Chapter Fifty: The New Gatekeeper
--SI--
Night hung in a darker shade of gray over the Fringe when Lahallia and Orphael, exhausted, hungry and thirsty finally arrived at the Gates of Madness, en route to Xaselm. The return trip to that dungeon proved unnecessary, as Relmyna herself awaited them on the terrace before the Gates.
Seeing Relmyna, clad in white with a vivid crimson girdle about her waist, worked with slightly darker embroidery and winking with red jewels, did nothing to improve either of their tempers, so far kept in check.
Lahallia bowed, but showed no inclination to further politeness. Orphael merely stood there, without inclination towards any semblance of politeness. Feeling so mortally tried was unusual, and soured his mood yet further.
Nanette Don lurked back with the Mazken garrison, dressed in a course-woven, loose-fitting garment of black, pale and drawn as though ill. From the way the Mazken clustered about her, she was probably hurt.
Still hurting, Lahallia corrected herself. Surely the Mazken would do what they could for Nanette, clandestinely so as not to draw Relmyna's attention. Lahallia suspected Relmyna had enough to occupy her should would not really notice Nanette's condition's improvement.
In the terrace below the Gates of Madness, thirteen unlit braziers stood, each worked of unadorned copper, except the thirteenth, which was pitch black. A blending the subtle smells of incense and something disgusting, a smell Lahallia could pin to the Gatekeeper, wafted about the terrace.
Or perhaps the smell emanated from the pieces of Gatekeeper spread across the unpaved circle. Head, arms, torso, legs, all warped, all with metal fastened brutally into place. All rotting and festering. In her hands, Relmyna held a rack with the four ingredients retrieved from the Gardens of Flesh and Bone.
"I see the trip hasn't left you any the worse for wear. Pity." Relmyna's anger with Lahallia obviously had no abated in the least. She did not even glance at Orphael, with Lahallia as the central target of her ire.
Orphael shifted, resting a hand on his swordhilt. Favored or not, a mere subject of the Isles had no right to speak so fashion to the Duchess. Wasn't a Duchess far more favored than a mere madwoman, builder of Gatekeepers or not?
Not to his way of thinking. Were it at all possible, he would have educated her sharply at this point, but Relmyna was Relmyna. A little thing like this was not something he could start a fight over without upsetting Sheogorath. His orders rang in his ears, to keep both women from tearing each other to pieces.
Noticing Orphael, Relmyna's red eyes glittered with the promise that as soon as Lahallia got what was coming to her for the destruction of the first Gatekeeper—as she surely must—she could contend with him. "I wasn't talking to you. Go, stand over there. I won't have you in my way. You," Relmyna pointed at Lahallia, "will assist."
"Don't argue, it'll just draw things out," Lahallia mumbled to Orphael.
"I'll take your cloak, you won't want it in your way." He hated the idea of leaving Lahallia to assist Relmyna. If Relmyna asked for blood from the Altmer, he was going to give the new Gatekeeper blood of a Dark Elf instead. He did not trust Relmybna not to push Lahallia headfirst into the experiment, so ending any plans Lord Sheogorath had.
However, dutiful soldier as he was, he took Lahallia's cloak, and joined his fellow Mazken before the Gates. In low voices, the garrison and Orphael exchanged news, and the tale of what went on in the Gardens.
He did not mention Lahallia's Visions, or his own strange experience.
Meanwhile, Lahallia took Relmyna's rack of components, waiting for instructions. She ached, her head and neck muscles were a knot of tension, and now she had to hold this Dunmer's figuratively bloody hand in order to get the job done.
With her luck, she would no sooner get to the Palace, bathed and into bed then someone would come pounding on her door wanting her to get up and get back to work. A glance towards the Gates revealed Orphael, obviously speaking to his fellows, but leaning on the railing overlooking the terrace, watching her, as though for any sign of trouble.
She firmly squished the wish he could have stood down here with Relmyna and herself. She would have appreciated the company. But those thoughts were distracting, very distracting, especially coupled with the memory of their last argument.
Even the memory of that kiss still made her lips tingle.
"I see you didn't fail in fetching anything out the Gardens. Could it be you found the place a source of fascination?" Relmyna asked, her voice full of neutrality, for once.
Lahallia shifted, her boots still bloody from retrieving the blood liqueur. "It was an…interesting place, certainly." Interesting indeed. The power of the Visions which so overcame her there also left her wishing for a little quiet time to herself, so she might go through them, try to figure them out.
"Perhaps you're not completely a lost cause. We begin!" The braziers burst into flames. Dark clouds began to gather overhead, swirling ominously, as a cold wind came blowing through, tugging at clothes and hair. "Step forward towards the Cistern of Substantiation."
Lahallia obeyed, as the paved circle seemed to absorb the laid-out Gatekeeper, the stone turning into something molten, sluggishly bubbling around the edges, giving off the powerful reek of Gatekeeper, only stronger, worse. Her empty belly ceased growling with hunger to scream with nausea. Doubtless she would have added a contribution to the cistern, had she anything in her stomach at this point.
Relmyna touched Lahallia's shoulder—though neither in friendliness, restrained, or to send her tripping into the cistern. Lahallia's clothes turned white, though her Mazken armor over them remained as black and green as ever. Details were important to Relmyna, and she would not have this Altmer impervious to them.
Relmyna's magical signature was almost unbearable, as the wind continued blowing, but not snuffing out the braziers. The Mazken moved down the steps, standing several steps apart, like beads on a string, but they did not come near the cistern. Orphael remained framed by the Gates. Lahallia could not see the ashen color his knuckles took on, even see his usual color creep back, the proximity to the Gate preventing the apparently operative Order-drain, worry turning him ashen.
He could feel Relmyna's magical signature crawling over his skin like so many worms, and knew the sensation would increase the closer anyone stood to the source.
Lahallia looked once more like the uncertain Attendant, suddenly trapped in the Isles. Even though it meant standing closer to Relmyna, Orphael wished he could take Lahallia's place.
Relmyna raised her hands. "Let no one speak…or I shall be displeased."
She might as well have said 'I will murder you all' as 'displeased', Lahallia thought disgustedly. The more she saw of Relmyna, the more she saw past the impressions fear gave of the Dunmer. Without those fear-inspired impressions, Relmyna was a shrunken, shriveled little madwoman, happy enough about harming others, but intolerant of pain directed at herself. She had power, but lacked the cohesion to win in a one-on-one mages' battle.
"At the beginning of the worlds were five. Fire, Water, Earth, Air, and Light. Darkness turned into day, the void took form. Hidden away, by virtue of its own self-awareness, was the sixth, containing within it the five which birthed it. Flesh!"
Lahallia did not show her deepening distaste. No wonder Relmyna was here: none of the Mages' Guilds in Tamriel would have her. Maybe the Telvanni did not even want her, and they had no love for the Mages' guild in the first place. Did Morrowind really have a line, which practitioners in that land should not cross?
Or had Relmyna never set foot there, with her desire to be revered by all? She would get no such coddling from other Dunmer.
Lahallia wiped her mind clear. It did not matter. Not in the slightest.
"Place the Dermis Membrane into the cistern." When Lahallia pulled the appropriate container free of the rack, Relmyna continued. The power pulling down towards the cistern gave further reason for no one to want to get too close. The malevolence of the cister's contents made those nearest to it feela s thoughs omehtign tugged them towards it, hungry for living things.
"Meat with the desire to consume like fire..." Lahallia knelt by the edge of the cistern, lightheaded from the reek, afraid to keel in, but determined not to. She waited, outwardly calm, for Relmyna's prompt for the blood liqueur. "Blood, liquid nutrient, that ocean which casts pearls of life upon the shores of existence..."
The Mazken shifted uncomfortably at the miasma of power moving through the deadened air, spreading out its area of effect to engulf them as well. It raised the hair on their necks, made them break out in a cold sweat, and raised the Duchess in their estimations. She knelt at the cisterns' edge, pale as death, but otherwise unconcerned.
Orphael knew her better, and prayed she would be able to keep her Visions at bay. All these triggers—he assumed there were many, given the circumstances—she had better shuffle away from the edge of that cistern…if she fell in, he knew there would be nothing to fish back out.
Yet for all this, he could not move to put himself a little closer to her, whether his better sense or something of the ceremony below he did not know.
Lahallia's eyes half closed as the cistern grew hot. The smell and warmth filled her nostrils, worked its way down her throat, and caused Visions to flicker across her waking eyes. She barely heard Relmyna mention bone. The component left the hand as though as she moved through a dream, the Visions no more than impression of suffering, agony, and horror.
Despite the low level of intrusion upon her mind, Lahallia wished she could not See. Too much was too much, and she had no desire for see anymore of Relmyna's brand of inflicted suffering.
"Breath, child of air, bestowing movement, the stirring of spirit...and last, the light of Flesh, the illumination of Soul—perception, thought, memory, imagination..."
Relmyna was, Lahallia realized sluggishly, draining her, 'borrowing' her own magicka to fuel this…mess. To do so without asking permission was considered a high form of insult, and were the situation not so necessary, Lahallia would have given Relmyna more 'borrowed' magicka than the Dunmer could stomach.
Lahallia lurched as the draw on her magicka gave one final tug, then release, letting her go. She caught herself just before she toppled over the edge of the cistern, into the boiling stench. Surely if she fell in the smell would never come off…
Orphael flinched as Lahallia lurched, but knew better than to go running down there, not out of fear of Relmyna—he was past that, for the moment—but for fear of taking away Lahallia's face before her Mazken. Still, it took effort, and the sounds of dissidence indicated he was not the only one who did not want to let this continue, with their Duchess so close to the edge of that cistern.
"Come to this altar. Join with this body. Quintessence of Flesh joined with the Essence of Flesh. Absolute in mortal. Immortal bound to contingent," Relmyna's voice grew until it vibrated in Lahallia's skull, and the skulls of all those present. "Stand clear of the cistern." Relmyna added, in a more normal tone, a strong hand seizing Lahallia by the scruff of the neck, the nails scraping flesh as Relmyna half dragged her back away from the edge. The cooler air, the wind suddenly stilled as with anticipation, helped snap Lahallia back to herself. She managed to regain her footing, stumbling further back as Relmyna pulled on her collar. "Over here by me."
Lahallia straightened, to the relief of her soldiers.
"Honored Daedra, fear not thy abasement! Thou shall be the holy in this temple." Relmyna raised a hand, one of her own flesh atronachs appearing, but silently, as though gagged. "I bind thee atronach to this body, henceforth Gatekeeper of the Shivering Isles." The atronach tipped forward, landing in the cistern. The cistern's contents glowed vividly white. No splash came from the liquid, which moved like molasses to swallow up the flesh, greedily.
Relmyna's voice dropped to soft tones, as though in conversation. "My child. It is time to fulfill your destiny. Stand guard in this land against all those who seek entry not bearing the mark of Sheogorath's favor. You shall know them by the coldness in their minds. A darkness of spirit." Relmyna's breathing became labored as the cistern suddenly solidified once again.
Lahallia blinked, and there stood the Gatekeeper, huge, hulking, and as disgusting as the first. Eyes glowed white behind its iron mask, it seemed to take every ounce of effort the Gatekeeper possessed to stand there, simply breathing, slick with slime, wrought with malevolence.
Loud shouts came from the bottom of the stairs leading up to the terrace from the ruins of Passwall. Relmyna grasped Lahallia's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "We should move. And let him do his work," Relmyna sounded exhausted, and showed all the signs of magical overdraw. Lahallia realized she too exhibited similar symptoms—which explained the necessity of Sheogorath's help with the first Gatekeeper. The two mer shuffled past the Gatekeeper. Once they reached the stairs, two Mazken solicitously helped Lahallia up them, and Nanette clumsily assisted Relmyna.
None of the Mazken wanted to, or meant to.
Orphael stepped aside so Lahallia could stand at the center of the overlook, but she stepped further sideways, giving space to Relmyna.
The Dunmer leaned on the railing, without the energy to say something cutting to Nanette.
Knights of Order, obviously making their way back into the Fringe from who knew where, to Lahallia's displeasure, reached the top of the stairs, led by a Dunmer in the garb of a priest of Order, though lacking the headdress. Doubtless the treacherous scumbag whom Sheldon had trusted.
The knights and mer stopped in their tracks, gazing at the new Gatekeeper.
Relmyna's voice, low and hoarse did not reach many ears, though the Gatekeeper certainly heard her. "My child, they are coming. Destroy them! Show them your true power! Show them…" she swallowed, then turned as the Gatekeeper roared. "You may tell his lordship of our success here." Before anyone could say anything, or stop her, Relmyna raised a finger, and jabbed the pad of it against Lahallia's forehead. The spot burned, and Lahallia's pupils pinpointed, then dilated, before returning to normal.
Orphael reached out to steady Lahallia, as Relmyna wordlessly departed, still leaning on her apprentice.
Lahallia watched the Gatekeeper thwart and rout the Knights and their leader. Braziers went flying, spilling their contents, fires snuffing. Slime lay across the terrace, and the Gatekeeper plowed through his opponents with no regard for numbers or weapons used against him.
"Your Grace?" Udico's voice penetrated Lahallia's mental haze, so she realized she had fallen sideways, and was now supported almost wholly by Orphael. "Your Grace?"
"I'm fine…" Lahallia slurred. "Have the garrison pull back to Pinnacle Rock…the Gatekeeper knows his business."
The Mazken saluted promptly, and did not waste a moment, but began carrying out Lahallia's orders, mobilizing the garrison to return through the Gates, and deciding where they should go, now they stood relieved.
Orphael nodded, disturbed by the frailty in Lahallia's voice. "Are you sure…"
"I'm overdrawn…she leeched my magicka…I just need to rest. Rest and eat," Lahallia answered, but made no attempt at bravado. She felt spent, utterly spent. She could not remember the last time she felt like this. Mortally weary.
Orphael touched Lahallia's forehead, as though looking for traces of some spell of draining left as a parting shot by Relmyna. "She didn't do anything to me, if that's what you're thinking," Lahallia announced after sifting through her thoughts for a moment. "She's given me a summoning spell…" She shuddered with disgust. "Who would want one of those shambling fleshy hulks?"
Orphael assumed Lahallia meant flesh atronachs, and repressed a grimace. "I don't know." He did not want to know, either.
She twisted to look up at Orphael. "Take me home…please." To anyone else she might have pretended a strength she did not feel, but she did not care just now if she seemed weak or frail. Until her powers restored themselves, she was both.
"Can you walk at all?" The inquiry came gentle, in response to the lack of bravado, or imitation of strength.
"I think so…but not by myself." Orphael wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders, and his around her waist, and so fashion helped her stumble away from the noise of the Gatekeeper ripping a Knight of Order in half, slow-witted cruel enjoyment evident.
Lahallia never felt so grateful for Mazken chariots as she did this time, able to lean on it for support as Orphael drove them back to New Sheoth, not sparing the Hungers a mite. It took a lot of energy to stay standing, and not to lurch about like a rag doll when the vehicle hit rough spots in the road, but Orphael always seemed to have a hand free to help her rebalance if she wavered.
Orphael did not consider himself cruel, but in this instance he wanted Lahallia safely back in New Sheoth, with time to rest before the next catastrophe. He knew without doubt a new Gatekeeper would not stop the Greymarch. The Gatekeeper might slow it down, but not stop it. Order would find another way in, and when it did…things would really get bad.
As if they weren't already.
--SI--
Lahallia stood before Sheogorath, nearly asleep on her feet, still leaning against Orphael as she answered Sheogorath's questions blindly, without any form of conscious thought. The whole world seemed to her half dark already.
Finally dismissed, Orphael gently helped Lahallia stagger to House Dementia, and set the household in an uproar over the Duchess' condition. It would be good for Lahallia to find herself fussed over a bit, but not too much, or she would get snappish.
Lahallia registered she was in her room, the Duchess' chambers, sitting beside Orphael on the edge of the bed. He had one arm round her, and seemed quite at his ease. "What's happening?"
"We're waiting for the kitchen to send you something to drink before you get some rest," Orphael answered quietly, surprised at her sudden return to consciousness. Until now, she had sat asleep, her head lolling against his shoulder.
"Oh," it was all Lahallia could manage, so she shifted into a more comfortable position.
"Comfortable?" Orphael's breath tickled her ear.
"Yes." Comfortable and safe, for however long it lasted. Even though her haze of mind, she knew this respite was just that, a respite. Tomorrow, or in a few hours, the forces of Order would strike again, and strike hard.
They still had Thadon. Little toad though he was, he could still cause her trouble…could and would…
Lahallia drifted off to sleep again, not caring about food or drink, just about sleep.
