(So...apologies for disappearing. Things...just went crazy. While I was happily writing, there was a point at which attempting to post anything just didn't feel like it was worth the effort. Hopefully, I will be able to catch the lot of you up to where we are, which is...um...let's just say writing has been much faster than posting for the past few months. So. Hopefully, this makes up for any lack!)

Island Assault

Below them, the hills and small forests turned to one thick blur, the treetops tossing both with the wind and against it, and even as swiftly as they were flying, the smells of the jungle below occasionally rose to them. Ravenlight went still and closed her eyes. Nevano and Nevusa watched it go by inquisitively. Nevusa was wide-eyed at all the new sights she was seeing, and Nevano had never gone south of Cyrodiil's borders.

Gyrmallion was the only one apparently uninterested in the sights below. He leaned over Kriifaadneh's head, peering anxiously at the horizon, and occasionally directing the dragon's course. As they drew near the ocean, he closed his eyes, before pointing out a tiny dot, dark against the moonlit water, and still some miles away. Nevano quit looking down as soon as he saw the water below.

Gyrmallion leaned almost across the dragon's head, straining his eyes toward the island. Ravenlight leaned out behind him, also looking. "I can see light from the island," she said. "Is that a good thing?"

His breath hissed in terror. "No! They never have lights or fires where others could see them-keeping hidden was nearly the only defense they had! Hurry!"

Nevano pulled Bonebiter loose. "If there's daedra or demons or whatever...it'll go back to Oblivion with holes."

Kriifaadneh increased his speed, and they covered the final few miles to the island in barely ten minutes. By that time, everyone had a weapon in hand.

Magical fires leaped up to illuminate what was going on below: nearly a score of daedra, fighting alongside Thalmor warriors, against a rag-tag group of Khajiit who were fighting back tooth and nail. Gyrmallion let out an incoherent snarl and thumped his fist against Kriifaadneh's neck. "Down!" he screamed. "Get lower!"

Nevano sighted an arrow, but didn't let it loose yet. As soon as they were within range, he'd send it into the middle of the group in front. He didn't need to really hit them, not yet. Bonebiter was powerful enough that it only needed to land an arrow in the middle to collapse the forward momentum. And...there. The arrow had to fight against the speed of the dragon, so much so that it fell almost lazily to the ground.

The hole it punched in the ground in the middle of the line of Thalmor and demons wasn't so lazy though.

Kriifaadneh plunged lower, roaring: and if the sudden explosion in the middle of the Thalmor hadn't caught everyone's attention, the sudden, unexpected sight of the massive Elder Dragon certainly did. He swooped, turned, hovered perhaps thirty feet over the fight to blast the attacking daedra with a burst of fire even they couldn't ignore... and Gyrmallion gathered his feet under him, stood, turned, and before anyone could register what he was about to do, jumped off the dragon's head.

"I'm not sure whether that was brave or stupid, but at this point, there might not be a difference." Nevano muttered, sending a far stronger arrow through a daedra and impaling the Thalmor next to it.

Gyrmallion had angled himself carefully: he only fell about ten feet before he landed on the half-crumbled roof of the structure still standing beneath them, and proceeded to jump and slide in short bursts the rest of the way down. Once he landed, apparently unhurt, he drew the glass sword with a scream of rage and raced into the fray.

Ravenlight shook her head; then she pulled an arrow loose and aimed. "Nevano, you and I are best up here. Kriifaadneh, on the next fly-by, swoop a little lower and let Nevusa off."

"No need!" Nevusa turned herself into a bird and took off, disappearing quickly.

"She's getting good with that." Nevano shot off another arrow.

"She is." Ravenlight let fly. Breatheater's effect was not quite so impressive as Bonebiter's, or Taulmaril's, for that matter, but the sheer power of the bow punched through anything but solid plate effortlessly, and the Bosmer's near-unerring eye made even that nearly useless. Every time she loosed, a Thalmor or a daedra fell. "Nevano, you lived through the Oblivion Crisis: what are we looking at down there?"

"It certainly looks like a damn gate opened but how?!" Nevano frowned. "That isn't supposed to be possible anymore! Yeah there's conjurers down there but there's no way they pulled all these in here themselves. For that matter, how did they all get here? Nevusa and Gyrmallion will wreak havoc down there but you and I...should probably find where they are coming from and destroy it."

"I was thinking more in terms of what the daedra were, but you've got a point." She leaned forward. "Kriifaadneh, can you sense anything down there that feels like it shouldn't be there? A rift or tear in Mundus?"

The dragon's head swung to the south. "That way. Shall we investigate?"

"Geh!" Ravenlight tensed. "We need to get there quickly!"

"I can't really see what type exactly but what is that?!" Nevano's eyes went wide and he pointed into the crowd.

Ravenlight saw it, too. And she recognized it. "Neimorcain duesthin! It's another one of Vivec's-spawn!"

"No...no that's..." Nevano recoiled despite being up on a dragon. "That is something else. Look at it. It's directing them."

The daedra at first seemed like a dremora, tall, powerful, very humanoid in its appearance. If it wasn't for the horns sprouting from its face, it almost could have passed for an elf or strangely colored human. Almost. The energy surrounding it certainly set it apart from everything else. When it looked up at them, its pupil-less eyes unblinking, even Kriifaahneh twitched.

"I have no idea. " Ravenlight shuddered, then stiffened. When she spoke, her voice had some of the odd quality Nevano vaguely remembered from when they'd first met. "It's an abomination, whatever it is. Kriifaadneh, get me low enough to jump safely. I'm going to go down and help Gyrmallion and Nevusa. I don't know if even the consecrated blade will be enough against that thing. Take Nevano towards whatever is spitting out the daedra; if he needs your help closing it, give it. If not, find out how the Thalmor came ashore and wreck whatever they used."

"Something Molag Bal created probably." Nevano muttered. "Gods that thing is foul."

Kriifaadneh rose, wheeled, then swooped down low, scattering Thalmor and Daedra alike as he did. Ravenlight crouched on his neck: when he reached the lowest point of the dive, she sprang down, replacing Breatheater on her back. Then she drew her sword.

Not her faithful glass Sunfang. This was the blade she'd made for battling Miraak, back on Solthsteim. It was made of ebony...and dragonbone.

"Be careful!" Nevano called after her.

For maybe three heartbeats, the enemies around her simply stared. It was long enough for her to draw breath, and Shout.

"MUL QAH DIIV!"

Nevano looked down at the dragon. "Let's hurry. The sooner we stop up those holes, the sooner we'll be safe. Don't need something worse coming through."

"Geh." Kriifaadneh wheeled and headed south.

As it turned out, there was only one hole: a conjuration circle. However, most conjuration circles were not ten feet across; nor did they open every few minutes to allow another ten or twelve daedra through. It was only open for perhaps half a minute each time: but each half-minute allowed another surge. A figure appeared to stand at the head of it: he seemed to be controlling the circle, until the lurid, sickly, green-blue light from the portal shone on naked flesh, and arms outstretched and bound to poles. Blood dripped from open cuts in his arms and legs. When enough pooled, it fueled the circle again, and let it open.

"Oh damn...Krii...fend? Sorry, it's a long name. Krii, I don't think that one is doing this willingly. If I shoot out those poles, can you knock him backwards without killing him?" Nevano pulled two arrows out.

"Geh." The dragon sounded vaguely annoyed; though whether it was because he'd been asked to move someone without harming them or Nevano's butchering of his name, the Dunmer wasn't sure.

"Sorry. Think of nicknames as a good thing, because they generally are." Nevano lined up two arrows. "And if he decides to cause problems...well, I certainly won't shed a tear if you eat him."

He let both arrows fly at once, a finger in between splitting them ever so slightly so that they struck both poles at once.

The arrows struck at the same time. The poles splintered. And Kriifaadneh...it really couldn't be called a shout. More like a very powerful grunt. "FUS!"

The hapless figure flew backward several yards.

"Good shot! Tossed him right into a bush." Nevano praised him. "Oh shite! That last one spit out a bunch of daedroth."

The alligator daedra snapped their teeth and circled around. They probably shouldn't have stuck around. Kriifaadneh was far larger, far heavier, and had much bigger teeth. And he was in a fairly bad temper. He slammed into the middle of them, and started taking out his spleen on them.

Nevano was impressed. "Remind me...on the way home, I know of a herd of fat cows you might like to eat. Those should taste far better than this mess." He hopped down off the dragon.

"That would be...appreciated." His jaws slammed shut on one which had tried playing possum on him. It certainly wasn't playing after that.

"You've been working your wings off. And now that impressive display? If I knew of something better I'd mention it." Nevano edged over to where the bleeding figure had been knocked back, careful in case it wasn't friendly.

He wasn't surprised to see that he was an Altmer; but there was a surprise to the fact that he seemed somewhat familiar. He was moving, but feebly; and his build indicated he wasn't a warrior, though there were calluses and scars on his forearms to suggest a trade that dealt in heat. He was conscious, though, and looked up, terror in his eyes, as he heard Nevano coming.

Nevano held up his hands. "I didn't knock you off just to kill you. That'd be a waste of two arrows. Let's make this quick, which side are you on?"

"Any but theirs!" He struggled to rise. "Warping the ward system was bad enough-but when I heard why they'd wanted a conjurer-gods, help me, please, they've got my daughter. She's here...they were going to give her to that-thing they called up first. I thought if I cooperated, they'd-but they tied me to that pole, and I knew-gods, she's not yet fifteen!"

"Do you know where she is?"

"Back at the ship, I think. Locked her up." He shuddered. "I knew Rumalashorn was a murderous bastard, but this is...They said something about a victory celebration, after the battle. Dragged me away. She was screaming for me." He shook his head, dashing at his eyes.

"That name is familiar...is he here?" Nevano glanced back at the dragon. This might be a bit bigger than he realized.

"No. They're here on his orders. He doesn't leave the palace."

"Too bad. I have a good end for him...though he'd probably taste like red wine and gristle." Nevano said. "Krii, we can't destroy that ship just yet. I'm going to sneak over there, see if I can't find this girl. Once I get out...how does turning a ship into flotsam sound?"

Dragon grins were...highly unnerving, as it turned out: even if the dragon in question was on your side. Nevano strongly suspected that his dragon buddy would be thoroughly pleased to know he needed a moment to remind himself he wasn't about to get eaten. "I'll be quick as I can. And you..." He looked at the Altmer. "Stay here." He switched Bonebiter out for his swords and ducked off.

From the direction of the battle, there was a roar that sounded more like a dragon than it did a mortal creature, followed by a scream that could have put both the Ancient vampire and Serana into fits. Nevano fought the urge to run over and help. He had to trust that those three had it handled. They'd signal him otherwise. He gripped his swords tightly and ran on, hoping they were okay.

Ravenlight wheeled lightly, her long, heavy blade moving as easily as a sword of light moonstone. The shimmering power of Dragon Aspect was nowhere near faded, the spectral armor providing an extra layer of protection against the blades of the Thalmor and the claws of the daedra. The Thalmor were starting to fall back: they hadn't expected the Dragonborn here, at the other end of Tamriel, and from the expressions of a number of them, they'd certainly heard of her.

And Gyrmallion...well, he was starting to remind her quite a bit of Drizzt, especially in the fury he was displaying against them. The consecrated sword was proving most effective against the daedra, and while he was bleeding again, his armor was more than holding up.

The commander demon had fallen back, screaming in pain and rage: both her breath weapon and her blade had inflicted serious wounds. The remaining Thalmor were starting to glance one to the other, as if weighing their chances: the daedra surged forward.

As they hesitated, red runes suddenly flared on the ground. A heartbeat later, fire erupted under the feet. Nevusa charged through the fire, completely unbothered by the heat, and tore into them, using the hand axe to pull her target in close and her knife to slash them open.

To make things worse-at least, for the attackers-the Khajiit had rallied with such unexpectedly powerful allies. They weren't getting close again, but they had a number of slingers among their group, and stones rained with devastating accuracy among both daedra and Thalmor.

Ravenlight ignored the lesser daedra, aside from striking down those that got in her way. Her quarry was the commander, her eyes, glowing with the strange intensity of the Daughter of Akatosh, fixed solely on him.

The commander seemed unconcerned with those dying around him. Instead, he locked eyes with Ravenlight. And smiled. "You would be a better trophy," he hissed, before suddenly charging.

She was expecting it; he didn't take her off guard. But he'd rallied somehow, grown stronger, and she wasn't sure how that was. Her blade clashed with his, but he wasn't trying to kill her. He was trying to overpower and disarm her, and she had no doubt as to why. Determination to not end up as one of Bal's trophies added fury to her strokes.

The daedra commander reveled in this sort of fight. The lives of the lesser daedra were nothing. They swarmed in Oblivion like rats. They would surface again soon enough. This was a challenge though. She wanted him dead...he wanted to test himself against her. They had the time to kill.

Ravenlight had no illusions about her swordsmanship. She fought dirty, she fought to win. Drizzt had trained her, and she'd improved-a lot-but while she was still alive... This sort of testing...indulging him in it would get her killed or worse. She ran through her line of tricks frantically, trying to guess which one he might fall for.

He laughed at her attempts. It was so feeble. He was merely having fun toying with her.

Then-she missed a stroke, the blade came at her-and a glass blade intercepted it, its green-blue surface glowing beneath the thick coating of daedric blood. She stumbled back, and Gyrmallion stepped between her and the commander.

She hadn't seen his sparring match with Drizzt. But she now had great opportunity to see what kind of a swordsman the Chii Chare was, and she was, to put it mildly, impressed.

"Srozz," The commander sneered. "Traitor. The Master will enjoy hanging your corpse in the Vile Lab!"

"They had their chance," Gyrmallion answered, his blade not only matching every stroke the commander gave, but flicking out in the little taunting snaps Drizzt had noticed but not risen to. "When they hung me and mine out for the Mistress. You cannot be a traitor to a cause that has already thrown you out!"

The commander sneered. "Your kind has already been promised to the Master. No matter what your pathetic xiknix do to you, you were already coin paid."

Before Gyrmallion could respond to that, there was a high, ascending whistle from behind. Something-almost a force-seemed to grab him and throw him flat-at the same instance that a bow sang. Before the commander could register it, an arrow flew, faster than sight, and slammed into his right eye, followed half a second later by one that went into his heart. Ravenlight stood on a half-ruined pillar, the glow surrounding her.

"That, then," she said, her voice thrumming with a power that was decidedly not earthly, "was why Akatosh sent his Daughter to their aid."

Perhaps the commander could have withstood the two dragonbone arrows. But before they could find out, Gyrmallion was back on his feet, his blade whistling through the air. The consecrated glass went through the daedra's neck almost without meeting resistance.

Gyrmallion stared down at the beheaded creature, shoulders heaving. Then he spat on its corpse. "You've made my path clear, creature," he panted. "Enjoy knowing that."

Nevusa came over, splattered with blood. It was...quiet suddenly. The remaining stragglers had fled or were dying. The ones fleeing had no idea that there were things hiding in the trees waiting for them.

Then they all jumped and turned at the sound of a horrendous, splintering crash and an eruption of fire from the coast. There was just enough clearance over the trees to see Kriifaadneh, hovering over a sudden new burst of fire.

"There went their ship," Ravenlight said, wiping Dragonsbite and sheathing it. She was suddenly exhausted. "Good."

"We just need to find the Heart then." Nevusa said, watching him.

Gyrmallion nodded. He wiped his blade and sheathed it; then, quite simply, pulled off his helmet and spoke three words in a strange language that seemed to combine purrs and yowls. There was a startled rustle from the hidden Khajiit. Then, slowly, an older male broke cover and came towards them.

"Gyrmallion? Is it really you?"

"Dro'ura." Gyrmallion smiled. "It is. It's good to see you again, old friend."

A scream interrupted the reunion, coming from the direction of the destroyed ship. Ravenlight whipped around, swearing. "There must have been some that escaped!" Shoving her exhaustion aside, she started to run toward the sound.

There was another high pitched scream, which seemed to drag in hysterics. They closer they got, the more they heard the fighting. As they got closer, they heard what sounded like a girl sobbing. Before they could break from the trees, they heard the distinctive sound of a sword through flesh. Then a head flew past them.

"Girl, screaming in my ear is not helping..."

A small group of Thalmor were trying to mob Nevano, who was guarding a shaking, hysterical Altmer girl. It was pretty clear she wasn't sure what she was more afraid of: the Thalmor, or the dragon sitting on the ruins of the ship, watching the proceedings with what appeared to be no interest in getting involved. Ravenlight pulled Breatheater loose, sending a few shafts singing through the air to skewer several Thalmor from behind.

Nevano breathed a sigh of relief. The girl had not let go of him, clinging in such a way that it was extremely difficult to fight. He could feel blood running down the side of his face from were he couldn't move out of the way of strike. Not and send both him and the girl tumbling. The pain hadn't hit yet due to irritation and adrenaline. He didn't dare reach up to feel how bad it was.

With the arriving newcomers, the last of the Thalmor were quickly destroyed. Ravenlight was surprised to see how oddly vindictive Gyrmallion was: not letting any of them escape, nor trying to convince them to leave behind their old ways. But the reason became clear when the girl looked up and saw him.

"U-Uncle?"

"See? I told you you were safe. You can let go of me now. Please." Nevano said, though without venom.

She did, slowly. As she did so, they all saw the bruises on her arms and legs, and one on her face: and the fact that she was clothed only in a short, thin shift which barely covered her. Her lips trembled as she stepped forward. Gyrmallion wiped his sword and sheathed it, stepping toward her. "It's me, Taaya."

She sniffed, then ran to him, clinging to him despite his armor, and trembling. He put his arms around her gently. "You're safe now, little one. You're safe."

Nevano nodded. "One moment..." He took off again into the woods.

"Poor girl," said Ravenlight. She reached into her bottomless pack, digging around. "Didn't bring much this time, I'm afraid...but...ah. I've got a blanket here." She pulled it out and draped it around her shoulders. "Your niece?"

Gyrmallion shook his head. "Not really. My cousin's daughter." He grimaced. "But he and I...we're nearly all that's left of our house."

Nevano was only gone a few moments before he came back, helping another Altmer along. "There she is." He said, pointing.

"Taaya!" He came forward, stumbling on legs still raw and bleeding. She looked up and saw him.

"Daddy!" She raced toward him, stumbling a little over the roots, and threw her arms around him, relief making her start crying again.

Gyrmallion gasped. "Divines-Kalaanir! What happened to you?"

He jerked up, staring. "Gyr-Gyrmallion? I can't..." His legs gave out, and he sat hard on a nearby fallen tree. "They told us you were dead."

Nevano went over to Ravenlight. "They used him...to hold a conjuring circle open. Tied him up, bled him. When enough blood dripped off, it would open a portal and a small handful would come through and it would close. Repeat. They took the poor girl as..." Nevano winced badly. "I...I wish Krii had used a bigger fireball."

"I think I can guess." Her hands clenched as she watched the three. "That...other daedra, the one we don't know...what it is. Said something about me being a better trophy. And then..." She closed her eyes. "Told Gyrmallion that his kind had already been promised to 'The Master'. No prizes for guessing who that would be."

"Yeah. Ruma..Rumal...whatever that one's name is." Nevano huffed at the complicated name. "I think he promised the Thalmor to Molag Bal."

"Rumalashorn. And I think he promised more than just the Thalmor." She watched them. "The way that thing said it...I almost think he promised the Altmer."

"I think he considers all the Altmer Thalmor. If you don't consider yourself one, you aren't Altmer in his mind." Nevano tilted his head. "Oh now there's a loophole..."

"Quit calling themselves Altmer?" Ravenlight tried to smile. "Could work." She whipped around suddenly as a branch snapped behind them. "Who's there?!"

Nevano swiped at the blood on his face, looking over, his swords flaring. The young man half-hidden in the trees froze, staring at them.

Ravenlight stared. He was dressed like the Khajiit she'd seen, both the ones fighting and the ones who'd fallen: but he was definitely human, and if she could make a guess, probably an Imperial. He swallowed hard and stepped back. She held up a hand to Nevano and stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"Imperial..." Nevano murmured.

"He is Rellino," a Khajiit female said, all but materializing out of the woods behind him, "and he was not supposed to be out yet. We promised Gyrmallion that we would keep him and the others safe. Though he seems not to care."

He flushed and ducked his head. "It was quiet out. I thought it would be safe."

"You live with Khajiit." Nevano said flatly. "You should know that quiet is just as deadly."

"Yeah, but the enemies aren't Khajiit, and they were being loud," he muttered sullenly.

The Khajiit female swatted him on the head. "There is an all-clear signal for a reason," she scolded. "You are lucky the ones you came across are friends." She stepped into the open. "Gyrmallion, the night is late, and you and your friends are hurt. Come; bring them all inside. Whatever business you came for can wait until morning."

For some reason, Nevano did not seem happy with that. He shifted from one foot to the other irritably.

Ravenlight turned and gently poked him in the side of the head, in the place where most of the blood seemed to be coming from. He yelped.

"You're hurt," she said flatly. "And so is Gyrmallion. I managed to get away without any wounds, but I'm exhausted. If I don't mind going down with the Khajiit for an evening to rest and recover from a fight a hell of a lot worse than we were expecting, you can handle it, too."

"It's not that. He's restless." Nevano said. "All that was here was daedra and Thalmor. There was no hybrid."

Ravenlight groaned. "If there's another one...gods, after a fight like that..."

"Could be he's old and paranoid but he's normally not." Nevano's ear twitched. "Still...you're right. Can't fight one like we are."

"Not without some help." Ravenlight turned, putting her hand on the tree beside her and closing her eyes. "They didn't show up for the Thalmor, but maybe..." She concentrated for a moment, and the trees around her began to sway and whisper eerily. Nevano watched, his growing headache making it difficult to be too curious about what she was doing.

By the time she straightened and opened her eyes again, all the trees were whispering and swaying; and everyone else had gathered close, staring into the woods with wide eyes.

"Cut no living wood tonight," she said, clearly enough to be heard. "Nor for a few days. I've called the spriggans awake. They'll keep watch for tonight and a few days after; if anything else attacks, they'll let us know, and they'll help us fight it." She glanced over at Gyrmallion. "I told them that only a few weapons might be able to harm what could be coming after us, but that they can be immobilized. If anything like those hybrid spawn try to attack us, they'll pin it and let us know to finish it off."

"Sounds useful." Nevano swayed a bit.

"Hopefully more than sounds useful." Ravenlight caught and steadied him. Before she could have to try to carry him, though, more Khajiit appeared. They were clearly nervous about the amount of noise coming from the woods; but at the same time, news that this was meant to help safeguard them was moving quickly through the clan, and they were willing to risk it to help the ones who'd come unexpectedly to help them.

"Friendly walking trees are good. Especially when they answer to you and not throw sticks at me." He dug the heel of his palm against his forehead. "Stop..." He murmured quietly.

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously.

"Head just hurts." Nevano said. "Nerevar talking isn't helping."

One of the Khajiit reached out, hand wreathed in gold. She touched his head gently. "You were struck quite hard," she said. "Come. All of you. The open is not safe. Come along."