Chapter 7
Caravan
The banquet celebrating the liberation of Blacklight began the following evening, after the Redoran Council had removed the bodies of the slain from the streets and repaired as much of the damage to the city as possible. The city still bore scars from the battle – cracks running along the sides of buildings, broken arrows that had not been collected, patches of blood that the citizens had not been able to fully scrub from the ashen ground – but by the following afternoon, there were few obvious signs of the ferocious battle that had raged the day before.
The morning was devoted to mourning the fallen. The Nords had been expelled from the city the night before, and they had been given the corpses of their fellow warriors to take back to Skyrim for burial. Thus, the only funerals held that day were for the Chimer. Vahkiir had watched, silently intrigued, as the names of the deceased were added to the lists of ancestors that the Chimer clans kept, and then their bodies were carted off to their family tombs. While the larger, more powerful clans had built sprawling mausoleums deep beneath the city or had tunneled opulent graves into the sides of hills and mountains, the smallest clans could only afford to place their kin in small, shared plots. Nevertheless, no matter how great or small the family, the Chimer seemed to share each other's grief equally, comforting one another as they sobbed and wailed for those that had died the day before. It was simultaneously haunting and moving, and Vahkiir could feel his throat tightening whenever he caught sight of a Chimer's tear-stained face.
By noon, however, the last of the funerals had concluded, and while some of the Chimer were still openly mourning, most had set about preparing the city for the upcoming festival. Bright red and yellow ribbons were hung across the rooftops of the buildings, and by mid-afternoon the air was thick with the enticing aroma of food being cooked in enormous cauldrons and on massive firepits. Laughter intermingled with music as the citizens devoted themselves to preparing for the festivities, setting out tables and chairs, and bringing yet more ingredients for the cooks. Their joyful demeanor so starkly contrasted the sorrow they had displayed that morning that Vahkiir could hardly believe they were the same people.
With little else to do, Vahkiir tried to help the Chimer prepare for the banquet, but every time he tried to help them set up a table or carry a crate of food, he was waved away – sometimes politely, sometimes not. One or two of the elves insisted that, as a guest of honor, he could not be expected to help set up a celebration that was partially being thrown on his behalf. However, Vahkiir also noticed that many of the Chimer were still eyeing him with open distrust, bordering on hostility at times. It was plainly obvious that despite the fact that he had slain the dragon that had haunted them for so long and fought alongside them in the subsequent battle, many of the elves still did not see him as anything more than one of their oppressors, and they were only tolerating his presence because of his deeds and the commands of their elders. They would allow him to remain in the city, but they were obviously unhappy about it, and would clearly have preferred if he had been expelled with the rest of the Nords.
Even so, Vahkiir managed to keep himself occupied by seeing to as many small tasks as the Chimer would allow. Eventually, they relented and allowed him to help carry crates and set up tables, apparently deciding that allowing him to assist them with those mundane chores was harmless enough. In a way, the work was refreshing. For the past several days, he had done nothing but hunt and fight, which had left him physically and mentally exhausted. The simple chores reminded him of his time in his village between hunts, when he was with his family. In the past, that peace had inevitably led to boredom and restlessness, but now he was surprisingly grateful for the respite.
While he was working, he found his thoughts drifting to his family. He wondered how Brit was managing the household without him, and if Strunheim was fulfilling his oath to help her however he could. He supposed that he should not fret over them too much – after all, they were used to his lengthy absences when he was out hunting, so they were likely managing fine without him. That thought caused a sudden pain to lance through his chest. If his wife and children could indeed survive without him… did they even need him? In fact, were they perhaps better off without him constantly disrupting their lives by setting out to hunt whenever the mood struck him? Another stab of regret pierced his chest. He had truly been a terrible husband and father, he thought bitterly. He had been selfish, thoughtless, and his temper must have been trying for all of them. And all because of his childish desire to wander whenever the whim struck him. It was truly a wonder Brit had remained with him for so long, he thought despondently.
As those thoughts burrowed into his mind, Vahkiir threw himself into his work with redoubled vigor, carrying any crates that the Chimer pointed him towards and helping them lay out the food for the banquet. Time passed quickly, and he was surprised when he looked up at the sky and realized that it was already early evening. Large fires had been lit in the center of the city plaza, and soon the scent of grilling meat and boiling vegetables filled the air. The work had left Vahkiir famished, and for once, when he was one of the first invited to receive a plate of food – as was his right, as one of the honored guests – he did not protest, but instead eagerly accepted the meal with a grateful nod. He then took his clay plate and briefly looked around before finding an empty bench to sit on, rather than joining one of the open tables. The elves' tolerance of him was clearly at its limit, and he did not want to weather their hostile glares any longer.
For a few minutes, he simply savored the exotic meal that he had been given. On his plate was a slab of steak that the cook informed him came from a beast called a nix hound. It was somewhat tougher and stringier than elk or deer, but it was seasoned with light amounts of salt and strange but flavorful herbs and spices, and Vahkiir found himself enjoying it. He had also been given a coal-roasted ash yam, a small helping of seasoned mushrooms, and grilled slices of a strange, leafy red plant called scathecraw, which he had expected to be tough and fibrous, but was actually quite soft, with a mellow taste. He was also given a clay cup of greef to wash everything down. Unlike the planter's stew, Vahkiir thoroughly enjoyed the alien meal, though he also knew better than to expect it on a regular basis. This was clearly the peak of Chimer cuisine, and he doubted the citizens themselves ate this sort of fare more than a few times a year, at most.
When he was halfway through his meal, and his hunger was partially sated, Vahkiir took a moment to sip his drink and look around. Most of the Chimer had been served, and now many were sitting around tables, merrily talking with each other and laughing about their victory the day before. There was a melancholy undertone to the celebrations, as it was also meant to be a remembrance of the deceased, but overall, the mood was far lighter than it had been that morning.
Vahkiir briefly scanned the crowd for Brevyn, but did not spot him. He had been alone for most of the day, as Brevyn had been asked by his kin to help them… and to regale them with tales of their hunt for the dragon. Brevyn had seemed reluctant to leave Vahkiir on his own, but Vahkiir insisted that he join them. After all, Brevyn had devoted nearly all of his time over the past two weeks to helping him, from sailing with him to Veloth to helping him hunt the dragon. He did not want Brevyn to feel beholden to him. What's more, since they were still bound for Skyrim, this would likely be one of the last opportunities he would have to enjoy the company of his fellow Chimer. He suspected that once they were in Skyrim, Brevyn would be forced to endure the same alienation that Vahkiir was receiving from the Chimer – if not worse, as Chimer were supposedly seen as little more than thralls in Skyrim. Thus, he wanted his companion to enjoy himself while he could.
As he continued to gaze at the crowd, he noticed someone threading their way towards him through the throng. To his mild surprise, the caravan captain, Emari, approached him, holding a plate of food in his hand. Greeting him with a nod and a warm smile, he asked, "Would you care for some company?"
Mildly surprised, Vahkiir shook his head and shifted on the bench to allow Emari to take a seat beside him. "I am a bit surprised that you chose to join me," he remarked.
Emari chuckled as he took a slow sip from his cup of greef. "Yes… my kin are a curious lot, are they not? They claim that you are to be honored for slaying the dragon that held their city hostage, and then they proceed to shun you as though you were infected with a plague."
Vahkiir smiled faintly as he glanced away. "In truth, it was not I that slew that dragon," he murmured.
"Indeed, and your companion is certainly receiving his due for that feat," Emari replied easily around a mouthful of nix hound meat. He pointed at a gap in the crowd, through which Vahkiir could see Brevyn sitting on a bench, grinning broadly and openly enjoying the company of a pretty Chimer girl on one arm and a handsome male on the other. "But that does not diminish your own role in it. You also had the courage to pursue the beast, and you are no less responsible for its death than he. So!" he added merrily as he held up his cup. "If no one else will say it, then allow me. On behalf of Blacklight, thank you, Vahkiir."
Vahkiir's mouth fell open slightly, and though he wanted to protest, he couldn't deny that a warm glow was spreading through his chest at Emari's sincere gratitude. He closed his mouth and nodded sheepishly. "Think nothing of it," he muttered.
Emari grinned as he swallowed the mouthful of meat. "Furthermore, allow me to once again extend my previous offer to you," he added. "As Dunmeth Pass is clear, we may now set out for Skyrim at our leisure. If you would like to accompany us, we would be more than glad for your company." His grin broadened slightly. "In fact, if there is anywhere in Skyrim you wish to travel, we would be happy to escort you. It is the least we can do now that you've saved both Blacklight and our livelihood."
Vahkiir raised an eyebrow. "Anywhere I wish?" he echoed skeptically. "Does the merchant you are guarding not have his own route to follow?"
Emari shrugged. "There is profit to be made everywhere in Skyrim, so I doubt he cares much about our destination. If it would put your mind at ease, I can speak with him before we depart, but I can almost guarantee he will say much the same."
Vahkiir tilted his head, but as Emari continued to grin at him, he decided not to protest. "Then… yes, we would be glad to join you," he said.
"Excellent!" Emari replied cheerfully. Vahkiir watched him as he reached for his half-eaten ash-yam, and he suddenly noticed a long cut on the back of his hand.
"You're wounded?" Vahkiir asked.
Emari glanced at his hand, then chuckled. "Yes, in a few places," he admitted. He pulled his bone armor down slightly and pushed the under-robe aside to reveal another deep gash just above his collarbone. "I fought in the battle for the city too, after all. Though I'm pleased to see that you were relatively unharmed."
"I was fortunate," Vahkiir said simply.
"Clearly. And yet, from what I've heard, you also played an important role in the battle for the city as well," Emari remarked.
"Not as much as you might think," Vahkiir demurred. "I believe the true hero of the battle was this… Nerevar, was it?" he asked uncertainly. When Emari shrugged, he asked, "At least, that is what I have heard. Do you perhaps know who this Nerevar is?"
Emari swallowed his mouthful of yam and sat back on the bench, a distant look in his eyes. He was silent for a long moment, but just when Vahkiir was beginning to wonder if Emari would answer, he said, "Nerevar is said to be a rebel leader who has been attempting to convince the Great Houses of Veloth – Houses Redoran, Dagoth, Telvanni, Indoril, Dres, and Hlaalu – to unite under a single banner. He believes that so long as the Houses and the Ashlander tribes remain divided, we shall never succeed in driving the Nords from this land. He also firmly believes that this is our most opportune moment, as the Nords have never been weaker than they are now."
"And yet these houses refuse to join together?" Vahkiir asked. When Emari nodded, he continued, "Why?"
"Above all else? Pride," Emari replied grimly. "While all of the Houses agree that the Nords must be expelled from Veloth, they also seek the glory of leading our people to victory. Whoever finally defeats the Nords will be a hero to the entire Chimer people, and the prestige associated with it would elevate that house above the others. In that regard, I suppose we are not too dissimilar from the Nords we so despise," he remarked with a bitter chuckle.
Vahkiir nodded slowly. "And unless they have assurances that they will be the ones to lead the war against the Nords, they will not ally with each other, much less this Nerevar?"
"In essence, yes," Emari said. "There are other factors, though. Nerevar is asking to be named Hortator – the high warlord of Veloth, who has the authority to command the combined armies of the Great Houses. However, all previous Hortators were members of the Great Houses, and were often the heads of said Houses. Nerevar, by contrast, is a commoner, and more than that, an outlander. He was not born within Veloth, and does not even belong to one of the sub-clans of the Six Houses. As such, the other houses barely view him as kin."
"Who is he though?" Vahkiir asked.
Emari grinned. "He was originally little more than a caravan guard captain," he said with a chuckle. "Not unlike someone else you might know, mm? However, since coming to Veloth, he has formed a small warband of his own. At first, he only commanded his caravan guards and about a half-dozen Ashlander scouts – nomads who live in the ashen wastes at the base of Red Mountain – but he managed to score a few impressive victories against Nordic warbands, which earned him the respect of House Dagoth, who pledged to support his bid for Hortator." Emari's smile faded, and he turned to gaze into the distance. "They, however, are the only house who have done so thus far. No doubt Nerevar hoped that this victory would convince Redoran to join him as well, but… it seems that they are as stubborn as ever in their belief that only they should lead the Chimer armies." He let out a slow, exasperated sigh before taking a long sip of his drink.
Vahkiir tilted his head. "You sound disappointed," he remarked.
Emari gave him a sidelong look over the rim of his cup. "Of course I am," he said, lowering his tankard. "This occupation has lasted for centuries, and the Nords have long overstayed their welcome. What's more, as I said, it seems that they are now at their weakest. This is our best chance to throw off our shackles. Yet even now, when we should band together and fight against our oppressors, the leaders of the Great Houses are more concerned with snatching glory from each other than turning their blades against their true enemy. It is no wonder the Nords have held us in bondage for so long, and they will continue to do so until our foolish elders finally lay aside their meaningless pride." He then let out another slow, gusty sigh. "But… what do I know? I am nothing more than a mere guard captain," he muttered bitterly.
Vahkiir stared at him silently as he took another long drink of greef. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, uncertain what else to say.
Emari shook his head, another grin spreading across his lips. "Come now! There is nothing for you to apologize for, my friend," the elf said cheerfully. "Besides, by helping to slay that dragon, you have done more to aid us in a scant few days than some of our elders have done in centuries. Intentional or not," he added with a sly grin as Vahkiir opened his mouth to protest. Emari chuckled as he closed one eye to peer into his apparently empty cup. "In any case, as I said, we may depart whenever you would like. Return to the tavern when you are ready – in fact, if you would like to stay there tonight, I can speak with the tavernkeeper and have him prepare a room for you and Brevyn. In the morning, we shall escort you to any destination you choose. It is the least we can do to thank you."
Vahkiir frowned faintly, but nodded in reply. "We shall, then. Thank you."
Emari answered with a grin before draining his cup. "Very good! In the meantime, I shall leave you to enjoy yourself. Azura watch over you!"
Vahkiir watched him as he pushed himself up and disappeared into the crowd once again, still frowning to himself. "It still seems strange to me that the escort would be the one dictating the merchant's journey," he remarked quietly to himself as he drained his own drink. "Then again, I suppose I should not question a gift when it's offered to me. I would not wish to offend someone… though I seem to have no trouble doing so anyways." He chuckled to himself, then pushed himself up, figuring that the night was still young, and it would be in bad form to let his tankard remain dry this early.
The next morning, Vahkiir awoke on a narrow cot in the tavern where he and Brevyn had first met Emari. His head was still buzzing faintly from the night before – he had not realized how potent greef was. While he was not suffering from a headache, his tongue was a bit dry, and his first thought was to fetch some water.
As he made his way downstairs, he noticed that Brevyn was not in the common room, which was slightly concerning. Though he had found the elf halfway through the evening and informed him that Emari had offered them a room in the tavern, Brevyn apparently had not taken up the offer, and Vahkiir had returned to his room alone. Of course, while he did enjoy the peace of his solitude, he did wish to finally leave for Skyrim as soon as possible, and he feared that Brevyn's absence might delay their departure.
Fortunately, by the time Vahkiir was halfway through his breakfast of bittergreen tea and bread with scrib jelly, Brevyn finally came down the stairs, accompanied by both the male and female Chimer from the night before. Vahkiir rolled his eyes as the trio wandered over to the counter to order some food for themselves, and then Brevyn made his way over to join him while his companions seated themselves at a separate table.
"I presume that you enjoyed your evening?" Vahkiir asked drily around a mouthful of bread, offering the wicker basket in front of him to Brevyn, who accepted the offer with a grateful nod. "They did not wish to join us?" he added, nodding to the pair of Chimer that he had apparently spent the night with.
"I asked them to grant us some privacy," Brevyn replied easily as tore off a bit of the bread with his teeth. "Do you still wish to depart this morning?"
"If possible, though if you need some time to gather your belongings, I don't mind delaying a bit longer," Vahkiir replied easily. He peered over Brevyn's shoulder, then added, "And if you need to say farewell to them…."
Brevyn blinked in surprise, then glanced over his shoulder at the pair of elves before laughing and shaking his head. "Them? Not at all. They shall likely forget me before evening has fallen," he shrugged. "After all, they are engaged to one another."
Vahkiir nearly choked on his bread, his eyes widening. "And yet you-?!" he demanded in a strangled voice, before gulping down a mouthful of his tea.
Brevyn shrugged. "They were the ones who requested it, actually," he said nonchalantly. "They wished to spend the night with a hero. Who was I to deny them? After all, it is not as though I am attached to anyone."
Vahkiir stared at him in disbelief for a long moment, then exhaled and shook his head. "Well… so long as you all enjoyed yourselves," he muttered.
"We did," Brevyn said simply, wearing a smug grin. Vahkiir groaned and rubbed his eyes, whereupon Brevyn cackled with laughter.
Emari wandered over to them from the other side of the room, holding a cup of tea in his hand. He grinned at Brevyn in greeting, who nodded back. "Good morning. Are you ready?"
"Let me break my fast and gather my things, and then I shall be ready to depart," Brevyn said, his smile softening as he turned to Vahkiir. "After all, I have made you wait long enough."
"Very good," Emari said as his two fellow guards wandered over, their faces still obscured behind the heavy bone helmets. "Then whenever you are ready, meet us outside by the stables. Please do not linger too long, as our merchant is also quite eager to depart."
Vahkiir nodded and quickly finished his food, then hurried back up the stairs to ensure that everything was packed. Brevyn followed a few minutes later, and once they had gathered their belongings, they made their way out of the tavern and into the busy streets of Blacklight.
That cool morning was surprisingly bright, with so little ash in the air that Vahkiir almost began to wonder if the dragon had been the one conjuring it – though he quickly dismissed that thought as ridiculous. The townsfolk also seemed to be in a much cheerier mood than usual. Before the battle, most had been somber and silent, refusing to even look at one another, but now the elves were happily chatting in the streets and openly laughing as they tended to their daily tasks. Sadly, whenever Vahkiir made eye contact with one of the elves, they quickly looked away. Strangely, their reaction did not bother him as much as it had before. In an odd way, he was almost pleased by the lack of attention. After all, he was not supposed to seek renown, and he truly was just glad to see that they seemed happier now that the Nords had been driven from their city.
Brevyn led the way down the busy road, grinning at the occasional passerby who recognized him as the hero who had slain the dragon, while Vahkiir followed in his shadow. A few minutes later, they passed through the front gates of the city – now guarded by a quartet of Chimer archers – and walked over to the nearby stables, where they spotted Emari and a score of other Chimer.
About a half dozen of the elves were armed guards, wearing either bone armor, chitinous cuirasses, or simple leather, and many carried bronze-tipped spears or bows. The rest were commoners who were armed with nothing deadlier than a long knife or a staff, and wore only cloth robes. Most of these were likely merchants, Vahkiir guessed, as they were openly showing their wares to each other, and each carried either a thick leather pouch or a sealed wooden box that was likely full of coins. Every merchant was also standing near a bipedal reptilian creature with tan scales, a broad, round head, wide-set eyes, and a huge mouth that seemed to split its face in half. The strange appearance of the beasts alarmed Vahkiir at first, but he quickly realized that they seemed to be docile, even affectionate, based on the way they seemed intent on nuzzling against their owners.
Emari suddenly looked up a conversation he was having with one of the merchants, and another grin spread across his golden-bronze face. He hurried over to them with a cheerful, "Well met! I'm pleased that you were able to join us so swiftly."
"Of course," Brevyn said, glancing around at the merchants. "Surely you are not beholden to all of these traders?" he asked skeptically.
"Of course not," Emari laughed, putting a hand on Brevyn's shoulder and leading him over to the small group, with Vahkiir in tow. "But there is safety in numbers, and when my employer heard that I had hired a couple of additional hands to help guard the caravan, he decided to invite a few more of his fellow merchants along – for a fee, of course. They were eager to accept, as their own profits have declined greatly since the pass was closed. What's more, when they heard that the new guards were the pair that slew the dragon…."
"Shrewd," Brevyn remarked with a chuckle.
"Which is why I enjoy working with him," Emari replied. He guided them over to a tall Chimer with a round stomach, clad in rich blue robes made of fine cloth. "Vahkiir, Brevyn, allow me to introduce you to Llervu Deras."
The merchant turned towards them, frowning faintly as he folded his hands behind his back. His round face was covered by a thick, dark beard that was starting to grey at the fringes, and his deep brown eyes were narrowed as he appraised them. Despite his rotund appearance, his eyes were cunning, and his gaze made Vahkiir feel as though he was being evaluated for how much he personally could be sold. "You are the two that the captain here claims slew that dragon?" he asked skeptically.
"We are," Brevyn confirmed with a calm smile.
The merchant stared at them for a long moment, then shrugged. "Very well," he said indifferently. "I will not turn away skilled hands, so long as you are willing to work while we are traveling. From now on, you will follow Emari's orders – dragonslayers or not, I trust him far more than I trust you. I do also owe you a favor for ridding us of that dragon, so if you would like to propose a destination, I will certainly consider it. For now, though, we must make our way to Windhelm, the capital of Skyrim. My journey has been delayed for weeks, and I suspect that the prices of Chimer goods has increased threefold since the pass was closed. There is a great deal of profit to be made there, and I will not allow you to alter our course until after I have concluded my business in that city. Understood?" he added, glancing sharply between the pair.
Vahkiir narrowed his eyes angrily and opened his mouth to protest, but then he felt Brevyn's hand grip his shoulder. "Peace," he said softly. "Dunmeth Pass leads almost directly to Windhelm anyways. If it was just the two of us traveling together, I would recommend the same route. We can stop in the city for supplies and then make our way north, if you still wish to meet your kin."
Vahkiir stared at him silently for a long moment, then sighed and forced himself to calm down. "Very well," he agreed curtly, though he was unable to keep himself from glowering in irritation. "Though I would like to request that once you have concluded your business in this Windhelm, we proceed onward to Winterhold."
"Winterhold?" Llervu repeated thoughtfully, running his fingers through his beard. "Well… since there have likely been ships traveling there from Blacklight, I suspect there is not as much coin to be made there. Still!" he added quickly when both Vahkiir and Brevyn glared at him furiously. "I suppose that we can at least take the opportunity to inform the residents of Winterhold that the land route is once again open. Perhaps they'll even be grateful. It is also possible that I am incorrect, and yet more coin can be made in Winterhold. It also is not far from Windhelm. So… yes, I can agree to your request," he said.
"Then we would be happy to join you," Vahkiir replied.
Llervu shot an annoyed glance over his shoulder at Emari, who shrugged helplessly. "I swear, captain, if you have brought me more trouble than what this expedition is worth…." he muttered irritably.
Emari chuckled and clapped the merchant on his shoulder. "Have I ever steered you wrong before?" he asked easily.
"Indeed. I believe the last time you did, your exact words were, 'I believe there is profit to be made in Blacklight! And from there, we will be able to easily travel to Skyrim! It will be a swift journey, with no dangers whatsoever!' As I recall that was roughly… three weeks ago?" Llervu asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Emari winced, glancing away. "Yes, well… one cannot predict all eventualities on a journey, sera. You cannot foresee weather, banditry… dragons…."
Llervu sighed heavily, then spun on his heel and made his way over to his wagon. Emari watched him depart with a chuckle, and then he turned back to his new companions. "Come! I have gifts for the two of you," he said.
The captain led them over to the stables, where a girl was hurriedly fitting the strange beasts with brightly colored blankets and reins. Emari smiled faintly as he reached out and patted one on the snout, and then he turned to Emari and Brevyn. "I wish to offer you two this guar," he said, motioning to the large beast.
A broad grin spread across Brevyn's face, while Vahkiir eyed the large beast more skeptically. "What… do we do with it?" he asked hesitantly, stepping away as the creature scratched rapidly under its chin with one of its stubby arms.
"Guar are pack animals, beasts of burden," Brevyn explained as he walked over to the creature and took its reins. "They're generally docile and can carry heavy loads. What's more, if they are attacked, they can defend themselves much more readily than the donkeys and horses that the humans and Altmer tend to favor." He turned to Emari and bowed his head. "We cannot thank you enough for this gift."
"A guar is little more than a token price for the freedom of an entire city," Emari replied easily, smiling warmly at Brevyn. "I also had two other gifts for you as well, kinsman. You were raised as a shepherd, yes?"
"I was," Brevyn confirmed slowly.
"Very good. First, if you would like… would you like a new dagger?" he asked, nodding to the copper knife on his belt. "One made of proper bronze, perhaps?"
Brevyn winced and glanced over his shoulder at Vahkiir. "I…." he said hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of so easily surrendering the blade Vahkiir had lent him.
Vahkiir, however, shrugged. "If you wish to use a different knife, I will not be offended," he said simply. "In truth, if bronze was not so rare among my people, I would have offered it to you myself."
Brevyn blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "I… see," he said slowly as he pulled the knife from his belt. He then offered it to Vahkiir, handle-first. "In that case… thank you for lending it to me thus far."
"There is no need to thank me," Vahkiir replied with a shrug as he took the knife and shoved it into his belt. "After all, I think we're well past the point of needing to show gratitude to one another."
Emari grinned, then walked over to one of the carts and pulled one of the wooden crates open. After fishing around for a moment, he pulled something out of it and walked back over to Brevyn. He offered a short blade to him, which Brevyn took and unsheathed. The knife was rather different from the knives the Skaal made. The double-edged dagger was leaf-shaped, with a wide middle and a sharp, tapered point. The blade was attached to a bronze hilt, which was wrapped in deep red leather. Brevyn raised an eyebrow as he examined the blade, then looked up.
"This was forged as a weapon, not a tool," he remarked.
"Indeed," Emari confirmed with a nod. "That is a blade that was made for a single purpose – to kill." He then smiled grimly. "Of course, I imagine you're more than familiar with such blades, are you not? I figured you would appreciate it."
Brevyn narrowed his eyes at Emari as he silently threaded the leather sheath of the weapon through his belt. "Thank you," he said coolly. Vahkiir frowned, surprised by Brevyn's sudden cold demeanor, though the captain did not seem to notice.
"Not at all!" Emari replied cheerfully. "As for my other gift… if you intend to fight dragons, you will need a long-range weapon, yes?"
"I… suppose I shall, though I do not know how many dragons we will be facing," Brevyn admitted.
"Of course. Nevertheless, it is wise to be prepared, is it not?" Emari continued as he walked back over to the cart and began sifting through a leather sack. After a moment, a grin spread across his lips, and when he lifted his hand up, he was holding what seemed at first glance to be two lengths of rope. When Vahkiir looked closer, however, he realized that there was a small leather pouch in the center of the ropes, and loops at the edges. Emari grinned when Brevyn's eyes widened with recognition. "I presume that, as a herder, you are familiar with these?"
"Yes… though it has been some time since I last used a sling," Brevyn admitted as he took the ropes from him and held them up to examine them. "But I used to be very familiar with this."
"A sling?" Vahkiir asked skeptically. "There are some in my village who use them, but… would a bow not be preferable, if we are to be hunting dragons?"
"Would it?" Brevyn retorted, though not unkindly. "As I recall, your arrows barely scratched the last dragon we faced, save for when you managed to strike its eye. Surely a sling cannot do any worse."
Vahkiir tilted his head thoughtfully at his response. "Well… perhaps," he conceded. "Though I was under the impression that a sling stone was less powerful and less accurate than an arrow."
"In an unskilled hand, certainly," Brevyn replied with a chuckle. "And perhaps if I were attempting to strike a small target. However, I can assure you that I can fling a rock further than you can shoot an arrow, and that stone will cause far more damage as well. Did you notice that while the Nords permitted us to have staves and daggers, we were not allowed to arm ourselves with slings?" He smirked slightly. "Why do you believe they would refuse us that if they did not fear our slingers?"
Vahkiir held his hands up. "Very well! I concede," he said quickly. "Admittedly, very few of my people use slings, so I know little about them. We tend to prefer bows."
"Understandably, as there is far more wood on your island, while the material to make rope seemed somewhat scarce," Brevyn said as he tied the longer of the two slings around his waist over his belt. "Here, however, there are few trees we can use to construct bows and arrows. Stones are far more numerous, especially when traveling along the foyadas. That, and I could use a sling one-handed while still tending to my flocks," he added as he wrapped the smaller sling around his head and tied it, making it seem as though he was wearing a rope headband.
"I see," Vahkiir said slowly, uncertain how to respond. He turned around when he heard light chuckling, and he saw Emari approaching him with a quiver of arrows.
"Our herders have been using simple weapons like slings and staves for centuries," he explained. "That does not make them any less deadly. Nor does it mean that we are unable to craft other weapons," he added as he held the arrows out for Vahkiir to take. "A gift for you as well – twenty arrows, tipped with bronze points." When Vahkiir tilted his head curious, he explained, "You mentioned that you were the one who gave Brevyn that copper knife, yes? I presumed that your arrows had copper heads as well, if you brought them from your homeland."
"They do," Vahkiir admitted as he pulled one of the arrows out of his quiver to inspect it. To his surprise, he noticed that the arrowheads' triangular heads were pointed at the base, so that if one tried to pull them back out from the wound, they would cause themselves even greater injury. "Thank you," he added, looking back up at Emari.
"Well, it is my duty to ensure that the members of my caravan are properly armed," Emari grinned. His jovial expression lasted only a moment, however, and his expression quickly turned more serious. "Now then! We have a long journey ahead of us, and while we no longer need to fear the dragon, the path ahead will still be treacherous. Winter is fast approaching, and if fortune is against us, the pass may already be covered in ice and snow. We must also remain vigilant for beasts that might think to attack our caravan, and bandits are always a threat." He glanced back and forth between Vahkiir and Brevyn. "As you two are novices at traveling with a caravan, I will not expect you to see to the stability of the guar or the carts. However, I know you are both experienced scouts. Thus, I will ask you to watch closely for any danger that might threaten us on our journey, and to inform me immediately if anything arises. Do you understand?"
"Yes, captain," Brevyn replied immediately.
Vahkiir glanced at him, then nodded and murmured, "Yes."
Emari nodded, seeming satisfied with their replies. "For now, I will have you guard the rear of the caravan. Observe us as we make our way through the pass. When you become more experienced, I may ask you to guard the sides, or even the head of the caravan. Until then, your duty is to watch and learn." He then turned around to face the rest of the caravan, where his men were waiting patiently for his command. "Is everyone to depart?" he bellowed.
There was a chorus of assent, and then the merchants climbed onto their guar-tethered carts and took the beasts' reins. At the same time, the guards paired off and took up positions on either side of the long, narrow line, with Vahkiir and Brevyn bringing up the rear. Emari made his way to the front of the line and turned to Llervu, who was watching him intently.
"Are we ready, then?" Emari asked.
"As ever," Llervu confirmed brusquely.
Emari chuckled, then turned to look over his shoulder, flashing a grin as he did. "Then with that, let's be off!"
The first thing that Vahkiir quickly realized about being part of a caravan was how slow the travel was. The merchants' laden carts seemed ill-suited for the uneven, rocky terrain, and while the guar were clearly strong and tireless beasts, they plodded along at a slow, almost meandering pace that left Vahkiir frustrated. He and Brevyn had been able to move twice as swiftly when it was just the two of them, and he soon began to wonder if traveling together was truly a wise decision.
"Of course it was," Brevyn retorted when Vahkiir quietly voiced his concerns midway through the afternoon. "Certainly, we are not moving as quickly, but we are also much safer. Rest assured, if we encounter a group of bandits or a dangerous beast, you will be grateful for the extra protection." A slight grin tugged at his lips. "Besides, were it not for our friends, we would still be carrying our packs ourselves, and no matter how much slower our journey is, I consider not having to haul our supplies through this pass well worth the reduced pace. Instead, we have this wonderful beast to ease our burdens!" he added, turning to scratch the neck of their pack guar, whose reins he was holding as he led the beast through the canyon. The guar let out a growl of approval and nudged Brevyn affectionately with its broad head, drawing a laugh from the Chimer. "What's more… why are you in such a hurry?" he added, turning back to Vahkiir with a frown. "We do not even know if we will find your kin in Winterhold, much less if they will aid us."
Vahkiir glowered at him, but after thinking on it for a moment, he had to concede that Brevyn was right. "True. But I am growing impatient," he admitted as he stepped around a small boulder jutting out from the floor of the pass.
"To return to your family?" Brevyn asked. Vahkiir grunted in affirmation, to which Brevyn nodded. "That is understandable. Yet… do you believe they would rescind your exile if you returned now?"
"No," Vahkiir admitted curtly. "But if I cannot accomplish a deed that will convince them to rescind it-"
"If you do not even know what you must do – much less what your elders believe is a sufficient deed – then you will find yourself drive yourself mad trying to find a solution," Brevyn said patiently. "As such, there is no reason to concern yourself with what the future might bring. So, until then, you may as well enjoy the journey, yes?"
"…I suppose," Vahkiir muttered. Even so, while he knew that Brevyn was correct, he nevertheless was unable to stifle the growing restlessness starting to burn in the pit of his stomach – and worse, as Brevyn said, he still didn't know how to relieve it, either.
"You two!" a voice suddenly barked from behind one of the guars in front of them, startling them and abruptly ending their conversation. They looked up to see Emari stalking around from the other side of the beast, frowning at them. "I do not mind if you converse while we are traveling, and you are essentially guests of this caravan. However, if you are going to act as guards, I must insist that you remain alert. Look there," he added, pointing to the sky behind them.
Vahkiir turned to look over his shoulder, where he saw three large, reptilian creatures circling in the air above them. Each had scaly green skin, a sharp, pointed beak, and leathery wings that he guessed measured about twelve feet across. He immediately recognized them as the same creature that the dragon had eaten while they had been hunting it. "Those are… cliff racers, yes?" Vahkiir asked, glancing uncertainly at Brevyn, who nodded in confirmation.
"They are," Emari confirmed. "And you two did not even notice them."
Brevyn grimaced as he looked down, apparently chastened. "My apologies," he muttered.
Vahkiir, however, frowned at the creatures as they continued to circle overhead. "Surely they do not pose a threat to us from there?" he asked.
"Not yet," Emari said. "But that does not mean that we should not pay them heed. Cliff racers are doggedly stubborn creatures who have been known to follow prey for miles, and they love nothing more than to swoop down up the unsuspecting that have not noticed them. They also tend to travel in packs, and just like wolves, while one is not especially dangerous, several can pose a serious threat, even to a caravan as well-guarded as this one."
"Then do you want us to kill them?" Vahkiir asked, squinting up at the sky. "I can try, but it will be a difficult shot-"
"Do not waste arrows if you do not believe you can hit them," Emari said shortly. "What I do want you to do, however, is remain attentive. You two are the rearguard, one of the most important positions in this caravan. Normally, I would assign it to my own men, but you proved how skilled you were by slaying that dragon, so I decided to leave it to you. However, it does not matter how skilled you are if I cannot trust you to cover our back. If we are going to be ambushed, we will likely be attacked from our rear, and if you two are not remaining alert for danger…."
Vahkiir glanced away, chastened. "I see. My… apologies," he muttered.
Emari considered him for a long moment, his arms still folded over his chest. "Very good. I simply ask that you remain as wary as if you were on a hunting expedition. If you maintain that amount of caution, we will have no troubles."
Vahkiir inclined his head, then turned back around, eyeing the cliff racers warily. As Emari said, the flying monsters continued to pursue the caravan as they traveled through the canyon, tirelessly circling overhead, waiting patiently for an opportunity to strike. It was only when the sun finally began to set that the beasts finally gave up their pursuit and flew off. When they did, Vahkiir could hear the other Chimer let out audible sighs of relief – clearly, Emari was not the only elf that had been concerned about reptilian beasts, suggesting that they were a far greater threat than Vahkiir had realized. He smiled grimly to himself as he finally unstrung his bow and made his way over to the small fire that the elves were building. The entire day had been just one more reminder that he was still in an alien land, that there was much he had to learn, and that he should listen to the natives when they told him about the dangers of their homeland.
Over the next few days, Vahkiir gradually noticed a subtle shift in the geography surrounding them. As the air grew colder, the thick layer of ash that had coated the ground ever since they first landed in Veloth gradually grew thinner and harder, giving way to barren, rocky soil. It was almost a shock when, three days later, Vahkiir noticed small piles of snow resting atop the blackened earth – hard, icy, and so thoroughly mixed with soot that he could hardly tell that it was snow, but snow nonetheless. He was surprised to find that the mere sight of it immediately made him feel somewhat less anxious… though clearly his companions did not share his sentiments.
"Feh," Emari grumbled as he nudged one of the piles of snow with his leather boot. "And here I was hoping that we might still have some time before the first snows fell. That fetching dragon cost us more time than I had realized."
"It is only a few patches of snow, captain," one of the other elves consoled him, resting her hand on his shoulder as she moved to stand beside him. "And it does not seem as though more will fall anytime soon."
"That is not what concerns me," Emari muttered grimly. He gently pulled away from her and turned to resume trudging through the canyon with the air of one approaching a chopping block, while the young elven woman stared after him with a frown of confusion.
A few hours later, the party learned what it was that Emari had feared. He abruptly brought the caravan to a halt and pointed at the ground. In the road ahead were slick patches of black ice, barely visible on the sooty ground save for the occasional reflective sheen of the sun above. Emari sighed heavily as he lowered his hand and turned to Llervu.
"This will be treacherous from here on out," he warned.
"I expected nothing less," the merchant replied gruffly, seemingly indifferent to the danger ahead, though it was clear from the way his heavily-lined face was furrowed that he was no more pleased than Emari. "Fortunately, we are not on a timetable. If our journey must be delayed for a few more days, then so be it. Just take care that our goods are not damaged, and no one is injured."
"In that order?" Emari asked drily.
Llervu shrugged. "I am not selling you, am I? If I cannot make a profit off of you, then you'll forgive me if I care more for my goods than your health."
"It truly is your silver tongue that makes you such a formidable merchant, my friend," Emari replied sarcastically, before turning back to his men. "Advance slowly, and take care not to let the carts tip! Mind the guar, too – they have difficulty maintaining their balance on the ice."
With the revelation that the path had just become even more dangerous, the caravan's progress slowed even further. The merchants were especially wary about driving their carts over the patches of ice, and took care to avoid them as best they could, which meant slowly maneuvering them around the glassy black spots in the earth. This, naturally, slowed them to a crawl as each cart followed the winding, circuitous path of the wagon in front of it, and since the wagons were difficult to maneuver in the first place, avoiding even a single patch of ice took several minutes.
The journey became even worse, however, when they progressed deeper into the canyon and found that large stretches of the path had been completely coated in ice and snow. With no way to avoid the slick surface, the guards had no choice but to help the merchants across the ice one by one. Where possible, they used their weapons to break the ice and clear the snow, but at certain points the ice was simply too thick, and all they could do was slowly push the carts across and pray that they did not tip over. Worse, the guards themselves would occasionally lose their balance, with one nearly getting her ankle crushed under a wheel when she slipped backwards and fell hard on the ground. Fortunately, she yanked her leg back just before the cart ran it over.
Vahkiir soon found himself grunting with exertion as he tried to shove one of the heavy wagons over a raised portion of ice that had caught on one of its wheels. Though his face red with strain and his breath was coming in short grunts, the wagon did not seem to be making any progress over the mound. Just as he was beginning to consider Shouting the ice apart, a shadow flew overhead, and he stopped what he was doing to glance up.
To his horror, circling in the air above them were a trio of cliff racers – perhaps the same ones that they had noticed a few days prior, or perhaps a new pack that had seen their stalled progress and decided that they might be easy prey. With a growl, he stepped away from the wagon – ignoring the indignant shout of the Chimer guard that he had been helping – and drew his bow, watching the circling creatures warily.
A moment later, one of the creatures suddenly dove for the lead wagon, which was caught in a deep patch of snow. Though there were four elves trying to dislodge it, none of them noticed as the cliff racer dove at their unprotected backs. The Chimer beside him let out a startled cry, but Vahkiir already had an arrow on his string. He quickly drew it back and exhaled sharply as he followed the creature's descent, leading it by a few inches. As it opened its beak to close its jaws around one of the elven guards, Vahkiir loosed the arrow. It streaked through the air, whistling softly, and with just a few feet to spare, the bronze point pierced the cliff racer's torso. The beast let out a single, startled squawk as the momentum of the arrow knocked it off its course and sent it tumbling across the snow-covered ground. It was dead before its stopped rolling.
Vahkiir smirked faintly, but just as he was drawing another arrow, another shadow fell over him. He turned in time to see a second cliff racer racing towards him with its beak opened, revealing rows of sharp, triangular teeth. Swearing under his breath, he fumbled to put his arrow on the string, but the creature's dive was too swift.
Shortly before it would have struck him, however, he noticed something hurtling towards him out of the corner of his eye. He instinctively flinched as a stone struck the creature in the beak with a sickening crack. The cliff racer abruptly veered to Vahkiir's left and crashed into the ground, skidding across the ice for a few feet before coming to a halt. It was clearly dead, though its corpse continued to twitch and spasm for a few moments before finally laying still.
Vahkiir's heart pounded in his throat as he snapped his head up to see Brevyn standing about twenty feet away. The sling he had tied around his head was now in his hand, and in his free hand was a small, round rock. Vahkiir caught his eye, and he gave his elven companion a quick, grateful nod, which he reciprocated before returning his gaze to the sky.
The third and final cliff racer continued to circle slowly overhead, clearly weighing its chances now that its two packmates had been killed. Its ambush had utterly failed, and now every other member of the caravan was staring up at it, weapons drawn. It hovered above them for a few seconds longer, then apparently decided that the hunt was not worth the effort. Flapping its large wings to gain some altitude, it turned and flew off, letting out a frustrated, warbling cry as it retreated.
Vahkiir let out a slow sigh of relief as he lowered his bow, though he continued to watch the sky warily for a few moments longer, as he was uncertain if there were any other beasts waiting to attack them next. Moments later, however, a pleased laugh caught his attention. He turned to see Emari striding towards them, his arms folded over his chest and a broad grin on his face.
"Well done!" he said cheerfully. "And thank you."
"Well, you did tell us to keep watch," Vahkiir pointed out with a shrug.
"Yes, and you two heeded me. And it is fortunate for all of us that you did," Emari replied, sweeping his arm at the rest of the caravan. "We all owe you our thanks."
"There is no need to thank us. This is why you hired us, after all," Brevyn replied easily. He then nodded to the wagons. "In the meantime, shall we press on?"
"Indeed," Emari said with a grin. "In fact, I am quite eager to reach that ridge over there, and you two shall soon see why. But first, let's get these wagons free, shall we?"
The group thus spent the next several minutes carefully maneuvering the wagons the rest of the way over the slick, jagged ice. Fortunately, no other beasts decided to attack them, and the only dangers they faced were from the path itself. It took them over half an hour to make their way up the lightly sloping path, but when they finally crested the hill, they were met with a stunning view.
Stretching out below them was a frost-covered valley of white and green. Beyond the mountains were vast forests of coniferous trees, dusted with an early snowfall. A frigid wind blew towards them, carrying the fresh scent of pine and snow, washing away the acrid scent of ash and sulfur that Vahkiir had endured for the past several days. The path before them carved through the forest, winding its way past tall trees and ice-glazed boulders. In the distance, he could see a large city surrounded by massive black walls, with a large dock stretching out into an icy river. The view was so like his home, and yet so unlike it, that he felt his chest clench. Emari came up beside him and noticed his pained expression, whereupon he smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Behold," he said softly, pointing at the land before them. "Skyrim."
