Chapter 6
The Collar
5 Years Earlier - Mournhold
Ri'shai turned the page's of "Dark Exchanges" lifting her head to meet the gaze of Sings-with-Lightning. "It says here that this one will be able to form crystals of pure magicka."
"Yessss, Yesssss, and sssummon powerful daedra," Sings-With-Lightning said.
The old argonian had been her tutor for the last six moons. Today the scaled magician had concluded that Ri'shai's storm calling training was complete. Ri'shai had just begun rejoicing when Sings-with-Lightning swatted her over the head with "Dark exchanges".
Now she was diving into the book, and decidedly not excited about the prospect of learning an entire new school of magic. Ri'shai suppressed a sigh.
"How long will it take to master Dark Magic?" Ri'shai said, trying to sound optimistic.
"Longer than you would like Ri'shai, longer than you would like." Sings-with-Lightning said.
The odd wizened argonian would often repeat his statements. Ri'shai found it extremely annoying. He was amiable enough, however he held no blows for Ri'shai. She would often return home drained. Her mind muddled from channeling so much magic.
Tolan had hired the argonian to teach her, and Sings-with-Lightning took his duties seriously. Tolan had said Ri'shai was some sort of prodigy. She didn't necessarily think so, but Sings-with-Lightning did seem impressed by her progress.
"You will take this home tonight, and in two days time we will meet again, at which point I expect you to be able to form a single crystal of dark magic." Sings-with-lightning said.
Ri'shai closed the book, lifting herself to her feet. She gave the argonian a graceful bow, which he returned ungracefully. "Until then!" Ri'shai said, making her way quickly out of the old lizards shop of oddities.
She stepped out onto the bustling streets of Mournhold, making her way through the crowds towards home. She locked away "Dark Exchanges" into the large pouch at her waist. She kept a firm hand over the pouches latch, warily watching passing patrons.
Times were changing. A year had passed since the invaders were thwarted. The argonians had shown up in force. Surprising both Akaviri, Nord, and Dunmer alike. On that battlefield, Jorunn forged an alliance between the dark-elves, scaled-men, and highlander. They called themselves the Ebonheart Pact.
For the first time, argonians could inhabit the streets of Mournhold without fear of a slavers chains. In-fact, the magnificent city had opened it's gates, and many races now walked the bustling streets. Dunmer society was slow to change, but many of the disapproving glances Ri'shai once suffered had vanished. Now she was all but invisible.
She managed to make it to the Dar'kir hideout without being accosted. The apothecary called "Grave Solutions" had a cellar along the narrow back-alley of the establishment. The cellar was considered condemned by the Alchemist's who owned the shop. If they only knew what treasure lurked beneath.
She approached the entrance, inspecting the heavy lock over the cellar latch. She retrieved the key that was conveniently tied around her neck, and opened the lock. It clicked, and she opened the cellar door. The familiar musty smell assailed her as she descended into darkness.
If there was light, she would of seen several empty shelves, and spiders that lived in the underground haven. She walked to the far wall, opposite of the stairs. She couldn't see anything, but she knew the walls were made of heavy stone. She placed her hand on the wall, feeling for the deeply set grooves that surrounded one of the stones.
Finding the grooves, she pressed hard. The stone sunk into the wall, before clicking sharply. The wall swung open. It was now a heavy door, taking much of Ri'shai's strength to budge. A long hallway stretched before her, light seeping out from several corridors.
Then the familiar smells of home assailed her.
The fresh smell of barley, oats, tomato's, potato's, flour, beef, fish, and many other pleasant smells. Tolan's cooking again, good, he has a knack for it. The kha'jiit seemed to have a talent for most lucrative trades. Smithing, cooking, fishing, enchanting, and more. He also had the tendency to scorn anyone who rearranged his kitchen.
She began passing through the halls. Catching the sound of Tolan humming to himself as she passed the kitchen. She swung a right and stepped into a larger room. Several rugs and intricate dunmer furniture filled the room. The hearth was arage with fire. She always wondered where the smoke escaped too. Home sweet home. Ri'shai thought, plopping down by the firelight and removing "Dark Exchanges" from her waist-pouch.
She cracked open the book, trying to find the section explaining how to form a crystal fragment. She stared at the page unable to concentrate. This one wonders if Faradin and Tolan have spoke to each other yet. The boys had fought last night over something, Ri'shai didn't know what.
They had a tendency of keeping her in the dark about much of their squabbling. They were always trying to protect her. They wanted to keep her separate from the problems that so graced the Dar'kir.
What bothered her most was the amount of strange happenings that occured around the two. Many times she would see their shadow's move on their own. If left to stray too long their shadow's would shift into strange shapes. Eventually they would move about in a clicking spider-like fashion. Ri'shai once found an intricate web pattern in Faradin's quarters. Nothing natural casting the shadowy patterns.
They didn't understand that Ri'shai was one of them now, and anything that effected them would effect her as well. She would be fourteen soon, old enough to bare children, and thus old enough to carry burdens.
"This is Tolan's masterpiece! Faradin will have to forgive me after he taste's this magnificence!" Tolan said, entering the relaxing chamber and placing a bowl into Ri'shai's hands.
It was hot! She placed it on the stone floor for a moment, waiting for the boiling liquid to cool. "Thank you Tolan, it smells of greatness!"
"Jyessss," Tolan said, smiling broadly. "How are your studies Ri'shai, Sings-with-Lightning is a good tutor, no yes?"
"Yes, Ri'shai has learned much, we are continueing to broader subjects - now that I have mastered the art of Storm Calling." Ri'shai said.
Tolan lifted his eyes from his bowl to meet those of Ri'shai's. "Sings-with-Lightning said you have Mastered Storm Calling?"
"Yes" Ri'shai said, picking up the bowl to blow on the hot soup.
Tolan chuckled, "To be expected I guess, you will be formidable Ri'shai."
Ri'shai just smiled. "So, you and Faradin tussled last eve, have you spoken to him?"
Tolan hesitated, "Well... No. Not precisely, he conceded to provide Tolan with what we need."
We need. Does he mean the Dar'kir or the Hlaalu? Ri'shai lifted the warm bowl to her lips, sipping slightly on the soup. It was simmering perfection.
"What exactly is he providing you?" Ri'shai asked.
"Something dangerous, and not for the ears of youths such as yourself." Tolan Said, eyeing Ri'shai.
He thinks he can keep me sheltered forever, but he doesn't realize that Ri'shai won't sit by and watch her family crumble. Ri'shai let the rebuke sit. Faradin, being the nocturnal creature that he was, would be waking soon. Ri'shai would see if Faradin provided the deadly information to Tolan.
At that thought, As if conjuring the kha'jiit herself, Faradin stepped into the room. He looked enraged. Ri'shai lifted her book, pretending to be deep in her studies. Tolan gave Faradin an uneasy smile.
"Would you like some dinner brother?" Tolan said lightly, nervousness making his lips quiver slightly.
"No. I don't." Faradin said, tossing a journal onto the sujama table. "Here is the writ for your head you were asking for."
Ri'shai lifted her head from her pretense. She could see Faradin's back and Tolan's pained face. Tolan opened his mouth to say something, but nothing spewed forth from the ever-speaking kha'jiit. Faradin just stood there unflinching. Letting his words and will lay on the tabletop.
Finally, Tolan said, "What other choice do we have?"
"Mafala Tolan! For a cycle the Aldmeri have kept a boot on your throat, now you are giving them a knife. Faradin will see to it that your pelt adorns only the most respected of the Hlaalu." Faradin said, unable to keep his anger in check.
Faradin waited only a moment, staring at Tolan's gaping mouth. The kha'jiit just sat there, a conflicted look across his face. After a few moments Faradin scoffed, kicking a nobleman's cushioned chair into the stone wall. It shattered, breaking upon the wall like a child's toy. Faradin walked out of the chamber as quickly as he entered. Never-so-much as looking at Ri'shai.
Ri'shai sat up, startled at the display of violence. He broke the chair to symbolize that this life, these goods, these material possessions. They are but dust.
Ri'shai glanced toward Tolan, and then at the journal Faradin had left behind. "You may need to find another method to charm the crazies. This soup isn't doing the trick."
Tolan smiled, "Perhaps you are right."
The smile was a lie. Ri'shai watched Tolan stare at the journal in front of him. It's tearing him apart. Just as Faradin is torn asunder. Then Tolan lifted the journal, tucking it away, and returning to his kitchen.
