The dremora keeper's corpse had been impaled in several places, and his mouth hung open as if still screaming. I searched the body apathetically, eventually turning up a heavy key of some black metal I'd never before seen outside Oblivion. I stood and returned the way I came.
The key fit perfectly into the lock that had burnt my lockpick, and I entered the subsequent room quietly, avoiding the spikes that reached out to impale me as I climbed the sloped hallway to the next area. At the top there was a glowing, sparking portal hovering in the air, waiting to take me to some unknown place, and I stepped onto it after a moment of hesitation. It brought me up to a feebly locked door, which I opened easily after a moment of my lockpick's time. Before I entered, I cast my detect life spell, revealing the forms of three – what I assumed to be – dremora. I put my back against the wall by the door and opened it cautiously, peering around the corner warily with my bow ready. The room inside appeared to be the top of the tower, and held a great, red, glowing half sphere set into the floor, through which the fiery column from below flowed. There was a set of jagged stairs on either side of the room leading up to a second level that ringed the room, and, at that level, suspended in the fiery column, was a large, stone-looking object. The Sigil Stone? The two closest dremora were on the lower floor, where I was, muttering to each other in their own tongue and looking utterly bored. The third I couldn't see, but from what my spell had revealed, I guessed it was on the upper level, perhaps guarding the stone suspended in fire.
I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the wall, into the doorway, my bow raised and ready. The dremora didn't see me. I released my arrow. The dremora on the left toppled over, an arrow embedded in his skull, and the second – dressed as a mage without armour – had but a moment to straighten up and come to the alert before I feathered two arrows into his chest. The third dremora looked over the edge of the upper level's balustrade, curious as to what had made the clanking sound that was the armoured dremora collapsing, and I raised my bow and shot an arrow at him, catching him in the throat just above the gorget of his armour. He staggered and fell back out of sight. I readied another arrow and nocked it, my eyes scanning for any movement, but there was none. Satisfied that the dremora had been dealt with, I put away my arrow and made my way up the stairs. There was a small outcropping of black stone leading out to the column of fire, and I cautiously stepped onto it, fighting back the fear that welled up inside me and the urge to stay far away from it. I lifted a hand and slowly moved it into the fire, ascertaining with trembling fingers that it was indeed of the same make as the Oblivion gate, and of no harm to me. I steeled myself and grasped the stone. The world lurched. I nearly let go of it as I caught my balance, then righted myself and tore it out of the fire with a determined heave. A roar filled the air. The ground began to shake. I clutched the stone to my breast and stumbled back. The pillar collapsed upon itself, then exploded in a rush of noise and light. I threw me back against the wall, winding me. Chains snapped, stone cracked, and metal groaned. I tried to stand. Something dark was approaching me, but everything was growing so bright I couldn't see. The rushing feeling I'd felt the first time I stepped through the Oblivion Gate began to fill me, but at the moment I was about to whisk away, I realized the darkness was the figure of a dremora. There was a distant roar, and then the cold, sharp sting of metal bit angrily through my armour and into the warm flesh of my side. I returned to Tamriel screaming.
In my world, it was cold, and night, and raining. I collapsed to my hands and knees, clutching at my wounded side as I tried to think through the pain. The Sigil Stone slipped from my grasp. A spell, a spell. I needed a spell. What were the words? How did I gather the power? I raised my watering eyes to see Savlian and the other soldiers rushing towards me.
"I knew you could do it!" the captain cheered as he neared. "This is our chance to launch a counterattack!" He reached a hand under my arm to yank me up, and I shrieked in pain. "You're wounded!" he cried, but I hurt too much to reply. It took all my willpower to keep my teeth firmly gritted as it was. There were some shouted words as I was lifted and carried back behind the barricade, and a few moments after I was settled there something cool and smooth was touched to my lips.
"Drink," Savlian's voice said roughly, and I did as best I could, although the liquid was bitter and I choked on it. Slowly then, the pain eased away to a dull throb, and I opened my eyes to see the faces of Savlian and the soldier I saved from Oblivion hovering over me.
"Well done, Ilend," the captain said, slapping the man on the back with a grim grin. "I think that saved her." I coughed, wincing as the pain flared up momentarily, and groaned.
"I think that dremora caught me just as I was leaving," I said with a hiss as I tenderly touched my side. The skin was barely knit – I would have to be careful, and my leather cuirass would need repairing. I sorely wished for the equipment I'd left behind in the Imperial Prison Guard's care.
"You like to play it close, don't you?" Savlian said, half-teasing, half-serious.
"I'm alive, right? I kept our bargain."
"Thanks to Ilend, here," he said, nodding his chin in the soldier's direction. "It was his potion that healed up that nasty hole in your side." I slowed in my survey of my body, lifting my eyes to Ilend's.
"I suppose that means were even, then. A life for a life."
He nodded.
"Did you… did you find Menien?" he asked. I lowered my gaze.
"He's dead," I said as gently as I could. "The daedra had him – he died helping me."
"By the Nine," Savlian swore, and Ilend turned away. I struggled to rise in the silence they kept, and looked over at the smoking heap that used to be the Oblivion gate, my thoughts empty.
"I need you to come with us," Savlian said after a moment, his voice heavy with reluctance and need. "You've got far more combat experience than any of these men, and I need everything I can get." I fixed him with my green eyed stare, but he didn't falter. "If you need a moment, I can wait, but not for long," he said. "We've got to move quickly before they have a chance to barricade the city gate." In my heart I knew he was correct: I probably had more fighting experience than the entire remnants of the Guard grouped together, the Altmer with his long life included. And they were in a sorry state. I glanced back at the ruined Gate, and nodded.
"I'm ready," I said in a sombre voice. "Let's go." A feral grin grew on Savlian's face at my words, and he drew his sword with great deliberation. He turned to his men, still smiling.
"For Kvatch!" he bellowed.
We drew our weapons and answered his cry, charging after him as he stormed the gate. The southern plaza where we entered was teeming with daedra, and I had not a moment to collect myself before I was in the fray. The soldier at my side fell almost instantly. I didn't have time to see if he got up. My arrows flew without cease as I ducked and dodged claws, swords, fangs, and fire. By the time every last scamp, clanfear, and dremora had been ousted, we were all weak and panting, but fortunately had only lost one of our members. The wound in my side ached, but I ignored it. Savlian's laughter rang out across the plaza.
"We wiped the bastards out!" he roared, half to me, half to the others. He clapped Ilend on the shoulder and revelled in our victory for but a moment before sobering again. "It's safe to pull those people out of the chapel now," he said. "Let's get in there and make sure they're all right. Come on! This is only the beginning of the battle for Kvatch. We can discuss the next phase once the civilians are safe." I nodded my assent along with the others, and then we headed for the ruined chapel.
Inside, the chapel was dark and quiet, as most chapels were, but it held the unmistakable scent of fear and death. There were a few civilians scattered about, praying, tending wounded, or simply staring off disbelievingly, but it was a pathetically small gathering all and all. A pair of guards stood near the doors, and they half drew their swords as we entered, as if expecting a fight, but relaxed when they recognized us as allies. It was the apparent leader of these, a Redguard woman, to which Savlian headed.
"Report, soldier," he barked, and she stood tall to attention.
"Sir, we're all that's left: Berich Inian, myself, and those civilians…" Her voice trailed off as I turned away. I had different quarry to find.
I moved deeper into the chapel, my eyes resting briefly on the Altar of Akatosh at the far end, but no soothing words of comfort or wisdom greeted my heretic ears. A woman moved by my side, pacing slowly and aimlessly, and I called out softly to her.
"Good woman, I'm looking for Brother Martin," I said. "Could you point him out to me?"
"Brother Martin?" she repeated in a strained voice, and for a moment I feared she would tell me he was dead. "Yes, he's right over there. He led a group of us here during the confusion of the attack. We owe him our lives." I was a little more impressed by the reiteration of this tale than the first time I'd heard it. I now understood, after all, a little better what the poor people of the city had faced.
I followed the line of the woman's arm as she pointed, and my eyes settled on the figure of an Imperial man kneeling at the side of a wounded soldier, his hands and face soft as he worked his magicka on him.
"Thank you," I said, and left the woman's side. As I approached him from across the chapel, Martin paused in his work to wipe at his brow with a tattered sleeve. I realized then that he had probably been hard at work healing others this entire time, and my distant respect for him again rose. I came to a stop beside him, waiting until he was finished his work to address him. He rose, glancing at me as he did so, and I was instantly struck by his blue eyes. Blue like the emperor's… like his father's.
"Do you need healing?" he asked in a weary voice I instantly liked. I shook my head.
"No, I'm... looking for you, actually," I said. "You are Martin, yes? The priest?"
Martin sighed, a weary, frustrated, drawn out thing.
"Yes, I'm a priest," he replied. "Do you need a priest? I don't think I'll be much help to you. I'm having a little troubled understanding the gods right now." His eyes narrowed as he glanced over at the altar. "If all this is part of a divine plan, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with it." He returned his gaze to me. "Are you here to help us? We've been trapped here since the daedra overran the city."
"Savlian Matius and the rest of the Guard are here to help everyone get to safety, yes, but I have a different task," I said. "You're in great danger. You have to come with me."
His expression darkened.
"Danger, you say? You came here to tell me this? The daedra are everywhere, of course there is danger! Explain yourself or leave me alone. There are many others here who actually need your help." I was taken aback by his practical and cynical reply.
"The only one who can help them is you, Martin. I'm just here to make sure you can do that."
He scoffed at my words.
"If you came to me for help," he said, "you're more of a fool than you look. Look around. What good is a priest?" I was a little offended by his remark, but reminded myself of what he was going through. It was already difficult enough for me, trying as I was not to think of the guild mates and friends that I'd lost to the daedra here, but for Martin, whose home this was, I could only just imagine his suffering.
"It's not your being a priest that can help. It's your blood," I told him. I glanced around uncomfortably. "Listen this isn't the place to tell you everything, but you must trust me. I was sent here by Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades. If you come with me, I can explain, and I promise your people will not be left to––"
"There you are! We've done it!" Savlian exclaimed, interrupting me as he strode up and clapped me on the back. I winced as my side protested. "I can't believe it," he continued. "I didn't really think this would work. Maybe we do have a fighting chance!" The expression on my face must have been something to behold, for he smiled darkly and clapped me on the back again. "Oh, yes," he said. "We're not done, not even close. This was only the first step. If this city is to be ours again, we'll need to get inside the castle. You've come this far with us. Will you go further? If we're truly going to succeed, I'll need much more of your help."
I clutched at my side as tears gathered in my eyes. All this back clapping hurt.
"Savlian, I..." I glanced to where Martin had been, and realized he was gone. I quickly scanned the chapel and saw him disappearing out the southern door, the wounded soldier leaning on his shoulder, and let my breath out through my nose. The Oblivion gate was closed; Martin would be safe at the encampment and able to help the wounded. He could remain here until Savlian was finished with me. After all, I'd grown fond of the captain and his soldiers in the short time I spent with them, and I owed it to Menien and my dead men to try and save the city. I faced Savlian again.
"Whenever you need me," I said, and he laughed.
"I knew you'd be up to it!" he said. "Our goal is the castle gate. We should be able to use this door" – he gestured to the northernmost door of the chapel – "to get out to the plaza in front of the castle gatehouse. You know the drill. Stick close, and keep your eyes open." He faced his men, who had formed up behind him. "Let's move out."
It was a long and bloody battle to the castle gate. Men and daedra fell right and left. Some rose. Others didn't. By the time we reached our objective, I was exhausted, and my wound was protesting furiously.
"Dammit! This is no good!" Savlian pounded on the gate with a mailed fist, but the solid bars didn't move. The other soldiers surrounded us, holding back the advancing daedra. "The gates are locked, and the only way to open them is from within the gatehouse."
"There must be some other way to get inside," I shouted over the roar of battle and rain. It had begun to piss in the time that we were inside.
"There's the passage at the North Guard House," he yelled back. "But that's always kept locked. You're the fastest. Go back and find Berich Inian. He should in the Chapel, and should still have the key to the Guard House. Once you've got it, get to the Guard House, find the passage, and open the gate. We'll get inside and secure it."
"Understood. I'll go as fast as I can," I replied, and then dashed off toward the chapel through a path Merandil and Ilend cut for me.
It took me longer than I liked to return to the Chapel, and I was bruised and bloodied by the time I pushed aside its heavy, wooden door. My spirits were lifted, however, by the sight of three Imperial soldiers entering opposite me. The leader, a big, burly, brown-eyed Imperial, stepped forward.
"We saw smoke from the Gold Road while out on patrol," he said. "How can we help?"
I let my breath out in a whoosh, grateful to whatever deity or circumstance that had led these men here.
"Follow me," I said. "The daedra are thick out there – I'll need help getting through to the Guard House."
The Imperial nodded.
"We'll be right behind you," he replied, and I glanced away to scan the room for Berich after gracing him with a thankful half-smile. Luckily for me, Berich – or who I assumed to be Berich, seeing as he was the only remaining soldier in the Chapel – was making his way to me. His one arm was in a sling.
"One moment," I said to the Imperial legionnaire, and then I turned and met the Kvatch soldier halfway. "Berich Inian?" I asked. He nodded.
"Do you bring new orders from Captain Matius? I'm itching for a chance to fight back!" His eyes flicked over to the wooden door, and he started when I spoke to him again, as if I had woken him from his thoughts.
"Do you have the guard house key?"
He met my eyes with a questioning frown.
"Yes, I have it. Why?"
"I need it to get into the Guard House," I replied. Behind me the Imperial Legionnaires waited patiently, each double checking equipment and speaking quietly about the situation. Berich sucked in his breath at my statement.
"That's right!" he exclaimed. "They managed to close the castle gates just before we were forced in here." His expression sobered darkly. "I'm afraid you're in for a rough time, friend. The city's in bad shape, and it will be difficult to make it to the Guard House by yourself. I'd better go with you."
"You're wounded and the Legionnaires are coming with me," I said with a wave in their direction. "You needn't put yourself in danger."
"You don't know the way," he argued, and I had to admit the truth of his words. "And you can use every blade you can get out there. My shield arm is gone, but I can still swing a sword. I'm coming with you."
I gestured to the Legionnaires, and they formed up behind me.
"As you wish, Berich. Your courage is admirable."
The grim thinning of his lips into what might have been a smile on happier days was the only response to my compliment.
"We'll have to go through the Chapel Undercroft," he explained, "and then through what's left of the city." He paused, lowering his eyes for a moment before continuing. "If… If I don't make it, take the key and carry on without me. You need to reach the tower at the north wall of the city."
I shook my head at his words, squarely meeting the eyes of him before glancing back and meeting those of the Imperial soldiers.
"We're going to make it," I said forcefully, daring them with my glare to argue. Berich said nothing, looking grim, and then gave a bare nod and drew his sword.
"This way," he said, and then we descended the steps in the middle of the Chapel and made our way into the dark room beyond them.
There were scamps inside, lurking between the pillars and hidden in ill-lit alcoves, but fortunately no one was hurt in the initial skirmishes. I briefly wondered why they hadn't appeared in the Chapel proper to attack the civilians as we sped past the underground tombs, but there wasn't time to think it through thoroughly. Berich took us through a side door, and then we were outside in the smoke and the ruin and the rain and the daedra. Fire exploded beside me, and one of the legion soldiers cried out. Berich held the point, slashing and stabbing as he raced from foe to foe, and I followed him, my armour spattered red with daedric blood.
We came into what once had been a central courtyard area for Kvatch, now crawling with scamps. The legion archer formed up beside me, and they perished quickly under our keen eyes, Berich and the other two protecting us from the ones who managed to get close. I noticed then that the taller one, the leader, was limping a little. He waved away my offer to heal him, and Berich nodded.
"We've got to keep moving," he said, and so we pressed on. It wasn't much farther to the North Guard House after that. We regrouped inside its burnt walls, Berich turning to us. "This is it. The entrance to the passage is right here." He gestured at a manhole-like covering situated in the tower's floor. A tarnished key appeared in his hand, and he knelt to unlock it. "If Captain Matius is waiting on you to get that gate raised, you'd better get moving," he added as he straightened. He met my eyes evenly after a glance at the Legionnaires. "I'm going to head back and meet up with the rest of the troops. Best of luck."
"To you too," I answered, and one of the Imperials behind murmured an assent. Berich ducked around us, and then we were alone. "Let me see your leg," I commanded of the brown eyed Imperial. "You aren't doing us any help walking around wounded like that."
He drew himself up.
"You're tired, Wood Elf," he said. "Anyone can see it. Save your magicka for someone who's dying – I'll be fine for the time being." I drew my lips into a thin line of displeasure, he was right. My spells were weak as it was; in my fatigued state I wasn't even sure I could heal him.
"Fine," I consented. "But if it worsens, tell me." He tipped his head in accordance, and then we filed down through the opening.
As I reached the bottom of the ladder built into the wall, heat washed over me. I turned my head to see fire greedily licking up the sides of broken shelving, and I flinched away while something deep inside me suppressed a stronger shudder. It had been some time since I had witnessed a horror like Kvatch, and it was all too easy to imagine the same fire eating up the bodies of the dead civilians and guardsmen. Beside me, the legionnaires formed up, the taller one managing with obvious pain. I said nothing. We had come to an agreement, after all.
The passage ran straight, and, mercifully, was clear of any daedra. I hopped up the stone stairs at the end as lightly as my body would bear me, and found myself in a circular room. After taking a moment to look, I discovered a set of rungs fixed to the wall, leading up to an exit like the one we'd used to enter. I waited for the others, then began my ascent.
We found ourselves outside, in the small passageway between the two portcullises that defended the castle. Savlian Matius and his men waited patiently, albeit with swords drawn, and I was relieved to see that no one else was missing from their party.
"I found reinforcements!" I called out to him as I hurried passed. "Has Berich arrived yet?" He shook his head, but his reply was lost to me as I scaled the steps leading up to the gatehouse. I struggled to turn the winch mechanism until the other swordsman at my side stepped up to help. He turned it easily, and I realized then just how exhausted I was. I hoped with sudden ferocity that no more fatal injuries would appear among our ranks – I wouldn't be able to help anyone if they did.
The gates rose quickly, and Savlian and his men pounded through the new opening, immediately engaging the daedra that poured forth from the other side. My legionnaires and I flew down to help them; arrows and battle cries reigned down from both sides. The fighting was furious. The worst part, however, was that we weren't just fighting scamps.
What we met in the streets must have just been the cleanup crew, for here our adversaries were thicker, stronger, and more powerful. A pair of clanfear rushed at me, and I succeeded in avoiding them only by chance. The guard behind me cried out as he was crushed by one's bony head against the outer castle walls. Fire flew and exploded all around us, guided by the sparking hands of flame atronochs, and one of the huge, leathery creatures I'd in Oblivion snapped at us with a mouthful of teeth and heavy claws. One soldier tried to engage it and was batted aside with ease. She lay, writhing in agony for a moment as she clutched her shattered arm. The legion archer behind me fired an arrow at it, and it lurched for him. Then Berich arrived.
"For Kvatch!" he screamed, and he threw himself at the creature. I shouted at him to stay back, to wait for us, but he refused to listen, or didn't hear me. I shot an arrow at the clanfear that had returned to finish its business with me, and suddenly there was a great, wailing screech that filled the air. I glanced back to see Berich with his sword in the monster's ribs. The clanfear lunged at me and I shot another arrow at it, throwing it off balance momentarily just as a fireball exploded beside me. I threw up an arm to protect myself from the debris. There was a particularly loud human scream, and something heavy collided with me, throwing me to the ground. I was instantly drenched in something hot and wet.
"Aah..." a voice moaned, and I realized that I had been hit with a person. I lifted myself to my elbows to find myself face to face with Berich. He had been ripped in half.
"Berich," I gasped, and then the clanfear from before was upon me. It hurled itself into my chest, picking me up off the ground and throwing me several feet before it descended upon me again, slashing at me with claws and snapping with its sharp, hooked beak. I kicked at its stomach; it squealed and backed away, giving me only a moment to draw my dagger before it leaped forward again, slashing with cruel claws. A faint whistle pervaded the air, and then an arrow thudded into the clanfear's side. It screeched and staggered, then collapsed as another sunk into its neck.
"The area is clear," I heard Savlian shouting. "We've got to get inside and find the Count before it's too late. Move out!" I briefly met the eyes of the Imperial archer who had saved me, but he headed out with the rest of them before I could thank him. I stood shakily, wincing at the ache in my ribs and the lightning pain that flashed through my injured side, and stumbled to Berich. His eyes stared sightlessly. I closed them and turned away.
"All right, this is it!" Savlian roared as I entered the Great Hall after everyone. Another of those monstrous creatures that had killed Berich approached, its claws extended and teeth bared in a vicious grin. "We'll hold this area," he growled to me as I drew closer. "You're the fastest, so you head to the back of the castle and find the Count. Don't come back without him!" I nodded and drew my sword. The creature lunged, and with a collective cry the soldiers descended upon it. I took the chance to escape.
It was eerie in the ruined castle. Furniture was broken and burning, and blood was everywhere. I startled a scamp that was feasting on a woman's flesh, and another one later that appeared to be eating what had once been someone's arm. After the clanfear, the scamps seemed easy prey, but I took no chances and slew them as quickly as I could.
The Count's chambers were no better off than the rest of the castle. The chandelier had fallen and lay in a ruined heap near the entrance. Fire raged. I stepped around the burning furniture, nervous and my hopes failing as a spattered blood trail appeared beneath my feet. I stopped as I entered the bedroom. The Count was dead, lying half mangled by hid bed.
With a sigh I sheathed my bow and bent down to the still body. It was cold, and, from the stiffness of its limbs, had been dead for some time now. I pried the signet ring off the Count's lifeless hand. Savlian would want proof that his beloved leader was dead. He could then deal with the body as he saw fit.
The trip back through the castle was uneventful, but the shattered look of hope of Savlian's face as I entered the Great Hall alone was worse than the Count's dead corpse. Behind him, Merandil and Ilend lowered their eyes as they tended to the bodies of their comrades. The monstrous creature lay dead in the corner.
"Where is the Count?" Savlian croaked, his voice rough from shouting orders. "Why is he not with you?" I licked my lips slowly, trying to decide how best to tell him. I settled on sympathetic honesty.
"I'm sorry, Savlian. He didn't make it."
His eyes widened; shock and disbelief ran rampant through his face.
"We… we were too late?"
He looked so broken that I reached forward to offer comfort, but then his face contorted in sudden rage and I stopped. "If only we'd gotten here sooner!" he shouted, kicking at a broken piece of furniture, and then, as suddenly as it had come, his fury vanished. He seemed to age before me. "This is indeed a dark day for all of us left," he said in a low voice. "But I thank you for risking your own life to help us."
"It was all I could do," I said, and he shook his head in disagreement.
"Did you find the Count's ring, by any chance?" he asked when I said nothing. I pulled forth the piece of jewellery and handed it to him. He took it, his face solemn. "At least this is safe," he said. He lifted his eyes to mine again. "Thank you. I'll make sure it is protected for the time when a new Count is crowned." He put it in his pocket, and then proceeded to begin removing his chainmail hauberk.
"What are you doing?" I asked, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. "There could still be daedra about."
"I don't care, and I want you to have this," he answered, handing it to me. "I have no need for it. I'm tired of fighting. But it may serve you well in days to come, and it looks like you need it." He nodded at my ruined cuirass.
"Savlian, I can't––" But I was stopped by the looks on Merandil and Ilend's faces. They were weary, worn, and watched me numbly. Savlian, their leader, was trying to thank me, and I was refusing him. Their morale was low enough as it was.
I met Savlian's eyes, and took the hauberk.
"Thank you," I said quietly, and proceeded to exchange it with my cuirass. When I had finished, I straightened up. He nodded in grim approval.
"It fits well," he remarked, and I dipped my head in thanks. He took the leather cuirass I'd removed and held it in bloodstained hands, shifting his weight uncomfortably. We were silent for a moment.
"My name is Sarasamacial," I said finally, and a noiseless laugh escaped him.
"You're right," he said. "I didn't know your name." He drew himself up. "Sarasamacial, the Hero of Kvatch," he proclaimed, and his echoing voice seconded the call. It was my turn to shift uncomfortably, unsure as I was whether or not I deserved such praise. When his echo had faded, Savlian spoke again. "We never would have made it if you hadn't closed that Oblivion Gate." I started to protest, but he cut me off. "It's true, so don't bother denying it. They say Kvatch was rebuilt from ruins once before, and she'll do it again. Thank you for giving us that chance." I glanced from grim face to grim face, touched by the gratitude and unsure of how to accept it. I reached into my pouch and drew out a handful of gold coins – all that I'd brought with me from Chorrol.
"Here," I said, taking one of his hands off the cuirass and pressing the coins into it. "To help rebuild. Think of it as my part."
He frowned, confused.
"You won't stay?" he asked. I shook my head.
"There were more than just good intentions in my reason for my coming here, Savlian. I'm glad that I helped Kvatch, but there are things that need my attention, things that may help stop whatever it is that's happening to Tamriel. However," I said with grave seriousness as I squarely met his eyes, "I will return when this is all over, and do what I can to help then."
He nodded, accepting my words, and I released his hand.
"Take care, then," he said, "and good luck with whatever it is you're doing." I smiled, briefly and weakly, and moved past him, nodding to Ilend and Merandil as I did so. With a heavy heart I pushed aside the weighty door and stepped out into the carnage of the outer courtyard. The Legion soldiers were there. At least, two of them were.
The taller one – the leader – and the archer had survived. The swordsman who had helped me with the winch hadn't. They had relieved him of his heavy Legion armour, and had him slung, limp, between them in an attempt to carry him out of the city. Their progress was hindered, however, by the taller's growing limp.
"Here, let me help," I said, moving to take the leader's place. He gratefully relinquished it, and followed us at his own slow pace. We made our way in silence, pausing only when one of us needed to rest our weary limbs. On one such pause, I studied the statue of Antus Pinder, but found no satisfaction in the knowledge that we had weathered our battle better than he, when Kvatch had first been razed to the ground.
By the time we reached the outer gates of the city, the night was well on and the rain had stopped. I helped the archer hoist his comrade's body onto the backs of one of their horses, and then helped him with his injured leader. When the archer himself was mounted, they turned to me.
"What is your name, Wood Elf?" the brown-eyed leader asked, his face showing none of the pain he must be feeling.
"Sarasamacial," I replied. "And yours?"
"Renegus Armillian," he said with a slight nod. "You're the one from the Fighter's Guild, aren't you? The one who dealt with the hist problem?"
"Yes. That was me."
He turned his horse, preparing to leave.
"The Legion will not forget your work here," he said. "Good luck." The archer nodded to me as he passed, and I watched them disappear down the switchback trail, the blue cloth we'd found in the Chapel fluttering around the limp form of their comrade. I wondered briefly how many people had died this day.
A raven took flight from a tree behind me, and I started at the movement. My side shrieked. I winced and clutched the offending part, hissing at the sudden burst of pain. My injury hadn't ceased complaining since the fighting began, but now that the adrenaline had faded from my veins and I had a moment to think, it raised its voice to a scream. I grit my teeth and called up my healing spell. The energy it drew from my limbs hurt almost more than my wound, but it faded peacefully as the ache in my side dulled by a degree. With a strengthening of my resolve, I set down the trail after the Legionnaires.
The sun was just rising by the time I arrived in the encampment. My Imperial friends were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed that they had continued on. There were few people out, and those that were had huddled around a small campfire to the left of the road, speaking quietly in low voices. I stumbled on a loose rock as I watched them, and pitched forward with a cry. The ground kissed my cheek with its gravely lips and nuzzled the heels of my hands as I landed, and I lay there with a groan afterwards, too exhausted to care. It felt nice to just lay there, unmoving, although my side felt like it had been ripped in half, which, I realized dimly, wasn't too far from the truth. Footsteps sounded in front of me, and I raised my head to wearily survey their source. An Argonian woman was making her way toward me. I struggled to lift myself.
"Here, let me help," she said in her rough voice as she knelt beside me. I winced and clutched a hand to my side as she took my arm, and she paused. "Do you need a healer?" she asked as her large, red eyes rested the wound hidden under my fingers and hauberk.
"No," I said with a gasp and a shake of my head. "I'll be fine, I just, ah!" – I grit my teeth as the pain overwhelmed me for a moment – "need rest." As far as I could tell her gaze was concerned, but she said nothing, choosing instead to accept my words and help me up. It took all of my willpower to hold back the whimpers my body wished to release, but I had a job to do.
"I'm told you are the one who closed the Oblivion Gate," she said as led me staggering toward the campfire. "I'm amazed. Thank you, on behalf of all Kvatch's refugees." Between the pain and her sincerity I didn't know what to say. Oh, it was my pleasure. Killing things is my job didn't quite seem appropriate, and neither did I was just doing it to get Martin, but it was all I could think of. Something at the back of my heart cringed away from her words, reminding me that I was wicked and cruel and didn't deserve her gratitude, but I ignored it.
"Thank you," I said once the pain was under control. "Can you tell me where Martin the priest is?"
She nodded and settled me down on a log that served as a seat by the fire.
"Here, have some," she said, and she filled a wooden bowl with the stew that bubbled over the fire pit before handing it to me. "It's the least we can do. You probably haven't eaten in a while, have you?" The others around the fire looked over at me, some with recognition and awe, others blankly. The Redguard from before was there, I noticed.
I reached for the stew with my free hand, my right hand, but stopped as the movement pulled at the stiff, healing skin of my side. I looked at her helplessly for a moment before gingerly lifting my left hand from its resting place and reached forward, trying to ignore the wave of pain that emanated from the spot. There was a gasp from the Argonian and the Nord woman beside me, and I looked down to see the side of my hauberk stained red from ribcage to hip. I met the Argonian's eyes, and then I fainted.