Chapter 5 - The Dark Land

Lucien was bobbing. It was strangely relaxing, like the gentle rock of a boat on the ocean. The ocean… Damn! His eyes flew wide, sure he would find himself far out to sea in some godsforsaken little canoe. But no… there were the tall exotic trees, the welcome darkness provided by the canopy, and the less welcome net that had ensnared him. But gone was the reassuring weight of his weapons on his belt, and his hands had been bound behind his back, preventing any spellcasting.

So Lucien really had no option but to wait patiently in his net, bobbing along while suspended from the pole his two new 'friends' were using to transport him to gods knew where. Fortunately, Lucien wasn't one to suffer from sea sickness.

As the sun began to descend in the sky, the world under the canopy grew darker still, the foreign noises Lucien had heard on his previous journey through the trees were growing steadily louder, and there was something… else. At first, Lucien believed himself to be imagining it, his overworked mind becoming stressed from what had to rank among the worst weeks of his life. But as the gloom increased, he noticed his hosts giving each other nervous glances, and he knew then that he wasn't imagining it. There was something he had never encountered in this jungle, something alive, with a seeing mind, watchful; judging. And the darker it got, the more intense the feeling – they were being observed.

When the sun descended into the earth, Lucien was plunged in to a darkness so complete, even he had never experienced the like of it. He could see nothing; not a thing, except the glowing of strange forest creatures. As his eyes grew more accustomed to the exotic night, he began to notice more and more of these animals – insects, lizards and snakes, even a nocturnal bird or two, and numerous pairs of eyes, observing the strange procession. They glowed white, yellow, blue and red; whirring about in constant movement. Even some of the lichens, fungi and vines were glowing subtly.

Lucien was just wondering how on earth the two natives could see where they were going, when they emerged from the trees onto the summit of a lone mountain piercing the canopy in the middle of the jungle. And at the top of the mountain could be seen their destination – a vast metropolis, illuminated with thousands of silver lamps in mimicry of the jungle it loomed over.

At this point the two natives dumped Lucien unceremoniously on the ground, and kindled a lamp, which emitted a silvery glow akin to those that could be seen in the great city above. They then settled down upon the slopes of the mountain and took a rest; eating and drinking their fill.

By now, Lucien was parched and famished, but he refused to allow himself to eye the natives' vittles jealously, and ignored their attempts to feed him.

xox

The trail up to the city wound about the mountain, long and steep; stepped in places, smooth and ramp-like in others. It was paved with a fine stone, the slabs joining perfectly with each other, never sticking out to trip the unsuspecting traveller. With several stops to recover from the exhausting climb, by the time the small party made it to the gates of the city the lamps were doused, and the sun was beginning to peak over the tops of the trees.

The gates of the city were wrought of a heavy reddish wood, finely carved and locked tight. Two soldiers in fine chainmail solemnly stood guard, the early morning sun glinting off their mail so that they resembled the silvery fish in the bay. Their armour bore an image of a strange cat-like creature Lucien had never seen before – it bore a resemblance to the mountain lions of Cyrodiil which Shadowmere used to enjoy racing.

Thinking of his old steed brought on an uncharacteristic bout of nostalgia, where was she now? Had his Silencer uncovered the traitor? Had the Black Hand survived? What of the Brotherhood to which he had dedicated most of his life? His ruminations were rudely interrupted by the clanking of the gate, as one of the guards went into the city, presumably to fetch someone with the authority to decide his fate.

It was only now, as he hung in the air, suspended between the two natives, fully exposed in the morning sun, that he realised exactly how undignified his current situation was. The anger that had been quelled by the gentle rocking of the journey and the fascinating night's light show suddenly resurfaced, though Lucien had the self discipline to prevent it from showing, especially now that he had a playground at least the equal of the Imperial City to work with…

xox

After an interminably long wait, the massive gates opened once more. Out of them came a small mounted delegation, consisting of two women who looked to be in their fifties, and a retinue of soldiers all in shining plate mail which seemed to be a pale imitation of the set he saw in Nefernis' tomb. The horses they rode upon were similar to those he was accustomed to, though their faces were dished, and their bones fine and delicate, as opposed to the more brutish looking beasts used in Tamriel.

The two women, as dark skinned as Lucien's escort, dismounted and approached the group. The two scouts then treated the women to a speech, presumably an account of what had happened at the pyramid. When they reached the end of their tale – which part that was, Lucien wasn't sure – their voices rose to a crescendo, before yelling something which made one of the women gasp in horror, and the other shout in rage.

The enraged woman snatched a spear from one of the soldiers, and strode purposefully towards Lucien as he dangled helplessly, obviously meaning to skewer him on the end of it.

Lucien's mind went into overdrive. He needed an escape, a distraction, anything. As he struggled inelegantly and ineffectually against his bindings, he noticed the weight of his new amulet, and a plan began to form itself in his mind.

"Kushiel!" he commanded.

A gasp and a whisper rippled through the assembled crowd – or was that the ripple of a sudden breeze?

In answer to Lucien's command, the long shadow that he cast in the early morning's sun seemed to grow, and take on a shape of its own; solidifying into the form of a woman, the shadow warrior with luminous green eyes.

At once, Lucien was dropped, and the assembled crowd backed away from the pair, lowering their eyes from the dark figure.

Kushiel drew a black blade, and turned to Lucien, who was beginning to question the wisdom of this plan. But he needn't have worried, for the figure simply crouched beside him, and cut through the net and his bonds. As one, they stood, locking gazes; and again Lucien was struck with the knowledge that he was close to something. Closer than before – he had commanded her, and she had obeyed. But she wasn't his, yet. Her gaze was judging, undecided.

As Kushiel dissipated back into the shadow from which she had come, the crowd began to murmur to each other. The woman who had gasped stepped tentatively towards Lucien. She made a sweeping gesture with her hands and said:

"Kushiel n'afar." Turning to address the crowd, she called out "Kushiel erriat, Kushiel uss dar'ith leshar!"

Turning to Lucien, she spoke again, but this time Lucien recognised the sounds she made. They were similar to those he saw in the daedric translation manual.

As he was ushered into the city, he became aware just how much of a stir he was making. Being led through the winding streets, he felt rather than heard the ripple of rumour travelling from mouth to mouth, like the waves of a stone hitting the water. Attention was not something he wanted, it made his business difficult.

He was led to what he assumed was the main governmental building, a great domed hall surrounded by exotic looking trees and shrubs. Intricate mosaics decorated the ground all around it, and a clear pond containing water flowers and rainbow coloured fish ran around the perimeter. Lucien was led through a pair of tall white pillars, into a great hallway, through a corridor and into a luxurious bed chamber.

For a moment he hesitated, sizing up the woman leading the way, but relaxed soon after, reasonably sure that she wasn't the type to invite strangers into her bed. She gestured to a richly embroidered divan, and Lucien took a seat. The woman sat in a chair opposite, and gestured to a servant, who scurried off; then she looked at Lucien expectantly.

Lucien took out his book, flipped through the pages, and arrived at a passage that would serve as a beginning.

"Where am I?" he asked, cringing inwardly at his open display of ignorance.

The woman seemed surprised, but answered slowly and clearly:

"Kush."

Lucien had never heard of it. It was no plane of Oblivion, which must mean that he was somewhere on the same plane as Tamriel.

"Kush?" he questioned. The woman seemed unsure how to answer, but she moved to sit next to Lucien, and began pointing out words in his book: 'The', 'Dark' and 'Land'.

The Dark Land, he thought, and an ironic smile crept onto his lips; how fitting.

When the servant scurried back in, followed by a few others bearing platters of food and ewers of drink, the woman seemed to feel it was time to leave. She rose, nodded to Lucien, and left with the servants, closing the door. As he tucked into the meal, sniffing it carefully for poison, Lucien began to get the feeling that these were not the kind of people who regularly settled their disputes with bloodshed. But he wouldn't be discouraged, violence was human nature, all that was required was careful planning to bring out the worst in people. Lucien was a patient man.

Translation - "The spirit of our land is with you"... "Kushiel returns, Kushiel has followed the stranger!"