Chapter 25: 25

Chapter Text

(Savos Aren)

"I'm sorry, I must have heard you incorrectly. Could you repeat that please?" Jarl Laila says in disbelief.

"You did not hear me incorrectly." Mirabelle says calmly. "Morthal has been raized. We had several diviners watching the area in case they chose to attack once more, but they instead watched the city be torn apart."

"How?" Jarl Skald asks. "We would have heard if a force large enough to take Morthal had been mobilized. Even after their losses here, they still numbered in the hundreds, if not the thousands."

"It was not an army." I say as I stare out a window.

The city of Solitude is recovering quite nicely I think. Nords are quite effective when they put their mind to something, especially when they are gathered together with other nords.

The buildings have yet to be rebuilt, but almost all of the debris created by the fighting has been cleared from the streets, and progress has begun on reconstruction. Even without the help of the mages from the College, Elisif and Ulfric would have progressed nicely. After only a few weeks, the city is almost alive again. Common enemies truly do a wonder for a people's unity.

Jarl Korir snorts at my statement. "Not an army? Was it the ghost of Ysgramor then?"

I hear a quiet growl from my left.

"Mirabelle, control yourself." I say quietly, though I know she will have no trouble hearing me.

She has made progress in the pursuit of coming to grips with her new reality, but her road shall still be long.

I turn from the window and address the Jarls. "No Jarl Korir, it was not the ghost of Ysgramor."

He chuckles. "Well if Potema's back, why not him?"

"Korir." Ulfric says coldly, and the mood in the room shifts. "Without the archmage's assistance, we would all be dead. You will show him the respect he is due."

Korir holds the Jarl of Windhelm's gaze for a moment, then turns back to me. "Apologies archmage."

"Accepted." I say. "Now, as I was saying, it was not an army that took Morthal, but a small force of four individuals as well as their summons and constructs."

"With all due respect archmage, that's impossible." Legate Rikke says, not disrespectfully. "There is no way four fighters, no matter how strong, could take a city. Let alone a city full of vampires."

I nod acceptingly. "Before, I would have agreed with you. However, I was one of those who watched the battle itself."

The Jarls react in surprise at the admission. Their eyes going wide, and their focus now completely focused on my words.

It was not easy to view the battle, I was called after several of our seers were rebuked somehow. I was only able to watch the events because I cheated. I still have a trinket or two I recovered from Labyrinthian, and one of them just so happens to be dedicated to scrying rituals.

I pause a moment, then I continue. "Three of them were vampires. Some of the most powerful I personally have ever seen. They were able to conjure skeletal dragons, storms, and a summon I have yet to be able to determine. It was a creature that seemed to be made from lightning. The fourth individual, well…" I hold up a hand and conjure an image of the woman's face so the gathered Jarls may see her. She has hair black as a raven's feathers, and matching eyes.

As expected, most of them don't noticeably react. The Jarl of Whiterun, however, pales.

I'm not the only one to notice either.

Jarl Elisif asks, "Jarl Balgruuf?"

The blonde haired man swallows heavily. "It's her." He says quietly. "That's Svarline."

There's a shocked silence at his words.

Jarl Laila is the first to recover. "Svarline, as in the dragonborn Svarline?"

Jarl Balgruuf numbly nods.

Jarl Korir let's out a long sigh. "You really fucked up Balgruuf." He says, though not scathingly. He merely points it out.

No one refutes him.

"Was there a man there?" Jarl Balgruuf asks in a daze. "Ash colored hair and eyes?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "There was a man with ash grey hair, but his eyes were those of a vampire."

"Could you show him to me?" The Jarl of Whiterun asks.

I nod, and change my illusion to fit the man who summoned the storm.

Jarl Balgruuf swallows again. "That's Dusk. He wasn't a vampire when I last saw him though."

"This is the man who summoned the storm. I would guess that he killed most of the city's inhabitants just using that single spell, but he also joined the melee after casting it." I say.

"Do you know where they went?" Jarl Balgruuf asks, contemplative.

I shake my head. "They left by way of a portal. They could be anywhere."

"Not that the dragonborn isn't important, but we need to determine what to do now that Morthal is gone." Ulfric cuts in. "Did the dragonborn kill Potema?"

I shake my head. "She was not in the city when they attacked."

"Figures." Jarl Skald says. "Can't have all our problems solved at once."

"Since we currently don't know the whereabouts of Potema, we must assume she still intends to continue this war." Elisif says calmly. "I would recommend bolstering the defences of all holds. We have no way to determine where she will strike after all."

Ulfric nods. "We'll continue as we have, and see what Potema does. Luckily, the dragons seem to be leaving us alone for the moment. We'll finish off Potema, then move on to the threat posed by the dragons. Agreed?"

The Jarls nod and hum in agreement.

"Good." Ulfric says. "Then let's adjourn for the day. I am needed in the city."

The Jarls stand one after the other and vacate the chamber.

I return to my window and look out of it once more.

"Savos?" Mirabelle asks from behind me.

"I do not like this Mirabelle." I respond. "Potema is gone, the dragons are gone, and the dragonborn is gone. Things will soon come to a head, and I fear they will all do so at the same time."

"If they do, then we'll deal with them. There's nothing else we can do."

I hum noncomitedly, then leave the room.

I may want to make some preparations of my own.

(Quaranir)

"We must respond!" Iriel cries in outrage, her copper hair aflame in a magical blue. "The beast murdered members of our order. He needs to learn his place."

I sigh as I regard the irate mage across from me. "And what would you have us do Iriel? Mount an assault and move into Skyrim? We of the Psijic Order must remain impartial, we cannot throw away our principles for the sake of one vampire."

"Though I believe her rage is clouding her judgement, Iriel does present a valid point." Calcalin breaks in. He looks around the table, and surveys each of us with his slanted eyes. "Dusk and his group have killed several of our number. We will feel that loss for some time, the loss of our brothers and sisters."

I put a hand up placatingly. "I am not saying that their deaths should go unpunished, but that we must be cautious in how we move. Our scryings are ineffective against him, and obviously he has ways to defend against us that we are not yet aware of. Our kin perished because we acted in haste. I do not want us to make the same mistake twice."

Calcalin nods in acceptance, and even Iriel seems to calm slightly.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Tandil speaks up for the first time. "You yourself stated we cannot scry him, and any subtler attempts to glean information from him and his have been repelled by his wards. The only thing we can confirm is that he is in fact a vampire in the company of the Dragonborn."

"A fact we must rectify quickly." Tante says evenly. She leans back in her chair, and pulls her hood back, revealing pointed ears and black hair. "Dusk must not be allowed to influence the Dragonborn further. He has already led her astray, we must act quickly before she is compromised completely."

Tandil lets out an irritated sigh. "Yes, we must do that as well. However, we still have yet to discuss how we are going to accomplish this. I would prefer it if we would begin planning."

I nod in agreement, and open my mouth to speak, but the door to our chamber is thrown open with a crash.

We all turn our heads towards the door, and see a wide-eyed Nerien standing on the threshold.

"Prepare yourselves for battle!" He yells. "A host of dragons has been sighted above Alinor!"

Pandemonium breaks out at his announcement as the members of the order begin screaming over one another even as they speed from the room.

My own eyes go wide at the news.

This is far too soon. The dragons should still be contained in Skyrim, Cyrodiil at the furthest south. How have they already made it to the Isles?

"Quaranir!"

I turn to regard Calcalin as he quickly strides up to me.

"I need you to help me power the wards in the palace. You and I are the only ones capable of dealing with their complexity."

I nod, and he opens a portal to a very familiar hall. The two of us walk through and emerge into the Queen's throne room.

The ceiling is impossibly high, and several paintings of heroic altmer are displayed on its walls and ceiling. A horde of panicked warriors, lords, and servants chaotically speed around the floor. The Queen herself, a golden haired elf with silver eyes and a lithe frame, sits atop her throne with an expression of complete calm.

"Silence!" She bellows, causing the panicked movements to cease as all focus on her words. "Alinor has stood for thousands of years, and weathered greater threats than these wyrms. Your fear is healthy, but this mindless panic is not. Get ahold of yourselves."

The hysteric elves within the hall take a collective breath, and regain their composure. They begin to move once more, though this time as a well oiled dwarven mechanism. Their fear is still plain to see, but it is now tempered by determination.

The queen turns her attention to the slowly closing portal from which Calcalin and myself emerged, then focuses her attention on us. "Tell me of your movements." She orders.

Calcalin steps forward and respectfully bows his head. "Your majesty, the Psijic Order is mobilizing as we speak. By the time the dragons arrive, the wards we have placed around the city will be fully powered."

The queen nods, pleased. "And what of the farms and mines surrounding the city?"

"They will likely be completely destroyed." Calcalin replies calmly.

The queen tsk's. "Irritating. We will have to send for more cats from Elsweyr to man the farms, and more of the dunmer to man the mines. That will be expensive."

The door to the palace opens, and a golden armored messenger runs in and kneels at the queen's feet.

"Speak." She commands.

"The dragons have begun their descent. They will be upon us soon." The messenger hurriedly relays.

The queen makes a dismissive gesture, and the messenger backs away. She then turns to us and says, "My Thalmor are ready to meet the beasts head on. I would ask that you join them."

I bow my head respectfully. "We will assist them once we have activated the palace's wards."

The queen makes a disinterested gesture with her hand, and Calcalin and I withdraw.

Calcalin and I proceed to a rune array inscribed into the wall, and begin to flood it with magicka. The array weaves unexpectedly, but the both of us are masters of the order, so such inconveniences do not slow us. Soon, the array activates, and the palace's wards flare to life.

No sooner do we complete our task, than a wave of pure concentrated power shakes the ground beneath our feet.

I hurry to a window, and can't help it as the breath leaves my lungs at the sight before me.

Alinor's wards have activated, covering the entirety of the city in a shimmering white dome of energy. The sky above us has become wreathed in shadow and fire. Where once the sky was a cool blue, periodically painted white by clouds, it has become a storm of raining rocks, fire, and flying dragons of various colors and sizes.

The rocks that rain down from the heavens impact Alinor's barrier repeatedly, but our magic holds strong. These wards have been steadily worked on by master altmer mages for thousands of years, they will hold.

A small group of dragons break off, and move towards the farms and mines outside the protection of the energy shield. The dragons release torrents of flame, frost, and lightning down towards the settlements, and I'm sure they have perished.

It is a pity, but an acceptable loss.

"Calcalin." I say as I turn to my friend. "We are needed."

He nods, and the two of us teleport to where we feel the others of our order gathering.

We emerge upon the top of one of Alinor's defensive towers, and see several of our mages inscribing a large rune circle on the ground.

"Good, you are here." Iriel says, her earlier rage now forgotten in the face of the impending threat. "Take your positions."

Wordlessly, Calcalin and I move to do as she bades.

We stand facing each other at the ends of the now completed circle, and begin the ritual.

When fighting dragons, there are few methods that will always succeed. Dragons are simply too varied and versatile, and their power ranges from insignificant to almighty.

However, we are the Psijic order. This is not the first occasion where we have fought these creatures, nor will it be our last.

Gelebros walks to the center of the circle, and all of us on its outskirts hold our hands out to him.

Our magic flows through the runes engraved on the ground, and into our waiting brother. His eyes glow a piercing yellow brighter even than his robe, and he holds his hand out towards the shape of a descending dragon. With a roar, he lets loose our combined power, and isolates the dragon in time.

One moment, the dragon was preparing to test our defences, the next it was gone. Trapped forever in a single instant of reality, never to escape.

"Again." Gelebros says as his eyes lose their golden glow, reverting to their previous blue, and we comply.

We continue channeling our magic to him, and his eyes glow once more.

Several of the wyrms noticed our dispatching of their brother, and so fly with haste to stop us. They prove too slow.

Gelebros brings his arms around in slashing motions towards the flying beasts, and freezes the air in lines around them.

Both not noticing the disturbance, and being unable to maneuver fast enough, the dragons are cut apart by lines of time frozen air. Impossible to move by anything except time itself.

The dragons fall from the sky in tatters, colliding with the barrier, and sliding down off of it to the ground outside the city.

A few more moments, and Gelebros's blue eyes have turned gold once more.

He holds a hand out to a specific dragon who has landed atop the barrier, and is tearing at it with its claws, and clenches his fist.

The dragon stops, then moves unnaturally in reverse. It flies backward through the air, and into several of its brothers and sisters. Tearing at them with its claws as it passes by them. Once the dragon is away from any others it could potentially damage, Gelebros unclenches his fist and the dragon returns to its position atop the barrier, only to move unnaturally in reverse once more. It tears through even more dragons on its second pass, then returns to the barrier to begin again. It is caught in a loop. Inescapable.

We prepare for a fourth working, when a dark shadow passes over us.

I spare a glance to the sky as I provide Gelebros with power, and behold a monster.

The dragon has scales as black as midnight, spikes adorning its body as numerous as the stars, and a power in its presence that can be felt even through the barrier.

The beast comes to a delicate stop in the air above us, and speaks.

"Hin tiid los ko joor. OBLAAN!"(Your time is over mortals. END!)

The very world responds to the dragon's final world, and everything and everyone trembles upon beholding its power.

The dome of white energy around the city cracks, trembles, and shatters. Fading into the nothingness from whence it came.

The dragons roar in triumph, and fall upon the city. Lashing out with flame, claw, tail, and wing.

The dragon Gelebros looped with our power is freed with the same word that shatters the dome, and turns toward our group with a look full of fury.

"Now!" Gelebros shouts.

Realizing what he wants, I respond immediately. I crouch down, and slam my hands onto the runes lining the floor around me. My fellow mages follow a mere instant behind me.

The array lights up a bright turquoise, and flashes.

"Quickly now! We do not have long!" Gelebrod orders.

We all stand, and behold the scene around us.

Everything has been frozen. The dragons pause in between flaps of their wings, the falling stone from a nearby tower hovers harmlessly in the air, even the flames have stopped licking their fuel.

We have granted ourselves a momentary reprieve in which to act, and we will not waste it.

Each of us teleports to a predetermined location, and begins their own work.

Long ago, the Psijic Order prepared Alinor to be saved should the worst come to pass. The isle is not equipped to withstand the combined might of an army of dragons, and so we must flee.

I teleport into a sparsely lit room with a glowing pale blue stone in its center. I quickly run up to the stone, and begin activating it. I am half way done when I am interrupted by a loud shout.

"KREN!"

The world shudders around me, and I gasp as I feel the time stop fade around me.

The voice of the same dragon from earlier follows soon after, and I feel a chin flow down my spine.

"Hi lost vodahmin hi faas do mu. Nii los tiid fah hi wah dahmaan" (You have forgotten your fear of us. It is time for you to remember.)

The stone ceiling of the chamber crumbles, and begins to fall in on itself.

I do everything I can to speed my work, but fail to complete my task before the ceiling falls down, forcing me to teleport away while holding the crystal.

I emerge back atop the tower, and behold a scene of utter ruin.

Our buildings have been smashed, our streets are aflame, and our people lay bleeding and dying. In our sky, a dragon of blackest scales roars its victory as its kin descend to finish what it started.

No. This is not the end.

I turn to the circle carved into the stone floor of the tower, and place the crystal down within the runes.

I may have failed to transport the city away, but there is more I am able to do.

I channel nearly all of my magicka into the crystal, and watch as it glows a bright white, before shattering.

The explosion created from the crystals destruction throws me to the ground, and I have to weakly roll over to behold my work.

There is a single ghostly specter clad in mages robes floating in the air above the circle.

"Please! Your home is under attack! Defend your descendants from this menace!" I beg.

The specter turns from me to behold the carnage around it. After a moment, it turns back to me, and gives me the barest of nods.

Another spirit appears behind it. Then another. Then a dozen more. Then a hundred more. The air becomes cluttered with an army of spirits who stare towards the dragon horde.

As one, the spirits charge into the air. The dragons turn to them, and roar out a challenge.

The battle for Alinor has begun.

(Sam Guevenne)

This crunchy treat is surprisingly good. What did Sheo call it? Popcorn? I think that's right.

"Oooo, there goes another one papa!" My little girl cries excitedly as another boat goes up in flames. She turns to me and clasps her hands together. "Can I go play? Pleeeeeeeeeease?"

"No." I say as I pop some more popcorn into my mouth. "The scum are beneath you darling."

Slavers? Worthy of my daughter? Yeah, right.

"But papaaaaaa…" She whines and sticks her lip out at me.

I narrow my eyes at her. "No. No up and coming godling of mine will play with anything this mediocre."

My friend pops into existence next to me. "Lucky I'm not an up and coming godling then! See ya Aggy!" The crazy man begins to run across the air towards one of the boats.

"Uncle Sheo!" My little Agatha shouts at his retreating form. "Take me with you!" She holds her arms out dramatically.

I lightly bop her on the head. "No. We'll see about finding someone for you to play with when we go back to Coldharbour."

She rubs the top of her head and grumbles as she reaches her hand into the popcorn bowl.

"Cheer up little sister! You'll have fun, loads of fun! Yesyesyes!" The jester sings as he plops down next to her. He leans over to her ear conspiratorially and whispers, "If you're good, I'll show you how to make it so a man is always smiling. That way they can be happy forever!"

Agatha's eyes light up. "Really?"

The jester bobs his head up and down.

"Okay." Agatha says, her priorly depressed mood gone.

The three of us sit and watch as Sheo rides the clouds into battle against the altmer slavers, much to their terror.

"Papa?" Agatha suddenly asks.

"Yes dear?"

"Can we maybe try to find a boyfriend for me?"

Reality cracks when she utters the word 'boyfriend', bisecting one of the slaver's ships and sending the occupants into the sea.

I robotically turn my head to look down at my daughter. "What did you say sweety?"

She tilts her head adorably, and says, "I want a boyfriend. Raven said they're fun, so I want to try one."

I turn in barely contained fury towards the box. "What are you teaching my daughter vile temptress?!"

The box does nothing.

"That's only where other people are concerned! No one touches my daughter!"

The box does nothing.

"I will remove the concept of debauchery from the cosmos purely to spite you woman!"

The box does nothing.

I sigh heavily. "But… she's my little agatha. She can't grow up yet!"

The box does nothing.

"No, you're right." I take a deep breath, then turn back to my little darling. "Agatha, I promise you we will find the best of boyfriends for you, and if he ever makes you sad, Cicero can show you that smiling trick he talked about."

Agatha jumps up and down excitedly, then runs forward and wraps me up in a hug. "Thanks papa!"

I pat her on the back. "You're welcome darling."