Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale
Greg J Miller
~O~
Chapter 14
Middas the 31st of Last Seed 4E71 Afternoon
After having stopped for only a brief lunch break, Suvaris and the Rurvyn traders continued along the southbound road toward the pass through the rocky hills. Suvaris wasn't quite certain of where the Stonefalls region currently ended and where the Deshaan began. In fact, he wasn't quite certain of where that line might have been drawn back in the day, when he last travelled that way. In truth, it hardly mattered. It would certainly become obvious enough once the more verdant hills and plains of the Deshaan came into view.
Though the patchy clouds continued to lazily roll overhead from the south, none of them appeared to bring the promise or threat of rain. The light afternoon breeze also continued to blow from the south, keeping things feeling relatively comfortable.
Since leaving the area of those farmlands just east of Old Ebonheart, the elevation of the land had continued to steadily rise. By Suvaris' reasonable estimate, the central highlands east of the Stonefalls region rose much higher. Even so, the terrain about that southern pass was certainly far higher than any of the land back around Old Ebonheart.
Just as the road was taking them through the start of the broader gorges leading through the hills, Suvaris had been considering something that he'd noted with regard to the Rurvyn's pack-guar. Though the packs seemed visibly reduced in bulk since leaving Old Ebonheart, the beasts looked to be bearing a heavier load. Of course, he understood the reasons for their journey to Ebonheart. The need and the opportunity seemed clear enough. A vital service could be provided and there was likely some small profit in attending to that requirement. He imagined that travelling all the way to Mournhold without good trade prospects seemed unlikely. However, he held no reasonable idea of what that might currently represent.
Though he didn't mean to pry too far into their business, his curiosity had been gently piqued. He looked to Faryl in a casual manner. "Forgive me, but what kind of trade with Mournhold sustains the effort of such a journey during these times?"
Faryl shrugged mildly. He didn't seem at all offended. "Y'know, a bit of this an' a bit of that. Some salt from Ol' Ebonheart. Everybody needs salt. More so, since they ain't got no active salt-mine about those parts. Got a few bottles of brandy from Silgrad, going to a buyer in Mournhold what pays nicely for that. Oh yeah, some spent soul gems an' some hard to get alchemy ingredients for a mage type fella in the city. Some other stuff, as well."
Suvaris nodded with a thoughtful expression. "I see. What sort of trade does Mournhold have to offer in these times?"
Faryl shrugged again. "Y'know, different stuff at different times."
Though Dravyn and his son were lagging a few paces behind, he'd been listening in on the exchange. "If things went well, we oughta be headin' back north with a good haul."
Faryl nodded. "Yeah, hopefully. Otherwise, we'll be huntin' about fer other goods to make it all worth our while."
Suvaris returned a silent expression of perplexed curiosity.
Faryl resumed. "Fella reckons he's gonna have some materials from them old Dwarven ruins. Them ones just a bit north of Mournhold."
Suvaris frowned, trying to recall the name. "Mzith… Mzithumz?"
Faryl nodded with an expression of mild uncertainty. "Yeah, think that's the one."
Suvaris was still frowning. "From my understanding, the readily accessible sections of that place would have been mostly cleaned out, many years past. Of course beyond that, accessing any of the deeper underground parts of such a city… Well, I've heard that ancient Dwemer ruins can be extraordinarily dangerous. Dangerous automatons and other mechanical apparatus… they've been said to be remaining fully functional long after the disappearance of the Dwemer."
Faryl's head bobbed from side to side. "Yeah, so I hear. But these fellas ain't goin' nowhere near them kinda things. They reckoned that a recent landslide exposed a new part."
Dravyn weighed in again. "Some sorta old storehouse or the like, over the northern side from where the usual entrance was. They say it's all blocked off from the underground city, cos of some sorta collapse inside. Whatever dangerous things might be down there below, they can't get though into that storehouse."
"Some of the best stuff's already gone." Bradyn pointed that out, in cynical tone.
Faryl nodded again. "Yeah, some Dwarven armour an' weapons… that sorta stuff fetches real good coin with Imperials. Some other valuables already been done with, as well."
"Not all of it, but." Dravyn countered, without going into further detail.
Faryl elaborated. "Yeah, still lotsa scraps of Dwarven metal an' the like. Even metal plate an' bits off old furniture an' the like. That's what we're s'pos'ta be gettin'. All that stuff can still be melted down an' reworked, with the right kinda skills."
Dravyn spoke again. "Ain't worth as much as proper armour or weapons, but the right buyers'll pay well enuff for them materials."
"That's what we're plannin' on. So long as they got the stuff they said." Faryl tried to sound confident.
"I wish you luck with that." Suvaris responded in sincere tone.
During the course of that conversation, Suvaris had been periodically looking to the near ridges and relatively barren hills to either side of the way ahead. In days long gone by, bandits had been known to periodically ambush travellers and traders at certain places in that area. With seemingly far fewer travellers on the roads during the new era, he considered it somewhat less likely. Still, he didn't dismiss the possibility. He recalled those two unlucky outlaws near the ferry crossing over the Thir a couple of weeks earlier.
Suvaris actually considered the more likely threat could come from the land's wild creatures. On his right, he'd noticed something circling over the rocky hilltops to the south of the area near to the Othrenis necropolis. He was confident that it wasn't a cliff racer, even though it easily qualified as the kind of place he'd expect to see those flying creatures. Because it was too far off to clearly see, he couldn't decide exactly what he was looking at. From the dark profile, he thought that it looked like a vulture. However, those birds were more often spotted in small groups. He'd tenuously decided that it was either a large cliff darter or else an eagle of some kind. In any case, it was of no direct concern.
Bradyn's alarmed voice suddenly drew attention back to the road. "Up ahead."
Responding to the alert, Suvaris observed the group of five figures appearing on the road as they rounded a bend partially obscured by the rocky hillside. Some of them appeared to be wearing hooded cloaks and some looked to be carrying heavy loads.
"Looks like Khajiit, I reckon." Dravyn was the first to offer his opinion.
"Looks like." Faryl agreed with his brother.
Without offering comment, Suvaris thought the same. He could just tell that the two near the front of the group were Khajiit. One was a Cathay female. The male next to her stood just slightly taller and looked to be a Suthay-raht, from the way he was walking. He couldn't yet clearly make out any of the others behind them. His hands had reflexively shifted to the hilts of his ebony blades.
Faryl spoke again. "Think they look like travellin' traders."
"Hope that's the case." Dravyn sounded suspicious.
Bradyn didn't seem to have anything to add.
As they approached just a little closer, it became clear that the Cathay female was much older than the others. A second male behind her also appeared to be a Suthay-raht, with those odd shaped feline legs causing him to pad along on the balls of his feet. The other two were not yet as easily identified. The one right at the back appeared to be pulling a small cart.
By Suvaris' estimate, they certainly appeared to be a travelling trade caravan of some description. Though he'd seen the like passing through parts of Cyrodiil often enough, he didn't think that they regularly frequented Morrowind. Perhaps more so, since he believed that the homeland would have provided for fewer opportunities for prosperity than in times long gone by. In any case, he imagined that it would have seemed far too elaborate a ruse for any group of bandits.
Suvaris glanced to Faryl. "Do they look like anyone you've encountered before?"
Faryl looked to be studying the approaching group, but trying not to seem too obvious about it. His response remained vague. "Yeah, ah… couldn't really say. 'Cept they… they look like Khajiit traders."
"All look the same ta me. 'Cept some got cat legs and some don't." Dravyn's tone sounded more indifferent than overtly belligerent.
Faryl commented again. "Don't see a lot of Khajiit, real often. Some, but not a lot."
"No, not a lot." Dravyn echoed his brother's words.
"Could be trouble." Bradyn sounded apprehensive.
His father grunted. "We best hang back with the guar an' keep quiet. Let Faryl do the talkin'. An' keep yer eyes open, just in case."
The Rurvyns fell quiet as the distance closed between them and the Khajiit.
Suvaris had already opted for silence before the others had finished their words. He could finally tell with certainty that all five were Khajiit. The one pulling the cart appeared to be a broad-shouldered Cathay male. The female near the back kept her hood in place, but appeared to be Omhes-raht from what he could see. They could well have all been the same family. He knew well enough that the differences in Khajiit body types were dictated by the phases of the moons at the time of birth. Though they were rarely seen outside of their homeland, some Khajiit looked more like mountain lions or housecats. Even so, differing appearances aside, they were all of the same species.
By that point, Suvaris wasn't really anticipating any trouble, but accepted that it was always a possibility. Though there were likely no Khajiit alive to recall it, less than a hundred years had passed since Khajiit were among those kept in slavery in Morrowind.
Faryl signalled a halt as he shifted over to one edge of the road. Suvaris remained by his side on the road and the other two held back a few paces with the guar.
The Cathay female nodded and she seemed to say something reassuring to her nearest companion, speaking in native Ta'agra. That slightly taller Suthay-raht by her side was armed and appeared to be wearing armour beneath his cloak. Though he watched Suvaris with clear interest, he otherwise appeared relatively relaxed and not outwardly threatening.
Pausing just a few paces away, the matronly Cathay pulled back her hood, then held out open hands. The darker stripes in her fur seemed lightly faded. She bowed her head just slightly and affected a toothy smile. "Warm day to you, fellow travellers."
"An' ah… warm day ta you as well." Faryl tried to sound friendly.
"Dunmer are fellow traders, yes?" Her feline ears pricked up as her eyes widened in earnest question.
Faryl nodded. "Yeah, that we are. Headed down to Mournhold."
"Ah… the City of Light and Magic, yes?"
"Yeah, ah… that's what they useta call it. But it ain't really what it useta be."
"Khajiit have just come from that place, making trade with Dunmer."
"Yeah? Hope that worked out well for ya."
The elder Cathay inclined her head slightly. "Some Dunmer do not trust Khajiit, but some are pleased to trade things with Khajiit."
Faryl tried to maintain a friendly expression. "Don't see a lot of Khajiit around these parts, these days. So, I s'pose some folk might be a bit slow ta warm up."
"As you say. This one heard that many Khajiit trading in Skyrim say that Dunmer of Morrowind might have need of things, so this one comes to Morrowind bringing things."
"Yeah… everyone needs things. Ya just gotta have the right sorta things. Ya come up from Mournhold way? Which way didja come before that?"
The Cathay broadened her smile. "Khajiit can pass where Dunmer cannot, yes? The long journey began in Elsweyr. Khajiit travel through the Argonian lands into Morrowind, bringing rare spices and other treasures."
Faryl nodded his understanding. "Reckon ya might have some luck up north. Places like Ol' Ebonheart an' such have need of trade right now."
The Cathay matron nodded her appreciation of the advice. "Khajiit mean to travel to northern places of Morrowind. From there to Riften. Afterward, passing back through Imperial Cyrodiil, before the long winter comes upon the Nords. By the time of cooler moons, Khajiit will be back upon the warm sands of the homeland."
A few more pleasantries and other tidbits were exchanged. Aside from suggesting places where the Khajiit might find trade opportunity, Faryl advised that the roads to the north had been clear of trouble that day. However, he also advised that they should watch out for wild creatures, making special mention of flying cliff racers.
The matronly Cathay responded in kind, telling them that they'd seen no troubles along the road since leaving Mournhold. She only mentioned that they'd witnessed a group of bounty hunters dragging a pair of beaten outlaws back toward the city, but it seemed of no concern for other travellers.
Soon enough, the two parties were back on the road and again headed toward their separate destinations.
Though the afternoon was just starting to grow late, there were still a few hours of daylight remaining as the party emerged from the narrow pass though the barren hills. With the shape of the terrain ahead through the higher country, their destination remained out of view, but they knew that it wasn't all that far off. They remained confident of making the city by dark.
A little further along, the landscape began to alter dramatically. The barren rocky hills near to the pass gave way to a somewhat greener countryside. It was still fairly hilly and rugged, but patchy grasses and bushes began to dominate. Though it could hardly be described as forested, a few mahogany and beech trees appeared. They were not as hardy of appearance as those much further south, but certainly healthier than those trees of the northern Stonefalls region. A few clusters of mushrooms also grew here and there, but again not quite like the towering fungus of the lower Deshaan plains.
Though Mournhold remained hidden behind the hills for some time, Suvaris occasionally caught some sight of the Deshaan plains beyond. In spite of the haze in the air obscuring detail, he could see almost to the southern marshlands.
That haziness served as a reminder of increased moisture on the air down there. It reminded him of the contrast to the generally drier heat north of the Deshaan. It also put him in mind of that balmy summer weather he recalled from previous journeys to Mournhold and Narsis many years before.
Back in the day, thinking of that always served as just one more reason to long for return to his home, located just south of Kragenmoor. Though the weather and the conditions might have seemed more variable in that area, it rarely seemed to lean toward those extremes of some other parts of the land.
As they proceeded onward and downward, the southbound road remained west of a small stream that periodically came into view off to the left. From old maps, Suvaris knew that it originated somewhere in the highland hills to the south-east of Darnim Watch. The uppermost reaches of that waterway started just below the central highlands of the east, bordering the southern portion of those regions traditionally administered by House Telvanni. As he understood it, most of the streams of that region drained to the east or the west. That stream was the only one winding its way south from the highlands.
He also knew that the highland stream continued southward, shadowing the Mournhold road, until it eventually fed into Lake Amaya, bordering the north of Mournhold's city walls.
Upon at least two occasions, Suvaris had been expecting something of Mournhold to come into view after clearing a bend or rise in the road. However, his recollection of previous journeys along that road had evidently become rather vague. The path had likely changed only a little over the past decades, but the same could probably not be said for his memory.
Passing a rocky outcrop shrouded with bushes and single large beech, situated above the beginning of a series of cascades along that stream, the most prominent feature of Mournhold finally came into view.
Suvaris was just mildly surprised to see that the three spired towers of the old Tribunal Temple appeared intact. He'd heard that the temple had been damaged during the Argonian invasion, but he held no direct knowledge of the extent of it. The pale spires still gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, rising well above the outer city walls and reaching for the heavens.
"I wasn't certain that it would still be standing." Though mumbling slightly, Suvaris had spoken aloud.
Faryl knew what he was talking about. "I'm told that it pretty much looks the same as the old days. Least from outside."
Suvaris passed a silent glance.
Faryl continued. "They say the lizards made a mess of the place, but they didn't tear it all down or nothin'. Them New Temple priests s'poseta have fixed it up inside."
Suvaris passed another curious expression. "You've not seen inside?"
Faryl shrugged. "Not really my sorta thing. I'm all for reverin' the ancestors an' such, but ain't got no need ta go worshippin' them Reclamation Daedra."
Suvaris offered no direct comment. He held no particular interest in matters of pious worship of any specific persuasion. In truth, he only ever really visited the temple in Cheydinhal seeking the blessings of the Divines for the purpose of healing or other curative needs. Even then, it was a rare thing.
Without encouragement, Faryl continued with his thoughts. "Don't get me wrong. Ain't got nothin' against 'em… Azura, Mephala an' Boethia. I just figure they don't need the likes of me worshippin' at their statues. They got plenty of others to bother 'em."
Suvaris only returned a silent nod, keeping his eyes upon the path ahead and what little he could glimpse of the city down below.
Faryl chuckled dryly. "Reckon if I was the worshippin' kind, I prolly be prayin' to Zenithar for better trade prospects an' such."
Dravyn grunted behind him. "Best be keepin' all that to yourself around Mournhold. I don't wanna be explainin' to the Ordinators how me brother is just touched in the head."
Faryl chuckled again, having successfully provoked a rise out of his brother.
A short time later, the road drew very close to that highland stream again, then crossed over it with a sturdy timber bridge. The crossing was positioned just before the cascading drop down to the very last run of the southward flowing stream.
From there, the road continued downhill along the eastern side of the stream. That waterway broadened out into something almost like a tiny lake. Below the stone bridge across the very end of it, the previous collapse of the riverbanks had formed a rocky dam of sorts. The waters cascaded over those rocks into the larger body of water about Mournhold.
Descending from the higher ground, Suvaris' view of what lay beyond the city walls became obscured, just as his view of the waters surrounding the city grew more clear. Of course, Lake Amaya served as the freshwater supply of the entire city. Long ago, channels had been diverted from the lake, feeding into a system of cisterns and exposed waterways inside the city walls.
Looking off toward the south, he could see where Lake Amaya overflowed to the falls below. Those waters drained southward, forming the Oortrel River. He knew that much further south that river joined up with that other waterway flowing east from the lakes located about Narsis. That flow continued on southward to filter through the southern marshlands and eventually connect with the Gideon River.
Though much of his clear view toward the east became obscured, Suvaris recalled well enough what lay in that direction. Lake Amaya cradled the north of Mournhold. Another waterfall flowed down into the lower body of water expanding outward toward the east. The main flow of the Loqueach River continued eastward from there.
He reminded himself of the secondary waterway splitting off from the lower lake. The coiled path of the Korgathi River hardly seemed to represent a proper river in his mind. It really seemed more like a series of tenuously connected channels winding through the lowlands of the lesser valley just south of the Loqueach. From his recollection, it only flowed continuously like an actual river during the wetter months, reconnecting with the Loqueach just a little further east.
As they made their way along the road down toward the city, the sun gradually disappeared behind the hills to the west. Despite the line of white fluffy clouds gathering in the south, the red glow of the western horizon seemed an indication of another fine day ahead for Turdas. In relative silence, they continued onward, fully intent upon making their destination before darkness set in.
Though the twilight was upon them, it was still not quite dark as they finally crossed over the waters toward the walls of Mournhold. In contrast to the sturdy stone bridge east of the city, the damage to the western wall of the city served as some fair indication that Mournhold might not appear quite as Suvaris recalled.
He could see that it appeared that a large breach had been made in the gray stone wall at some time in the past. It was reasonable to presume that it had occurred during the Argonian invasion. He could recognise how the wall had been shored up and partially rebuilt about a break next to the guard tower in that section. Instead of the solid wall, which used to be there, a large gateway had been fashioned to fit the break. The iron-framed gates were wide open. Mounted torches burned, illuminating the passage. A pair of armoured Indoril Ordinators stood guard at either side, leaning upon their long bladed spears.
As Suvaris and the Rurvyns approached across the bridge, a few local Dunmer had streamed out of the gateway and headed off along the roadway leading south around the outside of the wall. An unusually well dressed Redguard man had stopped to speak with one of the guards. From his attire, he looked like he might hail from the Imperial province. He seemed to be familiar with the guard and soon passed through into the city.
Suvaris was just thinking how the last time he'd seen Mournhold, the only entrance into the walled city had been via the fortified southern gates at the Plaza Brindisi Dorom. Of course, that last time that he'd been there, the open parklands of that plaza had still been occupied by the refugee encampments, after the recent devastation of Vvardenfell. There were even more people in the encampments outside the walls at that time.
Faryl spoke up, interrupting Suvaris' thoughts. "If yer lookin' for one of them more upmarket taverns, there's that 'Winged Guar' in there. It's sposeta be the best place in the Godsreach District."
Suvaris looked back with raised eyebrows. "The Winged Guar? It used to be the only tavern in the Godsreach."
Faryl shrugged with a grin. "Reckon that's why they say it's the best one."
Suvaris returned a strained smile. "Yes, quite so."
Dravyn made a grumbling noise. "We can't hang about here."
Faryl briefly glanced back to his brother, before looking to Suvaris again. "No, we can't. Guar ain't allowed inside the main city. We gotta head off 'round ta the south. We'll be stayin' at a more ordinary place, out the front parts."
Suvaris glanced toward the south, before turning back to Faryl.
Faryl spoke again. "Less you're coming 'round to the south side of town, reckon this'll be where we part ways."
Suvaris nodded. "Yes, I suppose that it is." He paused, bowing his head slightly. "May I say that it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance and travel in your company."
Faryl responded with an easy grin. "Yeah, reckon I can say the same. All things bein' equal, we'll most likely only be about Mournhold for tomorrow, then be headin' off back north on Fredas. Course if yer don't find what yer lookin' for and yer headin' back that day, yer welcome ta travel with us again."
"Most gracious." Suvaris bowed his head once more.
Further friendly farewells were exchanged with both Dravyn and his son and they then went their separate ways.
At his approach to the gateway, the Ordinators seemed to have directed their full attention toward Suvaris. Of course, with those metallic helmets all featuring the supposed likeness of Nerevar, it made it impossible to see their faces. Even so, their other movements demonstrated their obvious interest in the expensively armoured stranger headed their way.
Adorned in blue and gold, with their high crested helmets and long flowing capes, Suvaris always thought that their armour appeared more ceremonial than functional. Even so, he understood that each Ordinator was highly trained. Though it seemed that they rarely implemented those skills, they were said to be highly formidable. He casually wondered whether they still viewed guarding the once majestic city of Mournhold as a great honour, or if it had come to seem something less so. Of course, he intended to keep those thoughts to himself.
Adopting a respectful posture, Suvaris identified himself as Fighters Guild out of Cheydinhal, adding that he originally hailed from Kragenmoor. He'd already come to decide that it seemed the best combination of detail to provide in the homeland. Recalling how difficult some of those Ordinators could be at times, he also offered to provide his official papers.
The guard standing to his right seemed to betray some measure of uncertainty, but the one on the left seemed more decisive. Suvaris was taken at his word and waved through without having to provide documentation.
Beyond the entrance, a short bridge of sorts crossed over the narrow canal running along the inside edge of the wall. The canal itself seemed the only familiar feature. Looking beyond that, almost everything else seemed not at all what he recalled from decades before.
With the exception of just one or two structures that seemed to reflect the style of the structures previously occupying the Godsreach, most everything else appeared markedly changed from before. Though it was difficult to easily tell, it seemed that nearly everything from earlier decades was gone and had been replaced with a greater number of lesser-sized structures, increasing the overall density of the residential housing of the district.
Suvaris looked over to his left, where decades before there had been a large manor of the House Indoril styling of Velothi architecture. In its place, it seemed that four small dwellings had been built atop four similar dwellings at ground level. Aside from the roof tiling, they appeared rather plain and utilitarian.
The street lamps of the Godsreach had already been lit, illuminating the main pathways in the fading light. He briefly noticed that Secunda was already shining in the eastern sky, appearing well on its way toward half-full. Of course, the waning Masser had yet to rise.
Suvaris made his way along the street toward where he expected to find the crossroad at the centre of the district. As he recalled, that was near to where the Winged Guar used to be.
Soon enough, he'd found the tavern situated just north of the crossroads. It seemed obvious enough that it was not the old building, but a new structure built on the same location. It just vaguely looked something like the old place, though perhaps slightly larger.
Inside the crowded tavern, Suvaris headed directly for the Dunmer barkeep, intending to secure lodgings before attending any other matter. That Redguard man he'd noticed before was there, busy negotiating some sort of business.
Once the barkeep was free, he'd introduced himself and made inquiry of any other individuals going by the Suvaris name. He had no trouble acquiring accommodation for the evening, but no immediate luck on the other matter.
After the long journey, Suvaris found himself feeling more weariness than he might have reasonably anticipated. After making use of the bathroom facilities and cleaning up, he looked to having a hot meal and then retiring to his rented room. The matter of pursuing the person he'd come to find would keep until the next morning.
Only for a brief time, Suvaris tried reading that book about the pirates, but soon found that he seemed far too tired for it. Before long at all, he was looking to the matter of surrendering to sleep.
~O~