It's happening again.
Vareysa sat by the dim light of their dying campfire, eyes fixed on her companion, who was starting to stir in her bedroll. She watched the minute twitches in Aneril's shoulders and hands grow sharper, more frequent, then her head tilted this way and that – an occurrence frequent enough to nearly be routine. Sometimes, her restlessness would end early, and she'd slip back into a restful sleep. At other times though, her dreams would keep her in its grip longer.
A faint whine emanated from her throat, and a frown briefly creased her brows. The hand on Aneril's stomach jerked up towards her chest, and Vareysa knew this wouldn't end well. But she left Aneril alone, the Altmer's fidgeting growing more forceful, fingers starting to dig into her bedroll. Her lips moved in quiet mumbles, too soft to hear, before she breathed a single syllable in Altmeris – 'no'.
Vareysa cocked her head, as Aneril faded back into inaudible mutters. Her movements were more agitated now, her breaths heavier and quicker. The frown was etched onto her brow, a shaky 'please' falling from her lips, then a gasp as her shoulders gave a short, violent jerk. But she didn't wake.
Aneril squirmed in her bedroll, as if desperate to break free of the dream, but was unable to do so. Vareysa waited until she could take it no longer, then went to kneel beside Aneril, as her companion gave a strangled sob. She'd reached a hand out when Aneril jerked awake, eyes snapping open as she breathed an airless scream in her native tongue – 'stop'.
The Altmer fell back heavily onto her pillow, panting as her open eyes stared sightlessly up at the night sky.
"Hey–"
Without even a glance, Aneril jerked away from her instinctively, shaking hands scrabbling blindly at the ground. Vareysa grabbed onto her arm, getting a ragged cry in response, and forced Aneril back into the bedroll. Holding her down by the shoulder, Vareysa gripped onto her hand, fighting Aneril's efforts to shake her off.
"Hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay," Vareysa said clumsily in what little Altmeris she knew. She repeated the same few words until she'd gotten Aneril's attention, then switched to common Tamrielic. "You were just dreaming. You're safe. You're safe now."
Aneril's dazed eyes focused on her with difficulty, and she squeezed Vareysa's hand with weak, trembling fingers. She glanced around the camp in her paranoia, then back at Vareysa, before she leaned fully into her pillow. Aneril was still panting, her eyes falling shut as she pulled her hand away from Vareysa, to clutch at her chest. Her face slowly twisted into an expression of…pain? Fear? Vareysa couldn't tell, but noticed the tear slipping from the corner of her eye, before she turned over in her bedroll, back facing the Dunmer.
Aneril curled up tighter into herself, and Vareysa hesitated to leave her alone – but decided to grant the Altmer's obvious wish. Pulling the bedroll's covers up to Aneril's chest, Vareysa laid a hand briefly on her arm and gave a reassuring squeeze – getting no response at all. Though it was to be expected, she grew more worried for her companion.
Then Vareysa looked around at the cub sleeping by the fire, and moved towards it. She patted it awake, getting a growled grumble in return, then more petulant huffs when she tugged at its paw insistently. When the cub refused to move, Vareysa resorted to heaving it up into her arms. The tiger whined loudly, but quieted down when it was deposited right next to Aneril.
She caught a glimpse of pale blue irises when Aneril cracked her eyes open, and Vareysa moved away quickly, eager to give her companion the space she needed.
Settling back by the fire, Vareysa watched and waited for a long while, before Aneril finally reached an arm out to hug the cub, who had curled up to sleep beside her. Vareysa sighed quietly – her concern was alleviated for the time being, but now she had to fight off the curiosity rising within her. She already knew Aneril would give her no answers, and so she would think of no questions.
Aneril woke with a heavy head, a dull throb in her skull, and leaden limbs that protested when she pushed herself up from the bedroll. She sat hunched over, tousled hair covering her face, eyes screwed shut, and didn't react to Vareysa's offer of breakfast.
She felt lifeless. Her entire being was…off. A deep nothingness sat in her chest, beneath the scar left from the fatal stab wound that had sent her to Coldharbour.
Coldharbour. A rush of hatred flooded her veins, quickly smothered by a cold, intense fear. She'd dreamt of it for the first time. Her worst nightmare always had her chained to Mannimarco's bloody altar, forced to watch as he plunged a dagger into her heart again. But last night, she didn't wake where the nightmare had always ended. The dagger bit into her chest, and suddenly she was in Coldharbour, her arms and legs held captive by sneering dremora, cold Daedric syllables slithering into her ears. She was forced to kneel on an obsidian floor, staring up at the horned visage of Molag Bal, and watched as he pulled his arm back, then plunged his clawed hand into her chest.
The pain felt almost real, and his eyes. It's as if he had pierced through the dream, and peered into her very soul, as he ripped it out of her body. As if…he was aware of her.
No. No, no, no.
Aneril took a deep, shuddering breath, and exhaled slowly. If he knew where and who she was, he wouldn't allow her to continue existing…would he? No. He wouldn't care. She was just one soul among the rest…
The thought calmed her down. Yes, that feeling was just a figment of her imagination. It couldn't be real.
It was a dream. Just a dream.
She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it back from her face. Then she paused when Vareysa came to kneel by her, holding out a square piece of compact hardtack – Aneril's preferred meal for bad mornings. She took it wordlessly, and Vareysa left her alone, going back to the campfire where she cooed back at the tiger's chuffs. There was a distinct smell of toast, but it did nothing to rouse Aneril's hunger. She took a few bites of hardtack, then grew impatient and just shoved the whole thing into her mouth, so she could start packing her belongings.
It was mechanical. She bundled up her bedroll, strapped it onto her backpack. Coiled her hair back into a military bun. Strapped on all her armour except the helmet, feeling every piece of metal weigh heavier on her as she stood. Aneril took a deep breath and let it out, looking over to find Vareysa and the cub on their feet as well, waiting for her.
She took two steps down the road, then stopped abruptly, and turned back to her companion. Aneril opened her mouth, but there was silence as she fought against the block in her throat, before she managed a rough, "Thanks."
She tried to turn back to the road quickly, but it was too late – she caught a glimpse of that crooked smile on Vareysa's lips.
Their trek up to Elden Root was mostly quiet, with only Vareysa talking to the cub when she felt bored, or when it pawed at their legs, looking to play. When they reached the capital city, Aneril approached the throne with a request for a squad of soldiers, who'd escort Conservator Daraneth from Southpoint to the city. Her request was promptly granted by the king, and Aneril hastened away from the Elden Tree, eager to hit the road again. They had little time to spare before Queen Ayrenn arrived in Elden Root for the ratification ceremony, and Aneril still had two artifacts to retrieve before then.
She met up with Vareysa at the marketplace, where the Dunmer was picking up some extra supplies, and they set off towards the northern exit of the city. They had just reached its guarded border, when a voice called Aneril's name in a hurry. They turned around to find a young Altmer running up to them, huffing and puffing as he bent over to catch his breath.
"Excuse me – you're Aneril, right?"
"Yes."
"Oh, thank the Divines!" He laughed between pants. "You're a very tough person to find – I've been looking for you for over a week! I have a delivery for you." He unslung the sheathed sword from his shoulders, and handed it to Aneril. "Here, this is yours. And…" Reaching into his satchel, he fished out a folded letter and a small note with it – reading the latter in a quiet mumble. "This is–, oh. A letter of inheritance from Ghorzak gro-Ulrog. I'm sorry for your loss."
Aneril's heart sank as she took the letter, staring at it blankly for a few moments. Then she found her breath and asked, "Have you been paid?"
"Ah, yes. It's covered my traveling fees, but…oh. Thanks," the courier said with a smile when she tipped him generously. "Well, gotta run. Again – you have my condolences."
Aneril stared after his retreating back, then down at the letter again. She moved off to stand by the side of the road, Vareysa and the cub following behind her, and she unfolded the letter.
'Hey, kid.
If you're reading this, means I bit it. And yeah yeah, I wrote letters and shit. Damn it, feeling older than ever. Anyway, I'm giving away some of my stuff in case I died, so you're getting one of them. I guess sticking with an old orc long enough will make him think of you as his own kid, huh? And take it as my thanks too – you didn't have any reason to leave the Guild with me and fight in this stupid war. But you did. Watched my back better than anyone ever did, before they transferred you to your precious Queen's guard. For that, I'm grateful. Think you kept me alive longer than I should've been.
Since I won't be around anymore, I'll take one last chance to remind you again – you're doing your best. You always do. No matter what you believe, you're a capable person, Aneril. A great warrior. You have a good heart, and a strong backbone to go with it. You'll make something of yourself one day – just remember not to let your head overthink and second-guess yourself. I've always trusted you, believed in you. Now do me a favour, and do the same for yourself.
Oh right, the glass sword. Province General gave it to me for my service years ago. Sharp blade, good heft, has an enchantment that strengthens the glass and imbues it with an energy to cut much better. But it's too hoity-toity, Altmer-elegant for me. Perfect for you though. If the war's over when you get this – keep it, and rise through the Guild's ranks with it. If the war's still on, then use it to survive, and return home safe.
Live a good long life, kid. Then we'll swap stories over drinks after.
Ghorzak gro-Ulrog'
Aneril swallowed hard, her face scrunching up for a second, before smoothing over into a placid mask. She folded the letter and slipped it into her backpack. Gripping onto the glass sword's hilt, she hesitated for a long moment, then chose to leave it in the scabbard.
"Aneril?" Vareysa asked tentatively, breaking the silence as Aneril slung the sword over her shoulders, so it rested between her back and bag. "You alright?"
Well-aware of her own stiffness, Aneril nodded. "Let's go."
Two artifacts were to be retrieved for the Orrery: Rajhin's Mantle, and the Heart of Anumaril. Since the Mantle was rumoured to be at the Falinesti Winter Site, the closer location of the two, Aneril decided to travel farther west from the capital city to reach it first.
After three days of travel, they reached the sprawling Ayleid ruins, only to discover that trouble had found the site first. The very first sign was the conspicuous presence of frost trolls lumbering about the site, and they skirted around the big brutes to find an isolated camp by the edge of the ruins, set up by the Falinesti Faithful – protectors of the holy site, who await the return of the moving tree city, Falinesti.
Among them was a Bosmer named Brelor, who recounted recent events with an urgency borne of keen fear. The renowned Altmer General Endare, commander of the Jade Dragoons, had descended upon the ruins with her soldiers, and forced the Faithful into slave labour, digging up the grounds of the ruins in search of a Khajiiti relic – Rajhin's Mantle. He expressed concern about the general's misuse of the relic, Aneril shared her need to retrieve the Mantle for the Queen, and they agreed to help each other reach the relic before Endare.
But first, they'd have to find out why Endare was looking for the relic of a Khajiiti trickster god in a Bosmer holy site, of all places. So they sought the site's Welkynd stones as Brelor suggested – stones that held the memories of the Falinesti tree. At each of the three stones, they witnessed ghostly visions of conversations from the past, between a Khajiit and the Altmer woman he relentlessly pursued – Lady Nairume.
Eventually, this tale became clear. The mysterious Khajiit was one of the seven shadows of the god Rajhin, and when his pursuit of Nairume had failed, he imprisoned her within a frozen vault beneath the Falinesti site.
Brelor realised General Endare must have uncovered the same frozen vault, sure that she'd find Rajhin's Mantle within. So their path was clear – to delve into the frozen vault, and stop Endare before she reached the Mantle. Aneril opted to enter the vault with Vareysa alone, since Brelor lacked any combat experience, and they made him find his way back to camp with the tiger cub in tow.
When they reached the vault's entrance, they were surprised to find the corpses of several frost trolls lying on the ground, surrounding a woman made of ice – who bore the very same features of Lady Nairume. Aneril asked after her identity, and her suspicions were confirmed – as well as General Endare's passage into the vault.
"You are not the first to seek Rajhin's Mantle," Nairume said. "General Endare broke through my prison in search of the same. I will aid you in seeking the Mantle, but only if you swear to free me."
Aneril tilted her head. "You need my help to break free?"
"Rajhin's Mantle is the key to my prison beneath the Falinesti Winter Site. If I but touch its hem, it will steal all my hatred for Rajhin's Shadow and fill the void with love." Nairume's lips twisted in a sneer. "I'll make lute strings of his innards, first. Only another may safely free me."
"And I will," Aneril assured her. "Just tell me where to go."
Satisfied, the icy form of Nairume disappeared along with the frozen barrier blocking the stone doors, and they were granted access into the vault. Deep within its wintry interior, they found Lady Nairume in the living flesh, and the imprisoned Altmer offered to join their venture through the vault's long passageways. There were numerous frost trolls along the way, but with Nairume's aid in strategically freezing their foes, they were able to make short work of the beasts, and moved along at a swift pace.
Their search for General Endare finally led them up a steep flight of slippery stone steps towards the inner vault, and Aneril bade Nairume stay outside while she settled matters with the General. The Lady made no protest, and Aneril entered the inner chamber with Vareysa by her side.
The first thing that greeted them when their boots crunched on ice by the door, was a harsh bark from General Endare herself. "You'll never take it from me!"
Endare hefted her sword and shield, glaring at them with no small amount of paranoia in her eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing here? Out with it!"
"I'm here for Rajhin's Mantle," Aneril said simply.
"You?" A derisive laugh. "I'm a decorated general of the Aldmeri Dominion, a hero to my people. Who better qualified to wield the power of a god?" Endare rolled her shoulders, upon which rested the Mantle itself – a surprisingly discrete thing, woven of dark leather and smooth fur.
Aneril kept quiet, regarding the general with caution, as she pondered her next move. "Queen Ayrenn needs it for her ratification ceremony."
"I found Rajhin's Mantle. Why should Queen Ayrenn be the one to wear it? I've been fighting since before she was born!"
"So have we," Vareysa scoffed under her breath, but not quietly enough – the General's glare whipped over to her, and Endare growled as she took an imposing step towards the Dunmer.
"You dare–"
"General." Aneril quickly put herself between them, holding her free hand up. "Please. The Mantle is affecting you – can't you see it? You're a Dominion general. You're stronger than this. Snap out of it."
"I–" Endare wavered, glancing down at the Mantle. "We were overrun. I thought to use its power to slay our foes, but I…couldn't stop. I killed my own soldiers." Fear trickled into her gaze. "I can feel it, bringing my shadow to life. You must stop me, no matter the cost."
"I will," Aneril said steadily, taking a tentative step towards her. "Now please, if you will give me the Mantle–" She threw herself back just as a blade slashed the air where she'd stood.
"No!" Endare held her sword up again, breathing a short, hysterical laugh. "You're trying to trick me. Trick the trickster god…ha. I can see through your lies. I won't give it to you, or anyone! You'll fall to Rajhin's Shadow! "
Endare's shadow rose from the ground – a dark, perfect copy of the general herself. Aneril felt the mute crack of Vareysa's teleport spell behind her. In an instant, Vareysa appeared by the newly-risen shadow, and drew her blade across its neck, causing the shadow to dissipate and reform at Endare's feet. But the general seemed unperturbed, merely barking a laugh as her shadow rose again. Aneril conjured a shield on her left arm, and charged at the doppelganger while Endare engaged Vareysa in combat.
It was a decision Aneril regretted. While she crossed swords with the shadow, Vareysa was steadily being overwhelmed by Endare. Armed with only her daggers, Vareysa found herself at a severe disadvantage as she fought the war-hardened veteran, struggling against the heavy blows of both sword and shield. Each time she tried to maneuver out of a tight spot, Endare would predict her movement and foil her escape.
Aneril was faring better than Vareysa, as she was more familiar with the Dominion-trained combat style. And she had managed to drive a sword through the shadow's heart, when she heard Vareysa give a rough cry.
She looked over to find Vareysa staggering back, after receiving a deep sword slash across her left arm, and had the dagger kicked out of her hand. Before Aneril or Vareysa could react, Endare lunged forward with her shield, bashing squarely into Vareysa's torso. The Dunmer bent over, breath expelled from her mouth in a visible mist, and as she straightened herself, Endare's shield rammed into the side of her head. Hard.
Vareysa was propelled back, and her head cracked against the rock wall before she fell to the floor, unconscious.
"Vareysa–!" Aneril had started sprinting towards the Dunmer, when Endare turned on her – along with a reformed shadow. She lifted her shield, holding her sword arm against it for support; but even then, the combined blows from the General and her shadow threw her back a few paces, knocking the air clean from her lungs. But Aneril managed to land on both feet, shoulders hunched as she tried to catch her breath.
Endare didn't push forward, and merely observed Aneril with a slight tilt of her head. Then she lowered herself into a ready stance, held her shield up, and knocked her sword loudly against it – an open invitation for Aneril to make the starting move.
Aneril lowered her head, looking down at the ground as she took ragged breaths through a parched throat. At the second knock of sword on shield, she charged forth without warning, gathering a fistful of flames in her left hand, and threw a fiery whip at the general. Endare hadn't anticipated the sudden use of magic, and she was forced to leap back to avoid the blow – just as Aneril intended.
The younger soldier raised her shield to block the shadow's attack, and managed to gain a bit of ground, ramming the shadow as far away as possible. Then she spun on her heel, lashing at the ground beneath Endare's feet with the flame whip, forcing the general to hop back awkwardly to avoid it. She didn't give Endare time to think – magicka already gathered in her mouth, Aneril let loose a breath of dragonflame, forcing the general to leap aside. But Endare was just a little too slow, and the side of her armour was burnt black.
Aneril didn't wait – she pivoted again to meet the shadow's sword slash with her shield, then pulled another dragonknight trick from her sleeve. With magicka burning in her fingers, she brought her sword hand across the shadow, slashing through its dark form with fiery claws. The shadow was stunned for a moment, giving Aneril ample time to drive her sword through its chest, causing it to disintegrate again. This time, though, it didn't return.
Sweat trickled down Aneril's face as she turned back to face the general. Endare watched her with dangerous smile, giving a flat chuckle, and raised her shield once more. So Endare had decided to face her one-on-one, but Aneril could take no relief in it – she was slowing down, tired out by her trek around the ruins above, and through the vaults below. The general had incredible strength, and Aneril doubted she could withstand Endare's blows for much longer.
She had to end this, fast.
Aneril lunged forward and sidestepped at the last second – but Endare had seen through her feint, and spun neatly on her feet, delivering a clean cut over Aneril's sword arm. She kicked at the back of Aneril's knee, sending her to the floor, but Aneril rolled out of the way before her head was cleaved from her shoulders. Then she charged again, and again – only to have the same pattern repeat itself. General Endare's skill and experience far outweighed any ingenuity and boldness Aneril possessed – each surprise move the younger pulled, the older managed to counter it and gift a new wound upon her foe. Every spell that Aneril threw out splashed harmlessly over Endare's well-timed magical wards.
Aneril suffered numerous strategic slashes to her body – on her arms and legs to slow her down, and a long cut across the cheek from her close brush with Endare's blade. Her head was spinning when Endare dived towards her, swinging her sword so mercilessly against Aneril's that its steel was chipped, and Aneril's weapon was knocked clean from her hand. Then Aneril brought up her shield, and was forced to her knees under the impact of Endare's magically-bolstered blow. Her shield cracked as the gathered magicka started to dissipate, then gave way completely under Endare's next ruthless attack, allowing the blade to bite through Aneril's steel bracer and into her forearm.
Pushing herself to her feet, Aneril started pulling away before Endare could sever her hand – only to receive a heavy shield bash to her head. Her vision blacked out, and when she came to, she was lying flat on the ground, staring blearily up at Endare's stoic expression, with the tip of a sword resting against her throat.
"You fight well, young soldier," Endare said. "It's a pity you will die here." She had dug her sword into the skin of Aneril's neck, when a shout rang through the vault.
"Hey, you jade slut!"
Taken aback, Endare spun around, only to see a dagger fly through the air and sink deep into her forehead. General Endare gave a violent twitch, teetering on both feet, before the sword dropped from her hand, and she toppled over to the ground.
"Oh, thank fuck," Vareysa groaned.
Aneril looked over in time to watch Vareysa slump heavily back to the floor. Then she glanced at Endare to make sure she was truly dead, before allowing her eyes to fall shut. Aneril panted in ragged breaths, feeling hot sweat grow cold on her skin from the vault's frigid air.
When she could breathe normally again, Aneril muttered, "'Jade slut'?"
An exhausted laugh. "I was panicking, alright?"
"Obviously," Aneril huffed, a smile growing on her face, before she was distracted by a trickle on her cheek.
Right. Bleeding.
Gathering what magicka she had left, Aneril reached sluggishly for her wounds, and healed what she could to stop the bleeding. Then she rose shakily onto her hands and knees, and dragged herself over to Vareysa. Grasping the Dunmer's jaw, Aneril turned her head to check for wounds, then healed the deep, bleeding cut on her temple. She closed a few of Vareysa's other injuries, then hauled the Dunmer to her feet, getting a whine from her companion.
"You alright?" Aneril asked.
"World's spinning," Vareysa uttered, leaning heavily onto her.
"Same here."
They dragged their feet over to the exit, and Aneril had laid a hand on the stone door when she remembered.
"Wait – we forgot to take the stupid Mantle."
Vareysa made Aneril trudge back to take the Mantle by herself, and they traded a few half-hearted barbs over it, but things went smoothly after that. With the Mantle in hand, Aneril was able to free Nairume from her prison, and they returned to the camp of the Falinesti Faithful. With Nairume no longer blocking the vault's entrance, the frost trolls returned to their icy habitat where they belonged, and the mages of the Faithful erected strong barriers over the vault's doors, sealing the trolls within.
The mages tended to Aneril and Vareysa as well, healing their wounds and giving them a tent to rest in, and they crashed into their bedrolls gratefully. When Aneril woke at night, her body was still tired, but felt stronger than before. She nipped out to have some stew by the fire with Vareysa and the cub, then retreated into her tent again, eager to get some privacy after a day of…surviving.
'Since I won't be around anymore, I'll take one last chance to remind you again – you're doing your best. You always do. No matter what you believe, you're a capable person, Aneril. A great warrior. You have a good heart, and a strong backbone to go with it.'
Aneril jumped when someone came through the tent flaps, and she folded the letter instinctively as she looked up, meeting Vareysa's amused gaze. Thankfully, the Dunmer opted not to say anything, and offered one of the two mugs she held.
"It's milk. And no," she added when Aneril wrinkled her nose, thinking of the Bosmer's fermented pig milk. "It's not jagga. This is goat's milk."
"Thanks," Aneril muttered, accepting the mug. Then she jerked her head back from the touch on her forehead, and frowned up at Vareysa.
"Just checking." Vareysa held up her hand. "You still look kinda pale."
Sighing to herself, Aneril took a sip of milk, flipping the letter open as Vareysa settled in the bedroll next to hers.
"So," Vareysa drawled, nodding at the parchment. "Who…"
"My mentor from the guild. We enlisted in the army together."
"Huh. But…the courier mentioned an Orc's name."
"He joined the Dominion's mercenary band," Aneril explained. "And I was in that outfit with him for a while, before I got transferred to the Queensguard."
"Why didn't he go to the Daggerfall Covenant?"
"I don't know. Only ever said he refused to return to Orisinium." Aneril shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. Old bastard's dead."
Vareysa watched quietly as Aneril folded the letter again, and threw it none-too-gently onto her backpack. With a small smile, Vareysa said, "It's okay to grieve, you know. You don't have to keep it in."
"He died how he wanted."
"Doesn't mean you don't miss him."
A lump rose to Aneril's throat, but she forced it back down. Lifting the mug to her lips, she took a long draught as the tiger cub strutted into the tent with a thick branch in its mouth. It laid the branch on the ground, then flopped down with it, clawing and gnawing at the wood, exercising his little claws and fangs.
Aneril watched him blankly for a while, before her gaze drifted to the glass sword lying beside her bedroll, next to her backpack. She reached out to touch the smooth, sturdy leather of the scabbard, trailing her fingertips along its length, until she met the cool metal of the winged crossguard. She paused then, fingers twitching up to graze over the hilt, but she curled them back into a fist.
Her throat tightened, and she pulled her hand away, clutching at her mug again as she took one gulp of milk, then another. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, staying still until she'd forced her mind to go coldly, peacefully blank.