AN: Happy new Years! Know I am late and all, but do let me know what you think?
Aldis looked exhausted when they walked up to him in the courtyard of Castle Dour, his face seemed to have acquired a few more wrinkles overnight than she remembered. Though, the undead were never something to trivialize. Frankly, she wouldn't be surprised if he had been up with his men to strategize their best move. A squad of guards stood behind him, still and silent. Like statues.
It seemed like they were about to move out. Hopefully they were told what the plan was before they jumped into the danger head first. Would be useful.
"Dragonborn," Aldis greeted, his voice hoarse in the brisk breeze that was currently sweeping through the city, keeping most of the nobles in their warm quarters.
The refugees didn't have that luxury, their blue lips and pale faces had followed after them when they had made their way over. At least they were in the wind shadow; otherwise she didn't wish to know how many would die in the coming winter months. She really should have asked Elisif what she was planning on doing with them.
When they were back…. Once a Thane, always a Thane, huh?
"Captain Aldis," she replied back, coming to a stop in front of him, her companions stepping to her side.
"I have assembled my best men for this mission which I will lead," Aldis launched straight into explaining, "we had sent an additional squad with Varnius back to Dragonbridge, so our main focus will be on rooting these necromancers out."
He waved for them to march with him of the castle courtyard. So far she could follow his plan.
"Have you any idea where to start looking?" she asked. Aldis' face grew grimmer, his mouth disappearing into a thin line.
"We have our suspicions. The court mage has located a cave not far from Dragon Bridge during her scrying. Wolfs Skull cave. Don't feel too good about trusting a mage, but it is the best we got," Aldis informed them as they passed the gates of castle Dour.
"Has she seen anything else while scrying?" Fevuril asked curiously.
"You'd have to ask her," Aldis retorted dismissively.
That moment, they reached the stairs leading down to the market place. Merchants were still setting up their stands, crates were stacked up along the city walls probably containing the wares. Up in the sky hawks were circling where she thought the harbor would be, only black spots against the grey-blue sky.
"How long until we reach that cave?" Sven asked quietly so no bystander could hear them.
"Three days march at least," Aldis replied.
Three days up near the mountains that rose and fell before the coast line to the Sea of Ghosts and at a time these trips could prove lethal. Hopefully it was just a minor group of necromancers, they would be in and out of there in maybe one week. Just in time to hole up in Solitude. Briefly she glanced over to Erador who marched beside her. His cloak was closed tightly against his throat with his shield strapped to the back to keep his hands free. Not enough to warm him though given how his ear tips were already growing red. It would be his first winter in Skyrim. Hers hadn't been forgiving either with how unfamiliar the biting cold was. But she could only do so much until the only thing left was to feel her heart twinge when his lips started to gain a blue tinge towards the afternoon. Her hands were tucked inside her cloak to keep them from the wind whipping into their faces.
"And it is only going to get worse?" Erador hissed into her air when they made their way over the hill where the road curved around the slowly ascending mountains.
"Yes," Sven answered for her, his face slightly pink, but seemed to be in high spirits nonetheless.
"That is why we drink so much ale," Bjorn supplied grinning up at Erador who rolled his eyes to the sky.
"Enlighten me how ale works?" he asked sounding pained.
"Makes you all warm and tingly," Bjorn sighed his grin morphing into an amused smirk.
"I am not sure about the tingly part," Erador rebutted.
"Would loosen you up," Sven snickered suddenly.
Erador's mouth fell open in shock just as Bjorn had to slap a hand before his mouth to keep his laughter in. She bowed her head to hide how red her face was becoming from biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing. Even some guards giggled somewhere behind them. Though, she felt for him. Probably the first time he heard those kind of jokes meant to make him laugh not to have him laughed at. Bewildered he searched out her face and she grinned back. If he wanted her to step in, he'd have to say it.
But he could do with some loosening up sometimes…
Towards the night, they made camp half-way towards Dragonbridge where they had caught up with the Dragonbridge detachment funnily enough. Varnius shared a tent with the new attachment of guards while the rest would have their own. Fevuril was setting up wards around the perimeter with Bjorn at his back in case something decided to jump them. One never knew.
She had huddled deeper into her cloak with the wind having picked up mid-afternoon once the snowfall had stopped. A light sheen of freshly fallen snow dotted the grass around the camp site and she knew that it would freeze over in the night. Deadly if one was not prepared. Once she had found a Thalmor patrol frozen in these parts, surprised by a vicious and early snow storm. Carefully as not to draw Erador's attention she turned her head towards the big oak that had lost all of its leaves. This tree, a few steps behind it there was a boulder. That was where she found them huddled together, skin blue and completely stiff. The ground had been too frozen to bury them, so she had burned them. At least she had given them the appropriate burial if unwittingly.
Why was she even thinking about them? It was not like she had ever known them. She glanced over to Erador who gazed into the flickering flames of their campfire, lost in thought. Re-adjusting her hood, she slid down on the log next to him. Without moving his eyes, he moved his arm around her, drawing her closer. Her head came to rest against his shoulder plate while his nestled into the crown of her braids.
"Tomorrow, we will reach the cave," she muttered absent-mindedly.
He sighed into her hair, still silent. She frowned and stared into the flames like he was. Something was bothering him and he was not telling her. Not just yet. All in due time. Patience. He'd tell her eventually. Always had at this point.
She didn't have to wait long. In the middle of the night when the wind had grown to a howling spurs of gusts when she was in a state of half-sleep, he shifted to face her.
"Ayera?" he whispered, lips moving close to hers.
"Hmm," she hummed moving her arms around his waist.
How was he so warm when he had been freezing the entire day? A mystery, but a rather welcome at the moment.
"If…" he swallowed heavily, "if I die…"
Her eyes snapped open. Bright spots dancing in front of her eyes at the suddenness. What? How could he think like that?! Pressure built behind her eyes involuntarily as she silently stared at him in shock.
"Don't," his hand cupped her face now his tone now soothing, "I am not saying I will. But…"
"But?" she croaked out her voice wavering.
"Shh," he rubbed her nose with his own before continuing, "If I die. Do not let me become one of the undead."
"I won't let that happen," she whispered back finally finding a portion of her voice again.
He sighed, his thumb now stroking her cheekbone, "I know and I trust you. But promise me."
His grip tightened as if he was clinging to her for dear life, "Promise me that you will not let that happen."
Her chest constricted painfully and she had to choke for air just as the pressure behind her eyes became too much. Hot tears spilled down to her nose and dripped into the space between them.
"I promise," she finally uttered.
"Thank you," he sounded pained.
This time she couldn't prevent the sob tearing through her body. When was the last time she had let loose like that? Her body shook as another bubbled up. Her head was suddenly lifted as Erador pushed his left arm underneath drawing her closer.
"I am sorry," he whispered against the bridge of her nose just as his arms engulfed her in a tight embrace, "So sorry."
But she couldn't stop it and fell asleep like that. Sobbing into him and he could not do anything to stop it. She nuzzled her nose against his seeking more skin contact.
"Please don't talk about that again," she muttered her teeth grazing his upper lip.
He didn't reply, only held her tighter with his arm underneath her head while the other cupped her tear stained cheek.
"I am sorry," he repeated again starting to rub small circles with his thumb around her cheekbone.
The kiss he gave her was slow, making her heart bleed. Why was he talking about dying? Another kiss, this time more desperate.
"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered causing a fresh wave of tears bursting forth.
Though, he stopped talking. A blessing. Anything he could really say would only lead to more heartache. She knew deep down that he was hurting too right now.
Two days later they arrived at the mouth of the cave that had been marked on Aldis' map. A pile of bones had been neatly stacked behind a snow laden pine tree. They wouldn't have found it if it hadn't reassembled itself when they marched past it.
Now they stood in a circle around once again destroyed skeletons.
"I suppose we have found our location," Aldis remarked drily shouldering his great-sword.
Ayera looked around to where Erador and Sven stood with the rest of Aldis' men. Their faces were closed off as they stared at the brittle yellow bones. The skull had rolled underneath the low hanging branched beneath the pine tree. No one wanted to retrieve it. Neither did she honestly….
"It will be resurrected once again," Fevuril stated quietly.
She didn't want to think about the possibility of a powerful necromancer waiting for them down there. Somehow she felt underprepared. What else would wait for them? If a necromancer had settled here that was this powerful… did it mean that there was a tomb? With more than a few draugrs creeping around? Auriel have mercy on them.
"The priest gave us a few amulets," Aldis spoke up again, fishing a small amulet out of his breast pocket, "Said that if we press them against a resurrected undead it would be laid to rest."
It was an amulet of Arkay with its orange beads sliding through his gloved hands. How could she forget about the Divines? Wide-eyed they watched as Aldis kneeled down and pressed the star on a piece of bone that lay closest to him.
Nothing happened first. They all just stared at the burly man pressing a small stone against bone in the middle of nowhere north to Solitude. The closest settlement would be at the coast as far as she knew and another closer to the border to the Reach. Suddenly something sizzled and she flinched away when black smoke erupted from the bones strewn around them.
Her mouth fell open as she watched the remains crumble to ashes in front of her eyes. Never had she seen something like that before! They… they might have a chance then!
"How many of those amulets do you have?" she asked into the stunned silence.
"Enough for each of us," Aldis answered walking around now pressing each and every one of them a tiny star of Arkay into their palms.
Hers weighed heavily in her palm, as she got hers. The tiny edges digging into her gloves and she could feel the power sleeping within. When was the last time she had prayed to Arkay? So long ago… Lydia's eulogy had been her last interaction with the Divine.
"There will be more then," one of the guards stated grimly looking at the cave entrance now.
"Aye," Aldis confirmed sounding as if he was about to go to his execution.
Cautiously they approached the entrance that was half-hidden behind more pine trees. Though, this time they searched the ground around their trunks first, weapons and amulets ready in their hands. Nothing. Just one skeleton for a guard? She had to frown. Either it was a novice necromancer or an arrogant and powerful one. Or this was just the beginning. That implication she'd rather not think about the dimension of what they could be dealing with.
Except she had to. Unfortunately.
"We either have an inexperienced necromancer or a powerful one. If unlucky several ones," she said out loud.
Sven exchanged worried looks with the nearest guard who clutched his amulet of Arkay tighter in his gauntlet. She could practically taste the fear in the cold air now.
"Ayera," Aldis said quietly waving her closer now.
She stepped towards him and he gripped her forearm tightly leading her a bit further away from the group. Several pair of eyes fixated on their backs, making the hair on her neck stand up.
"You have the most experience out of all of us with this scum," he started keeping his eyes on the cave entrance while speaking, "if you can, could you scout out the area and report back?"
"I can," she whispered back, "If I am not back in," she squinted into the glaring sun right above them, "say an hour, then something is wrong."
"Do you think you will need help?" Aldis asked.
"If any of your men can be stealthy?" she asked with a shrug.
"Can either of your companions?" Aldis asked back eyebrows raised.
So not his men, but either just her or if one of them could be quiet enough… She looked back to see Erador and Bjorn frowning in her direction. As far as she knew Erador would be too loud with his heavy armour plate, same with Sven. Fevuril… she could not trust him to keep his calm if they got compromised. Though, Bjorn might be stealthy enough to help her. Scouting out the cave will rely on them being quiet and small to potentially crawl through tight spaces. Only her and Bjorn had light enough armour to pull it off.
"I'd need to ask," she replied and he let her go.
She stepped towards Sven who looked down to her from his conversation with a guard.
"What is going on?" Erador asked before either of the others could open their mouths.
"I was asked if I could scout out the cave system before we stage an attack," she explained briefly.
Erador pinched his lips and she knew he didn't like it. Neither would she if he had been asked.
"Alone?" he questioned a cold edge to his tone.
"Not quite," she shook her head her eyes settling on Bjorn, "Who of you can be stealthy?"
Sven looked up to the sky, "Stendarr preserve us, I have a bad feeling about this."
"We are dealing with necromancers," Fevuril said snidely, "of course you have a bad feeling."
Sven's face scrunched up in annoyance and Bjorn had to intervene before they started to bicker.
"I used to scout out a Nordic Ruin," he volunteered.
"Hold on," Erador now said, "as much as I agree this needs to happen, shouldn't more than two people go in?"
"Can you be quiet in a cave?" she asked, "And not give our position away in your heavy armour?"
Erador groaned in response, "A point. But me and Sven can stay back and make sure you two can get out."
"Alright," she conceded, "you can come. But stay back until we give a signal."
Erador nodded while exchanging a short look with Sven who then grabbed Fevuril.
"Fev," she whispered, "do you know any of the guarding rituals?"
Fevuril ducked his head further into his cloak, forehead crinkled in concentration as if trying to remember.
"Yes…," he said slowly.
"Good," she replied, "We might need those."
"Do you think there will be a lot of undead?" Sven asked.
"I think there will be more," she asserted, "these caves can have more than a few hidden caverns."
"So they can be huge is your point," Erador summarized eyebrows raised.
"Crudely put," she replied narrowing her eyes at the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"Either way," Bjorn waved with his arms towards the entrance, "We need to see what we are dealing with first."
"Aye," she mumbled and turned her torso slightly to look more closely at the black hole that was the cave entrance.
The hair on her neck stood on end as soon as she stepped into the cave. A damp and a mossy smell deadened her nose when she had to take a breath. It was so dark she had to squint. Not one sliver of light. So she'd need to rely on smell, touch and sound. Carefully she stretched out both of her hands. Her palms met wet stone not too far apart from each other. She fit inside the tunnel comfortably, but she could not quite stretch out her arms either. It was too narrow. They'd have to file in a line. Well, her and Bjorn first. He must be holding his crossbow tightly in his hands, with how quietly the leather of his gloves was creaking occasionally in the deafening silence. Both of them must be feeling it. This undercurrent sinister dread coiling around them. Just like with all necromancer lairs. Death simmered in every particle of air freezing any unprepared person in place. Sometimes she wondered if that was why so many died to them. Their overwhelming fear rooting them in place and the necromancers had to just pick them off.
Silently they crept along the hard ground, hands on the walls guiding them along the tunnel. Their boots hit quietly the hard and frozen ground. At least Bjorn could move as quietly as her, the only audible sound their occasional too loud exhale. It felt like an eternity to her as they slowly inched their way forward.
Until they hit a corner were slivers of a light cone fell on the ground a bit further down the tunnel and onto the stones which formed a bend. It was a flickering yellow, not the blueish hue of sun light. A camp fire. She stopped and turned her head to where Bjorn must be behind her, looking at him for a moment. Seemed like they had found a cavern that was being used.
"Do you think the Master wants us out of her way?" a young male voice suddenly spoke up.
She had to control her breathing, it had nearly hitched audibly. More? Out of the way? More caverns. Damn…. Couldn't it just have been one cavern and only two or three people they could have dealt with easily?
"After you knocked one of her vials over? I'd say yes," a deeper more mature male voice responded gruffly, "Besides all we have to do is make sure no one wanders in."
A guard post? How many were they dealing with? This was bad….
"There's barely anyone in these parts," the younger whined and a slap resounded briefly through the air.
An astonished yelp could be heart immediately after.
"You never know and the settlements down at the coast are still close," the older one reprimanded, "Now help me shift this body."
She felt her eyes grow wider. Two necromancers by the sound of it and a dead body. Was it worth it taking the two of them out before they returned? The others were too loud and the two there would warn the others which were strewn across this cave system. Not something they could afford to do. For a moment she stared at the shifting light on the stones to her side in front of her. If it was just two…, she glanced at Bjorn briefly. He had a bolt clamped between his teeth a determined set around his jaw. Her fingers twitched to her bow and arrow on her back. Carefully she crouched down on her knees and crawled to the bend. With her head low, she peeked around the corner.
It was not a straight corner, but a few more stones piled to her left formed a wall high enough to provide cover to crouch behind. Good. They'd need it. Turning her head, she looked to the where the tunnel opened up into a spacious cavern. The camp fire flickered merrily in the middle of it while two men stood with their backs turned to her with the body in front of them, obscured to her view. Black, thick cloaks hid any weapons from her view they could have.
Only if they timed it right…. They might be able to dispose of them without even them noticing or noticing too late.
Bjorn knew almost immediately what she had thought, taking the bolt from his teeth, drawing back the string as silently as he could. She carefully crawled to the other corner so he could kneel she had just been. Her back prickled for the few moments she was in full view to the two men still facing away from her. If they turned away now and saw her… she would not be able to draw her bow fast enough to prevent any warning they would get out to the others.
Auriel, please do not let them turn around…
Then she was out of their view, warmth flooding down her back. Danger of discovery was gone for now. Now she was pressed tightly against the cold stone, her cheek now numb. She took an arrow out of her quiver and knocked it. Aiming it at the smaller, probably more agile man. The two men were still fumbling with a large pile of fur armour. Poor guy.
A small click told her that Bjorn had readied his crossbow and she lifted her bow.
"Did you hear…," the younger suddenly straightened out sounding confused.
Oh no! Cold terror gripped her throat. Gods be damned!
She drew back the string further as the man turned his torso around, brows furrowed. His mouth opened in shock when he saw her and Bjorn. But the two could not react in time. An arrow and a bolt tore through their chests, sending them to the ground. The older one was dead immediately, foot twitching for a moment before his body deflated completely. But the younger one started to whimper, hand clutching the arrow shaft sticking out of his chest. Still, he would be dead within moments.
"Get the others," she whispered to Bjorn who nodded before scurrying away. Getting up, she knocked another arrow. But this time she did not draw the string. Just in case another necromancer decided to turn up.
The man's face had gone stark white when she cautiously approached him, blood spewing from the corner of his mouth. A rattling groan was all he managed when he saw her. His lungs were too full with blood. Asking him how many there were would be futile. So she waited as his feet struggled on the ground. As if he was trying to kick the inevitable away. Not a second later, his eyes grew blank and the hand on the arrow shaft slackened, slumping on his chest.
There was a small opening in the cavern leading deeper into the mountain and she had to draw her shoulders up. More were past this entrance and it would only be a matter of time before the silence from the guards would be noticed. If one could call the two guards…
The clanking of armour from behind made her wince. Could they at least try and be quiet? Arrow still trained on the tunnel entrance, she turned her head towards where Aldis and the others filed in with Bjorn in tow. Erador stepped close to her as soon as he saw her, sword drawn in his hands.
"Any trouble?" he whispered to her and she shook her head, "Only a two keeping watch here."
"Two guards?" he questioned eyebrows drawn together.
His lips pinched together just as his brows furrowed as he shot a worried glance to the tunnel that was leading away.
"I heard," Aldis said stepping to them now his own great-sword still sheathed.
"Plan?" Ayera asked.
"We are setting up a staging point here," Aldis stated slowly, "we can catch anyone coming up and coming in."
"An ambush point," she summarized.
"In essence," Aldis agreed, "But to have a viable plan we need an idea about their numbers."
"You want me and Bjorn to go further in," she voiced what Aldis had surely been thinking.
"Aye," he said gruffly, "Not something I like asking of you, but I cannot send in an entire group and not know what we are facing."
She understood. Even if they were a full squad, this was becoming a bit too much for them to handle potentially. Erador's face grew darker as soon as he understood what was being asked. The gears in his head turning.
"I am coming with you this time," he said crossing his arms.
She raised an eyebrow at him. Really? By Auriel, he knew she could handle herself!
"Can you silence your armour plates?" she asked drily.
He rolled his eyes at her and for once had no retort, "You really want to go in alone?"
"If I have to," she shrugged, "I only have to get a sense of the numbers we'll face. Should be back before you know it."
"I will stay here," Bjorn had stepped to them, "going to try and find alternative routes."
"You think there is one?" Erador asked skeptically.
"Occasionally these caves have several erosion paths carved out which are hidden," Bjorn explained patiently, "if I can find one, I could try and support Ayera with the scouting."
"Fair point," Erador conceded, "only if it is a lot more people than we even thought of, I want you to be able to get out."
She sighed. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes just not to see the open and desperate expression swimming in his eyes. If he kept this up… no, she should not judge. Lydia… bless her soul, had been the same. Had he volunteered, she would behave the same way. Be worried about him, wanting to go with him and be anxious if she couldn't go with him. Sometimes she was her own biggest obstacle in these things.
"I am more than capable of sneaking in and getting out," she stated clearly looking to the ceiling.
Anywhere but at Erador.
"We will see," Sven, however, replied with a strange tone in his voice.
A tone she could not really recognize. It was the tone Brynjolf occasionally used, but it had been so long ago when she had talked to him last… at least on Brotherhood guild business. Either way, she needed to get going. Her hands were on the clasp of the cloak around her throat, loosening it. Her companions were silent, with only the hushed conversation of the guards setting up a post in the cavern in the background.
Fevuril stood in the middle, eyes closed and lips moving. White tendrils of light floating up from his upturned palms. In awe, she watched as they danced up from his long fingers and onto the ground, washing over the ground to the edges of the cavern.
"A guardian circle," Erador explained seeing her expression, "It should prevent any undead from ambushing us."
"Good," she muttered now looking back at him.
He smiled tightly at her holding out his hands for her cloak which she gave to him. Fingers brushing over the other, lingering for a moment.
"If I encounter trouble," she muttered to him, "I will return. Promise."
"I will hold you to that," he said, "Keep the amulet close."
Then he stepped away, her cloak now folded neatly in his two arms. Right, he knew she could do it. Only worried. Drawing her bow to her front, she walked slowly to the tunnel that led into further darkness, swallowing her whole a few steps into it. No light to aid her, the mossy smell had grown stronger masking the smell of something rotting. The noises from the cavern she had left had muted so much that it was just a buzz at the back of her mind after a while. A soft breeze blew past her nose and ear tips, making them twitch.
A draft… meant there was another opening to the outside. Carefully, she put one foot in front of the other. Her boots hitting hard ground. Clean ground. No grass, no animal that was scared by her intrusion. Definitely where they necromancers had gone through and it felt like she was treading through a well-walked path right now, leading her around corners and bends before her palms touched them. They must have been here for a long time. So why the skeletons down in Dragonsbridge? Where were the undead?
For how long she walked this tunnel, she did not know. All feeling of time had fled her when she had walked at least a hundred steps. Only that small draft and an occasional drop of a water trail down the stones, kept her mind rooted, reminding her that she was in fact awake and conscious. A bit far for a guard cavern…
Until she saw light again, blue light at that. She found the direction the draft was coming from. Breathing out silently, she snuck up to the bend now squinting her eyes in preparation for being temporarily blinded in a moment. Pressing herself to the wall, nose pressed flatly against it, she braced herself to peek around for a moment.
Sun rays stabbed her eyes briefly when she slowly shifted her head past the barrier. Blinking, she squinted, just as the scenery in front of her shifted into focus, she had to suppress a gasp. This was no cave system… not at all! This was a caved in mountain top! A slope led down from where she was standing down to the side. What was down at the base, she could not really see…. Didn't matter right now.
There was a fort in the middle of this huge space. A fort! Crumbled, but the main structure still stood. How did one… Nevermind. A lot of forts had been abandoned and forgotten in Skyrim centuries ago. The state of disrepair on the still intact ones was enough of a testament that there was not enough money to support a network of guards and soldiers manning them.
Tiny figures wandered on the top of an arc leading into the courtyard of the fort. A destroyed wall to the right side led up to a large tower towards the back. The sight on top of the tower made her heart stop and then sputter painfully back to life. Oh no…. Large blue waves of magic swirled around the top. Deep blue, tinged with black and purple. The mark of necromancy. Powerful necromancy. One she had never encountered before. By Auriel, she even doubted Fevuril would know what to do. She had to get a closer look.
Crouching down, she crawled into the shadow of a stone pillar lining the small path leading down.
The path was lined with these stone pillars, perfect for shielding her from the view of the people on the fort. Only… her lungs expanded painfully as her blood started to boil when the ancient words formed in her mind. This was wrong… but she could not stop anymore.
"Laas…Yah… Nir," she breathed out.
Darkness descended onto her eyes as faint red spots appeared on her eyelids. Then her vision returned, the red spots lingering. Coldness spread through her veins now, spreading to her finger tips, numbing them. To her side, there were at least four red spots, two of them jerkily floating out of her view. Weird. Never had a life sign never been this fuzzy. She'd have to stick to the shadows, if necessary swallow an invisibility potion. Slowly and quietly, she slid down the path from one pillar to another when she was sure that the sentry on the fort wall was not looking her way.
At the base of the path, the ground opened up into a round path of grass and a few trees. Trees! With bushes around it. Snow weighed the branches of the pine trees down which surrounded three people who sat huddled around a fire. Black cloaks tugged around bodies with hoods drawn up hiding their faces. Steady splashing of water could be heard in the distance where another red spot was lingering. A stream? Another guard spot? There was no way she could sneak around them into the bushes without being seen either.
"One more day," a female voice suddenly said nasally, but giddiness jumped from every word.
"We know," another annoyed female voice snapped back, "You have been counting the days down for months now!"
"Don't you dream of this day?!" the first female voice cried back, "The day we can finally return?"
"I just want you to shut up," the second female growled.
"Ladies," a tired male voice interjected, "we are so close to our goal. Murdering each other won't help."
The first female huffed indignantly as the group fell into ice cold silence again. Backs still turned to their unnoticed observer. What goal? Frowning, she stared at the first females back. Nothing good… No undead wandering around could be seen, but the smell of living dead flesh permeated the air so strongly that they must have a horde somewhere.
Unless… cold dread ran down her spine, they were resurrecting something more powerful than they could imagine and were going to use it. Dragon bridge, Solitude… from there they could launch into the remaining Skyrim. The skeletons must have been their guards gone astray with all that magical energy flowing into this blue vortex at the top of the tower.
What had they stumbled into?
Carefully, she retreated back up to her previous hiding space. She'd need a plan. Infiltrate and learn their plans. Just how? In the safety of the darkness in the tunnels, she kneeled down and looked back up the fort. Preferably getting to the top to see with her own eyes what was being done. Hopefully it was something that could be prevented still. Otherwise… they would die without being able to warn anyone what was coming potentially.
The hair on her neck stood on end when she heard the crunch of boots behind her. Whipping around, she pulled out her dagger, ready to plunge it into whoever managed to sneak past her.
"It's me, Bjorn," a quietly hissed exclamation halted her arms.
Bjorn? Auriel, he had scared her.
"Didn't expect anyone here," she whispered lowering her dagger, but still kept a tight grip on it.
With a sigh Bjorn kneeled next to her, their backs pressed against the stone wall shielding them from the fort's many eyes.
"I have counted at least twenty, probably more," Bjorn muttered and she could hear the tremor of fear in his tone.
"Then you got further than I have," she answered hushed, "But I need to get to the bottom of what they are doing."
Bjorn's horrified stare was now glued to her face. She knew it was a tall order. But what else could they do? Running in and disturbing a ritual that maybe should not be disturbed would invite even more disaster.
"Are you insane?" he hissed.
"Dragon blood I tell you," she joked back.
He hit her shoulder lightly in response. Not enough to hurt, but could be still felt through armour. Alright, she rolled her eyes, that had not been appreciated.
"Still," he sounded skeptical, "you would be in the middle of these disgusting people."
"I know," she huffed, "But I am not planning on staying long either."
"Long enough to find out what they are planning?" he added still uncertain.
"Yes," she said.
"Do you know how yet?" he asked.
"No," she shook her head, "However, don't know if you saw them, but there is a place with four more guards."
"I saw," he whispered, "There is tunnel leading down to a waterfall not far from them and as far as I can tell they have not found it."
"Useful," she commented, "Any others?"
"There are several others," he whispered, "one that leads straight into the fort."
"And you didn't go in further?" she asked.
"No," he whispered his voice's tremor had increased, "That place… you know the feeling where you just need to run. This was pure evil."
"Whatever they are summoning," she agreed, "it is not good."
"No shit," Bjorn grumbled, "You planning on going in then?"
"Yes," she said, "I will need a disguise."
"We could use the mens' robes we shot?" Bjorn suggested.
A good idea. They could wear them and snoop around. But then if someone noticed her and noticed the hole and the dried blood around it….
"No," she shook her head, "with what they are doing I can imagine them being really paranoid who wanders around."
"What do you think then?" Bjorn asked.
"I need to take the place of one," she determined hearing Bjorn take in a hissing breath.
"How are you going to do that?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"We go down to the waterfall, hide there…," she whispered the plan taking shape in her mind as she spoke, "one of the females will have to go pee at one point. I take her clothes and sneak into the fort as her."
"Won't they notice her missing?" he probed.
"Not if we do this at night," she said, "the torches should give us enough light and water is reflective in the moon light. There will be enough time to pull it off."
"You sure?"
"Yes, when I was down I heard them talking about something going on tomorrow," she informed him.
"Shor's bones," Bjorn cursed, "Alright. Let's get back and tell the others? Maybe they can add their ideas."
"Sure," she shrugged pushing herself off.
Aldis' face blanched white when she and Bjorn finished telling the rest what they had seen and overheard.
"Are you sure?" he asked breathlessly.
"We are," Bjorn confirmed shaking his head, "Believe me, I wish there were better news."
She looked over to Erador whose face was closed off. Contemplating, the gears in his head turning.
"By the Eight…," Aldis rubbed his forehead, now looking exhausted.
"A lot of magic rituals can cause magical vortexes to appear," Fevuril now said leaning on his staff.
"Well, do you know by chance about any necromantic rituals?" Aldis asked in a tone that meant that he'd rather be anywhere else.
"No," Fevuril shook his head taken aback red eyes narrowed suspiciously at the guard captain, "The college has strict…"
"Alright, we get it," Aldis grumbled, "you can't tell us."
Fevuril sputtered in shock and embarrassment before his eyes glinted for a brief moment in anger.
"Do you think you can find out what they are planning?" Sven asked her directly looking down on her head, "we can always be around at the edges at the ready."
"I can," she said slowly, "What do you mean with 'be at the ready'?"
"Bjorn said there are tunnels leading to the courtyard and into the fort where we can reach the tower top quickly," Sven shrugged his eyes fixed to a far wall where she could only guess where the tunnels Bjorn had mentioned were.
"He did…," she trailed off when Erador looked like he had a light of Auriel shone on him.
He fixed her in place with his eyes, an assessing glint flashed, before a determined edge set into place.
"You and Bjorn can get in," he said calmly and emotionlessly, "get enough information on what we are dealing with. Fev," he looked at Fevuril who straightened his back immediately, "as fast as you can we need to know whether the ritual can be interrupted."
"Yes," Fevuril nodded curtly and with a swallow.
Her eyes flitted over the group they had. Fifteen men with Aldis and the five of them against powerful necromancers. The odds were still too high for her. There had to be a way to weaken their ranks simultaneously. Just what….
What did she have? Dagger, bow, arrows, her magic and… poisons! How could she forget?! In her belt, there were three small vials of magicka poison. It was going to be evening soon and surely they'd eat and drink together before an important day? Which by all indications was going to be tomorrow. She glanced over to Bjorn who was readjusting his braces. Suggesting this to him… it felt wrong. From what she knew he would not like the idea and would tell Sven and Fevuril. Questions into her willingness to slip poison in people's food or drink were not needed right now! Not when she was on good footing with them finally. If she could even get to it in the first place… A big if.
"Might be best if we get it done soon," she shrugged at Bjorn who shot her a short look.
"Aye…," he said slowly shouldering his crossbow.
"Be safe," Erador muttered when she came to stop before him.
Sighing she stepped on her toes and gripped at his shoulders. It didn't matter that almost all eyes were glued on the show of affection between them now. Who cared? Cupping his jaw, she gave him the most reassuring smile she could muster. Briefly, he dropped his forehead to hers, his breath ghosting over her nose and mouth. Then he stepped back, letting go.
Sven shrugged at Bjorn who had shot him a questioning look.
"Come on," she muttered to Bjorn, not looking at him.
As before, they slipped into the tunnel leading down to the waterfalls.
The trees in the grove separating the waterfall and the courtyard threw long shadows by the time they managed to lay in ambush for one of the necromancers to take a piss. She'd take the robe while Bjorn hid the body in the tunnel. One of the women there had similar stature and elven features same as Ayera. Another half-breed. Unfortunately one that had little time left to live.
What a waste of life walking on Nirn….
So they waited for the woman to come to their spot. Not for long since the necromancers had set up a long table in the courtyard with several more necromancers running around carrying crates and two and three at times pushing two caskets out. It could be her opportunity to slip the poison in. Once they were all properly drunk or tipsy the vanishing of their magicka should not be too noticeable. Should she get by unnoticed.
Muted boisterous laughter echoed from the tunnel walls. Laugh now… in a few hours there will be nothing to laugh about! Some had already come to relieve themselves, but not the one they had chosen. Where was she? Frowning she glared at the bushes and tree stumps that blocked their view onto the table and the necromancers around it.
It was already dark when she finally came, half-tipsy and stumbling through the bushes. Dagger in hand, Ayera crouched down on the slick stones leading out of the waterfall. She had only one shot at this. No one could know that something had happened. A swift death… more than the woman deserved. The woman stumbled to an isolated bush, her back towards them. Drunk already? Made her work easier.
Her mistake. Silently, she stepped onto the grass, the rustling muted under the breeze that was blew through the small grove. Dagger in her hand, she slowly and steadily stepped closer to the woman who now squatted down, robe lifted up her knees.
Not the most dignified position to die in. Holding her breath, Ayera was now directly behind her feeling a cold void opening up in her chest, sucking the heat out from her. The nightmother was watching… Her skin tingled in the approach of death, she raised her hand, the point of the dagger pointing down.
For a heartbeat she raised herself up, hovering over the woman like a shadow. Unnoticed. Nothing seemed to breathe for that long heartbeat.
Then.
Her hand over the mouth.
Dagger went through the throat like it was paper.
Blood soaked her gloves.
No sound could escape the woman. Her nails were digging into the leather of her arm braces while she struggled weakly, feet thrashing underneath her. But Ayera held her in place, as blood leaked from the woman and onto the ground. The fighting stopped not a moment later, arms going limp and feet sliding out from underneath.
As steadily and slowly as she could, Ayera laid down the body waving for Bjorn to come. Now onto the unpleasant part. Moving and taking the necromancer's robe. Blood had seeped into the grass and parts of the robe, but the black colour should at least hide the worst in her experience. Any questions she might be able to excuse as spilled wine… Though, if someone smelled the distinct metallic scent… there was no explaining that away or whatever they were drinking.
Not her cleanest kill either. Had she gotten so out of touch? Bjorn was now at her side, grabbing the woman's legs just as she slung hers under the shoulders. The body was surprisingly lighter than she would have estimated. The limbs dangled in the air as they heaved her into the hidden tunnel. Only then did she kneel down to tug at the collar of the robe.
Bjorn made a small noise of disgust when she pulled the robe off the dead woman, leaving her in her undertunic. Blood had seeped into the white undergarment, contrasted so starkly in the pale moonlight.
"Bjorn," she whispered, "see if anything happens if you press the amulet of Arkay on her head."
"Why?" he questioned sounding confused.
"In case someone resurrects anything nearby and the magic flows over to her," she explained urgently.
"Oh," he muttered and the rustle of a leather pouch was heard soon after.
The robe in her hands was heavy, heavier than what she would have thought. Her fingers bunched up the fabric, looking for the hole that was for her head and arms. She had only a few moments left before the others at the table would notice the other woman's too long absence. Some threads thrummed with a magic… it turned her stomach. An enchantment that had used the soul of a person. Bile rose up to her throat and it stuck there. How many had disappeared here only to be used for soul gems? Aldis would know, but then the connection to this cave would be still strenuous.
A small fizzle made her nearly jump, her head half-way through the robe's hole for the head.
"What?" she asked hushed towards Bjorn who had gasped.
"Her skin rippled," he whispered, horror making his voice shriller.
"Shhh," she instinctually hissed at him, "I don't know what it means, but… keep on going?"
"Alright…," Bjorn's voice lost itself in a higher pitch than before.
Poor guy. Encountering any trace of necromancers was disturbing already by itself. But this? By Auriel, even she was about to vomit from the magic she felt running along the skin of her arms now. Swallowing against the burn at the back of her throat, she stood up.
"I will try and get to the fort like this," she whispered, "You go to the other tunnel and I will meet you there."
"You do not even know where it is," Bjorn countered.
"I will find you," she assured him, "I know a trick."
If the Thu'um could be called a mere trick… but saying it out loud was a step too far for her. Meant she really had to acknowledge what she could do. No. Even with everyone knowing, she should not and could not use it openly.
Bjorn huffed in response and she heard the creaking of his leather armour as he got up.
"See you there," he muttered and then his footsteps retreated leaving the body behind with her.
The robe reached her feet, covering everything, even her braces and belts. Good, meant she only had to get rid of her gloves. Carefully, she tucked them into her belt that held the vials of poison. Then she was on the grass, smoothing out the fabric of her robe more. Right… she needed to act drunk too. What a joy….
"Seimera," a male voice called out, "Ya need help ta piss?"
Seimera… that was her name. She had to keep that in mind. Any information to not be immediately discovered.
"Who's callin'?" she slurred her words.
Please Auriel whoever was listening, let this be convincing enough. Last time she had done this, Nazir had taken her aside to comment on how terrible it had been to listen to.
"Orngeir," the man called back sounding slightly hurt, "how can ya no recognis me?"
A nord? Here in a necromancer cave? In her surprise she nearly forgot to answer.
"My head is woozing," she called back cringing at how whiny her voice came across.
The man started to cackle, "Ya elves canna hold ya ale!"
Ale…, elf and Orngeir. Most likely had a drinking contest if the cackling was anything to go by. Seimera. Four things to keep track of. As much as she could, she stumbled through the bushes towards the still cackling Nord, hood drawn up on her head.
"Ohhh, ya wanna scare me?" Orngeir chuckled when she saw her emerging.
The man's round face was tinged in red from the alcohol, brown eyes twinkling in the big fire in the middle.
"Ma head is cold," she muttered her excuse holding up her index finger.
"Ohhh," the man mouthed with an eye roll, "Suuuure. Ya delicate ears, my ass."
"Ya an ass," she fired back shrinking back at the roaring laughter that ensued the second after.
"I see ya finally found ya humour," Orngeir slung an arm around her shoulders steering her purposefully to the table where more necromancers were seated drinking and being louder than Orngeir.
Her eyes landed on four figures at the head of the table that looked the least drunk of the entire bunch. A woman, she looked like a Breton, sat at on an elevated chair, her lips set in a pinched line. Ayera could not linger her eyes for too long, as she stumbled with Orngeir to the seats that they must have had previously occupied.
An entire feast was laid out, apples, meat and… sweet rolls littered the table. The others must have dug in considerably already, but the remaining amount was staggering still. How had they managed to get that much food? She sat down, Orngeir still hanging off her shoulders babbling about how he was going to fill her up. More chatter filled her ears and she pushed the food on her plate around. Should she eat it? A careful glance up, she felt a set of eyes on her.
The Breton woman who seemed to be the leader. As fast as she could, she looked down and ate a piece of the apple slice. A weight lifted off her shoulders and she knew the Breton woman had looked away. Good, she breathed out in relief.
"Ya quiet," Orngeir commented, "alread' tired?"
The teasing tone was laced with some concern. But…, she looked over to the Nord looking at her with big eyes, it was a convenient excuse to potentially get into the fort. Without anyone looking after her. At this stage she might as well forget the poisoning plan.
"I am…," she muttered yawning to underline the point.
Chortles around them shook her ear tips.
"Seimera… the lightweight!" chants were heard and she had to bite her lip to not burst out in a furious retort.
Their Seimera was dead. Just like they would be soon enough. It was tempting to yell it to their faces. Seriously tempting. Not with how unconcerned they were with what they were doing tomorrow. Whatever it was that they had planned. Nothing good. Not when she was so close to the vortex. The magic that was flowing from it, it made her want to shiver and release the bile that was at the back of her throat still. What were they trying to raise?
"Ohh, lightweight, come one," Orngeir tugged her up from her seat causing her to nearly fall of her feet.
She could not even voice her protest with how nauseatingly the cold tendrils of magic slivered along her spine were. How could anyone stand to be in its vicinity? Clamping her mouth tightly, she let herself be hauled away from the table and its still chanting occupants.
Orngeir was silent as he lead her over the lowered drawbridge. Now the cold tendrils had wrapped around her spine, freezing it in place. Somehow it felt like she should comment on Orngeir's silence… If only she would not start vomiting.
Do not shiver. They will know she was not Seimera if she did. This must be the magic that tore souls from the death's grip and trapped them. Bile rose to the back of her nose and with each inhale the acid burned her. Inside finally, Orngeir lead her up a few set of stairs into a large chamber where several bedrolls were spread on the floor.
"Com'," he muttered pushing her down onto one of them, "Sleep and tomorro' we be free."
Free? She looked at Orngeir's red face which had grown closed off, a far off look in his eyes. There must be something non-committal she could say that would not tip him off.
"Can't wait," she pressed forth hoping it was understood by the ale addled brain next to her.
"As cryptic as your mother," Orngeir rolled his eyes turning around to leave, "Oh and please do not vomit all over the floor."
She grunted in response curling in on herself. Not even an act at that stage. How could they stand to even sleep here? The footsteps retreated and she breathed for several moments. Searching for their plans while close to vomiting would not do. After the fifth inhale and exhale the bile dissolved and she looked around. Five bedrolls were here. Not thirty like the number they had estimated to be bustling around in total. Was this where the leaders of this group slept? Had this Seimera been one of them? Then why had she been in the courtyard?
Then why had she been at the courtyard? Shaking her head she sat up, listening to anyone lingering around. Silence except the muted laughter from below. Good, but still. Taking a breath, she let her lungs expand as she shout formed in her throat.
"Laas…Yah… Nir," she mouthed waiting for the familiar heat rush through her.
It was barely there, just as the red spots sprang to her eyes. Coldness weighing her down making her choke for air at how it was pushed so hard for her heart to stop. What was this?! This had never happened before! Why was her power so… muted? Broken?
The red spots swam, out of focus. She gritted her teeth. By Auriel, whatever this was, she would conquer it. Destroy it. No one dared to weaken her. Baring her teeth, the spots jerked into focus and now she saw that all spots were gathered where the necromancers were. But there were two others.
One directly at the top, flimmering in and out. Must be what they are trying to summon. And then one that hovered diagonally above her head. Bjorn. Could only be him, waiting for her. Pushing herself to her feet, she looked around for a door leading up. The Thu'um… it would not help her here. Not with this thing aroudn. Four large windows dotted the room. Might not be possible to look into them from below where the table was. Though, she should not risk it. Slipping into the shadows that the adjacent wall threw, she glided towards a smaller door, opposite the one Orngeir had pulled her through.
It was not locked, the hinges opening smoothly. No creaking like with older doors. Oiled, and recently too. How long had they been living here to bother oiling the hinges? It led to a small stair case, leading around an arc. Damp air reeking of death and decay hit her nose.
Ohh, it was foul. What had died here?! Not that she wanted to know.
Coughing, nearly gagging, into the sleeve of her robe and eyes watering, she walked up the stairs using her free hand as a guide along the wall. Just one torch flickered in the middle of the ascend where she could see a closed door at the end.
By Auriel, please be unlocked as well. It was a wooden door, one where the wood had been moist for so long that it would dent under her fingers. Thank the gods, it was unlocked. As quietly as she could, she slipped in and closed the door noiselessly. Another circular room, but this time another stair case lead up straight to the roof of the tower.
This cold power running down her spine grew stronger here. Shivering violently, she clench her teeth tightly so they did not chatter audibly. Though she could not prevent the gagging, the smell even worse than before, she looked to the side. Only one small window letting in the late evening sun through. No way could anyone see her from the outside, unless they climbed the wall up to her level. Something she should hear too.
In the center stood a type of desk, littered with papers, light purple soul gems and several worn tomes. Towards the side, where the other stair case lead up, rows of book shelves were crammed along the wall filled with even more books.
This was going to take a while. Damn! Time she did not have. Where was Bjorn?
"Bjorn?" she called out as loudly as she dared to into the silence.
A shuffling to her front and a creak echoed into the room.
"Ayera?" Bjorn's hushed question to her right made her turn around.
"Where are you?" she asked frowning at the set of book cases.
A light chuckle, "Pretty hidden, huh?"
"Good and all, but…" Bjorn materialized at the staircase smirking at her as she shut her mouth.
"The tunnel is behind a book case," he stated walking over to her.
"Well," she shrugged, "better that way."
"Of course," Bjorn rolled his eyes, "Now what are we looking at?"
"Lots of books," she commented pointing at the pile on the table.
"No way we can read through everything here," Bjorn muttered slapping his hands to his forehead.
"Well," she started to lift some of the papers.
Diagrams of … enchanting circles. Circles she could not recognize. Summoning circles? Or… one she recognized. Protection circles? From what?
"We can't steal all of it either," Bjorn groused leafing through the pages of a large tome.
"No…," she put the paper down, "We can copy them though."
"Are you mad?" Bjorn asked, "we will be at it for hours."
"And?" she raised an eyebrow at him, "They will be drinking for hours too."
"Do you see any paper to copy it all on?" Bjorn asked sounding resigned.
She looked around, the papers on the table were all scribbled full. Though… the bookshelves.
"Have a look at the bookshelves?" she suggested, "Most mages have journals to keep notes in. And empty ones would help."
"They keep journals?" Bjorn asked stunned but he was already at one of the shelves, opening and closing books.
"Yes," she answered taking out one book on another shelf, "They either write down why they do something or they write down their research. Depends on who is doing the writing."
"And what do you want us to copy?" Bjorn asked incredulously.
"Important things," she explained holding the paper with the diagram on it up, "Like this."
"Do you think they will notice a book or two missing?" Bjorn questioned eyeing a set of books in front of him, " considering they will not live long enough."
She snorted. That was true. It was not like they were planning on letting them live or to let them initiate the ritual. Her eyes landed a row of green-gold backed books. Ones that looked well-kept if a bit worn around the edges from the many openings. Tiny threads from the bindings moved in the air. Carefully, she gripped the back and pulled it out. Its pages were curved already from the use as she opened it.
The Wolf Queen Vol.1…
Hmmm. Who was the Wolf Queen? Sounded more like a fictional title. Though, no necromancer worth their salt had fictional literature in their laboratory. Or was this a necromancer that loved juicy novels? At least the title sounded like one of those. Poor Lydia had once the misfortune of opening one.
"Does this sound familiar to you?" she asked Bjorn holding the book title up to him to read.
"No," Bjorn shook his head immediately, "we didn't have the money to buy books at home. Get it to Fevuril."
"Alright," she shrugged putting it back.
The next few books though…
The Wolf Queen 2…3…4… Eight volumes in total in this one shelf. Far too many volumes of the same series and with each volume sporting obvious signs of regular use and wear, it could only be linked to what they were doing. If only she had read any of them back in Whiterun. Gelebor had once had the entire set delivered for Farengar a few months after she had been granted the title of Thane. She should have asked Farengar to read them, but then she had thought that Farengar had it delivered as part of his fictional book collection for his studies.
Paper to her back rustled as Bjorn quickly copied a diagram down. While she moved to another shelf laden with smaller books. Plainer, brown leather backs of books one could buy in nearly every general store. These journals they were looking for? She pulled one out from the top of a pile. One that showed the most signs of being handled.
17th of Last Seed, 4E 204
The fort some of my apprentices found is more useful than I could have ever hoped for….
Definitely a journal and from this year as well… Now… could she find something more useful? Intentions?
"The blood of innocent": who in Nirn was innocent these days?! And Potema is far too powerful for us to not afford any slight blunder. If we cannot bind her then she will overpower us all.
Potema? Who was this Potema that several necromancers were fearful of her even before the summons? And fear reeked from these pages. What were their reasons? She leafed through more pages, skimming the cursive and neat writing on any more indications. But… this Master, there was no other way a mere necromancer had several apprentices, was only babbling on about innocent blood needed.
25th of Frostfall, 4E 204
This was recent! And the last entry too! What date did they have right now? Definitely at the beginning of Sun's Dusk, but not for a week yet.
We have the blood. The ritual can begin once the incantations have been practiced to my satisfaction. There cannot be one single mistake. I just hope Seimera will live to see the world we can shape with Potema's power at our fingertips.
Her stomach sank to her knees and the words blurred on the page. Seimera and the Master? Either in a relationship or related.
"Bjorn," she whispered holding the diary up, "Her intentions are clearly stated here."
"Good," he breathed out in relief, setting the charcoal down he had been using, "I can bring these to Fevuril. What are you going to do now?"
She pursed her lips, looking over the chamber and up to the roof where the, she had to shiver, summoning of this Potema was taking place. There could be no suspicion that someone like them had come through. But staying was not something she could stomach for more than a few hours. Either way, her disguise would be at risk the longer she stayed around. What could they do…?
"I can't stay," she explained pushing the journal to Bjorn who pocketed it in his satchel, "This thing at the top makes me too uneasy."
"Can you hold the disguise?" Bjorn asked worriedly.
She shook her head.
"Damn," he muttered looking around before snapping his eyes to the stair case, "We still have this girl's body down there. Use her body to lay her down?"
Her mouth dropped open. Risky and dangerous. If someone saw the gaping slit she had torn into the girl's throat… then they would be alarmed. But… it was either or at this point. In the end, the ruse would be discovered. Though, she could try and mend the wound. Cast some doubt on the way she died. Hopefully that would buy them some time until they could strike, before the ritual was started.
It was as good as any plan they could get. Whatever the outcome.
"Alright, hurry," she sighed.
Bjorn grabbed his satchel, slinging it over his back before crouching down at the stair case.
"Wait for me," he indicated before disappearing behind a book shelf, the scrape of stone the only indication that there was a passageway.
She released the rest of the air in her lungs when she no longer could hear Bjorn's footsteps retreating. Not for much longer… this… thing would be gone and they could focus on getting out of Skyrim once they were back in Solitude. Shivering, she looked to the opening where the stairs led to the roof. Should she take a look? Even just a small one? Just to see what she can see and maybe help with Fevuril identifying what type of ritual that was being used.
If he even knew about that type of thing. Farengar had mentioned that the College had strict rules about summoning rituals and that the lore they had was kept under tight lock. A thing he liked to complain about since it made his work harder as a court mage.
Cold hands wandered down her back as she took a step towards the opening. The blue shimmering illuminating the stairs more than the dim evening sun rays. This was evil, pure and utterly evil. Who had this Potema been?! Heavy metallic smelling air hung above the first step. Blood, the one the Master must have mentioned. Taken from a caravan that had gone past and killed by the skeletons. Probably the one that had gone missing a few days ago. She would have to ask Aldis if it had been ruled as a bandit raid fatality since it had not been mentioned in the initial briefing.
A round stone table was set up in the middle of the tower top, red staining the surface. By now, the smell had grown so rancid she stopped mid-way up the stairs, the bile had returned to the back of her throat.
Swallowing, she looked around the small space. Several black soul gems were arranged in even distances from the other at the edge of the tower. The blue magic swirling around them. Looked like the vortex was coming from the souls stored in it. Other than that… the roof was empty.
She slunk back down the stairs.
Nothing of it rang any bells in her mind. No necromantic ritual she had ever stumbled upon had required a magical vortex nor that arrangement of soul gems. This was bad… Sucking in a deep breath, she looked to the door that they would have to heave the body through.
Where was Bjorn? It was taking him longer than she liked right now.
Carefully, she walked slowly to the small hole that served as the window. Tip-toeing she pressed her nose to the edge of it. She couldn't see down, but the voices were still as muted as before. Falling back on her heels, she looked back to the door. Finally her lungs freed in the next breath she took, her blood rushing into her limbs clearing a fog hanging over her mind that she had not noticed.
Laas…Yah… Nir.
Blood calming, the red spots of life energy appeared in her vision again. Still huddled down below in the small yard where the table was. Good, at this point they might not return for hours and then they would be too drunk to notice anything too unusual.
The red spots faded when another one floated slowly into her view from the right. Bjorn. Finally! Relieved she turned around to walk briskly to where Bjorn had previously disappeared from.
"Ayera," Bjorn whispered, "Here."
A set of pale feet poked out from behind a book shelf. Quickly, she grabbed the cold ankles pulling at them. Shuffling against stone nearly made her jump at how loud it sounded. Though it only lasted for a short moment until a red-faced Bjorn emerged.
"Fev and Erador found me," he explained quickly, "I explained what the plan was and they sealed up the wound."
She mouthed an oh. Had they been worried? How long have they been gone? Frowning, she looked at Bjorn who shrugged.
"Later," he said heaving Seimera's shoulders up.
They shuffled awkwardly down the stairs, placing her on the pelts Orngeir had guided her to.
"Robe," Bjorn pointed at her.
Of course… couldn't have a naked body in the middle of a fort with the robe missing. As if she hadn't noticed that being bad! Rolling her eyes, she lifted the robe over her head, the fabric tearing across her ears. The fumbled a bit before they could force the robe over Seimera's limp body. At the end of their struggling, the corpse laid with all limbs spread from her and face facing the ceiling.
"Best she is on her side," she muttered already pushing the body onto one side, "So we can pull the hood up and hide some of the blood."
Bjorn grunted his agreement, pulling the hood over the blood matted blonde-white hair. Standing up straight, she looked down at their arrangement of the body. Looked… alright? As natural one could prod a corpse into lying naturally.
"Think this is the best we will get," Bjorn assessed brushing his hands on the next bed roll.
"True," she sighed rubbing her forehead, "Let's get out of here then."
Bjorn stood up waving her to follow. Up the stairs and back into the room where he had emerged from.
Their walk back was silent, the darkness around pressing down on her shoulders. Bjorn hurried in front of her, whispering small warnings about anything she would need to watch out for.
Sven and Erador stood near the cavern entrance from the tunnels, hands on their weapons. Postures easing up considerably when they recognized them.
"Why did you take so long?" Sven asked sheathing his greatsword.
"We needed to copy some diagrams and she had a look around the fort in disguise," Bjorn shrugged off his satchel waving it at Fevuril.
"What did you find?" he asked grabbing at the satchel, "Also what did you do with the girl?"
"We put her body on a bedroll," she explained back looking over to Aldis who stood next to Fevuril right now.
Waiting for anything he might gather from their copied diagrams and brief notes.
"They'll discover it by either morning or never," she reached out to grab his shoulder.
His hand clasped her own, gauntleted fingers slowly stroking her knuckles.
"It is a risk still," he said, "Even drunk or whatever they have been drinking…"
"Ale," she supplied, "they have been drinking ale."
"Either way," he held up the other hand, "still, do not underestimate drunks."
"We need to be vigilant one way or another," she argued, "but now they will not notice her missing, just that she is cold."
Erador shot her a small smile, "I can say that it is risky, but I suppose that is the best option right now."
She heaved a small laugh, slinging her arm around his shoulders.
"That thing that they are conjuring …," she murmured into his ears, "doesn't feel right. I can only think of 'evil'."
"Evil?" he asked, slipping a hand to the back of her neck rubbing a circle across it.
Muscles easing under the administration, she blew out a breath, "Don't know how else to describe it."
"Not good," he muttered back concerned, "Daedra?"
She frowned, "No…, that feels different."
"Not going to ask," he shook his head, "What could be down there that can be raised that is so evil?"
"I don't know," she replied, "Hopefully Fev can find out more."
"What did you find?" he asked.
"Diagrams, summoning diagrams. Would you believe it, a whole collection of the Wolf Queen…," she counted off.
"Hang on, Wolf Queen?" Erador interrupted horrified.
"Yes?" she questioned curiously, "Is there something?"
"The Wolf Queen is a horror tale in Cyrodill," he explained eyes dark, "She…."
"Erador, Ayera," Sven called, "I think Fevuril knows what we are dealing with now."
She looked up to Erador who now looked to Sven.
"So, it is more of a question of who they are raising than what," Fevuril started, "Has anyone heard of Potema, Queen of Solitude?"
Aldis and the guards froze before they exchanged looks of pure terror. Had she missed something in all of her visits to Solitude? Probably should have listened more to Viarmo during those?
"Not particularly," she answered.
"She raised an army of undead to fight her battles," Aldis interjected looking like he needed more than a few bottles of mead.
Before anyone could answer, footsteps suddenly resounded from a tunnel. Hasty and sounded like just one set of feet, stumbling to their location.
Weapons rang from being drawn from their sheaths and magic readied with a loud clack, they waited for the unfortunate soul to step in.
"Please, mercy…,"a voice wavered in fear.
Her mouth dropped. Orngeir?!
She held up her hand signaling for the others to lower their weapons.
"Come out," she commanded.
Orngeir stumbled into view, hands lifted in the air.
"What do you want?" she barked at a visibly shaking Orngeir.
"I know…," his voice wavered as if he was biting back tears, "I know you were not Seimera. Please, they are initiating the ritual…"