This chapter has the first real fight scene, and I'm not really sure if it worked; I'd really appreciate any comments, good or bad ;)
Also, the tattoo is from Lost. Maybe I should have used an original one, but it was just perfect for her character.
Chapter 6 – Of Light and Darkness
The Listener of the Black Hand reclined upon a magnificently embroidered chaise longue. In her right hand was a sheet of thick parchment, rolled up and tied with a long silken ribbon. In her left hand was a large glass of deep purple wine, a fine vintage of Châteauhuit-du-duc from High Rock.
She twirled the glass with slender fingers, sloshing the heady liquid around in circles before inhaling the rich scent and taking a sip. Looking around the halls of Fort Farragut, she felt the familiar pang of regret. It looked so different now; after she had been appointed Listener she came back here – where else could she go? She had felt so angry and frustrated at losing Him, and so alone. She had destroyed the place; smashed furniture and alchemy equipment, ripped down banners, thrown destruction spells around until the place resembled Kvatch after the invasion. She still recalled in crystalline purity the night on which she had first entered this unholy place…
There was not a cloud in the sky on the cold clear midnight in Evening Star when Loria first made her way up the winding path to the ruins of Fort Farragut. In her right hand she clutched the parchment containing her secret orders from Lucien Lachance. Her left hand rested on the hilt of her beloved Ebony Blade.
She had slipped soundlessly through the corridors of the ruined fort, careful to leave each Dark Guardian intact. Then she had reached Him. He had smiled at her, welcomed her, and asked her to murder her family. No, not asked; he had told her that this is what she was about to do, and as always, he was dead right.
Her dark lips curled in an ironic smile upon receiving the spell to summon Rufio's ghost. Then she had given Lucien her blade; she didn't want it's flawless edge stained with the dark blood of her kin.
He had wished her luck as she dissappeared back into the night.
xox
Loria swirled her wine, and took another sip. She had been recruiting all last night; there were a surprising amount of murderers around Tamriel. Strangely, all her recruits had been dark haired Imperial men. Arquen had raised an eyebrow when Loria had come to impart the Night Mother's wisdom that morning, but Loria had volunteered no information, and the high elf had known better than to inquire.
She set down her wine and unrolled the parchment in her left hand. It bore the text of a long incantation, one Loria knew off by heart, but it was just a transcript. There was no magicka to it; they were just words. She had found the original in the Imperial Palace, and judging by the peculiar script, she felt sure that it had been pilfered from the great library of Sotha Sil, in the clockwork city. She had copied the text of the scroll, but she imagined there were precious few beings in Nirn who could recreate the mackica of the scroll. But she had contacts.
The Listener was awaiting the arrival of a particularly interesting recruit this morning. He had attacked and killed some Skingrad guard who had gotten a little over familiar with a serving maid. Loria had been surprised when he had accepted her offer; he had seemed rather chivalrous. But, she noticed with an ironic smirk, she seemed to have a similar effect on the male recruits as Lucien had had on her.
xox
Lucien twirled a glass of liquor between two fingers. Things had definitely improved; the amulet he had acquired seemed to provoke a certain amount of respect from the locals – or at least, what the amulet summoned did. He had spent the remainder of the morning relaxing in his newly appointed quarters, sating his thirst and hunger. He had even had his weapons returned to him. He whirled Mehrunes Razor idly in his fingers. The Razor was undoubtedly his most powerful possession – at least it was, he mused, unsure of his new amulet's true power. But the Ebony Blade was his favourite; it was a beautiful weapon, flawless, perfectly balanced, and deadly. Its bite drained the life from his victims, healing its wielder. And though Lucien was not given to sentimentality, he had to admit that he felt attached to the weapon, and its former owner.
When he had first met her, in the early hours of a freezing Morning Star dawn, he had foregone the traditional ritual of waiting until she slept. She had been gazing at the stars, standing on the turret of an abandoned church near the Silverfish River. Her raven hair shone bluish in the dark. Her armour opened at the back to show a tattoo in daedric writing, running the length of her spine. He had read it aloud;
"She walks amongst us, but she is not one of us."
She turned to him, her skin so pale, with that bluish tint. In time he came to realise that this was no trick of the night, rather a result of her one dunmer parent. Her eyes had seemed black at the time, but now he knew that as they caught the light they shone deep blue, like the depths of the ocean.
He had spoken to her of the Night Mother, of the Dread Father, and she had listened. She spoke not a word to him, but when he left he felt he knew her. They were born to kill.
xox
Raith Revan slipped through the corridors of Fort Farragut in a dark dream. He had slain the guard for noble reasons, he was sure. The guard had tried to rape that woman; Raith had been justified in his actions. So why was he here? Why had he killed that dunmer, Myvryna Arano, just because that mysterious woman had asked him to? Why didn't the answers to these questions seem important? He had been the Grand Champion of the Arena after beating the Gray Prince, shortly before the Oblivion crisis. There had been many challenges to his title, but none could defeat him; wasn't this enough? Why did She make him feel like his life was empty without Her around? Was there anything he wouldn't do if She asked?
He approached the solid ebony gate which sealed her private chamber, and placed a hand on it, as instructed. At once, the gate began to rise, allowing him entrance into Her lavishly furnished room. There were rich tapestries on the walls; all of them depicting a giant hand. A four poster bed was at one end, surrounded in velvet drapes. Sofas and settees were variously arranged for maximum comfort; littered with cushions and poufs. A drinks cabinet housed an extensive collection of wines and liquors from all over Tamriel.
Raith's eyes alighted on Her; stretched dispassionately on a chaise longue, he made a beeline.
xox
Loria knew that inviting new Murderers to the Listener's private abode was highly unconventional. That made it all the more pleasant. She gestured to the Imperial approaching to take a seat. He was surely an Imperial, though with a name like that he must have had a dunmer ancestor on his father's side.
How lovely to have something in common, she thought.
"Welcome, Murderer," she smiled. He did not flinch at her use of his rank; this was a good start. "I understand you're acquainted with the new Mage's Guild Archmage, Anton Filius?"
xox
As night descended upon the great Kushite metropolis, a shadow slipped out of the government building, made its way through the twisting, turning alleyways, and slipped over the city gate.
Once out of the city, Lucien headed off towards a bare mountain rising in tandem with the one upon which the city stood. By the time he reached the summit, the middle of the night had passed, and Masser and Secunda hung huge in the sky, hiding all but the brightest stars from view. Wisps of navy clouds stood out strikingly against the velvety blackness of the night.
Lucien took the black figurine in his hand, measuring its weight and temperature, preparing himself for the struggle ahead. He knew somehow that this amulet was the key to his success here – to master it is to master the land, he would not need the Night Mother if he commanded this creature. Whatever she was, she was inextricably linked to the land itself; but he would find out more about her shortly. Steeling himself, he called "Kushiel".
The familiar breeze answered his summons, like the soft caress of fine silk against his skin. And out of the shadows stepped Kushiel – always unchanging, yet never quite the same. She bent her knees; fingers brushing the floor, a low bow; but not one of subservience, not yet.
Lucien drew his weapons, and standing, Kushiel followed suit. As their deadly dance began, they started to circle, each trying a chop to the head, or a slice to the arm, testing the other out. Kushiel suddenly went on the offensive; an overhead arc followed by a thrust to the abdomen; Lucien blocked them easily, adding a riposte. Speeding up her attack, Kushiel's weapons began to blur; head, leg, arm, leg, head, arm, arm. Lucien matched her attacks flawlessly, turning, dodging, spinning, blocking.
Kushiel's speed increased yet again; so fast Lucien was unable to discern by eye where her next attack would come from, so he slipped naturally into his warrior's state, letting instinct take over; parrying each blow like lightning, he allowed Kushiel to carry on her offensive. She was gradually working his defence higher and higher, and he thought he knew what was coming next. When his blocks came around head height, Kushiel suddenly prepared to bring her attack in low with both weapons – but Lucien was ready for her. Faster than the eye could see, he blocked low, and felt a sharp pain slash across his lower back.
Startled, he fell forward into the empty space Kushiel had so quickly vacated, flipping over and wincing as pain shot through him. He saw Kushiel approaching to finish him off, with something like regret on her midnight face. Thinking quickly through the pain, he summoned a storm atronach, and prayed to Sithis it would keep her busy long enough for his magicka to regenerate sufficiently to heal himself.
He felt the warm, wet spread of his blood as it soaked through his robes, but he gritted his teeth and hauled himself to his feet. Light-headedness assaulted him, threatening to overwhelm and drag him down. He could hear Kushiel battling the daedra – he had taken a gamble, hoping that daedra summons were unfamiliar to her, and she wouldn't know to attack the caster instead of the creature; it had paid off. He cast his most powerful healing spell, feeling the fuzziness in his head diminish as the wound knitted together.
Picking up his weapons as Kushiel dealt death to the atronach, he formed a plan.
She assaulted him mercilessly with a flurry of exquisitely placed attacks, and Lucien was forced give ground, falling back to where the ground gave away at the side of the mountain; a sharp precipice above a yawning chasm, and a long drop to the jagged rocks below. When his heels no longer touched solid ground, and Kushiel could smell victory, he suddenly changed pace. On the offensive now, he began to work her defence higher and higher, his attacks coming so swiftly she couldn't reverse the flow; besides, she knew where this was going.
Higher and higher still came the attacks, and when Kushiel's blocks came at head height, Lucien prepared to bring his attack in low. Smirking slightly, Kushiel spun around to block the attack from behind, and gasped as she felt the Ebony Blade pierce her lower back. The black blade seemed one with the shadow as Lucien drove the length of it through his opponent. He brought his lips to her ear and whispered "I learn quickly." Twisting the blade viciously, he withdrew and sheathed it, still spotless, in one fluid motion.
Kushiel stood paralyzed for a moment, then began to lose cohesion. Melting away, she seemed to turn to black smoke, like shadow made physical, before being sucked into Lucien's amulet.
The assassin gasped, doubling up like he'd been punched in the stomach as he realised: he'd won. The understanding rushed up on him like a river bursting through a dam, she was the spirit of this land, and she was his to command. The land's knowledge, wisdom, power – she embodied all these things; what she knew, he knew.
Things had definitely improved.