By noon on the fifth day we had turned our course slightly north by Weebam-Na’s suggestion, as he told us that both he and Bejeen had been tracking signs of Argonian habitation the further we travelled. We continued onwards where the trees began to thin out slightly, and I saw how Weebam-Na was becoming more and more wary the further we paddled along the small waterway. Carefully, and with silence falling over our small collection of canoes we moved ever closer together, keeping our eyes open and our hands ready to drop our paddles and grasp weapons and shields if required.

  “Is everything all right ‘Bam?” I asked him, calling him by his nickname that he acquired from Alexi.

  “So far,” His voice was a low hiss as he turned his head from side to side, tasting the air and blinking slowly and steadily with both his inner and outer eyelids. “The village is nearby. Just a little up further upriver.”

  “Like the others?” I too was looking about for potential ambush, keeping one eye on the encroaching foliage and the other on my bow in its protective covering.

  “Similar in size unless I’m mistaken. There are tribal signs marked along some of the trees on our left,” With a head turned he flashed his fang filled mouth. “and one of their sentries have been following us for the past two hundred metres.”

  I frowned, looking around and carefully drawing upon the vampire in me to detect where the Argonian happened to be hiding. There was nothing that gave me any hint that we were being followed, but I knew better than to question Weebam-Na’s instincts and skills. I had learned very quickly that while my vampiric senses were incredible, I had significant difficultly detecting anything or anyone under the surface of the water.

  The portion where the village was located was in a section where the forests, dense marshes and the trees that grew out into the waters had been cleared away over the course of generations. While there was solid ground scattered about everywhere, this particular portion was by far the largest unbroken section for dozens of kilometres around. In addition to being the only stable section of ground, it was also surrounded by natural defences in the way of exceedingly thick vegetation. I would have easily bet that the forests around the village had been cultivated by the locals as a curtain wall of sorts. Even this section of the river had been chosen as anyone approaching by river would be bottlenecked and stymied in any attempts to attack or raid it.

  As for the village itself, it was little more than a small collection of mud mounds, barely even huts at all with only the barest amount of marsh tree wood for roofs and supporting. Unlike some of the other villages and settlements we had come across, this particular village was more traditional in design and architecture. Each of the mud-brick huts were built close together with no more than a few metres separating them and their neighbours. There were only two or three dozen at the most clustered about the highest portion of their jungle surrounded island where a single tree spread its branches high.

  “Well. This is interesting.”

  “Bam?” As we slowly made our way towards the nearest portion of solid ground, I could feel the sensation of eyes upon my flesh.

  “Well, this village has its own Hist. That is unusual for its size.”

  “One of your spirit trees? This place must have been important.” I said, my aching body lending strength to my sarcasm despite my intentions.

  Weebam-Na hissed but it was more of amusement that annoyance. “Don’t mock the Hist, at least not where one can hear you. This village may have been larger and more important some time ago but that’s not the most interesting thing about this place. This place reeks of fear.”

  I look a slow and careful look the clearing containing the village but was unable to see any signs of disturbance other than the eerie lack of life itself. Smoke rose from a handle of fires no larger than a typical campfire but unlike Weebam-Na, my own senses were unable to detect any strange smells.

  “What do you mean?”

  He nodded towards some of the closest huts as we paddled up to the collections of duckboards reaching out over the water in the centre of the village. “I mean that we all should be wary here. We don’t want to force anyone to act rashly.”

  At his nod I looked closer at the buildings, seeing how their windows and strangely curved doorways had been crudely barricaded with boards, logs and stones. It was obvious that they had only just been barricaded and I could’ve sworn that a clay pot in the nearest doorway was still shaking slightly after being placed just as we brought our tiny boat in close to the bank.

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  “Keep your hands from your weapons, unless things go to oblivion in a hurry.” Weebam-Na murmured, making a few short gestures to the others in the boats close behind us.

  As he or Bejeen had done when we had arrived at the other villages, he climbed carefully out of the boat and purposely left his weapons behind. The other villages that we had arrived in had been nervous at our presence and their lack of familiarity with non-Argonians but this settlement was appearing almost entirely desolated. While we had only know each other for a short time, I knew him well enough to notice how he was treading very carefully along the path leading from the collection of fishing piers and jetties towards the nearest buildings.

  Like the other times, he had simply begun making a clicking noise, standing tall and turning slowly as he made a series of strange calls that rose the hairs on the back of my neck. The limited number of Argonians in the Morrowind Legions had left me unaccustomed to their true culture but I still couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at the image of Weebam-Na as a tall and wingless bird as he called out to the village.

  His clicking and hisses continued for several moments and somehow his strange warbling cry seemed to echo through the entire area. For a few moments it did appear that the entire village was deserted, but my vampire hearing allowed me to hear the return cry emanating from within one of the buildings. Weebam-Na merely tilted his head, looking into one of the doorways as the crude barricade was carefully dragged out of the way.

  While the local was indeed an Argonian, they shared little similarity with our guides. Where Weebam-Na was tall and strong, his hide rough from a lifetime of hunting within the bounds of County Leyawiin, this new Argonian appeared almost stunted and deformed in comparison. There was however a strange strength to it as it moved out into the light outside of the rough hovel, looking up into Weebam-Na’s features with a tilted head and tasting his scent on the air. The two of them stared at each other, trading words in their strange chittering tongues loud enough that it soon drew the rest of the village’s inhabitants from every doorway and shadow.

  After several minutes of clicking speech, Weebam-Na looked back at us, providing a brief nod before continuing to chitter and hiss away with the other Argonians. With the simple gesture, the rest of us quickly disembarked, attempting not to fill our boots with river water and muds as we had on the previous times before dragging the boats up the side of the bank. It was a routine that we were all becoming increasingly familiar with and within a few minutes the boats were secured under the curious eyes of the villages inhabitants.

  There were dozens of them, of all shapes sizes and ages. Some were old, hunched from age and covered with overgrowths of scales and parasites. Others were young hatchings, barely standing up to waist height and not even having shed their first skins, but no matter their age they all wore rough leather harnesses and belts made from netch and crocodile skins and little else. Unlike the other races, the Argonians didn’t truly need clothing or armour to protect themselves from the elements and they used it more for decoration and utility.

  The crowding mass of the village’s occupants parted as Weebam-Na and the first Argonian who appeared lead us into the village. There was a considerable gap between us and the nearest locals as they all kept their distance. While we were all armed we moved carefully and without any outwards signs of aggression as trust was a rare commodity within the Black. Some of the younger, more curious ones moved forward but scaled hands from their parents would reach out and dragi them all to safety behind the shifting wall of scales and leathery hides.

  “Is it just me, or does this whole place fell… off.” Alexi commented offhandedly as we moved through the tiny crowd. “I thought that Argonians were resistant to diseases and such but this lot looks very sickly.”

  “We are resistant.” Bejeen’s reply was short, but she too looked uneasy. “There are some sicknesses that can claim us but these people are starving.”

  I caught Viconia’s glance around all of us from where she was walking by my side. Her face and mine were flushed with heat and I especially was suffering from an increasing sweat rash from the tropical humidity. “How are they starving? We have had no problems catching game or food on our way here.”

  Towards the back, the weight of Mazoga and Falid was making itself felt through our boots and the layered stones that had been built between the huts. Mazoga simply grunted, gestured with an enormous gloved hand at those clustered around us and shrugged. “They have no warriors. There aint any who aint very young, or very old. It don’t look like there is a single one of fighting age in the lot of ‘em.”

  “Out hunting maybe?” I suggested, seeing the expression on Bejeen’s face and the way she shook her head.

  “A village would never willingly send all their warriors and hunters out at the same time and leave it defenceless. I caught a glimpse of their nursery back there and its defended by a pair of middle-aged hatchlings. That’s a job for the largest and most experienced males.”

  “Plague?” Growled Falid. His voice as ever was deep and purposeful and he was able to simply look over everyone’s heads, providing him with a clearer view of the entire settlement.

  “No.” Bejeen looked around at us and I could tell by her body language that she too was uneasy with being here. “If there was a plague or some form of sickness then we’d only be seeing the healthy and the young, rather than the sick and the old. Something else has happened here, and I would put money on some form of conflict.”