A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter twelve. I know, I said I would bring in some special treats for this story last chapter. I apologize for not doing that; it honestly slipped my mind.
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 2: Oblivion Walker Part 4*
The sun was beginning to set on the island of Solstheim when the boat finally reached the docks. The lone dark elf woman onboard glanced up from her book as she heard the sounds of thick ropes being fastened and stood up, pushing her mage hood off of her head and letting her long mane of thick red hair free. 'Sounds like I'm finally here. Took long enough. With the damn storms on the sea I was wondering if I'd even make it back to my homeland.' She scoffed a little at that. Seeing as she was practically immortal, it would take more than rough seas to kill her.
She shut her book shut, not before memorizing the page she had left off on, and stood up as a young Nord man with kind grey eyes jumped down below deck to greet her. "Miss, we've arrived at our destination. The captain would like to speak to you about his fare."
"I'm aware." The dunmer rolled her red eyes and brushed passed him, walking up the wooden ladder to the deck of the ship. The captain, a burly Nord with a large beard and equally massive greatsword on his back, glanced up from his task of tying up the ropes when she approached.
"I delivered you here, as promised. Now I expect the same kind of honor from you in return," he said, his accented tone thick with weariness from the tough voyage.
"Of course." The dark elf reached into the pocket of her fine mage robes and pulled out the necessary gold for his fee, not even thinking about double crossing him. He had willingly taken her out to Solstheim without batting an eye when other captains refused to grant her passage. He boasted about how rough waves never bested true Nordic sailors and he did live up to the claim.
"Every septim is there, I assure you," she said when the captain started to count the gold.
"Can't be too sure nowadays," the captain replied gruffly, stashing the gold in one of the pockets in his belted jacket. "Most people who want voyage here are fleeing something, in my experience. That makes them desperate. Desperation makes one prone to irrational thinking."
'Except I'm not fleeing anything. I'm returning.' The dark elf bit back a callous remark and instead thanked him for granting her safe passage back to her homeland. "Well I thank you for your kindness. I'll take my leave of you."
She stepped off of the boat, not faltering in her step as it rocked while she disembarked and was greeted by an achingly familiar sight of a soldier in traditional bonemold armor. Solstheim may have not been Vvardenfell, but little sights like this boosted her morale and made her feel more at home.
"Greetings, fellow sister." The soldier nodded his head courteously in her direction. "I trust you had a safe journey?"
"Of course," she replied. "Say what you will about Nords, but they are very proficient helmsmen. Certainly know how to brave the unforgiving seas." 'And in some cases, rather attractive.' She didn't dare say that aloud in case tensions between Nords and mer were tense in the settlement.
"I hope you enjoy your time here," the guard said with a bit of a cough. Damn ash was flying everywhere thanks to the ocean breeze and some of it was starting to get into her throat as well. "And be on the lookout for the one they call The Black Swordswoman."
"Who?" she asked. "Never heard of such a moniker."
"It's almost all the townsfolk talk about in the cornerclub now," the guard answered. "A Nord woman, wielding an enormous sword, who hunts the daedra and their worshippers alike, is residing here on the island. Supposedly very savage in battle and with a bit of a temper. I'd hate to be anything that got in her way."
'A daedra hunter? Interesting. Never knew the daedra could garner such hatred from one individual, let alone one who does not traditionally worship them.' The woman frowned and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "I'll be sure to keep an eye out for them then. Is there a cornerclub nearby? The ash has my throat a tad parched and I could use a drink."
"There is. It is right down the road over there," the soldier said, pointing towards the building in question. The redheaded woman smiled and left him to his duty, walking along the dusty streets and to the club. Another guard was standing at the entrance and he stood aside to let her in.
Inside, she could hear the sound of a jovial bard playing a soft tune on his lute and she dusted some ash off of her clothes before taking a seat at the bar. An old dunmer was working it and he set down a pair of glasses. "Hello and welcome to the Retching Netch Cornerclub, milady. What can I get for you?"
"A drink, please. Sujamma, preferably," she requested.
"Coming right up." The barkeep reached under and pulled out a bottle, pouring her a glass and sliding it over to her. "My new recipe. I do hope it is to your liking."
'I definitely missed the more formal method of speaking,' the dunmer woman thought as she took a sip of her drink. She was pleasantly surprised by the taste of the liquor and she could tell a lot of hard work and dedication was put into it. 'Quite nice. Smooth like honey and no bitter aftertaste. One could get addicted to this faster than skooma.'
"You're a newcomer; we don't often get new faces around. What brings you here?" the barkeep asked.
The dunmer woman hesitated. She had wanted to return to Vvardenfell, but there was nothing of her real home left. Most of the island had been destroyed by Red Mountain's eruption almost two hundred years ago; her home was probably little more than a smoldering ruin covered by ash and lava now.
Unfamiliar wetness stung at the corners of her eyes and she could feel the sorrow of seeing Vvardenfell in ruins building in her heart. "I wanted to return home. But seeing as it's been destroyed, I came here." 'I feel as though I could have done something. I was too busy spending the last few hundred years adventuring in Akavir to prevent it. Maybe if I didn't leave, Vvardenfell would still be intact.'
'No, I can't blame myself for that. Even if I stayed, there is nothing I could have done to prevent it. It would have happened regardless and I can't change fate, immortal or not.' She banished the guilt and pain, forcing herself to meet the old dunmer's eyes. "It's…it may not be what I'm used to seeing, but it's still nice here so far."
"Aye. We do our best to try and make do with what we have. Even if this isn't the capital city and goods have been hard to come by at times, we're still proud to call this island our land," he replied.
The woman took another sip of sujamma and heard the clanking of heavy steel boots. She glanced over her shoulder to see a young Breton man, well muscled and with near shoulder length brown hair. He carried a glass sword on the belt of his armor and took a seat, greeting the barkeep with a weary sigh. "Evening, Geldis."
"Master Saoron. I was wondering if you'd pop by," the old dunmer greeted. "Are you planning on heading out again soon? I thought you'd be less busy with the ash spawn threat taken care of."
"One would think," the Breton answered with a chuckle. "Seems to me that there's always something to be done. I'm just about to head over to that shipwreck and find a folio that Cindiri had lost. The damn reavers probably already reached the site and we know Captain Veleth can't afford to send out a patrol that far. Not while wounds are still recovering."
The redheaded elf sized him up and down carefully. 'Tall, for a Breton. Unusually muscled, too. Usually see them as wizards thanks to their magical prowess. Is he just the town's mercenary?'
No, mercenary didn't seem to fit him. She had run into a few when she was still roaming around Vvardenfell and knew that they were mostly arrogant and boastful, extorting the people for their own gain but lacking any sort of skill to back up those claims. This man seemed to be genuine. 'Town enforcer, perhaps?'
The Breton man stole a brief curious glance at her but didn't say anything. He could obviously tell she was a foreigner to the settlement, seeing as it was a small town and pretty much everyone knew each other. His silence was a tad unnerving, she'd admit, but it's not like he knew that the one who was once called the savior of Vvardenfell was sitting right next to him. In the rare case if it did come to blows, she could very easily take him down.
He eventually broke his silence, though not before raising a pint of what smelled to be traditional Nord mead. "Haven't seen you around here before."
"I'm new to this land and looking for work." The simple response rolled off her tongue easily. The last bit was a lie; she was not in the settlement looking for work in the ebony mines or making coin as a mercenary. She had come for a reason other than to return home. She had felt a dangerous power shift in magical energy and thanks to her ability of pinpointing sites of magical power, she was able to guess that it was coming from somewhere in Morrowind. Vvardenfell was out of the question, seeing as it was destroyed. But she could feel an overwhelming sense of power from the island. It was thick enough for one to choke on, though with so many adept mages around it was hard to tell who it was exactly.
Still, the raw fury of magical energy was so damn intoxicating. It was akin to the power of a daedric prince or god. The dunmer closed her eyes and drank it in hungrily, letting the magic swirl around her. After a few moments she blinked her ruby red eyes open and found herself looking into the concerned look of the barkeep. "What?"
The barkeep gestured with his hand and she turned to see that the Breton warrior had his hand rested on the handle of his sword and was eyeing her suspiciously. Dammit, had she been found out?
"You're not normal," he said with a low rasp, standing from the bar. "I know you aren't."
Damn, so he picked up the amount of power that radiated from her. She had been not as subtle as she thought. Most mages could tell she was incredibly gifted with magic, but this man in particular could tell she was much more than that. 'Dammit. I'm starting to lose my touch of concealing my power.'
Before she could open her mouth, he spoke again, this time his voice laced with deadly promise. "I don't care what or who you are, but make trouble here and you'll regret it." He paid for his drink and left the bar as quickly as he entered, leaving her alone with the barkeep.
"Who are you? Seriously," he asked quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to the scene. The few other patrons hadn't noticed the interaction between her and the Breton and were too busy indulging in their own drinks.
The dunmer woman gave him a sad smile, resting her chin in her hands. "I'm afraid that's not something you need to know." 'Not yet, at least. Even then, only a select few should know who I really am. These people don't need to know that the savior who left them for Akavir is once again in their midst. Not to mention any who worship the Tribunal would attack me.' They'd fail and fail to her blade or magic, of course, but she preferred to avoid unnecessary confrontation. Especially in a small town like this.
"A woman of few words, I see." Geldis sighed and poured himself a mug of his sujamma. "Quite a lot like another one who lives here."
"Oh?" Her curiosity was piqued and she leaned in a little closer. "And who is that?"
"A Nord woman who goes by Alana," he replied evenly. "She came here about a year ago, more miserable than anyone I've ever seen. Pretty much drinks herself nearly unconscious every day since. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate her business; until the ebony mines were reopened thanks to Saoron's discovery and the ash spawn threat was taken care of, she was pretty much keeping us afloat. But I hate taking advantage of someone else's pain."
The redhead could hear the sympathy in Geldis' tone. She had been in the same spot once. Finding out who she was and meant to do had taken its toll on her; Balmora had been a frequent stop for her to drink and wish she could fade away from her destiny. However, only a rather stern lecture from the great wizard of House Telvanni, Master Neloth, had snapped her out of her funk and pushed her to do what she was born to do. She saved all of Vvardenfell and Morrowind from Dagoth Ur. She did what she had to.
'Perhaps I could meet her. I know what it's like to be in that situation, perhaps more than anyone.' The Nerevarine raised the glass to her lips and finished her drink. It looked like she would be staying here on Solstheim for a little bit longer.
Fully clad in her combat attire, Alana crept into the Ulen Ancestral Tomb, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. Clockwork hung behind her in the holster and she brushed a loose strand of her long hair away. 'Didn't think when I came here that I'd ever be the one investigating a potential assassination plot. All I wanted was a place to die.'
'Funny how fate has a way of throwing a complete wrench into everything.' The blonde warrior approached the altar and saw that a few ash yams were indeed lying on it as an offering. She knelt down and brushed them aside, waiting for her surprise visitor. She honestly wasn't expecting anyone to show up.
But twenty minutes later, she was proved wrong.
A dunmer woman wearing fine green robes quietly walked into the tomb with a handful of ash yams as her burden. 'Someone's here. But who?' Alana waited with baited breath as the dunmer approached and once she came into view, the blonde was able to see just who it was.
It was Tilisu Severin, one of the wealthier residents on the island.
'Tilisu? But why would she be in here? Makes no damn sense.' Alana didn't move in case her location was discovered; instead she sat and watched as the old dunmer noblewoman placed a bunch of ash yams on the altar and began to meditate at it. Her ruby red eyes were closed and she let out a soft hum as she meditated.
Alana had seen enough to suspect her now. 'Another noble family here, wealthier beyond their dreams and with enough charisma to easily sway the population in their favor. This isn't good.' Her hands came to life with magic and as silently as she could she cast Invisibility.
She vanished as quickly as the wind and slipped out of the tomb, closing it behind her. She had some information to give to Adril now and had to warn him. 'It was her leaving the offerings. Perhaps she's tied with the Ulen family in some way.'
She was lucky to run into Adril as he was about to retire to his manor for the night; the blonde quickly approached him as her spell wore off and the dunmer looked at her. "So, have you found out any information?"
"Yes." Alana nodded. "I have reason to suspect that Tilisu Severin is the culprit."
"Tilisu?" Adril's eyebrows rose skeptically. "Are you sure?"
"She was in the tomb leaving offerings." Alana shrugged. "Geldis' plan worked."
"Bout bloody time." Adril snorted. "Every time I or the Redoran Guard showed up, no one was there. But that isn't enough to incriminate them. I need to have solid evidence and can't afford to kick anyone's doors down. If I accuse them without evidence, I'll be the laughing stock of the colony."
'Oh trust me, you're already that by a long mile,' Alana thought dryly. "So what do you want me to do?"
"Search their house for any kind of evidence," Adril said. "If you have it in hand and they try to stop you, do not hesitate to defend yourself. Here's the key to the manor; it should prove to be useful if they locked the door, which if what you've said is true, they'll have done so already."
"…so you're afraid of being made out paranoid, but you're more than willing to send someone else in for your dirty work? Bit hypocritical, isn't it?" The blonde scoffed.
"Alana, now is not the damn time. Councilor Morvayn's life may be in danger and I'm not about to risk it!" he hissed. "If they attack you, then by all means do what you do best."
"I'm a daedra hunter, not a murderer," Alana snapped back. "While you're resting in a comfortable bed, I'm out there keeping you safe from threats even worse than the damned ash spawn. Or, I'm sorry, would you prefer if the daedra ran over everyone here?"
"I…" The defiance in Adril's eyes faded away and he closed them, clearing his throat. "Apologies. I have been rather rude and dismissive of you. You are right; we owe you a great deal of gratitude. We all do."
"Don't. I don't want any of it." Alana looked down at the ground. "You had every right to be suspicious of me, from the first time I visited over a year ago." 'I might have not been strong enough to save Serana. But I can prevent it from happening again. Despite me wanting to die, I managed to forge friendships with the people here who welcomed me with open arms. I can't repay that kindness, but I can keep them safe.'
She took the key from Adril's hand and started off across town, calling over her shoulder. "I'll get the evidence. In the meantime, don't leave Morvayn's side until this is over. We can't leave him unguarded." 'The second you do, whoever's behind this will strike.'
She looked at the key given to her and smirked a little to herself. It was funny for him to think that she was going to go for the subtle approach. One thing she couldn't be, even in her time in the Thieves Guild, was be subtle. Even Brynjolf laughed about how someone who was supposed to be a thief caused so much noise during a job.
The blonde kept one hand on the handle of Clockwork and she approached the manor. The door would definitely be locked; in the time she took to talk to Councilor Arano, Tilisu probably ran to her manor and alerted her husband and daughter. If she was in on it, her family definitely was too. Possibly a three on one fight, but she had much worse odds and she wasn't anywhere near as strong back then.
When she reached the manor, she felt the knob to see if it was indeed locked. It didn't budge and Alana smirked. "Perfect." She withdrew Clockwork, the massive blade gleaming, and she swung the heavy sword as hard as she could. The thick wood splintered upon the blade striking it and she stepped in through the ruins to greet the startled Severin family. "Oh, hello. Am I interrupting?" 'Subtlety was never my strong suit. No point in pretending to be that.'
"Morvayn will die!" Tilisu snarled, drawing a glass dagger. "For House Hlaalu!" Her daughter Mirri did the same, one hand becoming alive with lightning.
It was almost laughable to think the two had a hope in Oblivion of beating her. Alana merely sighed, almost out of pity. "I give you two choices. Either one, you come quietly and admit to it, or two, I kill you and get the evidence anyway. I sniffed you out easily enough." 'Either way, they're done for.'
The two dunmer women leapt at her and she sighed. "Well, don't say I never offered you a choice." Her sword flashed in an arc and cut Mirri down first with a savage strike to her shoulder. The heavy sword easily tore through ribbons of flesh and bone, blood splattering the cold steel. The dark elf's dismembered limb flew through the air and landed on the ground with a wet thump, some of the blood splattering onto the blonde's cheeks.
Mirri's body didn't even hit the floor before Tilisu howled with rage. "You murdering bitch! House Hlaalu will see you burn!"
Alana let out a scoff and ducked under a predictable lunge, slamming the handle of her sword into Tilisu's throat. The older dark elf sputtered and coughed, dropping her dagger, and Alana pressed her edge. Another vicious swing later and Tilisu's headless corpse dropped to the ground, joining her daughter in death.
Alana looked at the two bodies and noticed a pair of keys dangling out of Mirri's robes. 'This is almost too easy. Come on, they could've put a bit more care into their plots. The Dark Brotherhood would laugh at how terrible it is.'
She could remember their detailed and intricate plot to assassinate the Emperor of Tamriel. Everything was so carefully planned out and it was designed to be perfect. The only problem with it was Arnbjorn's furious envy of Astrid and Alana's relationship and he betrayed them all, foiling their perfectly laid ambush. Despite being a murdering assassin, Alana didn't regret being in the guild of assassins because she met someone she truly did care about. 'I'm not the same person I used to be. I'm much different. I'm no longer running away. I'm doing what I should have done and taking sword in hand.'
After she was done destroying this plot, she was going to return back to Skyrim to do something she should have done before she fled. She was going to honor the previous love of her life the only way she knew how to.
Alana twirled the keys on her finger and went downstairs to the basement, not paying attention to how beautiful the interior of the house actually was despite her literally breaking the door down. She had to search the house for evidence and that was it.
The blonde's piercing gaze spotted a safe in the very back of the house and she strode over to it, her boots kicking up a light dusting of ash in her wake. With the keys in hand she easily opened the safe, pulling out a letter marked, 'The Ulen Matter', and she opened it to read its contents. "Gotcha."
Dear Councilor Saldin,
In a manner of days I believe we'll be ready. Our forces hidden within Ashfallow Citadel have been training night and day, ready to strike when we are given the signal. With Captain Veleth distracted by the ash spawn attacks, the timing seems perfect. I've waited nearly a decade to exact my revenge upon Lleril Morvayn for the death of my ancestor and a long for the moment my blade will be drawn across his throat. The next letter you'll receive from me will include his head in a sack. Display it proudly in the halls of House Hlaalu, brother.
Vendil Ulen
"You're really not as clever as you like to think," Alana muttered dryly before pocketing the letter. She had everything she needed to convict them of their crimes and didn't have to worry about breaking and entering or murder for killing both Mirri and Tilisu. 'For all their supposed clever planning, they really did slip up by leaving offerings in the Ulen tomb. Anyone with a brain could spot that something was up. But Ashfallow Citadel? Where the hell is that?'
She decided to ask the councilor that when she went back to him. For now, she rested her heavy broadsword on her shoulder and walked out of the manor, stepping over the two bodies of the dunmer women she had slain. She would have preferred if they surrendered but her hand had been forced. She didn't have a choice but to strike them down before they could bring harm.
Alana folded the note and slipped it into her pants before being greeted by the worried face of Councilor Arano. "Alana? What the hell happened here? I thought I gave you the key!"
"Subtlety was never my strong suit." The blonde shrugged. "Before you give me a lecture, yes I have evidence. Here." She handed them the note and jerked her thumb back towards where the fallen bodies of Mirri and Tilisu lay. "By the way, judging by the way those two back there reacted, I doubt they're going to come quietly."
"Good. We can't afford to let these traitors slip away," Arano replied evenly. Even though he was a councilor, it appeared he didn't have a problem with getting his hands dirty after all. Maybe she misjudged him a little bit. "I'm going to send two of our Redoran Guard to assist you in taking them down. Get to Ashfallow Citadel as fast as you can, and be careful; the fortress has been abandoned for years but there's no telling what could be lurking within."
'Unless they have the equivalent of a human god with them, I doubt they stand a chance.' It wasn't so much arrogance; rather, it was more of a calm certainty. She already knew the outcome. She'd go in, slaughter whoever the hell was aiding the Ulen family, and walk out with little more than a scratch or two on her. She was Akatosh's chosen savior after all.
"Will do." Alana ran a hand down the side of Clockwork almost affectionately. "Though I'd prefer to work alone. The ash spawn may have been taken care of, but the reavers and Talos knows what else are still crawling on the island. You don't need any casualties."
"Are you sure?" the councilor asked hesitantly. "They are elite soldiers more than capable of handling themselves in battle."
"I'm sure. No offence, councilor, but I really don't need any kind of support. If it's a grave threat more serious than hired thugs or bandits, then they'd only get in the way," Alana answered.
"Very well. Best of luck to you."
"I'll be back."
These traitors weren't going to know what hit them.
A/N: And that is it for this one. The introduction of the Nerevarine was honestly the trickiest bit to do, because I wasn't sure how I was going to go about it. Next up is the long trek to the citadel, seeing Master Neloth's tower, and the return of an old villain. See you!
Cal II 141#5371