Kriella leafed through Nyx's journal some more.  Amognst all the
strange and woundrous--occasionally horrifying--entries about her
adventures at Battlespire were Nyx's drawings.  Here was a sketch of
Skudge, steel spear in hand.  A spider daedra, leering and vicious.  A
horned male with striking violet eyes and an arrogant good looks--that
had to be Rathine.  Now she came across a daedra female--not a seducer,
but her striking beauty and sad expression were hard to miss.  Deinarya
Katrice, the notes read.


    'Daeinarya, I can't!' I said.

    'You must, mortal.  It is the only way to rouse my lady Jaciel from
her apathy!'  The daedra subaltern smiled sadly.  'It is not my wish to
be cast into the Void.  Truly there is no other way.  And the fact that
you would mourn my passing marks you as a friend, be you mortal or no.' 
She gave me the soul dagger...


    Kriella looked up, blinking back tears  Deinarya Katrice had been a
daedra serving Nocturnal, the same Princess that Skudge served.  But she
had been--Kriella struggled for the right word--noble.  She had been
noble.  Moreso, the dreadknight reluctantly admitted, than many mortals
she'd known.  And then Nyx had presented the soul dagger to jaciel
Morgen, and Jaciel had responded with as much fury and grief as any
mortal would, calling her a murderer, threatening dire punishments.  All
that had saved Nyx was her calm and wits.  In the end, however, Jaciel
took her friend's point and admitted Nyx to the next section of Shade
Perilous.  But before she did, she honored Nyx by making her an
Oathsister of the Nocturnal Clan.

    The dreadmaster continued reading.  Now a parchment dropped out of
the journal.  It had been carefully folded and stashed between the pages.
 Nyx had been told by a Dremora that Dagon had captured her friend, and
that she she herself would be diverted to a special Hunt--with her as the
prey.  The Dremora  also said that they would help her, when and if they
could.  And when Nyx passed into the realm of the Hunt, she found a note
waiting for her.

    <italic>We the Dremora are true to our word.

    This place is closed to us, and the help we can provide is limited. 
You are now in the place of the Hunt.

    To pass on from here you must enter the gate in the great horned
temple, in the walled city to the east.  You will require six keys to
enter the temple.  If the Hunt were fair, you would find them all about
the island.

    The hunt is </italic>not<italic> fair.

    The Hunter has taken one to prevent your escape.  The touch of his
spear is death and no mortal weapon can harm him.

    Your plight is utterly hopeless and impossible.  Therefore, we assume
that you may be somewhat delayed.

    The old man in the cottage knows what you need.  He will test your
patience, but persist and your reward will be great.

    Farewell, strange mortal.  Enjoy the Hunt.

    </italic>Below this in a different hand was written, <bold><italic>I
wish you luck, dear Nyxalinth, for it would please me to see you again. 
We have a great deal of catching up to do--Dremora Rathine

</italic></bold>    Kriella made a wry face.  "The dremora have such a
way with words."

    "Skudge not like Dremroa, specially Dremora Rathine."

    Kriella smiled, shaking her head.  The scamp, much to her dismay, was
starting to grow on her a little.  She supposed it had a lot to do with
his loyalty to Nyx that bordered on ferocity.  "Poor Nyx, I hate to think
what that must have been like for her."  She folded the note and tucked
it back into the journal.

    the journal went on about the Hunt, in which she defeated the Hunter
in spite of his perfidy, and progressed to the next location.  She met
and spoke with Imago Storm, the Lord Regent of all Dremora and Dagon's
Grand Vizier.  Storm tiold Nyx how most of Clan Dremora, including
Rathine, had grown displeased with Dagon.  Imago storm also gave her the
means to defeat him.


    'And when it was over, and I held my injured brother in my arms, I
was once again approached by Imago Storm.

    "We Dremora are in your debt, mortal.  Should you have need of it,
one of us will come to your aid.  You have earned the respect of Clan
Dremora."'


    Kriella set the book aside.  It was so much more clear now.  She
didn't care to work with a dremora, honorable or not.  But she would do
what she had to, at least until a better option presented itself.

    "Kriella?  You have food?  Skudge hungry."

    She shook her head.  "I'm afraid I don't.  But I'm hungry too.  I'll
have lucnh, and bring something up for you."

    Kriella had lunch and as promised brough back some things she thought
that the scamp might like.  "Skudge?  I'm back."

    The scamp was no where to be seen.  The closet door was ajar once
more.  Why was he hiding again?  Then she saw a tall, cloaked figure
leafing through Nyx's journal.

    "Just who in Oblivion are you?" Kriella demanded, her hand on her
blade.

    The figure turned to face her.  He held the picture of Rathine up to
his face.  "An excellent likeness, no?"  He cast back his hood and
regarded her with cold violet eyes.  "I am Dremora Rathine.  I believe
that you were expecting me."



   

    



</x-rich>