Chapter 28: The Eyes of Doom

Brynjolf kept staring after the lass, his lass, trying to shake off the dreadful feeling that settled in his heart and refused to give way. She wanted him to run away with the little lass and there was no point in staying at such a place, and so he gathered up his courage and turned his back to the mound and Aislinn who, at this time, was most probably already making her way up the hill through the swarming elves. Lucia was staring at him from Shadowmere's back, a questioning look in her face.

"Where did mama go?" she asked, and the deep, doubtful tone in her voice revealed her suspicion.

"She went to retrieve something," he told her evasively and let out a sigh of concern. "Hopefully she'll be back soon, but we have to at least hide someplace safe."

"But why didn't she take us with her?"

Brynjolf's eyes were filled with despair. What was he supposed to tell this little girl? He had no idea how to deal with children, much less children with strange powers who obviously understood far more than any normal child. He watched her expression, curious and maybe a little hurt, but inadvertently his gaze slid down to her waist where her hand was playing with the hilt of her dagger. For a child this young, she certainly was cautious.

"We would have gotten in her way," he said, deciding to tell her the truth. As expected, she frowned and shot him an accusing look.

"When have I ever gotten in her way? I tried so hard not to!" she exclaimed and he quickly jumped to her.

"Shhh!" he hissed at her, putting a finger over his mouth. "Don't be so loud. She didn't mean it like that. The lass would never abandon you, you know."

"But… I want to go with her…"

"She'll be fighting three dragons," he tried to explain, but suddenly felt his own stomach knot as he realized what he had just said. The lass will be fighting three dragons… for Talos's sake, three of them, and she'll be all alone without anyone there to help her. How could he let her go alone?

Relax, he ordered himself sternly and took a deep breath. She's fought dragons before, tens, maybe hundreds of them, and she barely received help from anyone then. She'll be fine.

But he still could not convince himself, for he knew these were not any ordinary dragons.

Oh lass, what have you gotten yourself into…

He turned back to Lucia but before any of them could speak another word, a thundering roar made them freeze in place. Brynjolf's face turned a pale shade of greyish green when he realized what it was. A Shout. The lass had Shouted.

Forgetting all except the strong impulse to get to her side as fast as he could, he darted towards the mound, carefully sliding from one natural obstacle to another, making boulders, trees and bushes his cover, but he stopped the moment he saw her, trembling and seemingly a little unsure, watching the elves slaughter their prisoners one by one, the shadows of the dusk in her face emphasizing her grim mood. But what in the name of Nocturnal was she trying to do? Had she lost her mind completely, doing the most reckless thing she could have thought of? Or did she have some kind of genial plan that had not occurred to him? It certainly did not look like it and he had the urge to jump out and just drag her out of there, but there was something odd about her which he could not quite put his finger on. What was it that kept her going like that? Was that really his lass?

He heard a silent rustle nearby and stared at Lucia who was copying his movements almost perfectly, sneaking quietly to his side. His eyes narrowed with worry but he had to compliment the little lass for such a great performance. There was certainly something to her that had kept her alive up until now. As if she had been trained by someone to adapt herself to any kind of situation, and by the surprised reactions of Aislinn, it had not been her. Strange things were happening for sure.

Then another Shout tore through the air, and this one was stronger, shaking the ground like an earthquake, and a shower of pine needles and raindrops covered the backs of Brynjolf and Lucia as the tree above them trembled. It was the same voice as before, but a different source, and the thief shook his head in disbelief when he realized that the lass before him was not real. Of course she wasn't. Her movements were different, her head was not tilted to her right shoulder as it often was, her hands were not slipping to the hilts of her swords in the usual manner, her fingers were too still and the look in her eyes was dull, but those traits could only be noticed by someone who knew her. Someone else must have made this image, and the consequences it had brought were so cruel that he could only think of one person capable of such an act.

"We need to get out of here," he urged and pushed Lucia back to Shadowmere, forcing her to turn away from the horrible sight of elves chopping heads and slitting throats. Her eyes were wide and she trembled, but she obeyed him absent-mindedly.

They crawled back to the black stallion as fast as they could, checking their surroundings for any kind of unwanted presence. Lucia tripped over a fallen branch she had not noticed on the way but somehow managed to fall soundlessly on her palms and got up at once without even blinking an eye. Brynjolf took her hand and supported her from her side, and finally, they managed to reach the horse. And then they both froze and so did Shadowmere, as all three of them sensed someone watching them.

Then a bolt of ice came flying in a breathtaking speed, leaving a lingering silver trace of frost behind it, and aimed for Lucia's heart. She screamed and Brynjolf pulled her to the ground as he ducked. More showered on them afterwards and the air filled with a silver veil of cold mist. Brynjolf winced and gasped when another of the deadly frost missiles almost made its way to Lucia, but she quickly recovered from the initial shock and dodged it skillfully. The thief frowned. That man was definitely aiming for the little lass, not him. And she responded, her reactions quick and precise, like a cat living in the wilds. Just what in Oblivion was going on here?

He pulled out his bow and released an arrow immediately, aiming blindly for a random spot in the air which seemed like the source of the onslaught. The angle from which the bolts were coming changed suddenly which gave him confidence to shoot again. Lucia was still dodging, now obviously thinking of how to help her guardian. Her fingers danced restlessly in the air and her brows furrowed with concentration.

Think, Luce, Lucia ordered herself in her thoughts. You heard it just a while ago, what did mama say about magic?

"Destruction magic is a tool to control elements. It doesn't have to be limited to pure destruction, but you know how people are. Basically you call an element of your choice to your aid and then direct it with your magicka. Anyway, you can control fire, frost and lightning with it. Fire is actually quite simple to use but it offers the least utility of those three. You just call upon the magical energy that is stored in you, cause a collision with the gases in the air and set them ablaze with it."

But there was no use shooting fire in this damp environment where it would die out before it reached its target, and so she thought about the other methods, dodging the bolts as they came at her. Shadowmere was neighing fiercely nearby, trying to locate the attacker, while Brynjolf was at her side, shooting arrows blindly but almost hitting the target each time, missing only because he could not predict the enemy's movements due to the invisibility spell.

"When using frost, you have to use the power of your will to pull out the water from your surroundings and then take all the heat you can from it until it freezes. The advantage of using frost is that your enemies will be weakened physically."

But mages did not really mind having their body weakened as long as they could cast spells, right?

"Now lightning is a real challenge but it can prove useful against everyone who tries to attack you with magic or some kind of mind control. You use both of the techniques that I already explained and combine them. Suck the water out of surfaces and heat it so it spreads a little. Then freeze it really fast and make the pieces of frost move as fast as you can and collide with each other. Lightning occurs then and you direct it at your target. The advantage is that directing lightning is much easier than directing fire or frost, so a bit of the magicka that you had to invest in actually creating it is spared there. You simply stretch out your hands and let the energy flow. It happens fast so don't be surprised when it shoots."

Well, the theory was there, but it was all easier said than done. She did not even know how she was supposed to use the magical energy stored in her. Where was it actually? Mages do not fight with their body, they fight with the power of their soul. Somehow, it reminded her of dragons. Of her mother. Of something she had lived through, even if it only had been a dream. But wait!

"You have to understand the very essence of the dovah. The dragons. And the essence of your kind as well."

Who had said that to her? The memory of the voice in her head sent a shiver down her spine and suddenly her chest tightened and she felt like crying. It had been someone she had grown accustomed to hearing, someone who had kept her company when no-one else would, a person she had reserved a special place in her heart for… and now that place was empty and she felt void.

"You have the means. Everyone has them."

An icebolt hit her shin and she screamed with pain, shivering as the cold spread in her body and drained her strength. Brynjolf called to her but she could not make out the words. She took a deep breath and frowned with concentration.

A swamp nearby. Shattered remains of icebolts all around. The dampness in the air, the lichen covering the tree trunks, the deep green needles of the pines, the mist hovering over the marshes and the clouds above. How she perceived all this at once, she could not understand, as if she had been preparing for this occasion for a long, long time, but she could and she knew there was water in all of those. She searched herself, straining her mind to concentrate on the abstract aspects of her being rather than her mortal vessel, and reached for energy. Slowly but surely, water gathered around her. Shutting the tangible world out, she realized that her perception of time had changed, as if it had slowed down considerably, giving her chance to think and act. Was this how it worked? Or was she in a dream again? But how come she knew that time was not the same in dreams as it was in reality?

No, she should not stray from her task now. She had the water ready. Heat it, then freeze it and move it, as fast as you can. She did and, surprisingly, it was much easier than she had originally thought, especially now that she had discovered the source of energy in her soul. Then her vision cleared and she was back in reality, the tips of her fingers humming and vibrating with sparking energy.

Brynjolf had nocked another arrow and aimed at his target. She knew his estimations were correct and so she used him as her sighting meter, stretching out her hands and directing the mass of energy at the place his arrow was pointing at. The lightning hit on the spot and a surprised scream followed. The spell broke and a tall figure appeared out of thin air, the deep blue robes he was wearing limp and slightly ragged, and his hood slid down from his head, revealing a mildly angered face. Both she and Brynjolf gasped at the sight, unable to move or act for a split second.

Despite his hair keeping the rich color of dark gold, this man seemed old as the world itself, hungry to the extent that no dragon could rival his starvation, and so dangerous that death seemed like a stroll through a paradise compared to what would happen to his victims. With his nose like a curved hook, he reminded Lucia of some peculiar bird of prey, but the thing that struck her the most were his eyes, something not of this world, evil and ominous and probably gained through some dark practices. They seemed to absorb light, leaving only darkness, and their edges glittered with violet sparks that she believed were of magical origin.

She felt her heart sink suddenly when she realized that she could not compare to this man, not with the lack of experience she suffered. She might have figured out how to cast a lightning spell almost by herself, but that had only served to anger the already aggressive man who had set out to get rid of her for whatever reason. Then she sensed silent strings tug at her subconscious and knew that the treacherous elf had decided on a new method of attacking her. This time, dodging the attack was out of question and counterattacking nigh impossible, but she was still determined to fight back.

The world around her shifted, blurred and swirled, and she was suddenly standing on the edge of a cliff with her back to the deep dark abyss below, only the shining tips of the spikes protruding from the cold stone walls surrounding it tore through the gloom as they shimmered dimly. Her eyes turned to the slope before her as if invisible force had coerced them into it and spotted a number of large boulders which threatened to come loose any second and roll down on her. They would surely smash her to the ground and then shove her over the edge to make her meet her doom down there, and the death would be very painful. Dark orange light was flooding the scenery as though it was trying to emphasize the threat.

She waited, her heart almost beating its way out of her body, unable to move, being held in place by an unknown power. Even if this was a dream, time sure passed slowly here, perhaps too slowly. Why was it so slow, so unnatural? There was something strange about this, and she felt that uncovering it would be the key to solving this situation.

And then the boulders moved, just as slowly and unnaturally as the time inside this eerie vision of hers. Suddenly, her body felt lighter and she knew she could move. The cliff crumbled and a part of it broke off, leaving a vast field of nothingness to her right so the only way out was to her left. She needed to escape the threat, to avoid getting smashed, but the ground on her left started cracking as well. She would have to run for it. But where to?

"You ran away again, my child."

The voice was soft and soothing, a vivid memory of a man who had once resided in her thoughts and spoke to her with patience transcending time and space, one who had shared her life with her, or rather who had given her a considerable part of it. He had posed challenges and given her experience, taught her an entirely new way of thinking. And what had she learnt from it?

She had learnt to stay firm and calm, to think things through, consider all the circumstances and possibilities. She had learnt not to run away.

She looked at the boulders, strangely textureless, shot a glance at the menacing orange skies, and took a deep breath. The air was cold and somehow energizing…

That was it. This world was not real, it was but an illusion meant to cast fear in her heart and bend her to that man's will, but her body and her whole being were. They did not belong here, their place was in the harsh land of Skyrim with its cold winds, snowy mountains, desolate plains and treacherous marshes. He had planted this vision in her head to make her want to run by herself, succumb to madness and march right into the deathly embrace of the elven crowd that still roamed over the mound a few hundreds of feet away. The time was slow here because while this was just a dream, her mind and body still lingered in the real world, and the two dimensions collided. But it also gave her time to think and she welcomed it.

She needed to think of a solution. A simple distraction would do, so she and Brynjolf could mount Shadowmere and escape this horrible man. But what could she do? What on the scale of her abilities could she do to stop him? If only he was here to help her… of course, she should not rely on others, but she missed him so much. How on Nirn could she miss someone she did not even remember?

"I will miss you," she had told him then. She frowned at the memory as she had clearly addressed him by a name but she could not recall it.

"You will not," he had assured her. But she did. He must have been convinced she would forget him, that he would manage to erase the memory of him from her mind, but his presence had been too strong and so was her will to remember.

You liar, she thought to herself. You big, fat liar.

With that, she concentrated on the falseness of the world around her, her eyes studying the unnatural orange light with no source, digging into the fake surfaces, absorbing them in their smooth simplicity. This world was not real, only she and her feelings were. The vision faded and the world was shrouded in darkness as the cloak of the night spread over it, and before her stood an elven figure, lit dimly by the faint glow of Secunda penetrating the veil of clouds aloft. It was finally time to act.

Brynjolf staggered as his vision changed. He stared at the strange sight that had opened before his eyes and snorted. So the Aldmer had decided to use illusion magic to gain the upper hand. Well now, that was the biggest mistake he could have made, for no matter how strong his magic was, Nocturnal knew that the thieves were used to dealing with illusions. If there was one kind of magic thieves were skilled at, it was illusion, and to be skilled at something also meant realizing its weakness and being able to use it to your advantage. To fight illusions was much simpler a task than it appeared to be.

Patience, discipline and absolute control over one's emotions and thoughts were the key. It was just like dealing with clients – hang on, don't let them lead you by the nose and get the better of you, and you win the deal.

He closed his eyes and waited, shutting out everything, concentrating on his own body and the sensations that seemed real. He felt the cold coming from the swamp, the dampness that threatened to crawl under his skin, the soft, slightly sticky ground under his feet. There was wind coming from the Solitude Bay which brought the salty scent of the sea with it, and also the refreshing smell of pine trees, slightly dulled by the foul odor of the marshes. There was so much to perceive, so much to feel, that no illusion created by a single individual would be able to override all that.

Brynjolf felt his senses sharpen as they adjusted to the absence of sight and to the muffled hearing, and waited. Surely the elf could not keep his vision up for long, and when he attacked, Brynjolf would be ready to react. He focused on the relatively still air around him save for the soft breeze from the sea which he took for its inseparable part. He had to be quick and react the very moment he felt a change in the air. It had to come soon. He put away his bow and readied a dagger in case close combat followed.

And the change came. A movement at his left hand disturbed the wind and sent a warm current his way and he opened his eyes at once. Turning to the source of the movement, he saw Lucia and his eyes widened in astonishment. She stood there, ablaze as warm golden flames licked her body and protected it from another volley of icebolts. She looked like a goddess, standing there in all her glory, and for a moment he could swear that the flames formed a dragon head with eyes like two rubies piercing through the dark.

He quickly forced himself to clear his thoughts, for admiring his little companion would not secure them an escape path, and took his bow again. He registered that despite the amazing display the girl was putting up, she was straining herself greatly and her face seemed more and more ragged. Shadowmere's neigh was coming from the other side and he knew the stallion was waiting for his chance.

He fired three arrows at the elf following one another in a close sequence and forced him to raise a strong ward spell. Brynjolf now had to put up an act, for he was quickly running out of arrows, and if the elf noticed, he might use it against him. But suddenly, the little lass did something unbelievable.

A beam of golden fire shot halfway between Brynjolf and his opponent until it reached a ledge looming over one of the swamps. It hit the stone and bounced off, disappearing into the night. She repeated it promptly before the first beam faded completely, and the third one hit the elf who was trying to fend off Brynjolf's fierce attack, managing to sneak behind his magical shield. Andariath Torelloy screamed in pain as flames took his eyes.

"You damned n'wah! Oblivion take you!" he exclaimed and shot a shower of icebolts and fire missiles blindly, followed by a lightning spell. They all went wide.

Brynjolf quickly put the bow over his back and jumped to Lucia's side. He caught her in midair when she fainted, gently taking her in his arms. Then he ran towards Shadowmere, stopping or speeding up occasionally when one of the angered elf's missiles threatened to pierce him, trying to overcome the difficult terrain which the damp muddy sludge surrounding the marshes certainly was. Despite being blinded, the Aldmer's aim was still quite accurate and the thief thought that he must have spent quite some time training for this kind of fight. Still, he was in pain and shaken and that gave Brynjolf the advantage. He quickly seated the unconscious girl on Shadowmere and then mounted the horse himself, spurring him to wild gallop.

They ran through the wilds, Brynjolf holding his breath and turning his head occasionally. The elf seemed to disappear as he could never keep up with Sithis's crimson-eyed steed but one could never be sure, especially when the enemy was a four thousand years old Aldmer.

"For the love of the Nine, you're just as reckless as her," the thief breathed to Lucia with a shake of his head when he finally managed to settle down. "Aren't you two related?"

But he had to silently compliment both of them, Aislinn for the idea of teaching the little lass magic, and Lucia for handling it so well at her first try. The girl was definitely a prodigy, and while Brynjolf had seen many unbelievable things in his life, nothing could compare to this child. Although the lass with her Shouts could maybe put up a fair competition.

He remembered Durnehviir and how he had explained that the blessing of Akatosh repelled everything opposed to creation. So a part of that Aldmer also fell within this category. Maybe that was why he had not dared engage in close combat.

He snorted. In just a few days, this little girl had managed to save his life twice.

She shifted in his hands and he caressed her hair gently, putting a few loose locks behind her ears. A soft sigh escaped her lips and she opened her eyes, dazed and still half asleep.

"Where is mama?" she whispered.

"Still out there fighting dragons," he told her with a frown of concern as he remembered the reason why he was now running away with the lass's daughter.

"I hope she smashes them, just like I smashed that blasted pointy ears' eyes. Now he'll have to kill a troll and glue its eyes with its fat instead," she laughed sleepily.

Brynjolf stared at her in disbelief, his mouth open wide, but he could not find the words to reply. Sheogorath's mad eyes, now it was official. This kid definitely took after the lass.

A few notes to add to this chapter. First, about the invisibility spell (and potions): In the game, the moment you interact with your surroundings in any way the spell breaks. I find it illogical and therefore I changed it to suit my needs, as you might have already noticed in chapters 15 (when Sinawen fights with Arethil) and 23 (when Brynjolf sneaks into the Penitus Oculatus headquarters). I don't think there's a point to being invisible if you can't do anything like that. If you played for example Baldur's Gate or any game of that sort, you know that in most games you can just stay invisible and the interactions only make you detectable (which does not equal visible). So that's how I interpret the spell and that's how I will use it in the story. Other than that, I left the magic intact but added a bit of theory to it. I hope you liked it.

Second: Brynjolf is a very good shooter, but I will not make him a Legolas. I couldn't help but remember the foolishly unrealistic scene from one of the Lord of the Rings movies (don't remember which one) where Legolas shoots three arrows at once, when I described how Brynjolf shot three arrows in a sequence. You know, I somehow hate this kind of exaggeration. I read LOTR a few times when I was just a kid and I remember well that Tolkien made everything as believable as possible. The characters there had their limits, all of them, and the laws of physics pretty much worked the same in Arda as they do on our Earth, which means that if Legolas shot three arrows at once, all of them would go wide and it would only slow him down. Believe me, I tried it myself. I don't exactly dislike the movies, but I don't "like" them either because I think that Peter Jackson just decided that a fantasy story doesn't have to have its limits. Well, I don't share his opinion. If it ever happens that I make someone too overpowered, let me know right away because that would really bug me.

Third: I know that it's Dunmeri language that Andariath Torelloy is using when cursing Lucia. I just thought it appropriate. After all, the Aldmer are considered the predecessors of most elven races, so why not relate them to the Dunmer?

And last: I hope you liked how Lucia and Brynjolf each had their own way how to deal with the illusion. I put a lot of thought into that so hopefully I made it believable. Of course Lucia would have to struggle more and think it through, Brynjolf is still far more experienced than her, but given Martin's training, she should have no problem in such a situation. Ah, somehow I'm raising her as my own daughter now. I think Aislinn has a rival. :D

Speaking of Aislinn, a review came today from a guest, stating that I used her name in the story. Well, I'm just assuming that she meant Aislinn, given the fact that all the other OCs except for Marcus who doesn't appear that much in the story have made-up fantasy names and that the review is for the first chapter. Still, I did think about the name Aislinn a lot, asking myself if it's all right to use an Irish name for an Imperial. I decided it's ok, especially for the Dragonborn. My reasons were that first, aside from Latin and Italian sounding names, the Imperials pretty much tend to adopt names of any origin and therefore there should be no problem with using just about any name for one of their race (well, if you read the lore, you learn that the Imperials actually include at least three races). Second, Aislinn made up her name anyway. Since she does not remember who she is, she was basically forced to think something up at Helgen, and hence her name.

And, you know, I couldn't give up Aislinn. I really like that name, even though I originally learned it via Heroes of Might & Magic III where Aislinn was an ugly necromancer. :D

One last thing: Next week I will be busy preparing for school which starts on 21st September for me, meaning that from now on, there probably won't be that much time I can spend writing. I major in Japanese studies and in case you don't know much about this branch, it tends to get insanely difficult. This spring I finished my bachelor degree so now it's only going to get harder. I will try to write as much as I can, but in case the frequency of my updates drops, please don't get mad at me.

Again, thank you for supporting me, reviews, favs and follows much appreciated.

To Twillin: But he is your daddy. You just don't know it yet. ;)

Stay tuned!

Mirwen