A bit of a divergence from my normal kind of stories, but I was stuck sick in bed and I don't do stuck well. So amid my feverish state, staring at the wall, there came an idea… that quickly gained momentum and started an avalanche of writing. What can I say? When you write twenty eight pages in two days… you just kind of have to go with it. Because why not? I hate leaving things unfinished.
Chapter 1
Looming Shadows
The screams reached even the highest tower of the palace as a red, angry sky painted the night with a false sunset. From her chambers, the queen watched her city burn. The palace gates were sundered, black ooze clinging to the splintered wood.
It would not be long now.
She looked to her bodyguard, Nova, a woman in black armor and indeed an ever-present bastion in her life.
"I won't let them touch you," came the warrior's promise, her blade held ready in her hands.
The queen paused, her lips drawing a thin line.
"It cannot end like this..." she murmured.
"It won't!" the warrior promised solemnly, keeping her gaze fixed on the single door to the royal chambers. The queen closed her eyes with a heavy sigh.
"There is a spell..." she whispered, taking a step forward.
"My queen?" Nova asked.
"But it comes at a great price," the monarch continued. "I don't even know if it will work." Hesitation gave way to resolution. "But I must try. I owe my people that much, at least," A solemn, bitter smile accompanied the words.
Nova's eyes went wide.
"You don't mean..." she protested.
"Yes," the queen affirmed softly, interjecting before her vassal could say anything more. "I can repel them, but the magic needed will shatter my body."
"No!" The warrior's eyes were wide, pleading.
"I will be reborn in time."
"Lucinda!"
The queen flinched, far more at the fear within the warrior rather than the use of her name.
"Our people will endure," she whimpered, eyes misting with tears. "And I can face death, the darkness of the Void, so long as I know all of you are safe." Lucinda reached out a hand and laid it on Nova's tense cheek. "My only regret… will be losing you."
The lament made the warrior shut her eyes. When she opened them again, they were filled with an insurmountable conviction.
"I will wait for you. I will find you." The solemn promise lingered between them before Lucinda turned away, a smile that she did not feel plastered on her face. It would take centuries for her rebirth, that much she knew. And neither human nor elf could outlast the ravages of time. But she wanted to believe those words. She had to believe those words. They kept her hands steady as she gathered the magic from deep within. Power hummed in her veins before she loosed it, shredding her own self in the process. It tore through the castle and surrounding village with a low crack like distant lightning, plunging the land into darkness.
Nova fell backward, blinking in the suffocating black before the wane glow of the moons broke through the smoke-strewn clouds. There were no fires, no sounds of battle. And in the silence, with her eyes fixed on the void where her queen had stood, Nova screamed to the stars.
Nova flinched at the morning sunlight. She was certain that somehow it had gotten brighter over the centuries.
She stood within the archway of the palace walls, looking down into the city below. Buildings crafted of pristine marble reflected the sunlight, trimmed in a black metal and completed with wood where stone was too heavy or cumbersome of a material to use. To Nova, it almost looked like a city of moonlight as the night wove dark tendrils around it. Elegant curves and pointed archways decorated each dwelling with a craftsmanship that only a centuries-long life could achieve.
A greeting broke through her musing. Nova nodded to a group of two women and a man, each of them bearing long, ivory hair, alabaster skin, and pointed ears. Their loose robes swayed as they walked with a graceful, unhurried stride. Still, their calm eyes missed little.
Nova almost envied them as they passed, running a hand through her shaggy, black hair that was cut to frame her face. Her ears lacked the shapely point of her fellows, but were far too pronounced to pass as a human's. She offered herself a rueful smirk. They were a mutt's ears, a half-breed's, a mongrel dog's. She'd heard it all growing up, but she rather doubted anyone would mention as much to her now. After all, their island home might be large, but it left little room to flee an angered soul. Specifically one proficient with a sword.
Nova snapped back to focus, chastising her wandering mind as she pushed forward to stride down the main road through the city. The smell of hearths and baked bread mingled with the steady peal of the blacksmith's hammer as he worked. She took just enough time to glance at the piece upon the anvil. Black metal glowed vibrantly as he shaped it into the growing form of a blade. She touched her own sword fondly. The blacksmith's arms were stained with soot, his steely hair bound tightly, high on his head. She left him to his work, her feet taking her down a narrow, cobbled road toward the docks.
Their island was large, having once housed well over three times their meager two hundred people. She cast a wry smirk over her shoulder as she looked back. They had an entire island to settle, yet they still clustered around the palace. By the Spirits of their Ancestors, her people were a predictable lot. Nova resettled the pack on her shoulders and turned back to her task, unable to fight the homesickness that already blossomed within her. She pushed it aside, taking a deep breath. This could be the day, after all. It would be rude of her to be late.
"Look who decided to show up," a voice chuckled.
Nova's head whipped around to see a dunmer waiting beside a boat just large enough to brave the ocean's waves to the mainland. His leather armor was dyed a charcoal black that almost matched his gray skin, offset by the fiery vibrancy of his short, auburn hair. His belt was adorned with a sword and dagger, each in worn scabbards.
"Sorry," she offered, hurrying to join him. He gave a listless shrug in response, unperturbed. But that was Aveth, in a word. He never seemed bothered by being one of the only nonnative's on the island, aside from the occasional trader permitted to settle there, or a shipwrecked survivor who never quite managed to tear themselves away from their starlight city. Indeed, for him, there seemed few problems that his calm disposition could not solve. For everything else, there was the tip of his sword.
"Nova," he pressed. "The men are impatient."
Nova cursed her absent mind and shook her head, striding up onto the deck of the boat with Aveth at her back. The sailors did not wait for a spoken word, but cast off at once, their lithe forms muscled from their daily exertions. Nova watched the receding shore, leaning against the railing at the stern of the ship as she tried to banish the ache in her heart.
"What troubles you, old friend?" Aveth asked knowingly, drawing up beside her and likewise folding his arms on the railing beside her.
Nova opened her mouth, but shut it and simply shrugged instead.
"Do you fear this voyage will be fruitless?" he asked softly, his low voice filled with compassion.
"That's… not it," she refuted, shaking her head.
His ruby eyes searched her blue ones before she turned her head away.
"You are weary," he said solemnly.
There was a long silence before Nova finally replied.
"Yes."
But it went beyond a sleepless night, a long day. Aveth pursed his lips, brow furrowing. He opened his mouth to offer something comforting when a voice called from the ship's bow.
"Lady Nova, the Mist," the captain entreated.
Nova pushed away from the railing and met him at the bow. She stared solemnly at the thick line of fog before them as they drew steadily closer over the undulating waves. Her hands flashed green as she pushed it aside, nudging open a gap just wide enough for them to slip through. An heirloom of their Ancestors, the Mist had kept them hidden from the outside world for ages, diverting ships that entered it with a gentle hand. Favored traders managed to pass through on occasion, provided they had been gifted the proper amulet by the island's monarch. Her queen... Nova closed her eyes, feeling all at once the weight of the time that had passed and the final look in her queen's eyes. Three hundred years had not dulled the pain, nor the weight of her failure. Nova opened her eyes once more, the Mist falling back into its proper place behind them. Soon it faded into nothing more than a smudge on the horizon as the ship sailed on, battling the rocking waves for supremacy.
Nova's hand reached up to touch the chain of an amulet tucked beneath her armor. This time… Ancestors please, let the signs be right.
Nova flinched at the harsh cry of vendors as they pushed through the Outlander city's market district. The smell of bodies permeated the air, making her grimace further. She paused and loosed a small sigh. Perhaps she shouldn't be so critical of them. After all, she was half human herself. "Was" being the optimal word. Though… perhaps that fact could be argued. She glanced to Aveth, keeping pace beside her. "Was" indeed. She rubbed her neck absently as they ducked beneath the cool shadows of an awning, tucked out of the way.
Their eyes tracked dutifully as a woman wove her way through the streets before them, her curly brown hair bouncing with every step as a basket swayed from her arm. Nova worked desperately to scan the woman's round face for any clue, but the distance made the task too difficult.
Aveth laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Go," his deep, rasping voice bid, as he pushed her gently.
She took a long, steadying breath and nodded, striding off through the crowd. Her steps came easily through the mass of people only because she knew Aveth was watching. Ancestors, he was always vigilant, regardless of his tranquil air. Perhaps it came from centuries-long practice.
Nova followed in the young woman's wake, few of the citizens even marking her passing. But then again, the Outlanders hardly noticed the thieves skulking among them, lightening their valuables. Nova pushed on as her quarry vanished down a side street. The narrow path began as an alley, then turned into a series of tiny dwellings all huddled against one another, sharing their side walls. Nova glanced at them, certain that if she stepped inside, she could touch all four walls from the center. Ahead, an open doorway packed with three little boys and a dog allowed her a view that confirmed her theory.
"Morning, Mira!" one of boys greeted. The woman turned and lifted one hand from her basket to wave.
Nova waited for a handful of heartbeats in the shadow of a crooked door before following. She did not look at the boys, not even as the dog loosed a trio of barks at her. They, in turn, paid her little mind. Her sleek black armor made almost no sound thanks to an enchantment. It was sequestered beneath a drab brown cloak, and though the sun was garishly bright, she did not pull up her hood. After all, it was one of the most guaranteed methods of arousing suspicion in guards and citizens alike.
Mira came to the end of the row and ducked beneath a wide gap in a half-hearted wood fence. Nova followed slowly to find another street that looked much the same, though narrower and cast in shadow. Despite the abominable architecture, the streets were clean, as were the houses. The cloaked warrior marveled at it, always having found a city's hovels to be coated in filth at every point in her travels.
Mira pushed open one of the doors and set her basket down inside. No sooner had she shut the door than a knock sounded on it. She pulled it open and looked out quizzically at the warrior beyond.
"Pardon my intrusion," Nova offered politely, with a slight bow. "But I wonder if I might have a moment of your time."
Mira hesitated, brow furrowing.
"I only have a question for you," Nova placated, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace.
"Alright then," Mira agreed with a small nod.
"Were you born under the sign of the Lady?" Nova queried.
Mira blinked for a moment before her mouth turned up in a wry scoff.
"What does that matter?" she asked.
"Please," Nova entreated softly.
Mira sighed and nodded with an, "Aye."
"And upon your birth, was Secunda full?"
"How on Tamriel should I know?" she scoffed. "I was a babe."
"A foolish question, I'm sorry," Nova soothed. "If I may ask one final thing of you, I promise I will leave your home in peace." The words were… mostly true.
Mira grimaced with a huff of irritation.
"Very well," she sighed harshly, if only to be done with it.
Nova reached up to her own neck and pulled a necklace from beneath her armor. From the silver chain hung a single gem of milky white that almost resembled a budding leaf.
"Would you," Nova began softly, "hold this for me?"
"Oh no," the woman rebuked, with the pointing jab of her finger. "I know your type! I'll not play accomplice to some thief! That's trouble I don't need. If you want somewhere to stash your ill-gotten goods, you can find it elsewhere!"
Mira made to close the door. Nova surged forward in a breath, grabbing the woman's wrist and forcing the jewel into her hand.
"Forgive me," she whispered.
But nothing happened. As so many times before, the stone remained dull and lusterless. Nova shut her eyes and swore in a voice so low it was almost inaudible. Mira, however, was rising from her stupor. She thrashed and drew in a breath to scream.
Nova's hands glowed green as she snatched back the amulet and pressed her fingers to the woman's face.
"You are not the one," Nova whispered, the solemn lament constricting her throat. "And now, I need you to sleep," the warrior murmured as Mira's eyes glossed over. In a breath, she collapsed into slumber, caught by a black-armored arm and lowered gently to the ground.
Nova's feet drove her hard as she strode back through the streets and returned to Aveth. He needed no words, nor the solemn shake of her head to know. The defeated, dejected look on her face was enough. They turned away, leaving the market behind them. It was a long, dragging silence before either of them spoke.
"And just so you know..." Nova grimaced bitterly. "I tried the method you suggested."
Aveth smiled.
"And it worked brilliantly?" he surmised.
"Quite the opposite," Nova replied, mouth barely moving as the words shuffled out. "She was suspicious of me from the first moment."
"Well that makes no sense," he mused, brow furrowing. "They were simple questions. Short and to the point! You must have seemed menacing."
"Hardly," she glowered. "I'm going back to my way."
"Your way is the most convoluted, haphazard, abomination of a plan I have ever seen in all my centuries," he deadpanned.
"You wouldn't know a good plan if it leapt up and bit you!" she shot back. "Besides, at least the people I talk to aren't already scared of me before I can even offer my name!"
He kept walking for several steps before lifting a single finger.
"Do you recall nearly losing the amulet… in a fish? All because of your brilliant plan?" he asked.
"That was your plan," she retorted with a scathing glare.
His open mouth, paused, then rubbed his chin.
"Was it?"
Nova merely rolled her eyes with an exasperated growl and offered a prayer to the Spirits.
Reina hung up her apron and dashed up the narrow steps leading from the inn's kitchen to the living quarters above. She ducked into her room, kicked off her shoes and all but threw her clothes to the ground before pulling out a set of russet robes from her dresser drawer. Snatching up a small cord and wooden comb, she spun on her heel and scampered back down the stairs.
"Bye Dad!" she called to a fit man with thick muscles and a gray beard.
He left the pot he was stirring and embraced her quickly. "Bye sweetheart. Thanks for giving me a hand. Sorry if it made you late."
"It's fine," she promised, waving the words away before hurrying for the door.
"Tell your instructor it was my fault!" he called with a chuckle. He paused and surveyed her retreating form with the acuity of a father before he cupped a hand to his mouth. "Boots, Reina! Boots!"
Reina skidded to a halt and stared down at her bare feet. She wheeled with a cry and flew back up the stairs, reemerging a heartbeat later as she hopped down the flight with first one foot, then the other, tugging the boots on as she went.
"Thanks Dad, love you, bye!" the words flew from her mouth as she grabbed a satchel hanging from a peg by the door and vanished into the street.
George watched her go, chuckling as he returned to stirring the pot over the fire. He adopted a playful air and smirked to the fire as if it had become his daughter.
"Why, bye sweetheart! I hope you have a wonderful day. You're welcome. Also, you forgot your breakfast on the table. I hope you're not too cranky come lunch time. Don't worry though, I'll make you something nice when you get home. Because I'm the greatest dad ever. Of all time."
He finished with a toothy grin, striking a dramatic pose. From the corner of his eye, he spied his apprentice Luke, a thin, wiry lad currently wearing a rather puzzled expression.
George's smirk did not falter as he turned to the youth.
"This is hardly the strangest thing you've ever seen me do," he reasoned.
Luke's face scrunched as he considered that, then nodded several times, moving away to grab an apron off the wall without a word.
Reina hurried down the street, combing out her hair as she went. She frowned and pulled a pale golden lock to her nose, inhaling. Yes. She definitely smelled like bread. But there were significantly worse things to smell like. Case and point, fish. With a shrug, she flicked the hair back, holding her comb with her mouth simply because it was easiest as she hurried up a stairway. She gathered her hair and pulled it over her shoulder, braiding it with practiced fingers as she went. Trotting down another street, she came to a large building with an elegant wooden door. She withdrew her small chord of leather from her pocket and tied the end of her braid before tucking away her comb and pulling open the door.
Whiterun's temple was lovely in its own right, done in elegant architecture. But Reina focused instead on the four pairs of eyes that turned to her.
"Reina," said an older woman, her gray hair in a bun atop her head. Yet her short frame and slightly stooped posture could not diminish the wisdom in her eyes. "You're late." There was a smile attached to the words, as if her mentor found her own private amusement in pointing out the obvious.
"I'm sorry Healer Lee," Reina replied hurriedly, bowing her head. "I was helping Dad and lost track of time. It's my fault. I'll do better."
Lee's grin grew wider before she chuckled. The airy, wistful sound brought Reina's head back up.
"I'm teasing you dear," the woman admitted, waving her into the room of four smaller desks and Lee's large one. "We were just about to begin. Take your seat."
"I told you she'd fall for it," snickered the red haired Miranda with a smirk that was mischievous, but not cruel.
"Rude!" Reina protested, sliding into her seat in a flurry robes.
"You have to admit, it was a little funny," stated Vara. The bosmer woman's amber eyes were perpetually kind, regardless of whom they looked upon, offsetting her choice of a stark and clean-shaven head.
"I had nothing to do with it," a flat voice assured.
Reina smirked and glanced to a young woman sitting with her head pillowed on her arms atop the table. Her pale face was lost amid a mass of curly black hair.
"No one thought you did, Raven," she assured, then added with a devious chuckle, "It would take far too much energy."
"That's right," Raven affirmed happily, drawing herself up with a yawn and stretching her arms like a cat.
"Girls," Lee inserted patiently. "Shall we get started now?"
"Sorry Healer Lee," the women replied, almost in unison.
"Excellent, now if you've been keeping up with your reading, you'll notice today's lesson will be on sleeping aids."
"I thought it was splinting broken bones..." Reina murmured aloud, fearing she was on the wrong chapter.
"You've been reading ahead, dear," Lee mused absently, pulling out a stack of parchments.
"Oops," Reina offered ducking her head.
"Show off," Miranda smirked, sticking out her tongue.
"Keep your tongue in your mouth, Miranda," Lee chastised, not bothering to look up from the notes she was flipping through. "You're not a five-year-old."
"She might be," Vara observed casually, chin pillowed on her hand.
"Hey!"
"Enough," Lee cut in, no louder than before, and yet they all fell silent at once. "Now, we will be starting by discussing chamomile. It grows most commonly in..."
Reina freed her feet from her boots and crossed her legs in her seat as she pulled out a parchment and began to take notes.
Whiterun had grown in the many decades since last she'd been there, shabby homes spilling out of the shelter of the main wall and covering the once-fertile farmland directly adjacent to the city itself. Of course, back then there had been dragons dropping from the skies every third day... Normally Nova would have shrugged and professed it an Outlander problem, but today she found herself pitying them. They had no Ancestors to guard them against such things. She glanced to the massive city wall and winced. It's protection was now negated by a series of archways through it that led to the sprawling sections below. With the expansion came a new series of shops and inns, tucked away neatly in their own little corners between houses, along with a small market, and even a row of manors in the far distance. Around the dwellings ran a simple wooden wall of sturdy logs. She supposed it had been meant as a temporary measure, but the city's growth showed no signs of slowing, no doubt delaying construction of any more permanent fortifications. Nova turned her gaze back down to the house in front of her with a sigh.
She reached up and knocked again, the trio of impacts sounding like thunder in the open street. They waited, Nova's hands curling into fists as she resisted the urge to pace.
"It seems your spy isn't at home," Aveth remarked.
"He's not a spy," Nova snapped. "He's an informant." She knocked again to the same effect.
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We should return in the morning. We'll have better luck then."
She scowled at the door, and for a moment, Aveth feared it would burst into flames. But in the end, she grudgingly nodded and turned away stiffly.
"We have time. We will find Lucinda," he offered, then gave a smirk. "As long as the Spirits guide our way."
His encouragement brought a wry smile from her.
"Aveth, you don't believe in the Ancestors," she pointed out.
"Yours, no. But mine are quite reliable."
The wicked grin he shot her brought a bark of laughter from her lips.
"You realize that's absolutely illogical, to believe in one and not the other?"
"You're illogical," he shot back.
For a time, neither of them spoke, walking along in companionable silence amid the sun's set. A din of boisterous voices rose in the distance as they turned a corner to find the cheerful, welcoming light of the inn nestled among a series of shops.
"Come," Aveth bid, offering her a hearty slap on the back. Nova stumbled forward. "A warm meal and a warm bed will do wonders."
Nova simply nodded, following dutifully.
The roar of voices was almost too much for Nova to bear. Her arms tensed as the crowded inns' patrons jostled her chair and drew far closer to her than she would have liked. The smell of unwashed bodies soured the warm aroma of food and threatened to turn her stomach. Aveth however did not seem to be bothered, his watchful eyes seeing everything. She envied him, truly.
A woman wound through the crowd, pushing people gently aside with a cheerful apology. She came up to them with a relieved exhale.
"Whew! Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?"
Nova only half listened to the menu the woman recited, glaring at the patrons sullenly.
"Is it always this crowded?" the warrior asked before she realized the question had left her lips. She winced at herself and glanced up at the woman, offering an apologetic look.
The barmaid laughed with a warm smile that helped soothe the tension in the armored woman's poise.
"No," she shook her head. "See those men at the far end of the room?" Nova followed her gesture to a group of warriors clad in leather armor who were in fact the greatest source of noise in the room. Or for leagues… "I'm afraid you've come just in time for their return from a hunting trip. Rather successful, if you believe even half of their boasting," she added with a smirk.
Nova offered a smile in turn, finding a strange, soothing peace in the woman's gentle, freckled face.
The barmaid tucked back a loose strand of pale, blond hair that had escaped her braid.
"Now, can I get you something?" she repeated politely.
Nova looked to Aveth who answered for the both of them. The woman nodded politely and vanished back into the crowd. For perhaps the twelfth time since they'd found seats at the small table, someone ran into Nova's chair. Her face soured. It was going to be a long night.
A/N: I've been holding on to this one for a while. No more. Let it be free! -overly dramatic stance-
