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The fire was crackling, fierce and loud, but Ardalie hardly noticed its warmth. Her attention was captivated almost entirely by the small, weathered book in her hands.
“You alright there, friend?” a cautious voice asked from across the fire. Ardalie glanced up and realized Lucien was looking at her rather nervously.
“I’m fine,” she responded, but it came out much shorter than she intended. Lucien did not look the slightest bit convinced, but he was kind enough to not push the matter further. “Thank you for keeping the fire going,” she said, hoping to move the conversation forward.
“Oh, it’s no problem at all. So long as you can magic us up a firestarter, I’m perfectly content to keep tending the flames for as long as we travel together,” the scholar said lightly.
Ardalie couldn’t help but smile. When she’d first met Lucien he had found him charming, if occasionally irritating and somehow even wetter between the ears than her. Now, she considered him one of her closest friends. Or possibly her only friend, depending on the day and the quality of her mood. She wondered sometimes if she should try to branch out and meet new people, but her options were rather limited in that regard. The Thalmor had been out for her blood ever since they figured out that it was one of their own who had slaughtered her way through Northwatch Keep, and that alone probably eliminated half the province from any “potential new friends” list she might make. On the other hand, there wasn’t a single Stormcloak who trusted her farther than they could throw her, Jarl Ulfric included. The instructors and students at the College were nice enough, but they were eccentric even by Ardalie’s standards, and seemed more concerned with their studies than companionship anyway. Which left her with a handful of Jarls, a few citizens for whom she’d done a favor or two, and Lucien. She supposed it could be worse.
Ardalie placed the book in her lap to the side as Lucien handed her a bowl of soup from the fire. “Probably best to eat it while it’s hot, so you don’t have to actually taste my cooking,” he quipped.
Ardalie chuckled. “I’m sure it’s fine, Lucien.”
Lucien sniffed at his bowl. “You are sure those herbs were safe to eat, correct? It’s not that I don’t trust you, per se, but I would like to make sure that we are completely, without a doubt, absolutely confident before I put them in my mouth.”
“I’m sure,” Ardalie replied. And she was. She’d received perfect marks on her Tamrielic Flora and Fauna examination.
Lucien took a cautious bite. “Not bad. A bit salty. It would probably be better if it was made with fresh meat rather than jerky.”
“Anytime you want fresh meat, you’re welcome to hunt it yourself,” she said. There wasn’t any venom in the statement. Ardalie just didn’t feel that hunting was a very good use of her time when she could just as easily buy preserved food in town.
“On second thought, I’ll stick to the jerky,” Lucien said with a shudder. Ardalie considered pointing out that at this point he’d fought enough bandits, draugr, and giant spiders to make slaughtering a few bunnies easy work, but decided to let it be.
She returned to her stew. Lucien was right that it was a bit salty, but it really wasn’t all that bad. To be fair, just about any hot meal eaten at camp was starting to taste good to her, but Lucien really was a better cook than he thought. She tried to focus her attention on eating her meal, but her eyes kept wandering over to the book next to her. She did not want to think about that right now, but something about it seemed to compel her to look. She risked one more look at the tome and found herself staring eye to eye with Lucien. She quickly looked away, but it was too late.
“Mind if I take a look?” he asked.
Yes. “No.” She slid the book over to him. He turned it over in his hands, seemingly inspecting the spine, the binding, the rather banal skull painted on the front. Ardalie had to stop herself from reaching out and knocking the book out of Lucien’s hands when he actually turned it over and opened it. To her relief, he only flipped quickly through the pages and did not actually read it.
“Well, it’s very old,” he said, handing it back to her. “And it is most certainly a book of necromancy. I’m amazed it’s in such good shape after gods only know how long in that crypt. Were you planning on reading it?”
Ardalie’s fingers tightened around the edges of the book. “Why do you ask?”
Lucien eyed her carefully. “Well, for one thing, you’ve been fiddling with it ever since we made camp. If you weren’t going to read it I’d have expected you to have packed it away with the other treasure you plan to sell. And for another, well, if you don’t mind me saying, friend, you’re currently hanging onto it like you’re afraid someone is going to rip it out of your hands.”
Ardalie reluctantly loosened her grip. He had a point there. I should be honest with him. She did not want to be honest with him, not about this, but she wasn’t getting anywhere on her own. “I’m not sure if I want to read it,” she finally said. “I’m… weighing my options.”
“How so?”
She set her bowl on the ground. “Growing up, I was trained in every aspect of magic imaginable. I could tell you every theory, every scholar, every potion under the sun. I could name all the great Altmer mages and tell you all of their deeds. But we were barely even allowed to discuss necromancy. We were told that it was the foulest, most dangerous practice, and that even the most learned scholars should think twice before studying it. It wasn’t just forbidden, it was immoral, an affront to the gods. I was determined to be a good little soldier for the Thalmor, and an even better mage, so I took it all to heart.
“But then I came to Skyrim. I saw the things my people were doing in the name of the Dominion, and I was horrified. I began to question everything I knew, everything I’d been taught. Eventually, I realized that it wasn’t enough to leave it all behind. I had to fight back against it. So I turned back against what they’d taught me– I summoned daedra, I joined the Stormcloaks, I broke into the embassy. Anything to make them angry, to make them pay.”
“That sounds to me like you want to read it,” Lucien said.
Ardalie pulled her legs up to her chest. “A part of me does. But another part of me sees this book as a line, and once I cross it, I can never go back.”
“Just because you read the book doesn’t mean you have to do anything with what’s inside,” Lucien said softly.
“I know. But once I’ve read it, it’s in my head forever. The door has been opened and can’t be closed. I’ve done the unthinkable, and it will mark me forever.”
Lucien paused for a moment. “That is a difficult decision.”
“It’s impossible.”
Lucien reached over and patted on her shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to make it tonight. We’re still at least a day away from Whiterun, so you couldn’t sell it tomorrow even if you wanted to.”
Ardalie felt herself relax a bit. “That’s a good point.”
Lucien smiled. “I do have good ideas from time to time. I am rather well read. I can hold onto it for you, if you’d like. Just to take the pressure off.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ardalie handed the book over. “Thank you, Lucien,” she said as he carefully placed it in his pack.
“It’s my pleasure, friend.”