The Emperor's Heart

Chapter 3

"Rise and shine, Brother Martin. Time to greet the new day!"

Martin stirred, the cheery voice of Brother Astav penetrating his subconscious. It was very early, and the normally sullen Breton was far too happy for the hour.

Sighing, Martin sat up and ran his hand over his face and through his hair. It was no matter. His dreams had prevented him any rest. Terrible images still swirled in his mind, but they were slowly fading as he became more awake, leaving nothing behind but a strong feeling of dread.

What did it mean?

The priest looked at the Breton man. He was a new member of the Chapel of Akatosh; had just finished seminary and was looking to do the gods' work. Astav bustled around their shared quarters, packing items into his knapsack.

"Where are you off to, Brother Astav?" Matrin asked quietly.

"I am off to the Imperial City. Going to give aid to the poor in the Waterfront!" He turned to smile at the Imperial man. He really did seem genuinely happy to Martin. Strange.

"Well, good luck to you, then. Safe travels."

"Thank you. I shall be quite safe." Atav clipped in a matter-of-fact way. He finished gathering supplies and headed out the door, humming an unfamiliar tune.

Martin stood and went for the wash basin. Splashing his face with the chilly water seemed to bring him back to life a little. He changed from his night shift to his serving robes, and headed out of his chamber to begin his morning prayers.

Several minutes into kneeling before the altar had done little to alleviate his unease. He looked up at the stained glass image of Akatosh. It had always given him comfort, yet today was different somehow. He felt… a darkness. It almost seemed familiar, yet it was far more sinister.

Shaking his head, Martin walked towards the enormous wooden doors to work in the gardens before the day was too hot.

Lysara trudged down the road, the moons high above. She was getting close, according to her map. Just over the hill, she would be able to see the city walls. Her mind wandered back to the emperor, and then forward to the illegitimate son. How does someone go about telling a person that not only are they not who they thought they were, but who they actually were was so incredible that-

"Well, well. What have we here?" The assassin whipped around to see a burly Nord man dressed in Highwayman's clothing leaning against a tree. His arms were crossed as he smirked in her direction. "You lost, little lady?"

Lysara snorted. Definitely a Nord. 'Little' was not something many men could call her. Her less than average Nordic height was still taller than most. She feigned a smile and bowed slightly. "Good evening, kinsman. Where do you hale from?"

"Your worst nightmare." He sneered.

Ah. So it was like that.

Sighing, Lysara nonchalantly reached for her dagger. "I really don't recommend this…"

"Neither do I, Sweetheart." As he said this, three more bandits walked out from the tree line.

Well, damn. This was just not her night.

"Give us your goods, then you'll be on your way. No harm, no foul." A dirty-looking Imperial smirked.

"Ah, ah. Let's not ruin the moment with lies, gentlemen. I know exactly how this works. You can't very well let me live, after I've seen your faces."

The Nord man laughed. "That's true! Smart little thing, aren't you? But not smart enough…" And with that, he lunged for her, his goons following behind.

She slashed at her assailants, leaving a few nasty gashes across the leader's cheek, and elsewhere on anyone too slow to move out of the way. Furious, the Nord man bellowed as he charged her again. Lysara was about to dodge and counter when her heel caught on an overgrown root that she hadn't seen. Falling hard on her back, the wind rushed out of her, disabling the assassin long enough for the bandits to get the upper hand.

Three held her down by her arms and shoulders as she thrashed wildly. She hated being held down. The Nord bandit leader stood in front of her, grinning like a mad man.

"So you like to play with knives, eh, little girl? Well I know a real fun game we can play." He laughed as he moved to untie his breeches.

Lysara's eyes grew wide. They were going to…

'No… not like this!' She thought angrily, thrashing harder to get away from those monsters.

Just then, the Nord froze, staring straight in front of him with bulging eyes. The other bandits looked up to see what was there, expressions soon matching their leader's. Lysara heard a loud snort, hot air blowing the loose strands of hair out of her face. A loud thud sounded directly behind her head.

"Wha… what is that thing?" One of the robbers whimpered.

As if to answer, an earsplitting whinny tore through the woods. It seemed to come from all directions, echoing off the dark trees. The men scattered and fled, leaving Lysara on the ground.

More curious than afraid, the Nord woman leaned her head back as far as she could. Red glowing eyes greeted her.

'It couldn't be…' She blinked, then sat up, turning to stare at the ebony horse, his long face only a foot from hers.

Shadowmare clopped his foot on the grass and bobbed his head, as if to salute his master.

Lysara stood, unable to believe what she was seeing. She had left Shadowmare at Fort Farragut just before heading to Bravil. She hated goodbyes, and wasn't entirely sure how to convey to the Void-driven beast that she was leaving the family.

Tired of waiting for his master, Shadowmare moved closer, nudging Lysara's hand with his muzzle.

She rubbed up and over the black horse's head, smiling down at her friend. "Thank you."

Over the last few years, they had grown close. Especially since he was the only one left from the original family.

The assassin's heart clenched tightly in her chest. It was still so painful to think they were gone; killed off, one-by-one.

And she had done it.

Pain marring her face, Lysara clutched Shadowmare's head, fighting back her tears. She would never forget that night. The look of betrayal on all her beloved brothers' and sisters' faces. Sithis, it was horrible.

And Lucien…

Shaking her head rapidly, the Nord woman released the horse and began walking down the road in the direction of Kvatch. It wasn't long before she realized she was being followed, the familiar clip-clop mirroring her own steps; the moment she stopped, so did the sound. When she started up again, the clopping resumed.

She turned back, brows scrunched together. "No, Shadowmare. I'm… I'm not…"

Was she really going to try to explain to a horse? But Shadowmare wasn't the average horse; he was brilliant and very loyal, despite being cruelly given a girly name.

Lysara made shooing motions with her hands. "Go on… go home."

When the horse didn't budge, she tried again, her gestures and voice stronger. "Go on… go! I am sure someone will come by the Fort. Just wait there."

Still, the horse wouldn't budge. He even had the audacity to shake his head. Frustrated, the Nord woman shouted, "I am ordering you to return! Do not follow me!" She whipped around on her heels and continued walking. This time, the sound didn't resume. Lysara was tempted to look behind her, but resisted.

Finally over the hill, she caught sight of the shadowy city. But… something was wrong.

Martin huddled with a few of the younger refugees in a corner of the damaged chapel. It was still standing, unlike the rest of the city. He continued his prayers to Akatosh, but his mind was racing too fast to really focus.

How could this happen? What was happening? Earlier that evening, he was getting ready to have supper when a horrible sound vibrated the stone walls, kicking dust off of the ceilings. He and the other priests went out to investigate the moment they heard screaming outside. Nothing could have prepared them for the sight before them.

The sky had turned a ghastly deep shade of red, as if the very heavens were on fire! Then the creatures poured over and through the walls, followed by this enormous black… thing. Martin's dream images immediately returned to him. This is what he had seen!

They tried to help as many people, but they were priests, not warriors. In fact, most of the other clergy had immediately been cut down or torn apart. Fearing more for the citizens, he ushered them towards the chapel, hoping to find safety there amongst the burning buildings and monstrous beings.

Why wasn't Akatosh intervening? Weren't the gods supposed to protect them from evil like this? These monsters and attacks were clearly the work of the Daedric, though he wasn't sure which one. He did know one thing for sure:

It wasn't Sanguine.

Lysara was having one of those Void-forsaken days. First, the bandits. Then her bittersweet reunion, and now this.

According to a frenzied High Elf, the city had been attacked just after dark. She had hoped to get more information, but the half-coherent Altmer fled before she could ask. There'd been a priest on the road to the city, but the doom-and-gloom holy man was even less help. The sky turned a nasty shade of red the closer she continued to Kvatch's entrance.

There were guards shielded behind wooden spikes. And there, right in front of the city gate, was an enormous swirling portal. As if that wasn't unsettling enough, nasty little creatures began to pour out of it, heading straight for them. The guards ran at the creatures, Lysara fast at their heels. They were dispatched easily, but the captain, Savlian Matius, said there were worse things inside the city, and all had come from the same portal. She asked him about the priest named Martin. If she came all this way only to have failed again, she was going to find and kill every-

"He escaped with a few others into the chapel. My guess is they're all still in there. But there's no way into the city with that gate open! I don't know how to close it, but it must be possible, because the enemy closed the others before they opened this one."

The assassin looked up at the swirling vortex. There was no way in but through that thing, and it wasn't likely to have meadows and streams inside of it.

Still, it had to be done, and the guard looked exhausted. When she offered to go in, he looked as though he would've laughed if he wasn't aching. Still, she had held her own against the ugly little monsters, and there were men inside that gate. He handed her a short sword, an extra quiver of arrows, and offered her his admiration for her bravery.

As she approached the looming portal, she wondered what the chances were she'd come back out alive.

"Well, it's been an interesting life…" She chuckled mirthlessly. Hesitating for a moment, Lysara cautiously passed her hand through the portal. Phew. Wherever it went, it was hot.

Sighing, she slowly slipped through, disappearing from the guards' sight.

Savlian was sure the woman was dead. One of his men had returned from the gate shortly after she had entered it. He spoke of the horrors he had found inside, and told of the fate of his legion. There was no way a mere girl could last in a place like that, even if she was a Nord. It had to have been well over an hour since she-

Suddenly, a flash erupted from the portal. The captain shielded his eyes from the blinding light. It dissipated, and with it the horrible red sky. Matius looked at the remnants of the gate. It was closed! But where was the girl? A hooded dremora stood with its back to him where the portal used to be. One bastard managed to get out before the poor girl closed it? It opened the city gate, drawing the attention of the other daedra on the opposite side. He raised his sword and charged, his company right behind him.

Their rush was abruptly cut short when a black streak flew past them. It stopped short of the hooded dremora. A horse? Savlian stared as the dremora looked at it, then launched itself on the horse, taking off after the monsters that were scurrying towards the opened gate. It hacked away at the attacking daedra with a short sword. The captain stared in awe. What in-

As the dremora struck another, it half turned and called out to him.

"Are you coming or not?"

Most of the screams had stopped hours ago, but suddenly there was more; only instead of terror, Martin thought it sounded more like rallying cries. One of the guards inside of the chapel rushed out, alarming most of the civilians. It grew quiet again. What was going on?

A moment later, the same guard came in, with others trickling in behind her. She shouted to everyone that the portal had been closed, and the daedra were slain! A mysterious stranger had liberated the city; they could leave the chapel and head for the encampment. Guards ushered people out the wooden doors.

Just then, a hooded figure rushed passed the guards and looked around the hall. Its head turned before settling in his direction. Martin was alarmed that no one was frightened. But they must not have known; it was wearing a dark dremora cloak!

It ran towards him. Gods, this was it. He was going to die. Saved from the horrible night only to die. Just as it reached him, he braced himself.

"Are you Martin?" A soft, weary voice asked.

The priest blinked. What on Nirn…?

The hood was dropped down to reveal a dingy and sweat-soaked Nord woman, who couldn't have seen more than thirty seasons. Her golden and matted hair was plastered to her head and face, dark smudges covering what must normally be pale skin. Her dusky blue eyes were brilliant, despite the rest of her appearance.

This must be the mysterious hero who had aided the guard in liberating the city.

He hesitated, then answered, "I am. I heard about how you helped the guard drive the daedra back. Well done."

She grabbed his wrist. A small current ran through him at the touch, causing him to shiver. At first he thought she had done something, but soon realized she had been equally affected.

Confused, she stared at him before remembering the task at hand. She pulled him in the direction of the chapel doors. "You need to come with me. You're in danger."

Martin started, dragging his heels so she couldn't pull him along. She whipped around, surprised.

"Of course I'm in danger. But I'm needed here. I can't leave."

She released his arm and glowered. "You have to. It's not safe here."

The priest crossed his arms. "I assume you didn't risk your life to tell me something I already know."

Lysara gaped. Of all the-… was he serious?

"Who are you and what do you want with me?" Martin asked sternly. If this woman really thought she could just lead him away from the people who needed him, she was out of her mind.

Then again, she had willing gone into that portal. Chances were she was.

The assassin huffed. Unbelievable. She had just endured the nastiest place she'd ever come across, filled with ten different types of ugly that wanted to flay her alive, risked her neck to close that damn gate, and all for this ungrateful, snobbish-

…Huh… this was the son of the emperor.