It was about as I had imagined.
Plenty of Cairn Bolete, of course, common in caves. The pit of splintered coffins boasted many, sprouting around the sides and to the ends of the rotting wood. Wisp stalk, too, so often used for those poisons the Dark Brotherhood demanded of me.
Beyond those – several common strains of fungi, good for little more than a slightly pungent meal. A distant, bittersweet memory of a shared stew rose, and I pushed it away. Remnants of the ones who had lived here in chests of clothing, unmade beds, books half-read and notes half-scrawled. Still, no sign of the flora. At least my magicka had returned now. I healed the ugly wound on my chest as best I could, wiped off the dried blood with a rag and water from my canteen. It stung to the touch, making me hiss.
Another whimper. Luke didn't like that I was hurt, clearly. Sweet boy. I gave him an affectionate thump on the rear as he rubbed against me.
"Let's try the last room."
We turned and made for the final room, where I'd only poked my head in before. The smell had been enough to make me try and delay the inevitable – faint but necrotic, chemical with embalming agents. Cold to inhale, making my lungs feel dry and dead themselves. The room itself was a sort of contorted oval shape, with slab tables on either side of the room. Towards the front were shelves and two desks –
And Astarill. Upright and apparently recovered, thank all gods. He stood at the desks with his back to me, looking over the papers there. Probably preparing to burn it all away, as the Mages Guild wanted done with all necromantic paraphernalia after Traven's rise to power. Like they'd done with Bolor's work.
… Was that really only months ago?
Astarill shifted. The leather tome he'd thumbed through, some necromancer's journal, wasn't returned to the desk. He moved to pull a satchel forward, sliding it in there in a very small, explicitly outlawed act against the Mages Guild's laws.
Only then did our eyes meet. A moment of awkward tension. He didn't move to defend himself or hide it, didn't babble excuses as I would have done. Just straightened and turned back to the desk, crumpling up papers to burn.
"I… I don't care, you know."
I hadn't entirely realized I'd spoken, but he did. An arched brow as he looked over his shoulder at me. I felt my face go hot, but pressed on.
"I mean – I just think it's stupid, the law. There's value in necromantic studies, even when it's used for things like what they were doing. I won't tell anyone."
He stared me down a moment longer before his features settled neutral again. He turned back to his work, tossing papers behind in a growing pile. "I don't care who you tell. They won't find any evidence."
That made me grin. How wonderful to meet someone who was so detached from politics, from rules, after being so entangled in them with the Brotherhood. He really just didn't care, and it was oddly refreshing. "How're you feeling?"
"Fine." A beat, two. A new edge entered his voice – not quite light, not quite entertained, but with an air of something to it that made me feel like he knew something I didn't. "Any sign of the flora?"
"Nothing yet, but I'll look around one more time. Just in case."
There it was again, that note of – amusement? "You do that. I'll burn these."
A shared nod and we parted, me back to my search. Nothing in their laboratory, either. Slabs covered with brownish stains that made my stomach curl, broken bone segments tossed in little piles, but no sign of the plant. I scoured the other rooms again, this time making sure to peer in the darkest corners, little crevices. On my third search I did that and more still, craning my neck back to watch for any sort of vine growth from the jagged, dripping ceilings.
Nothing. Nothing, nothing…
"There's nothing here!"
I finally let my frustration get the better of me, kicking at a stray rock to send it scattering before me as I stalked back into the laboratory. A fire of the necromancer's work burned steadily now, Astarill beside it. Luke settled next to him as I threw up my hands.
"I've searched every gods-damned nook and cranny and there's nothing. Not a singleaberration, not even a mutated strain of what grows here naturally. What am I missing!? What…" Dammit, dammit! My very first assignment here and I wouldn't even be able to complete it! What was I missing?
Finally I joined Luke by the fire, rubbing away some of the wet cold that had sunk in as I'd explored the caverns. His nosing offered some comfort and I patted his head as he rested it in my lap, muttering to myself. "We can't go back empty-handed." Maybe they grew around the mouth of the cave and we'd walked past them? Maybe…
"She expects us to."
I blinked, drawn from my thoughts. "What?"
"To go back empty-handed." He spoke deadpan, factual as the sky. "We can't bring back something that doesn't exist in the first place."
Doesn't exist? I shook my head, eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."
"There never was a 'flora' to collect. Deetsan wanted us to deal with the necromancers, but she didn't trust sending me alone."
Realization began to dawn. "… It was an excuse for someone to go with you. To…"
"To ensure I didn't get a chance to 'talk in private with all my necromancer friends", a sneer, "As Orintur would put it." The sneer vanished as quickly as it'd come, expression stony again as he settled more comfortably by the fire. "And you were conveniently available."
She'd used me. Sent me in, risked my life to be her underhanded spy. I'd expected to be put to work, of course, like any member of the guild, but I hadn't joined to be lied to. To be – to be manipulated, gods dammit all, I'd joined them to get away from that –
The anger must have shown on my face. He only shrugged. "You'll get used to it."
I snorted, stroking one of Luke's ears, gritting my teeth. Alright. Alright, yes, it's bullshit, but you didn't join the guild for the politics. Breathe. The air was tinged with smoke by now, pushing back the uncomfortable smells of death and undeath that lingered in here. "… So what do we do, when we go back without it? Play dumb?"
"Do what you need to. I'm going to take my pay and move on."
"We get paid?"
A blink. He stared for a long moment, seeming to need to search for words. "… You thought we didn't?"
My face turned red again. I ducked my gaze down, giving a little shrug of my own. "We – we didn't back at the University, that's all. I didn't expect…" That was nice, at least. A little less worry about missing a day of business.
"If you let them know you'll work for free, they'll take full advantage."
"I'm already used to that." A bark of a laugh. At his look I explained, bitterly amused. "Being taken advantage of, I mean. It's been happening a lot lately."
"That will happen, with the Mages Guild."
So it would seem. Family, friends, Brotherhood or Guild – everywhere I looked were ulterior motives, some 'for my own good', some ignoring my good entirely. Everywhere, binds tying me down for better or worse.
You crave freedom. Lucien's words, back in Leyawiin. That was why I was even in this cold, wet cavern at all. The freedom to be myself, to live my life as I had before the Brotherhood, the tempting glint of freedom Sheogorath's offer held.
… And, of course, I was here out of spite.
Abruptly the Altmer reached for his satchel, moving to stand. "We should start back, before dark."
"That makes sense. Just let me take another look at your leg first – " At his quizzical, somewhat pointed look I flushed. "Please. If you don't mind. It's a long hike, and you lost a lot of blood. I can at least make sure you're alright."
Heavy brows lowered over olive eyes for a moment before he relented, looking away. "… That would probably be wise."
Only after I was satisfied he'd healed well did we pack up to leave the cavern behind. Putting out the smoldering fire, leaving nothing but a patch of soot and the necromancer's bodies as evidence of what had happened here. That same vague sense of guilt, the same circular thoughts trying to justify it lingered as we left the mouth of the cave into midday light. I blinked hard before glancing back, staring at the silent, yawning entrance.
Luke, nosing my hand. Astarill ahead of me, satchel slung over his shoulder and glancing back expectantly.
You did what you had to. And at least this time, it was by choice.
"Let's go home."
The sun was just beginning to set low enough to bleed through the trees, sparkles of light through silhouetted pines when we came home. As we turned back to the Northern road through the brush, I could have mistaken that red glint for the sunset. Brilliantly aglow and shimmering, humming.
I didn't. I knew, immediately, what I was seeing.
"No."
I murmured it, so softly he must not have heard. Not here. Impossible to be here. But as we came to the edge of the treeline and gained a clear line of sight, there was no denying it.
An Oblivion gate.
It had torn up through the earth and even part of the cobblestone road, grass charred to soot, stone streaked with black and red. The same as the one at Kvatch. Visions flashed behind my eyes. The daedroth hulking over me. Lucien, strangling in the harrada. The dremora, the hook and her, eyes empty.
"You two!"
I jerked out of my reverie, Luke pressing against my side as I swayed on my feet. A city guard – far from the only one out here. A makeshift campsite was being built, barricades like those I'd seen in Kvatch set up around the gate as a garrison stood at the ready. Behind us, up the road, marched the woman who'd shouted.
"Mages Guild? We've been waiting for you." Astarill nodded. I tried to speak, but found my tongue numb. My head buzzed, her words sounding as though they came from far away. There was a group behind her – other citizens who must have been out for the day, returning home. Farmers, hunters, huddling and whispering.
"I'm escorting you all back into the city, then we're going into strict lockdown. No one goes in or out until we figure out how to deal with this blasted thing."
Things got – blurry. I remember hearing the guard reassuring citizens that the gate had been quiet the last few hours, since the first attack when it had appeared. I remembered seeing scorch marks and scrapes along the road. I remember the resounding thud of the gates closing behind us, sealing us into the safety of the city.
"We should report in to Deetsan."
Astarill's voice. Finally, the fog began to clear. Still a tremble in my limbs, my heart fluttering, but at least I could think. I nodded, happy to let him take the lead."Alright."
The city itself was quiet. No hawking of wares, no rattling cartwheels. No toll of the chapel bells or general bustle of the evening crowds, going home or seeking supper. Only the clatter of steel boots against cobble, regular patrols up and down the streets. The others in our little group scattered to their homes, urged and ordered by the guards as Astarill and I made way back to the guildhall.
"Thank the Nine." She was there almost as soon as we entered, relief sagging her shoulders as she strode down the stairs to greet us. "The gate sprung up late this morning. I told the guards to keep an eye out for you both coming back -"
"They escorted us in." I was only too happy to let my partner speak. "The necromancers are dead."
A grim nod. "Good." A scaled ridge rose as she turned her gaze to me. "And the flora...?"
The irritation from earlier was long gone. I mustered an answer, glad for the support of Luke at my side. "There - there was no flora. No new strains, nothing to be discovered." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Astarill watch Deetsan, silent but with head tilted, eyes narrowed.
"Hm. Well, a rumour is only a rumour. Reports were mistaken, then. In any case you both did well, and I'm glad to see you back safely." Those weren't empty words she spoke, even for her official manner. There was relief in her gaze, regret in her sigh as she turned to the counter, returning with two small purses. "If I'd known what would happen..."
I dumbly took one bag as Astarill accepted the other, voice crisp. "Are they assembling a militia?"
"I'm not certain. I am certain, however, they'd appreciate any help you could give."
A nod and he was out on his heel, with only a nod to me in farewell. I felt the weight of the purse with a shopkeep's hand, some absurd part of my mind focusing on that comforting, normal little task. A nice amount. Certainly enough to make up for missing a day of potential business. I wasn't about to enter the poorhouse but with the fine I was still paying off it was better to be careful, to stretch the coin maman had given me -
Her inky hair loose, lips parted, a dribble of blood down her chin -
I tilted forward and caught the edge of the counter white knuckled.
"Are you alright, Dust?" Deetsan's orange eyes met mine as she frowned. "Perhaps the task was - too much, for your very first. I apologize."
"No, no." I tried to keep my voice steady, standing upright again as Luke whined. Deetsan eyed him, then me as I pocketed the purse. "Just - a little shaken by the gate, that's all."
"Understandable, but we should be safe in the city. They say someone has discovered how to close the gates. If it can be done, it is only a matter of time." She took a step back from a sniffing Luke with a frown, then paused. "Ah - there was a woman asking after you, earlier."
"A woman?"
"A Wood Elf. She said your friend Miles was injured when the gate rose, and that you should go to him as soon as possible." A sympathetic look. "Many coming in and out were, this morning. It took much of the afternoon for the guards to hunt down wandering daedra."
I hardly heard her. A Bosmer - Telaendril.
Miles. Lucien.
"I have to go."
Before I knew it I was outside, running down the dimming streets to the house that concealed the Sanctuary. Puffing for air with Luke at my side, my satchel still damp and clinking with remnants of broken glass.
After what he did, what he said, I scolded myself. You're running back to him?
It's not like I have a choice.
And what if you did?
My step slowed, just for a moment. What if I did have a choice? Would I let him suffer? How severe was it? How badly was he hurt? Would I let him, no, don't think that...
And that unspoken fear answered my question for me. I wouldn't. Even for my anger, I would go to him. If he needed me I'd go, even if I couldn't - wouldn't - be what he wanted.
Because, perhaps...
No, I didn't dare hope. But I ran faster anyway.
