Quick update yey! I was inspired to write thanks to my lovely, HereLies, and the rest of my reviwers! I hope you enjoy the fight!
Tye22- I'm glad you like all the characters dear. That was one of the few problems I had with Skyrim as a whole. Some characters were well developed but the Dragonborn's' quest is for him alone in the end… (Sort of) Even married, you don't really get to know your spouse for 'them' damn scripting… oh well. I'm glad you like that I can make them 'come alive'
Herelies- I cannot tell you how hard I laughed at your "house of testosterone." Indeed praise Talos and naked Vilkas! AMEN TO THAT SISTER. I agree, Vincent's ballsy decision to not go get his bag just cuz Vilkas told him it was 'okay' was a bit much. Thank god for that Mage's unnatural healing ability. I loved it dear… and yes, you are far too generous when it comes to your reviews but damn girl! I love reading them. I hope you'll stick around for the planned sequel too!
Nori-239: I'm glad you love the story dear. Ah. Deviant art…I haven't been on that site in ages…I'll have to go investigate~
EVERYONE READY FOR A CLIMATIC SHOWDOWN WITH DARIC? NO? I DIDN'T THINK SO! 3
Chapter 24- Half alive
I hear you're asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
But I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms
I've learned to live half alive
And now you want me one more time
And who do you think you are
Running around leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
don't come back for me
who do you think you are?
Christina Perri- "Jar of hearts"
"Spare the red head." Daric's voice was almost flat and devoid of emotion. "Kill the rest."
Well…shit.
A loud crack of lightning from the tips of Daric's fingers, filled the room and sent the companions reeling. Vilkas felt Farkas roughly grab him and pull him to the side before debris from the ceiling fell down upon their heads. A piece of ceiling fell down upon the alter, smashing it and putting the ethereal flame out like an old candle. The cure was gone and now no one would ever e able to use it again unless they found a way to restore it. Although now was not the best time to be thinking of that!
"Vilkas!" Vincent scrambled beside him and Farkas as Aela shot an arrow up at the descending mercenaries.
"I'm alright." Vilkas gripped his sword tightly and shakily got to his feet. The ache in his chest was still there but it now lulled into a dull throbbing. Adrenaline was kicking in high gear and making it easier to ignore the ache.
"Guess he came back." Farkas readied his blade.
"Guess so." Vilkas mirrored the action. Somewhere deep inside himself he was not disappointed to see Daric again. The warning Vincent had given the little rat was clear and Vilkas nearly hummed in pleasure. For Kodlak and for Skjor…Killing Daric would be retribution. He tried to ignore the sadistic part of himself that was going to enjoy doing it.
A loud yelp filled the chamber as Aela killed the merc closest to her before sheathing her bow and pulling out her dagger for close combat. Farkas and Vilkas ran into the fray, their bodies their own again and fuelled with a sense of self. Vincent had his mace out and cast spells at the oncoming mercenaries with his free hand. Soon the smell of cooking flesh and burnt hair filled the chamber that honestly wasn't that large to begin with. Vilkas almost cracked a smile despite it. What was with his mage and fire…?
The mercenaries piled into melee range and Vilkas noted with a snarl that Daric was still up on the top platform, watching coldly and a bit emotionless. His free hand was starting to weave into an intricate pattern though and Vilkas knew it was only a matter of time before another spell was cast. He'd have to reach that smug little bastard before he unloaded magical Armageddon upon their heads. Vilkas would have been foolish to think that in those long nine years of chasing Vincent, that Cadrian had not taught Daric any powerful and destructive magic.
A large Nord man with a silver long sword got between Vilkas and his intended target. He quickly ducked under the blade as it swooped down and attempted to sever his head from his neck. It clanged loudly against the stone wall and threw the merc slightly off balance. The bugger was quick, too quick. Before Vilkas could raise his sword to strike, the mercenary moved in again, swinging almost wildly, but not without skill. Vilkas parried the blow and crossed blades with him. Both of their arms tensed on their blades as they attempted to over power the other. A game that Vilkas would have won easily if his wolf was still inside… Now alone, the task was harder, but nothing in life worth having was easily gained. He would survive this.
Vilkas saw movement out of the corner of his eye and jumped back in time to avoid an otherwise fatal wounding from another merc that had attempted to flank him. A silver sword had cut into his side, right under the nook in his armor but due to his hasty retreat, the cut was not as deep as it would have been otherwise. He landed a few feet away on his knees and hands, ready to spring up again in a moments notice, his sword has landed just out of arms reach. The sword of the man he'd been engaged in battle with, hit the ground where Vilkas had been only a moment before with a horrible crack noise.
In a flash, Vilkas rolled toward his blade and snatched it up before his foes could advance on him. He took quick perchance of his family. Farkas was fighting off a rather large Orc but seemed to be easily holding his own. In the quick glace, he gathered that Farkas was hurt from the sight if a cut on his leg but did not seemed hindered by it. Aela seemed no worse for wear currently but at close range she was only defended by a small dagger. He couldn't see Vincent in the brief moment he took to look about but the smell of fire was strong and he could hear the sound of his mace hitting flesh. Yes. Vincent was just fine for the moment.
With a scream, both assailants, launched themselves at Vilkas in an attempt to corner him. A good plan yes, but these fools didn't seem to know just who they were dealing with. One moved fasted then the other, that was clear. The one who tried to flank him stayed a bit behind and just slightly off to the left. Leave the big guy to do the work and then move in for the kill. Clever. But not as clever as Vilkas was when it came to battle strategy. The big Nord swung at him in an powerful over handed arch. All his power was behind that one move and that suited Vilkas just fine.
He brought up his sword from the right, catching the blade mid-flight and quickly turned his wrist to thrust the sword harshly to the left…where it promptly flew out of the Nord's hands and into the face of his little rouge companion. He was dead before he even hit the ground. Lucky him. The Nord looked at his hands, confused for a moment to where his sword had gone. Such a simple mind. Well now his head could join the body of his friend. On the floor. His blade cut cleanly, much like it always did and the big man fell away.
A sudden crack filled the room again and Vilkas felt a sudden jarring pain strike him dead center in the chest. He managed to let a surprised yelp cross his mouth before his body was thrust harshly against the stone wall, knocking all the air our of his lungs and making his head spin. The collision, that was one thing…it was the electrocution that sent his reeling. His whole body tensed and twitched. He never felt pain quite like this and it left him almost writhing in agony. It was like his heart was struggling to beat but something was making it skip. It flowed through his body, making his fresh wound throb and his teeth grind together. He was lucky that he didn't bite his tongue off! DAMN MAGIC!
A persistent ringing in his ears almost made Vilkas want to throw up and even though the electrocution had ended, his body still twitched. Slowly he could move again and climbed to his knees. His vision blurred but he struggled to see. He needed to find his sword…. The sound of battle slowly overcame the ringing but so did the sound of footsteps drawing closer.
"This is what I was warned about? Pathetic…"
Vilkas clutched his side and glared up at Daric who loomed a few paces away. He was down on the main floor now but so far untouched by the fight. They locked eyes and Vilkas couldn't help but notice that Daric's eyes were a deeper, richer, shade of red and his face devoid of its usual passion and anger. So this is what battle did to him, eh?
Vilkas grunted in pain as the heel of Daric's shoe pressed into his wound. He wouldn't scream, no matter how much he wanted to. He wouldn't give that bastard the satisfaction…
Vilkas located his sword and made to hastily grab it. Daric seemed unphaused by this and lifted his hand again. The tingle of magic sent a ugly jolt up Vilkas' spine and he struggled to grab the hilt of his blade. His fingers grazed it, unable to grasp it firmly enough to pull toward himself. He grabbed Daric's leg with his free hand and tried to twist it off him. To his surprise, the lithe man did not budge. Vilkas might as well have been trying to force a stone wall to move. The heel of his shoe did nothing but dig deeper…
"I'll kill you…" Vilkas hissed like a wounded creature. "I'll make you pay for what you did to Skjor and Kodlak…"
"Oh..?" A smile came to Daric's lips. It was unexplainably cruel and twisted, even for him. His hand crackled with a ball of lighting, once thrown would become a bolt. His voice was still flat, despite the smile. "Try again in the next life. Goodbye."
The bolt never left his hands. He was blasted off his feet with some kind of invisible force that sent his body rag dolling across the chamber floor. Vilkas saw him skid a bit on the stone floor, tearing some of his clothing and the flesh underneath before coming to a complete stop.
"Vilkas!" Vilkas felt the hand of his lover come and grab his arm. "Are you okay?!"
Vilkas turned to the redhead and saw him unharmed… Gods be praised.
"Aye, I'll live." Vilkas glanced around. The sounds of fighting still going on around him. "The others?"
"Aela and Farkas are holding their own!" Vincent glanced at Vilkas' wound. "Gods, your hurt. Just hold o-" Something violent and red crashed into Vincent's frame and sent the mage sprawling to the far wall where he collided with it. Hard.
"Vincent!" Vilkas managed to grab his blade and turned toward the threat, his blue eyes icy in fury.
Daric was already standing, but his face seemed paler then normal and given the fact he was a very pale man as it was, he appeared sickly. The red color of his eyes seemed to extend, making the entire socket a rich crimson color. Vilkas could have sworn he could see Daric's teeth elongating… He cast a brief look over his shoulder to see Vincent getting to his feet…not that it was really important but his heart was at least not in his throat anymore. The mage had a small cut from where he hit the wall, just above his eyebrow. In an hour or so, that cut would be gone, like it had never existed…if they lived that long anyway.
When the lights dimmed, Vilkas thought it was Daric's doing. The vampire stopped though and looked around, clearly confused by the flickering light. Vilkas felt the air on the back of his neck stand up and slowly edged back toward Vincent while Daric was distracted.
One of the mercenaries, suddenly crying out in pain got the attention of most. It had been a strong dark elf male. He had been fighting Aela and had appeared to get the upper hand on her. Just as he was about to strike her with a rather nasty looking silver dagger, a ethereal looking blade had bypassed all his armor and stuck out of his chest at an awkward angle. When he dropped, a ghost stood behind him, looking rather irritated and put off.
"What in the Gods…?" Vilkas began.
"The guardians of the tomb." Vincent marveled. "We defeated them the first time we came here to prove ourselves worthy…"
"Are they here to test us again?" Vilkas grabbed hold of Vincent's arm and helped the mage steady himself.
The ghost turned and locked eyes with the pair. Its eyes lingered on Vilkas for only a moment before turning to Vincent completely. Slowly, a small smile came to the spirits lips and it nodded at him in a show of respect.
"No…" Vincent breathed, sounding like he almost didn't believe it himself. "They're here to protect the Harbinger…"
The Spirit raised his sword and let out a horrific battle cry. Soon, spirits merged from the walls and attacked the remaining mercenaries and Daric. The two Farkas had been fighting were cut down smoothly and with efficiency. Farkas lifted his sword, ready to defend but they passed by him as if he wasn't even there. The same with Aela, Vilkas and Vincent. Save for that one moment of recognition, it was like they weren't even there.
Daric bared his teeth and hissed as the spirits approached him in vast number. A loud crack of thunder struck a ghost in the center of its chest. It dissolved away into nothing in a flash. He went to draw his hand back to form another but a ghost gripped his wrist and pulled, shoving Daric off balance. One grabbed him from behind and dug a incorporeal dagger somewhere in his back, making him snarl in pain. Soon, Vilkas couldn't see Daric anymore, over all the sprits swarming him.
Aela and Farkas walked over to them, their eyes still glued to the struggle. No sooner that they were all together, a shockwave sent all the ghosts flying in opposite directions. They all dissolved in an instant, dying another death. Daric lay near motionless on the floor, twitching and bleeding from the numerous cuts inflicted upon him. Vilkas could hear him growling in anger…and his growl did not sound human at all.
Daric clawed at the ground for perchance . His aura was already crackling with magic, seems he'd be ready to cast once he regained his footing. Aela and Farkas were ready in an instant. Aela had restrung her bow and pointed it at Daric. She seemed no worse for wear but her look was seething. This man had taken Skjor from her and he would pay the price. That much was obvious.
Slowly, Daric climbed to his feet and faced the companions. His eyes were back to normal and he looked extremely tired. Instead of preparing a spell, he clutched to his left arm. It hung limp at his side, obviously broken or damaged beyond repair. His eyes were on the companions but it was almost like he couldn't see. He looked…confused. Something in the back of Vilkas' mind told him something was instantly wrong with this but he still remained on the defensive.
"Vincent…" Daric croaked out and took a few steps toward them. He limped weakly and left a trail of blood in his wake. "P-please." He coughed and blood shot out of his mouth and dribbled down his chin.
Vincent gave Vilkas a wary look and slowly walked toward him. Vilkas didn't trust this and followed close. Aela and Farkas followed as well, weapon drawn and trained on him should he try anything.
"Daric…" The redhead approached carefully. He hair his mace ready just in case.
Daric fell, for a moment and groaned against the stone floor. Slowly he got to his knees and hobbled closer. He stopped within arms reach of Vincent, which was far too close for Vilkas' liking.
"Need…to tell you…" Daric coughed again. It sounded worse and gargled. He reached out and grasped a bloody hand on Vincent's coat. The circle stiffened, ready to strike but Vincent held up a hand to still them.
"What is it Daric…?" His voice held a certain softness that Vilkas had not expected…
The dark haired mage leaned in and whispered something harshly into Vincent's ear. Then pulled back slightly. Vincent looked honestly confused for a moment, staring at his old long lost friend.
"Daric…" Vincent began. "I don't understand…"
"H-help me…" Daric swayed slightly.
Vincent put a hand on Daric's shoulder to mirror the one Daric had one him. "Daric?" When Daric resumed mumbling incoherently, Vincent shook him slightly. "What does that mean Daric!? Answer me!"
"Help me…help me…" Daric whispered again and again like a mantra. His free hand fell to his belt and pulled a dagger from it. In a flash his eyes were crimson again, filling even the whites of his eyes that horrid color. He was screaming it now, "HELP ME. HELP ME." and raised the dagger to strike at Vincent.
Aela acted first. Her arrow pierced his wrist, making him drop the dagger instantly. He whirled around to face the threat, only to be blindsided by Farkas' blade. It caught him in the side and in a splash of blood, sent him reeling. He grabbed his heavily bleeding side and glared at Vincent. The serge of magic filled the room and surrounded Daric's form. This was going to be very bad… if his spell had ever had the chance to release. The red in Daric's eyes slowly faded back to his normal set. He opened his mouth to talk but found nothing came out. He looked down slowly and saw Vilkas' blade and pierced his back and came out the front of his chest.
Vilkas held his sword firm but Daric did not struggle. He just lifted his gaze and stared mutely at Vincent until the light faded from his eyes. A loud crack and a flash of purple light filled the room when Daric's breathing finally stilled. Vilkas wasn't exactly sure what happened but he was far too distracted to care. Daric's form quickly turned to ash and slid off his sword and onto the floor in a pile.
No one said anything for a while. Vincent stared at the ash pile, his copper eyes slightly wide in horror and…if Vilkas wasn't mistaken, grief. The mage looked like he wanted to cry…or throw up. Maybe a bit of both… Vilkas put his sword away and instantly enveloped the Harbinger in a tight hug. He felt Vincent's arms cling to him instantly and held on like he was a lifeline. Aela and Farkas remained silent. They had won…but for some reason, Vilkas felt like this was a hollow victory.
He thought killing Daric would bring him peace…but it was obvious that something had been horribly and unmistakably wrong with that whole ordeal. Kodlak and Skjor had been avenged…so shouldn't he be happy?
He buried his nose in Vincent's hair and sighed deeply. The mage remained silent but maybe he didn't need to say anything. Or maybe he couldn't…so Vilkas said it for him.
"Let's get out of here."
The walk back to Jorrvaskr was not what Vilkas had envisioned it to be. Yes, Farkas and himself were cured of their beast blood and that in itself was a victory…but there was no celebration. They took Wuuthrad and Ysgramor's shield to hang up in the hall when they got back. It was also to stop anyone else from entering that hollowed place. The walk had mostly been in silence, at least until the end. Aela, Gods bless her, was the first to speak.
"What happened?" She stated the obvious.
"He was possessed." Vincent answered, his voice weak. "I couldn't see it until the end…"
"By who? Cadrian?" Farkas asked.
"Most likely…" His voice cracked slightly. "I…he…" He stopped walking. Vincent looked frustrated, like he wanted to lash out, hit something, scream, cry, to ANYTHING other then just stand there but that's exactly what he did. "That light. I know that purple light. It could have only been a few thing and I…"
"What was it?" Vilkas asked, already disliking where this was going.
Vincent's jaw clenched. "Soul trap."
Vilkas exchanged looks with the other companions. He didn't know much about magic but he knew what soul trap did in theory. If it did what Vilkas thought it did then…
"Don't blame yourself, Vincent." Aela walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing. We all did."
He placed a gloved hand over hers and nodded, but Vilkas could tell he really wasn't convinced. "Thank you Aela." He looked up at the twins. "Everyone…"
"That's what we're here for." Farkas stated proudly. "We're a family. Family sticks together."
That pried a small smile from Vincent and Vilkas found himself smiling too. Yes. They were a family.
"What did he say to you?" Aela asked and resumed walking. "Was it just his mantra?"
"No." Vincent shook his head. "I don't really understand what he said. It didn't seem like the common tongue."
"What was it?" Vilkas asked, falling back a bit to walk beside Vincent and take his hand.
Vincent looked up and saw Whiterun in the distance. The snow had halted and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. "It didn't make sense. It doesn't make sense…but he told me…" Vincent's lips formed in a straight line, trying to form the word on his own lips.
"Vincent?"
"He said, 'Morokei.'"
END OF CHAPTER
Yes, I am aware it was short but there was only so long I could drag that out. So…SNAP. PLOT TWIST. Feel free to guess and let me know what you think is going on!