Aneril spent the next three days hobbling about Woodhearth, getting more annoyed at the splint on her knee. And despite the inconvenience, she made sure to check in with Treethane Fariel every morning and evening, just to keep abreast of matters at Woodhearth and the mustering of soldiers at Seaside Sanctuary. Part of her was constantly anxious, ever since they learnt of an impending invasion by the Maormer, and only her good sense kept Aneril from ripping her splint off and heading to Seaside herself.
On the fourth morning, the agonising wait came to an end when Treethane Fariel finally decided to send Aneril along to where she was needed.
"We've received word of Maormer ships starting skirmishes at Seaside Sanctuary, and I expect it won't be long before they land," Fariel said, brows furrowed. "If our forces strike the Maormer hard enough there, we might be able to drive them back out to sea before they get a foothold on the shore. I've sent everyone I can spare, and Raz is there to help as well. But I want you to be there too, just in case things go awry. I know you're only one woman – two, with your companion there. But if your reputation is anything to go by, you might just be enough."
Fariel glanced down at Aneril's splinted knee. "Although, if your injury…"
"I'll be fine," Aneril said quickly. "I will head to Seaside right now."
"Good." Fariel nodded. "There's an outpost with a few soldiers…if it hasn't been overrun. Go through the Serpent's Grotto and look for Major Cirenwe. She's the commanding officer."
"Understood." Aneril saluted, and walked out of the Thalmor Headquarters with Vareysa. Her companion kept quiet until they'd reached the inn room to collect their things, then broke the silence when Aneril took off her splint.
"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Vareysa asked, watching dubiously as Aneril stood on her own two feet for the first time in days.
Aneril frowned, and walked slowly around the room – increasing her pace as she went along, until she'd broken into a jog. The knee was stiff and sore, and the bones didn't feel quite…settled yet, but it was a discomfort Aneril could take into stride. Not for long, however – a stabbing pain in the knee brought her to an abrupt halt, and Aneril clutched tightly at her thigh.
"See, you're not ready–"
"I am," Aneril insisted through gritted teeth. Golden strands of magic gathered about her hand, then wound around Aneril's knee, driving back the pain and numbing the discomfort for the time being. She straightened herself and let out a breath, relieved the magic worked well. Aneril looked at Vareysa, and said, "I'll manage. Let's pack up and go."
Vareysa held Aneril's gaze – obviously unconvinced – but she turned around, and resumed packing her belongings without another word.
With Shur'azan padding alongside them, Aneril and Vareysa followed the northeastern road out of Woodhearth. Though there were no signs pointing towards Serpent's Grotto, they turned onto the path that branched north from the main road, and it wasn't long before they reached a large cave mouth guarded by two Dominion soldiers. Aneril presented her Queen's Eye medallion, and the soldiers nodded, allowing them entry.
The grotto itself had a few branching passages, but with the help of torches set up along the designated route, they traversed the cavern easily and soon emerged into the sunlight. The bridge to Seaside Sanctuary stood just before the grotto, and they found a squad of Dominion soldiers gathered by its entrance, along with Razum-dar and his own agents. A group of wounded sat at the side, being tended to by a single healer. Not a good sign.
An Altmer commander spotted them first, and she exchanged salutes with Aneril when they drew close. "The hour of our glory is nigh! Razum-dar forewarned me of your coming, and I have considered our circumstances carefully in light of that. I have the utmost faith in your capabilities, and I am confident that your arrival is an augur of our victory."
Aneril grimaced on the inside, feeling a weight drop onto her shoulders, but she kept her face straight. "Then I hope to meet your expectations. Major Cirenwe, I presume?"
"I am, and we have fought alongside many of the same soldiers. Word travels quickly when it involves heroics such as those attributed to you. I have anticipated the chance to meet you in person, and I am pleased the opportunity has finally arrived."
"The pleasure is all mine," Aneril replied, ignoring the brief desire to bury her head in the ground. She glanced quickly at the soldiers gathered. "But now – the Maormer?"
"Yes." Cirenwe clasped both hands behind her back. "The Maormer have landed and are currently holding the town – but not for long. This is the calm before the storm – our storm. They believe that holding hostages will prevent us from taking action, but we will not allow such cowardice to determine our course. We will act, and we will act decisively!"
Cirenwe pointed at the town. "We charge into their encampment, rescue the hostages, and slaughter their commanders. A fool scout we captured gave us their locations. You and Razum-dar shall spearhead our attack, while I rally the soldiers who will arrive soon from Marbruk. When your task is done, light the beacon in the lighthouse. That will be our signal to charge in and drive the bastards back to sea."
Aneril nodded and returned Cirenwe's salute, before going to speak with Razum-dar, who wore a slight smile on his face.
"Time to do what we do best, yes? This should be fun." He crossed his arms, tilting his head to look her over. "So how to display our heroism, hm? Will you tend to the hostages, or take out the commanders?"
Exchanging a glance with Vareysa, who shrugged, Aneril said, "We'll take out the commanders. You're more…subtle. Lowers the chances of getting the hostages killed."
"Ha, such praise. Raz should treat you to drinks sometime. But for now, he will see to our captive friends. Stay out of sight if you can – don't want to alert the Maormer to our presence."
"Of course. Good luck," Aneril replied, and turned to Vareysa as Razum-dar went off on his own. "Since we have to be stealthy…you take the lead?"
"Do you even have to ask?" Vareysa smiled, drawing her daggers.
They left Shur'azan with the injured soldiers, and made across the long bridge to the town. Aneril kept her head low and followed Vareysa, who moved along with nary a sound, picking their way from shadow to shadow as they searched for the three Maormer commanders. But for all their efforts at staying low, they were forced to attract the attention of their foes while fighting the commanders themselves.
The first Maormer commander was the easiest – he stood watch over a work crew in an isolated corner of town. Vareysa slit his neck with little effort, leaving his soldiers to panic over his body and search for murderers who were long gone. The second commander was stationed in an abandoned temple, with a full squad of soldiers standing guard with her. Aneril charged through the front door, protected by a magical barrier, and drew the Maormer's attention while Vareysa knifed the commander in the back. The loss of their leader caused a momentary confusion among the soldiers, during which Aneril and Vareysa dispatched them, suffering a few bruises in return.
The last commander was the greatest challenge – he stood at the command tent, with two squads patrolling the area. Vareysa objected to Aneril's plan, but was forced to accept it with no other alternative. She could only watch as Aneril cast a dragonknight spell that hardened her skin to stone, with cracks that revealed the dragonfire flowing beneath it, powering the magic. Vareysa turned invisible at her nod, and Aneril took two deep breaths to calm herself down, before setting her reckless plan into action.
She charged into the camp with a harsh shout, and the Maormer were taken aback by the stone-like appearance of their attacker. Aneril managed to down two Maormer soldiers, before she started suffering blows on her rock-hard skin. Trusting the spell to hold, Aneril fought off her foes with abandon, and glanced over to watch Vareysa plunge a dagger through the commander's neck.
Relief and pride welled up in Aneril – but not for long. Under the Maormer's relentless strikes, her protective spell had started to give way. She suffered a blade stroke across her shield arm, then a lightning spell to her side, causing her body to lock up. Aneril fought through the spasms to drive her sword through two more Maormer, then stepped back to avoid a sweeping strike from a greatsword. But her knee didn't respond well – pain lanced up her leg, and she faltered. The sharp blade bit through the scales of her armour, and left a long cut across her stomach.
Aneril threw herself back then, her knee screaming in pain as she landed on the ground. She lashed out with torrents of dragonfire from her fists, bringing down three soldiers at once. Vareysa fell upon the Maormer then, and dispatched the rest of them in a flurry of deadly-quick dagger strikes, with help from Aneril's fire spells. And when their foes lay dead around them, Vareysa knelt before Aneril, clasping her shoulders.
"You're hurt."
"I know," Aneril panted. Her skin's stony appearance faded, leaving numerous bleeding cuts in its place. "Give me a moment."
She healed the slash on her stomach first, then the rest of the cuts on her body. Aneril mended Vareysa's wounds as well, then laid a hand gently on her own knee. It was throbbing, and possibly swollen, but she hadn't the time to check at the moment. So she cast a stronger healing spell on the knee, hoping it would hold longer.
"It's bothering you, isn't it?" Vareysa asked.
"I'll be fine," Aneril muttered.
Vareysa helped her onto her feet, and they made for the lighthouse overlooking the sea. Inside, they found a single soldier, who'd been tortured and blinded by Vicereeve Pelidil. He recalled how Pelidil had raised Prince Naemon from the dead, and imbued him with a terrible power to lead an undead army, only to have the prince spit in his face and leave. The soldier also mentioned Pelidil being furious as he left, and that was all the information he had to give. Aneril told him to sit and wait for help, while they lit the beacon at the lighthouse.
Vareysa made Aneril stay for this simple task, and climbed up the stairs by herself to light the fire. It didn't take long before she returned, and they helped the blinded soldier out of the lighthouse, where they could hear the distant sounds of fighting. Opting to hold their ground, they stood guard at the lighthouse until Major Cirenwe finally fought her way to them with a victorious smile.
They handed the blinded man to another soldier, as Cirenwe said, "Well done, my friends. We'll have the sanctuary back under control quickly now, but we can't stop here. The battle's only just begun."
Aneril cocked her head. "I thought the plan was to drive the Maormer out?"
"So I had hoped. But it seems Vicereeve Pelidil had taken to sea even before we arrived." Cirenwe's lips curled into a sneer. "I suspect he may attempt to flee when he realises his forces have lost the shore. That's why I need you to go after him, and ensure he doesn't escape." She gestured towards the docks. "Captain Jimila and her crew have retaken the Prowler, and they're ready to set sail as soon as you get on board. May the winds be at your back, my friend. And may Pelidil fall quickly to your strength."
Aneril saluted, then bowed her head in thanks and took her leave. As they walked towards the docks, Aneril grimaced to herself, feeling the stiffness set into her knee again. Too soon… Either her spell was not properly cast, or her injury was worsening. She'd much prefer the former, as the latter would involve a risk of long-term physical impairment.
A touch on her arm drew Aneril from her musings, and she glanced over to find a worried frown on Vareysa's face.
"You okay?"
"Yes," Aneril sighed. "You cluck worse than a mother hen."
"Only because you insist on running around like a careless little chick, Anni dear."
Aneril rolled her eyes, but chose not to argue.
Jimila greeted them with great familiarity aboard the Prowler, and she sent them below decks to catch a breather, even a drink or a bite to replenish their energy. Aneril drained an entire mug of water, and Vareysa did the same, except she had a few strips of jerky as well. And while they were sitting at the counter, listening to the chef's story of how Jimila had led a daring rescue of the Prowler, sudden crashes on the top deck shook the kitchen they sat in.
Aneril and Vareysa left the cook behind and climbed up to the deck of the Prowler, where large scorch marks had marred the wooden floor. As they looked around, a hand collided into each of their napes, and forced them down as cannonballs flew over their heads, splashing harmlessly into the sea.
"Careful!" Jimila barked, letting them straighten up as she glared at Pelidil's ship, which sailed just a short distance from the Prowler. She growled upon noticing the glow of portals on the other ship. "They're boarding us!" Jimila roared, stepping away from the two. "Take arms!"
Her crew howled with the keenest bloodrage, and as soon as the portals appeared on the Prowler's deck, the sailors fell upon the Moarmer with terrifying fury. Only the sheer numbers of Maormer pouring through the portals could pose a challenge for Jimila's crew, and even then, they only held their ground for so long, before the sailors started pushing the sea elves back.
Emboldened by their success, Jimila ordered her crew through the portals, to board Pelidil's ship instead. Halfway through the boarding, their foes must've had realised their plan, as the portals aboard the Prowler were dissipated to stop their advance. Jimila ordered more of her sailors to swing over to Pelidil's ship with ropes, while the rest went below deck to man the cannons. She left Aneril and Vareysa to guard the empty deck by themselves, but as soon as Jimila swung over to the enemy ship, a portal blinked to life onboard the Prowler.
Aneril readied her conjured shield and bloodied steel sword, while Vareysa disappeared from sight, no doubt circling around the portal to strike the boarders from behind. Three Maormer soldiers walked out, and Aneril didn't give them time to react, charging towards them with sword at ready. She'd sunk her blade into one soldier's gut, and struck the next with her flame whip, when Vicereeve Pelidil himself strode out of the portal, anger etched upon his face.
While Aneril struck the second Maormer soldier down and faced the third, Vareysa appeared behind Pelidil with daggers raised. Unfortunately, he seemed to be prepared – swinging his staff behind to strike her in the ribs, taking her off guard. Vareysa recovered quickly and pounced forth, only to be struck squarely in the chest by a bolt of lightning.
Aneril heard her strangled scream, and quickly cut down the last Maormer soldier, turning around only to be given pause – Pelidil had Vareysa trapped in a binding spell, her arms bound to her sides as she floated an inch from the floor.
"That's enough," Pelidil said. "Move one step closer, and she dies."
Aneril glared at him, anger burning the blood in her veins. "Let her go."
"You are in no position to bargain. You, the little insect who has ruined our plans again, and again. You will finally obey me," Pelidil growled. "Now, put down your weapons."
Eyes narrowed, Aneril took a step towards him. But Pelidil's mouth curved into a smirk at her defiance, and he started closing his open hand, which glowed crimson. Vareysa choked audibly as the same crimson glow appeared around her neck, cutting off her air supply. Aneril stopped dead in her tracks, watching with wide eyes as Vareysa's fingers convulsed, feet kicking in desperation.
"No, stop!" Aneril knelt down quickly, and threw her sword to the ground as she dissipated her shield. "There, stop! Let her go!"
"I never said I'd let her go." Pelidil's smirk twisted into a grin, as his fingers curled ever inward. Vareysa's kicking grew more forceful. "Besides, the life of one cursed elf means nothing."
"You bastard, stop!" Aneril tried to move forward, but paused when Pelidil's magic shone brighter at her movement. She stared at Vareysa helplessly, watching her partner's kicks lose strength. Vareysa's mouth gaped without air, eyes rolling back far enough to expose a sliver of white.
"You're killing her!" Aneril yelled, throat growing tight. "Stop!"
Pelidil chuckled. "What is this? Sympathy for the lesser races? How unbecoming. But I'd expect nothing less from one of Ayrenn's cronies. You have been a thorn in my side for too long, Eye of the Queen. Now, you will help me. Order your little pirate friends to–"
Aneril's fingers had dug into the planks of the floor in helplessness, but a movement in the air distracted her. She looked up just in time to watch Jimila swing back to the Prowler, throwing something out of her hand – a dagger, which sunk right beside Pelidil's shoulderblade.
He yelped in surprise and pain, starting to turn around as Jimila landed on the prow of the ship. Aneril seized the chance and rushed at Pelidil, slamming her entire weight into his body, and pinned him to the ground. While Vareysa crashed to the deck, Aneril rammed her fist into Pelidil's face over and over, vision growing red with each crack of gauntlet against bone. His cheeks, nose and mouth were reduced to a swollen, bleeding mess, when Aneril reared her bloodstained gauntlet back and channeled magicka into her hand. Dragonfire coalesced into a fiery claw about her fingers, and she swiped it viciously across Pelidil's neck, catching a bit of warm arterial spray on her cheek.
Pelidil twitched under her, and breathed his last amid a wet, undignified gurgle. Aneril knelt over him, panting as the mindless rage ebbed away, leaving her mind clear to think–
Vareysa.
Aneril whipped her head around, finding Jimila already at Vareysa's side, holding onto her shoulder as she heaved and hacked for dear life. Practically throwing herself across the floor, Aneril scrambled over to her partner. She curled an arm under Vareysa's chest, and lifted her from the floor where she was still curled up. Vareysa clung onto her forearm with a hand, leaning heavily down as she continued gasping for air. Aneril waited patiently for Vareysa to recover, while Jimila went off to check on the rest of her crew.
Slowly, Vareysa brought her hand up to clutch weakly onto Aneril's shirt. Her head lolled to the side, and Aneril pulled her close, holding Vareysa firmly as she rested her head on Aneril's shoulder. Minutes passed as Vareysa's breaths evened out, though still deep and wracked with hitches.
"You know," Vareysa rasped, sniffling as she looked up. "I'm fine with being choked, but only up to a certain point." She clasped a hand on Aneril's arm. "For future reference."
Her laugh was marred with coughs, but it was light enough to sweep Aneril along with her humour. Aneril pushed her away in jest, then panicked and pulled Vareysa back again, when she slumped limply to the floor. But Vareysa's eyes were still open and alert – if half-dazed – and Aneril breathed a sigh of relief.
"When will you ever stop joking around?"
"When I die, probably," Vareysa uttered. "And I really thought I was gonna die there."
Me too. Aneril bit her lip, as Vareysa lowered her gaze for a moment, before looking up again.
"Oh, hey." Vareysa reached up with a hand, and wiped at the blood on Aneril's cheek. "Don't you know? Never slit a throat from the front."
Aneril gazed back at her, and couldn't help but give an amused huff. "I really can't deal with you, sometimes."
Vareysa smiled, circling her arms around Aneril's neck as the warrior prepared to stand. Aneril lifted Vareysa's smaller frame easily in her arms, but when she took a step forward, she felt a stabbing pain in her knee and stumbled. Thankfully, she didn't fall over or drop Vareysa.
"It's your knee, isn't it?" Vareysa said. "I can walk on my own. I think."
"I'm fine. And we need to get to a healer." Aneril gritted her teeth, walking with a slight limp towards the stairs leading below deck.
"Aw. I knew you cared, Anni."
"I'm going to toss you into the sea," Aneril grumbled.
"No, you won't," Vareysa crooned, pinching her cheek. "'Cause you're a softie on the inside."
Though it wasn't the sea, Aneril did toss Vareysa onto a bed, and there she slept for the entire journey back to Seaside Sanctuary, while Aneril dozed in a chair beside her. When the Prowler sailed to a smooth stop at the docks, Vareysa was still fast asleep, so Aneril left her alone and reported to Major Cirenwe and Razum-dar, both of whom looked battered but glad to hear of Pelidil's death. The major bade her stay at Seaside to recuperate, and Aneril agreed – not that her aching knee gave her much choice.
Aneril and Vareysa were each given a bunk in the guard's barracks – now emptier after the Maormer invasion. And though the air was sombre with the loss of friends and comrades, the troops managed to find some time to celebrate their victory, the night after Pelidil's death. With fresh supplies the Marbruk reinforcements had brought, the soldiers had a modest feast, during which Cirenwe lauded Aneril's achievements publicly – much to her chagrin. It was an obvious effort to boost morale, and though the attention was positive, Aneril didn't want any of it. But she bore it all with a humble smile, before excusing herself on the pretense of getting some rest.
She wandered far from the camp, and found her own peace at the edge of town, sitting on a bench that faced the sea. Aneril took a deep breath of cool air, relaxing her tense muscles as she gazed out into the distance. Her mind went peacefully blank, and she sat there for a full half hour, in a near-therapeutic daze.
That was, until Vareysa arrived.
"I wondered where you'd hobbled off to."
A light-hearted sigh passed her lips, and Aneril turned her head to watch Vareysa take a seat beside her.
"Taking a break from all the admiration, huh?" Vareysa teased with a smile. "I guess even heroes need some private time too."
Aneril groaned, reminded of Cirenwe's praises. "I'm not a hero. And I don't want to go back there. They're so…tiring."
"Don't like the limelight?" Vareysa mused, and Aneril nodded. "I understand. I don't like attention either. Hey, don't look at me like that. It's true."
Aneril laughed under her breath, letting her incredulous expression fall away. "If you say so."
"I do say so." Vareysa leaned back in the bench, and stretched her arms over her head. "How's your leg doing?"
"Still aching. But better." Aneril rubbed at the spot above her splint absentmindedly. The healer said that her over-exertion had aggravated the wound, and it would take longer to heal now. Luckily, she didn't have to fear any permanent impairment.
"Good. Now we just have to make sure you rest, instead of running around saving the world, hm?" Vareysa grinned, rubbing Aneril's back in consolation. "By the way, you did good today."
Aneril huffed. "Thanks. You did good too."
"Of course I did! I didn't die today, and that's good to me," Vareysa declared, while Aneril regarded her quietly.
It was something Aneril did not want to experience again. Her fear had been painfully acute as she watched Vareysa suffocate near to death, while she knelt uselessly on the floor, ready to cave into Pelidil's demands. If Jimila hadn't appeared, Vareysa could've died due to her inaction – and the guilt welled up again, the longer she looked at Vareysa.
Aneril averted her gaze, nodding. "That's good, yeah."
She heard Vareysa chuckle, and received a nudge on her head. Then a familiar chuff made them look around, as Shur'azan walked over to them with a cloth satchel on his back, attached to his leather harness. Aneril cocked her head curiously at the two cylindrical shapes in the satchel, as Vareysa reached into the pack and pulled out two bottles of ale. She read the single note in the satchel, then handed it to Aneril with a snicker.
[Best ale I can find in camp. Don't have too much fun, hm? At least, not in public. -Jimila]
Aneril's cheeks burnt with a flush when she read the note. "What–, she's not implying–? But we're not–!"
"Sure we're not, lover." Vareysa wore a playful smirk as she popped off the corks with her dagger, and held one out to Aneril. "Here, let's see if I can't get you drunk enough tonight."
"Ugh, you're not helping," Aneril grumbled, taking the bottle.
"When do I ever?" Vareysa smiled, clinking their bottles together. "Cheers."
Aneril watched her take a hearty swig of the brew, then push the cub's head away when he tried to have a taste. A small smile curved Aneril's lips, and she took a long draught of ale as well.