"I am only what time and circumstances made me. Son of a lost house. Friend to a fallen king. Some will tell you that we are the product of our choices. I've never found that to be the case." - Sotha Sil
"Captain Devhi is in charge of the Vvardenfell route, but the last boat left yesterday and won't be back in Vvardenfell for a fortnight." The port master, Wynil, rubbed his eyes.
"Apologies for the lateness of the hour." Gelebor forced a smile. "We're in a bit of a hurry." His mace was clipped to his belt. Nadene had ran from the house in such a rush, he hadn't been certain they weren't leaving the city immediately.
"Won't make a lick of difference." Wynil replied dispassionately, leaning back in his chair. Gelebor had a feeling he wasn't pleased at being woken up at such a late hour. "Even if Devhi could find a navigator available who knew the Vvardenfell routes, he wouldn't let you aboard."
"Why not? I'm sure we have enough gold to pay for the trip."
"Nah, ya don't get me. He wouldn't let you board. The situation on Vvardenfell is still, hmm, delicate. If an outlander wants to settle in Balmora, they have to petition the Redoran elders in Blacklight and wait for their ruling."
"How long would that take?" He saw Nadene through the window, arguing with a grizzled old Dunmer on the docks. "We don't want to settle. We believe the colony may be in danger."
Wynil shrugged. "Sounds like ya ought to speak with Second Councilor Arano. All I can tell you is, Devhi won't have any pity for you, and he's not going to break the law on your account."
"Would we have better luck in Blacklight?"
"You'll still have to go through the petition process." Wynil yawned. "And just getting to the city would take a week, with those storms rolling in."
Gelebor thanked the port master and headed towards Nadene, the sound of raised voices growing louder.
"Two thousand gold," she pleaded, arms crossed.
"No deal, s'wit." Devhi was an old Dunmer, with long gray hair spilling down his shoulders, and long cruel lines on his face.
"That's more than enough, and you know it." She waved a hand at the ship floating behind him. "We can go right now. Three thousand gold."
"I told you, fool, I don't even know the routes. My only lieutenant who does left yesterday, and won't be back for weeks. Keep your blighted gold, it will do you no good."
"You don't understand!" Nadene stepped towards him, fists clenched. She took a deep breath, and continued more quietly. "I need to get to Vvardenfell. Someone very dear to me is in danger. I'm...I'm the Nerevarine."
Devhi opened his mouth to speak, and closed it, looking at her suspiciously.
"Say you're telling the truth, and not spouting a load of guarshit." He spit on the deck, and glared at them. "Nerevarine never did anything for me or mine."
"What?" Nadene looked more taken aback than Gelebor had ever seen her. "I killed Dagoth Ur. I stopped the blight from taking all you miserable s'wits. I saved Vvardenfell!"
"I'm Dres." Devhi stepped closer. "None of my ancestors lived on that cursed island. And it doesn't seem you saved it for very long, or else you wouldn't be begging at my feet to take you to a ruin. Where were ya when the lizards poured over the border and set Morrowind on fire?"
"Dres?" Nadene matched his stance, speaking through clenched teeth. Gelebor prepared to grab her if she struck the captain. "I'll tell you where I was when the waters of your saltrice plantations ran red. I was watching, and laughing, and wishing the Argonians good fortune. Because you slaving bastards were deserving."
"Bitch!" He pushed her backwards with surprising strength. Gelebor caught her before she could stumble off the docks and into the freezing water below.
"You...you..." She stuttered, blinking quickly. Gelebor gripped her shoulders tightly. I don't know that she won't kill this fool. That's definitely not something we need right now.
"Tell you what." Devhi smirked. "Come by my cabin later, and you might make enough gold to charter yourself a ship in Blacklight. I've never had a Nerevarine before. That way we can both leave this arrangement...satisfied."
Gelebor gently pushed Nadene behind him. No Auriel. No limits on what I'm capable of.
"What are you, her man slave?"
"Not quite." He lunged forward and tackled Devhi. They both went flying off the docks, and for a moment the warm night air rushed past. Then they plunged into the bay. The water was cool and refreshing, and only a little ashy.
I'd wager our good captain may feel different. He savored the feeling for a moment. Devhi panicked at first, shuddering and gasping. Gelebor watched him flail, bubbles rushing from his open mouth. But then the captain seemed to get a hold on himself, and began weakly swimming for the shore. Gelebor followed.
"N'wah!" Devhi sputtered, pulling himself on to land. "Fucking n'wah. I...I'll have the Redoran Guard throw you in irons!"
"Oh no you won't." Nadene said from above them. She was in the process of floating down from the docks.
Devhi scrambled backwards, watching her warily as she landed next to Gelebor.
"Are you okay?" She helped him to his feet.
"I'm fine," Gelebor answered, hiding his shaking hands behind his back. "Just a little adrenaline. It's rather difficult for one of my kind to die of exposure."
"What in Oblivion are you people?" Devhi drew a dagger and pointed it at them. He trembled and shivered, water dripping from his hair. "Tel-Telvanni?"
Nadene glared. "No. And you'd best put that blade away before you hurt yourself."
"B'vek, what kind of fool do you take me for?" Devhi stepped closer. "If you raise a hand against me, I'll scream like a nix hound. Even if no one comes in time to save my life, the Guard will know the elves who did me in."
"Fine, then. We're leaving anyway."
"Think again, f'lah. Stay where ya are, or I'll throw this dagger at pretty boy's face. Unlike you, I've got a means of escape floating right beside us. And House Redoran will be sure to forgive my minor crimes if I can bring them some extra trade goods from Port Telvannis."
"You're shaking like a child. You couldn't hit the broad side of your ship. Stow your weapon, fool, or make ready to meet your gods."
Devhi bristled, and his fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger. Tendrils of green energy shimmered in Nadene's palm.
"What seems to be the problem here, my friends?" Kharjo said, looking down at them from up on the docks.
"We've found ourselves in a spot of trouble, Kharjo." Gelebor gripped Nadene's shoulder, trying to dissuade her from attacking but ready to throw them both out of the way if necessary.
"Hmm. Khajiit knows the look of trouble well. He has become well acquainted with its signs. But I don't believe I see trouble here. Just misunderstanding."
"Stay up there, betmer," Devhi snarled. "I could always use a new rug in my cabin."
"But how will I show you my bag of jingly gold coins from up on this dock?" Kharjo held out a drooping canvas sack.
"Coins?" There was a familiar hunger in Devhi's eyes. Gelebor was unpleasantly reminded of Mogrul and Slitter.
"Yes. Khajiit might be persuaded to let you hold on to this bag for him, if his friends were allowed to leave the shore in peace."
Devhi's brow creased. "Throw me one of them coins, cat. I won't be tricked."
"Tricked? Do you take Kharjo for a follower of the Prince of Bargains?" But Kharjo set down the sack and reached inside to grab a coin. The gold glittered in the dim moonlight. He tossed the coin over Gelebor's head, and it landed in the ash near Devhi. The captain snatched it up, never lowering his dagger, and examined it suspiciously. He brought it to his mouth and bit down.
"Kharjo must warn you, his gold is not for eating. He will not be held responsible for any damaged teeth."
"Shove it, cat." But Devhi was apparently satisfied with his test. "Come down, real slow like, or your masters here will be screaming in seconds."
Kharjo bowed his head slightly and descended the ladder. Nadene let the paralysis spell fizzle from her hand, but Gelebor felt her muscles were still tensed. Little surprise that she expects treachery.
As Kharjo passed them, Gelebor opened his mouth to whisper a question, but the Khajiit pointedly turned away from them. Devhi watched greedily as he approached.
"No closer!" He raised the dagger. "Drop the sack. And all of you, get out of my blighted sight. You'll never board a ship flying my sails."
"N'wah would probably crash us into Skyrim, anyway," Nadene muttered. They climbed up the ashy slopes towards the city gate, Kharjo quickly joining them.
"Kharjo must admit, it pains him to speak ill of his new friends," he said, "But you both acted foolishly."
"What?" Nadene turned her head sharply.
"Pushing old elves into water, waving spells around like they are New Life festival tricks. I would expect such behavior from impulsive young kittens."
"That bastard pushed me!"
"You have to admit, Kharjo," Gelebor said. He held the gate open so they could pass through. The Redoran guard on the other side grumbled something unintelligible at them. "That elf was indeed scum of the lowest sort."
"I know this," he replied. "I know this because I had dealings with him before, when I tried to travel to Vvardenfell alone, back when I still had the coin. This Khajiit could have told you that outlanders must endure a lengthy process. He is still waiting for word of his own petition, after weeks and weeks. Perhaps together, we could have figured something out."
Nadene groaned in agitation. They passed the Retching Netch, where the scent of sujamma and spice filled the street and sounds of clinking glass and laughter slipped around the cracks in the doors.
"But now no sailor in Raven Rock will give us service. We have made a new enemy when we need new friends the most."
"I'm sorry, okay?" Nadene suddenly stopped and turned around. She looked towards Red Mountain, her face still. "The only one I love in this world has been taken by followers of Namira. I just...I just need to get to Vvardenfell."
"I understand," Kharjo said softly. "More than any other being could. If I can snatch an innocent life from the hungry clutches of those who took everything from me, then my revenge will taste all the more sweeter. And naturally, I will look towards rescue before vengeance. But Kharjo knows the path you walk. If you look closely, you will see my fading footprints ahead. If you want to know where they'll lead, you need only recall the broken Khajiit you discovered in that warehouse."
"Maybe you're right." They continued towards the house, more slowly. Gelebor could almost feel the waves of frustration rolling off of Nadene, and he couldn't help but share in her helplessness. Of course he had no desire to travel to an island of people that considered him fine dining, but he could at least help Nadene get there.
"What about the Telvanni?" He asked gently. "Surely they must have methods of traveling to their holdings on Vvardenfell."
"Yes." She seemed to seize on to the idea with disturbing alacrity. "That's it. That's it! Neloth must have some way to get to the island."
"Hold on. First, we need to warn Second Councilor Arano of the danger-"
But she had already sprinted back towards the Netch. He looked after her helplessly, and Kharjo grinned, the ends of his whiskers going up.
"This one must ask." They moved off of the street to stand under a small awning. "Who are you, to the Nerevarine? If the cultists hunt you with such ferocity, surely you must be an elf of great importance."
Who I am to Nadene? Gelebor wasn't sure of that, himself. The second question was decidedly easier to answer. Or so he thought at first.
"I'm…" Gelebor stared off into the middle distance. A few Dunmer passed them wordlessly, consumed with their own affairs. "I'm not really sure who I am, really. A week ago I could have answered you."
"At first Kharjo believed you to be the Nerevarine's partner."
"Err…I don't know. Partners in a platonic sense, maybe. Like two good…friends." But the word tasted false on Gelebor's tongue, for reasons he couldn't discern. The utter dread he'd felt watching her read Habinisulu's letter…did friends feel each other's pain so acutely?
There was no frame of reference there. The memory of his friends in the Chantry has faded to such a degree that he could only recall their names, words that provoked no feeling in him but a dim and hollow grief to which he could attach no recollections of life. They were just gravestones in his mind. Surely Nadene was more than that.
"Forgive me for being so familiar so quickly," Kharjo was saying. "This Khajiit's tongue has not had the chance to waggle in many moons."
"Think nothing of it." He smiled. "I've had my fill of silence."
Nadene was coming back towards them, deftly slipping through the night walkers. There was a determination in her manner that worried and excited him.
"We're going," she said, and grabbed his hand. He was too surprised by the feeling of her cool skin to speak at first. By the time she'd grabbed Kharjo as well and pulled them both into the open, it was too late.
"Nadene-"
A warmth enveloped him, and then a tingling, like a diminished shock from a Dwemer spider. The world around them snapped into being. Great towering trees swayed in the night and ash blew in the wind. This was an immediately familiar place.
"Good," Nadene murmured. "My Recall marker survived. Tel Mithryn isn't too far from here."
"By the fur of Alkosh…" Kharjo stumbled away from them, rubbing his arms. "Please, warn Khajiit next time. He was not prepared to be vanished."
The fires had settled, but massive chunks of blackened mushroom and burnt wood littered the clearing. They stood in the remnants of Nadene's garden. The myriad of colors and scents he'd so dearly treasured had gone, replaced by a swath of scorched grass. Piles of ash surrounded the three. He frowned.
"Sorry," Nadene said again, and started off towards the forest. Gelebor grabbed her shoulder before she could take another step.
"Wait." She turned her head, eyes wide like a vale fawn. "Please. We're a team, Nadene. I need to know our plan. So does Kharjo."
Before she could respond, the treeline erupted with sound. Loud, gurgling groans that silenced the night insects in an instant. And the shuffling of many feet, like those of predators that cared not about being heard. Kharjo rejoined them, his brow raised.
"You have some interesting sounding neighbors, my friends."
"I've never heard anything like that," Gelebor said. "And I lived here for some time."
"Oh, no. You wouldn't have." A strange note of bitterness cut through Nadene's words, but it was preferable to the rising hysteria he'd heard before. "I kept those bastards away. Now all my defenses have gone."
A shapeless lump of gray shambled out from the trees. Twin pinpricks of cruel crimson light turned towards them, and even from across the clearing Gelebor imagined he could feel the waves of hatred and pain. More of the monsters broke through, their groans growing louder.
"Ashspawn," Nadene spat. "Despicable creatures."
"Elder Othreloth spoke of them once." Gelebor drew his mace, the weight a welcome effort. He bemoaned that the Snow Prince's armor was still at the Raven Rock smithy. "Perhaps they were attracted by the fire."
"Whatever their source," Kharjo said, "I believe we may be outnumbered."
He was right. Behind them, branches cracked and misshapen feet crunched the forest snow. A bolt of fire flew from the treeline, soaring over their heads. Between the dark trees, flickering orange lights heralded further destruction.
"Oh, dear." Gelebor knelt and unstrapped a dagger from his boot. He held out it out to Kharjo. "Try to stay behind me, friend. You're in no condition to fight."
"Do not fear, Knight-Paladin. Kharjo has no wish to be remembered as a Khajiit who died bravely."
"We don't have time for this!" Nadene snapped, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow in one fluid motion. Almost before Gelebor could blink, she'd sent an arrow flying towards the first visible ashspawn, and more projectiles soon followed.
The undead burst apart into dust and ore. Nadene's arms moved like clockwork. But for every ashspawn that fell, two more came forward, and an unholy cry rose from their ranks. Glowing gray shapes rushed towards the ruined tower from all directions.
He raised his mace and moved in front of Kharjo. Nadene cursed and waved her hand, and shimmering blue light washed over them. A moment later a bolt of flame winged Gelebor's side and he grunted. It hurt, but not as much as it should have. Magical armor. Lovely.
Gelebor easily felled the first ashspawn to slip past Nadene's frantic firing, and the second and third as well. More fireballs came towards them, but the mage armor did a good enough job of shielding them that Gelebor could take a full impact and stay on his feet. For now, at least. More sweat poured down his ivory skin with every minute that passed. He'd not fought in a prolonged engagement for…well, his entire life, really.
"B'vek!" A smaller ashspawn, that had once perhaps been a Dunmer child, had crept up on them and tackled Nadene. She beat at the monster with her bow. Gelebor turned to help her, but found himself engaged with his own ashspawn.
Then Kharjo twisted forward and plunged his dagger into the dead child's head. Its remnants showered Nadene, and she jumped to her feet coughing up ash, already reaching for an arrow. But the damage had been done. Countless groaning shapes ran towards them, their blades of rock and ore raised high.
Kharjo hissed, slashing and thrusting with his dagger, and Gelebor tried his best to take the brunt of the attacks. The mage armor grew less effective with every blow that got past his defenses.
"Auriel preserve me," Gelebor prayed without thinking, and did not have time to curse himself for it. He swung his mace again, annihilating an ashspawn, but another one immediately seized on to his arm. Gelebor struggled to knock it away as more closed in. Damn, damn, damn.
Small fingers closed around his shoulder, and the mage armor was renewed. He dared a glance at his savior and saw Nadene's slender gray face, her eyes wider than he'd ever seen them. For whom is she so afraid? Neither of us would turn away from death. But then he got his answer, from a yowling cry that split through the groans of the ashspawn. Kharjo!
Gelebor roared and split apart two undead with one blow, his mace passing through them easily. He intercepted a firebolt with his arm and took the caster's ashy head off. In a rare second of calm, he noticed the noises from the treeline had stopped. There were no more coming.
That only seemed to incense the remaining ashspawn. While these monsters seemed to care little for strategy, they also had no regard for their own survival. Three fell on Gelebor at once with fire and sword, and his mace was lost. He'd been separated from Nadene, but heard the distant twanging of arrows. The sound hardened his resolve.
He grabbed the head of one ashspawn and crushed it in his fist, and used the monster's blade to skewer another. The last one advanced on him, greatsword swinging, but Gelebor dodged the blow and grabbed a large shard of ebony from among the piles of ash. He leapt forward and jabbed the razor sharp rock again and again into the ashspawn's face. It exploded into dust. Gelebor fell to his knees, panting.
There were no more groans. A light breeze blew through the clearing, scattering the ash to the warm air. He smelled rain coming. Or worse. Black clouds covered the moons. Someone was making a horrible noise, somewhere.
"Nadene?" He stumbled to his feet. "Nadene!"
He found her crying over Kharjo, face buried in her hands. Gelebor pushed her aside and put two fingers to the Khajiit's neck. Then he pushed up the sleeve of Kharjo's robe and checked the inside of his elbow, as well. Just to make certain.
"I was so stupid," Nadene sobbed. "So damn stupid and selfish! After all he survived…oh, Azura. I should have died with the rest of them."
"He's alive," Gelebor said, examining the wounds on Kharjo's side. "You healed him well. But we need to go."
He picked up Kharjo. The Khajiit was scarcely heavier than a sack of oats. He made for the treeline, limping past piles of ash, and only stopped when he realized Nadene wasn't following.
"Come on," he called. "There's an ashstorm coming. And more ashspawn with it, I'd wager."
"No." She stared at the black clouds spreading across the night sky.
"Why?"
"I'll just get you killed. I get everyone killed. Vivec, Almalexia, Sotha Sil, Dagoth Ur…they were great. They were fucking gods. How could I have killed the gods? Why did Nerevar Indoril choose such a pathetic wretch to be his reincarnation?"
"Please. No more."
"I'm nothing." Her hands clenched, and ash squished through her closed fingers. "Less than nothing. I should have stayed in Cyrodiil with my father. Those Camonna Tong I met in Balmora, my first day on Vvardenfell, and Devhi...they were right. I'm an n'wah. I'm stupid, I'm ugly, I don't deserve happiness, I don't deserve death…"
"We're going to find a way to that cursed island, together."
She broke off her tortured tirade, looking up at him with glossy eyes.
"Yes. We're going to save your granddaughter and kill those who stole Kharjo's family from him. And then I'm going to take you somewhere far away from all this Divines-damned ash and heat. Somewhere where you never have to see Red Mountain again." He swallowed. "Would you…would you like that?"
She nodded after a moment's hesitation, her face raw and wet.
"Then come with me, now. Please. None of us will survive a night in the open."
Nadene followed, and Gelebor took them to a small cave in the forest that he'd once discovered on a walk with the guars. A small forest stream ran down the hill leading up to the opening, thankfully free of ash for the moment. Perhaps a bear had lived in the cave, once, but nothing leapt out of the darkness now when they crept inside. He set Kharjo down near the entrance and found Nadene standing behind him like a child waiting to be instructed. He didn't have time to devote any thought to her transformation, however.
"Stay here," Gelebor ordered. "Watch over our friend. I'm going to go find some wood, water, and maybe some food."
She nodded again, her chin lowered.
He swore every muscle in his body groaned when he stepped out of the cave, but there was nothing for it. I'll sleep during the storm. If another dream of death and ruin was waiting for him, Gelebor was in no hurry. He collected the driest twigs and branches he could find, the rumbling sky hastening his steps.
He also managed to catch a squirrel and a bunch of berries before the rising winds forced him back to the cave with the spoils. Nadene had moved Kharjo deeper inside, presumably to shield him from the ash now blowing inside. She must be exhausted, using so much of her magic in so short a time.
"I think we'll be okay," Gelebor said. Nadene looked up at him with that vulnerable, open expression that he wasn't sure exactly what to do with. Kharjo was snoring softly.
"Wait," she said, when he began building the fire.
"Yes?"
"You…" She swallowed, and crawled forward to grab his hands. "You can't build a fire in a cave, endling. We'll run out of oxygen. Or the rocks above will crack and fall."
"Oh." He blinked at his useless wood pile. "I wish you'd told me that before."
"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked, and she turned away.
"Hey. It's alright." Gelebor knelt and put a hand on her shoulder. The muscles there were tense, but soon relaxed under his fingers. "We've had a rough week."
"We?"
"Yes." His mind flashed to the Vale, to a lone elf standing vigil for millennia, mostly safe from danger, content in his faith. I can never go back to that. "Yes, always. You're stuck with me, Nadene Othryn."
"I don't deserve it," she said quietly.
"Fortunately, that isn't for you to decide." He crept up beside her, stretching out his long legs. Though her shields had kept him from getting seriously injured, Gelebor already felt bruises forming all over. "Want some berries?"
"No." Nadene shifted beside him, and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Well, yes. I'm starving."
They ate berries and watched Kharjo sleep. Little point in keeping watch during an ash storm. There was something comforting about watching their friend's chest rise and fall, as howling winds buffeted the cave like great waves against an island shore.
"Do you remember your mother's face, endling?"
"No. I was found squalling in the snow as a babe." He rolled a berry between his fingers. "Vyrthur was beside me. The elf that found us sent us to be raised in the Chantry."
Nadene's hand found his in the darkness, and their fingers laced together.
Gelebor raised his brow. "What about you?"
"My mother, no. But my father...he had a great black beard, like some bandit from Skyrim. And a bellowing laugh to match." She sighed. "I wish I'd gone to see him before he passed. I was just, I don't know…"
"Afraid?" He offered.
"Yes. And now, apparently too stupid to learn from my mistakes. I haven't seen Habi in over a year, and after that letter…"
"Hush." Gelebor made to push her bangs out of her eyes, but hesitated, his hand hovering. She closed her eyes and nudged her head forward. He let his long fingers slide through her hair. Oh, my.
He spoke, "Tell me about Habi."
Nadene smiled softly. "Well, she was born at my tower, because I wasn't going to let some decrepit Balmora priest deliver my granddaughter…"
They spoke for hours, the cave shielding them from time and wind, and fell asleep in each other's arms. And Gelebor did not dream.