Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 17

Fredas the 2nd of Hearthfire 4E71

Alaron Suvaris rose early that morning. He'd also managed to get to sleep quite early the previous evening, so he was feeling well rested when he awoke. The rented room at the Selfora Inn had been rather modest, but clean and tidy enough to suit his sensibilities. He imagined that he owed part of that good night's sleep to that blend of trama-root-tea in honey that he'd acquired from the old Dunmer trader in Mournhold's Great Bazaar. It seemed to work just as well as she'd assured him it would, precipitating peaceful and uninterrupted rest.

The dawn had only just broken as Suvaris departed the Selfora Inn. Over on the distant western horizon, he observed that that the pale waning crescent of Masser was just about to disappear from the dawning sky. Evidently, the waxing Secunda had already set some hours before.

The early morning air felt cool, but not cold. A few patchy clouds hovered in the southern skies, but there seemed no sign of darkened clouds in that direction. He imagined that those storms he'd observed the previous evening had drifted off toward the east without coming anywhere near his location.

A few of the local farm folk of the town were already out and about and headed off for the fields. Aside from that, the morning appeared notably peaceful and quiet.

Turning about, Suvaris looked off toward the eastern sky. Off through the trees, he could just make out part of the fortress in that direction. By his best guess, if that place was perhaps half way to Ald Mire, he expected that he should have no trouble reaching his destination before midday. Of course, he held no clear idea of the road in that direction, but he felt confident that the journey couldn't be too long or too troublesome.

With a mild sigh, Suvaris adjusted his helmet and shifted the weight of the travelling pack upon his back, then set off along the trail back down to the main eastbound road.

Along the main road down below Selfora, Suvaris cast his eye over the wetlands south of the eastbound path. Though it seemed hardly as extensive or substantial, it served to put him in mind of the vast marshlands south of Narsis. The Southern Marshes extended almost up to the location of that old city and most of the way across to the eastern coast, where the old House Dres city of Tear used to proudly dominated that region. Toward the south, those marshes merged into the Argonian lands and extended for some distance.

Of course by comparison, what he was looking at to the south of Selfora was not nearly as significant. The coiled path of the Korgathi was confined by the hills to the north, between that road and the Loqueach, and by those much taller hills off to the south. Rather than vast marshlands, it presented as more of a boggy lowland valley. Of course, some of it was just a series of ponds, marshes and a few small lakes. Other parts of it formed longer winding waterways, seemingly waiting for the rains to come so that it could flow like a proper river.

Suvaris vaguely recalled another reason for why the locals referred to the Korgathi as 'the coiled path'. It had something to do with Ashlander tribes living in the swamps of the valley and the legend of a giant ghost snake, which they worshipped as a nature spirit of some sort.

He'd heard of the regional Ashlanders causing occasional troubles for local farmers and townsfolk during earlier times, but he didn't know whether the legend of a snake spirit was perfectly accurate. He supposed that there must have been some substance to it.

Suvaris wasn't expecting to learn anything of that on that day. The only things he'd observed over the marshlands were rather more mundane. Dragonflies buzzed about over the nearby ponds. A few waterbirds foraged amongst the reeds by the shorelines. Unseen frogs or toads periodically croaked. He'd also heard some distant noises that sounded to him like a disagreement between alit or possibly kagouti. He'd just briefly caught the mournful call of a netch on the light morning breeze. He couldn't quite tell how far off it might have been. Only that it seemed to be coming from somewhere off toward the south-eastern part of that vale.

Before long, the road drifted away from the marshes and continued up over a low hillside to the east. Though he'd seen no one else along the way that morning, noting the regularity of both dried and fairly fresh guar shit along the path, it seemed obvious enough that the road between Mournhold and Ald Mire was well travelled.

After cresting the rise of that hill, the road descended the gentle slope in a fairly straight line to the north-east. It soon came to a stone bridge crossing over the last stretch of the Korgathi, where it struggled northward to rejoin the waters of the Loqueach. Looking off in that direction, he could see where the waterway headed for the main river, but he couldn't quite tell whether it actually reached. The relatively still waters seemed to indicate that it wasn't actually flowing, or else only in a barely noticeable manner.

Further north of the road and out across the waters of the Loqueach, the stone walls and towers of Tal'Deic Fortress could be seen, rising from that island. He still held no clear idea of what was there, or whether it was even occupied. He understood that the Imperial Legion had people stationed there a long time ago, but that would no longer be the case. As far as he knew, there wouldn't have even been anything like that back before the Argonians came rampaging into Morrowind. He supposed that House Redoran or House Indoril might have taken interest in the place during recent decades, but he didn't really know if that was the case.

With the road again climbing to higher elevation, from what he could see of the waters about that island, Suvaris thought that the river seemed substantial enough to accommodate shipping of some description. However, he inwardly conceded that he couldn't really tell how deep those waters might be. Added to that, it was also fair to presume that there was a narrow or shallow section of the Loqueach beyond his view that could have prevented shipping from reaching that far.

The rise of the hills above the left-hand side of the road soon obscured his northward view. Only gently winding, the road continued eastward. Suvaris observed another couple of still ponds near a slight bend in the road. He was just momentarily distracted as he noticed a pair of wild scuttlers with a clutch of younglings by the edge of one pond. Returning his full attention to the path ahead, he observed a pair of strangers coming along toward him. Both were male Dunmer carrying large loads upon their backs. They had no guar or other pack animals, or even a pushcart.

Of course, he soon learned that were travelling traders headed for Mournhold. They seemed quite friendly, but not all that talkative. They appeared to recognise easily enough that Suvaris couldn't have been from around that region and so didn't seem particularly motivated to ask him anything of the road behind him. They merely advised him that he was not far from Ald Mire and should expect to be there before long.

Just as the traders had suggested, it wasn't all that long before the small township came into view ahead. At a sharp bend in the road, by some tall trees and a cluster of emperor parasol, the rooves of several structures appeared. The main road turned toward the north at that point. One of the signs indicated that it led to the Tal'Deic Fortress. The lesser road branching off at the bend went straight ahead into the small town.

There were a few modest houses at the western edge of Ald Mire. A large pen full of bantam guar was at the side of one place. Behind some other structures, there were some small crop fields with scrib cabbage, wickwheat and a few other things growing there, with much of it looking near ready for harvest.

Passing by a few houses, which looked not so different from what he'd observed back at Selfora, Suvaris came to what appeared to be the town centre. There were a few more residential structures there, which appeared of a similar styling, but notably larger. A moderate sized inn stood between some small trader stores. Across the other side of the street, he spotted a blacksmith's and a few outdoor trader stalls. Beyond the houses over at the eastern side of town, there were a couple of large ponds and irrigated fields of saltrice.

It wasn't until he turned his gaze toward the north that he spotted what he was probably looking for. A well worn path led from the town centre toward a small peninsular of land jutting out into the river. There were a handful of sizeable structures just near some sturdy timber piers, where an unexpectedly large vessel was docked.

Presumably, that's where Suvaris would expect to find that dock master, so rather than asking around at all, he made his way directly for that location.

Heading toward the docks, he observed that the vessel at port was even a little larger than he firstly thought. The ship appeared to be a full sized sea-going cargo vessel. He'd actually expected that only lesser-sized ships would come that far up river. He supposed that might explain why they didn't go any further westward than that port.

Looking out along the Loqueach, the river did look quite broad and deep heading eastward. Though he'd never before been that far, he understood that the river eventually spilled into the great Padomaic Ocean. After a fashion, aside from the steep rocky banks at either side of the waterway, it did put him in mind of the stretch of the Niben between the Imperial City and Bravil.

Approaching the warehouses near the docks, he caught sight of two flat river barges tied up by the docks. Presumably, those were the barges utilised to ferry cargo along the shallow stretches of the river. The same barges that he expected that Travlon had been working with during recent times.

Along the docks, several workers appeared busy with loading barrels and crates of cargo onto the vessel. Evidently, it was likely that that the ship was being readied for departure.

Suvaris returned his attention to the large structures set back from the docks. He observed that one building was actually another inn. The other buildings seemed to be the warehouses he was looking for. Fortunately, the signage pointed toward the place where he expected to find the dock master.

Suvaris stepped into the trade warehouse and looked about. Despite all the activity outside, or perhaps because of it, the placed seemed unexpectedly quiet inside. He was just beginning to wonder if anyone was in there, when a wiry Dunmer with reddish-brown hair cropped short slowly popped up from behind a large crate.

The other Dunmer wasn't young or notably elderly. He seemed most likely somewhere around his middling years. However, the patchy bristles on his craggy face somehow made him appear a little older. He glared at Suvaris through hooded red eyes for an extended moment before speaking in a typically clipped local accent. "Wotcha lookin' for?"

Suvaris maintained a neutral expression and tone. "I'm looking for the dock master."

"Ya found him. Wotcha want?"

Recognising the other Dunmer's direct manner, Suvaris elected to get straight to the point. "Well, I'm actually here looking for a Travlon Suvaris."

"Travlon… Suvaris." The dock master said the name slowly, as though he was giving it some measure of thought. He idly stacked some papers and piled them on the open ledger he'd set down upon a crate. "Travlon Suvaris, ya say? So, why's that then?"

Suvaris responded with a subtle bow of his head. "My name is Alaron Suvaris, formerly of Kragenmoor's Fighters Guild."

The other Dunmer closed the ledger to keep the loose papers from going anywhere. "Kragenmoor? Heard there ain't no Fighters Guild over there no more."

"No, not for some time. I've been serving with Cheydinhal for many years."

The other Dunmer shrugged, then affected a frown. "Yer name's Suvaris, ya say?"

Suvaris returned a nod. "That's correct. I have reason to believe that Travlon might possibly be my brother's grandson."

"Might be? Ya mean ya don't know?"

"No. That's what I trying to learn."

With a grimace, the dock master nodded. "Yeah, righto then. I know a Travlon Suvaris. Younger fella." He paused with a frown. "Y'know, reckon there might be just a bit of family resemblance."

"Do you know where I might find him?"

"He ain't workin' the barges no more, but I know what he's been upta."

Suvaris' silent expression prompted for something more.

"Done a coupla short run runs up an' down the river on the bigger ships, ta get hisself some better paid work."

"So, where is he now?"

"Yer shit outa luck. He's just gone off again. Went off on the Anticlere Flyer, just yesterday afternoon."

Suvaris expression seemed to convey some confusion. In truth, he was feeling perhaps more annoyed than confused.

"Anticlere Flyer's a long haul cargo ship." The other Dunmer gained the impression that Suvaris wasn't quite taking his meaning. "Won't be back for a bit. Long haul ships like that, mean to be goin' all the way around."

"Around?"

"Around Tamriel, acourse. The Flyer ain't gonna be back this way for weeks. Maybe seven or eight, if there ain't no trouble or major hold up along the way. Could be longer."

Suvaris released a heavy sigh. It seemed that he'd come all that way and gained some confirmation that the younger Travlon could well be who he thought he might be, only to miss him by just one day.

"The Zamsar oughta be heading off real soon. That's the last one from here for the season. Ain't no one goin' across the top once the winter sets in proper."

Without saying anything, Suvaris reasonably assumed that he was referring to that vessel outside by the docks.

The dock master resumed. "Y'know, them ships usually end up at the same ports often enough, settin' off just a day apart like that. If they don't catch up at Blacklight or Windhelm, then maybe at Solitude or over on Iliac Bay."

Considering the implied suggestion, Suvaris raised his eyebrows. "I ah… I do understand that it is due to depart soon, but… is it at all possible to secure passage on the ah… on that vessel at port?"

With pursed lips, the dock master shook his head. "Zamsar ain't takin' on no general passengers. Strictly dealin' cargo." He hesitated a moment with furrowed brow. "Don't s'pose yer any good with frost magic?"

Suvaris tilted his head. "Well, I do have some training and skill with…"

The other Dunmer cut him off. "Ain't sayin' it'll do ya any good, but I hear that there might be a need of an icer on that ship. I hear that the Zamsar ain't got no proper icer for the perishables. Only one of them riggers pulling double duty, or the like."

"I don't know if I would be…"

The dock master cut him off again. "Ain't got no time ta be yappin' about it. If ya wanna see about gettin' on the Zamsar, ya better getcha arse over there right now an' talk ta the ship's bosun. Like I said, dunno it'll do ya any good, but ya ain't gonna know if ya don't go."

Suvaris returned a brief offering of thanks then quickly departed the warehouse to head over to the vessel at the docks.

Marching toward the busy docks, Suvaris still wasn't convinced of his precise intent or even the wisdom of any further pursuit of the matter at that time. Aside from any of that, he didn't know whether it even mattered what he wanted to do next. He'd already accepted that there might well be no opportunity to be considered. Before he became too buried in thought, his attention was shifted toward negotiating a path through and around the movement of cargo onto the vessel.

A well-dressed Redguard man speaking with one of the sailors on the deck of the vessel drew his passing attention. Though he couldn't be certain, he thought that he looked like the same one he'd spotted back at Mournhold's western gate that first evening he'd arrived there and then briefly seen him again inside the Winged Guar. Before he'd managed to acquire a proper look at him, the Redguard had headed below deck.

The man that the Redguard had been speaking with was an Imperial man of swarthy appearance, with a dark beard and dark eyes. He'd evidently noticed Suvaris' approach and narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he came to lean over the rail on the port side of the deck.

"Hoy, what are you up to?"

Suvaris recognised that the query was directed at him. Avoiding the workers loading cargo, he stepped a little closer toward the man glaring at him. "I just came from the dock master at the warehouse. I'm looking for the ship's bosun."

"Yeah? Why's that then?"

"The dock master suggested that the Zamsar might be looking for… for an icer."

The Imperial continued to glare for a lengthy moment. "Maybe. Depends. You any good with frost magic?"

"I do have some training and adequate skill with frost spells."

"You don't look to me like you're in need of work." The Imperial man had evidently taken measure of Suvaris' expensive looking armour and equipment, along with his general manner.

Suvaris tilted his head slightly. "Well no, not as such. However, I was hoping to look into the possibility of securing passage on the Zamsar."

The Imperial didn't appear immediately swayed. "Zamsar's a cargo vessel. Ain't taking on general passengers."

"So I was told. However, I can offer my services… as an icer."

"You don't look like no sailor or the like. You with any kind of guild?"

"Alaron Suvaris, of the Cheydinhal's Fighters Guild."

The Imperial frowned. "Fighters Guild? Ain't what I meant, but I could probably make that work… if you're willing to do the work, that is."

Suvaris inwardly sighed, considering what he was about to agree to. After a moment's hesitation, he indicated his willingness to serve as an icer in exchange for passage on the vessel. The Imperial man then formally identified himself the Zamsar's bosun, without actually offering his name. He called Suvaris up onto the desk to discuss things further.

The bosun wanted to know why Suvaris was after passage on the vessel before considering committing to any agreement. As briefly as possible, Suvaris explained that he'd been searching for a relative who had just departed upon the Anticlere Flyer the day before. He then further explained that he'd been advised that both vessels were likely to dock at the same port somewhere along the journey.

Suvaris suggested that since he was effectively at liberty for an extended period, barring anything unexpected, he expected that he should be able to remain with the vessel all the way back to Cyrodiil. However, once he was back in the Imperial Province, he anticipated returning to Cheydinhal and his Fighters Guild duties.

The bosun seemed reasonably convinced by what he'd heard and he seemed to find it all fairly acceptable. After mulling it over for a further moment, he advised that he thought it would be fine with Captain Cirroc, but he would be expecting Suvaris to sign his name to a work contract. After already taking it all that far, with some lingering reservation, Suvaris was also ready to consent to the arrangement.

Noting the Yokudan sounding name of the vessel's captain, Suvaris again thought of that Redguard he'd seen on the deck with the bosun. "That Redguard man I saw you speaking with… was that Captain Cirroc?"

The bosun returned an odd expression. "Redguard? No, that was Jellan. He's a wine merchant."

Suvaris' looked confused. "I thought that there were no passengers on the Zamsar."

"No 'general' passengers. Jellan's a friend of the Captain. Got a special arrangement for travelling with his cargo. Ain't none of your concern."

"Understood."

"Soon as the last of the cargo is secured aboard, we sail with the turn of the tide."

Suvaris looked confused again. As near as he could tell, the waters seemed relatively still. At the most, it seemed that the river might be just flowing very slowly eastward.

The bosun anticipated what he was probably thinking. "The tides don't actually turn this far upriver. Just backs up from the high tide downstream. Pretty soon, the outbound tide will set to flowing out to the east again."

Suvaris silently accepted the explanation.

The bosun turned and called out to a younger Breton lad on the deck, waving him over. Once the lad with the wispy stubble and messy brown hair was near, he pointed him to Suvaris. "This Dunmer's our new icer for this run. Just show him down below and find him a berth. Actually, put him with Adras." The bosun turned back to Suvaris. "Once we get under way, I'll have Adras come find you and take you down to the hold to show what needs to be done."

"Understood." Since the bosun had glanced up to the rigging as he mentioned someone named Adras, Suvaris took that to be the name of the other individual serving as an icer. Presumably, he was one of those climbing up there at that moment.

At the bosun's signal, the younger lad guided Suvaris toward the entryway near the aft of the Zamsar to take him down below deck.

Along the way, the Breton lad introduced himself as Daric. Sounding like he'd done it many times before, he'd recited some of the general rules of the ship as they made their way through below deck. Among other things, he told Suvaris that Captain Cirroc was to be left alone unless otherwise instructed. Without exception, all problems or the like were to go to the bosun. Daric pointed out the ship's mess as they passed by and provided instructions for where to find the washroom and lavatory facilities.

Eventually, Suvaris was led to a doorway toward the bow of the vessel, just one deck below. Daric advised him that the tiny cabin on the port side was where he'd be bunking and then left him there.

Suvaris looked to the cramped space with a measure of displeasure. There were two rudimentary bunks set one above the other up against the hull. Doors in the wall appeared to represent some sort of storage. The iron padlock over the handle indicated that it looked to be some sort of secure lockup. Evidently, there was really no room for anything other than sleeping in there and it hardly looked so appealing even for that purpose.

Since he'd been told to wait for that Adras, he set down his travelling pack and helmet and sat down upon the lower bunk to wait. There really wasn't any space for much of anything else.

After a moment of listening to the noises coming from above deck, Suvaris released a heavy sigh. He'd not even gone anywhere yet and he was already questioning the sense of agreeing to travel upon that vessel. Though he remained tenuously confident of making contact with Travlon at some point, it seemed that he was certainly taking the longest possible way back to Cheydinhal. Trying to make the estimate in his mind, he thought that he might still make it to the Imperial City in time for the Emperor's Day festivities. Though it was really too far off to think of that as a certainty.

After a while, the noises coming down from above seemed to change from banging and shouting to something a little different. The sounds shifted to altered banging noises, along with creaking and shouting and Suvaris soon felt the vessel rolling and moving beneath him, indicating that it was leaving the docks. He resolved himself to the circumstance that he'd probably be waiting for a while. Without any enthusiasm, he also resolved himself to the notion that he'd be doing quite a lot of that over the days to come.

At least a half-hour had passed by since Suvaris had observed that the Zamsar must have been leaving Ald Mire. No one had come near that tiny cabin during that period. Since he'd been told to wait there for someone to arrive and provide further instruction, that's what he did.

Finally, he heard somebody walking down corridor just outside. A Dunmer of perhaps a couple of decades fewer than Suvaris appeared in the doorway. His appearance actually seemed vaguely familiar, though Suvaris couldn't make an immediate connection.

"You must be the fella that bosun said is gonna be frostin' the cargo with me?"

Suvaris stood up. "That I am. Alaron Suvaris. Pleased to meet you."

The other Dunmer wiped his hand before extending it in greeting. "Ah yeah, apologies. Adras, Adras Rurvyn."

Taking the other Dunmer's hand, Suvaris raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Adras, are you at all related to Faryl and Dravyn Rurvyn?"

"Faryl? From up Blacklight way? Faryl an' Dravyn an' ah… Gralys, up on that farm?"

Suvaris returned a silent nod of confirmation. He'd actually forgotten the name of the other brother, having heard it only the once.

"Yeah, sorta. Must be ah… second cousins or somethin' like that. Me grandpa was their grandpa's brother. Ain't seen 'em since we was young."

Keeping it quite brief, Suvaris explained his recent association with Faryl and Dravyn and the nature of their current trading enterprise. Only to maintain that brevity, he added that he understood that the other brother still worked the old farmland, but he knew no more than that.

Soon enough, Suvaris' travelling pack, helmet and gauntlets had been stashed away in the tiny cabin's rudimentary lockup. After that, Adras was leading Suvaris around and down to the Zamsar's cargo hold.

The other Dunmer seemed observably relieved that he wasn't going to be the only icer on the voyage. He'd openly conceded that he didn't think he could summon enough magicka to manage much longer on his own. He said that they'd lost the last proper icer back in Cyrodiil and he'd been struggling to handle the load during the last part of the voyage around the Argonian coast.

Adras understood that they were meant to be picking up another icer at one of the next major ports, but he was really glad that it turned out to be sooner rather than later.

The sailor guided Suvaris through what he needed to know. There were two relevant sections of cargo for them to worry about and everything else was to be left alone.

One section only required light chilling. That meant keeping it cold, but not frozen. It was mostly fruits and vegetables, but the crates of kwama eggs required special attention. As Adras had been reminded many times, they were never to be frozen and never to be allowed to get warm.

The other section of cargo that was their concern had to be kept as cold as reasonably possible. That meant keeping it frozen or close to that state. Adras advised that the cool of the hull below the waterline kept a lot of the warmth away, but he still needed tend to that cargo two to four times a day and it took quite a lot out of him.

Once Suvaris had demonstrated his competency at the task and everything was in order, they departed the cargo hold, confident that it was sorted for the time being.

Later in the afternoon, Suvaris eventually found himself up on the main deck of the Zamsar, once Adras had advised that it would be okay for him to be up there. He also needed to be made aware of certain restrictions, to ensure that he didn't get in the way.

He'd noted that the Zamsar was sailing only under minimal sail, relying more upon the outgoing tide to carry the vessel forward down the Loqueach.

Gazing out along the river, he'd observed that the broad river had narrowed significantly since departing that stretch just east of Ald Mire. From what he could see, the waters certainly seemed deep enough, but the rugged embankments along either side seemed to encroach uncomfortably at certain points.

Adras had casually mentioned that the river became narrow at various parts to the east, until nearing the ocean by the small port of Bosmora. He'd also mentioned that because of that, they'd be anchoring during the hours of darkness at a safe point down river, then setting off again with the first light.

Even with his duties to attend in the cargo hold, Suvaris anticipated many days of bleak tedium ahead. He found himself looking forward to the prospect of making the next port and then hopefully catching up with the Anticlere Flyer at one those other ports afterward.

~O~