword strapped to his belt, and nothing vaguely resembling a smile.

'When we land, you will unload the crates and baskets marked with my name from the hold, and carry them, to the bridge that connects the town to the shore. My bodyguard will be watching you, so don't even think about trying to escape.' As he spoke, a loutish Dunmer with a bonemold bow slung over his shoulder came to stand next to their owner, and Edris conversed with him briefly, echoeing the details he had just given his slaves.

The moored at an unstable looking wharf which stood low in the water, leading up to the canton in a steep ramp. Reyes didn't like the looks of it; it appeared that it would hardly be able to withstand the weight of a single man, let alone two slaves carrying crates. The gangplank was lowered and secured, and other passengers began leaving the ship to go about their business in the town. Apparently, the pier was stronger than Reyes gave it credit for; it withstood the weight of a Nord and two Altmer, the Nord clad in a partial suit of iron, the Altmer in matching suits of chain, without buckling.

'Well, get to it.' Their master commanded gruffly, and the two slaves headed back down the hold to collect the cargo.

'Nchow!' swore Under-Leaf, as he attempted to lift a particularly heavy crate. 'What does he keep in these crates, I wonder?'

'He's a merchant, it must be something like raw metals.' Shrugged Reyes, holding a basket containing, judging by the smell, a load of guar hide 'Leave it and get something else, I'll help you with it later.'

Under-Leaf grunted and picked up another basket. They returned to the deck, went down the gangplank, up the ramp and to the bridge without much trouble. When they got to the bridge, the dour Dunmer bodyguard was waiting for them on the middle of the bridge.

'Put them down there.' He said, indicating the cracked earth near the end of the bridge. 'Then go back for more.'

The slaves said nothing, and did as they were told.

After about an hour, the cargo hold was empty except for the one heavy crate, which they lifted with effort and carried to the bridge. They had barely enough time to mop their brows before Edris arrived, leading two guars by their harnesses. 'Good.' He approved. 'Now, open up the crates and load their contents into the saddlebags. Strap the four baskets on when you've finished. And don't open that crate!' he cautioned as they prepared to do so to the heavy crate. 'Ill load that myself. I'm going for a drink.' He finished, and sauntered off.

Without a word, daring not to under the vigil of the stone-faced bodyguard, they proceeded to unpack the crates, which contained any number of different goods; saltrice, marshmerrow, arrows, iron daggers in leather sheathes, pots of clay and glass, two suits of chitin armour, torches, rope and other commodities to numerous to name here. The Molag Amur sun beat down on them as they worked, and seemed to drain the stamina out of them every passing second.

'I don't think I can stand much more of this.' Groaned Reyes, prying open another crate.

'Wait, Reyes!' cried Under-Leaf. 'That's the-'

Before Reyes realised what he was doing, the lid of the crate sprang off. Inside, there were several dozen lumps of a glossy, ink-black metal.

'Ebony.' Breathed Under-Leaf, awestruck. 'This is contraband.' His slit eyes had gone wide with amazement.

'Of course it is.' Said a dangerous voice behind them. With mounting dread, they looked up to see that Edris had returned.

'You miserable slaves!' Edris Valyon's voice gushed out of his throat in a shout, and he clubbed Reyes over the head with the flat of his hand, sending him spinning to the floor. His eyes glazed, and as he struggled to focus them again, he saw the dim outline of his master standing over him with a stout cudgel. He was breathing heavily, apparently preventing himself from beating the boy further.

'Let this slip to anyone and you won't live to see another day.' There was a grim promise in his voice, and the two slaves did not doubt his word. He reached into the crate and withdrew a lump of the metal. 'Help me.' He said, and lifted up a flap on the saddle of one of the guars depositing the ebony in a secret pocket. Reyes scrambled to his feet and followed suit, as did Under-Leaf.

When they finished, Edris addressed them again. 'Not a word.' He reminded them, and withdrew to the side to watch the slaves work.

When the guars were loaded, Reyes and Under-Leaf were given some hard earned food and drink in the form of dried hound meat and water. The meat was tough, leathery in texture, but was far better than the tasteless slop that they were given in the slave market, and was by far the best food either of them had had in a long while. Then, they began on their trek to Suran.

---

The two slaves lead the guars, and their supervisors walked alongside, warily eying the road ahead and the rocks and stones that scattered the region. The well-trodden path crunched under their feet as the merciless sun scalded their shoulders. They passed pools of lava and molten rock, which radiated a fiery heat that demanded a distance of at least four meters away. Ever so often, a stiff wind would come up, whipping the dirt and ash around their raw legs and stinging their faces.

The first day was mostly uneventful, save for two things.

The first occurred at around midday. Ahead, Edris had spotted the steel flash of reflective armour up ahead, and an Imperial patrol, around twenty strong, soon drew within sight.

'Halt!' commanded the Captain; a short Imperial wearing burnished steel armour. The legionnaires, carrying either spears or shortswords, stopped and stood to attention.

'I'll thank you not to take up too much of my time, Captain.' Drawled Edris. 'I've a cargo of goods, many of them perishable, that has to make Suran in three days time.'

'That depends.' Said the Captain, removing his helmet. 'We have orders to search any and all traders on this lane, and the sooner you cooperate, the better. Do we have your consent?'

'Go ahead.' Said Edris, cocking his head back at the guars. 'I have nothing to hide.

At the captain's command, six legionnaires broke off from the troop and moved to the guar with military discipline and precision. In a few minutes, the caravan had been searched, and nothing unusual was found.

'Carry on.' Said the Captain, and the patrol moved on.

The second occurred during the late afternoon. The sun, already sinking, was hanging straight in their eyes, dazzling them and forcing them to keep their eyes downcast. They were between two steep hills, preventing any movement off the road. This was exactly the opportunity the bandits that had been stalking them all day were looking for, and fell on them with no warning.

They jumped out from behind rocks, roughly ten people of mixed races and gender. They brandished a variety of weapons, from cudgels to claymores, and clearly had no intention of taking prisoners.

The instant the first brigand appeared, however, Edris and his bodyguard reacted with lightning reflexes. The silent guard, in the middle of a step, planted his right foot down firmly, bringing his left foot forward and bending his knees into a crouch. At the same time, his hands were busy too, his left unshouldering his bow and his right reaching back into the quiver of steel over his back. In one fluid second, he nocked an arrow, slanting the bow diagonally across his chest as he drew it, and released the first fatal arrow in the space of a single second. The arrow whistled through the ash-laden air, plunging up to its fletching into the neck of an unfortunate Bretonian woman, who groaned, dropped her silver sword to the ground, and collapsed.

Edris unsheathed his iron broadsword and held it in front of him, bracing himself for the attack. A Khajiit, wielding a chitin spear, attempted an overhead thrust, which was countered with a speedy slash to the left, severing the spearhead and knocking the khajiit back. He held up the chitin pole to defend himelf, but a ferocious top-down chop cleaved it, and the cat's head, clean in two.

There were already two enemies dead, and Reyes and Under-Leaf were still trying to grasp what was happening. When they finally came to their senses, another two lay in the dirt, another khajiit shot through the chest, and a Nord woman with a gaping wound in her stomach.

By now, the attackers weren't nearly as confident as when they had started, and were keeping their distance, sheathing their melee weapons and using darts, throwing knives and crossbows instead. The one person who did not have a ranged weapon, a Redguard man wielding a steel katana, engaged Edris, and they began exchanging blows.

Most of the supporting attackers were now shooting and tossing their weapons at the guard, but one or two were aiming for Reyes and Under-Leaf. One caught an arrow in the shoulder, sending the quarrel from his crossbow high into the air, but the other, a vicious looking Dunmer woman, was flicking throwing stars at the slaves at an incredible rate.

Reyes saw the Under-Leaf was her target, and immediately scooped up a jagged rock from the ground, and tossed it at her. Miraculously, for Reyes was not an expert at throwing, the rock hit the woman square in the head, stunning her momentarily, enough to prevent further attack before another arrow found her heart.

Edris, who had disposed of the Redguard, now bleeding in the dirt, began advancing on the remaining brigands. Now whittled down to a discouraged, disorganised trio, took flight. Two escaped, but one of them received an arrow in the back of the head.

In under a minute, it was over. There was hardly a scratch among the winners; the bodyguard had been glanced by a throwing knife, creating a shallow cut, and Under-Leaf had been grazed on the ankle by a throwing star. However, after a moment of regrouping, the slaves were ordered to search the bodies. After this grisly task was completed, adding a couple of extra kilograms to their packs, they began to move on.

Although obviously grateful for his life, Reyes was disheartened by their victory. He had been planning to suggest to Under-Leaf that they escape while their owner and his fierce aide wasn't looking, but now he doubted that they would have remained unnoticed for long, and as he trudged through the hot desert, feeling the stinking breath of the guar on his back, he erased every thought of ever experiencing freedom again from his mind, and, disillusioned, consigned himself to his fate as a slave.

---

That night, lying next to the meager embers of the fire, Reyes was in the half aware state between sleep and consciousness. He did not feel the depression that he had felt that afternoon during the battle. Suffice to say, he felt hardly anything at all. Although, when he let his mind wander further and further from awareness, he could feel something near him. He could feel it in the dark. He wondered absently if perhaps it was the dark. All he knew was, for some reason, the black that had always felt threatening and all encompassing tonight felt warm and comforting. He even imagined he could feel the darkness laying a consoling hand on his head, stroking him gently.

'Mother.' Was his last, detached word during that day's consciousness, and, contented, he drifted of to sleep.