CHAPTER 3
Anterriel watched as Kjarl squeezed the amulet around his neck. He was instantly enveloped in white light and vanished to the gods knew where. The Altmer was now alone in the shrine, except for the bodies of the various worshippers of Molag Bal scattered all over the ground, and what appeared to be a scamp that was afraid to come out of the shadows. But as she took a closer look, she realized that she wasn't as alone as she had initially thought. The center of the room was dominated by a three-story statue of the god Molag Bal, and it was said that these statues were the Daedra's view ports to the world of the living. She was certain Molag Bal would not appreciate what had transpired. She folded her hands as though in prayer and muttered the incantation to transport her back to the Balmora Mages' Guild.
X X X
Ranis Athrys, head of the Balmora branch of the Vvardenfell Mages' Guild, looked up from her detailed plans to bring about the gruesome demise of someone who had disgraced the Guild at the sound of someone recalling into the foyer of the guildhall. The white magical lights swirled together into a humanoid form. There was a bright flash, and an Altmer woman appeared. She was wearing a blue robe with gold trim and looked as though she had just witnessed a massacre.
"Anterriel," Athrys said. "You're alive…I mean, you're back."
"Yes," Anterriel said. "I'm back. And you'll be happy to know that Relthasa Noren will no longer bother us."
"Then she's dead. Good. Did she give you any trouble?"
Anterriel's bright green eyes narrowed. "No," she said, flatly. "She just stood there and let me set her on fire. And the three dozen other followers were a bit too dead to interfere."
"What do you mean, dead?" Athrys asked, sounding disturbingly enthusiastic about the D word, and apparently not noticing Anterriel's crack about Noren not fighting back.
"Apparently, this particular cult's been getting on a lot of people's bad sides lately. They kidnapped some member of the Imperial Legion, and so the Legion sent a mercenary to get him back. But, by the time he got there, they had sacrificed their kidnapee to Molag Bal, so he hacked them into little pieces." The corners of her mouth began to creep upwards. "Not bad looking, either, for a human. The mercenary, I mean, not the sacrifice. I could've done without the tattoo on his face, but he had nice hair, and he was strong, and well-spoken…"
"And he hacked them into little pieces," Athrys said, now staring wistfully into space.
Anterriel gave Athrys a scared, sideways glance. "Okay, you're just sick. Just give me my money so I can get out of here."
X X X
Anterriel walked out onto the balcony of the Mages' Guild. A couple more jobs like this, and she could afford to get out of the Mages' Guild for good. Maybe she could even move back to Summerset Isle. She couldn't remember at the moment why she had ever left, only that someone had said something about Morrowind having more use for her talents than her own home. If she ever got home, she would find whoever that person was and set him on fire.
Her train of thought broke there, however, when she heard the unmistakable sounds of a struggle. It was then that she realized she had fallen asleep on her feet. She walked over to the edge of the balcony to see two Dunmer men in green robes forcing the lid down on a wildly protesting crate.
"I don't know why we don't just kill him now and get it over with," one man said.
"You know perfectly well that Molag Bal demands all who disgrace him to this magnitude to be burned alive inside a wooden crate," the other reprimanded.
Anterriel was barely aware of movement out of the corner of her eye, before a Khajiit-looking figure in black fatigues appeared behind the Dunmer, claws extended. Before Anterriel could react, one of the Dunmer took a hammer from his belt, spun around, and hit the Khajiit squarely in the face. The Khajiit bent in half and slammed into the wall of the Mages' guild. The Dunmer grabbed him by the fatigues and threw him into a second crate. They then took two glass vials from their robes and began splashing the contents on the crates, all the while chanting "Meht oht lyr ayem geth, bedt ayem lyr."
"Murder!" Anterriel shrieked, causing the Dunmer to drop the vials in surprise. "Murder behind the Mages' Guild!" She turned to the Dunmer, which were looking daggers at her. "That's right," she said, as the sound of guards' boots became louder. "Try getting revenge in front of the guards!"
One of the Dunmer held his hand towards the crates and shouted "Hefhed iya roht ekhem!" A small fireball shot from his fingers and hit the crates. Anterriel now realized that the vials must have contained oil, as the crates burst into flames. There was no way the guards could get there in time to save whoever was inside the crates. She would have to take matters into her own hands…again.
"Iya cess ekhem," Anterriel hissed, pointing at the flaming crates. A jet of ice shot from her finger, neatly extinguishing the blaze. She then had to drop to her stomach as two large fireballs shot past her ear. These guys meant business. She'd have to get down there. If she went through the Guildhall, though, Ranis Athrys would surely intercept her and make her settle some unpleasant score for her. There was only one option. "I hope this works," she said to herself, as she pointed to her feet and whispered the incantation.
She wasn't entirely sure at first if the spell had worked. Her strengths were in the schools of destruction and mysticism, not alteration. But when she stood up and put her foot over the balcony, she felt it rest on something solid, even though there was clearly nothing supporting her. She then attempted to use the levitation spell to lower herself into the alley. Unfortunately, her concentration was broken by one of the Dunmer tossing another fireball her way, and she fell the rest of the way to the stone street.
Groaning, Anterriel picked herself off the road and turned to the Dunmer, who drew long ebony swords and moved towards her. She held her hands in a spellcasting stance and began to hiss "Hefhed iya…"
But in that short period of time, one of the Dunmer managed to shout "Seht iya lyr ekhem neht cess ekhem!" Anterriel had foolishly chosen to try for a large fireball, which required the spell to be said slowly, giving her assailant time to hit her in the throat with a green spell. Anterriel tried to complete her spell, but the words failed to leave her mouth, and the warm air pocket between her hands vanished.
"Oh dear," one of the Dunmer said in a mocking voice. "A mute mage! Whatever shall we do?"
"Nice try with that fireball spell there," the other one said, "but I think something got lost in translation. Like your voice!" With that he swung his sword at Anterriel's head. In a flash of silver, another sword whipped from Anterriel's robe and blocked his attack.
The Dunmer who had attacked Anterriel began to back away slowly. "Oh crap. She's a battlemage."
"So?" his companion shouted. "There's two of us, and only one of her, and we have a sworn duty to Molag Bal! Kill her!"
The Dunmer raised their swords, charged Anterriel…and stopped suddenly as their swords dropped to the pavement with a loud clang, the fingers that had been grasping them neatly severed by Anterriel's sword. The Altmer held the flat of the blade of her sword to her face and gave her assailants a look that said "If you value your skins, you will be gone from Balmora before that silence spell wears off."
The Dunmer began to back up, almost ready to comply with Anterriel's unspoken threat, until they walked into the crates. This seemed to remind them of their duty, as they suddenly stood back-to-back, held out their uninjured hands, and shouted "Hefhed iya roht ekhem!" A fireball shot passed Anterriel, while another one ignited the crates once more. However, it was at that moment that Anterriel became aware of a loud banging sound coming from inside one of the crates, which had actually been going on for at least a minute. The banging continued until the blade of a battle axe popped through the side of the crate. The axe blade extracted itself, only to be replaced by a metal boot, which kicked a rather large hole in the crate. A pair of iron gauntlets began pulling bits of wood away, until the burning crate fell apart, revealing a very angry, and strangely familiar looking, Nord.
"Nobody…and I mean nobody…burns Kjarl alive!" he roared. He swung his axe at the nearest Dunmer, who raised his arm to block the axe with his sword. Too late he remembered that he didn't have his sword anymore, and by that time, Kjarl's axe had become securely lodged in his arm bone and thrown him against the wall. Seeing this, the other Dunmer turned and ran…straight into the point of Anterriel's sword.
With the caster of the silence spell dead, Anterriel was now free to use another ice spell to extinguish the other crate, while Kjarl finished off the first Dunmer. He then turned to the now wet crate and split it open with his axe. Anterriel walked over to the crate and extracted the unconscious Khajiit inside.
"We really must stop meeting like this," she said to Kjarl as she laid the Khajiit on the ground.
"What are you talking about?" Kjarl mumbled. He seemed to be suffering a bit from the smoke inhalation, although there was a distinct slur to his words, and Anterriel was sure she smelled mazte on his breath.
"You don't remember?" she said. "A Daedric ruin, just outside of Tel Aruhn. These guys killed someone in the Legion…I think you said his name was Stoncien Draconius…I killed their leader, and you killed the rest."
Kjarl stared at Anterriel for a long time. "Oh yeah," he finally said. "Anterriel, right?"
Anterriel smiled. "You seemed a bit more…I think 'eloquent' is the word I'm looking for…back in the shrine."
"I wasn't drunk back in the shrine," Kjarl said.
At that moment, three city guards rushed into the alley, maces drawn. "What's going on in here?" one of them demanded.
Kjarl pointed to one of the slain Dunmer on the ground. "These fetchers tried to burn me alive, that's what happened!"
"And by the way," Anterriel said sarcastically, "thanks ever so much for taking your sweet time in getting here."
The guards didn't say anything. They didn't move. They didn't even shift their weight.
"Are you all right?" Anterriel asked, going up to one of the guards. She peered inside the visor of his helmet…and swiftly recoiled. Traditionally, the guards in Balmora were Dunmer, but there was something strangely different about this one. He had a voice like a Dunmer, but the tiny bit of his face Anterriel had seen through the visor seemed golden, closer to her own skin tone. "You're an Altmer?"
The guard shook his head. "Not quite." He took off his helmet. He wasn't a Dunmer or an Altmer. He also wasn't a Bosmer, Nord, Redguard, Imperial, Breton, Orc, Khajiit or Argonian. In fact, he wasn't even a he. No, this guard definitely had a woman's face. But her skin was very golden, even more than any Altmer. Even her eyes were golden. Under her guard helmet, she was wearing another helmet, with wings, that was the same color as her skin.
"A golden saint!" Kjarl said. Even in his intoxicated state, he recognized the highest of the Lesser Daedra.
The Golden Saint smiled, nodded, and replied, but its voice now sounded like a bizarre series of metallic hums and buzzes. Anterriel could now see the inside of the guard helmet, and there seemed to be a small device attached to the inside, which had apparently made its voice sound like a male Dunmer.
Kjarl bent to pick up his axe. "You guys don't know when to quit, do you?" He raised his axe over his head. "Tell Molag Bal he can have me when boars grow wings and Mehrunes Dagon sits on the throne of Tamriel!"
"Molag Bal did not send us!" one of the other guards shouted, confirming what Anterriel already suspected: that all three of these guards were Golden Saints in disguise.
"Our master sent us to find you," the third "guard" said. "He would speak with you on a very important matter."
Anterriel looked at Kjarl. Kjarl looked at Anterriel. They both looked at S'Ravha, who still had not regained consciousness. They turned to look at the Golden Saints. Anterriel opened her mouth to speak. The Golden Saints, however, did not wait for a response. They raised their right hands in unison and touched the rings on their middle fingers. A red beam shot out of each one and hit Anterriel, Kjarl, and S'Ravha. Anterriel and Kjarl dropped their weapons, sunk to their knees, and fell to the ground. S'Ravha, who was already unconscious, was not affected. The Golden Saints stepped forward and picked up the dropped weapons. Each one grabbed one of their unconscious quarry around the waist. The one holding Kjarl took his recall amulet, slipped it over its own head, and joined hands with the other two. It squeezed the amulet, and with a bright white flash, all six of them vanished.
In the alley across the street, three Balmora city guards, sitting in their underwear, tied to each other, with their socks shoved in their mouths, made a silent vow that if anyone asked, this entire day never happened.