Tenaka stepped through the Window to stand directly in front of the Angry Porcupine. Behind him came his brother, Balefire and Twilight, the former clearly impressed by the method of transportation. Next was the other three women, J'layah, Mea and Pilar followed by Elfiran and Alduin. The barkeep looked about in amazement and Alduin was scribbling furiously on his scrolls. The Dreadlord closed the Window and walked over to the door to the tavern. Standing to the side, he allowed the owner to enter first.
Following Elfiran, Tenaka entered the Angry Porcupine and then stopped dead, the people behind almost walking into him, so sudden was his halt. Before him he saw his wife Kriella sitting at a table with a tall man with shoulder length dark hair in a tail wearing adamantium chain armour - a rare kind but not unheard of - and a Scamp! Kriella stood as he walked in and bowed. The Dreadlord nodded and she stood upright again. Formality over, she ran to Tenaka and embraced him in a powerful hug.
"My friends," said Tenaka from within his wife's embrace. "This is my wife, Kriella Khan." Kriella released her husband and stepped back, saluting the men and women in the way of the Dreadarmies, fist over heart.
Tenaka introduced the heroes of the Guardian Citadel to his wife, until he reached Balefire. Taking a deep breath, he started talking: "Kriella, this is my brother, Balefire Ebonheart."
The shock was evident on the Dreadmaster's face. She started to speak but Tenaka interrupted her, saying, "It is a long tale, and one that must wait until another time. All you need know for now is that if someone should use the name Darkflame, then they are in fact referring to me." Kriella was speechless, but she accepted the little explanation she had out of habit. Her husband was the Dreadlord - if he said that the explanation must wait, then it must wait. She walked over to Balefire and gave him a hug, only slightly less enthusiastic than the one she had given Tenaka.
The Dreadlord meanwhile was looking at the man who had been sitting with his wife. When he had first seen the figure, he had thought that there was something odd, but now he thought that he had the answer. Adamantium chain was rare only outside Oblivion. Suspecting, he had silently activated a detection spell, and now knew what the man was.
"Kriella, I must ask you two questions. Why are you sitting here with a scamp and--" his eyes narrowed dangerously at Rathine--" a Dremora? And, why are you even here in the first place?"
`Perhaps it's a good thing Nyx isn't here,' she thought. `She'd probably say something facetious, like, `Learn to count, sir, that was three questions!' She smiled a little, thinking of her friend, then sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. She'd figured that Tenaka would see through Rathine's illusion--it was to hide his horns from anyone else--but she hoped he would let her explain.
Elfiran broke the stunned silence, saying, "No doubt there's a tale t' be heard here." He gave a not unkindly look to the scamp.
"I for one will be very interested in hearing how my wife, a Dreadmaster, is in the company of a scamp and a Dremora," Tenaka repeated dryly.
"Well...sit down, all of you. `Tis a long tale in the telling. Take your ale while you can, and listen," Kriella said softly. As ale--and lots of it--was brought and passed around, Kriella thought, 'I hope I can make them understand, Nyx. Most of all, I hope they will understand that then, as ever, you did what seemed best at the time.'
Tenaka, seeing his wife hesitate, reached over and took her hand. "I have known and trusted you long enough, my love, to know that you do nothing without good reason."
She showed him a grateful smile. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Have any of you heard the name Nyxalinth DeVries?"
Balefire's brows rose. "The name is familiar, somehow, but escapes my memory at the moment."
Mea chuckled. "A past sparring partner, m'lord?"
He shook his head. "No. Her name echoes for another reason...ah well."
Elfiran smiled broadly. "Ah should hope Ah do, lass! Nyx has been coming here fer a number o' years...met her late husband here, Arkay rest him, and her current love, Zerith. A fine lass, and a lovely one."
"If yer wanting for a tale, friends," Edwynster called from the bar, "then there's a tale for you!"
"No doubt tis a fine one," replied Twilight with a grin just as the barkeep was about to launch into the taproom drama version of the story. "But let us stay with the subject at hand, shall we?" She turned to Kriella. "Say on, please."
"Nyxalinth De Vries is the heroine of Battlespire."
"Nyxalinth?" exclaimed Edwynster from the bar.
Elfiran looked as if he'd been poleaxed. "Thet sweet-faced lass took on Mehrunes Dagon? And won?"
Tenaka looked at his wife, amazed. "You have met Lady Daedrasbane? She is a friend of yours?"
Balefire laughed. "That is where I have heard that name! Of course! Finally, a name to go with the titles, then. And perhaps a face to go with the names."
"How did you come to meet her?" Mea asked. As far as the cleric-warrior was concerned, anyone who could stomp a Daedra Prince's ass was worth meeting.
"I was sent to track down and kill a spider Daedra. When I arrived at the caverns where the creature was lairing, I found Nyxalinth already hunting it." Kriella sipped at her ale.
"I found out that she had been sent to destroy the thing by the Mage's Guild." She regarded them with serious ruby eyes. "Nyxalinth, and her beloved, Zerith, had been held captive by a daedra count named Emerald Vex. Considering that Vex is one of Sanguine's most favored Oathchildren, I do not think I need to explain the nature of this captivity to you, or why the Mage's Guild refused to help her."
Skudge disagreed, saying, "Emerald Vex is big horny bastard."
Kriella grinned, and even Rathine cracked a smile. "Yes. But Zerith helped Nyx to escape. She went to Battlespire first, to seek help from the Battlemages there, and to visit her brother, Josian Kaid. Josian would be here, but he is yet recovering from the near-mortal wounds he suffered at Dagon's hands."
"That where me meet Nyx," Skudge added. "Bad Daedra in Battlespire. Skudge not bad--me not even 's'posed to be there. Me not Dagon scamp, me with Nocturnal clan."
"It's a long story," Kriella said. "But Skudge is from Shade Perilous, an offshoot of Nocturnal's realm. In Nyx's journal, it tells how Nocturnal had agreed to allow Dagon passage through her realm. But Dagon betrayed her, and allowed his troops to ransack the place. Skudge here was caught up amongst the invading forces and wound up in Battlespire."
"Nyx save Skudge's life," the scamp told them. "She become good friend. We help each other lots." he sniffed. "Me sad when she make me stay in Shade Perilous--say rest of trip too dangerous."
Tenaka regarded the scamp closely. He was surprised at the little Daedra's warmth and concern for his friend. Still..."This explains the scamp." He turned narrowed eyes upon Rathine. "But I would know how a Dremora came to be involved."
Kriella shot a warning glance at Skudge. Things were tense enough without his egging Rathine. "Nyxalinth was approached by the Dremora to help them overthrow Mehrunes Dagon," she said simply.
Rathine nodded, picking up the tale. "My master, Imago Storm, served our prince faithfully for millennia as his Grand Vizier until Dagon chose to invade Battlespire. My lord tried to warn him against it. He told him it would be the downfall of all of Clan Dagon. Before this, our Prince always had the best interests of the clan in mind. When Nyxalinth arrived, my lord Storm knew she would be of use to us, so he asked that I not only spare her, but give her a few items to help her."
Skudge was outraged. "That not why you spare her, you big liar! You spare Nyx cause you think she pretty, and because you honking big horny bastard!"
"Skudge, be quiet!" Kriella hissed.
Rathine nodded. "`Tis half true, friends. I was very attracted to the Shadow Walker. I will not lie--I did force her to share my bed." There were outraged gasps from the ladies. "But I am honourable--I kept my word to her. And lest you judge her too harshly, know this--she had no choice, for I would have seen to it that she would not save her brother."
Kriella sighed with relief. She hadn't expected Rathine to be so reasonable, or to explain Nyx's predicament so honestly.
"What makes you so open about this?" Pilar asked him.
Rathine sighed. "I have no reason to lie. Clan Dremora is honourable. We repay our debts. My master has sent me to help, and I can hardly do so if there is fighting and dishonesty."
'Help yourself to her, you mean,' Kriella thought. 'Poor Nyx. Why the Shadow Walker is such a magnet for Daedra, I have no idea.' She exchanged glances with Skudge. From the look in the scamp's eyes, they seemed to be in agreement--once Nyx was in the Soul Gem, Rathine could not be trusted.
J'layah had been silent up until this point. Her heart ached for the woman, but her sister came first. "I still need to save my sister from the Dark Brotherhood," she said. "I do sympathise with your friend, however, I have struggled long and hard to help my sister. Perhaps, some of us can go to the Dark Brotherhood, and some can save Nyxalinth. A hero such as this does not deserve to spend another day in Oblivion!"
Mea nodded. "I'm with J'layah."
"As am I," Twilight said softly. She looked at Balefire, a sad smile on her face. "Sorry, my swordbrother. You will have to face Oblivion without me."
Balefire smiled ruefully. "As ever, you know me all too well. Who else is with me, then?"
Tenaka smiled. "Seeing as my wife and my brother have made up their minds, I will be as well."
Alduin smiled broadly. "And I will be accompanying the ladies to help save J'layah's sister."
More ale was brought.
Skudge produced Nyx's journal seemingly from nowhere. "More story in book,' he told the group. He showed it to Tenaka, having warmed to the big Dread Lord. "See? Nyx's journal."
Kriella smiled. "I'm not so sure if Nyx would care to have people she doesn't know reading her private journals."
Skudge shook his head. "Nyx always say she want friends to read book if anything happen to her." He shoved the book at Elfrian, nearly upsetting one of the ale mugs. "Have look. You friend."
Elfiran closed it and gently set it aside. "All th' same, little one, `tis better if the lass herself lets us read it."
"Oh." The scamp suddenly brightened. "Here picture of Nyx she draw herself. She give to me, so me not forget her." Skudge pulled a sheet of parchment from the book and gave it to Elfiran. "Want look? See?"
He looked at it, nodding. "Aye, `tis her. Tho she is much different when last Ah saw her two years ago. `Tis in th' eyes. She was still but a girl when she an' Zerith left here thet day."
Pilar looked at it next, then Twilight. Nyx was a pretty girl, indeed. She smiled as she wondered if Balefire would notice this. "Aye. And it would seem that she left the Battlespire a woman." She passed it on to Tenaka.
"A pretty lass, no doubt of it." He looked at Kriella. "This is *the* Nyxalinth? She is not what one would expect."
Kriella gave him a wry grin. "And since when does a woman's beauty preclude her abilities, my husband?" Five sets of feminine eyes regarded him seriously.
He smiled sheepishly. "She has not the look of a warrior, my love. There's a great deal of innocence in those eyes, along with the wisdom. A miracle that it should be so." He passed the picture on to Balefire. He'd known Kriella long enough that she wasn't upset by his comments, merely teasing.
"Her abilities in battle match the beauty within and without," Kriella told them. "I have seen her fight." She told the story of how they worked together to destroy the spider Daedra in the caverns, then of their battle against the Daedra they thought to be Red and Blackie.
Balefire's breath caught as he looked at the picture. Staring back was a lovely half-Elven woman. Her beauty did not match the standard, as did the beauty of the women seated around him now, but she was striking nonetheless. Her hair was curly and waved just a bit past her shoulders. Her smile held just a hint of impish mischief. Her almond shaped eyes did indeed hold sad wisdom, and great innocence. He found himself wondering what colour they were.
"Brother...are you with us?" Tenaka teased him.
Balefire handed the picture to Mea. "If her ability in battle matches her beauty of form and spirit, then she is formidable, indeed."
Kriella smiled. "The Great Lord even offered that she should join the Dreadarmies," she told Tenaka.
He nodded. "I am most impressed. I am with you in this, Kriella. However--" His gaze fell upon the two Daedra--"I will tolerate no nonsense."
"Skudge promise to behave!"
"I will do as I must, and if I must co-operate with the scamp, then so be it," Rathine said coldly.
Elfiran spoke up, addressing Balefire. "Ye have had a most tryin' time, m'friend. None of us will think ill o' ye, if'n ye decide to stay this one out."
The big Warmage smiled. Ruefully. He'd been looking forward to something simple, like destroying some of the Dark Brotherhood, then taking a very well deserved rest. But the memory of that face would not let go of him. He sighed, thinking, 'Heroism--and a fondness for beauty--will yet be your downfall!' Finally, he nodded. "I would accompany my brother." Taking a large swallow of ale, he looked around at his companions, and his smile grew wolfish as he said, "Besides, how could I possibly pass up the chance to storm Oblivion?"
J'layah smiled. "Then it is settled. We should do just fine. My sister, at least, does not suffer what Nyxalinth must endure."
Mea sighed, looking at the picture. Nyxalinth was exotically beautiful, if a trifle too voluptuous. She'd seen the look on Balefire's face. 'No one said it was to be forever, or you alone, Mea girl,' she told herself. Then she smiled. "Anyone who can kick a Daedra prince's ass can't be half bad," she said lightly.
Skeetr too looked at the picture, shrugged, and put it aside.
Kriella nodded. "Then it's settled."
"If'n Ah may ask," Elfiran said, "How serious is her plight? Ah do nay ken th' others, but Ah would enjoy a bit o' rest and a few more tankards aforehand. "Ah'm sure Nyx will understand, but if'n th' situation is grim, tis best we be along."
"Well, I had some help speaking with her the other day," Kriella said. Tenaka nodded to show that he understood. "The situation is difficult, but not insurmountable. Nyx has been soulbound to Emerald Vex."
Silence all around.
Finally, Tenaka spoke. "This is most serious. If we slay Emerald Vex, Nyxalinth perishes as well. If he is allowed to live, he will simply plague her another day."
"We have the situation in hand--literally." Rathine produced a large, magnificent green gem from his belt pouch. "This is a specially constructed soul gem. It entraps the entire being, not simply the soul. Either we can entrap Emerald Vex, with the chance that he could escape or be freed by loyal minions, or it could be used on Nyxalinth, thus protecting her total being so that we may slay the Daedra count."
"I tend towards the idea of trapping Nyxalinth," Kriella said. "This way, Vex cannot continue to harass her should he be freed. Once we get her to safety, we break the gem, releasing her."
"Ahh, I see. And what of her lover...you said Zerith is his name?" Balefire asked.
"He will meet with us in Vex's realm, on the shore of the Lake of Dreams. If he makes it there."
"A dangerous place for a mage-scholar to await us," Tenaka said. "I can get us there, but I pray that he will be safe till then. Emerald Vex's realm is as dangerous as it is beautiful."
Rathine snorted then drained his ale mug. `Beautiful? Hardly. Boring is more the word. Where is beauty without jagged mountains, or volcanoes constantly erupting? Or seas constantly at storm?"
"Personally, I prefer my landscapes a bit less hostile," Kriella told him. "But Tenaka is right--It will not be easy. But though "I've known Nyx for only a short time, she is already dear to me. From what she has told me, her situation, while very uncomfortable, is not yet desperate. We can tarry for a day or two, if needed." She looked meaningfully at Tenaka.
More ale was brought, and then, just for variety, still more ale.
As the companions toasted to their success and the adventures to come, Kriella prayed silently, Help her, Great Lord. Lend her your strength.
To her friend, Kriella thought, "Hold on, my friend. We're coming for you. And I promise we're not leaving without you!"
(Emerald Vex)
"My deepest apologies for allowing the dark elf's escape, My Count."
I regarded Zul calmly. "It matters little, old friend. He will not leave Oblivion without the woman he loves." I poured Morrowind firewine into a platinum goblet. "Some for you as well?"
Zul nodded. I gave him the wine, then poured some for myself. "Thank you, Your Grace."
I nodded absently. "I would still enjoy knowing how he pulled it off."
"As would I. All anyone seems to know is that he killed one of the Chosen, and took his armour. Then, while on patrol, we were attacked by a monster of some sort." He sipped his wine, his lavender eyes dark and moody.
"What sort of creature?"
"It was round, all mouth and teeth and eyeballs. The Chosen panicked, it shames me to say." He gripped his goblet until I feared he would dent it. Finally he relaxed. "He will pay dearly, for I know it was his doing!"
"Zerith is quite clever, for a mortal. Do not be so harsh on The Chosen, Zul. The dark elf obviously used a combination of illusions, backing it up with a fear spell. It would seem that his power is greater than any of us thought."
Zul rubbed his chin. "Then why wait so long to make use of it?"
I shrugged. "I cannot answer that. All that comes to mind is, somehow, he has found out that help is on the way, and soon." I drained what remained of my wine. "Take your Chosen, Oathbrother. Patrol as you were, and pay particular attention to the open areas, such as near the Lake of Dreams."
Zul nodded. "What of the mortal woman--Nyxalinth?"
"I have Red and Blackie standing guard over her." I smiled darkly. "She'll not make a move, for she knows what will happen to her."
He shook his head. "Is it not possible that you underestimate her, My Count? She is, after all, the one who brought Mehrunes Dagon low."
I laughed. "Nyx is a bright girl, yes. But she has no weapons to wield against them. The jewellery she wears dampens her magicka abilities, so she'll be lucky if she can fire off a cleaning cantrip, much less a Shadowfire spell."
"Still, Your Grace, standing Red and Blackie to guard her...is that not unlike assigning a scamp to guard the pantry, or Clanfear the wine cellars?"
I stretched languidly, ebony armour creaking. "They know the consequences of disobedience." I smiled wolfishly, and was rewarded by Zul's near-imperceptible shudder.
We were silent for several long minutes. Finally, Zul said, "One last thing, my Count. What of Lishara?"
I quirked a brow. "What of her?"
"She is fearsomely angry, and insanely jealous. Might she not attempt to take advantage of the situation to permanently rid herself of her rival?"
I nodded. "Fear not, Brother. I do realise her hatred towards my consort. Red and Blackie should be able to deal with her. I have warned them that Lishara may seek to harm Nyxalinth."
"I just hope that they can deal with the Shadow Walker, and her friends," he muttered.
I smiled wryly. "This conversation begins to bore me. Take the Chosen and do as I have ordered."
Zul stood, bowed, and left the room, green cloak floating behind him.
A servant approached at my gesture. "You have heard?"
"Yessss, my Count," hissed the Clannfear.
"Keep an eye on Lishara and her Morphoids. I no longer trust that wench."
"Assss you wish it, Your Grace."
(Nyxalinth)
"...so that's how it happened," I concluded. "Nightshade and I spent a day in the local jail--which was nothing new for me, considering my profession--and that was that."
Blackie grinned at me. "You're quite a wicked piece of work, you know that?"
I shrugged. "I've never thought so. At least I'm not like my freind Elsbeth used to be. Gods, three quarters of the men in town called her the town mattress!" I eyed them impishly. "You guys would have liked her."
Red shook his head. "No. We like a challenge, not sluts."
"I personally can't think of any female who is easy enough to be with a spider daedra willingly," I said.
Blackie smiled. "Well, there was Red's mother. But she did it to gain power, so maybe that doesn't count?"
I shook my head. "I'm talking willing as in, she wanted to do it just to do it."
"Ahh. It doesn't really matter. What matters is in the end, we get the results we want," Red purred.
"Say as you will, Red. So...now what?" I stretched languidly.
"I know what I'd like," Blackie purred. "But we can't have that right now."
"That's really a shame, too." But I had to keep dragging this out. "Well, now it's your turn, boys. Tell me...what do you want to do with me when His Grace allows you my company again?"
The leer on their faces made me want to hide. "Well, how much time do you have, lovey?" Red teased.
"Plenty...as you well know."
And so I sat there, and listened while they informed me, in the most salacious detail imaginable, exactly what they would do with me. I made myself look as though I were enjoying it by imagining what my friends and I would do to them when they arrived--this time, they would truly die. I wanted to throw up by the time they finished, but I forced myself to grin wickedly. "Well," I said softly as I imagined disembowelling Red while Kriella removed Blackie's head from his shoulders, "That does sound...most enticing. Do you think I could handle all of that pleasure?"
Blackie smirked. "You have before, lovey."
"Oh, true enough..." I stretched, this time adding a wide yawn. "Well...hmmm...I suppose it's my turn again, no? Would you enjoy hearing about the first time your master had me?"
"Now that would be fun!"
And so I told them...letting them think all the while that my smiles were of anticipation of enjoyment to come.
Which, in fact, they were.
But not in the way they were expecting...
(Zerith)
Though it had been mere minutes since my defeat of that strange frog-beast, I felt like it had been hours. Kriella and her friends were on the way, and to be honest, they couldn't arrive soon enough for me.
My heart ached then, for I so badly wanted to be with Nyx, to hold her in my arms, to kiss her and whisper in her ear of how much I loved her.
I wanted so badly to be with her, and her alone. Others held a fascination for me, though, something I knew I would not overcome any time soon. We'd tried exclusiveness time and again, only to have some intriguing partner catch my eye. I knew that Nyx didn't sit idly by during these times, but I also knew that for her, it was a way to fill the hole in her heart my absences created. The only man who she spent any time with was Varshennon, or Varsh for short. Varsh was a fellow Shadow Walker and a good friend to her. Like me, he was a dark elf, though, as a Shadow Warrior, he was much more powerfully built. It was easy to understand why Nyx was drawn to him. Unfortunately, he'd disappeared the winter before our capture by Emerald Vex. More than once, I had doubted it was a coincidence.
When our last attempt to be exclusive faded away, Nyx had only smiled sadly at me and said, "I can no longer bear to have my heart torn in two every time some intriguing person walks into your life, Zerith. Nor is it fair to Varshennon that I go back and forth. For now on, I will accept your vows of faithfulness with a grain of salt, and know that, at least for the time being, you will be mine alone."
I will confess that her words stung quite a bit. But I knew she was right, and I counted myself lucky that she didn't leave me.
It was Nyx who had created the rules for our relationship. At first, I'd resented them--why should there be rules for this? But as I came to see how these rules prevented us from hurting each other, and others, I respected her all the more. And they were simple enough: no taking others into beds we shared (I'd broken this rule once, and paid dearly when I nearly lost her for good), no breaking dates to be with others, no tolerating blatant disrespect to the other person from anyone and keep at least one place sacred to us alone.
Now, sitting on the shore of the Lake of Dreams, I understood what it was that she'd wanted all along. Nyx had wanted only to feel special, to know that no matter what, she held a place in my heart, and was not merely one of many, and many more to come.
I buried my face in my hands and sighed. All the times I'd caused her pain, all the times she'd sought solace with Varsh, she'd only wanted to feel special.
"Ahh, my love, forgive me. I will do my best to be yours alone, but come what may, you will always be my Ki'Raith."
She needed to know how special she was to me. I would do two things--one would have to wait until we were safely back in Tamriel. The other I would do now, in case I did not survive the attempt.
Now, I would be a wretched wizard indeed if I could not conjure a quill and parchment from thin air. I summoned them, thought a moment, and began to write.
Mhai Ki'Raith,
If you hold this letter, it is because our attempt to free you from Emerald Vex has failed, or succeeded and I was slain in the attempt.
Know that I have loved you ever since the day you ran, terrified, into the Angry Porcupine, begging Nightshade and I for help. And know that I loved you more and more every day.
Forgive me, my love, for failing to be faithful to you. I never sought out others because you were not desirable enough, or beautiful enough. If anything, you have more to offer than one man could ever fully enjoy. As for me, I am ever compelled to seek out and enjoy what the world has to offer. Nightshade (Jephre bless him) would oft tell me "Tis dark elves such as you that give the others their reputation." Mayhap he is right. But even should I one day come to love another, you will always be my Ki'Raith.
Emerald Vex once told me that since taking you to his bed he desired no others. It shatters my heart to know that a fiend of Oblivion is capable of giving you what I cannot. Forgive me, Nyxalinth--I cannot help but feel that I have failed you.
I promise you this, Mhai Ki'Raith. If what the bards and sages say of death is true, then Oblivion will be what we wish of it.
Nightshade and I will be waiting for you at the edge of the Lily Pond. And one evening, just as the full moon rises, we will see you walking along that tree lined path, the light turning your hair to flowing silver, love lighting your eyes from within. And I promise, Night Flower, we will give you in eternity what we could not give you in life.
Whatever else, Mhai Ki'Raith, I beg this of you--find what joy you can in life. Pay no heed to the mutterings of others. Follow your heart, for that is what you have always done best.
And do not weep for me, Heart's Blood...for I am already dead.
I rubbed a single tear from my eye as I folded the letter in thirds and wrote her name on it. My heart ached with the idea that I might never see her again.
I shuddered with the chill of a sudden premonition. Something was going to happen...not now, not here, perhaps...but it would happen.
I shook my head. I wouldn't allow it to interfere with my plans.
I cast a contingency spell on the letter, citing the spell to deliver the letter to her under the circumstances I had stated. Then I sat back, smiling a little as I contemplated her reaction to a question I never thought I'd ask anyone.
Cromm stepped through the Window with some apprehension. This was not like a teleportation spell, which would not work on a Werre, save for Balefire's mighty spell...but that was driven by a desperate anger only matched by the man's will. He also had the Blood with him, now an inert ring. Its essence had passed on with that of the Heart, forever ending the threat of the First.
This Window was not a teleportation spell of any kind. Its foundation lay elsewhere, and so the Werre stepped through not knowing what would happen. He heard the rest of the square come after him, their boots crunching in the sand, then fall silent as they passed through the Window.
For a moment, he saw the back of J'layah -- the last one of the non-Werre -- a few paces ahead, then she disappeared. With a grunt, Cromm brought himself up short, but not before finding something with his foot and crashing forward into a pile of...hay? A moment later, the rest of the Werre and Loriella stumbled into him. With a moment of anger born of embarrassment, he violently rose to his feet, knocking back Joran, who had fallen on him.
Looking about, he saw that they were in a largish structure. Dim light filtered in from around the planks of a shuttered window. Hay lay piled up on all sides, the smell of which made his nose itch. A rake lay at his feet. Joran lay in a heap, and K'tarin was helping Loriella from another pile. The dried grass clung to her hair, making her look for a moment like some mad scarecrow, dishevelled with straw hair. She seemed to know exactly how she looked, for she immediately turned away and quickly brushed off the offending straw. A horse neighed below. They were in the loft of a stable.
"Where did that dark elf drop us?" he grumbled. "And where are the others?"
After a cursory look about, K'tarin moved to the shutters and cracked them. Outside it was early morning a few hours past dawn. A large building stood across a broad court. In the shadow of the building, a group of worn but happy people were shoving open the door. Bright light streamed out to catch the sign by the door.
"We are where we should be. The Angry Porcupine stands not far off, and our comrades have entered in." A thin smile crossed his lips. "It seems in their haste to return, they've completely forgotten us. That Window worked well enough."
Cromm removed the last of the hay from his person. He did not like this place. The very air set his nose itching. He sniffed. Horses he did not mind, but stables! With a pre-emptory grunt, he found the ladder down, and motioned for the others to follow. The air below was more tolerable, if only for the horse smells overpowering the hay above. Soon they were outside. The air was almost damp compared to the dryness of the desert...and cold.
They stood there blinking. Joran made the mistake of breathing too deeply. It was all he could do to stifle a coughing fit. He had never been from the driest regions of Hammerfell. Here, it was akin to inhaling water. And there was so much green! Only the sky remained the same; clear and blue, though perhaps not quite so deep. He had the strange sensation of being closer to the sky.
'Is this Skyrim?' he thought. 'No, there is snow and ice there. This is much farther south then.'
He knew Menevia was far north of Hammerfell, but had no real idea where. It was pleasant here, if he didn't breathe too deeply. Was this why so many Werrites did not return to the Consilium? He was to take his first journey from the Consilium in a month's time. He would return, of course. But this air was seductive.
"You look fine," Cromm was saying.
Loriella was fussing over her hair, a tangled mess of renegade straw, dried mud, sand, and hair.
"Cromm, you have as much sense of 'fine' as a spider Daedra soused in a lake of Morid's Special Sauce! I'm more of a mess than you are."
She looked almost fit to cry. No one had any idea how important this was to her. Here they were on the doorstep of perhaps the most famous tavern in civilised Tamriel, and she looked like a slum rat in the company of filthy vagabonds.
She charged off behind the stable, bringing Cromm in tow. With a sharp glance she stayed K'tarin and the boy. Out of sight was a small well. She had Cromm draw up a bucket of clear cool water, and ordered him to dowse her. He kept drawing water until she had most of the mud and sand from her hair and clothing. Then she took off her shirt and began ringing it out.
"If anyone comes around the corner, kill them."
It was an order Cromm found himself obeying, and none too soon. Joran was just coming around the stable. He barrelled into a massive chest. Thick arms attached to this chest picked up the boy, spun him around, and carried him back around the corner. This was all he saw.
"Where is K'tarin?"
Joran looked up in mild anger. No one had seen, but all the same, it was a bit humiliating to be lugged about like a sack of wheat. He was a warrior, a Werrite. He would be a Werre in a few years, and that commanded respect. It was only because Cromm was a Werre himself that Joran kept his tongue. Also, the boy had learned new respect for his To'Khar. He was not the indecisive man he had once thought. Cromm had slain the most Denigroths, and defended the Warmage himself. He had also led them through the Mother Storm. Joran was the son of a hre'khar, many ranks above Cromm, but he discovered himself not as great as the man now blocking his path. Being a great man's son did not in turn make him great.
"He entered the tavern. He said his place was with that rude scribe. I could not tell him his place was with you because of his rank."
Cromm's features did not flicker, but he felt satisfaction. Finally this boy was learning discipline. It was true K'tarin still belonged to Cromm. The To'Khar had not released him from the square, but there was something between the scribe -- that annoying little man -- and the Werre. Possibly something similar to what existed between himself and Alduin. Cromm almost became annoyed. Alduin was rude, but he did not need to hear it from the mouth of a boy.
"You were right to be silent, Joran, but do not call Alduin rude except to his face. If you can do that, then you may call him rude when he is not listening."
It was an old proverb told so many times, its meaning had long been lost on most ears. It wasn't lost on Joran. Loriella came 'round the stable, clothes dark but not dripping as they were. Her hair hung about her shoulders no more damp than the rest of her. There were fiery highlights where the sun touched the drier strands. With a smile, she led them off to the most famous tavern in Menevia.
* * *
K'tarin opened the door quietly and shut it behind. The common room was full of cheer with guests coming down from restful sleep, and the barkeep drawing fresh draughts for morning throats dry from sleep and the previous night's laughter. Balefire, Elfiran, J'layah and the rest were crowded about a table to the side. Three faces he did not recognise, but the familiarity between them caused him to veer away to the bar to ask about food and provisions. He ached all over from the ordeals they had all endured, but now he was more concerned for the square's resources than his own hurts. He would be reprimanded for abandoning the others outside, so the least he could do was have something to show for it. He glanced at the table and saw Alduin held rapt as some new tale was being told by the strangers.
His ears strained to hear them above the general hubbub. There was some sort of vote being taken now. They were deciding what to do next. K'tarin ordered an Aldabaran Dark from the barkeep and made for the group. Now Alduin's voice rose: "And I will be accompanying the ladies to help save J'layah's sister."
K'tarin reached over the little man and dangled the mug of ale before the scribe's face. His eyes fairly crossed as they trained on the mug, and up went his hands to grab it. The Werre quickly pulled up the treat just in time. Alduin turned about and saw the amused Werre. K'tarin was actually smiling. Alduin hadn't known him for very long, but the effect still surprised him. The others were already moving on to other subjects, and didn't notice the scribe move off with the swarthy man.
K'tarin led him to another table somewhat removed. As reward, he set down the mug for Alduin. The old man immediately snatched it and began to slowly nurse it. It seemed K'tarin knew his weakness. The Werre grew earnest.
"It is good you will be going on with J'layah. I would not have been happy to choose between watching you in Oblivion and avenging honour against Shomshar and S'talin. Especially S'talin."
Alduin merely smiled. "I came here to scribe a story and found a maiden in distress. I've followed my prostigious nose this far. I'm not going to be put off track when the end seems so near."
The tavern door opened again, admitting Loriella with her husband and Joran in her wake. Her face lit when she saw the place, and soon she was looking about every beam of wood and chair, ending up at the great hearth. She eyed the gem Balefire had placed there but somehow resisted the urge to touch it. Touching inevitably led to holding, which in turn often led to taking. Cromm strode straight for K'tarin. K'tarin stood at his approach, ready for his dressing down.
"Have you looked to provisions?"
K'tarin paused only a moment. This was unexpected. "Yes. The innkeeper has said he will look into it. Food and drink are here in supply. Bandages and another pack can be found shortly."
Loriella popped up behind Cromm's shoulder. "And baths! Did you ask about baths? Humph! You men are all alike! I'll do it then."
She stormed off to the barkeep. Alduin was fiercely concentrating on his drink. His grin couldn't be held off for long, and he buried his face in the mug to save himself. Cromm held out his hand to K'tarin.
"Now we part. You served well in my square, K'tarin. May your honour be revenged. We are saddened that we may not travel with you. We must check in to the outpost shortly." He turned to watch his wife chatting up the barkeep who looked to be listening more to Kriella's conversation than to the Khajit before him. "But we can spare a day or two here. She may never leave the bathtub once in it."
After a brief handclasping, Cromm moved off to Loriella and Joran, who had been quietly standing by, wandered over to Alduin's old seat to listen to the conversation about Oblivion and Daedra.
(Nyxalinth)
When I finished telling them, Blackie chuckled. "Well, if I didn't know why before, I know why His Grace is so taken with you."
Red added, "You're a rare one, that's for sure. I don't think we've ever encountered a mortal quite like you before."
"Well." I didn't know what to say. I could tell Red was being sincere, a shock in itself. It was the first compliment I'd had from them that didn't involve my responses or my body. "Thank you." It couldn't hurt my cause to be polite to them.
Blackie grinned wickedly. "I for one will be glad when the heroes have been dealt with." I cringed at the way he sneered the word heroes. "I look forward to feeling your nails clawing my back again."
His words sent a shudder through me, and it wasn't a pleasant one. It was a shudder of self-disgust. But if the boys thought it to be one of anticipation, who was I to argue? It would help all the more.
Red smiled. "I still have nail marks on mine from the last time."
Blackie shook his head. "I think those might have been from Lishara."
Red disagreed. "I think not. You said it yourself--she wasn't all that. Hmmph."
"Especially not compared to this delicious mortal," Blackie said, smiling at me fondly--or was that fond smile directed at my cleavage?
I didn't care. Before long, he could watch me all he wanted from the Darkness, and not be able to touch me for a long time. "Well, boys, I still have marks on me from where you...nibbled on me last. You do tend to bite a little hard...but still..." I let my words trail off.
Blackie laughed. "Mmmm...and maybe you'd let us see where the marks are?"
I grinned. "Oh, come on....can't you imagine it?" I didn't want to show them. They had more self control than most spider Daedra, but I didn't want to chance pushing them too far.
"A fine idea...but perhaps you should let us see." Red's gravelly voice took on the silky tone that I knew all too well. They were getting up to something...err, bad choice of words. Ahh, Nyx...you're starting to lose it...
"Boys, His Grace said-"
Blackie cut me off. "He said we couldn't have you. He didn't say we couldn't touch you, or what with." He started moving down the wall towards me, Red followed suit.
"Look," I said firmly as they moved closer. "As much as the idea tempts me, would you really want to have His grace discover that you only followed the letter of his words and not the intent?"
Blackie only smiled. He settled down next to the bed, leaning over me a little. His dark blue eyes seemed to bore into mine, and at last he said, "You are a very clever little bitch. You almost had us fooled."
Red knelt on the other side of me. "We know you well enough that if it were something you truly wanted, you'd risk his wrath upon you." His fingers stroked the side of my neck, then slowly trailed into my cleavage. His storm grey eyes were dark as he said, "You were trying to distract us, no?"
"I-"
"Enough," Blackie growled. "Red, the honour is for you, my brother." To me he said, "We should have done this earlier, but curiosity got the better of us. And while you lay here, paralysed by Red's venom, you can hear us slaughtering your friends."
"I wouldn't count on it," I snarled, and the snarl became a scream as Red sank his fangs into the muscled part of my shoulder.
Nyx stopped the scream that was tearing up her throat as Red sunk his teeth into her. Already she could feel the venom moving in her body, surging along her veins. Already she could not move her body near her shoulder where the bite had been. In desperation, she silently called out to the only one she could think of that may be able to help.
'Great Lord,' her mind's voice called.
As she thought the words, her vision blackened and was replaced by the familiar Ebony helm that marked the face of the Great Lord of War, Ebonarm.
"Why hast thou called upon me, Shadow Walker?"
"I call not for myself, Great Lord, but for my friends. Two Daedra have paralysed me, and I cannot warn them of the impending ambush."
"What wouldst thou have me do, Shadow Walker?"
"I beg that you free me, Great Lord!"
"It is done, Shadow Walker. Beware of moving, however. Should they realise that the effects have left thee, then they will repeat the procedure, and I cannot act to help thee a second time. Inferfering outside of my own realm is rarely tolerated. However, the Dreadlord shall be warned of the ambush. Good luck, Shadow Walker!" With these final words, the Ebony helm faded from her vision and she could again see the room where she lay.
Skudge was getting restless.
He'd sat around patiently in the Angry Porcupine for the past two days while the collected mortals drank, swapped tales, boasted, or went off alone to more private activities. The scamp didn't begrudge them wanting to celebrate--after all, many of them had just returned from defeating a great evil. Skudge was all for that. Like most of his kind from Shade Perilous, he didn't have an evil bone in his body. Most of Nocturnal's Daedra, were, in fact, neutral in outlook, preferring to keep a balanced approach. A very few, such as Skudge, actually walked a brighter path.
The scamp sighed and grumbled into his ale mug. He'd been most patient with these mortals. But if they didn't get going, soon, he would have to stir things up.
It was a beautiful morning in Vanshire, though the sunlight streaming through the sparkling clean windows was a bit harsh on the scamp's sensitive eyes. It glittered off the brass fixtures in the tap room, sparkled on the polished tables, and reflected off Balefire's newly polished daedric armor. Skudge was more than a little in awe of the big Warmage, though he sensed that the dark elf was a friend, and not someone to fear. And sometimes it was difficult to tell him apart from Kriella's mate, Tenaka, or Darkflame, as he was also called. Finally he had seen that Balefire had a long scar running down his face, while Tenaka did not.
"Tell me, scamp. Do you grow as weary of all this as I?"
Skudge looked up to see Rathine. The Dremora's usual inscrutable mask had slipped to reveal his boredom and irritation, feelings Skudge could identify with. "Yes," he said, addressing Rathine in Daedric. Only when he spoke in Tamriellic did Skudge have difficulty. "I am very weary of it. I understand their reasons, but it's time to move on."
The Dremora blinked in surprise. "Skudge--"
The scamp smiled. "Surprised? Everyone underestimates us scamps. Makes it all the more amusing when one that's actually bright comes along, huh?"
The Dremora took a seat near the scamp. "Do any of them know?"
"I'd prefer they didn't. Except for Nyx. She's one of the few I trust But for now, let's keep this quiet, okay?"
The Dremora shrugged. "As you wish, Skudge. I suppose it's time I started treating you as an equal at the least."
He smiled. "It would help. But I'll tell you something. I still think you're a horny bastard, and I'm not too happy about how you treated my friend."
"And I still think you're a ratty little twit."
The two Daedra grinned at each other. They hated each other, but they understood each other.
"Now there's something I never thought I'd see," Kriella murmured to her husband.
"What's that, my love?"
"Skudge and Rathine sitting at the same table, actually being civil to each other." The Dread Master shook her head.
"Hmmm. Perhaps the idea that we are finally going to rescue Nyxalinth has sobered them somewhat."
Kriella nodded. "Maybe so. Another drink, anyone?"
"Ah'm alwehs fer more o' the ale," Elfiran said with a grin.
"Aye, and I as well," Balefire added. "It might be some time before I enjoy Elfiran's fine ale again."
"There they go again," Skudge noted as he watched a barmaid deliver more ale to the table.
Rathine nodded. "It would seem that it is time for your speech, scamp."
Skudge grinned. He bided his time a few more minutes, the leapt atop the table, steel spear in hand. "Hey! Hey you, Kriella, and...and...what's your names!"
Kriella groaned and looked over at Skudge. Now what was that scamp up to?
The scamp glared at them. The DreadMaster had never seen the little fellow looking so fierce. Skudge brandished his spear and said, "Me think you have plenty of time to swill ale, yak it up, and polish weapons!"
When the heroes only blinked in astonishment, Rathine added, "I believe the scamp is saying it's time we got started. Who knows what Emerald Vex, and Red and Blackie, for that matter, have done with Nyx?"
"I know what he means," Tenaka said firmly. "We would at least like to finish our ale, if you please." Suddenly, the DreadLord's entire face went totally blank.
"What is it, brother?" Balefire asked him. He turned to Kriella. "Has he been struck ill?"
She shook her head and indicated that everyone be silent. At last, Tenaka blinked. "There is good news and bad, my friends. Tenaka looked around for the Werre To'khar and when he spotted him, he raised his arm. "Cromm, the good news is for you! I can tell you that Holm'ka lives! He has joined the Dreadarmies and is with his Lord, Dreadmaster Sollar! And the bad news. There is a minor complication, my friends. Nyxalinth is being guarded by Red and Blackie. I have been warned of an impending ambush. They've paralysed her to prevent her from calling out a warning, but that's been...taken care of. Normally this would not be a problem, but if they are the ones guarding her..."
"....then one might as well set the wolf to guard the doe," Kriella said flatly. She shuddered. "I have seen them, dealt with them, and I prefer that she not be alone with them any longer."
"We go now?" Skudge asked hopefully.
The heroes looked at each other for a moment. Finally... Balefire raised his arm in salute to the Werre party, and called out his thanks for their hours of shared tales. Rising from his seat, he quaffed the last of his ale and raised his voice, the morning sun glinting brightly from his polished armor. "Ho, comrades, I believe we have rested and planned enough." Slamming his tankard down on the table, he drew his claymore from his back-strapped scabbard and raised it high. The aura of magic raced up its razor edges and lit his scarred features in stark relief.
"Let us go", he boomed, "to rescue the fair maiden and confound her captors. Open us a Window, brother, and let us go to storm the halls and marches of Oblivion. J'layah, Twilight, may your quest go well. Let us meet here again, in celebration of our respective successes. And," his voice sharpened, ringing in the rafters, "I will see Nyx and Zerith here safely among us, or I will not come back at all. Let Oblivion beware, for soon shall they know for whom the balefire burns." Beside him, the great hole in space that was commonly known as a Window opened. Through it, a great lake, the Lake of Dreams, could be seen, though there was no sign of Zerith. Tenaka and Balefire shared a worried look before Tenaka whispered his old adage of "Dovie'andi se tovya sagain" to the Warmage, drew his great Daedric Dai-katana and leapt through the Window. The rest of the group began to follow him through.
"Yay!" cheered Skudge. 'Bout damned time!" and Balefire grinned in spite of himself.
Unnoticed to the heroes, two young people, geared for adventure, slipped through the window after the group.
Balefire passed through the Window, followed by Kriella. Skudge and Rathine brought up the rear. The two strangers followed, just as the window began to close. The heroes stared around them in some amazement, and the younger pair were completely awe-struck.
The Lake of Dreams was roughly oblong in shape. Its blue-green waters reflected a cloudless, lavender streaked dusky blue sky. Flowers, many rarely seen by mortal eyes, grew about the Lake, along with lakeside reeds and a nasty looking thorny tangle of weeds.
"Nasty weeds," Skudge noted.
Kriella nodded. They didn't look at all pleasant. Moving closer, she noticed that they were covered with blood. Fearing the worst, she looked to her companions, starting at the two strange additions, but too worried to deal with them at the moment. "I pray we are not too late, but this blood has me worried."
Tenaka nodded. "There are many dangerous creatures here, not all of them Daedra. If Zerith encountered one of them, I fear for his life."
"Ho, comrades! Look at this!" Balefire pointed to a huge lump lying in the reeds nearby. He grinned wolfishly. "If this is the work of Zerith, then we have naught to fear."
The heroes looked where Balefire pointed with his claymore. Tenaka's brows rose. Kriella simply stared in amazement. Rathine rubbed his chin, as if reconsidering the mortal who held Nyx's heart. Of the newcomers, the male Elf had unblinking eyes locked upon the corpse, while the female had hid her head in his shoulder. Skudge jabbed at the thing with his spear.
"Big ugly beast! Yuck!"
It was big, and certainly ugly. It looked like some demented wizards interpretation of a common pond frog. In life, it probably stood at least fifteen feet high. One of the long tentacles sprouting where its legs should have been was shattered off. The reason was clear-the beast had been coated in frost. Its toothy maw gaped open, revealing that its tongue had likewise been destroyed.
Kriella moved closer to it fascinated and repulsed. As she did, she noticed a long, jagged wound in the creature's mouth that had no doubt proved fatal to it. "Whoever did this is someone to be reckoned with. I can only hope they are a friend."
"That would depend on you and your friends, my lady."
The voice caught everyone's attention. Spells came to mind for everyone as they turned to face the speaker.
At first, they saw nothing but the reeds, waving in the light breeze Then the reds seemed almost to undulate and shimmer as a mannish form stepped out from them. The chameleon spell faded away to reveal a dark elf clad in ebony armour wielding an ebony sabre. His dark blue eyes regarded them solemnly at first, but as he recognised Kriella, he grinned. "My name is Zerith," he told the heroes. "I do believe you were expecting me."
Balefire nodded. "Aye, we were. And I wager you anticipated our arrival even more." His crimson eyes slid to the ruined beast. "Did you do this, Zerith?" When the mage scholar nodded, Balefire grinned wickedly. "You may have missed your calling, my friend." He turned to his comrades. "We do well to have this one on our side." Balefire then turned to the two newcomers, his gaze narrowing. "And who, exactly, would you two be?" Balefire asked gruffly. Betrayal stepped forward, returning Balefire's gaze evenly, his hands shaking slightly.
"My name is Torval, Torval Jantor. I am known as Betrayal, however. I am a sworn guardian of the lady Alyssa. We, followed your party through the portal, seeking adventure." Betrayal finished, then looked away, unable to meet the scarred Warmage's intense gaze.
"And you, Lady Alyssa, what of your reasons for coming to this desolate clime?" Balefire said, turning his attentions away from the shaking Betrayal. Alyssa faired much better under his gaze, drawing herself up to her full height, and speaking in a calm, slightly regal tone.
"I am an experienced adventurer" she said confidently. Balefire studied her figure, noting the lack of travel muscles, and the dress, unsuited to adventuring of any sort, and snorted his amusement.
"Mayhap in the depths of parchments, of the like which Master Alduin crafts, Lady Alyssa." Balefire said, a trace of scorn in his voice.
"She's right." Betrayal stated with a sigh, drawing between Balefire and Alyssa. "She is an adventurer. Just not of this world." Betrayal then outlined the excursion to Seven Kingdoms, skipping to the parts he thought important, such as the trip to the fire falls, where the link between Sovere and Tamriel was broken, "Leaving us as we are now." Betrayal finished.
Balefire looked back at Alyssa, who looked at the ground and blushed. "Tenaka, brother, is there any way you can open a Window to deposit these two children back at the Porcupine?" Balefire asked, turning to look at Tenaka, who shrugged.
"I tried when you first began talking to them. Something, or someone, is blocking my ability to open Windows.." Tenaka said uneasily.
Zerith rubbed his pointed chin, pondering all of this. "Well, we can't return you. And we can't leave you here." He scowled. "I only hope you don't get killed, or, gods forbid, something happens to Nyx."
Both young people looked chastened. Zerith sighed, then smiled gently. "Nyxalinth is my Ki'Raith, my beloved. My name is Zerith. Nyx is being held prisoner by Emerald Vex, a Daedra count."
"But why would he do that?" Alyssa asked. Then it dawned on her. "Oh." She blushed.
"I fear so. And we are going to get her out of here." He indicated Balefire with a nod. "This is Balefire. His twin is named Tenaka, the lady is his wife, Kriella."
In the days spent in Menevia, Cromm had often walked the city streets, gazing with dark eyes upon the buildings and trees, visiting all the stores. Time was growing short, and with it his patience. He had been searching. Then he found it; a small dark red box of rosewood, lined in black silk with a simple silver hinge and finger clasp. It was a tiny box that easily fit in the palm of his hand. The hawker, a white-haired man with flowing sleeves, would not sell the item to the dark man. Cromm's purse was insufficient, and haggling only earned a sharp tongue. In the end, he enlisted his wife to procure the box.
She had been getting anxious, having sniffed out all the tavern's places and fingered the fine clothes in the more expensive shops. She leaped at the chance to improve her husband's mood, which had been steadily darkening since that morning, and paid a visit to the pawnbroker. That evening, she returned with the box and a smile. Cromm didn't ask how she got it. No doubt, he didn't want to know, though he could guess at it. What she didn't show was the new gold and ebony ring she pilfered from that annoying little man. She also acquired a new gold-tipped quill made from a peacock's feather. After so many years, she still had her touch.
That was last evening--the evening of the day that Balefire and the rest had departed for Oblivion. Cromm had not had time to give the great Warmage his gift. The two had shared stories, humour, and camaraderie in the calm after the storm. Cromm's respect for Balefire had grown, and he sensed the same in return from the Warmage. Cromm had believed himself to be a warrior worthy of praise and an assured place under Th'Sollar in the afterlife, yet Balefire always had a better tale. The To'Khar's achievements seemed as small matters now. Whereas Cromm had performed his duties largely within the confines of the Alik'ir desert and the interior of Hammerfell, this Warmage had travelled across all of Tamriel and now dared to step into Oblivion itself. It was a place the Werre did not contemplate going. It struck fear into his heart, and he was ashamed. It was a humbling few days. It was a quality he lacked, and unknown to him, was the one thing that prevented him from ever being a member of the blood-bound; Th'Sollar's Men. Their life was one of humble servitude. Cromm was a proud man, and this made his time with Balefire all the more painful, yet he stayed. He saw what he might have been had he ended his training early; had he left the Consilium when he had been given the chance. He knew, however, he would have done nothing differently.
As the time of departure crept upon them, Cromm felt a need for something more. That boy Skeetr had called Balefire a god, now so long ago in the pit of the Citadel, and Balefire had laughed. Cromm had laughed to himself as well, but for different reasons, reasons he couldn't fully articulate. So: the gift.
He now stood in Balefire's room at The Angry Porcupine. Edwynster, while more than happy to serve the Werre drinks and expound on the pleasures of living in Menevia, was less than enthusiastic when asked to let Cromm in the Warmage's room. In the end, the barkeep relented, but only because he had seen the two heroes together in rapt rapport many times. That, and Cromm's intense eyes. Edwynster saw that the Werre meant to get in any way he could. He might as well save a door and let him in himself.
Cromm passed over to the bed and knelt by it, back to the door. Edwynster stood quietly in the door, watching the man. The barkeep couldn't see what the Redguard was doing, but at least he wasn't touching anything. Cromm opened the tiny box and gave a soft prayer. He placed something in the box, closed it, and gingerly set it in the centre of the bed.
"Gods man! If you just wanted Balefire to get that trinket, you could have just given it to me. I'd have made sure it got to him."
Cromm paused at the door and levelled his black eyes at the Menevian. "It is only for him." With that, Cromm stalked back down the stairs.
Although K'tarin was no longer bound to his square, Cromm had charged him to watch over the boy, Joran. Or was he a boy anymore? Cromm had to smile at the thought. he had let more blood--and stranger blood--than many an old and grizzled Werre. Though his voice would not break for another year, he had surpassed most of his elders in at least one thing. He had fought in the last battle between Werre and Denigroth.
'He must not let it go to his head,' he thought.
He slowed his stride. He sounded like Holm'ka, always the unassuming one, always the last to take credit for himself, first to take blame. He had been secure in himself and never prideful. Now he was with Th'Sollar. He had found his way. It was a sweet sorrow.
He shook himself and found K'tarin, Joran, Loriella, Mea Culpa, J'layah, and Twilight crowded about a table. Alduin was relating another tall tale of his exploits in frozen Skyrim. It sounded like 'The Snow Wolf and the Stone.'
He'd heard the old man tell it before, but the others had not, and were hanging on every word. He wasn't about to let the scribe pollute this young Werrite's mind.
"Alduin, we must go." Straight and to the point.
The scribe continued a moment more, his words careening across the table toward the story's climax. He brought himself up short and blinked at the To'Khar. Joran spun around and blinked in unison with the scribe. Mea blew through her hair.
"Let the man finish," said J'layah.
Cromm merely drew himself up. "We have spent too many days here already. It was a rash decision I made to bring us here. A search party will be out before we get back to Nurni Point even if we leave now."
Loriella very nearly kicked his shin. Her face said it all.
"If we are that late, then you won't mind letting Alduin finish his story. He's almost done!"
Alduin continued to blink at Cromm, putting him on the spot more eloquently than words, but it was Joran who broke the stalemate. He rose and went to the room he and K'tarin had been sharing.
"I see all this idleness has brought out your best qualities, Cromm," Alduin said lightly. "You are at your Thundercloud peak. If you keep it up, it might start to rain. I was in rare form, my friend." He stood and raised his glass of Aldabaran Dark (with a twist of lemon) to the Werre. "It now falls to you to finish the tale." He downed his drink and went out for a breath of air.
Loriella turned to her husband. "I'll hold you to that!" She went to gather her own belongings.
A few short minutes later, they were all standing in the sun before the tavern. It had drizzled a little, and Alduin looked at the moist grass pointedly. He stamped a puddle. The joke never wore thin for him. Cromm turned to K'tarin and clasped his arm once more. K'tarin also clasped Joran's arm, and kissed Loriella on the cheek. Loriella insisted on a bear hug from Alduin. Then they were off.
The trio set a quick pace. Although Menevia was a beautiful city, Cromm wanted to see the sand again, to feel the fabric of his tent. They walked for some time in silence and in no particular formation. Joran pulled ahead, his eyes taking in the world. It would be some time before he saw this again. Loriella pushed her hand up Cromm's shirt. There was a scar there she like to rub.
"Cromm! Where is your talon?" Then she understood. "Oh, the box! I hope he understands. Does he know what it's for?"
Cromm held her hand to his chest. "Balefire will know. What did you do with that quill?"
They walked on a few more paces. She grinned.
"I put it in Alduin's bag. It's to replace the one he left with the Master. I wish I could see his face. I won't let you off the hook, you know. You still have to finish Alduin's story." Cromm glowered, but Loriella could see he wasn't displeased. He couldn't fool her. He had stopped Alduin just before his favourite part. 'The Snow Wolf and the Stone.' It was a good tale. There was plenty of time to tell it as it should be told.
His sleep was troubled. Black shapes moved through his thoughts, scattering them, reaping them. He was still at the abyss, but the landscape had changed to yellowed bone. Ancient bone crunched underfoot. He was running. The black shapes pursued at an easy lope. They were playing with him. He ran on, but the landscape never changed. Always bone. The midnight man and the white had gone, and these beasts had taken their place. The earth was shaking and the sky roiled in anger. Suddenly, the abyss was before him. It curved from his right across his path, barring escape. Soon they were upon him, but the monstrosities did not touch him. They merely stood about him, pushing him to the cliff's edge.
He looked down and saw the Eye, red in black. Its presence was overwhelming, but its focus was inward. It was looking elsewhere. He could see his reflection in the Eye, a tiny thing in the vastness of that orb. It only compounded the sense of how impotent he was in the face of such a thing. A mortal gazing into eternity, a sputtering candle held against a firestorm.
He turned to glare at his pursuers, but they were...melting. Their forms were softening, becoming insubstantial. Soon, they were gone. The Archmagister of Sentinel stood amazed. Before he could think or move, a burst of light came from a nearby precipice. The man looked around and found himself back where he had started. Not far off was the midnight man, stooped. But now he was wreathed in brilliant flame. On the other side of abyss, distant in the half-light, stood another man; the white Master. He too burst into flame. The red Eye stared up between them.
The two pyres burned high into the black clouds. There was a high keening, breathless yet piercingly strong. The earth shuddered more violently. The abyss widened and the Eye slowly rose up from the deep, a gibbous liquid moon in the night below.
The light and fire grew...and then was snuffed out. In the momentary darkness the Archmagister stood still, hardly breathing. His heart thundered. But low! a figure still stood with him. It swayed, then drew itself up. It was not the Master, and on his finger flared the Ring, then died.
* * *
The door opened, admitting the boy and an elderly man. The boy stopped just inside, but the man walked straight to the bedside.
"He--He's dead, isn't he Archmagister?"
"The Archmagister of Daggerfall briefly touched the body to satisfy himself. He had not been dead long. What caught the mage's eye was the face of his associate. He sighed.
"He is dead, but things have gone well. His dreams were foretelling. I think we may dissolve the council now."
He swept from the room, saying, "I for one am ready to leave."
The apprentice stared at the body a moment more, then hurriedly shut the door to race after his mentor. The Archmagister of Sentinel lay still on his bed, a thin smile on his lips, his countenance at peace.
*Ki'Raith - (Kee-RAITH) from the Dark Elven, meaning Beloved - literal translation is Heart's Blood