The Longest Road – Ch. 5 – 2: An Enthralling Presence

  • Days passed in stony silence between us, while Meeko attempted to soothe each of us in turn.  I wasn't about to apologize for something I felt wasn't his business.  Why he continued to make it his business was beyond me.  The island remained shrouded in fog and snow, the chill eating away at us little by little.  When we were forced to communicate, it was short and sharp like thorns.

    One day, we ran out of driftwood and breaking down the dock outside became a very real probability if we didn't want to freeze to death.  Unfortunately, the ice coating the wood sealed the pieces together and no amount of yanking or prying could free the planks.  The cold eventually forced us to curl inside the tent, bedrolls wrapped around us and dog between us.  That afternoon, we ate the last of the food, not that there had been much left.  By nightfall, the only thing I could think about was sleep.  My head felt muzzy and full of wool.  Every time I closed my eyes, I started falling towards a warm place that became increasingly attractive with each sluggish blink.

    Valindor sat utterly still, shivering alternately, his eyes blank and staring.  His lips were a violent blue and pressed into a thin line.  Sometimes he said something, but I never understood the words properly.

    There as a thump at the docks and a clamor of voices.

    "This is not good."  A stern voice, male, with a lilting and familiar accent.

    "I told you that Bosmer wouldn't lie to us."  This one a fellow mer.

    "What is she doing here then?  We should have torn her apart weeks ago, Beleval.  Once again, you're too trusting of your own kind."  Nordic tones rolled scathingly into the tower.

    "Well, it's worked out in our favor hasn't it?" snapped Beleval.  I tried to remember how to move my legs, and when I did, I stood slowly and fought a dizzying wave of exhaustion.  My hands held my bow with as much finesse as a mudcrab.  I would never be able to use the thing, but holding it gave me some comfort.  Valindor regarded me with those vapid, dead eyes.  Creeping to the doorway, I peered around the corner to see the familiar forms of the Dawnguard arguing on the shore.  I stared at their boat in envy.

    "You made it."  My voice sounded rickety and slurred.

    "Ingjard, get a fire going!"  Celaan ordered when he saw us, rushing to the boat and throwing a bundle of wood on the ground.  The Nord woman went to work reluctantly.

    "Have you been waiting for us in this?"  Beleval asked, gesturing to the weather.  It made me dizzy to follow her hand and nod.  "Has anyone come out?  What's going on?  Isran said there was an Elder Scroll in there."

    "There is.  The woman had it."

    "Well, why didn't you take it?"  Ingjard raised her axe threateningly.  "You've set a trap, haven't you."

    "She said she'd be back.  She hasn't come back.  I don't think she'll ever come back."

    "Beleval, get her and her companions warmed up and on the boat.  Take her back to shore, then inform the platoon we'll be taking the scroll by morning.  The bloodsuckers be asleep then.  Have Vori take these people to Solitude.  They're on death's door as we speak."  Celaan extracted Valindor and Meeko from the tower and we were guided to the fire where feeling came back into my limbs in waves of sharp, hot pins and needles.  A bowl of warm broth was forced down our throats, and I choked on the salt in the fluid.

    On the way back, the Dawnguard officer detailed us on Isran's search for someone to read the scroll once it had been retrieved.  He hadn't had much success it seemed.

    "If you hear anything or can find him, contact us immediately," Vori said as the boat pulled away from the Solitude docks.  I agreed, but I was more exhausted than I'd ever been and my body felt weighted down by bags of sand.

    Wordlessly, we trudged into a bunkhouse on the quay, throwing some untold amount of septims on the counter and falling asleep as soon as our bodies hit the mattress.  As far as I knew, no one bothered us as we recovered, dead to the world for a day and a half.  At one point, we woke and ate, neglecting the Green Pact and taking whatever substance could be ingested.  Y'ffre, surely, could overlook this minor discrepancy.

    When we finally emerged, groggy and dry-mouthed, it was early morning on an unusually warm day.  The change was refreshing, though there was still no sign on the sun.  As we walked up the road, passing under the tall portal set into the lowest wall around the city, I realized the gravity of our task.  Elder Scrolls were supposedly full of knowledge, especially when it came to future events and secrets of the world.  Maybe if I could find the man who could read the thing, he would see something relating to the Soul Cairn.  Or could read the scroll.  If they wanted this man so badly, perhaps I could trade him for a peek at the artifact.

    Next to me, Valindor sighed.  "It's like coming home."  Then he looked guilty for a moment before glancing away.  My ultimatum on the island still stood, and I worried that we would part ways in this city.  He could go home now.  Go back to living a normal life.  He needn't bother with me anymore.  Inside, my heart broke at the thought.  I simply wouldn't mention the Soul Cairn or Derkeethus anymore.  Not until it was time to go there--not until it was to late for him to refuse.

    "I wouldn't exactly call this home," I replied at last.

    "Understood."

    The great city gate clanked shut behind us and we came upon the city in the throes of its late morning bustle.  Nothing had changed since I was last here, except, perhaps, people looked at me and didn't kiss their talismans or make signs to ward off evil.  Being seen as no one in particular was a relief.  In fact, for a while, it seemed as if no one recognized me.  They certainly bid their 'Good day's and 'How are you's to Valindor, who greeted each person graciously, if not a little theatrically.

    "Hey.  You.  Bosmer with the tattoo.  Over here."  A man in rags waved at me, keeping the motion hidden and his voice low.

    When I approached, he grinned toothlessly and pointed to his shoes.  "Look!  Brand new. And," he drew aside an oilcloth covering a crate filled with tiny carvings of stone, "For you, in thanks."  He handed me a rough carving of a badger, its small eyes glaring at me shrewdly.  In spite of its lack of detail, it possessed a remarkable life-like quality--as if it had been captured in motion.  I clutched it tightly and put it in a pocket on my belt.

    "Thank you."  I smiled.

    "No, the honor is mine.  Your donation was enough to start my little scheme selling these.  I have a larger purpose now.  If there's anything I can do to help you, simply name it."

    "Actually, I'm looking for someone called a 'moth priest'.  Do you know where to find one?"

    "A moth priest?  You mean from the Imperial City?  Oh, I haven't seen one of those since the Battle of Red Ring when I was stationed in the city itself.  But I did see an old man come through the gate the other day.  Looked real harassed about something."

    "Which way did he go?"

    "Toward the big temple last I saw."

    "Thank you.  And...thank you again."  I patted the little carving which felt strangely comforting.

    As we walked up the steps toward the upper level of the city, Valindor fingered the carving with good humor.  He interpreted it as a sign from Y'ffre that being here was right.  That this search for someone of great religious power was far better or me.  I don't think he realized how everything we'd done so far was connected together.  The man we were looking for was no more separate from my goal than anything else.

    We crossed the wide plaza in front of the Imperial garrison, and I averted my gaze from most of the soldiers, pretending to examine the tiered walls and regimented bricks.  I hoped they didn't remember the last time I ran through here disguised as one of their own.  To my dismay, one of the soldier's eyes lit in recognition before clouding in vague confusion.  We passed unhindered.

    Behind a rounded wall lay a courtyard lined with ornate pews set before a pair of high-backed chairs.  Beyond those, at the end of an aisle, loomed the tall doors of the Temple of the Divines.  The salamander-shaped handles seemed to move under my palms as I opened the doors and went inside.