Westeros, Dorne,
Year 115 BC
Neferion
It had been a few hours since he had left the walls of Shadow City, and the sun was at its peak. Not wanting to risk anything happening to his new mare that he had purchased that morning, he decided to stop and set up camp to wait out the hottest hours.
From his magic bag he took a large burgundy tent that he had purchased from a Redguard merchant in Cyrodiil. It was large enough to accommodate both him and Spring, his snow-white mare that had cost him a fortune but was worth every penny.
Honestly, he had never seen such an intelligent and stubborn horse. In addition, Spring was adapted to long journeys, especially in hot climates. Extremely durable, but also fast when needed, she was an excellent companion.
Neferion sat down on a blanket he had spread on the sand, then pulled an apple out of his bag, passing it to his companion, who immediately took it in her teeth, eating it greedily.
"Good girl," he said and laughed when she clearly began searching for another apple. Rubbing her head, he gave her another treat. "Rest. We have time."
Then, thanks to a single thought, a bucket and a sack filled with food appeared in his hands. Then he filled the bucket halfway and gave it to Spring to eat.
Now, while his mount was busy eating, he pulled out his notebook, in which he began to write down new things he had learnt about this world during his stay at the inn.
He knew most of the things before, but new names, houses, and events appeared. He began to sort them and arrange them in a clear way.
He spent the rest of the stopover in meditation, trying to solve the problem of access to magicka, which limited his magical repertoire in this world.
In any case, by late afternoon they were on the road again.
"You know, Spring. If there's anything I've learnt from the last few months, it's that I hate sand." He turned to his mare, who neighed with clear approval.
Neferion laughed, adding, "I'm glad you agree with me. Oh, what I would give for the cold, harsh climate of Skyrim or, preferably, the green and blue shores of the Summerset Isles."
"Trust me, you would love it. It's heaven on earth; too bad my people are too arrogant to appreciate it.
With a sigh, he patted Spring's neck, then suddenly raised his head and looked around carefully. He clearly felt someone's eyes on him. And more than one.
'There,' he thought, noticing the light reflecting off something metal to his left in the distance. A moment later, he saw silhouettes emerging from behind the low dunes.
And more to the right and behind. More than a dozen riders in total, dressed tightly in cloaks and turbans that shielded their faces from the sand.
He stopped Spring in her tracks, this time patting her neck reassuringly, and waited.
In less than two minutes, the riders surrounded him but kept a safe distance away, and half of them held bows ready to be drawn. The rest were armed with spears and simple swords or sabres, although there was also an axe and a mace. Clearly some of them had been looted.
"If you want to save your life, get off your horse, take off your cloak and throw away all weapons and whatnot. Otherwise we will riddle you with arrows," spoke one of the bandits, clearly their leader.
Neferion looked around calmly at them, looking each of them in the eye, exerting pressure, then said, "Why would I do that?"
Clearly confused and surprised by his calmness, they began to look at each other uncertainly. Were they dealing with some kind of madman?
Their leader spoke once more, anger clearly evident in his voice, "I have just told you what will happen to you in case of resistance. You are surrounded and have no chance of escape."
Neferion looked at him with a mocking smile, and then an ebony spear appeared in his hand, which he threw with great force at the leader of the group. The spear struck him square in the chest, piercing his mail with ease and knocking the man from his horse.
The sudden attack sent shock and mild fear through the riders around him, who seemed to realise they were not dealing with an ordinary traveller.
He waved his hand, and the spear he had just thrown broke free from the bandit's dead body and flew into his hand.
He looked at their panicked faces and said, "All I am surrounded by is fear. And a dead man."
Then he jumped off Spring's back, not wanting to risk her being accidentally hit by an arrow. Holding his spear in his right hand, he extended his left hand toward one of the archers and threw a Lightning Bolt spell in his direction.
The apprentice-level spell not only fried the man on the spot, but the sight of the lightning bolt shooting from his hand sent the robbers into an even greater panic.
"Sorcerer." "Demon," they began to shout. Their horses reacted no better. They began to thrash; the sound of thunder and the flash alone must have scared them. Three of the bandits fell from their backs, and the rest tried to stay in their saddles at all costs.
Neferion wasted no time. In less than a second, he covered the nearly forty feet separating him from the nearest enemy, and faster than he could even register, he thrust the spearhead into the man's mouth, easily piercing the skull.
Then he wrenched his spear free and threw it at the archer on his left, sending Ice Spike right behind him at one of the bandits who was running away.
Two of the attackers who had managed to control their mounts rushed him from behind, but when they were only a dozen feet away from him, a jet of fire shot out of both of his hands, turning them and their unfortunate horses into burning living torches.
Their screams convinced the rest of the bandits that they should flee. One of the ones who had fallen from the saddle earlier tried to get up, but Spring crushed his head with her hoof, not wanting to leave her new master alone in the fight.
He finished off the other two, one of whom was stunned from the fall. There were only five opponents left now, but they were already running away, two of them on their own feet.
A gleaming bow that looked like it was made of white gold appeared in Dovahkiin's hand. He calmly notched a simple arrow with a steel tip, drew it, and let it go. In the blink of an eye, the arrow buried itself in the back of the head of a man about 130 feet away.
The first one was followed by a second, third, and fourth, easily hitting its target. The fifth bandit, who had been the first to flee, was already almost 700 feet away, so it was no easy shot.
Neferion took a deep breath and adjusted for the wind and let loose an arrow that found its target in the man's right leg.
Silence fell over the battlefield, or rather it would have if not for the cries of pain dying man and horses burnt alive. The bandits' horses ran away except for two, and Spring happily trotted over to him and began rubbing his face with her head.
Neferion scratched the mare under the jaw, looking around the place of the fight with a cold gaze, making sure that none of the enemies remained alive.
Sighing, he directed his steps towards the last wounded bandit, who tried to get up and tried to limp with an arrow in his leg. When he reached him, he pushed him to the ground, stood on his chest with his foot, and put the tip of the spear to his neck.
"If you don't want to bleed out, you better answer questions. And believe me, I will know when you lie." He said, his tone like the cold winds of Skyrim.
The man, or rather a youth, who couldn't have been older than 16 namedays, clenched his teeth in pain and looked nervously at the tip of the spear hanging just above his throat.
"Please, ask," he groaned, clearly trying to control the pain.
"Are there more of you, and do you have any hiding places in the area?" Dovahkiin asked, his golden dragon eyes staring at the youth with an intensity that immediately drove any thoughts of misleading the sorcerer from his mind.
"No, there are no more of us, and as for the hideout, agh, fuck... it's not far, maybe 5 miles north of here where the hills start. There's a cave in a small ravine there."
Neferion, not sensing a lie, grabbed an arrow and suddenly yanked it out of the wound, which resulted in a cry of pain from the young bandit. Then he put his hand to the wound, from which a golden light emerged, slowly closing the wound.
When it was already healed, Neferion got to his feet and said in a tone that did not raise any objections. "You will lead me to this hideout of yours now. You better pray to your gods that everything you said is true; otherwise, I will not kill you, but I will break your mind with my magic."
The young man, terrified, only nodded.
"Now lead the way. I don't have all day."
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Unfortunately, the hideout of the desert robbers didn't really hide anything valuable. Just a few dozen golden suns, some food that wasn't the freshest, and a few other goods that were useless to him.
To sum up, he was so irritated that he cut the bandit's head off with Dawnbreaker and then set off on his journey. Why didn't he spare the other guy's life? It was simple. Experience had shown him that people who engaged in such activities very rarely decided to change their lives. Robbery was much easier than working on the farm or in the city.
Considering the potential chance for improvement with the risk that in the future the young bandit would kill or rape other defenceless victims, he came to the conclusion that he was in no mood to give second chances.
When he set off on his journey, he did not stop until night fell, and perhaps he would have continued his journey if not for the fact that he was already only a few miles from the ruins of an old fort, which he preferred not to approach after dark.
Perhaps his eyes allowed him to see in the dark, but he still preferred fighting in the light of day, and in addition, not knowing what he was dealing with, he decided that he would go in search of the monster in the morning.
The night, however, did not look to be peaceful, because around midnight, from the direction of the fort ruins, terrifying sounds began to reach him, which even sent shivers down his spine. And he had seen and experienced almost everything his world could throw at him in his life.
The sounds of this beast, however – those roars, those groans, he did not know what to even call them – were unnatural. Full of indescribable hatred, but also pain and suffering. Despair and unsatisfied hunger. This thing could not be natural. He felt the hand of some dark magic in it. Disgusting and terrible, which should never be used.
In any case, he doubted he would sleep a wink that night. However, it was not the first time, and his body, strengthened by the vital forces of numerous dovah, was able to withstand even a few days without sleep and continue fighting all day.
However, for safety, he cast a few simple spells that were to alarm him in case someone even approached half a mile from his camp.
He only hoped that the monster wouldn't venture so far from its lair and attack him here. The last thing he wanted was for Spring to suffer as a result of their fight. Tomorrow he intended to go on alone and end the beast's miserable life.