Visions of fire and war danced through Eola's head and sent her mind ringing like a mighty dwarven bell. Secluded in her chamber, away from the other cultists, she had no reason to hide the agony Namira's visits wrung from her. Eola writhed on the floor, blood dripping from her ears, and smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. The price of knowledge. What is an evening of pain, a pint of blood, against the death of the world? Nothing more than a drop of red in the ocean to come.
Namira showed Eola hunched, misshapen figures staggering through caverns of scorching rock. Your servants, dear lady, that will rise after the meal of prophecy. She saw fields of fire, continents burning and cracking apart, and clouds of poison filling the sky. Every mortal that died in this depraved and ruined future would join Namira's legion in the Scuttling Void. Eola could hardly wait to go there herself, and she never longed more for Namira's embrace than when she was made to suffer the visions. Without the prophecy, there would be no promised meal. I must endure. For the sake of what comes after.
There was a knocking at her door. "Eola?"
"Enter." Eola rose to her hands and knees, breathing heavily. The ground was warm under her palms. I have nothing to hide from this one.
Lisbet obeyed. As she always does. Sweet, loyal Lisbet. The Nord woman smoothed the skirt of her robes and looked down at Eola with a worried expression.
"Another vision? So soon?" Lisbet went to the pitcher of water on the bedside table and poured a glass. "Things are happening fast, now. I suppose it makes sense. I just wish our lady would have a little more care for her ring-bearer."
"Fret not, love." Eola pulled herself to her feet and grabbed a cloth from her bed to wipe the sweat from her face. "I've been waiting years for these trials. My entire life has led up to these final days. I will not stumble at the precipice of salvation."
"Oh, I know. I just worry about you. With all the weight on your shoulders, you must remember to take care of yourself. Here, drink."
The water was cool and refreshing past her cracked lips. Finding channels of drinkable liquid in the maze of tunnels and caverns under Red Mountain had extracted a considerable toll on Eola's magical abilities. It didn't help that fate had dictated she be the only powerful mage among Namira's gathered ranks.
"Sanyon has gone beyond," Eola said wearily, setting down the cup. "Namira granted me a glimpse through the eyes of a nonbeliever. Our brother on Solstheim died trying to bring the prophecy to fruition. It was the Nerevarine that killed him."
Lisbet sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. "I can't believe it. First this greyskin wench took Nym, and now Sanyon as well? They were the best of us, Eola."
"They served Namira faithfully. Do not mourn them; we'll all be together again soon. And do not speak so easily of greyskins, now that it seems apparent that our goddess wishes these elves gathered in the caves around us to be the chief heralds of the day of prophecy."
"You're right. I'm stupid. I forget, sometimes, that Skyrim is behind us." Lisbet's chin fell. She rubbed the blanket of Eola's bed between her fingers.
Eola sidled up beside her lover, ignoring the ache in her legs, and nudged Lisbet. "Not just behind us, love. Before us. Close your eyes, and picture Markarth. Do you see it? Have you returned?"
"Ah...yes." Lisbet smiled slightly, her eyes shut. "I see the dwarven towers, high in the sky. I see Banning and his dogs, and the front gate to the city. I see...I see the guards."
"Imagine them away, my sweet. Or better yet, imagine me standing over them with a bloody dagger. Markarth will be ours, as it always should have been. The Forsworn will bend to Namira or perish alongside the Nords. And we will taste of the richest family in the land, and see if their blood truly runs with silver."
Lisbet giggled and hugged Eola. The priestess of Namira relaxed, letting herself go weak in the other woman's embrace. Would that we could go to that day of triumph, in the not-so-distant future. But there was still much pain left to endure, for the both of them.
There were footsteps outside. Eola recognized the soft-soled tread and smiled warmly. "Come in, brother."
Of all the Dark Elves that had become a part of Namira's coven following the fall of Balmora, Aymdil Betharys impressed her the most. Many of his brothers and sisters still stumbled around the caverns like befuddled bonewalkers, adapting slowly to their new positions in this cursed world Eola had created. They were prisoners of their own minds, barely conscious enough to exchange more than a few gruff words between each other. To Lisbet and Banning they spoke not at all, though fortunately they followed the orders of the outlander cultists without question. Eola suspected she held a position of reverence in the minds of the elves, not unlike Namira herself. She roused their spirits with her boisterous prayers, and brought out for a few minutes the true servants of decay they would one day become.
Some, like Aymdil, had left this state of tortured obedience behind them mere hours after arriving at the citadel under Red Mountain. Every day, he roused more of the elves to his cause, and they looked upon Eola with clear eyes full of determination. It was all the more fortunate that Aymdil had emerged as a leader, for Eola's Dunmeris was rough at best. He was a joyless creature, but a loyal one. And far more useful to me than Banning or Hogni have been. With Sanyon gone for certain, I'll need to start rebuilding my inner circle.
"Greetings, brother." Eola rose from the bed and nodded respectfully to the thin Dunmer. Aymdil was all harsh angles and wrinkled skin, and his nose was like a hawk's beak. His graying black hair was gathered up into a top-knot at the back of his head. "Is everything well?"
"Not in the slightest." Aymdil frowned. "Ashlanders. The savages have struck again. The group bringing more meat from Balmora was waylaid. No survivors."
Eola cursed. "These natives are becoming more and more of an annoyance. What of the corpses?"
"The bodies were burned. Charred to the bone, so we cannot even scavenge the flesh of the fallen."
"Well, no matter. We've enough food for a few weeks yet."
"I'm not certain the scant recruits we reaped from their village are worth this trouble." Aymdil flexed his right hand. He'd badly burned it on the night Balmora died, and now he wore a black glove on the damaged appendage. He knelt before her now. "My lady. Allow me to take a few dozen of the chosen and purge Vvardenfell of these vermin. The tribals use weapons of bone and chitin. We have dwarven armaments and steel from the city. They will be like scathecrow before the scythe."
"So eager, Aymdil. You truly are Namira's general." Eola put a hand on his shoulder. "Alas, your strength will be needed here. I have been granted a look through the eyes of one of our fallen brothers. He was slain on the southern shore, his spine shattered on the rocks."
Aymdil grimaced. "The Ashlanders?"
"Nay. Knight-Paladin Gelebor, warrior of Akatosh."
Lisbet's gasp brought her no small amount of pleasure. Soon, my dear. So soon now I can taste it.
Aymdil's eyes widened. "Truly? The snow elf? Oh, goddess. I've had many dreams of this day. You need just say the word. I will shepherd the meal of prophecy to our feasting chamber."
Eola shook her head. "Gelebor will come to us, in time. I've no doubt the Nerevarine is with him, she with the blood of the holy staining her hands, and we won't be able to separate them with brute force alone. I suspect they will take refuge with the Urshilaku. It's a pity Namira's dreamers among the Ashlanders have already joined us. I would have liked to have an ear within our adversery's forces."
"Mayhaps I could infiltrate the village." Aymdil seemed so eager. I wish I had an enemy to point him at, but I cannot risk injuring the meal of prophecy prematurely.
"No. Your place is here. I need you to train the other Dark Elves, brother. After the promised meal will come a time of darkness. When we return to Skyrim, it will be a land of constant bloodshed and strife. If we're going to make it to Markarth, we'll need to be strong. All of us"
He sighed. "Very well. I trust in your judgement, Eola. You have led us faithfully." Thus far, seemed the unsaid words. Eola did not yet have a full measure of Aymdil, and she didn't trust anyone in the world completely, save for Lisbet. She felt ill, leaving him on this sour note.
"Brother," Eola called out, when he was halfway through the door. He looked back.
"Yes?"
"The first bite of the Knight-Paladin." She grinned. "It will be yours. With that initial taste, you will change the world forever."
"I…" Aymdil swallowed. "I am not worthy."
"That is for Namira to decide. Now, begone."
After the door closed, Eola nearly collapsed onto the bed, her legs trembling. Even that small discussion had drained her massively. The worship takes its toll in blood and strength.
"Oh, Eola." Lisbet laid down on the end of the bed and stroked her aching calves. "You don't know how it makes me feel, to see you like this. Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?"
"There is nothing." But a sudden thought came to Eola. She'd done some clandestine research in Understone Keep in preparation for their voyage, and had run across an interesting tidbit of information concerning a local phenomenon. "Wait. I've just remembered...heart stones."
Lisbet looked up. "What?"
"A peculiar ore, found only on Vvardenfell and Solstheim. It was produced as a byproduct of the eruption, so I'm certain we could find some nearby." Eola strained her memory to recall more details. "Necromancers utilize them to extend the duration of their undead."
"...I think I understand." Lisbet squeezed her foot and smiled hopefully. "We don't need to raise any corpses, but the heart stones could help you with your preservation spells on the food stores. You wouldn't have to cast them as often. Is that right?"
Eola returned her smile. "There's only one way to find out." In truth, she had little idea if such a process would work, but relieving some of Lisbet's worries was worth the trouble.
Lisbet sprung up. "I'll go looking right away! Don't you move a muscle."
"My hero," Eola purred, and laid her head down.
"This is folly." Akh'idzo sat cross-legged on his cot. "By Akatosh. You'll all end up feeding these monsters, mark my words."
"Hush," Habi replied, from the dark corner of their cell. She stroked Jo'ahni's fur and tried to send calming thoughts to the young Alfiq. Renji had told her his sister couldn't speak yet, but on several occasions now Habi had felt Jo's consciousness brush against her own. Flashes of another's memories surfaced in Habi's mind, of a land alien to her senses. Fields of tall plants as golden as the sun's reflection off the Odai, and snow stretching as far as the horizon. A sky so shockingly blue that it made her dizzy to think of it. The air itself, so frigid that it turned her lungs into lead weights. This must be Skyrim. Only being trapped under Red Mountain could make Habi think fondly of travelling to the land of the Nords.
"It's been too long," Akh'idzo said. "Something must have gone awry."
Habi scowled. "I said hush, please. Your negative energy isn't helping Jo, here. I'm sure Renji will be back soon."
Ahk'idzo huffed and turned away from them. Aside from explaining to her that Renji and Jo'ahni were actually Khajiit and not fabricated products of her broken mind, he hadn't been much help in the past few days. I guess I should be grateful he didn't just turn us in to Banning. It still upset Habi to see him eat of the sacred dead every evening, but Ahk'idzo was an amicable enough cellmate most of the time. And he doesn't complain about my nightmares. Images of Erandur's destroyed body haunted her sleeping hours. She hoped dearly that Jo and Renji hadn't taken any looks inside her mind when she thought of such things. Who am I kidding? Renji has probably seen much worse, sneaking around this place for weeks.
As if on cue, the ruffled little Khajiit appeared at the bars to their cell and quickly squeezed inside.
"Renji," Habi exclaimed, as loud as she dared. "Thank Azura. Did you get it?"
Mind talk only, Habs. S'wits nearby.
She closed her lips tightly and nodded. Renji padded across the cell, his tail in the air, and rubbed his head against Jo's for a moment before grabbing her by the scruff and hiding behind Habi. She could feel the Khajiit against her back, two little bundles of warmth.
The moons blessed Renji. Banner is on the sugar, or just sleepy and dumb. Took his little sword and his carrot too. Hid them close by.
A carrot? That wasn't part of the plan.
Was hungry. Tired of eating slimy rat.
Habi was pleased beyond measure. It had been a colossal risk, sending Renji to steal from Banning, but she saw no other way of getting them all out of Red Mountain alive. No matter how many rats Renji brought to the cell, eventually the time would come when Eola and her cultists would put into action their evil plot, whatever it was. A Redoran Guard is a mer of action, one of her books had said. He doesn't wait for Baar Dau to fall. He climbs the sky and smashes it into a million pebbles. Ahk'adzi could eat the dead and gather his strength all he wanted, but if Banning showed up at their cell one morning with a crossbow he was going to die just like Erandur had. And so will we.
What now, Habs? Renji shifted restlessly. We know where the key is. Renji and Jo need to go. Can't hide forever.
The time isn't right yet. We have to wait for an opportunity.
What's opportunity, Habs?
She crossed her legs and affected an expression of weary defeat. There was someone coming down the passageway. The moment that we're the strongest we can be and they're as weak as they're going to get.
A figure slid into the shadows near the front of their cell. A bent head peered between the bars, strands of blond hair just visible. Habi felt a jolt of fear pass through her gut. Banning wouldn't be so coy. Who in Oblivion is this?
"Hello?" Habi spoke. "Can we help you?" Conformity and compliance, Habi. Make them think you're broken.
"All in good time, my sweet." Eola shifted into the light, and her mad green eyes bore into Habi like a scrib's mandibles. "Your kin has landed on Vvardenfell."
Habi nearly stood up, remembering at the last second the two beings behind her. "What?"
"The Nerevarine," Eola sang. "She who has caused so much trouble for us. Why do you think I spared you the wonders of Balmora, my sweet fool? You are my last shield against the wrath of Namira's adversary. Should my hunting trip go poorly, I will still have you to use against her."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about. What's a Nerevarine?" Habi's mind raced. Nadene, on Vvardenfell? I can't believe it.
Eola pressed herself against the cell bars. "If you're going to lie, at least make it convincing. Every elf on this island knows what she is, but you're the only one who knows who."
"I don't have anything to say to you, murdering n'wah," Habi replied through her teeth. "If you want to know her name, go ask her."
"Oh, I intend to." Eola's wide eyes unsettled Habi more than she wanted to admit. Does the woman even blink? "And when I return, in success or failure, we're going to put an end to your defiance. You don't think I've noticed that your Khajiit friend has been eating for two, these past few days?"
Habi froze. She looked down and put her palms against the ground. Please, Azura. Take me if you want, but let the children go.
"I don't know how you're doing it," Eola continued. "But I'm pretty smart, Habi. I think I'll find out soon enough. Perhaps I'll force you to eat whatever traitor has been providing the rats."
"Eola?" Banning staggered into view, rubbing his forehead. Habi never thought she'd be pleased to see the greasy Breton. "Whatdya need? You don't gotta worry, I've been making sure this one eats her food. Clean plate every night."
"Marvellous work," Eola said flatly. "If I need anything from you, Banning, you'll be the first to know. I'm going away for a day or two. Obey Lisbet and Aymdil's orders as if they were my own."
"Huh? Where are you goin'?" Banning stared after Eola's retreating form, dumbfounded.
"None of your concern."
"Hey! There's no way I'm taking commands from a greyskin. Eola!" Their voices faded as they went farther down the cavern, and Habi was relieved.
Danger, Habs?
Big danger. Habi wasn't sure how much Renji understood, but she had to make sure he was ready to act. Their leader is leaving, and when she gets back she's going to hurt us. All of us.
Renji shuddered. Leave soon. Habs, Renji and Jo must leave very soon.
Leave very soon, Habi grimly agreed. Leave, and no looking back.