"Thank you, walker. Tarrami thought we were done for once Judge Xiven sentenced us to death." The black-furred Khajiit mage's paw trembled on Aneril's forearm in a tight grip, before she let go with a steady breath. She looked around the holding cells, nodded at a fellow mage who'd been freed as well, then glanced at Vareysa who was picking the last cage's lock. "But freeing us is one thing. How do we get out of the Hall of Judgment? They're not going to let us simply leave, and the ruins outside are crawling with Daedra."
"Malkur Valos is guarding our retreat. The way should be clear," Aneril replied, though the minute tremble in her sword arm belied her calmness. Her stomach twisted as a rumble of energy shook the cavern, and the distant voice of the Daedra 'Judge' accompanied by the howls of clannfear seeped through the rock.
She gritted her teeth and gripped her sword's hilt tighter – chiding and hating herself for this weakness instilled by her brief bout with the Dremora who'd guarded the cells. It made no sense; the Dremora lay dead from her blade, yet its sneer and the echoing shouts of the Judge from afar made her want to kneel and curl into herself. She still stood strong, but a part of her was thrown back and trapped in that brief time she'd spent in Coldharbour's forge pits as a Soul Shriven, listening to the same laughter ringing through the caverns and the sound of whips striking fellow Shriven slaves. There was no Lyris to save her this time around…
Damn it. She gave herself a tight mental slap. Get a hold of yourself.
Aneril took a sharp breath through her mouth, then exhaled – drawing a curious look from Tarrami as she marched over to where Vareysa stood, cursing under her breath as she fiddled the heavy lock with a lockpick.
"Quickly, Rey. We don't have–"
A snap of the pick, and a cry of frustration from Vareysa as she threw the broken pick down to the floor, where it lay with its similarly broken counterparts.
"Don't rush me, Anni," Vareysa snapped, fishing the broken copper from the lock, then drawing another from her belt pouch. "This is my last one and if it breaks, we're leaving this damn fetcher to rot in his cage."
"Please don't leave me here!"
"Oh, shut up." Vareysa thankfully moved her burning glare from Aneril to the Dunmer mage, before focusing on the lock again.
Aneril bit on her bottom lip when another howl of Daedra pierced through the cavern walls, and she wrenched her eyes away from Vareysa's work to make the wait bearable. Scant minutes dragged for an eternity, before she heard the merciful click from the lock, and an outpouring of gratitude from the ex-captive.
With the last mage freed, they ran out of the holding cells and through the courtyard of the ruins, reaching Malkur Valos – the Dunmer mage who'd roped Aneril and Vareysa into this rescue. Aneril glanced at him briefly, then eyed the pulsing magical barrier which blocked the gates – they were trapped.
"You have been judged! You won't escape!" Judge Xiven's voiced boomed through the courtyard, though he was nowhere to be found. "The penalty is death!"
"I don't think so," Aneril growled under her breath, anxiety clawing at her patience. "Malkur, dispel the barrier. We'll hold the Daedra off."
Malkur nodded and waved Tarrami over, while the remaining two mages took up positions beside Aneril and Vareysa. Just as Aneril conjured her shield, portals appeared around the courtyard, setting the battle in motion. Scamps, Dremora, and Xivilai poured out of the portals in waves, and were greeted with stout resistance from their prey. While the mages and Vareysa picked off easier targets, Aneril distracted the Dremora and Xivilai, her shield arm growing weaker with each pound of an axe or club against it. She cleaved one Xivilai's head from its shoulders, as the mages incinerated the two Dremora flanking their compatriot, but she wasn't given reprieve just yet.
Another portal blinked into existence, and a towering Dremora barrelled through its swirling light, bringing its greatsword down on Aneril. The hefty blade rang out against sturdy magicka, and her eyes widened at the crackling corner where the sword had chipped the shield. Panic flooded her veins as the ghost of a limb-severing pain throbbed in her forearm, and Aneril shoved the Dremora back, swinging her own blade forward.
Xiven leapt back, but his arm bled a dark ichor as his mouth twisted into a sneering smile beneath his helm. He lunged again, but stumbled mid-way when a glint of steel flashed past his right leg. Xiven fell to the ground on one knee as Vareysa vaulted onto his back, but as she crossed both daggers around his neck, Xiven's hand shot up, gripping her by the throat. Vareysa choked audibly, but she provided a timely distraction – Aneril flew forward and sunk her gleaming blade through Xiven's heart, eliciting a grunt, then a cry from the Dremora as she twisted the sword, forcing him to release Vareysa.
As Vareysa tumbled to the floor behind him, Aneril kicked away the hand reaching for her in futility, then plunged her sword through his skull. Xiven's body fell to the floor unceremoniously, and Aneril left it alone to disintegrate while she picked Vareysa up.
"Hate–, being choked," Vareysa coughed, a scowl etched on her face.
"Except by the right people?"
Vareysa huffed raggedly as a smile broke through her scowl. "If you're gonna do it, Anni, at least warn me beforehand."
"Noted," Aneril chuckled. She sheathed her blade, and guided Vareysa to where the mages waited by gates unobstructed by magic.
Tarrami cast a minor healing spell to soothe Vareysa's throat, then offered to walk back to the Hollow City with them both – which Aneril politely turned down. This chance rescue hadn't been planned, and they still had some ground to cover for the day.
What they did plan to explore, was a spot on the map marked simply as a 'tavern'. Aneril was dubious at the idea of a random tavern set up in a corner of Coldharbour, though Vareysa pointed out that it could've been dragged from Tamriel and deposited into this realm. Just why a single tavern was plucked from Nirn, neither of them wanted or had the time to speculate, when they found a smattering of scamps and feral Shriven wandering the grounds outside the building. Vareysa's cloaking spell helped them navigate through the creatures, and they found a dead man's body lying on the path leading up to the tavern. He'd died very recently – the body showed no sign of decay.
Curious, Aneril picked up a folded parchment lying beside the body – a letter from the dead man to his partner. It spoke of the man's attempted escape from an enchantment, somehow brought about by…mead? Aneril glanced back at the Nord man's body, wondering if it was just some metaphor for alcoholism.
"Hm." Vareysa read the letter when Aneril handed it to her. "Sounds like he had a mead problem. Colour me surprised." She returned the letter. "How do they even get their supply of mead in this place?"
"Let's go in," Aneril said, pocketing the letter. "Maybe it'll make more sense inside."
"If they have mead though, I'm not going to touch it."
"Good idea…for once," Aneril replied drily as they reached the door, and pushed it open.
The rowdy, happy voices of celebration greeted them upon their entrance, and Aneril paused for a moment, wrinkling her nose at the smell and she took in the sight of Nords swigging brews from their mugs and singing drunkenly. She was baffled by their careless merriment in Coldharbour, and even more so when a Nord strode up to them with uneven steps, shoving into their hands mugs of the tavern's 'Special Blend'. Aneril and Vareysa smiled in thanks, but a shared glance conveyed a mutual inclination not to indulge in the drink. Perhaps this was the 'mead' mentioned in the letter they'd found?
"Strangers, over here! It's so good to see new faces in this tavern!"
The bearded Nord waving them over seemed nice enough, and Aneril noted the sharper, clearer glint of his eyes compared to the rest of his companions.
"Welcome to the Everfull Flagon, friends! Name's Bernt!" Bernt bellowed with a hearty laugh, then lowered his voice discretely. "Don't drink the mead, by the way. I'd thought no one would ever find us. How did you find your way here?"
"We're part of a force from Tamriel, and our scouts marked the location of your tavern," Aneril replied, equally soft. "We found a body just outside – his name's Gamirth, according to his letter."
Bernt's eyes widened as he accepted the letter from Aneril, but he didn't read it. "Gamirth's dead? He was my daughter's mate. I suspect the content of that letter will break her heart – if she's sober."
"I read there's something about the mead here?"
Bernt barked a laugh, spreading his arms wide, though his eyes flickered quickly about the tavern. "You must try our Special Blend! It's the best mead we have to offer!" He clapped both hands on Aneril's shoulders. "My daughter and Gamirth were working to find a way to end this madness. Go upstairs and talk to Nelhilda."
He gave her a hearty shake and pointed a thumb at the upper floor, winking with a grin. Aneril nodded, and he sat back in his bench, watching them take the stairs up.
It wasn't difficult to find Nelhilda – all it took was a simple question, and all the Nords present echoed the name and pointed towards the back room. Nelhilda herself seemed as awake as Bernt, but there was a quality to her eyes which spoke of a struggle against an unknown haze. Aneril introduced themselves, then gently broke the news of Gamirth's demise, and Bernt's instruction to find her. Grief seemed to wake Nelhilda even further, and she spoke with effort.
"The mead is enchanted. It muddles our minds and clouds our memories. But I may have found a way to purify the mead and stop the cravings it inspires." She wrung her fingers together, eyes lowering briefly in thought. "I need a rare magical flower, Kyne's Tear, to make the potion. The flowers grow around the trees near the lake."
"Simple enough. I'll go," Vareysa piped up, drawing an incredulous look from Aneril. "Don't look at me like that. We don't need the hero of Tamriel to pick some flowers."
Aneril rolled her eyes. "You're picking flowers in Coldharbour, Rey."
"So? No one will see me. Be back in a few."
Aneril tried to reach for her, but Vareysa waved her off and strode out of the room. Sighing, Aneril turned back to Nelhilda, and found her sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Gamirth…he worked so hard to find a way out of this. He believed it had something to do with a Daedric Prince and a bad bargain. If that's true, we never figured out who struck the deal." Nelhilda shrugged. "All I'm certain of is that the mead is delicious and it never runs out. We just stay inside and drink. And when the mood falls, the Thane does what he can to keep us happy, usually by opening another cask of mead."
"The Thane? You have a Thane here?" Aneril asked, casting her mind back to the Nords she'd seen in the tavern.
Nelhilda nodded, but didn't bother to explain. Aneril frowned, searching through fresh memory, until she landed on one figure… "It wouldn't happen to be the hooded man, would it?"
Another nod, then Aneril fell silent as well. She hadn't paid much attention to the hooded figure, whom she'd assumed was part of the crowd. But now that she thought about it…the figure had sat apart from the Nords, and hadn't a mug in their hands. An oddity in this tavern, if nothing else.
Her suspicion was roused, but she opted not to make any rash moves. A short wait later, Vareysa appeared in the room clutching many stalks of flowers with soft blue petals. She handed most of them to Nelhilda, who brought the haul to her modest alchemy station immediately. Aneril smiled when one stalk was offered to her, bringing the flower to her nose.
"You know it can't last long here, right?"
"I know. But it'll be worth it while it lasts," Vareysa replied, pinching her chin.
Soon, Nelhilda had thrown her potion together, and Vareysa took the flask in hand. Cloaking herself once more, she left them to wait while she snuck off to pour the potion into the open casks around the tavern. Upon her return, she joined their wait while the tavern's patrons took more servings from the casks, until the noisy bustle seemed to die down. Not long after, voices could be heard arguing with one another below.
Aneril walked down with Vareysa, and found the Nords clustered around the hooded figure – the 'Thane'. They were led by Bernt, who demanded the Thane's departure from the tavern, emphasising his intent with a shove against the Thane's shoulders. It was a mistake which earned him a blow across the head, sending him sprawling to the floor, but his plight galvanised his companions, who started echoing his demand as well.
Unperturbed by the hostility, the Thane merely laughed and pushed his hood back – revealing a Dremora's horned visage. Vareysa's hand fell to her dagger, but Aneril threw herself forward as the Dremora reached for another Nord. She pinned the Dremora to the floor as the rest backed off, then brought her gauntlet across his face in a crunching, painful blow. The Dremora responded with an angry shout, blasting her back with dark magic, but before he could rise to his feet, a dagger landed neatly between his eyes.
The effect was nearly instantaneous. As the Dremora turned to dust before their eyes, that heavy air lingering within the tavern dissipated, and Aneril breathed in relief. As Vareysa helped her to her feet, the Nords started to gather together, murmuring their disbelief at their predicament. Bernt approached Nelhilda with a slouch in his shoulders, and uttered a confession to his daughter.
To save his tavern from a lack of business, he was the one who struck a bargain with the Dremora.
Father and daughter fell out after the revelation, and their fellow Nords stepped in to separate them both for a breather and a well-deserved rest, after the liquor-induced stupor they were trapped in. Staying out of the tension, Aneril took up a corner with Vareysa, and indulged in the provisions offered to them. With a belly full of warm food and non-enchanted mead, Aneril drifted off to sleep with Vareysa curled up to her side. Some time later, she awoke to find a rough blanket draped over them while they were asleep, and was content to lay there in a sleepy haze until Vareysa stirred against her.
Truth be told, they weren't quite sure if they'd caught a full night's sleep – their internal clocks had begun to lose count a while ago. But their bodies were rested, and Aneril felt well enough to continue their trek across Coldharbour in search of more potential comrades. So they hefted their small travel packs onto their shoulders, gave the Nords directions towards the Hollow City, and left the tavern's admittedly cozy dwelling.
With the map as their guide, they trailed farther towards the east, where Vanus Galerion had reportedly strutted off on his own to find a solution to the Tamriel force's predicament. But Aneril thought they might be a bit lost, as the hand-drawn map had gotten more vague in the eastern terrain. Even Vareysa had trouble figuring out where they were on the map, and when they finally took out their compass – hoping it was accurate – they found themselves remarkably farther north than they'd intended to go. Not just that – they'd also chanced upon a huge portal swirling within a marble archway of Aldmeri make.
A heated discussion between Aneril's caution and Vareysa's curiosity ended in Vareysa's favour; Aneril wasn't quite surprised at the outcome, but was rather annoyed by her partner singing, 'my little softie', under her breath. A pout and a squint was all she could shoot at Vareysa, before her partner grinned and pulled her through the portal by the hand.
What they found was not a horde of Daedra as Aneril had expected, thankfully, but a rocky platform from which a long, winding stone bridge extended forth. At the head of the bridge was a Soul Shriven who, unlike Aneril, was deprived of nourishment from a skyshard of Nirn – her body was emaciated, and her irises were a milky white. The Shriven noticed them from where she hid behind a withered tree, and waved them over with happy, yet cautious vigour.
"You're alive! Just what I need."
"And you are?" Aneril asked.
"I'm Suronii. Mayor of Silver Run, a small township of Vvardenfell."
"Silver Run?" Vareysa said, brow raised. "That's the town that disappeared without any trace or clue as to what happened."
"Good to know we're remembered," Suronii replied drily. "Molag Bal's servants pulled Silver Run into Coldharbour, and now I'm stuck here. Two other towns, founded by Khajiit and Orcs, were taken as well. The Khajiit and Orc leaders are all that's left of their towns, like me. But the place is swarming with Daedra – if you could spare the time, you could rescue the leaders, tell them I have what we need to escape. They'll understand."
"What do you need to escape?"
Suronii paused, blank eyes resting on Aneril. "Well, you, of course. You're a warrior we could use to escape this pit."
"Alright," Aneril said slowly, catching Vareysa's expression out of the corner of her eye. "Tell me where they are."
"Ugorz is in the Orcish stronghold to the east. Zirani's in the Khajiit village to the west. This place is not only infested with Daedra, but it's like a maze as well. They'll need help to escape. When you have them, I'll meet you all at the Overseer's overlook, to the north."
Aneril looked to where Suronii pointed, and could just make out the silhouette of a towering cliff looking over the plane of blue mist with floating platforms of rock and obsidian. Eyeing the platforms, Aneril said, "I don't suppose you could tell us how to navigate this place?"
"There are many portals around. All I can say is, you'll have to get a feel for them. It's pretty straightforward."
"Great," Aneril deadpanned. "I'll go ahead then."
When Suronii tilted her head in silent thanks once more, Aneril walked onto the bridge with Vareysa. "Tell me."
"I can tell when someone's fibbing," Vareysa murmured, drawing her daggers. "And she isn't a good liar."
"I know. Even I could tell." Aneril readied her sword and shield.
"And yet, here you are…"
"You see any other idiot hero around to help them?"
Vareysa tossed her a crooked smile. "I guess not."
When Suronii mentioned this place being infested with Daedra, she was definitely not lying. Compared to their adventures across Coldharbour so far, this place was positively swarming with Daedra – creatures and humanoid Dremora alike guarded nearly every path they could take, and by the time they reached the first glimmering portal, armour and leathers scuffed and stained with bloody ichor, Aneril could already tell this would not be an easy endeavour.
Fortunately, the portals were indeed straightforward – their transport locations were fixed, and the paths through them were clear. Their first destination was the Khajiit village to the west – a deserted collection of stilt-houses, within one of which they found Zirani, the Khajiiti village leader. Zirani was clawing through a pile of rubble in the house with fevered energy mixed with fear, and refused to entertain Aneril's reassurances, muttering about the 'Taskmaster' upstairs who would punish her for speaking to others. A problem to which Vareysa presented a simple solution – violence.
Aneril led the way up to the house's upper floor, and initiated combat with the Dremora taskmaster, who was furious after listening to Aneril speaking to Zirani below. She was taken aback by the force of its blows, but Vareysa was given a more unpleasant surprise, when the Dremora unleashed a sudden counterattack with magic. Just as Vareysa had gone for the Dremora's neck, Aneril was struck backwards by a boot in her abdomen. The Dremora then spun around effortlessly and drove the pommel of its sword into Vareysa's gut, sending her staggering backwards. Two daggers were raised to block the next blade stroke, but they were knocked away, and the jagged Daedric blade slashed down the side of her head.
Aneril cried out as Vareysa's body dropped to the floor, and didn't even bother to lift her own blade as she sprinted forward. She ducked to avoid a heavy blade swing, then caught the Dremora around the middle, sending it to the floor. Its beady eyes shone with surprise through its helm, before the dragonfire-turned-claw around Aneril's hand pierced through its headgear, ending its pained cry as it'd barely started. For good measure, Aneril twisted the head for a snap of its neck, before she abandoned her need for revenge.
Scrambling towards Vareysa, Aneril was relieved to find her partner still breathing. Vareysa was conscious, eyes glazed from the pain of her wound which cut a ragged line behind her ear, from her skull to the length of her neck. Blood poured freely from the wound, and Vareysa's breaths were weak, dotted with stifled whimpers.
"Anni–"
"Hush. I'll–, I'll take care of it," Aneril replied shakily, holding a hand over the wound. Golden magic glowed about her fingers, but her magicka was half-depleted from the never-ending combat on the way here. When she brought her hand away, the wound was still bleeding, but Aneril's dry, helpless sob was interrupted by another figure crouching beside them.
"This one…apologises for her inaction," Zirani said, white eyes on Aneril. "Please allow her to help. She still has some magic left."
Aneril nodded and gave Zirani space, watching the Khajiit weave a healing spell over Vareysa's wound. When she was done, the long cut was healed considerably, though blood still beaded along the torn skin. Zirani tore off a long strip of cloth from her robes, and wrapped it around Vareysa's head.
"Rey, you still there?" Aneril whispered, and Vareysa's eyes fluttered open in response. "Hang on. I'll get you to safety."
Sheathing her blade, Aneril gathered Vareysa in her arms, carrying her partner effortlessly. Trusting the path to be clear, and with Zirani at her side, she retraced the road and portals they'd taken, stepping carefully through empty platforms until they'd reached the entrance portal. She set Vareysa down in a shadowed nook behind some rocks, propping her partner's head up on a travel pack.
"Wait here, Rey," Aneril said, running a hand over Varyesa's hair. "I'll come back for you soon."
"Careful," Vareysa mumbled, focusing on Aneril with difficulty. "Don't wanna lose you."
"You won't. I promise," Aneril murmured. She bent down, pressing her lips to Vareysa's forehead.
Her heart remained with Vareysa by the portal, but Aneril gathered herself for another venture through this pocket plane – this time, with Zirani at her side. Their road to the east was fraught with similar danger, though Zirani's magic did make combat easier for Aneril than if she'd been alone. Together, they found the Orc village leader, took down the Dremora taskmaster who held his chain, and made their way up to the Overseer's overlook, where Suronii had promised to meet them.
They found Suronii at the cliff's edge without trouble, but Aneril nearly raised her blade when Suronii asked of her one last task – to die. Sensing Aneril's alarm, Suronii raised her hands and hastened to explain.
"Wait – please listen. I've secured a spell to get us out of this plane. However, in order to channel it, I require a sacrifice. And I need it to be you."
"I can't die here, Suronii," Aneril intoned, muscled tensed for action. "Not just because you asked."
"It won't be as final as it seems. You are Shriven as well, aren't you? A vestige. I could sense it the moment you walked through that portal," Suronii said. "This spell will need your sacrifice, yes. But I have my own magic as well, and I assure you – I will bring you back alive, as you are, back in this plane. I just need you to trust me on this."
"That's a lot of trust to ask of someone you'd just met."
"I know. But it is the only way."
Aneril struggled, then hated herself when she gave in. She looked back at Suronii's grim expression. "On one condition – if you don't manage to bring me back, I want you to take my partner away from here. There's a city in Coldharbour, protected from Molag Bal's minions. I want you to take Vareysa there as quickly as possible. Understand?"
Suronii smiled. "I swear – by the Lord, Mother, and Wizard – I will bring her to the city. If I fail to bring you back, that is."
Aneril sighed, then sheathed her blade. She walked to the cliff's edge, and looked down at the steep plummet that was her immediate future.
Rey's right – I am a goddamn fool.
It was a curious sensation, to die and be brought back – or rather, it was a curious lack of sensation. Aneril couldn't remember dying after the surge of adrenaline as she fell. The next thing she knew, she was coming to on the ground beside the entrance portal. A projection of Suronii was crouched over her, smiling.
"I told you it would work."
Aneril groaned, then sat up. "And for you?"
"Yes, it did. I can feel Tamriel pulling me back. I thank you for your sacrifice, friend."
Aneril nodded. "Safe travels, wherever you are."
"May your Divines watch over you," were Suronii's last words, before her projection faded from sight.
A quiet moment to gain her bearings, then Aneril looked herself over, relieved to see that her arms and armour had followed her as well. She rose to her feet and walked to Vareysa's hiding spot, where her partner had been dozing, but was startled awake at her approach. Aneril smiled, pressing a brief kiss to Vareysa's lips in comfort, noting the odd warmth of her partner's skin. Then she draped Vareysa on her back, and took the portal back to Coldharbour proper.
The forced march back to the Hollow City was a trial in itself. Aneril was exhausted from what felt like hours of combat in the lost villages, and she was drained of energy from her recent revival. Sweat poured down the sides of her face, as her boots thudded one heavy step after another. Her back was breaking from the combined weight of Vareysa and both their packs, and she was nearly out of breath when she finally reached the City's gates, head swimming from effort.
It didn't take much to call for aid – the citizens nearby saw her haggard condition, and flocked to her side to offer aid. At her request, they carried Vareysa and half-carried her to the house that was their quarters, where they brought two mages to heal their wounds. It was only due to Aneril's limp state that she allowed two others to strip her of armour and clean her with wet cloths, then guide her towards the bed where Vareysa was already tucked in, fast asleep. She uttered a word of thanks to their helpers, who nodded and mentioned bringing some food and herbs soon, before they finally filed out of the house, and closed the door behind them.
Aneril smiled to herself, feeling for the first time some satisfaction in the benefits her reputation inspired. She looked down at Vareysa, stroking her partner's cheek – then felt her forehead with a hand. No wonder they'd promised herbs – Vareysa had already developed a slight fever. Guilt stung at her heart, but she swallowed the apology which rose to her tongue – for one, Vareysa wasn't awake to hear it. Even if she was, Aneril doubted she'd truly accept it.
A sigh, and Aneril settled for a promise to do better. Sliding further under the covers, Aneril bent down to kiss Vareysa's forehead once more.
Thank you.