Chapter 36
Understanding
As the caravan set out from Sancre Tor and began travelling east, Telepe steadily became increasingly uneasy, though he couldn't divine why until they had been travelling for a few hours: everything was eerily quiet. The heavy blanket of snow seemed to dull the sounds around them before they could reach Telepe's ears. Though the wagons occasionally creaked as they swayed and trundled along the frozen roads, the sounds seemed muted. There was also very little wind, and while Telepe was grateful that he didn't have to shield himself from a harsh breeze or prevent errant snow crystals from flying into his eyes, he had nevertheless become accustomed to the wind whistling through the Jerall Mountains, so its absence was unsettling. That, combined with the lack of the usual chirping of birds and insects, ensured that everything was uncomfortably silent.
The travellers themselves were also unusually tense. Among the warriors, conversations were held in hushed whispers, as though they were worried that they might draw the attention of the silver knight at the head of the party. Rumors of Pelinal's rampage had, of course, already spread through the ranks, and though they were still in awe of his martial prowess, the men were more wary of him than ever. For his part, Pelinal was keeping to himself and refraining from speaking to anyone, even Perrif. She, likewise, rode a bit apart from everyone else, often dutifully studying the practice scroll that Telepe had given her. No one wanted to disturb either of them, and so they marched in relative silence, save for the occasional order from the centurions to keep the men in formation. There were no marching songs to keep the spirits up, and even the usual groans and muttered complaints were stifled. Time seemed to crawl by as the men's boots crunched through the snow and the carts clattered along the icy, treacherous roads.
As usual, Telepe rode beside Dynar, while Tari worked in the back of the wagon, alternating between mixing potions and reading the scroll that Telepe had given her to study. Occasionally, she would crawl forward and quietly ask him to pronounce a word for her. Telepe was glad that she was asking questions, since the scroll that he had given her was more difficult than those he had given the rest of his students – save for Perrif – and he was pleased that she had not allowed her swift progress to instill in her the arrogant assumption that she knew more than she actually did.
Even so, her questions were infrequent, and they were not enough to fully distract Telepe from the tedium of the journey. He and Dynar conversed with each other quietly as they traveled along, but neither had anything important to discuss. Telepe was privately annoyed that he was being swallowed up by the somber mood of the caravan, but he also felt the silent but heavy oppression looming over the caravan, the unspoken assumption that anyone who unnecessarily broke the silence of the march would face the censure of their peers.
Since Telepe had little else to focus his attention on, he decided to imitate Perrif and Tari by focusing upon mastering a new skill while he had the opportunity. It was the silence of the army that encouraged Telepe to continue practicing the silencing spell that Moralasil had shown him. Since he didn't wish to be the one that broke the quiet of the march, Telepe was given more even incentive to keep the backlash of his spell as quiet as possible.
"You seem to be improving," Dynar remarked one morning, glancing over at Telepe as they passed beneath the shadow of a low, lonely mountain. At first, the elf had been annoyed by the snapping of Telepe's continued failures, but when he had explained what he was doing, the elven prince took more of an interest in Telepe's progress. Telepe suspected that it was also a way for Dynar to distract himself during the otherwise uneventful journey.
"I disagree," Telepe sighed as he focused the magic into as small of a point on his hand as possible. When he released the spell, the spark of green light dissipated with a snap, though it was more like the popping of an ember in a campfire than the resounding crack that had marked his initial failures.
"What do you mean? That was certainly quieter," Dynar pointed out. He paused to shift in his seat and readjust the reins of the wagon as the horses started to veer away from the frozen road and into a low snowdrift.
"Only because I reduced the amount of magicka that I'm channeling into the spell," Telepe sighed. He leaned back in the seat and exhaled slowly, watching his breath mist in the air, before continuing, "I don't believe that's the answer. When Moralasil first told me how to cast the spell, he seemed to imply that I was gathering the correct amount of magicka, and that I simply hadn't… shaped it properly, I suppose. Reducing the magicka isn't going to allow me to cast the spell properly."
Dynar sighed. "Why not simply ask Moralasil to explain it again?" he asked irritably. When Telepe raised an eyebrow at his sharp tone, the prince added, "You've clearly failed to grasp what he intended to teach, so you may as well ask again. Besides, it's not as though he's presently occupied," he added drily, nodding to the back of the wagon where Moralasil was sitting placidly, humming quietly to himself and swaying in time with the rocking of the wheels.
"I've asked him twice already," Telepe replied with a scowl. "Each time, he informed me that he's told me all that I need to cast the spell, and assured me that neither my power nor my skill are lacking." He ran his gloved hand slowly over his chin, feeling his sandpapery, pale stubble grating against the leather. "Perhaps I'm approaching this the wrong way. Moralasil seemed to imply that the silencing spell is from the same family of magic as my charming spell."
Dynar quirked his mouth, then leaned back in the cart. "Very well. Then how do you visualize your charm spell when you cast it?" When Telepe hesitated, he added, "I know that when I cast magic, I'm focusing on imposing my will upon the world, willing the magic into being. Is it the same for you?"
Telepe tilted his head, then brushed his hand through a few loose strands of hair as the wind whipped them about. "That's… not quite how I cast the spell," Telepe admitted. "It's not so much about willing the spell into existence, nor even about bending their will to my whims. Rather, with my charming spell, it's more like… like I'm attempting to convince my subject to calm themselves, to persuade them that there is no reason to fight. It's rather like debating, come to think of it."
Dynar tilted his head. "Interesting," he said slowly.
"Perhaps that's the approach I should be taking," Telepe said thoughtfully. "Until now, I've been focused upon stifling sound… but in doing so, perhaps I've been unconsciously focusing too much on the sound itself. I've been wanting to create sound, so that's what I've been creating. Instead, if my charm spell is based upon convincing others to release their aggression, then perhaps when I wish to cast a silencing spell, I should focus upon convincing my target that they cannot speak." He gave a sidelong glance at Dynar, then asked slowly, "Your Highness, would you oblige me for a moment?"
Dynar narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I don't like that look. Nor do I wish to allow you to experiment upon me."
"The nature of this spell is harmless, you know," Telepe assured him. "At worst, if it fails, you'll be startled, nothing more."
"Save for the possibility that your failed spell costs me my hearing," Dynar sighed. "Ah… very well. Do what you must."
Telepe nodded gratefully, then closed his eyes and took a slow, steadying breath as he held his hand out. He began gathering magicka into his palm as he opened his eyes again, concentrating on Dynar's mouth. As the magicka swelled, he imagined Dynar attempting to speak aloud, but the words never escaping his lips, as though they were being forced back into his throat. As he did, he felt a sense of familiarity – the images in his mind were much like those he envisioned when he first cast his charm spell successfully, where he imagined the rage of his target dissolving and a sense of serenity settling over them. Telepe quickly banished that thought from his mind, however – a stray thought like that would disrupt the spell. He took another slow breath as his palm glowed with a blue-green light, and when the magicka became too much to contain, he reached out and pressed his palm against Dynar's arm.
There was no sound as Telepe released the spell, but a green light washed over Dynar, briefly illuminating him in a teal aura before dissipating. Telepe lowered his hand and waited anxiously as Dynar looked himself over, seeming perplexed. He then opened his mouth to comment, but though his lips moved, he made no sound. Telepe's heart pounded as Dynar stopped after a few moments and touched his hand to his lips.
"Truly?" Telepe asked softly, letting out a chuckle. "You're not jesting, are you?"
Dynar scowled and responded by swatting at him, though Telepe easily ducked the half-hearted assault. "Come now! If you're truly angry, curse me!" Telepe teased, laughing in disbelief.
Dynar narrowed his eyes, and he began gesturing angrily as his mouth moved furiously. Though he still could not speak, Telepe could certainly imagine the curses Dynar was trying to fling at him. After a few more moments, the spell dissipated in a shimmer of green light, and Dynar's voice abruptly returned. "-agree to help a foreign, mongrel emissary like you again!"
"How kind of you," Telepe replied drily, grinning to show that he wasn't offended. Dynar matched his grin and began chuckling as he reached out and swatted at Telepe again. This time Telepe allowed the light slap to connect with the back of his head.
"It sounds as though you were successful in silencing His Highness?" Moralasil remarked from the back of the wagon. Telepe and Dynar both turned and saw that Moralasil had his head tilted, indicating that he had been listening intently, while Tari had stopped grinding her herbs to watch them.
"Well… it was one success," Telepe replied, forcing himself to temper his elation. "What's more, I needed to touch Prince Dynar here, as I felt that I would not be able to shape the spell into a bolt. That does not surprise me, though – I had the same limitation with my charm spell when I first learned to cast it."
"Indeed. Learning to shape the spell into a projectile will come with practice," Moralasil said in a soothing voice.
"A great deal more practice, I imagine," Telepe remarked, looking down at his hand with a frown. "That sapped more energy from me than I had expected, too." He wasn't on the verge of collapse, but he certainly felt light-headed, and now that the joy of his success had worn off, he noticed that he was short of breath.
"Quite," Moralasil nodded. "Then it is fortunate that it's not as though we're occupied with more pressing matters, isn't it? You have plenty of time to train and refine that spell." The old Ayleid chuckled as he echoed Dynar's comment.
"Indeed," Telepe said slowly. He turned, giving Dynar a sidelong glance as a slow, devious grin spread across his lips. "Your Highness-?"
"No," Dynar snapped curtly.
As the elven prince turned back around and gripped the reins tightly, Telepe turned to grin over his shoulder at Tari, who had a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Dynar ignored them as he snapped the reins, urging the horses onwards down the snowy path.
Unfortunately, Telepe's elation over his success was the last spark of joy he had for quite some time. The longer they traveled along the ice-covered roads, the more morale dropped as the weather grew colder and harsher. Mercifully, no snow fell, but the pale sun offered little warmth as an icy wind constantly blew down from the nearby mountains, varying in strength between a light breeze and a gale, but ever present, and always ensuring that an already miserable journey was nearly intolerable.
To keep them both busy and warm during the march, the warriors were set to work carrying out various tasks. As always, the scouts ranged ahead of the caravan, staying alert for any enemy patrols, though as Perrif had predicted, they didn't encounter a single rider, much less an enemy force that could pose a threat to them. In the meantime, the infantrymen were ordered to walk ahead of the wagons and clear the snow blocking the path with crude wooden spades. It was grueling, difficult, and dangerous work, made even worse by the unsteadiness of the wagons. Their wooden wheels would often slip on patches of ice and frozen mud, and the horses and oxen pulling the carts frequently lost their footing. One ox broke a leg after stepping into a hole that had been covered by a patch of thin ice, and the beast sadly had to be put down, its meat added to their meager rations.
A day later, the same wagon was attempting to climb a steep section of road when it suddenly began turning to the side. Telepe, who was in the wagon ahead of it and had just finished cresting the low hill, could only watch helplessly in horror as the cart tipped over, crushing three men beneath it before skidding down the hill. The driver barely managed to leap away from the wreck, but the three warriors were already dead. It took them over an hour to get the wagon upright again and its contents collected, and another three to repair the wheels that had been damaged in the fall. In the meantime, they had held a brief funeral for the men before continuing on their way. From that point on, most of the men shied away from that particular wagon, fearing that it was cursed.
After that, Telepe decided to walk alongside the wagon with the rest of the men. Dynar asked if it was because he feared for his safety riding on the treacherous roads, but Telepe had insisted that he was also walking to keep warm. Though he had been bundled in furs the entire time, the wind was relentless, and he was tired of sitting silently beside Dynar, curled up and shivering, while the wind nipped at the unprotected bits of his skin. He quickly found that walking did help to warm his body, though when he mentioned this to Dynar, the prince quickly requested that they trade off holding the reins – he had been silently suffering from the cold as well. Reluctantly, Telepe agreed, and from then on, they drove the wagon in shifts.
Though the days were miserable, the nights were deadly. Even though all of the men had been given heavy furs and thick leather tents to stave off the cold, the winter weather seemed to mock their futile efforts to keep warm. After the sun set, the wind whipped about even more fiercely, often blowing out their pale campfires. Even though they slept beneath coarse bear pelts in full clothing, they were still forced to huddle together for warmth in their tents. Telepe and Dynar shared a tent with Pasare and Tari, and the two men slept with the women pressed between them. Though this did allow them to keep warm enough to weather the nights, they rarely got any sleep, and Telepe awoke every morning more exhausted than the day before. And yet, they were the lucky ones – after a week, more than thirty men had succumbed to the cold while they slept.
By the end of their first week of travel, Telepe found himself longing for some sign that they were making progress. The only indications that they were moving through the endless, blinding sea of white were the trails they left in the snow behind them and the gradually shifting shapes of the snowy peaks to their left. Perhaps more than the cold itself, the sense that they were struggling along with no indication that they were advancing was rapidly sapping Telepe's spirit. When they finally stumbled across something that marked how far they had come, however, Telepe immediately regretted his silent desire.
One morning, off to the left of the road, Telepe could just barely make out a massive shape sticking out of the snow. At first, he thought that it was just a low, long hill. When they drew closer, however, he slowly began to make out the shapes of broken columns and crumbled walls beneath the snow. Telepe soon realized that they were staring at the ruins of an Ayleid city – one that Pelinal had razed to the ground during his bout of madness.
As the caravan passed by the small, ravaged city, Telepe couldn't resist peering closer at the ruins. Through the gaps in the crumbled walls, he could see the remains of the foundations of buildings barely breaking the surface of the snow. The largest structure in the center of the city was what he presumed was either a temple or a palace, but even that had been leveled to the point that it barely rose eight feet above them. Telepe was shocked – he had never known that a city could be so utterly devastated, and the thought that one "man" had done so much damage had his mind reeling.
Even so, he was unable to keep from staring, morbidly fascinated, until he spotted something near the edge of the city walls. A small shape was just barely poking out from the surface of the snow, and at first Telepe thought it was a fallen branch or part of a shrub. When he looked more carefully, however, he was struck with a wave of nausea as he realized it was the tiny hand of a young being. It was charred beyond recognition, and from the way it reached out, Telepe could almost imagine someone crawling away from the burning city, only to be slain before they could reach safety. To his horror, he realized that he didn't know if the victim was man or mer, and then he wondered if Whitestrake had spared anyone during his rampage. He felt bile rise in his throat, and he leaned over the side of the wagon as he emptied his stomach. His sickness lasted for almost a full minute, and when he finally pulled himself back up, he saw that he wasn't the only one that was having a visceral reaction to the devastation. Dynar had gone pale, tears were streaming down Tari's cheeks, and ahead of them Perrif was whispering a prayer. Pelinal himself marched stoically straight ahead, not even looking at the ruined city. Telepe wasn't sure if it was indifference to his own atrocity or a tacit acknowledgement of the damage he'd caused and even remorse for his actions – nor was he sure whether he should be furious at Pelinal for his reaction. In the end, he decided to follow Pelinal's example, turned his eyes from the ruined city, and pressed on.
After a few more days of travelling east along the snow-covered highway, the caravan finally reached a bend that would lead them south towards the heartland of Cyrod, if they continued to follow the road. Perrif instead ordered her scouts to advance ahead of the caravan, to blaze a new path for the wagons to follow that ran due east. The scouts and the warriors obliged her, and their efforts gradually carved a path straight through the deep snow.
Ironically, the makeshift road they formed was somewhat less treacherous than the well-worn highway. The men packed the cold powder firmly with the flats of their spades, creating a layer of snow only a few inches deep. The wagons' wheels sank into the dense slush, giving them a bit more traction than they'd had on the icy roads. Though the trek was still slow due to the fact that the warriors needed to clear a new path for the wagons, the trip actually became a bit less dangerous.
They traveled for a few days across the countryside, and as they headed east, the snow gradually lessened, until finally the wagon's wheels once again touched wet grass. The foothills of the mountains were rocky, but there were narrow valleys that the wagons could follow without much difficulty, and there was just enough snow lingering on the ground that the wheels didn't become mired in mud. Their progress gradually quickened, and though the cold was as brutal as ever, morale began to improve as they finally made visible progress towards distant Vahtache.
Around mid-afternoon on the third day after they had left the road, Telepe heard Dynar whistle as he walked beside the wagon, trying to get Telepe's attention. Telepe, who was driving, looked up from the reins to see Dynar nodding to something in the distance. He turned to his left and narrowed his eyes, following the elf's gaze until he spotted a cave looming a several hundred feet away. Telepe frowned briefly, wondering what had piqued Dynar's interest, but when the elf continued to motion at it, he leaned forward a bit more until he realized what had caught the prince's attention. Painted above the entrance to the tomb was a crude, bloodred diamond, hastily slathered onto the rock. It looked as though the artist was painting as quickly as possible before they attracted the attention of whatever lurked inside. Telepe shot a glance at Pelinal, but the knight either didn't seem to notice the cave, or simply didn't care.
"You do realize what this means, yes?" Dynar asked in a low voice, walking a bit closer to the wagon so that he could be heard over the creaking of the wagon wheels.
Telepe nodded grimly, his grip tightening on the reins as he guided Emero and another horse around a large stone sticking out of the ground. "We've reached the furthest extent of Whitestrake's rampage. Which means that from here on, we should no longer expect to travel unmolested by Ayleid patrols."
Dynar nodded briefly, folding his arms over his chest as he stepped around a low shrub. "And we can only pray that our luck holds," he concluded.
It took the caravan a few more days of travel through the rough foothills before they finally spotted the narrow road running south from the Jerall Mountains and snaking its way back into the eastern Nibenay Valley. When the horses were about to set foot on the road again, Perrif called the caravan to a halt and suggested that they stop and rest. The exhausted warriors were more than happy to obey her command. Some all but collapsed against the wagon wheels and uncorked waterskins filled with melted snow, greedily sucking down the cold water and groaning with relief.
While the men enjoyed their respite, Perrif stepped out of the wagon behind theirs and padded across the snow towards Telepe and the others. The thick fur hood of her robes was pulled over her fair face, but her cheeks were bright red from the stinging, cold wind battering them. She peered into the back of their wagon, where Tari was still grinding herbs, though when she felt Perrif's eyes on her, she paused her work and crawled to the edge of the cart.
"Do you still intend to travel to this canticle tree you saw in your vision?" Perrif asked easily, folding her hands inside of the long sleeves of her robes.
"I do," Tari replied firmly, gripping the edge of the wagon as she knelt near the entrance. "I do not believe we shall have another opportunity like this if we wish to read the Elder Scroll again, unless we intend to return to Ceya-Tar."
"Very well," Perrif nodded. "In that case, this is where we should part ways for now. This path runs both east and south, so we may both follow it to our respective destinations. While we rest, I would recommend that you collect your belongings and prepare for your journey." After a moment's thought, she added, "However, I do not intend for you to travel alone."
"Of course not. I intend to bring Telepe with me," Tari announced, as though it was obvious. Telepe stiffened, but he had expected Tari to ask him to accompany her anyways. When she glanced at him, he simply nodded, and a wide grin spread across Tari's face.
"Naturally. I would not dare separate you two," Perrif remarked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Telepe glowered at her, though she ignored his glare. "However, I also intend to have others join you on your journey as well."
Tari paused, then turned and tilted her head slightly. "Well… that does seem reasonable," she admitted slowly as she climbed out of the wagon. "How large, though? I feel that it'd be wiser to keep our retinue as small as possible."
Perrif's smile faded slightly. "Is there a particular reason why you're hesitant to accept a larger escort?" she asked.
"Mostly because I do not wish to draw attention to us," Tari explained as she walked over to Emero and began unhitching him from the wagon. "You said that you fear attracting the attention of Ayleid patrols. That's why we've been enduring this harsh weather the entire time, after all. What's more, we've already passed through the region that Pelinal devastated, which means that we're likely to encounter kingdoms that still have their armies intact – and the ability to patrol their borders. A smaller entourage would therefore be less suspicious, move far more swiftly, and be able to hide more easily if necessary." A smile then spread across Tari's face. "Besides, Telepe and I have already traversed much of Cyrod together already, just the two of us, and we survived."
"You did," Perrif agreed, her smile returning again. "And there is merit to your argument. However, as you must realize by now, these mountains pose dangers different from those you faced in the Blackwood. For one, you are used to traveling through the jungle, Tari, and while the Blackwood was more of a swamp than the forests around Ceya-Tar, they were still similar enough that I doubt you felt out of your element. However, you had not even seen snow before you were brought to Sancre Tor, and I doubt you still fully understand how to survive in this climate. There are few plants that you can forage for food and medicine, and the cold is a far more deadly and persistent enemy than the storms you weathered in the south. The more people that join you, the more supplies each can carry. What's more, while I concur that you will draw less attention with a smaller group, should you encounter a patrol, I would like for you to have enough allies to be able to stand and fight, if need be, should you be unable to outrun or hide from them." When Tari frowned thoughtfully, Perrif's tone softened. "I see the logic in your thinking, Tari, and I do not wholly disagree with you. However, I also do not wish to lose both our seer and our finest emissary in one fell swoop. That would be a crippling blow."
"No… I see your point as well," Tari conceded reluctantly. "I was also concerned about taking too many of your men, if you need them at Vahtache. If the siege truly requires as many reinforcements as possible, then I did not wish to tax our already depleted army unduly."
Telepe remained silent as the two women spoke, thinking it wiser to follow Tari's advice and avoid drawing attention to himself. However, he privately wondered if Tari was being completely honest about why she was so resistant to Perrif's offer of an escort, or if there was another reason why she wanted to travel with as few people as possible.
"I thank you for your consideration," Perrif said with a warm smile as she folded her hands behind her back. "Very well, perhaps we should assign as few people to accompany you as possible. Would you like to hear my recommendations, then?"
"Please," Tari prompted, folding her arms over her chest.
"First, I would like to ask a familiar friend to join you," Perrif said, her grin broadening. "Pasare is one of our finest scouts, and since you have traveled with her for so long, I see no reason why she should not join you."
"I… would appreciate that," Tari admitted, glancing over her shoulder at Telepe, who nodded in agreement. Knowing that Pasare would be traveling with them did indeed make him feel as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"I thought you might," Perrif chuckled, before motioning to a pair of men standing near her caravan. "The second suggestion I have is Golbrom," she added, motioning to a Nordic man who seemed to be in his middle years, with a thick silver beard and wild, tangled hair. A simple bronze longsword hung at his side, sheathed in a wooden scabbard that hung off a thick leather belt strapped around his heavy furs. "He served as a caravan guide through the wilds of Skyrim for many years, until a few years ago he chose to join the mercenaries presently garrisoning Sancre Tor. While Pasare is a better scout, he has more experience surviving the winter."
"I see. An excellent choice," Tari agreed. She once again glanced over her shoulder at Telepe, but he simply shrugged at her. She was the one who needed to read the Elder Scroll, so she was the one who needed to be comfortable with her escort. Tari scowled at him for a moment, then turned back around. "Anyone else?"
"Only one," Perrif chuckled, pointing to another man standing a few dozen feet from Golbrom. The man stood barely half a head taller than Tari, with sun-browned skin, brown eyes, and black, curly hair. He leaned casually on a long spear as he laughed at something one of the other warriors said, then shivered as a cold wind blew over him, and he ineffectually drew his thick fur cloak tighter over his bronze armor in a vain effort to ward off the chill. "That is Reili. He was one of the keptu that I asked to help train our knights in the art of horseback riding. He's one of the finest riders we have, and since it is faster for you to travel on horseback, he can help determine which of the paths Pasare finds will be the easiest for the horses to traverse. Both Reili and Golbrom are also excellent fighters and should be more than capable of defending you should you encounter any troubles during your journey."
Tari exhaled slowly, then nodded reluctantly. "Very well. If there is no one else, then I have no objections," she said.
Perrif smiled again and inclined her head. "Thank you," she said softly. "I simply wish to see to it that you both are safe. I shall inform them immediately." She stepped a little closer and put her hands on Tari's shoulders. "The Divines shall watch over you," she said softly.
"Indeed? Perhaps you should send them with us instead," Telepe quipped drily. Perrif blinked up at him, then giggled.
"As Tari has said, she has all the protection she needs with you accompanying her, doesn't she?" Perrif asked with a wink, stepping closer and lowering her voice.
"If only that were true," Telepe sighed. "If she's relying upon me for protection, then she overestimates me."
"I don't believe so," Perrif said calmly. "She trusts you, Telepe. I imagine having you accompany her makes her feel safer than if I were to assign ten thousand warriors and Pelinal to join her." She smiled and reached up, gently framing his cheeks with her hands. "Also, do not underestimate yourself. You are certainly not helpless. I would hesitate to face you in any arena, regardless of whether our weapons were blades or words."
Telepe chuckled and put his hands over hers, gently lowering them from his face. "You flatter me," he said easily. "Thank you."
"There is nothing to thank me for," Perrif said calmly, giving his hands a squeeze before releasing them. "Watch over each other, and keep each other safe. I shall still have need of you both when you return from this expedition."
"Always another task for us, isn't there?" Telepe asked wryly.
"I only assign them to those I trust," Perrif replied simply, smiling warmly at him. "Now, you had best be off."
As they traveled east along the icy mountain road, Telepe chose to pass the time by learning about their new companions. He quickly found that Reili was the more personable of the two, and was happy to share his story with Telepe. He had grown up in the vast, hostile desert south of Malabal, spending his youth as a nomad. His tribe wandered from oasis to oasis, taking care not to stay too long in any one spot to avoid draining the precious little water that lingered in small pools along familiar routes. He was far more comfortable traveling on horseback than on foot, and in fact, he felt that it was more natural for a man to live astride a beast, though when he suggested that, Pasare had openly scoffed in disagreement.
Pasare shared Reili's horse, riding in front of him, much to her chagrin. When they had first started their journey, she insisted that she would rather travel on foot, but Reili retorted that she would hinder their progress if she tried to range ahead of them without a horse of her own, and she wasn't a skilled enough rider to handle her own beast. Reili had also pointed out that she could still see the road and any tracks in it just fine from horseback, though Pasare disagreed. She insisted that there were small details in the path that one could easily miss if she was forced to ride rather than walk, and that if the Divines had meant for man to spend his life riding a beast, they wouldn't have blessed men with legs in the first place.
To head off the brewing argument, Telepe instead decided to tentatively ask Reili how he had come to Cyrod. Reili was briefly hesitant to divulge the details, but he eventually explained that his tribe had been ambushed by an Ayleid patrol that was scouting the desert for slaves. Their tribe had been too small to fend off the attack, especially since the Ayleids were accompanied by a powerful sorcerer that used foul magics to slow their horses and prevent them from running. He and thirty others were captured and brought to the city of Lipsand Tarn, where he worked as a simple laborer for two years before he was sold across the realm to the city of Ondo, where he tended to the animals on a farm until the rebellion had arrived and demanded the slaves be set free.
"As you can imagine, I'm rather grateful to the Paravant for that," Reili grinned, tugging on the reins of his horse to keep it steady as it walked around a boulder jutting out of the earth. "And I'm more than happy to assist her in freeing the rest of Cyrod."
"So what if the rebellion should win the war? Would you return home to the desert?" Telepe asked conversationally, guiding Emero through the trail that Reili's horse carved through the snow.
Reili leaned his head back thoughtfully, gazing up at the sky. "I'm uncertain, truthfully," he admitted. "Cyrod is still a hostile, alien land, true, and it holds many unpleasant memories. However, there is much that I have come to enjoy about it. For one, the climate is far more pleasant than the desert. Rain is almost too plentiful, and there is no need to ration water. I often went hungry as a slave, of course, but we also traveled for days without food in the desert, so I was no stranger to having an empty belly.
"More importantly, though, I feel far more… needed here. In my homeland, I was nothing more than a wanderer, one of thousands of such nomads, whose only concern was surviving another day. Here, I am a knight, a powerful, elite warrior, and treated with far more respect. While I would be considered fairly skilled with horses in my homeland, here my advice is as precious as gold. I bear splendid arms and armor, and I am given my choice of fine horses to ride, all on behalf of a far more worthy leader than my former chieftain." He grinned sheepishly, then added, "I realize that I must sound greedy and arrogant, and my kin would be disgusted by my words, but should this rebellion succeed, then in truth, I see very little reason to return home. Especially if knights continue to be treated with such respect." He bowed his head slightly. "Please, forgive my lack of modesty."
"No… I understand," Telepe said slowly. "There is no shame in enjoying the rewards you've earned. And I understand your reluctance to relinquish them."
Reili tilted his head slightly. "I'm surprised. I would have expected you to chastise me."
"I'm in no position to judge," Telepe admitted with a wry grin.
"The sky is darkening," Golbrom announced suddenly, startling Telepe. It was the first time the grey-haired Nord had spoken since their journey began. "We should consider finding shelter soon, before the snow begins to fall."
Telepe glanced down at Tari, who nodded up at him. "Do you have any suggestions?" she asked.
"A cave would be ideal. Preferably one that runs deep and has several exits," Golbrom said gruffly. "Should the snow cover the entrance, it would be better to have as much air as possible and an alternate means of escape. Though I doubt this coming storm has enough strength for that to pose a serious threat," he added, giving the sky another wary glance.
"You can tell a storm's strength by looking at the clouds?" Telepe asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
"It's not simply the clouds," Golbrom grunted. "It's the way the wind is blowing, the temperature, the pressure in the air. If you can read the signs, you can predict the character of a storm."
"Where did you learn to do this?" Telepe asked, hoping to pry a bit more information from their companion.
Golbrom shot him a cold look that almost reminded him of Pelinal. "Home," he said shortly.
"Indeed? And where is home for you?" Reili chimed in.
Golbrom narrowed his eyes at the keptu horseman, but when Reili continued to smile pleasantly, the Nord sighed. "Falkreath, if you must know," he growled. "Though I traveled all over Skyrim, Falkreath is where I made my home. That is, until Ayleids came and occupied the town, turning it into a slaving camp. From there, they send scouts into Skyrim, to kidnap wayward travelers and transport them to Cyrod to work on plantations and in mines. My family was among the first that were captured and enslaved by these Daedra-cursed elves."
Telepe and Tari traded uncomfortable glances, and Telepe asked slowly, "Is that why you elected to become a mercenary in Cyrod?"
"Perceptive," Golbrom remarked, sounding mildly impressed. "Yes. If my family is somewhere in Cyrod, I shall find them, even if it means that I must serve these cursed mer for a time." He shot Telepe a sidelong glance, then added, "In truth, when you and your rebellion claimed the Sancre Tor, I considered leaving and finding another company to join, perhaps further south. It is far easier to gather information when you are in the enemy's camp."
"Then why did you decide to join us?" Tari asked.
Golbrom considered her silently for a few moments, then glanced away. "For one, it's not as though I had any choice in the matter. You conquered the city, and my captain chose to sell his services to you. Were I to leave, I would be forced to travel alone through a hostile land, and would undoubtedly be enslaved myself before too long. Perhaps if the gods were kind, I would find myself on the same plantation as my family," he snorted bitterly. He then turned back to Tari. "More than that, though, your uprising has enjoyed far more success than I expected. Even after you conquered Sancre Tor, I assumed it was only a matter of time before the Ayleids retook the city and flayed you all alive. Yet, you continue to hold your territory, and you have even carved a swath as far south as Ceya-Tar. The war in the east also progresses well, despite the Paravant's concerns."
He took another wary look up at the sky, scowling as the first snowflakes began to fall, then continued, "Were I to remain in Sancre Tor, I would be trapped in a distant outpost. Rumors of any import would reach me weeks after they were of any value. By contrast, while I travel with you and your rebel friends, I shall not only be well-informed of anything that occurs during your campaigns, I may even stumble across the plantations where my family is being held." He let out a short, humorless laugh, then added, "By some miracle, this rebellion might even succeed, and my family could be freed before I find them. And should it fail, I shall resume working on behalf of the Ayleids while remaining alert for word of my family." Golbrom looked over his shoulder at Tari, frowning at her. "I trust that answers your questions? If so, spend less time talking and more time looking for shelter."
Tari nodded silently, chastised. The group spent the next several minutes riding as quickly as possible down the path, searching for any sign of shelter. As they traveled, the light snowfall quickly became a thick downpour of fat, wet flakes. Within twenty minutes, Telepe could barely see Reili and Golbrom riding only a few feet ahead of them.
"We need to move faster," Golbrom called out, glancing over his shoulder at the riders lagging behind him. "This storm shall only continue to grow stronger-"
Telepe suddenly let out a startled gasp as he felt the ground shift beneath him. Looking down, he saw a thick layer of snow collapsing beneath Emero's hooves. The horse let out a terrified whinny, and Tari yelped and clung to him as the wave of snow pulled them down a steep slope. Telepe gripped the reins so tightly that his hands hurt, and he grit his teeth, waiting for them to be sent tumbling over the edge of the cliff. Miraculously, however, the snow simply dragged them slowly down a steep incline, away from Reili, Golbrom, and Pasare. Though the snow swirled around his legs and he continued to scream in terror, Emero was able to remain upright with his two riders on his back. Somehow, the slow but inexorable drift away from their companions was even more terrifying than if they'd been sent careening over the edge – Telepe almost felt as though he should be able to resist the pull of the collapsing snow, but they were helpless to do so.
After what felt like minutes but was likely only seconds, Emero's hooves again touched solid ground, more than forty feet below their companions. Telepe could hear them shouting above, but he couldn't see them through the thick curtain of white flakes. Tari's arms clung painfully tight around his stomach, though when they stopped moving, she finally let go, and he inhaled sharply.
"My apologies," she murmured. "Are you alright?"
"I'm unharmed," Telepe said, slowly dismounting from Emero. He sank into the snow up to his knees as he leaned down to inspect his horse. Incredibly, Emero seemed completely uninjured as well. "I believe we were walking too close to the edge of that slope, and the snow couldn't bear our weight. Thank the Divines our fall wasn't more serious."
"Yes, but what of our companions?" Tari asked, squinting up at the sheer cliff above them. "I think I hear them calling, but I can't see them."
"Nor can I," Telepe sighed. "And it would be unwise for us to try to seek them out in this blizzard."
"What do you suggest, then?" Tari asked, frowning.
Telepe hoisted himself back onto Emero's back and shook out his cloak, trying to loosen some of the snow clinging to it. "I believe we should follow Golbrom's advice. Let's travel a bit further and see if we can't find somewhere to shelter until this storm dies down. We can wait for them to seek us out. They are far more likely to find us than we are them, after all."
Tari considered his proposal, then nodded in agreement. Telepe slowly nudged Emero along, keeping one hand up to ward off the snowflakes as he carefully guided the horse through the storm. Thankfully, they didn't have to travel far before their luck finally turned.
Looming to their left was the gaping maw of a cave yawning from the side of a mountain, more than large enough for both humans and the horse to enter. Telepe grinned over his shoulder at Tari as he nudged Emero forward, kicking the horse into a quicker walk to hurry out of the cold. Emero trotted along until his hooves touched solid rock, and then Telepe climbed off of his back and took the horse's reins. Emero shook himself violently in a vain attempt to dry himself before snorting and giving Telepe an unimpressed look.
"What? I don't control the weather, so stop accusing me," Telepe snapped. Emero snorted again, but allowed himself to be led deeper into the dark cave until they were fully out of the storm. Tari climbed off of Emero's back and pulled off her outer furs, shaking them to get the snow off.
"Well… at least we're out of the wind, but it's still freezing," she remarked.
"Yes, if only there was a mage who knew a flame spell," Telepe remarked airily. He grinned as Tari pouted at him, then added, "I have a bit of wood in my pack, but perhaps this cave has been inhabited before. Let's see if there isn't any wood around."
He held his hand out and exhaled, and a moment later a globe of ghostly green light levitated from his palm. It shone above his head like a tiny star, illuminating the cave around them. The entrance of the cave extended about thirty or so feet into the mountain before lazily turning to the left. Telepe quickly tied Emero's reins to a nearby stalagmite before leading the way into the cave, following the path to the left. They found themselves gazing into a slightly more open room that stretched for another sixty feet or so before expanding into what seemed to be a much larger cavern beyond. As Telepe's light washed over the floor, he and Tari both immediately noticed two things – the remains of a few smashed, wooden crates along the edges of the walls, and a trio of ancient, bleached skeletons.
Tari exhaled sharply at the discovery, and Telepe's heart pounded, but neither of them was so startled as to scream. Tari crept forward, stepping gingerly around the skeletons to inspect the scattered bits of wood.
"It seems you were correct," she remarked drily as she picked up a slab of wood and turned it over in her hand. "This looks rather old, but at least it's dry. With this, we should be able to-"
"Shh!" Telepe suddenly hissed sharply, holding a hand up to his lips to ask for her silence. Tari stopped talking and frowned as Telepe crept forward, his heart pounding wildly. In the wider cavern beyond their little nook, he thought he saw a light dancing and flickering against a nearby wall. The way it swayed and ebbed reminded him of firelight, and he wondered if they were alone in the cave.
Telepe snuck towards the entrance of the cavern and warily peered into the vast opening. Off to his left, he saw a small campfire crackling near a looming cave wall. A spit had been erected over the fire, and Telepe could just make out a large rat's carcass impaled in the center of the wooden stake. The sickening smell of burnt hair and meat washed over him, and he resisted the urge to gag. At first, there was no indication that whoever had made the fire was nearby, but as he kept watching, a small, hunched figure wandered into the light of the fire. Telepe's eyes widened with fright when he saw the wrinkled, savage face bathed in the firelight, its three claws gripping a crude bone club, its body clothed in tattered rags likely stolen from its last victim.
Goblin! he thought, struggling not to panic. Immediately, he closed his hand, and the light above his head vanished. However, the sudden disappearance of the light drew the eye of the goblin by the fire. It craned its neck and let out a querulous croak. Cautiously, it rested its club over its shoulder and began lumbering over to where Telepe was crouched. Mentally cursing to himself, he shrank into the shadows and snuck back towards where Tari was waiting, holding a small flame in her palm so that she could also see.
As he approached her, he saw that Tari was frowning, and he hurried over to her as swiftly and silently as he could manage. He kept his finger over his mouth until he was close enough that he could whisper to her furiously, "Put out your light! There's a goblin in this cave! We should-!"
Before he could finish his thought, a piercing shriek echoed through the cave. He turned to see that the goblin had followed him and was now pointing at him and screaming. In the distance, he could hear answering shrieks, and his heart sank.
"Not good!" Telepe growled as he drew his sword. Beside him, Tari hissed through her teeth and crouched low, pulling her dagger from her belt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach into her bag and withdraw a small clay pot, which she opened to reveal that it was filled with a vile-smelling solution. She briefly dipped the blade of her dagger into it, then corked it once more and turned her blade around to hold it in a reverse-grip.
The goblin suddenly rushed towards them, its bone club raised over its head, its screams echoing painfully off the cave walls. Telepe was closer than Tari, so he stepped forward and thrusted forward. The goblin was too dimwitted to realize how much of a reach advantage Telepe had, and long before it could swing its club at him, his blade pierced clean through is chest. The goblin's cries turned into gurgling screams as blood filled its lungs, and when Telepe yanked the blade out of its body, it fell to the ground, twitching. In the cavern beyond, he saw more of the twisted forms of the wretched creatures swarming out of the shadows, screaming inhuman, bloodthirsty war-cries.
As two more goblins drew near, Tari darted past him, gripping her dagger tightly in her right hand while flames flickered in her left. By the light of her magical fire, Telepe noticed that her body was covered in a thick layer of bark, making her look more like a spriggan than a Nede. He felt a brief surge of pride as she ducked under a furious slash from one goblin's bone dagger and sliced it across the chest. The goblin fell back, screaming in pain and clutching at the wound, writhing as though it was on fire as Tari's poison coursed through its veins. The other goblin drew back its crude stone axe and swung it hard at Tari's side. Telepe gasped as the edge of the axe buried itself into her shoulder, but although she did jerk to the side from the force of the impact, she otherwise seemed unfazed by the blow, not even crying out in pain. Instead, she turned to the goblin and held her left hand up, and as she did, she yelled, "Molag!" A burst of fire erupted from her hand, immolating the goblin, which turned and ran screaming back towards the open cavern.
As the flaming goblin retreated, the fire engulfing it showed three more goblins rushing forward to attack the intruders. Tari glanced warily up at Telepe and motioned towards them, to which Telepe nodded. Tari smiled grimly and fell back, pulling out another bottle of poison, while Telepe dropped into a dueling stance. When the first goblin swung at him with a curved bone sword, Telepe successfully parried the blow to the side, though the attack had more power behind it than he had expected from such a small creature. Even so, he managed to throw the goblin off-balance enough to slice the goblin shallowly across the face. Though it did little more than draw blood, there was a flash of red light when the blade broke its skin, and the goblin's eyes filled with fear. It dropped its weapon and fled in the opposite direction back to its camp, wailing in terror. The second goblin charged Telepe a moment later, and before he could reset his stance, it swung its primitive stone falchion into his stomach. Telepe grunted and doubled over, hissing with pain. Fortunately, the sturdy leather cuirass he was wearing absorbed enough of the blow that he only had the wind knocked out of him, though his armor now had a deep gash in it, and he didn't want to test it to see if it could withstand another blow. Before the goblin could strike him again, he swung his sword around in a short arc. The attack missed, but the goblin instinctively backed away, giving Telepe the time he needed to regain his footing. When the goblin charged at him again, he stepped in and thrusted the tip of his blade through the monster's arm. Another red flash of light erupted, and the goblin scampered away moments later, clutching its wounded arm.
As the third goblin closed in, Telepe readied himself, but before he could engage this next opponent, a flicker of bright blue light caught his eye. A moment later, Tari screamed, "Telepe! Dodge left!"
Telepe reflexively obeyed the command, and as he pinned his back against the wall, a bolt of lightning tore through the air where he had been standing a moment before. His eyes widened as the smell of burnt ozone flooded his nostrils, and his eyes fell on the goblin. In the brief instant that the lightning had lit up the cave, he'd noticed it was dressed in bone armor and wielding a crooked staff capped with a human skull – a shaman of its tribe. The goblin shaman cackled as it held its clawed hand up again, sparks crackling between its fingers, its sickly yellow eyes fixated on Telepe.
Before it could unleash the spell again, Tari let out a cry of her own, and a torrent of lightning flew from her own fingertips. The goblin shaman let out a yell of pain and terror as the bolts washed over it, and it held its staff up reflexively, as though to ward off the spell. Tari lowered her hand, and the goblin snarled with fury, then raised its hand and responded with its own blast of lightning, which hit her in the chest. Tari screamed and fell to the floor, twitching, as the lightning washed over her. Her bark-like skin absorbed some of the damage, but she was still clearly in a great deal of pain.
Telepe watched in horror as the bestial spellcaster began loping towards her, readying another spell, cackling with glee. As it did, Telepe glanced down at his hand and took a slow breath. With the goblin focused entirely on Tari, he took a moment to slow his breathing and concentrate. A warm, blue-green glow pulsed in his hand, and a strange sense of peace washed over him as he reminded himself that he wasn't trying to overpower the goblin, but convince it.
When the goblin passed by him, he suddenly stepped forward and laid his hand on the goblin's clammy, green skin. The spell washed over the creature, briefly bathing it in a bright green glow. The shaman turned towards him, seeming more confused than angry, and then it raised its hand almost lazily, clearly expecting to unleash a torrent of lightning at point-blank range. As it tried to croak aloud in its native tongue, however, its words died in its throat, and the magicka it was gathering dissipated. The shaman blinked, then turned its hand around and stared at its palm in silent disbelief. As soon as it did, Tari clambered to her feet and pounced on it, letting out a vicious scream as she plunged her dagger into the shaman's neck.
Though the goblin's mouth opened in a silent scream, and it thrashed around, though no sound escaped its throat. It managed to push Tari off and scramble away from her, clutching the streaming wound. Bright yellow liquid seeped between its clawed fingers, which Telepe supposed was the poison that she had coated her blade with. As it ran by him, he also saw that his initial assumption was mistaken – the wound Tari had inflicted seemed to be closer to its collarbone than its neck. If the poison she had used wasn't deadly, then it was possible the shaman might survive, though as long as it didn't return to trouble them again, Telepe didn't particularly care either way.
Seeing their shaman fleeing, the rest of the goblin tribe followed suit, slinking back into the shadows, though Telepe could still hear their squeaking groans and grunts in the cavern beyond. Suppressing a shudder, Telepe hurried over to Tari and leaned in to inspect her.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, gingerly checking her shoulder, where she had been struck by the goblin's axe. The oak-skin spell had worn off, and though he didn't see any sign of injury on her, he was worried about the damage that the shaman's lightning spell had done.
"I… shall survive," Tari hissed, shaking her head. She let Telepe help her to her feet, but a moment later her legs gave out and she collapsed against him. Telepe quickly caught her, and she clung to him tightly, looking up at him. "Just… allow me to rest," she murmured.
"Of course," Telepe said softly. He gently guided her over to the wall against the cave, then set her against it. "Sit here for now while I start a fire."
"Oh, I can-" Tari began, holding up her hand.
"Save your magic," Telepe said firmly as he began piling up the wood. "We'll need it if the goblins return."
Tari didn't immediately respond, which Telepe took as a tacit acknowledgement, and he resumed building the fire. After a few long moments, however, Tari said in a shaky voice, "Telepe?" He turned towards her and noticed that she was pointing at something over his left shoulder. He turned in the direction that she was pointing, then let out a startled cry and fell on his backside.
Standing near one of the walls was a shimmering, pearlescent man wearing tattered rags. Manacles were wrapped around his ankles, and as Telepe's eyes ran down his figure, he saw that the man's hands had been lopped off. The shimmering figure slowly gazed back and forth between them, then began speaking in an airy, reverberating voice.
"An impressive display, defeating those beasts despite their numbers. Hm… one is human, and the other… mer? Man? Both? I am… uncertain. It has been so very long. Are you also escaped slaves, come to take refuge in the caves beneath the cursed city of Sedor?" the man asked. "I did not expect slaves to fight so well."
Telepe and Tari glanced at each other, and then Telepe asked slowly, "Who… are you?"
The man looked down, his hair falling into his face. "I am… I chose the name Varen when I slipped my bonds, so many years ago. I was part of a band of escaped slaves… the Thousand-Strong of Sedor, we called ourselves. Likely, our legend has died as we did…."
"It hasn't!" Tari exclaimed, pushing herself up into a more upright position. "The Thousand-Strong of Sedor?! You were the most famous slave uprising in Cyrod! You made the Ayleids tremble, showed them that their power was not infinite! Even now, you inspire slaves to turn on their masters! You tasted freedom, and you awakened a hunger in every other slave to do the same!"
"You speak kind words… but it was all for naught," the specter sighed, looking down at his arms. "We lived with fire in our hearts, but spirit alone was no match for the Ayleids' cruel sorcery. One by one, we were cut down. There were… too many of them. I was among the last to die, burrowed in this cave like a rat in its hole, before they found me at last. Of course, our rebellion was doomed long before my demise." Varen looked up again, then asked, "You did not answer my question. Have you also escaped our masters? If so, you should flee this realm. You'll find no respite so long as they pursue you."
"Well… yes, in a way, you could say that I escaped," Tari admitted. "Telepe here was never a slave, and he bought me and set me free. More than that, though, we're part of a new rebellion against the Ayleids. We're fighting against them just as you did!"
"Are you? A foolish endeavor," Varen murmured. "I know better than any that the masters cannot be defeated."
"This uprising has proven successful thus far," Tari said sharply. "And we shall keep fighting until every slave in Cyrod is free!"
A slight, weary smile spread across the ghost's face. "Such vigor. You almost make me want to believe in you." He raised the stumps of his hands to his face, and then a more determined look settled across it. "If what you say is true, and you are successfully resisting the Ayleid kings, then may I ask a boon of you?"
"Which is?" Telepe asked warily.
"My brethren and I have lingered in this world for so long, chained by grief, rage, and despair. As a final humiliation, our Ayleid masters took the hands of every single member of the Thousand-Strong of Sedor as grisly trophies. If you were to retrieve them, you would restore our hope that our masters can be defied, and perhaps I and the spirits of all of my brethren could finally find rest," Varen pleaded. He motioned to one of the skeletons lying on the ground, and as Telepe looked closer, he suddenly realized that its hands were indeed missing, just like the specter's.
"And where would we find your hands?" Telepe asked slowly as he looked up from the bones.
Varen shook his head. "I am uncertain. I do know that Sedor allied with the cities of Belda, Vahtache, and Fanacas to suppress our revolt. The masters in Sedor likely still live and would certainly know, but if you can pry no information from them, perhaps you might find something of our hands' whereabouts in one of the other cities." The specter seemed to glow a bit brighter, and a fierce smile spread across his lips. "In exchange for fulfilling this request, I shall tell you where our arms and armor were – and I suspect still are – buried. They were among the finest ever crafted in Cyrod, and I am certain they are still in good condition. Your rebellion could arm a thousand warriors with them."
Telepe glanced at Tari, who nodded fiercely. "You have our word," she said simply. "Not for the reward you offer, but so that the finest Nedic warriors in Cyrod's history might finally know peace."
The ghost let out a soft chuckle. "Kindness and ferocity in equal measure. Quite remarkable. We had plenty of the latter, but almost none of the former. Perhaps that is why we failed – we could not rally others to our side, no matter how fiercely we fought. You, on the other hand, almost make me want to believe you shall succeed. I shall pray that you do not suffer the same fate as we." He turned towards the cavern, then raised his hand. A dozen more ghostly shapes stepped out from the walls, surrounding them. Telepe inhaled sharply, but Varen shook his head. "Do not be alarmed. We shall stand guard and ensure those beasts do not trouble you this night. You may rest easy."
Telepe relaxed, nodding once. "Thank you," he said softly.
"No… thank you, for allowing us to know hope once more, fleeting as it may be," Varen replied. He then motioned towards the campfire. "Please, continue. My apologies for the interruption."
Telepe stared as Varen slowly faded away, then he shook his head as he finished setting the wood. He then summoned a small flame in his palm and held it under the tinder until it ignited. Once the fire was steadily blazing, he crawled over to his pack and withdrew a hard hunk of cheese and a handful of dried nuts and berries. He grimaced as he slid back over to Tari and handed her the food.
"A poor meal by any measure," he muttered.
"Yes, but better than going hungry," Tari replied with a shrug as she sank her teeth into the cheese. "In truth, we likely could not ask for much better right now. We're out of the storm, we're relatively dry and warm, and we're protected, if Varen is to be believed. I simply hope that the others can find shelter as well."
"They're far more adept at surviving in the wilderness than we are," Telepe pointed out. When Tari raised an eyebrow at him, he grinned and amended, "Well… than I am, at any rate. I'm certain they'll be fine. We can look for them when the storm passes. For now, we should do as Varen suggested and get some rest."
Tari swallowed the bit of cheese in her mouth and nodded, then sidled closer to him. "If… you don't mind?" she asked softly.
Telepe blinked down at her, then held his arm out. "Of course not." Tari burrowed into his side, resting her head on his chest with a soft sigh. "Try to get some sleep, difficult as it may be," Telepe added as he lifted the hood of his cloak and leaned his own head back against the smooth, hard wall of the cave. It was rather uncomfortable, but certainly preferable to sleeping in the snow.
Telepe closed his eyes, and all was still and silent for several long moments, save for the occasional dripping of water deeper in the cave and the distant sounds of the goblins shuffling around. He was almost startled when Tari suddenly softly asked, "Telepe?"
"Mm?" he asked, opening one eye. He looked down to see her gazing up at him, a hesitant look on her face.
"I… realize that this is not the best time for this, but this is the first moment we've been alone in days. May I ask you something?" she asked tentatively.
"Certainly," Telepe said slowly, frowning at her timid tone. This wasn't like her.
Tari opened and closed her mouth several times, apparently trying to decide how she wanted to convey her thoughts. Telepe waited patiently, until she finally looked up at him with a fierce expression. "You are aware of how I feel about you, yes?" she blurted out. "I… I care for you. Deeply. And I do not believe you are blind to that fact."
Telepe felt heat rise in his face and creep along his ears. "Oh! Uh… y-yes. I… I assumed as much," he stammered.
Tari's cheeks also turned bright red, and she glanced away. "And… forgive me if this is presumptuous, but it seems as though you feel much the same towards me. At least, that's what I thought…."
Telepe swallowed, then shook his head. "No… you're not mistaken," he admitted slowly.
Tari's eyes widened, and then she scowled at him. "Then tell me. When I've made advances towards you, why have you pushed me away?" she asked in a sharp tone. Telepe winced, then looked down, unable to meet her eyes. After a few moments of silence, she asked softly, "Is it… because I'm a Nede? Are you perhaps hoping instead to pursue an elven girl in Malabal?"
Telepe turned back towards her, then began chuckling softly. "What? No," he assured her, shaking his head. "In fact, Manmer are forbidden from relationships with Altmer. The ruling elves fear that it shall muddy their bloodlines." He sighed and rested his head back against the cave wall. "If a Manmer is truly concerned about the status of their own line, they will pursue another half-elf. However, it is just as common for Manmer to take Nedes for mates. Their children are still considered Manmer, though their grandchildren would be considered Nedes if those children interbred with another Nede." When Tari stared at him, he shook his head. "It's complicated. Generally, so long as you can prove that one of your grandsires was elven, you're considered a Manmer, not a Nede. So, no, status is not the issue, even if I was concerned with it. Which I'm not."
"…Then…?" Tari prompted.
Telepe sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing them with his thumb and forefinger. Again, an image of his mother staring up at his father tenderly flashed behind his eyelids. "My father pulled my mother, a lowly Nede, out of scullery servitude and elevated her to the status of a royal concubine," he said slowly, opening his eyes again and gazing down at Tari. "As such, my mother said that she always felt as though she was indebted to my father for saving her from that life. From what I've seen, they genuinely love each other, far more than my father cares for his true wife. However, I've always wondered if the root of my mother's affection for him stems from gratitude more than anything else." He exhaled slowly, then added, "So… when I freed you from slavery and you took to me, I couldn't help but see the parallels. I don't want that… imbalance, that sense that you feel you must be with me because I aided you."
Tari's eyes widened, and then she smiled and reached up, tenderly touching his cheek. "Telepe… that's very sweet of you," she said softly. Then she narrowed her eyes and reached up higher, smacking him in the back of the head. "And foolish."
"Ow!" Telepe protested, glaring down at her. "Wha-?!"
"Am I a slave?" Tari asked coldly.
"What? No, of course not!" Telepe exclaimed.
"Then I am free to make my own decisions, yes?" Tari continued. "If so, one of the decisions I wish to make is to be with you!" She sighed and ran her face along her face. "Yes, I shall always be grateful to you for rescuing me from my chains. But I did not come to care for you solely for that reason. We've traveled across Cyrod together, and you've shown me ceaseless kindness, beyond just buying my freedom. You're intelligent, charming, and you genuinely care for others, all traits that are very attractive to me. I feel we have many similarities, and I enjoy simply being with you!" She then scowled at him. "Besides, have we not protected each other time and again? Did we not just face those goblins together? Have we not aided each other every step of the journey, relying on the other's strength when ours was lacking?" She smirked at him. "Do you believe you could have survived the jungle without me? Or the Blackwood?"
"Of course not!" Telepe protested.
"Then I believe any 'imbalance' has been more than corrected," Tari said smugly. She sighed again, then rested her head on his chest. "In truth, Telepe, I understand your concern, and it is sweet. It's born from compassion, and it's one of the things I find most endearing about you. But I wish to be with you because I want you. Not because you freed me, nor because I feel I must repay a debt, but because I, as a free woman, have decided that I want you, and no other." She slowly looked up at him again. "If you don't feel the same, I shall respect that, but that is what I truly wish."
Telepe gazed down at Tari with a soft chuckle. He felt a sudden rush of warmth and affection towards her. She was right – he was drawn to her just as she was to him. She was also intelligent, kind, and fiercely loyal to her friends. She had been his guiding beacon ever since he had gotten himself lost in the jungle around Ceya-Tar, and without her, he would have been killed several times over. He also felt a deep joy, unlike anything he'd ever experienced, simply being with her, talking with her, journeying together with her. Even despite all the horrors he'd endured in his travels through Cyrod, he had never been happier, and all because he was with her.
Tari frowned up at him as he gazed down at her silently. "What-?"
Before she could finish her thought, he put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her up, capturing her lips with his. He could see her eyes widen briefly with delighted surprise, and then her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she pulled him against her more tightly. He, in turn, wrapped his other arm around her waist and drew her in, savoring the way she felt and tasted.
After a few moments, their kiss deepened, and she suddenly shifted, climbing onto his lap. Her fingers began to slide down to his tunic, while his own dug into her hips. Before they could continue, however, the distant shriek of a goblin reached their ears, and they abruptly broke apart. Their faces lingered inches from each other, and at the same time they began to flush once again.
"Ah… we probably shouldn't…." Tari stammered uneasily.
"Y-yes… much as I'd like to continue," Telepe grinned sheepishly, waving his hand around at the cave. "Perhaps we should wait until we find a more… appropriate setting?"
"Agreed," Tari said firmly, hastily climbing off of him. She did, however, settle into his side once again and place another soft kiss on his cheek. "But thank you," she whispered.
"No. Thank you," Telepe smiled, brushing his fingers through her wild, rust-colored hair. "For now, we should get some rest."
Tari nodded and once again snuggled into his side, wrapping her arm around his waist, and heaving a deep, contented sigh. Telepe grinned fondly down at her, keeping his arm around her shoulders as he once again leaned back against the wall of the cave. As before, it was cold, drafty, damp, and the pale campfire hardly offered them any additional warmth. They were in trapped in a cavern, with a blizzard raging outside, goblins lurking in the shadows, and the restless spirits of slain rebels waiting impatiently for them to fulfill an oath of vengeance. And yet, as he slipped into a dreamless sleep, Telepe realized that he had never felt more at peace.