Chapter 39: Birds of Prey

He didn't use to get seasick, so this was all Slitter's fault. And his misery was shared. All the elves, except one, suffered from seasickness. The exception was Mistress Cherrun, one of Taliesin's three wives. She, like her sister wives, was a Maomer refugee from Pyandonea. Mistress Cherrun was also a water mage formerly with the Pyandonea marines. Since the stormcloak security team currently watching the Dominion marines currently imprisoned on Japhet's Folly had things well in hand, the Felixes reassigned her to escorting their ship to Northwatch port. When she wasn't aboard, she was riding a giant white shark, the best her powers could summon in this part of the world. Megalodons, she told him, prefer to follow the whale herds, and this was the wrong season for the whales to come north. Besides, when all one needed was a healthy horse, why summon a mammoth?

The commandeered Thalmor ship was renamed "Bird of Prey" since Curtis habitually referred to his invention as "the bird of prey cloaking device." He also sometimes said the word "Romulans," but they just ignored that because no one knew what Romulans were, and he'd said himself they were a fictional race of warlike mer whose methods of warfare were to strike from shadows. Sounded like the wild elves, the rumored renegade Ayleid survivors. In any case, Bird of Prey seemed fitting for a Dominion ship.

The cloaking device installed on the ship worked fine. Except for the wake during the daytime and the frequent bio-luminescent trails during the night, no one could see them nor any scrying magic detect them. The addition of muffle spells carved into the planks also helped minimize the sound of their wake. Passing by a Dominion frigate proved that.

Which was still stupid. The Dominion lookouts saw the wake leaving the cloaking area. And while the frigate slowed, its scryer saw nothing, detected no magic. But they heard water moving in a way that only a passing ship could make, and their ship rocked in the unseen mystery's wake. Mistress Cherrun managed to cover that error by summoning a giant basking shark to swim close to the surface, causing another wake as it fed on the plankton swirling in the water.

They were sailing out of the shitstorm from a couple of weeks ago. Curtis claimed one of the two staves recovered from Arcwind Point as his own, and the College got the other. There was a big argument of who could claim the motherload of gold and gems in that tomb. Ulfric's court would be handling that argument.

And the grief with the Dominion. The four soldiers captured at Arcwind — two begged asylum at Ivarstead, and Tusair Stormwatch and another took their chances with the Dominion because of family. Brother Salindil and his priests were unhappy that, but they understood the reasons.

And that nightmare of Lord Revyn Sadri being kidnapped by a mix of Thalmor and scheming Felix enemies. The Dominion was a given, but it would take the Felixes some time to identify which of their enemies was a part of this. Sadri also had his own enemies besides the Black-Briars, like the Breton family of Elder Councilor Motierre.

He had seen the Wabbajack in Sadri's office, and he had been told Sadri was the one who brought it home from Solitude, yet his brain failed to connect the dots. Guess that's a point to internal prejudices — he just couldn't associate the man with Sheogorath, much less being Sheogorath's champion. The impetuous, hell-raiser Dragonborn, yeah, but her thoughtful, harried husband? Nuh-uh. But, if he thought about it, solving the challenges of Pelagius's mind (and surviving the playfully deadly humor of the Demented Prince) did require savviness, sympathy, and savoir-faire, so Sadri fit that bill.

Huh. Was Lord Sadri an honorary, part-time steward of the Shivering Isles in addition to everything else piled on his plate? Wasn't being the emotional anchor for the insanely overpowered Dragonborn enough?

Ilya. He mourned with her. Sadri couldn't be revived in time to save her team. Severus and Taliesin, flying as fast as they could, running as fast as they could through the caves and tunnels, couldn't get there in time. The stormblades had gone in knowing they were going to die. All he could do in Ivarstead was listen as they did.

Ilya had stayed back at Winterhold to work on the Falmer project at the Temple of Xrib. Three of the guards working there had also been fellow retirees of that unit. After fighting a horde of Thalmor-controlled Falmer zombies … Well, she'd decided her own course of grieving and therapy.

The port they were heading to was at Volkihar isle. It had a small vampire clan created by Lady Volkihar after the death of her power-mad husband and his rabid ambition-infected followers. With the backing of the Dragonborn, she'd negotiated a truce with the Empire and Legion-allied Skyrim as represented by Jarls Elisif and Idgrod. Now that everybody knew they were there, they were the prison/final stop island for execution-condemned criminals. Northwatch keep was now Legion territory, and they allowed a small post for the Dawnguard, who kept distant watch on the vampires.

The Bird of Prey was to dock there in the dead of night instead of at the Northwatch port. The only boat docking at Northwatch would be the Felix ship, the South Seas Pearl, which had been sailing along the coast weeks ahead of them, making trade stops, garnering attention. Captain Meris, stopping at Dawnstar, sent a pigeon warning of multiple credible rumors heard on the Dawnstar docks of Dominion ships spotted by far-ranging fishing boats.

No, the real docking would be at Volkihar isle, and then the elves would have to walk underwater to a beachfront southwest of Northwatch. Harbinger Farkas and his brother would be watching for them.

Captain Cornelius leaned on the rail beside him. "We be coming to rough seas by midnight," he said.

"Oh?"

"Aye. According to Merethic maps done by the Aldmeris, a hot current comes from the mythic continent of Lyc, across the Eltheric Ocean, over Yokuda and through the Azurian Sea to curve over the top of High Rock and Haafingar, warming up that part of Skyrim's northern coasts so the lowlands be cozy though they be as far north as Winterhold. We be coming to where the tropical current clashes with the ice current from Atmora that shaves along the coast from Winterhold to the Pale. Storms are violent where they meet and many a ship be lost and the wrecks wash up along the coast where Volkihar makes its home. Easy feeding for them."

"Yeah. Easy. Makes sense." Curtis shuddered. He liked Lady Serana Volkihar. She was posing as the Archimage Dragonborn to cover for Lady Helsette's pregnancy. And since the Archimage was known to disappear abruptly to fulfill her Dragon hunting duties, no one thought it suspicious when she disappeared again.

Lady Serana was actually with Gelebor, making sure the passage to the hidden vale was relatively safe.

He couldn't deny she often freaked him out with the no-breathing, no body heat, no blinking. A lovely wax effigy until she suddenly moved. He imagined sailors looking down over the side of their ships and seeing what looked like a dead body floating just under the water or laying on a slab of floating ice. They'd look away, thinking it was a sad tragedy. Maybe they'd hear something and turn around to see that cold corpse reaching for them.

It was a hellish night, day, and another night. It wasn't monster waves or deep troughs, but four-footers and six-footers, clear one set only to have another set coming from another direction. And everything was a total gray-out at best during the day. Then all light was gone when the sun left. Oil lamps didn't go very far. Curtis and a sailor repeatedly staggered along the perimeter of the deck and placed survey wand light dots along the rails, around the masts, along stairs — marking anything that was a collision or trip hazard. Drops of light, lighting the deck like a Christmas tree, low-level brightness because anything really bright would only blind people as the fog reflected light. Captain Cornelius and his crew were experienced rough seas sailors but in tropical storms. The arctic temperature and the icing of the sails and riggings frustrated them.

Everyone had water-breathing rings and low-powered heat rings. The heat rings weren't strong enough to keep a Nord conscious in arctic water for more than an hour. For anyone else, a half-hour at best. Mistress Cherrun was their saving grace. She was able to compel a group of six dolphins to swim alongside the boat to pick up any sailors that were tossed overboard. She rode ahead of the ship to find the safest course. She wore a tracking ring that the special outer-ring attachment to the ship's Dwemer-built gimbal compass tracked.

The elves stayed below deck. They also waited on exhausted sailors that came below deck to warm up and rest and treated any injuries. Then Balvus, pathfinder/navigator, and Sidabar, pattern analytics, managed to overcome their nausea enough to make use of their talents. Navigating through a two-dimensional storm was easier than four-dimensional Oblivion. Sidabar and the captain huddled over the compass. Cornelius bellowed sail-adjustment orders to his crew in response to Sidabar's interpretations of their compass orientation relative to Cherrun's position and his ability to see how the force patterns of the sea and winds affected the ship. Balvus, thought-linked with Sidabar, steered without needing to be told where and when to turn.

They finally came to calm, warmer water and clear weather late in the morning of the second day.

Early afternoon, something in the water waved a bright crimson cloth on a long, thin stick. The captain asked Cherrun to stand guard, then he whistled sharply three times. The swimmer headed towards them at non-human speed and breached the cloaking field. They lowered a rope ladder. The Breton in merchant's clothing nimbly climbed up despite wearing Winterhold swim fins, a piece from the collection the SS Pearl carried for sale. Yup, observed Curtis, that bloodless look, red-tinted eyes, wax effigy stillness — all vampire. Had to be if he swam all the way from Volkihar in ice water.

The vampire politely bowed to them. "Welcome. Lady Volkihar sent me to intercept and warn you that as of three days ago, a pair of Legion frigates have been based at Northwatch. A new directive of the Legion to patrol Haafingar waters since Dominion ships have been seen more frequently of late. There is also the Dominion ship that had been following your decoy ship, the Pearl. The Dominion ship is staying out of sight of Northwatch. We have been watching it. Lady Volkihar believes it is too dangerous for your ship to dock at Volkihar. Unless your spell is capable of being cast for the entire time that you are docked?"

Captain Cornelius looked at Curtis. "We could," said Curtis. "We would just need to replace, oh, five or six grand soulgems, for your trip around High Rock and down to the private bay of your Meris family, captain."

"We would be happy to provide such. We have plenty," said the vampire.

"The SS Pearl, it came through safely?" Captain Cornelius asked anxiously.

"Yes, their timing was better. And congratulation on coming through the storm in such excellent condition. I am told by my lady that the first storms of the season are usually the best for filling the larder. The Pearl came through when the storms had not yet fully developed as it has now. What rough weather they had, they waited out at Dawnstar. They arrived a week ago."

"Only a week off schedule. Good. Glad they're safe. So, that all you be warning us of?"

"No, captain. I am here to pilot your ship should you still decide to dock. The shoals will scuttle you since you don't know where they are."

Curtis went belowdeck. The vampire, as it turned out, had been the captain of his own trading ship that had been storm-driven into Volkihar's rocks. He was much better at piloting boats around it now.

Okay, docked at Castle Creepy. The treaty with Empire and the Dawnguard had made the vampires build a lighthouse so that ships knew that part of the coast was dangerous. No more all-you-can-eat seafood buffet.

"Not too great a loss," Lady Serana said. "Vampire progenitors influence their followers. And mother's taste was for intellectuals, researchers, and artists, so she rarely picked them off the tides.

"I'd imagine your mother would have a hard time rebuilding her followers from the criminals sent to the isle," said Curtis. "Well, yeah, even criminals can be intellectuals and be artistic. Even death row criminals."

"The lure of immortality is a surprising draw. Mother is forbidden to actively hunt. But nothing is said against volunteers who show up at her door. And she's selective. After all, once bitten, they'll be around a long, long time."

A convenient mist shrouded the dock, hiding the thralls who loaded food and other supplies Cornelius and his crew needed for their long voyage to the Gold Coast.

Curtis and his people disembarked. From here, they would be walking. But first, they would have two days of rest in the castle, get their land legs back before they go marching underwater to, hopefully, meet up with the Harbinger and his brother further along the coast.

They were escorted to a large suite with its own kitchen. It had a limited selection of vegetables and fruit, but they were fresh, and there were roasted chickens already there. They were informed that pigeons or a goat could also be provided.

Lady Volkihar looked about the same age as her daughter, though realistically, she'd had her child in her early 20's, as mortal life had gone, and she'd been in her 40s when she and her daughter had been offered up to Molag Bal. Becoming a vampire didn't de-age one's looks, so she had been one of those who naturally looked younger than their age. It was the severity of her manner and preferred styling of hair that added age to her looks.

"King Dumac." She smiled as she said this. "My daughter has told me of your return. We've met before, although I do not expect you to remember. My husband and I were minor nobles then, relative nobodies, part of Skyrim's representation during the coronation of Emperor Gorieus. You and Indoril Nerevar were also in attendance during that brief period of peace before the Alessian Doctrines of Marukh tainted all relations with merkind. I was hoping Nerevar would be with you."

"Unfortunately, my lady, he got delayed back in Windhelm. Lord Sadri got snatched by his enemies, and Severus — uh, the Nerevarine, uh, Nerevar — felt he needed to stay behind to support Lady Helsette."

Lady Volkihar frowned. "That is unhappy news. Has Revyn been recovered? Helsette recently birthed her child; is she not doing well?"

"Um, he's been rescued, but he hasn't recovered by the time we had to leave. And the lady had a hard delivery. She's still weak, and her husband getting captured and tortured didn't help her recovery."

"A pity no effort was made to soul-trap the perpetrators. I think, with the cooperation of Durnehviir, the Soul Cairn Dragon, we could have found them again for interrogation. Ah, and speaking of soul-trapping, I take it you would prefer grand white gems to power your ship's curious invisibility shield?"

"White gems will be plenty, thank you."

Curtis had talked about the Soul Cairn with Lady Serana. Her mother still went through the Soul Cairn door in her lab, although with much greater precaution because the self-crowned "Perfect Masters" were still pissed at her. There were innumerable volcanic-type vents in that world where one could fill any size of gem just by wedging them into the vents, waiting, and then pulling out filled gems. The Dragonborn had discovered that when she'd tripped on a vent while fighting a mistwalker, and the empty gems she'd had in a bag had burst open and fallen in. When she went back to collect them, they were full. The Soul Cairn Dragon explained much later to the Dragonborn and Serana that the lost souls they came across eventually decayed and were absorbed into the landscape until they were nothing more than wisps of energy, no longer even aware of having once been alive. Those, too, would degrade and disperse in time. A dead world couldn't use the energy, and no amount of stolen souls would revive it or the original inhabitants. Decay was the only continuing function. So the processed, homogenized energy pablum seeped out for the perfectly fossilized masters and empty white soul crystals to absorb.

Oh, and why are living souls so highly prized in the Soul Cairn? Flavor. A black soul gem trapped the highest nutritive value, but the flavor, the living essence, the prime cut, was filtered out. The sad shades of the black soul gems were only a shadow of flavor, just enough to frustratingly hint at life. They were crusty bits, burnt-up leftovers from the feast of life. Lady Vokihar, though technically undead, her soul was still in a "living" state, so rich in the umami of life.

"My lady, I can't help but wonder, in all the centuries you spent in the Soul Cairn — granted it was imprisoned in one spot — but, did you ever come across Falmer souls?"

"Ah. Yes, when I was first imprisoned. The area around was soon fenced off from the rest of the world. But, yes, there were a few. But I had no communication with those souls — it was not a priority for me — and they were absorbed long ago. A bitter mercy. When the Dwemer destroyed their minds, they became white souls, and they did not suffer long here.

"Hm, tell me," she asked, "did Serana or the Dragonborn tell you there are vampires in the sanctuary you are heading to?"

"Yeah, they did. Gelebor's own brother was the master vampire there."

"Not a master, but a lesser vampire. There is a difference," she said. "He was infected by another lesser vampire. To be a master, he would either have had to have Molag Bal's blessing or have drunk the blood of a master. He was a feral. How he retained his sanity and a measure of his powers was, ironically, due to his position as arch-curate of Auri-El with all the intrinsic blessings of the station. He was relatively sane. His loss of faith, however, allowed Molag Bal to warp his perceptions.

"All others you will find underground are feral, insane hungers. Among your first tasks should be to purge them. Ensure your own safety first of all, and grant them mercy as a second. Don't be shy about harvesting their souls. They won't even know they've gone to the Soul Cairn. It will just be another dark cave for them where their hunger will finally fade away.

"And this is not the time or place to try to reform the betrayed Falmer there. My daughter has written much about your experiment of reclamation — or is it redemption? In any case, let that remain a project in Winterhold."

"Yeah, I know," admitted Curtis with a deep sigh. "We don't have the resources here or a working methodology. We're still in the early stages of trying to get a viable seed program, and for that, we need a small, controlled group to experiment with."

"You sound very Dwemer," she said, amused.

"Do I? No insult, lady, but I'll say it takes one to know one."

Mouthing off to a master vampire was probably not a good idea.

Lady Volkihar gave him one sharp look, then slowly smiled. "Yes. You are correct that scientific detachment is not solely the trait of the Dwemer. I am told you run many experiments and projects, but none of them are idle reckless amusements. You are purposeful and have clear goals."

"You flatter me, my lady. I like to think I know what I'm doing, but I'm always happy to hear other opinions and facts just to keep me from overlooking potential trouble.

"So, um, if you don't mind, what do you research, my lady?"

After a few hours of listening, he said, "You know, you're lucky Hermaeus Mora was put in temporary lock-down by the time you got out of the Soul Cairn. I'm sure he'd be coming after you for your research notes. So, um, are you open to possibly a side research collaboration with me? Falmer-related stuff. It's inevitable we'll have to kill some in the Vale as we settle in, so plenty for dissection and experimental procedures. You got skills and concepts I don't dare propose to the Restorations school of Winterhold College 'cuz it goes right into the territory of necromancy. And I don't mind saying that those particular skills and concepts are ones I can't teach because I don't know them well enough to teach. I know only a fraction of the general concepts, but that isn't enough. You know, it's like me trying to explain the building of a crossbow by saying, 'it's a sharp stick that you put into this thing you crank up, and it goes 'thwup!'"

"Possibly. What exactly do you have in mind?" Lady Volkihar looked surprised and interested.

"Nothing exact yet. Um, I need to get my people to the sanctuary first. Once we get there and they're settled under Gelebor's care, I will need to head back to Winterhold to finish up or close down some projects there. But before I go to Winterhold, I'll drop by here with some proposals you can look over at your leisure. Sound good?"

She smiled warmly, "Yes, that sounds very intriguing."

Related 2nd Life story(s): #9 Tales in the Deep; #21 Krosis and a Kiss; #24 Blackreach; #28-29 Partial Recall

Related The Shopkeeper's Wife story(s): #37 Assassin p.6; #49 Show Me the Wayshrine; #50 Battling Shadows; #55 Assassin pt.4; #61 Fishwives