Part Two

Chapter 9

Cold Atmora

The ship bopped up and down, waves crashed into its side and water washed all over the deck. In the hull, Tiawyn's face was green and her stomach turned at every smooth motion of the vessel on the open sea.

Her Arch Mage's robes were long abandoned in Whiterun and she had donned her fur attire since boarding the Sea Squall. The young sea captain suggested some elixirs that should calm her stomach, but none worked.

The door opened and Karliah slipped inside on the wet floorboards. She looked at Tiwayn, an amused smile on her face. "Don't go out there." Her clothes were soaking and water dripped from the lock of her dark hair hanging over her face.

She pulled off her fur coat, flopping it down onto the floor close to the stove that warmed the room. One by one, she removed her clothing and changed into old breeches and a lined shirt. From the other side of the room, Tiawyn observed her toned body and the white scars that stood out against her blue skin.

Karliah knelt in front oof the stove, squeezing the rain out of her hair. "How are you feeling?"

"That last one made me worse," the Bosmer replied, grabbingg a bucket and retching into it. She felt a hand rub her back and her locks were pulled out of her face.

"If it's any better, we'll be arriving at Atmora in five hours," the Dunmer said, sitting beside her. Tiawyn looked up with a dim smile.

"Great."

Exactly as she predicted, the Sea Squall docked at a harbour once used by the ancient Nords. It took them another seventy minutes to tie the boat down due to the rough seas and freezing weather. Arí and Vilkas had bought sledge and packed their equipment onto the six. Everyone had their fur gear on, hoods were up and gloves on tightly.

"We'll walk seven miles north west. There's a city there, according to my map, and we'll make camp there for night. I don't want to be walking around like a headless chicken in a strange place," Arí said, his voice muffled by his fur mask. No one argued and no one turned back.

The Dragonborn lead the party, followed by Vilkas, Karliah, Tiawyn, Nazir and then Delphine at the back. A bone-chilling wind crept up on them and everyone was gareful the old Blade brought a few dozen potions for resisting the cold.

They walked what seemed like hours, dragging their heavy loads behind them, and a few hours later, they arrived at the ruins of the old city.

"What now, Arí? How do we reach the Elves island? Do we swim?" Nazir asked when they settled down for the night.

"Swim? No, the sea will be frozen. I thought we could walk."

"Are you certain the sea is frozen?" Karliah asked, helping Delphine with the warm broth.

"Were you not there when the Sea Squall's crew were having trouble driving the boat through the ice, as thin as it was?" the Bosmer replied. She was still a bit green.

"You were below deck the whole time," the Nightingale countered. The two Elves looked at each other, both pairs of eye locked in each other.

"If looks could kill," murmured Arí and he quickly dozed off, dreaming of Sovengarde.

Eorlund was tired. These Elves had him working from dawn to dusk. He missed the Skyforge, he missed his wife and children and he missed home. The queen visited his chamber (or his prison, as he liked to call it) daily at the hour before sundown.

He stood by the Elven forge, dazed in his thoughts. The forge was very alien to him, it was shaped differently than the forges back home and needed no fuel. He reluclantly asked a servant how the flames remained alive and hot.

"Oh, the same source that heats our pool," the young Elf replied and returned to his duties.

For most of his days there, Eorlund wandered around the mountain. He grew bored of smithing and began learning the Falmer language. There was nothing to do as it seemed to him, there was no ale or mead, the Elves had strange music and they had no desire for brawling. Learning their language was a distraction for him, and the old Nord picked it up quickly, to his amazement.

"Eorlund!" Aranel said as she entered the room. Her silver hair was tied in a fashionly bun, and she wore a blue dress that fitted nicely on her narrow waist. She smiled warmly at him.

"My lady," he said, bowing. It was done automatically, after being beating by the guards outof sight for not showing the woman not one bit of respect.

"How are you today?" Her bright eyes gazed down to his attire. "And I see you've donned the robes I had sent for."

"Aye, they keep in the warmth."

"Aye," she repeated, growing accustomed to its meaning. The blacksmith showed her the armour he forged prior, explaining how it was to be put on and how the straps were to be tied. She listened intently, fiddling with her rings.

"You've done me an excellent service, Eorlund. I can assure you there'll be riches beyond your imagination waiting for you when you return home. However, I have one small task."

"Another?" He felt like a child, disappointed.

"Just a small one, I promise. I've three blacksmiths. All willing and able to learn our craft from you. That's all you have to do, Eorlund. Teach these three and they will teach another three, and so on-"

A messanger arrived at the door, interrupting Aranel and she casted her a glare.

"What?" she snapped.

"Forgive me, milady, but I bring an urgent message from Lord Faeron," the messanger said, stumbling out the words. The queen's face relaxed from her frown.

"Speak quickly then."

"Assassins, milady, are coming from tthe south. His lordship's spies say they come to kill you and all our race."

Aranel dismissed her, observing the startling news. She sat on a chair, eyes lost in concern. "It was too early to bring you here, Eorlund. I've cost the lives of my people..."

Tiawyn's legs sunk deep into the snow, some slipping into her boots. She glimpsed back at Nazir and Karliah at the end of their trail, and then forward at Vilkas, Delphine and Arí ahead. How she longed for some wine!

It was their third day on the plains of Atmora, the weather was getting worse and the temperature was dropping the further they went north. There was another two days march left on this continent.

"We're walking over a chasm now!" Arí yelled, "Step where I step and even out your weight!"

They trended across the thin ice, as slow as snails, and when the Dragonborn shouted that he reached solid ground, that was their first mistake. In their eagerness to dangerouss chasm behind them, they rushed forward and forgot all concentration of balancing their weight.

The Wood Elf was ever so grateful as she joined the first three on the safe ground, she even smiled at Vilkas. Then, there was a loud crack behind her and Tiawyn was pulled and landed back onto the ice. She screamed as she supported the weight of Nazir, Karliah and their two sledges.

"Don't move, Tiawyn!" the Companion exclaimed as he grabbed the rope and began hauling her to him. They both hesistated as they heard the ice beginning to give beneath her.

"Help!" Karliah's voice came from the pit. Vilkas and Tiawyn shared an anxious look and he continued pulling.

But, the ice gave.

She let out a yelp as she fell and screamed in pain as Vilkas swung her into the rock-face. Arí and Delphine only realised what was happening then. They ran forward, leaving their gear behind, and began helping Vilkas heave them up.

The rope snapped, one string at a time, and Tiawyn was just in arm's reach when the last cord broke.

But, she fell into the void.