Chapter Seven

Farengar’s warning about the weather turned out to be more relevant to Noren and Inigo than they had expected. They had scarcely entered into the Reach hold than the clouds began to break upon them. The damp did not affect them as much as the wind. Noren devised a makeshift canopy above them through a repurposed ward spell. He was sure it would not be very useful in combat, as he couldn’t manage to stop all of the water from making its way through. He was nonetheless pleased by his accomplishment as he watched the water stream down the sides of the dome above.

Inigo seemed saddened that the rain was being deflected, though he made up for it by splashing in any and all puddles that they had come across. “Rain, rain, don’t go away. Come again every day!” He grinned in a child like way as he punctuated his song with yet another aquatic pounce. “I was not expecting to have this much fun on the job. I hope the weather holds out for us.”

“From the looks of the sky, I think you may just get your wish.” Noren shook his head. “Why do you love the rain so much?”

“The rain makes the world live and grow. It makes me feel alive. It is almost as if I can feel all of the bad experiences washing away in the water. I also enjoy a good storm. The lightning and thunder make me feel invigorated.” He turned to his friend. “Are you telling me that you only enjoy calm, placid weather?”

Noron shook his head. “Of course not. I do like rain. However, I prefer to enjoy it from the safety of an indoor setting. I also have a fondness for snowfall. I only rarely saw it in Summerset, but the times when it did were always memorable to me.”

“It is fortunate for you that snow is such a common occurrence in Skyrim. There will be no shortage of the soft white flakes for you here.”

The high elf wondered inwardly that it was not already snowing. The path they walked seemed almost cold enough to begin frosting over. He gave thanks for the thick fur robes that he had managed to acquire from Belethor. They were quite warm, and in his opinion even managed to be stylish. “I wonder what Markarth will be like. I don’t think I have ever been so far west in Skyrim before. Well, with the exception of Solitude, of course. “

“It has been a while for me as well, my friend. Personally, I do not think I will ever enjoy my time walking about a city that is always threatening me with bodily harm. One needs only to look at the crumbled stonework to begin having trust issues.”

Noren shook his head at his friend’s quip. “I’m sure they maintain the buildings. It wouldn’t serve them if people were being crushed by falling stones.”

“I am not so certain that those in authority in Markarth are that concerned with the safety of their citizens.” He gave a scowl. “The ones who could do anything about it are more worried about managing their profit margins.”

Noren’s face fell slightly. “But isn’t the health and safety of the people also in the best interest of their profits? They mine silver, correct? You need miners to be able to make any sort of profit.”

The khajiit gave him a pitiful grimace. “They have a situation setup that doesn’t give their workers an opportunity to leave. From what I know of the place, they even make the criminals work the mines as well. Free labor makes for big profits alone. I do not like the way it works, I just know that it does.”

The pair traveled in silence for a while. A low rumble of thunder rang through the crags, giving a booming undertone to the light pattering of the rain against the stones. Feeling like he had once again opened up a sore topic with his friend, Noren instead tried to practice the spell he had been studying since they had left Riften. He reached for the magicka, bringing his hand up into a shushing gesture. The tip of his finger began to shimmer with a pale blue light. “Sassi Varoth.” The light flared, wrapping around his hands and beginning to wind down his body. The magic swirled around his boots for a moment before seeping into the leather. The footwear dulled, but did not lose their newfound shimmer. Inigo twisted an ear back, turning his head when the sounds of his friend’s footsteps disappeared.

“How are you doing that? You have never been so sneaky before! Maybe there is hope for you yet, my friend.”

“It is an illusion spell. It works by changing the sound of the casters steps to make them blend in with any ambient noises in the environment. I figured it might come in handy during our ‘Business’ with Brynjolf and the guild.”

Inigo nodded his approval. “You are correct. I think this spell will serve you well for such things. I look forward to seeing how effective it is during actual use.”

Noren looked down at the trails of magical energy that swirled between his feet with a newfound sense of pride. He had never before been able to do anything like this. This had to be more than a novice spell. Exactly what tier of magic it was, he was not sure. He would have to ask Farengar about it when they next stopped in Whiterun. “Do you think there will be any magical shops in Markarth as well? I had no idea that there were so many practicing scorcerers in Skyrim.”

“Well, at the very least, each of the hold capitals will have their respective court wizard, I’m fairly sure that all of the Jarls make it a point to have someone to consult in these matters. Which, given the trouble that rogue spell casters can cause, I think it is only a logical precaution.”

“I think it would be nice to see what sort of requirements there are to enroll at the College of Winterhold. I’m not the best mage in Tamriel, but who knows? Being in Skyrim has seemingly done a lot for my skills. Maybe the schooling might also be of help.”

“Maybe, I do think we should try and help you learn a few more tricks on your own though. Those snooty college mages won’t give you the time of day if they think you won’t be an asset to them first.”

Noren frowned. “You know this from experience?”

“Reputation. It is both prestigious, and mysterious in equal measure. I know you can do it. I just want you to have as good a chance as you deserve starting out.” The rain began coming down harder. Even under their magical shield, the pair were starting to get far more damp than they wished. “We should try to find some cover. It might also be a good idea to stop for some rest. The road to Markarth can be perilous enough without adding exhaustion to the hazard list.” He scanned the road ahead. Unfortunately, the sheer cliff faces did not reveal very much in the way of shelter. After travelling a few minutes more, and starting to get more soaked than either of them had intended, they found a suitable outcropping under which to wait out the storm.

Inigo gathered a pair of large sticks, quickly whittling the end of each into a point. Noren pulled a roll of waxed canvas out of his bag. Untying the cord that bound it, he unfurled it with a flick. Inigo took one side, tying it to the sticks before planting the sharpened portions into the now soft earth. Noren climbed a short way up the cliff and secured the second side to the rocks. For good measure, he also weighed it down with some large stones. Clambering back down, he pulled a small jar from his bag.

Inigo frowned at him. “What good will that do us?”

Noren did not answer, holding his hand above the open end of the container. Flames sprouted out of his palm, filling the jar with bright, dancing fire. He turned his hand and the jar so that the glass was upside down. Bringing the arrangement to the ground, he slid his hand out from beneath. Through some magic that Inigo had not seen before, the fire remained. It burned just as bright, and no less warm for the lack of fuel. Smiling at his friend was all he could do before huddling close to the mystical heat source.

“I am starting to think that you are enjoying showing off.”

“Of course not. I’m just practicing.”

The khajiit gave a cheeky laugh. “By using magic that I have never seen before? I somehow doubt it. It is okay though. It is impressive, and will serve the both of us well on our journeys. Did you know that it would work?”

Noren shook his head. “No, but I had an idea that it might. I don’t think it is smart for me to hold it for long. I can feel it taking from me. I’m hoping it will dry out the kindling quickly so we can feed it that way.”

Inigo frowned, “What do you mean, ‘taking from you’?” He turned to the elf, alarmed to see that he was shivering. Noren’s voice shook as he replied.

”The heat has to come from somewhere…”

Inigo hurriedly searched for some dry kindling and deadwood. He was only able to find a few pieces that were not completely soaked. He broke the branches down as fast as he could. Once he had gathered enough, he quickly poured the fire onto the little campfire and hoped it was adequate. The wood smoked a little at first, but soon burst into a steady, if not small fire. He turned his attention to Noren, he slumped back against the cliff face.

“You fool!” He snarled, scrambling in the elf’s bag for a potion. “What were you thinking? we could have managed without you putting yourself at risk like that.”

“I’ll be fine, Inigo. I just need to rest. It wouldn’t have been a problem if I had kept the flame in my hands. I’m sure the distance was the reason it took so much energy.”

“Technical reasons are beside the point!” He scolded. “It was reckless and unnecessary. If you ever do that again, I’ll box your ears.” Still angry, he set himself to the task of preparing a meal for them.

Noren began to recover his strength shortly, though he found that he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Inigo kept his focus on the large chunk of elk he was roasting on the fire. His friend was right. It had been foolish of him to try something like that. His destruction teacher back in Summerset would have shared the sentiment. He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed as well. He had hoped that such a small flame wouldn’t be so difficult. It wasn’t as if he had been trying to supply the heat for a cooking fire.

“I am sorry.” It was all he could muster. Inigo looked over his shoulder with a kind expression.

“I am not trying to be severe, Noren. I just want you to think a little more of yourself. You try so hard to improve, and that is admirable. It is important that you know your limitations though. You have promise, but magical mastery is not something you can force or rush. Do not let your people’s reputation make you think that your skills are not just as they should be at the moment. No two people are alike, not even brothers. Fergus and I are a fine example of that.”

Noren was surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention your brother before.

Inigo gave a look of mock incredulity. “I doubt that very much. I am certain he has come up in conversation before.”

“Maybe, but never in much depth. Mainly in passing.”

Inigo smiled as he remembered. “Fergus was a fine brother. He and I used to get into all sorts of scrapes. But, whenever things got messy, he was always there to have my back. He had bright, golden fur that caught the sun like a wildfire. He was quite the swordsman as well. Better even than me!” He turned the elk, his smile flickering. “I often wonder if he would be disappointed in me now. He would have never let me fall into addiction like I had if he could have helped it.”

Noren moved to sit closer. “How did he pass?” There was no need to ask if he was correct. The tone in his companion’s voice was enough to tell him that he would not have the chance to meet Fergus in person.

“We had stopped to camp just outside Skingrad, in Cyrodiil. We had been working to clear out some bandits that had been causing trouble there. Unfortunately, some locals had heard about us wandering around the west Weald, and thought we were bandits as well. Two Khajiit adventurers alone on the roads looked an awful lot to them like common highwaymen. It was not our first brush with racism, and it was by no means my last.” His voice grew soft. “I remember my brother had taken the watch that night. I had awoken to the sound of fighting outside our tent, Fergus staggered into the tent, clutching his side. He told me that if I loved him, I would run. He pushed our father’s sword into my hands, then shoved me through our tent and down the hill behind. I did as he said, and I ran as fast as I could. My legs burned and protested. The sound of his defeat is on the short list of my worst memories.”

Noren could feel his heart breaking at the story. He let a tear roll down his cheek. “Do you ever wish you had stayed to fight with him?”

“Every day, my friend…” Inigo looked out into the downpour. “Every day.” 

They were quiet now. The sounds of water on stone and the crackling of the fire were the only signs of life in the gully. The friends ate their dinner in silence. When it was time for sleep, Noren volunteered for the first watch. He sat with his legs crossed, his new sword lying across his lap while he set a book open on top of it. He would look over at inigo, hoping he could cheer him up tomorrow.