Chapter Forty Five

Auroth was sure the reason this area was known as the pale was due to the high likelihood that one would die in the lifeless sub arctic wastes. He shuddered with no means of finding relief from the biting cold of the storm they trudged through.  Even the Khajiit were huddled against the vicious weather. They looked almost perfectly white, thick snow clinging to their fur.

Gaeolin leaned into the wind. It was less like walking, more falling forward. He turned to make sure the others were still standing, waiting until they were close enough to hear him over the storm.

“Should we stop for a while? At least until the storm lets up?”

Inigo flicked his ears, trying to rid them of their icy accumulation. “As entertaining as a camping trip sounds, I feel like this may not be the time or place.”

Auroth pointed down what could be seen of the road. “The village can’t be that much further. We’ve made good time. I would rather rest there than risk stopping and freezing to death in the wilds.”

Bai’lira pressed into the center of the huddle, offering a small vial to the two of them. “Here. Drink this. A potion of Frost Resistance. This one agrees that stopping will mean our deaths.” She glued herself to Auroth, using his height as a windshield. “Forgive Bai’lira, Auroth. She is not accustomed to such extreme chills. Do you mind if I walk with you for a moment. You are quite warm.”

Although looking uncomfortable, the Altmer offered the fringe of his cloak, letting her nestle into him. “The algae in your fur seems to make your insulation suffer.”

She smirked. “Do not worry. This one knows the price of warmth will be some teasing. She will permit the jokes.”

Inigo watched, a little jealous of the shared warmth. He turned to Gaeolin expectantly. The bosmer sent an apologetic glance. “You’d probably freeze faster if we tried that.”

“Isn’t there some kind of spell you could cast to help us stay warm?” Inigo asked Auroth.

“Not that I could cast in the current situation. I’m just as cold as the rest of you, and what energy I would need to cast the spell would consume what body heat I had left.”

“Is that really how it works?” Gaeolin had never heard about this sort of side effect.

“Magic isn’t as easy a shortcut as you might think. The energy and substance still have to come from somewhere. Depending on the conditions, a miscast spell could do nothing, but kill the mage.” He shivered as a gust of wind tore down from the cliffs nearby. “Unless you know the spell too, and would be willing to spare some of your power to help me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Gaeolin blinked a snowflake out of his eye. The most annoying part was the fact that they wouldn’t melt when they touched him. “Come on, let’s get to the tavern.”

As Auroth had said, they were closer to the town than they had thought. The veil of the snowfall gradually lifted to show the rustic buildings, sealed in ice as a testament to the inhospitable nature of the hold. There were no guards on the streets, but quite a lot of noise coming from the Inn. Inigo picked up his pace to make it to the porch first. Gaeolin couldn’t help but grin as his friend slid on a patch of ice. The khajiit only just caught himself before he fell. Auroth and Bai’lira slid by, Opening the door to the welcome glow of the fire.

All eyes were upon them as the door slammed shut. Inigo looked around the room, giving a meek wave. The people went back to their drinks, although with much quieter conversation. A priest of Mara stood near the bar, speaking to a pair of women in hushed tones. Gaeolin made his way to the bartender.

“Don’t get a lot of travellers?” He sat on a stool, trying to give off a friendly air.

“Don’t pay it any mind, stranger. Everyone has been on edge for a while now.” He set a cup in front of him, looking half dead on his feet. “The name’s Thoring. Welcome to the Windpeak Inn. What will you be drinking, master? And would your companions like me to arrange a table for you? It’s terrible weather for travelling.”

“No need to trouble yourself. We can make do with the seating you have. I’ll have an ale.” Gaeolin was pleased that their host was so tired. Thoring didn’t seem to register his customer’s appearance. “We’ve come all the way from Solitude. We were hoping we could get some information.”

“We heard that a ship known as the Nurog was sailing this way. We wished to know if they had stopped here.” Bai’lira made no attempt to sound inconspicuous. Gaeolin shot her a warning glance. Thoring gave them a fearful look.

“I don’t know anything about that ship. And even if I did, it’s not worth my life to tell you where to find them.” He leaned close. “If you value your own, you’ll let the matter go. The Green Leaf Marauders aren’t known for their mercy.”

Gaeolin made sure the man could see his fangs as he replied. “In this instance, I have nothing to lose. I would be grateful if you would tell me where their hideout is.” 

Thoring’s eyes grew wide. He swallowed, looking around the room. “Hey, hey… Easy now. Look, I can’t say. I really can’t. The captain is… Not the most forgiving sort.”

Inigo scowled. “We did not just cross half of Skyrim to be disappointed by a lowly barkeep. Tell my friend what he wants to know, or I think you will find that he can also be miserly with his patience.” The bartender was sweating. He began to speak when the peace of the Inn was shattered.

Three men emerged from the shadows, each pinning one of the party to the pillars that supported the roof. None of them had time to react. Gaeolin made to draw his sword and defend his companions when a silver dagger found his throat.

“Who’s looking for us?” The voice was almost sweet. She was shorter than he was, though not by much. He stood still as the lady came to stand in front of him. She was bosmer… But something about her looked different. She wore a series of scars on her cheek. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail of dreadlocks, a brown bandana holding the arrangement out of her face. There was an ever so slight green tint to her skin. Gaeolin kept the thought to himself that at this rate, a green woman would be the death of him. “Well, you seemed so ready to find us you nosey little bastard. What do you want from the Marauders?” 

Gaeolin eyed her, sensing something about her that he couldn’t quite place. “No need to be so violent. What if we were prospective crewmen?”

She gave a wicked grin. “Crew don’t seek me out, I find them. Nice try though.” She pressed a little harder on his throat. “I’m told silver does nasty things to vampires. I won’t ask again. Why were you looking for us?”

Gaeolin felt the sting of the edge, his calm starting to deteriorate. “Alright, we were looking for you. You stole something from a ship bound for Solitude. It was a batch of alchemy ingredients from the Synod Conclave. Bloodgrass. I need to ask you to give them back to us.”

She laughed, her knees bending under the strength of her mirth. “Maybe I was wrong. We could have a use for you! It’s been a long time since my boys had the pleasure of a jester.” Her eyes hardened. “Ask? You thought I would just ‘give’ you what you want?” I could sail to Winterhold and make a fortune off those plants. I would be a damned fool to give them to you of all people.”

“Surely, there must be something you need that we could offer?” Inigo tried to interject more, but his oppressor punched him in the stomach to silence him.

Auroth watched her for a moment. “That sheath on your hip.” He nodded to the empty leather. “I know your dagger doesn’t fit that. Where is your blade, captain?”

She tried to maintain her tough stance. “Tossed it, didn’t I? The fight with the whelps on that ship left no time for sentiments.” A brief look of loss crossed her features. 

“And your man here needs a healer,” he continued, “he’s bleeding all over me, and I don’t appreciate it.”

She rushed over, ripping Auroth’s captive’s sleeve open. “Damn it, Helmon! I told you to wrap this better.” She reached to the fire pit, grabbing the glowing poker. “Bite on something.” She pressed the hot iron into his skin, making him scream and let go of Auroth. Before the high elf could do anything she turned on him with the rod. “No, no… No funny business.”

Auroth held up his hands, backing away. “Something about this makes me think you aren’t being completely honest.” He paced, inspecting the other pirates. All of them were battered, more than a single fight would have caused. “You’re hiding in Dawnstar, not from the navy, but from someone else. When we asked about your ship, you made it a point to ask who we were. I think what you mean to ask is, who sent us.” He smirked. “And the reason you’re unwilling to negotiate the return of our goods is part of that curiosity in a way.” He walked up to her, arms crossed. “You don’t have them anymore.”

She seemed to falter, her blade still outstretched. “Ridiculous!”

“I’m right aren’t I?” He sneered, clearly enjoying the interrogation. “The mighty robbers, turned robbed and bleeding. How sad…”  

She moved faster than Gaeolin could blink. Her fist met Auroth’s nose, her leg hooking around to pull his feet from under him. He lay dazed on the floor, blood spurting from his face. She spat on him for good measure. 

“Who looks sad now, pig?” She turned away from him. Inigo looked like he was torn between the desire to help his friend or to laugh at his situation. The captain faced Gaeolin. “Your pretentious friend is right. We had a bit of a…scuffle on our way back. Our ship took heavy damage, and the fetchers had some pretty good mercenaries with them. They took most of our haul, including your herbs.”

Gaeolin closed his eyes, asking whatever deities were listening what he had done to wrong them. “Damn it…”

Auroth stood, pinching his nose with a look of pure rage on his face. He took his free hand, sending a ball of flames at her. She raised her own, twisting her fingers to make the fire flicker out around the tips of her fingers. She clicked her fingers, a tankard flying from the bar to once again pelt the altmer in the nose. “What did I just say about funny business?”

“You might want to stop while you’re still alive, Auroth.” Gaeolin approached her. “It would seem we both have something to gain by finding these people. You need your precious profits, and I need the bloodgrass. I want to be cured. I can’t be with my daughter until this has been sorted out. I hate that she fears me, and if I have to kill you, or be killed by you… So be it.”

The captain went to speak again but paused. For a moment, she appeared put off.

“Daughter?”

Gaeolin nodded. “She’s afraid of me. She’s been through enough without me looking like this.”

She considered him. Something in her demeanor changed at his words. “You know, in spite of your choice of friends, I like you.” She looked at his face, examining his cheek bones. “You remind me of my father in a way. Very well.” She nodded to her crew, prompting the release of Bai’lira and Inigo. “I’ll give you your precious bloodgrass under one condition.”

“And that would be?”

“Well, during the scuffle, one of the bastards made off with my father’s sword. Its the only thing I have to remember him by. If my intuition is correct, if we find my sword, we find your bloodgrass. I’d take my own men to find it,  but they’re still recovering from the attack.”

Before Gaeolin could utter an answer, Bai’lira forced her way into the conversation. “This one has a lot of gall asking for help,” she turned to Gaeolin. “What makes you think we can trust this girl?”

The captain took the comment like one would a mouthful of poison, scowling at the Khajiit. “That’s captain to you, furbag.” 

Bai’lira’s ears went back. “Do you happen to have a name Captain?”
Instead of answering directly, the woman ignored her and turned back to Gaeolin. “Its Urmha. YOU may address me as such. I’m not so sure about the rest of your idiot friends.” With that, she smirked. “You help me recover our goods, and my father’s sword. In return, I will give you your herbs. Your little girl will be missing you if we wait too long.” She made for the door, clearly meaning for their journey to begin immediately. As she passed Auroth, she looked at him as he cradled his face. She rolled her eyes. A wave of her hand sent golden light toward him, his nose correcting it’s broken position, the blood clearing from his features. “Stop crying, pathetic child…”