Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale
Greg J Miller
~O~
Chapter 18
Fredas the 9th of Hearthfire 4E71
Perhaps more out of habit than necessity, Alaron Suvaris again rose early that morning. It was fair to say that sleeping upon that uncomfortable bunk in that tiny cabin was a contributing motivation. For other reasons at hand, he didn't really need to worry so much about his icing duties that morning. Even so, despite what Adras Rurvyn thought, he made a point of going to check those sections of the cargo hold anyway. If nothing else, it meant getting out and about and seeing what was going on.
Though there'd been some anxiety evident amongst some of the crew, the Zamsar managed to make port the previous evening under somewhat rough conditions with another storm chasing along behind them. With the distinct chill on the air, it had made his icing duties with the cargo much less of a challenge when he attended the task that evening.
With the current conditions of the northern sea, Suvaris had been quietly hoping that he might learn that the other vessel was still at Windhelm when they arrived. However, despite the variable circumstances, it passed that the Anticlere Flyer remained just one day ahead of the movements of the Zamsar, having departed that port the day before. The same thing had more or less occurred back at Blacklight.
Suvaris was hoping that there wouldn't be too much delay before the Zamsar was back at sea again, but that was certainly starting to look doubtful. Though there was nothing that he could do about any of it, he still found it frustrating. He was hoping that it would not turn out that the two vessels never managed to connect during the voyage ahead. Again, there was nothing he could do about it, but hope for the best.
On the previous Fredas when he'd firstly boarded the Zamsar, he'd possibly not really considered that it could take the better part of a week just to be departing Blacklight once again. After the passing of the full seven days, he finally found himself at the Nordic city of Windhelm, anxiously awaiting the resumption of the long voyage ahead.
The past week had been generally as tedious as he'd anticipated. His time had been mostly occupied with the repeating cycles of eating, sleeping and tending to icing duties in the cargo hold, with some idle time in between those activities. Before making port at Blacklight, Suvaris had already finished with those books in his possession and has grown anxious to acquire something more to read. He'd finished that fictitious pirate story, then gone on to read that other book that turned out to be a tragic tale of two lovers from rival families, set in second era Daggerfall. Only out of boredom, he'd even gone back to again look at that other book about the post-Tribunal era of Morrowind.
The very first days of the voyage from the Mournhold region had passed relatively easily, with no real concerns until the vessel was travelling westward across the northern Sea of Ghosts. By Suvaris' recollection, though relatively peaceful, that first part of the run seemed notably slow and tedious.
A week before arriving at Windhelm, the cargo vessel left port and set off down the river from Ald Mire, not long after noon on that previous Fredas. During that evening, the vessel anchored at a relatively broad stretch of the Loqueach to wait out the hours of darkness, then set off again at the very first light of the day.
It had been fairly slow going down the river that day. As he'd heard, with so many potential hazards along that waterway, it was not safe for larger vessels to travel under full sail down the Loqueach. Even with the tide against them, only minimal sail was deployed. Sails were utilised even more sparingly when the outgoing tide was in their favour.
In fading daylight, the Zamsar eventually made port at Bosmora fairly late on Loredas. There hadn't been much cargo at all to be unloaded or loaded at that small town. The only reason for stopping there appeared to be a matter of the convenience of the location, situated fairly near the bay at the mouth of the river.
After waiting out the hours of darkness on Loredas evening, the ship then set out again at first light on Sundas. Soon enough, the Zamsar was out in the open waters of the Padomaic Ocean. Once clear of the eastern coast, there had been three days of uninterrupted sailing around Morrowind to reach the next destination.
Suvaris soon learned that those long haul vessels didn't stop at every port along the way. Local vessels handled most of the shipping between those other ports. All major seagoing import and export tended to be converged upon the two remaining locations of relevance.
Of course, the only reason that the ships even came to Ald Mire, was because it was still regarded as Mournhold's port and there was still some call for valued trade in and out of that place. Aside from Morrowind's former capital, the only other port of interest for long haul trade vessels was its current capital, Blacklight. In fact with each passing year, more trade passed through Blacklight than Mournhold. If not for some of the produce of the more fertile and bountiful Deshaan region, Mournhold might have been overlooked altogether. He'd been told that some other vessels of that kind didn't even bother with it any more.
The Zamsar was just clearing the north of the Telvanni Islands at the end of the second day. Venturing up on deck, Suvaris had observed that Red Mountain had resumed billowing dark clouds into the skies. He thought it might represent a cause for alarm. However, though a menacing haze filled the sky north of Vvardenfell, there was no rain of hot ash. Only a light fall of dark soot was evident. Though the sailors remained confident of the circumstances, having seen it many times before, Suvaris still felt rather less than assured.
In conversation with Adras that evening, Suvaris had learned that some parts of Vvardenfell were not quite as completely abandoned as he'd believed. He'd previously thought that there was no one over there but a handful of surviving Ashlanders somewhere in the north-east, who'd returned to the isle immediately after those earlier disasters.
Adras hadn't claimed to know everything, but he understood that there were Dunmer again living at Balmora. He'd heard that the place was but a pale shadow of the booming centre it had become during the times before the disasters. Even so, he believed that it was probably the largest centre of the island. He also mentioned that kwama egg mines around Gnisis kept that place in business. A lot of the kwama egg shipments to Blacklight came from that place. He said that he'd only been there twice and there weren't a lot of people living there. He'd also mentioned that those kinds of dust masks that his cousin had been trading were originally developed for the Dunmer living at those few remaining settlements upon Vvardenfell.
On the third day of the voyage, because of the dark ash-cloud mingling with the regular cloud of the skies, the crew had not been immediately aware of a building storm racing in behind them from the north-east. By the time that it became obvious, it was something of a race to make port before the storm was upon them. As it passed, the Zamsar only just made Blacklight ahead of that storm on Tirdas evening. Though the dark clouds looked quite threatening, it turned out to be relatively mild as northern storms go. The wind and rough seas were not nearly as bad as it could have been, or least that was what Adras assured him. Even so, the storm brought heavy rains when it arrived, with more of that behind it. What came down after the main storm was not nearly as heavy, but it was not passing so quickly. The persistent rain coming down on Middas delayed the vessel at port that day.
From what Suvaris had heard, the exchange of cargo had taken three times longer than normal in the inclement weather. Even once that was done, the Zamsar still wasn't going anywhere until there was some confidence that reasonably fair weather was on the way.
The torrents washing down through the streets of Blacklight carried accumulated soot down toward the waters of the bay in dark rivulets. A little further up from the docks, some silty mud had also been washed down from further uphill and made the streets notably slippery and treacherous. It seemed that the downpour might have been even heavier than the persistent rain of a few weeks earlier. Or perhaps, it had just been much heavier rain over a shorter period.
It wasn't until late in the day on Middas that the rain finally eased to sporadic showers, providing some indication that it might clear by the next morning.
Despite his annoyance over the circumstances, Suvaris did have the opportunity to address one thing. He managed to take advantage of the brief delay at port, taking time to head up to the Blacklight marketplace and acquire more books to read. At the least, that provided him with something to alleviate some of the boredom of the days ahead.
Fortunately, the weather did actually clear overnight, revealing a far more promising outlook with the dawn on Turdas. Accordingly, the Zamsar departed Blacklight very early that morning, sailing westward for Windhelm.
With quite favourable winds, there'd been fair expectation of arriving at Windhelm later in the day or in the early evening. The path between those two ports was fairly open for most of the way, allowing for a day under full sail, weather conditions permitting.
It had been just as the mouth of the White River came into distant view that another incoming storm was sighted. That one had presented as a low cloudbank coming in directly from the north. Ahead of the storm, came a lot more gusty wind and even rougher seas.
Though Suvaris remained below deck at the time, he'd heard that it had been quite treacherous entering the mouth of the White River. The crew struggled to keep the vessel well clear of either side of the bay, while especially trying to avoid the large rocky outcrop near the entrance of the mouth of the river.
From what he'd been told, even with the summer only just ended, the threat from bodies of ice in the bay also remained a serious danger. Not only were they racing the storm, they also needed to make it through before running out of daylight. Any collision with an ice drift could have been the end of the vessel.
The waters had been only slightly calmer along the northernmost stretch of river, but with the storm bearing down on them, they needed to press on for safe harbour. At the least, navigating those waters was notably less dangerous than what was behind.
It was dark by the time they finally made port at the Windhelm docks and the storm was fully upon them by then. Fortunately, the winds at port had been notably less virulent than those gusts ahead of the storm, and seemingly less destructive. Of course, it may have been more the case that the tall walls of Windhelm shielded the docks from the worst of it.
Unlike that other storm that reached Blacklight late on Tirdas, providing further lasting effects throughout most of Middas, there was no heavy downpour of rain coming down over Windhelm. It instead brought an icy wind blown sleet. It didn't seem really so heavy, but it remained quite steady.
Soon enough, Suvaris learned that the Zamsar wasn't going to be leaving port during that Fredas. The exchange of cargo still took place during the morning, but took much longer than seemed typical. That driven sleet persisted without pause throughout the earlier part of the day.
During a brief visit up on deck, Suvaris observed the rather limited visibility beneath the grim gray skies. He could only just barely make out the shadows of the riverbanks over the far side of the White River and a tall stone bridge just to the west of the docks, crossing over the river from the city.
Looking up from the aft of the vessel, he could tell that there were mountains of a sort rising up behind the walled city, but he could make out no detail through the sleet. He imagined that it served to protect Windhelm from the worst of whatever the northern skies hurled toward the south from the seas.
After attending to his icing duties in the cargo hold, which hardly seemed so necessary in the circumstances, the remainder of the day was effectively his own. He'd been advised that he could go off into the city if he wanted, so long as he was back on the Zamsar by nine bells. The bosun was still firm about being able to make a proper head count on the evening before leaving port.
Of course, the ship wasn't going anywhere before the next morning and even that was yet to be established as certainty. It would all depend upon the weather. In either case, the captain still wanted the ship ready to head out at short notice.
Despite the inclement weather outside, given the cramped conditions upon the Zamsar, Suvaris decided that a good walk about the Nordic city seemed a potentially engaging diversion for the afternoon. Though he'd often enough heard of the place from various Nord acquaintances, and even read some detail of it in various texts, he'd never actually been there before. Mostly, he just felt the need to stretch his legs while the opportunity was at hand.
By the early afternoon, the wind driven sleet had finally eased to flaky snowfall over the docks. Though somewhat less dismal and oppressive than the sleet, the wind blown icy flakes remained persistent as Suvaris made his way for the lower city gate above the docks.
The icy chill on the air easily put him in mind of winter in Bruma. He was not really so used to that kind of weather on a regular basis. Though winter in Cheydinhal could be cold, it was a rare thing to see sleet or snow about that city. It generally didn't even seem a possibility, except right in the middle of the coldest months. Of course, such cold winters were even more rare throughout most parts of Morrowind. Given that it was only a week past the end of summer, he found it extraordinary what the Nords of northern Skyrim must endure each season.
From his brief times above deck earlier in the day, Suvaris had observed a number of Argonian workers about the Windhelm docks. Aside from just the two of them huddled by a smouldering brazier near the stone wall at that moment, it seemed that the others he'd previously seen had retreated to the dockside trade warehouses or the like.
He'd heard that the Argonians working there were not permitted within the city proper. From what he'd been told, the current Jarl of Windhelm only barely tolerated their presence down by the docks and no more than that. Apparently, it was much the same with Khajiiti traders who had to set up their trade caravans outside, by the bridge over the river. In light of all that, he remained mildly surprised that his fellow Dunmer were not treated in quite the same manner.
Though that kind of thing would hardly be openly tolerated back in Cyrodiil, it would still be fair to note that neither the Argonians nor the Khajiit were really so well embraced by many Imperials. Even so, they were not barred from the cities as a matter of course.
As he understood it, the Nords of Windhelm were openly contemptuous of each of the merish races, perhaps only holding some greater measure of begrudging respect for Orcish warriors. Even so, the mer were not denied access to the city. It could also be noted that even the humans of other provinces seemed to be held in somewhat low regard by supposed true Nords of the 'first hold'. Though Suvaris found it just a little difficult to recognise the reasoning, it seemed that the Nords of Skyrim's Eastmarch were easily as intolerant of outsiders as the native Dunmer of his homeland. He supposed that it had become a matter of habit of some longstanding, born of regional pride. In that regard at least, it seemed the peoples upon either side of the Velothi Mountains were more alike than each of them might like to think.
Leaving the open area about the docks, Suvaris ascended the stone steps up toward the lower city gate. Between the stone walls of that path, some of the inclement weather was just barely kept at bay. Some of the driven snowfall still fell down from above and he needed to take care with his footing on the slippery stone. No one else seemed to be about at that particular moment. Given the state of the weather, it hardly seemed surprising.
Upon reaching the heavy gate up above, he noticed a Windhelm city guard standing huddled against the stone wall by a smouldering brazier. The guard glanced toward Suvaris only briefly with his full-faced helmet. "Gray Quarter's off to your right." The Nord immediately turned back to the fire without further consideration.
Given that the guard seemed overtly disinterested, Suvaris offered no response and instead continued onward through the partly open gate into the walled city. Of course, he was reasonably aware of what the guard meant by his comment. It wasn't really advice offered in the spirit of helpfulness, but more out of casual contempt.
Suvaris recalled that the north-eastern section of Windhelm had once been known as the 'Snow Quarter'. However, some time after a number of Dunmer had come to that city, following the events upon Vvardenfell many decades before, it came to be known by that other name. By and large, though they might to free to work in other parts of Windhelm, most Dunmer living within the city walls were firmly encouraged to reside only in that area above the docks dubbed as the Gray Quarter. Of course, the name had nothing to do with the drab gray stone walls. It was all about the local Nords' condescending reference to Dunmer as 'Gray-skins'.
Though he could see nothing of it from the docks earlier that day, Suvaris understood that several Dunmer had settled to run farms just across the other side of the White River. That land was effectively close enough to the city for reasonable convenience. Presumably, he expected that those farmlands may have been a preferable alternative to living in Windhelm's Gray Quarter. Still, he couldn't imagine what they farmed in such adverse conditions.
Proceeding beyond the gate, only out of idle curiosity, Suvaris did choose to turn to the right to see for himself what the Gray Quarter of Windhelm was all about. Just as he'd started along the path, a couple of younger Dunmer children dashed by in a great hurry and headed off down the narrow street in that direction. They hadn't paid him any mind at all. They'd disappeared around the left corner long before he was anywhere near enough to see where they were headed.
Though it hardly seemed any warmer than outside the city, Suvaris did note that the tall stone walls blocked most of the harsh winds. Perhaps only because that street was so narrow and the walls so tall, more of what was falling from the skies was caught by the rooftops and parapets, rather than making it down to the ground.
He observed a number of crude wooden doors along the stone walls, representing places of residence. Only a few featured signs affixed with Dunmeri family names, others remained completely unmarked. Though he couldn't determine what might be inside with any certainty, he imagined that no one in that part of the city enjoyed a life of luxury.
A little further along, he spotted a small general store near a corner in the narrow street. The name on the weathered sign swinging in the wind implied that the place was owned or run by a Dunmer. At another doglegged corner, a sign indicated a tavern or inn behind a shabby timber door. Given that the corner-club was named for a place on Vvardenfell, it was obviously another place specifically for local Dunmer. He briefly observed a sure-footed local Dunmer dashing along the cobbled street, who quickly disappeared into the tavern. The streets again appeared otherwise deserted.
Some more residences with doors set into the wall appeared along the crooked street as it made it way back toward the west and gradually upward. They appeared no different than those he'd observed before them. Eventually, the path delivered Suvaris up to a large and relatively open space set above the Gray Quarter.
Looking over to his right, he noted an archway though a heavy stone wall. A pair of helmeted guards stood huddled in the archway by another smouldering brazier. Suvaris surmised that the large stone structure beyond must have been the historic 'Palace of the Kings'. Both of the Windhelm guards appeared to glare in his direction. He expected that even a notably well-dressed Dunmer was not welcome in the palace grounds without proper business at hand. He held no desire to test that presumption.
Toward his left, Suvaris observed a large long-house of stone and timber dominating the central space of the city. It seemed of typical Nord design, not unlike some of what he'd seen in Bruma. He quickly realised that it was the large tavern and inn he'd heard previously mentioned.
Turning about, he noticed that there were a few other Nordic styled residences perched up above the Gray Quarter. Each of those structures appeared quite old and weathered, like much of what he'd seen of the city thus far. Given that Windhelm was the oldest Nord city of Skyrim, he supposed that it should not have come as any surprise.
Overall, he'd noted that most of the structures evidently occupied by Nords didn't appear really so much better than what he'd observed down in the Gray Quarter. The Nordic homes certainly seemed somewhat larger from the outside, but otherwise didn't declare any outward affluence.
Suvaris understood that the main marketplace of Windhelm was located over in the south-western corner and that the north-western corner was another residential quarter. He decided that he might as well go visit the markets while he was out and about.
Heading down another narrow cobbled path south of the large tavern, he could hear the noises of hammer upon anvil, indicating that in spite of the adverse weather, Windhelm's blacksmiths were still hard at work.
The marketplace appeared rather smaller than he'd been expecting. It seemed that only a few of the stores were inside enclosed structures, with more of it represented by open stalls with rather basic canopies that only barely covered the counters and the shopkeeps. In defiance of the conditions, the blacksmiths by the forge were working out in the open. Only a couple of people were in the marketplace seeking trade at the stalls.
The heavy-set Nord blacksmith working upon shaping a long blade caught Suvaris' attention. Pausing his work for a moment, the Nord seemed to be looking him over with furrowed brow. It wasn't immediately evident whether it was a look of contempt or whether the smith was taking some interest in the ebony ensemble he was wearing.
"Suvaris." A vaguely familiar voice called out.
Suvaris was somewhat surprised to see Faryl Rurvyn walking in his direction.
The travelling trader affected a crooked grin. "Weren't expectin' to be findin' ya over here in this place."
Suvaris returned a courteous nod. "Faryl. I cannot say that I was really expecting to see you here either."
Faryl shrugged. "Yeah well, when we got back up Blacklight way, we found out that Gralys had that harvest ready at the farm. So we pretty much headed straight out for the mountain pass with our guar all loaded up. Only just made it here last night ahead of all this mess." He looked up to the grim skies overhead.
Suvaris responded with an expression of affirmation. "Yes, it would seem that the Skyrim weather is not at all pleasant at this time."
"From what I hear, it ain't all that much better when it's not like this." Faryl's expression shifted. "Ya have any luck findin' that young relative of yours?"
Suvaris went to briefly explain his current circumstances and his hopes for catching up with that other vessel.
Faryl shook his head. "Sounds like it ain't easy. Leastways, ya know that Travlon Suvaris must be out there, even if ya ain't yet sure he's who ya think he might be."
Suvaris nodded with a grimace. "Yes, so it seems. If I can manage to catch up with him, then perhaps I will find out."
"Yeah well, I wish ya luck with that."
"I appreciate the sentiment." Suvaris nodded, then shifted tone. "Oh, I've run into another cousin of yours… on the Zamsar. His name is Adras. Adras Rurvyn."
"Adras? Ain't seen him since we was just young lads. Not since his old man took the family off to the east. Heard his father was plannin' to work kwama mines, but ended up workin' with offshore fishermen in the eastern sea. S'pose it ain't no big surprise that Adras ended up workin' shippin' then." Faryl paused with a dry chuckle.
Suvaris resumed. "Adras hadn't told me anything of his immediate family. Only that his grandfather and yours were brothers. I believe that he's on the ship at this moment. He said that he wasn't planning on going out while the weather was like this. There's a good chance that we'll be setting sail in the morning, weather permitting. So in all likelihood, by tomorrow we'll be at sea again."
Faryl shook his head again, with a slightly pained expression. "If we had more time, I'd be lookin' ta go down an' see him. Just closed a trade deal in the market. Trader says he'll take everything we got, if we can get it all back here before the end of the day. I gotta get back to Dravyn an' Bradyn and make that happen."
Suvaris nodded. "I understand. I will make a point of passing on your regards when I speak with him later."
Faryl nodded his appreciation. "Yeah, that'd be good of ya. No tellin' where me and Dravyn will be at any given time, but ya can tell him that he can always find Grayls back at the farm, if he's ever back over that way."
Suvaris returned another thoughtful nod. "I will do that."
Faryl affected a forced grin. "It's been good to run into ya again… but I gotta go get this stuff done before that trader goes an' changes his mind. Azura be with ya an' all that."
"And with you. Be sure to pass on my regards to your brother and nephew."
"I'll do that." With a final expression of friendly farewell on his face, Faryl turned and rushed off on his way toward the main gates of the city.
Watching Faryl head off in a great hurry, the irony of certain things was not lost upon Suvaris. He was in the process of travelling vast distances across Tamriel in search of someone he hadn't previously known to exist. He'd reasonably thought that he was the last of his line, before learning that there might another Suvaris out there. In stark contrast, it seemed that the extended Rurvyn clan reached across much of Morrowind and possibly beyond. With matters of business dominating his existence, Faryl didn't even have the time meet up with his cousin Adras when they were in the same city.
A flurry of snowflakes suddenly wafted down from above, reinforcing the chill in the air. With no pressing reason to remain in the marketplace, Suvaris elected to turn about and head back the way he'd come. Of course, he could have wandered a little further, but the weather was hardly so pleasant for that.
He could have even taken the opportunity to go visit that large Nordic tavern at the centre of town, but that held little appeal. He expected that it was likely to be rather noisy and unruly inside that place. Especially since he imagined that it would be full of sailors. Not only from the Zamsar, but also from those other two vessels at port. One ship had arrived from Solstheim the previous day and the other was a sea-going fishing vessel. Both vessel had also been waylaid by the weather and if sailors weren't sailing, many chose to pass their time in taverns if nothing denied the chance.
Even the thought of whatever hot food might be on offer in the tavern didn't sway him at all. That Breton cook upon the Zamsar had actually proven rather extraordinary. With his notable culinary skill, Suvaris imagined that he might easily find employ in any of the Imperial City's more opulent establishments. Along with the mild sense of growing hunger in his belly, those thoughts actually made him feel slightly more anxious to get back aboard the Zamsar to see what the cook had prepared for the evening.
Suvaris hastened his pace a little as he made his back toward Windhelm's docks.
~O~