Silgrad Tower from the Ashes

The Wanderer Returns (Part 1)

As told by Ben Vagara:

It was already dusk as the old Nord wandered down from the highlands of Skyrim towards the Dunmer city of Silgrad Tower. ?How long had it been?? he wondered.

It had been a beautiful morning during Last Seed when he had first set out on his pilgrimage. For nearly six months, he had traveled the harsh environs of Morrowind, crossing into the provinces of Cyrodiil and Skyrim from time to time. As an increasingly influential councilor in Great House Redoran, he had felt a growing desire to visit the ancient capital of his adopted people. And so, his pilgrimage to Kragenmoor had begun.

Simply enough, he reminisced. He had set his house in order, leaving his steward, Talikan the Grey, in charge of his holdings. The large manor south of the untamed village of Verarchen Hall had been his home for the past 6 years. Ah, Verarchen Hall; named after the ancient Daedric cavern in the Velothi Mountains not far from his manor. He wondered why he hadn?t explored that place yet. A smile crossed his grizzled face. He had certainly explored plenty of Daedric ruins during the past few years. Strange, he thought, that he had never visited the site closest to his home. He made a mental note to visit the caverns soon. Who knew what interesting artifacts (or at least a few valuable trinkets) he might find.

For more years than he cared to remember, he had traveled to many places throughout Tamriel. Even now, the old Knight of the Imperial Dragon, felt at ease wandering through the wilds of the Velothi Mountains afraid of nothing. Although he didn?t like to admit it, his harsh childhood and early years had strengthened him for his life?s work. Living among so many other orphans in the Imperial City, he had learned to be quick in word and deed. The long hours of hard work at the ?Imperial Orphanage? (a prison, really) had taught him perseverance, patience, and endurance. The tasks he was given due to his large stature gave him great strength. His love of learning allowed him to gain a vast knowledge of the world in which he lived. As a boy, he would imagine himself as a knight, facing enemies and foes, vanquishing evil and holding up the right. That was all Gareth?s fault, he recalled fondly. The old Breton had been ?guarding? the orphans for most of his life. Whenever a noble or bureaucrat visited, Gareth would act properly strict and firm, showing efficiency and respect (even if the visitor didn?t deserve it). But when there was no one around to impress, kindly Gareth would act more like a wise mentor than a taskmaster.

But for a lonely, growing Ben Vagara, Gareth had been more like a father, lovingly teaching the young orphaned Nord the finer points of chivalry, swordplay, and the like. In fact, it was probably Gareth that had named him. It was Gareth that had said his name meant ?Good Wanderer?. Well now, that was prophetic!

And the stories! He had loved to listen to Gareth?s tales of his days in the Legion, battling evil minions in far-away places like Skyrim or High Rock or... Morrowind. That thought brought Ben back to his current surroundings.

Not much further and he would pass through the Ancient Gate of Silgrad. Not exactly the friendliest ancient structure, but there was nothing for him to fear within its walls. Oh, the guards did their best to keep travelers safe in this area. But once in a while, someone would simply turn up dead? ?Just part of living in the Velothi Mountain region,? he conceded.

By the time he reached the Ancient Gate, dusk had passed to night. The moons looked down brightly while wisps of colored clouds stretched across a darkened sky. Oh, how he loved the freedom of the wilds!

He passed through the Gate directly, exiting on the east towards the Crossroads. Ashunor Crossroads. Few places were as beautiful as Ashunor Valley, with its streams, rivers and lake. All seemed very peaceful.

And that was when it happened. Rarely was Ben ever surprised by anything anymore. But this ? it surprised him. Had he been younger and less experienced, he would have been alarmed.

With a single motion he drew his long sword, Darkstorm, spinning to his left and slashing up and across the shadow that had appeared behind him. His sword cut into something ? not hard, but not soft. This foe was well-muscled, strong and agile. It also wore armor under its cloak. As he struck, he saw glowing red eyes within the blackness of the hood. The creature shrieked wildly. The smell of blood and death surrounded him. His mind quickly realized what he was facing. Deflecting a counterattack with his left bracer, he stepped passed his attacker, using his foe?s momentum to gain a few moments before the next attack came. But a few moments was all he needed. For Ben had learned long ago that a wise traveler always carried a silver dagger. Reaching down his left leg, he instinctively grasped the hilt of his custom-made dirk. Pulling it from its sheath within his boot, he tumbled to his left, rolling back up onto his feet. Enchanted long sword in his right hand and silver dirk in his left, he was ready when the creature came directly at him, pushing back its hood and exposing the crazed eyes and vicious fangs. Others might have frozen with fear at the sight, but the seasoned warrior simply slashed with his right and lunged with his left. The silver dirk pushed through the rotting leathers of his foe, lodging firmly in its chest. The creature howled an ungodly sound, trying in vain to escape. With a forlorn look, it collapsed, suspended on Ben?s dagger.

?By the Three! What is a vampire doing so close to Silgrad?? Ben said out loud, though there was no one left to hear him. ?And in the Ashunor Valley, no less!?

He surveyed the woods and rocks around him? listening carefully and searching every shadow. After a few minutes, he could hear the normal night sounds of the wilderness. The danger had passed. After wiping the blood from his weapons on a cloth, Ben knelt down to inspect the lifeless one. He found the ring and amulet almost immediately. ?Clan Quarra? here in Silgrad?? he pondered. ?This is not good.? He knew that Clan Quarra usually preferred to remain on the isle of Vvardenfell. He had heard of a clan member being sent to do the master?s bidding on Morrowind?s mainland only once before, years ago. And that had been to steal a relic rumored to be lost near Old Ebonheart. It was never found, of course. But a lot of innocent people paid dearly for the vampire's failure...

To be continued?

*leans back with a beer waiting for the next chapter*

Ben disposed of the corpse carefully, checking for articles that might be of value. All he had was a signet ring and a nice amulet. There was nothing else remarkable.

As Ben looked around once more, he realized that it was now quite dark. Looking to the heavens, he noted that clouds were gathering, blocking out the beauty of the moons and stars. He began again to walk along the road to the crossroads. Ashunor Crossroads was the only place around where many roads came together, crossed over each other and continued on in different directions.

Soon he saw the flickering lights of the inn at the crossroads. He hadn?t visited with Alon and Cristina for ages. Over the years, young Alon had taught Ben to be a better marksman with bow and arrow. Alon had gained something of a reputation as an archer?s archer. But while Alon would busy himself with archery and hunting, it was the beautiful Cristina who kept the inn operating smoothly. The Travellin? Adventurer was one of Morrowind?s finest destinations for a road weary traveler. Cristina?s hospitality was well known.

Ben pulled his heavy hooded cloak around him, hiding his face and features as best he could. Slowly he opened the front door. ?Good,? he thought to himself. It was late so no one was in the front area. He slipped inside the inn?s entrance quietly. Sneaking up to the main counter, he stood quietly with his hands and face hidden, waiting.

Cristina was busy putting a few things away behind the counter. ?Dear Mara!? she cried out when she turned, surprised to see the gray cloaked figure next to her. Recovering slightly from her initial shock, she moved carefully back one step. ?What do you want?? she demanded, trying to be cordial yet having difficulty suppressing her nervousness.

?Is this how you treat all of your honored guests, dear Cristina?? came the distantly familiar voice from within the hood. Then the bowed head raised, letting the hood slide back from a handsome, weathered face, set with quiet sky-blue eyes. A mischievous grin began to spread across the beginnings of a white beard.

?Ben!? Cristina nearly jumped over the counter trying to greet her old friend. ?You N?wah!? she chided, saying the Dunmer word without pronouncing quite right. ?You scared me halfway to oblivion!?

Ben hugged the attractive young Imperial, lifting off the floor to give her a welcome kiss on her forehead. Cristina was almost a daughter to Ben. He had been to The Travellin? Adventurer many times when he traveled the northern regions of Morrowind or Skyrim.

?And how is my girl doing this fine evening? Looking more beautiful than ever, I say.? He set her down gently.

?I?m doing well enough, Ben.? Cristina thoroughly enjoyed the attention Ben paid to her. ?If only she had met him when he was young and unattached,? she thought, not for the first time. ?From whence have ye come this time?? she asked.

?Well, if you?ve a tankard and a table, I?ve got some time to spend!? he teased.

?You?re in luck, as usual. If you wish to stay the night here, your usual room is available,? the innkeeper replied as she got a tankard of comberry wine, a loaf of bread and some scrib jerky. She already knew the answer. Ben always stayed here when he was in the area.

While Ben settled into his room, Cristina went to find Alon.

?A guest has just arrived, Alon. And I fear that I will need your assistance immediately.?

Alon looked up from the new arrow he was making. He set everything down and reached for a throwing knife. Already, Cristina was heading back up the stairs. Alon quickly followed her to the upper room.

But upon entering the guest room, Alon?s concerned changed in a instant. ?Ben, my friend!? he called out as the image of the old Nord registered in his tired mind. ?What are you doing here??

?Eating, drinking and planning to rest. Why else would one come to a place as this? Unless, of course, one found two exceptionally intelligent people for conversation?? There was that twinkle in the warrior?s eye and a slight grin on the edges of his lips.

Alon was always fascinated by this Knight Templar. How the grizzled nobleman could be so tough on the outside while keeping his boyish charm was beyond him. He had met Ben as a young man, trying to recover from the loss of his parents and make a new life for himself. For some reason, Ben had taken an interest in him and had provided assistance when he decided to build this inn with Cristina. Ben always claimed that Alon had taught him how to shoot with bow and arrow. But Alon suspected that Ben really didn?t need his ?tutoring? as much as he suggested.

The three closes friends sat down to talk. It had been a few months since last they had met and Alon and Cristina were happy to hear of Ben?s adventures. After a few hours, the conversation was beginning to slow as the friends were tiring from the long day. After a moment of silence, Ben asked in a low voice, ?So, Alon, have you seen any Dres-mer lately??

?Dres, you say? Why, I haven?t seen anyone of House Dres in these?? Alon was suddenly alert again. ?What are you saying, Ben?? he inquired, afraid of what Ben might tell him. Cristina huddled in closer. She didn?t want to miss any of what would now be said.

Ben quietly recounted his encounter on the road just hours before. Alon and Cristina sat quietly, concern showing on their faces.

?We should report this immediately!? said Cristina. Alon placed his hand on her arm.

?Not tonight, my dear. Nothing more will happen here this night. I suspect that Ben will take care of the report in the morning.? He spoke softly, but firmly. It was time to sleep.


To be continued...

:O WOW thats great, eagerly awaiting the next part

The next morning, Ben awoke rested. It had been a long time since he had enjoyed a good rest. All too often, his rest would be disturbed during a night in the wilds? although it was usually just an annoyance (blasted scribs tap-tap-tapping all night!)

After finishing his training and fitness routines, Ben washed, dressed and inspected his weapons, armor and gear. The sword and dirk showed that they had been used, but no serious damage was suffered. His bigger concern was the small cut on his left shoulder, just below his neckline. He hadn?t noticed it until this morning when he had scrubbed. The stinging had reminded him of the previous night?s skirmish. The wound should have healed during the night, but it hadn?t. Centering himself in his mind, he made the healer?s signs, calling forth the power that would heal his body. In an instant, the wound was gone and so was the sting.

Sitting on the table he found steamed saltrice, kwama egg and scrib jerky. And a warm cup of mead. Cristina was certainly a marvel. Even after being away for months, Ben?s favorite breakfast was prepared just as he liked it. He sat and ate until he was satisfied. This would be a grand day.

Bidding farewell to Cristina and Alon, Ben headed south along the western shore of Ashunor Lake. The sky was clear, the air warming, with a gentle breeze promising a glorious day. As he approached the Forgotten Forest, Ben recalled his first encounter in this foreboding place. He had been a young man, newly on his own, trying to find his way in a large world. He had been sent from the orphanage to Winterhaven to visit with a long lost cousin. But along the way, word reached him that there was no such cousin. So instead he had decided to go adventuring in Vvardenfell. And Silgrad Tower was on the way. That first time through the forest taught him two lessons: day travel has its benefits, and shadows in the night can play tricks on the mind.

It wasn?t long before he saw the walls and rooftops of the magnificent city of Silgrad Tower peeking through the darkened deadwood of the Forgotten Forest. For all of her prestige, progress and power, Silgrad was still a mistress keeping many secrets.

Within minutes he was entering the grand southern gateway to the city, noticing the boldly uniformed guard watching him. Protectors they were called by the citizens, he recalled. But now it was time to visit a trusted friend and confidant. Near this gate, he found Number 2, the home of Good Fortune!

Quentin Fortune, as he was known throughout the city, was a wise and powerful member of Silgrad?s elite. He was a successful Dunmer, influential, yet pragmatic. Ben was sure that somewhere in Quentin?s earlier years, this dark elf rogue had visited cities and places that most Dunmer only hear about in rumor or legend. And somewhere along the journey, he acquired a special taste for the finer things in life; including the apples and bananas one only finds outside of Morrowind.

Ben had always known Quentin as a trusted friend and advisor. As Ben had gained in power, influence, and most notably, in wealth; it had been this good-natured statesman that had guided a wandering Nord in the ways of the Great Houses and all things Morrowind. It seemed that Quentin related to Ben?s everchanging life as he had been an adventurous rogue before settling down in Silgrad Tower?s Upper Chambers district.

Ben rapped on the sturdy Hlaalu-style door with gloved knuckles. Within a few moments, one of Silgrad?s finest, clad in the black armor of the city?s protectors, opened the door. Ben handed the guard a folded paper, asking that it be delivered to the master of the house. Apparently, this guard did not recall Ben. For no sooner had the paper been deposited in the guard?s hand, than the front door closed. Ben had to smile. Guards were useful in deterring would-be criminals, or dealing with wild creatures and the like, but were really no match for those of greater experience. But that was as it should be, given that Silgrad?s protectors had little hands on experience outside the city?s walls. However, having to stand on the front steps was not as it should be. Even a protector of the city should be a little more polite. So Ben let himself in and found a comfortable chair. Sitting quietly, he waited for his friend to find him.

Looking as grand as ever in his fine robes, Quentin came downstairs and moved gracefully towards the door. It always amazed Ben how his friend could move so swiftly while appearing to exert no energy or effort at all. Quietly, Ben cleared his throat as his host reached to open the door. Invisibility was an amusing spell at times like these.

?I see you have extended my courtesy to yourself already! Well then, please, come in, come in!? Master Fortune motioned to no one in particular, not really seeing anyone yet. ?And please have a seat!? he added with an exaggerated flourish.

Ben had to laugh in spite of himself, revealing his location. If anyone knew how to raise a man?s spirits, it was Quentin ? wise, trustworthy, reliable Quentin. ?There is still much I could learn from him,? Ben thought.

?I thank you for your hospitality!? the smiling Nord arose, bowing graciously. As the seriousness of his visit was not yet known to his friend, Ben allowed himself to enjoy the good natured exchange. Besides, the guards were still close by.

Quentin beckoned for Ben to follow him to another part of his manor. ?We should talk of this and that, of things that are and things that are to come,? he was saying. ?Would you like an apple? I?m sure I can find a fresh, crisp one somewhere around here.?

Ben was beginning to think that this was going to become a social visit, when he heard Quentin?s voice in a hushed tone: ?Follow me, my friend, for you and I have important business to discuss.? Did Quentin already know about his encounter near the Ancient Gate?

*shoves some more popcorn into his mouth and munches while reading the intresting tale*

*makes himself comfortable with a huge tankard of mead*

Soon Ben and Quentin were sitting quietly on the steps of the pool of water, sipping drinks and enjoying fresh fruit. This was the room where Ben had come before when he needed to recover or reflect.

After a short while, when Quentin was certain that his guest was renewed and they were alone, he leaned forward to inquire: ?What is this I hear of a vampire so close to Silgrad Tower? Tell me everything, please... from the beginning.?

Ben recounted the incident. Noting the amulet and ring he found signifying Clan Quarra. He also mentioned the magical glowing blade. And then he stopped.

?That blade!? Ben exclaimed. As he told of his battle, he suddenly realized that he had not found the enchanted blade that had lightly wounded him.

Quentin could read the concern in his colleague?s eyes. He leaned forward and laced his fingers, resting his hands on the table between them. ?A glowing blade, you say,? he interjected. ?A blade that did not exist after your conflict, but was real enough to cut your neck.?

?Perhaps it was a bound weapon of sorts, although I?ve never encountered a vampire casting such a spell,? Ben replied. ?Nor do I recall its appearance to be Daedric.?

?Or perhaps it is a relic, ancient in craftsmanship, and dangerous in its power?? Quentin theorized. ?I?ve heard rumors of such a blade,? he continued, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

?Well, it is possible that it is lying in the undergrowth by the side of the road. I surprised the creature and hit it fairly hard?? Ben offered.

?Since when have you not hit enemies fairly hard?? Quentin grinned. ?I am very curious, now,? continued the Dunmer rogue. ?We should return to the place of your encounter and search for more clues? perhaps we will find something.?

?Or perhaps we will find something we do not wish to know?? the old knight stated.

The two friends prepared themselves for the short journey. They agreed to travel separately, taking different routes so as not to draw any attention to themselves. After all, both men were known in Silgrad Tower well enough to generate questions that neither one wanted to answer. They would meet at The Travelin? Adventurer just before dawn the next morning.

*gets drinks. many drinks. and popcorn*

It was still about an hour before the early dawn?s gray light would push back the night. Ben lay still in his bed at the inn. What were the words Quentin had used yesterday? ??a relic, ancient in craftsmanship, and dangerous in its power?? The explorer in him wanted to find this ?relic?, if only to hold it, to wield it, to understand it. But his more experienced wanderer overruled his youthful enthusiasm, realizing that this dagger, or whatever it was, might be the beginning of something he would rather not be involved in. He would soon find out.

He arose, washed and dressed in his leather breeches, heavy leather boots and linen tunic. He slid a glass dagger into each boot sheath. More than once, these little gems had been handy?

It had been when he was younger. One morning, he had finally come across a Daedric ruin in the northwest mainland of Morrowind. He had heard many tales of the dangers lurking beneath the surface of these ancient sites. As he had approached the strange looking central tower of the ruin, he had encountered a scamp. Scamps: annoying, pesky little creatures. It took him very little time to dispatch the scamp, although he suffered a couple of scratches.

The problem arose from the distraction the scamp caused Ben. Just as he was finishing off the scamp with his trusty Imperial sword, a burst of fire surrounded him. The flame penetrated his armor, scorching him badly. My how fire could cause pain! Frost he could handle, but not fire. As inexperienced as he was at that time, a Fire Atronach was nearly more than he could handle. As he attempted to move into a safer position behind a fragment of wall, he heard a yell, ?Die, Fetcher!? There was virtually no other sound, yet when he looked around the broken wall, he saw the atronach, lying on its back on the ground, its flame dimming into embers.

Cautiously, Ben moved around the edge of the ruin, looking for any sign of movement. ?Outlander!? whispered the voice behind his left ear. Ben?s heart skipped a beat and he instinctively jumped away, spinning around.

The dark elf girl began laughing, holding her sides. She was no taller than a wood elf, with large reddish eyes, smooth gray skin on fine features. Dressed all in dark leathers, she was attractive, yet suspiciously dangerous.

?You should be more careful around Daedric ruins, boy Nord,? she commented, still smiling with the pleasure of having scared an Imperial Legionaire. ?Don?t they teach you anything useful at the forts??

Ben couldn?t decide whether he should be angry or not. But the nervous energy he felt within and the young elf?s mirth at his expense caused him to laugh out loud.

?You have a point there!? he replied. ?Alright, I admit that I am not as skilled as I would like to be, but at least I am willing to try.?

?There is that,? she allowed.

After a moment of standing there, looking at each other, Ben remarked, ?Where are my manners? I am called Ben, Ben Vagara.? Then, without waiting for her response, he asked, ?How did you kill the atronach??

?Ben? That?s an unusual name. Let's see, uh, you may call me Talyra. Yes, Talyra, I like that name,? she mused. ?What will you give me if I teach you how to remove an atronach??

?Remove?? Ben had not heard of anyone ?removing? an atronach. It appeared to him that she had killed it, not ?removed? it.

?It is just a manner of speaking, really. Whether I say remove or terminate or eliminate or kill or whatever? the end result is still the same. You are alive and the atronach is not.?

She seemed to be enjoying this game, but Ben was not quite sure what to do next. Should he trust her or not? She was certainly dangerous and deadly. After a moment?s hesitation, his curiosity got the better of him.

?Then would you teach me how to ?remove? threatening creatures? I haven?t much of value yet, but I?m good with the long sword. Perhaps I could show you something...?

Ben caught the mirth in Talyra?s crimson eyes. For someone with red eyes, hers were certainly lovely? Her smile preceded an affirmative response, nodding her head.

The rest of the day had been spent in teaching and training. Ben quickly learned that Talyra followed the way of the Black Hand and was quite talented with the art of stealthy ?removals?. In return, he was able to show her a few new maneuvers with a long sword. At least he had been reasonably skilled at that.

As dusk settled in, they shared a meal and talked. That night they slept out under the two moons, not far from the ruins. In the morning, she had given him a beautiful silver dagger. And then she had gone.

That had been nearly 14 years ago now. He smiled, thinking about that experience. ?What a young fool I was,? he thought, ?At least Daedric ruins aren't much of a problem anymore!? He almost laughed out loud at that. Perhaps he had learned a few things along the way.

?There?s another dagger to find, if it exists,? he reminded himself as he patted the daggers he had just placed in their sheathes. Well, it was time to find Quentin. He was definitely ready for another adventure!

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