Chapter Twenty-Six: The Guards of the Dawn
The Dov lifted her head and looked around, her nostrils flaring suspiciously. Something was near; something dangerous. Something...hunting. Not her, but one of those near her. She looked down, shifting her wings a little to make sure they were still there.
They were there, lying next to her; safe by her side. The child, her mon, lay curled to the breast of her other-self, the Bosmer, who slept as well; and her zeymah beside them, holding them both close. Careful not to wake them—her other-self was absurdly wary of her lately—she leaned over them, trying to guess who was the one in danger.
It was not her other-self, that she knew. Anyone who hunted the Bosmer would soon find themselves hunting a Dovah as well, and that was an exercise—she arched her neck proudly—best left to a Dovahkiin. Ravenlight had her enemies, but none of them were truly hunting her.
The child had been targeted by vampires twice, but those were more attacks of opportunity than anything else. Nikriin-ah had no honor; they would go after a fawn just as quickly as they would a doe or a buck. She had been attacked—but was not being hunted, not actively.
That left Drizzt. And as soon as her long muzzle came near him, she could smell it. It wasn't something she could identify; she doubted it was anything corporeal. The words of Paarthurnax rang in her mind: "A Daedra wishes him—and will not take his rejection lightly." She barely held in a growl. No doubt this was the entity she had sensed. She sniffed again. There was something...dank about this odor, similar to the scent of the deep caverns—and the comparison was stronger when she considered caverns where frostbite spiders nested.
And when she realized that, another memory surfaced: the conversation her other-self had with him shortly before climbing the path to the shrine of Azura. And that memory came with a name.
Lolth.
Once again, she stifled a growl. She knew little about this Lolth—but what she knew was enough. Evil hunted her brother. She stretched out her wings, concealing them all from sight.
It hunted him—but as long as she, Ravenlight, breathed, it would not gain him.
It was unsettling for Ravenlight to come downstairs in the morning and not find Lydia already awake, stirring the fire and either working on breakfast or giving hints that it was her turn to do the cooking. It was even more so when she remembered how badly her housekarl had been injured the previous night.
She knelt down, building up the fire. As the logs snapped and little flickers of light began to run along them, catching and flaring on little splinters, she found herself staring morosely into the flames as her mind replayed the horror of the previous night. Blood streamed along the cobbles, staining everything it touched: the gray-white stones, the feet of those around her, the healer's hands...the wounded moaning as the fear and adrenaline faded, allowing the pain its full effect...faces she knew wracked with anguish and fear...Drizzt clutching Lucia to himself, her right arm seeping blood from a distinct bite wound...Lydia sprawled on the ground, her entrails visible through the gash across her middle, hovering between life and death as healing magic poured into her... The Bosmer shuddered violently.
Then something soft and warm settled on her shoulders, and she looked up and back to see Drizzt, adjusting a wool blanket. He knelt beside her, one arm around her shoulders, and used the other hand to gently brush a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. She leaned against him, grateful for his presence.
"Are you all right?"
Ravenlight sighed. "Would you accept both a yes and a no?"
He nodded. "I would. I..." he hesitated, "I feel much the same. At one moment, I am grateful that it wasn't worse; after all, there were few, if any, fatalities. At the same time..."
"That it happened at all is like a—a violation." Ravenlight stared at the propped-shut door blankly. "This is home. It's the place where you're supposed to go to be safe, to close the door on the darkness outside. A raid, a fight in the streets—that wouldn't have been so bad, because Breezehome would still have been...secure. But last night, the darkness literally broke down the door and forced its way in." She sighed. "It...there's something about that that's hard to wrap your mind around."
Drizzt was silent for several moments, his arm tightening around her. When he began to speak, it was in a voice so low and quiet she almost couldn't hear him, and she realized after a few seconds that he was thinking out loud, talking more to himself than he was to her.
"I almost...for so much of my life, I've never really had a...secure home. Or never one where I knew the darkness could not intrude. In Menzoberranzan, the darkness cannot be shut out; not in a place where murder and treachery are common occurrences, friendship is so often shallow, and even family cannot be trusted. The very Underdark is a place where only the savage survive, and when I fled Menzoberranzan, I looked only for a place that provided food and could be defended; not a place that was safe." He paused. Ravenlight stayed silent, listening. Some of what he said, she'd suspected. Some of it she'd known already. But she wanted to hear it from his lips, to know for sure. "There was safety to be had in Blingdenstone, while I stayed with Belwar, but there, in all honesty, I brought the darkness with me; the Hunter, that savage creature I'd nearly become in the Underdark. I feared it as much as—no, more than—I did almost anything else. And when my mother sent assassins after me, when I had to leave Blingdenstone to prevent anyone else from falling to them..."
He stopped for a moment, also staring at the door. "It would have been worse had I not," he continued, his voice a little louder now. "Blingdenstone's streets, at least, never ran with blood. But it was not...would not be..." He shook his head. "There was always that danger. Always that possibility. It was a fortress city for that reason. Icewind Dale...that was my home, the first true home I ever knew. But it was a dangerous place, and never one where I...expected, or intended, to shut out the darkness outside. At the time, it was enough to vanquish the darkness within. Montolio's grove; I remember fearing it had been overrun with orcs, some decades after the old ranger's death. But war had come to it, in the time I stayed there, and it was not the intrusion I feared so much as the fact that it was myself and an old, blind warrior against a force of well over a hundred."
"Long odds," Ravenlight murmured in reply, in an equally quiet voice. She still didn't want to break his train of thought.
He smiled at the quip. "They were," he answered absently, still gazing over the flames. "But we prevailed." There was another silence, as his thoughts took him elsewhere. "There have been many places I have known that I would have grieved to see them overrun with darkness; others I did mourn when they fell or faded. But these were...they were never mine to mourn; it was more like mourning a grove of flowering trees stricken with blight, or burned by lightning. The loss of something fair, something good. Precious, but not personal."
Drizzt closed his eyes. Ravenlight rested her head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket a little tighter. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and filled with pain; so quiet that, once again, she guessed that he didn't really know he was speaking aloud.
"But there was a time when a darkness I did not expect...invaded. Invaded my home, and brought a battle to my friends that did not initially belong to them. When the darkness I had fled, and thought I had escaped, returned: when Vierna came after me. That...did shatter my illusion of security, and when Wulfgar—and Cobble—died, it..." He shook his head and fell silent.
Ravenlight waited for a little while, absently twining her fingers through his long white hair. When it became clear that he didn't intend to pursue the thought any further, even just thinking aloud, she spoke.
"Who was Vierna?"
He jerked as though he'd been stabbed with a pin. "What—how—"
She almost giggled. But the look on his face was less startled at her apparent skills of mind-reading, and more...pained. The reason wasn't hard to guess. It was the same reason he had not continued his thought after he'd spoken her name; the reason he hadn't mentioned Vierna when he told her about Cattie-Brie. He had mentioned this time before, glossing over it as quickly as possible, and while he'd done the same with a later incident—the Drow invasion of Mithril Hall—the latter was simply because it wasn't central to the story he was telling. But the former, with its undeniable impact on the rest of his life, had been. There was only one reason he would do that.
Whoever Vierna was, her memory brought only pain: something he would rather keep safely behind a thick door, not merely locked but nailed shut. She understood; she had someone—more than one someone, actually—like that in her own past, and she would be well beyond stubborn if it came to opening the door and bring those memories out. Had the door remained closed, she would not have asked.
But one look at him proved that the door wasn't closed—and probably hadn't been for a while. To hide from it now was pointless. To laugh at him, while he was trying to cope with that pain, was unthinkable. She leaned against him, under his arm, and reached up to touch his hand.
"You were thinking out loud," she explained. "Who was Vierna?"
Drizzt sighed, staring into the flames. Absently, he reached to the side, finding another rough-split log and adding it to the hearth. Twice he opened his mouth to speak; twice he closed it again, unable to find words, courage, or both. She rested her head against his shoulder and whispered, moved by an impulse she could not name.
"Uhiel."
My brother. The word was gentle, warm, and sincere. And it was a blazing contrast to the cold words ringing in his memory: Vierna's voice from their final encounter, mocking and cruel, using those same words as a weapon, a vicious reminder that, try though he might, he had not escaped his evil kin. Unconsciously, he reached out. Ravenlight had nestled under one arm; now he wrapped both around her, pulling her close to himself. She let out a brief, startled squeak; then she relaxed, letting herself be held.
Almost instantly, he realized something. He'd clasped her in his arms to shield her; from what, he wasn't sure. But as she rested against him, as he felt her heat, the power in her lying dormant, he somehow felt that he was the one being sheltered. And that, more than anything, gave him strength.
"Vierna..." he hesitated one last time, then forced the words out, "was my—my sister."
Ravenlight went from peacefully relaxed to deadly still the moment the words left his lips. She was listening. Intently.
He faltered briefly, then continued; and for the first time, he told everything: his childhood, when he received both care and abuse at Vierna's hands; her lewd advance on him after his graduation from Melee-Megethere; his horror upon learning of Zaknafien's death at the hands of his mother and sisters; his weak sense of relief that it was the crueler Briza, and not Vierna, who had led the initial attempt to capture him after his ten years in the Underdark wilds; and then, finally, haltingly, he told of their final encounter in the tunnels near Mithril Hall, when she, crazed and driven for revenge for the fall of their house, had sought his death, brought death to his friends—and met her death at his own hands.
And Ravenlight listened, her eyes growing harder and more garnet-red as he spoke. Her quiet hisses and growls as he spoke of the many beatings he received as a child slowly took on a more draconic edge—and the attempted seduction shocked her into a malediction so sulfurous that they both paused to make sure Lucia wasn't in the room before he continued. After that, she stayed silent, but her fury burned, hotter and hotter, until she was shaking with rage. When he finally finished, she couldn't speak for several minutes, turning instead to clasp him in her arms.
"I thought I hated your sisters when you mentioned them in Mzulft," she finally said, her voice thick and muffled against his neck. "I wanted them there in front of me; I wanted to unleash the power of the Thu'um on them, to shatter them for their cruelty to you. Now..." She growled for several minutes in both Dovahzuul and Bosmer, words he was glad he didn't know. "Gods above, uhiel, were they not on another world altogether, I would be tempted to turn necromancer and revive them more than once, so that both I and the Dov would have our chance at them." She shuddered. "I've never been this angry before. I'm almost afraid of myself. I—" Her arms tightened around him.
He held her tighter as well. "It—they're gone. They can't..." He fell silent.
"Uhiel," she whispered. "Elthian uhiel, zeymah pruzaan. My brother, my beloved brother. Drizzt. Not Do'Urden, I will never call you that cursed name. Cothy'rim, Drizzt Cothy'rim, Zeymah Dovahkiin. You are my brother, part of my family. I can't change your past—but I can change this. I can change where you belong."
Tears pricked at his eyes, but he managed to laugh. "What would your family think of you adopting a Drow into it?" He noticed that somehow, the blanket he'd wrapped around her earlier had made its way up around his shoulders, where it draped, almost like a wing. Having it there felt as though, if he leaned back, he would feel the Dov behind him. It was a sensation at once comforting and terrifying.
Ravenlight snorted, pulling back enough to look into his face. "Are you kidding? If my mother had heard a fourth of that story, she'd be hugging you so hard right now we'd have to remind her to let you breathe." She leaned against him again, resting her head against his collarbone. "You are my brother; my family. You belong with us. And anyone—anything—that tries to tell you different is a dirty liar."
Little feet pattered up behind him, and a pair of small arms wrapped around his shoulders. "She's right," Lucia said firmly. "You belong with us."
Drizzt was touched. But Ravenlight looked up at the little girl, and her eyes widened in alarm.
"Oh—how much did you hear?"
"Not much." Lucia leaned forward a little, enough to look around his shoulder. "I only got up a little while ago. But you looked sad; so I thought I'd help." A spark of curiosity lit her eyes. "You were telling a story?"
"Yes, he was." Ravenlight disentangled herself and stood, moving a little ways away from the fire. "But it was a very sad one; I don't think you want to hear it."
Lucia's face clouded, and she shook her head quickly. "No; I don't like sad stories."
Considering what her own background was like, Drizzt didn't blame her. He rose to his feet, gathering the blanket up and away from the fire. He glanced over at the door and grimaced, noting the splintered frame and the twisted metal of the broken lock. "That won't be easy to fix," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"No," Ravenlight agreed, following his glance. Lucia glanced at the door herself and shivered, quickly looking away. Ravenlight spotted the shiver and put a hand on her shoulder. "You're safe, lieka," she said comfortingly. "You're safe. And," her voice became brisk and business-like, "I would also imagine you're hungry. I'll get breakfast ready, and then we'll go up to Dragonsreach; I'll talk to Proventus about workmen to help repair the door, and we'll see how Lydia's doing."
Lucia looked up at her, wide-eyed. "You think she's okay?"
Ravenlight nodded. "She was better when I brought her up to the temple, and she had a healing potion before they took her to Dragonsreach, so hopefully she's had a good night's sleep as well. She may not be quite up and about yet, but she's going to be okay."
A long sigh of relief escaped the child's lips, and a tinge of hidden but very real fear faded from her eyes. "Oh, good."
As Drizzt gently steered her away from the fire, allowing Ravenlight to get to work on breakfast, he silently considered how terrifying it would be for a child who had already lost her parents and her home to see a friend severely wounded. There was no question that it would have been worse had he or Ravenlight been the one eviscerated; but even so, she and Lydia had become friends, and it could not have been an easy thing for her. He reached out and stroked her hair, pulling her in a little closer to him. She leaned against him with a sigh.
"I'm glad she's okay," she whispered. "I was really scared she wouldn't be."
He put his arms around her. In truth, after he'd seen Ravenlight bending over Lydia, hands swirling with healing light, he'd simply acknowledged that she would be fine, and focused his fear on Lucia.
Not that there was much more I could have done if Ravenlight's healing hadn't been enough, he realized bleakly. He remembered Kynareth speaking to him, remembered the warm, healing wind that had blown through the temple and the boughs of the Gildergreen...but she said nothing about those not in the temple or beneath the Gildergreen. If Ravenlight hadn't been able to bring her up in time...would it have been enough?
His arms tightened. And Lucia didn't object: she reached out and wrapped her small arms around him as tightly as they'd go.
Noon blazed over the snow-covered cobbles and roofs by the time they left Dragonsreach, all of them in considerably higher spirits. Lydia, as it turned out, was fine. The hideous, gaping wound across her belly had been reduced to a raised scar, she was in no pain, and she had griped loudly about the bed-rest Farengar had imposed on her for the day, claiming that she didn't need it.
Even more reassuring, a quick tour of the infirmary revealed that, despite the grim numbers of wounded, only a few guards had died in the initial attack, and no civilians had fallen. Even those who had barely clung to life as they'd been brought up to the temple had recovered, and none of the injuries resulted in anything worse than an impressive scar. The word 'miraculous' was used several times, both by healers and the wounded; each time they heard it, Lucia squeezed Drizzt's hand and beamed up at him proudly.
As they were leaving Dragonsreach, a familiar voice hailed them. "Hello, heroes! Good to see you made it through the night safely."
Lucia turned, waving happily. "Aela!"
The Companion made her way toward them across the square—for once empty of the highly biased priest of Talos—waving back cheerfully. She had a wolfskin wrap around her shoulders in deference for the weather, but otherwise remained in her ordinary clothing. There were several obvious new scars visible on her arms, and one scrape across her neck. Drizzt noticed an older man lurking back by the entrance of Jorrvaskr, but while he eyed the group suspiciously, he didn't approach.
"Hello, little one." Aela grinned at Lucia, then glanced at both Ravenlight and Drizzt. Ravenlight received a slightly cooler nod, while Drizzt got both an inviting smirk and a wink. "No worse for wear after last night, I hope? The boys said they saw you running for the temple after everything was over."
"Who wasn't running for the temple afterward?" Ravenlight asked dryly. She looked over at Jorrvaskr. "Speaking of the twins, where are they? I haven't seen them all day."
Aela coughed a little. "They're out hunting. And then Farkas has a job over in...Markarth, I think they said, so Vilkas is going with him. Don't know when they'll be back."
The implication was clear. Whether or not people in Whiterun had known that some of the Companions were werewolves, the attack of the previous night had made that exceedingly clear, and Farkas and Vilkas hadn't hidden their curse. The fact that they had fought to defend the town, and then aided the wounded, was a point in their favor; but at the same time, knowing that they were werewolves would make pretty much everyone uneasy. They had wisely decided to leave town for a few days to give things time to settle down.
"Aw." Lucia's face scrunched up in disappointment. "I was hoping to see them again."
"You'll have the chance," Ravenlight said, stroking her hair. She looked over at Aela. "Drizzt and I will be leaving to find the Dawnguard once Breezehome's been repaired, and considering what happened last night, it might be wisest if Lucia stayed with the Companions again when we leave. Would that prove a problem?"
Aela shook her head. "I certainly won't find it so, and neither will Kodlak. Athis and Njada might, but only because they have to watch their mouths with a little one around." She smiled at Lucia. "But Ria will be glad to see you, as will the twins—once they get back."
Lucia nodded. "I'll be glad to see them, too."
"So that's settled." Aela grinned at her, then looked them all over. "Heading back to Breezehome now?" Her gaze focused on Drizzt. "Because Athis has heard about how quick you are with your blades, and he's been wanting to see it for himself. And I finally got that light training bow, so you and I could have another archery lesson, little one."
"Might be a good idea if you go," Ravenlight said slowly. "I talked to Proventus about getting workmen to repair our door, but Breezehome wasn't the only house the vampires broke into. Some of the damage was considerably worse. I'm going to get things ready for the workers by getting the broken latch off the door, but I would..." She glanced over at Drizzt. "It would be best if Lucia wasn't there for that."
He laughed. "All right then." He looked at Lucia, who was staring up at him with pleading eyes, and then nodded to Aela. "Lead the way, then."
It was evening when Ravenlight rejoined them. The afternoon had been spent pleasantly for both Drizzt and Lucia; he had enjoyed sparring with Athis, the Dunmer companion, and been glad to swap stories and techniques with him afterward. Lucia, in the meantime, had practiced her archery with Aela for most of the afternoon, only stopping when the sun began to set. He suspected that the majority of the Companions wouldn't mind if the two of them had stayed for supper; but he'd heard how rowdy it got in the hall in the evenings, and decided it might be wiser to head over to the inn before the hotter heads started drinking.
He and Lucia were halfway through their own meal when Ravenlight came stalking into the inn. She stopped by the counter to order a meal, and her tone was...civil. Barely. She joined them at their table, glowering at nothing. He noticed several bruises on her arms, visible under her sleeves, and the half-healed remains of a large black eye that had not been there this morning. Lucia didn't notice any of it; she was exhausted from all her activity, and was starting to doze off over her stew and potato bread.
Drizzt guessed that Ravenlight would probably bite down on any profanity while Lucia was there with them. Still, he waited until her meal—and a large glass of strong wine—had arrived before he spoke. "So, how bad was it?"
She grunted. "Stupid vampire mangled the lock. It was wedged in the door so bad I almost had to disassemble the entire door to get it loose—and now I'm wondering if I shouldn't help the workers with lathing and shaping pieces to replace the ones I broke trying to pull them off."
His eyebrows arched. "That bad?"
Ravenlight took a long pull at her wine and sighed, glancing at Lucia. "Yes. Breezehome currently does not have a door. I was asked if I wanted my house repaired first, since I am the Thane; but I saw the damage to some of the other houses before I started tearing the door apart, and told the men to get those taken care of first. We'll have to sleep here; it's too cold to stay in a house that doesn't close up at night."
He nodded. "I'd been thinking about that. Do you want me to buy two rooms?"
Ravenlight nodded. "Please. And if she doesn't have two, ask for one with at least two beds in it." As he stood, she touched his hand. "Uhiel...thank you. I know I'm being a witch."
He squeezed her hand back, smiling. "With a black eye like that, I think you're allowed."
Hulda gave him a tired smile as he came up to the counter. "Oh; hello there." She paused. "I can't remember; did you ever tell me your name?"
He considered. "I don't think I did. It's Drizzt."
"Drizzit." Her smile grew momentarily less tired. "No, I'd have remembered that one. What can I do for you this evening?"
He didn't bother correcting her pronunciation. "Two rooms for Ravenlight and I; or one room with two beds, if you don't have two." He glanced back and considered Lucia, whom Ravenlight had gently shifted away from the remains of her meal. "And if one of those rooms has a child's bed, that would be even better."
Hulda nodded, sighing, and swiped a stray lock of hair back from her face. "If you'd asked yesterday, I wouldn't have had anything. But we moved some children's cots into several of the larger rooms today, after so many families had to stay here after the attack. We're still pretty full, but there's a large room with three beds I can give you."
He nodded, reaching into his coin pouch. "How much?"
"Twenty septims. It's a big room." She leaned against the counter, exhaling.
Drizzt paused and considered her. "Was it that busy today? You look...considerably more tired than normal."
"I guess I am." She shook her head and sighed. "It's just...been a rough week, and not just because of the vampires the other night. Frankly, I'm having some difficulty keeping up with my drinkers; Honningbrew Meadery has been having some trouble with their bees, so their stock isn't as full as normal, and merchants carrying wine and ale aren't making it through for some reason. I don't know how long I've got before the only drink I'll have for sale is that awful rotgut Belethor makes behind his house."
"Belethor makes alcohol?" Drizzt was mildly surprised.
"Aye, some Bretoner vintage." Hulda wrinkled her nose. "I've tried it; sour compared to mead, and it goes down rough. Folk might drink it if there was nothing else, but they sure wouldn't be happy about it."
Drizzt frowned, slowly counting out the coins and thinking. "Is there anything I could do to help?"
She huffed out a laugh. "Honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if my shipments are being waylaid by bandits. If you happen to find any large amounts of mead, ale, or wine in any bandit lairs along your way, I'd appreciate it if you brought them back here with you!"
He flashed her a smile. "I will try to do just that." He looked back at their table again. "Could you show me to the room? I think Lucia needs to get to bed as quickly as possible."
"Fallen asleep at the table, has she?" Hulda chuckled softly. "Right then. Follow me."
"Any chance we'll come across some bandit lairs on the way to the Dawnguard headquarters?" Drizzt's tone was almost joking; but this was something he generally didn't joke about—certainly not while he was carrying Lucia to bed.
Ravenlight looked at him curiously as she pulled the covers back on the small bed. "Considering how many of them there are, there's a darn good chance. Why?"
"Hulda thinks her orders of ale and wine are being waylaid by bandits; she's starting to run short on her drinks." Drizzt bent down and settled the sleeping child down on the rustling mattress. Lucia shifted and frowned a little, perhaps reacting to the scent of the dried heather; but she settled down again quickly. Ravenlight pulled the blankets over her and covered her warmly, before heading over to her own bed.
"I wouldn't be surprised," she agreed, "especially not now. Winter's harsh enough that food and drink are more important than gold, and if they were wise enough to stock up before it hit, they probably wouldn't be bandits in the first place." She opened her map, spreading it over a table by the bed. "I've been asking around to try to find out exactly where the Dawnguard headquarters are; nobody is entirely sure, but they've all heard it's somewhere in the Velothi Mountains, east of Riften."
Drizzt came over to look at the map. "Mountains east of Riften?" he mused, tracing the area in question. "Well, that...narrows it down."
"In comparison to the entire east of Skyrim, you mean?" Ravenlight grimaced. "It's still a huge area. But the reason I mentioned it is that there are several bandit lairs of varying sizes in that area; we should be able to sneak into a few of them and steal back any alcohol we find."
"Hopefully, we'll be able to find some hunters as well," Drizzt mused. "They might not know where Hulda's shipments have been vanishing to, but they might know where the Dawnguard are hiding."
"Sounds like a plan." Ravenlight rolled up the map. "Once Breezehome is sound again, and Lucia safe with the Companions, we head east."
Lucia was subdued and quiet as they walked up the steps to Jorrvaskr, three days later. The door to Breezehome had finally been repaired, and Lydia was back at her post; still, they had all agreed that it was best if Lucia stayed with the Companions while Ravenlight and Drizzt were out trying to find the source of the unusually bold vampires.
Furthermore, Aela and Skjorr had gone out the previous day and found Farkas and Vilkas in the wilds, bringing them back to Whiterun. The gossip about them—which was rampant—was uneasy, but not hostile. After all, they had transformed to help fight off the vampires, and they hadn't harmed any of the townsfolk in doing so...so maybe they were turning Hircine's curse into a blessing? Still, it was Aela and Kodlak waiting at the entrance of the mead hall, rather than the twins.
"Let us know what you find," Kodlak said, after smiling down and greeting Lucia. His eyes were unusually hard and angry as he faced the two Elves. "And if you need our aid at any point, you have only to ask. This sort of attack..."
"It's personal," Aela agreed, folding her arms. "We'll be glad to help you dust those bastards."
"Aela," Ravenlight growled, "there's a child here."
She had the decency to look abashed. "Right. Sorry, kid. But I meant that, Ravenlight. I don't care how many of them there are or what kind of stronghold they've holed up in. You find them, you tell us, and we'll help you deal with them."
"We will," Ravenlight answered. "Count on it."
As they turned to leave, Lucia hesitated, then ran after them, catching their hands and halting them. "You-you're coming back, right?" She looked between them desperately. "Please! You are coming back!"
"Of course," Ravenlight soothed, stroking her hair. "We'll be back in a week, even if only for a little while, to let you and everyone else know what we've found. But we have to go out and do what we can to keep the vampires from attacking again."
She bit her lip and nodded. "I—okay. I just..." She blinked rapidly, tears spilling from her eyes. Drizzt knelt down and pulled her into a hug.
"You'll be all right," he promised, "and so will we. I'll make sure of it."
She clung to him, fighting back tears. "Be safe," she finally choked out. "Be safe!"
His arms tightened around her. He wanted to reassure her, to promise that nothing would happen. But the memories of Labyrinthian and Mzulft mocked him and his promises, reminding him that sometimes, they didn't have control over that. But when he glanced up at Ravenlight, he knew they were of the same mind.
They would both do everything in their power to insure their safe return.
Normally, it would have taken only two days of riding to reach the Velothi Mountains; but Ravenlight was willing to tackle Drizzt's errand for Hulda as well, and they took a few days out of their trip to hunt through the bandit lairs they came across, looking for the drinks. And while it wasn't unusual to find a variety of alcohol in the lairs, the amount they found certainly justified Hulda's suspicions that her deliveries were being stolen along the way.
Since they were concerned mainly with recovering the wine, mead, and ale, they didn't put too much effort into finding and killing the bandits; but at the same time, the ones who happened upon the pair did not get away to rob anyone else.
They also sought out a number of the hunters who roamed the Rift woods and mountains, asking them if they knew where the elusive Fort Dawnguard might be located. Most of them had no idea, but a few others had heard of the fort in the mountains, and were able to give them at least a more concrete location.
Finally, they lucked out when they encountered a bear of a Nord who called himself Gunmar. He'd not only heard of the fort, but knew where it was, and he gave them precise instructions to the place where it was hidden: Dayspring Canyon.
"Be aware, though, that it's not the easiest place to find," he added. "But if you find Stendarr's Beacon, just bear due east from that. Once you're in the canyon, it's a straight shot through to the old fort."
"My thanks," Ravenlight said, bowing a little. "It's been harder than I expected to find."
"Don't mention it." He waved his hand. "You're not the first who's asked me about it, though why I can't imagine. Safe travels, both of you."
Even with the directions, finding the area proved difficult, and they wasted another half a day just looking for Stendarr's Beacon, before they finally discovered the outpost perched on a spire of rock. It was Drizzt who finally saw the subtle shift in the mountains that led into the hidden canyon. Just to be on the safe side, he rode forward until he was certain that, yes, this was actually a cleft in the rock and not just a oddly-shaped jut. But once he was sure, he turned and called back.
"Ravenlight! I've found it."
She sighed with relief, turning. "Thank the gods. I was starting to wonder if it was really there." As she came up, she frowned at the entrance. "That is...a pretty narrow canyon." She glanced between Andahar and Fearless. "I'm not really sure if the horses will be comfortable riding through it."
"I doubt it's this narrow the entire way through, but you have a point." He dismounted, stroking the unicorn's silken neck. "Return, Andahar."
Fearless whinnied in protest as the graceful creature wheeled and galloped away, vanishing as it did. Ravenlight laughed. "Your friend running off again? Don't worry, we're not keeping you here, either." She ruffled his forelock, removing his bridle and saddlebags and loosening the light saddle he wore. "Off you go. Behave yourself, you silly creature; I'll call you again in a day or two."
He snorted and trotted a short distance away, before pausing to scrape away the light snow cover in search of the surprisingly stubborn winter grass. Drizzt and Ravenlight divided the load he'd been carrying between them and then entered the cleft of Dayspring Canyon.
The canyon was beautiful. The steep walls provided plant and animal alike with shelter from the harsh winter wind, and caught the sunlight that filtered down into it. A stream ran through the bottom, frozen at the edges, but still dancing in its center; small fish could occasionally be seen whisking about in the clear water. Deer and rabbit sign were everywhere, but unusually, there was no sign of any predators.
No predators, she amended, save the two-legged kind. The thick undergrowth would have been difficult to push through, had a footpath not already been beaten through it. It wasn't as well-trodden as some of the hunter's trails through Skyrim's wilds; in fact, Ravenlight half-suspected it had started out as a deer trail, and simply been appropriated by the people moving into the fort supposedly at the far end of the canyon. But enough people had made their way in and out along it to widen the trail, and make it more obvious.
That probably explained the lack of predators. Deer, rabbits, pheasants and goats would all be welcome: those were food animals, and having them available in the canyon would make feeding the people staying there much easier. Predators, on the other hand, often proved a danger to everyone around them, and would have been killed or driven out as a matter of course.
She couldn't say she was sorry; it was certainly making their trek a lot easier.
The canyon twisted and turned for nearly a mile, barely twenty feet across at its widest, and at times much narrower. She spotted a number of water-born snags in the trees on both sides of the stream, and idly considered that this would be a most dangerous place indeed to be caught during a flood. Then she regretted thinking of this as the canyon narrowed again, to a path edging just along the bank of the stream, and the walls suddenly felt as though they were about to close on the pair of them. But just as she was about to discover whether or not her stronger dragon's soul also came with an intense claustrophobia, the way widened abruptly, opening into a wide valley that stretched ahead.
Drizzt stepped into the open gladly, stretching his shoulders. Apparently, he'd been feeling a bit boxed in himself. "I can see why they built this fort here," he commented, looking back at the bottleneck. "Trying to get an invading army through that would be murder. All they need are some sentry posts across this lower part of the valley with a contingent of archers, and that bottleneck would be walled off with the bodies of the invaders."
"It'd be easier than that," Ravenlight answered. She gestured at a lake that fed the stream, where water cascaded in several silver falls from a glacier overhead. "I'd deepen the streambed and channel it into the valley ahead of time, put a dam with a sluice gate in front of the stream itself, and build sentry posts along the top of the gorge. When they signaled that invaders were coming, the gate could be opened to let the waters loose." She considered. "And you know, I think I'd also add some long stakes along the path, pointing toward the valley. Invaders wouldn't give much thought to them, but once a flood was let loose, they'd be deadly." She stopped, as much because Drizzt was staring at her with an expression somewhere between astonishment and shock as because she'd finished her thought. "What?"
"There is a sadistic streak in you I was surely not expecting," he said. "Where did you come up with that?"
"Hammerfell," she answered. "I learned a terrifying lesson about staying in gulches one night, when a storm some twenty miles away flooded my campsite." She shivered. "I thought for sure I'd be either drowned or battered to death—and I probably would have been, if I hadn't managed to catch hold of a scrubby little tree by the side of the gulch and climb out. Lost everything that wasn't in my pack, too. I was able to recover some of it by following the gully, once the water went down again; but all of my provisions were lost, and it took me weeks to replace all the arrows." She gestured at the mouth of the canyon. "Those narrow walls made me think of it."
He glanced back. "It would be an effective strategy, that's for certain."
A voice huffed out a soft laugh from nearby. "Stendarr's breath. You two certainly won't have any trouble getting in. Talking strategy...wish I was as good as all that."
Surprised, Drizzt and Ravenlight turned to see a tall young Nord standing a short distance away. He was broad-shouldered and strapping, his shoulder-length hair pale as straw, and his equally pale eyes bright, but guileless. He smiled a little when they noticed him.
"You on your way to join the Dawnguard as well?"
"Yes," Ravenlight answered, looking him over curiously. The boy was unarmored, and armed only with a crude iron axe. He had a sort of wide-eyed innocence to him, not what she'd have expected from a budding vampire hunter. In fact—while not so naive—he rather resembled the farmboy she'd hopefully imagined after her drunken night: the one she would have much rather met. "Vampires attacked the city of Whiterun in force about a week ago; we're throwing our lot in with the Dawnguard in hopes of stopping it from happening again."
He whistled. "Not been that bad out our way, thank the gods; though I am kind of hoping to keep it from becoming that bad." He frowned. "Some of our neighbors said they'd seen black-clad figures lurking too close to the farms, though, and we've found travelers unconscious on the roads with bite marks on their necks. And Old Sandvar the hermit—crazy old fellow, but we all knew him, and he was good company at planting or harvest—him we found dead in front of the cave he lived in during the winter. Or we thought he was dead." He grimaced. "I caught him trying to break through my sister's window two nights ago, pale as the snow and with eyes like live coals. Sheer luck I'd brought my pa's axe with me when I went out to see what was scratching at the walls; if I hadn't, I'd probably been his victim, and not the one who put him down." He shook his head. "Wasn't an easy fight, but...well, he won't be crawling out of his grave a second time, I'll sure say that."
She didn't doubt that was the truth. The Nord was young, but he had the height and the breadth of his kind, and no doubt the strength to match. Still, strength or no, she was impressed. "Is that the axe you used?" Ravenlight nodded toward the iron weapon on his belt.
His hand dropped to it. "Aye. Felt...kind of lucky, after that. I'd only ever used it before on wolves; keeping them away from the goats."
"Well, you've done something to be proud of with it now," Drizzt said, evidently thinking the same thing she was. "Killing even a fledgling vampire with an iron axe is no mean feat."
His eyes lit up. "It's a good thing, then?"
"Oh yes." Ravenlight nodded. "And an impressive one, too."
"Good." The youngster laughed awkwardly. "I—well, I've been kind of worried that Isran might not accept me. Not being a seasoned warrior and all that."
Drow and Bosmer exchanged equally somber looks. Times were getting dark, and somehow, they both doubted that Isran would turn away anyone interested, no matter how green they were.
By unspoken agreement, the young Nord, Agmaer, joined the pair as they traveled through the canyon. He was pleasant company; perhaps a little unsure around more hardened warriors, but affable, and willing to learn. Only once did his comments draw uncertain silence and a meaning-laden glance between the two Elves; when he grumbled that the Vigilants of Stendarr had been failing their duties in the recent months. He caught the look.
"What? What's wrong? They...they really have been..." He faltered, and stopped speaking.
"Most, if not all the Vigilants have been killed," Ravenlight explained quietly. "We found the Hall of the Vigilant sacked and destroyed around two months ago—and it was vampires who destroyed it."
"Oh." He swallowed. "Well—no wonder, then." There was silence for several more moments, before he muttered. "I hope the Dawnguard is...maybe a little more formidable."
Drizzt happened to be looking up as they rounded a corner in the path. He stopped dead, and the others almost walked into him. "I don't think we need to worry about that."
Ravenlight frowned at him. "Uhiel, what—" Then she looked past him, and her eyes widened. "By the gods. Is that Fort Dawnguard?!"
Gunmar had mentioned 'an old fort' at the end of the canyon. Both Ravenlight and Drizzt were expecting half-crumbled walls, an empty gateway crudely barred with spikes, and perhaps the central keep still livable; in other words, the same as nearly all the old fortresses dotting Skyrim.
The imposing structure at the far end of the valley was not that. The stonework of the high towers looked almost new, with no moss or vines marring the gray-white rock. Towers guarded the path that wound around the base of it, arching out from the huge main building, with no cracks or gaps visible to weaken the defensive structures.
"I think it is." Drizzt blinked. "I was not expecting...this."
Agmaer simply stared, mouth agape. It was unlikely he'd ever seen anything similar. But neither of the two Elves blamed him.
"By the gods," Ravenlight repeated, stunned. "Castle Dourin Solitude isn't that impressive. Either the weather in this canyon is more benign than anywhere else, or whoever started fixing this place up knew what he was doing."
They continued along the path, passing beneath the huge towers. After they went beneath the second one, a steady crackcaught their attention, and they looked to the side to see an archery range, with a single Orc in it. He was firing at an old stump with a weapon that Drizzt immediately recognized: a crossbow.
"What in the world is that?" Ravenlight stepped forward, curious in spite of herself. Agmaer didn't move, but he stared in equal fascination.
The Orc paused in the act of cocking the weapon and turned toward them. "Never seen a crossbow before?" He held it up so that they could get a good look at it. "Kind of a Dawnguard specialty, this. Nothing better for killing vampires."
Drizzt was intrigued in spite of himself. He was familiar with crossbows, but the wood-and-steel appliance in the Orc's hands looked far heavier than the smaller ones the Drow typically favored. "Who designed that?"
"Not really sure." The Orc eyed him, then frowned in recognition. "Wait a minute; I know you. You're that Dunmer who took on three vampires and their thralls single-handed to save a little girl, back in Whiterun."
Drizzt nodded, uncomfortably aware of Agmaer's gaze on his back. "And I remember you. Durak, am I right?"
"That's right." The Orc grinned. "Isran's been wanting to meet you. Go on up to the fort; he's in there." He turned and fired at the stump again. The bolt thwacked hard against the wood, burying itself almost halfway through.
The path looped around once more before finally climbing up to the entrance of the building. The stone here was slightly more weathered, but still solid; the steps leading up to the door were worn, but not broken; and the door itself was solid, wood reinforced with bands of iron. Again, they realized that this was a place built very much with conflict in mind.
A red-haired Breton stood on the steps, looking out across the valley. He wore a strange coat of armor—metal plates riveted to a thick leather tunic—and carried an axe rather than a crossbow. He glanced at them and smiled a little as they came up.
"New recruits? Hmmm; go on in. Isran will decide if you've got what it takes."
Agmaer gulped. "Does he...turn down a lot of applicants?"
The Breton shrugged a little. "We haven't had that many, to be honest. If you've got the belly for a good fight—and don't mind dealing with a leader who's got the personality of a disgruntled badger—I don't see him turning you down."
The snort of laughter escaped despite Ravenlight's attempt to hold it back. "A disgruntled badger? He's that bad?"
"You think I shouldn't have said that?" The Breton smirked at her, and then glanced between Agmaer and Drizzt. There was a vaguely calculating gleam in his eye, and Drizzt found himself wondering if the man was trying to guess at the relationship between the Bosmer woman and the two men she was with. He moved up to stand beside her, and was not surprised to see a flash of disappointment cross the man's face. But he recovered just as quickly. "It's true, though. Isran and I go way back. We were Vigilants of Stendarr together, once, and both of us ended up unhappy with the way things were being run. We left together; intended to form our own partnership, but...well, it didn't last very long. He can be..." The Breton paused, obviously considering how to say what he wanted, "difficult to work with."
"I take it that's putting it mildly?" Ravenlight raised an eyebrow.
"Well, yes." He chuckled. "At the same time, though, I have to say he can eat crow with the best of them, though it takes a lot for him to do so. I was truly astounded to hear from him after all those years; even more so when I realized he was asking for my help." He sobered. "Of course, that's also what told me how bad things were." He moved to the side and gestured at the door. "Go on in. He'll probably be glad to see we're getting recruits."
Inside, a short hallway led to a massive circular room. Three other doors, identical to the one they'd just entered by, led into the rest of the castle; benches, barrels and crates were stacked along the walls. The stonework was in good shape, here as in the rest of the castle, but a heavy layer of dust and cobwebs indicated that housekeeping was not on the mind of those present.
Two figures stood in the center of the room, where two half-circular grates in the floor enclosed another ring of solid stone. The light wasn't quite clear enough to make out garb or features from their distance, but the stone carried their words clearly.
"The Vigilants and I were finished with each other a long time ago," one said, his voice low, almost growling. It sounded as though they'd walked into an argument.
"You know why I'm here," the second figure said wearily. "The Vigilants are under attack everywhere. The vampires are...much more dangerous than we had believed."
Drizzt and Ravenlight exchanged glances, then moved into the large room, both keeping to the side, but watching closely.
The first figure—as they drew closer, they could tell he was a Redguard, bald, but with a thick beard covering his neck—snorted, his growling voice heavy with contempt. "And now you want to come running to safety with the Dawnguard, is that it? I remember Keeper Carcette telling me repeatedly that Fort Dawnguard is a crumbling ruin, not worth the expense and manpower to repair. And now, now that you've stirred the vampires up against you, you come begging for my protection?"
Drizzt covered his mouth to hold back a laugh at the idea of this...formidable edifice being called a 'crumbling ruin'. Then, as the second figure—a bald Nord in Vigilant robes—stepped toward the Redguard, he was glad he hadn't laughed.
"Isran...Carcette is dead. The Hall of the Vigilants...everyone there. They're all dead. You were right, we were wrong. Isn't that enough for you?" The man's voice was filled with pain.
"Dead?" Isran lifted his head a little, then lowered his gaze. "I'm...I'm sorry, Tolan. I didn't know. How did it happen? Were they overwhelmed?"
Tolan shook his head. "I don't know. I was stationed in the Reach for five months. When I stopped getting messages, I got worried. A week ago, I found a replacement for my post and rode for the Hall; I found it burned to the ground. Everyone in there was...a charred corpse. It almost looked..." He stopped.
"They weren't taken unawares, in their sleep," Ravenlight said. She hadn't intended to; but she felt he should know. "Two months ago, my brother and I came across the Hall, sacked and half-burned. There had been a tremendous battle, and we found a number of vampire corpses among the Vigilants' dead." Tolan and Isran turned to face her, surprised; she met Tolan's eyes. "It didn't feel right to just go on our way and leave them as they were. We used the building and what deadwood we could find to build them a pyre."
"A funeral?" Some of the pain cleared from the man's face. "That...eases my mind. It eases my mind greatly."
"Who would you be?" Isran looked them over, his arms folded, his gaze almost as suspicious as his tone. Under the cold-eyed glower, Agmaer grew nervous and moved back; but Drizzt and Ravenlight had faced down dragons, and weren't intimidated.
"Warriors fed up with how brazen the vampires are getting," Drizzt answered. "Whiterun's been hit twice, once with a small, secret party looking to kidnap citizens, the second time by an outright war band. We were told that Fort Dawnguard was the place to find others equally fed up."
A wintry smile crossed the man's face. "You heard right. Good to hear that the word's getting out." Then the smile slipped. "Although that means the vampires could be starting to take notice, as well."
"Anything you can think of we can do to help?" Privately, Drizzt hoped they would at least know the location of some vampire lairs; maybe taking them on by themselves wasn't wise, but the Companions had offered their help with that...and he thought J'zargo had mentioned something about making scrolls that would be particularly helpful when fighting the undead...
"Yes, actually. There's still work to be done on this old fort, so I could use someone out in the field, taking the fight to these damn vampires while I'm working on that." He looked them over. "But you don't have to head out just this minute. The place is still rough, but you can at least get a bite to eat and some new armor before you take on the bloodsuckers." He glanced back at the Vigilant. "Tolan, go with them. Maybe you could give them more details about that cave you mentioned."
Tolan sighed and nodded. He still looked grieved; but more than that, he looked tired. "Very well." He nodded to the pair. "Lead the way, if you would."
As they started to head out, Isran noticed Agmaer, and called him over. "You there. Who are you?"
Ravenlight paused to hear how it would go. She looked back at the young Nord and grinned at him encouragingly. He noticed her smile and squared his shoulders, facing Isran directly. "My name's Agmaer, sir. I've come to join the Dawnguard."
"Don't call me sir." Isran looked him over. "So, you've got a fire in your belly to kill vampires, eh?"
"Yes, sir!" Agmaer caught himself. "I mean, yes, I do."
"Good. Any experience with weapons?"
"Just my pa's axe. I've fought plenty of wolves with it—and a fellow we knew, who'd been turned."
"Stendarr preserve us." There was a distinct snort of laughter in the growling voice as Isran looked at the weapon in question. "You won't get far with that. Go find Durak and get a crossbow from him, and then practice with it; you'll find it a lot more reliable than that."
"I—all right." Agmaer hesitated. "So—I'm in, then?"
"Of course you're in, boy." Isran turned away, but Ravenlight noticed the smile. "Welcome to the Dawnguard."
She smiled herself and followed Drizzt and Torlan into the kitchen.
The kitchen area proved to be directly off the main room. It was large and dusty, and the general disrepair gave a little more credence to the idea that the fort had been a ruin. But a fire hcrackled in the large fireplace, and a spit stood ready for use. Ravenlight removed one of the haunches of venison from her pack and ran it onto the spit, rubbing it over with salt and a few herbs as she turned it over the flames.
Drizzt glanced at Tolan as the man sank down on the table bench, considering the bottles of alcohol he'd rescued from the bandits. He still intended to bring them to Hulda, but the Vigilant looked as though he could use something strong. He pulled three bottles out, looked at them to see what they were, and then slid the bottle of Honningbrew mead across the splintery table to him.
"Here," he said. "You look like you could use this."
Tolan took the bottle, smiling a little. "I probably could," he admitted. "Thank you." He dug the cork out, looked around in vain for a cup, then took a pull from the bottle itself. Drizzt copied him with the bottle of ale, moving the wine slightly to the side to wait for Ravenlight to finish with the meat.
"So," she said, glancing over her shoulder at them. "Isran said something about a cave?"
The Vigilant nodded. "Yes. Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald was sure it held a long-lost vampire artifact of some kind." He swallowed. "We didn't listen to him any more than we did to Isran's warnings. His was the last missive I received from the Hall; he thought he was on the verge of some kind of breakthrough, and he wanted us to be careful."
Ravenlight swallowed. "Was he...at the Hall when it was attacked?"
"I'm afraid he was." Tolan stared at his drink. "I've hoped he was not, but...I've received no word from him since then."
"It's been two months since the attack," Drizzt mused. "Do you think the vampires may have...found what they were looking for in the crypt?"
"Kynareth's mercy, I hope not," Ravenlight said, alarmed. "If they have, it—it might be too powerful for even a Dragonborn to deal with."
Drizzt grimaced. "I hope you're wrong," he muttered. "But I also hope they haven't found this thing, either." He looked at Tolan. "Is there anything you can tell us about this crypt? If nothing else, the location would be helpful."
"The location I can give." He pulled out a quill and an inkwell. "Does either of you have a map?"
"I do." Ravenlight took hers from her belt and tossed it at the table.
Drizzt caught it, then unrolled the map and spread it on the table. Tolan leaned over and examined it.
"Ah," he finally said. "Here." He marked a spot in the mountains above where the Hall of the Vigilant had stood. "There was a path behind the Hall that led up to the cave. Adalvald spent much of his time in there, trying to unravel the riddle."
"You called it a crypt," Ravenlight noted, looking up from basting the venison. "It was an ancient Nord burial site, then?"
"As far as we knew, yes. Though Adalvald claimed he'd found a structure deep within the crypt that was completely unlike any Nord architecture he'd seen before. I...I never went in, so I don't know how true that was." He swallowed. "I do remember him commenting once, though, that he wasn't having quite as much trouble with the Draugr as he'd expected."
"More Draugr. Joy." Ravenlight's mouth turned down in a sour twist. "So we'll have to face them as well as the vampires."
"It could be worse," Drizzt half-joked. "There could be more frost trolls—or another Dragon Priest."
She flinched. "Please Akatosh, not another Dragon Priest. Not so soon after the last one."
"Dragon Priest?" Tolan looked between them, puzzled. "I'd only heard rumors, and wild ones at that. Are the priests of the ancient dragon cult truly coming back to life?"
"More like unlife. I've run into two so far, and they both gave me trouble," Ravenlight said grimly. "Drizzt had to deal with the second; that one's power mostly targeted mages." She stared into the fire. "I'm a spellsword, not a true mage; but I rely enough on my magicka that the priest took me down pretty hard." She turned the venison absently. "I'd rather not go through that again, myself."
Drizzt's hands clenched as the memory flashed in front of him: Ravenlight limp and unmoving in his arms, her skin pale as death, her eyes staring glassily upward. "I wouldn't, either. Ever."
"Well...I don't believe Adalvald ever mentioned a crypt that might house a Dragon Priest," Tolan said. "So perhaps vampires will be all you'll have to deal with."
"It'll be preferable," Drizzt said grimly. "Crazy as it may sound, I'd rather deal with them."
Silence fell, as Tolan wasn't sure how to react to that, and neither Ravenlight nor Drizzt wanted to dwell on what had happened in Labyrinthian—or what might be waiting for them in Dimhollow Crypt.
Finally, some twenty minutes later, Ravenlight swung the venison away from the fire. "Meat's ready. I don't know if there's any plates, so you may just have to cut it off the haunch." She took her own advice as she spoke, carving away a portion of the meat and spitting it on her knife to let it cool. The men followed suit, and again there was silence as they ate.
Tolan finished first, and looked between the two. "I take it you intend to head out to Dimhollow Crypt, then?"
"Not until morning," Ravenlight answered. "We've been traveling for five days just to get here, and both of us need some rest—preferably indoors. And I think we might want to take a look the armor they have here; it might be more practical for vampire-hunting than what we have."
Drizzt didn't exactly nod with agreement—he liked his armor—but he had to admit, the light mail he wore wasn't holding up as well as he'd like to some of the threats they were facing.
Tolan simply nodded. "I plan to head out at first light," he said. "I'll travel with you if you're ready then; if not, I'll simply meet you there."
Ravenlight looked directly at him. "Tolan," she said. "If you do arrive there first, wait for us to arrive before you do anything. I know—believe me, I know how horrible it is to lose so many people you know and were fond of. I know the feeling of—of guilt that they're gone, and you're still there. And I know what that...can lead to." She leaned forward. "Please. We'll help you avenge your fallen comrades. Don't do anything rash."
Tolan gave her a little smile. But he didn't answer.
And it's up! Apologies for how late this is; I spent most of the time trying to figure out exactly which direction I wanted this chapter to go in, and it took several false starts before I was able to push it through and get it done. But it's done, the Dawnguard has been joined, and another arc has officially been started.
As always, I ask that you let me know what you think of the chapter; anything you liked, or whatever felt off. Reviews let me know you're enjoying it, and give me extra oomph to keep going!
-Philowen Aster