Chapter 13
Alftand
"Are you certain you do not wish for me to ask them to provide us shelter for the evening?" Vahkiir asked, his arms folded over his chest as he scowled down at the ruins below.
Emari looked up from where he was arranging firewood atop a flat boulder jutting out from the ice. They had chosen to make camp atop a relatively flat hill overlooking the distant ruins of Saarthal. Though the sun was beginning to sink, there was still a fair amount of time before nightfall, and while the sky was slowly starting to turn pale golden near the horizon, it remained bright azure overhead. Even so, the elves were hurrying about to set up tents and collect wood before the sun set entirely.
"I am certain," Emari assured him as he pushed himself to his feet and dusted the snow off his knees. "While I have little doubt that the Nords would be happy to accommodate you and Ilga, they have made it quite clear that the rest of us are unwelcome. I do not wish to invite their wrath without cause. You are free to ask them on your own behalf, though, if you wish. No one here would begrudge you seeking a bit of comfort while you are able, as this may be the last settlement we encounter for some time."
Vahkiir's scowl deepened as he watched the cheerful plumes of smoke curling up from the chimneys of the stone houses below, considering the proposal. Wulfharth was undoubtedly resting beside a crackling fire in one of those houses, likely gorging himself on meat and mead. By contrast, it seemed that the caravan would be forced to endure another night of cold rations and colder winds. And yet…. "Even if they were to approach me with an offer, I would not accept the invitation if they would not have you as well. Though I am also of the opinion that their taboo should not apply to you in the first place," he added, turning to look over his shoulder at Emari. "After all, you are Chimer, not Falmer. You had no hand in the sacking of their city."
Emari let out a short, humorless chuckle as he strode over to stand beside Vahkiir and gaze down at the distant city as well. "Falmer, Chimer, Altmer, Dwemer… I suspect it matters very little to them," he remarked. His tone was mostly even, but Vahkiir could hear a faint note of bitterness in it. "So long as we are mer, they will refuse us."
Vahkiir scowled, then spat on the snow. His saliva crackled as it instantly froze on the cold ground. "Then to Oblivion with them," he snarled.
Emari grinned and reached out to clap a hand on his shoulder. "Well said. I too would rather spend a cold night with warm company than a warm night with cold company. So, if you've decided to stay with us, why not help us finish setting up camp?"
"Certainly," Vahkiir nodded, turning on his heel and making his way over to the campsite. As he knelt down to help stretching a leather sheet over one of the tents, he turned and added, "By the by, what is our next destination?"
Emari looked up from where he was arranging stones around the campfire, then pushed himself up again and reached into his pack. He withdrew his map and walked over to Vahkiir to unravel it and hold it up for the latter to examine.
"This is roughly where we are now," he explained, pointing to a spot on the northeastern section of the map. Beside his finger was a simple archway, which Vahkiir recognized as the marking for a small settlement, and though the runes were indecipherable to him, he supposed that they read "Saarthal." "From here, we will travel south for a time, until we reach the Wayward Pass, which is located here," he said, tracing his finger to the south until it reached an apparent gap in the mountains.
"I see," Vahkiir said slowly, before frowning and looking up. "Though… why are we not simply retracing our path from Winterhold to Windhelm? There is no road south from here, is there?"
"Not one that is marked, no," Emari said with a sly grin. "However, while we were in Winterhold, I spoke with some of the local guides. They claim that there is a road not far from here, though it was not built by the Nords, and thus does not appear on any of their maps."
"Then who built it?" Vahkiir asked.
"The Dwemer," Emari replied, his grin widening. "Are you familiar with them, by any chance?"
Vahkiir shook his head. "I have heard the name, but so far as my people were concerned, they may as well have been myths. Some claim that they constructed vast cities beneath Solstheim, but if so, they hid them quite well, and they must never have set foot upon the surface. I have explored nearly all of my home island throughout the years, and I never once laid eyes on anyone who might be called a Dwemer. In fact, I do not recall even seeing a mer before I met Brevyn."
"Well, they are quite reclusive, this is true," Emari said. "I can assure you, however, that they are not mythical. They are native to my homeland, particularly the island of Vvardenfall, which is the center of their kingdom. However, I have heard that they also built a few remote city-states here in Skyrim."
"Have you ever met them?" Vahkiir asked.
"Personally? No," Emari admitted. "Few have. They are not a particularly… social people, shall we say. But they are real."
"I see. That does not answer my question, though. Would it not be swifter to simply return to Winterhold and then travel south to Windhelm?" Vahkiir asked, returning his attention to the map. "Or does this Dwemer road extend all the way to the Throat of the World?"
"It does not," Emari said. "But it does lead to this river." He traced his finger along the map to a winding river that wound back east, and then to the south. "On the northern bank here, just off the Wayward Pass, is a small fishing village. There, we can hire a ship that will take us along the river until we reach the base of the Throat of the World."
Vahkiir's eyes clouded with confusion. "They will have ships large enough to accommodate the entire caravan?" he asked skeptically. "Animals, wagons, and all?"
"Ah… not exactly," Emari said with a chuckle. "I've already spoken with Llervu about this. Once we've traversed the Wayward Pass, we will travel in two separate directions. The caravan will continue overland to the city of Whiterun, while a few of us will join you on the ship, to escort you to the Throat of the World."
Vahkiir eyebrows rose in surprise. "You would go that far for me?" he asked. "What of your errand? Are you not in Skyrim to make coin? Should that not be your primary concern?"
Emari chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. "Vahkiir, you have done much for us already. You and Brevyn slew the dragon terrorizing one of our largest cities, which allowed us to liberate it. The least we might do to repay you is to see you safely to your destination. Once there, we can decide if our debt to you has been adequately repaid, and whether we wish to continue travelling together, or go our separate ways. Until then, consider this a token of our appreciation. Besides, you needn't worry about the rest of the caravan. I intend to leave the majority of my guards to protect it. You will not need a large entourage to see you to the mountain, and in truth, your journey will be much swifter without a train of wagons hampering you."
A warm rush of gratitude spread through Vahkiir's chest, and he coughed and glanced away. "I… thank you, then," he muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"There is no reason to thank us," Emari assured him. "As I said, you have done much for us, so it is only fair that we aid you in kind."
Vahkiir exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold air. There was a momentary silence, which Vahkiir decided to break when he looked at the map again. "Well, at the very least, we might find some respite along the way," he said, pointing to another settlement on the map halfway between Saarthal and the Wayward Pass. "Is this another city or village, perchance?"
Emari peered at where Vahkiir was pointing, and then he let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, Alftand?" he asked, seeming amused by the question. "Well… while it is a settlement, it is likely one where we will find no more sanctuary than we did in Saarthal."
"Is there a reason?" Vahkiir asked.
Emari let out another soft chuckle. "It is a Dwemer fortress," he explained. "As such, they are unlikely to be willing to entertain us as guests."
"I see," Vahkiir murmured, watching as Emari rolled up the map and shoved it back into his pack. "A pity, then."
"Indeed," Emari said in a thoughtful tone, a mysterious smile lingering on his lips. "And yet I nevertheless find myself anticipating this part of the journey."
Vahkiir frowned, folding his arms over his chest. "To what end?" he asked slowly.
Emari glanced over at him, his smile broadening slightly. "We will simply have to see," he replied evasively. "In the meantime, we've spoken long enough. Would you mind helping Adril build that tent, and then could you fetch a sack of dried vegetables? I would rather we be able to boil a stew before the hour grows too late to cook. It will likely be another cold night, and I would prefer we have something warm in our bellies before we must endure the wind."
Vahkiir continued to frown at Emari, until the Chimer made an insistent shooing motion with his hand. Reluctantly, Vahkiir wandered over to help the other Chimer finish setting up the tent, but he could not help feeling unnerved by the strange, pensive expression that continued to linger on Emari's face as he began striking flint over the tinder in the firepit.
After spending a miserable night in the blustery cold, the caravan set off once again on a southerly course, the wagons rumbling across the loose snowdrifts and slick patches of ice. Fortunately, despite the harsh wind that constantly buffeted them, there was just enough snow covering the hard ground to grant the wagons traction without severely hampering their progress. Relatively speaking, they were able to make fairly swift progress across the glacial wasteland.
After traveling across the uneven ground for most of the day, the glacier abruptly sank downwards, forming a smooth, level path about six inches below the rest of the ice. The surface of the road seemed to have been carved to be somewhat rough, allowing both their boots and the wheels of the wagons some degree of traction. Snow was piled on either side of the road, suggesting that it had been cleared as recently as a few days ago, which also indicated that the Dwemer settlement that Emari had mentioned must be nearby.
"This seems strange to me," Vahkiir remarked to Brevyn as they walked alongside Ilga at the rear of the wagon train.
"The road?" the elf asked, tilting his head slightly.
"Yes. The Dwemer are a reclusive people, are they not?" Vahkiir said. "What use would they have for a road, then? If the tales that Emari was telling me about their reclusiveness is true, then it's not as though they trade with any of the other nearby settlements – certainly not Saarthal."
"Perhaps they simply prefer that the area outside their fortress presents as few difficulties as possible when they do travel," Ilga suggested. "Surely they cannot spend their entire lives bound to a single city. Perhaps this road leads to mines, or other places that fall within their area of control."
"That, or it is another example of Dwemer arrogance," Brevyn added.
Vahkiir turned towards Brevyn with a frown. "Arrogance?"
Brevyn nodded as he brought the sleeves of his robes together and clasped his hands together inside them in an effort to warm them. "I know little of the Dwemer myself, but from the stories that I have heard, they seek control above all else – control over their lands, control over their people… control over the very threads of Nirn itself." He shivered slightly as a cold wind blew over them. "That lust for control has led them to craft marvels that no other race could hope to mimic, but it has also bred a great deal of arrogance. They seem to believe their cleverness has elevated them above the rest of Nirn, and that all other races in Tamriel are inferior. Hence why they refuse to treat with us."
"Is that so? Are they hostile?" Vahkiir asked as he carefully descended the shallow slope of the road.
"They can be, yes," Brevyn replied. "From what I have heard, they tend to ward away any who approach their settlements, not unlike how you might chase off a bear when it ventures too near. Even if you are smarter and the bear cannot craft or wield a spear, you still do not wish to give a dangerous creature the opportunity to wreak havoc in your domain. Though, admittedly, they are also apparently more defensive than aggressive. They supposedly provide ample warning when merchants venture too close, and so long as the offenders leave their territory quickly, they will not give chase. It seems they simply wish to be left alone."
"I see. Then perhaps it would be wise for us to give these Dwemer a wide berth, would it not?" Vahkiir suggested.
Brevyn let out a soft chuckle as he looked up, his gaze fixated on Emari's back ahead of them. "One would think, yes," he agreed softly. "Which begs the question – why is Emari so insistent upon following this route in particular if it takes us so near a Dwemer city? Or… could that be intentional?"
"We shall soon have our answer either way," Ilga commented as she pointed at something ahead.
Vahkiir turned to gaze in the direction she was pointing. Ahead of them was a moderately steep hill, and beyond it, Vahkiir could see tall stone towers rising from the ice, capped with slanted bronze tops and lightly dusted with snow. Steam escaped the towers through narrowly-slitted bronze vents, billowing into the air like clouds, while enormous gears turned endlessly, driving bronze arms that pistoned back and forth for some unknown purpose. Through the bronze gates, he could make out vague, shadowy shapes, which he presumed must be Dwemer, though he could not say for certain. His lips parted slightly as he gazed at the towers in awe and wonder, but after a few moments, a thought crossed his mind.
"This is Alftand?" he asked derisively, confusion plain on his face. "A few scattered towers? When Emari said that it was a Dwemer city, I was expecting… walls, homes, a palace perhaps. This could generously be called an outpost at best."
"It is likely that most of the city rests beneath the ice," Brevyn explained as he folded his arms over his chest. "That is how most of their settlements in Veloth are built, at any rate."
"Truly? To what end?" Ilga asked curiously. "Surely carving a city into the earth must be far more difficult than building it above-ground, even considering how clever the Dwemer are."
"I would think for protection, above all else," Brevyn replied as they passed under the shadow of the first tower. "After all, it is rather difficult for an army to besiege you if your people are underground, and given their skills at metal and stonecraft, I doubt it would be as much of a challenge for them to build their cities like this as you might think." He then shrugged. "Of course, the Dwemer are inscrutable at any rate, so who can say for certain?"
Vahkiir turned back around in time to stop short upon seeing that the lead wagon had come to a halt at the top of the hill. At the head of the caravan, Emari and Llervu were engaged in a conversation, speaking to one another in low, hushed voices, while the rest of the Chimer watched them curiously, if they were not otherwise keeping a wary eye on their surroundings.
Vahkiir frowned and made his way to the front of the caravan. Emari and Llervu did not seem to notice him approaching, and continued to quietly speak with one another in what he presumed was Chimeri. Only when he was a few feet from them did Emari finally look up and nod to him. "Yes, Vahkiir?" he asked.
"Why have we stopped?" Vahkiir asked bluntly.
"We are discussing what to do about them," Emari replied, motioning towards the crest of the hill.
Vahkiir frowned faintly as he approached the snowbank and peered down the slope. In the valley below were a trio of figures patrolling in the shadow of one of the towers. They seemed to be beings made of living bronze, as their bodies were apparently constructed entirely from brightly polished plates of brassy metal, riveted with thick nails the size of Vahkiir's thumb. Their chestplates were simple and unadorned, though their helmets were decorated with an elegant crest, and their faces contained hollow black eyes and snarling, grimacing mouths. A blue skirt inlaid with bronze runes was wrapped around two of their waists, while the third instead wore a red skirt trimmed with gold. The red-skirted being and one of the blue-skirts rested long, bronze-colored polearms against their shoulders, which seemed to be a cross between an axe and a spear, while the third carried a weapon that seemed to be a bronze bow turned sideways and fastened to a long plank of brass.
"Are those… enchanted suits of armor?" Vahkiir asked with a frown as he turned towards Emari.
"It certainly seems that way, doesn't it?" Emari asked, an amused smile tugging at his lips even as he tried to suppress it. "But no. Rest assured, there are living Dwemer warriors within those skins of metal."
Vahkiir raised an eyebrow as he turned back towards the figures below. "Truly?" he murmured. "Yet they're moving so gracefully. How can they bear the weight of so much armor?"
"We are not fully certain how, but the Dwemer have invented a metal that seems to be bronze, yet is not. It is far lighter and stronger than the finest bronze cast by the most skilled armorer in Veloth," Emari explained, not looking away from the warriors below them. "As you can imagine, it offers them unparalleled protection. Even if their warriors are not as skilled as ours, their superior arms more than make up for their lack of martial prowess. And that is but one of the marvels that the Dwemer have created."
"I see," Vahkiir said slowly, turning back to Emari. "Yet you still have not answered my question. Why have we stopped? Are you trying to discover another route around them… or are you perhaps preparing an ambush?"
"Neither," Emari replied, turning to Vahkiir with a smile. "Rather, I was simply readying myself to parley with them."
Vahkiir tilted his head back slightly, just as he heard Brevyn and Ilga approaching from behind him. "Do you intend to ask them for safe passage?"
"Among other requests, yes," Emari replied. "You caught me in the midst of convincing Llervu here to keep the wagons out of sight while I am negotiating."
Vahkiir tilted his head, while Ilga's eyes widened slightly with realization. "You fear that if you cannot persuade them to let us pass, that they might attack the caravan, especially if they suspect we are carrying valuable goods," she concluded.
Emari smiled faintly, while Llervu growled and rubbed his eyes. "Quite perceptive. Correct," Emari answered.
"And I am trying to convince him to abandon this foolish endeavor entirely," Llervu continued, casting a disdainful look at the Dwemer as they continued to march back and forth, apparently oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.
"Why?" Vahkiir asked.
"The Dwemer cannot be bargained with," Llervu stated shortly. "If outsiders approach their strongholds, they respond with hostility, and while they may not attack immediately, they feel no more remorse about taking our lives than you would about slaying a wolf approaching your home."
"Have you encountered Dwemer before?" Ilga asked curiously.
"I have passed by their strongholds few times in Veloth," Llervu replied. "Their citadels are not an uncommon sight, though wise merchants usually give them a wide berth." He turned to glare at Emari. "In any case, this s'wit insisting that we wait here while he bargains with them is as foolish as him asking us to watch quietly while he leaps into a pit of magma."
Emari snorted, seemingly amused by the comparison. "Your concern is noted, but you cannot dissuade me," he said.
"And how do you intend to negotiate with a people who does not even speak our tongue?" Llervu demanded.
"We do not speak their tongue, Llervu. That does not mean the opposite is true," Emari countered with a faint smile. "I'm certain that you've heard the tales of merchants who ventured too near to Dwemer strongholds, and who were ordered to leave. How could the Dwemer have done so if they did not speak one of our languages, such as Aldmeris?"
"They do not need to! Brandishing a weapon holds the same meaning in every language, you fool!" Llervu snapped.
Emari's smile faded instantly, his expression abruptly turning cold. "Enough," he said firmly, his tone making it clear that he would tolerate no further argument. "Your concerns have been noted, but I have made my decision. You will not deter me. Now, I am telling you – remain here and keep watch over the caravan while I parley with the Dwemer."
Vahkiir could see a muscle in Llervu's jaw twitching, but the merchant slowly, reluctantly, lowered his head. "I shall await your return, then," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Very good. Keep the guar warm, in case we must depart quickly," Emari replied. His tone was still authoritative, but the edge had softened somewhat. He then turned to Vahkiir, Brevyn, and Ilga. "Would you three accompany me?" he asked. "While I seek peaceful conversation with the Dwemer, I am not unaware of their tendency to attack interlopers. If you all would join me, I would be grateful for the additional protection."
"Certainly," Vahkiir replied, folding his arms over his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brevyn nodding in agreement, and while Ilga seemed more reluctant, she cast a quick glance at Vahkiir before inclining her head as well.
"Very good," Emari said with a slight smile as his two masked guards approached silently from where they had been watching near the lead wagon. "Please prepare yourselves, then."
Vahkiir held up one hand as he drew his bow with the other. He quickly strung the weapon, while Brevyn readied one of his slings and Ilga loosened the shield on her back. When Vahkiir was finished, he straightened up again.
"After you," he said, motioning for Emari to lead on.
"As you say," Emari replied, turning back towards the towers. "Do not draw your weapons unless you must, but remain on your guard."
With that, Emari led the small group down the hill, his boots crunching loudly in the loose snow. The entire time that he was descending the snowbank, his gaze was fixed on the Dwemer, and Vahkiir could see how anxious he was from his stiff gait. At first, the Dwarves did not seem to notice their approach, but when they were within about a hundred yards of the nearest tower, one of the guards carrying a spear-axe glanced over at them and pointed. The other two Dwemer turned to look as well, and the Dwemer carrying the sideways bow immediately pointed it at them. He shouted something in a harsh, guttural language, which was incomprehensible to Vahkiir, but which nevertheless needed no translation.
Vahkiir saw Ilga tense beside him, her hand falling to the hilt of her axe, but before he could tell her to stand down, Emari held up his hand and glanced over his shoulder. "Remain here, and do not provoke them," he said in a low voice. Ilga hesitated, then let out a low growl and reluctantly pulled her hand away from her weapon. Out of the corner of his eye, Vahkiir noticed that the guards had also been reaching for their weapons, but relaxed at Emari's command, though they continued to watch the Dwemer carefully.
Emari watched his group for a moment longer to make sure they were obeying his request, then turned back around and raising his hands. He slowly began approaching the Dwemer, who eyed him cautiously, their weapons still leveled at him. When he was about a hundred feet from them, he shouted something in what Vahkiir recognized as the lyrical Aldmeri tongue, though he still could not understand Emari's words.
"What is he saying?" Vahkiir asked Brevyn in a low voice.
Brevyn tilted his head slightly to listen. "About what you might expect," he said after a few moments. "He is announcing that we mean the Dwemer no harm, and that he simply wishes to speak with whomever leads this city."
Vahkiir sighed softly as he folded his arms over his chest and glanced at Brevyn. "I still cannot understand his intentions," he muttered. "I cannot fault him for informing the guards that we are passing through and do not wish to cause conflict, but to ask to see their leader…."
"It seems they are wondering the same," Ilga said grimly, motioning at Emari.
Vahkiir returned his attention to the Dwemer in time to see that the red-skirted Dwemer was furiously shouting at Emari in Aldmeri. "They are telling him that his presence is unwanted, that they will never take him to see their leader, and that he must depart immediately," Brevyn translated in a bland tone.
"I gathered that much," Vahkiir replied sardonically.
Emari, however, did not move. He folded his arms behind his back and shouted back at the Dwemer. "He says that he is pleased that the Dwemer can, in fact, understand him," Brevyn translated. "And he is repeating his request to speak with their leader. He claims that we have much to trade, and that in doing so, we might deepen our bonds of friendship."
Vahkiir tilted his head back slightly. "I see," he said slowly. "So he is hoping to establish a trade route with the Dwemer kingdoms, then?"
"Perhaps," Ilga muttered. "Even so, it's bold of him to demand to speak with their leader. Why not ask if their merchants wish to trade instead?"
The red-skirted Dwemer, meanwhile, shouted back at Emari, and though his words remained as incomprehensible as ever, he were clearly growing increasingly agitated by Emari's steadfast refusal to depart. "They claim that there is nothing that we primitive barbarians could hope to offer them," Brevyn said. "That the finest trinkets we've crafted pale in comparison to the simplest toys of the slowest Dwemer child in their halls." He scowled at the insult, but continued, "Therefore, he must leave immediately. They will not ask again."
Emari, however, folded his arms over his chest and began shouting something in return. As he did, however, the red-skirted Dwemer touched two fingers to the side of his head and glanced away. Though it was difficult to tell due to the fact that his helm was closed, he appeared to be speaking to someone, though since he was facing away from Emari, it was clear that he was not addressing the Chimer captain. Out of the corner of his eye, Vahkiir saw one of the Dwemer in the watchtowers above them touch his own helmet and nod, and then he walked over to a nearby lever, which he pulled.
The ground rumbled faintly as a deep grinding resounded through the air, and Vahkiir's eyes widened in shock as a pair of golden, sideways bows resting atop massive hinges burst through the ice and snow. Each was over thirty feet in length, and resting against their taut, brass-colored strings were bolts the size of logs, tipped with gleaming bronze pyramidal points. Standing on the platforms beneath the machines were eight more bronze-clad guards, carrying either polearms or sideways bows.
The Dwemer Emari was speaking with lowered his hand from his helmet and gave a quick nod to the Dwemer in the tower before turning back to Emari, who stiffened noticeably as the twin bows swiveled – without being pushed by any of the Dwemer, Vahkiir noted – to face Emari. Their thick points glinted threateningly in the midday sun as the red-skirted Dwemer called out to Emari again, and though Emari still could not understand him, the Dwemer sounded almost smug.
"This is Emari's final warning," Brevyn said softly as he slid a stone into his sling. "He must depart immediately, else the Dwemer will be more than happy to reduce him to naught more than a crimson smear on the snow."
Emari's head slowly drifted back and forth between the two massive bolts pointed directly at his chest, before returning his gaze to the Dwemer before him. He folded his arms tightly over his chest and lowered his head slightly in defiance.
"There is no cause for you to fire upon me," Brevyn translated in a low voice as Vahkiir's heart pounded rapidly. "I am no threat to you, and you know this. You have nothing to gain by ending my life, but much to gain by hearing me out. I will ask but once more – allow me to speak with your leader, and I assure you that you will reap great rewards."
The red-skirted Dwemer stared at Emari for a long moment, then raised his hand. Above him, the guard in the watchtower made his way back over to the lever. Out of the corner of his eye, a tan blur pushed past Vahkiir, growling to himself in a deep voice. Emari, however, continued to stare stoically at the red-skirted Dwemer captain, refusing to budge. The Dwemer held his gaze, then sighed and lowered his hand in a sharp chopping motion.
Just before the Dwemer in the tower could pull the lever, the tan figure reached Emari. He shouted a few words, and a shimmering magenta field enveloped his body. At that moment, he pounced on Emari from behind, tackling him into the snow. A split-second later, the guard in the tower pulled the lever, and the two massive bows unleashed their bolts. Vahkiir winced as they slammed into the ground, throwing a shower of ice and snow into the air.
For a few tense seconds, Vahkiir could see nothing, and his blood froze as he waited anxiously to see whether Emari had been killed. When the snow finally began to settle, he spotted Emari and his guard lying face-down in the snow, unmoving, and that the guard's shield had vanished. A moment later, however, both figures stirred and began pushing themselves to their feet. Vahkiir let out a slow sigh of relief, which misted in the cold air. He suspected that the enormous arrows must have grazed the guard's shield and destroyed it. He was left wondering, however, whether the shield had actually managed to deflect the bolts, or if they pierced the shield effortlessly, and Emari and his guard were simply lucky that they had missed. Not that it mattered either way, Vahkiir supposed.
As Emari and his guard began pulling themselves upright, the Dwemer captain shouted furious directions up at the towers. In response, the Dwemer guards raised their sideways bows and began loosing long, metallic bolts down at Emari and his guard, who turned and began running back towards the hill to escape the barrage. Four of the guards on the ground, including the captain, lowered their spears and began chasing after them, yelling furiously in their harsh tongue.
"We must help them!" Brevyn shouted, whirling his sling around his head. He released one rock, which whistled as it sailed through the air. It narrowly missed the nearest of the Dwemer soldiers pursuing Emari and his guard, though it did make him pause for a moment, giving Emari and the guard a few more steps of separation.
Vahkiir hissed as he unslung his bow, while Ilga reluctantly ran forward, raising her shield and resting her bronze axe on her shoulder, preparing to strike out at any Dwemer who drew near. As one of the guards in a tower tracked Emari's movements with his bow, Vahkiir nocked a bronze-tipped arrow and pulled back the string. After taking a moment to judge the distance, he released it and watched it closely as it sailed through the air. A moment later, it hit its mark perfectly, striking the Dwemer cleanly in the chest. To his dismay, however, the bronze tip slid along the guard's thick breastplate, leaving him completely unharmed. The guard paused and glanced at Vahkiir, then turned and loosed the bolt intended for Emari at him instead. Vahkiir quickly backed up few steps, and the bolt slammed harmlessly into the snow at his feet, while the Dwemer audibly snickered above him.
Vahkiir snarled at the Dwemer, but was soon distracted by movement in one of the other watchtowers, where another Dwemer walked over to a lever and pulled it. A high-pitched, mechanical whirring sound filled the air, and a trio of two-foot-wide holes opened in the snow a short ways behind Emari and his guard. Vahkiir watched in horrified fascination as three strange, spider-like beings scuttled out of the holes and began chasing after the pair. After only watching them for a moment, it was clear that the spiders were far faster than the two mer. Vahkiir quickly raised his bow and loosed another arrow, but the spider he was aiming at scurried around the missile effortlessly and resumed pursuit of Emari and his guard, barely deterred by the attack.
Emari and his guard turned in time to see the nearest spider rear up as the glass dome in the center of its body exploded with a pale, crackling light. A bolt of blueish-white lightning arced out from the dome, striking Emari in the leg. The Chimer let out a cry of pain as his leg collapsed under him, and he fell to one knee. Vahkiir swallowed as Emari rolled onto his back, clutching his twitching, injured leg. A moment later, the nearest spider leapt at him, its sharp, metallic legs outstretched. Before it could descend on him, however, his guard pulled his club back and swung it in a short arc. The bludgeon caught the spider mid-flight and knocked it several feet across the field, where it skidded to a halt before laying still in the snow.
A second spider charged towards them, but before it could attack them, Emari's guard shouted something incomprehensible. As the spider discharged a burst of lightning, another shimmering shield surrounded Emari's guard, and the bolt arced harmlessly around its smooth surface. The guard then brought his club up and slammed it down onto the spider's body. Its spindly legs collapsed instantly as the clear glass case cracked, and the construct twitched once before falling into the snow with a low, mechanical whine.
While his guard was dispatching the spider, Emari had managed to climb back to his feet, though he was standing gingerly on his wounded leg, which continued to twitch slightly. The third spider closed in on him, but as its clear dome glowed brightly, Emari's guard slipped in front of him and allowed the lightning bolt to wash over his shield, which dissipated a moment later. The spider scurried past him, but just as it reached Emari, the caravan captain lunged forward and slashed his curved sword through its glass casing. The spider, whose forelegs had been raised, collapsed instantly. Emari's guard nodded, then immediately took Emari's arm and slung it over his shoulders to half-carry him back up the slope.
By then, the rest of Emari's caravan had rallied, and eight guards were hurrying down the snow to help the pair, weapons drawn and shouting furious battle cries. Leading them was the smaller of Emari's personal guards, who was brandishing his unusual hook-shaped spear. The four Dwemer infantrymen rushed to meet their charge, shouting back in their own incomprehensible language. As the Dwemer captain closed in on Emari and his companion, the smaller guard leapt between them and parried aside a thrust from the Dwemer's axe-spear. The Dwemer captain snarled and brought his weapon up over his head, then cleaved it downwards. Emari's guard stepped a bit closer and raised his own weapon horizontally above his head, so that the shaft of his spear caught the haft of the Dwemer's. He angled the hook so that the weapon's blow was deflected down and away, and then he swung the hook around to catch the Dwemer's ankle. Emari's guard pulled hard, and the Dwemer warrior found himself on his back, staring up at the Chimer warrior. Vahkiir nocked another arrow as he watched the Chimer slam his hook down onto the Dwemer. However the thick bronze armor did not so much as sustain a scratch, and the Dwemer seemed unharmed. The Chimer hissed in annoyance and brought his hook up again, but the Dwemer took the opportunity to roll away from the second blow and push himself to his feet. The two warriors began circling each other, watching one another closely for openings.
The remaining three Dwemer guards were left to contend with Ilga and the seven furious Chimer warriors. Though the latter had an obvious numerical advantage, it quickly became clear that their axes, maces, and spears were unable to pierce the thick armor that the Dwemer wore. They were, however, far nimbler than their Dwemer counterparts, and they split into pairs to try to outflank the heavily armored warriors. The Dwemer were forced backpedal to avoid being surrounded, and each time Ilga and the Chimer moved to envelop them, they jabbed at the caravan warriors with their strange axe-spears to force them back. The skirmish quickly devolved into a stalemate as the Dwemer slowly retreated down the snowy slope and the Chimer and Ilga tried to force them further back towards the watchtowers.
The draw was abruptly broken when the smaller of Emari's guards parried a thrust from the Dwemer captain, then noticed that Emari had managed to reach the crest of the hill. "Enough!" he shouted in Nordic, his voice muffled by the helmet that he wore. "The captain is safe! Fall back!"
A few of the Chimer protested, especially since they had almost managed to push the Dwemer all the way back down the hill, but their complaints were quickly silenced when a fresh barrage of metallic bolts rained down from the watchtowers. The missiles fell short, but they landed in the snow only a few feet from where the Chimer were standing. It was clear that if they pushed the Dwemer infantry back any further, they would be within range of the archers, and their narrow advantage would be lost. Reluctantly, they formed a loose shield wall began climbing back up the hill, watching the Dwemer warily, prepared to ward off a counterattack.
Fortunately, most of the Dwemer seemed content to let them retreat, but two of the more impulsive archers charged forward in front of their spear-wielding compatriots and dropped to their knees to continue pelting them with bolts even as they retreated. Anger flared in Vahkiir's chest as he drew another arrow and pulled it back. Before he could loose it, something flew through the air to his left. Another stone had been launched from Brevyn's sling, and it sailed through the air to slam cleanly into one of the archers' chests. A metallic pang echoed across the slopes, but the archer seemed unfazed by the bullet.
Vahkiir hissed as he aimed at the other archer and let his arrow fly. It sailed through the air and struck the Dwemer in the shoulder, but to his irritation, the bronze tip of the missile slid harmlessly off of the warrior's pauldron and landed several feet away in the snow. Growling, he looked over his shoulder, and saw that Ilga and the rest of the Chimer had nearly reached the top of the hill. Only he and Brevyn remained halfway up the slope.
The Dwemer below did not seem inclined to pursue them, but as Vahkiir lowered his bow, another sound reached his ears. The mocking laughter of the Dwemer floated up to him from the base of the hill, and as the archers climbed to their feet, they began pointing up at the fleeing Chimer, gesturing and shouting words in their language that Vahkiir was certain were curses.
Anger seared through Vahkiir's chest, the edges of his vision turning red as he glared down at the Dwemer. He was dimly aware of Brevyn walking by him, but as the elf put a hand on his shoulder, Vahkiir shrugged him off. Blood was pounding in his ears as a low, primal growl rumbled in the base of his throat. He sharply inhaled a deep lungful of the icy mountain air and narrowed his eyes at the cluster of chortling Dwemer.
"FUS, RO!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the snow-covered mountains. The air in front of his lips exploded outward, then concentrated into a wide, rippling ball of pressurized wind. The Shout struck all of the Dwemer cleanly, and their laughter ceased immediately as they were thrown off their feet and sent tumbling end-over-end the rest of the way down the icy slope. When they came to a halt at the base of the hill, they slowly picked themselves up and stared up at Vahkiir, dumbstruck, while he sneered down at them. They then began shouting up at him, and though he could not discern their language, they continued repeating one word – kagr.
His anger still boiling inside of him, Vahkiir slowly inhaled again, allowing the cold air to soothe his raw throat. His hand went to his quiver, but as he drew another arrow, a sharp voice shouted down at him from the top of the hill. "Vahkiir! Enough! There is no reason for us to remain here! Let us be on our way!"
Vahkiir furiously spun around to glare at Emari, who was standing at the top of the hill, his arms folded over his chest. Though he was barely able to stand on one leg, he nevertheless projected an air of confidence and authority that, even in his enraged state, gave Vahkiir pause. Despite that, Vahkiir was about to retort with a defiant curse, until then he noticed the pain and disappointment on Emari's face. His melancholy expression dispelled Vahkiir's fury as surely as cold water being thrown onto a fire, and he let out a low growl as he reluctantly slung his bow back over his shoulder. He made a gesture at the Dwemer still gathered at the bottom of the hill, then reluctantly began trudging back up the slope to rejoin the caravan.
"So, now we can depart?" he heard Llervu ask Emari sarcastically as he passed by. "Now that you've thoroughly enraged an entire Dwemer clan and nearly provoked a battle, now you decide it would be a good time for us to leave?"
"Silence," Emari snapped bitterly.
"I will not!" Llervu countered as he tugged on the reins of his guar to turn it around and spur it on to walk away from the gleaming towers of the Dwemer. "Your obstinance nearly got you killed! To say nothing of the rest of us! If the Dwemer had chosen to pursue us, we would all be dead right now! You saw clearly that none of our weapons left so much as a mark on them! And now you can barely walk! So tell me, captain, was this detour worth it?!"
Emari turned and gave Llervu a cold look. "If you are awaiting an apology, you will not receive one," he said coldly as he took the reins of one of the lead guars and began guiding it back down the road, limping with every other step. "Yes, I believe this detour was worth it, even if we did not succeed. And before you ask, no, this will not deter me from trying again. You know as well as I that it is in our best interest to earn the trust and friendship of the Dwemer."
"At the cost of your own life?!" Llervu demanded.
"And to what end?" Vahkiir added, folding his arms over his chest. "Why would you go so far simply to establish trade with them? Certainly, they seem to have wonders unlike any we could hope to match, but surely if you wish to make coin, there are other merchants you can speak with, other routes you can travel. Especially if the Dwemer are willing to go so far as to nearly kill you for daring to speak with them. Why bother, then?"
Emari and Llervu traded glances. "…Although I shall admit that there is a great deal of danger involved in approaching the Dwemer, I firmly believe that the benefits of forging a pact with them outweigh the risks," Emari said. Vahkiir noticed, however, that his tone was evasive, and neither Emari nor Llervu were quite meeting his eyes.
"To what end?" Vahkiir pressed. "Surely a bit of coin is not worth your life, especially given that the Dwemer seem wholly disinclined to treating with you in the first place."
"This goes well beyond trade, Vahkiir," Emari said softly.
"How so?!" Vahkiir demanded, folding his arms over his chest. Emari began to respond, but Vahkiir held up his hand to cut him off. "If it was only you risking your life for the sake of negotiating a trade route, then I would have no qualms with allowing you to pursue this foolishness. However, you are placing not only your own life, but the lives of everyone in this caravan at risk," he stated pointedly. "As such, I feel we are owed a proper explanation."
Emari and Llervu again looked at each other, and Vahkiir suddenly became keenly aware that all of the Chimer were wearing uncomfortable, almost guilty expressions. It was Brevyn who finally broke the silence. "Do you not think it is time to end this farce, captain?" he asked, his tone blunt.
Vahkiir glanced at Brevyn, frowning deeply. "Farce?"
Llervu turned to him and narrowed his eyes. "You have no business speaking out of turn-" The merchant began.
Emari, however, held up a hand and shook his head. "No… Vahkiir is right, and I concur with Brevyn. If he is to continue traveling with us, he deserves to know the truth."
Vahkiir glanced from Emari to Llervu, the latter of whom still seemed uncomfortable. "If… you wish to tell Vahkiir alone, then I concur with you. But what about…." He trailed off, his eyes drifting over to Ilga, who was watching them curiously, though when the merchant turned his attention to her, she narrowed her eyes, her thumb drifting down to run along the head of her axe.
Emari, however, shook his head and replied, "She deserves to know the truth as well. We have done both of these humans a great disservice by refusing to explain our purpose here. I will not deceive them any longer. If you are concerned about Ilga, remember that she has claimed that she serves Vahkiir above any other, and I believe she will hold to her word."
Llervu scowled, but when Emari continued to stare at him pointedly, he finally sighed and threw up his hands in defeat. "Very well!" he cried, exasperated. "However, let my objection be noted. Whatever consequences follow this decision fall on your head."
"They would have anyways," Emari said drily. Llervu scoffed and looked away as the captain turned back to Vahkiir and bowed his head. "Please, allow me to apologize. As I said, I have not been entirely truthful with you two."
"In regards to?" Vahkiir demanded. Ilga sidled up beside him, still running her thumb along her axe, though for the moment her expression was more curious than hostile.
"While it is true that we came to Skyrim to trade, that is not the only reason we are here," Emari explained.
"Then what is your purpose here?" Ilga snarled.
Emari grimaced. "We… came to survey this land," he said slowly, unable to keep the guilty expression off his face. "To determine the strength of its people and its armies, and to discover any weaknesses that we might exploit."
Vahkiir noticed Ilga's fingers tightening over the haft of her axe, though she did not pull it from her belt. "Spies!" she hissed furiously.
Emari held his hand up in a placating gesture. "Scouts, more like," he corrected her gently. "After all, we have only observed Skyrim superficially. We have not sought your leaders' secrets, nor have we attempted to infiltrate your ranks. We simply… felt no need to announce who we truly are, especially while surrounded by enemies."
"And that is supposed to absolve you?!" Ilga demanded, almost shouting.
"On whose behalf are you doing this?" Vahkiir interrupted. Emari turned to him, frowning faintly with confusion. "It seemed to me that your homeland was divided. As such, who do you serve? One of the Great Houses? Redoran, perhaps? You were in Blacklight, after all."
A faint, almost amused smile spread across Emari's lips. "No," he replied softly. "Although, we do have the support of one of the Great Houses, we do not serve them… nor they us. Rather, we fight on behalf of all children of Veloth, in the hopes that we might one day truly unite our people and drive out the Nords who have occupied our homeland."
Vahkiir narrowed his eyes in frustration. "Then who are you, Emari?" he pressed.
Emari exhaled slowly, casting a quick glance at Ilga, before meeting Vahkiir's gaze squarely. "The truth is, that is not even my name," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "My apologies for the deception, but it was necessary for my own safety. Please… allow me to now properly introduce myself to you both."
A faint smile crossed his lips as he lowered his head, as if in greeting. "My name… is Nerevar."
A/N: For those following along with the map, there is no fishing village south of Wayward Pass, though you will find the Nightgate Inn instead. There is also, obviously, no Dwemer road outside of Alftand. This is another instance of taking liberties with the geography, as it obviously would not remain static for thousands of years.
Also, I want to thank everyone for their patience while I was on hiatus and working on my other story. Rest assured, regular updates on this story should resume for the foreseeable future.