Authors Note: Imperials seem prone to interpret daedra as "good" or "bad". It's more accurate to say the are more the personifications of natural forces, than actual personalities and as such are beyond morality. Molag Mal is a force associated with action toward desire and obstacles to be overcome. This can be interpreted in "good" or "evil" ways and either can be valid.
Standard disclaimer: I do not own any of the wondrous creations of Bethesda Softworks or Zenimax Online, however I certainly lay claim to misspellings, mistakes, tweaks, spells and characters of my own invention.
~~The Soul Shriven~~
Tabinah Faryon admitted to herself that Durakh gra-Sharn was much better company than she'd expected. The orisimer had a stubborn streak and a sense of humor, both of which were needed in this strange place. If it really was Coldharbor, and Tabinah was willing to accept that it was, then the important thing was to keep striving.
It was cold, but the dunmer had faced worse. What she found rather distracting was the fact that there was no real sunlight. The landscape seemed bathed in a bluish light and tinged with an almost palpable fog of magicka that made the air seem heavy. It was hard to describe exactly.
Once outside of the complex of caves that had initially been their prison, the dunmer and the orisimer kept walking.
They had no clear destination. For the moment any direction seemed as good as another. The rocky ground cleared, and occasional twisted shrubs were visible. They came to an open area. A few tent style structures scattered around spoke of the beginnings of a settlement of some kind.
Durakh spun the axe she'd found as easily as Tabinah might twirl one of her longknives. "Shall we seek supplies or perhaps counsel?" She gestured to a figure wearing a rough homespun robe and standing near the entrance to one of the nearby tents.
The orisimer gave the silent figure a wave of greeting with the hand not holding her axe. "Blade and bone, do you lead and guide among this camp?"
There was no reply.
"Are you deaf or just rude?" Durakh's voice was lower now, and her axe was no longer held so lightly.
Tabinah put her hand to the orisimer's weapon arm. "Look at him." She wasn't entirely sure it was a him.
Durakh strode up to the person and gave him a slight shove. There was a little shift in position, but no change in expression. Nothing.
"Look at his eyes." Tabinah said softly. Open, but no pupils. He stood, and his chest moved as he was breathing, but there were no sounds of air moving. His skin was tinged with blue, but everything here had that strange hue.
"What is wrong with him?" The orismer's voice was sharp.
The dunmer turned slowly. There were other figures standing around this camp. Or what had once been a camp. None of them were moving. "It's not just him."
"Had you a mirror, you would ssee the danger you musst resisst." The gravelly voice behind them announced the presence of an argonian.
Tabinah turned. He wasn't like any argonian she had ever seen. His hide was pale and somehow withered looking. His eyes were pale as well, though she could still make out some color, unlike the passive members of this former camp. She stepped forward and extended a hand.
"Tabinah Faryon," She introduced herself, "it seems that you have an understanding of what has happened to these poor folk?"
"This one is called Er-Jaseen," the argonian shook her hand, and his grip was not nearly as frail as he appeared. "All who are to be found here – all that are not daedra, We are the vestiges of people whose ssouls were stolen by ... The Prince of this Realm. None dare utter his name in this place. The Ssoul Shriven are doomed to sslavery in Coldharbour for eternity, sstriving until we are no longer useful."
"No longer useful?" Durakh echoed his comment, "do you mean like this one?" She gave the still silent camp member another push. His body maintained his balance, but still there was no reaction.
The argonian nodded, his expression sorrowful. "The longer we remain here, the less ... whole we remain. Our bodiess waste away, our hide thinss, and eventually our mindss twist and lose any notion of reality."
"Wait," Tabinah protested, "you can't mean this happens to everyone."
"The oldest of the Soul Shriven are completely insane." Er-Jaseen assured her. "We call them Ferals."
"All of them? Every one?" That didn't sound right. That couldn't be right. Malog Bal would not creat a test that none could pass. "Are there any who resist this transformation?"
The argonian cocked his head to one side. "Well," he admitted, "There iss one – ancient among the Ssoul Shriven – who yet remainss himsself. Blind and withered, yess, but not like thesse." He gestured to the silent figures around the camp. "Many claim he was mad long before arriving here. He iss ... different."
Durakh snorted. "Where one is different, others may be as well." She hefted the axe she carried. "Let us meet this different one."
A hissing interrupted their conversation.
The three turned to see a floating figure undulating toward them. Tabinah watched its movements, and the way energies played up and down its skin. She would have called it a flame atronach, but for the pale blue color that seemed to touch everything here.
The graceful figure gestured, and a ball of blazing flame hurtled toward them. So even fire was another color here, Tabinah thought to herself.
She ducked left. Durakh dodged right. Er-Jasleen dropped to the ground.
Tabinah was sure that Durakh would charge the creature; before that, the dunmer was determined that she would begin the attack. She lashed out with her mind and magika, calling up the flames that were her birthright.
Instead of the blaze of flame that she'd expected, what came out was a whipcord coil of burning force, lashing around the middle of the twisting fire-being and disrupting the sphere of flames it was building. Not wanting to waste whatever it was that had happened, Tabinah gave a yank keeping the creature off balance and pulling it closer.
Making it that much easier for the charging orismer to swipe her axe in an arc that sent sparks and bits of flame spinning in every direction.
Er-Jasleen gave a hiss of rage from where he'd dropped, and reached out with a taloned hand. A burst of momentarily golden light shone on the creature, and all along the right side of it, once pristine flame crisped to ash. The creature gave a shriek, and crumpled into dust.
Durakh turned and looked down at the argonian approvingly. "So, your mind doesn't appear to be wasting away quite yet if you can still call magicka like that."
The argonian looked at his hand, turning it this way and that. Then he looked up to the two mer. "It hass been long," he whispered, "Thiss one felt he wass fading." Getting slowly to his feet, he added. "Questionss you have, and I am the better for your assking. I shall show you the path to the eldest of the Ssoul Shriven."
"Wait," Tabinah held up a hand. "This camp and all that it holds is no longer of any use to these poor souls. So let us examine what we may find here."
The first thing she explored was a sort of shelf that appeared to hold several books, a small urn and a few baskets. She found unfamiliar grains, and some meat that didn't smell too badly. The book wouldn't open. It was a solid mass, and something about it made her think of the way that the men or mer – she wasn't even sure which these had been – were fading. As if it had only held its form because someone was reading it or paying attention to it.
The first camp netted them mostly portions of grains and meat, and a few vials of what looked to be water. Durakh found a pair of heavy sabatons and was happy to discard the flimsy sandals she'd been wearing. Folded in a corner of one of the tents, Tabinah found a large linen robe, and insisted that Er-Jasleen wear it.
It fit, and covered the rough homespun breeches and shirt. Tabinah noted that he seemed more clear headed afterwards. She thought about that. Things did not seem to work the same way here as on Nirn. If that book really had started to sort of dissolve because no one was paying it any attention, then perhaps by valuing each other, the three of them might be able to resist the fading that had destroyed the Soul Shriven at that first camp.
For just a moment she felt optimistic. They would work their way toward this ancient Soul Shriven, and systematically search for supplies along the way. Surely they could keep each other strong.
Then two yelping growls announced the immanent presence of predators. Two slender crouched figures skittered forward.
"I'll take the one on the left." Tabinah stepped wide, reaching out with the same coil of flame she'd used earlier. It didn't seem to do a whole lot of damage, but pulling the scrabbling creature onto it's side was worth the energy she spent.
While the creature struggled to right itself, the dunmer stepped in, both long knives in hand. Feint with the right toward it's eyes, follow up with a slash to the face when it flinched away. The blades felt good in her hands.
To her right she caught a flash of wide blade as Durakh danced out of range of the creature's claws, circled the axe around her head and then buried it in the chest of the hapless thing. Dark something spattered, but it didn't appear to bleed the way mortal flesh did.
Tabinah's opponent charged forward, and she didn't dodge quite fast enough. Claws bit into her arm. Since she was already within its range of attack, she decided that pulling away would make things worse. She stepped in, and thrust her right blade forward, followed half a beat later by the left. It started to dodge, and the first blade only brushed its ear. The second took it through the eye. She twisted the blade sharply, and the thing stiffened and fell.
She didn't have to look up to see how Durakh was doing; the head of the other creature rolled over and stopped near her right foot.
The orismer said something in a pleased guttural tone, then followed it up in aldmeris. "I am getting damn fond of this axe."
"Those are ... or rather were ferals." Er-Jasleen's tone was admiring.
They continued on, working their way toward a river that Er-Jasleen assured both of them the eldest Soul Shriven would be waiting. The journey took a long time, though Tabinah never felt the need for sleep. Nor did the sky change or any sun set. There was no way to tell how much time had passed. The dunmer also noted the lack of any hunger or thirst. This she absolutely did not trust, and she made a point of cooking some of the meat over small campfires that didn't seem to give off as much light or heat as usual. She rested after each meal, despite Er-Jasleen's assurances that it wasn't necessary.
Tabinah pointed to one of the Soul Shriven who stood over the bedroll she intended to use. "Do you observe that the Feral Soul Shriven do not attack these?"
Er-Jasleen frowned thoughtfully.
"They lack something that we have. Something that the Feral ones seek. Perhaps even seek to consume."
"Purpose." Durakh hung her axe at her belt. "They started as beings similar to who we were in life, fading in action and identity. After all look at them," She swept an arm to gesture to the Soul Shriven standing silently at the side of the bedroll. "I can't even tell if this one was male or female, man or mer. Then beyond just passive, they are swept into motion, called to pursue and attempt to consume that which they once were."
"So," agreed Tabinah, "I will retain my purpose, resting as is proper after a meal." She lay back, but before she could close her eyes she heard something. Sitting up, she cocked her head. Sound was difficult to follow here."
"Something?" Durakh asked.
All three went silent, and the sound came louder.
The strumming of a lute. Granted, it had apparently been tuned in a rather discortant minor key, but defintely a lute.
Then a gruff but cheerful voice.
"One fine day in the middle of the night,
two dead kings got up to fight.
Back to back they faced each other,
drew their bows...
and stabbed themselves.
"
"The eldest." Er-Jasleen pointed ahead to where a ragged group stood in a half-circle. Behind them a wide river flowed sluggishly. "Many come to listen to him."
Durakh and Tabinah exchanged glances.
Finally the orisimer said. "Now what does that remind me of?"
Er-Jasleen looked from one to the other of his new companions. "Indeed. You ask questionss that change what thiss one seess."