A/N: Well, here's chapter five. We're opening up with another nightmare courtesy of one of my favorite potential villains in Elder Scrolls, Vaermina. Seriously, she's perfect for one of these kinds of fics. Her sphere is literally psychological torture.
Whispers of the Night
Summary: One year after Serana died and she left Astrid, Alana has left for Solstheim to be alone and never harm another innocent. Enemies new and old are rising, and it is never easy for one to free themselves from the shackles of their demons…
*Book 1: The Black Swordswoman Part 5*
Alana looked around at the inky abyss that surrounded her, shivering as the harshest of winds rattled her bones. She could hear the faintest of whispers in the dark shadows, but no matter where her head turned, she couldn't make out what they were saying.
Her hand reached instinctively for the zweihander that was usually hung from her back, and to her horror she realized that her arms were not toned and muscled. They were the arms of a small sixteen year old girl, unable to carry a heavy blade. Her hands trembled with the horrifying realization, and the faint whispers in the dark grew louder and louder.
Alana looked up and saw movement in the darkness, and the whispers turned into malevolent hisses, buzzing louder and louder in her ears. She backed away as a pair of glowing red eyes approached her, and she could taste the malevolent aura surrounding it. The blonde felt an overwhelming sense of fear, and she could feel every part of her body shake as the set of eyes grew closer.
She looked at her shaking hands, and she gasped in horror when she saw the person who bore that hateful red gaze. "S-serana?"
Serana's hand flashed, and Alana gasped as a searing hot wave of pain coursed through her chest. Her fearful gaze looked down and saw the ebony dagger buried in her, and she felt her eyes water with tears as her blood flowed down the dagger and dripped onto the floor. "W-why…?"
"Why? Because it's what should've been done," Serana hissed. "I should've killed you the day we met. You're nothing, you hear me? Nothing! You deserve to die by my hand!"
She twisted, and Alana coughed out a mouthful of blood as the dagger buried itself further in her heart. Red splatters fell on her hand and the blonde sank to her knees clutching the handle of the weapon. Her teary gaze looked up at Serana, and she managed to choke out a few words. "S-serana…I'm sorry…"
Serana scoffed and brushed past her, leaving her to her fate. Alana looked up at her with eyes flowing with tears, her breaths growing shallower with each second. Soon, she collapsed on her side before she let her head hit the ground.
She embraced death.
Alana woke up with a gasp, her body still trembling. Her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, and for a moment she didn't know where she was or if she was even still alive. A few agonizing seconds ticked by and she recognized her bedroom. 'I'm…I'm home. But how? Did Saoron carry me back?'
She let her head hit her pillow again and she looked up at the light tan ceiling of her house. A shadow danced on the walls and she tried to remember what had happened prior to her ending up back in bed. 'I was about to eat, and then…'
'I was poisoned. Someone tried to kill me.' By the Divines, every joint in her body ached and throbbed, and she shivered as cold sweat dripped down and stained her sheets. Her body was still trying to fight off the poison that had coursed through her veins, and she focused all of her magic into her healing process to repair the parts of her that were damaged the most. Her fingers were mostly healed by now, and she removed the bandages binding them together to give them a wiggle. A stab of pain ran up her hand and she winced. She knew shouldn't go out and fight against daedra for at least another day, but she never listened to her body.
The blonde Nord thought about the nightmare she just had, of Serana killing her and calling her worthless. The rational side of her mind tried its best to scream at her and tell her it wasn't real, but she didn't listen to it. 'It should've been real. It would've been better, for everyone. They'd be alive and happy without fear of me. I'm nothing but a monster.'
How many friends? How many families? Alana could remember them all, and she knew they would never forgive her for what she'd done. 'I want to die. I wish whoever tried to kill me succeeded. Better to die than live like this.'
The soft dripping of melting wax reached her ears and she turned her head to look at the lone candle on her bedside table. A copy of one of the many books detailing Raven Rock's history rested next to it, and the light of the small flame gave its cover a unique maroon glow. Her gaze watched the wax as it steadily dripped down, seeing it splatter on the bottom of the candleholder, and she struggled to sit up. 'Where's Saoron? He obviously carried me back, but where is he?'
The blonde felt her arm spasm, and her horrified gaze looked down at it as it transformed. "N-no…please, no!" It was surrounded in a dark red energy, and the pain that ran through her limb was searing hot as if she had been stabbed by a sword fresh out of a forge. She wanted to scream, but she found herself unable to utter out little more than a low rasp and she was forced onto her knees.
"Give in. You know you want to. You can feel it gnawing away, begging for release. I command you, submit! Embrace the revolting monster you are!"
'Get out, get out!'
"I'm you, remember? I'm the part you try so desperately to hide, but no matter what you do, I'm always here. Face it, Alana. You are nothing more than a daedric puppet."
She felt the air grow thick and heavy, making it nearly impossible for her to breathe. A cold and sticky sweat poured down her body, turning her into little more than a shivering mess on the floor. Her limbs trembled and shook, and her mouth was wide open in a silent wail of agony. Thousands of tiny red hot knives dug into her at once, and everything in her body burned. It felt as though her very insides were being melted away, and she fell on her back. 'What's happening to me!?'
Her throat convulsed and she began to hack up blood. Sticky red drops spilled from between her fingers as she tried to cover her mouth, and she looked at the red splatters on the palm of her hand. 'That poison is still affecting me, even with the antidotes.'
She wasn't a master alchemist by any means, but she knew enough about the native plants on Solstheim to know that scathecraw was perfect for making deadly poisons that would ravage the target's health. Consuming it raw would have devastating effects as well.
Alana crawled over to the alchemy table in her basement, leaving a thin trail of bloodspots in her wake. The antidote Saoron gave her was enough to prevent her from dying, but the effects were still too strong for her body to handle in her weakened state. She needed another to prevent her insides from being dissolved.
Alana found the dark green satchel that hung from the table, and she propped herself up and tugged it by the leather strap to make it fall on the floor. With shaking hands she managed to fish out an antidote, and the blonde yanked out the stopper before downing its contents like it was mead. She grimaced at the taste, but she fought back a snarl of disgust.
She felt it affect her rather quickly, and Alana found the strength to heft herself to her feet. Her knees wobbled, threatening to give way, but she forced herself to stand, using every bit of her strength to prevent from falling on her face. She gripped onto the table to steady herself, and she wiped the corner of her mouth and saw her hand come away red.
Her vampire blood boiled and hissed under her skin as the antidote coursed through her system, unused to such an invader, and she hobbled her way over to the barrels of liquor she had stashed. She needed a drink.
The barrels were as worn and dull as the floor of the basement itself, though without a speck of dust on them thanks to her cleaning whenever she got a chance. She pried top of one barrel off to reveal the light brown liquid within, and she grabbed a clean mug from nearby before dipping it into its depths and scooping out a full cup of her favorite whiskey. Normally she only drank it in the form of two shots in a single glass.
But today, she didn't care despite knowing how much it would mess her up. She raised it to her lips and swallowed its contents, blinking back the heavy blow as it affected it almost immediately. The mug fell from her fingers and onto the floor with a clatter, and she stumbled. "D-dammit…"
She closed the barrel of whiskey as quick as she could in her impaired state, leaning on it with a loud groan as she felt a sudden wave of nausea as the alcohol hit her stomach. "Ugh…" 'That was a bad idea.'
She clutched her stomach with a grimace, her face twisted in pain as she limped back up the steps to the first floor of the house. The sun looked like it had started to go down, and Alana hobbled over to her dresser and started pulling out the drawers to get changed.
She stopped when she found the first gift Serana ever gave to her, a beautifully crafted necklace with a shiny emerald in the center of gold. It was a piece of jewelry that would make any khajit trader's eyes shine with envy and lust, and it would easily fetch a very good price considering the materials used to make it.
Alana looked at it, letting the thin silver chain fall between her fingers, and she let her hand fall to her side. "Serana…" A pair of tears rolled down her cheeks, and she didn't bother trying to hide them.
"You should've killed me when you had the chance, rather than fall in love with me." 'I didn't do anything but hurt you. It was because of me that you ended up exiled from the Volkihar clan, my fault that you got dragged into my mess with the daedra. If you killed me, you'd be better off.'
Alana hated every day she remained alive.
She pulled on her recently sewn vest and tossed her white shirt into a small basket; she'd find a mountain stream to wash it later on in the week. Right now, she had to find Saoron. Something wasn't right about this situation. Normally, he'd be hovering over her with such fierce protection that would make even a sabre cat jealous. The fact that he wasn't worried her, and a sickening sensation began to settle in the pits of her stomach. 'Where could he be? What if whoever tried to kill me also went after him?'
She could feel part of herself scolding at her for doubting her friend; she had seen the way he fought firsthand. He could easily handle a lowly assassin in a fight.
But her mind was anything but rational at the moment. Her breathing started to speed up and her undead heart thumped painfully against her chest, sweat pouring from her body. She was beginning to panic at the thought of running out into the ash wastes and finding Saoron's still bleeding corpse. 'Please, don't be dead…please don't!'
She grabbed Clockwork from its resting place and slid it into her holster, making sure to grab a cloth sleeve to cover her bandages from any prying eyes. 'Something's wrong, and I'm not leaving without some kind of weapon on me.'
The blonde warrior opened the door to her house to leave and was startled to see Saoron and the captain of the Redoran Guard waiting for her. Her eyes widened and her mind began to race as she tried to think of an excuse. "C-captain, I—"
"Alana, I know who you are," the elite soldier said calmly, his face betraying no anger or malicious intent. His battleaxe was firmly secured on the thick brown leather straps on his heavy bonemold armor, and he put a hand up. "I must say, I was quite surprised to hear such news from Master Saoron here. I had no suspicions that you were the one the people have been taken to calling the Black Swordswoman."
Alana glanced at Saoron, and the Breton looked like he had no choice but to hand over that information. "What does it matter to you?"
"It matters because you have done so much without anyone knowing, choosing to remain anonymous instead of indulging in the rewards," Captain Veleth said smoothly. "In fact, I have a situation that requires someone of your particular talents."
"I'm listening. For now." Alana folded her arms across her chest. "What is it?"
"I'm afraid that the owner of a house outside of Raven Rock has gone missing for several weeks now," Veleth answered. "Thanks to the damned ash spawn threat, I can't afford to send out a patrol to investigate. I'd be very grateful if you could take a look into it for me."
"Who's the owner?" Alana asked.
"A man by the name of Bjornolfr, who lives with his partner Hrodulf," the elf replied. "Funny man, interested in magic and the sort, but a good person. He was supposed to pick up some soul gems from Fethis two weeks ago and never showed up. He's not the type to forget about such things."
"You think something attacked him?" Alana was listening now. Out on the frontier, anything could happen. Reavers haunted every step of Solstheim's shores, and now with the threat of demons and daedra alike, it was very easy for someone to lose their life. 'If it was a demon attack, I'd have heard about it by now. They're anything but subtle.'
'Not to mention Vaermina would've gloated about it.'
She could feel her rage begin to bubble and hiss at the thought of the daedric prince of nightmares and mental torture, boiling and popping like molten rock. She hated her, almost as much as she hated Mephala. Both of them twisted and tortured her for their own purposes, but Mephala meddled in her life much more. It was her who convinced her own friends to stab her in the back and ripped Serana away from her.
"I do." Veleth nodded. "This isn't exactly the city of Blacklight. Anything can happen out here in the ash wastes. This damned island is crawling with reavers, ash spawn, and Azura knows what else. It's not impossible to think that even a studious mage like him fell victim to a reaver's blade. Bastards may be cowards, but they are nasty fighters."
Alana was tempted to scoff at that. She had seen how cowardly the reavers were. Once it began to look like they were going to lose, they would turn tail and flee only to get a crossbow bolt in the spine. They were only dangerous to those who were foolish and alone.
She was alone, but she was much more dangerous that way. It made her vicious.
'If there are more than a handful of them, then I'll need my crossbow.' The blonde made up her mind and nodded. "Very well. I'll set out immediately and see what I can find, Captain, in return for nothing but your silence on my identity. I don't want any kind of rewards."
Captain Veleth looked like he was going to argue and insist otherwise. However, Saoron sent him a quick glance that told him to not argue, and he sighed. "As you wish. Saoron and I are going to make repairs to the Bulwark and ward off any ash spawn that attack. I wish you the best of luck, and be careful. Something else is at work here."
'Be careful. Ha. When have I ever been careful? I always go in sword swinging. I'm honestly surprised I haven't been killed yet.' "Understood." Alana plucked her crossbow from its resting spot along with a pouch full of bolts and set off away from the two men, sticking to the high ground on Raven Rock's perimeter to avoid detection from the rest of the Redoran Guard. Their captain may have known about her secret identity, but that didn't mean she wanted the rest of them to find out.
Her boots sank deep into the ashy soil, and she hissed in annoyance as she freed herself from the ground's powdery snare. 'Damned ash. Always a nuisance.' She could still see the smoke billowing from the top of Red Mountain in the distance, spewing ash and molten rock onto the rest of the island of Vvardenfell. How many decades had the damned volcano been erupting for now? Surely it should've stopped by now; Alana was tempted to think some sort of deity or daedra was behind the eruption.
She heard movement in the ash to her left and the blonde turned her head to see a large brown insect spring up from the ground, shaking ash from its dull exoskeleton. It was an ash hopper, an insect native exclusively to Morrowind. It bounded towards her with its spring-like legs, and Alana's crossbow snapped up in a heartbeat. A single bolt struck it in the center of its body, and the force of the bow tore it in half.
'Pitiful. Barely even worth my time.' She scoffed as she trudged through the ash, the winds beginning to pick up. 'Damn, another ash storm is on its way. We're going to be spending a long time digging ash out from around our houses come daybreak.'
If there was one thing Alana absolutely despised about living on Solstheim, it was the constant ash storms. It was a damned nuisance having to shovel ash away from her house every time one came. She'd much rather deal with one of Skyrim's blizzards; being a Nord she at least had an inborn resistance to the cold. Not to mention there was something rather calming and serene about watching it snow like it did in Windhelm.
She felt a pang in her heart at the thought of her homeland. She kept wanting to visit the Palace of the Kings, if only to talk to Ulfric. Skyrim's High King was doing a damned good job; he had already attended a peace meeting with representatives from Cyrodiil to ensure Skyrim's independence, and with the war over he was able to give his land the full attention she deserved. Skyrim was a harsh mistress, unforgiving to men and mer who didn't respect her native beasts.
'What would Ulfric do if we met? Would he try and help, or would he sink a dagger into my chest? I'd prefer the latter. Some damned general I was, nearly getting him killed thanks to my mistakes.' She knew Ulfric was straight forward and blunt. He'd tackle an issue head on like a true Nord rather than try and hide in the shadows like a meek and cowardly assassin. But she couldn't help but feel as though he'd plunge a blade into her back if he got the chance.
'As he should. You nearly got him killed in the battle for Solitude, or did you forget? All because you fell for the lies of a daedric prince like the little puppet of despair you are.' A dull pain began to pound in her head, and she rubbed her temples in an attempt to ease it away. 'He'll never forgive you. Not after what you've done.'
Alana rubbed her stiff shoulder and let her crossbow dangle from the leather straps over her vest. Her enhanced eyesight allowed her to see perfectly in the dark, and she glanced to her right as a pile of ash started to quiver and shake. 'Not more of these damn things.'
To her surprise, the being that crawled from the ash was humanoid in shape, with glowing red eyes and a strange battleaxe in its ashy hands. 'An ash spawn? This close to the town?' Alana's eyes narrowed and her hand found the handle of her sword. 'Definitely picked a bad day to try and chug an entire flagon's worth of whiskey.'
Still, even slightly impaired and recovering from her wounds, she was confident she could dispatch the foul being without getting harmed. "You want a fight? Then let's go." The ash spawn groaned and threw a fireball at her, forcing her to roll to the side. Its battleaxe missed her head by inches, and she hissed as she felt the searing heat pass her by.
Back on her feet, she could sense the powerful fire magic in the makeshift weapon. 'That doesn't look particularly sturdy.' It looked brittle to her eyes, and with one vicious swing of her zweihander she shattered it and sent the ash spawn tumbling.
It groaned as it tried to right itself up, and Alana was on it with a snarl. Her sword cut the being in half and it dispersed into thousands of tiny ash particles mixed with a few chunks of ebony and moonstone ore. 'They're made of ore as well as the ashy soil, but something else has to be responsible for these things to become sentient. A mage, perhaps?' In order to create enough ash spawn to threaten a relatively heavily guarded settlement like Raven Rock, though, the one responsible had to be an extremely powerful necromancer.
She spotted a herd of netch floating over what looked like the covered ruins of an ancient Nordic barrow, and the blonde could hear someone swearing irritably as they dug out ash from the barrow. 'Probably another tomb raider or an adventurer seeking fame. A reaver wouldn't waste his time. Not with a storm approaching.'
She paid the digger no mind. She could see the outline of a damaged house in the distance, and she picked up her pace. 'There it is.' Alana jumped down from one of the ashy hills and landed with her sword out, eyes searching for anything hostile. She could sense something was nearby, and she sighed in annoyance when she saw two piles of ash start to quiver. 'Dammit. Not more of these cursed things.'
Two ash spawn crawled out from the ground, and she clicked on her sword's handle to let the second blade spring free. "I really don't have time for this nonsense."
With both blades pointed behind her she leapt at the two hideous beings, swinging her twin swords in a whirl of silvery steel. Both swords cut through the soft ashy bodies of the ash spawn and sent them back to the soil from which they came. Alana rested the larger of her two swords on her shoulder, sliding the smaller one into the holster for the time being.
The house was mostly in ruins, possibly from being destroyed by the eruption of Red Mountain. The roof was completely gone and only a few bookcases were left unscathed, and for a moment the blonde wondered if she was in the wrong spot. 'This place looked abandoned. I find it hard to believe that anyone has lived here in decades.'
She spotted another one of the East Empire lockboxes, meaning the owner must have had connections to the East Empire Company. 'There's nothing here. No signs of life, nothing. This has to be the wrong spot.'
She was about to turn around and head back to Raven Rock when she spotted a cellar door. It was covered by a thin layer of ash, and she could see several sets of footprints leading to and from it. 'Clever. No one would think to look in the basement.'
Alana pried open the door and jumped down, landing as quietly as she could on the smooth stony floor. She froze when she heard the cold laughter of a pair of reavers, and she hid behind a bookcase to listen to their conversation.
"Listen to this!" The one wearing sturdy bonemold armor laughed and looked at the paper in his hands. "My nights have been unbearable without you here. Please, leave that blasted island at once and return to Solitude."
The other elf was in simple leather armor with a razor sharp elven sword on his belt. "Hahaha! Wait a second…do you hear that? Sounds like those damned ash spawn are back."
"They'll take care of the other Nord if he comes back." The first waved his hand dismissively. "Which one did we put in the tunnel?"
"Don't know. Nords all look the same to me." The second shrugged. "I'll keep watch when the storm passes over, in case any of those stupid soldiers come around."
Alana chose then to rise from her cover with her large sword. "I'm afraid that won't be necessary anymore."
The two elves jumped up from their seats, sending bottles of mead spilling onto the floor and shattering. They went to draw their swords, only to fall to Alana's massive blade. Her sword swung in three arcs, and their limbless corpses fell to the ground before they could even scream.
'Pitiful. Even a normal bandit in Skyrim would've put up a much better fight.' Alana wiped a smear of blood splatter from her cheek and strode over to a single bookcase with wind gushing out from it. She pushed it to open a secret passageway, and she was surprised to see dwemer pipes and machines running along the rock. 'What the hell is this place?'
She eventually reached a small chamber with an unusual dwemer device, and she looked down to see a young man cloaked in robes bleeding badly from several grave wounds. He looked up at her as she approached, and he smiled weakly. "Y-you took care of them…thank you." This was Bjornolfr, and he was in very bad shape.
He gasped in pain, clutching a wound in his chest, and Alana crouched down to try and find a way to keep him from dying. "Hang on a little while longer. You'll be fine."
The mage shook his head, grimacing. "N-no…no I won't. I do not fear death, or darkness. Sovngarde awaits me. B-but thank you…thank you for coming…"
His trembling body stopped moving, and his head fell on the ground limp. He was dead.
Alana stood up from her kinsman, and she felt a hollow sense of bitterness and guilt. "I'm sorry…" 'I should've gotten here sooner. If I came earlier, perhaps he would still be alive. But I was too late.'
'Yes you were. You were too late, just like how you were too late to save them. Too late to save Festus, Veezara, and Gabriella. And just like them, he will never forgive you. He screamed alone for days, cursing you.'
'Get out, get out!' Alana seized her head with both hands, sinking to her knees as her head pounded. 'Just stop!'
That dagger on Bjornolfr's corpse was looking very, very friendly to her right now. She was tired of her mind tearing apart. She just wanted for her own suffering to end, no matter how it was done.
Alana got to her feet with a wobble, and with her head down she left the Nord's body behind and climbed up back up the ladder leading above.
A large group of ash spawn were waiting for her, staring at her with hungry glowing eyes, and Alana's vision started to turn the darkest of red as she reached for her sword.
A/N: Annnnd that's it for now! Honestly, I always found Solstheim to be a very interesting place to explore. A lot of the small locations have some really cool shit to find, such as Hrodulf's House. I think the next one will focus more on the March of the Dead quest, as well as a few extras (clearing the ancestral tomb and finding that book for the councilor's wife). Hopefully I keep my head intact for me to actually write it.
C. Strife #5371