Cura, Rynkyus and the other Bladebearers led the people through the arid wasteland and located the portal Cura had mentioned.
Faven gasped and hurried to her side. "By the gods! You were right!" he turned back to the others, who were ogling the hosts of dead Daedra Cura had left in her trail, and some were very impressed. "There is a portal! Everyone! We're free! We're free!"
Valkyn Methats and his battalion was gone from the area, and that concerned Cura. She didn't expect them to linger forever, but this can only mean they've reached the other side already.
Thankfully, she had the solace of knowing her friends were doing well. Her heart was still warm with the brief conversation they had from both sides of existence. She hoped Lucien would contact her again.
Cura went down on her knees and clasped her hands together in steadfast prayer. "Stendarr... Meridia... Mara... Azura... Arkay... Talos... because I cannot guide them past this point, I leave the fate of these poor people in your hands. Guide them to safety and protect them from Dagon. I ask this in intercession as Cura, your faithful servant."
As she finished praying she stood upright and stood a doorman at the portal. "Okay, everyone - I want you to listen carefully. Rynkyus and the Bladebearers are going to lead you to the northwest, to the city of Windhelm. From there, you are going to meet my friend Inigo the Brave - a blue Khajiit with a gruff look and a heart of gold, and my father, Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. I don't know how he will respond to your arrival, but Inigo should help smoothe it out."
"Understood." Tarvyn Indoril acknowledged firmly. He took one look at his father, who was their acting mayor for many centuries, before and even after he was killed. "I... I suppose this is it, then, Father. Azura guide you to her realm." the Dunmer blessed his father sadly.
Faven embraced his son tightly. "My son, I will look for you there when you finally fall to time. Live your new life to the fullest and make every minute count. On Nirn, life is mercifully short."
Stighelm massaged his shoulder. "I can't wait to see this new Skyrim! Sounds like an interesting place!"
Faltonia walked up beside him. "Though I don't think they'll take too kindly to me, though. According to Cura, we Imperials aren't well-liked these days."
Ninette Gestor stepped up. "And what's this I heard about magic being hated? Cultureless fops! Don't they know how essential Conjuration can be?"
Cura had to wonder if she was related to Phinis Gestor in some way - or perhaps the name was coincidental.
Sunel Tharyon came up beside her. "I don't like the idea of going to this 'Windhelm' place. I don't wanna be shoved into the 'Gray Quarter.'"
A few other Dunmer citizens agreed.
"Well, Winterhold is an option." Cura reassured them. "It used to be full of Dunmer and Nords coexisting together before the Great Collapse. Now it's mostly desolate, but if you're willing to rebuild, I don't think they'd complain if you all moved in. They even have a beautiful Statue of Azura overlooking the land on the mountains."
She thought the citizens of Wretched Spire would make an excellent addition to that poor old city. It needed life, and they needed a place to live. A perfect fit, all things considered.
"Kynareth light your way, fellow traveler." Decanus Statlilia, an Imperial commoner in a green tunic wished Cura, knowing their local hero was readying to part ways.
"You as well." Cura smiled. "I hope you'll settle into Skyrim well."
Decanus ogled Cura's Amulet of Stendarr and felt nostalgic as he recalled his mission in life. "I wanted to see all the holy sites of the Divines, but there are those who take offense to visitors. I pray to Stendarr and the mercy he is known for that I will be able to resume my journey. If that is not his will, then so be it."
"You will." Cura assured him. "If you are unable to complete your pilgrimage in life, then may you be able to meet the Divines in person."
"You are very kind. Thank you. For everything." Decanus bowed his head.
Cura marvelled at the many slain Daedra littering the barren field. She then looked at Savos and Mirabelle. She was very thankful for their help.
Things could have gone much uglier had they not been with her. Martin as well, wherever he was now.
Rynkyus extended his hand for a shake, and Cura took it. "We part ways for now, mortal, but if you require my aid, simply summon me."
Cura nodded. "I will. Thank you." A part of her had apprehension towards thanking a Dremora, but she figured it was only proper. And Rynkyus wasn't the same as Valkyn Methats and Valkyn Gatanas.
Perhaps she ought to look at the Dremora the way she looked at the Dragons: there were diamonds in the rough.
"Listen here, mortals!" Lyranth stated. "Beyond this portal may be Lord Mehrunes Dagon himself. We will descend this mountain with caution and stick to the crags. Hopefully we will go undetected."
"If he sees us we're all dead. If we stay here we're all dead. Guess we don't have much of a choice." Stighelm accounted the situation.
Tarvyn swallowed hard. The cold air seeping in from the portal to Skyrim was a familiar air unfelt for eons. He looked at Rynkyus and the Bladebearers, and then at Cura, who gave a friendly nod before sticking his left hand through the vortex of energy. Then he took heart and pushed himself through, disappearing on the other side.
It was his first breath of freedom. As he stepped onto the stone tiles of the ruined temple, he was greeted with the sight of a collapsed roof and dead Mythic Dawn Cultists - Vonos and Enakain rotting among them.
"So, that's the one who killed Cura, I think." Tarvyn wondered to himself as he looked at Vonos. In a twisted sort of way, he had to thank this fiend, because Cura gave him and the others their freedom because he killed her.
He could see the gray skies overhead, though these were not natural skies - there was great power in those whirling clouds above.
The power was not Dragon's, however, but of another Daedric Prince; Jyggalag.
Rynkyus came through the portal next, with the other Bladebearers, and they ushered the civilians through, one by one.
All forty of them were crowded in the open ruins, and could see the autumn Riften forest far off in the distance and the white lands of Eastmarch further still.
"Wow... it... it's so beautiful. Look at all these colours!" Faltonia gasped upon seeing the Rift from so high up.
Sunel stepped over the rubble and took in the cool air. "The air is so fresh... and cold!"
The dead among them seemingly vanished upon exiting the portal, going to their respective afterlives.
A Redguard, Loudinda, stood next to Faltonia. "You're gonna still be making drinks, right? I'll be a sad Horker if you just quit now."
"Let's survive the voyage first. Then we'll see what's what." the innkeeper responded.
Madena looked at Cura back inside the Deadlands, and watched the portal intently. She was uncertain of what to do. "If I go through there I'll be a wandering soul, I guess."
Mirabelle crossed her arms as she watched the hesitant display from a few feet away. "Where does your soul desire to go?"
"Back to Nirn." Madena confessed. "Especially now that I know there's an impostor in Dawnstar. I can't let Jarl Brina be killed by a fake me!"
"Unfortunately you have no body to return to." Savos Aren regrettably informed her. "And even if you did, the spiritual link has been severed more than a year ago."
Madena seemed disheartened. "So there is nothing I can do." Indeed, there were no real Conjurers in Dawnstar, especially since the Vigil of Stendarr was effectively down the road. Most would never dare attempt such magic with them around. Unfortunately, a Conjurer would be her best option; they would be able to communicate with her.
Savos Aren had an idea. "Go to the College of Winterhold and try to communicate with the Breton Phinis Gestor. He is our Conjuration Professor, and Winterhold is not far from Dawnstar. They could send aid."
Cura agreed. She nodded, seconding the notion. For most of her life she'd been taught that Conjuration was evil; a school of magic for the wicked. Serana had proven her views on it misguided when it came time to access the Soul Cairn, and Phinis Gestor taught her how to bind Atronachs and even some Daedra should she need them. It had its uses, though she would hesitate demonstrating it before other Vigilants, herself.
Conjuration could be used for good or evil, and so could Restoration, as Colette Marence had demonstrated during her first lesson demonstration with Lucien in the Hall of Elements.
When it came down to it, Cura was a rarity in the organization. Most of the Vigilants were very close-minded when it came to subjects that they had clear, defined stances on. Regardless of whether or not the stances were rooted in truth.
But regardless, Cura owed all she was, and all she loved to the Vigil of Stendarr. She would never forget her humble beginnings as a child being taught and cared for by them. There were far worse beginnings she could have had.
Madena asked Cura for her opinion. "Do you... think it will work?"
"What about the Augur of Dunlain?" Cura asked Savos. "She could certainly communicate with him - or maybe use his power to make herself manifest on the college grounds."
"Ah, yes. I hadn't considered that. Excellent suggestion, Cura!" the former Arch-Mage conceded. He updated his declaration. "Use the Augur's energy instead - draw from it, and show yourself to the College's Master Wizard, Tolfdir. Explain everything that's transpired."
Madena understood and accepted her mission steadfastly. "Right. I'll do just that. And when I'm out there, there's someone else I want to locate..." anger dripped from her tongue like venom. She returned to Cura and tapped her on the right arm. "It's not going to be an easy journey for you, Cura. If you really intend to go to Coldharbour, I can't even imagine the suffering you're going to endure... but I wish you the best of luck. I really mean that."
The former Court Wizard looked at her with a mix of pity and nostalgia. "You were always a good girl, Cura. You didn't deserve any of this. I'm sorry life dealt you such a terrible hand."
Cura was speechless at first. She felt the sentiment. In fact, she'd wrestled with her fate enough for the past few years. "I just take the advice a good friend once gave me: I keep moving forward. No matter what happens."
"Even in death." Madena observed. "Your resolve is quite impressive. You never seem to give up, do you?"
Cura smiled. "I learned that from the Vigilants."
Madena stood before the portal now, and her back was turned to Cura. She took one last look at the Breton and smiled. "It's a good trait. Don't ever lose it." She put one foot past the threshold and disappeared out of the portal.
Cura stood under the dark skies with Savos and Mirabelle and gazed at the portal. If she passed through it she could return to Nirn easily, though incomplete.
Was Inigo okay? Lucien? Vilja? Carcette? Serana? Anybody?
She saw them only for a brief moment, but still she worried for their fates.
The hollow roar of the Doom Strider echoed throughout the lands as it chugged through the lava, waiting its turn to wreak havoc on Tamriel.
"So, are you finally ready to seek out the Sacred Anatomancer, or is there a Scamp with an injured foot you'd like to help first?" Mirabelle remarked snidely.
Cura dusted off her robes. "Yes. I will find him - I plan to begin with that black tower, on the cliff over there." she pointed off in the distance to a large stronghold with a horned roof and sharp architecture with two smaller towers connected to it that sat atop a large cliff surrounded by a lake of lava. "If I were a dark sorcerer of sorts, I think a fortified, black tower would be the first place I'd hide in."
Savos Aren laughed. "Well, it's not entirely wrong; but it's an assumption just the same. There are still Dremora guarding that tower, though. It's not the best idea to barge in on them on a mere suspicion."
Mirabelle agreed. "Yes - it would be very foolish. This isn't the case of the Torc of Labyrinthian - none of us know where this fool could be. It's another matter entirely."
Cura sat upon a rock and took some time to relax her mind. It was foolhardy, rushing into a fortified fortress where the Anatomancer may not even be. If only there was a way to locate him...
Then the idea hit her: Detect Life! Of course! If he were alive, she hoped, his life signature would shine like a blue light and be seen through crags and walls. And if that didn't work, she could try Detect Dead to locate his soul. Attempting it revealed herself in a purple light, as well as Mirabelle and Savos, so she knew it worked.
"So, you think to Detect his life force? Hmm. Clever. Very clever!" Savos Aren remarked, quite impressed by her initiative. "It warms my heart as the former Arch-Mage to see such innovation from our students."
Cura cast Detect Life and held it for a few seconds - she saw nothing so far. Then she cast Detect Dead and the landscape lit up like a marketplace during Saturalia.
The things that littered the landscape - resembling much blood-coloured bags of distorted flesh turned inwards were people! A great shock struck Cura and she nearly lost her footing. She pointed at it and could only choke on her words. She'd seen the grotesque already; this was something else entirely.
"The Punished." Martin Septim emerged from behind a rock and exposited. "These are humans who found themselves on Dagon's ire."
Cura was baffled. She looked inside of the fleshy pod and saw there was a set of green clothes, resembling much the attire worn by Cyrodiilic nobles, from what she'd seen illsutrated. Perhaps from the time of the Oblivion Crisis. Whatever did they do to deserve such a horrific punishment?
"There is nothing you can do for them, Cura. They've been this way for hundreds of years." Martin informed her regretfully.
Finding her words, Cura cleared her throat. "Right... it's just... I wouldn't wish this on anybody. Not even Vonos. Let's keep moving." She walked alongside the former Emperor and was followed by the former Arch-Mage and former Master Wizard, who kept a diligent watch on the landscape behind them.
On the mountainside, Rynkyus and the Bladebearers immediately located Mehrunes Dagon on the landscape; the Daedric Prince was with a platoon of Dremora, led by the infamous Valkyn Methats, and they overlooked the plains leading to Windhelm.
"There he is. Mehrunes Dagon." Lyranth spat. "We will have to maneuver carefully so as not to draw his attention."
They could see the orange glow of fire to the direct west. Shor's Stone could be seen from their vantage point, and the town was utterly consumed with fire. The homes were left in ruin and the mine was collapsed by fallen stone. The corpses of Dremora littered the ground, and Rynkyus presumed that may have been the work of Cura's allies.
It was intriguing, to think that Humans were capable of such a feat.
Mehrunes Dagon and his minions angrily thrashed against an invisible forcefield upon spotting the refugees from afar. The forcefield that bound them appeared to be coming down from the gray skies above. They continued to attack and batter against the light.
"Run! Quickly! Now, while you still can!" Rynkyus shouted as he lead the charge down the mountainside. The people, under the protection of the Bladebearers, began to rush down the rough stones into the freezing air.
"RYNKYUUUUS! YOU TRAITOR! I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOUR PAST TRANSGRESSIONS! YOU WILL MEET YOUR END WHEN THE DOOM STRIDER LANDS! I SHALL CRUSH YOU WITH ALL OPPOSITION." came Mehrunes' thundering voice from above.
Rynkyus narrowed his eyes and located some upturned carriages with detached wheels. "Mortals - fix the wheels on those carriages and we shall ride from here to the north."
The stablemaster quickly hurried with a few other men from the Spire and they quickly began to fit the wheels back on. It was clear these carriages were once used to transport ore, but were likely disrupted during the grand battle that occurred.
If only they could have seen Inigo and the Skyguard at work!
Mehrunes Dagon watched them from above. He could very well have slammed his foot down on the cliff's edge where he stood and caused some boulders to fall upon them, but he was more intrigued by the display of mortals and Dremora working together and the thought did not immediately cross his dark mind.
Once the carriages were up and running, Daedric Horses were summoned and bound to the carriages and the people wasted no time in sandwiching themselves onto the long carts.
Rynkyus and the Bladebearers lead the way forward and they left the burning township of Shor's Stone and the watchful eye of Mehrunes Dagon behind and followed the stone path north in a mad rush.
Stendarr's Beacon seemed empty outside, as Vigilants had run to the Dawnguard to enlist their aid in battling the Dremora horses to come.
A vagrant knight walked through the snow up the mountainside like a shambled corpse, dragging a long, black thin-bladed sword with an emblazoned head of Molag Bal at the crossguard behind him as he grunted and seethed like a feral animal.
His Bretonic armour was in tatters and caked in dry blood and he shuffled onwards, hunched forward as he pulled himself along.
"Kill... hack... destroy..." he grunted through gritted teeth as he pushed open the door to head down into the Beacon.
Cura's body lay still in the bed and the familiar face of Vigilant Emma was watching over her with others.
"She looks so peaceful. It's strange, considering the horrific manner which she died." Vigilant Emma remarked pitifully.
Cura's eyes were closed and her face soft and still. Her skin was pale, but well-preserved. Not a hair had fallen out of her head, nor a flake of dust fallen from her face.
We're it not for the coldness of her flesh, one would be forgiven for assuming her to be asleep.
"You know, I have heard of such a thing before... some holy people whose bodies look alive to this very day; preserved by Divine power. Incorruptible by time." one of the other Vigilants, Vigilant Cedric, remarked.
"But to actually see the phenomenon... wow." another Vigilant, Vigilant Stefan mused.
The three of them heard the sound of a door opening and closing from the stairwell above. And then a scraping sound, metal against stone, snaking louder and louder as a dark figure approached, dragging it along the wall.
They knew it was bad news. Vigilant Cedric and Vigilant Stefan immediately stood up to face the interloper. "Who are you? What are you doing down here?"
The vagrant grunted in response and heaved the sword over his shoulder, and brought it down in a diagonal swing, cleaving Cedric's upper torso in half. His soul was forcefully dragged out of his body in violet energy and drawn into the malignant blade.
Vigilant Emma screamed with horror as the lower half of her comrade hit the floor and spilled its contents onto the stones. His upper half hit the ground backwards and looked up to the ceiling with vacant eyes.
Vigilant Stefan drew his mace quickly and cast Stoneflesh on himself. "You're gonna regret that, you bastard! Never should have come here!"
He leapt at the fiend and his mace met the Cursed Greatsword. He ducked under a horizontal swing and leaped over a low-sweeping follow-up swing.
"Why are you attacking us?" Vigilant Emma cried out with great fear.
"I'm only doing my job. Is that a good enough reason for you?" the vagrant growled as he thrust the Cursed Greatsword forward and drilled right through Stefan's Stoneflesh. He violently twisted the sword five times with great, blurring speed, and the blade exited through the Vigilant's back. Gore splattered the wall behind him and his soul burst forth in violet energy and was pulled into the Cursed Greatsword.
"Stefan! No!" Emma cried out.
Then the cold realization hit her that she was next. The young Imperial woman fearfully backed up and the vagrant slowly walked towards her.
He looked more a demon than a man.
Vigilant Emma looked at Cura in the bed. And then at the beast before her.
He was here for Cura's body!
Emma grabbed a plate off the nearby endtable and tossed it at the vagrant. He continued walking forward as it shattered on his helm.
Emma continued to panic as she stumbled further and further back, past Cura's bed.
The demonic knight passed Cura's bed, as well. His eyes were set instead on the frightened obstacle before him. There was almost a perverse joy he was taking in her slaughter.
In truth, Vigilant Emma was a mere Bookkeeper in the Beacon. She was not the greatest fighter in the Vigil, even among their standards.
"Help! Somebody! Please!" Vigilant Emma wailed with horror, seeing nobody but the lifeless bodies of her coworkers strewn about like shredded dolls.
She continued to try and draw distance between them, even leaping over a bed. The dark Knight brought his sword down into the bed, cleaving it in half vertically.
"Death has come." the vagrant warrior snarled as he drove Emma, crying into a corner. An Armourer's workbench to her left, a wall to her right and back.
The only way out was to leap the workbench and fall a solid twelve feet down onto the hard wooden walkway.
The knight scraped his sword along the lower part of the wall, dragging it behind him as he lumbered closer and closer to her.
Vigilant Emma took a chance and flung herself over the workbench and dropped to the floor below. A loud crunching noise was heard as her left shoulder snapped out of place.
The warrior simply turned around and descended the stairs as she clenched herself to soothe the searing pain that rung through her.
It was no use. The pain was so great. Vigilant Emma tried to lift herself back up, but she couldn't manage to get back onto her feet.
Her feet slipped and slid as she tried earnestly to get up and run. The bottoms of her boots were sticky with the blood of her friends, and unable to grip the floor.
"HELP ME, SOMEBODY! CURA!" she cried out in instinctual horror as the knight approached with the Greatsword slung over his shoulder.
"You cry too much." the sadistic brute stated when he closed the distance between them. He readied the blade to drop down on her, and Vigilant Emma tucked her face into her chest and on the floor, bracing for the end; a helpless kitten under the maw of a rabid dog.
Suddenly, a crossbow bolt flew through the air and pierced him through the back of his helmet, halting the killer in his tracks. He stood there, stunned and contorted with the sword clasped tight in his hands.
Isran stood at the base of the entrance stairs with a crossbow gripped tightly in two hands. He shifted a hand into his pouch and mounted another bolt. "Step away from the girl. Now." the Redguard growled sternly.
Emma's soft weeps were the only sound in the air at that moment.
The knight turned around and stared at Isran, who was now joined by Sorine, Gunmar, and Florentius.
They gasped at the sight of the massacre.
Florentius looked at the Cursed Greatsword. "Molag Bal! That is a sword cursed by the Daedric Prince of Domination."
The knight removed the helmet that his his face, and he was revealed to be a Nord with Bretonic features and tied back silver hair. He had a tattoo that looked like two lines running from his left cheek down his jaw. His eyes were wild and glowing red, and the crossbow bolt was sticking out through his forehead, effectively having gone through his skull. He discarded the helmet, throwing it to the side. It was useless now, anyway.
Blood ran down his face like a waterfall and his body twitched lightly. He could barely hold the sword in his shaking hand. And yet he stood.
"Bal wants her body... in pieces..." he fixed his gaze onto Cura, and a twinge of sorrow came upon his face. "I... I have to do it. I... don't want to..." he looked back at Emma. "But you... you Vigilants... you just... you won't leave us alone!"
"Who are you?!" Gunmar demanded sternly.
"T-T..." the man sputtered before the sword glowed red, forcing his arms up. "TARANIS OF WAYREST!" He brought the sword down at the terrified Vigilant on the floor, but Isran was quicker.
He fired a bolt through his neck, and Gunmar through his left arm, and Sorine through the back on his knee.
With a great thud, Taranis hit the floor beside Emma brutally and blood pooled around him. The young Vigilant shrieked and forced herself backwards.
"I... I'm... so sorry..." Taranis grunted sadly. "I'm sorry, Carene... I'm sorry, sweet Lilian..." with one final gag, blood spurted up from his throat and his face collapsed to the floor. Violet energy burst from him and went into the red Stone in the eye of the Molag Bal crossguard of the Cursed Greatsword.
His soul was trapped.
The room grew still, and Emma's crying grew louder. Florentius Baenius ran to the living Vigilant's aid and began to heal her injured shoulder.
Vigilant Emma was greatly shaken, and she wept for Cedric and Stefan. "He-he killed them both! They're damned to Coldharbour!" she wailed hysterically and covered her face.
Florentius gently comforted her in his arms. "Arkay will see to it that they will find peace... and Stendarr will see them avenged. Of this you have my word, and his."
Isran looked at the carnage and his nose curled with disgust. "The Vigil is going to shit again, it seems. Where the hell is Keeper Carcette?"
Vigilant Emma shrugged and shook her head. "She... she quit days ago... when - when Cura's body was - was brought i-in."
"She WHAT?" Sorine asked.
"Quit."
Sorine and Gunmar stared at each other blankly. "Wasn't she at the Hall a few days ago? Cura's body was brought here to the Beacon. Did she Fast Travel here?" the timeline didn't seem to add up. News couldn't have reached the Pale that quickly for her to know and immediately quit that same day. She had to have been at the Beacon.
Isran caught on immediately. "Hmm. I don't like it. There's something dirty in Skyrim." he thought further. "And with these Mythic Dawn clowns everywhere..."
Gunmar spoke up. "You don't think..."
"Arkay says the false Carcette is dead. She died the same day as Cura. The Mythic Dawn priestess Enakain was her true identity." Florentius said with grizzly accuracy as he seemed to be spacing out. "In the Velothi Mountains... northeast of here. And now..." he paused for a moment and listened to the air. "And now Cura is helping people escape the Deadlands from the open portal..."
"What are you blathering about? Cura is right there." Isran pointed at her husk laying in the bed.
"Yes, and no, and maybe." Florentius said. "Her soul wanders Mehrunes Dragon's realm, and her body lies here, divorced from one another, yet still linked. 'Tis the work of the Daedric Prince Meridia that keeps it so. With her power over life forces, she keeps the body and soul tethered. Arkay would normally be angered, but he is willing to make an exception in Cura's case."
Isran looked at the dead Taranis and pointed at the Cursed Greatsword. "All I know is that Mehrunes Dagon isn't the only threat around. This is the work of Molag Bal. Father of those scum-sucking vampires." he quickly turned to Vigilant Emma. "You there. I take it you know how to open the vault? Is there nobody else here?"
Emma nodded fearfully. "Yes... it's just me. Before it was the three of us and some Rift patrols... but..."
"We're locking this gods-forsaken thing away. For good." Isran proclaimed.
"I don't think it'd be a good idea to touch it." Gunmar pointed out. "You saw how it took control of that Taranis fellow. Could be one of us next."
Isran grunted with frustration and looked at the sword, still clasped in Taranis' right hand. Then he had an idea. The Dawnguard leader pulled an ebony dagger from his waist and brought it to the man's arm. He began to saw, and after some time he cleaved the hand off by the forearm, still clasping the sword.
"Here, you cowards. Open the damn vault." Isran ordered as he lifted the sword using Taranis' severed arm as an extension.
Sorine and Gunmar were unsurprised that Isran would resort to such an extreme measure, but Florentius and Vigilant Emma were horrified.
When the Dawnguard leader approached the vault, Vigilant Emma, with trembling hands unlocked the vault and pried it open. Without a moment's hesitation, Isran tossed the confounded weapon into the vault, where it would remain with the Staff of Ruunvald, the Ring of Hircine, the Mace of Molag Bal, Azura's Star, and the Staff of Magnus.
"We're caught in the middle of a Daedric war for dominance. And I don't think Molag Bal intends to lose." Isran declared. He addressed Emma directly. "You say the others went out into the fields?"
"Yes; an army of Dremora escaped from a portal Northwest, closer to Shor's Stone. They plan to -"
"Morons. What do they think they can do alone? You Vigilants are always leaping first and looking after." Isran slapped himself in the forehead.
"We're doing all that we can! We need your help; not your criticism, Isran!" the generally sweet Vigilant Emma grew cross with him, surprising everyone in the room. She was still shaken, but disturbed and angered enough to lash out.
There was much more at stake here. This was no mere excursion; this was war in the making. A second Oblivion Crisis, as it were. They could not afford to be poking each other when they had to work against such a meticulous legion.
"Yes, you're right." Isran conceded as he stepped away from the vault and wiped the dust from his palms. "We'll lend whatever help we can; we'll help the Vigil of Stendarr hold down the Rift." He was still in disbelief that Carcette would step down as Keeper so suddenly, though looking at Cura's corpse made him understand why. It must have been the last straw.
Gunmar, Sorine and Florentius agreed. The Dawnguard would have their backs. Weapons, armour, men, whatever was needed. They would beat down the Daedra and keep them from the southern hold.
Vigilant Emma looked at the body of Taranis and found a couple of letters that had fallen from his pouch: a letter from Carene, and a letter from Lilian.
She read the first aloud.
"Dear Taranis,
you wrote in your last letter that you found someone who can lift the curse, but somehow I have a bad feeling about this. Promise me you'll be careful.
PS. Lilian made you a crown of flowers. I pray you will return to us before the flowers wither.
-Carene"
Vigilant Emma's fingers were twitching, so she nearly dropped the letter. Was this someone close to him? Did she dare read the second letter?
"Dear Papa,
I made a crown of flowers for you today. I think of you every minute. Please, find a cure soon and come back to is.
-Lilian"
A profound sadness crept upon the Vigilant. This man had a family waiting for him, but a Daedric Sword drove him to madness. Fate truly was cruel. She pocketed the letters and readied herself to give her allies a dignified burial with Florentius.
She looked at Cura, who lay in the bed. Someone wanted her body hacked in pieces, but why? Who would want such a thing?
Carene sat within the Candlehearth hall at the crowded bar area, and had just received a light Ale from Elda Early-Dawn. She seemed to be rereading a letter from her husband, given some time ago.
"Dear Carene,
I have good news. I met a Conjuration master who will be able to release me from the sword's curse. I only have to do one job for her and she will do it. I never thought the day will come when I will be able to live with you and our daughter again. Glory to the Eight Divines.
-Taranis"
A tear beaded in the corner of the woman's eyes as she poured over the text once more, taking in the handwriting. She wiped the tear away, but it persisted, joined by others. She immediately flinched and caught her composure once Vilja's voice came in loud from behind her.
"I know it's a rough time, but you'll be all right! We are doing our best, sweetie. I promise it will be okay!" Vilja tried her best to comfort the scared Lilian with a gentle hug.
Candlehearth Hall was more crowded now than it has ever been. The miners from Shor's Stone, the Skyguard, and the citizens of Kynesgrove were all packed into this mid-sized tavern and the area surrounding it. Beds were full and there was hardly much space to move around within.
Elda's hands were tied, trying to accommodate so many new people. Some not even from their hold.
Nils, the chef, was running about with trays of food. They were fortunate enough to have had a blessed harvest this year - as if Kynareth were preparing them for the coming madness.
Delphine wiped some sweat off her brow. "Who would have thought I'd be doing work at an inn again?" she mused with a scoff as she ushered people from the entrance doors. She had lead the search on them, and the people checked out as normal civilians. The other Skyguard members were having some rest and relaxation after the tough battles and rough travel.
Vilja was doing her best to help the proprietress tend to the large number of people, as she could see Elda was quickly becoming overwhelmed. She was sorting people into rooms and to specific seats to allow for rest. The injured took priority in finding beds to lie in.
Elda pointed to the room on the far left side of the Inn and smiled to Vilja. "Did you know the Dragonborn once slept in that room, over there? She shared a room with her cat friend. I should be charging these people triple the amount to sleep in that bed. Old Hroldan has Hjalti - Talos, I have Cura. The half-Elf." Her tone sounded less than thrilled, it seemed.
Vilja gave Lilian a piggyback ride. "What's wrong with half-Elves?"
Carene looked up from the bar and glared at Elda. Delphine, who was also lending a hand at the inn, looked at her with intrigue, waiting to see how she would respond to that inqusition.
"Oh, no - don't get me wrong; Cura was a good girl - she solved a huge problem we had in this city. I ain't got any issues with her. Nor the Bretons... it's more, well, look at history between us an' the elves. It's not pretty." Elda tried to salvage her point.
"Fair point." Delphine conceded.
Lilian tapped Vilja on the shoulder. "Who is Cura? I heard Carcette call mommy that by accident. Was she someone important?"
"She was a friend of mine, and the hero of Skyrim. The Dragonborn and a Vigilant of Stendarr. And Thane of multiple holds! And Companion! And the daughter of - er - yeah! Very important, she was!" Vilja explained with pride. "She defeated the bad Dragon Alduin and saved the souls of the land!"
Carene sat upright. "I heard of that. My husband, Taranis... he came to Skyrim to find Stendarr's Dragon. He thought she could help him, but... she died."
"What's wrong with your husband? Does he need a healer?" Elda asked as she cleaned off another tankard that was left dirty on her counter and placed it on the service tray. She filled it with Ale and rang a handheld bell. Nils poked his head out from the cooking room and waved a single finger to gesture one minute.
"It's... a long story." Carene spoke with reticence. "But I suppose I have time."
Vilja let Lilian down and the little girl reached inside of her dress pocket and showed off a wreath of flowers she had woven together. "I can't wait to see daddy again! I made this for him!" The flowers were dry, and losing their colour. A petal fell off of one of the blue ones and dropped to the floor, a husk. "Oh... maybe I'll need to make a new one! Then maybe he'll come back! Yeah! But where can I find flowers? It's cold and stony around here."
"There's a little girl named Sophie, girl's an orphan sells flowers by the city gate down the stairs. Around your age, I think. Maybe you can make some flower crowns for everyone!" Elda cordially informed her.
"I-is it safe for her to go out there?" Carene grew concerned immediately.
"Lady, this is Windhelm. We're very family-oriented folk here. I swear by Talos, nobody would hurt a little girl. Just keep her away from the Gray Quarter. Never know with those damned Dark Elves." Elda spat with disdain.
"Can I go, mommy?" Lilian asked desperately. She looked down at the dry flowers again and a look of helplessness washed her face.
"Well... I don't know -"
Vilja stepped up to volunteer. "I'll go with her; I promise I'll keep her out of harm's way."
"You would? Thank you. Please, don't be gone for too long." Carene requested simply.
"Of course! We'll be back very quickly! Come on, Lilian! Let's go find that flower girl!" Vilja headed to the door and the calm little girl followed after her.
Delphine grit her teeth. "Gods, you could tell she's new to Skyrim. Here, 'Flower girl' has a very different meaning."
Sylgja sat with her mother Annekke in the second room, also accompanied by Filnjar, Roggi Knot-Beard, Kjeld and Kjeld the Younger, and Dravynea the Stoneweaver, the mage of Kynesgrove. To call the room 'crowded' was an understatement. Sylgja sat on the bed where her injured mother was lying down, out of her Blades armour.
Other people from Kynesgrove, including the founders, and other miners were packed in the hallway outside the door. Darkeethus was lying down, recovering from his injuries in the neighbouring room, surrounded by Erik, Marcurio, Cosnach and Stenvar, who was normally a patron of this very inn.
Esbern sat upstairs with other civilians and listened to the Dunmer Bard performing a song for everyone there. It was an old, but familiar tune. It had become especially popular over the last couple of years, and even the Dark Elves found themselves singing it from time to time.
"Our hero, our hero, claims a warriors heart
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes
With a voice wielding power of the ancient nord arts
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes
It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes
Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes
For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows
You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborns come
Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin
Naal ok zin los vahriin
Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal
Ahrk fin norok paal graan
Fod nust hon zindro zaan
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal"
A few people clapped, but Grogmar gro-Burzag, the orc miner from Shor's Stone spat a loud "Bah!" over the applause. When Esbern turned to look at him, he elaborated further. "Nobody's gonna save us! The Dragonborn's dead! Just stop."
Esbern scoffed. "What would you recommend instead? 'Dremora Never Die?' I understand that the current situation is not ideal, but if we start thinking like that we may as well throw ourselves off the bridge and spare them the trouble of slaying us!"
The Bard, Luaffyn, raised her hand. "If it's really an issue, I can play other songs that I know."
Esbern was all in for it. "Of course, my dear. Choose any song you'd like. Anything to take the tenseness out of the air for a bit."
Luaffyn nodded and repositioned her lute. She gave it a moment's thought, and decided to go with the most inspiring tune she knew.
"Step light, stride far,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
To glory days and triumphant nights,
March on through your bloody fight!
Sing proud, sound roars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Raise voices in courageous cheers,
Give those heathens cause for fear!
Stand tall, spoil wars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Best their warriors by the score,
Take a bow and best a dozen more!
Set bones, sum scars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Wear the badge of those who lead,
A few new nicks as proof of deeds!
Stand tall, spoil wars,
O ye Buoyant Armigers,
Best their warriors by the score,
Take a bow and best a dozen more!"
Elda came pushing past the people blocking the stairs. "Luaffyn, stop with that bleatin'! You wanna sing songs of Morrowind, you do it at the Cornerclub! I don't pay ya to-"
Esbern was calm, but still spoke in the woman's defense. "Pardon me, Elda, but I find no fault in it. It's okay to hear something new every now and then."
Elda stared at him as she took in his words, one at a time, and then looked at the Bard, and at the other patrons, Nord and otherwise, who seemed to have no reservations against it either. "Oh... well, then. Carry on."
In the cold, snow-coated alleys, Vilja walked with Lilian, holding the little girl's hand. She looked up above at the two moons; Masser and Secunda, who hung above their world behind a veil of northern light, behind the gray clouds. "Wow, I can see the moons tonight- the gray skies are getting thinner."
The girl was silent, but continued to walk.
"So... you must really like to make flower wreaths, huh? When I was your age I liked to play music!" Vilja laughed lightheartedly. "Art is such a great way to express your creativity - whether it's music or flower arranging -"
Lilian seemed to be crying, though it took Vilja a moment to realize it. "What's wrong, Lilian?" she asked the frightened little girl, who was looking at the dead flowers.
"He's gone. I just know it." the girl wept as the bindings came off and the dry flowers collapsed to the cold, stone floor. "Daddy is gone."
"You don't know that -"
"I do... it's... it's Breton magic." Lilian confessed. "In Wayrest, we use our family member's hair with a rope to bind some of the pretty flowers - as long as the flowers are tied it means they're okay." she gestured to the mess on the floor. "Papa is gone... he's gone..." she began to sob and covered her face.
Vilja looked at the mess on the floor and took the girl into her arms as the girl began to cry louder. "I'm so sorry..." she sympathized as the child wept against her chest. Her sobs filled the cold night air, rising like a dreadful mist. After this, Vilja had nothing to say; she would instead offer comfort to the girl, and listen.
The pair never ended up looking for Sophie, but instead walked to the Cornerclub, where Vilja bought a Sweetroll for the girl and the two of them walked back to the Candlehearth Hall.
