Challenges

When Saber suggested through breakfast the next morning that she stay behind in Balmora on his trip to Gnaar Mok, she nearly threw her plate at him. He even ducked on instinct by the livid glare directed at him before regaining his composer. “Hear me out before you hit me.” He told her, lifting hands in a formal surrender.
She tensed with green eyes livid, but remained silent.
“It’s having nothing to do with my wanting to protect you.” He explained quickly, moving his chair ever so subtly away from the angry Breton. “I’m thinking you could take up some lessons from Hasphat at the fighter’s guild.”
“What?” Her voice was as edged and as dangerous as a blade.
Another inch he moved his chair, wondering if the path to the door was clear should he need to run. “Your skills as a scout is surpassed, my dear, but what of your short blade?”
She tapped fingers, too close to her knife next to her plate was Saber’s thought. “So you’re saying I take lessons while you find this Sixth House base?” Eiryn glared, “Leaving me behind again?”
“Not at all.” He insisted, “I can meet with you after I visit Fort Buckmoth. We can take a week or two for training before continuing to Gnaar Mok.” Her body relaxed and he felt a bit relieved. “And we can see if your skills are up to the task.”
The Breton bristled again, and Saber felt fortunate they were in a public place. The restaurant at the Eight Plates had enough patrons to come to his aid should the angry woman get out of hand, or at least, that was his hope. “And do I have any say in this?” She demanded.
“Of course you do.” He replied.
“Good, because I’m going with you.” She stated, pushing her plate away to indicate she was done with breakfast and done with discussing the topic with him.
Rats…Saber thought to himself, that didn’t go as well as planned. It truly was not his intention of leaving her behind, even to protect her. Being she was still nursing the damage Caius had done to her with his over-protective nature, Saber was hardly going to take that up. He simply wanted her trained enough to back up that temper of hers.
“Would you accept my training you then?” He offered.
She raised an eyebrow at him, folding arms across her chest. “You?”
“I’m not a formal trainer, of course.” He said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, “But I remember what I was taught.”
“From Hasphat?”
He gave her an odd look. “I was formally trained in the Imperial City, by a swordmaster.”
She nearly laughed. “You?’
Sitting back in his chair, Saber seemed to be insulted. “I’m hurt, Eiryn. Do you think I wear this sword for show?”
Eiryn bit her lower lip, considering him as a trained swordsman. It didn’t make sense. If he was formally taught, he could’ve received all manner of commissions from the Legion, or Great Houses, or any number of places within Cyrodil to make a living by the sword. Why did he never boast of being formally trained, and for that matter, why remain a thief if he was an experienced swordsman?
“You’ve never seen me fight, have you?” He then added as if that alone would prove his claim. Well she had seen the fight in Desele’s when he fended off the Nord and Redguard, but nothing with a blade in hand.
“You’re a thief.”
Saber shrugged. “True enough.” He agreed. Most thieves wouldn’t bother with any formal training outside of what their profession would merit, meaning how to sneak, lock pick, pickpocket, and the like. Rarely would they take up the blade in any proper capacity. “But I still trained with one of the best swordsman in the city.” He tapped the hilt of his sword behind him. “Where do you think I got my sword?”
Eiryn eyed the graceful handle, the artistic working of metal and leather wrapped hilt. “Your swordmaster gave that to you?” She was still doubtful.
He shifted his weight, drawing the blade out to lay the steel on the table. His pride in his weapon was obvious. “It’s a long story, but yes, that’s where I received my sword.”
It was a lovely curved blade with intricate runes engraved on the lower end of the steel, near the pommel. The hilt itself was wrapped in leather, and when Saber picked up the sword, he lifted it with a single finger, showing her its perfect balance.
“Does it have a name?” Eiryn asked, remembering many of the warriors she’d met in her time had named blades.
He shrugged, “Porthos Manos.” He told her with a wry smirk. “It means soul drinker in Old Cyrodil.”
“Soul traps?” Eiryn asked, still not wanting to touch without permission.
Almost sensing her hesitation, he handed the blade to her. She felt hands tingle with the magic infused into the steel. “I had it enchanted when it was given to me, and named it.” He leaned back, smiling proudly. “And what of your blade?”
Eiryn felt inept in light of what she held now. Her short sword was nothing more than a butter knife compared to the elegance of his weapon. She winced. “Don’t even ask.” She said handing it back.
“But this is what I mean.” Saber grew suddenly very serious, sheathing the blade in its scabbard with practiced grace. “Your skill with the bow is unmatched, but what if we face close quarter fighting.” He said, leaning forward to draw her into his scrutinizing gaze. “Do you think you’re up to that?”
Lowering her eyes, Eiryn knew she wasn’t. She also felt the dawning realization that Saber was providing her an opportunity to actually journey with him in anticipation of a real fight. This shook her to her very core, that he had that much faith in her, knowing how important it was to test her skill. “I don’t want to be left behind.” She said firmly.
He sat still looking at her a long moment, chewing his bottom lip in thought, and then clapped hands together. “Well then, I suppose the trip can wait a week or so while you’re trained.” He announced, concentrating on finishing his breakfast. “The Sixth House base will be there a week from now.”
“You will train me?” She asked, not sure what to make of that.
”Hasphat should.” Saber admitted, “Like I said, I’m not a teacher.”
“And then I go with you.” She stated, almost like a question, wanting to be absolutely certain where she stood with him.
The Dark Elf blinked, eyes wide in surprise. “You said you would.” He reminded her.
A smile spread over her face. “That I did.”
************************
Training was frustrating, Eiryn found. No wonder she tried avoiding learning more of the short blade skill. The wooden practice sword felt bulky, and her stance unbalanced. Too often, the trainer broke through her defense to whack her a painful strike. Hasphat suggested she might even try another weapon but the young scout knew that a short sword or dagger were both essential to any adventurer’s travels.
“Are you sure you don’t want to learn something else, such as the quarter staff?” Hasphat suggested the third time that day. He was a stout man but had not an ounce of fat on him. Well muscled to the point of being bulky, he could heft the heavy battle-axes or tackle the hammers with all the grace and fluidity as a sword. He also could fight barehanded, and some whispered he even enjoyed taking on pit fighting somewhere in the under city of Balmora, and was rumored to be quite good at it.
Growling under her breath, the Breton finally conceded to at least try to learn the staff or spear instead. When given a simple wooden staff to start, the parries and thrust felt more natural to her. As her body moved in sync with the wood, she also found that her short stature and arm strength were more balanced with this type of weapon.
The art of the staff was almost like a dance, using the surge of force to gracefully flow into a block or parry, then switching to the offensive. Spins and creative jabs could also be used successfully, and Eiryn felt the wood almost as an extension of her arm. The staff was also functional as a walking stick she found. If she used a spear, then this form of fighting became formidable indeed.
By the end of her first day, covered in sweat but feeling empowered with new skill, Eiryn found her hair working loose from her braid, and the tendrils now clung to the forehead and cheeks. A hard day’s work, she mused, and soon found her self-pride rewarded when Saber came to see her practice.
Dressed more casually, he wore a loose open necked shirt, and the usual dark trousers. His soft-soled boots reached nearly mid-thigh while long hair was tied back in a snugly plaited braid. Eiryn considered him with a discerning eye, finding him more relaxed than she’d seen him, and also appearing more ‘regal’, despite the casual outfit.
Saber grinned. “It would seem you found your true weapon.” He commented after she successfully took a round with Hasphat.
“Yes, she’s quite a natural.” The weapon trainer commented out of breath. He’d also built up a sweat, the broad face flushed red from exertion. “Why Caius ever insisted she use the sword is beyond me. Her skills are obviously to the spear or staff.”
“Care to spar, Saber?” Eiryn was feeling cocky, spun the staff in her hands.
“With staves?” He cocked a brow in doubt.
Hasphat clearly wanted a break, and waved his permission to the Dark Elf. “Watch it Saber, she enjoys hitting low.”
Eiryn cast an evil grin, looking eager.
“Well…” Saber drawled, eying up her as a possible opponent. “I’d hate to hurt you.“
“C’mon and try then.” She challenged him, again spinning the long staff in her hands. It made the pleasant ‘whoosh’ sound as she did. Was she actually showing off?
Saber shrugged, standing near a fallen staff to use his toe and with a quick flick of his foot, threw the staff in the air to catch it with one hand. “I’ll be gentle.” He smiled. The staff moved with a flourish, illustrating he was not unknown to this weapon either.
“Did you train him-?“ Eiryn began to say, and Hasphat shook her head.
“I hardly trained him in anything at all. I’d be careful Eiryn.” He switched loyalties once recognizing the Dunmer’s skill. “He’s a sneaky one.”
“I prefer the word sly myself.” Saber smirked, crouching to move cat-like to see an opening. He waited for the young woman to take the offense, noticing her rush to hit hard and low. Parrying each blow, he was impressed with her natural skill. She certainly carried enough strength in her arms and balance to handle this type of battle. She swung, feinted; barely missed his shoulder, subsequently spun to jab hard down low again. Receiving a thwack to a toe, the elf jumped back and gave her an odd look. “This is your first day with the staff?”
She nodded, waiting for him to recuperate. He eyed the woman warily this time, realizing she was serious with sparring, and had to adjust his skill accordingly. They clashed again, and her blows were in rapid succession, each end of the wood coming dangerously close to breaking his defenses.
“You’re better than I thought.” He smiled, slamming the length of his weapon hard against the other to shove her backwards a step.
Eiryn took the blow, easily recovered to fall into a defensive stance. “Not bad yourself.” She commented with a wink. “You even fight better than you talk.”
His eyebrows rose up in surprise at her glib remark, and almost laughed, except she rushed him. Another series of hard blows flew against him. Ah, he thought, the comment was to distract.
“Where did you learn to fight dirty?” Saber asked her, finding he was getting a little of breath. This was certainly unexpected, but not unwelcome. So, the girl was a fighter, and a good one. Seems that Caius underestimated her.
She shrugged with conceited air, “Comes natural I guess.” The scout rushed again, and movements were fluid. By the grin on her face, the fierceness of each attack, Saber could see she was enjoying herself immensely. If only her father could see her now!
As he was finding himself pushed too close to a wall, he ducked, spun, parried a quick blow too close to his side, and slid back to the center of the room. Now with some space, he took a few more blows, and with an arching sweep, moved to undercut her legs. Eiryn, to his great surprise, jumped clear of his intended end to the match. Once back on her feet, she did the same move, literally brushing him off his feet with a powerful swing, to have him land on his back –hard!- on the practice mat. Without hesitation, she was on him, straddling his chest to bring her staff across his neck and hold him there.
Saber lay stunned. What in the name of Oblivion just happened? Her self-satisfied grin was almost infuriating. “Give up?” She snickered at the prone Dunmer.
He was panting hard, catching his breath. “You think its over?” He asked, and was able to lift both legs behind her to grappled her by the upper torso with his feet and flip her on her back to the mat. He simply needed to roll forward and pin her beneath him, enjoying the befuddled look on her face.
“That’s cheating!” She huffed.
He laughed, his face inches from hers. “Now you have to say it.”
“Say what?” Eiryn feigned anger but the creases near her eyes gave away her trying hard not to break out in laugher.
“Say I won.”
”You most certainly did not!” She exclaimed, squirming beneath him. Of course, she couldn’t use the same method of using feet against him, because he’d laid the length of his body over hers. She glared up as Hasphat who was laughing hard and slapping his knee. “Tell him! He cheated! You saw!”
Hasphat could barely talk from laughing so hard. “I’m staying out of it!” He wheezed.
Unable to hold her mirth, she laughed as well, but squirmed to try to get free. “Get off me, you S’wit.” She grunted.
“You’ll hit me.” Saber said not sure how he was going to let her go without retaliation now.
With renewed force, she managed to throw him off, but this time knew her opponent’s weakness and mercilessly tickled him. Saber nearly shrieked, trying to fend off the sadistic woman. “Hasphat! Get her off me!” He yelled over the drillmaster’s howl of laughter. “For pity’s sake!”
“You’re on your own, Dunmer.” He said, taking a seat on a stool to sip from a water jug and enjoy the show.
Saber knew he was outmatched. “Alright! Alright! You won! I give up!” He shouted, thankfully the woman moved to get off of him. He gasped air, ribs hurting from laughing so hard.
“That’s better.” She got to her feet, smiling too smug. Eiryn watched, as Saber seemed to still hold distrust in her, backing away anticipating another attack. “I don’t ever want to hear you say anything about my skills.”
He nodded, backing up. “I would never dare!” He said too quickly.
The trainer was wiping tears from his eyes, still wheezing. “Ah you two. I haven’t laughed that hard in years.” He sighed. “Eiryn, you’re done for the day. I will see you tomorrow.”
Using her foot the very same way Saber had done to kick the staff to her hand, she mastered it easily. “See you tomorrow.” She grinned, strutting out to head back to the Eight Plates.

Eiryn found the week to be one of the most pleasant vacations she’d spent with anyone. Saber proved to be content to keep himself busy elsewhere through the day as she remained training with Hasphat, even managing time with Marayn to complete mastering some of the spells he meant to teach her. While at night, Saber devoted uninterrupted and focused attention upon her.
He hinted at his training with the thieves guild, which she could only guess, was at the South Wall Corner Pub. His skills were apparently paying off; for he managed to consistently carry a heavy purse of gold. She knew Caius had given him perhaps half the amount. Not wishing to ask where he was getting his money, she enjoyed the benefits of trips to the bathhouse, card games at the Council Club, and much to delight, a sudden request to go shopping.
“Shopping?” She asked when he suggested over breakfast one morning they ate at the Eight Plates. “For supplies?” They would leave for Fort Buckmoth the next day. Her training was finished, as much as she could that is considering she’d had the week, and ready for travel.
“I already have most of what we need.” The Dunmer told her with a roguish grin. “I was thinking some light armor, new weapons, that sort of thing.”
”For me?” She blinked in surprise. He was already outfitted, she noted, and always kept his gear in topmost condition.
“I’d feel better if you had some reliable blade by your side, even if you don’t know how to use it.” He winked, “And some armor protection wouldn’t hurt either. I can’t have any scout of mine scratched up, or even ill-supplied on my journey.”
Eager to see what he had in mind, she hurried to finish her meal and they were well on their way to the bustling marketplace. Saber still seemed to endless supply of coin, but Eiryn refused to worry about it. If he wanted to lavish his coin on her, she was more than happy to oblige.
He bought some dependable leather armor for her wear over some fresh clothes. Colors remained deep greens and browns, and the armor was a deep tanned guar hide to cover chest, upper arms, and thighs. The soft leather moved with her body, providing added protection without hindering movement. A pair of boots matched the cuirass, and Saber insisted she get a pair of reliable gloves as well. He even bought her a splendid new staff, made of ironwood with steel ends to add strength and power. They made sure to stop and have their bows and fletching checked for wear, and his sword sharpened. As they waited for the armoror to finish the task, Saber presented her with a short sword, but this one edged in silver, and enchanted.
Eiryn received the weapon with a sigh of awe. It was a dainty blade, with new steel and the hilt of silver and leather wrapping. The balance was like silk, and her palm tingled when she withdrew it from its equally well-made sheath. It must have cost him a fortune, but her manners reined her asking him about it in check. “Its beautiful.” She murmured.
“Its not powerful.” Saber told her, touching one of the deep green stones set into the hilt, indicating the magic. “But it slides through armor readily enough.”
She watched him reach into a pocket, and extend his hand back out with palm out. Within his hand, a tiny ring glistened in the sunlight of the marketplace. “What’s this?”
”A ring.” He said with a smile. “I found it at the Urshilaku burial tomb off a dead adventurer.”
She made a face, and then laughed. “Picking things off the dead bodies, Saber?”
He chuckled. “Well he wouldn’t use it anymore, and I had Galbedir at the mage’s guild look at it. It’s a ring of Recall.”
“A what?”
He took her hand, slipping the exquisite ring on her indent finger fitting perfectly. “You can teleport out of trouble, where ever you’ve marked your position.” He seemed pleased the way it looked on her. “I can set a position for you where ever you want, and if you get into serious trouble, you use the ring to teleport there.” The Dunmer wiggling his long fingers at her “Doesn’t fit on my hand.”
“Ah, that’s why you’ve given it me.” She said, still admiring the glisten of sparkled off the smooth opal. “And here I thought you loved me.”
She meant it only as a joke, but her words caused him to stop short, turn back. For a brief moment he looked at her oddly, then slowly wrapped arms around her waist to draw her close against him. “Ah that I do.” He whispered, touching lips gently against hers.
Stunned, the young Breton nearly fainted from the shock. Deepening the kiss, she put arms around his neck, never wanting to let go. Soon however, footsteps sounded too close and the gruff voice of the city guard gave a quick cough, and adding. “Move along.”
Laughing, Eiryn drew back to take his hand and lead him towards the strider port, feeling as though if she wanted to, she could fly the entire way to Buckmoth.

*****************
Fort Buckmoth was like any of the Imperial garrison, made of stone block, squared with towers to each corner, and amid the Ashland hills, the garrison appeared stark and lifeless. Eiryn winced at the lack of foliage and desolate landscape, broken only by the gray stone of the fortress’ walls.
“At least in Ald Ruhn the houses look better.” She commented. Which was true. The dome huts handled the severe ash storms, and broke the monotony of the bleak land, and even bore more color than what they walked up to here.
A loud squawk came from above, with a flutter of wings. Eiryn instinctively turned and in one fluid motion drew an arrow from her quiver, knocked the bow she kept ready in hand, and shot with splendid marksman to the Cliffracer bearing down on them.
Saber watched the winged beast bearing a nasty hooked tail float to the ground to land in a puff of ash. He hadn’t even drawn his sword, as if perfectly confident in her abilities to handle the creature. “Show off.” He said with a straight face.
Draping her bow across shoulders, Eiryn jaunted back on the path up to the fort with a swagger in her walk. Saber chuckled, following behind.

********************
Their arrival to the fort brought them before Raesa Pullia, a Champion of the Imperial Legion. Her features were sharp, too well defined to be considered pretty. One might even see her as a young man, save no facial hair. Brows were heavy, pulled together in a permanent scowl, and lips too thin for her face drew into a severe frown.
“Caius sent you?” She asked Saber, not even bothering to acknowledge his scout. “I understand you’re to handle the Sixth House base in Gnaar Mok?”
Saber returned the dark expression, “I am.”
The woman shifted, straightening the chainmail under her arm, and brushing a lock of brown hair escaping from under her steel helm. “Only one trooper returned.” She explained when asked about the lost patrol. “He died soon after, horribly disfigured with Corpus disease, and out of his wits. In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast- he called it Ilunibi, which is not even on our maps.” The grim expression deepened as her story continued. Her words were hurried, illustrating how shaken she was by the story. “The patrol fought with the cultists, and disfigured man-beasts. They had to flee the attackers there were so many, and got lost in the caves. They ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares.”
Her voice shook a bit when she spoke, obviously unsettled with seeing one of her men die so horribly. “This Dagoth Gares slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper. He told him he was being spared so he might tell others that ‘the sleeper awakes’ and ‘the sixth house has risen,’ and ‘Dagoth Ur is Lord, and I am his priest.’ And “all will be One with Him in the Flesh-“ Her voice caught, before she coughed and continued.
“Then the trooper wakened outside the caves, and returned here. We couldn’t recognize him. He didn’t respond to questions…just kept rambling on like a madman until he died.”
Now she openly shuddered from the memory. “We didn’t even recognize him at first, except for his clothing and armor. The flesh was swollen, covered in growths. His bones were twisted and lost their shape.” Her eyes closed, her throat working. “The fort chaplain tried spells and potions, but couldn’t cure the disease. The trooper soon died after he reached the fort. I have no idea how fast Corpus kills. It sure wasn’t pretty.” She shook her head slowly. “We’ll all pretty shaken up by it.”
Saber and Eiryn exchanged concerned looks, before the Dunmer spoke. “Where can I find this Ilunibi Shrine?”
“Like I said, it’s not on any of the maps, but if you go to Gnaar Mok, you can take the Balmora Road there. Ask around there. The local might know more about it.”