Damn it! Boil already! Amari glared at the defiant nine-cursed tub of gruel, or was it eight now? It was a crime to worship Talos, the hero-god of man, these days.
Amari had nothing else to do, but the pot tried her patience nonetheless. She settled for staring vacantly into the depths of the brown sludge while she was forced to wait for the kitchen coals to do their work. The surface was still, reflecting her own eyes back at her. So much had changed the past year it was the face of a stranger. The rounded bone structure and high cheekbones of a Breton were hidden underneath countless layers of dirt. Her once straight and glossy hair was now a long tangled mess of black, but she still liked the undertones of purple or red that would be revealed in the sun. Her eyes were a deep brown.
Almost like this stew, except for the flecks of amber, she thought haphazardly.
She was told those were from a passive trait sometimes passed down from their Aldmer ancestry.
Amari smirked, her mother would have been in hysterics at the sight of her. What she would have done to be reprimanded for ruining another dress in the woods. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, “Amari! Remove yourself from that hollow at once! I will not have our fellows think my daughter an orc rooting for truffles!”
Alas, that couldn’t happen. Unbidden, it seemed the skim of the gruel formed the image of her last memory of her parents.
***
“Which ones are my stars?”
“Let me consider, this time of year The Apprentice would be-“
Amari glared at her mother, “Hey! That’s not my Sign!”
“To be fair, you are no master,” her mother retorted, but her eyes twinkled in the campfire’s light. She rolled on her side, the back of her robes black from the grass’s dew; over a year away from Highrock Society had relaxed her mannerisms. She guided Amari’s hand towards a star burning brighter than its neighbors. Amari took comfort in her scent of incense and ozone, “See that bright star, that represents the moon Secundus and off to the upper right are four in the shape on a crescent. Those are for Masser, then between the two-“
“Why would a moon need a star to represent it? We can see both of them over there.” Amari interrupted, waving her arm past the tall pines to the horizon of the lake where the two moons hung.
“To confuse inquisitive children.”
Amari muttered about not being a child, but her mother continued over her, “Between the two is a line of four stars with a base, or a wheel if you will, of three. These form The Tower, your birth sign and the representation of our universe. The star where the Tower and the Wheel meet is Mundus; where we live at the hub of it all. It is said those born under this sign are more in tune with the universe and apt at unlocking its secrets.”
“Too bad it must have skipped a generation,” her father interrupted with a grin on his face. He was returning from walking the perimeter and plopped down between them. His light beige robes were in stark contrast to her mother’s dark purple. “Yvara, your wards all look good.”
“Of course they do, will you relax now? You push yourself too hard.”
“No need to worry about me; did you see where your stars have moved?”
“Changing the subject won’t save you Ernand. I saw you casting a restore fatigue on yourself earlier. You didn’t need to help all of them.”
“I can’t wear these robes and turn away those in need, even if they are the disreputable sort. Besides, I would call saving a few lives in turn for passing Helga without paying that extortionate border crossing fee a win-win.”
“Lives that would just as easily betray your kindness,” Yvara sulked.
“You’re so cute when you’re paranoid.”
“I do hate you sometimes.” Then they both started kissing.
Amari rolled her eyes. “I’m still here.”
Her parents laughed and broke apart and looked as if they were about to say something to make Amari even more awkward when Yvara’s back suddenly stiffened.
“The sentry ward.” Both parents bolted to their feet and her mother shot a ball of light into the shadows beyond the firelight. “Reveal thy self!”
The light revealed a boy in furs shaking in terror at the tree line, then started circling above his head. Ernand sighed and approached.
“Mara’s blessing upon you, please excuse my wife. Do you speak for your friends hiding in the woods?”
“Shit! How’d they know?” a voice shouted from the wood, then a different voice, “Charge!”
The first rush came howling straight at them, not looking down. As they passed the tree line, glowing runes at their feet came to life and erupted in great fountains of flame. The boy was the first consumed, the flames burning the air from his lungs before he could even scream. The second line of attack was leaping over the first before their bodies even hit the ground. One clad in a mix of Imperial and Stormcloak infatry armor leapt over the fallen boy and buried the blade deep into her father’s intestines.
“NO!” Amari cried out. Her mother went as silent as death, a dark power welling within her.
“Amari, back! Run at the first opening!”
“But, what-“
“Obey!”
Amari shut up and focused on opening her sight. The night was washed away in the vaporous glow of the forest’s life. The trees, the fish behind her, and even the earth to an extent were highlighted in hues of indigo and violet, but it was the seven violet forms surrounding them that concerned her. Four already lay dead from the initial charge with their souls still drifting in lost circles above their bodies.
Her father added a fifth lost soul, the body falling to the earth with a single needle of ice penetrating the temple. Ernand withdrew the sword from himself as if he were merely a sheath for the weapon and the wound closed under an intense golden light. Her mother released her welling power and tendrils of shadow shot towards each fallen corpse. The tendrils burst from the navel of each corpse and splayed out like grasping hands, dragging the lost souls back into their bodies. Then like a puppet master, she lifted her hands and with her, the charred dead rose to turn on their comrades.
A Redguard with eyes of ice and clad in an Imperial officer’s raiment took command in a rapid staccato before anyone could panic. She had seen him talking to the chief of Helga earlier.
“Stand fast! Crusher, hold the dead off! All else, follow! Witch, target her!”
Yvara aimed a bolt of lightning at his head, but he ducked it with unbelievable reflexes. Cursing she was forced to turn the destruction to closer targets. Ernand held his ground, acting as a human shield, but even after fortifying his strength and speed there were too many blades to hold off.
“Amari! Run!”
She ran, but not alone. She sensed one break off from fighting the undead and take chase. He was fast, too fast. She had barely left the light of the burning runes when he tackled her.
He pressed his face against her. She recoiled from the stench of death emanating from his breath and eyes tinged with a sickly yellow.
“Can’t let such a fresh reward escape, now can we.”
Behind her, Amari sensed her father fall, his body glowing with dozens wounds still trying to heal, and heard her mother’s final scream, cut short by steel.
***
“Wake up!” Gnarly Nan accentuated her words with a swift crack of a wooden spoon. Amari screamed.
“Shut up!” Another crack of the spoon. “What's wrong with you girl? The pot is overflowing!”
“Oh, sorry Nan.” Amari went to move the pot off the coals. Her hands shook as she gripped the pot; it had been ages since she last thought of that day, a nightmare that hadn’t ended when she woke.
“I’m no Nan.”
“Sorry Gnarls.”
The cook glared at her. “You’re not helping your case.”
Her name was actually Hjorta. She had been captured by the bandits long before Amari. Hard life had left her looking much older than her years and as callous as an old root. The bandits hadn’t taken Amari back to Helga that day just over a year ago; they were a different group based in the Reach that did business with Helga on occasion. She had been under Hjorta’s ‘gentle’ care as an assistant cook since then and Gnarly Nan had taking a certain pleasure to welcoming her new minion.
One of said bandits walked into the kitchens and looked from the glare contest between Gnarls and Amari, then the mess from the overflowing pot.
“Whoa, maybe I’ll come back later.”
“Hold on, what yah got?” Gnarly Nan stopped him without wavering her icy glare from Amari.
He handed her a pair of leather calf-high boots with a few specks of blood still visible on them. She inspected them with a critical eye.
“These’ll do, might actually fit this time. Come along then,” she said leading the bandit out of the kitchens by the hand. Was it Andre? Only the raid leaders stuck around, the rest always seemed to die or desert.
Amari muttered, “No one ever brings me gifts.”
Andre overheard. “Just give it a few years girl and you’ll be gettin’ more than you know what to do with.”
“What was that!?” Gnarls scolded him.
“Calm down,” he said with a laugh, then took her by the shoulder. “Don’t you worry no one could ever replace you.”
“Hmph, damn straight. Runt, finish cleaning that shit up, then feed the men. Oh, and before you leave clean the stoves and the meat locker.”
“Both! What’s wrong with the meat locker-“ Gnarls slammed the door on Amari.
“Old root!” she called out at the door once she knew Gnarly Nan was out of earshot. There was no out of cleaning, so she got to work quickly wiping up the boiled over gruel before it dried, then started dishing the fair into sixteen bowls. One captain and three raid leaders of whom each commanded five bandits. If she had enough nightshade, she could end them all now. Wonder how much it would take? Could she just grind up the leaves, or did she need to extract the poison first? Not that it mattered, she didn’t have any nightshade. The camp just threw the dead outside and let the wildlife eat them; she would need to visit a city cemetery or an old battlefield. Neither option likely with her always stuck cleaning their camp.
Although, she didn’t need to kill all of them, if the captain fell, she couldn’t visualize the raid leaders conducting a peaceful succession. In the chaos she could make her break. That was doable. She was rarely left alone, so if she was going to do something, now was the time. Excitement, apprehension, and uncertainty all welled inside her as the thought of freedom became a tangible reality for the first time in over a year.
If he died too fast they would suspect her, it would need to be slow or delayed and even then it would be risky. Amari regarded the ingredients in the kitchen with new eyes. She didn’t know much about alchemy, just what she learned in primary and on her journey to Skyrim, but that should enough to whip up some minor poison. The only problem was she only saw common edibles; sure she could craft a restore health or stamina potion with them, but she saw nothing she remembered from the lists of banned or toxic ingredients. Maybe a disease would work; there was usually spoiled meat around.
She poured the bowls back into the pot and spread the coals underneath out to reach a simmer, then concealed an empty bottle and a mortar and pestle in her dress and went towards the exit. The camp, named Robber’s Gorge by the locals, had been rapidly expanding the last few years. It was ideally situated on a rise above the river between the holds Solitude and Whiterun. Trade routes between the aforementioned holds, Markarth, Morthal, and some neighboring settlements converged at the bridge crossing brought most of the camp’s wealth to their doorstep. Anyone passing through had to pay the “toll,” or with their life. Two watch towers flanked the path, they were outside the range she could sense, but there was always at least one collector and one archer on duty. Sentries also always took shifts at the old West gate, new East gate, and the hidden cove.
She paused briefly before opening the kitchen door to get her story straight. Lunch was almost ready, she just needed to go to the cove to restock some herbs from storage and start thawing the meat for dinner. The story proved unnecessary however, everyone was shouting and cheering around two bandits trying to brawl and chug ale at the same time in the court yard. This looked to be one of the more entertaining bets and allowed Amari to slip by without notice. The trapdoor to the cove was in the middle of the building at the West end of the camp, between the captain’s quarters and a secured healing supplies room. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, dank cove as she descended down the ladder.
She heard a clatter of empty bottles as the sentry shouted, “Who’s there?” The effects of drugs clear in his voice.
“It’s just me!” Amari said, careful not to suddenly move under the aim of the sentry’s wavering bow.
“Oh, alright.” The sentry, a new one she didn’t recognize, visibly relaxed and lowered his bow. “What do you want?”
“Hjorta sent me to restock supplies and thaw some meat.” Amari noted multiple bottles of ale and skooma scattered on the ground.
“Hjorta… oh, Gnarly Nan. Well good luck with the meat; we’ve been outa ice for a week.” Amari groaned inside. Gnarls must have known and just wanted the task to clean the locker to be even less pleasant, but how had the ice melted so quickly to begin with? The locker was carved into the stone and the steel door was bound with wool and leathers for insulation. The ice was collected in winter and coated with sawdust, the cooler underground temperature and insulation was usually enough to keep the ice throughout the year.
“Out of ice? How did that happen?”
The sentry shrugged and sat back down at his post. “Dunno, not my problem.”
Frustrated, Amari went to investigate the meat locker herself. She pulled open the door only to be bombarded by a cacophony of squeaking skeevers and the retching smell of spoiled meat. Dozens bolted frantically in all directions in a chaotic race to hide from the light leaking in from the doorway. In the confusion, one ran straight at Amari. In a panic, she yelped and stomped down on its head, caving in its skull. The other skeevers stopped milling and let out squeaks of rage for their comrade, then charged Amari in unison; their intent piercing her like volley of hostile daggers.
“Oh shit!” She grabbed the dead skeever and sprinted to the ladder. As she passed the sentry she called out, “It’s your problem now!” and then started scaling the ladder.
He just stared after her with glazed over eyes until he saw the swarm, then he was quick on her heels to the ladder cursing the whole way. At the top she took a break before opening the trap door. It would raise unwanted questions if she was seen emerging out of breath, much less carrying a dead skeever into the kitchen. The sentry quickly caught up with her and grabbed her by the heel.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”
His urgency led her to almost open the door on impulse, but she stopped. She had a skeever and a cluster of stubby yellow capped mushrooms, imp stool, were growing from the earth a hand’s span from her face. She could make the poison with those; she couldn’t let him ruin her opportunity. She gripped a small sack of bones she always kept around her neck, the bandits had always just passed them off as some creepy kid’s way of dealing with trauma, but they were much more. They were her last tie to her old life, they held the soul of her last friend, they were still alive. She imbued the bones with her power and felt the small soul awaken. She looked down at the bandit and spoke with icy clarity:
“No.”
The sentry’s grip changed from one of fear to one of anger. “Don’t think I won’t throw you down from here—“ He stopped mid-sentence at the sight of a skeletal squirrel with eyes of purple flame emerge from Amari’s dress.
“What the --?!” was as far as he got before the squirrel leapt down with claws and teeth aimed at his eyes. He threw up his hands in defense, but was too slow and Amari finished him with a kick that sent him plummeting down the shaft. The undead squirrel leapt off the sentry’s mangled face as he fell and scaled the earthen shaft back to Amari.
“Wiiiitch!!” was the sentry’s last word before landing amongst the skeevers below with a sickening crunch.
***
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Comments
Thanks for reading!
I blame Skyrim's limited magic on the superstitious Nords.
I really like what I´ve read so far and I´m curious to see more magic here. More unli... more