Sorry for the delay on this one, was a bit busy with exams and the holidays. Should be smooth sailing from here, as we approach the end.
"When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,
And sleepers serve the seven curses,
To the hearth there comes a stranger,
Journeyed far 'neath moon and star." - The Stranger
The rain fell with such ferocity, it seemed that all the Daedra in Oblivion must have been cursing the Valley of the Winds. In the dim light of the moons, Gelebor watched small streams of murky water form between the yurts of the Urshilaku village. They began as trickles and grew in power as the storm marched on, until eventually they were like small rivers running through the valley. The air smelled sharply charged, like an atronach of lighting.
Gelebor sat at the flap to the yurt and counted the moments between thunderclaps. Occasionally, a gust of wind would direct the rainfall inward and cool drops of water would run down his pale face. He never counted higher than four before the thunder cracked down on the village like a whip. He'd never enjoyed storms. But it had not been this tempest that disturbed Gelebor's rest.
The other occupants of the yurt had woken up a little while ago. Kharjo was sipping a cup of tea that Nadene had warmed, and leafing through an old book she'd produced from one of her satchels. The spine read: Guide to Vvardenfell. The pointed outdatedness of the tome did not seem to dissuade either of Gelebor's travelling companions.
Kharjo seemed eager to find his revenge, now that they were on the island, and Nadene seemed eager to find a path to Red Mountain that did not involve speaking to the Urshilaku's Wise Woman ever again. She sat with the priest Erandur in the corner of the yurt. They spoke in whispered voices. For whose benefit, Gelebor did not know. The torrential downpour would certainly prevent anyone from finding rest anytime soon.
He shut his eyes and tuned out the sound of rain, focusing his ears towards the quiet conversation behind him.
"A young woman, light of hair." Erandur said in a cool, clear tone. His hands rested on his injured legs. "Breton or Nord, I could not distinguish. I've not spent much time among the former. She was missing one of her eyes. From what I could tell, she is a gifted sorcerer."
"Her name's Eola," Nadene replied. "I didn't know about the eye. Don't know that it means a blasted thing. Did she seem professionally trained, to you? I know the Mages Guild dissolved, but there are little pocket organizations of spellcasters all over Tamriel."
"Hmm. Interesting question. When I lived in Skyrim, my place of worship was not too far from the College of Winterhold. I visited the grounds on occasion, and do not recall ever meeting a one-eyed Namira cultist. I believe she would have made an impression. As well, her magicka tasted wilder than I would expect from a former student of the college. Powerful, but loose. I possessed much the same aura, in my younger decades, as I was brought up by a small enclave of gifted mages unrecognized by the Empire."
"That might be good news for us." Nadene shifted restlessly. She kept glancing past Gelebor's shoulder to the unrelenting rainfall, as if she could force the sky to clear by willpower alone. "Lack of formal arcane instruction means this cult is probably fairly small. That fits with my reasoning that a large band couldn't have made it all the way across Skyrim and on to Vvardenfell without attracting attention. And we already killed two of them on Solstheim." We, already? She's come to trust this priest rather quickly. It gladdened Gelebor's heart to see Nadene opening hers more easily. Especially after what happened last night.
"You must not forget the souls they reaped from Balmora," Erandur reminded her. "Dozens, if not a hundred Dunmer followed this woman to Red Mountain. She used the Staff of Vaermina to push them towards madness, but that alone does not account for this sudden wave of blind devotion to Namira. I suspect darker forces are at work in the shadowed caverns where they've made their home. Making the world right will not be as simple as destroying a Daedric artifact, this time."
"I didn't come to make the world right," Nadene grumbled. "This one in particular is far beyond saving. I just want Habi back."
"As do I. I apologize, once again, that she was taken under my watch, in what was supposed to be her evening of triumph."
"Oh, don't say that. I never should have let her remain on Vvardenfell in the first place. I shouldn't have let any of them come back here."
Erandur smiled sadly. "If I've learned one thing from my time on this island, it's that you should not underestimate the stubbornness of the Dunmer. I suspect if you had tried to raise a fuss about settling here, even more mer would have returned. Perhaps we'd be sitting in a Redoran tower, instead of a tent."
"Perhaps." Her hands twisted in her lap. "So much of this still seems wrong to me."
Kharjo chuckled, not looking up from his reading. "Kharjo thinks one does not need a moth priest to know the foulness of Namira's plot. They have eaten a city. They have eaten my family. Now they must die. What else matters?"
"It just doesn't make sense. These kinds of monsters thrive in the darkness, out of public view. In crowded cities, cloaked in the mess of civilization."
Gelebor chimed in, "Sanyon, the Bosmer that held me captive on Sostheim, said much the same thing. He claimed they were doing well in Markarth."
Nadene shook her head. "Then why come to an isolated, ruined island with settlements small enough that missing people are actually missed? There don't seem to be any Dunmer among their leadership. The very air is hostile to them."
Erandur made a thoughtful sound. "You said earlier their hopes rest on capturing and consuming your pale companion, there. It could be that this prophecy they're following foretold his arrival on Vvardenfell."
"But he only came here because they kidnapped Habisinulu and I asked him to help me rescue her. By the Four Corners, Gelebor was wandering Skyrim for five years before he came to Solstheim! Any one of those cultists could have easily grabbed the poor fool and made a fine breakfast out of him."
Gelebor smiled. "I love you too, dear."
"Forgive this one for his insolence," Kharjo said softly. "These ponderings bring us no closer to Red Mountain. The Knight-Paladin has the right of it; this tome in my lap describes an island lost to time. Why do we prattle on about things that do not matter? There is no making reason of the work of monsters. We sit in a village of elves that want nothing more than to wipe out these cultists. Yet none of us are moving towards our common enemy."
"Listen, Kharjo." Nadene scowled. "Believe me, no one wants to be done with this whole mess more than yours truly. I just don't think a frontal attack is the right answer anymore. I'm sure as fuck not leading a tribe of Ashlanders up the mountain to a bunch of brainwashed townspeople so they can all kill each other. If that's the path you want to walk, be my guest. My ring is somewhere outside in the ash, if it hasn't washed away. Wear it around your neck and you can be Nerevarine. Can't do a worse job of it than I did."
I've a feeling Azura is less sympathetic to the plight of the turned Balmorans. Kill them all, she said in my vision. Gelebor sighed. To the last mer.
"When you say this situation feels wrong," he interjected, trying to soothe her. "What do you mean by that? Beyond the obvious, of course."
"I don't know." Nadene stood and stretched her arms above her head. "I've never been able to think straight on this island. Too many dead elves beneath the ash, maybe. Has it stopped raining?"
Gelebor glanced through the opening. "Mostly."
"Splendid. I'm going for a walk." She stepped past him. Her glass boots squelched in the wet ash, and she left small footprints behind her. She avoided the rest of the village, where the other yurts still sat without signs of movement. In the distance, torchlight flickered off the walls of the valley. Sentries. Nadene went in their direction.
"Kharjo is sorry if he upset her." Kharjo put his book down, evidently troubled. "But there is truth in his words. We must join with these natives to complete our mission, or leave them behind and enact justice ourselves. Every moment we waste in deliberation, Namira grows stronger." He rose and left the yurt, heading in the opposite direction that Nadene had taken.
Erandur spoke, "Your friends seem a bit divided on your next course of action."
Gelebor nodded grimly. He went over to the injured Dunmer and sat down where Nadene had been. "So they do."
"Kharjo seeks vengeance for an unforgivable crime, while your Nerevarine wants only to rescue her grandchild. What do you think, Gelebor?"
He bit his lip, pondering. I'd wager Azura would prefer we go with Kharjo's plan, and hit them before they even know we're on Vvardenfell. The Ashlander he'd killed yesterday kept coming to mind, his face frozen in an expression of final agony. It had been easy to kill the mer. Too easy. What was your name?
"I'm not certain. Everything seems so complicated, now." I have to tell Nadene about Azura. This secret is tearing me up inside. "Back in Raven Rock, Nadene told me she expects to meet her final end here. The way Kharjo has been acting...I don't think he's expecting to come back from his confrontation with Eola, either. It's taken me thousands of years to find two beings that enjoy my presence, and they both seem so eager to die. I just want to come out of this storm with my friends happy and alive. And...I don't want to kill anyone else."
"I pray to Lady Mara that no more blood will be shed, among Namira's followers or our own people." The kindly priest's chin fell. "But I've lived too long and seen too many die to believe it will be so. I'm not sure what god you hold faith with, if any, but I hope they watch over you closely in the days to come."
Gelebor thought of Auriel. He had scarcely caught a glimpse of the sun's light since landing on Vvardenfell. Is this what you wanted, father? I found them. I found the Falmer. All I need do is massacre a cult for a Daedric Prince. Would that satisfy you, at last?
"Thank you for your blessing," he said to Erandur. "I'm going to go speak to Nadene."
"That'd probably be for the best." Erandur glanced past his shoulder. Gelebor turned to see a small figure clad in bonemold armor standing at the threshold, glaring fiercely. He realized with a start that this was the same being who'd led him to the yurt last night and offered a parting curse. "It seems young Eldrus and I are due a meeting. Good luck with your own conversation, Gelebor."
He nodded and left the two Dunmer to talk. As Gelebor stepped outside and begin walking away, he heard the child begin to speak behind him: "Have you found a cure?" Then the child's voice faded, and Gelebor found himself alone among the yurts of the Urshilaku camp. The clouds had ceased their onslaught, but it was not yet day. He stood still for a minute, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. In the distance the torches of the sentries glowed like the vale fireflies he'd once watched every evening of his life. No Ashlanders came to challenge him; it may be that they feared his strange pale skin and distrusted the Aedric armor he wore, as Sakani did. More likely that they're afraid of incurring Nadene's wrath by accosting one of her companions. Whether she chose it or not, she is near a god to these mer.
For all the uncomfortable hours Gelebor had now spent on Vvardenfell, he had not yet seen a glimpse of the sun. He looked up at the dark clouds as he walked, frowning. Do you watch me still, father? Even here? There was a bitter pleasure; the thought of Auriel observing his sole remaining Knight-Paladin travelling with the Nerevarine and making pacts of massacre with a Daedric Prince. I am the mer he made me. These dark musings were coming to his mind now more easily than they had on Solstheim, and Gelebor pushed them away less often. There was little enough happiness to be found on this island. Why not entertain himself with petty thoughts of Auriel's displeasure? If these cultists get what they desire, I'll never have to face him. The Scuttling Void will be my final resting place. And is an eternity of pain worse than an eternity of ignorance? At least I will have something to do.
He found Nadene at the mouth of the valley, watching the streams of runoff cut through the mounds of ash. She sat on a flat rock, her knees drawn up against her chest. Gelebor joined her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Nadene leaned on him and closed her eyes.
"Have you taken your potion today?"
"Yes," he replied. "If Vvardenfell kills me, it won't be from ashlung."
"Good." She tapped her fingers on his breastplate. Gelebor sensed she had more to say, and waited patiently.
"They never even knew my name, you know. My real name. None of them cared to learn it. They never even asked."
"Who?"
"Vivec. Almalexia. Sotha Sil. And Dagoth Ur, of course. All of Nerevar's friends that I was so fortunate to inherit. Characters in a story that transpired centuries before I was even born. A story that became mine own, by the will of Azura. I never got a chance to make my own friends, Gelebor. Or my own enemies. When I was seventeen, I was sent to Vvardenfell and told that I was actually a dead warlord come again. I was born to be someone else."
He frowned. "I can't imagine that."
"And if I didn't like it, the island and then all of Morrowind would fall to darkness. So I learned to put Nadene Othryn away in a box, because no one seemed very interested in her anyway, besides my father. I wore Nerevar's mask and name, and I finished the work he left unfinished. I struck down his friends from the godly realm and buried them in the ash. All the while Nadene was waiting in that box. Waiting for her turn. I was beginning to think it was time to let her out again, but maybe that was a mistake."
"No." Gelebor squeezed her shoulder. "It was not. I don't want Nerevar. I never will. He has poor taste in friends and little care for the mer who Azura chose to carry his burdens. I fell in love with Nadene, when you've seen fit to bless me with her presence. Nadene who so tenderly attended to her garden and guars, who raised a beautiful forest to hide the scars of the Red Year. I've met your friends and found them to be extraordinary. Master Sadri of the Retching Netch, who gave me lodging so I could survive on an island that wished me dead. Kharjo, the bravest Khajiit I've come across in all my years, who has seen the worst of the world and emerged with a kinder heart than most. Lord Divayth Fyr, the greatest sorcerer who ever lived, who survived the fires of Red Mountain and helped us along in our quest. You're not a warlord. You don't enjoy killing. You're nothing like him. Give me Nadene, for now and always. Throw Nerevar away, as you did his ring. Let him rest."
"But I can't. Don't you understand?" Nadene bit her lip. "I'm not strong. Not like he is. Vvardenfell does not suffer weakness. Namira wants blood, and so do Azura and her Ashlanders. Even Kharjo wants it. Who are we, that would stop the slaughter? The only mer we've found that might stand with us can not stand at all. Erandur preaches mercy, but Mara has no place here. It's hopeless."
His heart fell. "Is it not worth at least trying?" Though it would doom the Falmer, to spare any of the cultists. "It's not just Namira's followers that would die in the fighting. These Ashlanders have never known true battle, and it's far easier to defend a fortress than to take one." Gelebor had learned the truth of that soon after the Betrayed had scoured the Vale. He'd fallen on the Inner Sanctum with his sword countless times, only to return to his wayshrine with cuts and bruises across his body and failure in his soul.
Sakani spoke, "The eastern shore may provide the answers you seek." He looked up sharply, not having heard the old Dunmer approach. She stood with her hands hidden in the sleeves of her robes, watching them with a strange expression on her harsh face. How long has she been here? "Forgive me...Nadene, was it? Long years have passed since this ash-blown crone has spoken to one not leal to our lady. I forgot myself earlier, lost in the throes of my faith. Now hear this. If you want the true measure of the vile servants of Namira, those you hope in vain to treat with, go look upon the Telvanni holdings and see what has become of the wizard lords. Look upon the wicked works of our adversary. Then you will know the enmity between us can not be bridged. "
Nadene straightened, and Gelebor's hand fell from her shoulder. "Divayth Fyr told me Master Neloth came to Vvardenfell. If you know what became of him, tell me now." He immediately saw her purpose. A Telvanni wizard would be a powerful ally, against the odds facing us.
"I live to serve Azura's chosen." Sakani bowed her head. Gelebor wished he could divine intent from her voice or posture, but his time alone in the Vale had eroded his social senses. He suspected the same of Nadene, from her time in the wilds. If only Kharjo or Erandur were here to take their measure of this supposed friend. "Alas, the eastern way is harsh and perilous, and I am but an old wise woman. I would only slow you down, and there are preparations to be made here in the village. The boy can take you to their towers. Eldrus. My kin."
"Hours ago you wanted me to lead your tribe to Red Mountain with fire and sword. Now I'm meant to go on some sort of expedition to the Telvanni, led along by a child?"
"Azura has spoken these orders to me, but it is for you to take meaning from them. I know of only two certainties: these vermin must be removed, and you must be the instrument of this cleansing. If nothing else, you may find a path to Red Mountain from the eastern coast. No Urshilaku knows the way." Sakani raised a shaky hand to her brow. "Forgive me, Nadene. My audience with our lady has left me faint at heart. Eldrus has already made ready for your journey. If you want to find your lost kin before it is too late, you must depart immediately. May Azura guide your steps."
They watched the wise woman shuffle back towards the village, moving as slowly as an inebriated netch. Is her weakness a farce? The mer who led us to this valley seemed much stronger than this one. Perhaps Sakani spoke the truth, and communicating with Azura had taken its toll on her. But why is the Daedra speaking to her in the first place? It could be that Azura did not trust him to carry out her instructions, and she wanted an additional agent on Vvardenfell enforcing her will.
If that was the case, the Prince of Twilight had made no mention of Sakani in Gelebor's dreams. An implied threat? Is Sakani's very presence meant to remind me of what I stand to lose, if I refuse Azura? He was too tired to puzzle out the web of prophecies and allegiances that seemed to haunt his every waking hour nowadays. Thinking of Azura only brought to mind the secret, as heavy as a paragon stone in his heart. I have to tell Nadene.
"I don't trust that one," She murmured, after Sakani had left their sight. "No one has ever wanted me to spill that much blood for a good reason. These aren't Sixth House cultists we're fighting against. They can be saved. But I suppose we might as well do as she suggested. For Habi's sake, if nothing else. Once we find a way to the mountain, we can make a final decision."
Sakani's words had not sounded like suggestion to Gelebor, but he had no wish to fan the flames of discord.
"Yes," he replied. "As Kharjo said, we aren't getting any closer to Habi just waiting around here. Let's go." I'll speak to her once we reach the Telvanni. For now, we must focus on the journey ahead. On this island, any distractions could prove fatal.
Kharjo and their young Dunmer guide were already ready to leave by the time they returned to the guest yurt. Eldrus wore fitted bonemold armor from head to toe, so even his eyes were hidden, but his posture betrayed his impatience. He barely waited for Gelebor and Nadene to tie their ash masks on and bid farewell to Erandur before walking off at a brisk pace. They hastened to follow. By this hour, pale beams of sunlight peeked over the valley walls, and most of the village had woken up. Dunmer with rough faces covered in fading paint watched them go. Their eyes held only reverence for Nadene, it seemed, and any Ashlander that she passed bowed their heads as Sakani had earlier. He could almost hear Nadene grinding her teeth.
Gelebor noticed a less kind reaction to Kharjo and himself. Some of the Ashlanders merely looked at them in amazement. I'd forgotten. It's unlikely these mer have ever encountered non-Dunmer in their lives. The Urshilaku that weren't shocked were either suspicious or disgusted. One mer with red stripes running across his forehead spit at Gelebor's feet as he passed and muttered something in Velothi. Probably not a blessing. Fortunately Nadene was walking further ahead, or he suspected blood would have been spilled. As it was, he and Kharjo passed the unfriendly villagers in tense silence. Sakani did not make an appearance.
He almost breathed a sigh of relief when they passed through the mouth of the valley and left the last of the Urshilaku behind. The sky was clear, for now, and the wet ash was pleasantly firm beneath his boots. The waters of the northern coast were visible just over the hills. As always, the sight of the ocean brought Gelebor a small measure of comfort. We could always sail away, if we had to. I'm sure the villagers could fashion together a raft.
Eldrus did not deign to speak, and did not even turn to look back at his followers except to check the position of the rising sun. The rough terrain made conversation difficult regardless. Unlike the young Ashlander, Gelebor was unaccustomed to the geographical hazards of Vvardenfell, as were his companions. When he wasn't watching Eldrus, he was watching his own feet to make sure he didn't trip on a rock or trama root, or step into a sinkhole. The Snow Prince's armor was already coated in wet ash up to the knee plates. The sight brought a grimace to Gelebor's face. I wonder if the Falmer smith that worked this steel ever imagined it would end up in a place like this.
The hours passed and the silence endured. Perhaps Vvardenfell had once been home to a variety of biomes, as their outdated guide book had claimed, and perhaps there were still enclaves of colorful flora or giant mushrooms somewhere on the island, but the land they traversed remained a grim expanse of ash and blasted rock. Even on the worst parts of Solstheim, there had at least been remnants of the bountiful past and signs of new growth and renewal. Short and ugly patches of grass, but patches of grass nonetheless. Here, there was nothing at all, and little sign that would ever change. We might as well be walking on one of the moons.
Gelebor was inevitably consumed by his thoughts and worries. The dead Ashlander's face would not leave his mind, and he almost welcomed it as a distraction. Better the guilt of killing one mer than the shame of killing a hundred. For that was the inevitable result of refusing Azura's command to exterminate the cultists. What is one mer's soul against the last of the Falmer? I've lived more lifetimes than all of those islanders put together. Even now the Imperial scout ship that would spell doom for the last Falmer could be embarking on its dreaded voyage. When he closed his eyes, Gelebor could almost see the swift vessel cutting through the waters of the Nibenay bay, the soldiers aboard unknowingly destined to finish a purge that began millennia ago. All of a sudden, the sight of the sea made him sick. He turned away and tried to clear his mind. Have to stay aware. We've already been attacked once out here.
"Eldrus," Nadene said thoughtfully. "That's not a Velothi name, is it?" They stood on top of a hill, looking down at the boulder-covered shore.
"No. I mean, um. No, my lady. Nerevarine. Sorry." Even through his mask's filter, the voice was unmistakably that of a child. Nearly a man, by the standards of his people, but a child nonetheless. "My...my mother was from Balmora. She came to the Urshilaku after I was born."
"Please, call me Nadene. How old are you?"
"Almost thirteen." He turned to Gelebor, raising his chin. "But grandmother says I already have
'the makings of an Ashkhan'."
Gelebor smiled politely. "Is that so?"
"Yeah!" At Gelebor's unflinching attention, Eldrus seemed to wither somewhat. "Or a Gulakhan, maybe. I'd be happy with that. Until I became strong enough to lead the tribe, at least."
Nadene spoke, "Your grandmother said the last Ashkhan and his sons all went away." They started down the hill, slowly and carefully. She grabbed the boy's shoulder to steady him. "To Red Mountain. To Namira. Know anything about that?"
"Um. I don't know if she'd want me to talk about what happened." His head turned to Gelebor and Kharjo. "In front of n'wah, I mean."
Nadene's fingers tightened on Eldrus' shoulder, and brought him to a halt. "Wait. Stop here. Turn around, and take that mask off. I want to get a look at you."
He nodded, but his hands were trembling when they rose to undo the straps on the sides of the bonemold visor. Gelebor exchanged an amused glance with Kharjo, and stood back with his arms crossed.
Eldrus seemed to him a perfectly average Dunmer child. A messy tangle of black hair sat above a face clear so far of the scars and paints that had marked most of the older Ashlanders back at the Urshilaku village. It was a small, round, innocent face. It will not long stay that way, on this island. If his mother had sense, she would have gone to the mainland instead of the Ashlands.
"Hmm," Nadene said, studying Eldrus. "Surprising."
"What is it?" He shifted from foot to foot, his hands clasped together nervously. "Corprus? The blight?"
"I was looking for a head wound. From the way you spoke of my friends here, I assumed you must have taken a heavy blow to the skull."
He had the good sense to look ashamed for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed in anger and he pointed a small finger at Gelebor and Kharjo. "They're n'wah. Outlanders." He spoke the word with surprising venom. "They ruined everything!"
"What do you mean?" Nadene knelt to his level. "The Namira cultists? My friends are going to help me kick those fetchers off of Vvardenfell."
"No! Well, yes, but not only them. It was one like that one." He pointed at Kharjo. "A cat man. When one of those came to Balmora, that's when it started."
"You're not making any sense, Eldrus. You need to slow down." Nadene spoke in a cool, soothing voice. I don't think I've seen this side of her before. "They're called Khajiit. Names and how you use them are important, especially on this island. You'll need to learn that if you ever want to lead the Urshilaku. That being you pointed at is Kharjo. He's my friend."
Eldrus crossed his arms. "He's not mine. When the Balmora Khajiit married the city lady who sells books, grandmother said that bad things were going to start happening again, like they did when you lived here. And they did! All of a sudden, a lot of people were acting funny who'd never told a joke in their lives. Even the Ashkhan and his sons, even Ammu. I thought he was my friend, even if he cheated when we raced scribs. And my grandmother changed. Before she was so warm and kind to everyone, but now she's mean and doesn't care about anything but Azura. And then there was the night the scouts came back and said they saw smoke over Balmora. And my momma, she…she was supposed to be trading with a Balmora lady..." His bottom lip began to tremble, and tears glistened in his small red eyes.
"What happened?" Nadene reached out and took the boy's shaking hands in her own. "It's alright, Eldrus. Your grandmother doesn't need to know you spoke to us, unless you'd like her to."
"I waited in our yurt," Eldrus said miserably. "I waited and waited, but she never came home. Even when I lit a candle and prayed to the ancestors. I prayed so long my legs started to fall asleep. Then my grandmother was there." His cheeks were wet. "She put out my candle. She said it wouldn't help anyone anymore. She said someone ate momma."
"You poor child," Nadene said softly.
"I'm not a child," Eldrus insisted, but the expression on Nadene's face must have been too much for him. His face wrenched up and he turned away. His legs wobbled precariously, but before Gelebor could move to steady the boy, Nadene had drawn him into a hug. Eldrus wrapped his arms around her glass armor and began sobbing, hiding his face from the others.
"Khajiit's heart breaks for the young Ashlander," Kharjo spoke. "But he thinks we need to be moving on soon. The moons are old companions to him, and he knows they will be rising soon. Clan Mother Ahnissi named Namira the Great Darkness for good reason. When night falls, the hunters will become the hunted."
"I agree." Gelebor nodded to the horizon. "At the top of the hill, I believe I could see the eastern shore. We can't be far from our destination. Eldrus?"
Eldrus withdrew from Nadene's embrace and looked up at Gelebor. His face was red and damp.
"You've bravely taken us all this far. In all my time in the lands of the Dark Elves, I've never seen someone walk the ashes with such deftness and grace. Would you permit me to lead us the rest of the way, while you gather your strength? I'm sure we'll need it when we arrive at the Telvanni estates."
The boy nodded shakily, and quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks. Yes. You'll need to be strong, stronger than any twelve year old should ever have to be.
"Thank you. Perhaps you can tell me about racing scribs, along the way. Is it as difficult as it sounds?"
The corner of Eldrus' mouth turned up. "Well. A little bit, at first." He licked his lips. "You have to find the right size string, first of all…"
They continued their descent down the hill. The setting sun set aglow the dark waters of the Inner Sea. The ash was soft beneath his boots. Another day ends on Vvardenfell. And what will the sunrise bring, should we live to see it? Gelebor had a feeling that once they reached the Telvanni, any peace he might have found on this island would come to a sudden end. As soon as we arrive, I'll tell Nadene about Azura. She can leave me with the wizards or banish me to Red Mountain. But for now, I can enjoy the sunset, and the company.