A/N: OK, apon leaving for my holiday two weeks ago, I had 31 reviews... I came back, and I still had 31 reviews despite a lot of hits. If you're going to read this, it's only a few minutes of your life to write a simple review. Anyhow...
Underpaid Critic: You can be sure that there'll be quite a few battles in this story before it's end; at the very least, the Battle of Bruma won't be the pokey affair that it was ingame. You mention that Gorgoth, as a spellsword, needs to be using illusion more, but don't mistake 'spellsword' for his generic class in Oblivion ingame. He'd need a custom class at the very least... spellsword is merely his occupation back in Orsinium to make a living. And while we're here, Gorgoth uses every single kind of magic he has at his disposal, even necromancy, when needed, so don't worry about him underusing a school of magic.
Anyhow, enough of my blathering.
Chapter Ten: Fighting Spirit
Ilend swore at the pain in his back. None of the many wounds he'd taken since entering Oblivion were fatal – most of them were bad bruises or gashes – but that didn't stop them hurting. The trail of dead daedra the vengeful guardsman had left in his wake was small consolation. He'd been forced to turn back. Ilend knew that, in his condition, he wasn't about to be able to get into that tower any time soon, not against an entire army of daedra. Every step he took back to the gate tore at him. He knew he was leaving Menien to a horrible fate; he'd seen the Imperial, still alive, being carried along one of the bridges leading from tower to tower earlier. Ilend simply gritted his teeth and refused to think about his comrade.
The Imperial angrily kicked a rock into the lava as he walked past the bridge, averting his eyes from his dead companions, still sprawled on the black rock. They had stood no chance. At least there had been little opposition on his return journey; he'd already killed most of the daedra posted to this section, their bodies rotting in the heat as he walked past. The guardsmen felt lucky that both his sword and shield had survived the numerous encounters; his shield was blackened from blocking fireballs and was deeply pitted from blocking attacks, while his low-quality silver longsword had chips from hacking at daedric plate and tough bone.
Activity near the Oblivion Gate caught Ilend's attention. Fresh daedra had obviously found an alternate way to the gate, but they were being killed with apparent ease by two figures who most certainly weren't daedra. Ilend closed his eyes and pinched himself to check if he had succumbed to exhaustion and was dreaming. When he opened his eyes, they were still there, with fresh corpses of daedra littering the ground. Deciding that he wasn't dreaming, Ilend approached them warily, sword drawn; it was never good to let your guard down in Oblivion.
Approaching the two, he noted that they couldn't be more different. One was a massive Orc, clad in full steel plate armour, his right hand gripping an enormous silver-worked mace. A pair of war braids hung to his waist, and a snarl was firmly planted on his face as he kicked a Dremora in the ribs, checking to see if it was dead. His companion was a Bosmer, barely reaching his chest. Unlike the Orc, who could be described, at best, as rugged, this Wood Elf could quite easily be described as beautiful; auburn hair framed a near-perfect face, the rest hanging to her waist in a ponytail. Her leather armour not only allowed complete freedom of movement, but also managed to be tight-fitting enough to show her considerable curves. However, Ilend looked past that and noted that she was likely to be an effective warrior; the arrow she had nocked in her composite bow and the readily available shortswords in her belt conformed that.
Deciding not to waste time, Ilend jogged up to the oddly matched duo. "It's good to see something that isn't daedric," he remarked as way of greeting.
"Savlian mentioned that he sent some of his men in," replied the Orc, his voice a deep, low rumble. "Are you all that's left?"
Ilend grimaced. "Most of the squad was trapped on that bridge and picked off," he muttered, indicating the mentioned bridge with a wave of his hand. "They captured one of us and took him to one of the towers." A flicker of hope sparked in Ilend; with these two helping him, he'd be able to rescue Menien. He wasn't about to let the old man rot in Oblivion.
The Orc snorted. "That bridge was obvious; you should have known it would lead to an ambush." His voice hadn't changed, and while Ilend was resentful of having the Guard's mistake pointed out, the Orsimer did have a point; they'd been too quick to rush in, without thinking.
"Hey, big guy? The sooner we get out of here, the better." The Bosmer's voice was just as Ilend had expected; sultry and somewhat flippant, despite the situation.
"You're right," replied the Orc. "I'm Gorgoth gro-Kharz, and this is Aerin. You with us, guardsman? We could use an extra blade."
"I'm Ilend Vonius, Watch Sergeant of the Kvatch Town Guard," reported Ilend. "I'd like nothing better than to shove this Gate up some Dremora's arse, but I'm not leaving until we've got Menien Goneld out of here. He's in one of the towers." The Imperial had his jaw set stubbornly, ready to argue, but Gorgoth merely nodded.
"Leave no man behind," he muttered, placing a hand on Ilend's head. The cool blue light of healing magicka engulfed the Imperial. He felt his exhaustion fade away, and his bruises heal. As the Orc withdrew his hand, Ilend looked up him curiously. The guard was a tall man, but Gorgoth was at least a head taller.
"That spell didn't feel like any healing magic I've felt before," said Ilend, a questioning tone in his voice.
"I added a few protective magics into the mix," replied the Orc, gripping his mace firmly and wiping some daedric blood off it. "Come on, let's move."
The three of them moved down the path that Ilend had taken earlier, Aerin nodding in admiration at the corpses the Imperial had left behind. "Not bad for a lone guardsman without a bow or magic," she commented, seemingly looking at him in a new light. She'd probably classified all guards as generic and rigid beforehand; good to see that he was changing perspectives for the better.
"You can do a lot with a sword, shield, and a bit of skill," rasped Ilend in response, his voice growing hoarse. His throat was dry and parched; his water had ran out a long time ago.
"A bit?" rumbled Gorgoth, looking down at a daedroth. "These slashes speak of the work of an expert swordsman." The Orc looked back at Ilend. "Seems like you can hold your own in Oblivion, at least," he grunted. "Give me your canteen." Ilend wordlessly unclipped his empty canteen from his sword belt and watched as Gorgoth refilled it using magical fire to melt magically created ice. Retrieving the bottle, Ilend took a few gulps, felt the cold water trickle down his throat, and sighed in relief.
"Two Dremora up ahead," announced Aerin casually. There were indeed two Dremora, a warrior and a mage, about fifty paces up the path, looking down at one of their dead brethren, killed by Ilend earlier. Ilend looked at Gorgoth in surprise as the Orc walked towards them, seemingly without a care in the world. Aerin simply shrugged. "He does that sometimes," she informed the Imperial.
The Dremora looked up at the sound of the Orc's boots crunching on the earth. The mage snarled and sent a fireball at Gorgoth. It impacted squarely on his chest, but had no visible effect. Ilend moved up, ready to support Gorgoth, but he doubted that he'd be needed. The Dremora warrior reached the Orc and thrust his longsword at Gorgoth's gut. The warrior-shaman parried the blow, putting the Dremora off balance, and bringing his mace crashing down on his skull. The body had barely dropped to the ground when Gorgoth looked up and sent a fireball the size of a horse at the mage. The Dremora barely had time to widen his eyes before he was vaporised.
"We could have used a few spellswords like you in the Kvatch Guard," murmured Ilend as he poked the warrior's body with his foot. Gorgoth merely grunted, but Aerin snorted.
"Please! Can ya imagine someone like him in uniform?" she asked, rolling her eyes at Ilend's wolfshead-embossed surcoat. "You're meant ta help the citizens, not glower down at them and prattle on about reducing weaknesses and people helping themselves." She sniggered and nudged Gorgoth in the ribs. The Orc completely ignored her, paying more attention to his surroundings than the enthusiastic Bosmer that barely reached his chest.
"How did you two end up working together?" asked Ilend, shaking his head in disbelief and keeping a lookout for daedra. Their pairing seemed odder and odder by the minute; he doubted he'd ever be able to understand it. They seemed opposites in personality as well as appearance; the Orc stoic and controlled, while Aerin seemed carefree and willing to let her emotions run wild.
"It's really quite simple," replied Aerin, flashing a toothy grin at him. "I was bored with my easy existence in the Imperial City, so when big guy here came along with what promised ta be an epic quest, I was hooked and managed ta get him ta take me along." She rubbed her chin. "That was about a week ago, give or take a few days. He's a good enough mate once ya get used ta his, ya know, emotional armour." The Wood Elf giggled and looked at Gorgoth sideways. He seemed to be paying absolutely no attention to their conversation, merely keeping a lookout as they continued down the path.
"Epic quest?" asked Ilend, frowning.
"It's a long story. You'd be better off asking Gorgoth."
Gorgoth grunted. "She describes it like I'm some dashing knight saving the world," he growled.
"Well, you are saving the world, ain't ya, big guy?" purred Aerin.
The Orc frowned down at her. "There's nothing dashing or knightly about me, Aerin," he rumbled. "If you knew of some of the things I've done, you'd probably want to get as far away as possible." He seemed to be looking inwards at something unpleasant. Ilend realised that while the Orc seemed young, in his early thirties at most, he had the eyes of a wise old man who'd seen much of the world. Gorgoth sighed and went back to surveying their surroundings. "But you're right. Some small part of the quest to save this land seems to have fallen to me. When your destiny arrives, it is best to grasp it with both hands and go forward with confidence."
"Sage advice, Orc, but I'd rather know what's going on here," muttered Ilend irritably. He was here to rescue Menien and close the damn Oblivion Gate, not hear a lecture about destiny.
"The Emperor is dead. The Dragonfires are dark," replied Gorgoth. "Tamriel is open to invasion by Mehrunes Dagon. The physical proof is right here." The Orc waved an arm at the plane of Oblivion they were trespassing in. "The Emperor, before his death, told me how to prevent it. He has an illegitimate heir, living in Kvatch. He needs to light the Dragonfires so the magical barrier will prevent this from happening again."
Ilend scratched his chin, deep in thought. His knowledge of the Dragonfires and Oblivion was only sketchy – he was no mage – but what Gorgoth was saying about the heir rang a bell. The red-robed agents had mentioned 'Uriel's bastard' when they were watching the Chapel. "Who is the heir?" he asked, already fairly certain of the answer. When Gorgoth looked at him, obviously seeking a reason for imparting such information, he added: "I know Kvatch and its people. I can help you find him, if he's still alive."
The warrior-shaman nodded. "His name is Martin," he grunted. "Apparently, he's a priest at the Chapel of Akatosh. You know him?"
"I overheard some enemy agents discussing 'Uriel's bastard' when they were watching the chapel," explained Ilend.
Gorgoth grunted. "Scouting him out," he mused, shuffling back rapidly as a miniature avalanche threatened to sweep them into the lava.
"It seems that everything is Oblivion is trying ta kill us," observed Aerin as she clambered over the fallen rocks. "Daedra, plants, and now rocks. Charming." She made an obscene gesture at the massive tower looming in the distance.
"Stay focused, Aerin," growled Gorgoth. "This is Oblivion, not a few bandits prodding us with sharp sticks. Letting your guard down, even for a second, is-"
"Weakness, I know, I know," sighed Aerin, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "I don't need a lecture, big guy. What I do need is a way out of here before I start boiling." Sweat was trickling down her face in streams; Ilend guessed that it was forming rivers under her armour, judging by the several damp patches. "Say, big guy, why don't ya just levitate up ta that tower and be done with it, instead of tramping around in this maze?" Ilend raised an eyebrow; knowledge of levitation magic was rare, having not being taught in over ten years following the Levitation Act of 421.
Gorgoth grunted. "I tried," he replied. "It was like attempting to levitate into a bog. The air seemed to close in to resist my passage. It seems that Dagon doesn't like levitation in his realm." The Orc looked up at the tower. "There's also a limit to how high I can jump," he muttered.
They'd stopped at a fork in the road. One led to one of the smaller towers, while the other, larger path seemed to lead a winding route to the main tower. Ilend immediately started off towards the smaller tower. "I'm not leaving Menien in their clutches for another second," he growled to Gorgoth.
"Thought you might," replied Gorgoth. "Aerin, go with him," he said to the Bosmer. When she hesitated, he turned his gaze on her. "I'll meet up with you later. You think I can't handle myself?" The Bosmer shook her head and scurried off to catch up with Ilend.
The Imperial grunted as she fell in beside him, arrow nocked, but he was comforted by her presence. It would be good to have someone to watch his back. He'd learnt the hard way how dangerous Oblivion was.
Most normal mortals would have found the resistance stiff on the approaches to the giant tower, but Gorgoth simply scythed through the daedric lines, leaving broken, bleeding bodies behind him. When confronted with a giant fire blocking his path, the Orc merely increased his resistance to heat and fire and calmly walked through. Crunching his way over the parched earth to the massive obsidian door, Gorgoth was already working out ways to open it, expecting it to be a complex process, and so was pleasantly surprised when it simply opened to his touch, levers and chains clanking to swing the colossal doors open.
Gorgoth's eyes were instantly drawn to the massive column of liquid fire spearing up into the tower's upper reaches and out of sight. Even in his position from the doorway, he could feel the immense amount of magicka running through the beam, and instantly knew that it had something to do with the Sigil Stone. Deducing that it had to be at the top of the tower, the Orc looked for a way up.
Two Dremora seemed to object to his presence, both drawing maces and running towards the Orc from different directions. Gorgoth moved swiftly to meet one, parrying his swing and kicking him into the barrier separating the rest of the tower from the liquid fire. The Dremora scrambled to his feet, but Gorgoth was faster. The Orc spun and delivered a fierce roundhouse kick to the Dremora's gut. He was lifted off his feet and deposited in the boiling cauldron of the liquid fire. The Dremora didn't last a second.
Gorgoth was already turning to the other one, who threw a small fireball ahead of him. The Orc thrust out his left hand and reflected the fireball back at the Dremora. It impacted on his cuirass, causing little real damage but shocking the Dremora enough for Gorgoth to step forward and smash his skull in. Cleaning the blood and brains off his mace head, Gorgoth located a set of stairs leading up and started jogging his way up towards the Sigil Stone.
The black obsidian walls let in no light from outside, but the tunnels seemed to be lit by the omnipresent light that permeated the Realm. The bleakness of his surroundings gave Gorgoth time to think as he jogged upwards. He'd naturally welcomed the addition of the blade of the guardsman, and he'd quickly established that Ilend Vonius had a good head on his shoulders. The Imperial was also very good with a blade, and to survive for that long alone in Oblivion spoke of a good warrior. Not only that, but his knowledge of the city could prove useful if they had to comb the wreckage for Martin. It was a stroke of good fortune that he hadn't perished with his comrades.
Gorgoth was also wondering about what would happen when they eventually got Martin back to safety. He guessed that he'd use the Amulet of Kings to relight the Dragonfires, repair the barriers, and be crowned Emperor. What happened after that wouldn't be of Gorgoth's concern; the Emperor would have the Blades to protect him, and Gorgoth's part in the tale would be over. He'd be set adrift in a foreign land, with no intention of returning home, yet just as lacking as he had been in Orsinium. The Orc's work as a freelance spellsword brought in the money, but it was unfulfilling. It had been a long time since Gorgoth had found a cause worth fighting for; he was beginning to think that his current situation was worth it, but it would probably be over shortly.
The warrior-shaman growled and shook himself out of his reverie. He needed to concentrate on the present, not the future, or there might not be a future for Tamriel. Coming to a door, similar to the massive front door to the tower but smaller, her pushed it open and stepped into a small room, seemingly containing nothing but four pillars and sharp objects. Apparently, Dagon liked to trap his own minions, judging by the decayed body of a scamp lying near a set of suspicious-looking holes in the wall. Gorgoth was prevented from mulling this over by the appearance of a Seducer. She flung a poisonous-looking cocktail of spells at him, which the Orc quickly absorbed. Turning her own magicka against her, the warrior-shaman sent lightning coursing through her body, crackling as it lit up the room, making the daedra's body convulse as the Seducer gave up the ghost.
Letting his dead enemy drop to the floor, Gorgoth looked around for a further passage. There were several, most leading deeper into the tower; undoubtedly leading to living quarters or something of the sort. The Orc followed the path going up, dispatching various daedra, who had obviously been alerted to his presence by the numerous bodies he had left strewn about the tower; with the many small passageways, it would have been easy to slip past the Orc and get a warning to the other daedra. It made no difference; the daedra made no difference to Gorgoth's ascent, save for momentarily slowing it.
As the Orc continued his path up the tower towards the Sigil Stone, the daedra thrown into his path seemed to get stronger and stronger, but they might as well have been pebbles in the road for all they slowed Gorgoth. However, one thing stopped him dead in his tracks, and that was a locked door. His normally strong Alteration magic was doing nothing, and he couldn't see any way to force the door. Torturing the method of moving forward out of a defeated Dremora was an attractive proposition, but impossible; the only Dremora anywhere near Gorgoth were no longer breathing. The Orc growled and looked around for alternate routes.
The howl of the Clannfear turned into a gurgle as Ilend cut its throat open. He turned, sword and surcoat covered in blood, to find Aerin slicing a scamp's chest open, her two shortswords leaving a deep cross-shaped cut on the daedra's chest. Ilend nodded in appreciation. "Very artistic," he observed. The Bosmer favoured him with a smile as she slipped her swords back into her sheathes; she'd obviously prefer to use Trueshot, but the cramped confines of the tower made using a bow impractical.
"So, what do ya reckon?" asked Aerin, looking around at the grim obsidian inside of the tower, now decorated in places with daedric blood. They were on the bottom level, with no clear way to reach the top. The room's sole feature was a platform of sorts with wicked-looking red spikes poking up through holes. The crimson splattering over the platform indicated that many living things had been skewered in the past.
"I can't see an obvious way up," muttered Ilend distractedly. He was examining an odd mechanism attached to a lever on the platform. Shoving a dead Clannfear out of the way with his foot, he gave the lever an experimental tug towards him. To his surprise, a mechanical clanking sounded deep in the bowels of the tower, and the platform shuddered, as though a great force was acting apon it. Recognition flared in Ilend's eyes, and he spun back to Aerin.
"Get on," he shouted over the clanking. When she gestured at the spikes with a bewildered expression, he merely grabbed her and roughly hauled her onto the platform, finding a safe place with his back against the main central spike. With a groan and a shudder that made Ilend's chainmail clank, the platform started to judder its way upwards. Ilend, still holding on tight to Aerin, his arms long enough to almost wrap around her waist twice, exchanged glances with the Bosmer. Trueshot was digging into his chest.
"Ya can let go of me now," she muttered. "We Bosmer are fairly good with heights." Ilend released her, somewhat awkwardly, and she made her way to the edge of the platform, looking up. The Imperial imitated her, scanning the quickly approaching ledge for any enemies. Two Dremora were scowling down at them with swords drawn, but Aerin soon sent them tumbling down the shaft with arrows piercing their armour. One landed in the middle of a spike right next to Ilend, spraying his chainmail with blood, while the other bounced off the edge of the platform and crashed to the floor below.
The platform ground to a halt, the sudden cease of the juddering motion throwing Ilend and Aerin off balance momentarily. Slinging Trueshot onto her back, the Bosmer whipped out her twin shortswords and launched herself at another Dremora, who fell back, struggling contain this small manifestation of furious energy. A daedroth raised its claws, ready to tear Aerin's back open, but Ilend got there first, smashing his shield into the daedroth's gaping maw. As the steel sliced through gum and bone, Ilend ignored the beast's howling and flailing and delivered a thrust to the chest. The massive crocodile-headed daedra fell over sideways, crushing an unfortunate scamp.
Aerin's shortswords, while both elegant and deadly, didn't have the power to penetrate the daedric plate armour covering the Dremora, and he was good at covering his weak spots. The armoured daedra was slowly backing her into a corner, until Ilend walked up behind him and decapitated him, finding a gap in the armour from the helmet to the cuirass. The helmeted head bounced on the floor and fell down one of the holes in the platform. Ilend smirked at the thought of the next visitor finding the Dremora's head glaring at them from atop a sharp stake.
"You hear that?" asked Aerin, cocking her head to one side and frowning. Ilend looked at her curiously and strained his ears. While they weren't as sensitive as a mer's, he heard the next yell from further up the tower quite clearly. No daedra would have that voice.
"Menien," he grunted, sprinting over to the stone spiral ramp and looking up. It was a long way to the top of the tower. The Imperial cursed and started running, Aerin keeping pace just behind him. A Clannfear stood in their way, but was smashed aside by Ilend without mercy. It fell squawking down the shaft and was impaled on the main platform spike, squirming around for a few minutes before succumbing to death. The two mortals had long since moved on.
A Dremora roared in either anger or fear as Ilend pushed it down the shaft, the Imperial silently thanking the tower's constructors for making the ramps so thin. Menien's voice was growing clearer at every step; it was as though he was talking to someone. It was hard for Ilend to move quickly and keep his balance while wearing heavy chainmail and the bulky Kvatch surcoat, but he didn't want to waste any time; if Menien was being tortured, he wasn't about to sit back and let it happen.
Ilend stepped out onto the top level of the tower. It was largely barren, save for a cage hanging over the middle of a glass platform placed directly over the shaft. Menien was in the cage, bloody and covered in bruises, but glaring defiantly at the helmetless Dremora interrogating him. The Dremora turned its orange eyes, full of malice, apon Ilend as the Imperial stepped forward in a combat stance, Aerin a few feet behind him. The Dremora slowly drew his longsword, eyes never drifting from Ilend's own weapon.
"Come on, you fucker," growled Ilend.
"I shall take pleasure in stripping the flesh from your bones, mortal," hissed the Dremora, grinning sadistically.
"How charming," muttered Aerin, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She started to take Trueshot off her back. The Dremora spotted this and to deny her a good shot, launched himself at Ilend. As the two swordsmen fought it out, Aerin sighed in frustration and stepped back with an arrow nocked, waiting for an opening.
Ilend grunted as he spun to lessen the impact of a slash. His chainmail rattled, but the angle wasn't good for the Dremora, and his blade bounced off. The Imperial staggered and jabbed his shield at the Dremora to buy some time. His opponent jumped back out of range. The Dremora was good, very good, but Ilend was fuelled by his icy, undying rage, fuelled by merely looking at the wounds the Dremora had inflicted on his comrade. Menien himself was leaning on the bars of his cramped cell, watching the duel as though he was in the Kvatch Arena and not suspended in a tiny cage in Oblivion.
Going on the attack, Ilend forced his opponent back against the wall, locking swords and pushing with all his might to get the interrogator off balance. However, in a battle of pure strength, there could only be one winner between Imperial and Dremora, and Ilend was sent crashing to the floor. His shield blocked the Dremora's thrust and gained a new dent for the trouble. A scything kick took out his opponent's legs, and the daedra crashed down beside Ilend. This move had inadvertently saved the Kyn's life, as a moment later an arrow buried itself in the wall where he had been seconds ago. Ilend heard Aerin scream in frustration as both swordsmen dragged themselves to their feet.
Now it was the Dremora's turn to attack, and Ilend was concerned to feel his shield, already loose on his arm, start to crack. He doubted that the painted steel had ever been intended to stand up to such punishment as it had sustained in the last few days. Growling in frustration, Ilend took a few steps back and thrust out his shield arm. The loose bindings failed, and the shield shot off his arm. The Dremora hadn't been expecting such a move, and his orange eyes widened as the sheer force of Ilend's throw, combined with the shield's sharp edge, neatly decapitated him. The shield's momentum carried it straight into the opposite wall, where it cracked into several pieces. Ilend had already sheathed his sword and was hurrying over to Menien.
"Good to see at least one of us survived," greeted Menien, the words sounding even grimmer when they were spoken by a face plastered with blood. "Get me out of here, Ilend, and we can pay these fuckers back."
"You have any idea how they got you in here?" asked Ilend, studying the cage. There seemed to be no obvious hinges, and the steel looked strong.
"With a bloody dent in my skull?" growled Menien. "I only woke up about half an hour ago, then that charming fellow started asking me a load of drivel." The Imperial spat at the headless corpse of the Dremora.
Ilend scratched his head as he attempted to figure out a way to open the cage. Pulling and pushing at it from every angle did nothing, and his attempts to find the hinges were fruitless. He was about to attempt to use his sword as a wrench when a door on the level below them opened. Aerin was instantly alert, arrow ready to be released down the ramp, but as the massive shape moved up to the top floor she relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Martial might won't do much to that cage," rumbled Gorgoth, observing Ilend's drawn sword and its position in the cage. "It's made of daedric steel and infused with magic. Not many mortal-made weapons can break it."
"Well, how the fuck do I get out of here, then?" yelled Menien angrily, obviously frustrated at his own helplessness.
"Stand back," ordered Gorgoth. Ilend complied, sheathing his sword and moving so far back that he was almost pressing against the wall. The Orc held out his right hand, palm open and facing downwards. A dull red glow flickered and faded around the palm, and with a tremendous ripping sound, one side of the cage tore itself apart. Menien blinked somewhat stupidly at his new freedom, then stumbled out of the cage, wincing as his left leg threatened to collapse beneath him. Gorgoth moved in and healed him. Instantly, the Imperial's bruises and gashes faded, and he stood up straight, stiff as a rod, radiating fury.
"You know how to close that Gate?" he asked Gorgoth. Getting a nod in response, he smiled grimly, dried blood crumbling as he worked his facial muscles. "Then, if you're a mage, you can give me weapons and armour, and I'll help. I want revenge, for me, my men, and my city."
Gorgoth held up his palm again, and again it lit up, this time in a brighter orange-red glow. Menien suddenly staggered under the added weight of a full suit of bound daedric plate armour. He swiftly recovered, and drew the bound daedric longsword that had appeared in a scabbard at his waist. "Not bad," he grunted appreciatively.
"I'm maintaining the spell, so you won't have to worry about losing them until I dispel it," Gorgoth told him. He bent and started disintegrating the armour of the dead Dremora. "I had the fortune of finding a Dremora who was still alive, barely. Under torture, he revealed that the Sigil Keeper had the key to the Sigil keep." The removal of the Dremora's cuirass revealed a pouch around his neck. Gorgoth reached inside and drew out a thin key, designed to fit through the slots of the daedric doors. "This looks to be it," he grunted, pushing himself to his feet.
Menien was already impatiently striding down to the open door. "Don't step out too quickly," growled Gorgoth as a warning. The Imperial snorted as he stepped through the door. He abruptly stopped as he realised that he was on a very narrow bridge leading between the two towers, with the ground below appearing very far away. Menien immediately drew into himself, getting to the very centre of the path, trying to make himself as small as possible. He knew that if the far heavier Gorgoth could get across safely, so could he, but the lack of a central support under the bridge froze his feet.
"Come on, ya big lummox," laughed Aerin as she somehow danced around him and sauntered across the bridge without a care in the world. "A guard, scared of heights?" She shook her head. "What's the world coming to?" Menien wasn't about to respond to either her or Ilend's hesitant prodding him from behind; he just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, slowly, very carefully not looking down until he was across the bridge.
Gorgoth stomped over to the door that had previously denied him and rammed the key into the gap between the two doors. With a squelching sound, they opened, revealing yet another passageway similar to every other one in the tower, leading upwards. Mace at the ready, Gorgoth led the way, the passage sometimes shrinking enough to force him to duck his head. Finally, after a run-in with two spider daedra, they reached a ridge sticking out of the side of the tower. The beam of pure magicka was clearly visible, as was the place where it entered the Sigil Keep; a roof made of a blood-red fleshy material with a gap admitting the magicka.
Two Dremora archers opened fire from a higher ridge, but their arrows were ineffective against Gorgoth's magical shielding, and Aerin quickly shot them down. Gorgoth casually smashed a Clannfear down into the deep shaft as though swatting a fly. It screamed and twisted as it plummeted into the darkness, spinning as it bounced off the side of the tower, a massive dent in its torso visible where Gorgoth's mace had struck it.
"You've got a swing on you," commented Menien as his daedric blade sliced through a daedroth like a hot knife through butter. "Could have used you in the Kvatch Guard on that cursed night." The Imperial looked at his blade in admiration, obviously regretting the fact that he couldn't keep it.
Aerin snorted. "You're the second guardsman to have told him that today. Give him a break, him and uniform don't mix." The Bosmer nimbly picked her way through the separated halves of the daedroth that Menien had killed. "Hey, big guy, you'd better take the lead. If anyone here's gonna imitate a battering ram, you're the closest fit."
Gorgoth didn't respond, merely leading the way up the ramp, meeting no resistance. He suspected that the daedra were lying in wait in the Sigil Keep, probably creating traps and laying an ambush. The warrior-shaman renewed the protective spells over the entire group. Ignoring various doors cleft into the side of the tower, Gorgoth kept on up the ramp until they were just under the fleshy floor of the Sigil Keep. The Orc inserted the key into the ordinary-looking door and it opened to his touch.
Stepping through the doorway, the atmosphere didn't change, but Gorgoth got the feeling of being watched. The grey floor, made of an unknown material with angry red veins permeating the surface, crunched under their feet. The passageway circled around where Gorgoth judged the Sigil Keep to be and eventually they came across two openings to the Keep itself. He muttered for them to stay close to him and to watch their backs before stepping through the arch.
The wide open room was welcome after the cramped confines of the tower, but none of the mortals noticed the sharp stairs that looked almost like blades leading to another level, nor the fleshy ramps on that level leading to where the beam of pure magicka went. They were more concerned with the small army of daedra awaiting them. Dagon wasn't about to let his Gate be closed easily. Multiple Dremora archers on the upper level stepped forward and loosed their arrows straight into a magical shield hastily created by Gorgoth. More Dremora, both warriors and mages, advanced over the blood-red floor towards the mortals, with almost every variety of daedra present and hungering for blood. Gorgoth immediately beckoned his comrades closer.
"Get close to me, quickly," he growled, his voice urgent. When they were all within touching distance, he created a transparent magical barrier that seemed to keep out even the very air they breathed. The warrior-shaman immediately held out his right palm and started muttering something under his breath in his native tongue. The daedra reached the barrier and started pounding on it. Everyone except Gorgoth flinched, but the barrier was holding up even against the mighty sledgehammer blows of two daedroths. Gorgoth's hand started to visibly glow with a dull white light.
A small sphere, glowing with a bright white light, appeared several feet over the heads of the daedra, still attempting to break down his shield. The globe started to spin, gaining speed, glowing brighter. Some of the Dremora mages recognised it and dived for cover in ultimately futile gestures to save their own skins. Others attempted to destroy the sphere, but it seemed to absorb everything they threw at it, the various fireballs, lightning and ice shards swallowed by the blinding light.
As the light from the globe forced the Dremora to shield their eyes, something seemed to move under the surface of the orb. Gorgoth clenched his fist, which was also shining with the same light, then swept his arm wide. The very air seemed to crackle as hundreds of lightning bolts struck out from the globe in every direction, smashing into daedra and tossing them around like rag dolls. Another wave of strikes followed, then another, decimating the daedra, before the globe collapsed and faded from view. Gorgoth lowered his arm and released the magical shielding from around the group of mortals. If the massive expenditure of magicka or the complexity of the spell had tired him, he didn't show any signs of it.
Aerin could only croak feebly in astonishment. The two Imperials were stunned into silence. Gorgoth merely walked past the heaps of broken daedra, ignoring the shattered bodies lying everywhere as he made his way up to the upper levels of the keep. His companions eventually recovered from the shock and followed him, finding it hard to place their feet on the cold metal of the floor instead of the scorched flesh of a daedric minion or the still-sparking armour of a Dremora. A single scamp dragged itself out from under a pile of bodies and squeaked in terror, not knowing which way to run until Aerin put it out of its misery by sending an arrow into its eye.
Shaking off the feebly grasping hand of a mortally wounded Dremora, Gorgoth walked up to the Sigil Stone. It was blacker than the darkest night, slowly revolving in the inferno of pure magicka that served as its anchor, allowing the Realm to keep the Gate to Tamriel open. Gorgoth, without a hint of hesitation, reached out to take it, but Aerin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Er... how are we gonna get back to Kvatch?" she asked nervously. "Do ya know if taking that is gonna get us back?" She was biting her lip, obviously and justifiably worried that they might not make it home.
Gorgoth looked down at her, his face unreadable as usual. "I don't," he replied. "There's simply no other option." With that, he reached into the liquid fire. His armour started to clank due to the extreme heat, but Gorgoth himself was unaffected as he plucked the Sigil Stone out of its anchor. It seemed to be cool; at the very least, there was no heat or cold penetrating his gauntlet, but he wasn't about to touch it with his naked hand.
Immediately, the beam of magicka shot up into the angry skies of Oblivion. As Gorgoth stepped back, the entire tower began to shake, disturbing the bodies of the dead. Cracks started to appear in the obsidian walls of the tower as the beam, with no Sigil Stone to control it, started to wildly expand out of control. A wall of flame shot up the tower, consuming everything in its path. Within seconds, it had reached the Sigil Keep and swallowed the intruders.
The sensation was similar to entering the gate; surrounded by flames with extreme heat searing at the body and lungs. Just as suddenly; it was over; they were staggering out of the rapidly imploding Gate, back into Tamriel. Aerin fell to her knees and sucked in lungfuls of air. Menien stared blankly into the distance, as though unable to believe that he had escaped. Ilend sighed in relief at the heavy rain soothing his hot skin and leaned on his sword. Gorgoth simply turned, ignoring the pounding rain, and stood watching the Gate crumble into ruin. The remnant of the arch remained and the scorched earth around it were the only signs that there had once been a fiery portal to Oblivion standing outside the gates of Kvatch. The siege was over.
Savlian Matius immediately sprinted up. "You did it!" he shouted, as though needing to verbally confirm that the Oblivion Gate had been closed. "Now we can get into the city to launch a counterattack. There are people still in there!" The Imperial's face hardened. "We're not leaving anyone behind," he muttered. His blade rattled as it left the scabbard, and he beckoned to the guards still standing behind the barricades.
Ilend and Menien, despite their fatigue from battling through an entire plane of Oblivion, were the first to draw their swords and adopt the look of grim determination that had been common in Kvatch over the last few days. The remnants of the Kvatch guard soon joined them, all tired, all grasping chipped swords and wearing damaged armour, but all wearing the same determined expression as they stared through the open gates at their ruined city. Aerin merely groaned and mumbled something about needing a rest, but dragged herself to her feet and nocked an arrow nonetheless. Gorgoth drew his mace, letting it hang loosely by his side.
"Time to take back our bloody city," snarled Savlian.
A/N: Don't forget to review. The next upload might take a long time anyway, but it might take even longer if I don't get new reviewers encouraging me to write more...