Chapter 33
Ciel’nn observed the bandits and the guards fighting before he got bored. He turned to move on when he heard the girl’s scream. With a sigh, Ciel’nn turned around and saw the bandits moving closer to the female Dunmer. Damn it!
There wasn’t much of a choice, but to help her. He grabbed his blade and rushed to he rescue.
Within moments the bandits were dead, and the girl approached him. She was a beautiful Indoril girl in his eyes. Her luscious lips and her sharp eyes - Ciel’nn felt his face flushing and he couldn’t meet her gaze.
“I need your help. I’m Celani Rathdel and Initiate of the Temple. I must go to Neo Davon. You’ll be my new escort as my guards are dead.” She said in a stern tone as she looked down and up at him.
“What? I.. I can’t. I’m not from House Indoril. I’ll ma— “ Ciel’nn began to regret that he’d helped her.
“Nonsense! You’ll come with me. I have to be there by tomorrow. Take that one’s gear and prepare to leave. What’s your name, boy?”
“Ciel’nn Sarion.” He grumbled as he put on the gear of the guard. Azura help me!
The New Gnisis Cornerclub was busy with the Dunmer and a few Altmer customers. The talk of late events was lively and concerned as the Civil War raged in its full range; across Skyrim. Only the young warrior among the elves didn’t care. He was too busy staring down at his drink and thinking of his friend, who had been taken away from him. Of course, it was his own fault.
Ambarys Rendar shook his head as he looked over the young warrior. “You can’t stay like that, Nord!” he said to the man, who sat at the counter and close to the wall. “You have to go on and forgive yourself.” Ambarys prepared to make another drink.
“He’s gone. Forever.” Rangalen grumbled. “It’s my fault he’s dead. I should have… done more.” He took a heavy breath and gritted his teeth together. He didn’t even dare to hope the Dunmer would come through the door and say something with a flirt. It had been Ciel’nn’s way with people. Another thing the young warrior remembered was the Dunmer had had a mysterious way of smiling, and the almost constant rant about not having Sujamma.
Sujamma had been Ciel’nn’s favorite drink, and now Rangalen found himself drinking the same. It was bitter one, but he didn’t complain - he was drinking it for Ciel’nn after all. I’ve found your Sujamma, friend. He wanted to see how many Sujammas he can drink before passing out.
“You don’t know if he’s dead.” Ambarys handed over another drink for the young warrior. “Drinking yourself in self-pity isn’t helping anyone - least yourself.” He resumed cleaning mugs and tankards with a sigh. “You know, Ciel’nn used to sleep upstairs when he first arrived here. Such fire in his eyes as if he was after something.” The Club owner gave a deep sigh and fell quiet.
It seemed the Dunmer had touched the Grey Quarter in some way. Rangalen took a sip of his drink. He’d do anything to see Ciel’nn again. His friend… a close friend. He never had lost someone like this, except his mother, and it hurt. It damn hurt. He’d pay a great sum of septims only to hear the Dunmer laugh.
The club had fallen quiet as the people started to return their homes. The young warrior still sat there in his miserable thoughts. The idea of going to his old home and sleep wasn’t tempting. No, Rangalen wanted to either drink more, or fight with someone. A fight sounded a lot better…
“You hear me? Knife-ears!” Rolff Stone-Fist called out in his drunken haze, close to the club when Rangalen finally came out of the door. Rolff eyed him as if he saw correctly. “You befriending with the knife-ears? You’re a shame to our people!” He spat.
“Shut up your milk-hole, Rolff!” The young warrior snapped. He still was in a drunken haze, but to let the man have his way of shouting at the elves just didn’t do well with Rangalen. He stared at the fellow Nord as his hands fisted. If Rolff wasn’t going to be quiet, he’d do something about it.
“Make me, elf lover!” Rolff shot back with a sneer. “What are you going to do, huh? Those knife-ears gets what they deserve! Bet you’d like some elf woman between your legs!” He gave a dirty laugh.
Rangalen’s face twisted in rage as he stepped closer to the fellow Nord and punched him right on the chin. His moves were wobbly due to his drinks, but he delivered some good punches on Rolff. The young warrior didn’t care if he was caught - he needed to let his anger out and Rolff was the perfect target with his foul mouthed words.
Once Rolff got away from the raging young warrior, he gathered his drunken strength and gave a good swing that hit Rangalen on the side of his face. The younger Nord growled and they started to fight for real with foul words raining at each other. It continued a while before any guard saw and came to question them.
Rangalen groaned as he tried to move. His head hurt from the hangover. Slowly he opened his eyes only to realize he was at the barracks. On a not so comfortable bed. For a while he was still and listened in if any guard happened to come by and check in. His father probably didn’t care - the young warrior didn’t care either, nor dud he didn’t want to see the old man. When he began to relax and closed his eyes, the footsteps came from the corridor.
“Mistgaze! You sober yet?” A soldier called out to him and looked inside the bunk hall. “Quite a fight you had last night by the look on your face.” He grinned, leaning onto the door frame.
The young warrior groaned again. “What do you want, Snow-Claw?” He wasn’t in the mood for a talk when his head was pounding so much. He wanted to be alone, with his misery. Crawling into a hole was more appealing than talking to anyone.
Snow-Claw sighed. “You got a message. I’ll leave it here on the table. Cheer up and get a hold of yourself. We’re at war.”
“I don’t care. Give me the damn message.” Rangalen groaned and sat up. It was a struggle, but he managed it with another groan. He reached for the message that Snow-claw gave him and read it, frowning. “Shit!” It’s from Sarade… She wants to meet me tomorrow where ‘Talos guards the water’. Hmm, I think I know where that is and I better tell her the bad news, too.
The winter sun shone as the young warrior made his way, passing by Morvunskar above him. The faint talking of the bandits reached his ears, but Rangalen didn’t care. He didn’t have the time to deal with them now. In his mind though, he imagined ending the life of bandits with swift slashes. Despite his fellow Stormcloak soldiers’ cheering him up - Rangalen had fallen into gloominess and despair. There wasn’t a single purpose in his life anymore, or so he kept telling himself. I wonder what does Sarade want to talk about now? Did she know about Ciel’nn’s passing?
The tent and campfire were already set up when the young warrior arrived at the pond, in front of the Talos statue. The atmosphere was calming, but there was also something else that Rangalen couldn’t put his finger on. He approached the campsite and mentally prepared to meet the Huntress. He felt like something was in his throat. Why am I afraid? She’s a friend… and yet, I feel she’d be judging me.
Sarade turned around when she felt the young warrior’s presence approaching her. She smiled, but it faded away as she didn’t see the Dunmer. “Where is Ciel’nn? I thought he’d be with you.” She looked directly into Rangalen’s eyes and frowned. “What happened?” The huntress stepped closer to the fellow Nord. “Tell me, Rangalen.” The feeling she was getting from the man was uneasiness and regret which made her even more worried.
Rangalen fell on his knees in a fluid motion. “I have failed him! I am sorry!” He brushed his fingers through his hair and cast his eyes down. “The Dremora Lord took him while we were fighting with Stormcloak rebels. He’s gone, Sarade!” The young warrior couldn’t bring himself to look at the Huntress. His shame was as heavy as a giant’s hammer, if not heavier. “I’m a failure…” And, his tears rolled down.
It was quiet for a moment before Sarade said or did anything. She stared past the young warrior and into the horizon beyond. Only the air seemed to be colder. “Daedra took him…” The huntress uttered the words quietly as she turned around to tend the fire. “I know the ways of Kyne, but my knowledge on Daedra is mostly limited,” she continued thoughtfully, “This is past my skills, Rangalen. All what we can do is hope for the best.” Her voice was calm, but inside her she was frustrated and saddened. I wish I could have more time, but Skyrim is in turmoil and at the edge of falling into chaos.
“Hope for the best?! It’s been over a week! He’s dead by now! Daedra don’t’ know mercy.” Rangalen hissed. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he was certain the Dunmer’s gone. The young warrior stood up and walked next to the Huntress. “Do you… do you know really he might have a chance?” He almost choked up. He’d do anything to see the Dunmer again.
“I don’t know. Honestly, it’s better to prepare for moving on.” Sarade glanced at the man, who had lost hope already. She thought a moment as she put a log in to the fire. “I know Jarl Ulfric would want you to join his army, but I’d rather have you running with me. Skyrim is darkening and there are things to be done. Things that the Jarls can’t see. We are needed, Rangalen. Skyrim needs us.”
The way the Huntress had said the last words made Rangalen’s skin prickle as he took a deep breath. It was a strange tone that he hadn’t heard her using before. The truth was he wasn’t recovered from the loss yet; he didn’t think he would be able to fight. Not properly anyway. “I don’t know if I can. I… I’m just a normal boy from Windhelm.”
“Maybe you are, maybe not. It’s better to talk about that when you’re feeling better. We’ll camp here tonight and in the morning we’ll discuss about all that has happened.” Sarade stood up and nodded towards the tent. “There’s a bedroll for you, too. Rest. I’ll take the night watch.”
The young warrior just nodded and moved towards the tent. The huntress’ words made him puzzled though. Why she was strange all of sudden?
The dawn broke out cold and cloudy when Rangalen stirred up from his bedroll. It had been a cold night. He shivered and sat up, his eyes towards the campfire - Sarade was still sitting, very still and with her back straight. Is she meditating? The young warrior shifted slowly, trying not to disturb her meditating. “You can move freely. You don’t bother me. Come, there’s food.” He heard the Huntress’ prompting him to come out as she took a deep breath.
They sat around the campfire, eating a horker stew. It was a quiet morning as if the nature was expecting something happen. To the young warrior it felt weird and he looked to Sarade. “Do you feel this?” He shuddered, but then he started to feel warmer and safer. “This part of the land is blessed by Kyne. Here you are safe, but yes, I do feel what is happening around Skyrim -”
A portal of Oblivion opened above and in the middle of the pond, making the Huntress stand up in an instant and the young warrior almost choked on his stew. The female Dremora Lord had stepped out, hovering above the water and holding someone in her arms. She looked directly to Sarade. “Hold your weapons, mortals.” She hissed as she took a few fast strides towards them. “Dragonborn,” Kliksaath purred, “do your magick. He needs you now.” With that, she handed the Dunmer carefully into Sarade’s arms and prepared to leave.
“Wait!” Rangalen pleaded. “Will… will he survive?” he managed to ask, not believing he was asking it from a Daedra.
Kliksaath glanced at the man. “If he has will enough, he’ll live.” Her gaze turned to the Huntress. “Time is not your ally.” The Dremora Lord turned again and dashed into the portal.
Sarade felt the fading aura that Ciel’nn had. “No…” she whispered as she held him close to him. “No…Arkay give me time…” she kept whispering as she touched his forehead. She gasped as she had a glimpse into what Ciel’nn had felt. They didn’t have much time left - something had to be done and quickly. “Kyne grant me power to heal..” Sarade laid Ciel’nn down on the bedroll and pulled it closer to the campfire. She knew exactly what needed to be done.
The young warrior was in shock. He couldn’t even begin to understand the fact of the Dunmer’s return. Yet more complex was to understand why his friend wouldn’t have will enough to live? He didn’t know what had occurred in Oblivion and it made him helpless. Rangalen shifted closer to the bedroll, but gave space for the Huntress to work. “He’s back…” he whispered, still not being able to believe. The Nord frowned - Ciel’nn looked somewhat different, like he’d given up and something had broken inside him. “Can you save him?” Rangalen found himself asking, with his voice slightly shaking.
“Depends how fast you can collect these plants for me.” Sarade showed him a worn notebook of a collection of plants. “As fast as you can. We’re fighting against time itself.”
“What are you going to do?” Rangalen stood up and prepared to go.
“I’m going to the spirit realm. Go!” She watched the young warrior sprinting away and looked down at Ciel’nn. “Hang on, Ciel’nn.”
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Comments
Sarade is more Kyne-oriented as she was taught to believe in Kyne and
serve. Her mother was priestess of Kyne and Sarade will become a
Ky... more