A Step In The Right Direction
Thick fog was drifting across the bay when the twins and Laurelin emerged from the tomb. Droplets of mist accumulated in their hair and ran under the fur collars of their garb. Farkas glanced around, unable to stop himself sniffing. Now that it was done, he was testing to see the differences. None of them said much as they dropped their bundles into the skiff they'd crossed the water and shifting ice in, each busy with thoughts of their own.
The twins had been connected by the blood so long that both of them seemed to feel a bit bereft without it. Laure noticed that they stuck closer together, still working with the same harmony, but they each seemed to need to know that his other half was still near. Laure felt a little pang wrench through her when she saw Vilkas give his brother an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder. A tiny gesture that wiped the worried frown from Farkas' face.
They rowed up the coastline, then dragged the boat up the stony beach and began the long hike up the bluff to Winterhold. Faralda met them at the entrance to the college, informing Laurelin, "An honor, as always Dragonborn. The Arch-Mage is waiting for you in her chambers. She asks you meet her there as soon as you arrive."
"Thank you, we'll go right up. Lovely to see you again," replied Laure as they breezed on past. The three of them charged up the stairs to the circular chambers of the Arch-Mage and found her austere face pulled up into an uncharacteristic smile.
"Ah, excellent timing! I have just completed enchanting the new jewelry I thought up. This new set will be far superior to the trinkets we threw together before. Go on, it's the same enchantments as your older ones, but stronger. I even made sure not to use silver." She seemed so proud of her gifts that it would have been the height of bad manners to refuse. And not even the twins were going to say no to gifts that greatly improved their chances of surviving the perils they saw almost daily.
They bowed, murmured their genuine thanks and exchanged the new rings and amulets. In addition, there was a gold circlet for Laurelin that improved her already impressive sneaking and archery abilities.
"Well then, I'll need to pack a few last moment items, and we can get moving," said the Arch-Mage. "I took the liberty of hiring a carriage to take us there, bring in a few more supplies and such. I have the feeling we are going to need them. Blackreach is rumored to be of enormous proportions. I feel it wise to enter prepared for any eventuality."
"I agree, and of course I'll be willing to help with the costs that arise," said Laure, still admiring the beautiful gems in her circlet.
"Nonsense," replied Shea'a quickly. "The gems that I won from your shield-siblings more than compensate. I actually won enough to fund an entire year of projects and research." Her tight little smile was back, black eyes glittering with amusement.
Laure turned to Farkas and Vilkas, hands on hips, brow arched high. "You let the Arch-Mage beat you at cards? I thought I taught you better!"
Farkas shrugged. "She's good; sorry to disappoint you."
Vilkas nodded in agreement.
"Don't be to hard on them; they did give me a very good run for my money. But they have some tells that they really should work on."
Laurelin watched Farkas unconsciously rub his ever present scruff, while Vilkas scratched the back of his neck, and she couldn't contain her grin. "Do they ever. Transparent like glass, these two, but more precious to me than diamonds. All right, you're both off the hook."
Farkas snorted and shot back, "Already paid the price anyway. Lost a pile of loot to an elf-mage. If anyone in Jorrvaskr finds out . . ." He grinned and drew his finger over his throat. "Farewell, credibility."
"At least you had the excuse of being grievously injured, brother. You were heavily sedated and drugged. I have no such excuse," muttered Vilkas.
Laure shook her finger at the both of them and chuckled to herself. "Leave you guys alone for a few hours and look what happens!"
Shea'a picked up a strange-looking set of straps, buckles, plates, and curiously wrought pieces of glass armor and began shrugging into it, piece by piece, fitting it carefully over her robes. When she was done, even Farkas was wide-eyed with admiration. Cunningly lobstered plates of glass overlapped her throat and chest, but still moved and flexed freely; while her torso and breasts where covered with a similarly made cuirass, which passed her slim hips and into a divided skirt that reached just below her knees. Her greaves and gauntlets matched; numerous buckles and straps held everything in place.
The cool greens and blues of her armor shone with gold and purple, every stitch imbued with powerful magics. A unique gold and glass circlet finished her apparel. Shea'a, standing over seven feet tall, suddenly looked every bit the regal Arch-Mage that she was. She armed herself with twin longswords and a staff, again of unique design, in which gilded and sculpted shards of glass were inlaid into honey-colored wood, polished and rubbed to a mirror shine.
"Wow, that's some of the most incredible armor I've ever seen. Who designed it for you?" Farkas blurted out quickly, eyes wide.
"The design is my own, based on several machina that I have found in Dwemer ruins, and upon extensive reading and study, of course. It only took me seventy-six years to perfect, so I was quite pleased with the results."
Farkas and Vilkas both blinked and mouthed silently, "Seventy-six years!"
"How did you manage to make it seem so . . .pliable? It moves almost like fabric!" said Farkas curiously.
"Well, that part alone was the biggest challenge. It is based off of a simple hinge system in which a pin of some sort fastens a flange to the base material. Using several flexible cords as the pins through a multitude of minute hinges attached to each plate . . ." Farkas was nodding in excitement as he envisioned the construction, while Laure and Vilkas, clever as they were, still struggled to piece together the hinges with cord, lost.
"Unbelievable! You made this?" Farkas wanted to know.
"Well, somewhat. I came up with the core ideas and designed it. It took about fifty trials before we got it right." Her long fingers fondly brushed one of the strangely flexible, many-segmented pauldrons protecting her shoulders.
"I'm impressed!" was all Farkas was able to say as he stalked about the much taller Altmer woman.
"If you're done wetting yourself over her armor, I think we have a carriage to catch, brother," put in Vilkas, amused in spite of himself. Reminded that they had ancient cities to discover and long-hidden artifacts to track down, they all rushed downstairs, through the vestibule and out into the eternal snowstorm that wrapped Winterhold.
They hoisted themselves into the back of the carriage—which was actually a large sled, already full of supplies and tools—and settled down, wrapped in cloaks and furs, heads close together while they plotted their next move.
Farkas set the sack of supplies he carried on the pile already on the floor and looked around the room warily. The last time he had been through here, he'd been flat on his back, gripping the sides of his stretcher with white-knuckled hands. He hadn't been interested in the scenery, but now he took a good, long look around.
"Where are we supposed to go from here?" he asked, poking around the square device in the middle of the room, centered on a stone dais .
Shea'a ran her golden fingers over a pedestal, tracing a circular depression with a ghost of a smile on her face. "I believe the key is here." She reached in to a pouch and withdrew a brass orb with its own grooves and carved markings. She set it carefully into the hole in the pedestal and pressed a softly glowing button. Immediately the muted sounds of buried machinery filled the quiet, and the four of them nearly fell into the stairwell that dropped through the floor, twisting around the dais.
Laurelin felt the floor begin to drop away and jumped clear, nimbly dodging the pile of food stuffs and rope that tumbled down, but Farkas and Vilkas both knocked about a bit as they were caught off guard.
Shea'a pressed herself to the pedestal and looked on with an amused expression as the twins cursed and picked themselves up. "My apologies, of course. I should have anticipated that the entrance would be concealed thus and warned you." She plucked the orb up again and tucked it away, dropped the short distance to the stairs, and vanished around the corner.
Laure and the twins quickly piled their supplies back up and joined the Altmer down at the bottom of the stairs. Shea'a, notebook in hand, lightly pushed with her fingertips; and heavy, embossed brass doors pushed open easily on perfectly balanced hinges.
Laure felt her eyes go wide with wonder as she gazed about. "Sweet Auri-El, now, that is something I never thought to see!"
Farkas and Vilkas stepped into the pale blueish light, silver eyes glowing aquamarine. "By Ysmir, that's impressive!" came the older brother's endearing exclamation of excitement.
Farkas was speechless but mouthed an awestruck "Wow!"
Shea'a let her little notebook slide out of nerveless fingers, smearing charcoal on her face unknowingly as she rubbed her eyes. "Incredible."
Vast didn't even begin to describe the enormous cavern of Blackreach. The three Companions and the Arch-Mage stood on a wide, raised dais with a low railing that was carved out of the living rock all around them. Mist floated along the floor and obscured the heights, and the impossible-seeming cave stretched beyond sight. Titanic glowing mushrooms of a surreal blue towered over everything on slender, curving stalks, trailing long, flowing tendrils down nearly to the ground. They dominated the scenery, making it impossible not to gape in awe. Everything was bathed in a pale indigo light that defied reason.
"I don't think we brought enough supplies," observed Farkas from the railing, as he peered out into the dim, shifting light.
"You might be right, brother. I think this is going to take a while," said Vilkas, joining everyone at the railing as they looked and listened. Machinery still rattled and hissed all around, but it was muted. Blackreach had its own subtle music—the sound of running water and falls; a melodic, low keening that crescendoed then softened regularly and was reminiscent of the sound of the Nirnroot; and also a soughing that could only have been air currents passing amongst the giant fungi all around, creating a sound like exceptionally well-crafted chimes of extraordinary proportions.
They sat down to have a bite to eat and pack their travel bags one last time, whispering quietly if they spoke at all, feeling unwilling to disturb the lovely calm. Finally they picked themselves up and began cautiously exploring the deeps of Blackreach, in search of Mzark, whatever that was.
They discovered an excellent base camp early on, complete with sturdy locking doors, fireplace, and room for their bedrolls and supplies. However, they were all eager to explore further and decided to rest later.
Immediately after leaving their new stronghold, they discovered that Blackreach was far from uninhabited. Falmer patrolled the roads for some reason, and a squad of the twisted creatures stumbled over the surface dwellers who were standing about. An intrigued Arch-Mage had seen an immobile centurion and needed to sketch it. Naturally the centurion ground to life moments later to further complicate the situation.
"Dammit, Arch-Mage, could you stop scribbling and get out of the way, at least?" roared Vilkas, no longer so reserved about shattering the peace and quiet. He danced back out of the way of the centurion, absorbing a glancing blow with his shield. There was no way for him to dodge the chain lightning that flickered between them, though, and it set his teeth on edge to feel the energy coursing through him. Thankfully, it was only mildly painful. An annoyance, really, but a magical annoyance, which translated into him taking his frustration out on the less than attentive party mage.
Shea'a fumbled her journal into one of her many pockets, leveled her staff at the Falmer slinking about, and began methodically paralyzing them, one by one. Laure and Farkas quickly stepped in and finished the ones still alive and turned to help Vilkas, who was now hacking away at the centurion with grim delight.
Farkas spun inside the swing of the piston-driven hammer at the end of one of its arms. He attacked the joints with gusto and ducked the backswing, diving between its pillar-like legs to come up behind.
Laure and Shea'a hovered off to the sides, ready to step in if needed, but the twins seemed to be enjoying themselves, bantering while they fought.
"Careful, Farkas, we don't want to push your luck; you don't have the blood to fall back on again," warned Vilkas. "Your more fragile than ever!"
"Sure, but even if—oof! Even if I die, I'll just go to Sovngarde." He had narrowly avoided a crushing downward blow, feeling the stone shake beneath his boots from the impact. "Besides, I have no intention of getting killed. Not by anything we've fought before, at least."
"Still better not to press your luck, little brother."
"A thousand gold says I get to Sovngarde before you," Farkas puffed as he blocked and thrust his sword forward.
"No deal; how are we to collect?" Vilkas wanted to know.
"Payable upon us both getting there," puffed the bigger twin.
"No cheating like a certain Bosmer we know."
"Who would that be, Vilkas?"
They kept the thing spinning between them, hacking at the joints when it looked to the other. Finally, Farkas measured his strike, hit the back of its knee with the heavy blade of his sword and pushed with all his considerable strength while levering it back and forth, inflicting maximum damage. The centurion dropped heavily, and the twins leaped in and cut out the spinning gyro that rested in the core of the now-disabled artifact. It ground to a halt while they examined the red gem spinning at the center of the gyro, daring each other to touch it.
"Well, that wasn't so tough," said Laure as she idly polished an imaginary speck of dirt off her bow, smiling playfully. "I do so love to watch you two smash things to bits. If you're finished, what say we explore that tower. Column. That one there." She pointed to the next structure down the worn road. That direction seemed as good as the others, so they continued on.
"Laure, are you sure that isn't too high?" Farkas called up to the Bosmer shimmying her way up the slender, woody stalk of a giant fungus. Stripped down to her smalls, she had quickly made the first fifty feet up and was now approaching the broad cap at the top while the other three loitered at the base. Shea'a was of course sketching everything she could, taking volumes of notes, leaning against one of the ubiquitous glowing mineral deposits that dotted the bizarre landscape.
Vilkas stood by his brother, nearly as anxious, biting his nails. He saw her reach the top of the stem and poke about on the underside a bit. She took out a knife, carefully pared away a small piece of the strange growth and dropped it into a pouch about her waist, then tucked away her blade once more. "You got your sample, will you come down now?" he called up to her.
"Soon," she replied then launched herself off the stem toward one of the dangling flagella, and caught it, swinging easily from the tendril, sixty feet off the ground. Vilkas ground his teeth against the cry of alarm that rose unbidden when she pulled off that stunt, watched her climb hand over hand up the rest of the way, then scramble up top. "Nice view from up here!" she called down, collecting yet another sample.
"Lovely, now please come down; those things look too flimsy to bear much weight."
"I do believe you just called me fat, lover!" remarked Laure from the edge, smirking down at the three below.
"You know I did no such thing. Will you please just come down?"
"Sure," she shrugged, slipped over the side once more and swung down onto a tendril, sliding down in controlled bursts, until she was only about fifteen feet from the rocky ground, then dropped lightly the rest of the way, knees bent to absorb the impact. "I don't think we've explored even half of this place yet. Maybe tomorrow we should start on the ruined city, these side buildings and towers aren't quite what we're looking for. And I really want to see that yellow orb up close." She handed several samples of the fungi over to Shea'a and turned to her pile of armor to start dressing again.
The yellow orb in question was a sun-like ball hanging over the city, casting its golden light over the tumbled walls and broken towers, the only other significant light source after the giant mushrooms. Up to this point, the party had been trying to methodically explore each structure they came upon. By now they had criss-crossed the portion of Blackreach nearest Alftand, mapping as they went. They had discovered early on that it was frighteningly easy to become turned around and be backtracking rather than pushing onward.
It was time consuming, but all agreed that they needed to stay focused on finding the Elder Scroll as much as possible. That didn't mean that the two mer had any qualms about investigating the strange flora that grew as tall as trees down in the bowels of the earth after a long day of poking about dusty ruins.
"I'm hungry; we should get back to camp and eat," said Farkas, helping Laure buckle on her armor.
"Sounds good; let's go eat. And I could go for a drink to wash the grit from my throat." Laure pulled on her helm and shouldered her satchel and sword belt. A part of her wanted to continue, but there was little way to tell time down here, and her joints ached. It felt like a long day. Though excited to be here, and closing in on an Elder Scroll finally, the low-level anxiety she had felt before tended to rise up unexpectedly from time to time. She forced that aside and laced her fingers into her mate's.
Hand in hand, she and Vilkas followed the other two back to camp, communicating without words.
"Any chance we could head up to the surface after tomorrow? I need to feel the wind and see some real sunlight before I go mad," remarked Laure with a grimace two days later, or what they guessed to be days. By now the ache in her joints had intensified, her skin itched, and her temper was growing short. She knew what that meant: the full moon was drawing nearer. "And I find myself craving fresh meat," she said meaningfully.
Vilkas nodded his agreement, more than eager to get to the surface himself. Farkas smiled and rubbed his scruff. He clearly felt no such urge and seemed pleased by that realization.
"But we've only just arrived!" protested Shea'a. "Couldn't one of you go up and hunt something down then bring it back?"
"The hunt is why Vilkas and I need to go. He becomes extremely irrational and cranky when he doesn't allow his change, and I turn into a crazy, horny bitch. I don't think you want to be trapped down here with us fighting the change for the next few days, at each other's throats, or fucking away the aggression."
Shea'a blanched at the coarseness of the other mer's language, but nodded. "A few days you say? Perhaps I could stay at the inn for a while and ah, compile my notes. Farkas, would you escort me over the pass?"
"Sure. A nice feather bed sounds like just what I want. Dwemer beds just aren't right. I mean, who could sleep on a short little stone shelf? Let the lovebirds have their fun; it usually only takes one good hunt, anyway. We'll be back down here before you know it."
Laure's teeth chattered audibly in the cold as she quickly stuffed her clothes into her backpack. Vilkas stood nearby, breath steaming in the frigid air, unbothered by chill. As soon as the last buckle was fastened, she let her change come, looking forward running until the cold was just a passing nuisance. Vilkas followed suit and they ran off together into the bright scarlet light of Masser, sniffing for prey.
They snacked on fresh mudcrab, then moved on to a small doe. Still ravenous, the two werewolves howled and raced on, catching the scent of a bear not far away. Vilkas had never known his mother, so she probably hadn't told him not to play with his food. Laure's mother had told her no such thing.
"It's sweeter when your prey has its blood pumping, and the spirit is strongest," she had said to a young, wide-eyed Laurelin. "The greatest energy comes when a creature struggles to live."
This bear knew it was being hunted and reared up on hind legs, powerful claws raking the air threateningly. She snarled at it and plunged forward, then leaped back out of the way of a powerful swipe. She loped around it in a wide circle, howling and yipping in excitement. She could have finished the beast herself with ease, but stalking it was part of the fun.
She and her mate churned the deep snow, nipping at the bear's thick hide, goading their prey into enraged attacks, only to melt away again. The thing grunted and bellowed at them furiously, and turned to gallop heavily away.
Run! Faster, flee! Laure thought with glee as Vilkas surged to the side to flank it. However, the bear didn't run far before it turned to posture and claw again. The two predators circled, tongues lolling, eyes glowing green in the pale light. One wolf so pale as to almost match the snow, the other dark as a moonless night. Each unspeakably hungry.
White fangs bit deep, tearing huge gashes from the bear's heavy shoulders and hindquarters, and razor claws slashed at tendons and the soft underbelly. The huge animal fought back, but was over-matched by these two perfect hunters. With the white one on its back, teeth buried in the fatty muscle over its spine, the dark one rushed in and grabbed its forepaws, then buried his muzzle under its jaw and squeezed, tearing out its throat.
The bear expired with a gurgle and collapsed. Laure leaped off its back and howled triumphantly, joined by Vilkas. They feasted until little remained, just a tattered hide and cracked bones, sucked clean of the nourishing marrow. Temporarily sated, they lovingly licking each other's faces clean and then loped off. Now that their bellies were full, they ran swiftly back to the inn and changed back, donning clothes quickly before entering the Nightgate.
A quick bath for them both, then a nice feather bed to roll around in until tomorrow afternoon was all either of them wanted to think about just then. There were other hungers to sate, between the sheets.
Vilkas winced a little but grinned anyway. His back was laced with the raw marks of Laurelin's short nails, and now she was gently rubbing a cleaning salve on them. "I could use a touch of magic; they'd be gone in a heartbeat."
"They'll be gone by sunset anyway, thanks." He pulled her arms over his shoulders and hugged her to him, feeling her breasts pressing into his back, warm thighs looped around his waist.
"Laurelin, I know this isn't the best time to bring this up, but are you still content with me, now that Farkas has, ah-"
"Has abandoned me with only you? Aye, Vilkas. I am still more than content with just you. Farkas and I have a very real connection, but I don't blame him for wanting something different. I truly hope he finds a woman who can make his every dream come true."
"And what about you, Laurelin?" he asked softly.
"What do you mean?" she whispered in his ear.
"What do you dream of doing after this is all over?"
"Honestly, my love, I can't see or dream beyond Alduin. My head knows he is a dragon, and if I'm good enough, I can defeat him. But in my bones I know better than to underestimate him. My dreams for the future haven't happened yet." She couldn't quite keep the bleakness out of her words, and she pressed herself closer to his hard back, comforted by his solid presence, his heat.
"Why do you ask, O, First Minion? Something on your mind?" she finally asked in a lighter tone.
"Plenty. I have many things I want to talk to you about, yet I find I don't know how, nor the way. And you already know what's in my heart without me needing to say a word."
"You want to get married," Laurelin guessed. "Start a family perhaps. Have a son to hold, to pass on your heritage."
"Aye, I won't deny that, but so much more I want to be with you. To call you my wife would be an honor and a joy, one that perhaps I'll earn."
"Ask nicely," advised Laure with a grin, curious. When Vilkas looked confused, swiveling around to face her, she repeated herself. "Ask. Nicely. Poetry wouldn't hurt, but I don't want to put you on the spot."
His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as he thought quickly. Surely she wasn't suggesting . . . finally, he cautiously began, "Laurelin Vo'Shai, would you do me the very great honor of being my wife?"
Laure twitched and shivered in his arms, her breath suddenly rapid and shallow as panic overtook her. "Oh gods, Vilkas, I want to be able to say yes, I'm so sorry." Alduin cast his dark shadow over this moment. Even if she did marry Vilkas, she had no promise of surviving the Dragon Crisis. On top of all the other reasons. "Why? What would it mean to you, how would it be different?" she needed to know.
Vilkas chose to ignore the stinging pain he felt in his heart at her reaction. He knew she wasn't being cruel or unkind. He imagined her reaction was something similar to what his would be if she asked him to become a mage, trade in his armor. He thought a moment before beginning.
"It would mean we still did everything the way we do, but declared in front of the gods to be loyal, to fight for each other, to love each other unconditionally and without secrets or reservations. It would mean that if we were blessed with children, they would have my name, not be unnamed bastards like me. Most of all, I want to live with you for as long as the gods give me, take care of you when you need it, be here for the joys and sorrows. Is that so bad?"
"No, not at all. It sounds lovely. But I would be devastated if you got your hopes up for children and it didn't ever happen. It wouldn't be right for you."
"Why don't you trust me to know what I want? I've said before, and still mean it: children would be a marvelous thing, but what I want most is you."
"Aye. Can I think about it, though? Ask me again when I'm not all moon-crazy."
"You know Mara likes to bless those who are joined under her with children," mused Vilkas with a mischievous grin, knowing humor was the best way to restore hers.
"I didn't say push your luck!" she muttered and thumped him gently.
"Family. Farkas wants to start one. You know we've always been so alike, in face and desires. Our methods differ, aye. But the cycles of our lives have always been nearly mirrored. I don't know if the idea began with him, or myself, but we've both been, well, craving a family. Perhaps it has to do with us not having the traditional family. Maybe it's because our adopted family is centered around violence, and even though we love them we want something different. But I think it is because we found an incredible woman who showed us things we didn't know about. A woman so brave and loving-"
"Shush, before I get sick."
"Why do you always deflect like that? I'm being sincere."
"I'm sorry, love, I'll stop. Vilkas, I love you beyond expressing, and if I was going to marry anyone, it would be you. I just . . .need time."
"I understand. I'll still love you forever, even if you're never ready. Never doubt that."
"I never have." And she truly meant it.
The next day, the four adventurers stepped out onto the porch of the inn, thickly bundled against the driving snow that was coming down. They hoisted their packs and began trundling up the long Wayward Pass, then turned up the seldom-used path to the Great Lift, which would drop them all the way down into Blackreach.
They stepped off the lift after the long ride down and got straight to work, all focused on finally obtaining an Elder Scroll. They jogged swiftly to the Dwemer city in the middle of the vast cavern, watching the golden light grow nearer and nearer.
They had been able to explore several of the buildings before having to take a break for Laure and Vilkas, and so picked up where they left off.
They were creeping around the interior of one of the buildings when they heard strange sounds coming from up ahead. Laure poked her head around the corner and stifled a gasp of surprise. Several Falmer seemed to be overseeing a group of wretched-looking humans. The humans were doing menial tasks for the Falmer, blindly obeying orders, moving from task to task slowly. They were clearly treated none to kindly, spindly limbs covered in bruises and festering sores.
Laure quietly filled the other three in, and they decided the best way to rescue the human slaves would be if Shea'a used her staff to paralyze the Falmer first. Shea'a crept to the corner and carefully took aim on the overseers closest to the slaves, taking a few breaths to steady her hand and be sure of the order she would proceed. A few heartbeats later, the last of the Falmer had toppled to the floor, leaving the slaves gaping around them in confusion. They then sat down and waited, motionless, staring at the stonework blankly.
Laure and the twins swept in and finished the paralyzed creatures with merciful swiftness. The slaves didn't even glance around as the fighters picked their way around the room. Shea'a approached one of the men on the floor and squatted down in front of him. He continued to stare, but there was no recognition apparent. She waved her hand in front of his eyes and received no reaction.
"Strange, it's almost as if they shut down when their captors did," she remarked. She reached out and tapped his knee gently. "Hello? I am Ar-Oh!" The man's eyes snapped to hers and flickered over her, then he snarled in some strange language and lunged for the Altmer, teeth bared.
Shea'a tumbled out of the way, trying to fend off the man's attacks with her staff.
"Watch out!" cried Laure as the rest of the humans lunged to attack the party with dirty nails and rotten teeth.
Farkas and Vilkas simply cut down the ones that came after them, and Laure realized quickly that there would be no negotiating or rescuing these poor people. Sadly, she finished one off, and turned to see the Arch-Mage sweep the feet out from under one and bring her staff down on the back of his head smartly.
"I want to see if we can find out why they behaved so strangely," she reasoned when the Companions all gave her curious looks.
"Do we have time for that? I thought we were looking for a scroll, not scrawny prisoners," Farkas put in, blunt as always.
"True, but if we can get him to come around, perhaps we can question him. He may have seen something useful!" huffed Shea'a, out of breath, still startled.
"And if he has nothing of use to tell us, what then?" asked Vilkas, his brow furrowed.
"That remains to be seen. Perhaps we should restrain him before he wakes and goes berserk again?"
"Fine, let's get this over with," he muttered. "At least we have rope this time."
"I never knew they kept slaves," murmured Laure as she looked over the bodies. "I had heard they occasionally eat captives, but I've never heard about this."
Shea'a began examining the prisoner as soon as he was tied up, checking his pulse, eyes, even going so far as to open his mouth and sniff his breath. She pulled away with a grimace.
"Interesting. I would have thought ingesting those would kill a human. They must have started with very small doses. Hmm . . ." The mage poked and prodded the man, then cast several spells over him, mumbling incomprehensible things to herself while the fighters looked on. After a while the man awoke and began alternately shouting hoarsely without words, and dressing his captors down roundly in that hissing, chittering language heard earlier. He rolled around on the floor, banging his head on a stone corner, which only dazed him a moment.
Shea'a stood back and watched for a moment, then turned to Vilkas and reluctantly admitted, "You were right, we'll get nothing of use out of them. He seems to have been fed a diet of poisonous fungi, and my guess is that he is quite lost in permanent hallucinations of some sort. They confuse the mind, and I believe the confusion was augmented by some rather dark magics. I don't understand how, but the Falmer were able to control them thus. I think, rather that is, it would be a mercy if . . ." she trailed off, embarrassed by the intent looks she was receiving from the three warriors.
"Do your own dirty work, Arch-Mage," Vilkas snorted in irritation as he turned away. "You wanted that one alive, and I won't kill an unarmed, bound man."
Farkas shrugged and gave an apologetic half-smile before trailing after his brother.
Shea'a glanced around in bewilderment, lost, until Laure stepped up. "I understand why you did it, Shea'a. I'll take care of him; go on ahead." When the Altmer nodded gratefully and followed the twins, Laurelin drew her sword, and carefully took aim. "May the gods be kind to you in the next life," she prayed, and with a single stroke, she sheared off the madman's head.
* * *
Discovering that the Falmer kept slaves and twisted those poor souls into mockeries of life set them on edge. There were still plenty of Falmer around, and none of them wanted to end up like the wretched creatures they'd had to slay.
Even Laurelin's eagerness to investigate the marvelous golden orb high above had waned, and she grimly stuck to finding Mzark.
Exploring the rest of the city went quickly however, and soon they came to the conclusion that the Elder Scroll probably wasn't in the city. They hiked out and looked off into the distance, seeing many ruins still, and several improbably large pillars of living stone dotted with balconies and machinery.
A long, raised causeway led to one such structure not far away, partially obscured by the glowing mists. Laure's gaze lingered on it, and she felt a little tug toward it, deep inside.
"That one, there. I want to try that one next," she declared firmly.
"As long as it's not the one with all the webs . . ." agreed Farkas from up ahead.
"Fine by me," said Vilkas at her side. "Can we come back tomorrow, though? Something tells me it's late, and I think we all need rest and food."
Laure wanted to go now but saw the truth in his words, and so she agreed. "I'm sure it will still be there tomorrow; been here for eons now, what's one more night. So who's turn is it to cook?"
Tomorrow just might be the day, she had a feeling in her gut.
Greetings lovely readers! Sorry for the delay in posting, but here! Have a handful of chapters! Okay, maybe not a handful, but more than one! As always, thank you so much for reading, reviewing, following and favorite-ing.