Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 2

Fredas the 26th of Last Seed 4E71 Early Evening

Returning to his rented room situated on the upper level of the Baan Malur Oad Inn, Alaron Suvaris cast an eye about the modest space before removing his heavy boots and then settling back into that chair near the single window.

He was feeling notably better after the visit to the downstairs bathroom. Though he remained none the wiser as to what had upset his stomach, he was glad that no other lingering effect was indicated. He idly suspected that perhaps he'd just grown far too accustomed to the more mundane repasts of Imperial Cyrodiil and that some local ingredient of that stew had unexpectedly disagreed with him. In any event, it was of no further concern to him, or at least he hoped that was the case.

Down in the tavern area below, he'd done his best to avoid becoming entangled in the activities of the rowdy patrons. A liberally intoxicated drunkard lingering by the bathroom provided some measure of obstruction, albeit only briefly. Though evidently a friendly drunk, Suvaris was most definitely not of a mood for that kind of thing at that moment.

On his way back, a boisterous difference of convictions between two tables of opinionated Dunmer threatened to erupt into an open brawl. However, it seemed to subside just as quickly as it began, ending with some more sober individual raising a toast to a matter of common interest. Though perhaps less threatening, they remained just as noisy.

Without incident, Suvaris was soon back in the solitude and relative quiet of his rented room and contemplating the remainder of the evening ahead.

With another heavy sigh, he again glanced toward that pile of books that he'd already read through. Though he intended to rise early the next morning, it was still far too early to consider turning in for the night. With nothing else to occupy his mind, his thoughts again drifted back to those events of the past few weeks.

The better part of three weeks beforehand, riding upon his dark mare, Suvaris set off from Cheydinhal in the early morning of a late summer's day. The weather had been fair and mild under the relatively clear blue skies. A few fluffy clouds drifted overhead, presenting as nothing of any particular concern.

From Cheydinhal, he rode his horse along to the north-east to take the old Septim's Gate Pass into Morrowind. That rough road crossed the mountains near the point where the range of the Valus Mountains merged with the Velothi Mountains to the north. He would have preferred to have travelled the other route further south, since it was nearer to his first intended destination. However, the Shadowgate Pass had still been blocked from recent landslides at that time.

Even though it was not really so far, the winding path through the mountainous terrain ensured that it took the better part of a day just to arrive at the village of Mountain Watch, situated just below the pass. Though he'd spotted a lone wolf and heard a bear bellowing in the distance along the way, that first leg of the journey passed without incident.

Some small number of traders did pass through Mountain Watch from time to time, but the small village was not really set up for accommodating travellers. There was no inn or the like there. There was nothing more than a makeshift general store at the roadside, near the modest farmhouses of the village. Even the Imperial soldiers posted at the border marker above the village made do with a partially enclosed structure, serving as their post.

Sheltering by the open hearth at the guard post with the Imperial soldiers, Suvaris stayed the night at that place, then continued onward the next morning.

If would have been a different matter travelling that mountain pass during the winter, but at that time of year, some slightly chilly winds had been the worst of it. Some snow-capped peaks remained in view, but not much sign of that sort of thing near to the highland pass.

Several decades had passed by since he'd last seen that region beyond the mountains. The eastern descent from the pass hardly seemed so different from the western slopes on the Cyrodiil side of the mountains.

The upper parts of those highlands remained dominated by the forests of pine that gradually became more dense the further downhill the path progressed. A few patches of aspen offered defiant challenge to the pines in places. It was some way before any trees native only to Morrowind could be seen. In those uplands, there were very few plants of the varieties more common to areas adapted to regular ashfall. The giant mushrooms of some parts remained somewhat rare in those western highlands.

After descending from the mountains and passing through the highland forests of western Morrowind, onto the more sparsely wooded uplands immediately below, he eventually reached the old township of Bodrum. Though it had also passed without incident, encountering no one or no trouble along the way, that journey down the mountainside took just as long as the previous day's ride from Cheydinhal.

He'd already been advised to avoid taking the road nearest to the Inner Sea at that time, due to recent occurrences, so he intended to take the alternative route located a little further south. After stopping at Bodrum for just one night, Suvaris followed the road southward toward the city of Kragenmoor on the next day.

Of course even on horseback, the ride to that city took a full day. From what he remembered of years gone by, he'd fully expected that to be the case. Leaving before the dawn was still not enough to arrive at that destination before the sun had set.

He thought that he'd heard the strange noises of wild Nix-hounds at one point along the road, but they'd evidently been too far off to be of any concern. Those odd creatures were nothing at all like hounds or wolves, but they could be just as dangerous in a pack. Aside from a pair of travelling traders headed northbound who wanted to stop for a brief chat, he'd encountered nothing along the road to directly impede his progress.

Without much surprise, he'd already taken casual note of just how quiet the roads seemed in that part of the homeland. Still, it did stand as a notable contrast to the major routes of Cyrodiil. Even outside of the major cities, it was not at all uncommon to encounter Legion patrols along the roads. There seemed little indication of the like throughout the west of Morrowind.

Though he'd not encountered many individuals during that first portion of his travels, he imagined that he must have stood out at an outsider to those few he did. If not strictly marking him as a foreign Dunmer, his expensive weapons and ebony armour probably made him appear as though he came from nobility or the like. Added to that, it seemed that riders upon horseback had become a far less common sight upon the roads of Morrowind. It was fair to assume that riders upon lean black horses of that breed would have been an even rarer sight. Of course, there was nothing of nobility in Suvaris' background. Even so, he recognised that his outward appearance seemingly told a different story.

The individuals he'd encountered thus far appeared far more common and outwardly absent of prosperity. Just as it had been years earlier, it was not unusual to see travelling traders or farmers hauling produce, utilising a guar to draw small carts. It was more common to see them on foot leading pack-guar loaded up with bundles. Those two-legged reptilian creatures were as docile as castrated oxen and just as strong and reliable for such purpose.

Upon his arrival at Kragenmoor, what little Suvaris saw of the city that evening had been wholly unfamiliar to him. Still, he'd been far too weary at the time to give it much thought. After stabling his mount, he quickly found a place to eat and rest for the night.

Even in the morning light, Kragenmoor hardly seemed at all like the city he'd known from his youth. The outline of the fortified palace of the upper city appeared outwardly unchanged, for the most part. However, the same could not be easily said of the remainder of the city. Only the general layout of the streets appeared recognisable, with some exception here and there. Certainly, there were far fewer structures in view than he recalled from times long past. Added to that, a good number of those places appeared just as rudimentary as that shabby tavern he'd stayed at the night before.

To the best of his knowledge, that locality had not been in the direct path of that flying city from an Oblivion realm. Around three decades earlier, that object said to have been called 'Umbriel', had sailed across the skies cutting a path from the location of Lilmoth on the southern coast of Argonia to where Vivec City once stood. From there, it turned about and sailed directly for the Imperial City in the heart of Cyrodiil.

Along that line, Cheydinhal stood directly in the path. Any living creature along that path had been consumed and transformed to join the army of undead marching along in the city's wake. With just barely enough warning, most of the inhabitants of Cheydinhal had been evacuated ahead of the crisis. He understood that there would have been other places that had not fared near as well.

Only once he'd stopped to think about it, he considered that Bodrum would have probably also been in the path of that particular disaster. No one there had made mention of it and he supposed that it was something best not discussed.

Over the centuries, that small town had been broken and rebuilt more times than he could reasonably recall. Still, he imagined that Kragenmoor had probably suffered most of its recent woes during the events of around the time that he'd departed the homeland. Still, it seemed as though the passing decades had provided little in the way of any return to prosperity.

Suvaris didn't pause long to ponder over those things. He'd quickly collected his horse from the local smith's stabling facilities and then continued on his way, taking the main road southward.

Along that road, he'd passed by the neglected trail that he knew led to the location of the old family farmlands. There was nothing there any more but ruins and empty land. At least, as far as he knew. Certainly, nothing there for him.

Well beyond that point, that southbound road eventually arrived at Narsis or whatever remained of that place. Though he'd been quite familiar with both the road and that southern city during his younger days, he was confident that neither would be at all familiar after all that time. The events of earlier decades would have seen to that.

In any case, Suvaris was not headed that far south. He intended only to travel as far the fork in the road, at what remained of the Andrenthis township, then turn northward again.

Looking upon a map, by the flight of the crow, his journey did not really seem quite so far or nearly as time consuming. However, the rise and fall of the terrain and resultant path of the roads dictated his travel. If not for the current circumstances disrupting travel by that road near to the Inner Sea, he would have taken a more direct route.

Aside from seemingly travelling contrary to his intended direction, that journey again passed with little trouble. An encounter with a relatively harmless creature along the road had not done too much to delay his progress. He eventually arrived at that next location along his journey in fair time.

As anticipated, Andrenthis of the Fourth Era hardly qualified as the booming township it had once been only decades before. It seemed to survive only upon passing trade and even that would have been greatly reduced from those events of times gone by.

By then, the old Andrenthis farming communities had been rebuilt at another location over in the next valley, a little further east. He'd only learned that particular detail from the grumbling barkeep in the run-down inn at the township. Some of their regular supplies came from those farms.

After departing from Andrenthis the next morning, he continued northward along that road. He was bound for the trail that led to the ferry crossing to take him eastward across the River Thir. Of course, that broad and lazing river marked the dividing line between the west and the east of mainland Morrowind. Since he was not headed for Old Ebonheart, situated by the mouth of the river, that particular route with the ferry crossing was the best way to travel at that time. Apparently, that lesser path had become far more important since the calamities of several decades before.

He understood that there had been a small township near that river crossing at some time in the past. Though he'd never observed any trace of it, there was also said to have once been a sturdy bridge over the river at that place. In the back of his mind, he recalled vague mention of great floods of the River Thir affecting settlements along its length, but specifics remained unclear.

He also recalled reading of other past extremes in that region. It was said that during the Alliance Wars of eight centuries before, severe droughts had caused long sections of the Thir to become dry and barren. There was some other mention of lava flows from the eastern slopes of Tormented Spire affecting the Thir so badly that even the northernmost section did not reach the Inner Sea at that time.

Suvaris found it difficult to imagine either of those extremes. He'd seen the river in mild flood, but never as a raging torrent. He'd never witnessed any sort of drought that could possibly approach what was described in those historical tomes.

In any case, from what he'd been told, after taking the barge across the Thir to the Central Plain, that old trail was meant to join up with the road not so far from the ancient Othrenis Necropolis. From there, he could follow the roads and eventually reach what remained of the city of Mournhold.

Up to that point, his journey along the roads had proved relatively uneventful and trouble free. At the time, he'd been hoping that his luck would continue to hold.

However, Suvaris had not even made it as far as the river crossing. Along that trail, he'd encountered a group of travellers in distress. At first, they'd regarded him with defensive hostility, thinking him to be a roadside bandit of some sort. Given the apparent injuries of one of the male Dunmer of the group, as well as one of their pack-guar, there appeared some fair reason for their apprehension.

Once Suvaris had clearly identified himself as Fighters Guild from Cheydinhal, tensions appeared to gradually ease, with just something of a notable hesitation. Though the Fighters Guild hardly maintained any presence in Morrowind since the decades following the Oblivion Crisis, mention of the Guild still carried some weight.

With immediate tensions relieved, though his knowledge of healing magic was rather limited compared to some, Suvaris did his best to provide some assistance. It turned out that the older Dunmer female of the group was more skilled in that regard. She just hadn't yet had the opportunity to heal the injured.

After proper introductions, Suvaris learned that they were all members of the Faryon family. The family name held no special meaning to him. From appearances, they were likely commoners of no notable standing, much like himself. He learned that the members of the caravan of extended family consisted of a husband and wife with two offspring, another two adult Dunmer related to the husband and a family matron.

They'd spoken of how their group had been set upon by a pair of raiders just a few hours before, not so far from the river crossing. They'd survived only by running away at sustained speed. Apparently, those bandits held little interest in lengthy pursuit, or perhaps they'd been less motivated to engage in elevated aggression with those two children clinging to the guar.

Suvaris felt motivated to go deal with the brigands. However, the family begged him to instead provide escort, insisting that they'd serve payment from what little they possessed.

Though not particularly interested in payment, he reluctantly agreed to accompany the travellers to safety. He soon learned that they they'd been bound for the border with Cyrodiil, intending to travel to Cheydinhal. At first, he'd consented only to escort them as far as Andrenthis, recommending that they travel with the next passing traders. However, he'd eventually been convinced to take them as far as Kragenmoor, where they were more likely to quickly meet up with trade caravans.

During the subsequent travel, he'd heard how that family had come from a small village situated to the south-east of Old Ebonheart, in the shadow of Ash Mountain. Along with the most recent problems of living near to the periodically toxic Inner Sea, the related hardships of living in that region, and so often hearing of a better life west of the mountains, they'd been moved to finally pack up and leave for greener lands.

Though he'd hardly been expecting any fortuitous surprises, he did ask them whether they'd ever encountered anyone by the family name of Suvaris before. None of them had.

Despite some modest protest, upon reaching Kragenmoor, Suvaris was forced to accept some coin along with a handful of trinkets for his service. In return, he did offer some further travelling advice and the names of some people in Cheydinhal they might speak with upon their arrival. In parting company, he wished them the best of luck.

Suvaris' thoughts were suddenly disturbed by a noisy uproar coming from the tavern directly below. He distractedly looked toward the floor as he heard a loud bang. He suspected that a drunken brawl might have just started. Especially with so many sailors in the crowded tavern.

After just a moment, a loud cheer rang out, followed by raucous laughter. If he didn't know better, he might have thought that it was an unruly group of Nords down there. In any case, given that another few outbursts of laughter could be heard, it seemed that whatever was going on, it couldn't have been too much in the way of real trouble.

Nevertheless, he still found the disturbance to be annoying. He idly wondered just how late it would be before things settled down enough to make the likelihood of sleeping possible.

~O~