Chapter XVII
It was a cold day in Almalexia. Not as cold as it got to the west in Skyrim, but still it was rather chilly.
At the suggestion of Magoza, both Llandri and Brendarr had booked rooms at the Kwama-Warrior Inn. She and Hides on the other hand, took care of the wagon that lay in the small under-staffed guar and silt-strider stable, near the outskirts of the city. They both took it in turns to watch and to sleep in the back of the wagon.
Now morning was here, and Magoza was heading into Almalexia, to see how the two Dunmer were doing. On her way, she passed by the same destitution that she had seen previously, and the Orsimer still hadn't become accustomed to seeing it. Fortunately, before long she had left it behind, as she set foot inside the small inn. Magoza took a long look around the room to see if she could find the two she was looking for. Most of the faces she didn't recognize. Some looked up from their drinks and glowered at her.
Finally, she saw them. Llandri and Brendarr were sitting across in a secluded corner. She promptly made her way over, making sure she didn't get too close to any of the other tables as she went. Llandri looked up, her eyes swollen with anguish. The Orsimer sat opposite the two of them, unsure how she could possibly console them.
"How are you doing?" Magoza asked, keeping her voice low. Neither of them answered. Llandri simply lay her head in her hands, while Brendarr picked at the table.
"Do either of you want a drink, or anything to eat?" Again, neither of them responded. Magoza could easily understand how they felt, after-all she had lost everyone she had cared for, and it hadn't even been that long ago. She wondered how she had coped, before quickly realising that she hadn't really had the chance to mourn. From the moment she had been violently cast out from the stronghold, she had been almost constantly on the run, with little time for thought. Then, when she had found herself here in Morrowind, her life as it had been felt so distant, so far away.
"I don't know if this helps any," Magoza began, "but I lost everyone I knew, where I grew up. They were all butchered." Magoza looked for any sign that they were listening. There was no indication that they were even aware of her presence. She could understand them not wanting to talk.
Magoza pushed herself up from her seat. "I better not leave Hides alone with the wagon too long," she told them. "Him being an Argonian and all of that. The folks around here might try something." She turned to leave.
"Please don't go," Brendarr called after her, his voice full of grief.
Magoza turned back around to face them. "I really shouldn't leave Hides alone too long, the stable-master doesn't like him." While she wanted to stay and comfort them, seeing the two of them as they were was almost intolerable.
"Just stay fer a little bit," Brendarr pleaded.
"Okay," the Orc relented, as she sat back down.
Llandri looked over at Magoza. "There's a small lumber village up north," she said, her voice hoarse. "Some of the old guys that worked for the farm, when it was still prosperous, well, after the farm failed, they went up there and set it up."
"They sent us a letter or two," Brendarr added.
"Yes, they did well for 'emselves."
"Are we heading up there?" the young Dunmer asked his mother.
The Dunmer widow half shrugged. "A rest stop, if they allow it."
Magoza was happy to see the two of them liven up a little, though she wasn't so sure about their plan. "They might let you and Brendarr stay, but me and Hides is less likely."
"If they know yer friends of ours, then they'll let ya stay."
Brendarr shook his head. "That lizard is not a friend of ours."
"Same way I wasn't?" Magoza asked him.
"Not the same way," Brendarr said. "That thing out there isn't like us. They're monsters."
"Hides isn't a monster."
"In't he?" Brendarr questioned, becoming angry.
Magoza decided not to get into an argument with him. He had only just lost his father, and it was by Argonian hands. While blaming an entire race over the actions of a few seemed backwards to her, she also had to put into consideration the fact that there had been centuries, if not millennia of animosity between the two cultures.
"I must go see how Hides is doing," Magoza told them, pushing herself back up from the seat.
"We'll come with ya," Llandri told her. "I wanna get outta this place anyway."
He had to stay there, to guard the wagon. But Hides hated it here. The Red, accusing eyes that stared at him, conversations that stopped when they caught him looking at them. The stable-master was the worst, always making sure he spoke loudly with his insults. He also tried to hide them, by making it sound like he was talking about the guars he was charged with caring for, but Hides knew he was talking about him.
Almalexia was a place full of bigotry and distrust, and he wondered why he had come here in the first place, back before he had even met the young Orc in that alleyway. He had told himself that he wanted redemption, and that he couldn't find that within the borders of Argonia. Up here though, he wasn't trusted, and he couldn't fault it, not really.
Almalexia housed the temple city of Mournhold, which had also once been the capital of Morrowind. The Argonians had destroyed all that, in response to the oppression and slavery the Dunmer had inflicted on their people. They had done it, even though slavery in the Dunmer province had been outlawed by that point. The problem was that it had been outlawed far too late, only a few seasons before the eruption of Red Mountain, which devastated most of northern Morrowind, and rendering the Island of Vvardenfell essentially uninhabitable. His people saw weakness, and they took the opportunity.
"Looks like those peasant farmers are coming back with their Orc prize," Hides heard a stable-worker say.
"I hope they take the thing with them when they go."
"The Orc?"
"No, the other thing."
"Oh, I got ya."
Hides didn't bother looking to see Magoza approaching with the two Dunmer. There was no real point. He knew that the kid would berate him as soon as he saw him, so he decided not to encourage it.
Brendarr was the first to speak to him. "Haven't stolen anything have you?"
"No," Hides responded, not looking in their direction as the three of them stepped up to the wagon.
"I'm gonna check," Brendarr said, as he climbed into the back.
Magoza leant on the Wagon besides the Argonian. "So, how are you doing?"
"I preferred my alley to here."
Llandri stood beside Magoza. "Sorry 'bout Brendarr, he's just like that," Llandri apologized. "You helped save us, so I'm grateful."
One of the workers shouted over to them. "Aren't you off yet!?"
Brendarr stood up from in the back of their canopied wagon, and stared over at them. "What!?" he asked, having not heard what they had said.
"We can harness your guar up for free if you want?" The worker told them.
Llandri looked around the wagon and addressed them. "We're not going just yet."
The stable-master walked over to them, forcing his way in on the conversation. "Oh, yes you are!" he bellowed. "Your freak is scaring customers away, not to mention the merchants who bring their pack-guars here to rest!"
Brendarr smirked. "We can get rid of the freak if you want?"
"No!" Llandri shouted at her son, before addressing all the stable-hands as a whole. "We'll go, if you want us gone!"
"I give you an hour to be off my land!" the stable-master said. "I'm being generous, so get whatever ya came for, and get outta my yard!"
Llandri looked around at them all. "Why wait?" she asked.
Brendarr shrugged. "Want to get outta here now? Sure."
Magoza and Hides both nodded in unison.
"Let's get outta here then."
Ten minutes later, the wagon was rolling away from the city, on the long road heading northward.
He was recovering quite fast. Right now, Rontag was outside in a thick coat, practising slow swings with his steel battle-axe. Valerie, who was in a tunic and brown pants, and Tam, who wore her usual armour, watched from the porch.
"Look at this!" Rontag shouted. "I tell you, Iron-Axe is in my name, and in my blood!"
Valerie couldn't help but smile. She had always mused about the family name, Iron-Axe. Iron tended to be more unforgiving, and brittle when used in heavy combat. In a way, it took more skill then the more expensive stronger metals, because it blunted and cracked easily if the wielder didn't know what they were doing. That's why steel was invented. The strength of Iron, but with far more durability.
Thinking of his name, lead her to remember back before she had even met Rontag. There had been an old warrior who'd had the name Mighty-Beard. It had been true as-well. She hadn't seen such a massive, fully braided beard, since she had seen a painting depicting the ancient, and now extinct Dwarves. Mighty-Beard had even stated that he had Dwarven blood in him, but she doubted it. She wondered if he was still alive, but doubted that as-well. He had been old when she had last seen him, and that had been over twenty-five years ago.
Her family, at least on her father's side, had never had a last name. She was simply Valerie, Daughter of Corinthia. She would have had a brother who would have been known as the Son of Jolgrün, which was her father's name. But both her mother and brother had died in childbirth, when she herself, had only been but a little bairn, barely six years old.
"Full blooded Nords like us, you'll never keep us down!" Rontag shouted to his wife.
She smiled. "My great grandmother on my mother's side was Cyrodilic remember?"
"Of course," he conceded, returning her smile. "Close enough."
"I suppose," she half agreed.
"Speaking of those from Cyrodiil," Rontag said, as he looked down the road.
Valerie heard Tam gasp as she peered down the his way slowly up the street, was a dark haired, tanned Cyrodilic man, dressed in Blades armour.
Valerie turned around to see Tam staring, her mouth agape.
Tam stared in disbelief. Before her was Albus Marcellinus. A former Blade, who the last time she had seen him, had been at the ruins of Cloud Ruler Temple, and again on the road to the Pale Pass. He had been working for the Thalmor, while they held his family hostage. Their ransom was her, but she had known even then, that his family were already as good as dead, if they hadn't already been killed.
Him showing up now could only mean one of three things. His family were dead, and he was looking for revenge on her, or his family were dead, and the Thalmor still had him under their control, and he wanted her life in revenge; or finally, he wanted her to help him take revenge on the Thalmor. The last one was more wishful thinking than anything else.
"Everything okay?" she heard Valerie ask.
Tam looked down at her. "You and Rontag should go to the Frozen Hearth."
"What?" Valerie asked.
"Please," Tam pleaded
"Okay," the Nord accepted, as she left the porch. "Come on Rontag, Tam needs some time alone with her friend."
Both of them left, as Albus came to a halt at the foot of the porch. He stared up at her, wearing his old worn Blades armour, with his long katana in its sheath on his hip. All that was missing was his helmet and shield. But Albus never needed them. His sword skill was too good to need an impedance like that.
"Why are you here?" Tam asked him.
"Why is anybody anywhere?" he responded. His voice deep, and oddly calm. "Why does anybody do anything? Why do we try, when all that awaits us is Aetherius or Oblivion?"
"Do you want to come in?" Tam inquired. "Have something to eat or drink?"
"I didn't come here to have tea and sweet-rolls with you," he told her matter-of-factly.
"Then why?"
"Because you would rather save your own worthless hide, than my precious family!" he spat, his voice straining.
"They were already dead Albus." she told him sympathetically. "And so are you, once you were no longer of use to them."
"There was a chance!"
"No, there wasn't, there never was."
"I cannot risk you escaping," he said to her, as he reached into a small satchel that lay around his waist.
"What do you intend to do?" she asked with apprehension.
He pulled out a scroll and rolled it open. Tam tensed up as he began to read the words etched upon it. It was clearly a magic scroll.,what kind of magic scroll she had no idea. Apart from rushing him like an idiot, she had no way of stopping him. Her warhammer was inside the house in her room, well out of her reach. If she tried to knock the scroll from him she'd probably lose her head.
Albus' words stopped, as the scroll turned to ash. The next thing she knew, a ten foot tall frost atronach was smashing through the front of the porch to get to her.
The two Nords had barely set foot through the door of the inn, when they heard a loud crash, and the sound of splintering wood. In an instant, they were back outside staring at a giant ice monster as it tore through the front of their house.
"By the Gods!" Rontag exclaimed.
Valerie reached for the hilt of her sword, only to remember that she wasn't in her armour, nor did she have her weapon on her. It was all in the house, in its sheath on the sideboard. She looked over at Rontag as he wielded his battle-axe.
"I don't think so," she warned him. "You still haven't recovered, and you don't even have your armour on you."
He glared at her. "We can't allow some ice-thing, to destroy our home!?"
A voice spoke from behind them. "To destroy the conjure, kill the conjurer." They both looked around to see Rasha standing behind them.
"How do we do that?" Valerie questioned. "We aren't armed."
Rontag raised his axe.
"No!" Valerie told her husband.
"We cannot speak on this, we need to do something!" he argued.
Rasha looked past them, at the man stood at the foot of the Iron-Axe's house, as the atronach pulverised its way through the front of it.
Valerie reached over and grabbed onto her husband's shoulder. "We need to stop him, but in a way that doesn't involve you throwing your life away."
"I won't be throwing my life away. Just a quick swipe at his neck, and it's all over."
Rasha moved in front of the two of them. "That's Blades armour he's wearing. If he is one, then I doubt you'll be able to get close enough to behead him."
"You have a plan?" Valerie asked.
"Or are you just here to tell us what we can't do?" Rontag questioned.
"You distract him, while I try and get around him. Take him from behind."
Valerie wasn't convinced of the impromptu plan. "Will that even work?" she asked. "I doubt he'll let anyone sneak up on him."
Rontag looked over at the man. He stared right back at them, while the ice creature continued to tear through their home.
"He won't know," Rasha said.
"He's looking right at us," Rontag told the other two. "He knows we're making a plan, and if he sees us two without you, then he'll know what you're up to."
"We'll have to take the chance, his atronach is ripping your house to shreds!"
"If we don't do something, it'll be tearing Tam to shreds!" Rontag shouted, as he began to storm forwards, axe at the ready.
"Ron!" Valerie shouted, moving after him.
Rasha watched them head slowly towards the man, as he continued to look over at them. She would need a distraction if she were to slip away, and get behind him.
She got her wish. There was a loud crashing sound as the main structure of the house gave way causing it to collapse in on itself, the atronach, and whoever else was inside. Both the man, and the two Iron-Axe's looked at the destruction before them.
That was just what she needed.
The Ohmes-Raht glided forward, quickly and silently. She headed around the rear of the general store, that lay on the other side of the street. As she peeked round the north wall, after moving swiftly along the back of the store, she saw the stranger swing his katana, slicing the handle of Rontag's battle-axe in two, causing him to drop it.
Rasha knew if she didn't move now, the foolish Nord was going to get killed. Without further thought, she ran, without sound, her glass dagger in hand.
As she got in range, the man swung around. With one fluid motion, her dagger was down on the snowy street, her hand still attached to it.
The Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit could barely believe it. She had just lost her hand, and at any moment she was sure to lose her life.
Tam had managed to get a-hold of her warhammer, as the summoned creature from Oblivion tore through the house. She had succeeded in getting a good half-dozen blows in before it raised up its torso sized arm, and smashed it clean through their roof. Then, it brought the icy appendage down with such force, that the foundations shook, and the house collapsed around them knocking her to the floor. Wooden supports fell on top of her, burying her under a heap of cold lumber.
In the destruction, there was a little reprieve. Tam heard the tell-tale fizzle of a summoned creature being knocked back into Oblivion, which meant half the job was finished. All that was left now was to deal with Albus. Only that would be difficult, as she found herself stuck, trapped under what remained of the house.
Without waiting another moment, she reached around her, barely able to move under the mass on top of her. Tam managed to take hold of her warhammer handle, manoeuvring it carefully so that she could begin to pry the wood away, and hopefully free herself.
Slowly, the wood began to shift, allowing her to move just enough to force the rest off of her. She slowly clambered to her feet, only to see the Khajiit, Rasha lose her hand to Albus' blade, before he elbowed Valerie in the face, who had tried to jump him from behind. She staggered into Rontag, and they both toppled into the snow.
Without a second thought, Tam swung her warhammer around, pivoting herself around in a circle on one foot. She let it go, flinging the hammer at her target with tremendous force. It struck Albus in the back with a sickening crack, his armour splintering from the sheer amount of power from the impact, sending most of it into Albus' torso. The katana fell from his hand as he collapsed into the snow, blood oozing out of the pulverized wound in his back.
Tam looked over at Rasha, who was trying to stem the flow of blood from her own wound. The Altmer began to climb over the debris of the house, as Valerie tore some fabric from her own clothing. Tam rushed over, as Valerie wrapped the wound tightly with the fabric. It turned red with blood in mere seconds.
Rontag knelt and checked Albus. "He's dead," he confirmed.
Tam didn't acknowledge. Instead, she began to make her way over to the general store. "I'll check to see if they have a healing potion or something," she told them, before adding. "Rasha, hold your arm in the air, pointing at the sky. It'll slow the blood loss."
The Khajiit obeyed, raising her crudely bandaged arm up in the air.
Tam burst into the store, and a rather angry-looking Nord man glared at her. "Was it you making all that racket?" he asked.
"Healing potion, do you have one?" she asked urgently.
The man squatted and picked up a bottle from behind the counter. "Yeah, might be a bit old though."
"Doesn't matter."
"Okay, that'll be sixty gold."
Tam cursed herself. She hadn't brought any gold. "It's an emergency." She said, trying to plead, to see if he would just let her have it.
"Nope," he said to her. "Sixty gold."
With no time to waste, she removed her steel-plate gauntlets. "I'll swap these for it."
The store keeper's eyes went wide, as a smile spread across his face. "Of course I'll swap an old dusty potion for some of those expensive looking gauntlets."
She passed them to him, taking the potion in hand, before running out of the store toward the wounded Khajiit. She passed the bottle to the Khajiit, who took it with her only hand.
Rasha gritted her teeth as pain shot through her wounded arm. "Could you please uncork this?" she asked. "It's a little difficult with one hand."
Tam took it back and uncorked it before passing it back. Rasha took a small sip. "Thank you," she said with gratitude.
Valerie stepped in front of the Altmer, anger clear on her face. "Mind telling me who that was, and why he destroyed our house, maimed Rasha, and sliced Rontag's steel battle-axe in two?"
Tam bit her lip. She knew she'd have some explaining to do. "Later, when we have Rasha's wound under control."
"Fine," Valerie agreed reluctantly. "Later."
The Nord walked over to Rasha and lead her to the inn, after the Ohmes-Raht had retrieved her hand and dagger from the floor. Rontag meanwhile, had picked up the two halves that had once been his battle-axe.
"I think I need a new shaft," he said aloud.
Tam looked down at Albus. The sight of his dead body laying there in the red snow, filled her with grief. She walked over to her former comrades body, and scooped it up in her arms.
"He needs a proper burial," she told Rontag. "I owe him that much."
It was her fault that he was dead. It was her fault that his family were dead. She couldn't help but wonder how much of what had happened in the lead up to the war, had also been her fault. Perhaps it was all her fault.
Tam gently lowered Albus' body into the six foot hole she had dug, while the others stood around and observed. She climbed out, before looking down at the body. Tam then turned her gaze to the sky.
"His was a troubled soul," she said. "Taken over by the grief of the loss of his family. Please take care of him, and make sure he is reunited with those he lost."
The Altmer had once thought that she had no more tears to shed, but now she found that she had plenty.
Burying Albus had reminded her of how much she had lost. The people around her, she had known for such a little amount of time. She had once trusted Albus, far more than she thought she could ever trust Valerie or Rontag.
She had brought him into the Blades as a recruit, and it was her fault that he was now dead. She had seen such potential in him, but that had all ended with the war. With the Emperor disbanding the Blades, and essentially disowning all of its members. The Thalmor had almost complete free rein to round them up, and execute them.
The Blades had literally given everything for the Empire, and in return, Titus Mede II had refused to offer protection for the former members of the organization. He essentially spat in the face of every one of them.
Titus Mede I, had reformed the Empire a-hundred-and-fifty years ago. He had built it up from the decay it had fallen into. Now his descendant, who shared the name had all but destroyed it.
"May Emperor Titus Mede's soul be taken by Oblivion!" Tam spat aloud.
The others stared at her in shock of what she had just said. Tam ignored them, as she began to shovel the excavated dirt, back into the hole. Covering Albus' lifeless body.
"You wanted to know who he was!?" she shouted over at Valerie. "Albus Marcellinus was my student. I was responsible for his initiation into the Blades. I was the one who picked him out of a group of hopefuls. It was me, that is responsible for all that happened to him!"
"It's not your fault," Valerie offered.
"Yes it is!" Tam yelled in anguish. "They got to his family, and it's my fault."
"How can it be?"
Tam continued to shovel the dirt back into the hole. "Because if it wasn't for me, then-"
"He probably would have joined the Legion and died in the war," Valerie finished.
"Maybe."
"The Thalmor got to him," Valerie said slowly. "They get to a lot of people. You need to understand that it is they who put him in the ground, not you."
"I seem to remember that it was me that threw the hammer that killed him."
"He was already dead," Rontag told her. "He was dead inside. As you said, his family were gone, and there was nothing left for him. The Thalmor focused that grief onto you, turning it into hatred."
Tam stopped shovelling and glared at him. "I suppose you're an expert on the Thalmor now!? Well versed in their tactics!?"
"I was just trying to, well-" he trailed off.
Tam started to fill the grave up once more. "Help?" she asked with a sigh. "I suppose you're right."
"He is," Valerie added.
The Altmer's face creased in disgust. "It sounds just like them. Manipulating, twisting a person's feelings against themselves. They are a blight on this world!"
"But it's a blight we cannot do anything about," Rasha added.
Tam finished filling the grave, and threw the shovel to the ground. "I hate this place, and cannot wait to get out of here." She looked over at Faldan who had remained quiet through the whole thing. "The Thalmor never rest," she told him. "Expect to be on the run for your entire life."
Valerie looked at the Altmer, sadness in her eyes. "I'll miss you y'know."
"Yeah." Tam agreed.
"Do you think it's a good idea for you all to be together? The Thalmor might find you easier that way."
"Who knows," Tam said. "All I know is that I doubt the Thalmor's preachings of Elven purity would go down well in Morrowind. The Dunmer being the result of an angry Daedra and all that."
"I suppose."
The Altmer looked around at all the people surrounding her, as snow began to flutter slowly from the sky. They all had wounds, either mental or physical, that would never truly heal. It was as though there was a dagger in the wind, waiting for them to lower their guard so it could strike them down.
Tam had lowered her guard here, and it had resulted in the loss of Rasha's hand, and the destruction of their home. Then again, she had lowered her guard back in the old mining village. If she hadn't then when the enraged Orc Burag had come to Whiterun looking for Magoza, then there was a real chance that Valerie could be dead now instead.
But was Valerie's life worth everyone's that had died?
Tam took in a deep breath. "The Thalmor no doubt will be on their way. We need to be out of here before whatever they send next arrives."
"I say we head to Dawnstar," Valerie suggested. "See if we can catch passage to Solitude on a ship."
Rontag agreed. "They used to send the fishing ship up there, near the end of every month." he told them. "To sell on the ore they've dug up to the Legion."
Tam nodded in agreement. "Okay, we'll head up there with you, but we cannot go to Solitude with you. The Thalmor are sure to be there."
"That's true," Valerie looked down the road. "So when do we set off?"
Tam looked at Rontag. "If he's up to it, tomorrow."
They all agreed. Tomorrow they would leave this place, and another journey for them all, would begin anew.
The camp-fire lit up their surroundings, as the four of them camped. The guar was safely tied to the side of the wagon, and its brake was on to stop the animal from fleeing in the night.
Brendarr had spent most of the half hour since they had made camp glaring at Hides, not even attempting to hide the disdain he clearly felt. The Lizards had taken away everything. Life on the farm may not have been easy, or even particularly rewarding, but it was all he had known. Now all he knew was that it was all over.
"I'm tired." Llandri told them, as she moved over to one of four leather and hide bedrolls, that were all laid out around the fire. She laid down on it, her back to the group.
Brendarr stood up, and stretched.
"Going to bed too?" Magoza asked him.
He shook his head. "No, I'm gonna see how Naren is doing," he told her, as he made his way over to the guar.
Magoza looked over at Hides. "So, you with us now, or what?" she questioned.
"You mean am I now travelling with you?" he asked in clarification.
"Yes."
"I suppose I am."
"For how long?"
The Argonian responded by making a strange noise in his throat.
"Does that mean you don't know?"
"Correct."
Magoza looked over at Brendarr, as he stroked the guar's large bulbous snout. The large creature always looked happy, in a dopey sort of way. But even Naren looked sad in the firelight, as if it knew what had happened to its owners, that Darovin was dead. In reality, it was more likely that it simply preferred to be in its little barn, shielded against the elements, instead of being out here where the weather was cold and harsh.
Both Magoza and Hides' attention was drawn to the form of Llandri as she lay on the bed-roll. They could hear a quiet, stifled sobbing coming from her. Even with her back to her, the could see that her hands were up against her face, her body curled up in the foetal position.
The Orsimer looked over to Brendarr, to see if he had noticed. He was no longer stroking the guar, instead he had his head rested on its snout, gently patting it.
Magoza stared into the fire, wishing that all the hurt and pain they felt would go away. She just wanted to be back at the farm, helping Darovin with door hinges.
But that would never happen again. As with everything else in her life, it had all fallen away with brutality and death.
Updated 09/04/2014
