Author's Note: Hisa Ni is the character I have always thought of as very straight laced, very socially proper, and the most likely to chastise others for not doing "what should be done" especially in navigations of the social and political landscape. Eventually my muse decided there must be some interesting secret in her background. Of note in game there is a book written by "Sealord Maleroth of Pyandonea" which states that "the altmer are the mongrels and the maormer are the true descendants of the Aldmeri".
In some of my ESO fanfics you will find references to the Nibenay Valley Chapterhouse; in my personal 'verse it was once a major chapterhouse of the Order of the Dragon (I had to come up with a reason for those lovely in-game dragon tattoos, after all); and was destroyed early in Molag Bal's attacks on Tamriel with huge loss of life.
Standard disclaimer: I do not own Morrowind, ESO or any of the other wondrous creations of Bethesda Softworks, Zenimax (and whoever else should be credited), however I certainly lay claim to misspellings, mistakes, tweaks and characters of my own creation. In game characters are mostly credited, but I am way behind forwarding requests to the Fanfiction folks to expand the Elder Scrolls character lists.
~~Duress~~
The cabin tilted abruptly almost to the vertical as if some huge wave was literally about to upend the ship. Hisa Ni Caemaire put her hands out in a futile attempt to retain her balance. For a brief moment she wondered if this was part of the Sea Pirate's attack on the Caemiare's trading vessel.
From the shocked look on the maormer's face, he'd not expected it. As the ship slammed down again, Hisa and Lieutenant Arlirdil landed in a jumble of limbs. Despite his evident surprise, he was careful not to lose control of the dual blades he bore as they fell.
"By all the-" was all that Hisa understood of his comment, the rest of it was in his native tongue and from the sound of it was mostly profanity.
She carefully pushed up, checking to see if she'd taken any damage beyond a severe bruising. This close she noted that he was quite muscular under his slaughterfish patterned armor. He smelled a little like salt and wind. It was not unpleasant. She decided not to think about why she was noticing how he smelled.
He watched her as she slowly got to her feet. Her silver hair had been disheveled out of its neat akaviri style bun, and partially obscured her odd kelp colored eyes. She had a fragrance that made him think of scorch-vine and sunsets. He told himself his awareness of her was wariness due any potentially dangerous drylander.
Her left wrist appeared reddened, and without thinking about it, he reached out, extending a whisper of magika. Even as he did it, he wasn't entirely sure why. They were enemies.
She felt the gentle warmth of healing energies and watched as the incipient bruising faded. Her eyes widened. She'd not known that the Maormer were so skilled at such subtle healing arts. The way he'd woven it by reflex argued that he came from a culture of more care and grace than her histories proposed.
Then over the sound of the sea, over the sounds of battle, over the pounding of her heart, she heard it. A groaning almost metallic sounding noise. Magicka shuddered and she felt all the hairs on her body and the back of her neck stand up in protest. It was the opening of a major portal.
His oddly pale eyes seemed to darken for a moment, and he said something bitter sounding in his own tongue.
She put out her left hand, the hand he'd healed, to his right. It was his weapon hand. "Truce?" She spoke quietly in old Aldmeris.
His gaze flickered in the direction of the sound. His eyes flared and his lips thinned. He nodded.
She strongly suspected that he didn't expect either of them to survive. She was reminded of her older brother Akiro; in the face of overwhelming danger he would matter-of-factly prefer to go down fighting rather than fleeing.
Even as Arlirdil nodded they could hear screeching cries; something harsher than birds. Many many harsh angry voices. The sickening sounds of steel against flesh, and cries of pain.
They ran together, opening the hatch doors and arriving on deck in time to see something that should have been a nightmare.
A flock of dark winged foully twisted creatures circled above the ship. They looked like bats, but were at least twice the size of eagles. As the flock circled, some dove singly or in pairs, attacking sailors, mercenaries and maormer pirates; the flock made no distinctions between former enemies who now tried, mostly too late, to stand back to back in order to fight the vile plague.
Barely visible through the horrific flock, Hisa could see that above the ship rotated an oval opening into blackness. It was as long as the ship and twice as wide. Seemingly endless numbers of winged horrors swarmed in and out of it as if the ship and the mer on board were an assortment of amusing toys to be played with.
None of the winged predators landed long enough to eat any of the fallen. As Hisa looked around, she saw blood everywhere; fallen sailors and sea pirates alike clutching at discolored wounds. She saw pain and fear on their faces. Cries of anguish subsiding to moans as victims lying nearby curled around wounds that oozed blood tinged with something dark.
But few dead. In fact she couldn't see anyone lying completely still.
So death was not the aim here. Though many of the wounds were discolored, the aim of the venom was clearly to incapacitate, not to kill.
Cold fear blossomed in her belly. She'd listened to her brother Akira's tales of the fall of the Nibenay Valley Chapterhouse. The Worm cultists wanted sacrifices, lots of sacrifices. Their aim would never be to kill, always to capture. To sacrifice. The thought of spending eternity laboring in Cold Harbor ... it was not a good thought.
In the back of her mind she could feel Roo's presence, and a query; did Hisa Ni wish assistance?
This dark flock would surely target the beloved daedric spirit if she arrived. And given what Akiro had said about his own experience, it wasn't worth putting the loyal spirit through this more than once.
"No," Even to herself, her reply was not as firm as she would have hoped. "If I am taken from Nirn, then come and find me. Tell me to return."
Roo considered this, and then crooned her understanding. Hisa felt a sensation along the side of her cheek, as if being lightly brushed by feathers and then the sense of the spirit's presence faded.
Beside her, she could feel the subtle change in the maormer's stance. He was clearly communicating with his own familiar. Since it did not manifest, she suspected he'd come to similar conclusions.
Arlirdil turned to her. "They want us alive." He commented calmly, one eyebrow raised. "We are to be more fodder for the soul-stealer." He loosed one of his daggers, and made to offer it to her, hilt first.
She understood what he was asking, and shook her head.
"An unwilling sacrifice can be freed," She said shortly.
He raised an eyebrow in a clear expression of doubt.
"My brother," Hisa's gaze was implacable. "He has done it. We can do it." she nodded slightly to the door, to the sounds of battle. "Perhaps not today, but they will come to regret this."
He looked uncertain for a moment and then smiled. It was a feral, predatory smile that put her strongly in mind of her brother Akira. "Then," he said quietly, "let us see that they regret their choice of target."
As he finished speaking, she wove magical energy in a sphere around them. Three of the winged attackers racked their claws across the translucent barrier. Dark something trailed from their claws and Hisa could hear a sizzle as it was burned away by the sheild. Whatever it was, it drained energy from the sphere.
Beside her, the lieutenant drew twin longblades with the jagged edges that Hisa had seen before among his people. Before the vile winged predators had finished their attack, he thrust forward.
"Down." His voice was harsh with effort, and with hatred of his foes. He did not spare her a glance.
Still holding the shield in place, Hisa Ni dropped to her knees, falling back against the railing, trying to give him as much space as possible while staying within the conjured protection.
His first two thrusts took the lead creature in beak and belly; changing it's shriek of attack to a cry of pain. He pulled the blades out raking them apart. He ripped open the thing's belly with his left blade, and with the right he slashed downward, making no effort at first to pull the blade free so that it's face slammed into the deck.
Then yanking back on the right, freeing the blade from the now weakly struggling creature, he swung up in a quick arc, slicing a talon off of the second one.
He cursed in his own language, and then added in somewhat stilted Aldmeris. "There are too many. We will not last long."
Hisa knew he was right, but it was not in her nature to yield to such a foe. She raised both hands, triggering the amulets of power she'd hoarded. Small crackles of energy danced around her fingertips. "Let us give them something to remember."
She pushed out with her magicka and suddenly energy blossomed in the center of the flock that spiraled over the ship. Crackles of lightning jumped from foe to foe. The deck, shadowed from the sun by the portal and the flock was suddenly lit with blues and greens as the energy leapt from one attacker to another, spreading among the flock of twisted creatures. High pitched shrieks, the smell of charred flesh, and the crackle of energy overwhelmed the sounds of the moaning warriors. Dark shapes began to drop to the deck.
Arlirdil's eyes flashed with satisfaction, even as his blades wreaked havoc at any of the creatures that came within reach.
Still, more dark creatures poured out of the dark gap between worlds.
Hisa called up another blast of magicka. This one was as effective as the first; but it depleted all her carefully hoarded reserves. By the time it was done, she was covered in a sheen of sweat, breathing hard. She didn't have enough left in her for a third time.
Then she felt cool hands to her chin, and he spoke urgently. "Drylander. We cannot win, but we can kill most of them."
She shook her head. "I'm done here. I don't have much left."
"Together." He said, and she could feel his magicka reach out towards her own. If she were any less exhausted, her natural sheilds would have kept him out. Not now.
She could feel him, determination, honor. A streak of compassion. Stubborn and defensive when questioned. An image of tender affection for an ancient serpent mother, long of years and wisdom, aged and beloved as counselor and friend. Family and brothers in arms that had died in battle, some against the drylanders, some against the soul-stealer.
On some level she realized that her disintegrating personal shields meant that he was learning about her as well, but it couldn't be helped and she wasn't going to waste time worrying about it.
All this went through her mind in a flash, and then she could see what he'd meant to show her. His people were taught the magic of wind and storm. The dance of the spirits of air and sea. It was akin to the things she'd learned, but less shaped, more dangerous and more powerful,
She reached up and put her hands on his.
Together they called, wove magic. She followed his lead, reaching into the air, riding on the winds, calling up the waves of the sea. She felt the answering joyful destruction of the heart of the storm answering them. All around her, those Maormer still conscious at all reached out as well, calling with them.
Beyond the portal, the sky darkened. Black clouds rolled in from every direction. The waves rose and the ship spun, rudderless, slowly at first with no one left at her helm.
Then Hisa's own magic began the reaction. Small crackles of pale energy blossomed into full-fledged lighting strikes, splintering the mast and destroying the prow of the ship. Jagged flashes of power struck into the dark shapes that flew above and all around. As fast as the winged ones were, the lightning was much faster.
Blindingly bright flashes as one after another the creatures were incinerated, dark and bloody bits sizzling as they fell in pieces. The lightning jumped from one to another, and they had no time to try and evade.
Within a matter of a minute, the deck was covered with them. The remains were too small to be called bodies. Charred scraps whirled in the stormy winds.
For a long moment the air and the sky were clear. The clouds dissipated.
Hisa and Arlirdil stood, hands clasped, forehead to forehead, breathing heavily. She was only standing because of his support. She suspected that that it might be the same for him as well. The warriors that had added their energies were probably unconscious by now.
And then another wave of black shapes emerged from the slowly swirling portal.
They were going to Cold Harbor. There was no escape.
Akiro's anger had saved him there; let him hold fast to a purpose, resist the despair that was the real danger. She wasn't that good at holding a grudge, or being that angry. So what could she do?
She felt the scrape of talons into her back and along her arm. Weakness and pain. Poison.
Glancing up at the almost feral expression in the Maormer's eyes, she thought again that this was one who, like her brother, would go down fighting. He had all the rage that could be needed. She just had to focus it.
So she met Arlirdil's gaze, and slapped him as hard as she could. Turned out to be harder than she'd expected, and it knocked him down.
His eyes flashed fury at her.
"Coward." She spat the word at him.
Then there was pain and darkness and she started to fall.