There was a small side road descending down the bluff towards the water. It was this we followed, recalling Hrollod's map and directions to reach the Hjaalmarch camp. The road itself was comprised of loose cobbles, eroded and tiltled at odd angles in the dark soil. A poorly maintained gutter staggered its way down the hill, parallel to the road. About us thunder boomed intermittently, and as we progressed downward, a figure stood garbed in gilded armor in the flickering light of a lantern. Her eyes bored into mine as I approached.
At first, I tried to ignore the mer soldier, but when we made to step around her, she scoffed and blocked our path. We shifted to the other side. Again, she impeded our way. "I am under orders to accompany you to the Imperial camp," the Altmer spat contemptuously.
"We can manage on our own," I replied, crossing my arms in irritation.
"I am to accompany you," she repeated, "And if you refuse, I have every permission and power to slay you where you stand."
"I'd like to see you try!" hissed Derkeethus, readying his crossbow.
The soldier leaned close, her nose just inches from mine. "No guard would bat an eye. Nor aid you in your defense," she whispered nastily. Frowning, I put my hand on Derk's arm, easing the crossbow to point at the ground.
"Just keep out of sight, at least," I said resignedly.
Shouldering my pack, I continued down the road, my friend looking suspiciously back over his shoulder at the soldier tailing us. We have to lose her, he thought.
I don't think we can without losing ourselves first.
Then let's make this journey as miserable as possible for that self-righteous wench.
I smirked in agreement. Ondolemar will regret putting us under surveillance.
At length we passed a sawmill crouched at the edge of the water. The sun peered shyly over the horizon, just barely managing to send a few fitful rays through the turbulent clouds. At the end of the road, which wound along the bank for a league, was a tiny fishing outfit manned by a single, lazily slouched Breton. He nodded at us before returning to watch his many fishing lines strung out along the shore. Thirsty, and not knowing any better, I crouched and drank from the water.
"No! Don't drink that!" cried the Argonian moments too late. Grimacing, I spat the bitter, briny substance on the ground, working my mouth in an effort to be rid of the taste.
The realization hit me after several moments. "This is sea water?" He nodded, and somewhere behind us was a snort of derision. Excited that I was seeing the sea for the first time, I climbed a nearby rock and surveyed the surroundings. We stood on the brink of an inlet that rolled away to our right, south, where it was fed by the Karth River. Marshes stretched away across the water, small humps of plant matter and low mud through a maze of pathways that vanished into a white, misty haze. With a sinking feeling, I knew we would be crossing that wetland on foot with winter's first breath lying in the air. I shivered thinking of the cold and damp.
To our left, north, the inlet widened as it flowed under the city of Solitude. Then, far beyond the stone arch shone a wide expanse of water, unfolding endlessly into a horizon peppered by vague shapes like small, white mountains. Distantly I heard the cries of unusual birds on the wind with a low, hissing crash like a high gale in the trees, though no breeze blew. For some time I stood absorbing everything, transfixed by the ships that rocked slowly towards Solitude's docks. This is the sea...how strange and large it is.
"Henny, we need to get moving," Derkeethus said softly. With a reluctant nod, I adjusted my armor and led the way back to the sawmill where the water grew shallow as it bubbled sluggishly around a line of large stones. Here we found ourselves up to our waists in freezing saltwater. Gritting my teeth, I forced my way through the turbid liquid, feeling my muscles cramp with every step.
As we emerged from the water onto moist, spongy ground, Derkeethus wordlessly handed me a potion, downing one of similar make himself. Fire roared through my veins, driving away the chill and leaving me invigorated. With a sigh of relief, we pressed on.
The day progressed into clear skies with a bright, watery sun gazing upon us like the critical glare of an elder. By the time the clouds burned away, a curling, sulfuric mist groped at our ankles. My armor was soaked to the skin, and even the potions couldn't ward off the degrading cold that seeped into my bones. However, the chill would have been bearable on its own. We would have managed well enough. Until the midges found us.
Some were horseflies the size of snowberries that bit hard enough to draw blood. Others were almost invisible, and it was those that pushed my sanity and patience to the brink. They crawled into every crack in my armor, niggled my scalp, drank the blood from fly bites on my face and neck. Derkeethus swattered irritably at himself as they crept under his scales.
"Curse Ondolemar and his insecurities," a regal voice snapped behind us a we slogged through yet another bog. This one stank of decaying plant matter and meat, pieces of which became stuck to the seams of our clothing. "They aren't worth the effort!" The air crackled as a spell was cast, and turning around, I saw a ward mantling the Altmer.
"Cry off then!" I shouted back to her.
"Keep moving you blasted heathen," she called, expelling a tendril of magic to crack over our heads. "I want out of this bog, this job, and this land. So, move!"
We hurried along, finding drier land as the sun rose higher and the water, to my surprise, receded. Crouching, I studied this phenomenon, watching small crustaceans scuttling about in the mud. "It's the tidal change, Henny. We'd better hurry if we want to stay dry."
"Why?"
"Because the water will come back before nightfall," he said, grimly slapping a bloated fly on his neck, which burst into a bloody pulp that attracted more. Creeping through the grasses, their tops coated in feathery plumes of seeds, I held out my arm and we halted. Ahead was a deer, fat with grain for the winter. The fat might drive away the flies, and the prospect of hot, raw meat left my mouth watering.
Drawing my bow, I sent an arrow into its heart that left me pleased. A simple, clean kill. The body was stripped of its hide, which was rolled and carefully stored for tanning later in the evening. With my blade I sliced away gobbets of fat that Derk and I smeared over our exposed areas. The midges, impeded by a layer of grease, abated a little. Next I cut a chunk of meat from the shoulder, handing a portion to the Argonian. Together we sat, smelling of deer fat, devouring the still-warm meat with relish, feeling for all the world as if we owned it. The Thalmor soldier regarded us with restrained horror and disgust.
The remainder of the meat was stored and salted, wrapped in thick sheets of vellum I carried for just such a purpose. As we worked I found my eyes drifting repeatedly to a strange arrangement of of stones less than half a mile away, across a low pool of water. Deer were drawn to it, drifting around its vicinity and butting against the pillars with their heads and shoulders.
"What's that formation over there?" I asked, as I cleaned my knife in the pool.
"Best to re-oil that blade. This water will rust it," Derk replied. I took some of the remaining deer fat and coated the knife before sheathing it. Derkeethus stood staring at the stones for a while. "I don't know," he said at last.
"Only one way to find out," I murmured, scattering the remains of the carcass into the grass. The ribcage landed near the Thalmor's feet, and I grinned pleasantly at her. She sent me a glare to rival a basilisk's.
Slogging through the pool, which was now more mud than water, we made our way to the stones. A deadened tree arched its branches over us, providing some measure of shade against the bright sun. Grey algae-coated, columns protruded through the earth like old teeth. Several plants and fungi grew in the shade of an iron-bound stone stone etched with a figure. Kneeling, I traced my fingers over the etching, feeling magicka humming just under the surface. The figure was a young man, berobed and wielding a staff with an expression of eagerness on his face. Under my touch, points in the etching glowed brightly for a few seconds as magicka gathered.
Unsure, I removed my hand, though the afterimage glowed behind my eyes. Derkeethus closed his and in my mind I saw the points of magical energy reflected in the memory of the sky. "It's a constellation," I whispered. "I don't recognize that one." Derk shook his head. He didn't know either.
"It's the Apprentice sign," said a voice behind us pompously. "If you bothered to educate yourselves, you would have known that one as a child.
We scowled at the soldier.
"But then I wouldn't expect either of you to know very much at all outside of your barbarian customs."
"My family--" Derkeethus began, clenching his fists angrily.
"Your family, what?" the Altmer goaded, "Taught you how to climb trees? Eat insects? Ingest hallucinogenic sap on your knees like a dog?"
Shaking, Derkeethus stormed ahead into the march, plunging his head into the cold water before thrashing a dead tree along the way. Distantly, I heard the taunts of Imperial nobles and the sound of clanging ship bells from some memory of the Argonian.
Comments
Great details in the water and deer fat...and Derk's memo... more