Chapter 10:
Septimus

As it was they arrived a full week before the ten wagonloads of stone and they found time to spend in leisure as Emily had wanted. For a few of the nights they went down to Lake Illinalta to fish. They did not keep what they caught, not out of sentimentality but for the distaste of the cold blood of the fish.

Emily sat for many an hour, watching the moons reflected on the surface of the water next to her wooden float where it bobbed in the water. Serana spent some of the time standing in the shallows, catching dragonflies and small fish. She'd told Emily of their alchemical properties and uses. It was a funny sight watching the elder vampiress standing stock still, watching the glimmering movements of a jet black dragonfly before suddenly dashing forwards and clasping her hands about its buzzing darting form. Sometimes Emily would join her and Serana would chuckle in amusement as Emily would miss and wind up face first in the lake.

When, at last, the stone arrived they were out on one of their nightly excursions. The stone had been paid for before they'd left Solitude and the men had left it in the clearing before starting their journey back to the capital. When they returned and found the stone waiting for them Serana wrote a short letter to the Mourning Sun and tied it to Tibius' leg before setting him free into the night sky. The following evening the Mourning Sun arrived with three trolls in tow. They spent some time looking over the plans and then the work began in earnest. Mogrul cut the stone into large blocks for the foundations. The first of these Emily and Serana carved their names into and this was placed at one of the corners. The trolls helped with the heavy lifting while Florentius took up a saw and set to work at the lumber pile. The wood to be cut rested on two larger pieces of wood and he held the wood in place with his boot as he began to saw at it. Gunmar and Beleval carried between them a bucket which held several pounds of nails, a set of twenty hinges and iron fittings and a few locks and their accompanying keys. Sorine had amassed a collection of Dwemer gyros and scrap metal in their time away from the Mourning Sun which she now set to work on, promising them a rudimentary system for heating water and delivering it to various points in the house where it was required. Hanging from her belt was an assortment of tools including a level and a set of plumb bobs. And so the work on the house began.

Planks of wood were sanded down using slaughterfish scales and nailed together to make a sturdy front door. They painted it a deep forest green and Sorine affixed a Dwemer metal knocker and handles to it. The locks were installed and the door was heaved into place where it was secured into the newly built doorframe.

The walls were made using the wattle and daub building technique. Emily had seen it being done at an old museum she had once visited where they gave live demonstrations and it felt strange that now it was she who was entwining the slender branches about the wooden stakes and setting them in place where the daub, made from a mixture of clay, mud, chalk dust and horse hair, was applied, coating the branches and binding them all together.

Great care was taken in the thatching of the roof, leaving not a single area exposed to let any stray sunbeams in. The hay was brought in from the farms surrounding the city of Falkreath and was the surplus left over after the first harvest of the year and treated with a special mixture which Florentius brewed which he claimed would reflect and dissipate any sunlight cast upon it.

It took them five months to build the basic framework of the house and another two to build the interior walls, floors and stairs.

As the month of Last Seed came to an end the house was complete. Although sparsely furnished when they set down their adzes and hammers, it was liveable. A fireplace dominated the main room, crackling with the left over bits and pieces from the lumber pile. Following the building's completion they gathered outside around a crackling firepit where Mogrul was preparing a feast of venison, grilled leeks and baked potatoes. The joint turned slowly on a spit over the fire and Sorine passed around several bottles of good strong ale.

"Thanks guys," said Emily as she drained the last of the ale from her tankard, "We couldn't have done it without you, all of you." Gunmar smiled and raised his tankard in response.

"You've picked a fine bit of land, Emily," he said, "There'll be plenty of beasts out there to hunt."

"And a Nordic ruin close by if you feel like testing your metal," Mogrul added.

"We'll keep that in mind," smiled Serana.

"Well," said Florentius, getting to his feet, "We had best be off. Leave you two to get settled in." And so the Mourning Sun said their goodbyes and one by one they left, taking their tools and the last of the food with them.

Emily got up and together they headed for the door to their new home. Finn scampered after them but stopped short, sniffing at the wooden doorframe.

"What's the matter, Finn?" Emily laughed, "Do you want me to carry you over the threshold or something?" She bent down and scooped the otter up in her arms.

"Is that some kind of Earth tradition?" Serana asked. Emily nodded.

"Yeah, when a couple move into a new home, particularly their first home, the man will carry the woman across the threshold," she explained.

"You earthlings have some funny traditions," Serana replied with a slight smile, planting one hand on her hip.

"Yeah, well-," Emily began. Then she let out a squeak as Serana lifted both her and Finn off the ground. The vampiress was smiling mischievously and she grinned back as she was carried across the threshold. Tibius flew in after them where he made himself at home on a perch by the door. She looked up at Serana. The moment was over all too soon as Serana lowered her back to the ground though her hand lingered on Emily's arm for a moment longer.

For a little while they just stood there. After so many months first searching for and then building their home it was finally done.

"Hardly seems real, doesn't it?" said Emily as they sat down by the fire, "We're finally home."

"You know, I'm glad you asked for that fireplace now," Serana replied, looking into the flames, "So long as they're contained, I don't mind them and it is…peaceful."

"And peace is something we'll know again now," said Emily as she leant against Serana's shoulder, "No more fighting demon ghost queens or dealing with the Forsworn. No more dungeons and tombs…well, unless we feel up for an adventure anyway." Serana chuckled. "I wonder how long before the first of the Jarl's taxes will roll in," she continued, opening one eye.

"We've got enough tucked away for the first couple of years," Serana replied, "Then," she shrugged, "We'll have to start saving again." Emily reflected that this was quite possibly one of the most ordinary conversations she'd had in well over a year. Nothing involving will o' the wisps, werewolves or fantastic beasts of the forest. There was, however, one facet of the conversation she felt obliged to mention, one not quite so mundane.

"What'll we do then?" Emily asked, "I mean, I can't imagine either of us working in a bar or running a general store or anything. What kind of work can a vampire do?"

"I've been giving that some thought actually," Serana replied, "It's part of the reason I wanted that garden."

"Flower arranging?" Emily quipped, earning herself a nudge in the ribs.

"Very funny, Em," Serana smiled, "No, alchemy. When I was last in the castle I came across a couple of my mother's old recipes. Night eye potions, fortify armour and the like. There could be quite a demand among the city guard."

"All this and a head for business too," Emily grinned, "No, that sounds like a great idea. What ingredients do we need?" Serana got up and walked over to the bench where her pack was sitting. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and sat back down next to Emily, handing her one of the pages. At the top she could make out, in a fine looping script, 'Potion of Night Eye.'

"Wolf's eyes, foxglove nectar and hawk's egg yolks," she said, "Sounds like stuff we could pick up locally.

"And I could grow the canis root, bleeding crown and Mugwort we'll need for the armour potions," Serana replied.

"How exactly does a potion make armour more effective?" Emily asked as she handed the paper back to Serana. She put it back into her pack before replying.

"It's a little like a mage armour spell," she explained, "Except you don't need any magical ability to get the effects and it lasts longer before you need to take another. One bottle should get you through most skirmishes."

"You showed me canis root before, didn't you?" said Emily, "When we were in Haafingar. Little dead-looking shrubs. Do they grow out here?"

"They're not native," Serana replied, "But with the right conditions I should be able to get them to thrive. The trick will be getting the mugwort and foxgloves. If I can get some seeds from the apothecary we won't have a problem, they'll grow well enough out here."

"Well, how about tonight I go out hunting, see if I can track down some wolves while you go down to the city looking for these seeds," Emily suggested, "And I've seen hawks flying around the mountains near Falkreath. Maybe I can pick up the eggs while I'm out."

"Just be careful," smiled Serana, "I know it's just a couple of wolves but don't try anything reckless."

"I won't," said Emily. She looked out at the night sky where it was starting to get light. "It's getting early, I think I'll head up for the day. See you tonight."

"I might as well too," Serana replied as they got up and made for the stairs.

They parted ways the following night and Emily made off into the forest while Serana followed the forest path back down into the city of Falkreath. Emily followed a game track which took her steadily North, deeper into the forest. Here the trees grew close together and here the wolves hunted, stalking their prey in the slivers of moonlight that struggled through the canopy to the forest floor below. Emily listened intently as she walked, listening out for the baleful howl of a lone wolf. Her bow was gripped in one hand and a quiver of arrows, steel in make, hung from her back. She heard the whisper of wind in the leaves overhead and the haunting cry of a dog fox. Then there came a howl, not far from where she stood and it was answered by another. They came from either side and Emily realised that as she had come out to hunt them, they in turn were hunting her. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and pulled it taut against the bow, aiming into the shadows, eyes scanning the undergrowth. Another howl, closer now. This was answered by a series of yelping barks. One of the wolves was young, perhaps a yearling, overenthusiastic in its hunting and taking little care to remain concealed.

She heard the air behind her whoosh with the shaggy form which sprang between the bushes and she whirled around, moonlight gleaming off the arrowhead. The air had fallen still again and she took a step backward. Her fingers shook a little with the effort of keeping the bow string taut. Then it leapt at her and she fired. The wolf gave a great howl of pain as the arrow sunk deep into its shaggy neck and the next second the yearling she had heard earlier came bounding from undergrowth to aid its companion. Emily fell back, swapping her bow for her blade as it ran at her. Its teeth were open in a snarl as it lunged and Emily brought the blade up to defend herself. It thumped into her, causing her to stagger back. Blood ran down over the blade where it had cut a neat gash in one forelimb and it howled in pain before lunging again. The first wolf rounded on her along with the yearling and Emily sprang back.

"So much for not doing anything reckless," she berated herself under her breath as she brandished her blade. Her eyes darted from one wolf to the other. The first wolf was breathing raggedly past the area still embedded in its neck. The second's hackles were raised in a snarl. The elder wolf plunged forward first and Emily took her chance, sidestepping the lunge and plunging her dagger into its chest. The blade struck true and the wolf fell limp. The yearling now seemed less sure of itself and it paced around Emily, looking for an opening to attack, yellow eyes locked on hers. Then, without warning, it took to its heels and fled back into the undergrowth.

Emily stood for a moment, listening, before setting to work on the carcass. The eyes she deftly removed, depositing the grisly prize into a small glass jar. She skinned the beast and harvested what she could of its bones. Its liver, too, she took. Angeline had once told her it was a prized ingredient for keeping at bay common illnesses that beset the folk of Tamriel. With her pack bulging she left the forest.

Retrieving the hawk's eggs was a comparatively easy task. The birds made their nests high in the mountains, on rocky outcroppings and cliff edges. Some were placed precariously on branches jutting out over the edge and Emily had to carefully test these branches to see if they would take her weight. Where they would she edged out and snatched the yellow-brown speckled eggs from the heaps of twigs that made up the nests. These she placed in a lined box to protect them on the journey back. When she had plucked twelve she decided to head back to the cottage.

Serana was not there when she returned but this she had expected. It would take Serana a couple of hours to reach the city and by this time the apothecary would be shut. She'd have to wait it out until the following evening for the narrow window of opportunity between sunset and the store's closure to do her shopping. And so Emily passed much of the remainder of the night and the day that followed reading, sketching and sleeping. It was as she slept, stretched out on the wooden bench that the door was unlocked and opened, a familiar figure crossing the threshold. She looked at the earthling with faint amusement before crossing over to where she lay, nudging her arm. Emily opened her eyes and smiled when she saw familiar red eyes looking back at her.

"How was your trip?" she asked sleepily. Serana held up three packs of seeds, each clearly labelled to tell one from the other.

"Profitable," she replied, "I sold off some nightshade and chokeberries I'd gathered on the way there for these. How was your hunt?"

"I fared better with the eggs than the wolves," Emily replied, "I managed to kill one but the other got away. A lot of fighting for just two eyes. I got the pelt, liver and bones as well though in case we have need of them."

"It's well you did," said Serana, "The bones we can use for the same potions." Emily sat up.

"I happened to look through a few old books while I was in the apothecary. Seems bone meal has the same effect when combined with foxglove nectar and hawk egg yolks."

"That's the best news I've heard all night," smiled Emily, "I thought we'd be going hunting at least every couple of nights at the rate I was collecting eyes."

They planted the seeds in a spot that would catch the sun come midday. The canis root seeds they buried deep in rocky ground as was its preference. It would take some time for the plants to sprout but, as Serana pointed out, they would not have need of them for sometime yet. She showed Emily how to preserve the wolf eyes and liver using frost salts and how to properly grind down the bones into bone meal. They mixed this with hawk's egg yolks, leaving it to distil in the full light of Masser. When they retrieved it three weeks later the liquid had a curious glow to it as though it had captured the very light of Masser itself. This was the first of many night eye potions made.

While they waited for the plants in the garden to reach maturity they set about decorating the house. Much of the larger furniture was already in place and they began to add shelving, some roughly carved footstools for the bench in the main room, hanging racks for drying herbs and a few bookshelves in the bedroom to house Serana's ever-growing collection.

Emily sifted through her bag, removing knickknacks and other things she had gathered in her travels, placing them on the shelf by the bed. Her fingers collided with something hard and metallic with flat sides and sharp edges. She pulled it out. "Oh, damn," she said as she realised what it was.

"We forgot to bring this back to Septimus," she said as she held up the carved Dwemer puzzle cube. Serana looked up from the book she was reading.

"We should get this back to him," Emily continued. Serana sighed, getting up from the bed and setting the book back down on the bedside cabinet.

"Em, I wouldn't bother," she said, "That old hermit's probably frozen to death by now."

"And if he hasn't?" said Emily, "Weird as all heck he was but he did show us how to get the Elder Scroll we needed." Serana sat back down on the bed. She quirked an eyebrow at the earthling, smiling slightly. Then with a sigh of mock exasperation she replied.

"When you're right, you're right," she conceded, "But let's leave it until tomorrow night."

"Alright," Emily said, "I suppose one night couldn't make too much difference."

And so they struck out Northeast, trading misty pine forests for desolate ice floes. All in all it took them just under five weeks. Snow clung to Finn's fur as he huddled in Emily's cloak and icicles hung from Tibius' beak though the undead bird seemed completely unperturbed.

They left Arvak by the shore and carried on across the ice fields on foot. The ice was thick and sturdy, having not seen a thaw in well over one hundred years. They spotted the entrance to Septimus' icebound lair and peered inside. Emily feared that perhaps Serana had been right and this had been a wasted trip but when they reached the end of the icy tunnel they spotted Septimus. He was standing in almost the same position as they had left him in about a year ago. He was still staring at the Dwemer lockbox encased in the ice and Emily at first thought he had frozen solid. But then he turned to look at them.

"You have returned," he said in his wheezy chortle, "Just as Septimus knew you would." It was as though time had not touched the old man except to add a few wrinkles around his eyes and nose and a few extra white hairs to his brow.

They followed the icy path down to where the old man stood. "We've brought you the lexicon," Emily said as she handed over the puzzle cube. Septimus eagerly took it from her, gazing at it and studying it from every angle. Then he began to poke at different areas of the cube. Two catches separating the two halves of the cubes swung out and with a few deft movements Septimus twisted the top half. This caused the cube to split again and with one last twist the blue centre was exposed and light flood out from it. What Septimus could see in the pulsating blue light, Emily and Serana could not but judging from the gasps of wonderment and the wheezy affirmations what he saw at once pleased him and frustrated him.

"We are close," he whispered, "So very close. The sealing structure interlocks the tiniest fractals." He made a slight gesture with his hand, wriggling his wizened old fingers to illustrate his point. "Yes, but Dwemer blood can loose these hooks but, of course, none alive remain to bear it."

"I guess then you'd better just give up, old man," said Serana. She had little patience for this old madman and when he began rambling she took Emily by the shoulders, preparing to steer her back out of the ice cave and towards sanity.

"Not so, impatient one," said Septimus with a cackle, "Not so. A panoply of their brethren could create a facsimile."

"A…panoply?" said Emily.

"Em, let's leave him to his ramblings," Serana said. She felt somehow that the air around them was getting colder and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"A panoply," Septimus said, "A mixture of elven bloods. Altmer, Bosmer, Dunmer, Falmer and Orsimer." He crossed over to a Dwemer container and began rummaging through the contents. He grinned triumphantly, pulling out a golden mechanism consisting of several cylinders, each armed with a long needle.

"This device will drink of their blood, allowing for its harvest," he said, "Take this and harvest, my friend."

"I'm sorry, we drink blood, we don't harvest it," said Serana. Emily nodded.

"Serana's right, Septimus, you'll have to find someone else for this one," she said, taking a step back. Something in Serana's manner was urgent, the way she gripped her shoulders and how her eyes darted back towards the entrance.

"Very well," said Septimus, withdrawing and not once did the smile vanish from his lips, "Very well," he repeated, "Someone else shall have to take up this task. My Lord assures me they will come. They will help old Septimus as you have not. Farewell, friends, farewell."

Taking this as their cue to leave they hastened their way back up the icy path. But as they reached the mouth of the tunnel they both stopped dead for blocking the way was a pulsating mass. It appeared oily, slick, with tentacles undulating from its heart. Eyes blossomed on every inch of it, growing, pulsating and then shrinking back, each glistening pupil trained on their movements. Serana gripped Emily's shoulders tightly, swallowing nervously as they beheld the void. And then the void spoke.