Chapter 9: The Priory Falls
The woods grew dark early, and Martin cast a small, bobbing Candlelight to guide us on our final approach to Weynon Priory.
I was relieved that my task was nearly complete, and Cyrodiil was nearly safe. Perhaps life would go back to normal soon.
Well, as normal as it could ever be, now. Without Ebel, my life would be forever changed.
What would I do now there was no place for me in the Imperial City, I wondered? Return to Rosethorn Hall?
That would probably be best, I thought, as I made myself consider my future; for the first time with no mother or Princes or Blades to forge the path for me. The very idea that I could decide what to do next was profound, almost indulgent.
First I would contact Eyja, I decided, and then hire a few more staff to keep the house running efficiently. I would ask Caroline if she could continue on, not only as my bodyguard, but also to teach me how to fight – a promise to myself that I was determined to keep. I would hire some tutors, so I could continue my studies. I would attend parties, and perhaps even host a few, once things were settled.
A new thought presented itself to me. Once the threat of Dagon rising was over, would I ever see Martin again? The prospect that I might not made my chest ache, though I had little time to consider the matter before Martin broke our silence.
"What...Sarina, can you smell that?" Martin held his hand up for us to stop; the Candlelight spell bobbing like a firefly around his palm.
I pulled on Tor's reigns so he would halt, then stilled, watching Martin, and listening. I sniffed the air.
Smoke.
He seemed to be listening as well. Then, with a flick of his wrist, his Candlelight was extinguished, and he dismounted Patch.
I followed, climbing down off Tor as my heart leapt into my throat.
Please, no more assassins, I begged. They could not have found out about the Priory. Could they?
Martin and I steadily lead the horses on foot to a place we could tie them, close to the woods edge. As we neared the Priory, I could see flames through the trees, and the smoke grew thicker the closer we drew. The sound of the crackling flames that had taken hold of the Priory buildings was overshadowed by the sounds of steel against steel, and shouting. The sounds of battle. Through the patchy smoke, I started to be able to make out people in Blades armour, fighting others in long robes; the redness of the fabric glowing where the firelight hit it. Some of the robed men and women were wearing segmented armour over their robes, and others held staffs of gnarled wood in front of them as they shot spells at the Blades.
Martin glanced at me, and I saw that his face was grim. I know my expression mirrored his, as I pulled my bow off my shoulder, and reached for an arrow. Martin raised his hands to fire with me, but before he could charge a spell, I put my arm across him, and shook my head when he met my eye. He looked at me questioningly.
I leaned up to him. "You will give away our position," I whispered into his ear, so he could hear me over the fighting, and so we wouldn't risk being heard ourselves by anyone who might be near. I turned back to the battle scene, nocking my arrow in the bow.
I pulled the string taut, exhaling as I aimed, targeting a robed fighter with a mace, who was bombarding the shield of a Blade fighter. I loosed my arrow, and despite the assassin shifting while my arrow soared through the air, it found his leg. It shocked him enough that it gave the Blade he had been advancing on enough time to counter the attack.
I was drawing another arrow, scanning the scene for my next target, when I felt Martin lean in, close to my ear.
"I cannot watch this and do nothing while people fight and die," he whispered, clearly agitated, then raised his hands again. I saw the spark of a destructive spell charging between his palms.
I lowered my bow and reached over his arms again. "No, Martin, please. You are too important," I hissed. "If they find you, all is lost."
Martin looked torn, but the spell dissipated again.
I turned back and notched my second arrow. When I loosed this time, it found its target; the back of one of the robed assassins, who was fighting a Blade warrior with daggers. I saw that the Blade was startled by the intervention, for a second, but then raced forward and finished the assassin off.
As I drew a third arrow from my quiver, Martin put his hand over my bow-arm this time, leaning down to my ear again, and speaking urgently. "I can help them - I must help them. Stay hidden."
Before I could respond, Martin ran forward, crashing through the tree line with his hands raised, and destruction spells flaring out of them.
"No!" I screamed, breaking through onto the road after him, stopping only to raise my bow and fire at a robed man running toward Martin from one side. The arrow struck its mark and the assassin fell; I ran onward, to catch up to Martin.
"Head for the Chapel!" I yelled to him.
He saw me but didn't reply, as he cast a wave of fresh sparks from his hands, felling a robed woman who'd been running at us. I lifted my bow again as I reached his side, and notched an arrow quickly, turning to look for attackers as Martin hurried on.
I made sure I kept close to him. While Martin cleared our way to the Chapel, I kept my bow raised and my eyes keen, covering the area behind Martin that he couldn't see, and firing at any threats before they drew too close to us. After toppling a red-robed assassin carrying a greatsword, I noticed a figure by the well in the Priory courtyard, face-down on the ground and unmoving, in a monk's habit. It could be only one of three people, and it didn't look like Jauffre.
Sadness washed over me and I made myself avert my eyes and ready my next shot. Martin reached the Chapel, turned, and yelled "Come on!" back to me.
I lowered my bow and ran for the door. Martin fired flames in my direction, and I dodged and ducked when I saw them coming. The scream behind me confirmed that the intended target had been hit, and I shuddered as I wondered how close they had been to me.
I leaped into the Chapel and aimed my bow in front of us, arrow at the ready. There was no fighting inside, so I lowered it swiftly, but kept the arrow in it, as Martin raced up the stairs in the direction of Jauffre's office.
The door was closed. Smoke was snaking through the cracks around it and the door frame.
Martin tried the handle.
"Jauffre?!" he called urgently when it didn't open.
I pressed my ear to the door. The sounds of crackling fire, steel on steel, and shouting. "Martin, someone's in there!" I tried the handle for myself, only to find it was locked.
Martin shifted me behind him and shielded me with his arm, as a flare of fire burst out of his other hand. The sound of the spell roared in my ears, and then stopped as suddenly as it had started, and Martin let go of me, surging forward.
When I turned to the door, now blackened around its hinges, Martin was ramming his shoulder into it to force it open. I winced as he made contact with the wood; it looked painful.
"Jauffre!" he called out, trying to beat the door down as he threw his weight into it again.
It cracked a little, around one of the hinges that he'd weakened with the fire spell. It would be enough.
I raced forward to help. Martin and I pushed at the wood around the broken hinge. It gave way slowly under our weight, and finally with a CRASH, the door came off at both of its hinges and splintered inwards.
Smoke poured out of the room. Martin ignored it and ran in with his hands raised and ready to attack. I stood at the entrance, drawing my bow, and searched the room as the smoke rushed past me, stinging my eyes. I couldn't help but raise the back of my hand to my mouth to try and block the smoke as I coughed and raked my watering eyes over the scene before me.
There was fighting beyond Jauffre's desk, in front of the great stained-glass window of Talos. It was as though the Divine was watching over the struggle underneath him. The desk was on fire, and another fire was spreading quickly, along one of the bookshelves.
Jauffre was in Blades armour, fighting a red-robed assassin who was wearing the grey platemetal armour that some of those outside wore. Both were swinging swords furiously.
"Go! Get out!" Jauffre shouted as he spotted Martin.
The assassin turned his head to see Martin, too, and at that instant, agilely leaped up and out of Jauffre's reach, landing on the window ledge in front of the depiction of Talos.
I waited until his feet settled on the stone ledge, and fired my bow the moment they did. It struck him in the leg. The assassin didn't seem to feel it, though he looked straight at me; the blackness where his face was hidden honing in on me. At once I froze, as the memory of the shadowed assassin in my bedroom swam before my eyes.
Before I became lost in the memory, a crackling sound revived me – Martin had cast a shock spell. The assassin must have heard the air crackling in time, though, and stepped sideways, out of its way.
The sparks spell hit where the assassin had been a moment ago, shattering the stained-glass window. I leaped at the sound, and saw Jauffre and Martin put their arms over their heads to shelter from the coloured glass fragments raining down around them.
"Stop him!" Jauffre yelled, as the night air rushed into the building and the fire whipped along the bookshelves in a roaring rush. I felt the flutter of cool night air against my cheeks and raised my readied bow, exhaled, and released the arrow.
I wasn't fast enough. The assassin leaped out of the window, and my arrow sailed through the air, shooting high into the sky.
I hurried forward to Jauffre, who had hurried to Martin's side. "He has the Amulet!" he yelled furiously.
I paled and looked to the gaping space where the window, and the assassin, had been. No. Without the Amulet, we couldn't relight the dragonfires; couldn't bring an end to this.
I raced away from them, dragging a chair to the window ledge and climbing up onto it.
"What are you doing?" Jauffre asked me fiercely.
I ignored him as I stepped up onto the ledge, drawing my bow and searching for the assassin. There was not much fighting going on in the courtyard now, but the fire had taken complete hold of the common house and the flames churned and buffeted in the breeze.
"Stop that man!" I cried out, spotting him finally; the only robed and armoured assassin who was running away from the battle. "Stop him at all costs!"
I fired my arrow, but he must have heard it coming, because he dodged at the last second, and then disappeared into the trees.
"He's gone into the woods!" I called. "Someone after him!"
A few Blades ran after him at once, and I readied another arrow, but before any of them reached the edge of the woods, another sound rent the air; the unmistakable scream of a furious horse.
Tor broke through the trees at a gallop, with the assassin on his back, leaning down and spurring my mother's horse on.
"He's on Tor!" I whirled around and told Martin in horror, as I climbed down from the ledge.
Martin turned and sped out of the room without a word. Jauffre was a step behind him, somewhat limping, calling out and asking Martin what he thought he was doing.
I hurried after them, pushing past the limping Jauffre, a part of me feeling – knowing – that we were too late. Tor had been the fastest horse my mother had owned. Unless there was another like him in the Priory stables – and I doubted it, since I had not seen any horse but Patch there the day I had ridden out – we would never catch him.
Outside, the Blades were chasing a few remaining, fleeing assassins from the Priory grounds, cutting them down before they reached the boundary. Martin and I ignored them and ran for the road, searching for the assassin on Tor.
Martin halted at the top of a crest in the road, his eyes trained east. I stopped next to him, panting as I tried to catch my breath, and in the distance could make out the dark shadow of a horse moving quickly in the direction of the Imperial City.
The Amulet was gone.
–
"Jauffre will know what to do," Martin said, turning back toward the Priory and breaking into a run.
I raced after him. When we reached the courtyard, I noticed a few Blades gathering in its centre; some battered and blood spattered and others wincing as they held their arms or legs or sides. Some were checking over those who had fallen, and those unscathed were putting out the fire with water being drawn from the well.
As my gaze drifted over the well, I spotted the fallen priest in the dust, again, and recognised it to be Prior Maborel. I slowed to a halt near his body, frowning, and sadness washed through me again at the senseless loss of a kind soul.
How had this happened? Why had they attacked him? Who were these people?
Martin was speaking to Jauffre in the doorway, and I turned up to watch the exchange at the sound of his voice. Jauffre was listening to Martin with a dark look on his face; his hand surrounded by the golden glow of a Healing spell, which he cast directly on the leg he'd been limping on earlier.
I left the fallen priest, and walked over to join them. I could do nothing for Prior Maborel now; nothing that could change his fate.
"...riding to the east, toward the Imperial City," Martin was saying when I arrived. He sounded bitter. "Tor is an enormous beast of a horse," he added. "There will be no catching him now."
Jauffre nodded with a scowl, as he took his eyes off Martin, to let them rove around the destruction in the courtyard. "Both of you, come with me," he grated in a low, dangerous voice.
Martin and I stepped back to let Jauffre by. There was no sign of the limp now. He made for the stables; the only part of the Priory, as far as I could see, that didn't seem to be at least partially still on fire.
Jauffre stepped into one of the empty horse stalls, and pulled Martin into a hug.
"Martin," he started, relieved. "I am so glad to see that you are alive," he stepped back. Martin seemed slightly bemused by the Grandmaster's actions. "Days passed, and when there was no word of Lady Passero, or anything from Kvatch, I feared the worst had occurred."
"I'm sorry, Jauffre," I spoke up. "I wasn't fast enough. There was an Oblivion gate, which I had to close before I could reach Martin. And then...an assassin," I cast my eyes down.
I realised after I said assassin that if only we had ridden straight back to the Priory, instead of stopping in Skingrad for the night, we would have likely been back in time to save the Amulet. And Prior Maborel.
Jauffre sounded concerned, but addressed Martin. "You were attacked?"
"Not I," Martin grumbled. "Sarina."
I looked back up at Martin, hoping he would leave it at that.
"How did you escape, Sire?" Jauffre questioned hurriedly.
"It was taken care of," Martin added shortly. "We weren't followed."
Then he seemed to realise what Jauffre had called him. "And...don't call me that."
Jauffre shook his head again. "I am calling you what you are, and you had better get used to it," he said plainly, but somewhat gravely. "Cyrodiil will look to you as their beacon of hope in the dark days to come, and you cannot deny them that because you are afraid."
I could not believe how direct Jauffre was being with Martin, but then reminded myself that Jauffre had probably been counselling the man for most of his life.
Martin looked agitated, as he raked one of his hands through the hair that had fallen free during the fight. In the process, he smudged a smear of ash across his forehead. I was reminded of how little he looked or acted like a priest, or an Emperor, yet again.
"I don't understand, any of this," he muttered. "It sounds like a ballad, or a...a sick joke being played out by a Daedric Prince. How can I be heir to the Septim dynasty?" he fired at Jauffre. "How could you have kept this from me? Did my father know?"
I bit my bottom lip and raised a hand to Martin's arm before Jauffre could answer, trying to comfort him. I noticed Jauffre's eyes flicker to my hand as I placed it, but ignored his stare. Jauffre didn't know what had happened between us; not the full of it. Martin had done much to ease and console me, many times in the short time we had known one another, and I felt a yearning to do the same in kind for him.
"I didn't believe the Emperor had another son when I was first told, either," I admitted. His despairing blue eyes found mine, and his face was a picture of distress. "But," I continued, "the moment I saw you, I believed," I squeezed his arm a little, encouragingly. "The rest of Cyrodiil will believe too, I know it."
Jauffre was less sentimental. "There is no use complaining about what is right or fair," he spoke up. "It is what it is. Now, come, enough of this. We have to plan our next move. The battle is far from won."
I lowered my hand and stepped forward, while Martin hung back, to lean against the wall of the stable cell.
"But," I asked, "is there anything we can do now? Even with a Septim, the dragonfires will remain extinguished unless we have the Amulet of Kings."
"That is correct," Jauffre said as though he was congratulating a pupil. "But we might keep Mehrunes Dagon at bay a while longer," he added.
I looked to Martin for his reaction, but his eyes were trained on Jauffre and his expression was blank.
When he didn't ask the question, I did. "How?"
Jauffre's eyes glanced off Martin, to focus on me again.
"After you left for Kvatch, and I sent my letters to summon the Blades, I did some research," he explained. "For if you did not retrieve Martin in time, I needed to know what might happen in the days to come."
Something about his wording made me wonder if Jauffre had sent me out to my death, and that lead me to wondering if he had known about the Oblivion gate in Kvatch before he'd asked me to retrieve Martin. Had his sending me been a test, to see if what the Emperor had said to me was true? But, how could he have risked my failing to return with Martin?
"I discovered that as long as the dragonfires are extinguished, and there is no Septim on the throne, more and more Oblivion Gates will open, all over Tamriel. This will give Mehrunes Dagon greater hold on our plane of existence. But," he continued quickly, "it will take the construction of several of what they call 'Great Gates', which are created from the smaller ones, to give Dagon enough power to break through himself into Mundus. Until enough Great Gates are in place, he cannot step through, and until he steps through, not all is lost."
"Kvatch," Martin muttered, and both Jauffre and I turned to regard him. His eyes were on the ground; his head lowered. "That is what happened at Kvatch," he revealed, his voice quiet. "First came the smaller portals. Then the large one opened."
Jauffre nodded. "But, if we can close the smaller Gates, and keep doing so, we could hold Dagon off; perhaps indefinitely."
"That is your solution?" Martin asked hurriedly as he whipped his head up. "Throw armies of men and women at Oblivion Gates, hoping they will come out the other side so that can be sent into more?" he sounded distraught.
"It is not my solution, Sire," Jauffre held up his hands in a placating manner. "It is our only hope. And," he turned to regard me, "it is a hope that people will believe in, now that we know these Gates can be closed. Thanks to you, Lady Passero."
I nodded, though I felt faint at his words. Many would die, in fire, and in pain, if we went this way. But what other choice did we have right now?
"You weren't in Kvatch, Jauffre," Martin continued, raising his voice again and taking a step toward him. "It is not as simple as you think. You have no idea how many people died before Sarina came along."
"Yes. It is curious," Jauffre was still regarding me, "how the Emperor's final words were so literally translated, is it not?" he asked.
"I...didn't do it on my own," I managed, casting my eyes down now as I remembered Ilend. "And I don't understand why it had to be me who did it. All I did was remove the Sigil stone, and the realm collapsed around us," I tried not to wince as I recalled that moment of white nothingness.
"Simple or not, and help or no, you still carried out the Emperor's decree," Jauffre commented.
I turned back up to him. "If one of the Kvatch guards hadn't been there fighting next to me, I would have died. And if Martin had not been there to heal me when I returned, I might not have survived, either."
"And it pleases me to see that you are alive," Jauffre said shortly, missing the point of what I was trying to tell him, I felt.
His attention returned to Martin. "The fact remains, Sire, that it is possible to close a gate to Oblivion, and live to tell the tale. The other cities will believe us, now that the gate in Kvatch has been dealt with. This will give us the time we need to regain the Amulet, and get you on the throne."
Martin didn't look happy, but he gave a small nod.
"Until that time," Jauffre sighed, pressing on. "We must protect you at all costs. I am going to relocate you to Cloud Ruler Temple, the Blades stronghold, north of here. They will not be able to reach us there, no matter who is on their side. It is well fortified, and I've already rallied all of the remaining Blades in Tamriel to gather there to guard you."
Martin was still frowning, and spoke with the all the weighty despondency I remembered him having in Kvatch. "So I am to run and hide, while the people of this land stand and fight?" he asked.
"Yes," Jauffre sighed again. "You don't have to like it, Sire, but as Grandmaster of the Blades, your safety is my responsibility, and your duty," he added quickly, when it looked like Martin was going to cut in again, "is to stay alive," he looked between the two of us quickly. "Now, we must move, and with haste," he continued, looking out in to the yard.
"Baurus!" he then called, taking a step out of the stables.
I blinked, wondering at the call. Baurus was here? The Blade who had helped me escape the lower tunnels of the Tower?
Martin turned to me sadly, speaking in a low rumble. "So this is what it is to be Emperor, is it?"
I gave him a small, apologetic smile, but my chest constricted at the look on his face. "I'm sorry I'm not a madwoman," I started, "but, perhaps think of it this way," I tried to sound encouraging, placing my hand over his crossed arms. "Think of all the good you will do," I squeezed his arm a little, to try make him look up at me. His eyes remained trained on my hand, though he had that far-away look on his face again, as though he didn't really look at anything.
"Good for all of Cyrodiil, for all of Tamriel." I added. "You can command legions to fight, to save people, instead of watching cities burn and hoping aid will arrive some day. You can stop wars before they begin, and..." I searched, "and make a real difference," I finished earnestly.
Martin sighed and did look up to me then, though his eyes were still full of sadness. "You are right, Sarina," he said quietly. "I hadn't thought of it that way."
Before he could continue, Jauffre returned, with Baurus following close behind. I took a step back from Martin, lowering my hand.
"Baurus, it is you!" I exclaimed.
Baurus did a double take. He looked tired, and there were patches of dried blood and smeared ash on his armour and face. "Lady Passero? You are here?"
"Where else would I go?" I smiled between him and Jauffre.
Baurus flicked a glance at Jauffre as well. "But-"
"Enough," Jauffre cut in, though it didn't exactly sound like a command. "She has delivered the last Septim safely to us," Jauffre waved his hand at Martin. "As the late Emperor foretold."
Baurus' eyes widened when they followed Jauffre's hand, and he bowed on one knee in a rush. "Your Majesty, I'm - I'm relieved!" he said hurriedly, his eyes lowered to the ground before him.
Martin reacted with some uncertainty. "Please," he said quietly, "stand up. Baurus, was it?"
"Yes, Sire," Baurus stood, just as hastily, meeting Martin's gaze. "I was one of your father's bodyguards, but..." he trailed off, and looked like he wished he hadn't said anything. The way Baurus' eyes flickered over Martin's features, I could tell he was recognising all of the little similarities between him and the other Septims.
"Baurus is one of my best men," Jauffre supplied when the Blade didn't speak again. "And so it is he who shall assist Lady Passero on her task."
"My what?" I asked, swiveling to face Jauffre. His eyes were trained on Martin.
"Task?" Martin asked at the same time. "Has she not done enough?"
"Both of you, calm down," Jauffre said easily. "Let me explain, Sarina," he continued, turning to me then. "What I ask of you is nothing more than to fulfil the Emperor's final request."
"But...what is there left for me to do?" I asked, wracking my brain in confusion. "I found the heir, and I closed the Gate-"
"Jauffre," Martin cut me off sharply, obviously realising something I didn't. "No. I forbid it."
I hesitated, watching Martin's response as I ran through the Emperor's final words to me again.
"And I am sorry, but you must close them now, my child. You must close the jaws of Oblivion."
Jauffre shook his head at Martin. "This is the Emperor's behest, not mine."
"Them," I realised, closing my eyes. "He said...close them," I turned to Martin, as I felt the blood drain from my face.
He'd already guessed as much, I could tell. He addressed Jauffre in a low voice, clenching his fists by his sides.
"Do you mean to tell me," he grated, "that you intend on sending Sarina into Oblivion gates to hold off Mehrunes Dagon-"
"Martin!" Jauffre tried to cut in.
"-because of something an old man may or may not have said, while you would have me hide and cower-?!"
"Martin!" Jauffre said again, in a more commanding tone, and this time Martin stopped, though his fists were still clenched, and his eyes were full of icy daggers.
"That is not what I'm asking at all," Jauffre continued calmly. "All I need Sarina to do is address, under escort," he added pointedly, indicating Baurus, "the Counts and Countesses of Cyrodiil, and explain to them, and their guards, how she closed the Gate, and why we need them to keep closing gates. A diplomatic mission."
Oh, I thought, as relief flooded me. I can do that.
Jauffre continued, holding out his hands now to Martin, palms up. "Lady Passero will have more luck convincing them of our plight than you or I, Sire," he said. "She is already familiar with the aristocracy of Cyrodiil, from her time spent in court. And they know her," he explained.
That doesn't sound so bad, I thought.
Martin did not seem pacified. "Do you forget that an assassin came for her in the night? That if I had not heard-?"
"I did not forget it," Jauffre cut in. "And that is why Baurus shall go with her. Now I am sorry," he added quickly, turning back to me, before Martin could fire up again. "But you must prepare to leave at once."
I nodded once to Jauffre in acknowledgement, wondering when I would next get to sleep.
"Excuse me. I shall retrieve Patch," I said wearily, walking out of the stables, heading toward the woods.
Will my quests ever end, I wondered, as I stepped around the Chapel. I glanced at the common house; now a smoking, but no longer flaming, ruin.
Perhaps there would always be something required of me, as long as Martin wasn't on the throne. Though, any purpose was better than no purpose at all, wasn't it?
And what of the Amulet? Jauffre had mentioned nothing of it. But then, I told myself reasonably, why did I need to know what the plans were for retrieving it? It had nothing to do with me, now.
Despite my placating thoughts, I felt uneasy, and in truth, a small part of me thought that Jauffre was taking advantage of the Emperor's final words. But a part of me knew that he was right; it would be easier for me to convince the other cities that the gates could be closed than it would be for a Blade, or an illegitimate heir nobody had ever heard of.
"Sarina!"
I reached the tree line that Martin and I had broken out of only perhaps an hour ago, fighting for our lives, and heard Martin calling my name. I turned back, placing my hand on one of the tree trunks to steady myself and saw him running across the courtyard.
He didn't look angry or dangerous, like he had before, but he didn't look happy either as he came to a stop in front of me.
"I will talk to Jauffre," he said, panting a little as he caught his breath. "You need some rest. He can send any of the Blades to carry out what he asks, and you will come to Cloud Ruler Temple with the rest of us."
I shook my head. "But Jauffre is right," I hated to admit it. "This is a matter that requires a diplomat, not a warrior."
"You aren't a diplomat," Martin said urgently, the line of worry back on his brow.
I smiled wryly at him. "I'm the closest thing you have to one."
I turned back to the trees and stepped into the leaf litter, moving towards the place we had left Patch, and hoping that she would still be there. It was much darker in the woods, and I had to watch where I placed my feet so I wouldn't stumble.
"Besides, it will not be so bad," I called back to Martin, then realised he was already there beside me, pushing a fern out of the way with one hand and casting a Candlelight spell in his other.
"Oh," I quietened, and smiled up at him in thanks. He flashed me a concerned look, but said nothing, so I turned back and continued picking my way around the trees and undergrowth.
"It will not be so bad," I repeated, with a sigh. "And, I am glad that I can be of some actual use," I added genuinely, as we reached the place where Patch had been tied off. The mare seemed fine; she was grazing on large chunks of leaves from a tree next to her. I was relieved. A part of me had wondered if the assassin who'd stolen Tor had killed Prior Maborel's little horse to stop us from being able to pursue him on horseback. I reached up and patted her nose, and as usual, she chose to ignore me.
I shook my head at the mare and started to untie her from the tree she'd been tethered her to, when I felt Martin's hand on my arm, turning me back to him. I let him turn me, frowning when I saw the sadness in him, and wishing I could brush it away, somehow.
"It's not safe," he pressed quietly. "What if another assassin comes for you?"
"I will have Baurus with me," I said steadily. I couldn't think of another red-robed figure creeping up on me while I slept. I wouldn't be able to function if I did.
"Baurus," Martin huffed, somewhat crossly.
I crossed my brows at him. "Baurus helped me make it out of the Tower alive," I told him. "He will be more than up to the task of escorting me from city to city, to have lunch with a bunch of nobles."
I gripped Patch's bridle and reigns, and started to move back toward the road and the Priory, but Martin's hand grabbed mine, stopping me again.
"Sarina, no, please listen," he turned me back to face him once again, his Candlelight spell extinguishing between us as he stepped closer to me.
Patch's bridle fell from my hand in the darkness and my breath caught in my throat as he leaned in. The hand not holding mine reached up to my arm, holding it securely, and I felt the warmth of Healing magic flowing from him; the spell creating a golden glow between us.
"I fear for you," Martin whispered, resting his forehead against mine. His breath was as warm as his spell. "I fear that you will be lost to Oblivion, no matter what Jauffre says," he sighed with an ache, and some desperation, in his tone.
I didn't know how to respond. My face felt hot, and my heart was beating so loudly in my chest that I was sure Martin could hear, perhaps even feel it. Despite how I trusted him, I was frightened by how close, how intimate he suddenly was, though I couldn't put words to what made me afraid. The Healing magic he gave me wove through me, draining my fatigue and easing my aches, along with a little of the fear. I reminded myself to breathe.
I was desperate to say something, the right thing, to ease his mind, and lift some of his despair.
I raised my hand to the crook of his elbow, ignoring how I shook when I did. "Martin," I whispered, easing my forehead back from his, so I could look into his eyes, so he would see I was sincere. "I want to help. This way, I can."
"Don't go into any more Gates," he squeezed my hand in his, and I shivered. "Promise me," he added, ducking down to my eye level, as the Healing spell from the hand on my arm ended. I watched Martin's face darken as the shadows of the woods crept around us again.
I couldn't promise him anything, and I couldn't lie to him, so I stayed silent. We stood like Ayleid statues, lost in the woods and unmoving, as we searched each other's eyes for answers and promises, which inevitably lead only to questions, and uncertainties.
Perhaps, as a Septim, Martin had inherited the gift of foresight from his father. Perhaps that was why he worried. Perhaps I was going to be lost to Oblivion in the future.
But as I searched his eyes I realised that I would do whatever it took to keep him safe. I charged through Oblivion for Martin, before I even knew him. I believed in him. If I was to be cast into Oblivion again and again, while the Blades searched for the Amulet and kept Martin out of harms way, then I would do it.
Roused by this revelation in me, I leaned forward, and lifted my hand to his cheek. "I promise you one thing, Martin Septim," I tried to keep my voice steady, though I was afraid, and the way Martin leaned into my touch didn't help. "I promise to return."
The sound of footfalls in the woods startled us both, and I dropped my hand from Martin's cheek as though he was made of fire, whirling around. At the same time, Martin let go of my hand.
"Lady Passero?" Baurus was calling through the trees.
I flushed and hurriedly moved to retrieve Patch for the second time, grabbing her bridle. My mother's voice reprimanded me in my mind for presuming to touch the soon-to-be Emperor so familiarly.
He is trying to warn and heal you, you stupid girl, she sneered. And you respond by turning doe-eyed, quaking and gasping like a lovelorn child, and promising oaths you are likely to break.
"If that is all the promise you can give me," Martin whispered promptly, unaware of my own thoughts berating me. "I will accept it, and hope."
I started to lead Patch toward the Priory courtyard. "Why don't you pray for me?" I asked.
Martin relit his Candlelight spell, and trailed after me. I heard him laugh a little, though it wasn't exactly in amusement. "If you believe it will help."
I glanced back at him, worrying for the mind of a priest who was losing everything, including his faith; Emperor or not. The harsh whiteness of his Candlelight spell made him look older, and more tired.
"I do, Martin," I told him, thinking that perhaps prayer would bring him some solace, if nothing else. "Pray for me?" I asked again.
"Are you there?" Baurus called unsurely.
"We are here, Baurus," Martin called out. "We had a hard time tracking down the horse," he lied, flashing me a glance. "She must have gotten spooked when the man who stole the Amulet took Tor."
He turned to me properly then, and his smile was sad and didn't reach his eyes.
But it was still a smile, as he replied in his hushed voice; "I will pray for you."
A/n: Deplaisance de la Nuit thanks for your review :) you made my day (and thanks for pointing out the Gedell/Geldall mistake, I've fixed it now). When I set out to write this I really wanted a protagonist that was useless at most things and could grow more competent during her journey, as the player character does, and also someone who had a legitimate reason to be in that particular cell. Thanks for reading/reviewing!
