The Mirror |
2920, Evening Star 2920, First Seed 2920, FrostFall 2920, Hearth Fire 2920, Last Seed 2920, MidYear 2920, Morning Star 2920, Rain's Hand 2920, Second Seed 2920, Sun's Dawn 2920, Sun's Dusk 2920, Sun's Height 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 1 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 10 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 11 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 12 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 13 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 14 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 15 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 16 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 16 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 17 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 18 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 19 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 2 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 20 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 21 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 22 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 23 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 24 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 25 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 26 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 27 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 28 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 29 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 3 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 30 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 31 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 32 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 33 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 34 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 35 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 36 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 4 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 5 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 6 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 7 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 8 36 Lessons of Vivec, Sermon 9 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 1 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 2 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 3 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 4 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 5 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 6 A Dance in Fire, Chapter 7 A dying man's last words A Fair Warning A Game at Dinner A Hypothetical Treachery A Less Rude Song A scroll written in blood A Short History of Morrowind A worn and weathered note Aedra and Daedra Ajira's Flower Report Ajira's Mushroom Report Ancestors and the Dunmer Antecedants of Dwemer Law Arcana Restored Arkay the Enemy Azura and the Box Biography of Barenziah v I Biography of Barenziah v II Biography of Barenziah v III Biography of the Wolf Queen Blasphemous Revenants Bone, Part One Bone, Part Two Breathing Water Brief History of the Empire v 1 Brief History of the Empire v 2 Brief History of the Empire v 3 Brief History of the Empire v 4 Brown Book of 3E 426 Chance's Folly Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 1 Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 2 Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 3 Charwich-Koniinge, Volume 4 Cherim's Heart of Anequina Children of the Sky Chimarvamidium Chronicles of Nchuleft Confessions of a Skooma-Eater Corpse Preparation v I Corpse Preparation v I Corpse Preparation v II Corpse Preparation v III Dagoth Ur's Plans Darkest Darkness Death Blow of Abernanit decoded package Directions to Caius Cosades Elante's Notes Elone's Directions to Balmora Fellowship of the Temple Feyfolken I Feyfolken II Feyfolken III Fighters Guild Charter Five Songs of King Wulfharth For my Gods and Emperor Fragment: On Artaeum Frontier, Conquest... Galerion The Mystic Galur Rithari's Papers Ghost-Free Papers Grasping Fortune Great Houses of Morrowind Guide to Ald'ruhn Guide to Balmora Guide to Sadrith Mora Guide to Vivec Guide to Vvardenfell Guylaine's Architecture Hallgerd's Tale Hanging Gardens... Hanin's Wake Hanin's Wake Homilies of Blessed Almalexia Honor Among Thieves Hospitality Papers How Orsinium Passed to the Orcs Ice and Chiton Incident in Necrom Invocation of Azura Kagrenac's Tools Last Scabbard of Akrash Legions of the Dead Lives of the Saints Lord Jornibret's Last Dance Mages Guild Charter Master Zoaraym's Tale Message from Dagoth Ur Message from Master Aryon Mission to Vivec -- from Caius Mixed Unit Tactics v1 Mysterious Akavir Mystery of Talara, Part 1 Mystery of Talara, Part 2 Mystery of Talara, Part 3 Mystery of Talara, Part 3 Mystery of Talara, Part 4 Mystery of Talara, Part 5 Mysticism Nchunak's Fire and Faith Nerevar at Red Mountain Nerevar Moon-and-Star Nerevarine cult notes N'Gasta! Kvata! Kvakis! N'Gasta! Kvata! Kvakis! Night Falls On Sentinel note from the Archcanon Notes from Huleeya Notes on Racial Phylogeny Odral's History of the Empire 1 Odral's History of the Empire 2 Odral's History of the Empire 3 Odral's History of the Empire 4 On Morrowind On Oblivion Ordo Legionis Origin of the Mages Guild Overview of Gods and Worship Package for Caius Cosades Palla, Book I Palla, Book II Peke Utchoo's last words Plan to Defeat Dagoth Ur Poison Song I Poison Song II Poison Song III Poison Song IV Poison Song V Poison Song VI Poison Song VII Progress of Truth Provinces of Tamriel Realizations of Acrobacy Red Book of 3E 426 Redoran Cooking Secrets Reflections on Cult Worship Rels Tenim Journal Page Response to Bero's Speech Saryoni's Sermons Saryoni's Sermons Manuscript Scroll of Tyronius Senilius' Report Sharn's Legions of the Dead Silence Sithis Smuggler's Island Song of the Alchemists Special Flora of Tamriel Spirit of the Daedra Starlover's Log Surfeit of Thieves Tal Marog Ker's Researches Tamrielic Lore Tarer's Aedra and Daedra The Affairs of Wizards The Alchemists Formulary The Annotated Anuad The Annotated Anuad The Anticipations The Arcturian Heresy The Armorer's Challenge The Art of War Magic The Axe Man The Battle of Red Mountain The Black Arrow, Volume 1 The Black Arrow, Volume II The Black Glove The Book of Daedra The Book of Dawn and Dusk The Brothers of Darkness The Buying Game The Cake and the Diamond The Cantatas of Vivec The Changed Ones The Consolations of Prayer The Doors of the Spirit The Dowry The Dragon Break Re-Examined The Eastern Provinces... The Final Lesson The Firmament The Firsthold Revolt The Four Suitors of Benitah The Gold Ribbon of Merit The Hope of the Redoran The Horror of Castle Xyr The House of Troubles The House of Troubles The Importance of Where The Legendary Scourge The Locked Room The Lost Prophecy The Lunar Lorkhan The Madness of Pelagius The Marksmanship Lesson The Mirror The Monomyth The Old Ways The Pig Children The Pilgrim's Path The Posting of the Hunt The Prayers of Baranat The Ransom of Zarek The Real Barenziah v I The Real Barenziah v II The Real Barenziah v III The Real Barenziah v IV The Real Barenziah v V The Real Nerevar The Rear Guard The Red Book of Riddles The Ruins of Kemel-Ze The Seed The Seven Curses The Seven Visions The Third Door The True Nature of Orcs The True Noble's Code The War of the First Council The Waters of Oblivion The Wild Elves The Wolf Queen, Book I The Wolf Queen, Book II The Wolf Queen, Book III The Wolf Queen, Book IV The Wolf Queen, Book V The Wolf Queen, Book VI The Wolf Queen, Book VII The Wolf Queen, Book VIII The Wraith's Wedding Dowry The Yellow Book of Riddles tradehouse notice Trap Unnamed Book Vampires of Vvardenfell, v I Vampires of Vvardenfell, v II Varieties of Faith... Vernaccus and Bourlor Vivec and Mephala Where Were You ... Dragon Broke Withershins Words and Philosophy Words of Clan Mother Ahnissi Yellow Book of 3E 426 Zainsubani's Notes |
The Mirror by Berdier Wreans The wind blew over the open plain, jostling the few trees within to move back and forth with the irritation of it. A young man in bright green turban approached the army and gave his chieftain's terms for peace to the commander. He was refused. It was to be battle, the battle of Ain-Kolur. So the chief Iymbez had decreed his open defiance and his horsemen were at war once again. Many times the tribe had moved into territory that was not theirs to occupy, and many times the diplomatic approach had failed. It had come to this, at long last. It was just as well with Mindothrax. His allies may win or lose, but he would always survive. Though he had occasionally been on the losing side of a war, never once in all his thirty-four years had he lost in hand-to-hand combat. The two armies poured like dual frothing streams through the dust, and when they met a clamor rang out, echoing into the hills. Blood, the first liquor the clay had tasted in many a month, danced like powder. The high and low battle cries of the rival tribes met in harmony as the armies dug into one another's flesh. Mindothrax was in the element he loved. After ten hours of fighting with no ground given, both commanders called a mutual and honorable withdrawal from the field. The camp was positioned in a high-walled garden of an old burial ground, adorned by springtide blossoms. As Mindothrax toured the grounds, he was reminded of his childhood home. It was a happy and a sad recollection, the purity of childhood ambition, all of his schooling in the ways of battle, but tinged with memories of his poor mother. A beautiful woman looking down at her son with both pride and unspoken sorrow. She never talked about what troubled her, but it came as no surprise to any when she took the walk across the moors and was found days later, her throat slit open by her own hand. The army itself was like a colony of ants, newly shaken. Within a half hour's time after the end of the battle, they had reorganized as if by instinct. As the medicos looked to the wounded, someone remarked, with a measure of admiration and astonishment, Look at Mindothrax. His hair isn't even out of place. He is a mighty swordsman, said the attending physician. The sword is a greatly overvalued article, said Mindothrax, nevertheless pleased with the attention. Warriors pay too much attention to striking and not enough in defending strikes. The proper way to go into battle is to defend yourself, and to hit your opponent only when the ideal moment arises. I prefer a more straight-forward approach, smiled one of the wounded. It is the way of the horse men. If it is the way of the Bjoulsae tribes to fail, then I renounce my heritage, said Mindothrax, making a quick sign to the spirits that he was being expressive not blasphemous. Remember what the great blademaster Gaiden Shinji said, 'The best techniques are passed on by the survivors.' I have been in thirty-six battles, and I haven't a scar to show for them. That is because I rely on my shield, and then my blade, in that order. What is your secret? Think of melee as a mirror. I look to my opponent's left arm when I am striking with my right. If he is prepared to block my blow, I blow not. Why exert undue force? Mindothrax cocked an eyebrow, But when I see his right arm tense, my left arm goes to my shield. You see, it takes twice as much power to send force than it does to deflect it. When your eye can recognize whether your opponent is striking from above, or at angle, or in an uppercut from below, you learn to pivot and place your shield just so to protect yourself. I could block for hours if need be, but it only takes a few minutes, or even seconds, for your opponent, used to battering, to leave a space open for your own strike. What was the longest you've ever had to defend yourself? asked the wounded man. I fought a man once for an hour's time, said Mindothrax. He was tireless with his bludgeoning, never giving me a moment to do aught but block his strikes. But finally, he took a moment too long in raising his cudgel and I found my mark in his chest. He struck my shield a thousand times, and I struck his heart but once. But that was enough. So he was your greatest opponent? asked the medico. Oh, indeed not, said Mindothrax, turning his great shield so the silvery metal reflected his own face. There is he. The next day, the battle recommenced. Chief Iymbez had brought in reinforcements from the islands to the south. To the horror and disgrace of the tribe, mercenaries, renegade horsemen and even some Reachmen witches were included in the war. As Mindothrax stared across the field at the armies assembling, putting on his helmet and readying his shield and blade, he thought again of his poor mother. What had tortured her so? Why had she never been able to look at her son without grief? Between sunrise and sundown, the battle raged. A bright blue-sky overhead burned down on the combatants as they rushed against one another over and over again. In every melee, Mindothrax prevailed. A foe with an ax rained a series of strokes against his shield, but every one was deflected until at last Mindothrax could best the warrior. A spear maiden nearly pierced the shield with her first strike, but Mindothrax knew how to give with the blow, throwing her off balance and leaving her open for his counterstrike. Finally, he met a mercenary on the field, armed with shield and sword and a helm of golden bronze. For an hour and a half they battled. Mindothrax tried every trick he knew. When the mercenary tensed his left arm, he held back his strike. When his opponent rose his sword, his shield rose too and expertly blocked. For the first time in his life, he was battling another defensive fighter. Stationary, reflective, with energy to battle for days if need be. Occasionally, another warrior would enter into the fray, sometimes from Mindothrax's army, sometimes from his opponent's. These distractions were swiftly dispatched, and the champions returned to their fight. As they fought, circling one another, matching block for blow and blow for block, it dawned on Mindothrax that here at last he was fighting the perfect mirror. It became more a game, almost a dance, than a battle of blood. It was not until Mindothrax missed his own step, striking too soon, throwing himself off balance, that the promenade was ended. He saw, rather than felt, the mercenary's blade rip across him from throat to chest. A good strike. The sort he himself might have delivered. Mindothrax fell to the ground, feeling his life passing. The mercenary stood over him, prepared to give his worthy adversary the killing blow. It was a strange, honorable deed for an outsider to do, and Mindothrax was greatly moved. Across the battlefield, he heard someone call a name, similar to his own. Jurrifax! The mercenary removed his helmet to answer the call. As he did so, Mindothrax saw through the slits of his helmet his own reflection in the man. It was his own close-set eyes, red and brown hair, thin and wide mouth, and blunt chin. For a moment he marveled at the mirror, before the stranger turned back to him and delivered the death stroke. Jurrifax returned to his commander and was well paid for his part in the day's victory. They retired for a hot meal under the stars in a garden by an old cairn that had previously been occupied by their foes. The mercenary was strangely quiet as he observed the land. Have you been here before, Jurrifax? asked one of the tribesmen who had hired him. I was born a horseman just like you. My mother sold me when I was just a babe. I have always wondered how my life might have been different had I not been bartered away. I might never have been a mercenary. There are many things that decide our fate, said the witch. It is madness to try to see how you might have taken this turn or that in the world. There are none exactly like yourself, so it is foolish to compare. But there is one, said Jurrifax, looking to the stars. My master, before he set me free, said that my mother had twin sons when I was born. She could only afford to raise but one child, but somewhere out there, there is a man just like me. My brother. I hope to meet him. The witch saw the spirits before her and knew the truth that the twins had met already. She remained silent and stared into the fire, banishing the thoughts from her head, too wise to tell all. |