Challenges

Eiryn found the trip to Ald Ruhn short and sweet, taking them directly to the guildhall of the mages in the small settlement located in the area known as the Ashlands. Teleportation between the mages’ guilds was instantaneous, leaving one with only a slight disorienting sense of feeling unbalanced.
Upon entering the village, the sight always caught her off guard. Even Saber paused to take in the drab and desolate landscape that surrounded the scattering of huts. Here many folk were Dunmer, being the only ones who would actually want to live in such a place, while others were the scattering of adventurers off to find their fortunes in the ruins or tombs in the mountains. Small dome shaped homes best suited to withstand the horrible Blight storms were nestled together, surrounded by a pitiful excuse of a wall.
The storms spat out ash and grit, and its poisoned air from Red Mountain, blanketing the land with soot and death. Eiryn grimaced, nudging the Dark elf with her to follow her to strider port, which would take them to the last settlement before reaching the camp.
“You’ve been here before?” She asked her companion.
Saber nodded, looking grim and not altogether happy with having to ride on a ‘bug’ to the next destination, “Even to Maar Gan, but nothing north of there.” He said, obediently following her so they could see what supplies they could get before heading out in the wilds. “Are you sure there is no other means to get to Maar Gan?”
“Unless you want to walk.” Eiryn replied.
Saber grunted, knowing that the beasts in the Ashlands were often infected with Blight, and by far more dangerous than those of the region he just came from. “I hope you don’t mind seeing me sick then.”
She snorted a laugh, and could tell his steps seemed slower when they approached the tall strider port. A long ramp led up to the large bug, and the wailing moan that one could feel vibrated against bones. When she glanced back at the Dark Elf she thought he actually appeared pale, the stormy gray hue of his skin now pale and ashen, and there was no denying he wasn’t looking forward to the trip at all.
“Keep your mind on other things.” She whispered as they approached the caravaner. The man greeted them with a cool welcome, and took the coin for their journey. Without another word, they climbed onto the open carapace, and immediately, she saw her companion bite his lower lip.
“You’ll be alright?” She whispered.
“I’m fine.” He whispered back through gritted teeth.
It seemed odd he’d react this way considering he was once trained as an assassin. She wanted to ask if it was the height or the simple sway of the Strider’s gait that so unsettled him, but Eiryn couldn’t help but take note he closed his eyes when the caravaner began to prod the beast’s innards. Ah, the must be it or part of it.
Settling beside him, she snaked her hand into his, feeling his tight grip when the Strider lurched forward. The Dark Elf closed his eyes and tried to think of something else.

***********************
“We’re here.” Eiryn murmured to Saber who had remained auspiciously quiet through the journey, but thankfully hadn’t gotten sick. He didn’t look well when they stepped off the strider, and by the lengthening shadows, they’d need to find someplace to sleep for the night anyway. “We’ll get a bed at the tradehouse.”
Saber made a low grunt to acknowledge, but felt as though he needed a hole to crawl into until the nausea passed.
Maar Gan was nothing more than a small huddled mass of dome huts and a large tower also known as one of the many shrines dedicated to Lord Vivec. The weather worn adobe wall surrounded the settlement. It provided little protection, and served nothing in the way of guarding against the ash storms here. Nothing grew here save for the scraggly Trauma roots, being that Red Mountain had sent its destruction too often for anything to withstand a chance.
Eiryn led him to the tradehouse, a hunkered down dome hut that was built with most of its contents underground. Here you could get food, drink, and some company, with a decent sized bed to sleep in and of course the local gossip. Not that Maar Gan had anything of importance.
Saber refused dinner, wanting nothing more than to sleep off his sour stomach. Eiryn refrained from teasing him, and found him a decent bed to curl up into. She wasn’t tired, so opted to return to the upstairs public room, and enjoy a few drinks before retiring to bed. The tradehouse was nearly devoid of anyone save the publican behind the bar and two Orc mercenaries who preferred to keep to themselves. It was just as well, she thought to herself. Now alone, she had time to reflect on her new traveling companion.
So Saber was more than what he appeared? This must be what Caius had tried to tell her before. All this time, he knew of the elf’s dark past. A flash of seeing a young elf boy, killing a grown man by slitting his throat, disconcerted her. He was only twelve or so at the time!
Even as far as Morrowind, the stories of Nekros would be used to illustrate monstrosity or cruelty. Some of the poisons he’d use worked slowly, sometimes painfully. He’d even leave victims displayed in all their gore to show off his skill with torture. Some speculated it was his method of warning others to never cross him. Others whispered he simply enjoyed inflicting pain on others. Had Saber been taught the same methods? If that were the case, what horrors had Saber endured as his apprentice?
The thought made compassion well up inside her. When he admitted to her what he’d done, his face was so completely stricken with horror and self-loathing. Eiryn could see the fear and terror of his lost childhood, even guilt. All Caius could see was the murder. True, it was savage, but it also hinted as desperation.
But the young scout could judge him on who he was now; a grown man, albeit a thief, but not an immoral one. There was more to him than met the eyes….even more than what Caius could see.
Once finished with her dinner and a few drinks, she crept back down to the room she shared with Saber and found him sleeping with his back to her. He’d removed clothing, leaving them in a pile on the floor, even his pack left in the middle of the floor. The room that was provided was rather large in comparison to other inns she’d stayed at, but for all the space, the scout had no purpose for the room unless for the bed and someplace to set her pack.
The bed however, was larger than what Saber and her had been using, so grateful for some elbowroom this time, she slid next to the slumbering Dark Elf and snuggled next to him. He mumbled something, rolled over enough to let her know he knew she was there. He never opened his eyes though, still not feeling well.
Resting her hand upon his forehead, Eiryn made sure he wasn’t getting sick. This area was rife with disease, and the thought of being sick in the middle of the Ashlands frightened her. His skin was cool to the touch however, and a smile tugged at his mouth. “Go back to sleep.” She whispered.
He made a pleasant sound, rolling his head against her shoulder to fall back into a restful slumber.

The next day, his mood and health improved. They ate a quick breakfast and prepared for the first real journey from civilization. Eiryn shifted her cloak across her shoulders to keep her sword arm free, and drew out her long bow to carry in her hand. She’d filled the quiver on her back with as many arrows she could carry without tangling the fletching, and bought both of them scarves to cover their faces should a storm hit.
“Wretched place…” Saber muttered, fussing with the cloth over his mouth and nose. Only his red eyes peeked from beyond the dark cloth, until he yanked the cloth under his chin. “Why do they live here?”
“Who?”
“The locals.” He said, following her through the tiny settlement of Maar Gan and shifting his own quiver so it wouldn’t jostle against the scabbard also slung on his back. “Ash storms, blight…not to mention the desolation- Why live in such a place?”
“And go where?” Eiryn asked him. “This is their homeland. Once it was as lush as the lands near Balmora, but of course Red Mountain had put a stop to that.”
”So why don’t they move?”
“Tradition mostly, but you have to bear in mind these are commoners. Where would they go and what would they do if they moved amass into someplace like Balmora?”
“The Grazelands?” He offered.
”I don’t think the tribes there would appreciate that.” She gave him an odd look. “Most good land has already been claimed. They really don’t have anywhere to go.”
“How do the tribes deal with it? Doesn’t the Urshilaku live in this type of barren landscape? How do they survive?”
Eiryn shrugged. “They maintain guar herds, and gather roots and whatever else they can find. They live as they have always lived. Ashlanders are resistant to change, but enduring of hardship. They are a proud people, and like all Dunmer, stubborn, tenacious-“
”I get your point.” He said before she went on and on. He wondered if she also including him in this encompassing description of Dunmer. “I still don’t see why they remain in such a dangerous place.”
Eiryn stopped, turned on her heel to stare at him. “And if you didn’t have to return to prison, and you had the choice, would you go back to the Imperial City?”
The question startled him, nearly rocking him back on his heels. “Well it is my home-“ He started to say, then recognized her point. “Its not the same, Eiryn. The Imperial City isn’t at all like the Ashlands.”
“Its not dangerous?”
“Well…No…maybe…yes, I suppose some might consider-“
“And everyone lives well? You don’t have poor, or starving?”
“Well yes, of course some do not do as well as others, every city-“
“And you can look me in the eye and tell me that the Imperial City is not dangerous?” She challenged him, and then added when shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “And you would want to go back there? What for?”
Lifting his hands in defeat, Saber laughed. “Alright, alright, I get your point.” His scout turned with a smug look on her face, as he continued to follow her through the dark landscape. “We don’t have blight infected beasts ready to kill you at every corner.” He muttered behind her back.
Her laughter told him she heard his remark. “No, you have murderers, thieves, and assassins instead.”
“We’re not all bad, you know.” He retorted.
“No…” She agreed with him, being sure he saw the smirk on her face. “Some are even rather fun to have around.”
“That we are….that we are.”

As they made their way down a shallow valley, Eiryn was good at spotting the dangerous animals, even shooting them dead with a single arrow before the creatures even saw them approach. Saber smiled inwardly, glad to have her with him, and when she began explaining how to recognize the blight-infected beasts from healthy, he found the task daunting. So far, every beast they encountered was infected.
“I knew it was bad, but not this bad.” He murmured, watching her inspect another kill of a large Alit, which seemed all mouth and two bipedal feet. She tentatively pried the beast’s jaws apart, showing him the abundant amount of teeth and of thick saliva. The hide was thick, scaly, and the large maw could easily kill a full-grown man in one bite. They stood rather squat, only about three feet high, but the massive head carried rows of razor sharp, and poisonous teeth.
“Alits have a unique toxin to incapacitate their victims.” She told him, using a short dagger to prod some of the sharp fangs. “That way they can feed on their prey.” Her hand moved to draw back the lid of its dead eye to show the red rim and mucus oozing from a tear ducts. “Blight.”
Saber grimaced, wondering what the Blight must be like for humans. He couldn’t tell what he looked like the one time he caught Ash Woe, but didn’t want that experience repeated to find out. “But not all Blight Diseases are the same are they?”
“Did you notice how this thing swayed before I shot it?” She asked him, wiping her blade on its hide. “All Blight infected animals will move differently, sometimes appearing drunk. They sway, or they seem clumsy.”
“And what if we catch Blight?” He asked, suddenly worried what he’d do in the middle of nowhere with Eiryn sick with such deadly illness.
“We have the scrolls and potions.” The scout told him, moving onward. “Be sure to tell me if you feel at all sick.”
“You as well.” He responded, eyeing the carcass with disgust.

***************************
Later that day, Saber found himself feeling ever more grateful having Eiryn by his side. She was amazing in her skill as a scout. Time and time again, she’d explain a root sticking out of the ground, or a fungus off a tree and all the properties one could use to make a potion from this or that. She also bore a remarkable talent for avoiding the Blight beasts, and keeping her sense of direction in the gloomy landscape. Everything seemed the same to him, the same dismal ridges of mountains to either side, the rocky crags that might hide a vicious beast, even the same dark layer of ash that covered everything from rocks to the roots trying to grow.
Eiryn however, moved with confidence, knowing exactly which way to go, how to avoid trouble, and even led him through a shortcut. Atop a high ridge however, she dropped into a crouch, motioning with her hand to keep low and remain silent.
“What is it?” Saber whispered, as he crept up to her side, seeing a group of men below the hill around a campfire. Smugglers? No, for they had nothing of value with them. The handful of men were mostly Nords, dressed in a mix-match of light and heavy armor, sharing what appeared to be some of their Nordic drink.
He looked at Eiryn, “Bandits?” He mouthed.
She shrugged, “Or adventurers. Why they’d be out here is beyond me.”
“Shall we avoid them?” He whispered back.
Eiryn looked at him sharply. “Or what, fight them?”
He snickered, “There’s only ten of them.”
Only ten of them? The young woman considered the thief might be insane, or perhaps good enough with that sword on his back to take on so many opponents. He almost seemed to want to fight! But why fight when it’s easier to avoid them? She shook her head, and was surprised to see his disappointment. He was actually conferring to her! This was a first. Most men she’d led into these lands were very quick in telling her what they wanted and expected, but Saber didn’t seem to mind at all to put his trust in her judgment.
Motioning for him to move around, and to remain quiet, the stealthy thief moved cat-like just below the ridge so they would not be detected. “Most likely we’ll just fight them later if they are bandits.” He whispered to her as they found some distance from the bandits.
He might be right, but for now, they’d avoid them. She could breath easier once they crested the next ridge, and she knew they’d come into the Urshilaku territory soon. “Do you know much of tribal customs?” She asked him as they opted to rest on some rocks before finishing their journey.
He handed her a bottle of water, looking dusty. “I’ve been told of their gift-giving customs.” He said. ‘I’m also aware of their challenges, and their general dislike to all foreigners.”
Eiryn paused in her drinking. Saber knew more than she gave him credit for. He seemed to have some study before entering into this region. “Their view on foreigners even includes me.”
His face pinched in confusion. “You? But weren’t you born in Morrowind?”
“I’m not born Dunmer. I’m Breton, and even then, I’m only half.” She explained with a grimace. “You’re lucky you’re a Dark Elf, but you’ll still obviously N’wah with that accent.”
Saber grew very still. “You’re only half?”
Nodding, she spoke without thinking. “Half Breton, Half-Imperial-“ Then realized her slip up, or more importantly how Saber seemed to figuring out something. Glancing at his face, she wondered if he made the connection of her and the spymaster who was also Imperial, and by the unblinking assessment he was giving her, thoughts were definitely mulling about his head. “I suppose that’s why magic doesn’t come so easily to me.”
Saber had indeed considered her words. Now things made more sense. “He’s your father.” He stated, feeling stupid to ever assume they might have been a couple.
She swallowed hard. “You can’t tell anyone.” Eiryn found her mind reeling, how careful her entire life she’d been with keeping this secret and how important it was to remain secret. Caius often lectured her as a young woman how his enemies could use her against him, how he had to always maintain he never had a family or perhaps lose them to other spies or enemies he’d made in his life.
Saber frowned. “Why does it matter?” He suddenly now understood the man’s concern for her, why he wanted to protect her, why he didn’t want a thief, a suspected murderer to have anything to do with his daughter.
Eiryn took in a deep breath. “Because Caius has enemies. They might use me to get to him, to get secrets of the Emperor-“ She felt his fingers touch her lips, and an odd smile on his mouth.
“Enough.” He murmured, taking the bottle water back to throw back a swig. “I don’t know anything.” He said, handing it back. “He’s just a Skooma junkie. Who am I to judge, right? Ready to go?”
Eiryn knew his meaning, dismissing Caius as a ‘sugar tooth’ like anyone else in Balmora might. Her secret was safe with him. “We’re almost there.” She said with a smile, leading him towards some low hills. “The camp if just over that ridge.”


***********************
“That’s it?” Saber voiced some doubt as they paused atop a ridge over looking the tiny camp. The meager group of hide-covered tents was huddled about a water source, squat domes of the same grim color indicated that they tents were either covered in ash, or simply appeared to look that way in the hopes of camouflage.
“What did you expect?” Eiryn asked, moving down the hill to greet the tribesman closest to them.
“Not this…” Saber responded too softly for her to hear. He had expected more of them, a larger force, of several families bound together by traditions hundreds of years old. Instead, the Urshilaku camp was comprised of a few tents, a few close-knit families, and a paltry amount of goods.
When seeing some of the members of the tribes, they bore the tribal facial tattoos and even scarring that marked their rank and clan. Some bore feathers or braids wrapped in bright cloth as adornment, as well as clothes being of hide but painted to a bright hue against the stark landscape they called home.
Eiryn paused before addressing one of the tribesmen, turning to Saber. “You won’t be able to speak to the Ashkhan or the wisewoman until you get permission-“
“I know.” Saber smiled, waving her back to handle the affairs himself. This was his quest after all.
The warrior raised an eyebrow in surprise, remaining a cool indifference to seeing strangers approach the circle of tents. “What do you want, outlander?” he spoke with an accent; his posture stiff and ready to fight.
Giving a polite bow, Saber explained on no uncertain terms his purpose for being there, sharing what he knew of the Neveravine prophecies and to be tested by the wisewoman.
The man didn’t even flinch. “You? An outlander?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Why should you even be trusted, n’wah?”
Saber gave Eiryn a quick glance before speaking of things he had obviously learned before even meeting her. He shared knowledge of the prophecy, of the Sixth House. “I may not be trusted, but unless given a chance to prove myself, then we may never know.” He told the man.
“Go speak with our Gulakhan, the Ashkhan’s champion. If you can convince him, you can gain permission to speak to our leaders.” With that the man simply turned and ignored them both.
Saber shrugged, heading towards the larger tent where four yurts were lined around a campfire. Here the sound of wooden chimes clinked in the slight breeze, and ornate rugs brought color to the otherwise dreary region.
“Stay here…” Saber murmured to her. “I hope this won’t take long.”

Eiryn made herself comfortable outside the circle of tents by sitting cross-legged on the ground and taking a breather from their long journey. She watched curiously the tribes people who cast distrustful looks her way, even the children acting ominously aloof.
These were the Ashlander Dunmer, Dark Elven nomads who drove their guar herds through their harsh and unforgiving land. Rigid in their ancestral beliefs, the tribes were often driven into the poorer harshest regions of Morrowind to squeeze out a meager life in the shadow of Red Mountain. They were a hardy people, able to withstand hardship, and had lived this way for centuries.
Thought Eiryn would always be seen an n’wah to them, a foreigner despite being born in the very same land, she understood their distrust. With the settlement of the Empire, and the armistice Lord Vivec had with the Emperor, didn’t serve these proud people. Then with the trouble of Dagoth Ur, the
Ashlanders were pretty well left to fend for themselves against the Blight, the corpus beasts, and ash storms. No wonder they needed the Neveravine to save them.
Before long, Saber exited the tent and gave her a smile indicating meeting with this Gulakhan went well. “Not quite done yet.” He told her, motioning her to remain a bit longer before he disappeared into another tent.
The customs of the tribes was tedious when it came to speaking to any of their members. They followed a strict hierarchy, and one never could just go up to speak to the leaders. Visitors were expected to gain the permission through the ranks of the tribal people first. The Ashkhan and wisewoman of the tribe being the highest in rank.
Eiryn realized something made her bones itch. It was an odd sensation but one she recognized as her sense when a storm was about to start. She looked to the southeast, noticing the gathering gloom of an approaching ash storm. Grimacing, she tucked her scarf around her head in preparation for what was to come. The village members all but disappeared into their tents as well, already knowing the storm was at hand.
Saber arrived once more, motioning for her to follow him to another tent. Her first thought was he actually talked his way into speaking to the wisewoman, but the tent they entered was empty, and not bearing the brilliant rug at the doorstop as the wisewoman’s yurt would bear.
“We’re staying?” She asked, pulling her scarf off when they were safely inside the small tent. It smelled of hide and dirt, and the fire pit filled with ash.
“Did you speak to the wisewoman already?”
Saber shook his head, then shook out his hair of dust. “The Ashkhan wants me to first be initiated into the tribe.”
“What?” Eiryn was stunned. “Just to speak to the wisewoman?”
He chuckled at her surprise. “He wants me to prove myself, and this initiation is considered a Harrowing, a rite of passage of sorts.”