And it's finally up! My work schedule went crazy this past month, and I've had to scramble to find time to write. Hopefully, I'll be able to even things out and get my writing schedule aligned with work in these coming ones. On to the story!
Chapter Twenty-Five: Resolutions and Retribution
A number of scents greeted Drizzt as he slowly regained consciousness. Food was the first, and most welcome, one: simple breakfast fare made luxurious by hunger. The pleasant, earthy aroma of the alchemy garden was next; even the slight funk of decaying wood carried with it welcome images of forests, green places, and high summer. He also thought he could smell hot water, and possibly heated copper, though what thatwas he couldn't guess.
Food, however, was his main concern. He had expended more energy over the past few days than he normally did in a month, and he was ravenous. He pushed himself up—
The noise he let out was more like an animal's scream than anything remotely human, and he fell back on the bed, twisting as he did to lie on his back. He panted, eyes closed and teeth clenched. His entire body was a mass of pain. His neck and shoulders throbbed mercilessly, every dent and divot Ravenlight's armor had made announcing their presence with more enthusiasm than they had while he'd been carrying her. The full length of his back alternately throbbed and burned. His hips and legs screamed about the amount of riding he'd forced them to do—the tendons in his calves, especially, felt as though fire ran through them rather than blood. His arms ached along their full length, his hands were stiff and cramped, his chest and belly throbbed. Lying on his back really wasn't any better than being on his side, but at least now Icingdeath's hilt wasn't digging a hole in him.
He hadn't been in this much agony since he'd been tortured in the Baenre dungeons. He considered, in an attempt at humor, that even Vendes Baenre, the nasty Duk-Tak, hadn't been quite as thorough as he himself had been. She'd ignored a few places. While he...after a moment of experiments, he decided that the only things he could move without pain were his eyebrows.
"Need a hand up?" Ravenlight appeared in the edges of his vision. She was wearing a plain blue robe and had a towel wrapped around her head like a turban. "It'll be worth it, I promise: there are apparently some perks to being Arch-Mage of the College."
"Such as?" Drizzt took her hand and forced himself to sit up, gritting his teeth to hold in another anguished howl. "Aaah, gods!"
"Here; this won't take care of it, but it will help." Ravenlight touched him with her other hand, healing magic chiming faintly and drifting around him. Waves of warmth and coolness washed across him, their touch such a welcome relief that he moaned in gratitude. It didn't remove the pain altogether, but at least now he could move. "I'm surprised I didn't wake you after I tried to get up. I don't think I could have screamed louder if there'd been a Dark Brotherhood assassin in here with us."
"You seem to be feeling better now." He eyed her. He no longer felt worse than he had after being tortured, but he was still a long way from normal.
"I am. And so will you be, in a bit." She pointed. He turned to see what she was pointing at, and saw a long, ornate tapestry, apparently depicting the history of the College. "That's not just a tapestry: it's a curtain, and there's a bath chamber behind it. Pretty nice one, too. It took about an hour of soaking in that hot water, but I finally got to feeling alive again."
"Feeling alive again sounds very good." He unbuckled his swordbelt, grimacing as the scabbards slapped against his legs as he pulled them off. "I take it there's fresh water?"
"Yes. Like I said: being Arch-Mage comes with some perks. Including magical servants." She gestured, indicating several misty blue glows hovering about the room—including one right at her shoulder. He blinked at it, slowly realizing that it had a vaguely humanoid shape. "Whatever Tolfdir did last night, it bonded these guys to me. And I told them to help take care of you, as well."
"Magical servants?" He supposed that made sense; there were few wizards in his own world who would do without such beings. "Savos Aren's?" He shifted and flinched again.
"I'll explain later, when you're not hurting so much." She rubbed his shoulder sympathetically. "Trust me, for the first few minutes I spent just trying to reach the bathtub, all I could think of was how much lessI'd be aching if I was dead."
Drizzt suspected that, under normal circumstances, this sort of comment would be extremely worrying. But as sore as he currently was, all he felt was complete understanding. At least her healing let him walk into the hidden room without every move sending a fresh wave of agony through his body.
The bath chamber was a fairly small room, but the size didn't take away from the comfort of it. A large tub of beaten copper stood in the center, filled three-quarters of the way with gently steaming water. A number of unusual stones surrounded it at the base, each one pulsing with heat.
Drizzt shed his clothing, flinching as muscles all along his body protested at being moved. Half-seen hands took each garment as he dropped it, removing it from the room. One he'd stripped to the skin, he stepped into the tub, hissing as the hot water touched the aching muscles in his legs. The initial contact was incredibly painful, and he had to force himself to sit down. Thankfully, after only a few minutes, the heat began to soothe rather than hurt, relaxing the stiff, cramped places and easing the sore ones. He leaned back, sinking deeper into the water, and went blissfully limp.
At least an hour later, the hunger that had been pushed aside in favor of being able to move without constant agony returned with a vengeance. The consistently-hot water had done a marvelous job of soothing away the pain, and he could have used another half-hour in it, but, with a reluctant sigh, he stood and stepped out of the tub.
Immediately, he was enveloped in a large towel, heated until steam floated off the fibers. He accepted the towel gladly—the room was chilly—but waved away the misty servant before it could try to dry him off, preferring to do that for himself. A soft woolen mat absorbed the water dripping off him and protected his bare feet from the cold stones. Absently, he curled his toes into it, enjoying their feel.
Once he'd dried off, he looked around for his clothes. Everything he'd taken off earlier had vanished, leaving a fur-lined robe—hunter green, he noted with interest—and short felt boots in their place. Since there wasn't anything else, he pulled them on. They were warm and comfortable, even if not what he'd wear normally. Dry, clean, and in fresh clothes, he pushed the curtain aside and re-entered the main room.
The curve of the wall behind the alchemy garden hid the table from him, but the Arch-Mage's quarters weren't big enough to get lost in. He simply followed the room around until he came back out front. The first thing he saw was the table, set and waiting, covered with a variety of breakfast foods. He gravitated toward it.
Drizzt hadn't known what to expect from a wizard's table, but this was normal fare, no different than what would be found at any of the inns: bowls of steaming porridge, eggs, buttered toast beside small pots of jam and honey, thin steaks of venison, salmon and horker. He did find it all extremely good—but that was to be expected, as he was so hungry anything would taste good. It was several minutes before the edge was finally off his hunger, and he thought to wonder where Ravenlight was.
Automatically, he looked toward the alchemy garden and spotted her, sitting on the bench against the wall. She leaned against the stone, her head tipped back and her eyes closed. A pair of short felt boots, similar to the ones he was wearing, sat beside her on the bench, while her bare feet dug into the earth. He smiled. After the non-stop fear and worry of the past few weeks, it was good to see her truly at peace. Then, as if she knew he was watching her, she opened her eyes and smiled, looking toward him.
"Feeling better?"
"Considerably." He looked at the table. As much as he'd already eaten, there was still enough for two. "Did you want to join me?"
She nodded and stood, making her way through the garden carefully in order to avoid crushing any plants. At the edge of it, she absently dusted her feet off and slid them into the boots before continuing across the stone. "Well...in all honesty, after I was able to move again, I didn't wait for you to get up. But I don't mind joining you."
"If you were as hungry as I am, I don't blame you." It had been all he could do at first not to tear into the food like a pack of starving wolves. It was a little easier now that he'd eaten a little; but still, it would be a while before he was willing to stop. Then he looked over the table again curiously, noting the amount of food still left. "Wait, when did you eat?"
"I was just finishing when I heard you scream." She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. "And before you ask, yes, I'd eaten quite a bit. I asked them to make more while you were soaking." She looked over the spread. "Apparently, they did."
"They?" He suspected he knew, but he still wanted to be sure.
"The magical servants." Ravenlight helped herself to several pieces of horker meat. "They weren't just Savos Aren's, by the way. I found some old journals of several previous Arch-Mages and went through them while I was eating; apparently, the servants are actually part of the College, and were...created, I guess, by the founder of the College, Shalidor."
Drizzt frowned. "Shalidor...have I heard that name before?"
"Yes, on the doorstep of Labyrinthian. He was one of the strongest wizards in Skyrim's history." Ravenlight grimaced. "Apparently, Shalidor used the ruin as a lair of sorts for a while, though I still don't know many details. Some of the journals I read mention a maze he set up somewhere in the ruins; apparently, walking it was a trial potential Arch-Mages took."
He chuckled sardonically. "I suppose walking Labyrinthian itself sufficed, in our case."
"Well, according to the journal of the Arch-mage before Savos Aren, the trolls were becoming such a menace even in his time that some potential candidates never made it to the Maze itself, and the practice fell out of favor shortly before six students went to Labyrinthian and only one returned." She shook her head. "I don't think anyone ever got to the bottom of what actually happened there, until you and I saw the memories of the place. Anyway, they haven't required anyone to walk the maze for a long time."
"Considering the number of trolls we had to go through to get in there, I don't blame them." He grimaced at the memory, reaching as he did for a round-bellied clay pot. He was mildly surprised by its presence; Nords, by and large, weren't tea-drinkers. Though it was true that Savos Aren hadn't been a Nord.
"Ah—" Ravenlight had seen where he was reaching. "Be careful with that, it's not just tea. Savos Aren apparently really liked his sujamma."
He stopped just before he picked it up. "Sujamma?"
"An extremely potent Morrowwind alcohol. That pot is laced with it. If I hadn't recognized the taste before I finished my first cup, I'd probably be seeing double now." She snorted a little. "I tried asking them to make a fresh pot, since I don't know where the food supplies are in here, but I don't think they understood I wanted them to make it without the...extra kick."
"Ah." He left the teapot alone. He could have used the tea, but didn't want to risk impaired judgment—even if they weren't going to be doing much that day. "Are there any plans for the day?"
"Aside from arguing with Tolfdir over whether or not I'm actually going to be the Arch-Mage?" Her lips curved to the side in a sardonic grin. "No. In a few days, we should be rested up enough to head back to Whiterun—and I should have this whole mess straightened out by then. There might be something else waiting for us when we get back, but Winterhold and the mages have been taken care of, and I'm ready to see the back of them."
"I can't blame you for that." The last week had been well beyond harrowing, even considering what he'd known in the past. Even a short rest would be welcome, and after Labyrinthian, he doubted he'd find one boring. Though that didn't necessarily mean he'd want to be stuck at the College for a few days again, either. A rest at Whiterun would be welcome because of everyone he knew there. Being stuck at Winterhold—or the College—would be less so.
"By the way, if you start getting stir-crazy here, the innkeepers will never say no to a fresh supply of meat." Ravenlight grinned at him. "Now that the Eye has settled down again, game should be coming back into the region. And there's always fish along the coasts—and horkers, though I would strongly advise against going after a horker without a four-man hunting party to help carry back the meat, especially up those slopes."
He nodded. "I take it you're going to go out hunting yourself?"
"Yes, in between the arguments with Tolfdir." She leaned back with a sigh. "I'm going to need a way to blow off steam. But I don't think I'm going to be doing any running around today."
The Drow laughed. "I don't blame you." He stretched his shoulders and grimaced as they twinged. "Ow. I probably won't, either."
"It's going to take a few days before that soreness goes completely away," Ravenlight agreed, absently rubbing one arm. "Also, that fur clothing I made needs to be cleaned and mended. That wasn't an order!"
Drizzt blinked at her for a moment, then understood. "Oh. The servants."
She nodded. "They've been watching us both pretty closely for a little while; I don't think we're keeping them as busy as they're used to." She glanced to the side at one of the misty forms, a sardonic twist to her mouth. "Though I, frankly, feel that cleaning and mending Labyrinthian out of our gear ought to be enough for a while. That would be a three-day task for me; my armor's been used fairly hard and needed repairing anyway."
"Is that what they did with our clothes?" He'd been wondering. The robe was comfortable, but he felt a little exposed without his armor—and more so since he didn't know where it was.
"Yes, I asked them to, since Winterhold doesn't have a blacksmith's shop. I'll probably be scrounging for supplies to mend our furs, but my armor's gotten so beat up I didn't feel safe wearing it. This way, even if it isn't quite back to new once they've finished with it, it'll at least be safe to wear on the trip back to Whiterun, and I can either get or make some new armor then." She leaned back in the chair, exhaling. "And while I'm eager to get back to Whiterun, I have no desire at all to hurry on the way there."
"After how much we've been hurrying to and from places for this past month?" He shook his head. "Neither do I."
The following days were decidedly laid back. The day after the destruction of the Eye, neither of them bothered to leave the Arch-mage's quarters at all: they were too tired and too sore, and spent the entire day eating, sleeping, or simply relaxing in the alchemy garden.
The second day, they woke to discover that the magical servants had finished cleaning and mending their gear. Ravenlight's Elven armor shone. Each individual metal plate and scale had been meticulously polished and cleaned, every speck of weather-grime, old blood, dust, or dirt removed. Nicks and dents had been straightened; damaged plates and scales repaired. Leather backing and straps were cleaned and oiled, and the more torn or ragged ones had been replaced entirely.
Drizzt had fared just as well: even the oldest stains of battle and wear had been scoured out of his clothes. Ragged edges had been mended, while the threadbare places had been darned skillfully enough that they almost appeared to have been re-woven. His armor, unlike Ravenlight's, hadn't needed actual repairs, but it had been thoroughly cleaned, and like hers, looked brand-new.
His cloak, however, was conspicuously absent, so much so that he started to get worried. Ravenlight had to ask the servants to produce it three times before it was brought out, almost sheepishly. When he took it, he almost started laughing. They had done their best: they had cleaned, mended, darned, and managed to take almost fifty years off of it. The problem was, at least for them, that the cloak was well older than fifty years, and had stubbornly defied all their efforts to make it look new. He wrapped it around his shoulders anyway. He wouldn't call it an old friend, exactly, but it was familiar, and comforting in its familiarity.
As he did, a slight, agitated buzz—similar to a stirred beehive, though not as menacing—died down. Ravenlight laughed.
"They were worried you wouldn't take it back."
"Why wouldn't I?" He would probably switch it out for the thicker fur cloak she'd made him once he decided to head out on the hunt, but for now he was glad to wear his own clothing.
"Apparently, some of the older Arch-Mages were fussy." She gathered her armor and stowed it in her pack. "Thank you. No, I'm not going to put it on just yet, it's too cold up here." At once, the hooded, fringed robes Drizzt remembered Savos Aren wearing appeared. She grimaced. "No thank you, I'm not wearing those either." The agitated buzz rose again and she sighed. "We're going to be at this all day, aren't we? Drizzt, if you want to head out, go ahead, because this is going to take a while."
"You'll be all right?" He eyed the misty figures with some misgiving.
"Yes. I just have to argue with them for a while before I start arguing with Tolfdir." She waved her hand. "If you would, though, I'd like it if you could ask Nelecar what 'turning the whitest star black' means."
He nodded, remembering when she had questioned Faralda about the phrase during the blizzard. "Where did you hear that phrase, if I may ask?"
"Aranea Ienith, the priestess at the shrine of Azura." She stared at the robes that had just appeared—gaudy, heavily-jeweled things that, while he couldn't be sure, looked as though they had a deeply plunging neckline. "What the—no, I am absolutely not wearing those, where in Oblivion did they even come from?" She listened. "No, I don't care that the last female Arch-mage liked them. I am not wearing anything that revealing. Get them out of here now."
He swallowed a laugh with difficulty. "I'll leave now while things are still civil. Hopefully they'll see reason soon." Then he did laugh as she gave him a baleful glower over her shoulder. "And if you haven't made it out by this afternoon, I'll come back and find you."
"Oh, go pester Nelecar or something." She turned back to the anxiously-buzzing misty figures as he went out the door, her voice following as he went down the stairs. "Compromise: I will wear something warm, modest, and practical that doesn't make any promises I may not be able to keep."
"Ah, Drizzt!" Tolfdir looked up as the Drow entered the entrance hall, closing the door on the argument floating down the stairs behind him. "I was wondering if you would put in an appearance today. Is the Arch-mage coming?"
"Ravenlight," he answered, putting a slight stress on the civilian name, "is currently arguing with the College's servants over what they and she consider appropriate clothing. I don't know when she'll be down."
The old mage nodded, not appearing to notice the subtle denial in Drizzt's words. "Good, good. We were a little worried when neither of you came down yesterday."
"We were exhausted," Drizzt answered. "Three days of constant battle and riding took its toll."
"I assumed it would be something like that," Tolfdir responded. He coughed a little. "Be warned, though, others...assumed differently."
Drizzt sighed, running a hand over his face. "Let me guess: Nirya and J'zargo."
"J'zargo, at least. Nirya...didn't really say." Tolfdir coughed again, glancing to the side. His discomfort suggested that Nirya had, indeed, said something, and he was too embarrassed to repeat it.
Drizzt sighed again, not at all surprised. "That woman's mind is an absolute sewer. Tolfdir, I think Ravenlight and I would both appreciate it if you let it be known that we consider ourselves brother and sister, not lovers."
"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "Interesting...yes, yes, I'll let them know. Is there anything you're planning to do today?"
"I'm just going down to the inn. We've rested, but all the same, neither she nor I really want more adventures for at least a week or so; the Eye was enough."
"Yes, it would have been, wouldn't it?" He nodded. "All right; if anyone asks for you, I'll know where to direct them. In the meantime, enjoy your rest!"
It was bright and clear outside; the clouds had rolled away, allowing the sun to blaze off the snow blanketing the landscape. The wind blew, just hard enough to tug at his hair and cloak, but not enough to make crossing the bridge dangerous. He paused halfway across, noting that something had changed. He listened for a moment.
For the past several days, the animals had huddled down, silent and fearful: perhaps more aware of what the Eye's power meant than Men or Mer. There had been no sign of wolf, deer, or bear in the area. But now, faint and far-off on the wind, a wolf was howling. A smile grew on the Drow ranger's face. There was no telling what, if any, long-term effect the Eye would have on the Aurbis; whether magic would settle down immediately or take a few weeks to return to normal. But the land was almost as stubborn as the people who lived there, and it, at least, was recovering just fine.
Drizzt didn't know what to expect as he came off the bridge and entered Winterhold. But it appeared that the wards on the College had protected the town itself from anything but occasional attacks by the strange anomalies. And while the anomalies had certainly been a threat to life and limb—he suppressed a shudder as Ancano's mangled features rose before his mind's eye—they hadn't been capable of damaging the buildings.
He noticed the Jarl's son and the innkeeper's daughter running about and digging in the snow to unearth soul gems left behind after the anomalies had been killed, and watched them for a few moments, wondering if they simply liked how pretty the gems were, or if they intended to try and sell them to the mages later. He also saw Colette Marence come out of the inn, a large satchel over one shoulder, and guessed that she had been tending the guards or civilians who had been injured during the fight. She saw him and nodded in greeting, but didn't stop on her way back to the College.
He hesitated for a moment before he pushed the door open and went into the inn, not sure of what his reception would be. After all, he and Ravenlight had found the Eye in the first place, though neither of them had been enthusiastic about bringing it to the College. It wouldn't have surprised him at all if the people of Winterhold considered them the ones to blame, and his own numerous poor receptions made him hesitate even more. But at last, he opened the door and stepped in.
Drizzt had expected silence, glares, and possibly poor service as he entered. It had not occurred to him that the people of Winterhold already had two scapegoats to blame for the Eye's damage: the College in general, and Ancano in particular. And reports had come flying from the College after the battle in the Hall of the Elements. Few had bothered to mention the Psyjics, or the Thalmor's true end; so, as far as anyone in the inn knew, Ravenlight had used the long-lost Staff of Magnus to subdue and banish the Eye, while he had fought and slain Ancano. And so, far from the cold shoulder he'd been expecting, he found himself cheered, toasted, plied with free drinks, and slapped on the back. The last he didn't particularly enjoy: the exuberant Nords weren't considering the size differences between them, and the slaps were almost enough to knock him to the floor. But they came from high spirits and friendliness, if not actual friendship, so he bore with them, and tried to ignore his increasingly sore shoulders.
Thankfully, after twenty or so minutes of this, the people in the inn finally moved off to allow him some breathing room. Drizzt glanced around for a moment before he spotted Nelacar, off to himself at the side. He walked over to the mage's table and slid onto the bench beside him.
Nelecar glanced at him sardonically. "Ah, so the hero of the College deigns to speak with her outcast?"
Drizzt shrugged. "Neither of us is truly affiliated with the College. I'm not even a mage, and Ravenlight...more or less joined by mistake. But I do have a reason for wanting to talk with you: I was told you might know what it meant to 'turn the whitest star black'."
He hadn't known precisely what the man's reaction would be. But Nelecar went rigid, his eyes widening. "Where did you hear that phrase? Are they still—I thought it would have been hushed up at the College. Who told you about it?"
"Ravenlight heard the phrase a month or so back; she's been curious." It wasn't a lie. "She knew I would be more likely to encounter you than she was, so she asked me to find out a little about it."
"I'm sure." Nelecar laughed—but it wasn't a cheerful laugh. It was hollow and bitter. "Well. That part of my life is well behind me, and I'm not precisely happy about attempts to dig it up again."
"Would you consider an exchange of tales?" Drizzt said quietly. "I know a fair amount about the buried past returning, and I'll share some of those stories if you'll give me yours."
Nelecar hesitated, then sighed. "Oh, very well. Let's hear one of yours first, and if it...is equal to mine, I'll tell you what you want to know."
He then listened, a little skeptically, as Drizzt told him about the Thistledowns, the first family he'd encountered after he left the Underdark; his vow to protect them, and how he had failed that vow when the shape-shifting barghest—which he took care to call a daedra—had slaughtered them, in his shape and using one of his scimitars. He then explained about Roddy McGristle, the foul-tempered, grudge-holding bounty hunter who'd hounded him nearly across the length of Faerun for over a decade. When he finished, the Altmer mage sat for a while in quiet shock.
"I'll confess," he said at last, "I wasn't expecting anything on...quite that scale. Yes, it's a fair trade. I'll..." he sighed. "I'll explain." He signaled to counter, ordering a mug of ale, and then sat silently for a few moments until and after it arrived, staring into the distance and obviously trying to decide where to start.
"It started with my master, a Dunmer conjurer named Malyn Varen. He...conjuration can turn to necromancy very easily, you know, and he became very focused—not obsessed, at least not at first—with the idea of eternal life. To that end, he stole Azura's Star." He paused, waiting for Drizzt's reaction. Since the Drow had never heard of the Star, there really wasn't one. "Oh, come now. Surely you've heard of it."
"I haven't exactly spent my life in pursuit of Daedric artifacts or knowledge of them," Drizzt responded dryly. "But it might help if you explained what that Star was."
"Do you know much about soul gems?" Nelecar queried. Drizzt shook his head, knowing only what little Ravenlight had thought to mention about them—which wasn't much. The mage explained. "White gems, the most common, are used to capture the souls of non-sentient beings, such as animals or unintelligent monstrosities. Black soul gems, on the other hand, can capture the souls of any living creature, including Men, Mer, or Beastfolk such as Argonians and Khajiit. In fact, that's typically what they're used for: to capture the souls of human creatures, and as such, their use is frowned upon in more...reputable circles. But most gems, white or black, can only be used to capture one soul. Once the soul is used later, the gem shatters." He paused to make sure Drizzt was following the explanation. Once the Drow nodded, he continued.
"But Azura's Star is an infinite soul gem. It can hold any number of souls, one after another after another, and never so much as crack. Malyn hoped that he could store his own soul inside the gem, and therefore achieve a type of immortality. But since Azura's Star is a white gem, his spirit wouldn't...fit." He hesitated. "There are ways to turn white soul gems black. So Malyn began to experiment. He used more normal methods first, and then, when those didn't work, went on to more..." Nelecar hesitated again, "radical attempts."
Drizzt's skin prickled. "I'm going to assume Azura wasn't pleased with that."
"No." Nelecar's voice was hard and flat, and his hand tightened around his mug. "The more he experimented, especially as he began to draw closer to his goal, the more she tormented him. He became obsessed, and then erratic, and eventually became violent. He started..." The Altmer hesitated again, "using his...his students and disciples for his 'experiments', torturing and eventually...sacrificing them, all in hopes of fulfilling his desire. Azura drove him utterly mad."
Drizzt didn't say anything, but he wondered how much of the necromancer's ailment was actually Azura's work, and how much of it was the natural result of his twisted desire. "So what happened in the end?"
"The College found out what was going on and threw the lot of us out." Nelecar grimaced. "What was left of us by then. Malyn had become a raging madman, and I decided to cut ties with him to keep from ending up as one of his experiments. He and the truly devoted of his followers went west, and last I heard, they'd holed up in an abandoned fort called Illinalta's Deep." He shrugged. "This was five years ago by now, so I don't know what happened after that; whether he eventually succeeded in his goal or whether the whole lot of them perished in the attempt."
"After an experience like that, I don't blame you for not wanting to find out more." Drizzt stood and bowed slightly. "That can't have been an easy tale to tell. Thank you for being willing to share it with me."
"I suppose I should thank you as well," Nelecar replied, a little grudgingly. "For listening without...declaring that he or I somehow deserved what we got."
The Drow blinked. "Has that happened?"
"Yes." The Altmer's hand tightened around his mug and he turned away, his hood concealing his expression. "And no, I don't want to discuss that."
Drizzt accepted the hint, bowed a little again, and walked away.
He didn't know when Ravenlight would arrive, and he wasn't bored enough yet to want to go out. But he was hungry, so he stopped by the counter and requested a plate.
He didn't specify what he wanted when he ordered, willing to leave it up to Dagur and Haran. Some thirty minutes later, Haran came up to the table he'd chosen, carrying...it wasn't really a plate. It looked more like a platter, piled with what had to be the best the inn had to offer. Two thick steaks, one salmon, the other a fat-marbled slice of horker, steamed in the center. The salmon was crisp on the outside and tender on the inside, while the horker was pan-seared in its own juices, and still red in the middle. Golden potatoes and tender carrots were piled to one side of the meat; on the other was a pile of clams fried in butter. Almost half a loaf of bread had been sliced and fried with butter and garlic, and a steaming-hot snowberry crostata, which had probably been pulled from the oven only a minute or so before she brought it out to him.
It had been a while since he'd seen that much food in one place, and he was fairly sure he wouldn't be able to finish all of it. But just as he was wondering what he should do, he heard the cheers start up again, and turned to see Ravenlight making her way through the revelers, wearing a long, elegantly-cut robe, made of royal-blue velvet and trimmed with snow saber. As she moved, firelight caught on thin strands of golden embroidery. He hid a laugh. The robe really didn't look like the Arch-mage's robes. But it looked more like an Arch-mage's robe than it did anything else.
With a clear goal in mind, Ravenlight made her way through the crowd more quickly than he had, making it through in a scant ten minutes. She came up to him and sat beside him, exhaling gladly.
"Thank goodness."
"You don't like crowds?" He shifted the platter over a little to give her access to it as well; there was more than enough, even for two people.
"I've never really been fond of them, and lately I've liked them a lot less. I'm not sure why." She absently snagged one of the clams, popping it in her mouth. Then her eyes widened. "Wow. These are good. You better eat fast, uhiel, or I'll probably steal all of those."
Drizzt laughed. "Is that a sisterly sort of thing for your kin?"
"Sibling thing," she answered instantly. "Get used to it, it's going to keep happening."
"There are worse 'sibling things' out there." He smiled at her. "This one I don't mind."
"I bet." She grimaced, remembering what he'd told her in Mzulft. "Stealing food would be pretty benign, in comparison."
"Sharing, more like. I probably could have eaten all of this myself yesterday, but today I'm not that hungry." He took one of the clams himself. "Oh, these are good."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, splitting everything else evenly, but playfully stealing the clams from each other. It wasn't until the last one was gone that Drizzt glanced over at Ravenlight. "I spoke to Nelecar."
Ravenlight had just filled her mouth with a large chuck of potato, but she nodded at him and gestured for him to continue. He took a deep breath.
"Be warned: it's a fairly sordid tale." He then gave a paraphrased version of Nelecar's master, and his experiments on Azura's Star. And while the significance of the Star had had to be explained to him, Ravenlight almost choked, and spent several minutes coughing before she could speak again.
"Azura's Star?!" she finally gasped out. "That absolute idiot!" She waved off his concerned hands. "I'm okay. I'm okay. But—Kynareth's mercy. I almost can't believe what I just heard." She shook her head. "He was experimenting on the Star to—turn it black?!"
Drizzt nodded. "Yes. And she was not pleased about it."
"I bet not!" She coughed again, thumping her chest to get a few stubborn potato fragments out. "I cannot think of a faster way to absolutely destroy yourself than by deliberately screwing around with the artifact of a Daedric Prince known for swift and decisive vengeance." She shook her head. "Especially for a Dunmer. So what happened to him?"
"He went mad. Started using his disciples and students in order to turn the Star black; torture, sacrifice. The College found out exactly what was going on and threw them all out." Drizzt shook his head. "Nelecar decided it was time to cut his ties with them and left, but the last he'd heard, Malyn Varen and his more devoted followers holed up in some abandoned fort called Illinalta's Deep."
"Illinalta's Deep..." Ravenlight frowned. "I've heard that name somewhere before. I'll have to think on it; I might know where that is."
Drizzt nodded. "So; how long did the argument with Tolfdir take?"
Ravenlight laughed a little. "There actually wasn't an argument. I told him I intended to head back to Whiterun in a day or so, once we'd fully recovered from Labyrinthian and that ride here. He said, and I quote, 'Ah, so you'll be one of those Arch-mages'." She rubbed the back of her head. "I do not know what he meant by that. But then he winked at me and went on to say that this was why the College had the Head Wizard as well, and that since he'd been Mirabelle's assistant, he would be taking over the job, so I wouldn't have anything to worry about here."
"I wonder if there's been other Arch-mages more interested in wandering and adventure than sitting at the College," Drizzt mused. "In all honesty, I wouldn't be surprised."
"Neither would I," Ravenlight admitted. "If there were, though, it'll make things a lot easier. There's no way I'll be able to foist the title on anyone else now, not with the story of those dratted Psijics all through the College."
"Oh, they know?" Drizzt gestured at the people in the inn. "They didn't seem to be aware of the Psijics here."
"Try 'not that interested in the Psijics'," Ravenlight grumbled. "It's the mages who would be fascinated by them—or should I say, are fascinated by them. Everyone in the College knows. Even Urag gro-Shub commented on it."
"That is impressive." It was difficult to imagine anything earth-shaking enough to distract Urag gro-Shub from his library. "But you're right, it would make abdicating a lot harder, at least for a few years."
She sighed. "I'm just not going to worry about it until we've got the bigger problems out of the way; like Alduin. Hopefully once that's dealt with, I'll be a little better prepared to handle this."
He put his hand on her shoulder. "Hopefully."
Ravenlight spent much of the following two days in the Arch-mage's quarters, taking advantage of Savos Aren's stockpile of alchemy reagents as she worked to replenish her healing and stamina potions. Whenever she ran out of anything that could be found in the area, she joined Drizzt in wandering around outside of town, hunting and searching for reagents.
Twice they encountered opportunistic packs of wolves; one pack had to be wiped out, but the other just needed a few arrows fired into it before they all broke and ran for the wilder regions, leaving the town alone. Drizzt skinned the ones they'd felled and brought the pelts to the local shopkeeper, Birna. She accepted them gladly; quality furs and warm clothes were valuable this far north.
They also had other supplies that needed replenishing: mainly food and drink. Drizzt took on acquiring those, hunting for deer and rabbits, and trading the fresh meat for reduced prices on journey bread and smoked meat at the inn. There was also the issue of shelter. They'd had to leave their tent behind in Whiterun to keep the weight down for their trek in Labyrinthian, and even with the Nightgate Inn a convenient stopping point for the trip back, neither one wanted to risk being caught out in another Hircine's Ride without so much as a tent. There had been a mild argument about that; Drizzt had noted that the weather had been good for several weeks, possibly meaning that they wouldn't have trouble on the way back. Ravenlight had argued that because the weather had been unusually fair, it was probably building up for something nasty and they shouldn't take any chances.
The argument was actually settled by the weather itself the morning they were setting out: a snowstorm had blown in overnight, leaving behind another six inches of wet, heavy snow. By the time Ravenlight picked her way across the newly-treacherous bridge, Drizzt had gone to Birna's Oddments and purchased a spare tent.
It was cold, blustery, and snowing steadily as they made their way down the trail to the Nightgate Inn, and the poor weather meant they had to stop more than once to rest and warm up before continuing. Thankfully, the snow didn't give way to a blizzard, and while they had to travel for a short while in the dark, they made it through the pass and to the inn without undue trouble.
The night was uneventful, and the next day, while bleary, overcast, and bitterly cold, was not snowy. As they stepped out, Ravenlight put her fingers to her lips and let out a long, rippling whistle, calling Fearless from wherever he might have been wandering. It took a few minutes, but he came, prancing, shaking snow out of his mane, and nuzzling both of them when he stopped.
Ravenlight checked him over carefully; while he was used to wandering by himself, she generally didn't leave him by himself in the winter. But wherever he'd gone after they'd left him outside of Winterhold, he'd done well for himself, as fat and happy as if he'd spent the time in a stable. They both mounted and rode out of the mountains, down the road to Whiterun.
It was around noon when they arrived at the city, leaving Fearless in Haemar's willing care and making their way through the curtain walls up to the main gate. Drizzt noticed that, oddly enough, the guards appeared to be slightly more on edge than usual; he'd have thought that, with the effect of the Eye finally gone, they would have relaxed a little.
Then Ravenlight pushed open the door to Breezehome, and a small form hurtled toward them as though she'd been fired from a catapult. Lucia somehow managed to crash against both their legs at once, throwing her arms around them as far as they'd go and clinging tightly.
"You're back! I was so scared for you!"
Lydia laughed from further in the house. "Lucia, let them come all the way in and close the door. It's cold outside."
Slightly abashed, Lucia released them and moved to the side, allowing them to enter. Ravenlight closed the door firmly behind them, sighing with relief as she did. "It is. Wow, that fire feels good." She pushed the hood of her cloak back, then knelt down to pull Lucia into her arms. "We're okay, sweetie. It was pretty scary for a while, but we're both all right—and we took care of the thing that was making magic go crazy."
Lucia hugged her tightly. "You're okay?"
"We are." Drizzt knelt down beside her as well. She released Ravenlight with one arm, reaching out to hug him as well. "Were you having more bad dreams?"
"Nnnooo," Lucia said slowly as she released them, her small face troubled, "but something's going on and all the grown-ups are scared. And no one will tell anyone why."
As one, Drizzt and Ravenlight looked over her head to Lydia. The housekarl shrugged, her lips tight. "I assure you, we're not keeping the kids in the dark to keep them from panicking. We don't know, either. The number of guards on duty has doubled, and talk around the barracks and the Dragonsreach that the Jarl is considering a curfew."
"Why?" Drizzt rose to his feet.
Lydia shook her head. "That's the thing. We don't know. Even Irileth isn't sure. There's just...everyone in the city has been uneasy for the past week or so, and we haven't seen anything to explain why. Or nothing certain, anyway; there were rumors from some of the guards that they've seen shadows circling the town from outside for a few days, but no one's really sure what the shadows were—or even if the guards actually saw them."
"Shadows?" Ravenlight muttered. "Not a good sign." She looked at Drizzt. "Sounds like we got the problem with the Eye straightened out just in time. We should probably search around the city perimeter tomorrow, see if there's any sign the snow didn't obliterate."
"Tomorrow?" Lydia raised an eyebrow. "Why not tonight?"
"Because we did a fairly hard amount of riding earlier, and because I, at least, have been looking forward to getting home for four days." Ravenlight rose to her feet, giving Lucia another squeeze. "If trouble comes tonight, I'm more than willing to meet it—but if there isn't trouble, I want to stay home and rest."
Firelight played, red and golden, across the room that night. Drizzt and Ravenlight sat together in front of it, Drizzt gently stroking Lucia's hair as she dozed off against him. Ravenlight stared into the flames, stone-faced, her lips pressed together. He glanced at her.
"You're worried about these shadows, aren't you?"
"Yes." She nodded, glancing at Lucia and keeping her voice low. "I talked to the guards when I went to the market earlier, and actually found someone who'd seen one of these shadows. I didn't like the fact that they appeared only at night; to be honest, I was half-expecting that they were Falmer. But what he described didn't sound like a Falmer—and they really wouldn't plan any sort of all-out attack in the dead of winter, anyway. It has to be warmer before they'll come up out of their caves."
"What did it sound like, then?" Drizzt considered. If the trouble had started a week ago, it would have begun about the time he and Ravenlight left for Labyrinthian—before the Eye had been dealt with. "Do you think it was Thalmor?"
"No. They depend too much on their mages for them to have been doing anything but frantically running around trying to figure out what was wrong with the Aurbis for the past month or so. Same would have gone for bandits—and certainly for any cult of dark mages. But I was wondering...there is a faction that might not have been overly affected by the Eye, and probably would have been glad to take advantage of the chaos posed by the Eye." She stared into the fire again, the flames reflecting off her eyes in such a way that the irises seemed to be flickering between red and golden. "A faction that already showed itself quite willing to move around during that time, to an extent that we both clashed with them."
Drizzt went still, until Lucia murmured sleepily. "You don't mean..."
"I'm afraid I do." She didn't say the word out loud, but she didn't have to, either. "And I do not like that they seemed to be scouting out the city."
"Neither do I." He rested his hand on Lucia's hair, trying to force himself into a calmer state so as not to wake her. "We'll have to be careful. Very much so."
They slept badly that night; Ravenlight in her bed with Lucia beside her, Drizzt close to the door, both of them with weapons immediately at hand. But the night passed peacefully, despite their unease, and the clouds that had hung low and gray over the sky for the past few days had blown off in the morning, allowing the sun to shine clear and bright over the snow.
Drizzt considered that there was an odd comfort to believing the danger may have been from vampires: it meant that daylight, especially a day as bright as this, would be safe. And this meant that a fighter short of sleep—like he and Ravenlight were—could get some additional rest during the daylight without worrying about anything attacking while they were napping.
They both woke about mid-afternoon, and went out on different errands about the city. Drizzt stopped by the barracks, correctly guessing that the guards would want some additional training in light of the possibility of attack. Ravenlight went first to Warmaiden's, and then to Arcadia's Cauldron to talk to her about what potions might provide a needed edge against the chance of a vampire attack, and helped her boost her stock of healing potions and disease curatives.
They stopped by Breezehome again in the early evening, sharing a meal with Lucia and Lydia. After the meal was over and had been cleared away, they prepared to head out again—this time to patrol around the walls of the city for any sign of what had been scouting it. Before they left, though, Ravenlight knelt down in front of Lucia and pulled something out of her pack.
"I got you something earlier, lieka."
"A present?" Lucia's eyes lit up. "What is it?"
"Here. Be careful; this isn't a toy." Ravenlight placed a sheathed Elven dagger in the girl's outstretched hands. Eyes wide with eagerness, Lucia carefully drew the blade and looked at it. Thin red lines pulsed through the green-gold metal, indicating a fire enchantment. "I've already talked to Lydia about teaching you how to use this. But I want you to keep this close at all times. Even a little blade can mean the difference between life and death sometimes, and things are getting dangerous."
Lucia nodded solemnly, looking up at her. "I will. I promise. Um...where are you and Drizzt going?"
"We're going to look around the edges of the city, see if we can find any signs of what might be making everyone so nervous," Drizzt explained. "Hopefully we can find out where they're holed up and possibly deal with them quickly." He stroked her hair. "Stay in the house tonight," he warned. "I know you always do, but...something tells me it's going to be more important tonight."
Both the little girl and the housekarl nodded, Lucia clutching her new dagger and Lydia placing a hand on the haft of her axe.
It took a while to find what they were looking for, and by that time the sun was already sinking fast. Thankfully, the moons were full, and the snow itself had a glow that assisted the pair in their hunt for tracks. They had started by circling around the farms; while no one on the road had reported shadows, it wasn't a stretch to imagine that lurking vampires might find the livestock an irresistible lure—and they did find that several farms, particularly on the north-eastern side of the city, had suffered a rash of stolen chickens in the past few days.
"Why chickens, though?" Drizzt wondered as they passed the Eastern Watchtower, searching for tracks. "Wouldn't goats or cattle be more...I don't know, satisfactory?"
"Steal a goat or a cow, and people are more likely to take notice," Ravenlight answered. "Steal a chicken, and folk are more likely to put out fox traps, at least for a few days. Unpleasantly clever planning on their part; there were far too many vanished chickens for that to have actually been a fox. That had a human intelligence behind it." She stiffened suddenly, approaching a cluster of boulders carefully. "Drizzt, over here. There's tracks."
He joined her, both careful not to scuff up the marks. Behind the boulders were unmistakable prints: booted feet, coming and going, as well as a spot where someone had crouched for several minutes, obviously watching the movement on the walls. "Whoever this was was watching the guards." Ravenlight examined the ones that both came and left from the spot. "She came slowly, watching where she stepped; probably sneaking up on the city. But when she left..." She brushed the scuffed, less clear marks. "She was moving fast, running hard."
"Why she?" Drizzt glanced at her.
Ravenlight measured the size of the prints with her hands. "Small, slender feet. Some men do have fairly small feet, but these are...pretty dainty. This was probably a female vampire spying us out." She stood, looking down the line. "I think we can follow the tracks back and maybe find out where they are."
They glanced at each other. Then Ravenlight shrugged Wraithcaptor free, and Drizzt pulled Taumaril loose. Taking on a nest of vampires might not have been high on the list of battles they enjoyed. But to protect the city—their home—they would.
The Drow ranger and Bosmer huntress had no difficulty following the faint tracks back through the snow, both moving carefully as they did. Drizzt was in front, his heat vision marvelously helpful in the cold. Ravenlight skulked behind him, using her ears and nose as much as her eyes, and alert for anything in the landscape around them that seemed the slightest bit off. Twice she paused, looking suspiciously to the west; but both times, she saw nothing to justify her suspicion, and continued on along the trail.
Then, a few miles away from the city, Drizzt halted, crouching almost to the ground. "There's something ahead," he breathed, pointing. Ravenlight followed the line of his hand and frowned.
"I know this place," she murmured. "Be careful coming up; this is Halted Stream Camp. There's a pit trap used to catch mammoths somewhere around here, we don't want to fall into it."
Drizzt frowned. He'd passed near Halted Stream Camp while he and Amren were hunting down the bandits holed up in the Lunar Forge, but he hadn't gone close enough to remember if there was anywhere in the camp where vampires could safely hide from the sun. "Is there a structure anywhere in the camp? Something solid, that would block out the sun?"
"Yes. An old iron mine." She grimaced. "It would be a tight fit, but there's enough room in there for a fair amount of them—and if they brought thralls, they wouldn't need to hide in the mine during the day."
They exchanged grim looks, then continued toward the mine.
But, while there was plenty of evidence that vampires, thralls, and even death hounds had been there, and recently, the mine proved to be deserted. Drizzt looked through the underground structure, while Ravenlight searched the outside huts. They met again at the entrance to the mine, both empty-handed.
"No one," Ravenlight said grimly. "Though someone's been here. I counted twenty bedrolls, and about half of those huts are new. I also found bones from at least four deer, so there's been quite a few people eating here."
Drizzt held out a handful of chicken feathers. "There were eighteen coffins in a large room near the end of the mine, along with at least a dozen bedrolls alongside them. And I found a pen full of these feathers, cracked bones both venison and chicken, and mounds of dog droppings, some of them recent. I also found the pit trap: there were five fresh bodies in it, and I suspect they didn't fall into the trap. There was a sizable force here earlier, but there's no sign of any of them now."
Ravenlight suddenly paled. "Drizzt, there's only one reason a large force wouldn't be here now. They're after the city. They're attacking it tonight!"
His eyes widened. Then he pulled out his whistle, blowing on it hard. When Andahar appeared, they both sprang up on his back and raced toward the city, riding hard and fast.
Aided by the unicorn's blinding speed, they covered the two miles from the camp to the gates in barely five minutes, pulling up in a spray of snow. The curtain walls showed evidence of the first wave of attack: scattered bones and piles of ash, indicating that the vampires had pushed through the city proper by using skeletons and zombies to drive back the guards. Thankfully, they didn't see the bodies of any guards—though Ravenlight grimly realized that the necromancy-skilled vampires could have simply recruited any fallen guards into their own ranks. They raced through the curtain wall, both of them drawing steel as they did.
The gates of Whiterun stood partly open, and the two Elves shoved through—onto a scene of utter chaos. Vampires and their thralls battled with what appeared to be everyone in the city, guard and citizen alike, the light of the full moons and the braziers just enough to show friend from foe.
Roaring, scimitars flashing, Drizzt hit the closest knot of struggle: four vampires trying to overpower Carlotta, Ysolda, and Olfina Grey-mane, who had grouped into a knot around Carlotta's terrified daughter Mila and were fighting like demons to protect her. The vampires were pressing hard on the women, confident of their victory; ambushed by the Drow, they stood no chance. Twinkle and Icingdeath flashed, ichor sprayed, and four heads fell to the cobbles.
But there was no time to rest after one small victory. Idolaf and Jon Battle-Born were back-to-back, holding off a group of thralls, while their father stood guard over their bleeding mother, chopping into a small pack of the hideous black death hounds. Anoriath and Elrindir were on the walls, racing from one vantage point to another, both dropping thralls, vampires, and death hounds alike with deadly, well-placed shots. Amren stood beside a group of guards, protecting a small group of children.
And that was just what he could see from the inside of the gates. Screams and cries of battle rang out from nearly every corner of the city, animal bellows that suggested that the werewolf members of the Companions had taken on their beast-forms to throw back the vampires, battle cries from guards and fighters.
Whiterun was under all-out attack.
A thrall charged him. He dodged easily away from the man's clumsy attack and pierced him to the heart, then withdrew his blade with a jerk and went after another one. Beside him, Ravenlight attacked a taller vampire with blade and magic, Sunfang flashing with hungry fire.
"Drizzt, use your magic!"
"What?" A pair of thralls charged toward them, accompanied by two death hounds. He struck the hounds down first, then clashed with the thralls.
Ravenlight finished her vampire and spun to help him with the thralls. "Those purple flames! I can't tell vampires from guards or townsfolk in this confusion!"
Ah. It was the work of a second to do as she asked, and vampires and thralls suddenly screamed in panic as all the ones in the front of town suddenly lit up, their forms outlined in dancing faerie fire. Their opponents were taken aback as well—but only for a few seconds. Then, with renewed cries, the people of Whiterun surged forward again, taking advantage of the ability to see their foes.
Ulfberth War-bear had his greataxe in hand, wielding it with ease and skill; Drizzt saw him raise it high, then bring it down hard to cleave a Master vampire attacking Adrienne to the shoulder blades. Adrienne herself was fighting with a glass axe in one hand and a torch in the other, using both to vicious effect against the undead creatures.
Two vampires cornered an older woman, apparently thinking her easy prey. She clapped both hands together, then whipped them out to unleash a powerful gout of flame which briefly lit up the night. Both of her attackers caught and burned like tinder. They reeled back from her, screaming shrilly.
"YOL TOOR!"
A blast of dragonfire tore through a cluster of vampires and thralls who had attempted to regroup for a concerted attack. They had only made themselves into a perfect target for a Shout. The thralls were scorched and burned—the vampires, on the other hand, were turned into torches where they stood. And before any of them could recover from the shock of the fire, the Dragonborn was among them, grace and fury mixed in her attack, the Dawnbreaker joining Sunfang. Perhaps the sweeping strokes of her blades weren't as powerful as those of her Nord compatriots—but they did the job just as well.
Forms began to rush in from deeper in town: vampire pushed back by the determined resistance of the Companions. They ran into another, even more determined resistance: the furious guards and equally furious civilians, outraged by this brazen attack, unwilling to let a single enemy escape. And the Hunter was among them, roaring as loudly as the Nords, his flashing blades covered with red. The cobblestones grew slick with blood.
"Drizzt!"
He wheeled, blocking the attack from a vampire fledgling, and dispatched it quickly, looking for the source of the cry. Then his blood ran cold.
The door to Breezehome stood wide open. And in the street in front of Warmaiden's, Lydia knelt in a pool of blood, one hand clutching her belly, the other struggling to hold her axe. But she wasn't the one who had screamed: it was Lucia, who was fighting wildly in the hold of a tall, well-armored vampire, kicking desperately and slashing at him with her dagger. Drizzt screamed and started toward them.
The vampire heard him and turned to look. Their eyes met: glowing lavender locked onto glowing orange. Then the vampire's lips curled up into a smile crueler than a demon's, and before Drizzt could reach him, he moved, blindingly fast: jerking Lucia's arm straight and sinking his fangs into her upper arm. She screamed shrilly, the pain in her cry tearing at Drizzt as though he was the one being bitten. Then, laughing brutally, the vampire wheeled, throwing her into the stream in front of the gate.
Perhaps he'd assumed Drizzt would go immediately after her, allowing him to escape. If so, he was sorely mistaken—and he'd underestimated just how fast the Drow could move. Before the vampire could even turn back, Drizzt was on him. Icingdeath pierced him through the abdomen, pinning him in place for a second before Twinkle flashed, sending his head spinning across the street. As the vampire crumpled, Drizzt abandoned his blades and sprang down into the icy water.
In his heat vision, Lucia glowed in the dark, bobbing against the grates leading under the walls. He snatched her up, holding her tight against himself as he clambered out and looked around. The fighting had ended; it was a victory for Whiterun. But it was a costly victory, which he could see now that the battle was over. Guards and less injured townsfolk were running back and forth, finding those who'd been more severely injured and gathering them up.
A loud, authoritative voice called out, and Drizzt, looking to the walls, saw a man in rich, though bloodstained, clothes, a circlet on his brow and a warhammer in his hand. "Get all the injured to the temple! I've given orders to Farengar to assist the priests in tending the wounded, and Arcadia will be providing her potions. Everyone who can walk, aid those who cannot!"
Lucia clung to his shirt, shaking and whimpering. He clutched her tightly, shaking himself. She'd been bitten. She'd been bitten by a vampire, and he didn't— "Ravenlight!"
He saw her then, bending over Lydia, her hands filled with golden light. His breath caught as he saw the extent of the housekarl's injury: she'd barely escaped being disemboweled, and her face was almost as pale as the snow. Ravenlight looked up at his cry, brushing a strand of hair back. Her face was striped and spattered with blood; he hoped it wasn't hers. "What's wrong—Lucia!"
"She was bitten!" He could barely say it. "What-"
"The temple!" Ravenlight pointed. "Get her to the temple. I'll follow after Lydia's able to move! Hurry!"
He nodded and joined the throng.
It was a grim sight. For as few enemies as there had actually been, they'd exacted a toll on the defenders of Whiterun, and no one who'd fought had escaped uninjured. He saw Carlotta, Olfina Gray-Man and Ysolda; Olfina limped badly, and was supported by Jon Battle-born, who had a rough bandage tied around his right arm. Olfrid carried his seriously-injured wife, apparently unaware of his own wounds. Elrindir and Anoriath hauled an unconscious female guard between them, her wounds to the arms and torso hastily bandaged by Anoriath's shredded shirt. Farkas and Vilkas, both stark naked, helped to haul the injured up the stairs to the temple; Farkas carried two guards over his shoulders, while Vilkas hauled Amren, whose right arm had been shredded by a death hound. Both of the Companions bore numerous bite marks and scratches—though they, at least, would probably not fall victim to the vampire's curse, not with their own so evident.
And those were just the ones he could see. It felt as though no one in Whiterun had escaped the attack unscathed.
There wasn't enough room for everyone in the temple: that much could be seen at a glance. Tents had been erected for the wounded, and the less injured seated themselves there. Arcadia ran from tent to tent, a large basket full of potions on her arm; she was distributing one of each kind to everyone in the tents.
Lucia's whimpers had ceased, and she sagged in Drizzt's arms. He could feel her breathing—but her breath was growing shallow. His mouth dry, he hurried through the crowd and entered the temple.
Even now, as it filled with casualties, there was a sense of profound peace about it. The sound of trickling water and healing chimes somehow rose above the moans of the wounded, and there was a clean, fresh aroma, like the smell of a breeze off a mountain meadow, not overwhelmed by the stench of blood. But Drizzt barely noticed any of that. His attention was focused on the small, unassuming altar at the back of the temple, and he made a beeline for it.
Four candle surrounded a shrine made of some lavender material, which seemed to be the source of the fresh scent. It was sitting on a plain wooden table, elevated by a dais of the same tiled stone that covered the floor. It was unlike virtually all of the temples he was familiar with; but when he reached the altar, he sank to his knees, trembling. Lucia, though breathing, had gone still. He took her hand—it felt so small, and so cold—and reached out, touching it to the shrine.
And he felt...
"It's been a while since you came, little one." He could not describe the voice that came to him as his fingers brushed across the smooth surface of the shrine: new, yet familiar; powerful and intimate; wild, yet homely; and strangest of all, both motherly and dangerous. "And yet you could not take the time to come to me?"
"Kynareth." He stumbled, looking for the words—and trying to grasp the fact that the goddess was, apparently, speaking to him. "I..."
A warm breath of wind blew across him, spicy with pine and sweet with wildflowers. "I am not angry, my child. For I have seen you. These shrines are conduits for my power, but the wilds are my domain...and you are very much at home in my wilds, are you not? It's just...polite to come say hello, especially when you know you're being looked after."
"Looked after?"
"Of course. You are one of Meilikki's chosen, are you not? And she and I are...contemporaries. It's only natural that I should look after you for her." There was a sense of...if he'd been speaking to a person, she would have leaned back and made herself comfortable. "But you came here for a reason. Speak."
"Lucia," he said instantly. "She was...she was bitten, gods, a vampire bit her. And she's not...she's not the only one." My little friend, my ward, my—my niece—and she—and so many others...so many...
"You wish her healed."
"Yes." He swallowed. "Yes. Please." And not just her. I want her healed, but...not just her...
"The gods smile on generosity, Drizzt Do'Urden." He could almost see her smile. "It is granted. All in my temple and all who shelter beneath the Gildergreen; none shall die, and any who contracted the vampiric taint shall be cured."
He heard her inhale. And then he felt the wind flow out of the shrine. It flowed across him and Lucia, stirring their hair, and then rushed through the temple. It ruffled the water in the pools, and the blooming lavender in the pots along the walls bobbed, releasing their fragrance into the air. Outside, he heard the wind rushing through the branches of the Gildergreen, and people calling out in surprise as it blew through the tents.
In his arms, Lucia stirred, her eyes opening. "Drizzt?"
Tears filled his eyes, and he pulled her close. "I'm here, Lucia. And you're going to be all right."' She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I know. I heard a lady," she whispered, as if imparting a secret. "I think it was Kynareth. She said we're all going to be all right."
He smiled through his tears. "I heard her too," he said.
Lucia's eyes lit up, and she twisted around to face the shrine, folding her hands and bowing her head. "Thank you," she said reverently. "There aren't any flowers now, but when spring comes, I'll bring you the prettiest I can find!"
Bowing his own head, Drizzt also thanked her. Though I don't know what offering I could bring...
"I do not need an offering," the strange voice answered. "But there is something you can do in thanks." Her voice had been warm as a summer morning; now it changed, becoming hard and cold as the winter's freeze. "Hunt down these creatures that pervert the natural order."
He bowed a little more, his eyes closing tightly. This was an order he would surely relish obeying.
They stayed in the temple only a short while after, long enough for Danica Pure-Spring to approach. She cast a healing spell over them both, curing the bite wound in Lucia's arm, and the numerous scrapes and cuts Drizzt had gained during his own fights. But after that, since neither was severely hurt, they left the temple to head back to Breezehome.
As they went, they found Ravenlight. She'd been under the Gildergreen, helping to heal whatever injuries Arcadia's potions hadn't worked on, and she looked pale and exhausted. Drizzt put his hand under her arm to steady her as she rose to her feet.
"Easy," he said. "Are you all right?"
"Tired," she answered. "And my magicka's about gone, but I'm not injured, if that's what you're asking." She looked around. "I think that's everyone, though. Jarl Balgruuf said he'd open Dragonsreach for those too hurt or tired to reach their own homes tonight, so they'll be all right."
"Lydia's in the temple, isn't she?" Drizzt tried to remember. He thought he might have seen her, but in the crowd of wounded, he couldn't be sure.
Ravenlight nodded. "I got her up there just before the windstorm started. It was an awfully warm wind, though, for midwinter; and really localized. I don't think it left the square where the Gildergreen is."
"A wind of Kynareth," Drizzt said absently. He didn't know what Ravenlight would make of that, but he wasn't going to deny what it had been.
But she just nodded. "I wondered if that's what it was." She yawned and staggered. "Gods, I'm tired. Let's get home. Please."
The door to Breezehome was damaged, but while the latch had been broken, the hinges were solid. Drizzt propped a chair in front of the door to hold it shut, as much against the cold as intrusion. Then, as Ravenlight staggered up to the loft overhead, he knelt down, banking the burned-down fire and adding fuel to keep it going overnight. The house was cold, though, and he wasn't sure how long it would take before it warmed up enough to let him sleep.
"Hey."
Startled, he turned toward the top of the stairs, and saw Ravenlight, already in her night tunic, leaning against the wall and looking down at him. She beckoned. "Come on; Lucia asked to have you up here again tonight. And I don't blame her, that was...that was one hell of a fight, and I mean that literally."
He knew what she meant. It was one thing to engage in a fight. It was another to have a fight break out in your home, involving family who might not have been inclined to look for one. And...and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to know for himself that they were safe. He pulled off his cloak and boots, placed them by the fire, and went upstairs.
If they hadn't minded the close contact the night before the journey to Labyrinthian, they all welcomed it that night. Lucia huddled against them both, shivering a little; they draped their arms across her and around each other without hesitation.
For a little while, there was silence, though no one was asleep. Then Lucia glanced between them hesitantly. "Are...are you going to stay now?"
"We're going to stay long enough to make sure the house is repaired, Lydia is healed, and you're safe," Drizzt answered. "But after that...these vampires. If they're becoming brazen enough to try an attack of this scale on a fortified city, there's no telling what they might try next. They've got to be stopped."
He expected her to protest. But while she shuddered, she nodded. "That way they can't hurt anyone like this again."
"Right." He inhaled. "We'll be here for a week or so. But after that?"
Ravenlight let out a sound that wasn't quite a growl. "After that, we're heading to the Rift. And we're joining up with the Dawnguard."
(A/N) And on to the new questline! I was a little surprised that no one got the new faction right, what with all the vampire attacks going on and the warning dreams Ravenlight has been having. But it won't be just the Dawnguard quest; there's room for plenty of other side quests as they push along, and yes, other questlines will mesh as well. I'm looking forward to this arc, and I hope you're as excited for it as I am!
As always, please let me know how I did. I love hearing from you guys!
-Philowen Aster