"...And upon the Wings of Storm..." - Part 2: Hunters

     They watched. The six had crawled along the ridge, matching the strange
party's movements below. The coming of the dragon had not disturbed them so
much as the fact that one of the party had dispatched it so quickly...and
using magic. The female watcher had marked that the battle was in a magicka
pocket, but that had not eased the leader's mind. The dragon had desecrated
the battlefield for long memory, true, and it's passing was good. However,
the dragon was a known. The strangers below were not.
     "They ride over the bones of Am'kan and cross Torvid Da with no respect!"
cried the youngest watcher some time later. "And they approach the Grey Mound
with no sign of going 'round."
     "They will ride over the Grey Mound. They know no better."
     "But To'Khar!" *
     The leader turned then on the boy. His eyes were black but full of fire.
With a broad hand, he gripped his soldier's arm and bore him to the ground.
     "Do you not think my heart burns at seeing them trample our bones?" His
gravelly voice shook slightly. "Do you not think I would have them run out?
I cannot. We cannot. It is not our place! We are Watchers, nothing more."
     The watchers crouched silent until the leader released the boy. The sun
was low in the sky. Then a deep hissing rose in the west.
     "Storm" whispered the woman.
     One of the party looked back and saw the quickly gathering sands.
     "The khajiit has good ears."
     Soon, the storm roared through the flatlands below the ridge. The fury
of the storm was channeled past the watchers and smote the strangers as they
approached the Grey Mound.
     The youngest watch smiled grimly. "They will not make the Grey Mound
after all. It seems our ancestors have decided to sweep them away while we do
not."
     The wind and sand passed below the watchers, making their task difficult.
Only occassional glimpses could be made of their quarry.
     There was a faint flash of red-white light.
     The boy's watchman touched his arm. "Do not speak unless you are sure.
At least their mage has reached the Grey Mound, for that light came from his
staff. The others are rallying to him now. The storm has but slowed them."
     As suddenly as it came, the storm blew out, leaving a changed land in
it wake. Seeing the strange party still moving, the watchers again took up
their shadowing. The sun had set and the intruders could be seen only by the
pale starlight.
     "Great Mother..."
     The leader glanced at the khajiit questioningly. She was staring fixedly
back, but before he could turn himself, he heard it. A great hissing roar
rose up from the west and the stars were blotted out.
     "Mother Storm!" he swore, then he shouted: "To your watchmen!"
     The watchers paired off. The leader grabbed the khajiit and dropped to
the ground. Whereas the first storm had passed safely under the ridge, this
black tempest rode over the ridge as if it were but a hill. The wind screamed
over them, tearing at their ears and eyes. The watch-pairs found each other
and stumbled from the ridge edge, away from the storm. The wind lessened as
they passed behind an escarpement.
     "What say you now, Talnan?"
     Talnan looked down at the boy. "I say, though that be a Mother Storm,
those people may prove hardier than you hope. You are a watcher. Did you not
see them making for the Rocks?"
     The boy scowled. He did not like Talnan as his watchman. He had wished
to be paired with the leader, but he had chosen the kjahiit of all people.
But now, he was glad he had not been the To'Khar's watchman. He seemed weak
and undecisive now: most certainly not the legendary warrior-leader the boy
had grown to believe in.
     "We go in."
     The leader had been deep in thought. His watchman could read his face
now, as it was unguarded for but a moment.
     "We enter the storm now," he continued. "Talnan is right. The strangers
may have made it to the Rocks."
     There was protest from more than one member.
     "We cannot walk in such a storm."
     "Madness! We would be hard pressed to get to the Rocks. How can they?"
     "Holm'ka is right. Let the storm pass. It is strong, but swift in
coming and going."
     The leader held each member in his eyes, but the khajiit could tell he
was not weighing their thoughts very heavily. He stood.
     "We do not know their purpose, but they travel toward the Guardian
Citadel. They have taken that path from the beginning and have been
unwavering. They may be seeking entrance into the fortress. They may be
seeking audience with the new and ancient evil that lies there. If they find
the passage in the Rocks and are of evil mind, then we face grave danger."
     He again fixed each member with his eyes, daring them to resolve.
     "We go in."
          
* 'Captain' in the ancient Werre

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Alduin dor Lammoth