Chapter 8: The Exploding Stone

The fort-like temple rose over the horizon, over the snow and the top of the mountain. Ice and Martin continued to talk while Elyon concentrated on the road ahead. Nightshade felt, oddly, happy, having convinced herself over the hours that maybe their small adventure as heroes had come to an end.

They had walked all the way up from Kvatch to Bruma through wilderness, stopping to camp and sleep at night. Now, the sun was halfway up to the peak of the sky, or, as Ice put it, it was eight o'clock in the morning. They passed Bruma an hour ago and already felt tired.

They stopped to rest on a rock. Martin wasn't used to this kind of walking, and even Ice seemed to wilt. Nightshade sat next to him and looked out beyond and down the mountain where there was nothing but fog. The air was thin, and yet she felt energetic today.

"We should get going," Elyon looked back up the mountain, almost like she was worried. Richu barked and rolled around in the snow while Silver watched with an odd look.

Martin placed the stone he still held in the snow where it sort of sizzled and smoked. He stretched and yawned.

It was a quiet slush that both Nightshade and Richu heard. She stopped rolling and perked her ears up to a large bolder to the right of Nightshade. She was the closest to the sound which freaked her out. She touched the hilt of her sword. Ice was in another debate with Elyon about rest stops and Martin looked very distant. Only Nightshade and the animals were prepared for the red robed attack seconds later.

They seemed to come out of the snow itself and ran towards them with amazing speed, shouting incantations and creating armor around them, hiding their faces. Nightshade toppled off the rock and was attacked with brute force. Her black robe turned white with melting snow that crunched beneath them. She was pinned. Richu snarled and jumped, but he forced her off with a crushing blow. Silver whinnied.

Ice was trying feebly to protect Martin from three assassins. One jumped him violently and they lost footing twice fighting, causing him to move away from Martin, who was running. He was hit with an ice blast in the back. He struggled, but one held him down while the other was taking out a nasty-looking dagger. Elyon had moved closer to the edge, closer to the stone on the floor. She continued to back up, unaware, and clenched her fists in a menacing manner.

Nightshade gritted her teeth; the only thing keeping her from a short, swift death was her katana in front of her face. The attacker was pushing against it, trying to get his blade into her face. She closed her eyes and heard something faint, like it was a thousand miles away. She opened them, feeling tired, to see the body off of her and next to her in the snow, knocked out. She saw both Ice and his attacker in the snow, coughing, and Martin was starting to get up to flee while the assassins were down. There was smoke, and lots of it, but she could make out two bodies near the rock they had been sitting on moments ago, both unmoving. And she blacked out.

Nightshade blinked her chest hurting and her heart beating fast. She saw faces looking at her. She wondered where she was. She sat up to see her surroundings. The ceiling was made of wood, and candles blazed in every wall. Bookcase was next to bookcase, and the beds with white sheets were lined on the wall.

"What happened?" she rubbed at her chest, her voice raspy. Ice grinned. "It was the weirdest thing!"

She looked at the other people. Ice was sitting on her right side while Martin sat on her left, staring down at his hands in his lap. An old man she recognized from the imposter in Weynon Priory stood at the foot of her bed with a small smile. A Redguard she remembered as Baurus stood next to him. "Welcome back!" They both wore identical armor made of a dark gold. Two other people stood behind them, one with the same armor, the other in common clothes that looked like a healer.

"How long was I out for?"

"About an hour at the most. Deadly, it just exploded! By itself! If it hadn't, we'd be dead!"

She looked at the Imperial. "You must be the real Jauffre."

He nodded. "Welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple, Nightshade."

"Hi, Baurus," she waved weakly at him. He waved back. "Where's Elyon?"

Ice pointed to the left of her. She turned to see the Wood Elf lying in the bed, eyes closed. Richu's head lied in her lap where she stared at Nightshade with puppy eyes.

"She was the closest to the stone," Ice said. "We suspect she put herself under a spell, because when we brought her in, she had burns all across her face. Now, she doesn't have a scratch."

She smiled a fake smile. She tried to move her legs and found they were extremely sore.

"Erhm," Jauffre cleared his throat. "I'm afraid we have some grave news."

Nightshade blinked in wonder and felt that she wasn't wearing her robe, but some sort of pajamas.

"When you got knocked out, the Mythic Dawn took the Amulet of Kings."

The silence was unbearable. Nightshade stared, in shock, feeling like she was about to cry. Martin stared to pick at his thumb nail. Ice tried to cheer her up. "Well, look at the bright side—Martin survived."

There was an even worse silence after that. Jauffre sighed. "Well, we have the next step. You tell me when you're ready," he left with Baurus and the other guard. Nightshade was still in shock.

"After all we went through… I failed…." Her voice was even raspier.

"Oh, come on! Elyon wouldn't want you to give up—"

"She's practically dead!" Her outburst surprised Martin, which made him jump slightly. Ice grew mad. "Fine! Sulk around! You can't change what happened! It was either our lives or the Amulet!" He stomped out.

Nightshade and Martin sat in silence. Nightshade had sunk further down into the bed and was really sulking.

He twiddled his thumbs and said, "They're taking the stone to Vvardenfell. Apparently there's a specialist in the Mages Guild on Daedra and Daedric stuff…"

Silence filled them until Martin sighed. "Ice has got a point. What's done is done. We should move on."

"You say it nicer than Ice," Nightshade muttered. "I think I'll rest for a while. I'll—I'll come out when I'm ready."

He nodded and left with a slight smile. "Hope you feel better."

She looked at the wooden ceiling. How many days has it been? Day 1: got arrested, saw assassination, and met Ice. Day 2: Met Elyon, went to Weynon Priory. Day 3: Rescued Kvatch, got Martin. Day 4: After all that, the Amulet of Kings got stolen and Elyon was practically dead. But she had to move on. Martin was still alive; there was hope still. And the Amulet wasn't destroyed, just misallocated.

She sniffed, the tears in her eyes rolled down, but she wiped them. She got out of her bed and sat on its side to face Elyon. She no longer wore her robe but a white cotton nightgown. "You'd want me to go on, right?" she whispered to her. "I mean, it's selfish not to."

Nightshade paced the room twice, and then searched for her clothes. It was so much to absorb in just four days, her brain felt like it would implode. She stopped looking and took the blanket off her bed and wrapped it around herself. She felt so exposed and cold with a nightgown; she had never had one before.

She thought about what Ice had called her: Deadly. She must've earned the nickname after stopping the Oblivion gate. She yawned and rubbed her eyes as she walked down a hall lined with a bookshelf, a table with two candles, and a vase on a pedestal.

She opened a door to see a bunch of bunks and two men sleeping on them. "Sorry," she muttered and closed the door. The only other door was one at the end of the hall. For some reason, she felt scared of opening it, scared of this hall, scared of every hall. With a shaking hand, she turned the knob, closed her eyes, and then opened them. Ice stood in front of Jauffre, looking angry. He looked at her and looking down at his feet. "Have I interrupted something?"

"No," Ice was quick to answer. "Are you ready?"

Martin sat at a round table behind them across from Baurus, looking confused. Nightshade nodded.

"Ok," Jauffre sat down next to Baurus. "We didn't hope for this to happen, but we were prepared. It seemed—inevitable." He went to a bookshelf across the room. "We have a large collection of books here, but there's an even bigger, more ancient collection in the Imperial City. We need you to get in there."

"Pardon?" she looked skeptical.

"The Mythic Dawn is mentioned in four books, both with odd names not of our language, but they have been translated and copied only once. One of them we have," he took out a red volume. "The second and third are in the Arcane University library. The fourth is unknown, but we suspect that a clue to its whereabouts is in the first three."

"How do you know?" Ice half growled.

"Well, the decoder happened to be a main leader in the Mythic Dawn before the Blades killed him."

"How did you get the first copy?" Martin seemed curious.

"He had it. All three. We sent the other two to the Arcane University to a colleague of mine, but she had a mysterious death. The Arch-Mage wanted them put in the library. We need them back."

Ice nodded. "Ok We can do that."

"What about Elyon?" Nightshade wasn't about to leave her behind.

"I don't know how long she'll be out. You need to leave as soon as possible."

"Don't worry; she'll be safe," Jauffre nodded, "Martin, too."

"Wait, what?" Ice looked like he'd been slapped. "Why? Then we'll be alone, again."

"His life can't be endangered," Jauffre snapped.

"Do I have a say in this?" Martin meekly asked.

The other two were silenced by the question.

"I think—I think I should stay here, but as I'm waiting and trying to help, I want to be trained so I can help them too."

Ice nodded. "Fine. We'll leave right now."

"Hold up, I want some clothes first," Nightshade stood up, clutching her blanket.

"I'll show you where the armor is," Jauffre put the book on the table and walked out. Nightshade followed. "I'll meet you at the front gate," Ice called.

She followed him down the hall, into the barracks she had falsely entered before, and down a trapdoor into a basement made into a small black smith. A Nord with coal smudged all over his clothes and face stood to watch them. "This young lady is looking for some armor. Think you can find some her size?"

He nodded and started to search. She looked around. Lots of different armor and weapons lined the small room, none of which could fit her. Then she remembered her katana. "What did you do with my sword?"

"You mean the Akaviri Katana? I'm having it returned to its rightful owners."

"What?" she looked at him.

"That was Captain Reynalt's katana. You borrowed it. Her family will be happy to know it was put to good cause."

"Can I have a different katana?"

He looked around to pick up a katana that seemed to glow a red-orange on its blade. He picked it up gingerly and held it with both hands with the palms underneath the blade and hilt. "This is a powerful blade known as an Akavari Sunderblade, forged in Skyrim, second to only the ancient blade Goldbrand from the Daedra themselves. Its firepower is great. Use it with care."

Nightshade nodded and took it. She thought she could see out of the corner of her eye the Nord glare at her. Jauffre also looked a little annoyed. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You don't know the custom for accepting a sword, do you?" Jauffre smiled sympathetically. "You kneel and accept the sword from me. Oh well. It's yours anyway."

She was given some light leather armor, for everything else was too big. "I'll ask our smith if he can make you some armor. He's great at that," Jauffre promised. After putting it on, she followed him out to the front gate, past the Main Hall and all the guards outside training. She saw Silver in a small stable slowly eating hay.

"Hey, took you long enough," Ice growled not particularly at Nightshade but more at Jauffre. He had his backpack again strapped onto his back that he was leaning on with a wall behind it. Jauffre frowned, and then turned to her. "Good luck, Nightshade. As soon as you get the two books, return back here."

She nodded. "See you later."

They walked out into the snow, feeling tense. Ice stared angrily at the ground. Nightshade seemed worried. The air seemed tense. It was only an hour ago that just right there they were attacked.

"Do you need help with the backpack?" her voice was barely a whisper, a wisp of breath.

"No."

She bit her lip. "Are you ok?"

"What do you think?" he snarled so loudly it rebounded in the sky to echo in the quiet mountains. She looked down. "Sorry," she muttered, not feeling up to quarrelling.

They walked down the road for a while, the sun slowly rising, but clouds started to move in quickly. Ice kicked the snow fiercely. "Shit, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to be yelled at." He looked away shamefully, his short hair messy in the back. Nightshade shook her head. "It's ok. I don't need to know why you hate Jauffre."

He grinned. "Know what? With you here I think we'll defeat Mehrunes Dagon easily!"

She smiled modestly. "I wouldn't say that."

"Yeah, but without me, there'd be no you, so really I'm the hero!"

Nightshade punched him hard in the shoulder, but not angrily. He laughed.

"So, where are we heading?"

"Well, we're going to Cheydinhal."

"What for?"

"Well, there's no getting into the university without recommendations from all the guild hall leaders. I happen to only need one more, in Cheydinhal, to be accepted into the place. If Elyon was here, we wouldn't need to."

"Why not?"

"Because she's a member already from Morrowind. They don't have the same ritual they have here, though. Once I get the recommendation, we'll go to the Imperial City—"

Nightshade stopped in her tracks. "The Imperial City?"

"Yeah. What's the matter?" He understood without her telling him. "Oh, that. Well, we'll have to change up a bit in Cheydinhal. I'm sure they're looking for you. I need a haircut anyway." He touched his hair. "It's hideous."

She laughed. "Off to Cheydinhal then!"