Once More Unto the Breach
Felwinter struggled in his discomfort and it showed. The tailor sucked her teeth, the most she could express her annoyance with Felwinter's mother nearby. He couldn't help himself. He hated the way the expensive clothing chafed at his skin. He hated the way they dug into his body, putting his pudgy stomach on display. He hated the colors and the design and other things he didn't really care about in truth but found it in himself to be irritated by anyway. He hated whenever a passerby so much as glanced in his direction most of all.
When his mother first told him that they were moving back into their old home, away from the slums, Felwinter had been happy. Excited, even. Dry beds, fuller meals, thicker walls and no high Lord to take it from them again. Just a high Lady.
But then, reality set in. Moving back meant his education would resume. School some months, a tutor on others. Lord Drakon may have been gone but he wasn't the only one. The first thing Felwinter did when he was free to roam was search Dragon's Ascent for Ser Castel. His mother had been in the main study. Her door opened, she saw him pass three times on his search. It seemed she only needed that to figure out why.
He learned then that Ser Castel had left Lord Drakon's service years back, though she was vague on the details. She only assured him that he had returned to his hometown of Northpoint and that despite it, his training would have to continue without him.
The new trainer was a stickler for rules, proper form and footing, allowing no room for error or variation. The man was smaller than Ser Roderin, nearly everyone was, but even someone as green as Felwinter could see the distinct lack of flow, of grace. Ser Roderin kept a sword as long as Felwinter was tall and wore armor as heavy as two of him but when the broadly-built knight moved with a blade, he might as well have been in the most comfortable of clothing, wielding air. He danced with it, each stroke flowing into the next one, moving so smoothly and quickly, it left his opponents without time to truly think, only react. It was strikingly different from when Felwinter watched the guards run drills. When he finally asked Ser Castel about it, he shrugged and simply said, "My master was a Redguard. One of your people." He had even smiled slightly when he said it.
Felwinter's new teacher was nothing like Ser Castel. There was always and only one way to do what needed to be done and anything short of perfect was failure. He was restrictive and callous and very good at what he did. Felwinter did not like him but only some of that was his fault, for taking the fun out of something Felwinter enjoyed. The other part could not be helped; he simply was not Castel.
A crisp snap right next to his ear made Felwinter jump and mumble an apology, fourth in the last hour. The seamstress sucked her teeth again and told him to raise his arms, fitting a measuring tape around his waist when he did. She made a snide comment about his weight; his mother must have been out of earshot.
She finished eventually and had him return the clothes. Felwinter dressed as quickly as he could, while her back was turned. She began to leave as soon as she was done packing her things, all without a look back.
Felwinter looked around. His mother hadn't yet returned. He asked the seamstress, "Do you know where I could find my mother, ma'am?"
She still didn't look back. "Call out for her a few times. Maybe she'll answer." She disappeared through the long, heavy curtains obscuring the rest of the store.
Felwinter most assuredly was not doing that. He waited for a few minutes more on the stool she had left him on. When he believed her to be far enough away, he climbed down and pushed through the curtains himself. The rest of the tailor's shop opened up to him. Drapes of fabrics hung from spools attached to the wall high above his head. Mannequins adorned in various styles of dress stretched the store's length.
Felwinter took a breath and walked on. As quietly as he could, he searched for her, gently pushing aside curtains of cloth and giving the mannequins as wide a berth as he could manage.
He heard a familiar set of footsteps. His head turned, even as he was still walking through a curtain of silk. He collided with someone, the victim letting out an offended yelp.
"Sorry!" Felwinter stumbled back frantically, keeping his eyes and shoulders low, shrinking into himself. He tried to remember this was a very different place from the slums but that thought didn't help him here.
The woman he bumped into was tall, whip-thin and dressed as well as the mannequins though she wore a scowl with her fine clothes. A more plump woman stood behind her, looking more amused than irritated. The first woman snapped, "Who let you inside?" She looked him up and down and scowled even further at what she saw.
Felwinter swallowed and tried to keep his voice light. "My mother brought me here," he answered dutifully. She asked the obvious question next.
"Who is your mother?"
At that, Felwinter hesitated. Letting people know their names, especially their family name, was a risk; his mother always said so when they had been kicked from their home. The first woman's scowl deepened even further somehow. Her mouth opened again, either to push for an answer, to admonish him for his rudeness or even to just skip the preamble and call for security. But the second woman grabbed her arm, silencing her. With it, she pulled her closer, down to her level, though she still had to stretch to whisper in her ear. Whatever she whispered made the taller woman's brow rise.
Her face returned to normal a second later. She waved him off. "Be on your way," she said. The second woman said nothing more, just gave a smile; one that was not kind. Felwinter left. Quickly but not so quickly that he did not catch the whisper of his mother's name, followed very closely by the word, "bastard". He walked faster, no longer caring for subtlety, now desperate to find his mother and to leave this place. His face and neck grew hot as he remembered Lord Drakon spitting the word like bile and hearing servants whisper it when they thought him out of earshot. Often mentioned alongside words such as "knight", "bodyguard", "bedded". Felwinter never knew what that last word meant. The tittering that often followed told him enough.
"Mother?" he called, as quietly as he could manage. He pushed through another aisle of linens. The few other patrons of the store paid him no mind. He pushed his way into the next one.
He bumped into yet another person. This one was less sturdy and let out a whoosh of air, tumbling backwards. Felwinter grimaced, fighting the urge to panic. Apologies fell profusely from his mouth and tears threatened to do the same. He kept his head and eyes down, waiting for the other person's rage to be dropped like a hammer on his head.
Nothing came. He dared to shift his gaze up slightly. He found a young girl staring back. A girl who was around his age and rather than looking furious, did not look anything at all. She blinked up at him. Then almost expectantly, she held out her hand. Felwinter shook his head, scrambling to take her hand and pull her to her feet. He stepped back to give her space, his eyes returning to his shoes and his chin tucking into his chest. "Sorry," he apologized again. It seemed as if there was nowhere he could go without having to apologize.
"It's okay."
His eyes still on his feet, her face suddenly entered his vision, squatting to meet his gaze. Felwinter blinked in surprise, stepping back and bumping his back against a wooden pole. The girl waved at him, giving a cheeky smile. To his own continued surprise, Felwinter felt his mouth twitching and beginning to turn upwards before he realized what he was doing.
He finally raised his head and she stood back up. "I haven't seen you around before," she said, her voice light and easy. "Are you shopping for school too?"
Mother had mentioned him starting somewhere but that had been weeks ago. "We…just moved." He wasn't sure what else to say or how much to say.
"What's your name?"
Another question he wasn't sure he should've been answering. He was always taught to be careful who he spoke to and what about.
But this girl was not a stranger like those he had lived around. She was only a stranger because he did not know her. Not yet. Something about her smile made him want to.
Despite this, when he tried to speak, a lump caught in his throat and he croaked. The girl snorted, putting her hand to her lips to hold back laughter, her shoulders shaking. Felwinter looked down again, his cheeks flushing dark but deep in his chest, he could feel himself beginning to laugh too.
When they had both calmed down, Felwinter found his voice again. "I'm Fel-"
"Natalie!"
Both heads turned at the call, smiles dropping at once. Felwinter's because he recognized the voice of the noblewoman from before and the girl because she recognized…her name.
Realization didn't have time to set in before she was leaving. "That's my mother, I have to go," she said, rushing past. But then, before she could get too far, Natalie stopped and turned. "It was nice to meet you, Fel." Her name was called again and she quickly disappeared around the corner.
His mother found him there, standing alone, staring at the place where she had disappeared. He was scolded, of course. Told he should have remained in place. Felwinter wanted to tell her the truth but decided it wouldn't be worth it.
Instead, as he held his mother's hand and let her lead him out, he thought about what he had been called.
"Fel".
He found he liked it.
Felwinter secured the final loop of his belt, yanking on it to ensure it would stay in place when he inevitably got thrown from or by something. He twisted his arm, testing its movement. Practiced rituals that set his mind at ease when he knew he was heading toward violence.
Footsteps from behind come up to his side. Silently, Moth held Zazikel out, belt hanging. Felwinter took the sword as well as the hand wrapped around it. He pulled Moth into a deep embrace, his arm wrapped around the Orc's broad shoulders.
They parted shortly after, lest Felwinter change his mind and shuck off his armor right there. He accepted the sword and let Moth open the door to their bedroom. He followed him to the stairs and down.
Argis and Lydia awaited him at the bottom of the stairs, as did the children. Felwinter barely had time to drop to one knee before they were throwing themselves at him. Lucia's arm was a vice grip around his neck and Samuel had his head pressed against the plate on his chest. Felwinter had made his gauntlets disappear, so they could both feel the warmth of his hand on them.
He brought them back so he could look both in the eye. "I'll be back," he assured them. He could see them struggling to take comfort in that, "Try and stay out of trouble until I am. And if you can't…" He paused.
"Don't get caught," Lucia recited, a small smile gracing her lips.
"That's my girl." He cupped his son's cheek, used his thumb to push his face upwards, to look him in the eye. "I'll see you soon, little man."
Felwinter released them and pushed to his feet. His eyes came to his housecarls. "Are we ready?" His gauntlets reappeared.
Both leaned against the wall, beside the portal, armored, swords at their waists and shields on their backs. Lydia straightened up. "On your word, Thane."
Felwinter approached the wall and after a moment, lifted and pressed his palm against it, focusing. He felt the surface of the stone shift. The portal he willed into life spread quietly until the wall shifted and rippled like the surface of a lake. He allowed himself one more look back but only one. He pushed himself onward until he was passing through.
Before the change in scenery around them, the first thing each of them noticed was the air; thick and heavy, even down in the lower levels of Severin Manor. "Hot," he heard Argis mutter.
"It's the dust that gets to you." Felwinter pushed through the closed door before him, opening to the lower level of the manor with the stairs to their right. "Gets colder further north."
He led them up the stairs to the front door. "If anyone asks, we came by boat," he reminded them both.
"If there's no boat, Thane?" Lydia asked. The smile on her lips could be heard.
"Already gone. No one to contradict you." Felwinter pushed through and had to raise his hand to shield his eyes from the light. The transfer from the darkness of the house to the beating sun was jarring. Sand flew on the breeze and the air had that familiar stench of ash, subtle and constant. He wasn't happy to be back.
It took him a heartbeat to notice it. It took another for him to remember Argis and Lydia. He turned around, took both of them by their wrists and began to trudge away from the manor, further into town. Neither resisted completely, but neither looked away from what he was dragging them from. Felwinter kept his eyes on his surroundings as he tugged them along, making a strict note of where he was when both their arms went slack in his grip.
"Thane…" Lydia shook her head, as if casting off a deep slumber.
Argis growled. "Well, you did warn us," he muttered, slightly swaying in place.
Felwinter moved between them, eyes never leaving the Earth Stone atop the hill. More people surrounded it than before and what once was barely a frame was now a structure nearing completion. "It's grown," he muttered, "The field's grown. If it's this bad here…"
Felwinter turned to his housecarls. "You are not to go past the house under any circumstances," he told them, "If that thing takes you, I won't be able to pull you back."
Both pairs of eyes remained on the Stone. At least they weren't attempting to draw closer. "How long have they been up there?" Argis' bearded chin jerked towards the workers around it. Clothing hung loose on many of them. Others hadn't been there as long.
Felwinter answered as much. "Months, for some of them. Others must be new." His eyes landed on one person in particular. He gestured towards them, voice growing somber. "See that Dunmer? The tall one?"
"Aye," Argis replied, even though he could only move his eyes away from the Stone for seconds at a time.
"He sold me the sujamma I brought home last time," Felwinter told him, "Never even learned his name."
"Lord Felwinter!" Felwinter didn't need to turn to recognize the voice. He did so anyway after a moment. Councilor Arano appeared as he always did, hands behind his back, chin in the air; thoroughly well-put-together, despite the circumstances. Still, Felwinter could detect that subtle hint of emotion in his voice, his composure must have been hanging by a thread. "I was unaware you had returned."
"You're not gonna ask how?" Felwinter asked.
"No. What news do you bring?"
Felwinter's eyes went from the hard lines of Arano's face to the town at his back. People were starting to stare, to recognize him. On instinct, his eyes turned to the smithy near the docks. Glover's eyes met his for only a moment before he turned back to the sword and the grindstone.
"We should speak in private."
"Follow." Arano twisted and started back into town without waiting.
Felwinter took Lydia and Argis both by their elbows, pulling them along, only letting go when they stopped resisting. He sped up to catch up with Arano. "What's happened aside from the Stone?"
People were staring openly now, gathering, whispering. "Three more Ash Spawn attacks." Arano paused his stride only long enough to order one of the Redoran guards to fetch their captain. "Disorganized, so there have been fewer deaths."
"Any word from the mainland?"
Arano's steps slowed. When Felwinter looked at him, his face had softened as well as aged somehow. "My wife," he murmured, "She stays in Blacklight with her family. Has since the troubles began. She has made attempts to convene the Great Houses on our behalf to address the matter but they are being…"
"Politicians?"
"Difficult."
"Ah. Politicians."
Arano grunted. "We cannot depend on the success of her efforts. We do not have the time."
Captain Veleth met them before the First Councilor's home, speaking to two other men in bonemold armor. Despite everything, the new scars and lines on his face, the bit of dark stubble that had grown, the bags under his eyes, Veleth smiled and approached to take Felwinter's arm when it was offered. "It is good to see you again, friend."
The other guardsmen he had been speaking to stepped aside, pushing the door open for them. Following Arano, they found Councilor Morvayn standing over his hearth, staring down into the flames. His head turned slightly at their approach. "You've seen the Stone?" He asked in place of greeting.
"Hard not to. My house is in its path. When did you first notice the expansion?"
"Around a week ago." It was Councilor Arano answered, "A few people drew close to the original line and were taken as a result."
"How many since I left?"
"Six. Mainly guardsmen," Veleth said, "They were the only ones allowed that close. Now no one is."
Felwinter shook the image of the Skaal from behind his eyes. He stood. "How soon can you have horses ready? I need to speak with the Skaal."
"Immediately." Veleth had his hand on the door when Morvayn's voice stopped him.
"Felwinter," The First Councilor said. His voice barely rose above a whisper and his eyes bore into the other's. "Bring back something. The people…" He sighed, "We can't hold out like this much longer."
Felwinter stared at him for a few seconds before offering little more than a short nod. Veleth pulled open the door, gentler than he had originally intended and led them all out.
As soon as it was closed again, Arano looked back at Morvayn, who had dropped into a chair, slumped over, hair falling into eyes squeezed shut. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long slow sigh. In the firelight, Arano could see more than a few hidden gray hairs.
He turned on his heel and started towards a cabinet hanging on a wall. "What do you want to drink?"
"I'm not thirsty."
"No one drinks liquor to quench their thirst, Morvayn."
Arano could feel the incredulous stare aimed at his back. "It's early morning, Adril."
Arano unstoppered a bottle and filled two mugs. He placed the bottle down, took up both and held one out. "You've got half an hour before your wife wakes up and catches you."
Morvayn glared at him, even as he accepted the drink and drained it by half.
Veleth had them on horseback and riding out of the city within half an hour. On Arvak, Felwinter led his housecarls off the beach and northwards through the trees.
Raven Rock bred their mounts well. The horses they gave hadn't begun to slow down until they were within sight of the village, though Felwinter tried not to push them too hard from the start. But as soon as he could see the thin black lines of cookfire smoke rising above the treeline, he spurred Arvak on, leaving Lydia and Argis further behind.
He pulled Arvak to a stop, just before they could break into the opening past the trees. He could see wooden homes nearest the forest as well as the barrier. Despite the urgency, there was some measure of relief. If the barrier was up, either Storn or Frea must have still been safe. He was dismounting as the others caught up. "Leave your mounts here and follow me," he said, though they were already climbing down themselves. They were quick about it, pulling their weapons from the horses and strapping them on as they walked.
The Skaal endured but as Felwinter drew further in, he could almost hear the death rattle. The village had been sparse when Felwinter left it behind but now, even that number had been cut in half. Even then, it seemed many of those who remained were needed to power the barrier with their magicka. The others must have been the few who could be spared to run what was left of the village and even then, many of them were children.
His eyes landed on a familiar, burly, white-haired figure. "Storn!" Felwinter's voice echoed off of empty buildings.
The shaman had his eyes tightly shut, all of his attention on this one task. But with time and a clear amount of effort, they opened, blinking as if rising from a fitful sleep. His bleary eyes took in Felwinter, the mist huffing from his mouth and the frost gathering in his beard from a hard ride. He shouted for his daughter. When Felwinter drew closer, he held out a hand to be helped up. The doors to the longhouse swung open and Frea came bounding through them. She blinked in surprise when her eyes landed on Felwinter but Storn saw no time for a proper greeting. "Frea, take my place." His voice was rough and grunting. If the Stone could pull people even in their sleep, how long had he been sitting out here?
Frea gave her father a quick nod before doing as bid. "Follow, Felwinter." He did so, into the longhouse, the fire at its center low and as dismal as the rest of the village. When Storn continued into his study, Felwinter had the housecarls wait for them in the main hall.
"Dreams. More dreams, Felwinter," Storn began. His desk was a mess of paper, ink stains and scrawled drawings. More than a few consisted of nothing more than tentacles and eyes. "Some of them the same as before; two dragons fighting and destroying the world in their battle."
"And others?" Felwinter asked.
"A place, here on the island." Storn rifled through the piles of paper. "When I described it to one of our hunters, she named the place as Saering's Watch." He found what he was looking for and unfolded it, straightening out atop the others. It was a map of Solstheim, a black mark drawn just northwest of the village. Storn hunched over it, propped up on his hands. "Even when I forget every little part of a dream upon waking, I remember this with enough clarity to describe it. I see it every night."
Felwinter's eyes left the map and looked to him. "Are these dreams or…"
"A message." Storn straightened up. "Hermaeus Mora is putting these ideas in my head. Of that, I am sure but I cannot fathom why. I suggest you approach the site with caution."
Felwinter turned back to the map, the target marked with a circle. "We should speak with the chief, shouldn't we? I haven't seen Fanari…" The distant look in Storn's eye made him fall quiet. It took moments for the reality to settle. Settle it did, like a rock in his stomach.
"When?" He asked softly.
Storn's beard flexed beneath his jaw. His eyes became hooded. "She was taken just a few days ago. Her and three others, in the middle of the night. Sleepwalking, with no one to catch them this time."
Felwinter's eyes flit towards the ceiling. He couldn't feel Miraak's influence here. "Even with your people outside holding the barrier?"
"It's always been weaker at night. The people need to sleep. And now, it can't even hold out Miraak's influence entirely." Storn looked exhausted, right down to his bones. He looked gaunt, even his clothing seemed a bit looser. Everyone had their limit; the jovial old shaman Felwinter had first met upon waking was gone. He folded the map and held it to Felwinter.
"What do you plan to do while I'm gone?" Felwinter asked. He tucked it into a pack on his waist.
"What we've been doing: waiting." The older man looked frustrated with his own answer, his brow furrowing even deeper. "All we can ever do."
Felwinter brought a hand to his shoulder. "Not for much longer. How long's the ride?"
"A few hours, at least."
"We'll be there in less." Felwinter left Storn's study, found Lydia and Argis by the fire, which had been fed, talking in low tones amongst themselves. Both stopped and stood when they heard him. "We're heading out," he told the pair. He gave them a few moments to gather their things. To Storn, he repeated his promise. "Not for much longer."
The old shaman's tired eyes bore into his and after a few quiet moments, he said, "I believe you." A smile broke beneath his whiskers. "Don't know why, Felwinter, but…I believe you."
Felwinter spread his arms as he walked towards the door. "I'm very believable. Especially when I'm lying." A joke, a dark one but he had no other way of relieving the knot in his stomach Storn's words had tied. Neither wasted time with farewells. Felwinter bid his housecarls to follow him back to the horses while Storn rejoined the protection circle. Frea's eyes opened and caught Felwinter's as he passed. She stared, then gave a short nod and closed them again.
"Mount up and keep close," he told the others, calling Arvak back from the Cairn. "I'll explain on the way."
"The shaman receives messages in dreams, you both believe from Hermeaus Mora," Lydia had said when they slowed to give the horses a short break. "Miraak works from the safety of his realm and yet, the Prince just gives out this information?"
"I am aware we might be walking into a trap," Felwinter snapped without any real heat. He spurred Arvak into a quicker trot.
"I'm aware you're aware," Lydia replied easily, "You knowingly walk into traps all the time. Either to ruin it or just because you think it would be funny. But you always have a plan, Thane."
Storn had no people to scout ahead for them so they'd be going in blind. And on information from a Daedric Prince. Freely given, even. No, Felwinter corrected. Nothing a Daedra gives, in any circumstance, is given freely. Felwinter knew he had to figure out what Hermaeus Mora wanted and soon. Before he came to collect.
"Our plan is to find whatever Hermaeus Mora is leading us towards and kill whoever gets in our way." They'd walk into this trap and hope against hope that they'll learn something even marginally useful as they do.
"Not our worst plan ever," Argos mumbled from behind.
"Yeah, well, day's still young," Felwinter said back. He spurred Arvak into a gallop again. Saering's Watch was further into the mountains past Skaal village. Riding into them and out of the forest, one could see the weather shifting. It was midday now and the sky was cloudless but Felwinter couldn't shake the feeling of something massive looming over his head. Even Arvak seemed wary. That's how he knew they were getting close.
The forest opened to a snowy clearing lined by icy mountains, just as described. Sharp, short snow-tipped peaks pointed towards the sky and additional slopes of white covered their base but what drew attention was what sat in between. Carved into the mountain was what looked to be an ancient ritual site, complete with familiar Nordic-style stone bridges and arches crawling up the rocky hills.
"Dismount here," Felwinter ordered, "Tie the horses to the trees and follow me." Hopefully, these wouldn't be slaughtered like before. Felwinter approached an icy ledge and dropped into a crouch. When he turned his back to the mountain, he waved frantically for Argis and Lydia to drop down as well. Both took a single look ahead of them and quickly did as he said. Felwinter twisted onto his front, doing his best to peek over the edge without coming out of cover.
Cultists wandered the expanse of Saering's Watch, with undead bolstering their ranks. None of Idessia's vampires, as far as he could tell. No Ash Spawn either.
"I count fourteen." The words left Argis' mouth as steam into the air.
Felwinter traced the path along the length of the Watch as it crawled up the mountain until his eyes reached the top. It was old, incredibly so and worn but what sat at the temple's peak was unmistakable.
"Up top," he murmured to the two of them. "A word wall."
"I see why Miraak wanted this place secured." Argis turned to look at him, "But does he know who sent us?"
Felwinter remembered falling into Miraak's temple, into Apocrypha. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes to sleep, he'd see the sight of a book in his dreams, opening up to him. He remembered a word wall and his arm began to ache. But then he remembered Raven Rock and the Skaal. He remembered the last looks and words he shared with Councilor Morvayn and Storn Crag-Strider. if there was any chance…
"It doesn't matter," Felwinter said, "I need to get to that wall." Felwinter's feet pulled beneath him, ready to push. "Everyone dies. Ready yourselves."
Shields were unbuckled, blades were drawn, light reflecting against the snow. Felwinter let out a long, slow breath. Then, he pushed himself to his feet and began to walk forward. Heat sparked in his open palm, growing until he could see light from the corner of his eye.
With a shout he made sure would be heard, Felwinter lobbed the bolt of sunfire at the nearest undead. The magic caught the shambler on the side of the head and sent it tumbling to the snowy ground. Every masked cultist, every undead turned almost in unison to face its source.
Felwinter smiled widely. He brought up his still-smoking hand and waved it. "Hello!" He then dropped into a crouch, slamming that hand into the ground. The world split open in a swirling flash of violet flames and from the tears stepped Dremora Lords. Four in total, blades already brandished, they did not wait for Felwinter to give his commands before unleashing fearsome battlecries and charging into the fray.
Zazikel appeared in Felwinter's other hand. With orders to Argis and Lydia to keep close, Felwinter brought his blade up just in time to deflect the downward swing of an undead. He directed his opponent's blade as low as he could and with impressive speed, brought his sword back before it could react, raking it across the creature's throat. Its head lolled back, still connected to its neck by a few strands of tendon but a sharp punch from Felwinter snapped those as well.
The Dremora were in the thick of it, drawing most of their opponents towards them. Already, piles of ash and dead bodies were growing in number, soiling the pristine snowy ground. All Felwinter needed to worry about were the stragglers and those smart enough to target him instead of his summons. He directed the Dremora to advance on the stairs, to follow the path towards the top. Felwinter, Lydia and Argis followed in their wake. A cultist dropped down from a raised bridge and ran for Felwinter but met Argis' shield instead. The Nord shoved her down, jabbing his sword into the space beneath her mask and chin before she could stand again.
Felwinter refused to turn his eyes towards the top, even as he could hear the word calling out to him. One of the Dremora, swarmed by undead, toppled off the far side of the back cliff. Felwinter could only guess the distance, he never heard the crash.
Slow going but consistent, they soon reached the top, with Lydia cutting down the last of the undead. "Coast clear, thane," she huffed, shaking dark blood from her sword. The Dremora faded from Mundus, their limited time exhausted. Argis took a knee at the edge overlooking the rest of Saering's Watch, pointed back towards the forest and the beach beyond it. Felwinter followed his eyes and then remembered the last time he had approached something connected to Miraak.
Pulling a small vial from a pouch on his belt, Felwinter flicked off the stopper and downed the contents. He waited for the magicka in his system to replenish and then brought up his hands. Three portals to Oblivion opened on the lower level and this time, each produced a Storm Atronach. "Watch the approach," Felwinter told them all. He didn't know how this was going to go but the last thing they needed was to be snuck up on.
Felwinter approached the Word Wall. As he did, he felt he no longer needed to think about walking. His feet seemed to move themselves. The incoherent chanting he could only hear in his head grew in intensity and the rest of the world faded away. On the wall of text, his eyes focused on a single word, to the exclusion of everything else carved into the stone and everyone else around him. He was close now, fingers tracing frigid stone.
It took longer than he would admit to realize it. The ground had disappeared beneath his feet without a sound. The Word Wall was gone, his housecarls were gone, the island of Solstheim was gone. It was only after he realized the ground was missing did he begin to fall into a deep yawning abyss.
He didn't even think to scream before something halted his descent, causing him to collapse across what felt like solid ground but was dark and featureless as the rest of the world around him. "Argis!" he shouted into the void, "Lydia!" Not even an echo answered back.
Something else did.
"Felwinter. Hmm…Greetings," Felwinter's hand went up to his nose on instinct of the sudden stench that permeated every inch of endless space around him. Always the same, stale ink and fetid rot. Only this time, the degree of it was overwhelming. Felwinter looked for the source, twisting around but unable to truly find his footing. It was when he looked up that he saw a dark green cloud covering the entirety of the void above him. Tentacles radiated from empty space, growing and curling outward and closer to him. Felwinter wanted to recoil but something held him firmly in place.
"Felwinter Gregory Drakon." The voice came from everywhere around him, slow and drawling, like thick toxic sludge dripping to the ground. Felwinter could not move his eyes from anywhere except straight ahead, into darkness. But that darkness was lifting, like a curtain being raised. Slowly, it broke until at the center of the mass of tentacles stood a single giant eye.
"Been a while since we last spoke," Felwinter whispered, struggling to find his voice as well as courage he did not feel. He forced a small grin. "The far north, right?"
Hermaeus Mora made a raspy sound, like an old ore miner breathing through ruined lungs. The smell that permeated everything this Prince was connected to stung Felwinter's nostrils, going so deep, he could feel the stench inside his head. "It has been. For you. For me? I have barely blinked." The eye before him did so, emphasizing the point.
Felwinter's jaw clenched. He instinctively turned his head when the eye seemed to move closer. He couldn't step backwards. "You're the one who's been sending the messages," he said, "You've gotten me here. Tell me what you want."
"Miraak, it seems, has grown tired of me," Hermaeus Mora said, "He craves freedom from my realm, to rejoin the world he left behind. The world I saved him from. He never could find a way to break the forces chaining him here, no matter how much he learned. No matter how much I allowed him to."
The eye continued drawing closer and Felwinter recoiled even further on instinct, his feet still rooted to the spot. "But then he discovered you. One with power like him. With potential like him. He wants your soul, Felwinter."
"And what is it that you want?" Felwinter grunted, "You're not telling me everything."
The eye blinked slowly again. "A problem solved, among other things. Miraak wants freedom and in turn, I seek a replacement."
There was little need to guess any further. "You think I'd serve you?"
"In return for Skyrim's safety? Perhaps. But I am more confident in an appeal to your nature." The eye retreated and in the darkness of empty space, the Word Wall atop Saering's Watch appeared; hazy, as if in a dream. "Through the Skaal, I have led you to what amounts to a drop in the ocean of power I can offer you."
Felwinter's gaze was fixed on the word wall floating before him in empty space, his head unable to turn elsewhere. His eyes traced rows of symbols. One word held his attention the most, the word he had been sent to learn but it was not the only one. When his eyes reached the end of the script, they started at the beginning and read, again and again and again and each time, the words solidified themselves in his mind, until he found himself muttering the words, flowing as easily off his tongue as Cyrodillic.
"'Dov wahlaan fah rel.'" Hermaeus Mora recited familiar words. "Dragons were made to dominate. You cannot resist the call to power, no more than Miraak could or any other that has sought me out. As with the gift I gave you at the temple, I give you this with just one request; your consideration. We could do great things, Felwinter. And you could serve knowing your home would be safe from tyrants like Miraak."
It took a moment for Felwinter to pull himself back into Cyrodilic. But even then, he found he had no idea what to say. To ask what would happen should he refuse would be a waste of time he did not have, all for an answer he was sure he would not want to hear. Accept his help and be damned, reject it and wind up dead.
When he failed to speak again, Hermaeus Mora did in his stead, his drawling voice taking on an inflection usually present with a mouth and a smile. "Then, we have an agreement. Go forth and know that I will be watching your actions with great interest."
Felwinter blinked, only against his will. When his eyes opened again, his entire body jerked, his palms coming up to his eyes with a pained shout. The sun and blinding snowlight struck him like a troll's fist to the side of the head. But covering his eyes, darkening his vision provided no relief. Because now, what caused him pain was inside his head. Raucous sounds of grunts, roars, explosions and screams filled his head, along with thunderous voices, blinding images and whispers that were just out of ear's reach.
He didn't know he was trembling until he felt a hand wrap gently around his wrist and a voice, both calming and worried, broke through the noise. "Thane?" The hand on his arm gave a gentle tug. "Thane, are you alright?"
"He's awake?" A deeper voice asked, footsteps approaching.
Felwinter tried to speak but it only came out as a weak groan. Slowly, he let his hands be pulled away from his eyes. Eventually, he gained the courage to open them, to even blink a few times. Most of the sky was obscured by Lydia's concerned visage, her hand on his shoulder. When Felwinter's vision cleared further, he saw the mountain hanging over his head, his back propped against it.
He breathed deeply, his pounding heart slowing. He wished his head would do the same. Argis crouched before him, holding something silver and glinting up to his face. "It'll warm you up."
"That's my line," Felwinter muttered. He took the flask in unsure fingers and drank deeply. Mulled wine, made not too long ago. Argis had been to Solitude recently. He coughed as he handed the flask back but the chill was indeed chased from his skin. He sighed, his breath floating into the air. Felwinter closed his eyes again, exhaustion setting into his bones. "How long was I out?"
"Two hours," Lydia replied to his side.
"Did anyone attack?"
"No. It was a quiet two hours."
"Good." Felwinter's eyes opened again. Argis stood and held out a hand, helping Felwinter to his feet. He turned his eyes onto the word wall. The chanting had ceased but his eyes still narrowed in on a single word. 'Earth'.
But then his attention spread outward, to the entire passage carved into the rock face. He walked forward. "I…" He stopped before the word wall, touched its surface. "I can understand this," he murmured.
"Thane?" Confusion and concern lacing Lydia's voice.
"These words, I…" Felwinter paused to let his mind clear. Then, he he spoke again, "QETHSEGOL VahRUKIV BHAR FIN GOLah WO PRaaL HET MULHaaN OL GOL SARaaN ONIKIV NUNON Wah MeyZ WUTH SINON DO ONIK."
When he went silent, his ears continued to ring. His lips vibrated as if a spark had run over them. His throat burned with cold, as if a blizzard had gathered within.
He looked down at his hands. With little but a thought, something appeared within them. A book of considerable weight and size. Its cover was the color of old dark leather, its binding gave off that same rancid smell and on the front was a sigil; writing tentacles and snapping pincers, shaped into a perfect circle.
"Thane…" Felwinter's eyes tore away from the Black Book to his housecarls. Argis' eyes were stuck on the book in his hands. "What happened to you?"
Felwinter looked back down. Again, with little but a thought, he willed the book away. The pressure and presence it exuded disappeared with it. To where, he did not know. He did not care to find out. To know that he could summon it again at any time bothered him enough.
"Back to your horses," Felwinter ordered roughly. "I'll explain everything on the way." He started forward, towards the stairs. He needed time to make sense of everything running through his head but among it all, he realized one thing stood out the most; exactly what he needed.
The sun was low when they returned to the village. The magic forming the barrier was a guiding light. Felwinter couldn't begin to imagine their exhaustion. He pulled Arvak to a stop and promptly climbed down, waiting for the others to do the same and approach him. He took Lydia by the head, pressing his thumbs to her temple and whispering the incantation as Frea had taught him, feeling the magic flow out of him. He went over to Argis, took him by the head and did the same.
"We're approaching the Stone," he told them, "This will keep you protected. Bring your weapons. I expect trouble."
Both nodded and moved to do so. Felwinter started forward, up the hill into the village proper. The circle of villagers still held, though there were different people composing it now. Storn was the only mainstay. Felwinter shouted his name, "Storn!"
One eye popped open, reddened and bleary but focusing on Felwinter once it found him. Felwinter continued towards the back of the village, passing the circle without stopping. "I'm going to the Stone," was all he said. Several more eyes opened at that, focus shaken so much, the barrier shuddered.
Storn forced himself to his feet, stumbling but righting himself quickly, shouting for his daughter and jogging to follow. "Felwinter, you have something?" He asked breathlessly, pushing between Argis and Lydia to reach him.
"I have something." That 'something' had been at the forefront of his mind, standing out amid the storm of thoughts raging within. The difference became starker as they approached the village, until his mind was screaming the word at itself, drowning out everything else.
The Wind Stone appeared much the same as its counterpart but the archways surrounding it were more complete and the pillar itself was giving off a faint, sickly green glow. It was just as surrounded. By people of differing dress but Felwinter knew them all to be Skaal. There were more of them here than in the village and they were kneeling. Some in the snow, others closer to the Stone, in the sludgy puddle surrounding the base; genuflecting, mouths moving in unison, speaking the same prayer.
Felwinter stopped and held his arm out, even without looking back, keeping Storn from following him further. "Stay within the barrier," he told him. Storn's brow furrowed. He knew the protection spell even better than Felwinter but out of simple exhaustion, he did not argue.
Felwinter pressed forward, trudging through fresh snow. Argis and Lydia remained close behind until he raised his hand, ordering them to stop as well. Felwinter walked around the kneeling bodies, their chanting echoing in his ears. He drew closer to the Stone until he had to crane his neck to see up to the top and the murky fluid sloshed around his ankles.
The armor on one of his hands disappeared. Skin now bare, Felwinter reached up and pressed his palm flat against it. Power hummed beneath his fingertips and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Aside from that, he felt nothing.
He lowered his hand, turned away from the stone, walking back through the crowd of enthralled villagers. Nothing stained his boots as he stepped back out into the snow. He looked up at the top of the hill, at Storn, at Frea by his side, at his housecarls, standing at the ready. Felwinter turned back to the Stone, to the villagers it had kept under Miraak's control for too long now.
No more. The word sat on his lips, buzzing, begging for release. There was something off about it. Almost as if it were hungry. Like a blooded hound straining against its leash.
Felwinter took in a deep breath and exhaled everything in his lungs. He took in another and let it out, slowly from between sealed teeth. He took in air one final time.
Then, he Shouted. "GOL."
A wave of power flew forth from Felwinter's mouth, golden light streaked with lines of pitch-black. It washed over the Wind Stone, enveloping it, making an impact that was both booming and silent; barely rising above the wind and yet making the ground beneath their feet quake. The sickly green light that sheathed the Stone was stripped away, like filth in running water.
As soon as it was here, it was gone and the world went silent again quickly. Even the wind had grown still. For moments that stretched like years, Felwinter waited and waited. For rejoicing, for terror, for retaliation, for something. Anything to tell him he was finally on the right track.
He couldn't recall when he first noticed it; that the chanting had stopped. The Skaal entranced by the Stone remained kneeling, their arms spread and their heads up in reverence but they no longer spoke.
Someone moved, just in front of him. Startled, Felwinter's hand sparked purple but he soon recognized the short dark hair, the fur-covered shoulders.
Fanari's arms lowered slowly to her sides. She swayed on her knees, as if fighting off sleep but unlike the others around her, she was moving. Her head turned from one side to the other, looking. Felwinter's own breathing had ceased and it was silent enough that he could hear her own deepen. Her gaze turned straight ahead, onto the Stone. Fanari gasped, falling back.
Felwinter stepped forward and called, "Fanari?"
He was gentle with his voice. She was startled anyway. Her head twisted around and her eyes locked onto him, wide with terror. But they stayed on him and they softened. Her breathing eased, her shoulders lowered and with a sigh, Fanari pushed to stand on trembling legs.
On the other side of the Wind Stone, a second person moved. To Felwinter's left, a third. Then a fourth and a fifth. Groans and gasps and soft murmurs began to build and rise over the sound of the wind.
Felwinter stepped back several paces, taking in the crowd that had come to life. Villagers were getting to their feet, helping others to their feet, groaning, talking. Felwinter's breath caught in his lungs. He swallowed and a small laugh escaped his lips. He turned to look behind him, to the astonished faces of his housecarls. To Storn, his brow furrowed and his face tight with emotion. To Frea, hands over her mouth and glistening in her eyes. Felwinter's grin could only widen.
He felt it before he heard it; the world being ripped open. His eyes turned back onto the Wind Stone, down to the lake of black fluid surrounding its base.
It was bubbling.
"Get back." Felwinter's voice was hoarse. He shook his head to regain a little sense. This time, he cried out, "Everyone get back!"
Before anyone could get away, something burst from the black puddle. A limb, long and clawed, scaled and hideously twisted. Someone screamed and those nearest the Stone began to panic. The hand slammed onto the ground, just barely missing a young man, who was pulled away just in time. A second arm burst forward and once both were planted in the snow, a body heaved itself up.
The monster had great bulging eyes set into a round head. Its maw was spread wide, likely not by choice but from the dozens of teeth that would not allow it to close; as long as greatswords and as sharp. It continued to pull its body out of the murky lake, setting its feet on the ground and at its full height, the monster stood almost as high as the Wind Stone itself.
Felwinter could only tell that it was a creature of Apocrypha but aside from that, it was a species of Daedra he had never seen before. It was bred for violence, that much was clear. The battle roar it let out was high-pitched and gurgling and sent the Skaal still close to it scrambling away in panic. Its long arms reaching out, the Daedra tried to give chase but a line of raised ice crystals suddenly cut off its path.
Frost floating from his outstretched fingers, Felwinter began to approach the Daedra, walking against the current of villagers running the other way. The monster struck at the crystals, clearing the ice in hard, shattering swipes. The villagers continued to escape. Though she was out of his vision, he could hear Fanari, shaken out of her daze and taking charge.
Zazikel appeared in his fist and as soon as he was within reach, he burst into a sprint. Before the monster's attention could turn to him, a section of the ice disappeared, allowing him to pass. He brought his sword across the Daedra's knee, coating bright snow with black blood. Its pained scream was quickly replaced with rage. With a speed that didn't match its size, the Daedra swiped at him with one of its long arms. He had expected retaliation and already put distance between himself and the Daedra but the long whip-like tentacle that spurt out from its palm was something he had not been prepared for. The blow took him off his feet, sent him rolling across the snow. Felwinter forced himself to keep rolling, even as the ground shook with the monster giving chase.
Felwinter stopped himself once he was an adequate distance away, digging his hand into the dirt. Eyes up and palm flat, he watched the lumbering Daedra continue to run him down. Behind it, he spotted Lydia and Argis with swords drawn, running to catch them.
Felwinter threw himself to the side as soon as it was over him. The Daedra's giant foot came down, shattering the ground only a moment later; right onto the glowing rune left behind.
The ground beneath it burst. It screamed again, shriller this time, its legs blackened and ruined by flame. Felwinter recalled Zazikel to his hand. As before, the pain only seemed to enrage it, strengthen it but now its attention was solely on him. Not on the last of the villagers making it to safety, not Frea, Storn and Fanari herding them deeper into the village.
Nor did it see two others coming up on its flank. The monster roared again, like a drowning dragon. It spat a foul glob of fluid at Felwinter, who avoided it, the ground steaming where it landed. Its head reeled back to fire its acid spit again but Argis caught it in the back of its injured knee. Its gaping maw snapped shut and its stance faltered. It twisted around, the tentacle extending from its hand lashing out and catching Argis on his shield, who bore it with gritted teeth. Lydia used that distraction to go for the other leg, sinking her blade in and twisting before ripping it out with a shout. It shrieked and stumbled again, this time low enough for Lydia to take her sword and rake it across the monster's face.
Its jaw hanging by strands of sinew, an ear missing, the Daedra attempted one more weak swipe at the closest target. Felwinter made sure it was him and made sure when its arm came flying out, it met the point of his sword. It tore its hand away but before it could scream again, Felwinter's sword jabbed back into its body, this time into the monster's throat. With a roar, Felwitner ripped it out, summoned a second blade and shoved both back in as deep as he could into the hole he had already made.
Its roars faded to wet gurgles and then nothing, thick blood draining like a river onto the ground. Save for heavy breathing, all was quiet once again. Tearing his eyes from the Daedra's corpse at his feet, Felwinter looked back at the Wind Stone, waiting for some kind of reaction to the death of its guardian or the loss of its prisoners. Nothing. Even the murky pool at its base had dried up.
Snow crunched as Argis approached tentatively, stopping at Felwinter's side. "What manner of creature is this? Daedra?"
"Stinks like it." Felwinter put his boot to the monster's head, rolling it. "From Apocrypha."
"Hermaeus Mora's?" Lydia readjusted his grip on her sword. She grunted slightly. "You said he was helping you."
"Miraak set this here." Felwinter's blades disappeared. "As…insurance." He squatted before the body, staring into the open, glassy eye.
"So then Miraak knows…"
Felwinter rose with a sigh. "I'd be surprised if he didn't." He took one last look at the Daedra before turning away and starting back up the hill.
Skaal village was still a quiet place but it had changed in Felwinter's eyes. It looked like a proper village, alive with people talking, weeping, expressing relief in equal measures. Even Felwinter found himself the target of several embraces, once word spread of his role. From the young woman he had first seen when he had awoken in the village the first time to a boisterous Skaal man three heads taller than him and nearly twice as broad. If the Daedra hadn't ruined his ribs, the Skaal would by night's end.
Any suggestion of a true celebration was snuffed out by Fanari, quick to remind those who brought it up of those of their number still enslaved by the other Stones. Whatever she had experienced when enslaved, Fanari did not wish to speak about it and shook it off rather quickly; or at least, she made a good show of it. Her moniker of Strong-Voice was well-earned. In short order, she set a number to watch the Wind Stone for any further trouble. Those who had been bound the longest were to see the healers to be examined for how their bodies fared for months without food, water or sleep. Felwinter would have a word with the healers himself when he got the chance.
For now, he and his people needed their rest, what little of it they would manage. They had retreated to the longhouse, Storn and Frea joining them for someplace quiet and private to take a meal. It was there Felwinter explained what he learned at Saering's Watch. The first word for a Shout called "Bend Will". Hermaeus Mora's offer of assistance, in exchange for servitude in Miraak's place.
"If I hadn't seen what I had seen today, Felwinter," Storn sighed, "I wouldn't believe a single word of it." He was tired. It showed in his eyes and lines on his face but he was eating , likely better than he had in weeks.
"Leave to a Daedric Prince to make a bad deal sound too good to be true." Felwinter was out of his armor, wrapped in furs, drinking from a steaming bowl and trying not to fall asleep.
Frea sat across from him on the other side of the fire; roaring now, though whether through simple tending or magic, Felwinter couldn't be bothered to guess. Unlike the others, such as Lydia and Argis behind her, scarfing down their meals, she still picked at her own, clearly unsettled by something. "And our fight at the temple, you remember everything now?"
Felwinter paused and looked down at his hand. The image of it, soaked in blood and viscera, flashed again before his eyes. "I do," he finally said, "Including the Shout that made me…like that. It was Hermaeus Mora who pushed me to find it, just as he did this one."
Felwinter placed his bowl on the ground, freeing his hands. Once again, it took little more effort than a thought. But that thought made his skin crawl and the hairs on his neck stand on end. All eyes were on him, his hands in particular and the Black Book that appeared within.
"He gave this to me. Probably so I can get into contact with him." He held it to Storn but pulled it back when the old man's face tightened into a scowl.
Storn sighed again, shaking his head. "I regret that he used me to get to you."
"Only way to go was forward." Felwinter sent the Black Book away. "Main thing I'm worried about now is how much Miraak knows about him helping us."
"We should expect retaliation," Lydia said.
"We should but not directly. More likely through his agents."
Frea's face tightened. "Like the Khajiit."
Felwinter's hand twinged again. "He's got more than the Khajiit. One of his agents led a surprise attack against the Dawnguard. Another…" Felwinter clenched his teeth. He let a long breath out through his nose. "He's responsible for the death of someone very close to me. He's someone I've been hoping to get my hands on for years. Regardless…" Felwinter wasn't interested in answering any further questions on the matter. Lydia's pitying look chafed enough. "I know the location of the next Black Book. The Dwemer ruins in the southeast." Felwinter downed the rest of the content of his bowl. He stood. "But first, starting tomorrow morning, I plan to cleanse every Stone on this island. Any of your people I meet, I'll direct back here." He looked down at Storn and Frea. "This village will be full again by the end of the week. You have my word."
Storn sighed. Then, rumbling welled up in his chest until it came out as a laugh, like low thunder in an approaching storm. "I see now, Felwinter, how you've amassed such acclaim. It is one thing to make such promises, lad but to actually keep them…"
Felwinter wasn't a man prone to blushing but under Storn's steady, warm gaze, he could feel his cheeks heat, just a little bit. To Lydia and Argis, he says, "Find your rooms when you can. Get some rest. We've got an early start and a long day tomorrow." He rubbed his eyes. "Gods, I'm gonna be saying that all week, aren't I?"
They gave him the same room as before. When his door was closed, Felwinter felt the full weight of his exhaustion drop onto his shoulders. He yawned deeply, pushing his palms into his eyes and rubbing his face. But with the quiet, Felwinter could only hear the whispers beginning to fill his mind again. In closing his eyes, the shifting images and memories became more vivid.
Felwinter sat down on the bed to pull off his shoes, stoking the fireplace while he did. Despite everything else, he couldn't help but feel some measure of pride in what he had managed today. Months of running around, of panic barely restrained and redirected. Now he had achieved a sort of victory in this war. Victory achieved with unwanted help but a victory nonetheless, for the Skaal and eventually, Raven Rock. In this regard, he was a beggar; he'd take whatever he could get.
He pulled off the small string that held his wedding band and calling crystal from around his neck and placed it on the nightstand. The images and sounds returned when he curled up on the bed and closed his eyes. Despite that, his sleep was dreamless; another victory he'd be happy to take.