An Enchanting Tale

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The night passed relatively quickly, though S'maash scarcely slept. By the time the sun shone through the window, he was already packed for the week and ready to go. Moments later, his brother awakened. He had also packed the previous night.

The dark elf brothers locked their abode behind them before setting out for the Reyda Tong office, where they met up with Fara, who wore heavy armor, but no helmet. An iron mace hung from her right hip. Numerius was covered in leather armor, hiding his thick, black hair. He wore his imperial bow and quiver over his shoulders.

"I've brought your gear," Numerius said.

More leather apparel sat by his feet, awaiting S'maath's body. After donning his protective equipment, the elf sheathed his steel sword.

"Is the boy going to wear anything," Fara asked with a tinge of incredulity.

She looked him over. He wore only his blue robes. The clothing possessed a minor enchantment; the ability to recover magicka more quickly. No weapons hung from his waist, and no armor was draped over his body.

"I'm fine. Listen, I very much appreciate your help in this matter," S'maash started. "This is very important to me. For a first trip, I don't expect to find much. My hopes are that we may come across a tome on magickal theory. The dwemer employed a slight variation on the schools of magick we use today. I–"

"I don't care about magickal theory," Fara interrupted with a wave of her hand. "If you're looking for a tome, that's well and good. You keep your eyes open for books. We're looking for something to sell. Let's move."

S'maath smiled at his brother. It was evident Fara was the leader of the small band. S'maash was unfamiliar with rank in the Reyda Tong, but understood well enough that seniority dictated the taking of charge, so the crew pressed on and left for Damlzthur.

Moments of silent reverie passed while boots trudged over early morning dew. It was not long before paved roads turned to dirt. Then, the chatter began.

The young elf listened to the warriors. They were hoping for all sorts of valiant battles, riches, and stories to be told afterwards. He, however, was uninterested by such things. His happiness was predicated on obtaining more knowledge. As he followed behind his hired guard, his mind turned to questions.

Will we find anything? Dwemer ruins have been around for so long. It's hard to imagine anything might have been left behind after numerous expeditions. If anything were left behind, it would likely be books, though. Bull headed warriors often leave behind the most valuable treasure, knowledge. His ponderings had left him oblivious to the fact that the warriors were twenty paces ahead of him. A sudden sound demanded his attention.

He turned towards the direction of the noise. They had entered a forested area known to harbor alits, and one charged right at him; its awkward gait was a consequence of having only two legs and a large mouth. Unable to utter a sound, the elf simply stood there in shock. Gaping maw with razor teeth ambled closer. The leathery-skinned, purple, menace was hungry, slobbering. A fraction of a second later, S'maash heard the screams and battle cries of his crew as they fought the beast.

Alits were not altogether difficult to kill. The creature did not so much as manage to bite anyone. In fact, Fara had already struck it across the top of its head with her mace. It swooned from the blow, and S'maath ran it through with blade. The redguard shook some gunk from her weapon then approached S'maash. Her dark eyes were fierce.

"You have to be more careful. Keep pace with us or go back home," she scolded.

He swallowed hard before nodding in accordance. He wanted to thank her, but she walked away. They continued their journey as though nothing had happened, yet the young elf's heart was still pounding. It soon settled in his chest while the warriors joked over the fun of the fight. It was not fun for S'maash; it was dangerous and scary, but it was only an alit after all.