A Rude Awakening
This time it was different.
Calisto had no intention of running away like a coward anymore, that much was clear. He wanted her. And so he was going to have to fight to get her. Ironic, how just a few short days ago she would have practically gone down on wobbly knees to give herself to him. But since then he had offered her such a rude awakening, there was no going back. In more ways than one. Funny, what difference a few days could make.
But she was wiser now. Stronger. She felt older too. Less naïve, for sure. She had met the real world, and she was more prepared to meet it face-to-face than ever before. No one would ever bewitch her again. In a way, Calisto had done her a solid.
She was bent on making it his last. The beautiful bastard was in for a rude awakening of his own.
She gave it her best shot, attacking him with her whole arsenal of magic. Almost anyone would have been swept away by her power, but she was under no confusion about Calisto's formidable talent. Still, while his smug grin was hiding it carefully, she knew he had to be giving his best too in order to keep her from murdering him.
His ward held, but Ariadne saw strain crack his pretense of an effortless grin, could practically feel his magicka draining as she was now showering him with a dose of lightning. This was a mighty fine thing, of course, but unfortunately marred by the fact that she could also feel her own storage getting depleted.
It would have been a completely impossible thing to explain, the way one felt magicka, if tasked to explain it to someone who had never felt it. Very much akin to what you would call your stamina: you would barely feel it was there when you were feeling strong, all you knew is that you were able to do things. But once it started to run out, then it would become clear. But it still wasn't a thing per se, more of a potential within yourself. Will of the soul, the scholar had described it, and Ariadne had heard those words before. It seemed to make sense, but at the same time—
No, no, no. The last thing she needed right now was to start pondering the theory of it! Funny how even in the middle of life-or-death battle her mind could start to drift . . .
She did her damnedest to keep hers about her.
She had forced Calisto to back down back through the door he had entered. Behind was a large space of clearly Dwarvish description with all the pipes, shelves, and tiers you would expect. It had the feeling of a storage room, with plenty of room to fight in.
Still, this wasn't a real fight yet. So far it had only been Ariadne on the offence, while Calisto seemed content on defending, slowly backing up toward a hulking Dwemer automaton. It was certain to be one of those Centurion things. She'd never seen one herself but had heard them mentioned, and the contraption fit the descriptions. The roughly humanoid-shaped metal thing stood more or less two man-heights tall. Inactive, stationed in a gantry, but Ariadne worried with what half a mind she had to spare that this would not last. If the thing came alive and decided to attack . . .
Well, best not waste energy worrying about it now.
And speaking of energy, Ariadne clenched her teeth and squeezed out what magic there was left in her, but then the crackling deluge died off and her hands hung harmless in the air. That tingling sensation which always followed ran from the tips of her fingers to the top of her skull, her hair made static by the energy.
Calisto's ward also died out, and for a moment they stood there, facing each other. Ariadne was winded and glared at him through slitted eyes. Preparing to bolt should he suddenly switch to offence, although she was fairly certain he was out for the moment as well.
Immediately, she could feel the magica starting to slowly return. Calisto would be feeling it too. For the time being, both were waiting. There was no point in attacking while the recharge was incomplete.
"Are you finished?" Calisto asked, as if all he'd been doing was waiting for her to stop screaming at him.
"You're finished."
Calisto chuckled. "We'll see about that." He cocked his head. "We don't need to do this, you know."
"Don't talk to me!" Ariadne started to slowly edge to her right. In case she needed to move quickly. As far as foes went, Calisto was unpredictable. Chances were he had something up his sleeve and would not dally when he decided to show it.
He started to slowly move too, gravel of ages crunching underfoot. "Whyever not. Think we're that different?"
Ariadne spat. He was sounding uncomfortably like he had in her vision . . . whatever it had been.
"You did not come here just for me, did you?"
They were now slowly circling each other.
"What are you talking about?" Ariadne hissed. "I came to kill you."
"Ah," Calisto intoned. "A shame."
"You're the shame here! And the fact that we let you leech off us for so long!"
He chuckled. "Oh, poor Ariadne. Still so naïve."
Ariadne set her jaw. She was past letting the bastard manipulate her. "How did you find us?"
"What do you mean here by us? The College?"
"No, fool. Here."
"Ah. Well, there was no trick to it. I followed you once you'd opened that stone door—how did you, by the way?" When he got no reply, he shrugged. "And then, well, I walked in, looked down some passages—what a weird place, by the way, and pretty much empty, what's that all about?—and at length heard your voices, and . . ." He shrugged again. "How else?"
Ariadne scowled. "The place just let you walk in?"
Calisto's eyebrows knitted a touch. "Come again? How did it let me in? I just walked in, that's all. Tried some doors."
"The doors were locked!"
"Again, I have no idea what you're talking about. They were perfectly unlocked when I tried them."
At first Ariadne was certain Calisto was lying, but then why do that? "You didn't see anything then?"
"What would I have seen?" He smiled, stopping in his tracks. "Nothing worth seeing here . . . besides your lovely visage."
Ariadne scowled. She came to a stop as well. Tried to read from Calisto's expression what he would do next. Tried to evaluate if she had charged enough to launch another assault. Simultaneously preparing a ward in case she needed it.
"We don't need to do this," Calisto said again, from behind what looked like a genuinely carefree smile, but which Ariadne knew with certainty to be a mask. Hiding a monster.
"You said that already. And it's still untrue."
"Is it, though?"
"It is."
Calisto cocked his head. "You make me sad." He did not look sad.
"Aww," Ariadne said. "Well, feel free to—" She thrust out her hands, "CRY!"
Ariela stared at the ceiling, her breathing now more or less back to normal, and tried to piece together just what feeling this was. She'd never had it before. At once comforting beyond anything she could imagine and just a little bit frightening.
Time had lost meaning while they'd . . . fucked. Yes, that was the word. Most of that time, if she was perfectly honest, she had spent simply trying to train her body to adjust, to find the deep pleasure that she knew was hidden in that odd feeling of being filled from the outside. She had felt nice, even just the fact that this man she had so become infatuated with was fucking her. His heat on top of hers, his smell. Those alone would have gone a long way. His nice cock was almost a bonus to add to that. A very nice bonus.
She had not reached a climax of any sort, and she certainly had not expected to. That level of comfort would take time to develop. But she felt good. She felt fucked. And that, she now knew, felt good.
Erik had not . . . er, finished either, even if Ariela had sort of expected him to. In the books, the man almost always did, even if the woman didn't. Was she a bit disappointed at that? Perhaps a bit, but then she was also glad they would not have to worry about taking herbs to avoid unfortunate consequences.
Unfortunate? The idea of bearing Erik's children . . . the though did not rankle. But obviously not now. In the future, perhaps? Funny, she had never really considered the possibility of having children of her own. What would that be like? Would they resemble her more or him?
She was certainly getting ahead of herself now.
"Well," Erik said. His voice boomed pleasantly under Ariela's ear.
"Well," she said. She turned her head on his chest to meet his eye. His smell made her heady. "That was nice."
He snorted and gave a laugh at her understatement. "Yeah. It was. Very nice."
Ariela smiled. "I'm glad you think so too."
"So it was . . . alright, with you? I mean . . ."
"As far as first times go . . . well, given that I have no other first times to compare it to . . . I would say it was . . . adequate."
He laughed again. "If I got a septim every time a girl said that, I would have . . . well, some septims."
Ariela grinned, but could not help a bit of a jab of jealousy over the mention of other girls. It was wholly silly of course, getting jealous about his past, but still . .. those harlots, sleeping with her man—even it had been before she'd even met him!
Her man . . . she had a difficult time imagining it.
It felt like she had entered a new life. It felt like an awakening of sorts. She sensed a new potential within herself. What it was wasn't clear. But she was sure it would become clear. For once, perhaps the first time ever, she found herself looking into the future with hopeful anticipation.
The future. Seemed hard to believe, but she might have him to accompany her there. The thought was almost too much to bear.
"Everything alright?"
Ariela snapped out of her reveries. "Yeah, yeah. Of course. Everything's good." She gently brushed at the rug of ruddy hair on his chest. "Great in fact."
Erik relaxed. "Great. Just, for a moment you seemed troubled. I thought maybe . . ."
"You've had a life before you met me, if that's what you mean. I understand of course. You've had . . . girls." Wonder if they were prettier than me.
"Yeah," Erik said, a bit uncertain.
"Just don't ever do it again!"
He laughed. "You mean mention them or—"
Ariela raised her head and flashed him an eyeful of mock-anger. "Don't you dare even say it!"
They shared a laugh. Then a kiss. Ariela, smiling, laid her head back. She could have kept it there forever.
"What are we doing," she said. "This is crazy."
Erik shrugged. "Feels natural to me."
"You would say that." She shook her head against his warmth. "Men."
Erik reached his hand over her thigh and slowly traced it up her belly. It gave her a little shiver. Then he started to gently stroke her belly "How can we possibly help ourselves." He kissed the top of her head, took a whiff. "With such alluring, soft creatures."
Ariela felt a tingle, closed her eyes to savor his touch. "Keep going."
"Touching you or saying things?"
"Both."
She opened her eyes and got a look of his cock. It was still wet with her fluids, party dried to a faint, whitish crust. It had barely had time to grow soft but now it seemed as though it was hardening again.
So soon! What power she must have possessed!
Ariela reach out to grab it. "I like your cock," she said, before she even thought it.
Suddenly the hardening got a lot more rapid. In just a few heartbeats it was all stiff again. Amazing.
"I'm glad," he said.
"It's glad, seems."
"I can hardly argue."
What a funny thing. Ariela slowly slid her hand up its length, contemplated. She felt herself getting wet again as well.
Could she . . . ?
And then she was already.
Ariadne screamed as she hurled one firebolt after another, each of them evaded by the grinning bastard, acting like this was some sort of a game. Mocking her. And, despite herself, she could feel her morale drained along with her magicka. What gave the man the ability to be so damned fast! It wasn't natural, she knew it. What demon fueled him?
She stared feeling the nasty prickle of dread dancing across her spine. But she gritted her teeth and forced hatred into its place. It worked. But for how long?
Trying to trick him, she first flung one bolt at his right-hand side and immediately followed it up by another in the direction to where he would dodge. And he did as she'd anticipated, but then . . . Before the bolt impacted, he launched himself up and did a flip in the air, allowing the bolt to sail below him and strike the Dwarven Centurion.
Ariadne gaped. She'd never seen anything like that before. If she had a suspicion before, she was now more or less certain that something preternatural—perhaps a Daedric Prince!—was lending its power to the man. Constriction grew in her belly, a cold dread. Dibella's dimples—had he already discovered the secret that he had come here for? Was he just playing with her? Did he already possess the power of . . . what, a god?
Ariadne set her jaw and swept aside the budding panic. He was no god. He was a man. And outside help or not, a man could be killed.
Calisto came down effortlessly and grinned at her. She let him have his moment while letting a bit more Magicka seep in. They wordlessly eyed each other across a distance a bit less than ten strides. Then, even as Ariadne prepared to continue the attack, Calisto leapt again. This time toward the automaton. He grabbed ahold of its arm, culminating in a giant hand balled into fist, and deftly pulled himself up and flung himself over its other shoulder.
Ariadne launched a fireball after him, but it struck the automaton's arm just after he had swung past. She followed up with another, directly aimed at him. He slipped behind the Centurion's head. Cursing, she took a few quick strides to get nearer, waiting for him to pop his stupid head up again. He did, and then evaded another. That grin—exactly like a child enjoying a fun game.
Recognizing the futility of it, Ariadne stowed her magic. "Why don't you come fight me like a man!" she screamed. She afforded a passing glance at the machine on top of which he perched. It was teetering softly, and she half-worried it would come alive at any moment. So far it hadn't. Possibly dysfunctional after the long centuries spent inactive.
Calisto peeked a grinning head from behind the machine's. "Would you really want me to?"
"We've been over this. I won't join you. Ever!"
Calisto stuck out a pouty lip. "Aw. I don't think you mean that."
"I've never meant anything more in my entire life!"
"You may still change your mind," he said. He wagged his finger. "I know girls, you're fickle."
Ariadne's eyes widened momentarily, but then she realized his taunts would not affect her. Not anymore. She felt a cold purposefulness leak into her. No fear. No doubt. Only one thing to do, to kill this little shit. A slow death was what he deserved, but she could bear the idea of a quick one. But his breathing days would soon be over.
"Are we, now?" she said. Keep talking. She began to slowly advance.
Calisto corrected his position on the automaton, making it creak and quiver in the gantry. "Don't take it the wrong way, sweety. I like it! Men, we're so predictable."
You're not wrong. Ariadne smiled. "You still managed to surprise me."
Calisto returned the smile. "Ah, that was necessary, I'm afraid."
"How so?"
"I knew you'd eventually see my side of things. But at first, you needed to stay a bit in the dark. Just a little." The little space between his thumb and index finger, apparently.
"I'm still not seeing your side of things, Calisto."
His smile was almost sweet. "But you will."
Ariadne came to a stop, cocked her head. "You're so sure of yourself." Just a little longer. "That was the thing that first attracted me."
"And not my impeccable visage?"
"Well," she looked away, "perhaps." You are such a fool. Her lips barely moved as she prepared the spell.
Calisto chuckled. "Oh, Ariadne. You should see how lovely you look right now. You and I were simply meant to—"
"Fuck off!" Ariadne screamed as her hands shot out and a blue-glowing hypha snaked out of her palms and fingertips.
Calisto hid again, but this time in vain. How can you be so stupid! It wasn't him she'd aimed at, but at the metal device he was on. Metal, a most conductive element.
He let out a very satisfying little shriek as the shock ran though the Centurion and hit him. From the force of it he was sent flying backwards with an explosion of sparks. Arms flailing, he flew uncontrolled to the ground. Landed on his back with a meaty thud.
Fiercely grinning, Ariadne ran around the Centurion, preparing that Wall of Flames spell she'd meant for him earlier. This time he would be defenseless to countermand it. She would have liked to see him roasted on a slow fire, but this would do. It would do bloody marvelously!
Calisto was still on the ground, visibly stunned, and trying to pick himself up when Ariadne, with a scream, opened the deluge of fire. This time she got him. Right where she needed him. Die, bastard, die. Fucking DIE!
But—
Just as the flames had bloomed out of her—that ecstatic feeling of power and destruction pouring through her—Calisto flicked a hand at her . . .
Snuffing the flames.
"Wh—" The feeling was yanked out of her! As the magic died so did it, replaced by an odd cold voidness. Even her force of motion died and she stumbled, unable to bring herself to a stop right away.
The shock from the sudden loss then blended in with shock from seeing Calisto spring up from the ground with spry dexterity. His grin was gone and in its stead rage warped his beautiful features into something horrible. He greeted her with a fist, taking her in her right cheek, twisting her head around and sending her toppling the other way.
"Bitch!" Calisto snarled.
The shock of surprise was spiked by the shock of pain from the blow. She'd never been hit before, not like this. It took a while for the pain to connect, and when it did it, it spread out on that whole side of her face and beyond. This pain was then immediately followed by the one dealt to her by the blow from her collision with the floor. She saw a bright flash in her head.
Then she lay on the floor, breathless—thoroughly shocked.
And then Calisto was over her. Straddling her belly, his hands tight around her wrists to pin her arms out to the sides.
It was all feeling altogether too familiar . . .
Unlike in her vision, Calisto's expression hosted pure rage as he pressed it close to hers. "So this is how you prefer it, then?" he snarled. "If you refuse my love then, by the Ascended One, I can just as well bathe you in my hate!"
Ariadne stared at him, the demon within now nakedly visible. The horror of him paired with the horror of this helplessness from losing her power. And how had she pictured this moment so accurately before? How had she known he was capable of something like this? How was he capable of something like this?
"Have you naught to say?" Calisto demanded. And he grinned, but the usual grin of a charmer was replaced by the grin of a monster about to devour her.
Ariadne felt so naked, defenseless like a little babe. The feeling of emptiness was even worse than it had been in the vision. For as long as she could remember she had always felt the potential in her, the magicka just waiting to be employed. This was different than simply being depleted, or even having ingested magicka poison. To not even feel the shade of the potential of regeneration . . . it was as if an essential part of her had been robbed from her. It felt like the gravest form of bodily—and spiritual—violation! She felt like being sick.
All fight was gone from her. Not even a trace of hatred left. She felt a profound sadness take over her. She'd never lost anyone she cared about, but this, she imagined, felt akin to suddenly losing them all. Calisto, with a minute flick of his hand, had utterly undone her within seconds! How useless it was to fight him! He had her. He was better. He was stronger. She felt the urge to surrender completely. She wanted to learn. What were these powers he possessed? Who knew, he might have even been able to teach her . . .
Ariadne went limp. She let go. A sob ran through her. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice a feeble, throaty whisper.
"What's that?" asked Calisto, ear cocked toward her. "Say that again."
She squeezed her eyes shut and hot tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said. More sobs wracking her. It had been years since she'd last cried. It felt good, giving up, if in a slightly bitter way. "I'm sorry. I was . . . I was afraid." It was true, no harm in admitting it. "I was confused." Her nose filled with snot, which she tried to suck in with poor success. She must have looked dreadful. For once she didn't care.
She felt something move within her. Or perhaps it was the only thing within her that did not move. Some spark. Something beyond what she'd known before. Could it be her imagination? Or was it the same source where Calisto drew his power from?
Ariadne opened teary eyes. From behind her bleary vision she saw Calisto's expression soften. "I'm sorry!" she cried.
"Aw, it's alright," said Calisto gently. He released one of her arms to stroke a line of tears off one cheek. Unlike in the vision, Ariadne's arm did not feel stuck to the floor. "Shhh," Calisto said. "It's alright."
Ariadne swallowed and closed her eyes again. His touch felt good on her cheek. It felt good being comforted. Like being a child again. She had not realized how much she had missed it.
She felt that thing, that spark, increasingly clearly. It was real. It was her. Always had been within her, patiently waiting to be discovered.
Opening her eyes, Calisto was looking at her with an almost paternal tenderness. "I always knew," he said, stroking her cheek. "I never doubted you'd surrender. You just needed time, that's all."
I could just reach out for it . . .
In his eyes Ariadne tried to see what she had once seen. Like this, they looked beautiful again. It was like before, when she'd felt she could just get lost in his gaze. She felt that again. With her hand free, she stroked his face. "You . . . forgive me?"
Calisto smiled. "Oh, sweetness. Of course I do!"
Ariadne returned the smile, shily. Then she raised her head to get closer. Calisto welcomed her, and they were kissing. She'd dreamed of this moment. Mere seconds ago she would not have believed it but—it felt amazing. she had to admit it now. His lips were soft, gentle. She felt a shiver dance across her spine. A stirring about her loins. She moved her free hand to stroke his hair, wiggled the other one free as well to place around his shoulder.
Their lips nibbed at each other. Then Calisto slipped his tongue past her teeth and she welcomed it with hers. The stirring about her loins became an ache of desire and need. This man was magical through and through. She allowed herself to feel it, to admit it. To admit that burning desire which she'd had for him for so long. Permitted herself to give in to it. She needed to let go.
Her hands free, Ariadne caressed his face. Skin smooth to the touch, strong features beneath, muscles working as his jaw moved. Her other hand she let slip off his shoulder, down his strong back, to land on a firm buttock. She gave it a good squeeze and then slid the hand around, in between his legs. Felt the outline of his cock and got hold of it. She could feel him harden.
"Aw, kitten," he said, lips curling in a grin against her. "Naughty."
"That's how you like it, isn't it?"
"Oh yes!"
She caressed his face and his hardening cock more vigorously. "I want to make you feel good," she whispered.
Calisto gave a small moan, closing his eyes. "You do, sweety. You do."
Ariadne smiled, looking at him. At the same time she looked inside. Finding exactly what she'd been searching for. His face, she could see it so clearly now for what it was.
The face of a beautiful monster.
She reached within, reached out for it. Grabbed hold of it. The spark.
The power!
Her own face twisted. A grimace, a grin. She let the power flow through her, an ecstatic flow. She snarled, "Go to the Void!"
Ariadne unleashed crackling, roaring lighting from both hands. Calisto's eyes flew wide and after a moment of sudden panic a scream erupted from his mouth, guttural and agonized. Hearing it, seeing his features twist with pain, gave her more pleasure than his affections ever could.
For a moment it was as though he was stuck to her, helpless against the assault searing his face and crotch. But then he managed to tear himself free, launching himself backwards and stumbling till he fell into a writhing, screaming heap.
Ariadne was swept with a wave of exhaustion as the magic dwindled out. She would have just loved to close her eyes and let sleep take her. But she knew Calisto wasn't done yet. She'd need to finish this. Within, magicka was building up again. Ariadne could see it positively flooding into herself, like water long dammed. She was free. She was herself again.
Teeth bared in a determined grimace, she pushed herself off the floor. She was recharged enough. Spell at the ready, the Wall of Flames she had intended for Calisto. He was finished. He was—
A blur as he abruptly sprang up, his burnt face contorted with fury. Ariadne's spell died as she tried to lift her arms to protect her face from his fist, but she was too slow. It caught her in the cheek, a light flashing in her skull, and then she fell boneless to the floor. Darkness rushed in to embrace her.
They had not gone on for much longer. Ariela could have personally continued for the whole day, seemingly insatiable now that she was finally at it, but Erik, looking apologetic, had soon tired—or so he had chosen to word it. "Sorry, I'm old."
"You're not old," Ariela had replied with a smile. She had meant it too, but her words had been immediately chased by the thought, but another decade or so and you'll be getting there. She felt a little jab. It was true. And she would still be in her early thirties then.
But she whisked it away. Let the future worry about itself.
They had agreed, suddenly becoming aware of the true reality of their situation again, that while the place had seemed to show some benign qualities, it was still an ancient ruin of indeterminate, and therefore unpredictable, nature, and since two of their companions were still out there somewhere, finding them should be a priority. And after that they should strive to find the straightest way out of here.
They could only hope that Ariadne and Runa had not found themselves in circumstances too drastically less auspicious as they had—although Ariela would have been rather surprised to find the women having had quite the same experience. "Unless Runa had her way," Erik commented.
They'd left the room with the bath and the bed behind them and were back in the hallway. Dressed again, save for Erik's breastplate, which he now carried over one shoulder.
A strange silence had come up between them. For Ariela, a big part of it was simply tiredness. She felt as though she'd been awake for ages. She had no idea what time it was but there was a good chance it was already the next morning. So no wonder. The slightly dreamlike and surreal feeling of the place definitely contributed.
But for the most part she felt good. And she had all the reason to!
Problem was, she wasn't sure about Erik.
Divines, I hope he has no regrets!
Erik had to admit that he could not think of anything to say, but not for lack of wanting to. The silence that had suddenly taken them over was to him not a comfortable one. He could not help thinking there were things that needed saying. And they would only have this time before they found the others—at least hopefully found them!
Gods, I hope she doesn't regret it! He certainly did not. In fact, out of all the times he had lain with a woman, he probably felt the least amount of regret. Rarely had it felt as meaningful.
You silly old goat, you're not suggesting you're in love are you? He sniffed to himself in amusement.
He honestly could not tell for sure. There was, after all, a first for everything.
"What?" Ariela asked.
Erik felt a wave of embarrassment. "Er." He sought for something pithy. Failed. "Nothing."
Ariela studied him with a little furrow upon her brow. Slightly worried. It made him smile.
"What?" she asked.
"You are adorable."
She smiled. "Oh." Blushed a little. "Well. I'm glad you think so."
"And . . .?"
She looked momentarily confused, then grinned. "Ah. You are very . . . er, handsome." Again, adorably awkward.
Erik laughed. "Thank you. You might not know it but us men crave for flattery as well."
"Flattery?"
"Oh." He reached a hand to touch her cheek. "I obviously meant every word."
Ariela closed her eyes with a smile, leaning her head into his hand. When she opened her eyes, she quirked a smile. "I did too. Handsome." She gave his arm a squeeze. "And strong. And . . ." She sought the words. Then she clapped a hand over his behind. "Tasty!"
Erik laughed again. "Tasty?"
Ariela gave him a sly smile. "Well . . ."
Another short moment of silence. An infinitely more enjoyable one.
"We should probably focus," Erik said.
Ariela's eyes twinkled mischievously for a moment, as she was thinking of a cheeky retort. But then she composed herself. "You're right, of course."
At length they arrived at a door. "Are you ready?" Erik asked.
"Shouldn't you wear your armor?"
Erik smiled. Ariela couldn't imagine ever getting tired of seeing that. "I think I've started to trust this place," he said. Then shrugged. "Call me a fool."
Ariela raised herself on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Fool," she said. She grinned. "But my fool."
Erik returned the grin, then pushed the door open.
He felt a warm glow as he opened the door. Things had certainly taken an unexpected turn. If someone would have told him when he'd woken up today that he'd end up intimate with such a lovely young lady in a mysterious ancient ruin which made dreams come true . . . well, it hardly needed saying his response would have been just a touch skeptical.
There was a big grin across his face as Erik swung the door open. A large space opened to the left, and after the sight registered fully in his mind, he stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth fell open. At some five strides' distance stood a very familiar figure.
"Runa!"
It was definitely her and not just another phantom. But there was something very odd about the woman. The way she stood, for one—oddly stiff and still, with her arms slightly fanned around her. As if in an imitation of a doll. Then, at his cry, she opened alarmed eyes wide and her face twisted, and even that looked somehow unnatural.
Suddenly his instincts were screaming danger and he felt very acutely his lack of armor.
"Eh-ihh!" she bellowed in a choked voice, her features twisting like she had forgotten how to work them. Her eyes were bulging past him. "Looh owh!"
Huh? Erik swung around to see what she was looking at. He heard a scream.
He barely had the time to register the thing that came at him. A man. A snarling man.
"Hi!" the man said, then slammed into Erik and knocked the wind out of him. One fist buried in Erik's gut, accompanied by a strange cold feeling. Strangely familiar. The hand twisted, and Erik felt his stomach lurch.
The man then pulled away from him and Erik saw the object in his hand. A long-bladed knife, stained in fresh blood. He looked down on himself. Blood pouring out from the hole just above his solar plexus. He felt strangely numb.
"Erik!"
Ariela stood in front of him, unmindful of the immediate danger. He wanted to warn her, but when his mouth came open he could only cough. He tasted blood. Felt it surge up his throat. Ariela's lovely, sincere features were twisted by panic and pain. He now realized the scream had been hers. Her shaking hands were on him, now knowing quite where to settle. Her eyes darting between his wound and his face. "Erik!" she said. "Erik." He understood. Suddenly he had lost all his words too.
His eyes went to the man, standing a few paces aside, observing. The man wore a grin, somehow inhuman. His face, pleasant features which nonetheless held no warmth. No kindness. The eyes were cold, dead. Malignant.
Erik understood. He knew this young man. Not personally, although he now remembered him. Calisto, whom Ariadne so seemed to hate. He understood the hate now, although found that he could not share it. But he knew this man. He knew the sort.
They were everywhere.
He could feel himself fading already. There would be no return. He knew it and he found he could accept it, and that made it better somehow. His eyes went from the man back to Ariela. She looked so frail. So broken. More broken than he felt.
"What . . . he is," he managed, then coughed. He could see the splatter of blood. "What he is," he tried again, "we . . . cannot slay."
Tears streamed out of Ariela's eyes. "Erik," she breathed.
Seeing her like this broke him more than any knife could. He wanted to hold her. Hold her tight. Tell her it was alright. It was. But she couldn't see it. Not yet. How he hoped that she would!
He felt tremendous sorrow, but no regret. He wanted to express it. To say something to sum it all up. The shattered expression on Ariela's face crushed all words out of him. There was nothing he could say to make it better. He smiled, or tried to at least. "Oh . . . Ariela," he managed.
Everything went away.
Runa felt the scream inside her but it refused to work itself out. It was frozen the way her body was.
Ariela had no trouble with her voice; she screamed again as Erik's legs gave out from underneath him and he collapsed to the floor. The girl kept crying out his name, but it was no use. There was no bringing him back. Runa watched, almost numb, but she felt a tear run down her cheek.
Everyone I know will die.
At face value, of course, it was obvious. But the connotations were clear: everyone she loved would die, and she would be alive to see it happen.
Why wasn't he wearing his armor!
There was no point in wallowing in it.
Poor Ariela was clearly in shock, casting about as if there was anyone who could help. But there wasn't, even if it hadn't been too late, which it was. Runa and Ariadne had been incapacitated by Calisto, so there wasn't even anyone to protect the puny scholar from him. Calisto bided his time, as though enjoying watching Ariela's anguish. The bastard most certainly was. What was he planning with her? By gods if you harm a hair on her head, I sweat to come for you even beyond death!
Then Ariela turned towards Calisto, as if only now becoming fully aware of him. The expression on her face, wet with tears, was quite unlike anything Runa had ever seen on anyone. As though she was not looking at a human being at all, but a creature whose terribleness defied all understanding, as if she could not quite decide which was stronger: her horror or her loathing. Then her expression shifted and, surprisingly, what took over was something akin to pity. Deep sadness.
Calisto's mouth opened, but before he could say anything, the scholar's eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed half on Erik.
"Oh," Calisto said after a moment. Shrugged. "Well, that saves my trouble." And he turned that grin on the others.
She could not move, could not scream, could barely think. As Ariadne watched Erik fall down dead, she could barely even feel. She'd known this was coming. Calisto had explained it to her and Runa. He would have no use for a man, he'd said. So he would have to go. The women, he'd explained, would do well to start his collection. He had not elaborated, and there really was no need.
This man, this creature, was even more unhinged, more inhumanly twisted than she had realized.
Ariadne cursed herself for the thousandth time. How had she not seen it! A fallen heart feeling—this was all her fault.
Calisto ambled in between Ariadne and Runa, both frozen in a similar pose, at an angle in regard to each other with some twenty paces in between. Like he'd set them up from some ritual. Another show of his strange power—how was he keeping them paralyzed like this?
Calisto stopped in the middle, addressing Runa. "This is actually more fitting than I thought. I'll tell you a little secret, the message Maven Black-Briar sent about you? Well, it didn't precisely say to kill you. That was my own interpretation—although I daresay she wouldn't have objected to having your corpse laid out in front of her." He gave a little chuckle. "No, what she said was to 'leave her alive for now. But destroy anything and everything that she loves. Her friends, her family: anyone you can get ahold of'. Her words, you understand. Well." He gestured toward Erik. "He was something like a brother to you, was he not? A good start, I would say." He chuckled again. "Don't worry, she'll eventually get your body too. All in good time." He turned to regard Ariadne with a most disheartening leer. Even after healing himself, faint lighting-shaped scarring remained on one side of his face. "All in good time."
Although her face barely moved, Ariadne tried to force as much of the hatred and contempt she felt for Calisto into her expression as he came near. Unbelievable how each word out of his mouth deepened the impression of an utter inhuman shit. She suspected he had made up what this Maven Black-Briar had supposedly said. Somehow sounded like his sick humor.
"Aww," Calisto said as he stopped before her. "Don't be sad."
"I'm not sad, you vermin; this is nothing but hatred!" That's what Ariadne wanted to say. But since her mouth did not move so well she could only mutter incomprehensibly.
Calisto cocked a mocking ear. "Huh? What's that? You're gonna have to speak up, sweetie."
Ariadne scowled.
Chuckling, Calisto then flicked a hand and Ariadne could feel the strange constriction ease up from around her head. She could move it again, but only it. After twisting her face this way and that to bring back the control of her muscles, she spat in Calisto's face. "Whoreson!" she hissed. "I should have fried your cock off!"
Calisto's shoulders shook with mirth as he wiped the wad of slime off his face with one finger. Then he put the finger in his mouth. Pulled it out with a smack and worked his mouth. "From you, the most precious gift."
"How are you doing this!" she demanded, testing in vain her unresponsive body. Actually, unresponsive wasn't right—her body did follow her commands, but was kept in place by an invisible force. She managed to wiggle in place, but minutely.
Calisto shrugged. "A little secret. You can learn some wild things, you know. When you know the right people. I could have taught you." He sighed. "But you chose otherwise."
"What do you want from us?!"
Calisto's grin quirked. "What does a man want from a woman." He stepped closer. "You would not be mine." The grin turned dark. "But mine you are." And he cupped a rough hand over Ariadne's breast. "To do with as I please."
"Get your hand off me!" Ariadne hissed. She was going to spit again, but then the blade of Calisto's knife, still bloody, was on her neck. The man smiled no more.
"You behave now," he said.
Ariadne steeled herself, breathing heavily through her nose as Calisto's hand felt her. Then he grabbed her collar and yanked hard. The front of her tunic came open all the way down to her belly. Calisto slid the knife down, snapping the brassiere.
"Ahh. Lovely." Calisto cupped a hand around a bared breast. Then put the knife away to cup the other. "I've been waiting for this." Ariadne stared into the distance, face rigid, as the revolting fiend groped at her. She fought with all her might against anything akin to arousal. "You really are such an impeccable beauty, Ariadne. I don't know how I've managed to wait for so long!"
He caught her nipples in between his fingers. Despite herself Ariadne's breath quickened. "Don't say this doesn't feel good." Then he pinched hard and she cried out. "That's right. I like my toys responsive. I will teach you. And you will learn."
Through gritted teeth, Ariadne forced a laugh out. "You are so pathetic," she snarled. "How could I not see it?" To her satisfaction, she saw his arrogance fracture, if only a little bit. "Pathetic!" she said. "A coward! Nothing gets your cock hard like the abuse of someone who can't even defend herself. How did I ever imagine you were impressive? And speaking of cocks." She glared down with contempt. "I'm not impressed."
Calisto, Ariadne's nipples still squeezed in between her fingers, tried his hardest to conceal it, but Ariadne could see her words work their way through.
"Do your worst, you weak, pathetic man!" she snarled. "But you will never again impress me in the slightest. What do you want, me quivering in fear?" She let out a laugh of utter scorn. "I'm not afraid of maggots! Torture me all you like, you little creep! The best you'll get is my pity! That and my deepest, most complete contempt—AAAAHH!" Her words ended in a scream as Calisto's hands then started to spit shocking sparks into her. Searing pain in her breasts and a feeling of shock rattling her entire body.
"I'll do my worst!" Calisto snarled. "I'll show you what I'm capable of, you conceited cunt!"
When he finally released the spell, and Ariadne's nipples, she took in whooping, wracking breaths. Once her breath was settled enough, hissed, "Fuck yourself!"
A mirthless grin. "It will take time to teach you. But you will learn!"
Runa watched with cold contempt. All her life, she had never judged any type of person lower than those who took pleasure in hurting other people; particularly those weaker or less powerful, even completely defenseless. Those words that Ariadne so bravely if foolishly spat at Calisto, they could hardly even begin to describe the truth. This man was far lower than a maggot.
Underneath this, however, what she felt more than anything was completely helpless. Calisto, this despicable turd, had won. He would have his way with them. With this kind of power, what in the world could stop him?
Then, in the left side of her peripheral vision, Runa saw something stir. Her heart skipped a beat. It was Ariela, still out of the game but writhing restlessly. If she woke up Calisto might get it in his head to start hurting her next. Runa could not stand the idea. While Ariadne did not mean much to her, she did hate seeing her getting hurt. But the idea of the little scholar getting tortured by this twisted swine was simply unbearable! Runa had rarely met anyone so pure. She wouldn't have hesitated to throw away her own life for the girl. Not for a moment.
But she was so helpless. She hated it with all her might. But hate did nothing to help.
Ariela stayed unconscious but it looked now as if she was dreaming. Limbs twitching as she lay on her back, head resting on crumpled Erik. Her eyelids fluttered.
Then there was a sound to Runa's right and her eyes darted. They went wide.
Steam erupted from where the Dwarven Centurion stood in its gantry. The automaton seemed to shake.
Then, if her mouth could have moved, it would have dropped open.
The centurion lifted an arm. Then another. Then a leg slowly came into motion.
It had awoken.
There was a hiss at first. Ariadne's eyes widened a little as she saw the source. The Dwemer monstrosity was stirring. First steam erupting from the gantry, then movement. It was finally coming alive.
Calisto did not seem to notice this. At first she thought to alert him to it, but thought better of it. This could change things, if a slim sliver of hope it was. More likely the thing would slaughter them all. But even that would be preferable than letting Calisto have his way.
Her eyes went to Runa. The Nord had also taken note of what was going on. Clearly attempting to communicate with Ariadne, her eyes first went toward the automaton—Ariadne replied with a minute nod—and then toward the scholar. Ariadne frowned momentarily. She could not understand but she though she somehow got the picture. And in any case, the implications were clear.
Play for some time.
She fixed her eyes on Calisto, willed fire into them—honestly it hardly took much effort to conjure. "Well?" she shrieked. "What the fuck are you standing there for? You said you would do your worst—then fucking do it!"
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"I'm not asking for shit, you brainless little shrimp-cock! I'm telling you to get on it with it, instead of posturing there like a fucking—EEEEEAAAH!" Ariadne aired out a shrill shriek at the hacking, cutting, burning agony, as Calisto let hissing lightning pour out of both hands. In all her life she had felt nothing like this. She'd taken hits of magic before, of course, but not this amount and not this directly. The pain defied words. Went quite beyond them. Almost . . . transcendent.
Calisto relented and she slumped. Or would have, had it been possible.
He let her catch her breath. "Well?" he asked then. "Enjoying yourself?"
As soon as she was capable, Ariadne raised her gaze on him. Level. In her peripheral vision, the automaton was slowly moving. Headed their way. It was less loud in its movement than she would have guessed, but Calisto should still have heard it already. Heavy metallic footfalls. But he was much too occupied by his favorite pastime. Your weakness . . . and your downfall.
"More, y'little shit," Ariadne breathed.
"Really, Ariadne, you should—"
"MORE, YOU FUCK!"
He responded in kind, and Ariadne screamed. And screamed.
The pain changed in nature after a while. As Ariadne got over the initial shock of it, she realized something even more shocking. She could take this, she realized. She could bear it. Despite its admittedly staggering intensity, its urgency, it was still, deep down, just a sensation.
Yes, she could take it—to an extent.
Until it killed her.
As Calisto's spell guttered again. Ariadne found herself in a quite a different state. The pain was there, like her skin was on fire. An ache inside of her bones. Her guts turning about inside her. And yet . . .
I am stronger than this. I am stronger than him. I am stronger than anyone! I don't care if this kills me. Death has nothing on me!
She fixed her eyes on him again. And bared her teeth. In a grin.
Runa could not believe her eyes.
Whatever view she had formed in her mind of this young mage, the person she was seeing right now did not seem to have anything to do with that image. Had Runa herself being subjected to the sort of punishment Calisto was presently giving the woman, she very much doubted she could have taken it this well.
Perhaps well did not quite describe it. Ariadne's feverish eyes were a sight to behold, her face twisted into a half-grimace, half-grin of the insane variety, and wholly unsettling to witness.
The automaton was getting closer, ambling across the floor with booming metal steps. Almost right behind Calisto. Incredible he could not hear it!
She gritted her teeth. Anticipation growing almost unbearable. Just stay busy, fucker. Stay oblivious.
Runa grinned. This would be something to see.
The automaton was so close now.
Just a little longer. All she would need to do was delay Calisto a moment longer. Then she could die, but he would goddamned well be coming with her!
Ariela aired a low, slow animal growl. "Give me MORE!" she snarled. "I'm starting to warm up to this. I'll suck it all in . . . and spew it back onto you!"
The thing was, she wasn't just trying to unsettle Calisto—which, she noted with satisfaction, was working, judging by the uneasy flicker of his eyes. She felt something she'd never felt before, and could not begin to understand. Something of a demonic influence somewhere beneath her humanity, which seemed to have just been waiting to be released. She felt energized by it. She felt it giving her power. She liked it! It made her feel not herself . . . someone even better!
It was only pain, after all. It was only flesh. It was nothing!
She was out of herself, for sure. But so powerful. Like she'd been through the fire and come through unburnt. Nothing could defeat her!
The automaton had arrived, standing right behind Calisto. Ariadne smiled.
At a wave of dizziness, she closed her eyes to search within for more strength. She could actually feel her own life, hanging by a thread. She was glad she could not see herself. She must have looked absolutely awful. Should she see it, she might start believing her own death had occurred already. That would be it.
"Are you ready?" Calisto asked. "Just say it and this will end, and I will heal you. I won't let you die, don't worry. I have so much else I want—"
To her immense satisfaction, Calisto flinched a little as Ariadne opened her eyes again. Words dying on his lips. She grinned. The automaton at his back, silent. Ready. She let out a long giggle, sounding mad even in her own ears. Calisto's expression was such delicious mix of perplexion and shock.
"Behind you!" she rasped in singsong.
Calisto frowned, as if scarcely able to believe she would actually try that. But he spun and immediately took a startled step back, letting out a cry of surprise. She could only imagine the look on his face, but even that made her grin as far as her seared face allowed her.
After that stunned moment, Calisto raised his arms for a spell. But the machine was incredibly fast—its hands shot out and grabbed him by the wrists. Then he was hoisted in the air, crying, twisting, and kicking as the automaton pulled his arms out to his sides.
For a moment he had him there, dangling like a helpless little puppet. A wail of powerless terror coming from him. Ariadne's pains vanished into the distance as she watched with an almost unbearable ache of glee in her chest. Anticipation.
Then the huge automaton gave a jerk. A blood-curdling scream came out of Calisto as both of his arms were torn out of their sockets, blood squirting out from the sockets. Frayed ends of torn sleeves flapping, he then crashed to the ground. Instead of collapsing, he stood there, his bleeding arms still hanging from the machine's metal fists, screaming in panicked agony while blood kept shooting all around him in the rhythm of his beating heart.
"Calisto!"
He turned around choppily. Blanched features shining with astonishment and horror.
Free from his magic, Ariane glared at the literally unarmed man with bold contempt. The Wall of Flames at the ready, tendrils of fire dancing about her fingertips.
That deeply satisfying moment when the reality of it hit him full-on.
"Let's see you ward me now, fucker!"
She let it loose: a deluge of angry flames roiling over the man and engulfing him entire. Calisto screamed out even more terribly, and that sound, coupled with the near-ecstatic feeling of the power pouring through her, made Ariadne grin so wide her face hurt, but she did not care. The sense of power made all pain insignificant, but even more so did the dark joy from his agony.
Never has a man deserved it more!
She let it all out, let the full extent of her magicka seep out from her till she felt almost drained to the last drop. Then she let the spell gutter out.
The flames had already claimed Calisto. Like a screaming human torch he ran in circles. Not even having the sense to try to throw himself down to roll on the ground in a futile attempt at saving himself. Instead, he dashed this way and that, like a headless chicken. A headless chicken on fire.
Then his floundering came to a swift end. Two blades skewered him and he was raised up in the air, the snarling face of Runa Fair-Shield greeting him at the other end. She held him there a moment, like a grotesque piece of meat she'd taken out of the broiler. Ariadne could not help but marvel at the woman's strength.
"For Erik!" Runa snarled. Then she slammed Calisto's burning corpse to the ground between them.
He was well done.
Ariadne raised a hand and let healing light flutter all around her. Runa saw this in her peripheral vision while her hard eyes remained fixed on the smoldering corpse of the bastard in between them. He was dead, but she for one thought they'd let him off far too easy. Runa Fair-Shield had never been a cruel woman, but even she wouldn't have minded a week or two killing this scum. He would well deserve it. For murdering her—
No! She stifled the urge to turn her head toward where Erik lay. She couldn't look. She knew the sorrow that would take her would be too much. She held onto the hatred. She held her eyes on Calisto.
The severity of Ariadne's face must have mirrored her own. No doubt the other woman's thoughts were also aligned with hers. She had not lost a loved one, but then Runa could only imagine what she was going though. She'd rarely seen anyone take that sort of punishment and stand as steadily as her.
Runa had underestimated the woman. She was a hard one, in the end.
Their eyes met. Ariadne's face and chest, even after the healing spell, still sported a network of scars, standing out rosy from her skin. A strange intricate pattern shaped like strings of lighting. Far from marring the woman's beauty, they lent it an edge of fierceness. Looking at her, even if Runa had not known the mage at all or known what she was capable of, she still would not have ever wanted to incur her wrath.
Runa gave her a nod, not trusting her words, and the mage returned it. Nothing more was needed.
A sudden hiss of erupting steam made them both jump. The hulking Centurion remained stationary but had started to teeter. Then it slowly pitched forward with a metallic groan and crashed on its face and was still.
They stared at the prone thing for a stunned second or two.
"What was that all a—" Runa started, but a noise from behind cut her short. She gasped.
It was the scholar, moaning feebly as she was stirring back to her senses.
"Ariela!" Runa cried. They rushed out to her. "Ariela. Are you alright?"
"I'm . . ." Ariela mumbled, still half-dazed. "You're all . . . oh, did it . . She blinked, cast about. "I . . ." Finally her eyes settled on the remain of Calisto, then on the automaton. Emotion flashed on her blanched face. "It worked."
Ariadne frowned. "It . . .?" She gaped. "It was you!"
Runa nodded to herself. She had known it. She had no idea how the woman had done it, but the moment she'd seen Ariela stir and that machine coming alive, she had known it was her somehow.
"It was," Ariela said weakly. Buried her face in one small hand. "I'm so tired."
"How?" Ariadne demanded, giving the scholar a shake. "How did you do it?"
"Take it easy," Runa said softly. "The girl's clearly still dazed."
There was a troubled look on Ariela's face as she studied her companions. "I can't explain it. I . . . felt it. Could hear it in my mind . . . sort of. Then . . . I became it."
"It?" said Ariadne. "The automaton?"
Ariela shook her head. "Not the automaton itself. It's . . . dead. No—it was never alive. The thing behind it. The thing behind all of them."
"You mean this place?" asked Runa, half-worrying about Ariela's mental state.
"Yes," Ariela replied. "And no. This place, but not only this place. It's somehow connected, to all those other places. All the Dwemer ruins. It's . . . alive in some way. But not in any way I can understand. It has a mind, of sorts."
Runa laid a hand on the woman's shoulder.
"I'm not out of my mind," she said.
"I didn't say—"
"You've both seen it. What this place can do. Haven't you?"
Runa and Ariadne looked at each other. Both nodded.
"It almost seemed—" Ariadne began, then closed her mouth.
"Like what?" asked Ariela.
"Almost as if . . . it predicted some of what Calisto ended up doing." She rubbed her forehead. "I know it doesn't make sense."
Ariela studied Ariadne's face with a frown, as if seeing her for the first time.
"What?" Ariadne asked.
"He hurt you," Ariela said. Her eyes went from Ariadne's face to her chest.
His marks were still visible on her skin. On her chest the crisscrossed network of jagged scarring, reminiscent of lightning or like the intricate branches of a leafless tree. Reaching up beyond what she could see herself.
"It's on my face too?" she asked.
Runa extended her one of her swords, the blade clear enough to reflect. Ariadne blinked at the sight. The same pattern as on her chest. She fingered the pink, raised patterns running all the way up to her eyebrows.
"Will it be permanent?" Ariela asked.
"Probably," Ariadne said. "If it hasn't gone by now. Magical healing isn't always perfect. It will likely fade some, though."
"I'm sorry," Ariela said. "I know you were . . . " She trailed off
"Attached to my appearance?"
"I didn't mean—"
"It's okay." Ariadne studied her reflection. She had always prided herself on her exceptionally good looks—as if she'd done anything to deserve them. She gave a firm nod. "I don't mind." When she smiled, she thought the quirking of the scars around her mouth lent her a fierce edge. "I almost like it." Strangely enough, it was true. Unlike her natural looks, this was something she'd earned. Endured. It marked her a survivor. She would never forget this day—but just as an extra reminder, she now carried the memory on her skin and would carry it for the rest of her life.
And not just a memory. A warning for others. She was much more than met the eyes, even more than she herself could've imagined. Woe to those who would underestimate her ever again!
As she then handed the blade back to Runa and looked at Ariela, the woman looked worried. "What is it?" she asked.
"It's . . ." Ariela gave her head a shake. "Nothing. My mind's just all weird still. After . . . you know."
"What do you think it is?" Runa asked Ariela, sheathing her blade. "This thing you connected with."
Ariela shrugged. "Perhaps some creation of magic. The Dwemer left it behind, I think. Perhaps it's the key to their creations, their technology. They were notoriously godless, but clearly felt the need to meddle with forces bigger than themselves. Who knows, maybe this was something similar to Numidium."
"A god?"
"Perhaps nothing quite so lofty. But a real presence, nonetheless. I connected with it. I spoke to it. It has awareness. It's something alive." She slowly shook her head. It was so old!" Her expression changed, displaying perplexity but also a touch of sadness. "And . . . It's afraid."
"Afraid?" Ariadne scowled. "Afraid of what? Of us?"
Ariela snorted. "As if."
"What then?" Runa asked.
"I don't know. Another presence. I feel . . ." she trailed out.
"Feel what?"
"Like something is trying to reach it from outside. Trying to . . . I don't know, compel this . . . spirit or what should you call it." She aired a deep sigh. "I really don't know. And I'm tired. And I'm . . ."
Ariela head turned to Erik, and her expression sagged. Suddenly Ariadne felt so bad for her. She wanted to console her somehow. A word, a touch. Something.
But she did not know what to do. So she did nothing.
Runa's heart fell as their attention shifted again to the crumpled body behind Ariela. Incredible, how they had just talked with him lying there. Or then maybe they had just avoided facing it.
For a moment, it looked as if Ariela was about to collapse, the way her shoulders sagged, the sorry set to her whole being.
But she then turned her head away from Erik. "No." She squeezed her eyes shut. "No."
Runa put her a hand over the younger woman's shoulder, for attempted consolation as much as for seeking it herself. She knew that something had taken place between the two just before this had happened. And as much as her own heart ached for losing a brother, the sorrow for the loss of what might have been, was suddenly even more acute. The two could have been happy together. They would have both deserved happiness . . .
When Ariela opened her eyes again and met with Runa's, there was a new kind of hardness in them. "No," she said. Something about the woman's manner just broke Runa's heart. There would be no going back for her.
Then Ariela's expression softened. Sorrow in her eyes, she placed a hand on the side of Runa's face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Runa felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Yeah," she said, wiping it off. "Yeah, me too." She sniffed, then scowled at Calisto's charred remains. "But not as sorry as he is."
Ariadne felt left outside. She pitied the scholar. She felt empathy for Runa. And she felt bad for Erik too, the big fool. He did not deserve to die like this, stabbed by a coward. But for all this, she felt remarkably little. This was, in the end, not her tragedy. She would come out of this, with wounds and scars of her own but still the better. Even now, as she looked over at Calisto's corpse, she could feel the hatred fading. He had been just another animal, acting on instinct. No worse than a mad dog. He'd been put down now. Never hurting anyone again. She was alive. And would never again be hurt by another.
She wrinkled her nose. The smell was revolting, and reminded her acutely that she'd not eaten properly since the morning. She felt like being sick.
"There's no way around it," said Runa, face grim but resolute. "We've gotta—"
"That was quite a performance."
Runa's blades were already in her hands as she was done whipping around. Fire traveled down Ariadne's arms and a spell was at the ready.
A stunned moment followed.
Without their notice, a figure had somehow gotten right close to them. And a bizarre sight at that. A tall elderly Altmer in a simple gray tunic. Above a spectacularly long beard of silvery white, keen bright-blue eyes studied them from out of features looking at once ancient and ageless. The composure of the elf was about as unconcerned as she had ever seen, as though nothing under the sky could offer him any threat.
The apparition moved to take a step forward.
"Stay where you are!" Runa barked. "Who are you? Where'd you come from?"
The elf raised a hand, quite indifferent to Runa's aggression. "That will not be necessary."
"I'll be the judge of that!" Runa took a firm stride and proffered her blades. "I believe I asked you a question."
The Altmer looked at the woman's raised weapons with an almost sad expression. Certainly not intimidated in the least. Then he seemed to ignore the Nord altogether, instead addressing Ariela. "I saw what you did," he said. "I'm impressed."
"No one cares a shit if you're impressed or not!" said Runa. "I'll ask one more time and one more time only—who are you and where did you come from? Have you been following us?"
Ariadne could not help but sense that Runa was barking at not only the wrong dog but also one decidedly larger than her. There was power in this man. Only power could grant this sort of insouciance at the face of violence.
The Altmer's cool eyes remained on Ariela. "I am named Varendil. Although most know me simply as the Keeper. I do not come from anywhere, I am here. And I do not follow." He gestured. "I keep." Then his icy blue eyes fixed on Runa. "Do I answer your questions to your satisfaction?"
Runa seemed to hesitate, but not for long. It was clear she had decided to keep the aggressive approach and was thinking of the next thing to bark at him.
Ariadne was just about to interfere in some way another, before the Nord said or did something she was going to regret. But then it was Ariela who took a step toward the elf. "What is it that you keep?"
"Why," he said, smiling as if surprised yet pleased someone should even need to ask, "this place of course!"
"What is this place?"
Varendil the Keeper kept smiling. "I will explain everything. If you ladies would just please follow me—"
"You did this!" Runa snarled, taking another threatening step forward. "You're the one who dragged us—"
Ariela warded the woman with her hand. "Runa, please."
"I do not do anything." The Keeper's voice was suddenly a sight more commanding. "I have no power here. No authority to meddle. What was done to you—that is, before this unfortunate occasion, of which I must claim complete innocence—you have done to yourself." He gave a smile. "Runa Fair-Shield."
"How do you know me?" she demanded.
"Who has not heard of Runa Fair-Shield! I daresay you are known throughout the province. A most formidable woman, there's no question. And you there." His sudden attention on her did not sit comfortable with Ariadne. "Ariadne. Formidable, I daresay, is but a beginning, based on what we just witnessed. And I would wager that you have only just started to realize this yourself."
"How do you know all this? If you're the keeper here . . ." Ariadne trailed off. Had this place not been sealed off from the outside for thousands of years? Suddenly she no longer trusted herself to speak.
"You are here, are you not? And this place, and what takes place here . . . that is my business to know."
"So you could have helped us," Runa spat. "But instead you did nothing!"
"It was not my fight. I am sorry about what happened, I truly am. Sorry about what happened to your friend. But there are rules. Strict rules. I keep. This is what I do. I do not meddle in other people's fights. My order forbids it. I break the rules . . ." He smiled sadly. "I am done. So my apologies. My hands, alas, are tied."
"Your order?" asked Ariela. "Which order is that?"
"If you would just kindly follow me. I will explain what you need to know." An impatient edge had creeped into the Keeper's voice. He once again addressed Ariela. "It is especially you, Ariela of Goldwine, who will doubtless find what I have to show you . . . eye-opening."
The women looked at each other. Runa with a wary glower, Ariela's expression hard to interpret, but her typical look of puzzled intrigue had returned alongside the tired sadness. As for Ariadne, she could not say what expression she was currently wearing. But she could not help but feel curious. She did not sense danger from the Altmer, but she did feel like things were developing in an interesting direction. Whatever the case, she was certain this would not be your everyday encounter.
Runa scowled at the elf. "I don't like it."
The Keeper's returning smile held something of the melancholy. "In my long years I have found that accepting the truth and liking it are the same thing by coincidence alone."
Runa sniffed. "I can tell you where you can cram your little nuggets of wisdom."
"Runa," Ariela said again, "please."
Ariadne just studied the Keeper. She knew magic and she could sense it in people. What she got from this one was quite unlike anything she'd ever felt before. The fact was, he emitted very little. To a lesser mage this might have come off as a low level of skill. But to Ariadne it was clear this was not the case. No, the difference was more akin to the difference between forceful confidence and quiet confidence. A difference which spoke volumes.
And the way he'd pronounced long years sounded as if those words had rarely been spoken as truly.
"I think," Ariela said, after a moment's consideration. "This is why we came here in the first place." She looked at Ariadne and Runa in turn. "Feel free to stay behind. But I—"
"Ah!" Runa waved a hand. "You know it better than anyone that that's not going to happen." She scowled at the Keeper. "We'll go."
The Keeper smiled wide. "I'm glad to hear that. A most wise decision."
That remains to be seen.