A/N: In Oblivion the Xivilai are a "creature" rather than a "character" race, so they don't speak unless one is using a mod for the PC such as AlienSlof's playable Xivilai. Lore, however, pegs them as a sentient race similar to Dremora, but less social. I've decided that this makes it likely they are able to communicate verbally.
Chapter 15
Menien Goneld had never seen a Xivilai. That fiercely independent race does not willingly ally itself with Dremora, and for that reason there would never be one near his cage in the Reaper's Sprawl. He had heard them discussed, but physical description was seldom part of that. He certainly didn't expect the eight-foot giant that suddenly towered beside Sodrinye. Some distant kinship with the Kyn might be traced in the fierce and angular features, the pointed ears and horns, but there the resemblance ended. The Xivilai wore nothing but a collar and a kilt of strange design. His skin was smooth, dark blue. Red tattoo marks glowed around biceps and wrists and ankles. The heavily clawed hands and feet were big even for the size of the creature, unbound by boots or gauntlets.
The Xivilai hefted an axe of green glass in one taloned hand. He turned a baleful yellow eye on Goneld and Merodach.
"Your enemies?" he said. He spoke the Kyntongue with a curious accent. The voice was about what Goneld had expected. That, too, showed a kinship with the Dremora race, possessing the treble echo that distorted words and made tone hard to interpret.
"No," said Sodrinye. Her voice weakened audibly as she spoke. "I am debtor to these. You will do them no harm."
"Hm," said the creature disapprovingly. Beside Goneld, Merodach looked back at it with a matching expression of disdain. The Xivilai visibly dismissed them both as it looked around. "So you have reached Mundus, little Sleeper. What ails you this time?"
"I drank a life, and it is gone," said Sodrinye.
"Ah. And now the departing soul seeks to draw you after, I apprehend." The Xivilai sat gracefully on the road, bringing his face closer to Sodrinye's as she knelt. He bent one knee and draped his free arm over it. The deltoid was bigger than the kynaz's head. "You are very sure of yourself, to summon me while you are thus weak."
"You can do me no harm," Sodrinye said, now very quietly. She slid sideways from her knees into a sitting position. "But you can refuse me. I have permitted it, even to the loss of my last incarnation."
Goneld glanced sideways at Ebel-Merodach. The caitiff had folded his arms and was watching with the martyred expression of one whose worst suspicions are confirmed. It's not something most kyn would do. Hells, I can't even imagine a krynvelhat talking to a summoned the way she is.
"I remember," said the Xivilai. "Were I of your race, I would take that only for a sign of weakness, little one." He laid the glass axe in the road and adjusted his position so that he sat crosslegged. "And why does this tiresome task fall to me, and not to your debtsworn?"
"He would not survive it," said Sodrinye. She lay passive as the Xivilai scooped her into his lap.
The Xivilai huffed, a sound more animal than human. "So spend him. That is what debtsworn are for."
Sodrinye's next statement was too faint for Menien Goneld to hear.
"I guessed as much," said the Xivilai, with evident resignation. He reached for the axe with one hand as he cradled Sodrinye's head with the other. Goneld had guessed by this point what was about to happen, partly because Ebel-Merodach was covering his eyes with one hand, so he was not startled to see the great creature carefully nick his wrist with the blade of the axe. He set down the weapon and held the wound up to Sodrinye's mouth.
They sat that way for a while, the great head bent over the small one. If the loss of blood made any difference to the Xivilai, he did not show it. Presently the monster withdrew his hand, picked up his axe, and stood up with regal grace. He held Sodrinye easily in the crook of one arm. Her head lolled, and Menien saw her closed eyes. Merodach watched them warily, but he didn't draw his weapon, so Goneld did not either.
"Come and take her before my time here expires," said the Xivilai. "I cannot harm you against her order, even while she sleeps."
"I am not afraid," said Merodach, and went forward to receive the Sleeper. The Xivilai grunted approvingly, as if he had passed some sort of test.
"She thinks you are worthy. I doubt it."
Merodach glanced at Sodrinye – making sure, Goneld thought, that she slept before he spoke. "There is cause for doubt," the caitiff said. He hefted the Sleeper onto one shoulder.
"Hm," said the Xivilai. Then he dissolved into a shower of gold sparks. No trace remained, except for a few drops of dark blood in the dust.
"I've been inside a cage in Hell for two years," said Menien Goneld. "And that was still among the weirdest things I've ever seen."
"Shut up," said Ebel-Merodach, and started up the path again. Goneld shrugged and followed him, grateful for any distraction.
"Could be worse," said Goneld. "She could be dead. You'd really be in trouble then."
"So you have said," said Merodach. "And that was not a request."
"I didn't think it was," said Menien Goneld. "Do all Xivilai talk like that?"
There was a brief silence. Goneld waited patiently for the caitiff to weigh his desire to swat Goneld against the likelihood that he would not succeed while carrying Sodrinye. Merodach eventually said, "I have never heard one speak more than a word."
"You mean like 'Ghat?'" said Goneld, using the imperative word in the Kyntongue.
"Exactly," said Merodach.
"And did you?" said Goneld.
"Did I what?" growled Merodach.
"Die."
"No. Though I did not escape unmarked." Merodach bared jagged teeth at the memory. "The creature was badly outnumbered. It was eventually overrun."
"That must've taken a lot of Dremora," said Goneld. "That thing didn't look clumsy for its size."
"They generally are not," said Ebel-Merodach. "Most also are able to summon."
"God's blood," said Goneld. Merodach had no apparent comment. They walked on for a while. Eventually Goneld said, "I didn't hear the Sleeper make any predictions after we saw the priests."
"The presence of the aedryn may have interfered with her ability to divine," said Ebel-Merodach. "Aedric and daedric magicka do not coexist easily. I do not understand how the atronach is able to function thus." He exhaled once, a soft hrmph. "But I am only a caitiff. I cannot pretend to understand the ways of krynvelhat."
"Would that be how you ended up debtsworn to a Sleeper to begin with?" said Menien Goneld. There was a dark mutter from the caitiff which Goneld interpreted without difficulty. "You can't kill me. Nobody else will shoot atronachs for you."
Merodach snorted contemptuously. "Badly."
"Practice makes perfect," said Menien Goneld.
"I sincerely hope so," said Merodach. "Given that he may find us again wherever we go."
"Neither atronachs nor priests of Arkay are a breed likely to give up easily," agreed Goneld. "You do realize that if she's not up and around again before that happens, we're all dead."
"The fact did not escape my notice," Merodach said, with an air of irritated resignation which Goneld was beginning to associate with him. "But the aedryn will be crippled by the allegiance he has chosen. There is a greater threat."
"Which is what?" said Goneld.
"Sodrinye is not the only Sleeper in Nirn," said Ebel-Merodach. "Nor is she the only one capable of reaching this plane."
"Oh." Goneld had momentarily forgotten this. He could feel his stomach muscles knot up just thinking about it. Humans or mer in such a situation, particularly persecuted women, might feel some bond of sisterhood. That was a very dangerous assumption to make about Dremora. Sodrinye isn't like other kyn – even Merodach isn't quite sure what she's going to do next. And that makes her more dangerous still. To me. To him. To everyone we meet.
Not, Goneld thought bitterly, that he was setting any benchmarks for reliability himself recently.