Chapter 12

Tirdas, the 12th of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys wasn't surprised that Madanach called another meeting. Borkul was amused. Eola was grinning and smiling. Odvan swaggered.

Madanach wasn't happy and he took it out on Odvan. "What in Oblivion was that? She can Shout. That's something you should have brought up! Having a Tongue with us changes things, but what was that skeever shit about claiming she's the Dragonborn?"

"He didn't know," interrupted Daenerys. "Not until my sermon last night. I was hoping to keep it quiet, but I am the Dragonborn. Look at the Bretons." She waved a hand behind her to where the Breton gang was celebrating. "Maybe the Forsworn have been cut off from the latest news of Skyrim, but the Bretons know my name. I was acclaimed the Dragonborn after my defeat of the dragon Mir-Mul-Nir outside of Whiterun three months ago. I proved that wasn't luck last month when I defeated the dragon Lok-Nos-Dov on the passes of the Throat of the World. I have been to High Hrothgar. The Greybeards acknowledged my claim as Dragonborn and proclaimed me Ysmir, Dragon of the North."

Madanach crossed his arms defensively. "We have your word on that? What's you're proof?"

"The proof is in my Thu'um."

Odvan laughed at that and he wasn't the only one. Borkul and Eola laughed as well. Eola's laugh was more of a mad giggle while Borkul's was a deep-voiced chuckle, but it showed quite clearly that Madanach's support was slipping.

"That's not enough. There are Tongues. The gift of the Voice is rare, but not lost. Why are you pretending to be a mere priestess? If you're the Dragonborn why in Oblivion would the Nords throw you into Cidhna Mines instead of kissing your arse?"

Daenerys had skirted her presence in Markarth when she talked to Odvan, but now she sensed an opportunity to drive a wedge in the Forsworn leadership. She smiled at Eola. "Would you care to guess? It involved a Daedric Prince."

"Oh, did it?" Eola seemed so pleased about this turn of events. "The Dark Ones do so like to tempt heroes with power. Did you make a deal and get caught with the crumbs on your face, like a child sneaking food?"

"Nothing so grand. We were celebrating victory. It was a big celebration. I had a few drinks with a stranger. I don't remember much after that, but I woke up in Markarth."

"Ooh." Eola gave a creepy little shiver of delight. "You met Sanguine. Did you enjoy him? I imagine the Prince of Debauchery knows his way around a woman's body, but maybe not. He does care for his own pleasure first, last, and always."

Could the man she'd slept with have been Sanguine himself? She had been drunk, but willing. Her memories still hadn't come back, but she hoped it wasn't Sanguine. She recalled him saying that he would introduce her to someone before her memories got fuzzy. Although sleeping with some random man wasn't any better. "I don't remember."

"Liar," mocked Eola in sing-song voice. "Your voice says no, and your face is stern, but your complexion is too fair to hide that flush."

Perhaps driving a wedge was not a good idea. "Regardless, I am known to be a Talos worshiper. Markarth has chosen to side with the Empire and against the Stormcloaks. There are Thalmor in the city, so I passed myself off as a Breton. I was trying to just earn enough gold to rejoin my followers, but…" She shrugged. "Bretons aren't well-liked in Markarth. Bretons that ask questions get sent to Cidhna Mines."

Madanach snorted. "Learned a lesson, did you? But you're still a Stormcloak. That's why you hid. Are you going to turn on us as soon as we're out of the mines?"

"Are you going to turn on me?" she countered. "I'm not a Stormcloak. I've met Ulfric. He's an ass. He is sincere in worshiping Talos, but he's also using the war to seize the throne. He wants to be High King of an independent Skyrim. I am not on his side. My Dragonguard is neutral. The gods set me a mission – to defeat the dragons and Al-Du-In. Your war with Markarth is not my concern. It's been going on for generations. Once we escape, we can simply go our separate ways."

Madanach frowned at her. "So, you won't help the rest of the Bretons escape? As soon as we're outside you're gone?"

"That was the deal from the beginning. You just wanted help to get out. You're the one who laid down the terms that we had to leave half of ours behind. You're the one who promised to bring an army and return. I'm keeping my word and more. Do you think we would have come this far without my Clairvoyance spell? Do you think we can keep taking losses like this? I didn't have to reveal I could Shout. I could have claimed to have no useful magic against the spheres, but I didn't. I stood up and agreed to join the front lines and risk my life to help us all earn our freedom. I've seen Odvan fighting. I haven't seen you do anything but give orders."

Madanach glanced over to Odvan. "You're fine with her fucking us both over?"

"She's not fucking me over," replied Odvan. "I think you have her confused with Eola. Daenerys isn't fucking anyone with a cock." He paused and looked Daenerys up and down. "Not that I would mind getting fucked over as long as I got fucked; it would be worth it. However, that's beside the point. I agree with her. Most of my Bretons will take off as soon as we're out. That was the deal. Some of us will stick around to help, depending on what you offer, but you're not doing a good job of convincing me to be one of them. You're acting like all of us Bretons agreed you're our king. If this is the kind of skeever shit that you pull when we're just allies, I don't want to follow you back to some Reacher village where I'll be outnumbered. I'm also not impressed with your leadership when you're antagonizing the girl who can Shout. Maybe you haven't heard the story, but she's not lying. She killed a fucking dragon. If I have to choose between you and Daenerys, I choose her, so quit your whining about it."

"Is that how you want it, Odvan?" asked Madanach. "We left half your people behind. You still need my help to get them out."

"Who is going back on their word now, old man?" asked Odvan.

Daenerys cleared her throat drawing everyone's attention to her. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation later when our tempers have cooled. Everyone is watching us, even if they can't hear us. We are the leaders. We should act like it. Why don't we all take a step back and focus on surviving today. We can negotiate tomorrow when tempers aren't running so high."

"Agreed," said Odvan with a firm nod. "We could all still die down here. Let's focus on escaping first."

Madanach stood stone-faced for a long pause, and then nodded. "Very well. We will leave it for now."

.oOo.

The tension in the leadership did not extend to the men in the vanguard. They respected her even more after hearing her Shout. A front line of four men advanced slowly alert for traps or more dwarven automaton. Not that being alert helped much. The traps just happened. With very little warning flame or steam would jet out, darts would fly, a pit would open, or one of those whirling blades would lash out. The men on the front were roped together in pairs, the two on the left and the two on the right to help defeat the pit traps. The flame, steam, and dart traps could be survived with prompt healing. The whirling blade traps were the most dangerous. They didn't just strike the person who triggered them. The blades continued sweeping the corridor. The only defense was to immediately flee from them. There was a clanking sound that preceded their attack, but there were numerous mechanical sounds around them all the time which made it difficult. It was stressful and the men in the vanguard swapped out after every trap to spread the risk.

Daenerys wasn't in the front line, but she was immediately behind them and couldn't swap out, not if she wanted to be able to battle any automatons. She wasn't alone, though. Borkul the Beast stayed on her left side and a lanky Breton man by the name of Verel stayed on her right. Verkel was one of the Breton gang's best fighters and he had the scars to show for it. He reminded her of a young Jorah Mormont, not in looks, but in attitude. Eager instead of jaded, but with the same mix of respect and lust. He and Borkul were her assigned bodyguards, ready to jump into the fray and allow her to back up and recover after she Shouted.

It didn't take long for them to encounter two dwarven spiders. She Shouted "Yol-Toor-Shul!" and her breath exploded into a narrow cone of flame. The spider she targeted was knocked back and slammed into a wall. Its limbs twitched, but it didn't get back up to attack. The other spider kept coming. Borkul and Verel quickly got in front of her while the front liners converged on the spider and quickly destroyed it.

Several traps and intersections later Daenerys faced her first dwarven sphere. As soon as everyone cleared out in front of her, she drew breath to Shout. She had to abort and block with her shield as the sphere fired its crossbow at her. The crossbow bolt punched through her chaurus chitin shield and narrowly missed her arm. She quickly lowered her shield and Shouted back at it. Yol-Toor-Shul did not destroy the sphere as easily as the spider, but her Shout sent it spinning and wobbling away. When the mechanical dwarven warrior recovered it was listing to one side and stuttering as it moved. The warriors in the vanguard charged forward, and it went down fast under their attacks. Nobody died. No one even got hurt. It was the first time they had taken down a dwarven sphere without losing a man. Not only did they kill it without losses, but the morale of the Breton gang soared and even some of the Forsworn cheered.

Their progress remained slow: steam trap, pit trap, spiders, more spiders, steam trap, and then another sphere that didn't go down as easily. It managed to gut a man, but not so badly he couldn't be healed. As they continued the sounds of machinery in the walls grew, and the sporadic lights became more common and brighter. There wasn't a trap or an automaton with every step, but there were enough of them to make their progress painstakingly slow. After several more intersections, two spiders, and a pit trap, their progress came to a complete halt because their path was blocked by a gate made entirely of dwemer metal.

Daenerys cast Clairvoyance and watched the ghostly trail point right to the gate. "The path leads through the gate."

"Which means this is the only way out?" asked Borkul.

"No," replied Daenerys with a shake of her head. "It means the most direct path out from here lies through that gate. We could go explore down some of the corridors we didn't take. If we go far enough we might find another path, or we might not."

"So, it's like having a map?" asked Verrel. "It doesn't mean you have to follow the map, but if you don't you can get lost."

"Close enough," agreed Daenerys. "Clairvoyance is notorious for being a finicky spell, but if it leads this way it means we should be able to get through the gate. I suppose I could try Shouting it down."

"Ma'am?" asked Verrel. "There are some people in the gang who know a few things about locks. Maybe we should let them have a go first, before you try smashing things?"

Daenerys laughed and was surprised that Borkul laughed as well. "Verrel, would you find us one of those fine fellows who know about locks?"

He nodded at her. "Sure thing, ma'am."

Daenerys welcomed the opportunity to rest. From the way the men were cursing, they would be there a while with the lock. She walked back from the gate to give the men a place to work. She sat down and had just taken a sip of water from her waterskin when Eola sat down beside her. Daenerys closed her waterskin and eyed the Forsworn priestess suspiciously. "What do you want, Eola?"

"I just want to talk," said Eola with a smile that looked more creepy than comforting. Partially that was due to the skull facepaint she wore, but not entirely. Everything about Eola felt a bit off, from the sing-song way she talked, to the way she swayed as if half-drunk. "I know about your mace!"

Daenerys glanced about. No one was close enough to hear a quiet conversation, but they weren't alone. There were people all about them. Most of them were sitting and talking, but a good many of them were watching. Some were openly staring because they were the only two women down here. Others seemed more hopeful that the two priestesses might be about to get into a fight. "Good for you. I don't particularly want to talk about my mace."

"Aww, such a pity. Hiding from what you are. Pretending to serve Talos, when you serve the Old Gods just like we do."

"If you ever get tired of serving Namira, you would make a good jester. I serve Talos, not Namira, or the Rat, whichever you prefer."

Eola waggled a finger. "No, no, no. I was talking about the Old Gods. Namira is just an aspect of the Rat, and the Rat is just one of the Old Gods. The people of the Reaches remember the Old Gods, even more than the Nords. They have forgotten lost Atmora. They turned their backs on the truth and embraced the pleasant façade of the Eight and the Nine. We Reachers stayed true. We never forgot, nor have the gods forgotten us. I serve the Rat goddess in all her aspects, but I respect all the Old Gods."

Daenerys knew a little bit about Atmora, mostly because some people at the College of Winterhold had suspected she came from Atmora. It was supposedly a continent north of Tamriel and frozen solid now. The Nords had originated there and migrated to Tamriel as the world cooled. However, she had to wonder whether that was true. Perhaps like her homeland, Atmora was from another kalpa. She might never know the truth of that, but she was at least curious about the old gods. They were also a safer subject than her mace. "If you say so. I'll admit that I know little about Atmora or the old gods. What makes the Rat different from Namira?"

Eola smiled her creepy smile and giggled like a young girl. "Listen and learn the truth. Two is the nature of reality: man and woman, light and darkness, Masser and Secunda, left and right, good and evil, order and chaos, creation and destruction. Two eyes to see. Two ears to hear. Listen and learn. The gods are not singular of nature, but plural. They each have a light aspect: good, nurturing, creative and a dark aspect: evil, capricious, destructive. We name them by their totems. The Owl is Jhunal, the god of wisdom, but the owl is also Notta, the one sees all that happens in the night. The Dragon is both Akatosh, the ruler of time, and Alduin, the ender of time."

"I follow Akatosh and Alduin being the Dragon." Not that she was agreeing with her. "But do you mean the Owl is both Julianos and Nocturnal? You used different names."

"Those are our names. The true names of the gods. We Reachers remember the names we brought with us from Atmora of old. Sainted Alessia invented Julianos and the other names when she led her rebellion against the Ayleids. We thank her for setting humans free from our elven overlords, but she chose to listen only to the light. The Ayleids knew the same truth that I'm sharing with you now. The Aedra and Daedra are not different, but the one and the same."

Daenerys greatly admired what she had read about Saint Alessia. If less than half of what was said about her was true, she more than deserved being named a saint. She had led a rebellion that had freed man from the yoke of elven slavery. She had also created the church of the Eight Divines which became the Nine Divines when Talos was added. Daenerys wasn't sure she believed Eola about the dual nature of gods. She had met both Clavicus Vile and Nocturnal and neither had shown a second aspect. Nocturnal had also claimed that three was the mystic number, not two. However, this was at least interesting. Besides, knowing a bit more about Forsworn culture and beliefs couldn't hurt. "Alright then, so you serve the Rat who has two aspects. Namira the dark aspect of unwanted things. What is her other aspect?"

"Fodelse, goddess of birth, conception, and fertility. She's not one of your Nine." She sneered a bit and her tone became mocking again. "Fodelse didn't fit when Alessia decided to start a new religion, but we remember. Of course, even the gods change over time. Perhaps some of Fodelse lives on in your Mara although the Mother goddess is the light aspect of the Wolf." She shrugged. "More importantly, Danyen, Priestess of Talos, is that you serve the Fox in both his aspects."

Daenerys had a feeling where this was going. "So, you're saying Talos is the light aspect of the Fox? I'm pretty sure Talos wasn't around in the time of Atmora."

Eola giggled and rocked back and forth like a child. "No, he was not, but the Fox was the trickster, the creator, Shor as he was called then. He became Lorkhan. Shor and Lorkhan died, but the Fox lived on, in Shezarr, god of men, Morihaus, breath of man, and Reman, spirit of the Empire. The Fox never left. He just changed. Now he is known as Talos. At least that is what his light side is called. You do know who his dark side is, don't you?"

Daenerys frowned. "I don't believe as you do, Eola. I serve Talos." She made sure her statement was firm and loud. Too many Bretons and Foresworn were trying to listen in them. Let them hear that.

"But you know. You know the other side of the Fox," taunted Eola. "What is the dark side of the hero, but to crush, to take, to dominate, and to enjoy it more because of the suffering caused?"

"You're talking about Molag Bal, obviously, but I do not serve him. I serve Talos."

"Do you?" asked Eola as she glanced pointed to Molag Bal's mace.

"Yes!" came a cry from up the corridor. "I got it." The gate in front of them swung open.

Eola bounced to her feet. "Lovely talk, we should do this again, soon. You can tell me all about Talos and his glory."

Daenerys pushed aside her irritation at Eola and stood up as well. The corridor beyond the gate led to some stairs and past those she could see more dwarven automatons: two dwarven spiders, two dwarven spheres, and behind them standing at the twice as tall as Borkul the Beast and built with the same mighty proportions was the gigantic armored form of a dwarven centurion. Its right arm was a warhammer. Its left arm was a battleaxe. Unlike the one she'd fought in the Falmer caves outside of Whiterun this one was whole and undamaged.

The good news was that none of the dwarven automatons standing at the top of the stairs attacked. They all stood still as statues. The two dwarven spiders were the closest. The two dwarven spheres stood behind them already unfolded into their humanoid forms with weapons poised to attack, but just standing there. The dwarven centurion looked almost like part of the wall, an armored statue carved in the image of its creators. The bad news was that her Clairvoyance spell had led them here. This was the way out.

"Everyone halt!" ordered Madanach. "No one goes up those stairs. No one even goes through that gate without my say so. Council meeting. Now."

Daenerys did not want to turn her back on the dwarven automatons. They were simply too deadly, but she had to set an example. So, she walked toward Madanch with a calm she did not feel. She could see fear on the faces of men as she walked past them. They had seen how deadly one dwarven sphere could be. Two of them would be bad enough. Toss in the dwarven centurion and it would be a massacre.

Madanach spoke as soon as they were all gathered together in a huddle. "The giant metal Dwemer construct is a dwarven centurion. I've heard of them, but never fought one. They're dangerous, as in kill us all dangerous. I know we're running low on food, but I think we'll have to explore some of the side tunnels and try to find another way out. Daenerys, we'll be counting on your pathfinding spell."

"We're not merely running low on food," objected Odvan. "My Bretons are almost out. If we're going to search for another path, maybe you Forsworn could share some rations. You've been feasting on meat."

"Aww, poor Odvan," teased Eola. "If you're hungry, we have plenty of meat to go around. Falmer are a bit stringy, but we'll be glad to share."

Daenerys felt herself growing angry. Food was not a joking matter. The Bretons went to half-rations that morning to stretch them out, but they would run out soon. She wouldn't be surprised if some hadn't rationed as they should and had run out already. The Forsworn making a show of eating Falmer meat would just exacerbate the tensions between the Bretons and the Forsworn. She ignored their baiting to focus on the real problem. They needed to get out soon. "What if we fight our way through?"

Madanach snorted. "Didn't you hear what I said? We have enough trouble with one dwarven sphere. Unless you have been holding back on us even more, we would lose a lot of men to just the two spheres. That's just the spheres. You claim to have killed a dragon. Ever fought a dwarven centurion?"

"Actually, I have and we killed it with a lot fewer men than we have here. We were better armed and armored, but that didn't help us kill it. We killed it because automatons are stupid. They look alive but they're not. We retreated into a tunnel that it couldn't fit into. It stood there trying to get at us. It breathed steam, smashed walls with its weapons, but just stood there while we blasted it apart from a distance. That last intersection we passed, it had a pit trap that is now an open pit. Do you think that centurion could climb out?"

Odvan answered before Madanach could. "No, it was deeper than that thing is tall with straight walls. Unless it can leap out, it would be stuck in the pit. Is that your plan? Lure it to the pit?"

"For the centurion – " began Daenerys.

"But it isn't just the centurion," objected Madanach. "The spiders would climb the walls and those spheres would just shoot over it. How many people would die of crossbow bolts while we try your plan? What if the centurion isn't stupid enough to walk into a pit?"

"Give me a moment. I'm thinking. A lot depends on if they can be lured out separately or not. We don't know how they're triggered."

If they were triggered by proximity, then someone could creep up carefully. Wake up the spiders. Run for it. Lead the spiders to an ambush. It could work. The spiders were dangerous, but not fast. Wouldn't work as well on the spheres. They were fast. They were also armed with crossbows. Whoever tried to lure them would die. Unless she did it and used Feim. Eight seconds of invulnerability would help, but still dangerous. Could she make it to the pit in eight seconds? Even if she did, they would still shoot her. Maybe… What if she could lure just one? What if she couldn't? What if it wasn't proximity? What if it was pressure plates or a line being crossed that activated them all? The only way to find out was to try it and see. It would have to be her. She could Shout Feim and run for it. Everyone was watching her and waiting, even Madanach. She didn't have to do this. Trying to find an alternate path was safer in some ways, but it would take time and they were running low on food.

She took a deep breath. "I have a plan. Here is what I want to do."

She laid out her plan for Odvan, Madanach, Eola and Borkul. They had questions. Odvan and Borkul made some suggestions. Odvan backed her, agreeing that the rations were running low. Madanach mostly listened. In the end he agreed to let her try.

Eola didn't offer anything constructive and had to get the last word in. "If you get killed, try not to get shot in the arse. It's a nice arse, and I'd like to have a slice of it to remember you by."

.oOo.

After they moved everyone into position and made the preparations, Daenerys walked with Verrel back toward the open gates. She stopped outside of arrow range. "I think this is as close as you need to come, Verrel. I'll take it from here. Thank you for volunteering."

Verrel smiled. "You're welcome ma'am. This will be something to tell my grandkids."

"You have grandkids?" Verrel didn't look old enough to have kids.

"No, my wife was carrying our first one when I was thrown down here. She would have given birth by now. I still don't know if it was a boy or a girl, but that doesn't matter. I intend to live long enough to have lots of grandbabies."

Daenerys laughed. "Thank you, Verrel. Talos watch over you."

"And you, ma'am."

Daenerys walked the rest of the way to the open gate. From the foot of the stairs, she could see all five automatons. She closed her eyes, laid a hand on her chest where her amulet of Talos should be and prayed for courage and speed. She opened her eyes, pulled up her magicka, and focused on the dwarven spider on her right. She cast Clairvoyance, calling for a path. A misty white rope of magic and smoke formed in her hand and snaked out in front of her guiding her to her destination – the dwarven spider.

When the magic touched the spider it sprang to life.

Daenerys immediately turned and ran back to the intersection with the pit trap. She had been offered a shield strapped on her back, but had chosen to wear nothing but her clothes. Her plan depended upon speed.

"One spider! One spider!" yelled Verrel. He turned and ran as well.

One spider was good! That meant the automatons could be lured out. She could probably take one spider with her Shout, but she kept running while counting seconds in her head. She would have eight seconds of invulnerability when she shouted Feim. At seven seconds she passed Verrel. At eight seconds she still wasn't to the pit. That took her eleven seconds. She grabbed the rope that Odvan had added to their plan and swung to the other side. She turned back to watch while she caught her breath.

Borkul and some others swung across with some others to kill the dwarven spider she'd lured to them. They surrounded the dwemer construct and easily destroyed it.

Odvan walked up to her and offered her a waterskin. "Looks like your plan could work. Did you make it all the way to the pit?"

"No, it's too far a run. My plan can still work. We know we can take one of the dwarven spheres. I'll lure them in one at a time and we'll kill them in the corridor. We only need the pit for the centurion, and I can outrun it."

"You think you can outrun it. The last one you fought was damaged."

"I passed Verrel and he had a head start. I can do it." Maybe if she said that enough, she'd believe it.

The next spider she lured out as easily as the first. Instead of running all the way to the pit she ran for eight seconds and reached the waiting warriors. She turned on the spider, and Shouted, "Yol-Toor-Shul!" Her Thu'um smashed the dwarven spider back and turned it into scrap metal.

There were a lot of congratulations coming her way. People were smiling, both the Forsworn and the Bretons.

Odvan again offered her some water. "Have a drink."

She took the water and drank greedily. "Thank you, Odvan."

"Thank you, lass. You're the one risking your arse."

"I wouldn't want to ruin my ass. Eola already called dibs on it." It was supposed to be a joke, but in truth she was more worried about the dwarven spheres than the centurion. With the centurion she could just keep running and swing across the pit. "I wouldn't want to disappoint her."

"Fuck, Eola. The Forsworn won't dine on any of our fallen. Especially you."

Daenerys smiled. "Thank you, but I wouldn't suggest fucking Eola. There's a long line."

After resting and trading more banter with Odvan she walked back down the corridor. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she paused to stretch. She cast Clairvoyance at the dwarven sphere on the right. As soon as it started to move she Shouted, "Feim!"

The world faded around her and went ghostly. She ran. She ran full out, arms and legs pumping, running as if her life depended on it, because it did. As she ran she counted seconds. Twice she felt something brush her back. Most likely crossbow bolts that had no effect on her while she was ethereal. Despite running full out, she didn't quite make it to where the men were gathered when her Shout faded. She kept running until she reached them and then turned around to Shout. When she turned around she saw the dwarven sphere not far behind her with the crossbow aimed at her.

She didn't see the quarrel fly. It was too fast. She just felt pain as the bolt buried itself in her chest. If it had struck on her left side, it would have pierced her heart and no magic could have saved her, but it struck on her right side. The impact knocked her back and she fell to the ground. The pain was overwhelming. It hurt so bad that she could hardly think of anything else. Her chest hurt so much. It hurt to breathe, but she was gasping for air because she couldn't get enough. She grabbed for the quarrel, trying to pull it free, but her strength failed her. It wouldn't budge, and she couldn't heal the wound with the quarrel lodged in her chest. She was dimly aware others were fighting.

Suddenly Verrel was over her. "Sorry about this." He took his sword, an actual steel blade and not made from chaurus chitin, and sliced open her linen shift. He grabbed it in both hands and ripped it wider. "Gods. If I pull it out, can you heal yourself?"

She tried to speak, but it came out garbled. She tasted blood. She nodded.

Verrel grabbed the quarrel with both hands and yanked.

Pain beyond belief. John Snow's dagger to her heart had hurt less. Even as she died, the pain of betrayal had hurt more than the cold steel in her beating heart. This was agony. She screamed and it sounded more like the squeal of a hurt pig than a sound a human would make. Through the pain she reached for her magicka and prayed to Talos to make the pain stop. Blessed relief flooded through her. She kept channeling healing until she drained herself of magicka. Then she closed her eyes and let blessed unconsciousness take her.