Ch 5
The flaps of the command tent slid closed as the strange 'elven' woman left, led by a young page to where she could rest. Nasuada's eyes lingered for a second on the entrance before turning to the two elves in the tent. "If you could put a few of your fellows to watching her, it would be much appreciated." She said.
Blodhgarm nodded before striding from the tent swiftly, his female compatriot close behind.
Satisfied, Nasuada directed her attention to Eragon and Arya.
"I haven't had a chance to say so yet, but I am glad the two of you have returned safely." She said.
Eragon nodded in response. "I'm sorry for causing such an issue, but there was something inside Helgrid that needed to be dealt with before I could leave, and we needed to get Katerina out of there."
Nasuada waved away the explanation. "I'm sure whatever it is you needed to do was important, Eragon. Now, I've kept you here long enough. Our guest had a point, it's been a long day. We can go over the events of your travel and catch you up on what has happened while you were away tomorrow; scrying doesn't really beat a face-to-face conversation. Go and get some rest."
Eragon and Arya nodded, the Rider giving a short bow to the leader of the Varden before the pair retreated from the tent.
Eragon turned to his Elven companion, and he could have sworn he saw a flicker of fatigue cross her face before she looked at him, her face composed again.
There was an instant of silence that Eragon broke before it dragged on. "It occurs to me I haven't actually thanked you for coming in search of me. So, thank you, Arya Dröttningu. It would have been a much harder road without you beside me." He said, nodding his head to her.
Eragon lifted his head in time to catch the cocked eyebrow and slight smirk on Arya's face before she chuckled quietly.
"You are welcome." She said simply. "Good evening, Eragon."
"Good evening, Arya." He responded as she turned and headed back towards her tent.
Smiling to himself, Eragon turned back to Saphira to see his partner's neck stretched up, looking out over the camp with a strange look on her scaly face.
Somewhat confused, he reached out towards her with his mind with a questioning Saphira? What's wrong?
She was so distracted that he slipped right into her mind and saw through her eyes, tracking the strange woman as she disappeared into the vast gathering of tents.
Saphira snorted and shook her head, gently but forcefully separating their minds to their usual contact, but even through that link he could feel her confusion and apprehension rolling about in her mind.
Saphira? What is it? He questioned, looking out in the general direction that she was still looking.
The dragon snorted and shook her head, lowering herself down to her usual walking posture and turning to start lumbering back to their tents. It is nothing. She said.
It is certainly something, Saphira. What did you see in that woman's mind? I've rarely seen you this concerned about something. Is she dangerous?
Saphira paused, and to his shock, Eragon felt the faintest shred of fear flit through their link, a feeling he hadn't gotten from her since the early weeks after she hatched. That woman is very dangerous, little one. She is different from anything we have seen before. It...concerns me.
Eragon tried to respond, and question what she meant, but the Dragon interrupted him. I won't speak more than that. I promised that I would let her explain herself in time. And then she closed her mind to him, and the conversation was ended.
Eragon was shocked by his partner's behavior, and actually stopped to gape after her. Then his brows furrowed as he suspiciously thought about the newcomer, her stance and expression when he'd looked back at her out in the field; hand on her sword (which he'd never seen her draw) and a predatory expression on her face as she looked at his dragon.
He growled in the back of his throat and hurried after his partner, thinking that he'd need to go find himself a new weapon before tomorrow.
He had some questions for this 'Trissa Blackfire', and he wouldn't be unprepared when he got his answers.
…
"This is it?" Trissa said, looking at her young human guide as he stopped before a plain-looking tent set up around a hundred meters from the central clearing.
"Um...yes, mam. This was the tent Lady Nasuada told me to bring you to." The boy said hesitantly, withering somewhat beneath her crimson gaze.
"Hmmm...well, I've dealt with worse." Trissa said as she ran a hand over the rough canvas, a tad miffed in spite of herself that she was being given such a plain tent.
Oh stop it, you child. She thought. You've been a bloody hero for too long. Back in Morrowind you would've been ecstatic to have this tent to yourself.
"Thank you for your help, boy." She said, looking down at the small human. She reached into her pouch and extracted three coins, handing them to the surprised child. "Now get going. I'm tired and need some time alone."
"Of course, miss, thank you!" He said, still looking at the coins in his hand as he wandered off into the crowd.
Trissa shook her head and pushed aside the flap of the tent, getting a look inside at her new quarters.
The tent was rather small, only about twelve by twelve feet. In the far corner was a simple cot that was placed against the back 'wall', and at the foot of the bed was a small wooden chest. The only other piece of furniture was a roughly made wooden desk and a chair, and the floor of the tent was covered by a tarp to keep out potential dampness of the earth.
Trissa let out a breath and relaxed her tense muscles, finally feeling secure enough to lower her guard somewhat. She pulled Frostshard off her back and placed the bow against the foot of the bed, swinging off her quiver and pack and placing them on the ground as well. Then she removed her sword and placed it on the bed with a strange care, before unbuckling her daggers and placing them on the desk.
Trissa sat on the straw mattress with a huff, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath in. She held it for a moment, then released the breath, and with it some of her stress and worry, just as Paarthurnax had taught her all those years ago.
She repeated the process a few more times, breathing slowly until she felt once again a peace, and separated from the noise of the masses of people around her. Then she opened her eyes and her soul, looking towards the door of the tent as she called upon the Thu'um.
"Laas...Yah Nir!" She whispered, and for a moment her vision went dark.
Then her sight returned, and she found herself surrounded by light.
All around the walls of her tent, dozens-no, hundreds-of lights shone bright red, illuminating the outlines of every living thing within a very wide radius. Her gaze flickered about, taking in the mass of people; each light a life, each a distinct individual with hopes and fears and aspirations.
And each one was worth defending, up until they showed her otherwise.
After about a half a minute, the lights faded, and Trissa sighed at the (relatively) selfless thoughts that came with her brief meditation. "You've certainly come a long way since that dumb little burglar from Balmora." She said softly to herself, shaking her head.
The dunmer stood, deciding to stow what belongings she had before taking a look around the camp, to try and get a feel on how well or poorly this campaign was going.
She grabbed her pack and went over to the container, pushing the lid open to find that the chest already had some contents.
Trissa's face scrunched with confusion as she reached down to pick up the large burlap sack within the chest. As she lifted it she heard some clattering as something within banged together, and this only stoked her curiosity as to what this bag was doing here.
Moving over to the desk and moving her daggers aside, she slowly opened the sack, letting the contents clatter out.
She stared at the objects on the desk for a few moments, dumbfounded, before a low chuckle forced its way out of her mouth, and growing to a hearty laugh that went on for a good minute. As the laughter subsided, she glanced at the roof of the tent.
"Would it have been that hard to just give me this stuff when I showed up, guys? Or does it amuse you Aedra and Daedra to make me work for my belongings?" She said.
When she was still an active adventurer, Trissa had made use of a great many different weapons, armors, and general trinkets; both enchanted and mundane. Most had eventually passed into the hands of various shopkeepers, helping to build the massive fortune she amassed over the years. If the item was lucky and the Dragonborn had used it for long enough for an attachment to grow, it would find a 'place of honor' in one of her many homes Trissa had in the holds of Skyrim gathering dust, or would be gifted to a friend whom she felt could make better use of it.
However, there were about a dozen items that she eventually settled on as her 'standard equipment', that she found to be the best choices for the way she approached problems. These items included her sword, daggers, and bow, as well as the modified suit of Guildmaster armor.
The items on the table were the rest of that list.
There were two rings; one gold with a sapphire inset that had faint lines of blue magical energy running over it, and the other a silver and garnet piece, that had gull green aura about it. Her Ring of Magicka Regeneration and Ring of Stealth respectively. She slid the two rings onto her left hand, holding her arm out and letting the faint sunlight illuminate the worn and scuffed trinkets that had been in her repertoire for over forty years.
There were also two necklaces, an amulet of Talos that she'd taken from some nameless Stormcloak soldier during the attack on Helgen what felt like an era ago. However despite it's simple acquisition, she'd come to value the Necklace for the soothing ability it seemed to imbue to her soul every time she called upon the Thu'um, allowing her to Shout more often.
The other had a bit more...sentimental value to it. The Amulet of Articulation, gifted to her upon her ascension to the rank of Guildmaster of the Thieves' guild, and imbued with magic causing people to become more suggestible to her speech, and persuasions in particular. She rarely used it nowadays, but it was a reminder of what she considered to be one of her greatest accomplishments (though she knew many of her friends would disagree with that).
She slipped the Amulet of Talos around her neck, feeling the magic's cooling touch upon her Dovahsil, and tucking the other necklace into a pouch on her belt.
There was also a pouch containing another hundred or so gold coins, and a few more petty and lesser soul gems, as well as a single common-level gem.
Her lock picking kit (which was a great relief to have again) also hit the table, as well as a pair of Dwemer devices she'd found in her travels beyond Skyrim; a clockwork hook-launcher she'd used to scale many a tower and wall in the past, and a miniature crossbow-like weapon that fired bolas. Both devices were designed to be mounted on the forearm, and she did just that before turning back to the last object on the table.
Azura's Star, the only Daedric artifact that she had ever kept for herself.
She almost reverently picked up the large soul-gem, and held it before her at arm's length. "Thank you, Lady Azura, for gifting me once again with the use of Your star. I swear I shall use it wisely." She said, and felt the star vibrate slightly. Taking it as Azura's consent to her continued use of the artifact, she put the star back in the bag placed it in the chest, doing the same with her traveling cloak. She made to do so with her bag, but had a thought.
Camps like this have a lot of mouths to feed. So, there's likely a whole lot of animals being slaughtered here. A perfect place to fill a few soul gems.
She reached into her pack and pulled out the bag with her small collection of soul gems. She'd filled three of the petty gems with rabbit souls earlier in her journey, and farm foul wouldn't likely yield anything better in her experience, so she removed the three remaining petty gems from the bag, grabbed the three on the table and tucked them all into another pouch before stowing her pack and the rest of the gems in the chest.
Trissa belted on her daggers and case poison rune on the floor before her bed to punish any potential thieves before raising her hood and exiting the tent, looking up into the sky to see the first hints of sunset apearing.
A few people shot glances at this newcomer, but most went about their days without a second look. Not really knowing where to go and not really wanting to talk to anybody, she just started to wander the camp, eventually finding herself in a large open area near the western edge that was being used as a training field.
Curious and wanting to see how the warriors of the Varden stood up against the warriors of Nirn, she approached the edge of the field and leaned up against an empty wagon. She scanned across the various areas of the field, from an archery range with straw targets to a 'dueling' area where soldiers armed with swords, axes, maces and hammers of all shapes and sizes paired off and fought, receiving criticisms and advice from bearded veterans in scuffed armor.
At the far end of the field, she could see formations of spear and pikemen, as well as the odd group of Halberdiers marching and turning to get them as in-synch as possible. Teamwork would be the only defence for these basic soldiers against the more skilled fighters who would attempt to break past their long weapons to hack them to bits in close combat.
She heard some heavy footsteps approaching from her left, and flickered her eyes over to see a very large man, Nordic in appearance and Orkish in build with a good five or six inches on her, approaching her at a casual walk. He wore what appeared to be ox-hide armor (with hairs still attached) and had an overly-large greatsword strapped to his back. Trissa subtly drifted a hand to the hilt of Flametounge as he approached, watching him without turning her head.
However, he stopped a few feet away, examining her with a critical eye. The seconds stretched out, and eventually Trissa grew tired of it.
"Can I help you?" She said with annoyance.
The man flinched in surprise. "Oh, sorry for staring uh...miss. Just interested with your armor. Never seen anything like it; what'd you get those scales from?" The man said, his voice gruff.
Trissa's annoyance lessened somewhat, and she responded neutrally. "As far as I'm aware, it's one of a kind. Something of a family heirloom. As for the scales, I wouldn't suggest you get your hopes up on getting some of your own. The creatures they came from are all but extinct nowadays, and the few that remain don't look quite like this anymore, if they ever did here."
"Shame. This armor's getting a little old; been looking at getting something new, but I don't particularly like metal armor; too restricting, and I need as much mobility as I can get with this thing." He chuckled, patting the hilt of his sword. "Name's Fredric, by the way. I'm the Varden's weapon master."
"Trissa Darkfire. New to to the cause." There was a pause where they watched the mass of men batter each other for a few moments.
Then Trissa voiced a question that had been on the edge of her mind for a while now. "Why aren't there any women out there?" She looked at the larger man and saw his bemused expression.
"Well...I suppose because not many want to fight. War is a hard thing, and men are better suited for it of the sexes. Besides, someone needs to keep things in order while the soldiers are in the field."
Trissa rolled her eyes. "You realize that if even half of the women in this camp took up arms your force would increase by at least a third. And a woman can do just as well in a fight as men; I know from experience. For example, you have me beat in size and likely strength, but I'll be faster and more agile than you, even without that ungainly mass of metal you call a weapon. Plus, I'd hazard to guess in a real fight you might hesitate to strike for a moment if you realized I was a woman."
Fredric adopted a thoughtful expression, then nodded in agreement. "You're probably right. But we do have some women fighters, and I know quite a few of the mages in the army are female. Womenfolk CAN fight if they want to, it's just most don't seem to want to."
Trissa snorted. "Well, I suppose they have the choice to cower if the want; but that won't stop the sword falling on 'em if you ever lose a battle."
"Then we best not lose, Miss Blackfire."
"Mrs." She corrected.
"Ah, my mistake. Say...would ya be up for a spar? I haven't had a good fight in a while, but I get the feeling you might actually be able to provide a challenge."
Trissa shook her head, stepping away from the wagon at her back. "Unfortunately, I have a few other things to deal with this evening. Another time. Say, would you know where the cooking area is? Or where they keep the slaughter animals."
"I'll hold you to that fight, Mrs. Blackfire. Cooking tents are off that way." He said, pointing. "Just follow your nose, you should get the smell of the kitchens soon enough. Have a good night."
Trissa gave a small wave and headed off in the indicated direction, and soon enough came across the lovely smell of roasting meat.
Perfect, she thought a few minutes later as she approached the tent. Now, how to go about this…
…
It had taken a good deal of talking and cost her about twenty 'crowns' (as the currency in this land was called) to bribe the head cook, but fifteen minutes after arriving at the tent Trissa walked out with six full petty soul gems, a leg from one of the chickens she killed, fruit which may-or-may not be an apple, and a fresh roll.
She was halfway to her tent when she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She stopped, her instincts (which were rarely wrong) telling her she was being watched.
She slowly turned, scanning the surrounding tents, her eyes straining to pierce the shadows of the fallen dusk. Finally, she saw her observer.
She was a child, around the age of four, with black hair. She was wearing a dirty dress, and had no shoes on her feet. Here eyes, though...they were violet, and seemed to glow in the darkness. They were cold, calculating, aged.
They were not the eyes of a child.
Still, Trissa felt she should give the girl the benefit of the doubt. "Can I help you, little one?" She asked.
The girl chuckled darkly. "What gives you any right to offer help, Dragonborn? You are a thief, a murderer, and a traitor. What aid could someone like you ever hope to provide, daughter of Nirn?"
Trissa's gaze hardened, and she felt the flames of Rage flicker deep within at the child's words. Now at anything particular she'd said; Trissa had long ago recognized her shortcomings, and new she'd never be the quintessential hero from the stories. She was a thief at heart, and that would never change.
No, what caused her anger to snap its restraints was the tone of her voice; the sneering, arrogance of one who knew everything, and was more than willing to use that knowledge for their own sick amusement.
Only one other being had ever spoken to her in that exact tone, and she would never forget it.
"Mora…" She growled deep in her throat, taking a menacing step towards the child-thing before her, whose expression changed from smug to one of true fear. "I don't know if this is really you or one of your sick little followers Daedra, but I don't care!" She could feel fire licking along her skin and armor as her Ancestor's Wrath engulfed her, and she summoned firebolts into her empty hands, flames flickering through her fingers. "I am DONE with you! With being your pawn! You bring naught but pain and sorrow, and I will have no more part in it!"
The girl was backing away now, the flames wreathing the dragonborn reflecting in her eyes, Trissa's own eyes having turned from deep red to a bright, reptilian gold as her Dragonsoul rose closer to the surface.
She raised a hand and shot a blast of fire at the girl, striking the ground before her and causing her to fall backwards onto her rear.
"RU, MAL SUNVAAR." She rumbled, and the girl scrambled away and into the darkness.
Trissa extinguished her spells, taking a deep breath and forcing her dragon-half back down as the fire surrounding her flickered out.
Damn. That was not good. She thought, glancing around and thanking Akatosh that no-one seemed to have seen her little outburst. I need to be better than that. Fuck, I am tired.
Trissa shook her head, and with one final glance after the long-gone girl, continued on her way back to her tent, and the bed that awaited her there.
…
Elva finally stopped running as she reached her tent, glancing around fearfully to see if the madwoman in fire had followed her.
Satisfied she was safe, the girl-child snuck inside, tiptoeing past her sleeping caretaker into her small 'room', and sank to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest as she thought back on what just happened.
Her power, in addition to letting her sense when someone nearby was going to be in pain, allowed her to know exactly what she would have to say to hurt people. Growing surrounded by the near-constant crying of her instincts to stop people's pain, Elva had grown somewhat spiteful, and on occasion enjoyed using her power to get a reaction from people.
Usually they felt shock, or sadness, or occasionally anger, but how this woman had reacted…
Elva had honestly thought she was going to kill her.
The little child shivered as the remembered the burning rage in that woman's eyes, as her body lit itself like a pyre in response to her anger.
And her eyes, oh eyes, they changed as well. Those golden, slit-pupiled eyes...it was like Saphira, but lacking any of the compassion or care that she saw from the one creature whom she actually respected.
Elva knew, that somehow, she had just faced the anger of a Dragon, and she was very lucky to have escaped unburned.
What is she? Elva though just as the darkness of sleep took her exhausted mind away.
A/N: Not much to say for this one: just a short chapter to establish some backstory and character for Trissa before things start escalating next chapter.
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Fah Bormahu ahrk fin Dovahkiin, Fonaar!