Kelran stirred from his sleep, awakening by the campfire he had built on the north side of the Nibenay Basin that lay on the east side of Cyrodiil, the cosmopolitan heartland of the Empire. He sat up and stretched his arms as they ached at where the stone met the skin.
"Events are underway, Dra'gaharihn. I can feel it in Nirn itself. You should too if you actually bothered to remember what I taught you centuries ago." said Malath.
The ancient being held a skull in one hand that he appeared to be gazing at pensively. The skull itself carried an incredible number of notches and grooves that had been carved into it by hand, creating all manner of symbols and runes, some of which Kelran recognised though most were unknown. Malath was right though. Nirn was suddenly under strain. The ley lines that arced through the world's crust and emanated the forces of magic were usually like loose string, but now they were pulled tight, and sensing the change made the pair of them very uncomfortable.
"I feel like the tables have turned on us, yet...I'm not entirely certain of what I'm sensing." said Kelran quietly.
Malath rested the skull on the ground and got to his feet, moving closer to where Kelran sat in his bed rag. Kneeling down, he scorched the surface of a small patch of grass with sorcerous flame and then bade Kelran look. Malath raised a hand and the dirt bound together to make a miniature force of black figures.
"You are feeling the footfalls of a million soldiers suddenly on the move, of fleets raining fire upon the shore." he said, and the black miniatures morphed into the image of the subject at hand. "Villages burned, unbelievers purged. Thus begins a war hinged upon the perceived racial supremacy of mer over man. A conflict that will transform the face of Nirn into a whirlwind of chaos." he sighed. "It is times like these that beings such as the Daedric Princes of Oblivion relish. No doubt that the scheming of one or two princes is already in play. It has become a natural occurrence."
He waved a hand away and the figurines fell back to dirt again.
"And you don't relish these times?" questioned Kelran with a slight smirk.
"I enjoy the opportunity to slaughter mortals any day, but only when I get to return to peace and quiet. Alas, the war has begun, though not just on the Empire but on Resdayn too."
"Morrowind." corrected Kelran. Malath's cold blue eyes snapped towards him, alert, but then they calmed and seemed almost tired.
"Old habits die hard, so they say- are you even paying attention?"
Kelran held up a hand, silencing his voice.
"Hear that?" he asked. Malath looked down, bringing everything to his other senses.
"Hear it? I can smell it, Kelran." he said. Malath turned his gaze towards the wilderness that surrounded them and the air immediately grew cold. "Come forward," he cried, his voice bringing with it a powerful and physical impact, "come forward or be subject to the fires of Coldharbour!"
A figure stepped out from behind a tree, her garment black and red leather, the mark of a bloody handprint adorning her shoulder. The female Bosmer stepped forward, keeping her steel plated recurve bow trained on Malath, two arrows nocked to the string.
"I wondered how long it would take before I was eventually discovered. Watching the pair of you talk is surprising entertainment." she said.
"Which of us is the contract kill?" asked Kelran drawing his sword, "Because I swear to Azura, you will not have either of us today."
"Why the Nagra Ada. Although," she said, lowering her bow, "there is no time restraint on my contract. I don't need to kill you just yet."
"Nagra Ada?" asked Kelran, looking at Malath. "What's that?"
"It's old Aldmeris for-" started the Bosmer.
"Dead god." said Malath, turning away. "But then I suppose that's the point isn't it?" he whispered, but still loud enough for the assassin to hear.
"What are you getting at?" she asked. Malath, still with his back towards her, looked towards his shoulder.
"You cannot kill that which is already dead, girl."
Malath vanished in a shroud of darkness, reappearing directly in front of the Bosmer, except his form had changed. All likeness of Malath himself had been torn away and what he had become was a being born of nightmares. Standing at about the height of a werewolf was a gaunt and skeletally thin creature of pale flesh and muscle. A pair of tattered wings unfurled from being him while the tips of his fingers also extended into short, curved blades. Malath's elf-like ears had tapered backwards and elongated, his face even thinner than normal, as if pulled from behind. Thick, daedric horns protruded from his skull arcing out and upwards. Malath's eyes opened and the Bosmer witnessed what looked like twin portals into the realm of Coldharbour itself. The assassin let loose the two arrows just as Malath lunged forward to stab at her chest, but neither found their target. Malath's right arm quivered against the resistance put up by Kelran's ebony longsword. He glanced at the split arrows on the ground and then at the Dunmer.
"You dare, Dra'gaharihn?" roared Malath, his words bringing darkness upon the surrounding area. Even the weather responded to the demonic presence.
"Let her live, Malath! We can-"
"No!" he bellowed, swiping away Kelran's blade and flinging its wielder back a dozen feet.
Kelran sat up and looked back to the creature. Malath raised a clawed hand above him, ready again to tear into the girl, when the inquisitor outstretched his hand towards her. A purple tendril of magic burst from his palm and at the moment it made contact with the assassin, they had switched. Kelran turned as a long, razor-sharp claw plunged straight into his chest, ignoring any layers of armour and magical protection. Kelran felt the breath being driven out of his body, not allowing him to scream in pain but to only gasp suddenly for air. He looked up at Malath's hideous form and watched as the realisation of his actions became apparent upon his inhuman visage. The energy in his muscles simply seemed to bleed away and he could no longer stand of his own volition. Slowly, and nearly silently, Kelran's figure slid away from the claw that was embedded deep within it, collapsing on the ground.
Kelran soon found himself awake, his clothes still bloodstained but the wound he had sustained from Malath's claw had been cleaned and bandaged. Kelran could see the evening sky, but the ground bucked now and then as if- ah, that was it. His senses soon returned and he realised that he was in the back of a cart, along with furs, rugs and a small assortment of pottery.
"He's awake now." said a voice, the woman from earlier. He was surprised that she was still breathing.
"Take the reins, Ashera." he heard Malath's voice say, and then soon enough Malath's face came into view.
Not his true and daedric form, but his humanoid one. True sorrow and guilt clearly racked his heart. For an ever youthful being, heavy lines lay deep in his face.
"It's good that you're awake...How do you feel?" he asked, seeming unsure of himself.
"As any would expect to feel after something like that." said Kelran, placing a hand over the five puncture marks that had torn into his left pectoral.
"Yes...um, I apologise deeply to you, Kelran Arathi. For stabbing you." he replied awkwardly. Kelran laughed but then grimaced in pain.
"Just don't make a habit of it and we'll be alright...How is it?"
"I have halted the bleeding for now with my power, but the damage is too extensive for a simple heal. You need a dedicated healer to tend to this, else when my power eventually fails, you will quickly drown in your own blood."
"How long-" he stopped to cough "- will this take?" Kelran asked. Malath looked back towards the road forwards and then to the wounded elf again.
"We're on track to Cheydinhal. As far as I understand, there should be a chapel there to one of your gods- or Divines rather, which should also mean a healer of some kind."
"They're not my gods at all Malath. Arkay and the rest of them are the Imperial pantheon. The Dunmer revere the Reclaimed Tribunal."
"It's all aedra and daedra, all the different gods, Divines or whatever you wish to name them end up being the same set of otherworldly beings anyway. Admittedly it's only the dark elves who actually worship something with clear evidence and power behind it. That, I respect."
"I would perhaps keep your view of deities to yourself when we reach Cheydinhal."
Malath rolled his eyes and returned to the front of the cart, leaving Kelran to his own thoughts and to rest. He lay there, his mind turning to the global crisis at hand. This was it. This was the moment that had been anticipated since the signing of the White-Gold Concordat. Kelran wondered how Morrowind was holding up, especially the other inquisitors who were spread right across Tamriel. Surely they would all be moving back to the homeland now to defend it?
That's if they can even get there.
Sorvayn and Vaneth were already returning to Morrowind, so they should have been safe enough, but still. How many inquisitors would fail to return thanks to the Thalmor? He felt that the number would turn out to be a surprise once this was all over, should he survive.
After what seemed like an entire night of being in the back of the cart, they came to a halt. Kelran sat up and peered over the front of the cart as Malath and the Bosmer, Ashera, disembarked. From here, his crimson eyes could see the gates of Cheydinhal; large steel doors set inside a large gatehouse with an outer portcullis. The city had clearly been reinforced since the last Great War and its brief time under bandit rule. He could see clearly that this city was truly Imperial now and built more like a fort than a city, and this fort was responding to the war in earnest. Imperial Legionnaires marched forth from the city's gates clad in heavy plate, moving in blocks of four by eight. Some men carried banners, others rode next to the marching lines on horseback; hooves blending in with the sound of clinking metal and heavy steps. It had been a long time since Kelran had laid eyes on a mobilising Imperial Empire, and were it not for the current situation, he would have actually liked to stay and watch. Leaving the cart outside of the city, Malath and Ashera helped Kelran within its walls. Cheydinhal itself was a picturesque location with its wide city streets, high-wealth houses and lush greenery that was only broken up by the river that split the city in two coming in from the Nibenay Basin. Arching footbridges linked up the small islets in the river, making a safe pathway across to the opposite side. On the city's northern side, Castle Cheydinhal watched over its dominion, sitting atop a large hill and surrounded by towers and ramparts. On the east side of the city, across the river, was their destination. Above the residential areas rose the structure of the Great Chapel of Arkay, the Divine of Life and Death. At this time of night, or rather early morning, the city was silent save for the city's Legion garrison. No doubt it would be rife with refugees by dawn.
Practically dragging the Dunmer, Malath and Ashera carried Kelran across the city's cobbles, made their way across the northernmost footbridge across the river and then around the chapel's structure to the front doors. The Great Chapel of Arkay stood at around fifty or sixty feet high, its main spire and hall decorated with stained glass that depicted each of the Divines. Malath pushed the double doors open and marched through while Kelran leaned on Ashera at the entrance.
"A healer! Is there a healer in here?" he cried in the darkness, shortly running back and pointing at Kelran. "Here, he has internal bleeding and his lungs are punctured."
"It's a miracle he yet lives then!" said a female voice behind Malath.
Kelran looked up and saw an Altmer of around middle age (in terms of an elven lifespan). She wore modest clothing, her hair in a bun and a face of kindness.
"Ohtesse? You still live here after all this time?" he said in mild disbelief while grimacing with pain.
"Be quiet and save your strength. You two," she said, turning to Malath and Ashera, "help me bring him further in."
They nodded and the three of them carried Kelran's near dead figure to the main shrine to Arkay at the head of the chapel where they laid him down on the tile floor with plenty of room to his sides. Ohtesse knelt down beside Kelran and lifted his head, sliding a folded blanket beneath it. Afterwards, she held out her hands above him while golden light slowly pulsed within her grasp. Gradually, the light fell and touched Kelran like a faint breath. The light passed over him and stayed, emanating a faint glow from his entire being. Ohtesse sighed with relief and looked at Malath.
"He's stable for now and he will make a full recovery, but it will take time to heal him. I'll need a couple of days at least, but my magic will act on him over time as well. I won't need to be here constantly, so you will still have ample time to talk and so on. Just don't expect Kelran to move."
"I thank you, healer." bowed Malath. Ohtesse then left and returned to her chambers while the faint golden glow still rested on Kelran, who had succumbed to exhaustion and passed out. Ashera sat down next to Kelran cross-legged. Her rose blonde hair lay bound in tight braids down her back while she stared at the Dunmer's sleeping form.
"The two of you mean a great deal to each other don't you?" she said, still gazing at Kelran. "Might I ask why?"
"It's...a unique relationship. We have saved each other's lives and the pair of us are very different from anybody else. I am his mentor in certain magics and techniques. He is mine in keeping some sense of the world's state." Malath sighed, "Thank you for helping him."
Ashera smiled and turned to Malath. "You're still my mark, and I swear to you I will take it. But the contract can wait. There are personal scores that must be settled before business is attended to. I hope the two of you can help once Kelran can walk again."
"We hunt the Thalmor, girl. We aim to infiltrate the Summerset Isles and retrieve something that was stolen. We would not decline help, for that is a rare commodity in these dark times, but be warned that there may be no going back from our mission. We fight for the survival of Tamriel itself." said Malath, his tone and face like stone. Ashera nodded and then looked down.
"Then our aims align somewhat, daedra. Valenwood has befallen its own dark times since the Aldmeri Dominion knocked on our doors…" she wiped a tear from her face and looked at Malath, almost in anger. "Don't think for a second that just because my people are part of the Dominion that we were spared the wrath of the Thalmor. Their racial purges are infamous in Valenwood and my country lives in fear, but what can we do? They outnumbered us, they overpowered us. We too have paid the price."
A moment of silence passed between them while Ashera fought back her tears.
"Were you involved with the rebellions after the Thalmor removed the Imperial Administration?" he asked. She nodded. "I am so sorry."
"My mother was killed in the first invasion, she was part of the Imperial Legion that was stationed in Valenwood. My brother, fought alongside me in the rebellions and was captured, tortured and executed. My father believed that they had taken me too...and so he took his own life before I found him again."
"A tragedy much like many others that have happened due to the Thalmor and their Aldmeri Dominion. This is why we fight them, Ashera. This is why we're going to beat the Thalmor at their own games while our allies beat back their armies. The fate of Tamriel rests firmly with us, as daunting as that may sound. It will be our duty to avenge your family, to ensure that none of your people died in vain, and to relinquish the Dominion's hold on your homeland. This, I vow."
During the dawning hours, Malath took his vigil atop the Great Chapel of Arkay, watching more with his nose than his icy gaze. From here the wind itself was a messenger, bearing the smells of smoke, fire and blood across to him from the borders of the province. The fighting had been constant throughout the night and had caught most of the Imperials unawares. He had no doubt that the Dominion had also struck in other parts of the Empire to open up more than one front.
He sighed and looked down from the chapel as the gates into the town opened up, letting loose a throng of people from outside the walls to seek shelter within. Men, women and children; skin bloodied and blackened with soot, stumbled in. Tears and cries of pain echoed throughout the town square as they filtered through, aided by legionnaires. Despite his cold, dark nature, this was a sight he had never gotten used to. His heart stung with sympathy for these people and their loss.
"Father," he said, turning his head up to the sky, "I sincerely hope you have had nothing to do with the Dominion this time…"
