The Lich Six: Part Six
The evening was in full swing. After the cake had been consumed, and all were bottles deep in drink, Pip relinquished his sour demeanor of the past few days and took hold of the one instrument Nohaden’Cade hadn’t broken, his flute. He simply loved music too much to be in a position where he could refuse providing entertainment for any celebration, once it had really kicked off. The wood elf stood by the fire, belting out lines of verse and danced around with his flute in the service of entertainment when Mozu decided she needed to be alone for a moment.
She wasn’t the only one who wasn’t feeling particularly like partying tonight, she was sure of that. Not to arouse suspicion the Nord told Rosalia she’d be back soon before heading out deeper into the woods for a midnight stroll. She did not care if she missed the declaration of the new year. Gradually, the sounds of merriment faded behind her.
“We could’ve been together…” Mozu mumbled as she walked. Her footsteps crunched on the underbrush as trees rose around her. The warnings of people disappearing into the night all across Skyrim would make anyone anxious. Talking to herself made her feel a bit less alone ironically enough.
“Two birds of a feather…”
Her words turned into a tuneless song, with little heart in it.
The forest came to a dead stop at a road that followed a cliff’s edge and off it, hugging the cliff face, stood a magnificent fortress. It spanned the length of the ravine, balancing precariously over the river that ran below. A stone bridge connected its two towers, the one before her, and one across the divide. As a gust blew through the night, the towers both seemed to sway in it, so thin and elegant and ancient were they.
Smoke rose from a fire that cracked at the nearest tower’s base. A young man sat there with his back to Mozu, humming to himself, prodding the logs so that they would catch. He was having trouble, but didn’t seem to mind.
Mozu wondered--if perhaps in the spirit of merriment--she ought to invite the stranger over to their campfire. But before she called out she managed to stop herself. Strangers could mean trouble, especially with the sort of luck the covenant was having lately.
“Aren’t you going to join me?” The man called over his shoulder. He had a high, musical voice. Sensual and inviting all at once.
The Nord froze once she heard the man’s sing-song voice addressing her. She had assumed she was standing far enough away as to have been unnoticeable. Clearly she had thought wrong.
“Errm, I’m sorry,” she then instinctively said.
“You made quite the racket. Nearly scared me to death,” he said. “There’s not much out here aside from wild animals.”
And vampires Mozu thought to herself.
“Yes, sorry again for having disturbed you. I didn't mean to give you a fright.”
“You’re quite forgiven, but come have a seat. It’s bad fortune to be alone on a night like this one. Do you know what day it is?” The man asked, turning back to look at her. There was a delicate handsomeness to his face. The kind one might expect to find in nobility, but the cut of his clothes and rustic demeanor said otherwise.
Mozu liked rugged handsomeness more. The kind of bearded manliness that Gram had. She quickly dispelled those kinds of thoughts though when she noticed the man was waiting for an answer.
“Today’s Old Life, or maybe it’s New Life already… Guess you could say we’re currently ‘in between years’ at the moment,” the Nord told the stranger.
That elicited a good-natured laugh from him. He positively radiated charm. “Well put.”
Mozu felt her cheeks redden. She didn’t think it was that well put.
“I’ve never put much stock in the changing of years. Each day is so much like the last. It is easier to separate it on how we change, as people,” he said.
Mozu didn’t see it that way. She shrugged.
“Might be for a wandering poet. For farmers every day, every month, every year is different and important.”
“I’m no poet. But no farmer, either,” the man said. “A mage, by trade.”
Mozu quirked a smile.
“Not a fire mage it seems.”
He laughed again, “Unfortunately not. The school of destruction has never been my forte. My talents lie closer to real art, I would like to believe.” He spread his hands wide. “Allow me to show you something. In the meantime you could encourage the fire in ways beyond me. l lack a woman’s touch.”
Mozu wondered what he meant by real art.
“You seem to have all that you need already,” she commented from afar. It was just a matter of maintaining the heat long enough. He was probably being impatient.
It did raise some questions.
“How have you managed to keep yourself warm before this? I imagine there’s not a town in sight for many miles in either direction.”
The man reached into his pack and produced a roll of crumpled parchment. A magical scroll. “The knowledge of others.”
Mozu felt a bit of pity for the man now. He seemed a bit hapless didn’t he?
“All right, I’ll show you how to do it properly. That way you’ll always remember it.”
The Nord approached the practically unlit fire and squatted down next to the stranger. If anything were to happen… She’d only need to punch him hard enough and he’d be no trouble to her, or to anyone else for that matter.
Up close, the man smelled sage. Maybe rosemary. It was a fresh scent, and he must’ve regularly wrapped the leaves up in his clothes.
The fire had only the faintest flickering light. “My thanks,” he rubbed his long fingers together and held them before the weak flame. “In exchange, I’ll show you a trick of my own.”
“Making fire is not a trick,” Mozu said as she started to build a tepee of kindling. It was an incredibly vital skill to survive in the world.
“There is a trick to it,” the man said. His pack lay in the dirt next to him. He rifled around in it for a moment, before producing a hunk of coal. “In case I eat anything I shouldn’t,” he said with a smile, explaining its presence. He held it up, “Now, are you watching my hands?”
Mozu didn’t stop her work on getting the fire going whilst he demanded her attention. She watched his hands and shrugged.
“I am now.”
“Observe.” He enclosed the coal between his hands, concealing it, and squeezed. He made a face of exertion, his arms even quivered a bit. And then, when he reopened his hands, sitting in his sooty palms was a diamond the size of Mozu’s fist. He offered it to her.
“Ooo, now that is a clever trick,” Mozu said.
“One that bears a question--did I use magic?” He asked her.
As far as Mozu was concerned, he had. He was a mage was he not?
“I suppose you did?”
The man smiled at her and shook his head. He set the diamond down and held up his dirty hands. “Coated with char. You’re not the first I’ve used that on.”
“I can see that,” Mozu stated. “It seems a very expedient way to pay for things.”
“I have swindled a fair few,” the man admitted, watching her face as the flames caught it, “although none of them were quite so beautiful as yourself.”
Mozu chuckled almost mirthlessly. A kindling twig fell over in the tepee.
“Is that what this is?”
“Such bitterness,” the man said, allowing himself a sad frown. “Does a compliment shame you so much?”
Mozu supposed she had been a little harsh just now.
“I am just… Not in the mood, I am sorry.”
As she apologised once more to this stranger, the campfire’s flame started to rise and expand.
The man said nothing for a while as he looked into the fire. “Let’s play a game.”
Mozu wasn’t in the mood for games. She actually wanted to have a stroll in the woods by herself, and yet here she was.
“I don’t know…” she said while looking back in the direction of her where the Covenant’s camp would be.
“You’re in a foul mood,” the man said. “Allow me to cheer you up.”
Mozu was willing to give him one chance then. He was right. She was in a foul mood, otherwise she wouldn’t be sitting here. She would be dancing with the others.
She sat herself down from her squatting position. Ready to be entertained.
He rifled in his satchel again and produced a jar. Within it were two moths--large, fury grey insects. They bounced around in their confinement as he held up the jar for her to see.
“These are ancestor moths. I have bound them to me. Hold out your hand.”
Mozu imagined that Lysilde would know what to do with them. She remembered how they all danced around in the glade. The beautiful sound of their thrilling.
The Nord played along and held out her hand.
“A wandering mage must have a name…” she drawled.
“Erik,” he unscrewed the jar. The moths fluttered out. One came to land on Mozu’s hand, and Erik held out his hand for the other. “Your’s?”
Erik huh? Very common name.
“Mozu.”
“That’s a rare name for a Nord,” Erik said, smiling.
Mozu smiled. It clearly was not the first time she had heard that, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time. In fact, it’d probably come up a lot more now that she was back in her native land.
“My ma and da wanted to be exotic.”
She had no desire to go into the specifics right now.
“A rare name for a rare rose,” Erik said without mockery. “Now, the moths. The game is very simple. The moth can tell a lie from the truth and, if you do, it will bite you. It hurts no more than a pinch. The game is thus--who can go the longest without lying. You ask a question and I will answer. I ask a question and you answer. And so on.”
“All right,” Mozu supposed that was easy enough. “Are you a vampire?” was her first question.
Erik laughed in surprise, “No, I’m not a vampire. Why are you sad?”
Mozu sighed. Fair’s fair, “Someone I love doesnt love me back. Do you play these games often with strangers?”
Erik’s answer was quick, “Whenever I get the chance. Do you believe you are attractive?”
Mozu answered just as quickly. With a snort she shook her head and said: “No. Why are you sitting all alone out here?”
“I was waiting for someone. And you should correct that belief. You are a looker.” The moth had yet to bite him. “Have you ever heard of the Lich Six?”
Mozu looked surprised now. The Lich Six… Wasn’t that the thing Nyasia had warned about?
“Y-yes, The Lich Six. Have you been following us?”
“No, we haven’t. But we know where you’re going. Are you attracted to me?”
“No what? Why are you doing this?” Mozu said, becoming confused by this ‘game’. She didn’t even notice the moth on her hand anymore.
“The Six is recruiting,” Erik said, looking intently at her. “And I selected you.”
That’s what Nyasia had said they had tried to do with her, and Kashya and…
“You ‘selected’ me?”
“Yes,” Erik said, oozing earnestness. “I believe there are none in the Covenant superior to you. And with me, you would be properly appreciated.” Still the moth fluttered on his wrist, patiently waiting for its lie. “A woman such as you deserves nothing less.”
Mozu supposed she knew where all those compliments were coming from now.
“I’m not interested.”
Erik didn’t seem bothered, only smiled. “I’m certain I will change your mind, in time.”
Oh so not only was he a mage, he was a mind reader too… Mozu thought.
“And how do you figure that?”
“I’m persistent.”
Mozu gave him a flat look. “That approach doesn’t always work.”
“We’ll have to see about that, won’t we,” Erik said. The moths took flight, retiring back to their jar. He screwed the lid shut.
“Yes. You get to see me walking away from you now,” Mozu said as she got up. The fire was going pretty well now.
“And what a sight she is,” Erik purred to himself, dragging his eyes up Mozu’s body. “You aren’t even going to hit me? I expected you would. I’m not a good man. I enjoy hurting people.”
“You’re sick,” Mozu said with newfound disdain. Just her luck to find the one creep alone in the woods on New Life’s eve.
Erik shrugged, waving a hand indifferently, as though to say You’re right, but I don’t care. “We’ll meet again. The Six will come calling, very soon. And I’ll have you in one way or another.”
“If you come calling it won’t end well for you. I’m warning you. Back off.”
Mozu wondered if she should just punch this man, right here, right now. Nothing too major. Just something to wipe that smile off his face.
“I’ve outstayed my welcome,” Erik sighed, standing up. He was rather tall. He shouldered his pack. “I’ll leave you the fire. You seem to need it more than I.”
She was just flabbergasted. Did he just pretend this whole time? Mozu didn’t know what to say. Everything that came out of this man’s mouth seemed to pull the rug from under her.
“Farewell, Mozu. I look forward to seeing you,” he turned from her and started off down the road, humming to himself.
Mozu was left standing by the fire she had lit for that perverted soul. It somehow didn’t seem to cast off any warmth at all.
When she was all alone again she could swear she heard the others in the far distance, celebrating the start of New Life.