Chapter Three
31 Sun's Height Fourth Era 221
The Thorn In The Light, Off the Course of Black Marsh
"Sir, the Argonian island of Durentitu is in sight. We're preparing for dock."
Thelryn nodded grimly to the Shipmaster, a fellow Altmer named Mellrano, as he grasped the rail of the Thorn in the Light and breathed in the fresh air. The gleaming rays of sunlight was just appearing over the horizon, pronouncing a new day as the Psijic began to calmly walk around the deck.
Durentitu, he thought to himself as he began recalling the history of the island. This means 'diving turtle' in Argonian, if my knowledge is correct. Like Black Marsh, it was once a part of the Hist's original realm, but broke off during the Ehlnofey Wars and managed to stay afloat despite being massively flooded. Every one hundred years the island sinks beneath the sea, only to rise again in another hundred years due to some unknown phenomenon.
As he passed by a small mirror affixed to the side of the Shipmaster's cabin, he stopped and decided to look himself over.
Thelryn was twenty-two years old, and had just been recently fully admitted into the Psijic Order beyond the rank of initiate. He was rather tall and thin, but muscular to a certain extent. His hair was tied back into a ponytail as he always wore it, although no one could see it underneath the hood of his new yellow cloak.
This new addition to the wardrobe of the Psijic Order had been supervised by the new Lore Master Galus Nuven about twenty-five years ago, as a way for members of the Order as well as the other races of Tamriel to identify Psijics who were performing special and deadly errands, and thus stay out of their way. Many of the older Psijics were opposed to this new change, his Overseer Talia had told him, but they eventually conformed to the new rule. Despite this happening before Thelryn's time in the Order, he quietly sided with the Elders; he felt uncomfortable in this new cloak and quite missed his gray one.
A small creaking noise emitted from the middle of the deck and Thelryn turned around to see one of the crew members, a Khajiit named Yaz'Gha, climbing out of the Crew's Lodgings with something resting on his shoulders.
"Yaz'Gha has taken the liberty of bringing you your belongings." he said, and handed a leather satchel to Thelryn.
"Thank you, Yaz'Gha, but I could've gotten them-"
The Khajiit shook his head. "It is one of the many things Yaz'Gha can do for you, for Yaz'Gha likes to help. And besides, Yaz'Gha could not bear the thought of those fowl lizards touching your nice, clean things."
Yaz'Gha gave a little chuckle, and then went to join the Shipmaster at the stern.
Thelryn shook his head humorously, and walked towards the front of the boat to get his first glimpse of Durentitu.
The island - for the most part - resembled a medium sized forest that had been submerged underwater for far too long. The coast was decorated with large, orange reeds and green ferns, and tall trees with thick black trunks could be seen in the distance. The only sign of civilization he could see was a medium sized village that rested on a cliff, with buildings made from pure white stone and reeds. The dock was located in a cove somewhat beneath the village, and opened to the sea.
"Not much to look at, huh?" said Mellrano, who had walked over from the stern to stare at the island too.
"That it is." Thelryn agreed. "But it is usually the most boring places that are the most interesting."
Mellrano laughed. "Spoken like a true Psijic. To me, it looks like someone picked up a garden, placed it in a huge bathtub, and let it fester for a few centuries."
Thelryn raised an eyebrow. "If I thought like that Mellrano then I wouldn't have come here to live."
"But as I stare at you Thelryn, you do not strike me as the type to live on a island swamp. What would a member of the Order do in a place like this?"
"That's a good question. Too bad I will never have time to answer it." answered Thelryn as the crew docked the ship. He could hear the sound of the anchor falling into the water with a soft splash. "Goodbye Mellrano. I hope the blessings of Auri-El shine upon you as I take my leave."
Mellrano raised his eyebrow in mock humor as he shook Thelryn's outstretched hand as the Psijic stepped off the ship and onto a wooden pier. The air smelled faintly of dirt and mud, mixed with cooked fish and clams. Thelryn approached a standing Argonian wielding a harpoon. He was staring into the water intently.
"Excuse me-" The Psijic began to say just as the Argonian threw the harpoon into the water, speared a rather large fish, and began reining it in. He looked at Thelryn.
"Sorry, I've been trying to catch this all morning. What do you want elf?"
"My name is Thelryn, I'm a member of the Psijic Order and was hoping you could tell me where I can find a guide." Thelryn answered.
The Argonian laughed. "A guide? You could travel this entire island without a map in a about six hours. Why do you need a guide?"
"Because I'm not planning to stay on Durentitu. I'm looking for transport to the mainland. I need to get to Helstrom."
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Tra-Vel gripped Ralsa's hand as he dragged her from the inn known as The Moldy Stump, the innkeeper yelling at them from the porch.
"Let me go!" she snapped at him as he pulled her towards the stables.
"I will not because I'm afraid you might try to hurt someone again." Tra-Vel said thoughtfully, keeping a firm grip on his friend's wrist. "I specifically told you not to play any betting games with those men, xhu? Or was I imagining you and that smuggler beating each other into mush?"
Ralsa smiled as she used a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the smuggler's blood from her check. "Well, I do seem to recall you saying something like that."
"Haha, very funny Ralsa. You shouldn't get into it with those men and women, their dangerous. A bunch of thieves, foragers, and bounty hunters, they are."
"But we're bounty hunters, Vel" she reminded him.
"I know that, Veran. I added you to that list." That earned him a swift punch to the midsection from Ralsa. "Ow! That wasn't very really nice!"
Ralsa finally freed herself from his grip and rubbed her wrist. "I know. That's exactly why I did it." She approached her stead and caressed it's neck. The mare neighed. "I'm surprised this island has stables; I thought Argonians didn't like horses."
"We like horses, you silly elf. We just don't see the point of dragging the poor beasts through miles of bog and stink and dangerous creatures. That's a little cruel."
Tra-Vel unhitched his steed and began leading him out of the small foreclosure. "And besides, we don't really use roads like you do. Where would they walk?"
"On the water." Ralsa laughed, causing Tra-Vel to laugh along with her. "Why did we travel to this island anyway, Vel? I thought we were going to Helstrom."
Tra-Vel stopped for a moment and pointed to the sea. "Did you notice the dark strait of water that we traveled here in?" Ralsa nodded, following his gaze. "My people call that the Serpent's Tongue. It's the only passageway by sea that leads from Skyrim to Black Marsh directly. And it's safer then traveling through Dunmer-controlled Morrowind."
He turned back around and was about to mount his horse when he heard a frightened cry. Tra-Vel turned to Ralsa. "Did you hear that?" She nodded her head, equally concerned.
The Argonian waited for his companion to mount her horse before spurring his own, galloping towards the spot where the cry seemed to have come from. As they traveled the cries became more frequent. Suddenly, there was a loud cracking noise and a cry of pain, followed by a series of cursing in Jel. Tra-Vel and Ralsa galloped over a small hill and came to a stop in a small meadow. Five Argonians were harassing an Altmer, and were currently holding onto each of his limbs and were trying to stretch him as far as possible. A sixth Argonian lay unconscious on the ground, scorched marks on his chest.
Tra-Vel noticed the yellow robe the elf was wearing and he blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things. A Psijic? Here? He dismounted his horse and unsheathed his battle-axe, twirling it in his hands. "I am he called Tra-Vel. Let us know each other marsh-brothers and sisters and discuss are problems." he addressed his brethren in Jel.
One of them, a male with pierced horns wearing a dirty brown tunic, answered in Tamrielic. "Sunned and warmed, Tra-Vel. I am he called Skras and I am disposing of this Altmer trash."
"And if you mind me asking," Tra-Vel began in Tamrielic. "Why are you disposing this…trash?"
"This Dak is one of the elven spies. He is attempting to steal our secrets." the Argonian replied.
"I am not a spy!" the Altmer yelled, and struggled against his. "I'm just trying to get to Helstrom to perform an important experiment…" He trailed, realizing that he had chosen the wrong words to say.
Skras shook the Psijic's arm. "See? He speaks as if our entire race is nothing more than one of his Order's experiments. He should be punished, nest-sibling." The other Argonians growled in agreement.
"No," said Tra-Vel firmly. "This Altmer is a member of the Psijic Order, and thus anything he is doing here must be of the utmost importance. Stand aside, nest-sibling, before I am forced to act."
Skras' expression grew deadly. "Do you think you can scare me, foreign-lover? One who travels with Dunmer and protects Altmer? Why should I let this elf go?"
Tra-Vel stepped forward until he was only a leap away from the group of Argonians. "Because if you don't, all of the forces of Velderfern will descend upon you. And trust me, you wouldn't like that." he said in Jel once more.
Skras narrowed his eyes. "Velderfern…" He let go of the Psijic's arm and walked in front of Tra-Vel until their snouts were touching. They stood there for what seemed like ages to Ralsa, who felt quite out of place. Suddenly, Skras redrew his gaze and hissed at his friends. "Let the pointy ear go." He then walked away, but not before shooting a hesitant look at Tra-Vel.
The other Argonians seemed surprised, but obliged, dropping the Altmer heavily on the ground before leaving. Tra-Vel immediately ran to the Psijic's side and helped him up.
"Sorry we couldn't get here sooner, mage," he apologized to the Psijic as he dusted off his robes. "I haven't been on Durentitu in years. Forgot how bad the island's hamyas- gangs- were."
"No need to apologize, I assure you." The Psijic smiled, and extended his hand at Tra-Vel. "I should've foresaw the consequences of an encounter of that kind. Let me introduce myself, I am Thelryn, Neophyte of the Psijic Order."
"My name is Tra-Vel, but you can just call me Vel." said the Argonian as he shook Thelryn's hand. "And that lady over there is Ralsa Veran."
"Well met, Vel. I'm glad that you stumbled upon me when you did. The concept of being stretched limb by limb quite frightened me and I believe I wouldn't have enjoyed it at all." In his mind Thelryn thought, That was quite embarrassing; Talia would've been very disappointed in me.
"Oh," Ralsa began. "He's always jumping into other people's business, helping them and what not. Actually, it's sort of our job."
"You help those in unfortunate situations for septims?"
"Kind of," Tra-Vel said as he began scratching his neck. "We're bounty hunters." He felt an unpleasant feeling in his stomach; he had always found it awkward to bring up his occupation.
"Bounty hunters?" Thelryn repeated, raising his eyebrow. "We don't have bounty hunters in the Isles, or at least while I was growing up. It's actually quite interesting to meet you. Tell me, do all Bounty Hunters dress as rugged and look as beaten upon as you do?"
Ralsa and Tra-Vel glanced quickly at each other, looking at each other's ripped clothing and the splatters of blood, ale, and other things best left un-described from the fight in The Moldy Stump.
"On occasion," Ralsa replied. "Depends how dangerous the bounty is. Except this didn't come from a contract. A couple of rude braggarts decided to pick a fight." Tra-Vel rolled his eyes at Ralsa's smug expression. She spoke the truth, but not the full truth.
"We handled it though. Now if you excuse us, Neophyte, me and my friend should be going now," she continued. "We need to get to Helstrom for an errand." She looked at her companion as if hurt, and Tra-Vel avoided her gaze. He still wont tell me what is going on, she thought.
Thelryn looked happy at this. "Helstrom, you say? What a coincidence that I need to get to Helstrom as well! Would you mind escorting me there? I would go myself but…"
"You don't want to run into any more hamyas." Tra-Vel finished and the Psijic nodded.
"I don't have much to pay you," Thelryn continued. "We do not use currency on Artaeum. But I promise I will compensate you for the assistance."
"I don't mind," Tra-Vel said. "But let me talk it over with my partner. Ralsa, do you wish to do this?"
The Dunmer folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrow at her friend. "When have I ever disagreed with you?"
"Let's not answer that," Tra-Vel grinned. He then turned back to Thelryn and gave him a curt nod. "We are in agreement, Thelryn. Let us travel to Helstrom together."
How will my family think of me when I arrive with company like this? The Argonian thought to himself somberly. Suddenly, the music of his Naming Day filled his head, slightly startling him since he had not been thinking of this before. The Hist are comforting me, Tra-Vel realized. I feel silly now, worrying about things like this.
Tra-Vel mounted his horse again, then helped Thelryn mount up behind him.
"Let us go. If I remember right, the ferryman is an old sod who stops sailing to the mainland around dark. So let's try to get there as he's closing up."