XII
"Scatter!"
Vinye didn't need telling twice from Cosette. As soon as Ugluk launched forward straight for them, she'd leapt off to the right, while Malys and Cosette had jumped left. Her sizzling hands were throwing lightning bolts aplenty at the charging Orc, but the Daedric armor was well enchanted indeed—the bolts that did hit Ugluk were hardly even slowing him down, thanks to the magic resistance imbued within it.
Vinye frantically unclipped Kinsbane from her belt, and swung at Ugluk as she tried to sidestep him. But the Orc was too fast and too well armored; the elven blade barely made a dent in all that Daedric armor, and air whooshed from Vinye's stomach as Ugluk shoulder-checked her just as he had that giant from before. Only at the last second did she avoid certain death; by twisting her body and going with the impact, Ugluk's spiked armor only ripped through the Altmer's robes, rather than the rest of her.
She tumbled into the snow, and wasted no time in twisting her body to the side—again not a moment too soon; Ugluk's ancestral hammer thudded into the snow right where her heart had been. Somersaulting backward, with an agility fueled by the adrenaline rush of a true fight to the death, Vinye let loose with two more bolts to Ugluk's cuirass. They didn't even faze him.
Damn!
Ugluk raised his hammer, and Vinye knew she had no time to scramble again. But a cry from far off distracted them both—and Ugluk stumbled as two fireballs hit him just under his chin. The enchanted armor dispelled the worst of it—but the blasts had given Vinye enough time to make her escape.
She got to her feet just in time to see Cosette run towards them, Forsworn blades in each hand. "Cover me!" screamed the Breton. Malys was already preparing to attack, and Vinye followed suit with yet more lightning.
While the two elves double-teamed the Orc from behind Cosette, the Breton charged with her twin swords aloft—holding one like a javelin. She thrust it at Ugluk's unprotected head, but he deflected it with a quick twist of his hammer, disarming Cosette. But Cosette's other blade was already bearing down for his face, ready to slice off his head at the neck; the hammer was too bulky to block it in time—
But again, Ugluk did the impossible; he moved his head several inches to the right—and caught the crude sword with his teeth.
The mages stared in shock at this supreme act of reckless behavior. Cosette was especially thunderstruck, and her wide-open mouth made her look quite like a gaffed fish—even more so as the Orc crushed the weapon in his mouth, breaking the blade in two. It was especially impressive, Vinye thought, because Ugluk's teeth had not completely stopped the momentum of the attack; the serrated ivory points of the blade had wedged themselves into the Orc's lips, ripping into his mouth in such a way that he now had a very ghastly smile that showed every last one of his brick-like teeth and tusks.
But even as they stared at this horrific sight, the regenerative magic in Ugluk's armor was taking effect; the mangled flesh was knitting itself back together right before their eyes. Ugluk stretched his jaw, which made a few sickening pops and cracks, and growled a single word in Orcish glee.
"More."
Vinye had never seen anyone run as fast in her life as Cosette was running now—backwards, no less. The Breton's hands were almost a blur, she was releasing her firebolts so fast. "What are you waiting for?!" Cosette screeched. "Give me some damn cover!"
None of them needed telling twice, and they bombarded the Orc with fire, ice, and lightning.
"Aim for the head!" Vinye yelled in the confusion. That was the one part of him that wasn't protected by his Daedric armor—but the armor still made Ugluk's head look comparatively tiny. Cosette's fire magic would have little trouble hitting it, but Vinye knew that both and Malys were more precise in their attacks—and with such a small and quickly moving target, precision might not be enough.
However, as the three mages continued to besiege Ugluk over the next view minutes while simultaneously evading his soul-trapped hammer, Vinye was beginning to notice a pattern in his movements. Ugluk had nothing in the way of ranged combat—the Orc could only rely on his extreme speed to close the gap between them. And when he did so, he charged in a straight line; this made him very open to a counterattack—if he had been alternating his movements, zigzagging to confuse his enemy, then the mages might already be dead.
Ugluk charged toward Malys, who was clearly not prepared; the Dunmer tried to scrabble away—and then her hands erupted in dark red energy that Vinye had never seen before. Somehow she doubted this was a spell she'd known in the past. And the color …
The scarlet-colored magic hit Ugluk full in the chest, and he staggered back with a surprised grunt. Vinye's mouth dropped open—that Malys had been able to finally score a hit on Ugluk was one thing, but the magic she was using was incredible. If Vinye concentrated, she could actually see the scarlet energy washing over Ugluk's armor, and seeping little by little into the gaps between the plates.
Ugluk dropped his hammer in the snow, and raised his hands up to chest level, staring at them in confused terror.
"My enchantments … " he could only manage to say. Then he looked at Malys, and his expression turned murderous. He did not say anything—merely raising his hammer and charging with another loud, angry bellow—but there was no doubt that he'd clearly arrived at the same conclusion as Vinye.
That was vampire magic.
"I'll crush your spine to paste!" roared Ugluk in fury as he charged for Malys.
Malys followed up this display of power with several more ice spikes in rapid succession. Ugluk, still absorbed in whatever Malys had done to him, tried to duck aside this time, but he moved too late. Several spikes burrowed themselves into his armor; it was still thick enough to stop the worst of the attack, but the shards had clearly penetrated the armor—and Ugluk's reaction told Vinye that they had grazed some vital points.
"He's weak!" Malys hollered at them. "But I'm not doing enough dam—augh!"
Ugluk, swinging in a blind, panicked rage, had caught Malys with the side of his hammer. Somehow, the soul trap didn't go off—Malys had survived that one hit, whether by her unique body or out of sheer luck. But the vampire was still no match for the hammer's momentum; Malys was lifted off her feet, and crashed into a nearby snowbank and did not move.
No! Vinye thought. She saw Cosette sprint over to Malys; the Breton had reclaimed her remaining blade, and was using her other hand to try and heal Malys of her injuries, while holding her sword aloft to block Ugluk's attack—for all the good it would do; against a Daedric hammer of that size, she might as well have been holding up a willow switch to stop a rampaging mammoth. To make matters worse, her frantic healing spells weren't healing Malys' wounds quickly enough—if at all.
Cosette seemed to notice that she was at a disadvantage here, and so she backed away from the Dunmer's prone form, drawing Ugluk away from finishing off the Dunmer once and for all. At the same time, Ugluk's back was turned to Vinye, and the Altmer took this as a sign to keep up her barrage, and so—after taking the quickest of drafts from a potion to restore some of her magicka, while Cosette was still fighting—Vinye did just that, stitching the distance between the two with one bolt after another.
The Breton, meanwhile, had sheathed her blade, and was now releasing a continuous stream of flames from each hand. While Vinye had replenished her reserves with that potion, she'd managed to conjure an atronach as well, and the flaming construct was following suit. It was just as well that Cosette was an able conjurer, Vinye thought—they would need as many extra hands as they could spare to bring this Orc down.
And the flames from both Cosette and her summon were definitely having an effect on Ugluk, the Altmer could see. The Orsimer was beginning to sweat from the pressure, and while this could easily be dismissed as a remnant of fear from Malys' spell, it was also possible that the same armor that made Ugluk nearly invincible was beginning to work against him. Maybe the Daedric-forged armor could withstand Cosette's flames, but there was no blocking the heat that came with the fire—and Vinye suspected that the Orc who was wearing that armor was being boiled alive!
Sure enough, Ugluk was moving much more slowly than before, and he was beginning to stumble. Cosette and her atronach moved in closer, continuing to press on their attack.
"We need more numbers!" Cosette called out to her. "Get out an atronach!"
Vinye shook her head. "I can't!"
Cosette spluttered. "What? Why?" Her flames were beginning to burn lower.
"I—can't!" spluttered the Altmer.
The Breton's eyes widened, and despite the situation, she scoffed in annoyance. "Vinye, I don't give a rat's arse if you have to use a scroll! Just give us an atronach, damn it!"
"I don't want to hurt anyone!" Vinye blurted out, before she could stop herself …
The Hall of the Elements was quiet now; the hour was late, and all of the students had returned to their beds—all except for her, at least. She had been determined to show the Arch-Mage that she truly belonged here.
And so it was that she sat down in front of the magickal font that formed the centerpiece of the hall. The chin-high stack of ancient tomes in her hands was set reverently upon the ground, and she wasted no time in cracking open the topmost one on the pile.
Hours passed, where she moved her lips soundlessly, repeating words and instructions under her breath in arcane tongues, and her eyes skimmed over the faded writing so quickly that they would appear blurred to an outsider. The pile of unread books gradually shrunk with each passing hour.
Morning came, and still she did not move from her spot. Other students were beginning to congregate in the hall, and the more advanced of the lot were already practicing spells of their own. Were she less occupied, she might have scoffed at them. Fear spells, fireballs and magickal armor—none of them would suffice for her. She wanted to impress—to finally be accepted at a school that deserved the term!
Then she saw a few of the instructors. She recognized Faralda from the entrance to the College—having had to cast a few mage-lights in rapid succession to gain entrance to the gate. At her side was a grizzled but kindly-looking Nord. Immediately, she knew that this was her chance. She closed the tome, set it aside, and stood in the center of the Hall.
She raised a hand, and began chanting her incantation at the top of her voice. As the arcane words echoed around the hall, students turned to stop and stare, intrigued by the ambitious elf before them.
Now.
Her hand glowed purple, and after she concentrated every last bit of magicka inside her that she could muster, she slammed her hand on the plinth. There was an explosion of light, sound, and bright purple fire, and as soon as she heard the sound of electrified rocks grating against each other, she knew she had succeeded.
Until the first of the lightning bolts hit.
The students had backed away, and their wariness at seeing what the young Altmer before their eyes had conjured was all that saved them. They ducked behind the pillars of the Hall, and the first bolt from the monstrosity exploded harmlessly against the window, shattering a pane and filling the Hall with the thin scream of Winterhold's wind.
Screaming, too, were the students as two more bolts, then three, and finally an entire storm's worth of incandescent energy filled the Hall. Pandemonium ensued within a matter of seconds, and the instructors were powerless to rein it in.
Their shouts could be heard over the commotion. "It's gone rogue!" "Get the students out of here, now!"
She did not hear them; she nearly bowled over a short, red-haired Breton in her haste to leave, and tears of humiliation streaked down her face. For all her research and preparation, she had made a novice's error.
She had failed.
"Damn it, Phinis, why isn't it contained?!"
"It's too strong! That lightning breaks my wards like they're nothing!"
"Tolfdir, send for the Arch-Mage, now!"
She fled up the nearby staircase as the old Nord she'd seen earlier ran up the opposite flight of stairs. A scrum of students followed behind, ushered by some of the more levelheaded bunch out into the courtyard. Everyone was too much in a hurry to notice she was there, and even if someone had doubled back for another look, she had already disappeared up the stairs and through the door.
Any other day, the sight that now lay before her would have left her awestruck. Books upon shelves upon walls of arcane literature greeted her. For an elf who had devoted her life to gaining enough magickal strength to maintaining her anonymity—and disposing of any Dominion troops in the way—this was her sanctuary.
For now, though, all she wished for was a place to hide—somewhere she could curl up and cry. It was just like Falinesti all over again. Her magic had run amok … and people had been hurt in the process—perhaps even killed.
She was undisciplined, unruly, and out of control—just like the atronach raging in the Hall below her.
How could she live with herself now?
… "Innocent people have died because of me!" Vinye cried. "I don't want anyone else to get hurt!"
As Cosette looked at Vinye, jaw slack, the last of her magicka was expended, and the last of her fire flickered and died in her hand.
And then Ugluk lunged at them so quickly that Cosette had no time to react. The Daedric hammer swung sideways in a huge black blur, and connected solidly with the atronach's head. The summoned construct self-destructed almost instantly after that, and Cosette screamed as the shockwave from the detonation propelled her into the snow.
Vinye swore under her breath. Ugluk had deceived them; he'd made it look as though Cosette's flames had weakened him. He'd been counting on the Breton to close the distance for him—and Cosette had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Now without her atronach to cover for her, Cosette was scrambling backwards in the snow, just like Vinye had earlier, zigzagging all the while to evade Ugluk's mighty hammer.
"Get away from her!" the Altmer yelled, blasting a lightning bolt at the Orc. But in her haste to save Cosette, she'd used a little more magicka than she'd counted on, and a portion of it reflected off Ugluk's armor and into a nearby pine tree. The superhot blast blew a large part of the foot-thick trunk to smithereens, and the conifer groaned and creaked dangerous—it was going to fall on them both, Vinye realized with a gasp of horror.
Cosette had noticed, and Vinye saw the look of panic on her face as she tried to roll away with every bit of strength she had left. She desperately brought her Forsworn blade to a defensive posture as Ugluk swung downward. How the crude construction didn't break then and there, Vinye didn't know—if Ugluk hadn't crushed Cosette's other sword with his teeth, she might have attributed it to some hedge-magic the Forsworn were known to use.
Then the tree crashed. Cosette disappeared beneath a blur of branches and dislodged snow, but Ugluk had taken the full brunt of the force, and Vinye doubted that even his Daedric armor could withstand a hit from something as solid as that tree. Nonetheless, she waited with bated breath, and for a moment the pops and hisses of the gigantic fire in front of Malacath's statue was the only sound they could hear over the wind.
Suddenly, some of that snow was dislodged, and Vinye's heart began to pound as she brought her lightning to bear. But she relaxed as she saw the tiny fist punching the air as Cosette extricated herself from the white mass, shaking snowflakes out of her blackened hair. Her robes were ripped in a dozen places, and she looked angry.
"A tree?" the Breton shouted at Vinye as she slowly tottered towards her, clearly still shell-shocked from recent events. "Did it ever occur to you that that might have been overkill? Or that someone—no names—that someone might not actually be wearing enough armor to survive a falling tree?!"
"I thought you were out of the way!" retorted Vinye as Cosette paused in her tirade to drink a potion from her satchel. "And besides, it worked, didn't it?"
The fallen pine tree chose that moment to explode; there really was no other way to put it, Vinye thought in her surprise. She shielded her eyes with her robes as fragments of wood and clouds of snow flew in every direction. When they had passed, she looked back at the tree, and gasped.
Ugluk roared in exertion, louder than ever, as he hefted the remains of the fallen tree over his head in an exhibition of strength that only this gigantic Orc could have pulled off.
He was in a bad way; the Daedric armor was still looking as solid as ever—one only had to look at the thirty-foot-long mass of wood to see that their many enchantments, in spite of Malys' magic, were still a formidable force in their own right. However, the joints, chains, and mail lying in between the spiked plates had taken a large amount of punishment indeed. The left pauldron was no longer on Ugluk's shoulder; it was just barely hanging on from a loose chain, and made a dull thudding noise as it swung back and forth against the cuirass. The right pauldron had actually fallen off completely, and lay half-buried in the snow like a Dremora's disembodied head.
And speaking of, Ugluk's face was covered in blood that was leaking from a large wound to his forehead. Most of the horned ridges lining his temples and brow had been shattered from the impact of the felled tree, and it even looked like his skull had been caved in from where the solid wood had struck him—all of which left the Altmer all the more dumbstruck at the incredible feat of strength.
How is he still standing?! Vinye thought in desperation. What more will it take to beat him?!
Cosette, on the other hand, looked at Vinye with a stare that practically screamed, You just had to say something, didn't you?
The Breton did not waste any further time with words, and immediately spun around and brought both hands together. A bright fireball blossomed from her joined palms and headed straight for Ugluk—but the Orc was too quick. With one movement, he'd used the massive improvised weapon to block Cosette's attack; instead of hitting him square in the face, the fireball had instead smashed into the tree. The force of the explosion broke it in two, but it also ignited the sap within, quickly engulfing the splintered wood in flames.
Ugluk didn't seem to care. As he discarded the lesser half of the tree, the enchanted armor was taking effect again, and with a few more sickening noises of bones being forced back into place, the Orc's crushed skull was mended right before their eyes in a matter of seconds, as though it was being inflated like a child's toy bladder-ball.
"No one bests an Orc!" bellowed Ugluk, physically hurling the felled and flaming remains of the tree in the mages' direction like it was just another hammer.
"Look out!" Vinye, still awed by the sight, felt a tugging on her hand as Cosette frantically tried to pull her back. She snapped out of her reverie just in time, and backed away quickly enough that she felt a hot, ember-filled wind rush over her as the blazing pine swung at her, barely missing her waist.
Cosette wasn't so lucky; how the massive weapon didn't pulverize her on the spot, Vinye didn't know. But the blazing tree caught her right in the stomach, and she heard the unmistakable noises of crunching bone.
No!
Like Malys before her, Cosette was lifted into the air from the force of the impact. It seemed to take her forever to fall back to earth, but when she did, a horrified Vinye saw her crash into a tree with all the grace of a rag doll. The branches did little to cushion the impact, and Cosette fell to the thick roots.
Vinye wanted desperately to call out to Cosette, to Malys—to anybody—but she knew that wouldn't help her in any way now. She was alone now, against an Orc who just did not know when to die.
She needed help …
"What are you doing here?"
She knew that she was in a library, and that she ought to show respect and be silent—insofar as her hiding under the most secluded table she could find was showing any respect at all. But she was so highly strung from recent events that the surprised scream from her mouth rang in her ears for what felt like hours.
She scrabbled out from under the table, nearly tipping it over in her haste—and then bumped into something both hard and soft at the same time. Terrified, she looked up, and up … and up.
The bearded Orc looked down at her with a bushy raised eyebrow. Orsimer by nature were terrifying indeed, and not wise to anger. But beyond this Orc's annoyed scowl lurked a hint of curiosity; he would not harm her so easily, she knew, but he still did not look like someone she wanted to anger.
The question was: had she angered him already?
She gulped. "S-sorry," she managed to squeak. "I didn't want it to kill me so I came up here to hide and please don't tear me apart with angry atronachs I'm so sorry!"
The Orc let out a short, gruff bark that took her some time to recognize as a laugh. "Kill you?" he huffed. "Has Nirya been telling more stories about me? That incident with Orthorn's toadies was only the one time!"
She blinked. "I … don't know w-who that is."
The Orc shrugged. "I don't know who you are, either—but that doesn't mean I don't try." He knelt down till he was eye level with her, and extended a wrinkled green hand. "Name's Urag."
"V-Vinye." She held out her own slender palm, and the two shook hands.
"So … why're you up here?" Urag asked her. "You don't look too happy to be here. That's not a safe place to stand with me." He gave a brief half-smile, nonetheless, that she did not notice.
"No, no! I love books!" she said hurriedly. "I was up here all last night looking for books on conjuration! I wanted to show the Arch-Mage I could do really advanced magic—I wanted to show him I belonged here!"
There was a shout from downstairs, followed by a loud boom, and Urag looked at her. She avoided his gaze, and her eyes felt hot.
"I … might have … made a mistake … " she whispered in shame.
Urag groaned. "I'm terrible at this," she heard him say, half to himself. "What's your favorite book to read?"
She thought for a few seconds. "Um … The D-doors of Oblivion," she finally decided.
"And why's that?"
She cleared her throat, and recited, "'Conjuration, for the layman unacquainted with its workings, connects the caster's mind with that of the summoned. It is a tenuous link, meant only to lure, hold, and dismiss, but in the hands of a Master, it can be much stronger.'"
With each word she spoke from memory, she was pleased to see, her fear was lessening little by little. "Morian Zenas and Seif-ij Hidja were such good mages that they could listen to each other's minds. When I first read that book … I-I thought if I could learn as much magic as they did, I could learn to do the same thing, and teach other people to do it too. That way … we wouldn't need to lie to each other."
Images of Falinesti, burning and ruined, raced through her mind. "That way, maybe the world could be a better place."
Urag was silent for a long time. But before he could reply to her speech, the doors to the Arcaneum banged open, and the Orc strode over to see the three men who had entered.
The one in the center was the grizzled Nord from before, and alongside him was a balding Breton man. On his other side was a Khajiit, a most unexpected sight in an institution of the magickal arts. His tail swished madly from side to side, but she could not discern anything else of their moods from where she sat.
"All right, Urag," she heard the Breton say, in a tone that did not invite debate. "Where is she?"
"She's with me," Urag replied, and she froze. The Orc whispered something else to the others, but she did not care to hear them, so fearful was she.
This was it, surely. Her career at Winterhold was over before it had even begun …
"On your feet."
She jumped, and hit her head on the table. "Ow!" She tumbled out from under her hiding place, and looked up to see three stern faces staring down at her. The Breton, who had spoken just now, looked more intimidating than the Orc, if that was possible.
"The Arch-Mage was able to banish your atronach," he said, as she stood up. His face and voice were entirely unreadable. "I hope you take comfort in knowing that he had to use some rather ... 'creative thinking', to borrow his words … in order to dispel it."
She might have felt relieved at this, but … "Was anyone hurt? I didn't mean to hurt anyone! I'm sorry! I—"
The Nord held out his hand and shushed her gently. "It's all right, my dear. It's all right. We were able to evacuate the Hall in time. Some bruises and burns here and there, but nothing our dear Colette couldn't heal with her eyes closed."
"It could have been much worse, though," said the Khajiit gravely. "This one saw every opportunity for a stampede. Baan Dar was with us all today."
"What about my punishment?"
There was some confusion from the mages. "Punishment?" repeated the Nord.
"I could have gotten you all killed!" she shouted. "Do you even care about that?"
The mages looked wounded—none more so than the Breton. "Young miss," he said, "unlike most institutions of magic in Tamriel, we care just as much about our students' lives as what they choose to do with them."
She frowned. That didn't really answer her question.
"We didn't say that," said the Nord. "What you did may have been legal, strictly speaking, but that was very advanced magic you demonstrated today, Miss Vinye—perhaps too much so. You bit off more than you could chew, and it nearly killed you as a result.
"Now, Tolfdir still maintains you may yet make for an exemplary student," the Breton went on, "and J'zargo here would only say he was … interested in watching you further. Nevertheless, an example must be made."
She gulped.
"Urag has asked to see to the matter of your discipline," he said. "And I have told Tolfdir to give a mandatory lecture on safety tonight to all of our new students. I expect you to be punctual."
She looked at Urag, and swallowed again as the other adults departed the Arcaneum. The doors banged shut again, and made her cringe.
" … So," she said meekly, looking at the Orc, "what kind of discipline did you have in mind?"
She saw the faintest hint of a smile cross Urag's face—and then it was back to its normal scowl. "My library needs a good cleaning," he eventually said. "No one bothers to pick up their own mess anymore. I think you've done enough spellwork and studying to last you through the week. So you're going to make sure everything's back in it's rightful place before this evening."
She bit her lip. On the one hand, that wasn't nearly as severe as what she had been expecting—but on the other, spending all day in here was going to cut into her study time. But she knew there was nothing else for it. At least she enjoyed a good read every now and—
She whirled around at Urag as she put two and two together, and felt a wry smile spreading over her face.
"Not a word," said the Orc, holding a green finger to his tusks. She did the same thing to signify her understanding that what had just happened between them was not to leave this library.
"And Vinye?"
"Yes?"
"You were wrong about Hidja and Master Zenas," Urag told her. "They weren't just very good mages—they were very good friends."
Friends …
As Vinye thought back to her first day at Winterhold, she felt her eyes widen. Could it really be that simple?
She looked at Malys, and at Cosette. Both of them were still lying motionless where they were, and she felt pangs of emotion as she stared at their forms.
They really are … my …
A noise from ahead distracted her. Ugluk had recovered his detached pauldron in the snow, and had just finished replacing it in its rightful position. He gave a few experimental stretches, and then turned back to Vinye, hefting his hammer.
He wasn't taking any chances, she realized. He wants to have all the cards in his hand before he even thinks about finishing us off.
But it wasn't over yet. Vinye knew she had one last card left to play.
And so she concentrated. Just as she had her first night in Winterhold, she put every last drop of her magickal reserves into the palm of her hand. She called out to Oblivion with her mind, transforming the energy in her palm into a swirling conduit of amethyst energy.
Protect them.
She kept on murmuring the incantation under her breath, but so resolute was that one thought in her mind that all her chanting; indeed, all the noises of the outside world—Ugluk, the wind, the snow—was drowned out through sheer force of will. And then, she saw images of Cosette and Malys pass through her head; she remembered Urag's words once more, and felt her resolve strengthen.
Friends …
Finally, when all her magicka had been expended into her offering to Oblivion, Vinye slammed her flaming palm on the ground, and the snow around her erupted in violet flames, just like before at Winterhold. But she knew deep inside that this time would be different—it had to be.
I have to protect them.
She closed her eyes briefly to shield them from the blinding light of the arcane fire, and the sizzle of the portal to Oblivion was quickly replaced by a sound that she had only heard once before in her life—but had become so familiar to her that it felt like the greeting of an old friend.
The storm atronach was enormous, easily half her height again even without it levitating several inches above the snow, and at least six times as broad. Dozens of porous, electrified rocks, each one the size of her chest, were crudely clumped together to form a stocky torso. The smaller stones orbited its core, while some of the larger ones branched off on either side to form a pair of rudimentary arms.
I have to protect my friends!
The storm atronach heard her thoughts, and she innately sensed it understood them as well; the construct wasted no time in charging for Ugluk. The Orc, who was clearly caught off guard by the sudden arrival of this monstrosity, recovered quickly, and swung with his hammer. The solid Daedric weapon connected with one of the larger rocks, pulverizing it into dust—but the dust swirled around the center of the atronach now, and several electric arcs coursed through this dust, and into Ugluk's hammer.
The Orc growled in pain, and brought his hammer into a two-handed blocking position as the atronach began to pelt him with lightning bolts. The atronach was slow to fire, but Ugluk—perhaps sensing that it would take a little more than brute force to outlast it—was not attacking, but defending himself from the spells instead.
As this fight commenced, Vinye was already busy with more important duties. She ran to Cosette first—her Altmer body glowing blue as her magickal reserves replenished themselves—and applied as much healing magic as she could towards the Breton. Mercifully, she was not too late—Vinye heard several pops and grinding noises that sounded like several smashed ribs being pieced back together.
She was just beginning to run low on magicka again when Cosette sat bolt upright with a roar of pain, sending a surprised Vinye staggering back a few steps.
"What's going on?" Cosette rasped at her through deep breaths. "How am I not dead?"
Vinye looked back, and the Breton followed her gaze to the storm atronach currently grappling Ugluk's hammer in a deadlock. Judging from Cosette's expression, she seemed to understand.
"Can you stand?" Vinye offered her hand, but Cosette waved it away, getting clumsily to her feet and retrieving her Forsworn blade from the snow.
"I can do better," replied the Breton, stretching her limbs with a grunt. "How's Malys?"
Vinye looked back toward the unconscious vampire. "I was just about to try and heal her."
"Then do it." Cosette's face was stony as she handed a large red bottle to Vinye. "Let me finish him off—it'll be better for you if you don't get in my way."
The high elf tried to protest, but Cosette had already shoved her away. Flames wrapped around her free hand, and the air around the Breton began to shimmer and distort—as if she was warping light itself around her body.
Vinye stared at the spectacle for only a moment longer before she remembered where she was, and what she had to do. She hurried over to Malys, preparing both her healing magic and the potion Cosette had given her.
She laid her glowing hand on Malys' chest, and concentrated her magic there—but nothing happened. Confounded, Vinye tried again—but still, the vampire's wounds did not heal. Is it because she's undead? Vinye thought. Maybe healing magic doesn't work on vampires.
Then she remembered the potion Cosette had given her, and tipped the contents into Malys' mouth. The effect was immediate; Malys' eyes shot open, and she gave a weak cough.
"Not so quickly," Vinye cautioned her. "You took a hard hit, Malys—and even you can't shrug that off so easily."
Ignoring her warnings, the vampire rummaged around in her pack, searching for a potion that hadn't broken in her fall—and judging from the sounds of broken glass, Malys had lost quite a few of them. But eventually, she came across a tiny blue bottle swathed in protective linen, and swallowed its contents in a single gulp. That was enough for her to raise her own hand, and use her own healing magic on her wounds. This time, the magic was successful, and Malys gingerly rose to her feet.
"Let's go," Malys said, stumbling forth with Vinye at her side.
"We'll fan out," Vinye told her, "and trap Ugluk against the cliff wall." Then she saw Cosette, and her face became grim. "Because whatever Cosette's doing to him right now, I'm not sure I want to get caught in the crossfire."
At that moment, the Breton in question was a stone's throw from Ugluk. Both hands were throwing one fireball after another at the interminable warrior, and explosions rocked the air. Cosette had the Orc on his knees, but it looked as though this was more because of whatever that shimmering energy around her was. Vinye was reminded of the vampiric spell Malys had used on him earlier, and looked to the dark elf for an answer.
"She's absorbing the enchantments—adding the magic in that armor to hers," was Malys' reply, as her undead eyes scanned the scene. "That's no ordinary ward she's using—even my own draining spell couldn't do that much to him!"
Vinye was shocked at this, but she set her jaw—speculation could wait. "Then let's hit him while we still can—we may not get a better chance than this."
No sooner had she spoken than Malys released a miniaturized blizzard in her hand, which grew and grew until it enveloped Ugluk's armored body. At the same time, Vinye's hands coiled with lightning, and she fired several well-aimed bolts at Ugluk. She targeted his knees and elbows, weakening the joints there and making him lose his footing even more.
The storm atronach, meanwhile, fired a massive thunderbolt at Ugluk, which caught the Orc right in the chest. He stumbled heavily, and Vinye knew that that had been a very serious blow. But the atronach wasn't done. It charged at Ugluk, arms spread out to their widest—and blew itself up with an enormous bang that sent the armored Orc flying.
Ugluk's big mistake had been his caution. Nowhere had the Orc taken any chances to kill them while the mages were down, as with Vinye and Cosette. He'd wasted a lot of time by electing to make sure his enchanted, nigh-invincible armor was in working order instead. But this had given them all time to collect themselves, and come together as one.
Now, as Ugluk crashed against the cliff from the force of the atronach's suicide, sending cracks in all directions, Vinye saw his red eyes widen, and even before the first rocks began to fall, she knew he'd arrived at the same conclusion.
She turned to run back to Cosette and Malys. "Get back!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, but the avalanche had already drowned out her warning. Hundreds of tons' worth of rocks and snow rushed down the mountain with the speed and power of an entire flight of dragons, consuming Ugluk within an instant. The statue to Malacath was buried up to its pedestal, and some of the loose snow and debris covered the monument's bare feet, while he rest of it was diverted either side of the enormous stone statue. A large amount of it landed on the giants' fire, and snuffed it out in an instant.
As the dust and snow settled, an unearthly quiet took hold over the grove. None of the mages wanted to move, or even to speak, out of fear that Ugluk might take them by surprise yet again. But eventually, they heard the noises of shifting rock—very faint noises—from behind the statue. Nodding to one another, they brought fire, ice, and lightning to bear, and slowly made their way to the source of the noises.
Vinye was flabbergasted to see Ugluk digging his way out of the rubble—but it soon became clear to her that even if he had survived this minor cataclysm, he would not be getting very far. The massive rocks, stained crimson all over, had crushed his cuirass, and his body beneath them. There was no way his spine had not been smashed as a result—and spinal injuries were nearly impossible to heal, even for devoted healers in the service of Kynareth, Vinye knew.
For a warrior like Ugluk, they were a kiss of death.
The Orc tried to stand up, using his hammer and Malacath's statue as handholds, but the rockslide had finally proved too much for him, even with his armor and its depleted regenerative enchantments. Ugluk was only able to stumble to his knees, and turn his broken body round to face their direction. He muttered something indecipherable—all the Orc could produce was a few short-lived bubbles of blood from his hemorrhaging mouth. The look in his eyes was pleading—but something told Vinye it was not because he was fearful for his life.
"You fought well," she said softly, reassuringly. She tightened her grip on Kinsbane. "I think your wife would agree."
With those words, Ugluk seemed to relax, exhaling. He did not bow his head or close his eyes, but rather looked Vinye straight in the eye, not even daring to blink. He wanted to stare death in the face, Vinye realized.
He's an Orc to the last.
Still gripping Kinsbane, Vinye sent some lightning magic into other hand, and clutched the dagger with both hands. The lightning flowed through Kinsbane, running down the moonstone-and-quicksilver edge of the elven dagger.
Ugluk kept on staring.
The next three seconds Vinye waited were the longest seconds she'd ever felt in her life. She brought the blade to bear, raising it high above her head.
Ugluk still kept on staring.
Vinye closed her eyes, and brought Kinsbane down with all her might. The electrified dagger pierced through Ugluk's skull, and the shocks coursed through his brain in less time than it took for him to react. His eyes—still unblinking in their sockets—widened imperceptibly, but that was all he had time to do.
Vinye wrenched out the dagger with a grunt, and for one brief moment, it seemed as though the giant Orc would still stand. And then, at long last, Ugluk's body fell forward onto the pile of rubble. The ancestral Daedric hammer clattered on the dislodged rocks with a final clang, and Vinye let out a sigh that she didn't know she'd been holding in—which promptly choked in her throat as something whirred in her rucksack.
She had completely forgotten about Septimus' device—she had assumed Tolfdir had confiscated it along with all the rest of the artifacts they had accrued. But apparently, this had escaped his grasp somehow—and now, sensing spilled elven blood, the strange little machine released its thin tendrils for a fourth time, piercing Ugluk's brown skin and extracting every last drop.
Vinye braced herself for the inevitable—there was no way that either Cosette or Malys hadn't seen or heard that.
"What did you just do?" It was Malys who spoke first—but Vinye noticed she wasn't looking at her, but rather at Cosette. "I saw that ward before—when we fought that wispmother—but I never thought much about it until now. What kind of magic was that?"
Through her incipient relief, Vinye felt curious to know herself just what Cosette's little trick had involved.
"Most people call it an absorption ward," Cosette said simply. "But it's … a little more complicated than that. It doesn't just absorb spells, but raw, natural magicka as well—from anywhere it can find. The bottom line is that it's a trait of my family, and trying to learn it would be a waste of your time.
"Speaking of learning spells," Cosette said, crossing her arms at Malys, "care to talk about that spell you used on Ugluk before he knocked you flatter than Helgen?"
"I found it in a cave under the Velothi range while you were roaming around the Reach," Malys said. She looked at Vinye in a very meaningful way, and the Altmer took this as proof positive of vampire magic if ever she'd seen it. "You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to learn it."
Cosette smiled daringly. "Try me."
Malys smiled back. "Maybe another day. But there's one more thing I'd like to know."
Vinye sighed—there was no sense in hiding that much. "I got a hold of this before I found Sunder," she explained before the Dunmer could say anything. She produced Septimus Signus' extractor from her satchel. "Someone gave it to me—and in return, he'd give me information about a project he was working on that dealt with the Dwemer."
Malys blinked. "I was just going to ask how that atronach was able to get here," she said, pointing to the spot where Vinye's summons had broken apart. The high elf felt a combination of pride and embarrassment as she remembered that that had indeed been her very first storm atronach—bound to her, and her alone.
"Not through a scroll," she finally settled on saying, with a smile in Cosette's direction. The Breton looked shocked for only a moment, and then laughed—long and hard. Vinye laughed with her, and eventually a rather confused Malys joined in as well. The Altmer felt a wave of relief wash over her—they had survived.
Her friends had survived.
"Wait—this man you saw … he's not hoping to cut in on us, is he?" Malys suddenly looked rather concerned.
Vinye shook her head. "He's with the College. Or used to be at one time, at any rate—his mind is in worse shape than his health, and that's saying something. But he's not what I'm really worried about right now," she added, images of green tentacles oozing in her head.
Malys extended a finger. "What does this do?"
Vinye pulled the device away. "I wouldn't touch it," she chided the vampire. "Exactly what it does, I don't really know yet. So far as I can tell, it just extracts blood—elven blood, no less, from each of the five primary sub-races of elves: Bosmer, Falmer, Orsimer, Altmer … and Dunmer," she finished, looking at Malys with trepidation.
Malys' face was unreadable as she retracted her hand—but whatever she was about to say next was interrupted unexpectedly by Malacath.
"Ugluk was an Orc to the core," boomed the Prince, and all three mages jumped. "But he had no vision—no dream to be greater than he already was. He might have wanted to be Chief, but he already thought he was at the top—and you three proved him wrong."
"What about the curse?" Cosette asked. "What about all those trials?"
A pause. "There are no more trials," the Daedra finally declared. "Yamarz failed, Gularzob failed, and though Ugluk has earned my respect, in the end he failed as well. As for his mate … if she still wishes to call herself an Orc, then she will seek her honor elsewhere. Largashbur may yet serve its purpose, but there are none left to call it home now."
The pronouncement was as good as a death knell. Vinye felt a lead weight slipping into her stomach as Malacath's words sank in. After all that trouble—all that blood, sweat and tears—Ugluk's quest for redemption had ended in failure and death.
"You fought well … for mages," the Daedra Lord admitted grudgingly. "You've earned Volendrung—so take it and get out of this grove before I change my mind."
And with that, Vinye felt a strange pressure releasing from her head that she hadn't even known was there, and she sensed that Malacath had left them for good.
Cosette, meanwhile, had picked up Volendrung, grunting in exertion as she slipped it over her the back of her tattered robes. "Gods, this thing is heavy," she commented apropos of nothing.
Neither Vinye nor Malys spoke. Vinye was not sure of the vampire, but in her case, she was saying a quiet prayer. Whether the Daedra or the Divines would answer it, she did not care; Ugluk had proven to be an impressive warrior who had lived an ideal life—possibly the only one such person Vinye had yet encountered in her travels through Skyrim. Taking that away from him was a major blow—and even the Orsimer blood sloshing around in Septimus' contraption proved to be of little comfort.
Cosette walked up to Ugluk's body, and began sifting through the rubble that trapped him under there. "Someone give me a hand here," she said to the two elves.
"What are you doing?" Vinye asked her.
"His armor may be destroyed, but this is still Daedric construction!" Cosette told her, eyes shining. "These weapons and armor could buy us a High King's ransom. We could be set for life if we sell this off!"
Vinye set her jaw. "No," she said firmly, thinking of how Ugluk had treated Yamarz' body. "It wouldn't be right. Ugluk was a warrior. He deserves to die as one."
"But—"
"No." Vinye crossed her arms. "Besides, do you want to tell me how we're going to carry it all?"
The question discouraged Cosette from asking any further about the Daedric works of art that Ugluk had carried into battle—though that did not stop the Breton from taking one last long look at the fallen Orc before they rounded the corner and back into Fallowstone Cave—towards Largashbur and civilization.
Largashbur
The three mages made it back to the stronghold by the first light of dawn. Mistress Malys, shielding Her eyes from the glare of the sun, saw that borgakh was waiting for them in the guardtower—even from afar, there was no mistaking that spiked armor. As they drew closer, the orc leapt down from her perch and made a beeline for them.
"Where is my husband?" she demanded.
None of the mages dared to speak. But although they could not see her face under her Daedric helm, Malys could tell her question was not an expression of anger, but of devotion. borgakh truly did love her husband, that much was clear—which made his fate an even more bitter pill to swallow.
The orc seemed to sense their unwillingness to answer her, and she merely had to look at the Daedric artifact slung over cosette's back to have some sense of the events in the grove. her rough voice cracked only a little. "i see," she said. "So … he did not prove worthy in malacath's eyes, then. Did he die well?"
vinye swallowed. "malacath seemed to think so," she said, avoiding looking at the orc directly.
"he seemed to?" It took a moment for borgakh to take her meaning, and her armored gauntlets clenched in rage. "You killed him?! How? Why?!"
"We were only defending ourselves!" cosette said heatedly. "malacath wanted him to kill us to—!"
Malys, in spite of Herself, felt Her mouth fall open as borgakh crossed the distance between them in a flash and slugged cosette right in her jaw. The breton tumbled to the ground, spitting blood and broken teeth from her mouth.
"Then you should have died!" roared borgakh, so loudly that her words echoed on the mountainside.
Entire minutes passed before anyone moved or spoke, while Cosette healed her shattered jaw. Borgakh breathed heavily for what felt like hours, and when she next spoke, it was as though all the fire had gone out of her.
"Forgive me," she said. "I spoke out of turn. Too much blood was spilled because of this curse—I will not spill the blood of mages because of malacath's decision." She shot an angry glare at cosette, and spat on the ground.
There was another long silence before vinye spoke up. "What will you do now?"
borgakh was quiet. "I will go to Mor Khazgur, and I will have words with my father and the wise woman. Perhaps they will help to determine my future."
She holstered her bow, and tightened the belt that carried her swords. "malacath has spoken; this stronghold is unfit for all orcs now. I will not go against his word—but I will not forget what has happened because of this."
Her voice suddenly grew very low, like a distant, rumbling storm. "You may have malacath's favor, but you do not have mine," she growled. "You killed my husband, and for that, you are no longer blood-kin to me. So if i were you, i would hope that we never meet again."
And with that—not even bothering to offer a simple farewell—borgakh turned on her heel, and marched out of Largashbur and onto the road beyond, leaving behind three trembling mages.
Mistress Malys was first to speak. "That … could have gone better," she eventually said with a sigh.
cosette grimaced, still rubbing at her jaw. "I'd much rather she tried to kill us." She cast a glance behind her back at Volendrung. "This is exactly why I didn't want to cut a deal with anything involving the Daedra."
"Better us than anyone else," Vinye reasoned. "If we hadn't gotten involved in this, there'd likely be some private collector knocking on the gate, with an entire legion of hired battlemages ready to burn Largashbur to the ground before long. And they wouldn't care who was inside, or what this place meant to them."
cosette raised an eyebrow, but shook her head and groaned. "This was just an all-around bad idea."
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Malys shrugged. "We might as well head to the Reach, see if Arkngthamz is still in one piece."
vinye silently agreed. "We'll stock up in Falkreath, rest there if we can. If Taron doesn't show up in a day's time, then we leave without him—I don't care how much about Aetherium he knows."
"You're still sure about teaming up with him?" cosette looked skeptical. "I think he's hiding something. I don't trust that elf any farther than I can throw him."
"Neither do I," vinye agreed. "But we don't have much choice—the only alternative is to go in blind and alone, and that's a fool's end when it comes to dwarven ruins," she said, trying to make her voice sound as final as possible. She crossed her arms to that end. "So we wait."
cosette hoisted Volendrung over her satchel with some difficulty, but her short, stocky frame made it easier for her to carry the hammer than it would have been for the two elves. Once she'd secured it properly, the three mages set off, leaving Largashbur behind them—the gutted ghost of a once powerful stronghold.
Winterhold
Grimnir Torn-Skull stood in the courtyard of the College, flanked by J'zargo and Tolfdir. It was nighttime, and bitter cold thanks to the north wind that had been blowing from the Sea of Ghosts all day.
Two figures—one male, another female—walked through the gates before them. Their faces were shrouded in dark brown cloaks to protect against the freezing air. Grimnir knew who they were, but did not lower his guard nonetheless—with what was currently sitting about fifty feet below the courtyard, he wasn't taking any chances.
"Master Neloren," he rumbled through the dark green mask he currently wore. "Brelyna."
The two Dunmer did not remove their hoods until all five of them had crossed over to the Hall of Countenance.
"Solstheim seems to be treating you well," J'zargo said, attempting conversation.
Brelyna Maryon, of House Telvanni, ran a dark hand through her short black hair, brushing a few stray snowflakes off. "Solstheim is the reason we didn't come here sooner," she grumbled, though she smiled at her longtime friend. "Raven Rock is the only way on or off the island, and even after you took care of Miraak, Grimnir, there are still very few ships that choose to make port there."
Grimnir grunted. "You've been spending too much time around that Neloth, Brelyna," he said. "You don't simply 'take care' of another Dragonborn. The damage that Hermaeus Mora and Miraak caused will take a very long time to mend. And there's no telling how far the extent of that damage was—or even if it can be fully repaired." He remembered the look in Vinye's eye, and how he had felt the power of that Daedric Prince behind that stare.
"Regardless," said Drevis Neloren, "since no other ships were willing to come in to take us to the mainland, we had to take matters into our own hands. Rowing across the Sea of Ghosts from Solstheim to Skyrim is no easy feat, Arch-Mage—especially given the urgency of this situation.
"But that's enough small talk," he said to Grimnir, as the Arch-Mage led them to a trapdoor behind the staircase of the Hall, "Now, Arch-Mage, not that I don't appreciate visiting the College every now and again, but I'd like to know why you thought it necessary to call us both here."
Grimnir opened the trapdoor, and admitted all five mages inside. "Solyn has Keening."
Drevis nearly fell off the ladder. "What?! That artifact was kept in your personal quarters—under lock and key! How did he—?"
"One of our own students was able to steal it—one Malys Aryon," Tolfdir replied.
Brelyna frowned. "Malys Aryon? The same Malys Urag mentioned in his letter?"
"The very same." The aged Nord almost sounded darkly amused as they headed down one of the tunnels that led to the Midden. "From under our very noses, no less. Grimnir has assured me that she was punished accordingly."
Drevis didn't look too convinced. "How?"
Grimnir only spoke two words. "Arniel Gane."
That convinced Drevis. "Ah. But that still begs the question, Arch-Mage: Why does Solyn have Keening?"
"Because I gave it to him." Grimnir's voice betrayed only the slightest hint of regret, but he nonetheless raised his hand before either Drevis or Brelyna could retort. "I did not do so on a whim, Drevis; Kagrenac's Tools, while powerful artifacts, are only a shadow of their former selves now. They were made specifically to counter the Heart of Lorkhan; when the Nerevarine used the Tools to unmake the Heart and the golem Akulakhan, their purpose was fulfilled, and having no other purpose, their power diminished to naught over the centuries."
Almost absentmindedly, Grimnir had conjured a candlelight spell, and the ball of white light glinted off his steel-gray mask as he looked Drevis straight in the eye. "As far as I am concerned, the Tools died with the Nerevarine."
"But the Nerevarine was reported dead in Akavir!" Brelyna told him. "And somehow, Keening found its way to Arniel only a few years ago! How do we know Sunder or Wraithguard haven't crossed over to Tamriel as well?"
"They already have," Grimnir said simply, as they entered the large space where Solyn's payment was being held. "Malys Aryon, along with two other students, has been helping me to collect Dwemer artifacts. We are keeping them in this room, under tight, round-the-clock guard on loan from Calcelmo."
Brelyna raised her eyebrows as she noticed the many armored guards around her. "How many artifacts have you found so far?"
"Three," said Tolfdir, "including Sunder and Wraithguard."
Brelyna looked shocked. But Drevis looked angry, and his red eyes flashed at Grimnir. "You are taking an extraordinary risk here, Arch-Mage," he said through clenched teeth. "We are consolidating untold amounts of power within our walls, and you believe someone like Solyn will just take this lying down?"
"No," Grimnir said coldly. "And neither am I."
Drevis was silent for several moments as he stared back at Grimnir's unblinking mask. Finally, he sighed, and backed down. "Very well. But what does all of this have to do with me?"
Grimnir indicated the many sacks of gold with his hand. "Solyn was willing to pay a lot of gold for Keening. Too much, I suspect, even for one of Kagrenac's Tools. We think there may be more to these septims."
Drevis nodded, apparently understanding. "You think the gold's enchanted?"
"It may not even be gold," J'zargo said. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and he stared at one of the bags as if it would blow up on the spot. "Khajiit has seen the power of this Solyn, and this one smells something foul indeed."
"We already know he is a master of illusion," Toldfir added. "There are very few mages I know who are capable of deceiving an operational Animunculus—let alone an entire chamber of them."
Drevis was silent. "If all of this is true," he finally said, "then I will need to be as thorough as possible."
He turned to Brelyna. "I need dragon's tongue, dwarven oil, and all the taproots you can find in this College before sunrise on the morrow." Next, he approached J'zargo. "You, Tolfdir, and Phinis will assist me in my efforts at your earliest convenience. It is likely we may have to examine these septims one by one."
As J'zargo and Brelyna left for the Midden's exit, Drevis turned back to Grimnir. "Inform the students and all other staff that for their own safety, the Midden is banned from all access until further notice. I recommend that you enforce this restriction as only you can." He looked at the Arch-Mage intently.
Grimnir said nothing. That was all Drevis needed; the two mages nodded in mutual understanding, and the Dunmer set off to make preparations for what Grimnir suspected would be the most complicated scrye he had ever made.
Falkreath
The town of Falkreath was a quiet one; nestled within a sprawling pine forest, it was a welcome respite from the chilling air of Winterhold and the general adventuring across Skyrim that had defined the mages' last few weeks.
Malys didn't seem to enjoy it much. "This place smells like death," she confided to Vinye, as the two strolled through the town square to enjoy the morning air. They'd arrived in town yesterday afternoon, and rented a room at the Dead Man's Drink. Cosette had had another firebrand wine as soon as the septims had been exchanged for the room, and was now sleeping off the effects of the fiery liquor, giving the two elves a chance to talk together.
The Altmer knew what Malys was talking about. "Falkreath's cemetery is huge—it's supposed to hold families from all over the province," she explained. "Probably beyond, too—this part of Skyrim used to be in Cyrodiil at one time."
Malys shook her head. "No," she said. "It's worse than that. There was something else here, but … "
Vinye swallowed. "But what?"
The dark elf was silent for a long time. " … I don't know," she said. "I wish I could say it was gone, but … I just have a very strange feeling about this town."
Vinye bit her lip—she could not avoid the question any longer. "Malys, when are you going to tell her?"
Her question was met with a noise of disapproval. "Cosette isn't stupid, Vinye. There's a chance I might not even need to. In fact"—Malys turned round to look at the Altmer—"I'm surprised she didn't learn about it from you."
Vinye twitched a little at that. "I still don't have any reservations about exposing you, Malys, but I won't do it on a whim. We know each other too well for that; neither of us would sell the other out now—especially not after what happened in Fallowstone Cave."
She crossed her arms, but she soon smiled at Malys. "Besides, I know how to keep a secret. I want the world to know truth—but sometimes I'm worried the world just isn't ready yet. So I have no problem keeping what I know to myself. For the time being."
Malys grinned, showing the extreme tips of her fangs. "I'm glad to hear you think so highly of me," she said dryly, running her tongue along the gleaming points. "Does that mean you won't extract my blood with that little machine of yours?"
Vinye cringed—she'd rather not have thought about that. "Not unless you're volunteering," she said, offering a weak smile in return. Malys laughed a little at this—it was not a laugh that concealed any measure of ill intent, either, but a genuine one.
But soon, her smile faded, and the vampire's face took on a more concerned expression. "You told me in Whiterun that you hadn't been honest with me about something," Malys said. "What was that? Are the Thalmor hunting you or something—is that why you killed that one patrol in Eastmarch?"
Vinye had been steeling herself to make a lengthy explanation, but Malys—in a way—had summarized it quite neatly. "That's … actually the long and short of it," she said. "I've killed a great deal of their troops in the past. It was only a matter of time before their Justiciars had me labeled as a target for assassination."
The cleft running down Malys' face seemed to split apart her emotions—one side of her face looked perplexed, even worried, while the other side stared at Vinye with a quiet appreciation. Neither side seemed to suspect that Vinye had not, in fact, been telling the whole truth—and while the Altmer berated herself for that again, Vinye still had her scruples.
She's not ready yet.
Unfortunately for her, Maly continued to press on. "And then there was that wood elf we met in Rkund," she mused out loud. "He seemed to be dead-set on thinking you were part of the Thalmor. Were you ever—?"
Vinye didn't hear Malys trail off; her face had visibly darkened at the mention of the angry elf. "No," she said, a little too harshly. "I was never one of them."
That was the truth, certainly. Perhaps stretching it a little, she thought—while she might have been a Justiciar-in-training in another lifetime, she hadn't yet begun preparations to join them, let alone accept them. So strictly speaking, she really was not a Thalmor. Not having to lie her way to answering Malys' question made her feel a little better.
But the fact remained that there were still patrols here in Skyrim. The Thalmor were very well organized, and communicated with a very clean efficiency. No matter how much she tried to make sure that any trace of her actions in Falinesti was expunged from the world—even if it meant killing any Justiciar who so much as looked at her—she knew her mother had to have learned about what had happened there, even from so far away in Alinor.
She was distracted by some movement near the bridge over the entrance, and motioned Malys to turn around when she saw who was standing there.
"Taron's here—guards and all, by the looks of it," the Dunmer said quietly, sounding not altogether surprised at the new arrivals. "I guess Cosette got some sense into him."
"Someone say my name?" a familiar voice yawned from behind; Cosette had opened the door to the inn, and though she was wide awake and alert, she still looked much the worse for wear. The smell of last night's wine was still clinging about her, and Malys sniffed in dislike.
Vinye did not need to answer her, as Taron Dreth and his retinue saw them standing outside, and the Dunmer researcher walked up to them with a winning smile and an air of anticipation that reminded her of Tolfdir the day they'd first set out to Rkund.
"We're ready to head out if you are," Taron grinned. "My guards have been freshly outfitted"—he indicated his retinue; all of them were clad in gleaming steel plate—"and our stocks are replenished. If Arkngthamz is still out there, we'll be able to explore every last inch of it!" he declared.
His enthusiasm was lost on the mages. "Whatever," Malys sighed. "Let's just get there while we're still conscious. There's too many smells in this town, and I'm not fond of all of them."
Taron smiled. "Lead the way."
Their first setback came surprisingly quickly—indeed, they hadn't even been walking for five minutes before it happened. They were just passing Falkreath's vast burial ground, and Vinye had felt a pang of sadness as she saw how many fresh graves there were. Even years after the fact, the Stormcloak insurrection had left Skyrim in a sad shape—perhaps almost irreparably so.
"Vinye!"
And then suddenly, Vinye's melancholy mood was shattered as Malys grabbed her arm, and the Altmer winced at both the vampire's cold skin and superhuman grip from out of nowhere.
"Please don't do that!" she said harshly. "I've told you, I don't like being sur—!"
"It's Rolega!" Malys interrupted in a whisper. "She's right behind us!"
The name sent shivers through Vinye, and she froze in her tracks as she recalled the face of that mysterious thief. She turned around slowly—not daring to arouse any attention—and looked at Falkreath shrinking behind them. As they turned a corner, the Altmer could just barely see a girl with a farmer's bonnet tied over her black hair, relaxing near the cemetery with her arms crossed.
Cosette saw her too, and frowned. "Is that her?" she asked. "The thief you saw in Whiterun?"
Then the girl turned and walked away, disappearing behind a thatched house—and Vinye felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw her. It was only for an instant, but there was no mistaking that skull-like face—eyes darker than the night and stained with heavy black makeup. For the briefest moment of time, those black eyes met Vinye's green, and then Rolega disappeared behind the farmhouse and was gone.
"What is she doing here?!" Malys whispered.
Vinye wasn't sure she wanted to know. Rolega the Quiet had been part of the Thieves Guild at one time—and that on its own was more than enough reason to make her suspicious of the strange Nord, to say nothing of how Rolega had acquired her knowledge of the Dwemer and the artifact Volendrung. More than likely it had come at someone else's expense—whether by septims or blood was something Vinye tried not to dwell on.
Willing herself to move after the shock of the sight, the Altmer hurried up to Taron's side with a much quicker step. "We should pick up the pace," she said to him, checking behind her shoulder every few seconds. "I don't like these kinds of places."
Taron agreed, looking round the area they were passing. "Perfect for an ambush, these pines up ahead." He signaled to his three guards. "Arms up and double time," he ordered them. "Kemal, Hjolgeir—watch our backs for trouble."
A Redguard and an equally burly Nord alongside the mages unhooked their broadswords and spread out towards the back, taking up positions behind them. But Vinye had no idea how much good that would do. That was twice now that the black-eyed thief had shown up close to them. And even though she hoped there wouldn't be a third time, Vinye wasn't sure if it mattered anymore—Rolega's presence here could only mean one thing.
They were being tracked.
Next chapter: A fated reunion goes horribly wrong.
A/N: Good lord that took forever to write. That is the last big fight scene I'm doing for a long while … I hope. Maybe next time, I won't make it drag on for so long (knock on wood).
Things ought to start getting good within the next few chapters, though. I'm still a little worried about how they turn out, mostly because one upcoming plot element is one I just thought up last month, so I'm basically going in blind, but with my fingers crossed.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! - K