Chapter One -Kilkreath Temple
Laurelin and Vilkas hiked up the steep slope, eyes on the imposing stone temple ahead. Huge flakes of snow drifted down, catching in the fur lining of their hoods. They scouted around and found steps leading to the top of the building, where a tall statue depicting Meridia with her arms stretched toward the sky waited. Laure tugged the glossy-white beacon out of her pack and, with a glance to her lover, set it carefully in the cradle at the statue's feet.
Before she could cry out, or Vilkas react, she was encompassed by blinding light and found herself what looked like miles over the land of Skyrim, suspended by nothing but the light. Before she had much time to marvel over this phenomenon however, the demanding voice of the daedra once again commanded her attention. A marvelous, shining orb of light floated before her, crying out, "Look at my temple, lying in ruins. So much for the constancy of mortals, their crafts and their hearts. If they love me not, how can my love reach them?"
Laure inadvertently glanced down and felt her stomach lurch and her vision swim a little. Being able to see entire mountain ranges from above was just a trifle disconcerting. She jerked her gaze back up to the ball of light that was Meridia's true form, squinting against the brightness that threatened to blind her.
"It is time for my splendor to return to Skyrim. But the token of my truth lies buried in the ruins of my once-great temple, now tainted by a profane darkness skittering within. The Necromancer Malkoran defiles my shrine with vile corruptions, trapping lost souls left in the wake of this war to do his bidding. Worse still, he uses the power stored within my own token to fuel his foul deeds. I have brought you here, mortal, to be my champion. You will enter my temple, retrieve my artifact, and destroy the defiler. Guide my light through the temple to open the inner sanctum and destroy the defiler."
Awed, despite herself, Laurelin found herself asking in a small voice, "What must I do?"
"Malkoran has forced the doors shut. But this is my temple, and it responds to my decree. I will send down a ray of light. Guide this light through my temple and its doors will open."
Laurelin found herself drifting down again, relieved the daedra had decided to let her down gently. She held no illusions in regards to surviving such a fall. She could see Vilkas' tiny form pacing the perimeter of the temple top, then her vision fogged over as she approached the statue below. When she blinked the fog away, Vilkas was leaning over her, a worried, angry expression on his face.
"By Ysmr! What happened to you? All of a sudden you were gone in a flash of light! It's been hours! Are you well?" His silver eyes raked over her, looking for injuries but found none. Convinced she was unharmed, he grunted and helped her sit up finally.
"Meridia took me high over Skyrim and gave me a further quest. She wants this temple cleared out, apparently it's been defiled by undead and a necromancer. It was amazing, Vilkas! I was terrified, it was so high, but I could see the entire country up there. It was breathtaking!" She paused, then gulped a breath down in excitement. "I want to clean her temple out. I don't hate much of anything, but I hate undead and necromancers. You with me?"
"Ha! What are we waiting for?" He bowed and waited for her to skip by before following her down to the entrance of the temple. Stopping briefly before entering they shook hands like siblings, then Laurelin leaned in, nibbled his lower lip, and brushed his nose with hers, smiling. Vilkas let his hands rest on her hips a moment, inwardly wishing their armor wasn't such a barrier, and kissed her back, hungrily. "Right! Temple, undead, necromancers. Let's do this, so we can get back someplace where I can get you out of your armor." He smacked her steel-covered arse and shoved the door open.
"I like where this is headed!" Laure remarked as she crept though, readying her bow and arrow.
Inside, a dark fog seethed through the halls and chambers, making it even more difficult to see, even with the better night vision granted to them by the beast blood. Laurelin had been expecting draugr, so when part of the darkness detached itself from the shadows and stalked away from her, she fired her arrow with out thinking, taking the drifting thing of shadows in the back, hurling it back into the darkness. Strange rattling sounds accompanied the arrival of two more of these shades as they noticed the noisy demise of one of their number.
Laure fired off two more shots, one connecting, the second soaring over the charging creature's shoulder into the darkness. She cursed softly and drew her cherished Nightingale blade and steel dagger. Dropping to the sides of the charging shades, she and Vilkas waited and struck nearly simultaneously, cautiously looking for openings, not sure how effective their weapons would be against these foes. As it turned out, they were more than effective. With nothing more than a stinging slice to the leg, Laure and Vilkas easily cut the remaining two down.
Laure patched the gash up with a touch of her healing magic, and they proceeded. Guiding the light through the temple was simple. Find the little pedestal, activate it, and under no circumstances allow the beam of light to touch you! Curious, she had let her fingers drift too near and had them blistered for her interest.
Where the ray of light went, the dark fog rolled back, revealing many corpses, burned and defiled, laying where they had been tossed rudely. Laure went through the pockets of the first one they encountered, finding a fair amount of gold, and some Imperial army supply orders. The next proved to be a Nord bandit. The next was a woman, probably a Nord, but the desecration to her body had been complete and her features were too rotted to tell truly.
Laure and Vilkas proceeded, feeling a familiar rage growing in their hearts. There was nothing in the world that could justify this. It was that simple. The dead deserved to stay that way, not have their souls compromised by some power hungry, irresponsible person with no conscience. They crept through chamber after chamber, purposefully slaying shades, guiding the light through Meridia's temple. At one point, they were surprised to find themselves outside on a high shelf, the light leading them on across a narrow bridge. Night had fallen, all the world was hushed by the heavy snow falling up high in the mountains.
"Let's just see where this goes, and then we could rest a while?" Laure asked, pointing across the chasm, where the lights illuminated the flurries of snow. Vilkas shrugged and nodded, readjusting the straps of his cuirass. They carefully made their way across the slippery stone span, and found a large, heavily locked chest nestled in the rocks.
Vilkas caught the longing look on her face as she looked it over and snorted. "Open it if you can; it looks like we can take shelter up there in the overhang when your done." His gaze flitted out into the storm briefly; however, there was nothing to see but the glare of light on the fat, swirling flakes.
Laure slid her pack off, delving into its depths an instant before coming out with a hand full of lockpicks. Popping the extras between her teeth, she hunkered down and removed her gauntlets, began feeling the lock, testing, wiggling, listening intently, until it opened. She slid the remaining picks back into her pack and lifted the lid. Inside was a gleaming, glass greatsword, it's edges honed to translucent, keen sharpness.
Laure lifted it out, sighting down the frighteningly sharp blade, feeling the solid weight and fine balance. "How would you like a glass sword, love?" she breathed in admiration.
"It is beautiful. I would be glad to bear it, if you don't want it for yourself."
"No, if it was meant for me, it would have been smaller. Or a bow. I think you should have this!" Vilkas accepted it with a smile, his eyes caressing it with the tenderness a lover would. He turned it this way and that, seeing the shifting colors refracting the light of Meridia back to him.
They took cover and rested awhile outside, cuddled close together while they ate. The snow let off a little later, and even the soft hiss of falling flakes dimmed until it was so quiet the two warriors felt completely alone in the world, peacefully isolated from the bustle of day to day life. Snuggled back into Vilkas' warmth, Laure was content. Although she grumbled about daedra interfering with her life, any mission that involved bringing a little more light and love into the world had her whole-hearted approval.
Eventually, they disentangled themselves and moved back inside. Vilkas was able to test his new blade again and again as they scoured the temple of its undead, unclean occupants. With much circling, backtracking, leaping and several confused "where do we go now?" moments, they guided the light through the dark passages and halls, revealing the sad, broken state of ancient site.
The smell of corruption grew as they advanced, and before long, they were standing before a portal that had the strongest stench yet leaking past the frame. Vilkas was sweating, his dark hair plastered to his face, but his eyes were alight with passion and excitement. He disregarded the handful of cuts and scrapes he had; his armor had deflected the most worrisome blows regardless.
Laure looked and felt much the same. She wiped an oozing nick to her upper lip, then pounced Vilkas, wrapping her legs around his waist, nearly bowling him over. He caught his balance and wrapped his strong arms around her, crushing his lips to hers. Fingers tight on her hips, he let his tongue tease her lips open, tasting the blood of her cut. She whined softly and then pushed herself off him again, a fierce look in her eye as she pushed the door open and leaped straight in. With a cry of "Yol!" leading before her, she took the two nearest foes completely by surprise, dispersing them in a gout of scarlet fire. Vilkas followed an instant behind, ready to cut down anyone foolish enough to attack his mate.
As she weaved and darted about, Laurelin summoned a flame atronach and then drew her dagger. A painfully cold blast of something smashed into her shoulder as she ducked behind a pillar, and chilly laughter taunted from somewhere nearby. Laure glanced down to see her entire left shoulder encased in crystalline frost. She quickly gulped down a potion, and felt movement return to her arm. Vilkas was battling two shades, the atronach was firing bolts of flame at another, and she couldn't see the necromancer or the other shades she knew were about.
"Watch out for the necromancer love, he'll freeze your arse!" she called out to Vilkas.
"Duly noted, thank you," he grunted, blocking a heavy blow from one foe, ducking another.
Calling on her long-unused Nightingale abilities, Laure became invisible and slipped around the pillar.
Malkoran was edging his way behind Vilkas, who had taken one of the two shades down, but another moved in to fill the space left. The atronach expired a moment later, and Laure used the confusion of it's explosive demise to creep behind Vilkas. Malkoran leveled a staff at her mate, and a blast of icy crystals rolled out to take him in the side.
Slowed, cursing, Vilkas backed away, fighting the numbing pain as his armor froze solid. His blocks and parries were slower, and the shades pressed forward eagerly. Malkoran hastened forward, glancing about for the mer but not seeing her, focused on the male instead.
Laurelin slipped up behind the necromancer, pure rage burning in her pale eyes. Before he could blast Vilkas again with his staff, she punched her dagger through his robes into his kidney. The man staggered forward, dropping the staff, clutching at his side. Laure whirled about, made visible by her attack, and sliced with her sword, neatly severing his head. With a gasp of triumph, she went to help Vilkas finish the last shade.
Before she could take a step though, hissing laughter echoed through the chamber, and another shade rose up from the corpse of Malkoran. It immediately lashed out at Laurelin, catching her by surprise. She fell back, cursing, biting back the Voice that rose within her, Vilkas was too close for her to risk using it.
With a roar, he finished the last shade, ignoring the hoarfrost still hindering his movement, then charged past his mate, sword flashing wicked green light as he went. She recovered a moment later and moved in, flanking the snarling shade as it darted here and there, striking whoever was closest, taking blows with hissing curses and threats.
Malkoran's shade was tougher than any of the others, its glowing eyes leering at them as he promised painful servitude to the two who had upset his plans. These two, however, settled into a rhythm of strikes and blocks, coordinated to keep their foe uncertain, off balance, and always looking the wrong way. They circled Malkoran relentlessly, weaving around, whittling the shade down, until with a shout, Vilkas leaped in while it's attention was on Laurelin and swept his green blade clean through, dispersing the shade like dust.
Laurelin and Vilkas waited, swords still raised, but no more unclean spirits rose to threaten them. Instead, the light of Meridia seemed to swell and encompass the whole room, and her voice filled the chamber, resonating off the stones.
"It is done. The defiler is defeated. Take Dawnbreaker from its pedestal." Laure glanced around, and there, amongst the piles of defiled corpses, was another pedestal, this one with a sword embedded in it. She approached cautiously, eying the haft of the sword while sheathing her own.
"Well, are you taking the sword?" Vilkas asked his lover, his own still out, point up, over his shoulder.
"Should I?" He nodded, alert but confident. She wiped her hands on her wolf fur skirt and reached out, wrapping her long fingers around the warm grip and tugging gently. Dawnbreaker slid free with a quiet hiss and suddenly glowed radiantly. She raised the luminous blade up and whistled. Vilkas echoed this with an approving murmur of appreciation. It was beautiful, warm tendrils of light swirling about the circular crossguard. Laure met Vilkas' bright eyes over the leveled blade, about to ask a question, when she abruptly found herself high above Skyrim once again, Meridia hovering before her.
"Malkoran is vanquished. Skyrim's dead shall remain at rest. This is as it should be. This is because of you. A new day is dawning, and you shall be its herald. Take the mighty Dawnbreaker and with it purge corruption from the dark corners of the world. Wield it in my name, that my influence may grow."
Laure looked at the stunning blade in her hands, weighing it carefully. "I can wield your blade, and do so with honor, but I won't sign up for your religion. I am already involved with two of your fellows."
"You need not swear an oath to serve my needs. By taking my token out into the world and using it to cleanse the filth of the undead, you bring my light, my love to the world. I do not seek a priest. I need a warrior to carry the truth of my light."
"I am a creature of shadow, are you certain you would have a thief carry your holy artifact?"
"Indeed, you are a creature of shadow. Think you all my agents are entirely pure beings of light? No, mortals are much more complex than that. So many shades of light and dark, like you. I see the influence of my sister and brother in your actions. It pleases me bring a balance to the dark of Nocturnal, and the instinct of Hircine. Perhaps my token will aid you in the darkness before you."
Bowing her head, understanding the wisdom of this, Laurelin accepted the sword, vowing, "I will carry this blade into battle and carry your light with me. Thank you."
"May the light of certitude guide your efforts." With that, Laure was drifting back to the temple again. Her eyes roved the area beneath her, scanning for Vilkas. It looked as though she was going to be deposited right back where she had left the beacon, at the top of the temple. Her gaze skimmed over a curved stone wall at first, then flew back. There was no mistaking that style of carving. Once again, as she neared the ground, her vision fogged. She came to, and glanced around. There was no sign of Vilkas.
A frown crept over her face. It seemed to be late morning, how long she had been up there with Meridia was a mystery. Where was Vilkas? She stalked down to the entrance and found it sealed. "Fuck. Me. Sideways!" she punctuated each word with a fist to the door. Trekking around the perimeter, she found no sign that he had emerged and left, the snow still pristine, no scent guiding her. Finally, she trudged back to the front door, tried it again, and decided to head back up to the statue. She would wait up there a bit and then start looking for any sort of alternate entrance to the temple she could find.
She was pacing anxiously when his footsteps crunching through the snow reached her frozen ears. They met at the base of the steps with inarticulate cries of happiness accompanying nearly frantic hugs and kisses. They had both been worried, it seemed. They were finally able to sort out what had happened, starting with Laure disappearing from the temple in a flash of light. Vilkas had found the staff Malkoran used, then neatly laid out all the bodies he encountered and gathered, rather than leave them splayed gracelessly around, then, he had slowly made his way out of the temple again, lugging their gear by himself.
Laurelin sketched in the important details of her conversation with Meridia but chose not to mention the part concerning Nocturnal. Eventually, she knew she was going to give him the whole truth, but she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Instead, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up the hill, past the temple. Off a short distance, through the trees she led him, coming upon the curved stone of the chanting Word Wall.
Vilkas watched as once again, Laurelin strode up to one of these uncomfortably charged walls and let sparking light soak into her. Standing back, keeping an eye out behind them, he listened to her muttering to herself. She shook it off shortly and turned, a weird smile on her face.
"That has to be disconcerting," she commented.
"Aye, I've seen a few of these walls in my travels, but they were always cold and dead seeming." Her raised eyebrows asked the question for her, and he answered, "Aye, I can lead you to them, or the general areas." She clapped and skimmed by him, throwing a meaningful smirk over her shoulder.
"The Winking Skeever has nice soft, sturdy beds. And big bath tubs. Think we can make it back to Solitude before dark?" She skipped down the hills, jumping and bounding lightly through the drifts of snow piled under the trees. Vilkas jogged after her, somehow carrying both packs, the staff, and all the loot he had taken from the temple on the way out. Loot she had scavenged. Hoisting the packs higher, he picked up his pace; she was nearly out of sight already.
When they arrived at the Winking Skeever, it was further weighted by the white pelt of a sabre cat encountered on the road down. Laure intended to make a hood, gloves and boots from it. With a sigh, they set their packs down in a corner of the big room upstairs, the staff leaned on the wall behind the door. They requested that food and hot water for a bath be brought up with plenty of mead and wine. Relishing the warm mead, they slowly peeled and tugged each other out of their armor, running bare hands over sooty, dirty, sweaty skin as it was exposed.
Vilkas dipped his head, kissing her filthy forehead. "Still beautiful, even covered in gore and the filth of the undead."
"You just want to get me clean so I don't stink so bad," smirking as she said it.
"Aside from the undead part you smell wonderful, love. Like victory. Blood, sweat, winning, contentment. You do taste a little, earthy though..." He dodged a playful slap, stepping out of the way as a knock at the door announced the arrival of their bath. Or food.
It was both, and they were steaming hot, delivered without delay. Vilkas tipped the boy who brought it all up in several trips, then locked the door. Sliding the bolt home, he turned and advanced on the nearly stripped mer, pulling his tunic over his head as he covered the distance between them.
Laurelin lay with her head resting on Vilkas' chest, her fingers tracing the hard planes of his stomach. Her eyes were hooded, nearly shut in contentment. When he spoke, his voice reverberated through her head pleasantly. "Where to now, lovely?"
"Have you ever heard of Jurgen Windcaller?" she asked in a muzzy voice, her normally low tone risen to a softer, higher pitch. To Vilkas, it made her sound younger, more vulnerable. His arm tightened around her lovingly.
"Aye, he was the founder of the Greybeards, many years ago. Does this have something to do with the tomb that you need to go plunder?"
"Aye, Master Arngeir wants me to bring back the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. What is it with Nords and retrieving obscure historical artifacts as initiation rites? It's simpler in Valenwood. Hunt it. Kill it. Eat it."
"I don't make up the rules, love. I just follow them. So where is it you need to go for the Horn?"
"I think it was called Ustengrave, or Ustengraff..."
Vilkas fingers tightened in her short hair, as he breathed out, "Ustengrav. There have been rumors lately of necromancers snooping around near there. Maybe we should go back and get a few of the whelps and maybe Farkas."
"I would prefer we just went while we are in the vicinity. After I get the Horn and take it up to the Graybeards, I will need to make a visit to Riften. I'm afraid I just don't have time to go all the way back to Whiterun and almost all the way back to Solitude before running back and climbing the Seven Thousand steps."
"You could ride a horse instead of always running everywhere."
She snorted softly."I don't know the first thing about riding horses, love. My feet carry me just fine."
"How can you not know how to ride a horse?" he exclaimed, surprised that she would not know how to ride.
"How well do horses climb trees, Vilkas?" she asked, voice still soft with sleep, but amused.
He scoffed lightly. "They don't! What has this to do with...oh. This is one of those Bosmer 'if you can't make use of it, can you eat it?' things isn't it? She nodded against his chest, eyes closed still.
"Aye love, I look at your beautiful, prized steeds and see a walking, fresh haunch of meat. Can't be helped. You can eat one, but you can't take a horse into a giant, walking tree. Well I suppose you could try, but the droppings from above..." Her voice trailed off, fingers curled into the hair sprinkled across his chest.
Vilkas felt her drift off, heard the steady pulse in her temple slow, her breathing growing more relaxed. While he trailed his fingers over her shoulders, through her hair, he thought about the storm on the horizon. He could see the front of it, and it was terrifying in its enormity. He had no clues what could lurk beyond the horizon.
Frankly, he was worried. He knew the Companions were in a sticky spot, with a new Harbinger, recruitment at a nearly all-time low with most all young, able-bodied souls with a thirst for glory enlisting in one faction or another of the civil war. Furthermore, with the Harbinger also being the Dragonborn, many of her obligations would take her from his side. He could foresee long stretches where the Dragonborn would be obligated to be away, hunting and slaying dragons. To what end he could not say. Hopefully not hers.
He knew it would fall to him to carry on while she was away. While he felt strongly about his reactions after Kodlak's death, he understood she would still need his assistance in her duties. Assistance he would willingly give. He would make sure she didn't even have to ask. After all, he had spent the last few years serving the old man in much the same fashion; he was really only continuing his role as master-at-arms and the confidante and right hand man to the Harbinger. Put into perspective, he realized deep down that his own personal ambitions were irrelevant to the bigger picture. If he could fight nobly and with honor, aid the Companions, and ease Laurelin's burdens, then he would.
As he was drifting to sleep, he realized he was adjusting the list of priorities in his head. In the past, his list had been arranged with his twin at the top, then the Companions, the citizens of Whiterun, and loosely, the rest of Skyrim. Now a certain pointy-eared woman was smirking at him, mounted on Farkas' wide shoulders. Right up at the top of the list somehow. He pulled her leg up higher over his own, and hugged her tighter as he drifted off himself. Tomorrow the storm could unleash it's fury, as long as he had her with him tonight.