This is it. The final battle between Amori and Kazaka! Who will win? Will Delchkahn meet his doom in the forgotten chambers of MIscarcand? Or will he defeat Kazaka and the Night Mother? Read on to find out!
And now, we return to our feature presentation...
Seed-Neeus shuddered as she stepped up tot the door of Miscarcand, followind Amori closely. The above ground ruins were littered with broken stones and bits of clay, the once-beuatiful marble arches crumbling in upon theselves. The skeletons of goblins and bandits littered the ground, enemies Amori had fought long ago. The stone door to Miscarcand loomed ominously before her, small bloodstains evident on its worn surface. Amori opened the door, pushing the stone slab aside into its open position, and turned to face his group. "This is Miscarcand. Inside, we will have to evade traps, likely fight undead, and eventually, meet Kazaka and possibly the Night Mother herself. If any of you wish to leave, now is the time to do so." He paused, waiting for replies. He waited for what seemed like hours, and he heard no response. He sighed, and stepped to the side of the entrance, allowing his friends through. Soul-Swimmer was the last to enter Miscarcand, and as she passed him, Amori took her by the shoulder and pulled her around to face him, his face just a couple inches from hers. "Soul-Swimmer, I want… I want you to know, that no matter what happens, I will always be there for you." Soul-Swimmer looked up at him, and slowly, they kissed, holding their embrace as long as they could. Eventually, they broke out of the kiss, and gazed into each others' eyes. Holding hands, they descended into Miscarcand.
The Night Mother paced calmly before the line of prisoners, her arms crossed behind her back, her sons standing behind her. She smiled wickedly at the line of ragged Altmer, Khajiit, and Argonians, her thin lips curved ever so slightly upward. Her ebon skin reflected the torchlight like a sheet of obsidian, shadows dancing across her lithe form. She was clad in nothing but thin, silk robes, and she looked like a goddess of death. Slowly, she walked towards the prisoners, taking pleasure in their terrified expressions. "You all know why you're here, right?" she asked, her voice ringing eerily in the stone chamber like a set of chimes. She got no response, and she sauntered up to a tall, young, Altmer man, placing her hands on his chest. She smiled, and plunged an obsidian dagger into his heart, smiling wickedly, licking the blood off her lips as it splashed on her face. The man gasped, and slumped to the ground, the weight of his body pulling the line of prisoners in closer to it. "You're here to die," the Night Mother said simply. She laughed, the strange sound both evil and melodic at the same time; not a cackle, but a dangerous sound nonetheless. "The Dark Lord Sithis will feast on your blood, and will join us in this world! Your sould will be his bridge to Cyyrodiil, and when he arrives, Lord Sithis will reign supreme!" She laughed again, throwing her head back, her white hair falling over her shoulders. "Kazaka!" she called, and the golden-scaled Akavir came out of the shadows, black cloth spread across his dark armor.
"You called, Missstresss?" he asked, his words a snake's hiss.
"Begin the slaughter. Spare none save the Argonian wench and her family." Kazaka smiled, and drew a serrated, black dagger from within the folds of his robe. He walked to the end of the line of prisoners, and smiled as his victims' screams filled the air.
Amori crouched low to the ground, FlashFreeze in his hand, a glass arrow drawn across its bowstring. He crept through Miscarcand's dark corridors, ready for anything. More than once he had had to warn his friends of oncoming traps, and more than once he had almost lost his head. He cautiously led the group into a large chamber, and crouched even lower when he saw several skeletons in the room, accompanied by a nether lich. He counted seven skeletons in all, and the lich clutched what appeared to be a staff of lightning in its bony hand. Delchkahn signaled for the group to halt and draw their weapons, and he took steady aim at the lich's head, putting away the glass arrow, and insteaddrawing one of his explosive arrows: arrows that spread the magical effects placed on them by a bow over a 15 fot radius. He lined his sights up with the circlet on the undead wizard's head, aiming just above the direct cranial case, and let fly. The arrow whistled throught the air, and the lich turned just in time for the arrow to drill straight between its cold, dead eyes. The lich howled, and its head exploded in a bright flash, electricity and ice lancing throughout the room. The skeletons howled as their bones suffered the stress of the elements, and two of them crumbled into piles of dust on the spot. Delchkahn and his friends stood up and charged the skeletal champions, swords readied. Soul-Swimmer held an enchanted glass scimitar called Song in her right hand, clutching its ornate hilt tightly. It was about 3.5 feet long, its thin, blue blade curving gracefully along its length. A strip of silver ran along the back of the blade, and its hilt was a dark, mystical blue. It seemed to reflect all the colors of the rainbow, the wash of color running down its blade as it sliced through the air. She wore a suit of armor crafted of the same material as sond, perfectly molded to her body. It was smooth and graceful, and seemed to shift as Soul-Swimmer changed fighting styles: when she was trying to remain hidden, the armor darkened to a deep blue, swallowing light into itself, and when she wasfighting openly, it reflected bright colors onto surfaces around her. In her left hand, she held a bright blue shield, shaped like a fast-falling raindrop. Its surface was smooth, and slightly rounded to dissipate the force of impacts. She thought back to when she had received these items; they had been gifts from Delchkahn, gifts from when she had completed her training. Soul-Swimmer was jostled back to the present as she narrowly dodged a strike from a glass claymore wielded by a skeletal champion. She nimbly leapt to the side, the blade flying past her body, only an inch between her body and its edge. It smashed intot he stone floor with a resounding ring, and she took the opportunity to attack the skeleton. Soul-Swimmer lashed out with Song, slicing into the skeleton's ribcage. As it made contact with the ribs, it sliced cleanly through three of the bones, and a beautiful pitch resonated in the air. Soul-Swimmer was shocked; she had never used Song in combat before, and she now knew the power of the sword. It was almost like the blade slipped through its targets without actually striking them, and as it did, produced a pitch that would vibrate through her enemy's body and stun them. The skeleton jerked suddenly, its body becoming stiff as a board, and Soul-Swimmer brought her sword down on its neck, cleanly decapitating it. A bright tone rang through the air as the blade passed through the skeleton's spine. The skeleton's body hung headless in the air for a moment, then collapsed to the ground, almost seeming like it was sighing as it fell. She stared in shock for a few moments; how could Song have done that? She heard a loud clang, and turned to see Amori dispatching the final skeleton. He wiped the dust from his blade and walked over to Soul-Swimmer.
"Wow," he chuckled. "I made that sword, but never expected it to do what it just did!" Soul-Swimmer looked down dumbly at the sword in her hand, its blue blade humming musically. "I expected it to have lighning based and slight paralysis effects, but this?" He held his jawfor a moment, pondering as to why the sword he had given his lover had the amazing effects it did. "Tell me; did you name it?" Soul-Swimmer nodded.
"I named it Song. I don't know why, but something inside me told me that that was its name." Amori nodded, grinning slightly.
"The sword's truly yours, then."
"What makes you say that?" Soul-Swimmer asked confusedly.
"Song told you its name," Amori replied bluntly. "When I named FrostFire, I felt the same feeling towards its name. FrostFire told me its name, and it is much less effective in anyone else's hands. You saw what it did when I fought Kazaka: it was incredible! Song is far more than an ordinary sword; take good care of it, and it will protect you." As Amori stopped talking, both he and Soul-Swimmer noticed that Song was humming an actual tune: an ancient Argonian lullaby that had been passed down through the generations. Both of their parents had sung it to them when they were children. The song died down, and the blade continued to whisper and , Amori felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Seed-Neeus, her eyes determined.
"Let's go save my daughter," she said, anger in her voice. Amori guided the group around the square trap in the center of the room, but stopped as he noticed the ten corpses on the platform. They were Khajiit, manacled and in chains. Four of them were children. Delchkahn gritted his teeth, and led his friends through the door, and into Morimath.
Padfoot stood stock still in fear. She dared not turn her head to look at the prisoner next to her. She heard his whimpering and his pleas for mercy, then she heard a wet slice, and a dull gargle as the Argonian man's body slumped to the ground, blood pouring from his jugular. She turned her head ever so slightly, and saw Kazaka licking the blood from his dagger, grining, his black eyes gleaming. He strode over to her, smiling maliciously. He stepped behind her, and thrust his cold, black dagger up against her neck. She lifted her head slightly, her heart pounding as tears began to spill from her green eyes. "Sso," whispered Kazaka into her ear, his long, black tongue flicking past her face as he spoke, "it'ss your turn!" He laughed, and pressed the blade up against her throat. She gasped as she felt the cold blade slice her skin ever so slightly, and felt the blood trickling down her neck. "You know," Kazaka said thoughtfully, "it's been a long time since I fed!" Before she could understand what he meant, the Akavir plunged his fangs into her neck. She made a small choking noise as he drank her blood, growing weaker by the second. Satisfied, Kazaka withdrew his bite before Padfoot lost consciousness. "Mmmm," he whispered, savoring the taste of Padfoot's blood. "That was delicssiouss!" Padfoot began to truly weep, tears streaming down her face.
"Please… I want to live!" she said, her words choked by sobs. Kazaka clicked his tongue, feigning sympathy.
"I know, I know. We all do, don't we?" He laughed, an evil, rasping sound issuing from his throat. "But some of us just have to die!" Just as he was about to tear out the poor girl's windpipe, however, the stone door to Morimath was flung to the ground. He stopped, and looked to see what was happening. As the dust cleared, he grinned: Amori was standing in the rubble of the ancient door, his friends and his lover close by. His revenge was at hand!
Amori blinked rapidly as the dust settled, clearing the dirt from his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw Kazaka, the Night Mother, the Black Hand, a group of Brotherhood Initiates, and along line of dead prisoners on the stone pyramid at the center of the room. Kazaka held a young Khajiit girl close to him, a black, serrated dagger at her throat. Next to the girl stood Dar-Ma and her family: Dar-Ma's husband held her in his arms, and between the two was a crying baby boy. Seed-Neeus gasped; that was her family! Amori glared at Kazaka. "Let her go Kazaka!" he demanded, enraged at the slaughter of so many innocents. "Come down here and fight!" Kazaka laughed, and pulled his dagger away from Padfoot's neck. Just as she let out her breath, however, he plunged its blade into her belly. She screamed as the dagger pierced her flesh, blood flying from her mouth as Kazaka brutally twisted the dagger. He pulled it out of her body, and a stream of blood poured from her maw, spilling onto the ground as her body collapsed. "No!" Delchkahn cried, angry that he wasn't able to save the young Khajiit. Kazaka laughed, and leapt down from his perch atop the pyramid. He hit the ground, not even rolling to dissipate the considerable impact. It was then that Delchkahn noticed Kazaka's eyes. He turned to his friends, his eyes frantic. "Everyone, stay back!" he cried before rushing at Kazaka. He swung FrostFire, expecting it to decapitate Kazaka, who had not yet even drawn his sword. To his great surprise, his blade met metal. He opened his eyes, and saw Kazaka standing calmly before him, DeathFang in his hand, blocking FrostFire, its black blade dripping green liquid. Amori smirked. "So, you truly are a Deathborn." Kazaka laughed.
"A gift from the Night Mother,"he said, motioning to his sword. "Come, master, let's dance!" For the second time, Amori and Kazaka engaged in combat. Their swords flashed through the air, clashing into each other with resounding tones. Amori was forced onto the defensive, and his shield soon took so many hits from Kazaka's blade that it snapped in two. Amori grinned, and threw the broken shards to the ground, gripping his katana with both hands. He and Kazaka fought like they were engaged in a mad waltz, twirling around each other, their blades flashing in the torchlight, their feet moving with blinding speed. Slowly, they made their way up to the top of the pyramid, and the Brotherhood cleared the battlefield of everything other than corpses. The stone staircases slid into the ground, and now Amori and Kazaka fought on a small, stone tower: one small slip and the other combatant would fall to their doom. Amori opened his consciousness to his sword, and his eyes began to glow with blue flames, FrostFire leaving burning trails in the air. He dodged a swipe from DeathFang, and lunged at Kazaka. The evil Akavir dodged to the side, and swept his blade low, lunging forward, trying to cut off Amori's legs. Delchkahn jumped over the fearsome Akavir, doing a full flip before landing behind him. He brought his sword down, but Kazaka had rolled onto the ground and blocked with dDeathFang. Everyone in the room watched as the two fighters battled, their movements a beautiful dance of death. Amori drove Kazaka to the edge of the pillar, and finally shoved him off. Kazaka caught the ledge, and launched himself over Amori's head. He landed behind the Argonian, and punched him in the back. Amori screamed in agony as he felt two of his ribs snap under Kazaka's fist and fell to the ground. As he got up, Kazaka punched him across the jaw, sending him sprawling onto the stone floor. Amori had readied FrostFire when Kazaka kicked it out of his hand, sending the katana skittering over the edge of the pillar. He placed his black sword against Amori's neck, and the two glared at each other.
"Do it!" Delchkahn spat, prepared for what was to come. Kazaka grinned and pulled back his arm. Time seemed to slow down for Amori as Kazaka's blade came down towards him. He heard Soul-Swimmer scream, he heard Kazaka laugh, and then, most peculiarly, Kazaka froze. He looked down, and saw a small, black piece of metal protruding from his chest: his dagger. He turned his head, and saw Padfoot standing behind him, he stomach still bearing the wound that had killed her. Kazaka looked confused as she pulled the blade out from his back. He turned around and slumped to his knees.
"How did you ssurvive?" he asked, bewildered. Padfoot had tears in her eyes, and she pulled her lips back into a feral snarl. Her canines were far longer than normal, and her green eyes were already flecked with red.
"You made me a vampire, you bastard!" She screamed in fury, and plunged the black dagger into Kazaka's skull. He smiled, and his body began to dissolve into wisps of smoke. He rose to his feet, grinning. He turned to face Amori as his body dissolved, and said "We will meet again, when the four nations become one!" Then his head dissolved into smoke, and the dagger clattered to the ground. The stone staircases rose from the floor: Kazaka was gone.
Padfoot stared at herself, watching the wound in her belly close. Suddenly, she became very dizzy, and slumped to the ground. Everything was a blur; she saw a young Argonian woman run up the stairs to the purple Argonian man that lay on the platform, and she saw the Night Mother and the Black Hand slowly walk up the stairs as well. The last thing she remembered was falling off the edge of the platform, and everything went black.
Soul-Swimmer and Delchkahn embraced at the top of the pillar. Suddenly, they heard a clapping from behind them. They turned, and saw the Night Mother and her five sons. The Dunmer woman clapped her hands steadily, a smirk on her face. "So, you managed to defeat my servant," she said tauntingly. The platform sank into the ground, and the Black Hand rushed at the group of adventurers, one for each of them. "Let's see how you fare against my sons!"
Amori had barely picked up his sword as he blocked an attack from one of the Night Mother's sons. The Dunmer was a tall and muscular young man, but was obviously the oldest of the five brothers. "I am Soroth, eldes son of the Night Mother, and Listener of the Black Hand." Soroth smiled. "I will take pleasure in killing you today!" He drew his blade back, and lunged at Amori. Delchkahn rolled to the side, out of the way, calling on his blade's power. He felt it surge through him, and luinged at Soroth. Their blades clashed again and again as the two circled each other, each wielding their sword in both hands. Licks of flame spat through the air as the combatants gought, and the temperature around them dropped considerably. The two fought, long and hard, their blades striking each other effortlessly. Amori leapt backwards, dodging a swing from Soroth, and rolled forwards, his blade leading as he got to his feet. Soroth sidestepped calmly, and brought his blade down. Amori felt a searing pain, and knew that something was missing. He looked down, and saw his left hand lying on the ground in front of him. He screamed in agony, and slashed wildly at Soroth. The Dunmer neatly sidestepped each swipe, not even breathing heavy. He rammed the hilt of his sword into Amori's gut, and punched Delchkahn across the face. Just as he was about to land the finishing blow, however, he felt something both hot and cold in his gut. He looked downm, and to his horror, saw Frostfire imbedded up to its hilt in his stomach. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his corpse fell to the ground.
Rhiihaaj barely dodged the oncoming sword from the small Dunmer in front of him. He was fighting Koth, second son of the Night Mother. He had a hard time keeping up with the small man's dual wielding and deadly pace, barely managing to block each attack. He leapt back, and felt a sudden pain in his knees. He looked down, and saw Koth's two shortswords imbedded into his kneecaps. He cried out in pain, and slumped to the ground, rolling out of the way as Koth's blades came down where his chest was just a second ago. He rolled again and again as Koth's blades came down rapidly, each time only barely missing their mark. Suddenly, he felt Koth's foot on his chest. He looked up, and just as Koth's swords were about to pierce his neck, he thrust his sword upward. The tip caught Koth in the chest, impaling him through the heart. The small Dunmer's eyes grew dim, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.
Sehiiri fought, her arms growing tired as she twirled and spun through the battle with Sekethon, third son of the Night Mother. He was entirely unremarkable: about average Dunmer height and he had the usual white hair and black skin. Only one feature stood out about him: his eyes were pitch black. She felt a pain in her arms, and looked to either side. Each of her elbows had a blade sticking through them. She ducked to the side, and kicked Sekethon in the chest. She dodged his attacks jumping backwards through the chamber. Suddenly she felt the wall against her back; she was trapped! Sekethon slowly strode forward, a grin on his face. His arrogance would be the last mistake he ever made. Sehiiri jumped up, and using her neck to propel herself off the wall, cought Sekethon's head between her legs. As she fell to the ground, she snapped his neck.
Ka-Mala screamed in pain as she felt her arm snap. She ran from Doruth, fourth son of the Night Mother, launching blasts of lightning behind her. She found herself cornered against a wall, trapped. Doruth calmly walked over to her, and drew two small daggers. One he used to fasten her other arm to the wall, and with the other, he began to carve a path in Ka-Mala's abdomen. She screamed as the blade sliced into her flesh just under her ribcage and was drawn to along her ribs to the center of her belly. She screamed as Doruth slowly carved a path down her belly, tracing her abdominal muscles with his dagger. Suddenly, he ripped the dagger straight up, and she saw her intestines spill out onto the floor, a bloody, mangled heap. Doruth laughed as he pulled his dagger out of her arm. She slumped to the ground, faintly recalling a spell she had invented long ago. Suddenly, she reached up and grabbed Doluth's face. "Wha- What are you doing?!" he vried as he felt his life begin to ebb away.
"It… It's a spell I created long ago," Ka-Mala said, her breath coming in short gasps. Doruth screamed as he felt his insides being liquefied and pulled out of his body by Ka-Mala's hand, flowing into her body and healing her wounds, replacing her missing vital organs. He screamed as he felt his muscle and organs seep out through his face, and finally, his brain went. His eyes dimmed, and he slumped to the floor, his only remains a ragged sack of skin and bones.
Soul-Swimmer struggled to make pace with the tall, skeletal Dunmer she fought. He had no weapon, but every time she swung her blade, he pressed the flat of his hand into the flat of her sword, neutralizing its effectiveness. He was Solok, fifth and final son of the Night Mother. She backed up as he drove forward, unable to push him back despite his lack of weapons. He paused as they heard his last remaining brother scream in agony, and saw his withered hisk fall to the ground. Solok smiled, and began to speak, his voice terrible and ghostly. "You know," he said, a smile spread across his gaunt face, "I should thank you and your friends for killing my brothers. You see, I am a far better servant to Sithis than they ever were!" Soul-Swimmer grunted.
"Why's that?" she asked, mocking Solok, swinging song forward, only for him to catch the flat of the blade again.
"Because," he replied darkly, "I've died five times!" Soul-Swimmer gasped, and that was all Solok needed. He snapped her arm like a twig, turned Song around, and plunged it straight into her heart. She gasped, and coughed up blood. Suddenly, she felt something odd. Song liquefied, and flowed into her body. Her wounds healed, and she could feel the blade surging through her arm, mending the broken bones. She could feel the energy of the blade, could feel it healing her, helaing her to a point where she was healthier than when she was injured. The next thing she knew, her arm was extended, and Song was embedded in Solok's head. The undead Dunmer screamed, and his body crumbled into dust.
The Night Mother grinned evilly as she watched her sons die; she now had all the souls she needed to summon sithis. All that was required was the final sacrifice. She drew the sacrificial blade, and strode over to Dar-Ma and her family. Before they could ask, she cast a paralysis spell on them She raised the blade over her head, and just as she was about to bring it down on Dar-Ma, she felt an impact to her side. It was Seed-Neeus: the Argonian woman was enraged, a dagger in her belt, and she was beating the Night Mother mercilessly. "NOONE TOUCHES MY DAUGHTER!" she screamed, punching the night mother across the face. The Night Mother caught her arm, and pulled her to the ground. The two rolled, exchanging blows, until finally, the Night Mother plunged her dagger into Seed-Neeus' breast. The Argonian woman gasped, and Dar-Ma's eyes widened as the Night Mother's spell broke.
"MOTHER!" she screamed, sobbing. The Night Mother got up, wiping the blood from her face. She walked over to Dar-Ma, who was tightly held in Dra-Shek's arms. She brought the blade over her head.
"Lord Sithis!" she cried, her voice that of a zealot. "Accept this offering and join us! Join us, and take you rightful place as ruler of all Thamriel!" Suddenly, blood flew from the Night Mother's mouth. A dagger protruded from her chest, its tip coated in blood. She turned her head, and saw Seed-Neeus, blade in hand. She coughed up more blood as the Argonian storekeeper twisted the dagger brutally.
"Noone… no one touches… my daughter!" gasped Seed-Neeus, and the Night Mother fell. The chains on Dar-Ma and her family dissipated as the Night Mother died, and Seed-Neeus fell to the ground. Dar-Ma ran to her mother's side. She held her baby in one hand, and held her mother's head in the other. Her Seed-Neeus coughed, and Dar-Ma began to sob.
"Mother!" she cried. "Don't leave me!" Seed-Neeus looked up into her daughters eyes, smiling.
"Dar-Ma… let me see my grandson. Let me see him one last time." Dar-Ma nodded, and held her son to her mother's face. Seed-Neeus smiled as the baby came into her view, his bright red scales glinting in the torchlight. "Ah…" she said, smiling. "He's going to grow up strong, just like his parents. Dra-Shek?" She coughed, and Dar-Ma's husband crouched down next to his mother-in-law.
"Yes, what is it Seed-Neeus?" he asked, holding her hand in his.
"Take care of Dar-Ma for me." Seed-Neeus coughed violently, her eyes starting to glaze over. "I… I can feel it. I can feel Akatosh's fires in the heavens."
"No! Mother!" cried Dar-Ma, but there was nothing she could do.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," said Seed-Neeus. She coughed one last time, and her eyes rolled up into their sockets. Seed-Neeus had died.
Oh my. When I started writing this, I didn't expect Seed-Neeus to die! I really think I may have dug myself into a hole, though. I mean, I cut off Amori's hand! He's a swordsman, and also an archer! I'm not sure how I'm going to repair this one... Anyways, I would like to see who thinks that the next chapter should be the last one before I start writing the actual sequel to this story, and who thinks I should just continue this one. If there's a sequel, I could have a slight jump in time, if I continue, Delchkahn and Soul-Swimmer would have to keep fighting defore reaching any kind of stability! Basically the difference is either a tragic beginning to a sequel and a start to a new story arc, or an action-type blend into a new story arc. Please respond to this; it's important!
BTW, I have a poll up about this story in case anyone's interested...
My normal quote isn't up here. It went on strike because I didn't end with a cliffhanger.
-Baeowulf