A/N: *collapses* Thank God. I cannot tell you relieved I am to finish this chapter. It did not like me. At all.
Anyhow, please remember to review – and I am talking to you, silent readers. The number of reviews do not match up to the favs/alerts. It doesn't take long to leave one; even a couple of lines telling me what you like/dislike about the story is useful and encouraging to a writer.
Disclaimer: Oblivion isn't mine. (I'm entirely out of creativity for disclaimers.)
Steel Over Shadow
Chapter Six: Through Fire and Flames
Morning came; beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows and filling the room with dazzling rays of golden light. One by one, the various warriors of the Anvil Fighters Guild awoke; stretching and yawning, calling out greetings to one another, and shooting curious glances at the three newcomers, who were still dead to the world.
It was long after the door banged shut behind the last one that Parwen finally stirred. Her eyes fluttered opened and she yawned widely. The archer wriggled her toes and stretched out experimentally to her full length; to her delight there were was no lingering pain at all. This was the first morning all week where she hadn't woken to pain of one kind or another. That line of thought, of course, made her thoughts go instantly back to Onyx and a pang of sorrow tugged at her heart. Then again…
The Bosmer sat up and swung her long, slender legs over the side of the bed, blinking back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. It's ridiculous to be this cut up over a horse, she chided herself. But she had loved the creature and her grief wouldn't be so easily banished.
Parwen took a deep breath and shook herself. No more tears. You've cried plenty. And it's not like they'll bring Onyx back, either. Straightening her spine, the elf pushed her sadness to the side for the moment and concentrated on the positives. Like the beauty of the morning, for instance. And it would be selfish of her not to share.
"Wake up, El!" caroled a voice in Elsynia's ear. The swordswoman opened her eyes and was treated to the sight of a pair of laughing chocolate-brown eyes about five centimetres away from her own. "Good morning."
The elf yelped and leapt sideways, falling out of the bed and crashing to the floor. Parwen dissolved into peals of laughter. Elsynia blinked up at her in astonishment, and then narrowed her eyes. With a playful growl, she launched herself across the room to tackle the other mer to the ground. They were busy engaged in a mock wrestling match when the door to the sleeping quarters creaked open and a tanned, muscular Redguard poked his head around the door. "Have any of you seen..."
He trailed off in surprise at the sight of two half-naked young elven women wrestling on the floor amid a mess of pillows and blankets; then a broad grin stretched across his face. "That looks fun; I don't suppose I can join in?"
Parwen finally succeeded in pining Elsynia to the ground with one knee and glanced up, sending a flirtatious smile in the man's direction. "Sorry," she purred, looking up at him through a cascade of loose, chestnut curls. "By invitation only."
Elsynia worked her arm free and knocked the archer's knee aside; with a startled 'oof!' she fell forward just as the swordswoman rolled aside. After a brief struggle, Elsynia managed to trap Parwen, pinioning her to the floor in much the same manner as the Bosmer had just done to her. "It's kind of personal," Elsynia added to the Redguard – who had been unashamedly ogling them – by way of explanation.
"Well, if you two do that every morning, I won't complain." With a wink and a leer, he left the room, apparently forgetting whatever he had come for in the first place.
"Honestly, Parwen, do you have to flirt with anything that moves?" Elsynia was torn between amusement and exasperation as she released her friend.
"Not anything," pouted the archer. "I mean, he was young and good-looking. Did you see those gorgeous blue eyes? I wouldn't mind him at all…" She trailed off speculatively, looking at the door the Redguard had left through.
"You're awful."
Parwen grinned, unabashed. "I know."
It didn't take long to rouse Ah-Malz; within the hour they had washed, breakfasted and pulled on their armour. They left the Guild about mid-morning and set off through the streets of Anvil.
"So…where are we going again?" Parwen enquired, skipping backwards along the road. Her hair fluttered around her in the cool wind that had sprung up overnight. It brought some respite from the hot weather that Anvil was currently enjoying. Elsynia glanced up briefly at the deep blue sky and the blinding orb of the sun, wondering if the Oblivion Gates – or more specifically, the breaches between dimensions – were somehow responsible for the unseasonable weather patterns.
"The Count's Arms," Ah-Malz provided. "Should be close by."
It was; they found the inn only a little further down the street. However, when they circled around to the back of the building –
"Oh, you are kidding," breathed Parwen, wide-eyed. Elsynia and Ah-Malz shared a look of silent dismay. "Didn't the note say 'look in the wooden barrel'? There's about thirty barrels here!"
With much disgusted grumbling, the three warriors started to sift through the containers. Some were empty; some had various tools or foodstuffs stored within them.
Half an hour later saw Elsynia sitting cross-legged on a low wall, carefully searching a barrel of cherries. She had unhooked her shield from her back to use as a makeshift bowl; the wide, shallow, concave surface was heaped with the fruit she had removed from the barrel, in an attempt to reach the bottom. The elf sighed as the wooden base became visible. Apart from the cherries, there was nothing there.
Picking up the shield, Elsynia tipped the fruit back into the barrel and was about to return the Elven shield to its allocated place on her back, when she noticed something. Her eyes widened in shock and she brought the shield closer to her face, hoping that somehow she was mistaken.
Parwen was hip-deep in rolls of cloth when the sound of colourful swearing reached her. "El?" she enquired, lifting her head. Ah-Malz looked up from his examination of a barrel of pickaxes.
The swordswoman was gripping her shield tightly, looking torn between anger and worry. "Look at this."
Elsynia held it out for their inspection, running a hand through her hair in frustration. Her anger was entirely self-directed for missing such a thing – that the dent the shield had received in the skirmish with the bandits was far worse than it had appeared. At first glance, the damage was minor. However, upon close inspection, a fine webbing of cracks was visible; spreading out from the dent and running along the repaired seams like fault lines.
"I think," Ah-Malz rumbled, handing the shield back, "That you might need to consider getting a new shield even sooner than you thought."
The swordswoman could only agree. With sigh of disgust, she replaced it on her shoulders, and all three Guildsmen returned to their search after the momentary distraction.
It was another half-hour before Parwen gave a cry of triumph. "Found it!" The other two were by her side in an instant. Elsynia peered inside the indicated barrel. It was completely empty, apart from a folded sheet of parchment at the bottom; it seemed somehow insolently blatant.
The elf reached down and picked it up warily. It was of the same quality as the previous parchment, and as Elsynia unfolded it, she recognised the writing instantly as also belonging to the same person. There were only four words.
Fort Farragut. Come alone.
"'Come alone'?" repeated Parwen worriedly, reading over her shoulder. "Do you think this is a trap after all?"
"I'm almost certain that this entire offer is a trap of some kind, Parwen," murmured Elsynia, far more interested in the first part of the message. She passed the parchment to Ah-Malz and began fishing in her pack for her map. "But of what kind I am uncertain. They certainly don't need to go to the trouble of luring me out to some abandoned fort to kill me. I think the 'come alone' part is merely to demonstrate that they are watching me."
"Ah…" the Bosmer thought for a moment. "They're pointing out they know you're travelling in a group? And that we're not invited?"
Elsynia chuckled at Parwen's affected outrage; then, finally finding her map, she spread it out across the top of a nearby crate. It had started out with only the basic details; now it was barely recognisable as the same map, being heavily annotated and marked with every point of interest the swordswoman had stumbled across over the past four years.
"Found it," the elf proclaimed, after a few minutes of scanning her map. "There. Very close to Cheydinhal." Her finger stabbed at a dot located directly above the city; when Parwen squinted, she could just about make about the label as 'Fort Farragut', written in Elsynia's cramped, spidery scrawl.
A scowl then spread across the swordswoman's features. "By Akatosh, do they take some unholy delight in sending me running back and forth across the whole of Cyrodiil? If they were going to send me to Cheydinhal, why direct me all the way to Anvil first? They're on complete opposite sides of the province!"
"Try not to get angry, Elsynia; as difficult as that is for you," Ah-Malz rasped. The mer frowned automatically but was unable to deny the accuracy of his statement. "They are probably trying to provoke you deliberately; do not rise to the bait."
Elsynia nodded, heeding her friend's words and doing her best to push her irritation away. There was silence for a minute, then Parwen asked, "So what now?"
"Now…" the swordswoman thought about it for a few seconds. "Now, I want to visit Morvayn's Peacemakers. I need a new shield."
"You realise that Varel probably won't have another Elven shield in stock? They aren't all that common," the archer pointed out.
"I know," Elsynia sighed. "But I'll take the next best thing he has on offer. I'd rather that than have my shield break just when I need it most. I'll look for a proper replacement later."
"What about after we get you a new shield?" asked Ah-Malz. "A new horse for Parwen, I presume?"
"Yes," the swordswoman confirmed, flicking an apprehensive glance at their comrade. The Bosmer blanched at the proposition but otherwise made no protest. "And then onto the Imperial City."
"The Imperial City?"Parwen tilted her head enquiringly.
"I need to visit Tirion before I go gallivanting off to Fort Farragut," Elsynia elaborated. "I haven't had the time lately, for obvious reasons – now that there's a momentary lull, I need to talk to him about several things."
The archer looked delighted at the prospect of going to see the High Elf mage. "That sounds wonderful! We haven't seen him in ages."
"That's because we were supposed to be meeting up with him for our monthly get-together on the night of my birthday, remember? Only we took an unexpected detour to the cells instead," Elsynia said wryly, recalling that life-changing event. "It's been a month and a half since then; he probably thinks we've forgotten about him."
"Not likely," Parwen snorted. "Practically the whole province knows what you did at Kvatch. I'll think he'll forgive you for being too busy to visit."
"I suppose that's reason enough," the swordswoman smiled. A flicker of red magicka darted across her fingers and flames leapt from her palm, devouring the piece of parchment and erasing the any evidence of the Dark Brotherhood's message. She uncurled her fingers and a fine, black ash trickled to the ground. "Let's go."
They visited Morvayn's Peacemakers first and found a mithril shield which met with Elsynia's approval, though it needed a few adjustments. Varel sent them away, promising it would be ready in two hours time. The three warriors exited back out onto the street.
"Is there anything else you want to do in Anvil, while we're waiting?" asked Elsynia, resigned to the delay.
"Swimming!" Parwen's reply was instant and enthusiastic.
"…I should have seen that coming."
Ah-Malz chuckled.
xxx
Elsynia sighed contentedly and allowed her heavy eyelids to fall shut. The dry heat of the sun was simply delicious after so much time recently spent in the wet and the cold. She lay in the long grass near the Anvil lighthouse, burrowed into the warm earth. If she'd cared to sit up and open her eyes, she would have seen the breathtakingly beautiful sight of the Gold Coast; the distant, golden, grassy hills rolling down to meet the Abecean Sea and the sparkling waves lapping at the sun-kissed shore. The lighthouse sat by itself on a spit of land curving out from Anvil's harbor and across the water the docks shimmered and warped in the heat haze. Faint cries from the sailors and the seagulls drifted over on the wind.
But the elf was happy to simply lie and enjoy the intense heat soaking into her skin, and appreciate the sheer luxury of having nothing pressing that needed to be done – at least for the next hour or so.
Behind her, Elsynia heard metal scrape on stone as Ah-Malz shifted his weight. He was leaning against the wall of the lighthouse, scanning the area for danger. The Argonian was watchful and alert, allowing the other two warriors to relax and let down their guard for a while.
Parwen was swimming in the water below, disappearing underneath the surface for long periods of time. She loved swimming and had borrowed the Jewel of the Rumare; a ring enchanted with water-breathing, which had been a birthday present for Elsynia from her father several years ago.
The swordswoman's eyes snapped open as she heard the silvery hiss of Ah-Malz's sword leaving its scabbard. "Stop where you are," she heard him rasp.
Elsynia scrambled awkwardly to her feet, slowed a little by the bulk of her armour and turned to face the danger. The Warder was standing between her and a robed figure, his claymore poised to strike. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought it was another member of the Dark Brotherhood; however, as the elf looked closer, she saw that the robe was more like that of a mage, albeit fairly tattered and in poor condition.
"M'aiq means no harm." The voice identified its owner instantly as a male Khajiit, even before he reached up and tugged down his hood, revealing his face. "M'aiq merely wonders if the good people have any calipers that they would be willing to share?"
Elsynia could only stare in bewilderment; Ah-Malz just looked at him, equally thrown by the bizarre request.
"Ah, no," the Warder managed. "You could try the docks, though," he added doubtfully.
The Khajiit beamed, displaying an alarming array of sharp teeth. "Thank you for helping M'aiq! M'aiq will not forget the Argonian's kindness!" With that, the strange cat vanished down the hillside; his speed left the two warriors gaping with disbelief.
"Who was that?" Parwen had come up the hill behind them, soaking wet and clad only in her underwear, just in time to see the odd Khajiit disappear.
"No idea," Elsynia murmured. She switched her attention to what the Bosmer was doing. "Are you finally bored of swimming then?"
"Never," the archer declared, grinning as she toweled her hair dry. "But I think the two hours are nearly up."
"I think you're right." Ah-Malz stretched and sheathed his sword. "I'll collect the shield while you dry off and get dressed; that usually takes a while." Parwen shot him an affronted look.
"I'll make sure she doesn't get attacked while she's getting dressed," Elsynia volunteered. Her growing paranoia about Mythic Dawn shrieked a warning at the mere thought of leaving her friend vulnerable.
The Warder nodded. "We'll meet at the stables then." He strode off and the swordswoman waited patiently as Parwen began pulling on the layer of clothes that went under her chainmail.
Elsynia frowned slightly, noticing that the archer had gone quiet, apparently preoccupied with something. It wasn't until she had finished dressing and was shrugging her quiver into place that Parwen spoke. "I'm sorry."
The swordswoman blinked, startled. "What for?"
"I was dead weight on the journey here. I put you both in more danger because of it." The Bosmer was unexpectedly serious; her beautiful face devoid of the usual laughter that constantly hovered around her mouth and eyes. "You're not still annoyed, are you?"
Elsynia just stared in surprise. In truth, she had already forgotten her irritation en route. Her anger was quick to flare, true, but at the same time, it faded just as swiftly. Unless it had constant fuel, her anger was usually short-lived. Over the years, the elf had only ever managed to sustain one serious grudge. "Of course not. I think you're entitled get upset – and drunk – when someone you love dies."
Parwen smiled, relief lighting up her face. Her eyes were bright with tears. "Thank you. I –" her voice cracked. "Miss her. A lot." A tear trickled down one cheek; the Bosmer looked horrified as she frantically scrubbed it away. "Oh, sweet Mara, I promised myself I wouldn't cry anymore."
Elsynia shook her head. "Parwen, you were the one who told me it was better to let it out when it was needed, rather than bottle it up. Take your own advice."
The swordswoman suddenly found her arms full of crying Bosmer, doing just that. Her protective instinct flared and her arms went around her friend, offering as much comfort as she could through the simple physical contact. Parwen sobbed unrestrainedly into her shoulder, her slender body shaking while Elsynia just held her, murmuring soothing nonsense.
It was a strange, unreal situation to the swordswoman; in the past, it had always been Parwen holding her, on the few occasions she had had reason to cry with such abandon. The archer was a bright, sunny person rarely troubled by anything; it felt entirely wrong to see her so grieved. It didn't help that Parwen's tears triggered the same feeling of protectiveness that Nerissa's did; Elsynia hated that, in reality, she was helpless to protect her friend from the pain. The mer could comfort with her presence, but unlike the physical wounds that she could heal without a second thought, the emotional hurt was not so easily soothed.
Parwen's sobs died away gradually and eventually her body ceased to shake. She sniffed quietly for a few more seconds, and then Elsynia let her arms drop away as the archer sat up."Better?"
The Bosmer gave her a watery smile, drying her face on her towel. "Yes, thank you. Much…lighter. I should listen to myself more often."
"You should," the swordswoman agreed with a gentle smile, still wishing she could do more to help, that she could entirely relieve her friend of the emotional pain. But then I suppose pain and experience shape us; make us who we are. I would be an entirely different person than I am today, if I hadn't lost him…
Elsynia shook herself, aware that her thoughts were drifting away from the current situation, into unwelcome territory. She helped Parwen to her feet.
"Should we go?" The archer blinked away the last of the wetness that still clung to her eyelashes. "Ah-Malz will be thinking that we're lost or something."
"If you're ready," Elsynia agreed.
Parwen flashed a watery but determined smile. "Yep. Let's get moving."
They set off around the side of the lighthouse, the swordswoman trying her best to lift the fog of sadness from around the older elf with jokes and smiles. It began to work and Parwen was just starting to return some of the light teasing, when a door in the lighthouse wall suddenly flew open, nearly hitting the archer.
"Hey, watch where you're –" Parwen suddenly choked and began coughing. "What is that?"
Elsynia was about to ask what she meant, when the reason suddenly became very apparent.
A foul, putrid stench rolled out from the open door – a smell so thick and cloying that it was almost a physical force. The mer tried to breathe shallowly, but it still made her normally iron-clad stomach lurch uneasily.
Then a hooded, black-cloaked figure emerged from the doorway in the wake of the stench. They halted at the sight of the two elves. The person's face was completely hidden in the shadows of the hood but Elsynia could feel their eyes on her; examining. All the hairs rose on the back of her neck and ice skittered down her spine. Every sense she had screamed a warning. Danger!
Tensing, the elf shifted into a combat stance, one hand sliding to the hilt of her longsword, ready to draw in an instant. Beside her, she felt Parwen do the same.
For several long, endless seconds, the three remained motionless, a frozen tableau. Then, without warning, the cloaked figure broke the stand-off by turning swiftly and re-entering the lighthouse. The door banged shut behind them.
Elsynia waited for a few more heartbeats, wary of a trick. She then relaxed very slightly, loosening her grip on her blade and straightening up, adrenaline still singing in her veins. "What the hell was that?"
Parwen blew out a sigh of relief beside her. "I don't know but it was very strange. And rather frightening. Let's leave in case they change their mind and come back."
"You don't have to ask me twice," the swordswoman murmured, glancing at the closed door. She was more unnerved than she wanted to admit. Something about that person had been extremely unsettling; both warriors were spooked by the disturbing aura that had permeated the air. "Anvil is full of oddballs today."
xxx
Elsynia shrugged her new shield into place on her back, getting a feel for it as Parwen moved amongst the horses, carefully considering each one. "Thanks for collecting it," she whispered to Ah-Malz, both of them watching Parwen inspecting the hooves of a mare, before shaking her head and moving on to the next one.
"Not a problem," he replied distractedly, hoping as Elsynia did that the archer found a horse that was to her liking. There shouldn't be a problem - the Anvil Whites had a reputation for quality - but the Bosmer could be very picky sometimes.
Parwen halted, locking gazes with a stallion. The Anvil White tossed his head, meeting her stare challengingly. She flicked a swift, assessing glance over him and then returned her eyes to his. "This one," she called, loudly enough for her friends to hear.
The other two warriors made their way over to her from where they had been leaning against the fence and stood beside the Bosmer, admiring her selection.
"He's a strong, spirited creature, by the looks of it," Ah-Malz commented.
"I know," Parwen replied softly, her gaze never leaving the stallion. She stepped closer to the horse and faced him squarely. "You will never be Onyx," the archer told him, her tone stern. "I'm not looking for a replacement. I just happen to be in need of transport. Are we clear?" The stallion snorted and pawed at the ground. "Good."
Parwen stepped back and caught her comrades' bemused faces. "It's important to clarify these things early on," she said, by way of explanation. The other two warriors exchanged amused looks.
As the Bosmer spoke to Clesa, the owner of the Horse Whisperer Stables, Elsynia collared a stable hand and gave him Onyx's old tack to put on the currently unnamed stallion. She returned to find Parwen sealing the deal and handing over a considerable amount of gold for the privilege of owning an Anvil White.
"You won't regret it," Clesa told the archer with a broad smile. "My horses are all of excellent stock."
Elsynia couldn't be sure but she thought she heard Parwen mutter mutinously, "I'll be the judge of that."
All three Guildsmen exited the building back out into the paddock, to find that while they had been absent, the world had been washed in red. Gone was the sunlight and blue sky. Instead the heavens were a churning sea of turbulent red-black clouds, shot through with veins of crimson. Thunder boomed in the distance and lightning streaked through the cloud layers, turning their bruised surfaces brilliant white for an instant. The wind was hot now and carried the scents of smoke and fire. Distant screams and cries of alarm drifted from inside the walls of Anvil as the city's population dissolved into panic. Warning bells started to toll, ringing out the alarm with deep, brazen tones and summoning the guard to defend their city.
Parwen looked at her companions, both washed in the ominous red light. Elsynia had her hand on the hilt of her longsword and was looking up the hillside, where a column of smoke and billowing clouds of flame signaled the presence of what could only be an Oblivion Gate. Ah-Malz wore a grim but resolved expression.
The archer sighed and handed the stallion's reins back to the trembling stable hand. "Could you hold onto him for a bit? I get the feeling that I'll be staying a little while longer."
xxx
Obsidian claws, tipped with shockingly bright scarlet, jutted from the ground and curved around the Gate. The black rock framed the shimmering, rippling sheet of otherworldly orange-golden flame. The ground around the Gate was scorched and blackened, the rock cracked from the intense heat and the golden prairie grass burnt away into ash. Jets of fire occasionally burst forth from the surface of the Gate, each accompanied by another outpouring of Daedra. The sensation of powerful magicka crackled in the air, a tingling shiver that ran over the skin like ghostly electricity.
There weren't many things that shook Ah-Malz but he could now safely add Oblivion Gates to the list. And they hadn't been inside the damn thing yet.
They were currently crouched behind in a large outcrop of rock to avoid detection, about two hundred feet away from the rear of the Gate. A stretch of bare ground had to be crossed to reach the portal, during which they would completely visible to the Daedra.
Ah-Malz glanced at his companions. Elsynia was scanning the scene with a keen, sharp gaze. He could almost see her cycling through various strategies in her head, deciding on the best one for the current situation. They had all slipped easily into the battle-mindset; even Parwen was quiet and alert. The Bosmer might have a bubbly, playful nature, but when in a combat situation, she could be as serious as both of her fellow warriors.
"Ah-Malz." He looked at Elsynia instantly, meeting her gaze. The elf's green eyes were hard as flint. "They won't be expecting any resistance from Anvil yet; it'll take the Guard a while to assemble a counter-attack. We should be able to slip past before they can set up any defences around the Gate." She glanced away, at the walls of the city in the distance. Her expression became haunted. "Let's stop this invasion quickly, before it can properly begin. I never want to have to witness another Kvatch again as long as I live."
The Argonian nodded, shifting his weight from one leg to another in an attempt to relieve the cramped muscles. "I'm with you."
"As am I," Parwen added, tightening her grip on her bow.
A smile flashed briefly across Elsynia's face, before she became serious again. "Then let's go." She placed a hand on each of their shoulders, and with a pulse of green Illusion magicka, the three warriors vanished from sight.
"Stay close so we don't lose each other," the swordswoman instructed them in an undertone, her voice issuing from apparently nowhere. Only a ripple in the air betrayed her presence. "I know my Chameleon spell isn't the best but the heat distortion from the fire ought to hide us sufficiently."
Setting off at a fast pace across the bare stretch of ground, the three Guildsmen sprinted directly for the Gate. The clank of armour and the rhythmic thud of booted feet hitting the earth might have betrayed them, if not for the fact the noise they made was completely drowned out by the roar of the fire and the screeches of the Daedra.
As they drew closer to the Gate, the heat became intense. The buzzing, prickling sensation of powerful magicka grew stronger, a high-pitched humming in the air that set Ah-Malz's teeth on edge. They reached the edge of the Gate and the Argonian had to crane his neck to look up at the jagged pillars of obsidian rock that framed the portal. The stone was inscribed with glowing red Daedric glyphs, vivid against the black.
He felt a tap on his breastplate and saw a sharp ripple in the air; either Parwen or Elsynia was beckoning him. The Warder followed his comrade and they rounded the edge of the Gate. His breath caught in disbelief.
The ground in front of them was swarming with Daedra. Towering, rocky Storm Atronachs shambled past, flickering with white lightning and shaking the earth with their ponderous tread. Spider Daedra darted nimbly around the vast creatures, gleaming black carapaces and deadly pincers reflecting the firelight. The smaller Clannfear and Scamps flitted between them, lizard-like and fierce. Ice Atronachs dotted the field, shimmering crystalline bodies glowing a faint blue-white and surrounded by clouds of drifting vapour. Daedroths stalked past, huge reptilian giants bristling with ivory spikes, massive claws and maws full of serrated teeth. Flame Atronachs weaved amongst the bigger Daedra; lithe female forms made of obsidian and magma, flickering with a constant halo of fire.
"By the Nine," Ah-Malz heard Parwen breathe beside him. The Argonian shared her dismay. He had never seen so many Daedra before in his life. Some of the rarer varieties he had only ever seen in paintings.
"Get ready," murmured Elsynia's voice from his left. The Warder felt her hand lightly rest on his gauntlet in warning. As she did so, Ah-Malz felt another pulse of magicka rush over him. He knew the swordswoman had cast a detect life spell on him when his vision changed subtly and a cloud of glittering purplish light coalesced around each Daedra, helping him pick them out of the darkness.
They were still crouched in the shadow of the Gate, concealed at the base of the right-hand pillar. The surface of the portal began to warp, the fire writhing and contorting, erupting outwards in gouts of deadly flame. Elsynia's hand tightened on Ah-Malz's forearm. "Any moment now," she murmured.
The elf had barely finished speaking, when a figure emerged from the shimmering Gate. Tall, grey-skinned, and imposing in silvery black-red armour – a Dremora. He was not alone. As he moved forward, more stepped through the portal after him. The sound of clanking armour and weaponry filled the air. Ah-Malz scarcely dared to breathe as the column of Dremora passed by, not twenty paces away from where the invisible Guildsmen stood.
When the last one had exited the Gate, Elsynia hissed, "Now!"
Rising from his crouch, the Warder dashed for the fiery portal. The flames grew hotter as he approached, singeing the scales on his face. Ah-Malz restrained the instinctive urge to retreat and instead plunged straight into the rippling surface of the Gate.
For an endless moment, he was drowning in fire. Heat seared his lungs and choked him. Then he stumbled forward, free, released from the awful embrace of the flames. Coughing, the Argonian raised his head and was confronted with a hellish scene.
He stood at the foot of a steep, craggy hill of barren rock, dotted with broken pillars and boulders. A precipitous path wound around the hill up to the summit, which was crowned by an obsidian tower. Menace clung to the structure. It loomed above the landscape, back-lit by the same threatening red-black sky that currently hovered over Anvil. Despite this, none of the reddish light seemed to touch the tower. Its jagged spires, like twisted black thorns, jutted out from each side of the edifice and reached into the sky. They looked strangely organic in comparison to the main body of the structure, but no less dangerous. However, undoubtedly, the eeriest thing about Oblivion was the noise; or rather, the lack of it. Thunder boomed and lightning crackled through the clouds overhead, but apart from those distant sounds, the Deadlands were quiet. The hill which the dark tower rested upon was isolated, surrounded by a sea of molten lava – but unlike a true ocean, there was no crashing of waves, no distant roar of surf to be heard. Instead, there was the occasional soft pop and slow sizzling hiss. The bloodgrass rustled every so often, stirred by a hot, dry wind which was tainted with sulphur and the smell of smoke; but otherwise, a deathly quiet lay over the land like a burial shroud.
A bright flare from the Gate caught Ah-Malz's attention; then there was pair of quiet thuds and he knew his companions had arrived. Elsynia's voice came from his left. "This way."
The Warder followed the telltale ripple in the air into the shadow of a large boulder, just off to the side of the path. He felt magicka prickle his skin and then suddenly Parwen and Elsynia rematerialized in front of him, as the Chameleon enchantment was lifted. The swordswoman gave a heartfelt groan of relief and sagged slightly against the boulder. "Thank the Nine. It's incredibly taxing to hold an enchantment steady for so long and split my concentration like that."
Parwen patted the other elf absently on the shoulder as she peeked out of their hiding place. "It looks like the path goes up the hill, towards that tower. That's what we're heading for, right?"
"Yes – if it's the same setup as the previous Gate. Which I hope it is, because the landscape at least has changed from last time; there wasn't a huge hill like this, it was just a sort of rocky island crisscrossed with bridges. The Gate at Kvatch must have opened into a different part of Oblivion." Elsynia grimaced. "Is there anything coming?"
The archer hummed a negative. "Not that I can see."
Elsynia pushed off the boulder and straightened up. "We should go now then. That party of Dremora only just went through the Gate but I'm betting that another group will be along fairly soon."
Ah-Malz and Parwen nodded in agreement. The three warriors cautiously picked their way out from their hiding place, stepped back onto the path and started climbing the hill.
It was unexpectedly hard-going. The slope was at a steep angle and the earth was dry and crumbly, causing them to slip occasionally as their feet sank into the ground. The intense, suffocating heat of Oblivion combined with the exercise soon ensured they were all coated in a light, sticky film of sweat.
"I can't believe I'm actually using my sword for balance, rather fighting," muttered Parwen, digging her glass shortsword into the loose earth for extra purchase as they scrambled up a particularly steep part of the hill.
"Just be grateful that we're not fighting," Elsynia replied, grabbing for the next handhold. "This climb is hard enough, without grappling with a couple of Daedra – watch out for that Harrada."
Parwen barely dodged the dangerous plant in time. The red fronds snapped through the air where her head had been seconds before and the archer swore at them in annoyance. "Even the plants here are hostile."
Elsynia had no breath to spare for laughter but she couldn't help grinning at her fellow warrior. "At least you have me here to warn you. At Kvatch, I didn't even know they were dangerous."
"Pah," Parwen grumbled. "I'd rather have something I can shoot any day."
Elsynia's smile fell away. "Well, even if this area seems to be deserted, there's sure to be plenty of Daedra to be fought later on. They'll be inside the Sigil Keep at the very least–"
The swordswoman was cut off mid-sentence, forced to duck to avoid a fireball that shot past overhead. "Or alternatively…" she muttered, looking further ahead up the trail.
A lone Scamp darted back and forth, chittering anxiously to itself. It lobbed another fireball at them and then turned to flee.
"Parwen!" called Elsynia urgently.
Parwen hopped onto a nearby rock, a marginally steadier perch, and swiftly loosed an arrow. It struck the Scamp between the shoulder blades before it had gone more than ten yards or so, and the creature crumpled to the ground.
Elsynia blew out a gusty sigh of relief. "Nice shot."
"It was only one Scamp," the archer remarked, stepping off the rock again. "Why were you so bothered?"
"If we haven't been detected yet, I'd rather we kept our presence here a secret as long as possible," the other elf answered. "The Scamp might have alerted someone."
It was another ten minutes before the ground finally leveled out. The path had wound steeply up and around the hill, and had deposited them squarely in front of a door that led straight into the hillside. It was engraved with another Daedric glyph that glowed with an ominous red-orange light.
"Looks like this is the only way forward then," murmured Elsynia, tilting her head back to look up. The cliff-like wall of rock rose high above them; sheer, smooth and devoid of handholds. "No climbing that."
Ah-Malz reached out and the door slid open eerily at his touch. The trio padded through it, slow and wary as their eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. They were in what appeared to be a tunnel. The ground sloped away under their feet and as they descended, the earth flattened out and the three warriors emerged into a cave.
Parwen strained her eyes. The air was murky; the only light was a muted red glow of indiscernible source. It was barely enough to reveal the outlines of the cave. The air was also even hotter than it was above ground, if that was at all possible, and Parwen's skin prickled with sweat in response to the uncomfortable temperature.
She tapped Elsynia's shoulder. "Night-Eye potions, do you think?"
The other elf nodded, reaching for her potion belt. Parwen downed one of her own and instantly felt better as the room was stripped of its shadows, suddenly sharp with the blue-black clarity of Night-Eye. Ah-Malz did the same and they moved forward, passing out of the room-like cave and into another tunnel.
However, it was only after they had passed through dozens of – oddly empty – interconnecting tunnels and caves, that a terrible suspicion crept up on Parwen. "Elsynia," she murmured.
The swordswoman glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"
"I think we're in a labyrinth."
There was a horrible silence for a moment. Elsynia looked as if she were experiencing the same awful realization that had just descended on the archer. "Oh, Akatosh," she muttered in dismay. "You might be right."
"Didn't you have to go through a place like this last time?" rumbled Ah-Malz.
Elsynia shook her head with a grimace. "Like I said, this part of Oblivion is different from the place that the Kvatch Gate led to. There were no underground tunnels there at all."
A faint noise echoed along the passageways and both elves' heads snapped up. They listened for a few moments and then exchanged loaded glances.
"Did you hear that?"
"Probably a Daedra."
"Then there might be a way out down there."
Ah-Malz, silently trusting their superior sense of hearing, fell into step behind them as they headed stealthily down one of the four tunnels branching off from the cave. All three Fighters' Guild members rounded a bend in the passageway, which widened out into the largest cave they had seen yet.
Well, I think we found the next group of reinforcements for the attack on Anvil. It was all Elsynia was able to think as she stared at the cave full of Daedra. Twenty Dremora – the last of which was just stepping through another glyph-marked door to join his companions – were stiff competition for only three warriors to face, especially when they were accompanied by two Ice Atronachs, a Daedroth and a gaggle of Scamps.
It was hard to tell who was more surprised by the sudden appearance of the other, but one of the Scamps recovered first – or perhaps didn't have enough brains to be surprised in the first place – and simply charged at the trio.
Elsynia's sword flashed out, and the Scamp's head was rolling across the floor before her brain had even registered the entirely instinctive move that her body had performed. It seemed to break the Daedra out of their stupor and with a roar, they charged across the cave.
"Move!" Parwen called urgently. Her two comrades instantly flattened themselves to either side of the tunnel. Two arrows streaked across the room in quick succession. One caromed off a hastily raised shield but the other took a Dremora mage in the eye, his spell fizzling out as he died. The archer managed to drop another Dremora before the Daedra were on them.
Ah-Malz and Elsynia quickly closed ranks in front of Parwen, standing shoulder-to-shoulder and blocking the passageway. There barely enough room for them both to maneuver but the Daedra could only come at them in twos and threes. Parwen backed away up the tunnel, nocking another arrow and waiting for the opportunity for a shot to present itself.
Elsynia's new shield was instantly put to the test. It blocked the first swing of a Daedric longsword, the blade glancing off the rim. She brought her own longsword sweeping up and met the Dremora warrior's next attack. The elf had almost forgotten their sheer strength; she remembered with clarity now the difficulty she had faced at Kvatch, as the force behind the warrior's blow shoved her back a step. Gritted her teeth, the swordswoman went on the offensive and forced him back with a quick flurry of slashes. She feinted with a strike at his torso and as the Dremora moved to counter, thrust her mithril shield up into his throat. The warrior fell with a gurgle, the arteries in his neck severed by the sharpened edge of the shield.
Beside her, Ah-Malz stepped over the Dremora he had just slain, claymore stained scarlet, and suddenly the entire passageway was filled with enormous looming form of a Daedroth. A cluster of Scamps darted about eagerly behind it, fireballs blooming at their fingertips.
Then a shimmering, translucent blue wall sprung up across the tunnel and the barrage of fire spells splashed harmlessly across its surface, dissipating into nothing. Ah-Malz glanced at Elsynia who grinned savagely, Alteration magicka crackling around her as the Scamps howled their disappointment. Then the Daedroth was upon them and the two warriors were suddenly fully occupied.
The passageway was too narrow for Ah-Malz use his claymore effectively and to his frustration, the strike he delivered to the Daedra's scaly hide was much weaker than normal. It roared with pain, blood seeping from the slash across its flank, and lashed out with a clawed hand. Ah-Malz was unable to dodge in the confined space and the powerful blow slammed into his breastplate, crushing his armour in and making him stumble back several paces.
Elsynia darted forward to take advantage of its distraction and threw her full weight behind her longsword, driving the blade through the tough scales on the side of the Daedroth's neck. Blood sprayed across her face as it gave a choked gurgle and lurched around to face her, still determined to kill the swordswoman despite the obviously fatal wound it had just sustained. An arrow embedded itself in the Daedra's left eye and a roaring scream filled the tunnel; a bellow of pain and rage. Elsynia used the opportunity to hew into its neck again and the Daedroth finally succumbed, collapsing to the floor which was now slick with its blood.
With their way now unblocked, the Scamps wasted no time in scrambling over the body of their fallen ally and charging at the warriors. The swordswoman's blade swung out, passing through their skin with what seemed like almost ridiculous ease after the toughness of the Daedroth's hide. Two Scamps folded up and sank to the floor, both nearly sliced in half by her strike. Ah-Malz moved forward to engage with the next pair, while another struck at Elsynia, its small claws screeching across her armour. It was too close to bring her Elven longsword to bear, so the mer whisked one of her ebony daggers from its sheath with her shield hand and stabbed the Scamp in the throat. It dropped to the ground just as Ah-Malz impaled the last one on his sword. The bodies of the dead creatures now littered the ground, their blood pooling on the rock.
Elsynia glanced at Ah-Malz. The Daedroth's strike had been an extremely unlucky one, crushing two parts of his cuirass together and constricting his movement. The Argonian's breathing was also labored; presumably, the damaged metal had burrowed into his skin and was putting pressure on his chest.
The sound of many booted footsteps echoed down the tunnel towards them. Elsynia did a swift count in her head and had to force down a sense of rising panic. It had been a long time since they had been so badly outnumbered by such strong, skilled enemies – there were at least sixteen Dremora left and two Ice Atronachs. Ah-Malz had a wound that would severely hinder his fighting ability and Parwen, while good with her shortsword, was definitely better suited to long range fighting. And Elsynia, no matter how much skill she had with her blades, was not going to be able to fight sixteen warrior Dremora at once.
Time for the second option then.
"Move back to where Parwen is!" she called to Ah-Malz as she raced past him. The swordswoman gathered her magicka to her as she ran, draining all of her reserves. It was going to take everything she had.
Elsynia stopped just short of the Daedroth's carcass. The Dremora were packed into rocky passageway, two by two, and marching towards her. The first pair was only ten feet away when one of them spotted her and raised his mace with an eager snarl, rasping something in his own tongue. He barely had time to take another step before a bolt of pure lightning lanced out. His body flew back, crashing into the other Dremora crammed into the tunnel.
The swordswoman held the rest of her magicka steady, shaping it into a final deadly spell – and then released it. Lightning exploded in the enclosed space, white-hot, powerful and unstoppable; it tore through the Dremora ranks like a gale through autumn leaves. For a moment, the entire world was made of light and heat and noise, as every shred of her magicka roared through the passageway in a devastating display of raw, elemental power.
Elsynia blinked away the massive blotches that the light had seared into her vision and the image of the tunnel slowly reappeared as her eyes recovered. Not a single Daedra had survived. The charred corpses of the Dremora – covered in heat-warped armour – were smoking gently and the Atronachs had been blasted to pieces, reduced to misshapen chunks of ice scattered around the passageway.
The elf surveyed her handiwork for a moment longer, then turned and trudged back to her fellow warriors. Parwen was in the process of unbuckling Ah-Malz's cuirass and the Argonian was hissing with displeasure as the damaged armour tore his flesh with every movement.
"I don't think we're going to get this off without hurting you more," Parwen muttered apologetically to her comrade.
"Just do it," the Warder rumbled, his voice tight with pain.
Elsynia stepped forward and together the two mer eased the cuirass off. There was an awful, wet tearing sound and the damaged metal came away from Ah-Malz's chest accompanied by ragged chunks of flesh. Blood flowed freely, thin streams of the liquid running down the Argonian's body and soaking his shirt and trousers. Raw flesh glistened in the dim light, torn muscle exposed to the open air.
The swordswoman quickly fished a Welkynd Stone from her pack and focused on the power held within the vessel. There was a moment of resistance, then she broke the barrier and the stone's power burst forth. It swept through the mer in a swirling rush and she suddenly felt energized, her reserves brimming with magicka once more. The stone, its power exhausted, crumbled away to dust.
Elsynia hastily raised her hands, already shining with blue-white Restoration magic, and gingerly peeled the remains of Ah-Malz's shirt away from the wound. She sent the healing magicka streaming into his chest, knitting torn flesh and muscle. A fresh layer of scales grew, flowing across the tender new skin. The elf wiped away the thin sheen of blood still clinging to the wound area and then stepped back to view her work with a critical eye.
"Thanks." The Warder nodded at her gratefully. It was impossible to tell there had even been an injury.
Elsynia smiled. "No problem."
Ah-Malz stooped and picked up his discarded cuirass, scrutinizing the damage closely. The Daedroth's blow had caved in the front of the armour, crushing two of the plates together. "I need to find something to hammer it out with, enough so that I can wear it without the damaged metal digging into my chest."
"Way ahead of you," Parwen called. The other two warriors turned to see the mer, who had disappeared during the healing process, come trotting back down the tunnel. She was carrying, with difficulty, a Daedric mace. The Bosmer dropped it next to them with a triumphant grin. "One impromptu repair hammer, at your service."
Ah-Malz picked it up. He examined it and gave a nod of satisfaction, deeming it suitable for the job. He began hammering at his cuirass and the steel sang with the strength of the blows that the Argonian rained down upon it. He stopped and inspected it. The metal was lumpy and uneven, but wearable. "It'll do," the Warder muttered.
Parwen grinned. "I can't wait to see the face of the blacksmith that you present that shoddy repair job to. I don't know whether they'll laugh, cry or take your head off."
Ah-Malz merely snorted and began buckling his armour back on. Elsynia smirked. "Let's worry about the Daedra now and angry blacksmiths later."
It took the three Guildsmen another hour to finally emerge from the cave system, into the marginally cooler air of Oblivion's surface. The Sigil Keep loomed menacingly before them, a rugged pillar of onyx rock stretching into the sky. Smaller towers flanked it, connected to the main one by bridges high above the ground.
"Dagon has a macabre taste in decoration," muttered Parwen, looking at the rotting bodies impaled around the entrance to the Keep. They looked especially gruesome in the harsh landscape of Oblivion.
"That, at least, hasn't changed from last time," Elsynia said quietly, tightening her grip on her longsword. Previous visitors to the Deadlands hadn't been as lucky as she.
They covered the short distance to the Sigil Keep quickly, mowing down a few unsuspecting Daedra in their path. Elsynia reached out and pushed open the massive doors. They swung inwards at her touch and admitted the three warriors into a dark circular room. Powerful magicka hummed at the centre, a beam of fiery energy that rose high above them, straight up through the centre of the tower. The swordswoman knew from experience that it would stretch all the way to the top.
Across the room, a pair of Dremora and a Fire Atronach noticed their presence and instantly moved to confront them. "Brace yourselves," murmured Elsynia to her companions. "It's only going to get harder from here on out."
Her words would prove true over the next few hours. By the time they arrived at the doors of the Sigillum Sanguis, almost at the top of the tower, all three warriors were on the brink of exhaustion. Parwen's lightweight chainmail was in tatters; the archer had been forced into close quarters fighting far more often than she was comfortable with and had paid the price. Elsynia and Ah-Malz's heavier armour hadn't escaped a beating either; both suits were now extremely battered and dented. All of their swords had been chipped and blunted by the tough skin, scales, bones and armour of the Daedra.
Elsynia reached into her pack and pulled out the last Welkynd Stone, her movements slowed by fatigue. She drew the magicka from the Stone and it streamed into her body, rushing into her empty reserves. The stone disintegrated into a fine green powder and slipped through the elf's fingers.
Concentrating, Elsynia soothed away the worst of her exhaustion and her most recent injuries with healing magicka. Then she moved swiftly to do the same for her comrades. They both straightened up, visibly rejuvenated. "Just one last push, then?" Parwen questioned, looking at the doors to the Sigillum Sanguis.
"Yes, thank Akatosh." The swordswoman led the way forward and inserted the key, which had been appropriated from the corpse of a Dremora guard.
They stepped forward into a gently sloping corridor that curved up and around to the left. A strange, grey floor squashed under their feet. Parwen did her best not to think about what it was made of. They rounded the corner and halted at a gap in the wall.
"This is the final chamber so there's bound to be heavy resistance – but we just have to get up two staircases and the Sigil Stone should be there," the swordswoman murmured.
The other two nodded. Ah-Malz rearranged his grip on his claymore. Parwen stretched an arrow out on her bowstring. Elsynia nodded at them, took a deep breath, and walked through the archway.
It was virtually identical in appearance to the previous Sigillum Sanguis she had visited. A red, fleshy substance formed the slightly domed floor, encircled by a ring of black rock. The pulsing beam of flame-like magicka that penetrated through every level of the tower was surrounded by tall needles of rock in the centre of the room. Two sets of staircases curved around the room, leading up the next level of the Sigillum Sanguis. The same fleshy material that the floor was made of was stretched tight to form ramps from the second level up to the final platform. There Elsynia could see the black orb of the Sigil Stone, revolving slowly in the beam of magicka.
The elf had barely cleared the doorway when four arrows streaked through the air towards her. They ricocheted off the shield of Alteration magic shimmering in the air around the swordswoman and Parwen's answering arrow took one of the archers through the throat a second later.
Elsynia launched bolts of ice at the remaining three but didn't wait to see if they connected with their targets. Instead she and Ah-Malz sprinted across the ribbed floor, heading straight for the first staircase. Parwen was directly behind them, nocking another arrow as she ran. Their booted feet rang loudly on whatever odd material formed the steps, the appearance of which resembled black thorns tipped with blood.
A Dremora mage appeared at the top of the stairs; Ah-Malz's claymore hewed through him with a powerful stroke before he had a chance to cast. A pair of Fire Atronachs lurched towards them and the Argonian moved to engage as Elsynia darted past. An instant later, there was movement in her peripheral vision and an enormous warhammer swung out of nowhere, colliding heavily with her magical shield. The shield – only designed to stop arrows – shattered instantly.
The Dremora roared something in his own language and swung the hammer again. Elsynia threw herself to the left as it crashed down where she had been a moment before. She rolled back up onto her feet, propelled by training and adrenaline. Lightning flew from her fingertips and the Dremora was blasted into the wall.
Turning away from the corpse, Elsynia dispatched a few Scamps creeping up on her and then looked for her comrades. Ah-Malz was leaning against the wall a short distance away, breathing hard. The bodies of several Atronachs and a Spider Daedra were at his feet. Evidently, one of the Spider's debilitating spells was still in effect so she hurried over and did her best to bolster his strength. Parwen stood nearby as she did so, sharp eyes scanning the chamber, bow at the ready. The number of bodies decorated with arrows testified to her deadly skill.
With Ah-Malz healed, the three warriors swiftly mounted the final ramp. The slippery red flooring sank slightly under their boots but they pressed on, arriving at the final platform. Elsynia heard Parwen groan quietly in dismay beside her. She couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. A line of Dremora stood between them and the Sigil Stone; all Kynvals, the strongest of the rank and file warriors; all fresh, and eager for battle. The swordswoman knew, as her two companions did, that they couldn't win this fight on strength of arms alone. It would be extremely difficult even if they were well rested, with their armour and weaponry in tiptop condition. Exhausted and battered as they were, the three Guildsmen would be slaughtered if they attempted to fight the Kynvals solely with physical might.
Elsynia stepped forward a pace, gathering most of her remaining magicka to her, leaving only a small amount in reserve. It wreathed her in a purple halo and seeing this, the Kynval warriors roared and charged. A solid wall of telekinetic energy smashed into the Dremora, throwing them bodily off the platform and sending them all plummeting down to the lowest level of the Sigillum Sanguis.
The swordswoman sagged a little. "Quick, the Sigil Stone, before more –"
Something crashed into the middle of her back with tremendous force. Elsynia flew through the air and collided heavily with the wall, collapsing into a limp heap. All the air had been forced from her lungs and she lay choking, struggling to inhale as blackness swam across her vision.
Ah-Malz spun around just in time to see the next swing of the battleaxe whistling down towards his head. He dodged and slashed out with his claymore, forcing the Kynval back. It had approached silently behind them up the staircase; evidently a latecomer to the party.
"Parwen, get the Stone!" the Warder roared, throwing all his strength into blocking the Dremora's next attack. His strong arms shook with fatigue as his sword absorbed the blow.
The nimble archer sprinted across the room as the Kynval snarled with rage and attempted to bowl the Argonian over to reach her. Ah-Malz gave ground but refused to give way; a second later Parwen snatched the void-black Stone out of the rippling beam of fiery magicka. The Dremora warrior's howl of fury rang out as the room began to shudder. The Oblivion Gate's anchor to Nirn had between removed and the loosed magicka engulfed the tower in an inferno of flame. Then the world warped around them and three warriors were wrenched away. There was a disconcerting feeling of bending and twisting, before the Oblivion Gate spat them back out into the mortal plane.
Parwen groaned and raised her head from the dirt, just in time to see the gateway dissolve into a red mist and then fade to nothingness. Only scorched earth and the claws of rock that had framed the Gate signaled that it had ever been there at all. Time had passed while they had been inside; it was night now but the sky above was reassuringly familiar, black dotted with pinpoints of silver. The moons were full and their soft light was comforting; gentle after the harsh red of Oblivion.
The archer could have wept with relief. She sat up and saw Ah-Malz stirring nearby. Then her eyes fell on Elsynia and she went cold. The swordswoman was an inert heap of limbs, golden armour shining dully in the moonlight.
"Oh dear Akatosh, no," muttered Parwen frantically, scrambling on clumsy legs over to her friend. She gently turned the other elf over. As she did so, Elsynia's eyes flickered open and her entire body jerked. The swordswoman made a choking noise, clearly struggling to breathe, so the Bosmer hastily looped an arm around her comrade's shoulder and pulled her up into a sitting position.
For a minute, Elsynia's mind was consumed by panic as she fought to draw air into her body; then with a huge gasp, her lungs finally expanded and the life-giving oxygen rushed in. The blackness faded away with every breath she took and it was a moment before the mer could concentrate on anything other than the sensation of the air moving in and out of her body. Then Elsynia became aware of the arm around her shoulders; she looked up to see Parwen supporting her weight. The archer beamed, practically radiating relief. "Thank the Nine. For a second there I was terrified that you had died."
"Nope. You'll have to put up with me for a while longer yet." The swordswoman managed to smile at her friend and then looked up at Ah-Malz, who was standing over them both protectively. He watched her with concern. "I'm fine. Beaten up, but fine," she insisted.
Parwen gave her a hand up and as she stood, Elsynia had to suppress a groan. The battleaxe that had winded her had also bitten deep into her body, through her Dwarven armour and into the skin of her back - though, thankfully, her protective shell of Alteration magic had taken the worst of the blow. She could feel the blood soaking her shirt and quickly sent a small wave of Restoration magicka through the wound, sealing it shut and forcing out any shards of metal that might have been caught in it.
"I am looking forward to a soft bed so much," sighed Parwen, rolling her shoulders. Her chainmail had been reduced to little more than scraps of metal hanging from her slender frame, and they clinked together softly with the movement.
"It might have to wait," rumbled Ah-Malz. He had been scanning their surroundings and his attention had been caught by the distant walls of Anvil.
"What? Why?" the archer tried to stand up on the tips of her toes, in order to follow the line of his gaze.
"Well, judging by the fire and smoke visible, it appears that the Daedra stranded here when the Gate closed are still attempting to break into Anvil. If we want a bed, I think we might be required to aid in the defense effort."
The two mer groaned in unison. All three warriors had already been fighting for hours on end and every single part of their bodies ached with fatigue and the stress of constant injury.
Elsynia dredged up the last of her magicka and washed away the worst of their exhaustion and wounds. Then the trio set off down the scorched hillside, heading for Anvil and the Daedra that awaited them there.
A/N: There you go. A whacking great big chapter at 10,300 words. x_x The Oblivion Gate really ran away with me.
Please remember to review. Thanks. xD