*LIAR'S RETREAT*
THE REACH
VODAHMIN COVENANT
"Fall back! Fall back to the cave!"
Rahd Longhammer stumbled backward, reeling from the blow. The Argonian on the other side of the wall leapt over, sweeping both swords forward in a flashy display. He merely drew his dagger, paused and… now.
The thrust carried his blade through the lizardman's parry, and the Argonian went down with a sound like someone had punched him in the short ribs. Before he could pull the blade free, however, another figure came up the ladder and over the wall. This one was a smaller figure, slight, but the armor he was clad in was black as night, and polished to a mirror shine.
Daedric Armor, some part of his mind informed him. Who in the gods' names has Daedric Armor?
The figure swung, and Rahd released his dagger, leaving it in his fallen foe, and stepped out of the path of the ridiculously-oversized mace's swing. The THUMP that the mace made when it hit the ground told him he had made the smart decision. Desperate, he reached a hand backwards and his grip found what he was looking for: the handle of the warhammer that had given him his name. He yanked it free and spun it above his head, the warhammer coming to rest at the attacker's face. But by now, there were five dark figures coming over the wall, each with sword and shield at the ready.
"Fall back!" he roared again over his shoulder, and made to follow what remained of his company. If they could get to the mouth of the cave, they could close the entrance there. Then their enemy's superior numbers would count for nothing. Then they could…
FUS RO DAH!
The wave of energy struck him between the shoulder-blades, tossing him head over heel. Dazed, he came up to his feet, still conscious enough to swing at the first two figures running at him with upraised weapons. He felt bone break beneath his swing, and the second figure's warcry was cut off with a strangled grunt.
What in the name of Oblivion WAS that?
Then there was the first enemy again, coming at him with that Mace and… was that a staff?
Mage, came the answer from his subconscious again, and he thanked Shor for the warding he had placed into his armor. It had been expensive, but it had saved his life more than once. But no spell came from the tip of the long weapon, and no magic words escaped… her lips. Yes, she was definitely a woman, he could see now, but she was coming on to engage him weapon-to-weapon.
Foolish girl, he grinned, tasting the blood on his teeth. She should have been smart and held back for her companions to engage with her, or at least held him at bay with a longer weapon. Anything that came within arms-reach while he held Longhammer was… was just dead, plain and simple.
"SOVNGARDE TAKE YOU!" he bellowed, swinging the weapon in a wide arc that no Man, Mer, or Beast had ever succeeded in blocking or surviving.
But this time, the slender figure closed with him, and swung her comparatively-small mace in an intercepting arc that met his weapon.
CAH-CHUNNNNNNNNG Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
With a bone-grating jolt, the two weapons met… and only hers was intact for a second swing. Rahd Longhammer was staring in incredulous horror and disbelief at his shattered weapon in his hands, and never saw the second blow coming.
"Bandit trash…" Skoberth Black-song grunted, rolling over a still-groaning body to deliver the mercy-stroke.
"Now, now," Tala sighed, shaking her hair out after removing her helmet. "They put up quite a good fight, all things considered. If they had made it to the caves, we might have even had a harder time rooting them all out."
"Still, hardly worth our time," Borkul grunted, pulling a silver torc from the arm of one of the fallen bandits.
"The settlers at Hamugstahl would say different," Tala replied. "This lot has been harassing their shipments for weeks now. We've just been too busy with the border patrols to do anything about it… until now."
"My Queen!"
The shout drew Tala and her entourage to the young vampiress turning over a body. The bronze gleam of Dwarven metal gleamed even in the fading light. All the faces grew grim.
"How the Daedra…?" Skoberth hissed.
"Deserter from the army, perhaps," Tala shrugged, picking up the Dwarven Crossbow, examining the weapon closely. "Though, given the lack of care given the weapon, I'd say it's more likely that they took it from one of the caravan guards they've ambushed."
"Troubling," Borkul the Beast shook his head. The Warden of the North was charged with keeping the peace of the Reach, and the thought of bandits that might be as well-armed as his patrols was worrisome. "We'll have to increase the size of each patrol and caravan, at least for now."
"Not if we make a strong enough example," Tala's laughter startled the assembled group. "Assemble the bodies and hang them by their heels along the roadside. Let the people know what happens to petty bandits in the Vodahmin Covenant."
Borkul's grin beneath the Mask of Zahkriisos was downright predatory. "As my Queen commands."
A dark Redguard figure clad in black and scarlet gestured towards a row of kneeling and bound figures. "And what of the prisoners, my queen?"
Tala cast her eye down the row of figures.
"Hail Sithis."
Nazir grinned as many of the survivors began pleading, whining, or openly weeping. Their guards, all of whom wore black hoods covering their faces, drew daggers and swift, effortless motions, drew them across the prisoners' throats. Within moments, they were lying as still as the rest of the corpses in the makeshift fort.
The door to the interior of the mountain passageways opened, and a tiny figure walked out, followed by a number of likewise diminutive figures. Each of them were glad in roughly-made armor and armed with crude throwing spears. A few of them, however, were grasping iron and steel daggers, wearing the weapons on their hips like full-sized swords.
"We fight," the figure of the Riekling chief rasped. "We help Dark Lady. No more bad Nords."
"You and your people have fought valiantly, Chief Bogwog-throgdog," Tala nodded, giving a short bow to the gathered tribe, who tittered appreciatively. "What do you think of this place?"
The Riekling cast a critical eye around at the log-timber walls, the iron door, and the passageways it guarded.
"Strong place," he said finally. "Good place. Much room."
"Then kneel, Strong Chief," Tala stated gravely, replacing the Mace of Molag Bol on her back, and expanding the Rose of Sanguine to its full length. The Riekling went slowly to both knees before the High Mother of the Vodahmin, who placed the long staff on his shoulder.
"I, Queen Tala Niwot of the Vodahmin Covenant, do grant unto Chief Bogwog-throgdog and his people the holding of…" she paused to glance around her. "Riekling's Retreat, to hold forever, both him and the Riekling chiefs who follow."
She tapped the Riekling chief on the shoulder, and then brought her staff up to her side.
"You will hold this stronghold for your people, undisturbed in the name of the Queen's Peace," she continued, "And if the Black Banner is raised, you and your warriors will fight in the ranks of the Vodahmin, in the name of the Queen's War."
"We fight," Bogwog-throgdog grinned, showing a row of pointed teeth. "We serve. Boar-Rider Tribe follow Bogwog. Bogwag follow Dark-Lady."
"So mote it be," Tala nodded in approval, and then gestured to the Covenant fighters to follow her out of the Rieklings' new home, bearing the bodies of the fallen bandits.
"It beggars imagination how those… little creatures made it all the way from Solstheim," Serana shook her head. "Looking at their coracles, you would have sworn they wouldn't have floated in a puddle."
"Folk will brave a great many things to escape extermination," Tala stated sorrowfully. "Over the past year, we've had Minotaurs from Cyrodiil, Centaurs from Valenwood, what few giants that have managed to survive in Skyrim…and every Daedric worshipper in Tamriel, probably.
"They're not even all Daedric worshippers," Serana marveled, "The Minotaurs are fanatic followers of the Aedra, for Sithis' sake."
"And the centaurs worship the Old Ways, just like the Forsworn," nodded Tala, "But they don't fit the acceptable fold of Man, Mer, and Beast-men that the Empire and Dominion have drawn up. They look like monsters, therefore they must be monsters."
"And it's precisely why the Vodahmin Covenant is so important," Serana replied, an arm wrapping around her lover for a quick hug before they arrived at the place where they had left their horses. Tala flicked her wrist, and the otherworldly form of Arvak arose from the maelstrom of Soul Cairn magic.
"Show off," Serana scoffed, but the smile on her face belied her words. Tala mounted her horse, and then turned to the long figure still unmounted.
"We could always find you a horse, Teyrn'garwch," she said to the Dremora warrior. "You could stay in this realm, you know."
"Teyrn'garwch is serving a prison sentence, Lady," the servant of Sanguine bowed, "Not vacationing."
With a blur of Conjuration magicka, he vanished, his essence returning to the flower at the top of the Rose of Sanguine.
"All these years," Serana grinned, "And he's still as grumpy as the first day his master gave him to us."
"No," Tala giggled, "I think he's definitely mellowed. We might be breaking through to him."
"Shall we escort you back to the capital, your Majesty?" Borkul the Beast asked. Tala's face grew contemplative, and then shook her head.
"No, Borkul," she answered. "You must return to Hamugstahl and keep a close watch on the border with Solitude. I don't like the new fortress the High King has built at Dragon Bridge, and I would ensure that no more of his spies skulk across our border with impunity."
"As you command," the giant orc nodded, and waved an arm forward. The Vodahmin column separated from the main body at a slow trot, turning northward along the road. The remainder of the party were all in glossy Daedric armor, their horses likewise clad in Dwarven-metal barding, protecting their chest and face. In war, the Royal Cataphracts were the heavy horsemen designed to be able to meet even the Whiterun heavy cavalry in a head-on fight.
"A fine day, all in all," Tala crowed, sighing contentedly as she waved them southward, back towards the capital. "A fine day, indeed."
*JEHANNA*
HIGH ROCK
VODAHMIN COVENANT
"WHERE IS IT!?"
Royal servants scattered before the wrath of Telstar, king of the city of Jehanna. The young man scattered papers and inkwells, overturning tables and chairs in his search of the royal chambers.
"WHERE'S IT GONE?" he roared again, with a voice deeper than would be expected from his young frame. "I'LL CRUCIFY THE THIEF WHO'S TAKEN IT!"
"My king?" one of the older servants, braver than the rest, asked. "Your servants might assist the king, if he would deign to tell us what he was looking for… urkgh!"
The servant's sentence was cut off by the iron vice-grip of the young king, clasped around his throat.
"MY… mask, you fool!" Telstar hissed, and his eyes were wild and unhinged. "What have you done with my MASK?"
"It… it was placed in the armory, along with the rest of your war-gear," the servant managed between wheezing gasps, "It was… it was done by your order, lord. Do you not rememb-"
"BAH!" Telstar hurled the man across the room with a strength that a young boy of his size should not have possessed, disappearing down the hallway before the luckless servant even hit the far wall with a sickening crunch of flesh and unyielding stone.
Telstar's vision clouded red, and his breath came in sharp, painful gasps as he ran down the hallways of his fortress, with only one goal running over and over in his mind:
Have to find it. Have to find it. Must keep it safe. She gave it to me. She gave it to ME. I MUST HAVE IT. Have to keep it safe. Have to keep it safe for her. Have to find it. Have to find it. Must keep it safe. She gave it to me. She gave it to ME. I MUST HAVE IT. Have to keep it safe. Have to keep it safe for her. Have to find it. Have to find it. Must keep it safe. She gave it to me. She gave it to ME. I MUST HAVE IT. Have to keep it safe. Have to keep it safe for her. Have to find it. Have to find it. Must keep it safe. She gave it to me. She gave it to ME. I MUST HAVE IT. Have to keep it safe. Have to keep it safe for her.
WHERE IS IT!?
The poor guards at the Armory's doors had only time to fling themselves aside before the giant doors were kicked open and Telstar found himself in front of the gold-enameled wardrobe that held the suit of Dwarven Armor that he wore in times of war. Flinging open the door, he frenziedly searched for a half-second before hands closed around the smooth, carved wooden surface of the Dragon Priest Mask of Rahgot.
Throwing the hood attached to the mask over his head, he placed the carved surface over his own features, and felt the red, frantic, rage-fueled panic subside, along with the beat of his heart.
I've found it. I've got it. Praise Queen Tala.
I've found it. I've got it. Praise Queen Tala.
I've found it. I've got it. Praise Queen Tala.
Slowly, he turned back towards his throne room, a hand half-coming up to assure himself that his most precious possession, the priceless gift given to him by Tala the Beautiful, Tala the Perfect, Tala the Best-Beloved, still rested on his face.
Two Masks given to the hand of Women
Rulers of Land and Sea.
Four Masks given to hand of Mer
Rulers by the Queen's Decree.
Six Masks given to the hand of Men
To Aid the Queen's Design.
All Masks carved with secret Runes
To twist and warp the Mind.
All shall bow before the Queen!
All shall bow before the Wolf!
A Covenant led by the Will of One
O'er the Mountains, the Desert, and Gulf.
Author's Note:
And so we get a quick glimpse of what Tala and Co. have been up to on the other side of the border, and how exactly she and the Wolf Queen intend on keeping their vassals in line.
My thanks to everyone who has been patient with this story and its updates, and all the supportive PMs I've received over the past couple weeks. I wish you all a happy 2019, and hope that you'll join me for this little adventure in the Skyrim Fandom.
As always, please leave your thoughts/suggestions/constructive criticisms in the reviews below! They are the fuel that keep my imagine fired up, and inspire me to continue writing, even if it's a simple "Good job, I enjoyed it."
Rock On, my friends!
-Tusken1602
Reviewer Responses:
NotRevan – I very much doubt Lewis will be sharing this technological advantage with Tala, considering she hasn't shared any of hers with him. And the state of 'not-quite-war' that exists between the Empire and Covenant.
JimmyHall24 –Gunpowder does NOT automatically equal victory in any conflict.
tylermech66 – I KNOW, RIGHT! But you're not given the option of trying to make friends with goblins, or other monsters (with the sole exception of the Rieklings in Dragonborn).
lifesinthemind, Umbrardor, Draco Oblivion – ARMS RACE FTW, or at least as soon as Tala is aware that the Empire (or rather, the Nords) have gunpowder.
ranma hibiki – that is correct about the Minotaurs, but they look like monsters to Man and Mer, and don't speak like normal people, therefore they must not BE people… right?
badkidoh, Trikomi98, Luadog, jdboss1, jonathan11197, Univers One, Guest - Thanks so much for your kind words and support! I appreciate it!
EE-RAH!