» Sat May 28, 2011 7:58 am
The Valus Mountains
Evening on the borders of Morrowind. The distinctive playing-card camp bore the imperial stamp of the Septims. The fresh-thrown ramparts, with their crown of sharpened stakes, a raw intrusion into the pastel dream of a mountain dawn. The fortifications defended clusters of tents, and the remnants of the fires that the sentries had guarded for most of the night. It was a beautiful day, with the winter sun rising in the east, and the shadows of the soldiers cast long across the ground. The bracing mountain air was the most relaxing thing they had experienced since they had been forced from the walls of the forts in Morrowind.
A small group of cavalry charged out of the front gate. Their horses were the best available; a local breed, with the agility to cross the rough terrain with ease, they were as hardy as any of the larger animals that were typical of the Imperial Legion. They splashed in the stream as they crossed from the road to the Imperial City to the woodland path that snaked through the trees to the north. The snow was fresh; it swirled around their ankles, as if it was called upon to do their bidding.
"Where are we heading?" the command turned to one of his retainers, as the path ahead became steeper and narrower.
"This is the path to the fort. It's the one that was used by the defenders when it was under siege, to get the civilians out."
"How long will it take us to get there if we turn back, and go the other way?"
"We won't arrive before the night. This path is also safer; the only people that know about it are the hunters in the village."
"I thought you said that the Ashlanders hadn't followed us?" the commander asked.
"The soldiers haven't seen them, and the only reason they'd cross the border is to raid one of the villages on this side of the mountains."
"So, why do we need to take a path that only a few people know about?" The commander glanced around. The trees here were not thick enough to hide a group of Ashlanders, but there was enough cover to hide a few archers further along the path.
"The local leaders don't want us here. They say the Nordic tribes to the north want to force us out, and that they will launch raids on the area."
"You think they will send their own soldiers to get rid of us? What noble would attempt to take on the Imperial Legion?"
"Ashina Zelaku," said a Bosmeri woman, as she brushed the snow from her weapon. "She's experienced for her age. Experienced in politics."
"So, you're saying that she has written to the local nobles, and told them to sent men out to track us?"
"It's possible," the Bosmer smiled. "But she can't write in anything other than Daedric." The commander started to question her, although one of his soldiers politely interrupted him.
"Commander, she's only trying to scare us. There's no way that any Ashland messengers would have avoided the patrols, and there's no way that the nobles here would be inspired to rebel by Ashina Zelaku. She would have to pay them a lot of money, and Ashlanders are poor."
"We should keep moving," replied the commander. "Bosmer, get up the front! If you're convinced that there are Ashlanders hiding in the trees, then you should be the one to find them."
Ashkhan's Yurt
The messenger, for his part, could not get off of the ashkhan fast enough. She was everything he'd expected, but the sounds of movement from the camp made him reconsider. She raised a leg, allowing the cool air of the morning to provide some relief, and then rolled onto her side.
"I told you, it's fine," she protested. "Come on, it's this or the long walk back to your master."
"Well, he's not as imaginative as your soldiers when it comes to punishment, Ashina," her partner replied, gently loosening her fingers around his waist. She rolled onto her back, and groaned, brushing her hair. "Do you want a drink?"
"I'll pour myself one; if you're going, then you'd better go now, before Assamma-Idan and his men wake up." Her partner kissed her on the lips.
"Thanks. It was a wonderful evening," he said as he stood up, picking his clothes up from the floor. "Should I pass you your gown, ashkhan?"
"Oh, so it's ashkhan now?" Ashina said playfully. "I'll think I'll cool off for a while."
"Why don't you try some Tamika's?
"What is it?"
"It's a drink from Hammerfell, that's produced here in Cyrodiil by some Redguard woman." The Imperial put his shirt back on, reaching for the bottle of wine on the table at the foot of the bed. He displayed an expert style of handling the bottle that showed that he had a familiarity with Ashland designs that he had not had the night before. The drink flowed into the glass, which he then placed in Ashina's cupped hands.
"Sunnabe," she whispered, before taking a drink. "I'm making sure that the comforts of civilisation don't make me lazy," she explained, seeing the Imperial look at her suspiciously. "We have a lot of work to do." The Imperial was about to join her, but there was a sudden bang on the door that reminded him of why he had to leave.
"Ashkhan! Is that messenger still in there with you? I have a message from Assamma-Idan!"
"Yes, he's still in here, and I'm naked," Ashina replied quickly, wrapping her silk shawl around her shoulders as she sat up. "Wait there, I'll tell you when you can come in." She turned to the Imperial, standing up and walking over to the entrance. "Put your trousers on, go out the back."
"What if there's another soldier there?" He picked up the rest of his clothes, and did as instructed.
"There won't be, they're not allowed there."
"Well, what's it used for?" the Imperial asked, as he searched for the back entrance to the yurt.
"An escape route," the ashkhan replied, pushing him through the silk curtain that opened out onto the cliff. "You can come in, Odaishah," she called to the soldiers at the front entrance. "What does the gulakhan want now?"
"It's about Nirabi, ashkhan! He says she's trying to take command of his soldiers." Ashina threw on a silk gown, and marched quickly over to let her soldiers in. They each bowed as they entered, taking their shoes off before they stepped on the earth near the ashkhan's prayer mat.
"Well, what can you do about it?" she asked the third person to enter.
"I couldn't do anything, ashkhan," the dark-skinned woman replied.
"You're the wise woman, Sakira, there must be something. Backstabbing? Bribery? Boethiah, your goddess?"
"And my sister's the ashkhan, but she's too busy sleeping with every outlander she sees to pay attention to those idiots."
"They don't bother me, Sakira. It's only you that seems to think that they're important."
"You were a young girl, weren't you, when they almost split the tribe?"
"Oh, so you think their discussions about whose guar has the most wives is a good reason for a civil war? We have much more important things to consider, Sakira, such as who we are allies with," Ashina replied.
"What do you suggest?"
"Go to the lodge we occupied on the way here, you'll find an Imperial messenger there. There's a letter for him to take to his master. Oh, and take this to him, as well. He left it behind when he got dressed. We wouldn't want him to get frostbite."
"Who does he work for?" Sakira asked, gesturing to her bodyguards to take the item. Ashina gazed at the Daedric symbols on the prayer mat.
"Lord Indoril Nerevar."
Gahkhan, gahchiruhn sunnabe,
The goddess Azura cannot make two mountains without a valley in between, Lord Indoril Nerevar, although she attempted this in the time of the Khanate of Resdayn; the mountain, the height of the kingdom, rising above the stars of the Dwemeri technology, the secrets of the Imperial rebellion, and the storms of the Nordic conquest. The valley; we were thrown into chains by the lies of the false gods, who enslaved their own people for the benefit of the bureaucrats of the Western empire. They pillaged our mines, burned our yurts, took our children to their forts for sale in the markets of the west - then they insult us for defending the profits we inherited, the villages they build forts on, the descendants that will worship us for the war that we will now wage.
Azura has seen that the time is right to raise another mountain. The frozen waterfalls crack, the snow melts, and the impenetrable wall of granite breaks. The valley collapses, and from the flames of Red Mountain, the Khanate rises. We have been forced to lay in the mud; we will rise dirty. But we will be able to wash ourselves in their streams, their rivers, their lands, before we return to the Khanate of Resdayn as a new people.
Ashkhan Ashina Zelaku
