*BLIND CLIFF BASTION*
THE REACH
SKYRIM
"What are we doing here?"
Tala rolled her eyes at the nearly incredulous question from Serana.
"There is someone here that I need to talk to."
Icando grunted as a thrown dagger took a charging fur-clad tribesman in the throat.
"These do not seem in a conversational mood, my queen."
Tala laughed as she blocked an arrow with her sword and then launched a fireball back at the offending archer, who pitched back, dropping her weapon as screams of agony filled the ruin's hallways.
"These are not the ones I would speak to, my friend," she answered. She pointed with a sword at the iron cage in the corner. "She is."
The huddled form in the corner of the cage moved and shakily stood to her feet, the other prisoners stepping aside to allow her through.
"And what," croaked a frail voice, "would a beauty like you want with old Melka?"
"Your sister," Tala replied, flinging the blood off her twin swords. "Petra: she has betrayed the Old Ones, and taken this tower from you."
"Traitor," the hagraven hissed, "She must die."
"I will kill her for you," Tala continued, "But I need something from you in return."
"Name it, pretty meat, and it is yours!" screeched the ancient shamaness.
"Swear it," Tala insisted.
A long talon sliced open flesh and black blood dripped onto the floor.
"Slay Petra, and return this tower to the True Forsworn, and Old Melka will grant you any boon within my power. So swears Melka, Mother Keeper of these my children."
The imprisoned Forsworn all made a fist and clasped it over their chests, murmuring "Witnessed" in union.
"Open the cages," Tala ordered, then turned back to the prisoners. "Arm yourselves, those who are able, or else follow after us, and collect the weapons of the fallen."
The gate opened, and the freed Forsworn scurried over to their former guards, snatching up swords, axes, daggers and bows.
"That featherless bitch will be at the Sanctum at the top of the tower," Melka hissed. "Wring her neck, pluck her eyes!"
"Then that is where we must go," Tala nodded, "Do you keep behind me, old mother, and together we will pluck the traitor."
A rasping chortling laughter answered, and the party, vampires and Forsworn alike, set off up the winding staircase until they came to an iron door.
"There is a hidden lever to open," Melka explained, as two of her Forsworn both attempted to shove the door open with wide and brawny shoulders.
"Stand aside!" Tala yelled, and aimed a vicious kick at the center lock. The metal buckled and broke, the two doors swinging open. There was a murmur of admiration and wonder from the assembled tribesmen.
"Follow!"
The staircase wound up and up, until a final iron door stood between them and the Great Chamber of Blind Cliff Bastion. Another kick, and the heavy doors were flung opened, and Tala/Potema's party poured into the room.
"PETRA, you traitorous grouse!" screeched Melka, "Time to DIE!"
A harsh screech answered, and another hagraven rose from the ancient altar set up on the far side of the room. A fire blazed in her empty palm, and a massive fireball arched towards the woman at the head of the room's invaders. Just before it struck the woman, the magic attack dissipated entirely, without shield or ward wall. The woman's eyes turned bright blue and a piercing laugh filled the room. A blur went through the air, and the traitor hagraven was suddenly flung back, the short sword pinning her to the wall. Petra's supporters gave wailing cries, and flung themselves forward, determined to die with their Keeper.
They were obliged. Icando's throwing daggers found their targets, and Serana dropped a limp body, blood dribbling down her neck. Melka strode over to the still-quivering corpse of her sister, and then tore into her body with talons and teeth alike. Feathers, blood, and bone went flying as the body fell to the floor. Tala walked up next to her, reaching up to pull her sword free of the wooden beam.
"Melka remembers her oath," the hagraven wheezed. "What would you have of me, pretty?"
"Invite the rest of the Hagravens here," Tala said without hesitation, "Or I will meet them wherever they desire."
"For what purpose?" asked one of the Forsworn.
Potema turned to the speaker, and smiled.
"I would lead them to war. To reclaim the Reach from those who stole it from them."
There was a murmur of dissent from the armed tribesmen in the room. Melka chuckled as she sharpened her talons against one another.
"The Forsworn will never submit to the rule of a Nord, even one so well known as the Wolf Queen."
"BITCH, do I LOOK like a Nord?"
The blue eyes were gone, and the emerald sheen of Tala's eyes burned brightly.
"The Wolf-queen is a WEAPON, like the claws of your hands, or the dagger in my belt. The Nords fear her, and by proxy they will fear us, and they will fear ME. I BOUND her to ME. And her power is MINE."
Melka cocked her head at an odd angle, looking the young girl up and down.
"You are no Redguard, you are no Breton, you are no Nord. Who are you, girl? Look deep into old Melka's eyes, if you dare. Look, and I will look upon thee."
NO. Don't do it!
I don't give a single fuck for some hag's witch-powers.
Potema cringed and withdrew as Tala met the Hagraven's gaze. The eyes were black, and fathomless, and seemed to swallow the light from the flickering torches. Icando shifted uncomfortably. Even valiant warriors had been driven mad by a Hagraven's gaze. But instead, there was a flicker of fear and disbelief in the crone's eyes.
"NO!" she shrieked, "It is not possible. YOU CANNOT BE HERE!
The green eyes smiled, and Tala's smile seemed to grow cold and hard, while remaining utterly mirthless.
"And yet… HERE I AM."
Melka took two steps back, tripping over the arm of the late Petra. She fell to the ground, trying to crawl backwards away from the swordswoman.
"Look away, Woodland Man!" came the frightened plea. "Look away, I beg thee!"
The Forsworn looked from their Keeper back to Tala, some of them gripping their blades, but all of them hesitating from interfering with whoever it was that had brought their Keeper to her knees.
Finally, Tala blinked, breaking eye contact with the Raven Mother. The Hagraven threw herself forward, and prostrated herself on the floor, the rest of the Forsworn following her example. Tala looked around the room, and then back towards the bowing figure.
"Send your messengers, Melka."
Melka stood to her feet and nodded. Several of the fur-clad figures darted from the room, bound for various camps and hideouts of the Forsworn.
"My lady," Icando murmured, approaching his queen. "Day approaches. If we do not wish to spend it here, we must move quickly to rejoin Movarth and Nestor."
"Don't worry, general," Potema answered, but placing a reassuring hand on the Dunmer's shoulder. "They will have secured their objective by now."
*SANUARACH MINE*
KATHWASTEN
THE REACH
SKYRIM
Serana leaned against the wall as the wooden doors were barred from the inside, keeping out the breaking light of dawn just creeping over the distant mountains. She looked around at the various vampires who filled the underground space, taking their rest. Several of them were still feeding on the Silver-Blood mercenaries who had been tasked with defending the town.
"Vampires and Werewolves…" she marveled, shaking her head at the irony, "hiding in a silver mine."
Skoberth Black-Song appeared next to her, passing her a goblet of blood.
"This is the very last place they will even think to look," the former bard said.
"Then why did the Queen allow the miners to go free?" Serana asked. "They will bring the local king's…"
"Jarl's," corrected Skoberth.
"...soldiers down on us," Serana continued, but nodding to acknowledge the correction. The big Nord had given her several volumes entitled 'A Brief History of the Empire,' which she had perused in her spare time. It wasn't much, but it had helped her get a better grasp on the politics of this world.
"The miners were released because they were told to tell the Jarl that the Forsworn had attacked Karthwasten," explained Skoberth. "And the Jarl and the others will readily believe it. Yes, soldiers will be sent, but only enough to drive off a Forsworn raiding party. Between those gathered here and in Fenn's Gulch Mine just across the way, they'll be hopelessly outnumbered. And our little army will grow apace."
"Or at least be fed apace," Serana shrugged, looking at the scene around her.
"Our queen is wise," Skoberth nodded, "Either way, we profit by it."
"Which queen do you mean?" Serana asked shrewdly. "Tala, or Potema?"
"Yes," the Nordic bard answered non-committedly, grinning.
"Skoberth! Lady Serana!" Elfridda called, coming around the corner. "Oh, there you are."
"What news?" Skoberth asked, rising to his feet.
"The Queen has requested your presence. Her Council gathers below."
Serana sighed, but followed the other two down to a table near the bottom of the mine, around which were gathered Tala and the vampire coven leaders: Movarth, Icando Damn-Rune, and Nestor Constantius. Also present was Helmmir War-Raed, the leader of the army's werewolves. The giant Nord wore a loincloth and nothing else.
Probably the easiest when shifting back and forth, thought Serana. Her father's coven summoned hellhounds to support their efforts. She had had little contact with werewolves before her long slumber. Helmmir was pointing out positions on the map.
"My wolves have another Standing Stone, Milady," he reported. "The Lover Stone stands here, east of Markarth and north of Kolskeggr Mine."
"That might be useful for you, my queen," Icando cut in. "Per the ancient texts, it has been known to grant wisdom to the travelers who claim its blessings."
"After seeing what you did to the Lord's Stone, my queen," Movarth shook his head, "Who knows what would be its effect on you?"
"I say without fear of flattery, that those were my most powerful spells, your Majesty," Nestor said, bowing slightly. "They reverberated off you without your even thinking of it. I have never seen anything like it."
"Not even the Dragonborn has such an effect on the Standing Stones," Skoberth added as they approached the table.
Tala held up her hand, and her eyes shifted from their usual emerald to icy blue-white. "We will investigate them all in due time, but that is not the reason I have called you together. But we do thank you for your diligence, my Lord Wolf."
Helmmir beamed and bowed low.
"You two! You may approach."
Two vampires, a man and a woman, arose from the bench where they had been sitting, and took two paces forward, then took a knee. They were not dressed as the other vampires of the various covens that had joined them, nor were they even armed, as far as Serana could see.
"Your names?" Potema asked, stepping forward.
"My lady," the male said, raising his head only slightly. "I am Hern, of Half-Moon Mill, in Falkreath. This is my wife, Hert."
The female also raised her head, but only slightly.
"You are both Volkihar vampires, by the look of you," Potema observed.
Serana arched her eyebrows. Now that she took another look, she did notice that they had the grey-green skin of the vampires in her father's coven, and the pure red eyes as well. But she didn't recognize either of them. Not that she would've: she doubted any of the old coven were still alive, given how quick the inter-coven political turnover was, even in her time.
"Yes, my lady," Hern acknowledged, "My maker was Orthjolf of the Volkihar coven, but I… left their company, long ago."
"They betrayed him, and left him to die!" snarled Hert, but her husband gave her a look that silenced her.
"And why do you come before me, Hert and Hern Half-Moon?" asked Potema.
"We bring word from Jarl Vighar," Hern informed her, "of the Bloodlet Throne Coven."
Potema's eyes widened, and her brows raised.
"Vighar was one of my generals, in the War of the Red Diamond," she said. "I am pleased beyond words to learn he still lives!"
"He is our master, and we bear his message, my queen," Hert replied graciously.
"What message?" Icando asked impatiently.
"He desires to know where and when you would command his sword, as you did of old," replied Hern. "He can bring twenty blades, even to the Underworld, if need be."
The other vampires murmured in surprise. Skoberth leaned over to Serana.
"Vighar hasn't moved out of his coven in almost three centuries," he explained. "He has answered to no one, not even your father."
"And yet he comes even before his mistress calls," Serana mused. "Intriguing."
Such was the charisma and power of the Wolf Queen. But even more than that, Serana was curious about the young woman to whom she was bound. Who was this Tala, that even ancient hagravens bowed in fear and shock at her feet? She said she was neither Redguard, Breton, Imperial, or Nord.
So, where did she come from?
Author's Note:
Well, more developments on the side of Tala/Potema and their Army of the Outcast. Hope you guys enjoy it, but let me know what you think! Any review, even if it's just "Good Job, I liked it," is appreciated!
Also, i realize didn't respond to everyone's review of Chapter 7, but from here on out, I'll do my best to answer them below!
Thanks, everyone!
-Tusken1602
Reviewer Responses:
Malhavoc Shadowlord - Thanks! Glad to be back! I love this story because there's so many possibilities in Skyrim for somebody who doesn't mind being a bit of a baddie... :P So yes, it will be really interesting to see the Soul Cairn and how that is handled. I will say though, that I don't intend on her interfering with the Solstheim "Dragonborn" storyline. That's why the Dragonborn is not in Skyrim currently (which suits our SI/OC fine), so Tala intends on making the most of the Dragonborn's absence.
As for the Daedra... well, they are the Daedra: Who knows?
LordCanadian - Thanks! I hope to!
JimmyHall24 - You go right ahead, my friend! ;) I make no promises.
griezz - Potema is overconfident, and that arrogance does make her lazy. And don't worry: We will be diverting from canon-Dawnguard pretty considerably!
Rock ON!
