"When the Spires Fell- A song describing Dagon's attack on Mournhold
Thunder pealed and the sky split open wide
The beast arrived and he brought his fiends
Ripped a hole where the temple stood
But we refused to fall to our knees
The storms keep roiling overhead
And the beast stalks around outside
But as long as I stay in Wretched Spire
I can keep my hopes alive
Slammed down with a boom and a shriek
Clouds of dust filling our lungs
Crying gets you nowhere
Keep your heads down and hold your tongues
The storms keep roiling overhead
And the beast stalks around outside
But as long as I stay in Wretched Spire
I can keep my hopes alive
Let me tell you, wretched listener
Though this town may protect from strife
No one can say how long we'll last
Standing on the edge of life
The storms keep roiling overhead
And the beast stalks around outside
But as long as I stay in Wretched Spire
I can keep my hopes alive
The spire's bell no longer tolls
No answers found in any tome
Outcasts all, hiding from Dagon's sight
Praying we can find our way home"
Cura traipsed about the Deadlands for hours, battling the odd Dremora, Spider Daedra and Imp. She wondered where these things kept coming from, or perhaps they simply revived eternally and she found herself battling the same foes over and over.
She maneuvered through the lava-filled stone pond and caught the attention of a few Clannfears, who she managed to push into the lava with Mirabelle and Savos' aid with combined Lightning Balls.
Upon watching the lizardlike devils sink into the burning lake of fire, Cura wiped sweat off her brow. She took in her surroundings. A boundless, lava-filled, seemingly endless horizon stretched as far as the eye could see. "Is there no end to this place?"
Savos Aren scratched his chin. "We need to find someone down here who can send you to Coldharbour."
"Because that is so much more pleasant an alternative! I'm looking forward to it!" Cura threw up her hands humorously. She knew that it was a necessary evil, but she despised the idea of stepping into Molag Bal's dimension. Especially as weakened as she was now without the Dragonblood coursing through her spectral and physical veins both.
Mirabelle pondered for a moment, and then dismissed her own idea. "No, no... that's... that won't work. Will it?"
Cura had to ask. "What won't work?"
Mirabelle turned her attention to Savos. "Savos, do you remember a couple of months before the Eye of Magnus incident, when Urag received that strange book about Anatomancers?"
"Yes, of course! It was quite fascinating." The former Arch-Mage recalled with great splendor before noting Mirabelle's serious face and changing his tune. "Er, actually, not exactly. It is morbid. It seems something the Ayleids would have liked, in truth."
Cura nodded. "I've heard of that evil practice before. Brother Adalvald and Keeper Carcette warned me before of the Holy Pipers - a heretical separatist faction of the Vigil of Stendarr that gave their minds over to madness. Some Anatomancers were in their ranks. They use peoples' entrails to divine the future, the freaks."
Normally, the notion would have disgusted Cura, but she seemed to feel numb to it at this point, given all the grotesque things she'd encountered over the years. Once, that House in Markarth was the worst thing she'd seen; then, Castle Volkihar happened. These Anatomancers were puppies next to that.
Savos Aren looked at Mirabelle. "And they can also open portals to Oblivion realms. Small, short-lived ones, but portals just the same."
"There is one lurking in the Deadlands somewhere. Julianos is telling me this. But his location is unknown." Mirabelle explained.
Savos pointed to a large, crag-lined area in a darker corner of the Deadlands where it appeared to be a small settlement where Dremora seemed to be having a friendly sparring match with what appeared to be Humans. "You could ask someone there."
It was a breath of fresh air to see Dremora that weren't immediately on the attack against her kind. For the sake of preserving some peace, Cura hid her Amulet of Stendarr inside of her robes as she headed towards the settlement.
"Wretched Spire." the sign read.
Strangely, it was less wretched than the rest of this hellhole of a dimension. Cura saw what looked like a small tavern titled "The Splintered Tankard", wooden, destroyed and ruffled by the rough terrain surrounding it. It could barely qualify as what it portended to be. Still, Cura's weary soul lit up at the idea of some spirits to lift her spirits. She headed past the friendly sparring group and beelined for the inn.
The tavern owner was a blonde Imperial woman in a low-cut red dress in a style unseen for centuries. She looked miserable beyond measure and barely noticed Cura's entry on first glance.
Cura sympathized with the woman, and so elected to take care not to drag dirt on the floor boards. The interior looked less rough than the exterior. It would do better to keep it that way.
Over by the bar counter, Cura could see a couple of Dremora, as well as a figure in Blue Mage Robes akin to those of Skyrim. She had a mind to speak to them, but first, she would introduce herself to the Innkeeper.
Mirabelle and Savos seemed to have vanished, as well.
"Excuse me." Cura waved to the Innkeeper.
"Faltonia Rato." the Innkeeper said her name. "Faltonia Rato... Faltonia Rato? Yeah." she seemed to be reassuring herself as she regained her composure, leaning on her broom. "Welcome to the Splintered Tankard. Mortals, Dremora, even Scamps. I've made up rooms for them all. You'd be surprised at the sort of beings who stop here."
"I'm Vig-" before Cura could title herself, she quickly leapt around it for security reasons. "Er, you could call me Cura."
The figure in the blue mage robes seemed to flinch upon hearing the name, but did not turn around to look at her.
"Cura. What a nice, pleasant name." Faltonia mused on it. "It means 'Care' in my language. Do you? Do you care, Cura?"
Cura nodded. "I do. I'm sorry you're stuck down here. Would you like to talk about it?"
"Allow me to let you in on a secret … if you demand more of my time than is reasonable, you won't get through those doors the next time you come here." Faltonia threatened. "Anyway, time is money. If you're not going to buy anything, quit wasting both."
"What do you have available?" Cura asked as she took a seat beside the hooded figure.
"Let's see..." Faltonia walked over behind the counter and began to sift through the beverages. "Did you know this was once the city of Mournhold? Hmm? We were pulled in here... back in... the First Era. Yes."
"Gods..." Cura shuddered. "That's... a long time ago."
"We have an Argonian Bloodwine, but I don't think that would suit your sensibilities..." Faltonia muttered as she looked through her cabinet.
"At this point I think I'd chug a Sujamma, honestly." Cura scoffed.
"Okay, fine. Though we have no Sujamma. Just the Bloodwine. But I know you won't like this. Not someone like you. It's Bloodwine. Argonian Bloodwine." the austere innkeeper repeated.
"So?" Cura knew of the beverage on Nirn. It was just alcohol.
One of the Dremora laughed and faced Cura. His pale face was the very picture of intimidation, but he seemed a tad lighthearted. "Made from real Argonian." He began to laugh as Cura's face slowly sunk with disgust.
"No... you can't be serious." Cura figured he was just pulling her leg.
"Rynkyus is just kidding." the mage in blue robes scoffed as the Dremora continued to laugh. When she turned to face Cura, the young Breton's heart was hit with a bolt of lightning and her veins froze.
"Madena?! Jarl Skald's Court Wizard?!" Cura asked.
Madena took a sip of wine and nodded. She then cleared her throat. "Yes, it's me. Look, Faltonia was playing with you. They have Alto Wine as well here."
Cura felt a whirlpool of emotions: sadness, confusion, disturbance, anger, and pity. "Why? How? When? Who did this to you?"
Madena refused to say. She simply poured a glass of her own beverage in a spare mug and slid it over to Cura. "What does it matter? I'm stuck here, and now Skald is probably walking around like a headless chicken."
"Oh... he's been out of The Pale for a month and a few weeks now." Cura told her. "He was forced to surrender to the Empire as part of a treaty agreement between the Empire and the Stormcloaks. I oversaw the agreement."
"You, Cura? Huh. I'm impressed." It was a lot to take in, but Madena was glad it was done peacefully at the end of the day.
"I... guess a Mythic Dawn member killed you and now you're stuck here like me?" Cura wondered.
Madena was hesitant to respond. A visible sadness kept her head down to her drink. "It doesn't matter now, Cura. None of it does."
"Mortals in the Deadlands exist only at Mehrunes Dagon's sufferance. They grovel in his cult, toil as his slaves, or skulk and hide in places such as this in the hope he will forget about them." Rynkyus said as he took a deep drink of his beverage.
Cura was upset by his words. "Why do you think so little of mortals?"
"The few I have seen are foolish, weak, or mad. There is no alliance with such creatures that would benefit my clan. Some Dremora see value in studying the doings of your kind, but not I." Rynkyus put it simply.
"And the Dremora I've met are violent, wicked, and soulless. I suppose I shouldn't bother talking to you, then." Cura brusquely snubbed the Daedra and gently touched Madena's shoulder. "It does matter, Madena. Please, tell me how this happened."
Rynkyus was surprised by her reaction, to say the least. And somewhat intrigued by this bold mortal who would insult a mighty Dremora like so.
Madena's hand shook around the mug gripped tightly in it. Tears began to bitterly flow down the curve of her cheeks as the feeling of betrayal nested in her again. "Silus. I was a fool. I defended him for years! I thought he was different. I..."
"Silus? You mean Silus Vesuius?" Cura asked. "Well, he was suspected by the Vigil for a while, so that doesn't surprise me, honestly."
"I thought the Vigil was doing what it always did; branded anyone it didn't like as a Daedra worshipper. I... I didn't want them to kill him. I thought he deserved better than to be branded based on who his ancestors were." Madena waved it off as her spirit's breath grew short. "Looks like they were right, and I was wrong. How many people have died now because I was wrong?"
Cura embraced the older Breton, who was covering her weeping face in shame. "It's not your fault! There was no way you could have known!"
Faltonia filled another mug with some Alto Wine. "Here, this ought to help you some. Drink it all away." She slid it across the bar to Madena.
Rynkyus looked at the mortals beside him and seemed to show a look of pity. Strange, for his kind. Though, he stifled that quickly and resumed his drink.
Weak mortals, he told himself. Though, the more he studied Cura, he could see that she's been through her share of battles. The scars on her left cheek told many interesting stories, and her substitute arm was something else, entirely. She seemed a weakling with her bleeding heart, but looking at her told another tale.
"Some say Mehrunes Dagon ripped a chunk out of Nirn and tossed it into his own realm. That this chunk became the pitiful settlement known as Wretched Spire. A good story, if you like that sort of thing. I just appreciate that it exists for the Bladebearers to utilize." Rynkyus stated, altering the subject. "Been here at the inn for a very long time. Faltonia makes some strong stuff down here."
"And I've only gotten better in eternity." Faltonia shrugged sardonically. The nonchalance she displayed to her predicament was concerning in and of itself.
"Have you really been here since the First Era?" Cura asked.
"Yes. We all have." Faltonia sighed. "It's not ideal, but the Dremora tolerate us as long as we're useful. And Rynkyus tolerates us. I think it's because he likes my alcohol."
Madena was miserable. She closed her eyes and took a firm drink. "I deserve to be here, Cura... but you don't. You shouldn't be trapped in here."
"Don't worry; after a decade you won't care anymore. Once you realize this is all there will ever be, you fit in a place for yourself and that's all there is to it." Faltonia began to wipe a drinking mug. Cura wondered if this woman even remembered what the skies of Nirn looked like at this point. Would it be in poor taste to ask her?
Cura shook her head. "I will find a way out of here. You know that there is an open portal to Nirn right now, right? Mehrunes Dagon is attacking Tamriel yet again."
"Fuck!" Madena slammed her fist down on the bar counter. "Silus! What have you done?!"
Cura furrowed her brows. "Look, I know we're not in the best afterlife and all, but language, please."
Madena stared at her for a few moments before her thoughts, scrambled by wine, came to fruition. "Look, Cura. Do you really think anyone here cares about decency? About kindness? About pleasantness?"
"She does." Faltonia gestured to Cura with a nudge of her face. "Look, love. In this realm, coldness and cruelty is a matter of survival. Don't let them think you're weak. That's the only kind advice I'll give you."
Cura looked around her. "Thank you very much, for the advice."
"See? There you go. You really can't help yourself, can you?" Faltonia disparaged her courtesy.
Rynkyus laughed aloud as he took a final swing of his wine. He pulled himself up from his seat. "You know what, mortal? Go and rest up, and then come see me at the sparring grounds outside. I want to see just how weak you are." He headed out the door.
Cura was a tad confused, and a lot concerned. "...Was it something I said?"
"Yes. Yes, it was." Madena expressed irritation to her obliviousness.
Cura wasn't Dragonborn anymore, and something told her Rynkyus meant to do more than just spat with her - perhaps he intended to kill her!
But he was right, she needed to rest for a while. Fighting and roaming is all she'd done since even before her death some time ago. Was it days? Weeks ago? She couldn't say for certain. There was no time in this realm.
"Show me a rest area." Cura requested.
Faltonia slung her washcloth over her shoulder and walked over to the door nearby, and led Cura to a dusty old room with a bed and an endtable. "Here." as she watched Cura settle onto the old mattress, she gestured to the area surrounding them. "This place used to be a wreck. You should have seen the state of the floorboards were in! But I fixed it up properly and now look at it. It's the best inn in Wretched Spire. Only inn, too."
Cura could see that. She was tempted to politely thank her for showing her the way to the room, but decided against it. This was, after all, the Deadlands.
Carcette lifted herself up out of the water as the storm of battle raged on the mountains above and then receded. She had lost her Warhammer in the fight with the Dremora legion and her Daedric horse was killed by the fall. The terrain was steep: perhaps a result of the earthquake caused by the Portal in the east.
As soon as the fight left her vicinity, she felt a sudden wave of tiredness overshadow her.
The words of Jyggalag came to mind: To compensate, it slowly saps the life of the wearer.
In that last fight she overdid it. As she took a step forward, dizziness clenched her head and she fell unconscious into the water.
Not long after, a little girl came upon the small lake, emerging from a hidden grove with a satchel, searching for Nirnroot.
The child was brunette, with short hair, and wore a foreign outfit: a green Bretonic-styled dress with a fur scarf and a floppy hat that obscured some of her face. She had red stripes painted on her left cheek. The girl cautiously began to gather the rare shrub up from the waterside when she noticed the gray-clad warrior in the water.
The child dropped her basket and hurriedly ran through the wooden doors hidden in the mountain wall.
Kynesgrove was quiet as it almost usually was, and farmers were checking their fields innocently enough. Sadly, misfortune was on its way to their doorstep. Vilja pulled in on her carriage and the people looked at her with strange glances. What was this all about? murmurs sounded among the populace.
As soon as Vilja pulled onto the main road, she called out to the workers. "Everyone! Gather your families and your animals! You must go to Windhelm! Come with me!"
A stern-looking man turned up. "Windhelm? Why in Oblivion would we do that? My squashes are just about ready to harvest! Ain't no way am I leavin' them here for some Bandits to pilfer!"
"An' Steamscorch Mine is our livelihood! We ain't running from nothing." one of the miners blathered.
"Fine, don't leave. It's not our problem if the horde of angry Dremoras come and flatten this little settlement." Vilja made her horse continue to strut through the narrow road as she snubbed him.
One of the settlement owners, an Imperial woman called Ganna Uriel. She raised her hand to flag Vilja. "Ex-excuse me. Did you say 'Dremoras?'"
"I did." Vilja assured her.
"She's telling the truth! They just attacked our home in Shor's Stone! It's up in flames!" Sylgja shouted angrily. She worried about her mother and how she was faring in battle. She periodically looked over her right shoulder to see through the night-shrouded horizon for any signs of the group.
Filnjar confirmed it. "They're vicious and bloodthirsty - but not the fastest. Prepare your things, and run!"
"They wouldn't dare come here, would they?" Gemma, Ganna's younger sister asked as she joined her elder. "This is Kynesgrove. Isn't Kynareth's sacred protection on this place or something?"
Ganna shook her head. "Well, not since we started cutting down the damned trees, if you believe the Nords."
Vilja pointed north. "Get your carriages, all of you, and hurry to Windhelm. Anyone who can fit, get inside my carriage! We have to hurry!"
The stubborn miner hacked some spit up. "This is just absurd! There's no way we're gonna be attacked by Dremora! The Oblivion Crisis ended- "
Before he could finish speaking, the vague sound of thunder was beginning to emerge from the valleys below, from where Vilja came. An eerie red glow luminated the darkness of the night, signaling an approaching host off in the horizon.
"Kynareth save us!" one of the Nord civilians cried as she rushed into her house to grab her children.
The others scrambled to tie horses to carriages and the farmhands quickly packed the ripe squashes from the soil.
Children were led to the carriages with haste, and Ganna and Gemma hurried onto Vilja's carriage with the local mage and tavern owner with them.
Thankfully, Vilja could identify the host coming up the mountains not as Daedra, but as Inigo and the others riding stolen Daedric Horses.
"My friends! You're okay!" Vilja yelled aloud to Inigo. Though her eyes fanned over to Lucien, who waved to her.
"We have to move! We managed to slow them down, but we have to get out of here!" Inigo shouted.
"Windhelm is an hour away." Delphine stated. "I don't know how Ulfric's gonna feel about us knocking on the door like this."
"Too bad for him! He will have to like it if he wants his people to live." Inigo growled.
Annekke gripped her broken arm and looked at the carriage. From within Darkeethus' arms she saw Sylgja looking at her almost immediately and forced a reassuring smile for her. She couldn't hide the fracture, unfortunately.
Darkeethus seemed barely lucid, himself. He managed to stop the bleeding, but his impaled wound was wearing him down. Erik kept a close watch on him.
Marcurio held the reins of Mjoll's horse for a time until she awoke from her concussion. She expressed her gratitude to the Imperial for preventing her from succumbing to something worse along the way.
They'd barely escaped that hairy encounter with their lives. They owed their continued breath to the great Dragon, Paarthurnax. A fact Delphine had difficulty accepting. And yet, it happened. Her life was saved by a Dragon. The very one she had her eyes and weapons set on. It was maddening.
Vilja looked at the rugged terrain ahead. "I hope we can make it..." she kicked Bruse with her heels, and the horse began to mobilize, and the others followed. This was not the Skyrim experience she'd expected upon leaving Solstheim.
Carcette slowly opened her eye as the warm environment set in. She stirred from her fatigue and looked around her.
She was in a small cabin, by the looks of it. There were two beds in the room: the one she rested on and the other adjacent to it. There was an alchemy lab and dining area, and some book shelves and end tables. A modest space.
Carcette touched her face. No helmet.
She looked down.
No armour.
She was wearing a fresh set of clothes - much like those native to Wayrest. It was a modest blue dress cut around the shoulders with puffed white laced sleeves. She lifted the collar immediately to her nose and was graced with the familiar scent of the oils used on fabrics back home.
No sooner did she do this than she heard the voice of a little girl.
"Mommy! Mommy! She's awake!"
The little girl was peeking in from the entrance and came flying over to her bedside.
Carcette decided to be cordial. "Oh, hello there, little one."
The girl was gleeful hearing her voice. "I'm Lilian. I'm an alchemist. Someday I'll be a great alchemist like my mom!"
Carcette tilted her head. An Alchemist in a secluded shack? She slowly sat upright. "Your mom is an Alchemist?"
"Yeah, mommy is an alchemist! Her medicine is so good, she became famous in Wayrest!" The girl proudly declared.
Wayrest.
The word sat on her mind. She came from Bhoriane, within the kingdom of Wayrest. Bhoriane, the county of Stendarr. Memories conjured the image of beautiful rolling green hills and beautiful woodwork and stone masonry. The scent of wine filled the air from the basements of houses and trees stretched over pointed-roofed houses.
Carcette smiled at the girl. "Really? I come from Wayrest, too. It was a beautiful place."
"I knew it as soon as I saw your face! You look like you come from our homeland! Not like the creepy Bretons here in Skyrim." the girl laughed. She was, of course, referring to the Daedra-worshipping savages in the Reach.
"I see you're alone here... do you have a father?" Carcette surmised that the mother must be out tending the garden or doing laundry.
"My daddy is very strong. He's the best swordsman in Wayrest! But he hasn't been feeling well for a long time. Mommy says daddy is sick. So we're making a potion to cure him!" Lilian declared innocently.
It was reasonable enough, but if he wasn't well, shouldn't he be lying down here? "Why do you live in this place?" Carcette gestured to the shack around them. It was too small for a family of three, and she hoped this wasn't where they actually lived.
"We were traveling to find a cure for my daddy's sickness. But we got the door slammed in our faces everywhere as soon as they saw my daddy... But a nice old lady was very kind to us. She gave us this house and sometimes she brings me sweets!" Lilian took a sweetroll out of her pocket with her gloved hand and showed it off.
Carcette furrowed her brows. A shack in the middle of gods-know-where, and an old lady with a private Alchemy lab. It sounded suspicious, but it could be innocent as well. "Who is that old lady?"
Her old Vigilant instincts were kicking in.
"Well, she always wears pointy hats. And she brings us sweets and herbs. She shows mommy how to make medicine, but I still don't understand. It looks very difficult..." the young one's description was beginning to sound very witch like.
Carcette slowly stood up. She saw the Armour of the Bastion leaning against the nearby wall, and her clothes lain out on the dresser. "How long have I been here?"
"A day!" Lilian told her.
Kynesgrove!
Carcette's heart skipped a beat. Did the others make it there? She had to move to Windhelm and slay the vampires under the city!
Lilian took Carcette's hand cheerfully and made a light friendly cooing sound. "I want you to meet mommy! I'm sure you'll be fast friends! She got you out of the water, but we had to take that heavy armour off first."
Carcette noticed her Amulet of Stendarr gently laced on the neck guard of the armour and touched the horn of Stendarr. "Do you know about the Vigilants of Stendarr?" she asked the girl.
Lilian smiled from ear to ear and enthusiastically reached under her fur scarf and pulled out a Breton Amulet of Stendarr - its chain made of pearls and the charm being a Chalice instead of a Drinking Horn. Carcette missed that old design. She'd nearly forgotten what it looked like back home, and touching the Chalice evoked a sense of nostalgia. "I know about Stendarr. I have his amulet!"
Carcette showed the girl her own. "This is how they look in Skyrim. The High Vigil was thinking about making the horn the official symbol of Stendarr, noting his humble beginnings as Stuhn. Some people prefer the Chalice of Mercy, however."
Lilian looked down at the Amulet in her hands. "Well, I know he loves us anyway!"
"He?"
"Stendarr!" the girl said with a laugh. She then grabbed Carcette's hand. "Come! Let's go outside!"
Carcette chuckled warmly as she was lead by the child outside into the misty swamp. A sudden chill crept up her back from the tree nearby, but when she turned to look, she saw nothing.
In the garden nearby, a young woman was picking herbs from a garden. She wore a green hood and dress, again in the Breton fashion. She appeared to resemble a Pilgrim of sorts. Perhaps word of Cura's deed really had attracted people from all around.
In a way, she reminded Carcette of her own mother when she was young. The sight was uncanny and nostalgic.
"Mommy! Mommy! The Breton lady is awake!" Lilian dragged Carcette over.
The woman turned around to see her with a gentle smile. "Are you all right?"
"I suppose so." Carcette wondered that herself. The situation was uncanny. "My name is Carcette. It's nice to meet you."
"My name is Carene." the woman slowly stood up from the garden and shook her hand. "I'll admit, I didn't expect Lilian to find a knight collapsed in the pond outside... I'd assumed at first that it was-"
"Her father?" Carcette asked.
Carene fell silent and glared at her daughter, displeased by her loose lips. She sighed and nodded, defeated before she even began. "Yes, her father."
"What are you doing here? This place is a little off the beaten path. Locations like these aren't safe." Carcette wondered about their surroundings.
"I'm preparing medicine. I make my living with alchemy." Carene excused.
Carcette was curious. "Where did you learn alchemy?"
"From a Glenmoril witch..." Carene grew nervous as soon as she said it and watched Carcette's expression shift to one of mild aversion. "But don't think I liked being around her. I'm just desperate to solve a curse plaguing my husband..."
That did it. "A curse?"
Carene began to sob lightly. "He... I don't know what's happened. He's not himself anymore. He's become so violent... so angry... ever since he found that sword..."
"A sword? What kind of sword?"
Maybe it was fate that brought their paths together. Carcette felt Lilian clench her arm and lean on her.
"I've... I've said too much." Carene covered her mouth.
"Is it connected to Molag Bal?" Carcette asked. She recalled hearing of a sword that could corrupt the soul of any who touched it, granted by the Daedric Prince of Domination. Similar in nature to the Cursed Mace that caused the virtuous Melus Petilius to stumble.
"Just who are you?" Carene snapped. She was tense before, but the uncanny amount of knowledge really began to concern her.
Carcette smiled sincerely and extended a hand for a shake. "I am Carcette, former Keeper of the Vigil of Stendarr."
Then everything changed.
"Oh, no! Run, Lilian, run! Run away! Quickly!" Carene shouted, her eyes wild with terror.
The little girl released Carcette and shrieked loudly, flying off into the mist-shrouded swamp.
"No! Wait! I can explain!" Carcette cried out as she reached for the girl.
"You're not going to kill us! I won't let you!" Carene wailed as she shot an ice spike at Carcette. The former Vigilant was a tad slow and still worn from her last confrontation with the Daedric army, and took the ice spike in the left thigh.
"Gah!" Carcette staggered and pulled the spike out of her leg. She then cast a Ward to block the next few and cast a Healing Spell on herself. "What's the matter with you?! I'm not here to harm you - you brought me here!"
Tears streaked down the frightened woman's face. "It... it was a mistake! I should have left you to die! N-now if you get away you're going to tell them where we are and they're going to kill us!"
Carcette had no illusions that the other Vigilants would turn the other way upon learning that they were allied with a Glenmoril witch and her husband was influenced by Molag Bal. However, Carcette's heart was different now.
After blocking a few more futile ice spikes, Carcette spoke up again. "I swear upon my honour as a former Vigilant and Priestess; I will not hurt you or your daughter."
Carene realized the futility of her weaker magic and stopped her onslaught. She was no fighter. "F-former?" She slowly backed away.
Carcette lowered her ward. "I lost somebody close to me recently and left the Vigil. I promise that I will not tear your family to pieces."
Carene snapped out of her frightened stupour. "You..."
Then a shriek came from the fog.
"Lilian!" Carene cried out as she rushed over the set path and into the swamp water. "Lilian?"
Carcette hurried too upon hearing the girl's scream. Her heart was heavy; an anchor holding her to the earth. "Lilian?"
She remembered that time, so long ago...
When Cura and she were en route to Dawnstar and Cura strayed into the forest, and was attacked by a vicious Saber cat. Carcette narrowly managed to save her young life then and there.
[Author's Note: This is a reference to the second chapter in the story - A Gift of Providence Part 2]
Lilian lay face-down in the water some distance away.
"Lilian!" Carene wailed as she rushed up to the girl.
Carcette's heart stopped for a second and she rushed into the water to pull the child out. The girl was pushed face-down into the water, by the looks of it. There was no time to waste. Carcette quickly brought the child out of the water.
Carene began to wail and panic as the child was unable to breathe.
Carcette quickly laid the girl on the grass and began to try and resuscitate her there as the world darkened around them. A faint memory came to her of a time long ago, and yet not so far gone, where she had rescued a drowned and wounded Lucien in the underground lake beneath Castle Volkihar.
"Please! Please help her!"
Carcette breathed into the girl's mouth and compressed her chest.
"Lilian! Oh, Lilian!"
Carcette continued to push and push and push.
"Stendarr have mercy!" Carene wailed with horror as she clasped her hands together and pressed her forehead on them.
With one great push, the child gagged and began to hack up water. Carcette gently turned the girl over to her side and allowed her to cough up the water.
Carcette sat upright and moved her hair from her eyes. She exhaled deeply. The girl would be all right.
When Lilian slowly came to, her mother took her into a firm embrace, crying tears of joy. She was alive! Her daughter was alive!
Carcette slowly stood up and tried to dust some wet grass off the dress she was wearing.
"Th-thank you. Thank you so much!" Carene expressed her gratitude.
Carcette nodded serenely. Then a cold gust of dark, smoky wind passed through her and through the surrounding area, materializing before the large tree beside the small house.
The women gasped together and Carcette immediately stood protectively between the mother and child, and the threat before them.
She may no longer be a Vigilant, but she was still a Paladin, damn it!
When the shadow took its final shape, it was an old Hagraven in a pointy violet witch hat and shredded, obscenely revealing robes.
Carcette bit her lower lip and glared at her with the Justice of Stendarr. "You... you're the witch."
"Reyda." the Hagraven grunted. "A Glenmoril witch. Ivarstead is mine. All people and beasts here belong to me."
Carcette looked at Carene and Lilian, and then returned to the witch. "Why is this family here? I don't dare presume you took them in by the kindness of your black heart."
"They were driven from their home because of a cursed sword. Cruel, right? So the kindly witch decided to help them with this shelter until they get rid of the curse." Reyda spat. "
"Who is your master?" the former Vigilant demanded to know. Was it Hircine?
"Well, it could be anyone, right? A witch will open her legs for anyone if she's promised power, ha ha ha." Reyda laughed.
"You serve Molag Bal, don't you?" Carcette could just feel the evil brewing in her. Given what Jyggalag told her, she knew the Prince of Rape was most likely hiding in smaller corners.
"Now, that's hard to say. I dance with another every day. I play hard to get, ha ha ha!" Reyda laughed.
Lilian hugged her mother. "M-mommy, I'm scared."
Carcette looked to the child fiercely. "Don't worry; I will protect you."
With what hammer? With what armour? She'd just realized her weapon and armour were inside of the house. There was no time to run inside and get it. She had to use what she could.
Magic. She was a Breton, after all. It was their forté.
Author's Note: "VIGILANT OST: V.S. Witch Reyda" for this fight! ;)
The gnarled witch laughed in her dark and raspy voice. "I'll kill the lot of you and throw you in a stewing pot." She said with fiendish delight, pointing a long, clawed finger at the mother and child.
"You'll need teeth if you want to eat us." Carcette taunted her boldly, taking a page out of Inigo's book.
At times like this, she regretted studying almost exclusively in Restoration. She only knew some rudimentary spells in other schools save for Alteration.
She stared down the enemy and spoke to Carene and Lilian. "Inside, now! Both of you!"
The mother and daughter hurried to the door and Carcette sidestepped along, keeping herself between them and the witch until they were safely indoors.
The air was cold and biting, and the Hagraven even more so. The avian witch wiped some snow off her crooked nose and flicked it aside. "You think you're so righteous, serving that senile old fool, Stendarr... but even you have cheated on him! You reek of Daedric influence! Tell me, which one did you open your legs for? Was it Boethiah? Mephala? No, no... Sheogorath? Hmm... no, you're too dull..."
Carcette was flustered, and more than a little disgusted. "I would never! Vile creature!"
"Jyggalag, then. How does it feel, holy woman? How does it feel, dipping your toes in the water of Daedra worship? KekekekekeHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Reyda laughed hysterically. "You are apostate - just like I am. Your god curses you! You're finished!"
If it was intended to make Carcette angry, it was working. The Breton Paladin could barely hold her rage back as the cackling witch taunted her.
Reyda saw it, clear as day. "Your eye is as cold as ice, but under that thick ice the flame of hatred burns."
Carcette clamped her teeth together and dual-casted Flames onto the witch.
Reyda winced with pain and quickly teleported to her roof, perching out of reach as the flames sputtered out. "Do you still believe in the Old Fool? Has there ever been any righteousness in the world? Ever if it ever has been, then why would the innocent suffer and the wicked prosper?"
"Evil only prospers when good men and women do nothing!" Carcette tossed a fireball at her and immediately charged another.
The witch teleported again, behind Carcette. She swiped her back with her dastardly bird-like claws, cutting into her flesh.
"You're just like the Old Fool. Oh, you're making me thrilled. I can't wait to gouge out your other eye and display it on my shelf."
Carcette turned around to punch her, but the Hagraven leapt backwards and cast a Shock Rune on the ground, causing Carcette to get electrified. Once stunned, she was smacked down to the ground with a vicious downward punch.
When Carcette hit the ground, the memory of her Aunt returned on the face of the Hagraven.
"Because you like to be pollinated by Jyggalag, I have a surprise for you, my dear." Reyda summoned several green, amphibious Daedric creatures from the depths of the swamp: froglike Grummites wielding swords in hand.
Daedra borne of the Shivering Isles: the realm of Sheogorath.
This was deliberate mockery - but one that would cost Carcette dearly. She began to look around, seeing no way out. The witch charged a couple of Firebolts and fired them, hitting her directly.
Carcette resisted the spells due to her Bretonic heritage, and quickly activated her Dragonskin. The Grummites lunged for her and began to hack and slash at her, surrounding the Paladin from all sides.
Carcette kept herself alive with a continuous healing spell, which was sustained by the magicka her Dragonskin was magnanimously granting her from Reyda's onslaught of magickal attacks.
Jyggalag, I need aid! I'm surrounded! Carcette thought to herself as her Dragonskin was beginning to crack under the pressure.
Reyda laughed aloud and continued to bombard her, showing little to no regard for the Grummites in her onslaught. "HAHAHA! Is it too much? You will die here, and I will offer your soul to Molag Bal! I will carve Sheogorath's face onto your naked body and hang you on a pike outside my overlook!"
Suddenly, everything came to a halt as a gray portal opened from above. A figure descended from the air and dropped down atop the first Grummite, impaling it through the back with a long silver blade.
The figure was a knight in gray armour with a red eye slit on his visor and a long white plume hanging from the helmet. The armour was crystalline, much like the Armour of the Bastion, but more flat in its design, and had curved spikes riding the elbow and knee guards.
I send you Laza of Order. He will grant you an opening. Retrieve my armour and your warhammer. came the voice of Jyggalag from above.
Reyda backed away, very alarmed by the sight of the brutal knight. "Laza!"
As soon as Carcette found an opening through the whirling carnage, she broke for the house. Reyda tossed a fireball at her, but missed and hit the house by mistake. The wood immediately took to kindling. "NO!"
Laza quickly dashed for the witch, and drove his sword into her stomach. "Hrrraaagh!" He then tore it out to swing it through an attacking Grummite, felling the beast in one swing.
Carcette hurried into the shack and scrambled to mount her armour. She spoke to Carene and Lilian. "I'm going to get you out of here. Don't worry."
The warrior said no word. Not a sound escaped his throat. He simply cut and carved and cleaved and hacked through the amphibians until the last laid in the red-stained grass.
Then a light rain began to fall and he looked back at the house, fire now doused by the rain. With a swing of his sword, he cut open a portal and entered it, and then vanished.
When Carcette emerged, warhammer gripped tightly in her hands, with the girl and her mother, she expected a bit of a fight, but was instead hit by the sight of slaughter. The Grummites had been entirely annihilated. The witch Reyda was dead, bleeding out on the dirt path. Light rainfall luminated by moonlight above came down on all of it, like the tears of Kynareth.
A boat rested at the small wharf nearby, held in place, tied by a rope. Lilian and Carene followed Carcette's footsteps through the lukewarm breeze.
"Was it true, what the witch said? Are you... a Daedra-worshipper?" Carene asked Carcette as they crossed the wharf and got on the spare rowboat. The woman felt great unease at this, but it was nothing compared to her fear of the Vigilants.
Carcette looked up into the teal-hued rainy skies above and pondered it, herself. She prayed to Jyggalag in her desperate moment, and the Daedric Prince actually answered her. Not just with words, but with action. It was more than she'd ever expected. Sitting silently, Carcette removed the Helmet of the Bastion and laid it on the seat beside her. She faced Carene and Lilian, who sat directly in front of her.
There were so many questions, and so many conflicting emotions. But now was not the time to ponder such things.
This was a grotto, and a river that should lead to the upper half of the Darkwater River, which would lead north to Windhelm by the White River and River Yorgrim interchange.
Lilian was sobbing. The experience had left the little girl more than a little shaken. She clung to her mother, who was gently soothing her with her arm around the frightened child.
Carcette gently wiped a tear from Lilian's cheek. "It's okay now. You're going to be all right. Something very bad is coming to Skyrim, but I'm going to bring you to a city with lots of people where there are big stone walls and strong soldiers like your daddy to protect you."
Carene liked the idea of having a safer place to dwell within. The alchemist raised her hood over her head once more. "Yes, I think that's a good idea. Thank you, Carcette. Thank you for saving my Lilian... and me. I'm so sorry I misjudged you."
Carcette closed her eye and loosed the rope from the wharf and brought it into the boat. "Don't mention it, Cura." she said absent-mindedly as she began to row with the oars. The boat began to move along the water.
Carene was baffled for a moment. "Carene."
"Hm?"
"My name is Carene, not Cura."
Carcette felt a wave of embarrassment take her as she continued to row in intervals. "Oh... yes. Yes, of course. I apologize."
As they moved downstream, a gentle, howling wind blew through them and kissed the surface of the water.
Under the dim moonlight and under the fog, the shape of the hood and its dark colours under the sky gave off the illusion of her beloved Cura. In that brief moment, an ephemeral second in time, though she was with two other people, Carcette couldn't have felt more alone.
