Breaking of Wills

     The robed figure let loose a cold laughter. It was nearly enough to
break Cromm's resolve.
     "Yes," the Master said, "stay where you are." He brought his keen eyes
to bear on the warmage. "And as for you, the Blood!"
     He spoke another tongue, yet the meaning of his words was clear. He held
out his hand and stepped closer to the Heart.
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Balefire stood firm, unflinching, his face set in such a mask of sternness as
to give a daedra lord pause. The Werre were taught, their sinews straining
against bunched muscles. It was all they could do to stay their weapons.
Alduin had picked up his instruments and made a few tentative scratchings,
almost apologetically. The dry sound was too much for him, and he began
committing to memory what he could bear to look upon.

"The Blood is not yours to take."

The warmage's words rang hard through the hall.

"Your evil has come to an end, Dark One. The Heart will be destroyed
and you with it! We have endured your machinations long enough, and those
others to whom you have dealt harm cry out for revenge! You sit here, a great
spider in your web of darkness, spreading your threads across the land, but
now the sun has come in, and you will be pierced in its light."

The Master stood stiff, the very caracature of Balefire's words, unmoving in
the ruddy light of the Heart. But in his stillness, menace crouched, a
brooding cloud. Now that cloud grew, and for a moment, the steady fire of the
ruby was dimmed. The figure seemed to loom up, filling the hall's darkness
with itself.

"Do not pretend to threaten me!" The voice boomed from above. "I am the Last
and First of the Council, Veer'Shule Hhaathra! Forsoth Aynastar was an elder
in the Horned Council, and his son, Tol'Arigrim, groomed me to cause the
rebirth of the Council. I am the Chosen, the Forebearer! I have waited many
lives of men for my time. I have the Heart!"

His voice had risen to a near-scream, piercing the air as shrilly as a wight.
The great shadow that was the Master bent itself over the party. The voice
came again, low and heavy.

"Give me the Blood."

Loriella could almost taste the tension between the men. Now the strong tang
of iron washed her mouth, and she discovered she had been biting her cheek.
She gave it no thought and went on biting. She had drawn her short sword, but
had no idea what to do with it. Here was something she had no experience with.
Dealing with Black Overlords with Immeasurable Power and Grand Delusions were
the things heroes did. Right now, she felt rather small and unimportant. She
shrank behind a column. She was only vaguely aware that the fearless scribe
had joined her.

Balefire laughed. It came from the belly, whole and loud. However, the sound
was not jovial by any means.

"Give me the Heart, black mage. To join the two would be folly. No one would
control the being thus released. It would consume you."

The brooding shadow collapsed back into the narrow robed figure, and the red
light shone forth again from the Heart. This was an incredible relief to the
khajiit, but for Balefire, the challenge had now been joined. Where the
threatening vagueness of the shadow had been, there now was the cutting
keeness of the Master's eyes. The hall seemed to fall away, and the warmage's
vision was filled with those eyes. They were terrible; two milky orbs with a
golden fire burning within. Though the cataracts were thick, Balefire had the
distinct sense Veer had sight surpassing the sharpest hawk. Those eyes were
now boring into Balefire's own; gold locked with crimson.

The Master had said a word, but its memory escaped Balefire. His whole world
was now those golden eyes, unblinking, staring. On the edge of his perception
came a voice. Elfiran was calling him as from a great distance. However,
those eyes would not let him turn aside.

For Elfiran, time slowed. The Master's shadow had gone, but even as it did so,
the man had spoken a word. It was soft, a silky word of seduction. The Word
of Power was for Balefire's ears, but still, Elfiran felt its power. For one
terrible moment, his heart told him to follow every word. Give the Master the
Blood. Aye, a'course! The Master wants the Blood. Let him have it. These
thoughts flittered through the high elf's mind, but hard on their heels came
doubt and realization. Veer'Shule is the enemy! Stay yer hand!

He jerked himself from his clouded thoughts. The Master was sweetly whispering
as to a fitful baby, his eyes locked with Balefire's. A cold hand gripped his
heart as he saw the dusky warmage pull off the gauntlet and offer the hand
with its ring.

"Balefire!" His voice came out a croak. "Balefire, don't! He be clouding yer
mind. Awake!"

Balefire frowned. He stirred and brought down his hand, clenching it into a
great fist. The first trial of wills had been decided. The warmage drew
himself to his full height and opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue was
stilled, for the Master swiftly stepped forward and placed his palm on the
Heart. Its steady light shone through his thin skin, turning his marble hand
ruby. His lips curled and his teeth flashed, but his eyes never left the
warmage's. He barked a harsh Word, at once asking and commanding.

Balefire stepped forward, his face twisting with an inner turmoil. Again, his
hand came up, though it wavered now as two forces vied for control. Elfiran
made to grab his friend's arm, but found himself immoble. Now the Master's
words were not for Balefire alone, but also to the rest of them. Be quiet,
serene. There is no danger! The Blood belongs to good Veer'Shule. You were
merely keeping it for awhile. Return it now! Be still, the rest of you.
Watch!

*The Werre! Why aren't they stopping him?* thought Elfiran. He shifted his
eyes, and saw that the Master's words had an effect even on the magicka-
hardened men. The chords were standing out on Cromm's neck as he lifted a leg
with agonizing slowness. K'tarin, too, was straining to move to Balefire, who
seemed to be slowly walking as in a trance, easily outpacing them.

Balefire wrestled with his own body. The Master was a puppeteer, and the
warmage the marionette. There was a dull roar in his ears, drowning out all
words, though the Master's lips never stopped moving. Veer'Shule's eyes
rivetted his own, and between them an invisible line of fire burned. Far in
the back of his mind, Balefire fought the Master's hold. The ten thousand
bones about him was a defilement of the dead. What the Master was doing to
him, now, was a defilement of the living.

*Defilement of ME!*

This thought flashed hot in his mind. Anger like that he had only rarely felt
well up, and the thought fed it. Like unto a bonfire it was, growing, nearly
outspending its fuel in its greedy hunger. For a moment, those milky eyes
could not hold his.

Balefire broke loose with a great shout. The others stirred, but Veer'Shule's
spell had not been wholly broken. Cromm took a few stumbling steps forward,
mouth slack and wet. He looked a rabid thing, hunched with chest heaving and
fingers curled.

The Blood was burning bright, matching the Heart, heat for heat, light for
light.

Veer'Shule grasped his mithril staff and slammed it into the ground with a
white flash, his face a rictus of unmasked fury. From his eyes blazed a
golden light. Now he lashed out a most powerful Word. It rang out long and
stung the ears of all who heard it. It brooked no disobedience, no rebellious
thoughts. To hear it was to succumb. It was Law. It was a Word of Command.

The Heart flared, blotting out all shadows and creating stark new ones. Two
of the Werre were brought to their knees. Cromm let fall his great-axe. The
sharp clatter of ebony on bone was lost on deafened ears. Those ears were now
only for the lips of the Master.

Balefire gave a strained groan, and again shuffled for the Heart. Elfiran's
eyes streamed with the effort to follow his friend. Their plans had fallen
apart. All their labors were now for nothing. Tameriel would be undone. They
had all come this far only to hand over the Blood to this Master of evil and
whitness the rebirth of a terrible being, The First...the first of the
Denigroth.

Loriella was softly crying to herself. The second Word had been enough to cow
her, but this one... She had lost control of her bladder when the stony Word
rolled through the air like a great wave that washes away all resistence. She
tried to withdraw into herself, but the Word would not allow it. It held her
fast between retreat and action. Her mind was numb and her body trembling.
She was not even aware of Alduin, laying prone beside her, eyes vacant, his
breathing labored.

Now Balefire was but a few paces from the Heart and ancient man. He could
feel the chaotic energies whipping about the Heart. His own hand, ring on
finger, felt encased in a glove of heat.

Another step. The Master's eyes were wide. Anticipation, glee, fury, longing
were all mingled in those dead, yet vibrant orbs. The compelling words were
pouring from his lips as the dark elf's ears hearkened.

Another step. The twin energies of the Heartstone and Bloodstone were
mingling now. He discerned their connected nature. They were separate, yet
dependant upon each other. On a level beyond perseption, the two were calling
to each other. In a way, they were already joined. A dark corner of Balefire's
mind stirred.

One more step. The warmage gathered his mighty will, scattered to the far
reaches of his being by the Word of Command. One thought was his rallying
point; The Heart and Blood are connected! The barrier that made them separate
entities was very thin now. A new plan slowly formed, though it was difficult
to concentrate. The Word would not be gainsayed, and it was a battle to keep
his mind from wandering into oblivion.

Time krept. His muscles tightened. He began to take the final step.

"Now now now now now!" A thousand distant voices screamed at him. Elfiran.
Cromm. K'tarin. Lorialla. Alduin. J'layah. Mea. Twilight. Others. All the
voices and faces of those he had ever met came to him from the mists of
memory. Although he didn't know it, he whispered the word himself.

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Alduin dor Lammoth