A/N: And here we are once again. I hope that everyone is doing well, and if you are not, that maybe this chapter will be a welcome reprieve from whatever is going on in your lives. I'm working on some stuff outside of this story that I hope to share soon, but it should not impact the frequency with which new chapters are uploaded. Thank you again for taking the time to read this story, it means more to me than you know.
*Disclaimer*
*As always, I own only my OCs. The main plots and recognizable characters are from the brilliant minds of Bethesda's Elder Scrolls franchise writers.*
Chapter XII- This is Why You Insure Your Jewelry Folks
She was twitching again, Martin observed. It had been going on most of the night since she fell asleep, her face twisting into different expressions of confusion and, in one case that nearly had him waking her, intense fear. He wondered what she was dreaming of, what she could have seen in her life so far. Things that would make Kvatch seem like a picnic, no doubt. It felt as though every time he thought that he had an understanding of who Lumi was, of what she was, it was challenged. Martin knew just from his watching over the past few days, that she was a kind person, someone who used humor as a shield, and seemed to wish to do good. But she was also the same person who could dismantle Oblivion gates on her own, help break sieges on whole cities, and use a shout that froze time so that she could kill a group of bandits before they even knew what was happening. There was a vicious streak to her that even the kindness she displayed could not fully dull or soften the sting of. Was that the dragon blood at work? To live is to fight. Her voice echoed in his mind as his thoughts drifted.
The night was quiet, all the birds and small creatures having settled down to rest. Only the occasional howl from a far-off wolf or the yip of a coyote could be heard, echoing through the forest. It was peaceful, the crackle of the fire soothing a part of Martin that was still keyed up from the events of the day. This far into the forest, it was not uncommon to run into roving bands of bandits, especially given the presence of the nearby Ayleid ruin. Unsurprising, but still disturbing. When they had run into Orren's group, he had been unsure how or even if they would escape intact, what with his magicka being less than helpful in such close quarters and Lumi's shoulder still being injured. As much as it pained him to think of abandoning Rhae or Quilt, he had prepared himself to leave the horses behind, take Lumi's arm, and run for the hills, far from the bandits and the damned shrine to Sanguine. But before he could finish building up a spell, the Nord had managed to truly shock him and finally shouted. Martin could not even recall what it was that she said, the memory fixated wholly on the moment that he realized she had somehow moved in the span of a second and killed four people. He could still hear the thuds of their crumpled forms hitting the ground if he focused, the sound making his heart race.
It was disconcerting to try and reconcile the violence he had seen with the woman he knew. Lumi and Martin had never fought together, each having played different roles in the breaking of the Siege of Kvatch. He had known, logically, that she could do incredible things with her powers. Terrible, but incredible things. After all, you did not earn the epitaph 'Hero of Kvatch' for no reason. Seeing it though? Seeing it was something else entirely. He hadn't been lying when he told her that he could understand having to slay the bandits. Martin had grown up on an isolated farm and then wandered out on his own to walk with crowds he never should have before he wound up in Kvatch. He was far from innocent and blood was no strange feeling on his hands. But the means by which she had chosen to handle the situation were nothing short of horrifying to witness the aftermath of. Not only in how the bandits had no idea of what they were provoking until they had already fallen, but in how it left Lumi herself. When he had turned to face her, he had been terrified that she was also dead, struck down by whatever wraith had found them. Instead, he had seen her, bloody sword in one hand and Quilt's reins in the other, shoulders shaking and eyes beyond desolate. The sight frightened him worse than that of the bandits falling to the ground because he knew she could have done so much worse if she truly wanted to.
Lumi was a dragon in human skin. The evidence was there, long before the bandits had shown up. He had simply pushed it aside, only making passing note of what he saw. But after that encounter it had become impossible to ignore or go unacknowledged any longer. She had seen a threat and eliminated it as efficiently as possible before harm could befall them. It was both impressive and sobering, to see what that kind of power looked like in small doses. And to think that this is what she must teach me if we are to survive this. Martin could not resist the urge to shudder. When he had decided to stay in Kvatch and devote his life to the worship of Akatosh, he had thought he was leaving the violence of his earlier years behind him. Fighting was not something he found much pleasure in. It was too easy to lose yourself when the power of the elements was at your fingertips and the only limit to your strength was your own will. The temptation to take that power and use it for ill was always there for those that practiced destruction magic, even if you did not wish to use it for anything more than lighting candles. He did not want to know what wielding power like the kind Lumi had could do to a person. How many dragonborn have become tyrants? Did their history ever get recorded or were they forgotten, consigned to oblivion and shadow? For her part, Martin did not think that Lumi enjoyed her power at all.
When he had turned to face her, had seen what she had done and questioned her, her face had been ashen, the expression a mix of sickened and beseeching. Her hands had shaken as she wiped clean her blade and sheathed it but not once did she ask for forgiveness. She remained quiet, only speaking to give her explanation, short as it was. It was like she did not believe herself capable or deserving of absolution, however she might have wished for it. He had surprised her, he thought, when he had accepted her actions and rationalized them, trying to provide comfort to her as well as he could at that point. But their interactions for the rest of the day had been stilted until he had set her down to check on her shoulder. It seemed that the threat of Jin's ire was enough to cross any number of bridges and Lumi's stubbornness was put on full display when she demanded that she heal his hands as well. At the thought, Martin glanced down to where his hands rested in his lap, fingers twined with one another. She had healed them perfectly, the memory making his hands grow warm once more.
Martin sighed to himself. Unbidden, his eyes shifted, looking up at the sky poking through the canopy of leaves. One of the moons was faintly visible, its light filtering down and casting pale shadows over the tree trunks. Across the sky, the stars glittered coldly, their glow unable to reach where Martin sat. What is Akatosh planning? What is his reasoning in sending Lumi back? To break the barriers of time was momentous and even for a god, not something to be done upon a mere whim. What could the future look like that Akatosh would deem it necessary to take such drastic action? How terrible must it be? For whatever reason, what happens in Martin's lifetime will have the most impact on the coming centuries in Tamriel. The weight of that was heavy enough without understanding all of the stakes. But he could not continue to move around, blind to the realities of their current situation. He needed to talk to Lumi, to ask about what history said happened originally to Cyrodiil in the coming months. Much of him did not want to know, and he was not entirely sure that the Nord woman would even tell him. She had been reluctant to share overly much so far that was not general information. If I were in her place, I do not know that I would want to share any of what I knew, lest I change what happens. But wasn't that what Lumi was there to do? To change the outcome of the war against Dagon? To even the playing field? There were secrets she kept, same as anyone, and those of her world's past were likely to be the ones clutched closest to her chest.
Perhaps Jauffre would have insight in how to proceed. Martin did not remember much about him, having only met a handful of times in his childhood. The man was dour and strong, that he knew, with thinning blond hair and eyes like sharpened flint. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, he would surely be able to position them where they were needed. Martin did not have any experience strategizing or leading. He could work in a group, and would even say that he preferred it to doing solo jobs, but he was not used to leading in any way that truly mattered. He was self-serving as a boy and cared little for positions of power as an adult. And now I am to be thrust into the role of an Emperor. Truly, the irony is not lost on me. Shaking his head, Martin continued to watch over the camp, eyes flitting about and ears straining to catch any sound of trouble. None came, and as the sky was shifting into the earliest hours of day, he woke Lumi to take the second watch before closing his eyes and falling into a light sleep.
Their third day on the road was opened with light rainfall. It seemed that at some point while Martin slept, clouds had moved in and hung low in the sky, dark gray and full of rain. To be honest, it was rather dreary, and unseasonably cool, making Martin huddle a little more into his robes as he considered the merits of purchasing a hooded cloak at some point soon. Lumi leisurely strolled a few paces ahead, uncaring of the weather as the rain plastered most of her hair to her skull, the rest of it held in a dripping braid. The move baffled him. How is she not cold? They had reached a broader point in the trail, the woods slowly starting to thin and the ground dip lower as they walked into a shallow valley. Soon enough they would be able to ride their horses, once the trees had cleared a little more. If they did not encounter any trouble and the path stayed in good condition, they could potentially arrive in Weynon Priory that night. Keyword: potentially. Given their most recent bout with luck, Martin did not hold any high hopes that they would have a peaceful journey. Trouble seemed to simply pop up out of the ground when it came to either of them.
"I have a question."
Martin spoke softly but in the relative quiet of the forest it carried easily to his companion. The Nord woman turned her head but continued to walk, brown eyes meeting his gaze curiously.
"Depending on what you ask, I may have an answer," she said in a voice just as soft. Martin braced himself for the inevitable awkwardness as he replied.
"We had not had the chance to discuss this yet, but what does your history say about this time? About what happens? You were sent here presumably to help change the outcome, but what was it that originally happened?"
If it was quiet before, Martin could now safely say that it was dead silent. Lumi's shoulders stiffened and she stopped walking, keeping her back to him.
"Scholars would all agree that the Oblivion Crisis reshapes the political and physical landscape of Cyrodiil and by extension, the Empire itself," she murmured. Her voice sounded funny, like she was holding in what she truly thought. Likely for the sake of my feelings. Martin felt frustration and despair; frustration at how vague the Nord was being and despair at the confirmation of just how far-reaching the effects of Dagon's scheme were. He breathed out aggressively, screwing his eyes shut as he pushed down the negative emotions. Patience. He had to be patient. Lumi was looking at things from a different lens than he was. He did not want to upset his friend, but he needed to know what was coming. They all did.
"Could you elaborate on why and how it shapes so much? I find myself unable to picture how this…Oblivion Crisis…can have such a grasp on future events," he tried to keep his voice pleasant and light, despite the urge to blurt out a million different questions. A sharp, choked noise escaped from the woman in front of him before she hissed out a reply.
"It doesn't stop with Kvatch, Martin. Every single hold will be invaded. Lands far outside of Cyrodiil will be swarmed by daedra before it's over. I think you can see how that might provoke a restructuring of societal powers," Lumi laughed and it was a twisted mockery of a laugh, full of pain and anger and frustration. Martin felt his own anger briefly cool in the wake of it. Her words were terrible. He did not want to picture the horror of Kvatch replaying in the other cities, with even more people being subjected to the torment of the daedra. But if what she said was true? And for it to spread beyond Cyrodiil, into other countries within the Empire? Yes, he could see how that could change things. Yet even with the dark words, Martin felt lingering frustration. She was hiding something about what happens. He did not know how he knew, only that he did. And whatever she was not telling him was important. Still, Martin watched Lumi's back, tracing the stiffness of it, and felt empathy. He had secrets of his own, ones that would come to light eventually if they were to continue working together. It was inevitable, given his proficiency with spellwork and open disdain for certain daedric lords. He would back off, as he really did not want to have to deal with an increasingly cagey Nord who could shout him into pieces if he annoyed her enough. Though I highly doubt she would ever actually do that. Martin would back off for now. But he was going to figure out what Lumi was not telling him eventually.
"Then we will do what we must to help those in harm's way," he said, holding back the myriad of things he wished to say. Lumi said nothing, but her shoulder's drooped and he heard a sigh of relief come from her that he politely ignored.
They pressed on, neither speaking after the tense conversation they had shared. The woods continued to thin and eventually cleared enough for Lumi to mount Quilt and break her into a canter. Martin followed on Rhae, his eyes scanning the countryside for trouble. It was around mid-morning by that point, not quite noon, and the rain had not cleared. Without the shelter of the trees, Martin and Lumi were left to feel the full brunt of the rainfall. It soaked through their already damp clothes, leaving them shivering as they stubbornly rode on. We will be lucky if we do not catch our deaths in this mess, Martin thought to himself sullenly. With little better to do, he fondly recalled the warmth of his old bed, with its woolen blankets that smelt of rosemary and lavender from the soap they used. Likely enough, someone else had been moved into his cell, and was now enjoying those very blankets that he thought so fondly of. It was not as comforting a thought as it perhaps should have been, not when he wished to be there himself. He shook his head, annoyed. Though at himself, Lumi, or the situation as a whole, he could not say. You're out here for a reason, Martin. Now focus on things that aren't the damp cold.
Seeing Jauffre again would be odd. It had been so many years, and yet the older man had apparently kept a close eye on Martin. Close enough to have a note planted on his body when he passed out, half-dead in a ditch, nearly five years after their last conversation. The thought was troublesome and more than a little embarrassing. It likely meant that he had seen or heard reports of all the stupid things Martin had done after leaving the farm. And there were a fair few. His father would be shaking his head if he were there. Alright, a different subject then. I do not need to remind myself of every foolish thing I've ever done. The Imperial narrowed his eyes and tried to turn his thoughts to something else, but found his mind blanking. Annoyed, he looked over to where Lumi rode a few paces ahead, mouth in a thin line and eyes firmly on the horizon. She was not in a mood to talk and neither was Martin, still bothered as he was by the Nord's continued vagueness regarding anything deeply related to this Oblivion Crisis, as she called it. As he considered the woman, thoughts of dragons filled him. He wondered what they looked like in truth. Precious little had been written about them that survived to the Third Era. Were they as large as in the legends? Larger? When they spoke, how did they sound? Did they only speak in Dovahzul? How did they talk without hurting others? Did the earth itself tremble with their weight? What did a dragon do when it was not attacking settlements? Martin let his thoughts wander through the topic and he wondered if Lumi might be able to answer some of those questions in the future. Surely, she would know more about dragons having actually lived around them for a year. Had she flown on the back of one? What must flying might feel like, Martin wondered. Was it anything like the winds that swept through Kvatch and made you feel like one jump and you'd be carried away?
They spent nearly an hour in complete silence, both lost to their own thoughts before Lumi abruptly drew Quilt to a halt and stared at him. Martin stopped Rhae, staring back. What is happening now? Weynon Priory was too close to stop for anything but absolute necessities. And if half of what she had told him came to pass, they needed to get there as soon as possible to begin their planning.
"I am sorry," Lumi said. He raised a brow, surprised but listening as she continued.
"I shouldn't have gotten so defensive. You have every right to want to know what happened," she sighed, regretful.
"But," Martin replied, sensing the pause. Lumi nodded, eyes downcast.
"But I do not know what I should and should not share. If sharing will have any bearing on what will happen later on. We're already poking at the timeline with a stick if we teach you how to use your thu'um. Doing anything else might as well be throwing a boulder into it for all we know."
Anxiety laced her voice and made Martin think of his own concerns from the night before. How terrible must the future be that the risks they were taking could be considered necessary? Martin frowned, wishing his thoughts were still on dragon lore.
"We can discuss this more once we reach Weynon Priory, Lumi. I'm sure that Jauffre will have insight on how to proceed in all of this," he eventually said. Instead of protesting, she nodded in agreement, face still troubled but willing to concede. After another moment, they slowly moved the horses back into a canter, and from there, a gallop. Martin knew they would not be able to run the horses for too long like this, but in bursts they would be able to cover a significant distance.
So, off and on they went, pushing the horses as hard as they dared, alternating their paces between a gallop and a light jog. The hills grew steadily taller and the space between them deeper. Trees were beginning to fill back in as they reached a small town by the name of Hackdirt. It was a depressing place, the formerly grand stone structures all hollowed out from fires long-since extinguished. In their rubble, the townspeople had rebuilt their homes with wood and repurposed stone. The only building that still stood tall was a small stone chapel that made Martin's skin crawl. They did not stop, instead merely slowing as they passed the different buildings, not wishing to hit anyone in their haste. Eyes stared blankly at them from the shadows, and of the few people that wandered about, their faces were stretched into too large smiles that showed far more teeth than would be considered normal. A feeling of wrongness floated through the air and Martin was more than glad to see the back of that place. Lumi, it seemed, was as well, visibly shaking herself as soon as they were out of sight of the town. Yet even with a few miles between them and Hackdirt, he almost felt like those strange eyes were still on them.
Eventually, as the sun's light began to fade into dusk, the faint outline of a great city could be seen far to the northwest. Chorrol. Martin laughed giddily at the sight. They were nearly there. Excitement filled the tired travelers and they exchanged eager grins. The horses sensed their riders change in energy and put on an extra burst of speed, Rhae shaking her mane aggressively, sending water droplets into Martin's face. He sputtered for a moment, but did not let go of the reins to try and wipe the water away. At least the rain had stopped, though heavy clouds still hung low in the sky, promising more in the near future. Unfortunately, as they continued, it was clear that the rain had caused slick mud to form in large patches the closer they got to the Black Road, making it near to impossible to go any faster than a canter as the sun set, neither rider eager to risk harm to their mount. Because of this, night had long since fallen by the time that they reached the last hill before the priory, the town glowing faintly on the other side. Shouting could just barely be heard, likely from people going home for the evening from the local tavern. Martin glanced at Lumi and the two shared another smile. I cannot wait to change clothes and sleep in a real bed, he thought to himself. With careful movements, they steered their mounts over the hill, only to pause in disbelief.
Both Imperial and Nord stared, shocked at the sight before them. The glow from before was not that of lanterns, and the sounds not of merriment. The town of Weynon Priory was in flames, people scrambling around trying to put out the individual fires while horses screamed shrilly from the stables. Several people lay unmoving on the ground, some wearing bright red robes that looked like droplets of blood from some great creature of old, too big to fathom. The wind changed and brought the scent of smoke to them in a thick cloud. Martin felt the urge to cough as it reached his lungs. It's like Kvatch. Fire and blood and smoke everywhere. He was horror-struck, frozen in place from the shock. Lumi fared no better, her eyes misting as she stared at something just beyond what he saw.
'The Amulet!" She exclaimed suddenly, before charging down the hill. Martin followed closely, but kept his eyes on the people extinguishing the fires. It was clear that an attack had occurred not too long ago, likely while they were slowed from the mud. Who would do this? There was no evidence of Oblivion Gates that he could see, the ground being free of any large scorch marks like the ones in Kvatch. Small mercies. People in monk's robes milled around, helping to put out the fires and triage wounded. Martin's hands itched to help them. He dismounted his horse beside Lumi, who sprinted toward the chapel where several monks and nuns stood speaking to one another in harsh whispers.
"Piner! What happened?" She called to a harried looking monk with blood covering part of the lower half of his face. The monk turned to face them, eyes taking in both the Imperial and Nord with evident relief. He walked over, clasping Lumi's shoulder and blinking in surprise when she flinched.
"You're hurt?" The monk asked, looking them over carefully. Lumi shook her head, gesturing to the shoulder with her other hand.
"Just a spot on my shoulder from a few days ago, it is fine,' she reassured him, 'But tell me, what in the gods happened here?"
Piner grimaced, and another monk patted his shoulder as he passed by, bandages in hand. Martin's eyes followed the figure as he joined a group of bloodied townspeople.
"As you can see, we were attacked just around sunset. They came out of nowhere, killed our scouts before they could sound the alarm. The first group set fire to different buildings to distract us while the second hit the chapel. Whoever the bastards are, they had it planned out perfectly."
Martin and Lumi looked at one another, brows furrowed with concern. This was more than some bandit raid. They were searching for someone. Or something. The Amulet, Lumi had said. The Amulet of Kings? Martin prayed that they were not there for that. The damned necklace was the most important piece of jewelry in Tamriel, especially now. They needed it to light the dragon fires. Lumi looked like she was thinking something similar as she stepped forward, grasping the monk's arm gently.
"Where is Jauffre, Piner?" She asked carefully. Piner blinked, expression sobering.
"He is inside; whoever it was that attacked us targeted him specifically,' the monk breathed out and leaned in closer, 'He was hurt, tortured, really, but the old goat is as stubborn as any of your kin and won't rest."
"Take us to him," Martin said, earning a look of surprise from the man. He pointed back to his saddlebags, speaking quickly, 'I have healing supplies and know some spells that could help."
"No need, Martin. I'm here."
Everyone's eyes turned to the front of the chapel where Jauffre stood, lightly swaying. Martin's eyes widened at the sight. He barely recognized the man, his remaining hair having been cut so close to his head that only the barest hint was visible. Blood covered his worn face, deep set lines etched into the skin from frowning. His left arm was in a sling and the hand could just barely be seen poking out, swaddled in thick bandages that were already turning pink. In his other hand was a dangerous looking sword, long and thin with a razor-sharp edge. He breathed shallowly, eyes a startling mix of dazed and sharp.
"It's gone. The Amulet is lost."