The Bound - A Tale Of Tamriel

5

5

i. Öenthir.

The tall Nord mage had said nothing since indicating to her to follow him. Only the steady tap, tap, tap of his great oaken staff hitting the floor had broken the silence as he led Öenthir through the longhouse, out of the side doors and in to the attached garden area.

Öenthir felt uneasy about what this was all leading to, but she remained steadfast in her determination to not be a part of whatever the Jarl had planned. It was quite impossible that she would be hijacked into doing something she didn't want to do. She was a student of the Mages Guild!

It took her a second before she realised that Dirgan had stopped. They had arrived, apparently, at their destination.

"There were thirty years between Borgun taking the gems and when he heard the voices again telling him to return them. Three months later, his wife died." Dirgan stared down at Öenthir, seeming to be double her own height. "Three years later, he heard the voices again followed by his son dying three months later. All threes. A pattern."

Dirgan turned and held out his hand pointing to a spot in the garden. There, Öenthir saw a young girl, around twelve years old but, being a Nord child, taller than Öenthir herself. The girl was laughing and playing with a great, shaggy hound. She seemed very happy.

"The Jarl's daughter, Ysrey. The last remaining member of the Jarl's family." Dirgan returned his attention to Öenthir, "She will soon be dead. If the curse's pattern holds true, in little over three months time she will simply die. No disease or illness of any kind. Not killed by mortal hands. She will just die."

Öenthir looked at the girl. So happy and full of life. So few years to her name and so many years that she may never see. A great wave of pity and shame swept over the little Bosmer. But it wasn't only fear that was stopping her from doing what the Jarl wanted them all to do.

"The gems must be returned to the three ancient mages. Not back where Borgun found them, but to the mages themselves. To their tombs." Dirgan was walking again, leading Öenthir from the garden and the doomed child. "We found this out far too late to save the Jarl's son and it was not until recently that we found the location of just one of the tombs."

"Why won't you listen to me?" Öenthir was almost pleading. "Everyone keeps talking but no-one is listening! I'm sorry for the Jarl. I wish I could help him and his daughter, but I'm a student! I'm not a mage! I only know five weak spells! It's not just that I'm afraid. I am! But, I don't have the capability to help!"

Dirgan had led them, through a couple of doors, to another area of the longhouse grounds. A training compound where a few guards were practicing against straw dummies. With a simple gesture, Dirgan dismissed the guards and they scuttled from the compound.

"You know only five spells." In the centre of the compound, now, Dirgan turned and once again towered over Öenthir, "Tell me them. Which spells do you 'only' know?"

"Alright," Öenthir suspected that the grim and grizzled mage knew exactly what spells she knew, but she humoured him, anyway. "There's minor healing, I'm able to slow down bleeding and promote faster natural healing. Mage's Light, a small orb at the moment. A minor protection spell. Flame, which I use to light fires back home and I can summon a little rain cloud for fresh water when I'm on a book finding mission."

"I see." Dirgan seemed to muse upon the spells she had mentioned, "You see the training dummies? Each dummy gets hit a thousand times or more, in practice. But a warrior learns more with one stroke of a blade, in battle, than they will ever learn striking a dummy."

Dirgan reached behind his back, pulling out a dagger from its hidden sheath. Holding his staff in the crook of his elbow, he slashed his wrist with the dagger. Öenthir jumped back, shocked, her mind failing to work fast enough to do anything. Dirgan, meanwhile, stood there as his life blood gushed and spurted from his veins into pools on the floor before him. Soon his skin became pale and drawn but, with practiced ease, his other hand made the required gestures.