A.D.W.D. Chapter 10: The Edge of Light and Darkness

• Posted by Exuro November 21, 2015 - Filed in TSC: CB Story - 1,684 views

  

   

  
  Tyranus watched the flames etch black scars across a branch and listened to the escaping sap crackle in the fire. Its body fueled the light of the night’s revelry, yet come morning it would be naught but ash, forgotten with the rest.

   

  He gazed back into the blazing fire from his seat on a log, his thoughts lost in the dancing flames. He liked small towns; ironic since he had run away from his own as a teenager. He used to love the bustle of cities, so vibrant and never an empty night. In a city, you could walk down a street and see people from every corner of Tamriel, but there was a darker side as well. Predators lurked in the shadows and bumped elbows with you unnoticed in the crowds, preying upon the weak. It was these shadows that he had spent most of his life hunting.

   

  People tended to lose touch with nature when surrounded by the perceived safety of paved streets and stone walls, but to lose that connection was to lose oneself and the Daedra were always waiting to fill the void left behind. Too often he’d seen people fall to their wiles or even be forcefully possessed, although the ones he could never understand were those who sought the demons. It was rare for full Daedra to appear in Tamriel since the Last Septim donned the mantle of Akatosh and defeated Mehrunes Dagon some two centuries ago. After that, the Oblivion Portals collapsed and many of the Destroyer’s army had been trapped on Nirn. It fell upon the newly formed Viglants of Stendarr's shoulders to cleanup the leftovers. Most of those Daedra had been exterminated, but they continued the hunt for survivors and any new arrivals that managed to slip between the Planes.

   

  Suddenly he laughed out loud; he was the one who told everyone that Viana wouldn’t want her passing shrouded in gloom, yet here he was in a downward spiral of dark thoughts and demons.

   

  He caught the girl, Amari, turn towards him at the outburst and gave her his warmest smile. She moved her mouth as if about to say something, then quickly turned away and hurried out of his line of sight. He craned his neck around a circle of villagers and found her striking up conversation with an older woman mulling some wine, Tellevi - the name came to him. He had met others like the girl before. He could tell she carried a heavy burden, but he knew that if he approached her now she would clam up and never speak of it; her type would take a secret to the grave if they didn’t feel safe. No, she would come to him on her own time or not at all. All he could do was show she could trust him and when she approached, he would listen.

   

  Now was not that time though, so he leaned back and observed the rest of the party. People would pass by and offer condolences or share a joke, but for the most part let him be, which suited him fine; the grief was still too raw in his heart to join in the frivolity, but watching the others helped.

   

  Viana, his student, his protégé. He had hoped to pass down all he knew, and one day have her take his place like he had for his mentor, but he had failed. If only… No, Damnit! Pull yourself together, Tyranus! He felt rage fill his veins, boiling away the sorrow. It wasn’t even a Daedra that killed her, but what was once a man! The creatures of Oblivion were abominations, but at least they had the excuse that it was in their nature. He held a special hatred in his heart for those that chose to give themselves over. He had only heard stories of Briarhearts before, but he had seen enough that night. The blasphemy against creation he felt within that creature was beyond any forgiveness!

   

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Oddly, even though Viana had been more hotheaded than he had ever been - well maybe, he thought with a smirk - she had been the most effective calming influence on him. She had always looked up to him, forcing him to always check his actions and be the role model she needed.

   

  Enough of his problems, back to small towns. Karthwasten was no different from many others in that they were cold or even hostile to outsiders, but once you earned their trust they would take you in as if you had been a part of the family all along. Away from the walls and guards it was up to the townsfolk to defend their land. That self-reliance brought with it an honesty and directness that Tyranus appreciated, especially after the years of the fake smiles and deceptions of Cyrodiil. If they didn’t like you here, they would walk up to you and say it to your face. In fact a young redheaded Breton seemed to be doing just that to the lady orc miner. Tyranus leaned forward to listen in with a grin. This should be good.

   

  "Belchimac, why do your people claim the Reach is theirs? The Orcs have been in these lands just as long," the orc was saying.

   

  "You wouldn't understand, Lash. Your people aren't smart enough for politics."

   

  "Is that so? I'll remember that next time we're in the mine tunnels... alone." Tyranus smiled; he did love Orcs; if only they would set aside Malacath and follow the Divines. That boy definitely needed discipline though. His eyes lit in mischief at a thought. Carcette would kill him for this, but if anyone could whip that kid into shape it would be that war maiden of a Keeper at the Hall of Vigilants.

   

  "Did... did I say you weren't smart? I meant to say that I'm not smart, Lash. I'm just not smart enough to answer your questions.” So the boy did have a few marbles rolling around in that skull. Maybe Carcette wouldn’t completely kill him - often.

   

  Something about the conversation woke the detective in him though. The Reach, your people - was he a Forsworn apologist? The memory flashed back: the great elk bay echoing off the canyon walls, that brief moment when he locked eyes with that spirit of vengeance, right before it switched its aim to Viana…

   

  He closed his eyes once more and softly prayed, “Stendarr, in your light and mercy, forgive my sin, for I sought your claim as judge, forgetting my place as humble servant.”

   

  No, he could not judge this one for another’s sin. This youth was what their order called a border case; one that walked the edge between the light of the Divine and darkness of the Daedra. He turned his attention back to Amari. She kept close to ‘the merchant’ Trebonde as she sipped from a mug of mulled wine. It was as if she clung to him like the last barrel of a ship wreck. He very well may be just that, but this barrel would only lead her further out to sea. Maybe if he could show her the way to land, she would willing leave the barrel behind? At the Hall of Vigilants, they could cleanse the corruption from her soul; in fact, many of their best warriors of light had emerged from similarly dark origins.

   

  To think that he would find two souls walking the edge in this sleepy town was astonishing. It was his duty as a Vigilant to guide them to the light… or end their darkness. He had granted the final mercy to those much younger than these two before, but it had left deep scars upon his soul. No, there had been enough death today; it was time for a story.

   

  ***

   

  Damn it! He wanted to drink! But there was too much Trebonde didn’t understand unfolding to partake full-heartedly. He kept his face on autopilot, telling bawdy jokes to a group of the men, while his eyes scanned the crowd - the Vigilant in particular. He never liked that pious, judgmental type on principle, but Amari should have had no reason to fear this one. He had missed it at first, but it was clear that she knew this man, but from where? How?

   

  He didn’t like mysteries. Well at least when he wasn’t the one making them. Not knowing was dangerous; not knowing got you killed. He glowered at his still mostly full mug of mead with a pleasant smile masking his thoughts. He knew Amari was from High Rock and that her family was on the run. Trebonde wasn’t sure if Amari had pieced together that she was a fugitive yet; adults always tried to hide the hard truths from children. Most adults were idiots; had he been blind to the world’s darkness, he would have never survived long enough to become one. ‘A family trip,’ she had said they were on, but he had been on the run enough to see through that thin story.

   

  Maybe this Tyranus was from a High Rock chapter? Maybe her family was on the run from them? If half the stories told about her capture were true, he could easily believe that. Some of the things the men had said, especially about her mother... just the thought made him shudder. For an entire year she had lived among the clan and not once revealed she could cast; not once until that night everything ended. He touched his throat in memory; it had felt like the time a mage almost soul trapped him when she gripped him with those purple flames. In that moment she would have killed without hesitation; she had the look of cornered animal willing to do anything to survive.

   

  The Captain had always watched her closely and Trebonde had no illusions that had he ever deemed her a threat, he would have cut her down without mercy. The girl had his respect for surviving that. He had had his fair share of trials, but if the first had been to deceive the Captain, he doubted he’d be here today.

   

  The vigilant cleared his throat to gather the town’s attention. Just in time, Trebonde thought; his face was running out of jokes to tell. He had been watching the priest stare into the fire from his peripheral vision, but this guy was good. Trebonde couldn’t get a read off of him, not like the girl by an actual merchant, Ernand, casting glances at him. Tyranus’s face was like stone, revealing nothing, save for one moment when it broke into a mischievous laugh that vanished as quickly as it came.

   

  ***

   

  “Come, come! Gather around! I fear I’ve been neglecting my duty as guest as badly host has been to a poor man’s thirst,” Tyranus addressed the crowd while upending an empty mug in mock sadness to their laughter and shocked gasps. “How am I to tell a story, a story of adventure and the dark realms beyond without some fine mead to wet my throat?”

   

  “Yesh! T’uly an outrage!” Ainethach exclaimed, already working on the second half of a dozen drinks. “In the name of… of… what am I again?” he asked Tellevi.

   

  “Oh, a drunken fool for sure, son.”

   

  “Yes! In la name o’ a drunken fool, get dis man another drink!”

   

   The villagers cheered and it apparently took no less than five zealous people to serve a guest a drink. Tyranus was laughing with everyone else by time his mug reached him with nearly half already sloshed out. He took a long drag as he looked around at the people dragging various sitting apparatuses closer to him.

   

  He glanced over his mug to see Trebonde dragging a bench from the Smith’s forge towards the fire and catch a young imperial woman’s eye.

   

  “The merchant Endar’s daughter, yes?” the other guest was saying, she nodded and stepped closer about to speak, but Trebonde interrupted her. “Wait, don’t tell me. I think I heard one of the men say your name. Was it Mara? No, Dibella?”

   

  She laughed. “That’s terrible! Has that ever worked?”

   

  “It brought a smile; that’s enough for me," he responded with the flash of a grin.

   

  “Solena’s the name.” She held out her hand and he took it as if she were a noble, then turned her hand over and lightly kissed her inner wrist. Tyranus caught the taboo of the formal courtesan gesture, but it went over her head. Nobles often requested for the Vigilants, but where would Trebonde learn such a gesture?

   

  “A pleasure, Trebonde. Now, would you mind giving me hand with this bench?”

   

  “A hand?” she said with a smirk at his stump and then helped lift a corner of the light bench on Trebonde’s side. She looked to the other end as they walked it towards the fire. “Amari right? I’m so sorry about your family; just know that we’re here for you.”

   

  Amari’s squirmed in discomfort and Trebonde quickly changed the subject. “Your town’s kindness has been a godsend; has it always been so popular here?”

   

  The question brought a flash of fear across her eyes, but she only hesitated a moment before responding. “Heavens no! Last time we had such interesting visitors was when the Dragonborn stopped by.”

   

  Odd reaction, Tyranus noted, then he also noted how both of the travelers’ backs stiffened at the name. Interesting; most adored that man almost to the point of worship - a living legend. Even he was in awe of the feats the Dragonborn had accomplished for Nirn.

   

  “Of course no one knew who he was back then. I was about her age and Pa was still a traveling merchant,” Solena continued, nodding at Amari unaware of their reaction. “We found Sul curled up in the old iron mine naked as on his name day. Bet you never heard the bards sing that tale!”

   

  “Sul?” Trebonde asked breathlessly between laughs; a good imitation, but Tyranus could sense the undercurrent of a deep fear.

   

  “Yep, Sul is his name,” Solena proudly stated her firsthand knowledge, “and you should have seen him blush! It went all the way to his… toes.”

   

  Their conversation faded out of Tyranus’s earshot as they found a clear spot for the bench. Sul… definitely not a Nordic name. He hadn’t even realized he didn’t know the man’s name! Yes, thinking back, all the reports, songs, and conversations always referred to him only as the Dragonborn. For that matter, what hard facts did he actually know? As the most famous person in Tamriel, there was very little information about him that wasn’t warped and skewed into legend.

   

   Trebonde and Solena were deep in conversation, but Tyranus did notice ‘the merchant’ was angled such that he could keep an eye on the priest. Their eyes locked for a moment. Yes, I see you; we are both wolves, Tyranus thought, yet while I guide as the shepherd, you hide among the sheep.

   

  Amari wasn’t joining in their conversation. What was that look, jealousy? He certainly hoped that wasn’t her uncle! He thought letting his mind delve into the gutter. Then Belchimac, bless his soul, intervened by setting a hand on Amari’s shoulder as he was passing. She bolted up, one hand gripping something concealed in her waistband, a knife? The other hand went to her necklace and a darkness flashed across her eyes before she recognized it was only a villager. Belchimac jumped back with his hands raised.

   

  “Sorry, I’m just not used to all this anymore,” Amari spoke looking at the ground embarrassed.

   

  Belchimac stepped forward again. “No worries, I’m just glad to see another Breton face.”

   

  Amari looked up smiling. “Me too.”

   

  “So much better than all those filthy Nords and Imperials squatting on our land.”

   

  “Oh,” was all Amari said, her tone turning to ice, then sat back down with her back to him.

   

  Tyranus somehow resisted the urge to palm his face. You idiot, way to blow your chance. Belchimac stood there awkwardly for a few moments trying to get her attention again before giving up to go sit with the other miners who were pointing and snickering at him. That was the last of them, everyone was seated with a fresh drink in hand.

   

  He took a moment to follow the fire’s embers up to the sky with his gaze. He had been in Skyrim a few years now, but the vibrant display of the Northern Lights still left him in awe every time. The people waited with faces lit by both the flames and libations; they were eager for their story and had waited long enough. Small towns knew how to appreciate a story right too. He took a drink and began.

   

   

   

  

   

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