Sorry it's been a month and sorry it's a little/extremely violent. I was listening to epic battle music and it dramatically influenced my writing. Enjoy! There will be one more chapter after this! Or maybe two depending on how much I write...we'll see ;)
My lips crush against his, violent and alive, begging him to wake from his nightmare.
I'm about to pull away, abandoning the crazy notion and mentally preparing to take on the cannibals myself, when his deadened lips move against mine. And then he's kissing me back.
"Thank the gods, you're awake!" I cry, breaking away. His eyes are wide open and his mouth parted in shock. They search mine, eager and hopeful. "Now please, help me kill these cannibals!"
I run from him, eager to escape the reality of what just happened. What I had done.
Why I had done it.
Why it had worked.
I used his feelings for me to snap him out of the spell. It was underhanded, sudden, and manipulative. But the worst part was that it would change our relationship forever. I could not pretend it hadn't happened, but I could not let this impact how he felt about me, how I felt about him. I couldn't lose him as a friend, but I can't afford to have him as a…
I'm just not ready. And I don't know if I ever will be.
"Oh, Dibella," I pray bitterly, sparking electrical bolts in my palms, "please let me die right now."
I charge at the necromancers, throwing myself blindly into battle to extinguish the painful thoughts. The woman flicks her hands, dropping the hex spell and throwing all her energy into maintaining the ward. Her offensive spell down, I jump unexpectedly to the left, flanking one of the Markarth citizens, the meat vender I'd met a few days ago, and stab my dagger into his side. I shudder as I think about the origins of the meat he sells. I give the dagger a cruel twist.
He barks loudly, rigid with pain, and drops his knife. I send my electricity forward. The lightning shoots down the metal blade and into the man's body. He shrieks and convulses, but I've already moved on.
The female necromancer's ward has dropped, so I wrench the sparking blade from the vender's side and slash it across her face. Blood spurts from her temples and floods into her ruined eyes.
Quickly, I twirl the dagger and bite onto the hilt, freeing both my hands. Electricity already sizzling, I drop down, pressing my hands to the cold, blood stained stone. I close my eyes and with a deep breath I take in the energy around me and then force it back out through my palms. The lighting surges across the floor, rising up in storming wall, electrocuting my two victims. I stand slowly as they perish, careful to make sure I haven't overexerted myself once again.
Taking in a shaky breath, I recollect myself. I flex my finger, summoning small fires from the small sparks, and then grab the dagger from my mouth. I sheathe it and draw my iron sword.
Whirling around, I search to see how Vorstag is fairing. It occurs to me that he could be still recovering from that mind trick Eola played on him.
I sigh in relief when I see him battling the dog breeder and hermit as ferociously as ever. His face seems fearful, but he's channeling that fear into his sword, causing both the cannibals to fall farther and farther back. Though they outnumber him, they are severely outmatched.
I turn from his battle, searching for the other two cannibals. Then I feel my feet fly from the floor.
My body slams into the wall. I see flurry of black and gold and then green light flashes all around me. Suddenly my body feels heavy and limp. I try to bring up my sword to slice at my attacker, but it feels as if it were made of gold rather than iron. It slips through my limp fingers and clatters to the floor by my bowed legs.
A clammy hand grabs my throat and crushes me against the wall. The golden face of the male necromancer leers above mine.
"Little wench," he growls, tracing a long, jagged nail down my jaw line. He hooks it up at the chin, cutting my face. "You and your oaf ruined our feast." His eyes grow red. "And murdered my brothers and sisters."
I try to twist out of his grasp but my body remains limp. "No use trying to escape, dear." He coos with a grin. "You're under a paralysis curse. It'll only last a few minutes, but that's all I need. Now, what should I do with you? Should your death pay the toll you robbed Namira of? No, you're too rotten to feast upon. How about after I kill you, I raise your body back from the dead? You'd make a good thrall. Better than those ugly bandits and runaways we're used to."
I try to flare my hands again, but my senses are dulled and I cannot grasp the energy. I try to kick him, but only cause my limp body to stumble forward and the hold on my throat to tighten. Panicking, I call out for Vorstag.
"No no no." The elf whispers with a sadistic smile, clasping his other hand across my mouth. I watch his eyes glide to the side as he sizes Vorstag. "Oh darling, I have a better idea. One you might like. How about you watch me kill your lover over there, then I raise his still warm corpse and order him to kill you."
My eyes grow wide and I try to struggle, but the curse prevents me from moving everything but my head. I need to warn Vorstag. All it would take is one spell to his back and we would all be dead.
Then suddenly Vorstag looks back and our eyes lock. His face grows white with fear, then red with anger. "SABER!" He yells, voice wrought with panic. With a war cry, he hefts his ebony great sword and swings it like a club, cutting the two cannibals in half. Blood spurts from their split abdomens and their bodies keel over. Vorstag comes charging forward with a cry, face blood stained, and eyes boiling with rage.
The necromancer immediately drops me and my limp body slides to the ground in a distorted heap. His black cloak billows above, menacing and challenging, and he slashes his arms out, exposing the wrinkled gold skin. Red light flares from his hands and an ember circle forms around us.
Vorstag skids to a halt, eyeing the glowing circle suspiciously. "Don't cross the fire rune, boy," the necromancer laughs, "Or you'll damn us all to oblivion! Strength only gets one so far, and I have outsmarted you! I, Sanyon, the great—"
His last words end in a gurgle as Vorstag's sword, hurtling through the air like a javelin, pierces his chest. The necromancer coughs, blood spewing from his gaping mouth, and the red rune dissipates as his lifeless body topples to the ground.
Vorstag rushes over and grabs my limp body, begging me to be alive. "I'm fine," I say breathlessly, trying to shift in his awkward hold. "I'm just paralyzed."
"What?" He breathes, horror crossing his face. "Saber—gods…we'll get through this. It's going to be alright. I'll get you out of here, let us—"
"No, Vorstag," I say, slightly annoyed and my eyes darting away. He's holding me so gently, looking at me so lovingly, and I have no idea what to do. "Not that kind of paralyzed. It's a spell. It'll wear off in a moment."
"Oh." He says quietly, brushing the hair from my face. "Are you alright, besides your immobility?" His eyes seem to grow wet and his face grave. "I was so scared I lost you again."
"Again?" I say, confused, still trying to squirm away, "And yeah, I think I'll be fine. Go check on Verulus…" I look at the sacrificial table and pendulum where the priest peacefully lies, and see the cannibal named Lisbet standing beside him, a knife held above her head. "Oh god, Arkay!" I breathe, the panic returning. "Vorstag, save him!"
Vorstag's hazel eyes dart in the direction, nostrils flaring and jaw tight. Gruffly, he slides my limp body to the ground and pushes himself up. Mercilessly ripping his sword from the necromancer's lifeless body, he runs at the woman. His ebony armor clanks violently as he hurtles up the stairs to the table, the lust to kill in his eyes.
Lisbet whirls at the noise, her dirty blonde hair flopping around a shocked, fearful face as Vorstag's body collides with hers. She flies to the ground with a terrified shriek, and her small body bounces painfully on the rocky stairs with a sickening snap. She withers on the ground, crying in pain and holding an abnormally bent wrist.
Vorstag stalks to her, his sword dragging menacingly on the ground.
The woman squirms away, blood on her temple and face twisted in fear and pain. Suddenly her eyes grow wide and her mouth parts in surprise. "Vorstag?" She says, as if surprised to see an old friend. "Vorstag is that you? It's Lisbet! You know me, we're—we're friends!?" Her pleas are pathetic, even to her own ears. She is unable to meet his eyes.
"You're not Lisbet." He growls, raising his blade to perform the killing blow. "The woman I knew was a fraud. All of you were frauds. You are just a cannibal, and cannibals must be purged."
A grim smile crosses her face and her eyes bore into his, malicious and spiteful. "A girl's got to eat." She gasps in pain as his sword impales her chest with so much force it cracks through the hard stone, pinning her frail body to the ground.
She coughs blood and stares at the blade, eyes horrified and dimming. Then, a small smile spreads across her face, "Long live Namira," she whispers in her last breath.
Vorstag looks to me, a relieved smile on his broad face. He pulls the sword from the ground. "We did it, Saber. We—"
A sharp metal object erupts through the front of his chest, puncturing through the ebony armor.
"VORSTAG!" I scream, blood rushing to my face. I try to move, but my limbs are rubbery and weak.
His breath catches and he looks down at the foreign object, mouth parted and confused. He gasps, a retching noise, as it is violently retracted. He staggers and then falls to his knees, revealing a rematerialized Eola from behind.
No. This isn't real. Vorstag is too strong. I'm too strong.
How did we let our guards fall this far?
"GET AWAY FROM HIM, YOU MONSTER!" I scream, my insides churning. I feel hot water fill my eyes and run down my face. A surge of power returns to my limbs and I push myself up, stumbling in his direction. Reaching him, I catch his crumpling body before he crashes down the stairs.
"Worms…" Eola, says, her voice underlayed with Namira's. She flicks Vorstag's blood from the dagger, then looking at the blade like a child eyeing a forbidden sweetroll, licks what remains. "A little too sweet for my taste," she says, casually tossing the dagger away. Then looking at my aghast face, "What? You honestly did not believe I was gone, did you? Even I thought humans were smarter than that."
"Stand back!" I hiss, grabbing my dagger and flaring a fire in my other hand. "You may play host for a daedra, but you're still mortal!" It takes every ounce of my will not to blast her where she stands. I can't charge her head on for I have no idea what I'm up against.
Eola stops, though her expression shows she only does so to humor me. "Very well." She sings, crossing her pale arms. "Say we are at a stalemate. What do you plan to do? Run away, save your friends? You really think I'll let you leave here alive after you slaughtered my cult?"
I glare at her, teeth grinding. Her leering position robs me of the opportunity to heal Vorstag. He's losing blood fast and very well could have a punctured organ. I'm running out of time to heal him.
"I don't plan on letting you live either." I say, hand tightening on my dagger.
"Your plan? Your plan!? You think a plan of mortal could defeat me?!" She screeches, arms splaying and calling forth a portal to oblivion. "I HAVE THE SOUL OF A DAEDRIC PRINCE! YOU CAN'T KILL ME!"
"I didn't say anything about killing your soul." Then I leap at her, flames in her face and dagger in her heart.
She gasps, staggering under my force. She grabs at me, trying to push me away, her eyes blazing and demonic, but I twist the dagger, gorging the pale skin and shredding her heart. She coughs, bloody spittle flying against my face and we fall to the ground.
"I have the soul of a daedric prince…" Eola gags, eyes turning black, "…you can't kill me."
"Yes, but any soul can be trapped." I press the black soul gem on the end of my daedric dagger. Eola's face contorts, horrified, and the black dilutes from her eyes and comes racing out as wisps from her mouth. The wisps rush down the jagged surface of the dagger and are sucked into the gem. The gem lights a violent purple, casting an eerie glow on Eola's sallow form.
As it dims, Eola's body crumbles beneath mine, forming into a rancid pile of ash. My knees sink into the filth, and I recoil away. I look at my dagger, the sliver of demonic metal I swore would never hold another soul. The red tendrils of energy return and light the etched grooves, swirling hungrily as if they had never left.
I hear Namira shriek like a banshee in my head and I fling the cursed thing away. It hits the stone wall with a chilling metallic clang and falls to the ground, silent and dim. I take a deep breath and find myself smiling.
I won. I killed Eola and trapped a daedric prince. True, she will not be held there forever, but for now Vorstag and I have won.
My bitter laughter stops as soon as I remember he is dying behind me.