A/N: The difference in capitalization with the words "kheised" and "dacha" is not accidental. It results from the fact that the atronachs themselves treat these as racial nomenclature, requiring capitalization, while the other races view them simply as adjectives added to the word "atronach" in the Kyntongue. I know it's a tiny detail and it's one I made up, but it matters to me. :)

Chapter 25

Ebel-Merodach squatted beside the stairwell with his mace in hand. His armored body blocked Sodrinye from being seen or, more importantly, from being shot at by anything outside her dark corner. She was quiet now, and he could not be certain whether she was even awake. She can gain no further insight now that the atronach priest is here. His armor glowed slightly in the dark, making him more conspicuous here where it would have camouflaged him against the livid terrain of his own plane, but he was sure the bulk of the stairwell hid him from any prying eyes.

Sodrinye had saved him again. His knee did not hurt; the only reason he had fallen was that it had taken him completely by surprise when she hit him. It was not my fate. She would have noticed something so obvious as an arrow in my skull if that were part of her vision, concluded the part of his mind that was still rational and would be to the end. He ought to be humiliated and enraged with her, but he was not.

He wanted very desperately to be here tomorrow (that very strange and human word) to tell her exactly how angry he was, of course. He wanted a great many things, at least one of which profoundly shocked him now that he realized it. He'd thought she was ugly the first time he saw her. He had laid hands on her body numerous times with no thought other than to haul her about like an unwieldy corpse. Now that he recognized that he did in fact covet that ugly body very much, it was too late.

He heard the hiss and saw the glow as the flame atronach arrived. Merodach snarled in silent puzzlement. No krynvelhat had shot the arrow that had nearly killed him. There must be more than one. It made sense; the human mage must be waiting on the flat ground outside, sending his summoned creature in while he waited out of harm's way. This much was typical krynvelhat behavior.

The fact that the atronach spoke was more than a little unusual, however. Summoned specimens of the dacha generally just flung themselves on the nearest target with suicidal fury. He could hear it circling the fire outside, which was unusually thoughtful behavior for one of its kind.

Merodach edged slightly sideways, hefting his mace, and peered around the edge of the stairwell.

--

The Dremora had not heard Lybiad creeping down the stairs. The Blade himself had not been perfectly certain how close he was to them, so it was something of a shock when the caitiff's horned head appeared in front of him. He already had his sword in hand, but the creature's long horns would spoil any decapitating stroke; he froze as he tried to keep track of that and also stay in shadow and out of sight of the flame atronach.

--

Akhanad had already seen the human on the stairs, but the Master's voice was loud inside her head, chanting words in the Kyntongue. She shook it violently as she tried to get her bearings again. She could sense the Kheised very nearby, a blaze of icy immediacy distracting her from the dim and fleshly presence of the dark kynaz. Powers pulled at her from Oblivion and from Nirn, and she kept herself together only by great effort.

Then the man on the stairs froze, staring fixedly at something in front of him. Akhanad watched him, but kept circling lest she lose her concentration. After a moment she recognized the dim shape of one horn sticking up past the stone rim of the stairwell. She made a noise of triumph, a hissing roar, and threw the largest ball of fire she could master.

The caitiff ducked. The human dodged as well, very quickly for a mortal, but the nimbus of her spell burned him. Akhanad grinned ferally at his scream as she started toward the stairwell. The wounded human stared at her, his clothes and flesh both charred on his right side, and then he thrust his weapon down at the caitiff and fled staggering back up the stairs.

--

"What just happened?" demanded Laure in a whisper, trying to see around the Imperial without getting any closer to him.

"The atronach just fried some poor fool on the stairs," muttered the older man. He shifted position slightly where he knelt. "I can't tell if he got Ebel-Merodach or just dropped his sword. The caitiff wouldn't make any noise, you know. Not if he thought it would give away Sodrinye's position."

"You know them well," Laure said. "You really were in Oblivion for two years, weren't you."

"Of course I was," he said. He was drawing the bow again.

"You won't do much harm to an atronach with that," said Laure, readying an ice spell. It wasn't a very good one. It would probably just annoy the creature. Could she depend on Tychicus Varen to save her, then? Or would he maintain his neutrality in the face of advancing fate no matter what? Had he seen her killed by the other atronach in those visions of his? He'd given her no sign. But then, he might not.

"They brought me back," said the Imperial quietly. "I have to try - "

"Akhanad," said the voice of Tychicus Varen.

"What's he doing now?" said Laure, but she was deeply glad she was already kneeling. Her joints were weak with relief.

"He's standing right by the fire," said the Imperial.

"Ssstand away," said the voice of the flame atronach. Laure heard a couple of footsteps, and then Akhanad backed into her view. "It is a circle I will close, not open. This is no business of yours." Laure felt a vibration from her feet all the way to the top of her head, her teeth clicking against each other as a strange and awful magicka began to rise. "Besides, it is already too late."

--

Sodrinye lay behind Ebel-Merodach and fought to stay awake. There was something important about this moment, about the angle from which she now saw. There was the hard ground beneath her left side and the stairwell at her feet as she lay half-curled, and there was something more important than elemental threat to the dacha she heard hissing out in the darkness.

Then there was the ball of flame, and the human's anguished scream –

And then the long, bright sword came darting down and pierced Ebel-Merodach's left breast. He jerked back, ragged teeth clenched in raging silence, and swung the mace with his right arm. The human was already gone.

"Here!" whispered Sodrinye, reaching for him. She felt the debt bond stretch and tremble between them, but the wound was not yet mortal. I can still heal him.

In that moment the dacha took her last triumphant step backward as she argued with the priest, carrying an invisible radius to where it covered the two kyn. Sodrinye realized what was happening too late as the summoning began to take hold. She shrieked in helpless fury as she fought with every fiber to stay in Nirn. Ebel-Merodach seized her with his left arm, crushing her against his armored side without regard for his injury. Her debtsworn understood. Her debtsworn would suffer anything, anything at all, to give her the anchor she needed and keep her near him.

Sodrinye could smell, could feel his blood running down his armor and soaking her robe as the movement caused the blade to move inside him. She raged, but could not heal him. It took all her strength not to let herself be torn bodily into the Void. She could hear the other mage now, chanting the summons over and over again in the Kyntongue. They would steal me back again and leave my caitiff dying in Nirn.

I will not allow it.

--

"It is never too late," said Tychicus Varen's voice. Laure saw him step forward, and as he grew and began to change he reached for the flame atronach. The other creature hesitated, and in that instant the atronach Varen seized her by one glowing arm and drew her to him as he backed away from the stairs. Steam rose from a hand made of craggy ice. Then the change was complete, and he picked up the smaller atronach with both hands around her waist and pressed his icy lips to her fiery ones. Mist curled upwards.

Laure was afterwards grateful that she was too stunned to weep.

--

Akhanad had never been kissed before. It was not a custom common among her kind or, as far as she knew, among the Kheised either. It hurt slightly, as any physical contact with one of the Kheised must, but the sensation of pressure on an anatomical feature she had never had before was so completely novel that she did not resist.

The one who called himself Varen must have planned it that way. The krynvelhat screamed inside her head for her to get back in range of the Sleeper, but in that instant Akhanad felt her link begin to weaken. She pressed both hands to the icy giant's shining face and returned the kiss, laughing at her own perversity. Let the stupid kynval try and get a grasp on this, on all the complex of sensations no one but another elemental would ever be able to share.

He was hurting her just a little, ice to fire. But she was hurting him back, so that was fair enough.