Chapter 30: Gathering Storm
Three soul gems lay along the perimeter of a strange diagram reminiscent of a summoning circle. At its center, there were a few strands of hair, some dust that Hermaeus Mora had claimed belonged to Aislinn, and a piece of something dark and slithery which Karliah dared not identify. Everything was lit by a circle of candles around, emphasized slightly by a fire which flickered several feet away. Karliah and Galathil kneeled silently beside the circle, each of them occupying one side so they would be facing each other.
"I hope this ritual of yours works," Karliah told her, doubt still lingering in her face.
"Well, I am not keen on talking about my life experiences in detail," Galathil replied, tilting her head a little, "but I've had enough to assure you it does. Although the Daedra are usually… not quite satisfied to be disturbed this way. You'll have a lot of explanation to do."
Karliah sighed. When Mercer Frey had betrayed the Guild and escaped with the Skeleton Key, she had already been half condemned by the Lady of Darkness, barely saving her reputation by bringing Aislinn into the circle of the Nightingales. Now she planned on tempting her daedric mistress even further, asking her to remove the very proof of her allegiance.
"Let's get this over with," she incited and her hooded friend nodded. They both placed their hands in the circle, chanting and praying.
"Lady Nocturnal, Night Mistress, the Great Commander of Luck, hear us!" Galathil spoke in a clear voice. "By the shadows you command and the darkness you rule, by the mysterious paths you crave for your followers, we hereby summon you to hear our pleas. Stand before us on this day and listen!"
At first, there was quiet. Then, the objects in the center of the circle flared in a blinding flame of the color of cold violet, suffocating the candlelight around it, and a voice resounded through the cave.
"Who dares disturb me on this hour?" it hissed.
Karliah stared into the flame, strangely drawn to it as if it was trying to suck her soul in. She was expecting a different sight, but of course there would not be such a simple way to call a Daedra into Mundus entirely. It would mean allowing it to walk on Nirn freely which was unthinkable. And now it made sense that the Daedra were not happy to be summoned this way by the will of someone else, and this was Nocturnal, the one enshrouded in mystery who preferred not to be contacted at all. She swallowed hard, trying to think of an excuse for her.
"It is I, Karliah the Nightingale," she spoke in her usual soft and quiet manner, but her own voice sounded alien to her.
"Ah, Karliah yet again," the Daedra uttered, no emotion apparent from her voice. "And you are not calling upon me from the shadows of the Nightingale Hall or the depths of the Ebonmere. Once again, you have found yourself in a dire situation, have you not?"
"Time has not been kind to our cause, My Lady," Karliah said. "I called upon you pleading for help in order to satisfy it. Once again, our existence is threatened, but this time, the menace comes from outside of our ranks. Still, if the trade is not restored and the cities opened again, we are unable to go on. Normal people do not walk with the shadows like we do."
"Karliah, you are not telling me the whole truth," Nocturnal whispered.
"There is war in our land," Karliah replied bluntly, deciding that equivocating would only anger the already upset Daedra, "and it threatens to destroy us all. Your champion is currently fighting to reclaim the land, and we are suspecting that higher powers are involved in this."
"And why would I have to concern myself with a war in the mortal world?"
"Because it is bad for business," the elf replied simply.
Nocturnal's voice chuckled and Karliah tilted her head in surprise.
"True, even I cannot deny that," she agreed. "So what is it that you seek from me?"
"I want to be able to return my eyes to their original color," Karliah replied and clenched her jaws tightly in expectation of rage directed towards her.
"Then you better well explain your reasons. That is no small request you are making."
"I plan to use deceit as my weapon, but for that, I need to look like an ordinary Dunmer. I will honor your way and spread your influence quietly from the shadows."
Silence took over the cave, even the soft crackling of the fire subsiding to the heavy aura of the Queen of Shadows. Karliah sat on her knees motionlessly, awaiting her Lady's response. She felt a tug at her heart, as if some foreign existence made its way there, and she knew that Nocturnal was testing her, judging her decision and studying her motives. Then, at last, she made herself heard again, making Karliah jerk ever so slightly.
"Very well. I will give the Face Sculptor the power to restore your eyes back to their original color. But be aware, Karliah, that should you fail, the punishment will be severe. Once you finish your quest, return to the Twilight Sepulcher and call upon me once again."
Nocturnal's voice faded then, returning the warm light of the candles and the fire nearby to the cave. Nothing but a pile of ash remained in the center of the circle. Karliah turned to Galathil who was staring at her absent-mindedly.
"So?" she inquired and Karliah raised her brows.
"Didn't you hear?" the Dunmer asked in confusion. The hooded woman laughed.
"Even though we had the necessary ingredients to call Nocturnal here, I still had to serve as a medium, as I was the one who initiated the conjuration ritual. It drew mental power from me, therefore I couldn't hear a word of what you two said."
"I see," Karliah nodded. "She allowed me to proceed."
"Then I suppose we shouldn't waste another minute," Galathil said and watched her companion expectantly, waiting for affirmative. When another nod followed, she spread a blanket they conveniently borrowed from Aislinn's backpack over a leveled part of the cave ground and invited Karliah to lie down there. The Dunmer took off her Nightingale mask hesitantly, revealing a skeletal face whose skin looked like a piece of thin cloth stretched over the distinct bones, and the only vivid part of it were the wide violet eyes which shone brightly at the hooded Bosmer. The years of hiding and struggling for mere survival were quite apparent on the Nightingale's face.
"Hold on still," Galathil told her. "This might sting a little."
Her hands hovered over Karliah's eyes and violet sparks of magic squirted out of her fingertips, first fixing the lids so they would not close. Karliah winced as she felt the skin around her whites stiffen, as though some invisible pincers held it in place.
"Careful now," Galathil warned. "Perhaps I should hold your body as well. If you do this during the surgery, I might ruin your face."
"I'm sorry," the Dunmer muttered. "Maybe that would be for the best."
Galathil moved her hands over Karliah's body carefully, binding her frame with magic to hold it in place. Then her attention returned to the violet eyes and the sparks of the arcane showered over them. The Bosmer moved her fingers as though she was weaving the shimmering threads of sparks, taking the color from the wide irises and slowly replacing it with different one. Karliah cried out in pain.
"You said it would sting!" she snapped.
"Ah, I always say that to my clients," she replied impishly. "If I said it hurts as if thrown into the Fires of Oblivion, I'd have no clients at all."
Karliah didn't have a word to say about it. In the end, this was no different from how the Thieves Guild handled the business, and it was probably what linked Galathil to it. She must have felt quite comfortable down at the Ragged Flagon where everyone treated their so called customers with this attitude. She sighed at her own ignorance and gritted her teeth to endure the awful sensation.
At last, the intervention was over and Karliah watched her reflection in a mirror handed to her by her surgeon. A pair of bright red eyes stared at her from its smooth surface, not unlike many others she had seen in the faces of the dark elves she had met during her life.
"This is unbelievable," she breathed, shaking her head in astonishment.
"I wouldn't have been able to do it were it not for Nocturnal's help," Galathil chuckled. "These things are not easily removed, you know."
Karliah's lips curled in a mild smile before she put on her Nightingale mask again.
"Oh, and I almost forgot," Galathil spoke again. "There's one more thing I should tell you before I leave."
"Go on," Karliah encouraged.
"You know the rotstones, right? Those nasty little things that turn your boss into a crippled pile of flesh and bones?"
Karliah smirked at the description but nodded nevertheless.
"Well, she told Delvin to investigate them, and he did. That Dunmer wizard, Marilis, had apparently sworn allegiance to Mehrunes Dagon and this is what he got for it. And, according to Delvin's resources, he's now dead. So the Thalmor will probably be looking for a replacement."
"So they don't have the rotstones at the moment?"
"Oh, they do, but their supply is, of course, limited. I also got some background info on the said wizard. Supposedly he was from House Redoran, having been raised in Vvardenfell. His family branch belonged to the most devoted worshippers of the Daedra, and although he had been cast away by his father, he was no exception. I believe the Dominion will be looking for someone like him to continue providing them with weapons against the Dragonborn."
"Delvin's contacts are really something," Karliah said in acknowledgement.
"Well, apparently your boss gave the Thalmor quite a hard time recently, and ever since then, information has been leaking on every front. And news travel faster than legs."
"Can't argue on that one. I'll see what I can do about it. If we can find the next champion soon enough, maybe we can prevent them from threatening Aislinn further."
"You're heading right in their middle, aren't you?" Galathil asked with concern in her voice, causing Karliah to raise her brows under her mask, as this tone was quite unusual for the Bosmer woman.
"I guess it's pretty obvious, hm?" she replied quietly. "I am. Even with two armies assembled, the result of this war is still uncertain."
"Take care of yourself," the hooded woman nodded. "The Guild will be waiting for your return."
"You take care of yourself," Karliah smiled. "And deliver this thing to the Guild," she pointed at Aislinn's backpack which lay aloof, propped up against the wall. "It won't be safe with me anymore."
"That's some responsibility you're giving me," Galathil snorted. "I'm expecting a good wage when you come back."
The Dunmer laughed at that, waving at her companion. She then exited the cave, making her way back to the camp where Legate Marcus was waiting for her. It had gotten dark and she stared at the sparkling starry sky above her head in surprise, wondering how much time must have passed since she had entered the cave and examined the contents of Aislinn's backpack. Then again, given the fact it was Hermaeus Mora who had trapped her in his realm, she should be happy he had delivered her back to her own time and not some thousand years away.
She greeted the guards at the camp with an occasional nod and finally entered Marcus's tent. He sat there, a piece of paper in his hand while the other one kept tapping the hastily constructed table in front of him restlessly. He raised his head when she entered, a weary smile forming on his lips.
"You're back," he stated.
"The preparations have been done," she informed him in a neutral tone. "I'll be going now."
"Are you sure you don't want to take a rest and wait for tomorrow?"
"The sooner I leave the better. And besides, the shadows are not my enemy. I'll be sure to put them to good use out there."
"Very well," he sighed. "Green is for charge, red is for retreat, yellow for their enforcements, blue for our allies, right?"
"Exactly," she said with a nod.
"And if nothing happens?"
"Then I have failed and the rest is up to you."
"I have trust in you," he told her hoarsely. "The Dragonborn wouldn't choose a weakling as her ally."
Karliah chuckled. "You only saw Aislinn twice or so," she argued with a smile hidden behind her mask.
"I saw the way she wields her sword. I can tell," he assured her. "I hope one day I'll get to spar with her."
"You'll lose."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he winked at the Dunmer. "Well, I guess this is goodbye for now. Keep your eyes open."
"And walk with the shadows," Karliah muttered to herself as she left the tent. She changed at her own to a light leather armor that she had requested from one the smiths around and adjusted herself, making it sturdy and durable while preserving its comfortability. She only took her bow and daggers with her, looking at them with a mixture of pride and sorrow as she knew that she would probably lose them soon, and a few snacks to chase away hunger on the road if, by any chance, she did not manage to catch anything. She left the camp in absolute silence, making herself seem more like a moving shadow than a real person.
She took a deep breath and looked at the paved road lined with birch and pine trees before her, leading down to the snowy realm of Eastmarch. It was time for her to do her part in this war. It was time to set out for Windhelm.
It was dark in the small chamber, except for the dimly lit desk in its center, covered by a pile of papers. A black-furred Khajiit was bent over it, ignoring the chair beside her, studying the countless charts and lists on the papers, occasionally scribbling some notes or crossing an item on a list with a perfectly straight line. An Argonian with skin turning a dark shade of cyan was leaning to the cold stone wall leisurely, watching his companion from behind. At first sight, it seemed she did not mind his presence, as though she was completely unaware of him being there, but in reality she knew about the slightest movement he dared to make.
"I really hope this plan of yours works," she told him after a while, selecting a few sheets of paper and organizing them into a neat pile. His eyes narrowed a little, but other than that, he showed no sign of surprise at the sudden sound of her voice.
"Does it really matter if it doesn't?" he asked sweetly.
"Icons are important for people in war," she replied wearily. "You wouldn't know. All you ever care about is yourself. But people need someone to look up to, and General Tullius is one of the few candidates right now."
"I don't think he's that much of a fool to stay with them until the very end," he said dryly, scratching the wall behind him with his nails. Farkhali's hairs stood on end at the sound.
"He doesn't want to stay with them at all," she snorted. "If it fails, you're a dead man."
He froze for a while, lost in thought, and then walked to Farkhali's side, putting a hand over hers.
"My dear Farkhali," he purred, tilting his head to take a look at her face, "you wouldn't hurt and old friend, would you?"
The Khajiit laughed at that, turning her black-furred head so her ice-blue eyes stared at his wrinkled lizard-like face.
"Gulum-Ei, darling," she returned in the same tone, "if you think you can use my own methods on me," and her face hardened suddenly, "then I must tell you, you're a hundred years early to do that!"
And with that, her foot darted towards his knee, hitting it with enormous force. The Argonian scowled and moaned with pain, staggering backwards until his back crashed into the wall he had been leaning to a while before.
"I'm, uh… glad you haven't changed," he uttered.
"Say what you will," she smirked at him. "You really know nothing about me."
"More like I'm the only one who really knows you," he countered, smiling mysteriously.
She gave him a derisive look, but could not suppress an inner shiver. Deep inside, she knew he was right. She had never shown this side of hers to anyone except him. Just why did this little bastard irritate her so much that she always lost patience with him?
A cacophony of rustles and noises came from outside of the room, and a pair of footsteps followed a short while after, quickly making their way to the door. It swung open in an instant, revealing a panting silver-furred Khajiit, leaning to the doorframe and barely staying on his feet as he tried to catch his breath.
"Farkhali…" he whispered breathlessly, his posture bent and his beautiful silver fur glued together with sweat.
"Kharjo!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. "What in Oblivion… ah, never mind, sit down here and calm down. Tea?"
"Later," he exhaled. "I have news for you. I came running…"
"I can see that," she pointed.
"I got a message from Eastmarch," he explained, rubbing his calves which, as Farkhali suspected, hurt excessively, having been strained by the long sprint. "They were preparing a caravan to Whiterun at the Cradlecrush Hideout. Short after it had been dispatched, it was attacked. There were no survivors."
Farkhali sighed heavily, staring into the dark grey ground beneath her feet.
"And the supplies?" she asked.
"Gone," came the reply.
"Great," she grumbled. "More good news when we have to supply an army of hungry Forsworn." She threw a bitter look at the pile of papers on the desk.
"Do you think the Hunter…" Gulum-Ei said, still holding his knee, but Farkhali shook her head.
"No, the Hunter was in Morthal just a few days ago. Unless she's able to move around as fast as I do, she wouldn't be able to make it in such a short time. And I don't think the caravan would be of any concern to her. Anyway, did they tell you what made them send the caravan this early?"
"But they didn't," Kharjo opposed, finally settling down to take a deep breath. "It was right on schedule…"
"That can't be right! That would mean it was caught before it crossed the White River."
"That it was," the silver-furred Khajiit affirmed.
"Any sign of losing control over the area?"
"None."
"So it must have been one of our own," Farkhali sighed, propping against the wall beside Gulum-Ei to gain support as she suddenly felt overwhelmed by the news.
"Is there anyone who would actually do such a thing?" Gulum-Ei questioned with a doubtful grimace. Farkhali shot him a furious glance which he returned with a shy hint of apology in his face. "I meant," he stammered hesitantly, "someone who would go this far and annihilate a caravan on their own. Don't look at me like that, I wouldn't do such a thing," he said with his hands raised in a defensive gesture. "It would be far too risky to wager my skin on."
The corners of Farkhali's mouth twitched in contempt.
"But you have a point, I too wonder what their motive could be," Kharjo mused. "What could a thief or a smuggler gain by sabotaging our plans?"
"There is only one thing that they listen to," Farkhali snorted, "and that's the clinking sound of coin."
"You think they would be so foolish to believe a Thalmor just like that? The elves are merciless, they kill a guy whom they don't need anymore no problem."
"Think," Farkhali said with a frown, more to herself than to the two men who kept her company. "There must be something we're overlooking. A traitor among us, a caravan razed to the ground… it was supposed to go to Whiterun, right? Not the Whiterun army?"
"The city of Whiterun," Kharjo confirmed.
"Wouldn't it be more logical for the Dominion to stop Balgruuf from proceeding?" Gulum-Ei asked.
"Not if their target is Whiterun. But since it couldn't have been the Dominion that set this up…"
"There must be someone else who would benefit from Whiterun being defeated," Kharjo concluded.
"And that someone has ties to the Guild."
Gulum-Ei laughed and Farkhali gave him an irked look, her brows furrowed at the insolent Argonian.
"What's so funny?" she snarled.
"Well, it's actually pretty easy," he said. "You said it all. That guy is someone who would merit from siding up with the Thalmor and having Whiterun taken over by them, someone who has ties to the Guild and also someone who is drowning in gold to be able to pay his agents. In other words, an influential figure, most likely residing right in Whiterun."
Farkhali's eyes widened.
"Gulum-Ei… you might actually be a genius," she breathed, but then her face twisted with concern. "But that means the danger is even more imminent than we had previously thought."
He gave her a wide grin, exposing his sharp pointy teeth. "So, do you think better of me now?"
"Dream on," she snorted, straightening up and making for the door.
"Hey, where are you going?" he called to her, knitting his jagged brows.
"I'm going to save Balgruuf's city," she replied, turning her head with unmatched elegance. "Take care of that," she waved her hand to the desk. He stared at her as she walked away, watching the graceful curve on her tail.
"So it's Balgruuf's city now," he muttered grumpily under his breath. "Not Whiterun, but Balgruuf's city."
"Gulum-Ei?" Farkhali's voice suddenly echoed from the corridor beneath the door.
"Yes?" he answered, jerking in surprise.
"Shut up."
And with that, she was off.
Shorter chapter this time, because I need a break and it just fits this way, so I hope you don't mind. Uh, I actually had to rewrite it because the first attempt was just crappy as hell. Hm, tell me if there's still something that doesn't feel quite right.
And I have one request for you. If there is anything that you think needs explaining in my story, please write me about it, either in the reviews or via PM. I think I should start thinking of a way to explain all those mysteries that I have presented to you but I don't want to do the same mistake as other authors do and overlook something you might deem important. I have a file where I continuously note my ideas, and there's a section where I mention what should be explained later on or at the end of the story, but it's quite possible that there are things I haven't thought about. So don't be afraid to ask. :)
Also, as you might have noticed, I started writing several other fics, mostly because I just felt like putting my ideas on the paper (or, in this case, on the screen) and sharing them with others, but I still have confidence in my new stories. Still, looking at the charts, I have to wonder why comedy is such a popular genre while everything else falls behind. Nothing gains a writer as much audience as a comedy tag. Strange. Anyway, I'll probably be splitting my time among these stories a bit, but I will still update Strike as it is my main story. It helps me to work on more fics, though, I was going crazy, fully concentrating on one thing only. And I like to experiment so I try a lot of things. :)
Speaking of the charts and stuff – thank you, everyone, for all the attention that you are giving to this story! It makes me so happy to read your reviews, look at how many people actually read this, and think that I do have some devoted fans. This is really the best motivation one can get, so thank you! :)
Many thanks to Pietersielie, TwillinOfTheWillows, Someone345 and yet another (?) Guest for their heartwarming reviews. And I can't forget my beta, dart0808 [Editor's note: Ignore me, I do practically nothing], who is always ready to help me improve [It's really hard to improve upon near-perfection so…][Mirwen: You know, perfection is a relative term... some even say it doesn't exist.]. Thank you!
Stay tuned!
Mirwen