An Elders Scrolls Fan Based Novel - The Heir to the Lokken Kingdom

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Parts One and Two combined as the intended Novel
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A work inspired by Morrowind Modders and their Mods

The Heir to the Lokken Kingdom

By Eric Dana Vaughan

Fan fiction inspired by The White Wolf of Lokken

Based on the characters by Bethesda, Emma and Grumpy, Neoptolemus, and the terrain by Teutonic

With notable nods to items by soticoto, antiscamp, The LGNPC Team, Fandorn Delavie, Bad Karma, Korana, and others I’m sure.

 

 

 

Prologue

 

 

 

     Deep beneath the winding inactive volcano, a great rumbling was heard that still invoked fear to all that heard it.  It reverberated over the sharp brown and black stone dotted here and there with even sharper shards of volcanic glass obsidian.

     A cloaked, lone, acolyte weaved his way along the narrow path holding a gilt scroll from the emissaries of the Daedra prince Mehrunes Dagon.  The scroll casing was a thing of nightmares, seemingly made to remind the messenger of the sadistic nature of its author.  Red and black spines wrapped about a cylindrical gold case made gripping it difficult, and painful.  Seemingly this was its intent.

    

     Da Nan’Rin flexed his toe-claws on the stone steps with purpose.  He hoped that his noisy entrance would wake the sleeping Tosh Raka, their great Tiger Dragon emperor ahead of time.  It had been known to all Ka Po’Tun that waking Tosh Raka from slumber came at a cost of him devouring the annoyance.  Da Nan’Rin possessed the armor of all protectorate Ka Po’Tun warriors.  A wild assemblage of fanged and clawed images interlocked into a ferocious scene, terrifying and beautiful at the same time.  There, guards wore red and yellow, whilst their commanders wore black and green.  Each shoulder of those in command bore a spike, which protruded menacingly from it, arcing backwards over their head.  On closer observation, this spike was really a discarded Dragon’s tooth, its size giving the imagination all manner of reasons to fear.

 

     Reaching the end of the steps, a narrow stone walkway gave way to a rim that surrounded the chasm where Tosh Raka slumbered.  As Da Nan’Rin approached, he purposely kicked a rock over the edge loudly as one last attempt to prevent an unfortunate demise…his own.

 

With a great roar, that shook the pebbles and rocks underfoot, Tosh Raka yawned and spat a ball of fire to the sky above him.  He scratched at the ground with great, sharp, black claws and flexed his wings in a stretch.  Great leathery orange and black things, mottled here and there with stripes that resembled the tiger cat that it used to be.  When he spoke, it sounded as if thunder itself tried to talk to the world.

 

     “There was no need for the rock, I heard you descend the moment you arrived.”

 

Da Nan’Rin relaxed, but barely.  He was raised to never trust Gods and Dragons, and that went doubly so when they were mixed together.

 

     “My most humblest of apologies venerable one.  It is only due to the message I bear that I would even dare to wake the great Tosh Raka from his slumber.  It appears that the Daedra wish an audience with the most magnificent one.”

 

Tosh Raka yawned again, as deafening as before but spared the night sky the fireball.  He seemed interested, but barely.  Da Nan’Rin counted his blessings that he wasn’t annoyed.  Perhaps he might live to see tomorrow after all.

 

     “The Daedra?  Ha!  Which one now?  The poet?  The lover?  The hunter?  BAH!  Why would these Gods and Demigods entertain the thought that I would care one breath of their ridiculous plans and schemes?  Which one Acolyte?”

 

     “Mehrunes Dagon, your most venerable.”

 

Tosh Raka scratched the folds of scales at his chin.  Mehrunes Dagon?  This could be interesting, since he had not heard from this one in many an age.  Weighing the odds, Tosh Raka decided that there is never any harm in at least listening to a good lie or story.

Both, he reasoned, have the capacity to entertain.

 

     “Proceed with your message, Acolyte.  This might prove to be amusing.”

 

Da Nan’Rin removed the scroll cap and punctured his hand.  The blood dripped down his hand and arm as he raised the cylinder and placed two long claws into the tube, withdrawing the scroll.  It had been a long time since he read Daedric anything, wishing that Mehrunes Dagon had the style of the Goddess Azura.  She at least sent her Winged Twilight whose unusual voice sounded both melodic, and memorable.  Unrolling the scroll, he wiped his bloody hand on his armor and dropped the offending cylinder to the floor.

 

“Most powerful and venerated Tosh Raka, Tiger-Dragon of Ka Po’Tun and ruler of the skies and lands of Akavir.  I beg this indulgence of your time, to hear my wisdom.

 

Long are the days since Man and Mer walked upon your lands, and the half-men Snake leeches of the Tsaesci have been banished to travel the seas and invade the isles of the goblinoid.  We have watched as these thinking insects have profaned our memories, defiled our lands, and spread across the world and planes with their incessant evolution.

 

It has come to my attention, through interference from those lesser beings of my own kind, that these insects have even slain their own God-Kings, and have even gone so far as to unite all of their inferior and wild races into a cohesive force.  I have neither fear nor belief that these insignificant creatures can harm us directly, but the fight that they have just won over Dagoth Ur and the God-Kings proves that they are unpredictable, if not wholly blasphemous. 

 

There seems to be a focal character, influenced by legend that seems to have garnered the support if not whole help from the Daedra Lord Azura, the supposed reincarnation of Lord Nerevar.  These ignorant creatures have taken to calling him by their sagas and legends, the “Nerevarine”.  I have sent scores of followers and have even helped Dagoth Ur indirectly with beings and magic to thwart this illegitimate upstart.  By either divine intervention or pure luck, he has managed to escape my grasp, but perhaps I can lure him out with a plan of subterfuge, and perhaps, you can help me with this.

I plan a series of staged attacks directly from my realm on Oblivion, where I will raise several portals at first in remote areas to force armies and gentry to thin out their resources.  From these portals I shall unleash my minions and most loyal followers to lay waste to any and all in their path.  Eventually, I will at an appointed time attack the entire focal point of their strength, the Imperial City of Cyrodiil.  Unrest has already begun because I have set about rumor and half-truths about the Imperial family, and there are factions of the denizens of the shadows that have and will be instrumental.  As we speak, the Imperial legions as well as some of their citizens have left Vvardenfell, on their way back to Cyrodiil.  The Ghostgate is down, a result of this upstart’s supposed victory, but this works in my favor by allowing movement unhindered by this obstacle.

 

Where your help would be most appreciated, would be in perhaps orchestrating more unrest and subterfuge to further disrupt this tenuous harmony.  If by some means we could attack one of the Great Houses, perhaps the Redoran since they are bound by the strictest tenets of honor and duty and lay its blame on the Nord race, this may create a most delicious disharmony.  My intelligences tell me that the Nerevarine is of the Nord race, which with such a plan in place, this would perhaps vulcanize more animosity towards the Nerevarine and his sires.

 

My oracles tell me that the sires of this upstart may indeed pose a definitive threat to me.  While they did not say it was the Nerevarine or even the Nords, there was some speculation that it was a person of some importance.  This is why I have set mistrust amongst the Imperial family and the people who honor them.  Already some of their sires have been eliminated.  An ounce of prevention employed if you will, to address an annoyance in the future.

 

There are great things underway most venerated one, and it would be wise and beneficial to be a part of it.”

 

     “Signed with the seal of Mehrunes Dagon, Prince of Destruction, your Greatness.”

 

Tosh Raka thought about what he had heard.  Again he is faced with schemes, plans, lies and half-truths.  One thing in this message disturbed him.  All know that the Septim bloodline was graced with the blood of their Akatosh, the dragon.  It is a dragon that Tosh Raka himself has become, and the most powerful.  If Mehrunes Dagon doesn’t care about the half dragon bloods, then it stands to reason he doesn’t care for full dragons in general, by his reasoning.

 

Then there is the issue of Tamriel itself.  There cannot be two owners of Tamriel, and Tosh Raka believed his destiny is to rule Tamriel, not destroy it as Mehrunes Dagon would simply because he can.  His idea, and he had many ideas, did not include sharing with the likes of the Prince of Destruction.

 

Tosh Raka had decided.  He was going to use the one facet that his kind possess, and which all seem to forget…immortality.  Wait long enough, and most annoyances die out, and cease to be annoyances.  This being, this “Nerevarine” intrigued him though.  Having removed the powerful God-King Dagoth Ur is one thing.  A mad God has weaknesses.  But the God-King Almalexia?  This must have taken some advantage, some skill.  One such as she is not so easily dispatched. 

 

     “Acolyte?”

 

Da Nan’Rin was watching his master with interest, and still wondering if this was his last day. 

 

     “Yes Great One?”

 

     “Prepare a message for the Tang-Mo Council of Elders.  Ask them for any information that will enable me to send a message to this, Nerevarine.”

 

     “As commanded Great One.”

 

     “Also, send the emissaries from Mehrunes Dagon down to me…I have…needs.”

 

It took Da Nan’Rin all his reserve to contain his inward glee.

 

     “Immediately, Great One.”

 

Da Nan’Rin practically vaulted from the rim where Tosh Raka lay.  He was taking the steps upward two to three at a time, all the while smiling his fanged grin and letting his movement cool the layer of sweat that was soaking his armor and helm.  He even ignored the pain of his punctured hand, so was his relief.

 

     “Better them, than me.” He mused aloud.

 

Tosh Raka settled down in thought.  Perhaps this upstart possesses some information or ability that can help him with the issues present on Akavir.  It will be the season of summer soon, and with that the thaw of the Kamal.  Though no threat to him and his kind, it is a perpetual annoyance that must be quelled each season.  Were they not so buried deep within the ice and snow, Tosh Raka gave thought to destroying all the Kamal where they sleep.  But like dragons, it is best to let demons as well sleep where they lay.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

     The ground was course underfoot, and betrayed each step taken.  Flattening against the wall, the sounds of the ash zombie’s ragged breathing competed with the sounds of the rumbling volcano.  Heat…far worse than a Seyda Neen summer day whipped his face, worsened by the smell of sulfur and death.  An ashen gray arm groped the darkness, nearing his face, which was blended with the jagged rock walls.  Chameleon spells, one must love them. 

     A head appeared, the face of nightmares.  Grey as the Dunmer it was once, its Elven heritage only visible in the ears that remained on its head.  The eyes and nose, once of use to it now scooped away.  All that remained was a gaping hole of darkness, the faintest hint of reflecting light off of the back of its empty skull.

 

     Taking a step, his foot landing on the traitorous soft rock that crumbled loudly, gave his position away.  Its head snapped to the sound.  Its arms rising with crooked fingers and broken nails, it opened its wet drooling mouth in alarm. 

No time! No time! He thought.

Lunging, the blade’s enchanted glow bathing its face in moving light soon replaced the smoke and flames of the fire that ignited its flesh.  Howls of pain and fury echoed along the cave walls, soon to be cut short by the arc of the glass sword in his hand.

 

“Ewwwyyuuhh” it spoke, a stranger sound than remembered.

 

“Ewwwyyuuhh” he heard again, this time followed by the wet sound of a bucket filling.

     Dandowin snapped awake, his skin awash in sweat from the nightmare.

 

“Ewwwyyuuhh”, the sound again, followed by the coughs and spits of someone vomiting.  It was then he noticed he was alone.  The wolf pelts pulled back to his feet, crumpled in a tangle of fur and linen.  The dying flames of the crackling fireplace cast dancing shadows on the wall dimly lighted the room.

      He searched the room, its play of lights and smells of firewood and sweaty furs hitting him as his vision cleared of sleep.  There, off to the corner, the source of the sound.  The familiar warmth spread in his heart, as his eyes settled on the shapely feet that sat beneath a curvy backside.  Broad shoulders ending in a tousled mane of silver-white hair, which bobbed up and down over an open bucket.

     Lifting from the bed, the cool of the floor sent a chill that went straight to his spine.  Kneeling to her side, he asked with concern:

 

     “Are you okay?”

Laurenna raised her head, affixing her bloodshot crystal blue eyes on Dandowin.  She cocked an eyebrow, which in one movement said “How could you be Nerevarine and be this dense?”

Turning to vomit again, her poor shoulders shuddered with the effort.  Dandowin placed a hand upon her cool shoulder, a feeling of helplessness welling.  Caring for loved ones are never as easy as fighting.

 

“I told Sonja that Vvardenfell mudcrab meat won’t keep from the long voyage.  The soup was a bit off.”

 

She raised her head from the bucket, and gave him a knowing look that was both amused and slightly pitiful.

“I’m not sick you silly thing…I’m pregnant!”

 

Dandowin fell back on his backside.  Mind racing, all he could do was sputter…”Pregnant?  But, How?”

Laurenna shifted, her legs to her side, the fireplace light now replaced by the cool gray of an early Lokken morning.  Reaching up, she grabbed a mead tankard from the nearby table.  Taking a mouthful, she swirled and gargled, spitting in into the bucket she leaned on.  Smiling weakly, she looked at Dandowin. All he could think was how beautiful she is even now, hair tousled and face flushed.  She stretched a leg to his now parted ones, running a now warm foot along one of his bare calves.  The look upon her face glowed with pure naughty remembrance.

 

“How, indeed?”

 

    Dandowin moved to her, and scooped her into his arms.  Nearly as tall as he, taller with her wig on occasion, he drew her tightly.  She sighed a throaty “Mmmmmm” as she then moved to sit upon the bed.  He moved to join her but she put up a hand and stopped him.

     “Nuh-unh, my love.  You’ve got to tell the news to Sigrid.”

Sigrid.  Mother-in-law.  The true Ruler of Lokken, by all accounts.  Dandowin mused to himself how to approach the subject.  Searching the room for his leggings, he found them at his feet and pulled them on.  Fastening them with his long leather belt, he turned this way and that looking for his tunic.  He turned back around and was smacked in the face by his crumpled tunic, by a now giggling Laurenna.  It was times such as these, when he looked at her in the early morning light that he felt he was truly blessed.  She was beautiful, far too beautiful for the likes of he, he though to himself.  Now dressed, he closed the distance between them to kiss her.  Nuzzling her silver-white hair under his chin, he breathed in her scent and held her tightly.  The room, now all aglow with morning light told him that it was probably a good time since everyone should be awake now.

 

As he turned to leave her, she held him fast with an iron grip and said, “Take the bucket.”

 

     Just outside the door the castle was already busy with the usual daily milling about.  Guards shouldered past, some giving him a hard slap on the back as they laughed openly.  As Nords go, Dandowin was hardly the largest or tallest.  Many times he would joke with them at the Main Hall during his earlier days in Lokken that he was “built for speed, not punishment.”  This caused much raucous laughter from regulars such as Rolf Klang and Didrik.  More times than he could remember, also the spewing of mead in laughter.

     It was in the memory of such times that distracted him from noticing the outstretched Snow wolf skin boot in front of him.  He caught it in the sweeping of his right foot, spilling forward bucket still in hand.  Landing hard on his stomach with no guards about, it was then a great weight landed on his back.  Before he could right himself, a silver Nordic dagger immediately went to his throat lifting his head.  A voice, chill and filled with memorable mischief, chided evenly, “Well Nerevarine, what are you going to do now?”

     Dandowin froze, shoving the bucket from his hands he stiffened, smiling wryly, he uttered, “What can a simple hero do?”  In that instant, he arched his back up, slipping a few fingers under the attacker’s wrist. When they were airborne he twisted, grabbing the knife as the attacker came down hard on his stomach.  He let out a great “Oomph!” as he moved his arms up and grabbed the attacker’s waist, hands knitted in their brown tunic.  With a firm grip he dug his fingers in and started tickling as hard and fast as he could.

     “Quit it!”  Solveig bellowed as she laughed and giggled, turning this way and that, trying desperately to break free from Dandowin’s grasp.  He continued, chuckling, ”Yes…what can a simple hero do?”  

     They sat there a moment, breathing heavy and chuckling still.  The hall was empty but the sounds of the castle activity were everywhere.  It had only been the better part of a year since he was first sent to pick up the children for Sigrid.  He looked at her now, a few inches taller and a few pounds heavier.  Sonja’s good food is agreeing with her.  You could see easily that, like Laurenna, she was going to grow up as beautiful as she was skillful.  Still holding on to her, he stood up, shifted her weight, and started to walk when Solveig tapped him on the shoulder and said…”The Bucket?”  He put her down and she snatched it to take a look.  She immediately grimaced followed by an “Ewwwwww”, shoving the bucket back into his hands.

     Handing her back her blade, she sheathed it and took his free hand, swinging it back and forth as she hummed.  They were just about to Sigrid’s door when she stopped and pulled him face to face.  The serious look she gave confused him, sad, with that unmistakable line of worry between her eyebrows. 

 

“You’re not going to send me away just because Laurenna’s having a baby are you?” 

Her face still serious, now held the welling of her tears in the corner of her eyes.

The question stung.  Not caring to even wonder how she knew, he just reached out and grabbed her close, lifting her straight off the ground. 

 

     “Never.” he choked, “Never!”

Solveig hugged him so tight his neck snapped in response.  She struggled free, wadding her tunic sleeve in her hand to wipe away her tears.

 

      “I love you, Dandowin, Laurenna too.” 

Wiping his own tears away, he bent, kissed her forehead and said, “We love you too, sweetie; we love you too.” She opened the door, but stepped aside.  Puzzled, he turned to see her take the bucket and wink, sniffle, skipping away to breakfast.

 

     Sigrid.  By Azura, how was he going to approach the subject?  After all, she was the one who talked of babies first.  But with Lena and Solveig here, would another one be too much?  Pushing the door wider he marveled at Sigrid’s room.  It would seem she was prepared for everything.  Off to one side, he heard the lilting tones of a playing Lena.  She looked up with her now longer silver/white hair about her shoulders, the eyes wide and only outshined by her very toothy smile.  He noticed she was missing one.  “Dandowin!!” she screamed joyously, running and jumping into his arms.  “Mmmmmwahh!!” she kissed his cheek, smiling wide as she pointed at her missing tooth with her tongue. 

 

     “Look, I lost a tooth!  I’m a big girl now!”

 

     “You certainly are!” he chuckled, lifting her over his head as she giggled gleefully.  Dandowin looked to Sigrid who was busy mixing one liquid with another, her brow knitted into a stern look of concentration.  She pinched some dried yellow petals; the aroma from them filled the well-lit room with their sweet floral scent.

 

     Clearing his throat, he set Lena down and moved slowly to Sigrid.  “Sigrid?” he started to say, but was cut off by the sight of her single finger, raised as her back was to him.  Her long silver hair seemed as disciplined as the movements she made.  Deliberate, knowing, and precise.  He was about to speak again when she turned abruptly, smiled, and thrust a full spoon into his now parted mouth.

 

     “Swallow this Dandowin dear.” She said as she tilted the spoon handle upward, spilling the contents of the elixir into his mouth.  All at once his tongue tingled and his eyes watered.  He was about to spit it out, when she pinched his now tingling nose and gave him a wink.  When he regained his composure, she replaced her thumb and forefinger with a peck on his nose.

 

      “How are you dear?”

 

      “*Cough* just fine Sigrid…what was that?”

 

     “Just a tonic to help you stay healthy, dear, since you have some traveling to do.”

 

     “Traveling?”

 

     “Yes dear.  You’ll have to go to the mainland and get a cradle.  Then I have a list of some items as well as lists from Sonja, Granny Torunn, and the Klangs.”

 

     “A cradle?  Then you um… know that she um…”

 

     “Oh Dandowin” she smiled, putting down her tools and walking to him.  She put both hands to his cheeks and shook his head.

 

     “She’s my daughter.  This is my home.  You’re my family.”

He softened at the remark.  After so many years of prison, so many lost friends to death and blight, to finally be part of something, a family.  A home.

 

      “But Sigrid…”

How could he breach the subject of the corprus curse?  Divayth Fyr didn’t really cure the disease he was cursed with in Ilunibi; he just removed the harmful effects and symptoms.  What of the child in Laurenna’s womb?

It would have to wait, he thought.  There are answers that need to be found, but best to gather the information from the source.

     The throne room was already buzzing with activity.  Kielreen was at her post at the bar, smiling wide and very much awake.  She was busy moving clean glasses from a basket to the shelves and boards behind her.  As Dandowin entered, she gave a quick wink followed by a broad smile.  Like Laurenna, she possessed her own unique beauty.  He was beginning to understand the rumors about Wulfgar, if all the women of Lokken were as beautiful.  Lucky me, he mused, to have married the most beautiful of them.

Lena was busy with her teddy bear, cradling and dancing in small circles.  Solveig flitted like a butterfly from throne, to floor and table then back to throne.  Her blade in hand, sometimes on her toes or firmly footed. 

     Lost in this idyllic moment, he jumped slightly at the slender arms that encircled his waist, wrapping around him.  They drew him close, firm breasts pushed into his back as Laurenna’s lips placed a kiss to the back of his neck.

     “My love.” She purred.

Turning to face her, she was wearing the new Bonny Swan dress he had bought her in Ebonheart.  He drew her tightly, and kissed her lovingly.  They moaned for the tiniest moment before their ardor was abruptly broken as Sigrid yanked Laurenna by the arm, dragging her to their table.

      “Good day dear!” she said with a smile.

 

 Laurenna stumbled at first, chuckling all the while as she said to an amused Dandowin, “Good bye my love.”

 

  

 

Chapter 2

 

 

     It was a rare, sunny Lokken morning.  The air was its usual crisp, nose burning cold, but the day was bright and white amongst the dark castle stone and brown timbers.

     Passing Ulfgrun, he nodded a greeting as Ulfgrun yelled in return, “Good work Castle Master!”  He motioned with his hands a round pregnant belly.  How in Vvardenfell did he find out?  Sensing his bewilderment, Ulfgrun just shrugged and yelled, “Sigrid!”

 

     The main hall was oddly full, since two of its regulars were forever absent, Lisendra, now sister-in-law and pilgrim of Dibella.  The other one, Didrik’s former pet Lucky who now keeps the kitchen staff amused snapping up any food that falls to the floor.  Many familiar faces did remain.  Karl and Stephann were there, lamenting the loss of Lisendra one would wager.  Ingrid entertained the usual smiling Muller, who beamed upon seeing Dandowin.  He raised his tankard, a gesture of thanks for his sharing the Treasure of Zeke Traeff with him.  Didrik and Rolf Klang stood at their usual place, amused with some of the new faces that graced the hall, fresh from the Solstheim coast.

     It was then he noticed the hooded figure at the bar.  Hoods in a frozen island are far from unusual.  But this one was so covered, the face fully submerged into the dark folds of hood.  Far stranger than the hood, was that no one in the main hall seemed to take note of the stranger.  Walking slowly forward, Dandowin froze.  He had seen these hands before.  The unmistakable mismatched golden and gray hands lifted the hood back to expose an equally mismatched hairless head.  What outshined the head was the uncharacteristic smile.

 

     “Hello, Dandowin.”

 

     “Lord Vivec.” He said with astonishment.

 

     It was nearly midday when Laurenna’s stomach finally settled.  Breakfast over, the dishes collected by Anneliese, she set about her day.  The stairs to the children’s rooms echoed her footsteps, as she thought about her condition.  Pregnancy.  Motherhood.  It was both exciting and frightening.  She felt that she’d be a great mother.  Laurenna a warrior and Dandowin the adventuring hero of some note.  The things she could teach her, or him.  Perhaps both, or the three she mused.  Mother could teach them many things, as well as the young aunts Lena and Solveig.   ‘Uncle Wulfren’ could teach them great things too, if he could get free of Lisendra for an hour or so.  Lisendra, she grimaced.  Thank goodness she was on the mainland with Wulfren.  No need to have two reasons to have a sick stomach.

     She was deep in unpleasant thought when the door to Solveig’s room opened wide before she could knock.  She stood there, all wide eyed and smiling.

 

     “Feel like a walk into town?” she asked Solveig excitedly.

 

Solveig just jumped into her embrace, giving her an audible kiss on the cheek.

     “Maybe we can run into Dandowin before he reaches Skullum?”

 

     “Maybe.” She chuckled.

They were just about to leave when Solveig pulled her back.  Puzzled, Laurenna cocked an eyebrow, smiling.  Solveig beckoned her with her finger whispering…

     “I have something for you.”

Laurenna played along. 

 

“You do? What is it?” She whispered back.

The look of mischief on Solveig’s face was priceless.  Looking left, then right, she slowly produced the now clean bucket from behind her back.  They laughed out loud together, so much so that the guards stopped walking, looking down the hall with amusement.

 

     Dandowin was still in shock.  Seeing Lord Vivec in Lokken can’t be a coincidence with his nightmares.  This is far too strange, especially with a smiling Vivec.

     “Lord Vivec.”  But he was stopped with a mock frown and a wave of his hand.

     “Just…Vivec will do, Dandowin.”  His smile was unnerving.

     “It’s good to see you out of the temple.  Traveling?  A holiday perhaps?”

Vivec seemed tense now.  “Would that it was so.  I come on a matter of some import.” 

     “But first –“

Vivec waved his hand and there was silence.  Not just the ceasing of all noise, but everyone, and everything, stopped.  Looking around, Dandowin could see the entire room was frozen in a moment in time.  It seemed as if the entire room was hit by a “paralyze” spell, but all items were frozen too.  Ingrid poured a tankard of mead now frozen still.  Didrik sputtered from a joke told by Rolf Klang.  His spew stopped about his face like a foamy fan.  All about him, nothing moved.

Vivec broke his concentration.  “Dandowin- what I must ask you, is for you alone.  This situation demands both the Nerevarine, and the Hortator of the Great Houses.” 

Dandowin stiffened, “What situation?”

     “The Sleepers and Dreamers.  Something terrible is taking place in the great cities.  You must-“

It was his turn to cut him off. 

     “I must? Azura herself said I deserve this rest.  But what did I do?  Instead of resting, I still ended up the slayer of men and monsters.  Even now, I have an entire island kingdom to care for.  My wife…she is with child.”

Vivec was nonplussed.  “Yes I know of your feats and exploits.  I know of Thirsk, the White Wolf, and yes, I even know of what you prevented on Tel Nechim.”

Dandowin grew impatient.  “Has not Dagoth Ur been slain? His brothers dispatched?  Whatever befalls those that follow him, is this not their due?”

Vivec stiffened, pointing a finger to his hand.  He tapped it angrily with each word spoken for emphasis.

     “Dandowin- this is a GENOCIDE!”

Backing a step away, he continued.

     “Even as we speak, in some major cities and small towns, all the Sleepers and Dreamers are being rounded up, and incinerated.”

Dandowin was conflicted.  When he vanquished Dagoth Ur, he had encountered the Sleepers and Dreamers that were just in the early stages of the blight.  Sightless, soulless, and without purpose, they just stand there.  No food and water.  No rest.  Eyeless sockets staring at a world they no longer felt kinship with.  He felt for them, but compared to the alternative, surely it was better than being Corprus spawn. 

     “Vivec” he softened.  “Even you must see that their need is beyond my help. What of Divayth Fyr?  Why can’t he just expand the Corprusarium?  Or what of Mistress Dratha and her experimentation?  I have seen both, and they-”

Vivec cut him off again with a wave of his hand and a raise in his voice. 

     “NO!” “You would turn a victim into a weapon?  As for Divayth Fyr, his subjects alone would annihilate those blinded helpless beings.  No, there must be another solution!”

 

     “But what? Dandowin snapped back.

     “Even if I could stop the genocide, what do you propose I do with all of these people?  The Ashlanders don’t want them.  The Great Houses I daresay are probably behind the extermination themselves.  There aren’t enough beds in all the temples of Vvardenfell to care for all of them.  So what do you expect me to do about it?  We don’t even have the facilities here in Lokken to care for that amount of people.”

 

     “I didn’t say the solution was easy or even feasible.”  Vivec softened now, looking very much like the stoic Vivec that Dandowin remembered in his trials of the Nerevarine.

     “But…these are Dunmer.  These are the very same people you, as Nerevarine swore to protect.  You cannot pick and chose who can be saved and who cannot.  Your duty-“

Dandowin had enough and snapped dangerously- “My duty, is to my pregnant wife, my loving family, and to the peoples of this island I have been given charge of.  Do not begin to lecture me about the duty of a Nerevarine, when on your orders, your own Dunmer were snuffed out like an evening candle just for believing themselves “The One”.

At that comment, Vivec rose, placing the hood upon his head.  His face, before being swallowed by the dark folds of cloth, looked like that of someone who had just heard of their own demise.  His voice tired, the smile that beamed in greeting now replaced by the stoic flat face that Dandowin remembered too well.  When he spoke, it was in a voice that felt like broken glass as it entered his ears.

“Perhaps you’ll do the right thing.  Perhaps you won’t.  It was my duty, as one who cares for his people to seek out the one who swore and promised to protect them.  It was my duty to try.  I have done that.  Remember this, Nerevar reborn.  Not all who suffered under Dagoth Ur’s evil were willing sycophants.  Some, like yourself, were cursed.

     With his last statement, he left, life returning to the main hall as soon as the door closed.

Dandowin looked around the room then, his mind tired, his heart even more.  Remembering what he told Solveig this very morning, he murmured to himself,

     “What can a simple hero do?”

Karl and Stephann turned then, a puzzled smile on their faces.  They both slapped his back as he walked past them in congratulations for Laurenna’s condition, but to him they felt no better than the lash of an Imperial whip.

Such was the heaviness in his heart.

 

     The outside air was a welcome chill.  His entire conversation with Vivec had left him sweaty and his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin.  The crunch of the snow underfoot brought him a measure of relief, as it was this he missed the most when he dared to remember his days in an Imperial prison.  How he missed the snow then.

He passed by Silja, her furred top and leggings moving slightly in the Lokken breeze.  She waved a single wave, lost in her conversation with Kolbein, who chatted and laughed.  Ismir nodded a “Hello”, whilst Ingegerd waved both hands in a comical manner, to show she was wearing both her gloves.  Her amber eyes shone brightly in the reflected sunlight off the snow.  The Njorns were about as well, as they passed Dandowin on their way to their home, holding hands as the children Marianna and Joar took turns making ugly faces at one another.  They smiled just long enough to form a new face.

     By the time he came to pass the Lokken Brewery, the door opened and he saw Laurenna giving a huge hug to ‘Aunt’ Gwen, followed suit by Solveig.  Gwen opened her eyes to shout a greeting to Dandowin, which caused his wife and spirited cousin to run and close about him, nearly knocking him over with their embrace.  Closing his eyes he let the cold outside and the warmth of his family take over from the gloomy mood that remained from his talk with Vivec.  Sensing something amiss, Laurenna honed in on his previous mood and brought her face to his.  Her crystal blue eyes searched his with concern, as she asked warmly,  “What is it?”

Smiling, he just brushed the question aside with a kiss to her face.  She gave him a smile and raised an eyebrow which said that this was far from over. 

     The dock was in view, and already some friends were there.  Anna the Clothier stood talking with Leilana the Trader, their arms about their waist, their breath was visible now as the cold started to increase.  Town guard Gudmund was patrolling the docks, turning and pointing as the longboat pulled down the channel, turning to wave at the lot of them as they came closer.  The sail was being lowered, the crunch of the ship’s keel against the shallow water and rocks signaling that Skullum and Dagfeal had returned. 

     “Ho! Lokken!” Skullum shouted, as all waved and smiled at his return.  His beard had a few ice crystals in it, giving him a much older look.  He turned to Laurenna, Solveig, and Dandowin. 

     “Hail! Lady and Castle Master, Princess of Lokken!” he said, winking.

 

Dandowin bumped Solveig with his hip, chuckling.  “Princess.”

Solveig grabbed a handful of snow and hit him in the side of the head.  They laughed as Laurenna bumped them both with an exaggerated shift of her hip, smiling all the while.

Skullum untied his cargo, and started to hand out packages to those at the docks.  Anna was given a large parcel, wrapped much in the shape of some folded clothing.  Leilana’s cargo was much larger, and she immediately commandeered Gudmund to start taking crates and satchels to her store.  There were a handful of wrapped and sealed letters, their wax seals chipped from the deep Lokken cold, which he handed to Dandowin.  Those that were roped seemed to have tokens or other mementos within. To Laurenna he tossed a small satchel, and to Solveig, he tossed a light bag, followed by a shiny apple. Peering into the bag, she noticed that there was a new teddy bear for Lena from the mainland, and a pair of really nice leather boots, without a doubt in her foot size.   Dagfeal emerged from the back, which was strangely tented.  Dandowin and Laurenna knew that longboats were tented for long voyages, or storms.  Both looked in surprise to each other at the sight of it. 

Skullum handed Dagfeal two large handled bags, which he then handed to the tall white-haired gentleman that emerged from the tent, wrapped in a brown robe and cloak.

     “Wulfren!” Laurenna screamed, eyes wide with surprise.  She was just about to close the distance, when she heard the unmistakable sound of Lisendra’s voice yelling as she now burst from the tented area.  Waving her arms in her also robed and cloaked demeanor, she shouted, “Sister-in-law!”

Her arms were wide in a beginning of an embrace, as she shoved past Wulfren and was caught up in the still unloading Dagfeal and Skullum.  Just then, Laurenna stopped cold, raised a quick hand to her belly whilst the other hand immediately went to her mouth.  Dandowin and Solveig turned simultaneously with concern.  Skullum, in an excellence of forethought, immediately kicked the longboat bucket straight to Laurenna.  The brash Lisendra just knocked down Skullum just as Dandowin and Solveig made a grab for the bucket, Solveig was the closer, and in one movement dropped her bag, caught the bucket with one hand and brought it to Laurenna’s chin just as she erupted in a violent vomit.

     “Ewwwyyuuhh”

 

Dandowin and Solveig both leaned back at an angle that Laurenna couldn’t see being between them, and they both made a face of widened eyes and mock frown.

Wulfren disembarked, grabbing the exuberant Lisendra around the waist and hoisted her off the boat.  His face was the same, a little sun burned from the distance in travel. 

     “Wulfren!” They grabbed each other’s arms in greeting.  “What brings you back home?”

Laurenna vomited again.  This time, with a sympathetic Solveig stroking her back.

 

     “What else? To be here for the birth of the future Castle Master!”

Dandowin was surprised again…”But how…let me guess, Sigrid?”

Wulfren smiled and shrugged.

Laurenna raised her head from the bucket.  She was not amused.

 

     “But that won’t be for half a year at the very least!”

Lisendra answered then, still quite excited and voice raised.

 

     “We know!  Isn’t that great! We can stay here and help you through it month after month!”

 

"Ewwwyyuuhh”, Laurenna vomited again as both Wulfren and Dandowin exchanged nervous glances.

 

 

  

 

Chapter 3

 

 

     The skies above Ald’ruhn were absolutely beautiful.  Wispy white clouds looked as if brushed by hand against the blue skies of midday.    The winds were warm and the sounds of the city were full and vibrant.  A great moment lost entirely on the dark mood that raged in Nidryne Redas’s mind.   She struggled with her sack and satchel, having to stop frequently to brush her face of tears and her red hair from her eyes.

 

     “DAMN HER!” she spat, adjusting the straps of her satchel. 

     “Blasted witch!  Dismiss me, ME?”  The memory of the morning played over and over in her mind.  She was still in mourning for the death of Bolvyn.  Her beloved Bolvyn who’s arms at night she missed always.  Even a year after his death, she cannot help but cry at the thought of him.  Of course, that wretched shrew of a wife of his was just fine. What could she possibly feel or know of his greatness?

The morning was just like any other.  She polished her Dwarven armor, set about her hair the way Bolvyn Venim liked it, in memory of his love.  He used to say how much the red of her hair was only matched by the glowing of her eyes.  She’d just settled to stand at her station near his daughter, when Dilvene Venim, his wife strode over to stand in front of her.  She immediately got a chill as she remembered the smirk on her face and the malice in her voice as she said, “Your services here are no longer required and you are dismissed.”

She would make them all pay, she thought darkly.  She was not without friends.  But first, there was the matter of personal revenge on the man who took her love away and who started this downfall of her life.  Dandowin.  Nerevarine.  Murderer!  If he had not come to Venim Manor that long time ago and enraged her love and master, he would still be alive, respected, and in her arms at night.  She knew what she had to do.  She knew that there were members of the Great Houses that did not like the thought of this upstart Nord representing them as their Hortator.  Surely, Dandowin had made many enemies during his illegitimate rise to fame.  It was they who she thought to seek first.  The enemies of the Nerevarine must be many.

     The climb up the steep ramp to the Silt Strider was difficult.  She was used to steps, and the weight of her armor.  But she had not been in regular clothing for quite some time, and her belongings were hastily prepared for her.  “N’wah” she muttered darkly.  There will come the day when they will all suffer here in Ald’ruhn and remember the name, Nidryne Redas.

She thrust her bags briskly into the hands of Navam Veran, the Silt Strider’s operator, nearly knocking him over the very high ramp platform.  Folding her arms about her, she just stood there, eyes taking in the expanse of the place that was once home, but now she wished were burned to the ground.  With wet eyes and grinding teeth, she planned multiple murders in her head as the sounds of the birds above Ald’ruhn disappeared.  There was no notice, only the pounding of her heartbeat in her own ears. As she turned to spit over the side of the ramp, she nearly snapped with rage as the Silt Strider bucked to the side of her, its huge front legs rearing as it bellowed a deep sound of complete panic.  Just as she regained her composure enough to yell at Navam, she lost all thought completely as she followed his pointing arm.

     Above the large crab shell of the Skar, she saw a dark, swirling mass of what could only be described as clouds of fire.  Lightning thrust out from the center of the swirling mass, as a deep reddening of the sky immediately radiated out from the outsides of the mass.  The sounds of a panicked city soon followed, as mothers yelled for their children to get inside.  Merchants hurried as their wares clanged and banged back and forth in the now rising wind.  Nidryne thought now to run down the ramp back inside when the entire ground shook violently.  Both she and Navam were knocked to the platform, as the Silt Strider broke free and strode off over the hills bellowing loudly.  There was another quake.  Then another.   She started to cry aloud as Navam Veran was knocked to the ground below. 

It was then that the whole of Ald’ruhn seemed to shake flattening her to the platform once again.  An explosive blast that broke one of her eardrums lifted the entire shell of the Skar into the air.   Intense flames and heat seared her face even at that distance.  She watched in complete horror as chunks of the Skar shell were thrown high in the air, with pieces of stairs and beams, all aflame.  Bodies, many she surely knew were thrown into the fiery air like paper dolls, flaming themselves as they landed back into the inferno as ashes.  The rumbling continued, a terrible rhythmic sound of death that now gave witnesses to it a glimpse at its source.  Cresting just over the now flattened shell walls of the destroyed shops and homes, the dark mass of the Oblivion gate groaned as it raised itself higher, billowing smoke and flames as the skies darkened to full red around the ruins of what was once Ald’ruhn.  Like a molten Daedric letter “O” from the Underworld itself it grew to an enormous height until it stopped, devastation and ruin falling off its top and sides.

     Nidryne Redas was barely sane as she lay there on the platform, hyperventilating from the shock and crying aloud. Blood trickled from her left ear, as the screams of those that were not lucky enough to be killed instantly were everywhere, now joined by an unholy thrum of energy coming from the huge structure.  The flames of the ruin seemed to be sucked right back into the center of the gate, where the swirling mass that was above it now was at its center.  From the sounds of the chaos, deep growls and howls of unimaginable terrors rose and spread outward.  As if in competition with the madness, Nidryne started chuckling.  The chuckling was replaced by a slow laughter, then crying.  She laughed louder and louder as she sucked in great breaths of air, to continue laughing.

She was laughing still as the guards from the crumbling tower picked her up and carried her down the ramp to a waiting cart.

 

     Evening in Balmora was busier than usual.  The weather was too humid and cloudy for the nightly show of fireflies that danced among the surrounding trees.  Dark clouds were starting to gather overhead, but not enough to deter the multitudes of people about at the evening’s start.

     There were sounds of laughter and conversation echoing loudly from the Eight Plates tavern.  It was crowded, with both inebriated and sober patrons dancing everywhere.  Most were celebrating the recalling of the Imperial legions back to Cyrodiil.  Others, well, who needed a reason to drink, flirt, or tell jokes?

     Ingred Rems was bored.  It had been over two years since she accompanied Dandowin to Red Mountain to defeat Dagoth Ur, and over a year since he left Balmora to visit the frigid lands of Solstheim.  He asked her to go, but she declined. Freezing feet and stinking Nords were not her idea of a new adventure.

    The adventures they had, she mused.  Many times, taking turns to save each other’s hides, replayed in her dour mind.  An Orc bumped into her, breaking her concentration and spoiling her reflection.

     “I’m sorry sir!” he belched loudly.

Ingred just frowned, asking herself again why she even bothered to come to the Eight Plates.  The answer was simple really…she was even more tired of Berna’s drunken bouts and Meira’s constant vanity.

With the legions being recalled, she gave thought to going back to Cyrodiil herself.  After all, Dandowin was in Lokken now, married to some big-breasted smelly Nord she imagined.  Dandowin.  My how she missed him so.  He was very much like their old home master; only he seemed to listen to her more when she spoke about her past.  They shared more than their share of battle scars, and on the coldest nights under the stars or out of the rain, they shared their warmth.

     Why couldn’t she trust him enough to love? She wondered.  There was obviously something there.  He always indulged her jaunts to Thongar’s Trade house when in Khuul, even when it was clear he was bored.  Ever thoughtful, he often gave her wild Stoneflowers, her favorite.  “What was it?” She murmured aloud.  She knew of course…it was the fear and distaste of becoming another bored wife at home with a parcel of kids.  The very thought of domesticity for her made her uneasy.  It would have been unfair to ask him to settle for an adventurer’s life when it was clear he wanted a family.  He did buy that quaint cottage in the Ascadian Isles with the rooms for children after all. 

     Ingred rose from her table, stretched, and was about to leave when she overheard two words that piqued her immediate interest.  Over in the corner by the bar, three hooded and cloaked Dunmer leaned close to talk but had to raise their voices to be heard over the loud tavern ruckus.

     “Truly! She was there!”

 

     “It no longer exists?  Everyone is dead?”

 

     “All but the demons and Daedra who rule it now.”

     “The Nerevarine?  Dead?”

 

     “She said as much, but was hysterical when they found her.”

 

     That was enough for Ingred, who strode to their table in an instant.  As she stood there, they stopped talking and glared at her.  Their lean, hard, faces hinted that these were no tradesmen.  Some were tattooed whilst others, bore the scarification patterns that were often seen on those from the Ashland camps to the Great Houses.  Their eyes, a mix of red, off red, and the glowing that the Dunmer often possessed, centered on her with unmasked hatred.

     Jinlan Mofta was the first to speak, and was not amused by the Imperial company, let alone a woman.

 

     “Leave us, or be left bleeding.”

Ingred leaned into his face.  Her nose was so close that he lost focus temporarily and his eyes crossed. 

That was all she needed.  In one swift movement she raised her arm, and brought her fist crashing down upon Jinlan’s head, not stopping until she heard the crunch of his nose on the wood table.  No one stopped dancing or talking, but a few slapped each other’s arms to point their attention to the fight.

     Timor Redas, closest to Jinlan started to rise, but was immediately reseated by the point of Ingred’s dagger placed menacingly under his left ear.  When she spoke, it was clear and full of lethal resolution.

     “Do I have your attention Dunmer?  Nod once.”

Timor nodded, letting a “Yes” escape his pursed lips

.

     “I didn’t say speak.”  She pressed the tip of the blade deep enough to prick his skin.  A bead of blood formed on the tip.

Timor nodded without a word.

     “Good.  Now, you will tell me everything you know about the Nerevarine, and who says he is dead.”

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

     Laurenna stood leaning against the large outside beam of the Main Hall.  The icy wind whipped about her face and she closed her eyes, enjoying each pass of the wind.  It lifted her silver-white bangs now and then, and she just let it do so.  She insisted that Dandowin and Solveig settle Wulfren and Lisendra into their cottage, whilst she enjoyed the quiet time outside as her stomach settled.

     Seeing Wulfren again was such a pleasure.  It seemed she really didn’t have any time with him, since his transformation from the White Wolf back to a human.  Lisendra was another matter.  Even as children she knew Lisendra was trouble.  It wasn’t jealousy, like some sisters feel when their brothers fall in love or marry.  If Wulfren had fallen for Ingrid, or Kielreen, or even Silja, she’d actually be happy and welcoming of them.  But Lisendra, for years she just kept her interests elsewhere knowing Wulfren cared for her.  This wasn’t play or “cat and mouse” teasing, but pure meanness, by her reasoning.

     She heard the latch to the cottage, and stood up straight.  The door opened and Solveig bolted from it running to Laurenna and hugging her tightly.  She looked up at her, smiling, and hugged her again.  Dandowin shortly emerged, clasping Wulfren’s arm a last time as he said his farewells, for now.  Turning to Laurenna, he smiled wide and also closed the distance to them for a group hug.  Looking into her face, Dandowin noted her discomfort. 

     “It’ll be just fine, you’ll see.”

Laurenna cocked an eyebrow of doubt, as their moment was broken by the pelting of two snowballs from a giggling Lena who emerged from the top of the castle steps.  They all laughed, as the two girls screamed and chased each other up and down the steps, taking turns to hide behind Ulfgrun.

     “Why don’t you come with me to the mainland?”

Laurenna smiled, then saddened.  Dandowin was puzzled by her reaction.

     “You know I want to go my love, but I also want to catch up with Wulfren.  I am sure mother would like some time with just the three of us.”

     “Four.” Dandowin reminded.  “You mean the four of you.”

Laurenna frowned.  “I haven’t forgotten about his wife.  I know she-“

     “No.” Dandowin shook her gently.  Placing a hand down to her belly, his eyes seemed to reiterate, “Four”.

She kissed him then, hard enough to get the wee ones giggling with an “Ewwwwww”, followed by raucous laughter.  Their moment broken, they chased the laughing, screaming, girls up the steps and off to dinner.

 

     When Ingred Rems arrived to the area surrounding the ruins of Ald’ruhn, a defensive perimeter was set up by each of the Great Houses.  Hlaalu guards stood shoulder to shoulder with Redoran guards.  Ordinators kept pace with a contingent of Telvanni battle mages.  Bolts of lightning flashed from fingers and clouds, giving the entire area the look and feel of a full war.

     She decided to travel light, just her sword and dagger, a quiver of arrows and the ebony bow that was a gift from Dandowin.  Just the essentials, she mused.

Searching the chaos, looking for the commander in charge, a volley of arrows flew just feet from her head.  Their shafts a mix of iron and wood, enchanted and poisoned clicked loudly as they sought their targets.

     As she neared the largest barricade consisting of a hastily erected stone and timber wall with small junctions of walled energy kept in place by the strongest battle mages, the Oblivion gate came into view.


     “Gods!” she breathed.

It was a sight of nightmares.  Flame and smoke swirled above, while energy and flames were sucked within.  The base of the gate, obscured by the barrier and the smoke from the still burning ruins, contained the roaring mass of invaders. Ingred felt the vibrations of the gate itself in unison with the stamping feet of the invaders through her boots.  Were it not for some information on the fate of Dandowin, she wouldn’t be here.  Her quick and fruitless interrogation of Nidryne Redas in the Maar Gan shrine availed nothing useful.  When she was lucid enough to answer questions, she just spat obscenities.  When drifting off into mania, more truth was gathered but at the cost of having to unravel her riddled mind.  All she could ascertain was this:  Ald’ruhn was destroyed, all her enemies were dead, and the Nerevarine was dead, or to die, depending on the gaps in her laughter.

     She found the commander in charge, a rather powerful Dunmer in full glass armor on a makeshift mound barking orders to the battle mages to reinforce the energy at the seams of the barricade.  Just as she was about to run up to him, a scamp was thrown over the barricade by something far larger on the invading side.  The commander in charge cast a bolt of shock that left the creature steaming and the hairs on Ingred’s arms and neck standing straight up.

     “WHAT DO YOU WANT?  YOU SHOULDN’T BE HERE!” he bellowed amongst the chaos and thrum of the gate.

Blasts and roars filled the air, which was a hazy mass of burned flesh and charred timbers.  She got close enough to yell, but her words got lost in the chaos. 

     “NEREVARINE?” she yelled.

     “WHAT?

Ingred thought again, maybe a different approach…

     “HORTATOR?”

     “HORTATOR?  NO.  ISN’T HE ON SOLSTHEIM? 

Ingred shook her head, while putting an arrow into another airborne scamp thrown by Gods know what.

     “SOMEONE SAID HE’S DEAD.  DIED IN THE BLAST.”

The commander looked dubious, pursing his lips.  When he spoke again, his attitude let Ingred know that the discussion was over.

     “LAST REPORTS WERE THAT HE’S SPENDING TIME WITH HIS OWN KIND.  IF YOU SEE HIM, TELL HIM GET BACK TO WORK.”

 

With that comment Ingred shouldered her bow, jumped off the mound, and sped off North back in the direction of Maar Gan.  She didn’t bother looking back, as it was clear that the concentration of the fight was where the Skar used to be.  She decided to take passage from Maar Gan to Khuul then take the longboat to Solstheim.  She can make connections to Lokken from there. 

     “What the Hell is going on with the world?” she said, as she jumped over an agitated scrib.  When Ingred wanted something to take the edge off her boredom, she had no idea that it would be all of this. 

     “You better be alive Dandowin.  Because I’m going to kill you for making me come to that frozen Hell hole.”

 

     With Dandowin gone, Laurenna found surprisingly that she had more than enough to keep her busy and away from Lisendra.  Though Wulfren and Lisendra ate dinners with Sigrid and the rest of the family at the castle, they retired to Lisendra’s cottage each night.  The first few nights of his absence were hard, but each night they exchanged their love via the rings, and after the first week, Solveig took to keeping her company.  She first noticed her one early morning as she was laying on the bed, gently circling the newfound roundness of her growing belly, when the door opened just enough for Solveig to tiptoe into her room and snuggle up to her.  Sigrid felt that it was best if she slept in her own bed, but Solveig reminded her that it seemed only fair since she lets Lena sleep with her most of the time.  Sigrid just pinched her nose and acquiesced.

     Early that morning, Sonja made some fresh bread, and the smell of it filled the throne room.  Sigrid was busy as usual at her desk, hands swiftly sewing what looked to be a snow wolf skin bunting.  When Laurenna entered, she rose and immediately did what she did every morning since Laurenna discovered for herself she was pregnant.  She looked in her face, had her open her mouth, and gave her the same elixir she gave Dandowin and the children each morning.  Then she put a hand to Laurenna’s belly, then another to her breast, gauging the changes in her daughter much like a farmer gauged the changes to his fruit-bearing orchard.  She would then end the exam with a hug, a kiss, and a loud pat on her rump which meant get busy doing something useful.  The kids were missing, and when she looked around Sigrid just said “With Marianna and Joar.”

     Anneliese emerged from the kitchen with a basket of bread, and Laurenna took the end off the top loaf and started in on it hungrily. 

     “Mmm…good bread.”

     “Why don’t you take some down to your brother and his wife dear?”

Laurenna rolled her eyes and snorted. 

     “Be nice dear…she’s trying.”

Laurenna chuckled.  “She’s trying all right.  Trying my patience!”

But Sigrid was right, and she just took the basket from Anneliese and headed for the front door.

     The walk down to Lisendra’s red walled cottage gave Laurenna time to count the steps, assigning a reason to dislike her new sister-in-law with each step.  They all started out with “She stinks.” and usually ended with some nonsensical reason like “The horkers die when she swims in the water.”  It wasn’t kind at all, and if Dandowin were here he would remind her that her brother found something in her worth loving, perhaps she might too.

     “Not bloody likely.” She breathed. 

It was just starting to snow gently when she reached their door, giving her a nice frame of mind.  She brought her hand up to knock, when the sound of the argument inside grew loud enough to be heard outside.

 

     “I DON’T CARE!”

 

     “Be reasonable Lisendra, just for a few months more.  Maybe less when Dandowin gets back from the mainland-”

There was the crash of dishes and the sound of things being thrown about.  Laurenna thought to knock then, but then the door rattled as if someone was pushed against it.  She jumped back defensively, covering her belly instinctively.

 

     “How long do you expect me to take this crap from her?  Since we went on this pilgrimage, which shortened our honeymoon tour – Thanks for that by the way.

(Another crash followed by the sounds of spitting.)  I haven’t had any meat, any MEAD, and I haven’t killed anything other than stinking bugs and the hours I COULD be killing something.”

 

     “Please, Lisendra.  She’s my sister-“

 

     “I’M YOUR WIFE!”

     “You’re a NORD Wulfren, it’s about time you start ACTING like one!”

 

     “Where are you going?”

 

     “Where do you think?  You want me, you’ll know where to find me!”

The door to the cottage swung open and banged against the cottage frame.  Lisendra was red faced, wet eyed, and snot nosed.  She wore her woolens and furs, much like her old hunting clothes, and had her Nordic cedar longbow in her hand.

When she saw Laurenna, she just took her hand, wiped at her face making it more a mess, and yelled “WHAT?”

Laurenna just smiled meekly and asked, “Bread?” lifting the basket.

Lisendra growled and stormed off in the direction of the Main Hall.  Inside the cottage, Wulfren was on his knees with his eyes closed.  He was dressed in his robe, with one boot on, the other boot wrapped around a beam in the rafter.  He was chanting the passages of Dibella, his voice breaking from sadness or rage, Laurenna not being able to tell which.

Laurenna was moved.  She had so little time with Wulfren when the bad times came, and even less when he was restored.  He was so very different now, peaceful, but not the peaceful that comes with enlightenment.  This was the peaceful she had seen in Dandowin.  The peaceful that comes from being physically and emotionally tired. 

She had an idea what to do.

 

     “Care to talk?”

 

     The trip to Seyda Neen brought back memories that were bittersweet for Dandowin.  Like most, being let off from the prison ship with few to no prospects was bad enough, but in truth he really didn’t know why he was imprisoned to begin with. At least he had that package to deliver to Caius Cosades and a few hundred gold to start out with that shaped his life.  He mused sometimes what would have happened had he just chucked the entire package into the River Odai.  Heading straight for Arrille’s Trade House, he hoped that Lydie Delavie was still there selling her selection of maternity wares and clothing.

      Dandowin had just laced the cradle to the satchel he was carrying when the messenger from the Imperial Census and Excise office had tapped his shoulder.  Looking upward, the nervous face of the young lad was covered in sheen of sweat that had nothing to do with the humidity and heat of the typical Seyda Neen day.

 

     “H-Honor to you, Nerevarine.” Handing him the sealed letter.

 

     “Well met.” He nodded.

The messenger sped off with a smile that bespoke of future tales in a tavern this evening.

He wondered how he was recognized, since he was far from the armors and weapons of his trip to Red Mountain, but then it dawned on him again: The Blades.

Being Prime Operative of the Emperor’s Blades here in Morrowind, it stood to reason that he was just as much watched as his fellow Blades.

Looking at the letter, it was thick parchment with a large red wax seal from the Imperial house of Uriel Septim VII.  He had seen this seal before, and the recollection made his hands shake somewhat at what could be contained within.  Reminding himself that he had never backed away from a fight in his life, he opened the seal and sat on the steps of Arrille’s Trade house, reading the first page:

 

“From the offices of the Emperor, Uriel Septim VII.

Honor to you Nerevarine Dandowin, Hortator of Houses Hlaalu, Redoran, and Telvanni.

Blade Operative and Chieftain of Thirsk, Castle Master of Lokken, and all titles earned and rewarded.

 

My steadfast champion,

By now you must know that the state of unrest in the Imperial City of Cyrodiil has finally necessitated the recalling of all Legionary troops back to the city.  As you may also know by now, the destruction of Ald’ruhn by a gate portal from Oblivion was not a singular occurrence.  There are gates that are appearing throughout the lands and city-states here in Cyrodiil.  This coinciding with the unrest previously that has taken the lives of my sons is no coincidence.  We have reason to believe that this is a calculated and precursor attack from Oblivion itself, specifically from the Prince of Destruction, Daedra Lord Mehrunes Dagon.  We also have intelligences that he has attempted to enlist the services or nations of Akavir itself to an unknown end. 

     For ourselves, we shall stand and defend the capital city with all our strength and hope.  For the gate at Ald’ruhn, the Great Houses all have pulled together to keep the evil at bay until more intelligence can be found.  I know of the Dunmer Dreamer genocide, and if we were not besieged with these Oblivion gates, would have gladly left a garrison behind to help you quell the atrocities.  We have heard that Eno Romari of the End of Times Cult may be involved, but this is unsubstantiated rumor at best.  Perhaps a visit to Divayth Fyr and even Mistress Dratha may be helpful.

     Which brings me to you, my champion.  We have reason to believe that there are also plans to do you and those you care for, great harm.  The enemies to peace are many, and not all of them challenge openly as warriors do.  I feel that there still may be influences from the other planes involved, and that is where you may be the most help.  My oracles and dreams have told me the Oblivion siege may be addressed by someone I have not met yet.  These dreams are also the ones that forced me to release you and set you on the path to your destiny, so they must be obeyed.  That leaves the lands of Akavir to be investigated, and any threats there.  I know both you and I have read “Mysterious Akavir”, and know that the chances of survival are few to none.  But ignoring the threat may threaten all the peoples and creatures of Tamriel.  I cannot demand or order you to go Dandowin Nerevarine, Hortator of the Great Houses.  But I ask, nay, appeal to you as our champion, who freed the land itself of the Blight and Dagoth Ur, to find a way.  If not for Vvardenfell, but for those you love as well in Lokken.  Yes, we have heard even this far of the new Castle Master of Lokken.  Congratulations on your nuptial bliss.  We pray it may it last through the ages, my friend.  I could not stop the evil that has taken the lives of my sons.  Perhaps, you, Nerevarine, will be far luckier.  I do not know what Gods that you pray to, but pray to them all, for us all. 

 

Your emperor, and your friend,

Uriel Septim VII”

 

There was no time to lose Dandowin thought.  He had no idea how old these intelligences were, but history and memory taught him leave nothing to chance.  If only Caius Cosades were still around, he might be of some great use now.

 

     “First things first.” He breathed.

 

Taking his wedding ring off and back on again, he twisted it to the left and waited for the tingling of the telepathic magic to begin.  Almost immediately, he got a response.

     “Yes my love?”

It was beyond reassuring to hear Laurenna’s voice; it soothed his worry almost immediately.

     “Sweetheart, I’m done shopping and I am on my way home.”

Dandowin thought about his comments carefully, as alarming her and everyone might make whomever is behind this accelerate whatever schedule they had.  What to do?  What to do?

 

     “Hon. How are the children?”

 

“Well, Lena is as always keeping my mother company and the throne room alive, while Solveig has taken away your job.  She protects us day and night. Our beautiful child is practicing her fighting from the confines of my womb, obviously without resting.  There are some things we have to discuss when you get back, about Wulfren and Lisendra, but that can wait…oh, my love, he is coming back.  Talk to you when you arrive!”

 

The ring went cold and Dandowin was in flight.  He regretted immediately not taking the spare scrolls and potions he had brought from the mainland.  Mark and Recall would have come incredibly handy now, as well as that Scroll of Windform he snagged from Thongar’s.  Running to the hill from the small bridge, he barely saw Fargoth waving or noticed Indrele and Tandram just passing him, their own arms carrying various satchels and chests from their adventures together.

     The trip to Gnisis from Seyda Neen would be at least eleven hours by Silt Strider, another three from there to Khuul, and at least six hours by longboat to Fort Frostmoth.  When Davarme took his thirty gold pieces and instigated the Silt Strider with its leathery chitin shell, Dandowin was nervously playing with the straps of his back satchel.  He looked to the cradle, its smooth wooden frame and beautiful Breton scrollwork along the sides and top, and thought of their child.  He silently prayed to Azura to be kind and protect his family while he was en route.

 

    “May the wind be on our backs.” He breathed.

 

     Nidryne Redas was released from the shrine with a great sigh of relief from the priests and the town’s only healer, Tashpi Ashibael.  She didn’t have any memory of how she made it to the Maar Gan shrine, and only snippets of memory of Tashpi applying salves and wrappings to her injured ear, and potions to drink which kept her in a state of relaxation as she tried to make sense of the images that burned in her memory.  When the quiet of the day was upon her, she thought of starlit nights in Bolvyn’s arms and their lovemaking.  It brought tears to her eyes and an aching in both her chest and her loins as she remembered the room lit by a single candle.  The moving of their sweaty gray bodies as he ran his hands through her red hair, kissing her hungrily as she wrapped her heels about his grinding waist.  She missed everything about him, and it was in this memory that the other images usually invaded.  Screams, fire, bodies flying on fire to return to the ground as ashes.  The face of that Nord, that Dandowin as he angered her love and master, and the way he returned, to tell his wife and daughter he was dead. 

     In her recuperation and turmoil of memories, she nearly forgot about the Nerevarine and wanting to kill him until that Imperial bitch showed up. 

“Inrgil?” “Ingmar?” she breathed.  She had forgotten her name, but she will never forget the insulting and arrogant way she burst into the room, moved Tashpi aside, and started manhandling her with question after question about the Nerevarine, and if he was dead. 

It took all her power not to kill that bitch, until she thought to herself, “Give her nothing, and everything.”  It was clear that she was either his lover or his sister or something, so he was important to her.  Perhaps she can use her to find him, and have them both killed.

She knew that he was in the Nord lands; either Solstheim, Lokken, or the Morningstar Islands.  If she can hatch her plan, get the wheels of revenge started, there would be red on the snow of all those frozen hellish lands.

     Nidryne was just about to open the door to Andus Trade House where she could get a room when a robed Dunmer woman grabbed her arm.  She turned immediately to thrash the woman but was held in place as the woman said something that froze her in place.

     “Bolvyn.”

Nidryne was bewildered, and her voice broke…”Wha-what?”

     “Come.” she whispered. 

The woman dragged Nidryne from the Andus entrance to the Maar Gan outpost.  She led her by the hand to the lower level, where they stood to talk in a corner. 

When they stopped, she let her arm go, and faced her.

 

     “My name is Sedris Omalen, Priestess of the Tribunal Temple, and retainer of the Great House Redoran.”

 

Nidryne just nodded.  She was a Dunmer like herself, just a bit older and to her thinking, not nearly as pretty.  How she knew of Bolvyn, she was very much inclined to know.

 

     “You survived the holocaust.  This is a blessing.  Perhaps we can be of great use to each other, and justice to be done.”

Nidryne just nodded, slowly now.

 

     “I was a friend of Bolvyn Venim, and during his campaigns fought beside his armies.  He was the one who suggested to the council my Retainer position.  Both guards Vevul Alver and Velsa Orethi were members of my Order.  We are a contingent that is loyal to Bolvyn Venim to the death.  When  we learned of his death, it took us by surprise.  Even if it was Bolvyn who challenged the Nerevarine, we still felt that the entire duel was a sham.”

 

Nidryne remembered Vevul and Velsa, and how they came to her to comfort her when she was dismissed.  They told her that they would seek justice, but sadly, died in the holocaust. 

     “You were Bolvyn’s lover.  Yes, we knew, and were happy for him.  We are no friends of Dilvene, his wife.  That makes you our ally, if you are strong enough.”

Sedris pointed a finger at Nidryne’s heart.  She touched it for emphasis

.

     “Are you strong enough?”

Nidryne just smiled, and moved close enough to fill Sedris’ face with her own.

When she spoke, it was with icy, bitter emotion.

 

     “I will kill them all myself, if I need to.  Him, his wife, his children, his people, his pets, his servants, his lands, everything.”

 

     “Good.  We were right about you.  There is much work to do, get your things, and meet me back here.  We have a ritual to perform.”

 

     “Ritual?”  Nidryne was confused.

 

Sedris just narrowed her eyelids.  When she spoke again, it sent a chill directly to Nidryne’s spine.

 

     “Yes, ritual.  Tonight, you, and I, will call upon the Night Mother herself.”

 

The two Dunmer women, now allies clasped hands, shaking them up and down in murderous agreement.  So happy they were in their meeting that they barely noticed the robed figure pretending to snore with eyes closed off to the corner.  It just twitched and flexed its claws as they passed, giving the appearance of one whose dreams have just been encroached upon.  When they were out of view, it rose to a prone stance, and wrung its claws over one another.  The way they clicked reminded it of locks and tumblers.

 

     “Such a juicy secret this is.  Yes.  Juicy.  What to do with it?”

Taking a lock pick from her robe, Ahnassi ran the point of it under and over her tongue to lubricate it.  There were some chests on a blind spot that commanded her attention first.  With a secret such as this, she would need traveling monies.

 

     “I must tell my other special friend.  Yes.  We must never lose our true and good friend.”

 


 

Chapter 5

 

 

     Ingred was impatient for shore.  The longboat made it towards the Solstheim coast and her restlessness caused her to entertain herself by sharing her fresh fish lunch with the dolphins that chased the ship.  The sky was gray, as most arctic skies look at sea, with icy, salty winds whipping about her dark hair.  She thought about her messages.  If Dandowin wasn’t dead, then surely someone wanted him dead.  He has to be told about Ald’ruhn if he doesn’t know already, and if he bothered to visit his castle as well as the mainland, he’d know that the Imperial troops have been recalled to Cyrodiil for the unrest there.  But it was the sight she saw in Maar Gan that shook her.  Groups of Dunmer, all Dreamers and late-blight Sleepers, shoved into the biggest bonfire she had ever seen.  She had seen such things before, when plagued and war fallen dead were disposed of.  But these were living, breathing, people who didn’t even put up a fight.  Being the Nerevarine, surely he has to do something about this too.

     Back to bodyguard duty and something to do.  He’s going to need her help, she mused.  After all, was it not she, that he took to the Ghostgate? 

     When Ingred disembarked at Fort Frostmoth, she barely recognized it.  It was in the process of being rebuilt, with huge gaping holes and walls missing.  Was there a war or some sort of explosion perhaps?  She felt the questions could wait until she gets back from Lokken.  Which reminded her, where the Hell is the boatman for Lokken?

 

     “If you’re looking for the Lokken boat you’ve just missed it.”  A fisherman said.

 

Ingred frowned.  “How long?”

 

     “Just.” He said.

 

     “Damn.” she spat.  Well, that means she is on foot, something that she wasn’t looking forward to.  The weather alone was reason enough, with the snowstorms and such.  But there was also the issue of wild animals, Spriggans, Fryse Hags, Smugglers, Berserkers, Reavers, and Rieklings on Tusked Bristlebacks.  She’d better get more arrows, she thought. 

     Taking the shoreline along the southern coast, upward to the northeast shoreline should get her to the Lokken shoreline she reasoned.  At least for the moment the weather was fair. 

     “Dandowin, I am so going to kick your ass.” She muttered as she sped off towards the Fort Frostmoth armory.  Making a list in her head of supplies, she was too busy counting to notice the slight distortion that was just a yard to the side of her, listening intently to her conversation with the fisherman. There was the mention of a name.  The very same name that was borne on one of the Dark Brotherhood contracts that were hidden within the armor of the assassin who now also sped off in the direction that Ingred Rems ran.  Still cloaked like a chameleon, its only visible traces were the wet footprints on the dock and the footprints it made on the melting snow on the shoreline.

 

     Laurenna twisted her ring to the right just as Wulfren reemerged from the woods surrounding the arrow target she fashioned to the tree, not far from their father’s hunting lodge.  The cottage was her home for the length of her expulsion from the castle proper.  As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the cottage as much as she missed the castle.  The sight of its green painted timber face, with the thatched roof and timber lattice framed door brought back so many memories.  The blooming and snow covered holly trees that graced the front were beautiful, and she hoped that Wulfren would have memories too.

     She felt at peace being between her homes, with mother in the castle, and her father’s Stalhrim covered body in the cave behind her cottage.  They were free, and together again, that was all that mattered.  The only thing missing was her husband, and he was on his way home.  Their first meeting was at the log that shields the steep drop from the cottage walkway, and she remembered the sight of the man who walked up the tree line to meet her.  His lean, lightly bearded face, the auburn hair streaked with gray.  His deep gray-brown eyes which were so rare in Lokken. Nearly everyone here sports eyes that ranged from crystal blue to sea foam green, to the deepest amber.   She noticed that he wore snow wolf boots, and sported the “Shirt of the Noble Heart”, which was a gift from Valkyriana for rescuing little Hilde from the Fieldshorn tomb.  Never in her life did she believe she would marry someone that was not only as brave as her, but damn near a legend everywhere.  Funny, though, if the world could see how easily he is tricked and tripped by my cousin Solveig.

     Wulfren looked so much better now, she mused.  Taking him to practice their archery near the cottage was a good idea.  The nerve of that trollop Lisendra doubting Wulfren’s manhood  as well as his love for his sister, giving Laurenna another reason to never, ever respect her.

Wulfren stuck the arrows back into the ground.  Their shafts stood straight up like a bunch of reeds that were so cold they grouped together for warmth.  He was dressed much like Dandowin does.  Leggings, snow wolf boots, and a long warm woolen tunic.  He sported the quiver her husband left behind, the very nice black leather one with green and gold accents surrounding the top and bottom.  She knew he would never mind, as he considered Wulfren more than a brother-in-law, but a friend as well.

 

     “Ready for another round sister?  Or is my nephew making you tired as well as fat?” Wulfren chuckled.

 

     “FAT?” “FAT?” “Oh, I’ll show you fat!”

With that comment, she picked up an arrow, then another, and shot a perfect round to the center of the target.  She then turned to put a hand on her hip, with a cocked eyebrow that all at once said “Beat that.”

 

Wulfren  looked at his sister, and melted.  He owed so much to her, and yet he had not truly seen her or spent time with her which shamed him so.  There she stood, beautiful, defiant even if in jest, her silver-white cut hair now just to her chin and neck in new length.  She was clearly round in the belly from the pregnancy, but she was still as shapely as she was on her wedding day.  The snow wolf skin skirt and linens flattered her, and like their father, she bore the deep strong face and build of the Wulfgar line.  He knew deep in his heart that as loyal and fierce as she was to defend him, she would slay a dragon herself to protect her Dandowin, her children, her sister and cousin,  the entire family.  Lokken itself, he believed.

Wulfren drew his bow and let loose an arrow, just above her center grouping to the side.  He then drew another and did the same to the opposite side.  Then, in pure amusement, he picked up three simultaneously and let them fly singularly.  Forming an upward curve at the bottom of her grouping.  When Laurenna looked at the result, they just looked at one another and laughed aloud. 

 

     “That’s how you make me feel, and thanks for that sister.”

She looked again at the happy face of arrows in the target, and took her bow and shouldered it.  She decided to leave the arrows in the target as a memento, and patted Wulfren on the shoulder, nodding to go to the cottage.  He smiled, and followed.

     “Let’s pay our respects to father, and then get some mead.”

 

     Nidryne Redas was ecstatic with nothing short of mania at the thought of her plans realized.  Sedris Omalen and she spent the entire day preparing the ritual, and were so surprised to get results so fast.  As she wiped the blood from her naked body with the cloth and pitcher of water Sedris brought her, she remembered each facet of it with renewed excitement. The stink of their conquest was still in her nose, but instead of revulsion, it brought a strange glee.  First there was the preparation.  She told Nidryne that there would have to be a series of sacrifices, one of her body, and one to the Night Mother.  Dressing in a dress supplied by Sedris, she waited at the Andus Trade House until a necessary mark walked in.  With so many fighting the hordes at Ald’ruhn, it would not take long for tired soldiers, mages, and weary exiles to make it to Maar Gan.  After all, Maar Gan resembled Ald’ruhn, save for the missing immense Skar crab shell.  The only alternative was Caldera to the south, and that was more mining town than a city to offer rest. 

     Their chosen victim was better than perfect.  In walked a tired and boastful Nord, absolutely perfect for their designs.  He sat at the bar at the Trade House, half his face covered in woad, the other ringed in a beard filled with sweat and grime.  She knew he noticed her immediately, as she made it a point to sit near the open table with her legs crossed, showing that the slit in her gold and red dress led right up to the absence of underwear.  The low neckline on the top of the sleeveless dress made her breasts beg attention.  A light touching of Telvanni Bug Musk  about her neck and abdomen made sure that as she sweat, its fragrance would waft all about her.  Many an advance she staved off, with threatening glances and the point of her dagger.  But when the Nord appeared and ordered a drink, she immediately rose, walked seductively to him, and bent slowly behind him to lick his ear and drag her breasts from his neck to the top of his head.  He rose as expected, and she led him by the hand to one of the rooms at the bottom of the sand colored stairs.  There were many looks of pure hatred from all the previous spurned, and jealous looks from those women who sought a friendly face and a free drink, and received none.

     When she had him inside, he was gruff and practically raping her with his lust and his intent.  He just pushed her to the bed, tore her expensive lovely dress, roughly removed his armor and tunic but left his boots on.  Being a former guard herself, she was not without means or military talents, but for this ruse she just played subservient, until as expected he was spent atop her just as fast as he started. 

He began to slobber uncontrollably, a mix of exhaustion and the drink, when she flipped him over, and straddled him with her powerful legs.  He protested that he needed more time, throwing his head back to yawn.  It was then that Nidryne took a dagger from under her pillow and slit his throat.  He tried to arise when he felt the steel, but where he was spent, she was fresh with murderous intent.  She cut from his left ear to his right, slamming his writhing body down with her legs and her elbow to his chest.  Such a blow she struck to the center of his chest that she made an audible crack, and blood erupted from not only his mouth, but up through his nose as well. 

In just a minute or two he was dead, his eyes rolled backwards to the door, filling the bed sheets with crimson life.  Nidryne rose off his body, spat on his face, and slapped his spent penis from one side to the other.  She just smiled, her eyes glowing in the half-light of the room, and wiped her hands.  Tapping the door from the outside, Sedris handed her the necessary items in a cloth sack.  Inside were candles, a dagger, and various botanicals and parchment. 

     With careful hands and no revulsion at all, Nidryne Redas pushed the dagger into the dead Nord and began her work for the Ritual of the Black Sacrament.  According to ritual, she would need his skull, two femurs, and a large patch of his skin.  With bloodied hands and a smile that was both chilling and beautiful, Nidryne finished the cut around his neck, and with all her pressure snapped the neck bones to separate his head from the body.  Taking the blade at an angle she then fleshed his head, as one would peel an apple, all the while chanting to herself the necessary prayers to the Night Mother for revenge.  Eyes were removed and tossed into the sack, as were her leavings.  Standing, she firmly grasped his large frame and flipped it over, then removing his lower legs from the knee, the boots still on causing her to chuckle amongst her praying.  Even though it was not part of the ritual she deftly held up his penis and with one stroke removed it from his body.  This she also threw into the sack.  Her hands were slick from the blood, but she held a firm grasp on the dagger hilt and plunged it with all her might into his left lower hip, working the blade until she shredded the cartilage enough to separate the hip from the leg.  This she repeated on the other leg and then cut two vertical slashes on each leg, placing her hands within the gaping slash to remove the upper femur.  When they were removed, she took the pillowcase off of the pillow and wiped them dry.  This she arranged on the floor with the skull, the candles, and a handful of deadly Nightshade flowers.  She then cleaned the dagger and lightly shoved it under the skin of his back, pushing upward so that she could lay the flat of her free hand on top of it.  Working back and forth, up and down, she cut away a large flap of his back skin, and carefully folded it.  It was placed in the ritual arrangement, and she turned to the mess of bones and skin on the bed to remove the final piece.  Turning the torso around, she just made a simple cut across the belly, and then another crossing that.  Pulling the skin away, she reached up under the ribcage, and found what she was looking for.  It took some work with the dagger on the top and sides, which was difficult to do with both hands slick and tired.  Finally, with both hands and the dagger at the side of the remains, she squatted on top of the torso and pulled with all her might until the heart came free, the last of the blood not drained spraying her face as it did so.  She wiped her face with her bloody arms, smearing the mess into a red mask across her lower face.  Were she pale, one could easily walk into this nightmare and assume she was a vampire.  Wiping her hands once again on the sheets, she then cleaned the dagger and struck a flint to the parchment and when it lit, she lit the candles.

     Praying in a dark language that Sedris instructed her, she shut her eyes and continued over and over.  Seeing Dandowin’s face both living and dead, wishing that the bones before her were his bones that she could present to his lover.  Swaying in the candlelight, her naked, blood covered form looked seductively serpentine as she preformed the Ritual of the Black Sacrament.  When she finished, she was spent, but not enough to not notice the materializing Dark Brotherhood Operative behind her.  She turned, and oblivious as to what to do just prostrated herself before him, her legs beneath her, with arms in front of her as she pressed her face to the ground.  It took all her resolve not to beg openly, and she found herself salivating with desire as he spoke the words:

 

“The Night Mother has answered.  What justice can we bring to you, Nidryne Redas?”

 

     Dandowin didn’t rest at all on either transport, so was the worry in his mind.  He felt so tired.  Barely rested after the trials, the defeat of Dagoth Ur, or the first step he took on the cold shores of Solstheim, he pulled out his dagger and looked at his reflection.  No longer was his hair auburn with gray streaks, but gray with auburn streaks.  His close kept beard was getting fuller, and his eyes seemed so red and tired.  All he wanted since he left the Imperial prison was just to get some work, start a family, and live a life to full measure.  Seems nothing ever goes as one imagines it will be.  Now he was faced with more time away from his wife and family, and that angered him to no end.  All he could do was think of the many, many faces of those who he dispatched or was forced to dispatch because of this tumultuous fate of his.  Who didn’t want to kill me, and those I love? He reasoned. When the faces started to blur, he just turned his head to the skies.  It was starting to snow, and he longed for home. 

     The longboat pulled into the shoreline near the Fort Frostmoth docks, and Helmer secured the mooring just as Dandowin ran up to him with his satchel and a small leather bag of gold.  The smile left Helmer’s face when he saw the sense of urgency on Dandowin’s.

 

     “Ho! Castle Master!  How can I be of service?”

Dandowin shook the bag of gold and handed him the satchel with the cradle.  Helmer, seeing the cradle immediately smiled, but it was quickly replaced with concern as he noticed that Dandowin was almost white with worry.

 

     “My friend, how long before we can be underway?”

 

Helmer pulled up the towline and rested the satchel and cradle gently on the skins covering the planks.  Grabbing Dandowin’s hand as he reached forward, he lifted him right to the deck and patted his shoulders.  He smiled with that reassuring smile that was all at once meant to agree and offer relief.

 

     “We’re already underway, Castle Master.”

 

Dandowin slapped his arm, and offered what help he could.  When Helmer finished with the mooring towline, he took an opposite side to Dandowin and they both raised the sail of the small longboat and secured the lines.  Helmer then went back to the stern and readied the steering board.  Dandowin walked to the bow and looked out over the channel into the sea.  More snow on the horizon he noted.  Hopefully it will be a light fall, and not a full on storm.  The wind was with them, as it immediately picked up the sail and filled it out.  Home is just a matter of hours away. 

     There was so much to prepare for.  The handing out of the items he was sent to get.  Preparation of the next voyage to Vvardenfell, and a decision yet to make. Fortifying Lokken.  Good thing Wulfren is back for a spell.  Then the Dreamer problem, and what can be done about it?  Maybe the Emperor was right; Divayth Fyr or Mistress Dratha might be of some use, regardless of Vivec’s objections.  Akavir.  That was the other side of the world, and none who voyaged there ever returned.  He can’t ask Helmer or Skullum to make the voyage, that is too much to ask, and the Lokken people will need their access to the sea.  No, this will involve the need for a ship, and perhaps other items due to the unknown nature of the denizens themselves. 

 

     “Laurenna is not going to like this one bit.” He sighed.

 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

     The Eastern coastline was proving to be a bad idea Ingred thought.  Her pace was quick, with few stops for food and water.  Her need was to get to Lokken as quickly as possible, and that didn’t include having to constantly clear the shoreline of wolves and smugglers.  Every large rock she turned around held the danger of a snarling wolf, some stricken with disease, or some smuggler in a hurry to reach the afterlife.

     She enjoyed the tall and green pine trees, a vast difference from Balmora.  Though this admiration was almost immediately spoiled when Spriggans noticed her.  No matter how fleet or quiet of foot, or how stealthy, they always seemed to see her and come charging.  They would turn that head of branches and flowers in her direction, those strange eyes wide with fury.  True to their legend, it would take three arrows or more to keep them down.  Each one placed after the other as they miraculously rose from each ‘death’.  The last one she put down, piqued her curiosity so much so that she had to investigate it closer.  What a miracle of nature she mused.  Branches and bark about a definitively female form and a very curvy one at that.  Eyes the color of tree amber stared out at the world, with its very human face of nose and lips.  Parting the lips, she noticed that it even had teeth, of a sort.  In a sense, they seemed rather pretty to Ingred were it not for those dangerous claw-like hands and tangle root feet.

     Ingred didn’t dally long.  Mid-day was already done, and she had no intention of getting stuck in the forest at night.  Solstheim during the day is bad enough, but the night is far, far, worse.  Rising from the Spriggan’s body, she was just about to pick up her supply bag when she heard the unmistakable twang of a bowstring and immediately felt the impact of an arrow into her left shoulder.  There was pain, but the impact was buffered some by her cloak and her leather bodice.  Clearly he was too far away for a deeper penetration, but that would be rectified soon if she didn’t get up. 

     Reaching up, she broke the arrow off her shoulder and surprisingly the whole thing came out.

 

     “ Just a flesh wound.  The bastard will have to do better than that.”

She took off from a crouching start and bobbed and weaved amongst the trees.  Other arrows followed the first one and true to her thought, they were impacting the trees harder.

     “Shit.”

Ingred flattened against one of the larger pines and readied her bow.  With only half a score of silver arrows and at least six enchanted arrows of ShockBloom, she had to make her shots count.  It wasn’t long before they appeared.  Three Reavers.  Two with short bows, and one with a long sword drawn, all Nords and moderately armored.  They were almost indistinguishable from the smugglers she had a run in with, save for the fact that Reavers stick with their own kind.  She had an idea, and would have to be quick.  Her wound, though shallow, was still bleeding, as the amount of wet cold was spreading in circumference.  

     “Just a tad closer…”

 

Ingred let loose one of her ShockBloom arrows.  Immediately the tree she hit to the right and surrounding trees started to sizzle as lightning crackled between the trunks, causing the Reaver on the right to move inward.  She repeated the shot on the left side to get them all into a tight grouping.  Lightning crawled and crackled up and down each tree, sizzling the sap within and causing a rain of pines from the branches.

 

     “Perfect!”

 

With them all into a tight group of just a few feet apart, she let loose a ShockBloom arrow with a slight overdraw so that it buried deep within the center Reaver’s chest.   He let out a piercing yell, as the lightning shot outward from his chest radiating outward to immobilize his comrades.  Before the outer two could fight off the effects, she closed the distance and with one arm, beheaded the one on the left with her sword, then turning while still swinging it upward to slice the one on the right from groin to breastbone. 

Ingred was exhausted, and still bleeding from the shoulder wound.  Each breath was taking an effort and the cold was making her chest hurt.  She dragged herself over the center foe and checked his belongings.  Twelve gold pieces in a leather bag, and some ebony chips.  She took these, and checked the next one.  He had a nearly full quiver of silver arrows, eighteen by her count.  These she immediately added to her remaining ten.

With effort she checked the headless foe to find flint, a silver Nordic dagger, and a great find; a full roll of twisted sinew for bowstrings.  These she stuffed into her satchel.  Tearing off the bottom of the tunic from the headless one, she took a handful of unstained snow and wrapped it up into a small bundle.  This she tried her best to shove up under her cloak, and upper bodice over the open wound.  She checked with her fingertip the wound depth, wincing with the effort.

     “Nnhhhn!”

No longer hearing her heartbeat in her ears, she knew she was beginning to calm down from her adrenaline-induced energy.  Time to get moving.  She then sped off to the shoreline again, feeling better about her odds with more arrows.  There was only about an hour of dusk light left, and she was going to have to stop to eat and rest.  Hopefully, the Lokken channel won’t be too far away. 

 

     The throne room in the castle proper was empty save for the guards and Sigrid, who was feeling rather troubled.  She sent Anneliese to gather the children from the Njorns, and sent Furmann to Lisendra’s cottage to see what was keeping everyone.  Call it a mother’s intuition, she mused, but something just feels as if there is danger in the air.

With so many years of the throne room empty and devoid of laughter and life, this past year and a half of giggling children, laughing adults, visits from those in and away from town had spoiled her.  Now with it quiet again, she didn’t care for it one bit, and needed the security of the noise of her family to feel at ease again. 

     Sigrid thought of her daughter.  The snow wolf bunting lay in her hands, freshly made with a little “wiggle room” as she called it for a healthy growth.  Caring and checking on Laurenna each morning was her delight, as it reminded her of her own times of motherhood.  She even knew what sex the child was, but kept quiet just as she did when she first knew of its conception.  There was no doubt in her mind when Laurenna and Dandowin came down to breakfast three days after their marriage, that she was soon to have a grandchild. 

Some things, a mother just knows.

     Pacing back and forth next to her table, she nearly jumped when Solveig and Lena thrust the door open a full run ahead of Anneliese.  To Anneliese, she just smiled wide and said her thanks as both girls ran straight to her, though it was Lena who always grabbed her around the legs.  Solveig always stood a foot or so away, and never moved until Sigrid grabbed her with a loving grasp and brought her to her as well. Even after all this time, she still felt unsure.  She seemed to have bonded better with Laurenna and more so with Dandowin since it was he who first spoke to her, but this was understood.  Looking down upon the heads of both girls, their eyes closed as they just stood holding her, she felt temporarily relieved. 

 

     “You are all my family.” She whispered.

 

     “What?” Asked each in turn.

 

     “Nothing my dears.  I’m just so happy that you are both okay and home now.”

Sigrid couldn’t shake the fear that welled within her, and having the children back now only intensified it.  She knelt down to stand in between each of their heights, and decided to trust her intuition. 

 

     “Why don’t you two go ask Sonja for a light snack before we have dinner later?  Maybe if you’re nice, she might make a pie for dessert.”

The girls nodded and just sped off to the kitchen.  Solveig was the last through the door and stopped, turning to face Sigrid.  Her look was so serious, until she just smiled wide letting Sigrid know that everything is all right.   With the children next door, Sigrid drew her hands from her robe with the ring of castle keys in her hand.  Going out through the throne room, she took the corners hastily as she wound her way down the steps, through the halls, not noticing the way the guards stood and nodded their respect.  She found the steps to the castle prison, but instead took the wall bearskin aside and pushed the wall of the secret passage to where Ljot’s Berserkers were.   Walking with haste as the dread feeling welled within her, she got to the door and practically ran inside.

     Sigrid’s heart was racing.  She began to wonder if she were just being too worrisome.

Placing a hand on the door with her back to the men, she steadied herself and breathed deeply for a few seconds.  When she turned, she was resolved and determined.

 

     “Good evening, warriors.”

Ljot’s Berserkers were the hardiest of Nords.  Each one a veritable wall of muscle and armor, with hardened faces and imposing glances.  When Sigrid entered the room, they immediately took defensive stances until she turned, then their stances were replaced with the sign of respect and allegiance.  Each in turn bowed their heads and brought a fisted hand to their left shoulder.  When they spoke, it was in unison and with great respect.

 

     “Command us, Great Lady.”

 

Sigrid lifted her head high, and smiled inwardly at their devotion.  Each one of the men represented a symbol of Lokken strength.  When she spoke again, she walked down and faced each one, to make sure they saw her seriousness.

 

     “Ljot.  Arinbjorn.  Fridgeir.  You served my husband faithfully until his murder, and I ask you now, will you serve my son-in-law with equal faith?”

Ljot took a step forward, nearly face to face with Sigrid.  He looked deep into her eyes and with his own hardened look, spoke the words that reassured her for life.

 

     “Dandowin is our Castle Master.  It is he who restored us, and it is he we shall serve to the end.  His wife, his heirs, his family, and his peoples, are ours to protect until Sovengarde sent.” 

Sigrid couldn’t have been more pleased.  She knew that they were loyal, but needed to hear it to steel her resolve.  The time now was for planning, if by her intuition there is danger soon to come.

 

     “Berserkers.  Ready yourselves.  Train hard, and train our guards even harder.  Make them the reflection of yourselves, so we may stand whatever comes to pass.”

 

Each man nodded his consent, and Sigrid turned to leave.  Before she reached the steps, it was Arinbjorn, newly wed and soon to be newly fathered, who spoke.  His voice was still hard, but Sigrid sensed a protective tone in it speaking of his worry for his wife and unborn child. 

     “Great Lady, does danger come to Lokken?”

 

Sigrid stopped atop the steps, feet separated by a step.    She looked at the men, a fierce protective glance at them as well as the room itself. 

 

     “Perhaps Arinbjorn.  If danger is foolish enough to try us, then we will meet it with the full strength of the Lokken people.”

 

Arinbjorn saluted her again, and Sigrid left.  As she walked down the passage and back into the hall, she gave thought to Lokken’s less protected citizens.  The townsfolk.  The merchants.  The families.  Perhaps it is time to collect everyone to the castle.  But she threw that notion away.  She would have to speak with her son-in-law.  Not just because he was the Castle Master, but also because he had experience in protecting groups of people from the unimaginable.  Laurenna must be there as well as Wulfren.  This is a family matter.

 

     Giving Nidryne Redas time to relax after their ritual of the Black Sacrament, Sedris Omalen covered her with the blanket that she had kicked off herself in her fitful sleep.  Sedris looked down at the pretty Dunmer with interest.  It was easy to see how Bolvyn Venim could be enticed by her.  She was by far the most beautiful guard she had ever come across.  Her red hair, even tousled as it is now still flattered her almost childlike face.  Her eyes, though closed possessed that rare strain amongst the Dunmer that were both red, and luminescent, which often the uneducated mistook for vampirism.  Her body was beyond shapely, with firm breasts and a toned if not mildly muscular stomach.  The usual narrow hips of their kind ending in a pair of very, shapely, legs.

     There were several scrolls and letters on the table before Sedris, as she tallied all of the responses to her plea for assistance.  There was no doubt in her mind that the Dark Brotherhood would answer their call, because she had read an intelligence report in the House Redoran offices in Vivec that stated that this Dandowin Nerevarine had eliminated

Dandras Vules, the highest level assassin in the Order.  It didn’t stop there, but from the account of the reconnaissance, he had killed every living thing in their entire enclave.  Pets, apprentices, operatives, everything that breathed he killed.  There was also a side dossier that said he was involved in the assassination of the four Ascadian Isles Cammona Tong specialists, though her conversation with Orvas Dren proved a waste of time due to him going on and on about the Imperial legions leaving.  He kept reiterating the need for a bit more proof before even thinking about attacking a national hero.  Useless, she surmised.

     The numbers were very hopeful though.  There were quite a few assassins and dissenters in both House Telvanni and House Redoran that were more than happy to not only kill him, but bring a hereditary justice to the ancient insult of when these Nords sided with the Dwemer and House Dagoth.  Pity they lost so many skilled fighters in the Ald’ruhn holocaust.  They would have been most useful.

The plan she and Nidryne devised was almost assassin textbook.  First, send covert assassins to strike at the Nerevarine’s family, loves and heirs if any.  Drive him to a state of despair just as Nidryne suffered which they hope will force him to seek out the guilty by leaving the security of his home.  Then, as we dispatch a contingent to follow and eliminate him and all traces of him, we send an even larger force to both the settlements of Thirsk, and Lokken, which their intelligence states he is living now.  We leave the farther northern Nords of the Skaal to take the fall, after we plant incriminating evidence there.  Their isolationist views and animalistic beliefs will actually work against them.

With the Imperial legions recalled, he won’t have nearly the force he could have from his Emperor master, and the Great Houses are already sending able warriors to stave off the Ald’ruhn Oblivion gate invasion.  In a short time, no one will ever know exactly where the Nerevarine went to, and with this plan, no one will ever find the many pieces we will scatter all over Tamriel.   The trick will be in finding the right primary targets.  We already have a list of names on the contracts, but to be sure, best to add that all child bearing Nords at Lokken be eliminated.

     “Almost too perfect.” Sedris stated before sipping a glass of Matze as she sat across from the sleeping Nidryne.  There was a mumbling followed by the mewling of one who cries in their nightmares, and Sedris rose to sit on the edge of the bed and stroke her forehead trying to calm her.  With each slow stroke of her hand, Sedris brushed more of the hair covering her face.  The motion was beginning to excite her, and she brushed the glass in her other hand against her rising nipples. 

     “Almost too perfect.” She whispered

 

      The shoreline to the Lokken dock came into view as the snow was now coming down in earnest.  Helmer yelled a reassuring “Ho!” to Dandowin as he stood at the starboard side of the ship, hands gripping the smooth dark wood of the ships hull.  Dandowin ran to the main mast and unloosened the securing lines of the main sail and started lowering it, whilst Helmer turned the steer board inward to slow the ships progress down.  Both men, with great effort and resolve slowed the ship to a mere crawl, as it edged along the channel coming close to where Skullum and Dagfeal were moored. 

     The sight of home filled Dandowin with relief, and he closed his eyes and breathed in the cool, crisp Lokken air.  Opening his eyes he saw that Skullum was waving at him, and the shoreline was nearly empty save for the usual milling of the guards, Ingegerd and Silja. 

Tossing his satchel to him, Helmer smiled and slapped the Castle Master a reassuring slap for luck on the arm.  He had no idea what plagued him so to run this fast home, but he knew that he’d face it with the same determination he did with the legends that preceded him.  Just as Helmer picked up the cradle, there was a huge commotion on the port side of the ship, along the shoreline of the channel.  Three Riekling raiders on their boar Bristlebacks just sped off in great haste towards a huge flash of light just cresting the top of the hill on the Solstheim side of the channel.  There were great yells of the creatures and squeals of the Bristlebacks, as it seemed as if something had just killed them and their riders.  As the raiding party started upwards, a Riekling on foot came running from the hillcrest to his fellow blue skinned kin and was immediately thrust off the ground by a well placed silver arrow.  The falling creature tumbled like a fur and leather covered blue ball towards the shore, as the raiders yelled their fury.  Suddenly, standing at a wide legged, bent kneed stance was a tall female figure.  Her dark black hair all about her head blowing wildly in the wind as she stood there, defiantly breathing loudly as blood trickled from many open wounds.  There was a crossbow bolt stuck in her thigh, which was now bare, stark white and blood red against the remnants of the dark leggings shredded around it. She looked as if she was about to fall.

     Dandowin vaulted to the bow just as Helmer handed him a bow he kept on ship for raiders and Reavers.  Knocking the arrow and drawing it to his cheek he let an arrow fly at the raiding party.  The center raider took the arrow in the back of the head and pitched forward.  Dagfeal on the shoreline pulled out his quiver and cedar bow and sent three arrows into the raider on the left.  He was also soon dispatched, with a great grumbling of the Riekling tongue, and a tumbling of blue flesh amongst the soft covering of snow.

The last raider and rider-less boars were still making progress up the hill.  The woman with the dark hair was down to one knee now, the cuts covering her legs and arms in dark red blood, as it was clear she was losing consciousness.  With no time to lose Skullum drew his Nordic broadsword and ran across the channel with a great splashing.  One of the boars turned to charge him, and was quickly sliced in two.  Dagfeal let two arrows fly but these were deflected by the Riekling’s tough shield.  Dandowin drew another shot with some overdraw to compensate for the distance.  Aiming lower, he took a chance and let the arrow go-

In a shot that will be talked about in the Main Hall for weeks, the arrow went flying in a white and black blur to burrow deep within the Bristleback’s anus, the broadhead cutting its way unhindered by ribs or backbone to nestle right in the center of its heart.  With a squeal it reared up, and tumbled forward.  The Riekling pitched forward, and landed with his shield behind him, breaking his arm with an audible crack.  But he was far from dead.

Dandowin vaulted off the ship into the channel water, and sped to the shoreline, as did Helmer.  Skullum was already climbing up to the rise but the Riekling was already about three feet in front of the injured woman.  Standing before her, he ignored the arrows flying past his arms and brought his wolf head hand guard sword to her head, preparing to split her skull in two.   Before he could strike, an arrow impacted his shoulder, but he still brought his sword down in a vicious arc.

 

     “Nuh-uhn.”  Ingred said, as she blocked the arc with her dagger. 

 

The Riekling’s eyes widened. With great effort and will, she shoved his sword aside and with a backstroke, slit his belly open spilling his lunch and his entrails all over the bloodied snow before him.  With that, she fell backward, spent with the effort.

     Skullum got to the scene first, and kicked the mess of Riekling off the hill just as Dandowin and Helmer got there, clothes dripping and breathing heavily.  The two men took in the scene as they watched Dandowin drop to his knees immediately and scoop the woman into his arms as if he knew her.  Exchanging puzzling looks, Skullum and Helmer watched as he tore off a piece of his wool tunic to wipe her bloodied hair from her face.

Ingred opened her eyes with a great sigh, and seeing Dandowin’s face, she brought up a hand and grabbed his hair.  She startled him with a quick kiss to the lips as she breathed raggedly.

 

     “You…you’re alive.”  She breathed.

 

Then with all her leftover strength, she punched Dandowin squarely in the face and knocked him flat against the snow next to her.  Falling back again, she threw her dagger to the side as her hand fell across his face, as he too, was losing consciousness from the blow.  The last thing Dandowin remembered as his eyes dimmed was the raucous belly laughter from Skullum and Helmer.

 

     Sigrid was pacing in the throne room again, but this time her mind was filled with calculations and strategies.  Stopping to take a sip of mead from her tankard, she just picked at the now cold bread that was sitting atop her worktable near the throne.  It was early morning hours, and still Laurenna, Wulfren, nor the guard had returned as summoned.

 

     “Where in Sovengarde is everyone?”

 

Hearing the castle doors open, she sped to the throne room doors to meet whomever it was.  When she opened the door the sight held her fast in great bewilderment, and panic hit her immediately.  Skullum and Helmer were holding some dark haired woman who had clearly fought a great battle; the powerful body was pale as the snow save for all the dried and still running blood.  Sigrid stopped the procession with a wave of her hand, until she noticed her son-in-law being borne over the shoulder like a sack of grain by the strong Dagfeal.  Spinning Dagfeal briskly she lifted his hair and checked his body with great concern.  No cuts.  No arrow or bolt wounds.  No discoloration from poison. No marks on him at all save for a large red welt on his cheek. 

The woman was in far worse shape.  Sigrid took charge of the situation.

She bent to the woman and removed her torn and ragged satchel.  Placing a hand to her wrist and her head to her chest, she noted that she was still alive, but barely.

 

     “Put this one in my room.  Take my son-in-law to his room, and go across the hall and wake up Solveig. Tell her to get some water and blankets from Anneliese.  I’ll need her to help me.”

 

     “Yes Great Lady.” They all said in unison.

Sigrid was beside herself with the unknown factor of this all, and her patience was wearing thin.  How can we face whatever it is to come if there is so much in this that is unknown? She thought to herself.  As she turned to lead everyone upstairs, she looked to the guards downstairs and yelled angrily.

 

      ”Will someone find my damn children and bring them here immediately!”

 

      

 

Chapter 7

 

 

     The cavern underneath Mournhold with its many stalactites glowed wetly with the reflection of many torches.  Not since the ruins were taken over by the Dark Brotherhood in ages past has there been such a gathering.  From all the far reaches of Vvardenfell came operatives and apprentices, supporters and trainers, mercenaries and all manner of dark craftsmen.

Standing upon the upper tier with a wide view of the cavern was Sedris Omalen and Nidryne Redas.  They both wore newer darker robes and stood out amongst so many in the more traditional light armor of the Dark Brotherhood.  The assemblage surprised both of them, for they expected perhaps a hundred strong and there was at least five times that.  Clearly there were many who had cause to wish either the Nerevarine or Nords ill.

     Amongst those in their assassin armor were various necromancers, vampires, even a contingent of Telvanni mages from the house of the late Archmagister Gothren.

 

     “Quite the gathering, eh Nidryne?”

 

     “Better than one can hope for.  Surely the Nerevarine’s days are numbered, as are his loves and kin.”

 

     “We will strike such a blow that the other races, Great Houses, and all others will learn to respect the ways of old and the sovereignty of our Dunmer people.”

 

Nidryne faced her squarely.  All traces of amusement or appreciation were replaced with a look of pure hatred.  Her red glowing eyes narrowed as if each word she spoke were burning from within her mind.  The intensity of it startled Sedris, so much so that she backed up a single step in response.

 

     “I don’t care about any of that!  It is vengeance I want, nothing more, nothing less.  This isn’t about statements…My Gods!  Do you really think your statement or your sovereignty will replace what I lost in Bolvyn?”

 

Sedris was taken aback.  She had assumed that Nidryne had likewise visions, maybe even felt the same as her late Bolvyn about the world they and he envisioned.  These emotions of hers, with such a narrow, selfish, purpose?  She was beginning to wonder if involving her was even a good idea anymore. 

 

     “But you don’t understand-“

 

     “NO! You don’t understand!  Bolvyn was not just my lover.  He was my LIFE!  This bastard has taken everything from me.  EVERYTHING!  I will not rest one minute until his woman, his children, his kin, his peoples, his world in total is destroyed and he feels the same sense of loss that I endure every single day.  My heart is shattered…my bed is cold.  All this is his fault!”

 

Sedris just turned back to the throng of allies before her.  She felt like a jilted lover, even though there were no sweet memories between her and this woman.  Fine, she thought.  Have your revenge.  Have your justice.  You were still just Bolvyn’s lover, not his wife or daughter.  At the end we will still have something of value to toast and remember.  What will you have?  She wondered.

     When it appeared that there were no more coming, Sedris began her speech and revealed the plans that she and Nidryne had devised.  Few saw the need for so many present, as it was common knowledge that these Nord settlements bore light populations without any discernable armed forces or defenses.  Some, who imagined a much more ambitious undertaking just picked up their weapons and left.  Even if there were spoils unheard of, so many cutthroats and mercenaries in the assembly assured that the bounty wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Sedris noted those who left, and a slight feeling of betrayal welled up in her and shook her confidence briefly.  First there was Nidryne’s outburst, and now this insult. 


     ”What have I gotten myself into?” Sedris mumbled to herself.

 

     When Laurenna and Wulfren got to the Main Hall, Lisendra was well into her eighth mug of mead.  Joining those she left behind before her marriage, she enjoyed an afternoon of hunting before coming back for more mead.

Lisendra killed a snow wolf; Stephan two rabbits, and Karl just caught his foot on a root and fell face forward into the snow.  She had more fun in the one afternoon than she had in months, and she chided herself inwardly for not thinking to do it sooner.  Still in her hunting woolens, her blonde hair was wild about her head.  Her normally sparkling blue eyes were now very much red rimmed from the mead and her darkening mood.

 

     “Hey, at least I tried.” She belched.

 

     “What?” Said Stephann.

 

     “Nothing.”

Lisendra remembered when Wulfren made the decision to come home because his stupid sister got pregnant.  Sigrid.  What a pain in the ass, she thought.  Why couldn’t she wait until after the child was born to call for her son?  Wulfren asked her as a favor to be nice, quoting over and over the edicts of Dibella.  Lisendra knew it was a bad idea, but she loved her husband and did it for him.  Naturally it all went to crap.

Lisendra decided, putting down her mug, she steeled herself to confront her husband once again to make a choice: his sister or his wife.  Unfortunately for Lisendra, that confrontation didn’t have long to wait.  The Main Hall opened with a great gusting of wind from the early morning snowstorm, and in walked Laurenna and Wulfren, chuckling and shoving one another like a couple of young kids.  When they saw Lisendra at the bar, she just turned, and lifted her mug again.  Sensing another tense moment, Stephann and Karl nudged each other with their elbows and took a ringside seat by the fire pit.  Ingrid automatically smiled when she saw Laurenna and Wulfren, and got two fresh mugs out and filled each one to the brim with mead.

 

     “Oh great, just what I need, more reasons to drink.” Spat Lisendra. 

 

Ingrid gave her a mild frown and Lisendra answered this by taking one of the mugs she set aside for Wulfren and Laurenna.  When she started to protest, the look Lisendra shot back made Ingrid just shake her head in pity, and she busied herself with filling a fresh mug.

Wulfren noted his wife at the bar, and immediately felt slighted when instead of coming to greet him, she just turned around and continued drinking.  He turned to his sister, with a tired look, which she returned with an angry one.  Seeing this, he just grabbed her arm and said, “Please”.  Approaching the bar, he nodded and slapped the arms of the Main Hall regulars, noting that Lucky was missing.  Laurenna told him that while he was away, Dandowin had gotten Lucky to be a pet in the castle.  Wulfren turned with eyes wide, remembering how emphatic their mother was about never having any dogs or wolves in the castle.  Surely his brother-in-law has got some kind of luck, which right now, he wished he had some.

 

     “So my Lisendra how was the day?”

Lisendra didn’t move or turn around, just took the back of her booted foot and kicked the rolled up snow wolf skin at her feet.  It rolled to the tip of Wulfren’s boot.

Karl and Stephann jumped in the conversation, stating how much fun it was to be hunting again with Lisendra, when Laurenna shot them both a glance that silenced them.

 

     “Go away Wulfren, I’m busy.”

 

Wulfren stiffened, and started to raise his voice a bit.  When he spoke, you could see that he didn’t want this to turn ugly by any means. 

 

     “Come.  Let’s go back to our cottage.  We’ll send for some breakfast and-“

Before Wulfren could finish his comment, Lisendra whirled around from her seat and looked at him with eyes blood red from too much drink and too much anger.  There was no way Wulfren was going to win this without a fight, and he did not want to fight by any means.

 

     “Are you DEAF?  I said…GO AWAY!”

 

Laurenna, having had enough of this being silent, risked overstepping her boundaries and jumped in.  Wulfren immediately tried to stop her but it was too late.

 

     “My brother is talking…to…you.”

 

Lisendra stood closing the distance and bumped Laurenna with her chest and head.  Laurenna instinctively covered her belly, but leaned in to where her face was nearly touching Lisendra’s.  Wulfren put an arm up, which was quickly slapped away by Lisendra. 

 

     “You think I’m afraid of you…you…FAT COW??”

 

Laurenna’s eyes widened and without a word she brought up her fist to punch Lisendra but the blow was blocked by Wulfren’s arm.  Karl and Stephann immediately ran around the three to grab Lisendra as she then made a grab for Laurenna.  Both being strong and tall, it was almost impossible to stop them from connecting at least their fingertips as they clawed at one another.  Laughter erupted from Rolf Klang and Ingrid immediately removed any items atop the bar that could be used as a weapon.  She screamed for Laurenna to think of the baby but Laurenna just growled her contempt for Lisendra.  Lisendra was nearly foaming at the mouth with anger.

 

     “You better keep back!  I’ll whip your ass, AND your baby’s ass!!”

 

Wulfren nearly lost Laurenna as she barreled with her shoulder into his frame.  She was still holding her belly with one hand, but the gritting of her teeth let all know that she would not be satisfied until she had Lisendra’s body at her feet.  Lisendra stopped advancing, preferring to mock Laurenna by making faces at her by puffing out her cheeks in mockery of her pregnant weight.  The sound of the entire Main Hall was chaotic.  Screams.  Laughter.  Yelling.  All a cacophony of discontent when the sound of the doors and the howling winds outside had interrupted the chaos.  With a gush of wind and snow, in walked Lokken guards Jorgen, Stormann, and Svinghammar.  Their faces took in the scene but were unmoved, and they walked immediately to Wulfren and Laurenna.

 

     “Your mother Sigrid requests your immediate presence…both of you.”

 

Wulfren still held Laurenna in place even though she was no longer struggling.  Neither of the two took their eyes off Lisendra.  Lisendra went looking for her mead mug, which was whisked away by Ingrid.  It was Laurenna who spoke first.

 

     “I’ll be home in a minute.  I’m not done here and-“

Svinghammar cut Laurenna off with a pulling and reseating of his sword in his scabbard.

The seriousness in their faces finally registered to all and it was then that they noticed that they were all wearing their armor.  When he spoke, it was almost an admonishment.

 

     “The Castle Master your husband has returned.  There has been an incident.  The Great Lady commands that you all return to the castle.  Now.”

 

Lisendra turned at the comment, looking at her husband’s face and then to Laurenna, who no longer was looking at Lisendra, but was already heading for the door ahead of the guards.  Stormann turned back at the door to Wulfren with a reiteration of the urgency, and Wulfren nodded, turning to leave.  Before he could move a step, Lisendra grabbed his arm.  He turned, and was both tired and angry, but his anger faded when he saw his drunken wife’s face.  It was no longer mocking.  It was a face of fearful thoughts and apologies both unsaid and wanting.  Wulfren grabbed her arm then, softly and just whispered.

 

     “Later.  For now, go to our home.  Please.”

 

     The master bedroom was coming into view for Dandowin when Dagfeal was trying the door handle.  He roused, and tried to stand when Dagfeal just motioned for him to stop.  Dandowin insisted that he was fine, but Dagfeal reminded him that he was under Sigrid’s orders, and that overrides even the orders of the Castle Master. He pointed out that he could see clearly he was tired from the voyages, and rest won’t kill him but his mother-in-law will if this woman he got hit by is another wife. They both laughed, and he acquiesced.  Sitting on the side of the bed, he just kicked off his boots and clasped Dagfeal’s arm in thanks. 

 

     “You know, when you’re better, you’re going to tell me all about this dark haired beauty who fights as good as a Nord.”

 

     “Agreed.  Remind me to tell you again about Red Mountain.”

 

Smiling, Dagfeal left, and the room was silent save for footsteps running up and down the hall.  It was now just breaking dawn, and the weight of all he was feeling was bearing down on him.  There was no time to rest, he mused, but maybe he could sit a while.  It was not missed at all on Dandowin that his wife was not in their bed, nor was his cousin Solveig who had taken to protecting her while he was away.   Perhaps they were roused when Ingred was seen? He wondered.  Ingred.  What was she doing all the way here?  She wasn’t one for the Nord lands and even less for cold weather.  Better to cut this rest short, and see if she’s alive.  Fighting all of the hosts of Solstheim to get here means that the news must be grim. 

As he picked up his boots, the door was burst open by an anxious foot in a snow wolf boot.

 

     Sigrid’s room was a buzz of activity as she, Solveig, and Anneliese ran in and out the room to the kitchen and back again, to gather water, embers, and towels from the pantry.  Nearly all towels were used up, and it was then that Sigrid asked Anneliese for clean sheets.

Looking down at this strange woman, a thousand questions entered her mind, some of them vocalized as she worked her knowledge in unison with Solveig.  This poor distant family of her husband’s infidelity amazed Sigrid with her determination and expertise at healing.  More important, she never shuddered or turned away at the sight of open wounds or blood.  If Sigrid was about to apply a certain poultice, Solveig would stay her hand and place her fingers in the open wound to make sure that it was the proper depth and not too deep.  When it came time to sew up the largest gashes, it was both she and Solveig who would pass the bone needles through this woman’s skin, never flinching or gasping.  They each took turns to wash off old blood before getting bloody again, running from upstairs to the kitchen downstairs.  In this terrible twist of circumstances, Sigrid found herself needing Solveig, and unbeknownst to both of them, a bond was strengthening.

 

     “So.  Who do you think she is dear?”

 

     “I don’t know and I don’t care.  She hurt Dandowin and I want to know why.”

 

     “How do you know that dear?  Sigrid passed her the needle and thread.

 

     “I heard the guards talking and laughing.  They said that he must know her, because she kissed him, and then punched him!”

 

Sigrid chuckled.  When she passed the needle again to Solveig, she watched as her eyebrows were knotted in both concentration, and maybe a rather cute touch of adolescent jealousy.  When she spoke next, she weighed her words carefully not to upset her skilled assisting healer.

 

     “Well, whoever this woman is, it must be important for her to have fought her way here.  Thank goodness Dandowin married a strong Lokken woman like Laurenna, since this one looks like she wouldn’t last one winter here.”

 

Chuckling, Sigrid winked at Solveig who smiled weakly.  She was getting tired, and Sigrid felt terribly sorry for that.  Passing the bone needle to Sigrid, she then took the strips of linen and started to wrap them around her pale arm over and over.  She noticed that some color was returning to this woman, but she was still so pale that her veins were showing blue against the white skin.  Solveig felt conflicted as she worked on Ingred Rems.  Part of her looked at the tall, muscular frame and the long hair and noticed that even cut up, she was beautiful.  Maybe she might grow up to be as skilled as her, she thought.  But when these thoughts came up, she immediately got mad as she remembered the guards.

     When they were done, Ingred Rems was snoring and talking in her sleep.  They both looked at one another with amusement, as she spoke not in mumbles but rather clearly, and some of what she said made both Solveig and Sigrid chuckle as well as blush.  Solveig wiped her nose with her tunic, as Sigrid walked over to her and drew her close.  Solveig wrapped her arms around her and closed her eyes, and Sigrid bent to kiss the top of her head. 

 

     “This woman owes you her life Solveig.  I couldn’t have saved her without your help.”

 

Solveig shrugged.  Her hands were bloody and sticky, her clothes were sweaty, and she was beyond tired.  Deep inside she was really appreciative of her comment, but at the same time she was worried about Dandowin, and Laurenna more than that.  It was early morning and she hadn’t seen her yet.

 

     “I’m tired Lady Sigrid.  Can I go to bed now?”

 

Sigrid kissed her again and gave her the last of the linens.  Sigrid was tired herself, but her mind was racing over issues that made sleep impossible right now.

 

     “Of course dear, wash up downstairs and then get some rest.  I’ll have Sonja bring breakfast to you, so you don’t have to come downstairs for it.   Oh, one more thing dear…”

 

     “Yes Lady Sigrid?”

 

     “Just call me Sigrid dear.  You’re my family, remember?”

 

     Solveig hugged her and then walked to the door, giving one last look to the woman that she decided when she wakes up, she is going to get some answers from.

In the room alone with Ingred, Sigrid wiped her own bloody hands on some linen and looked at her one last time before she noticed the ragged and bloody satchel at her feet that belonged to the woman. Best place to find answers, is to look for them she figured.  Taking the satchel, she left her room and shadowed Solveig downstairs to the kitchen to wash up.

 

     The large pyramidal buildings of Vivec rose sharply into the partly cloudy morning sky.  Its interesting soft brown and gray stone patterns with their rounded ends broken only by each level bustled with people moving between them.  Guards patrolled each tier, some walking, while some standing at attention.  The Ordinators; with their golden armor adorned with the temple’s embellishments sternly watched each passerby, sometimes issuing an unwelcome or unwarranted warning.

     It was here, that Ahnassi padded along the smooth stone, working her way from corner to corner as she crossed platforms from one canton to another.  She could have easily taken one of the gondolas to the Arena, but sometimes taking a gondola shows to the world that you are too rich to walk, she mused.  Besides, she needs to appear like any other traveler to Vivec.  A tourist.  While she walked, the words she had heard from the two Dunmer women at the Maar Gan outpost bothered her greatly.  She knew of this Nerevarine.  This Dandowin.  He was her “true and good friend”, and it had been some time since he would come by to give Ahnassi some gold or a gift, and she would tell him a secret or two.  These are strange times that bothered her she thought, and when she heard of the destruction of Ald’ruhn she counted herself lucky for the decision to go to Maar Gan, instead of the big crab shell.

     Turning a corner, she saw the dome of the Arena come into view with its many banners.  She had good memories of Vivec, before her husband J’Dhannar had become a slave to the Moon Sugar.  Now she is just glad he has gone back to Elswyr.  In all her years, she has seen many good Khajiit die because of the Moon Sugar trade.  As the pads of her feet resonated off the circular walls of the ramps leading to the Arena Waistworks, she thought again of the terrible plot she had heard involving her true and good friend.  Ahnassi could not understand how Dunmer could be angry with her friend the Nord.  Did he not save the Dunmer peoples from the terrible monster at Red Mountain?  “Bah” she spat.  It is always the same, she mused.  People never appreciate those that do the best for them, always those that treat them badly.  Silly people.

     As she entered the Arena, she removed her hood and walked slower.  Still not wanting to attract Ordinator eyes or suspicious guards, she held her head high so all would think her the monk that she is.  This she learned from the humans.  If you keep your head down, people want to know why you are hiding your eyes.  Lift your head and they will think you’re going to talk to them, which they also do not like. 

 

     “Very silly people.” She purred.

 

Turning left, then right, she moved around each stone pillar until she found the Fighter’s Quarters and knocked on the door with her claws.  A Dunmer fighter just opened the door in leaving as she knocked, and just rudely sniffed as he walked by her. 

When she made it to the second room within, she didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door and closed it directly behind her.  There, on the bed practicing a very wide legged split was her good friend, Senyndie.  As Redguards go, Senyndie was more like a Khajiit than a human Ahnassi felt.  She was born in the desert like Ahnassi.  Her moves were very smooth, and light on her feet, like a true Khajiit.  The tight black braids that ringed her head framed a very strong yet pretty face then fell about her neck and back in flowing longer braids.  Dressed in a simple brown robe she sat with legs pointed away from her.  Her eyes closed and her hands brought to her chest with the backs of the palms touching, thumbs pointing outwards in an ancient Yokudan meditation. 

 

     Vaba Do’shurhi’do.” Said Senyndie, her eyes still closed.

 

     “Yes, it is good to be brave.” Replied Ahnassi.  “But sometimes, vaba maaszi lhajiiito.

Ahnassi had not spoken her native tongue in a very long time.  These greetings between her and Senyndie were very touching, and she always felt safe and secure with her.  Opening one eye with a smile, Senyndie brought her legs back in front of her, and flexed her toes.   Rolling from the bed, she landed perfectly on her feet to stand in a vibrant pose in front of her friend.  They immediately hugged, and Ahnassi purred so loudly that she was slightly embarrassed.  Senyndie missed her friend.  Visitors and friends are so rare in the Fighter’s Quarters of the Arena.  Knowing a little about her dear friend though, she was inwardly worried that this was more than a social call.  Still holding her arm about Ahnassi’s shoulders, she led her to the bed, where they sat on it side by side to talk.  She noticed that Ahnassi was not smiling, and she held her hand and broke the ice.

 

     “So, you say it is sometimes necessary to run away?  Is this what my friend is doing now?”

 

     “No my very good friend.  This time, Ahnassi must share a care.  I was in Maar Gan, and heard a very juicy secret.  It is not a happy secret, and there are no gifts to be had, but Ahnassi does not care for gifts this time.”

 

Senyndie was very puzzled.  Knowing her friend for so many years, she knew that her veneer of being a monk was very thin, and that her true trade and calling was the more “stealthy” arts.  If she is saying now that this is a care, and that she has no gain from the knowledge, this must be something that was worth the travel to this distance. 

 

     “You know my true and good friend?  The one who became very famous because he was so shuri’do? 

Senyndie nodded.  Ahnassi had many friends, and most earned the title of  “true and good friend”.  There was only one that she could think of who is famous.  It had been what seemed like ages since he showed up at the Arena.  Once he came to learn some basic moves of her craft and some special Shai’ir techniques.  Next he came again much later because the equally famous Dunmer commander, Bolvyn Venim, challenged him.  Senyndie remembered that duel.  It was brutal, and done with great reservation.  The way his daughter peered over the ledge to the Arena pit, her hands shaking and her eyes wet with tears when the Nerevarine delivered a very lethal sword cut still gave her pause.  All the fighters watched from the ledge at this history-making duel. 

 

     “Do you mean the Nord, the Nerevarine?”

 

Ahnassi nodded and wrung her hands over and over; the clicking of her claws unsettling Senyndie, as she knew this must be bad.

 

     “Maybe you better start at the very beginning my friend.  I will lock the door so we may share this care in secret, and see what we can do to help your true and good friend.”

 

  

 

Chapter 8

 

 

     The Lokken dawn brought its usual gray light with fierce winds and snow blowing in all directions.  The main path that led through the center of town was unusually empty, save for the few guards who patrolled up and down the walkway. 

     Laurenna was beside herself with worry.  The fight she had with Lisendra made her nauseas, and bile was rising in her throat.  Fighting the high winds was difficult, not because of their intensity, but because she was struggling for two.  With all the fight out of her with seeing the guards and hearing the news, all she could do was put one foot in front of the other and get home to her husband.

Dandowin is home?  An incident?  The guards armed and mother upset?  Her emotions raced within her with the fear and ignorance of the incident, and she was panting aloud.  With all that happened in the past hour or so, she found herself crying slightly as it seemed to take her forever to climb each step.  Holding her belly for reassurance. Her white hair whipped all about her face, occasionally getting into her mouth.  The snug fit of her dress was making moving fast difficult, and she knew that the time had come for her to consider wearing a robe or maternity gown.

     The fight replayed over and over in her head, and she would shut her wet eyes to blot out the memory, but to no avail.  Why do I do these things?  She admonished herself.  It’s not my place to chastise Lisendra, and Wulfren can handle his own affairs.  Dandowin’s face came into her mind; with his head cocked to the side as usual, he reminded her that her brother found something to love in her, perhaps she might one day.

Ulfgrun helped her with the last few steps, noticing that her eyes were wet and that the tears left icy traces down her cheeks.  The guards who summoned her and her brother stood at the door, as they parted to let Wulfren pass.  Wulfren took Laurenna’s other arm and helped her indoors.  Kielreen was leaving the throne room, and with the door open she noticed that it was empty save for the guards.  Pulling from Wulfren’s grasp, she ran as fast as her legs would let her towards the stairs.   Kielreen started to speak, but she turned to let Solveig into the throne room, her hands covered in dry blood.  Solveig eyes widened when she saw Laurenna and Wulfren, and started to say something when Laurenna saw the blood on her hands and let out a tearful “No!” running up the stairs.  She was about to yell to her that Dandowin was okay, but it was too late, she was already vaulting up the stairs holding her belly and sniffling.  Upstairs, her mother turned from closing her door carefully, and was abruptly face to face with a panting, crying, Laurenna.  Sigrid was taken aback by seeing her daughter so distressed, but all she could say was “He’s in your bedroom dear.”  But Laurenna didn’t hear a word…all she saw was her mother holding a tattered blood covered satchel with equally blood-covered hands.  With the last of her will and strength, Laurenna sped to their bedroom and kicked the door in with all her might. 

 

     Outside in the forest at the very top of the Lokken path leading to the more remote homes, someone was watching the spectacle with interest.  The cold was taking some getting used to, and they constantly had to ingest the various elixirs and potions that would allow them to withstand it.  Until their objective was met, some temporary shelter was going to be needed.  Being cloaked from view with the Chameleon spell, the Dark Brotherhood operative made mental scenarios of how and where to access the castle to fulfill the contract.  He knew that he was only the spear point of a much larger attack, but the primary targets on his list need to be isolated if the impact is going to produce the desired result. 

     A branch broke behind him.  Followed by a growling.  He was just starting to feel the beginning of the snow wolf’s paralyzing cold attack, when he whirled, crouched low, and thrust a poison dagger into the creature’s mouth.  The poison worked quickly, and the creature yelped as its tongue soon turned black and then dissolved altogether.  Soon the rest of its mouth was turning black, and its eyes soon glazed over as if boiled from within.  This attack was unfortunate, he reasoned.  The poisons have to be used sparingly, and he was already very low because he had to use so much of it just surviving from shadowing that Imperial woman from the mainland.  He hated these long distance contracts into the cold, harsh, lands of these ridiculous Nords.  One has to travel light for stealth, but multiple obstacles often deplete resources. 

    Dragging the dead snow wolf from the tree, he kicked snow over the visceral residue of the dissolved tongue and moved the body to behind a larger tree stump.  Perhaps some bear or other wolves can dispose of the carcass, before a hunter or traveler happens upon it.  The nature of the death will give away his presence, and unlike a mainland forest or ash lands, he can’t burn it for fear of being discovered.  Perhaps more reconnaissance is needed, and maybe he can take over a remote dwelling or cave while waiting for the right moment.  No, a night watch of the movement of the castle is needed.  Maybe something will show a weakness in the defenses.

     Looking down at the dead snow wolf, he drew his dagger again and promptly removed one of its teeth that were not dissolved. 

     “A souvenir.” He whispered.

 

     Wulfren saw Solveig over his sister’s shoulder and gasped.  What happened here whilst he and Laurenna were enjoying the day?  Feelings of inadequacy were filling him.  It reinforced all his original feelings about what type of ruler of Lokken he would have been.  Inwardly, he wished he were as strong as his younger sister was.  Outwardly, he tried to maintain a hard and hearty façade.  It was very tiring, and given all that had transpired so far, clearly ineffective.  He was just about to follow Solveig when his mother appeared, also with bloodied hands.   Seeing him, Sigrid just nodded as it was clear that she was either very tired, very angry, or both.  He went to follow her, but she stopped him, pointing to her desk in the throne room.  Nodding, he just did as he was told.

How long ago it seemed since he was able to be in the throne room of Lokken.  His memories of this room were many, and yet, he couldn’t call upon a single one right now.

Looking at the throne, he saw the embedded Warhammer of Thorjan Bjorg in the stone obelisk to side.  Thinking to that time, he made such a scene to his family about needing to defeat Ragnar to gain his rightful place, only to relinquish it the minute he saw Lisendra and the want of marrying her. 

     On the table that his mother would often pour over books and scrolls, was a freshly sewn wolf skin bunting for Laurenna.  Picking it up, he thumbed the soft white fur and tight stitching.  Many were the moments when he thought of the life of a father.  Marrying.  Having children to love and to teach.  Going out to adventure, returning with gifts untold and stories to share.  Now, all of that seemed so far away.  He knew he practically ran from Lokken when he married Lisendra.  On reflection, he never really gave his sister and her husband who he owed so much to, her own time and chance for a honeymoon.  Now, it’s too late to up and change things, he thought dejectedly.  The whole of Lokken seemed to depend on his mother, sister, and his brother-in-law. 

Lisendra was right it seemed...it was a bad idea to come home.

 

     When the door thrust open so violently, Dandowin dropped his boot and bent for a low attack.  When he saw that it was Laurenna, he smiled widely, until he noticed the very wet eyes and the glistening streaks down each side of her face.  Her normally crystal blue eyes were terribly bloodshot, and she was panting loudly.  Taking her hand away from her belly, she charged at him with arms wide, nearly knocking him off his feet for him to stumble back to the side of the bed.  Still standing, she pawed at his face and neck, and then his shoulders then back to his face again.  Kissing him and crying openly as if it were the first time she had seen him in years.  He just wrapped his arms about her as she sobbed openly.

 

     “Hey, it’s okay…it’s okay.  We’re home and all is well.”

 

Laurenna still sobbed, but lifted her head and looked at him closely.  It didn’t take long before she noted the red welt on his cheek and started to kiss it, as if doing so would make it disappear from view.  Dandowin just smiled and redirected her lips for a kiss, then held her at arms length to look at her.  The tears confused him, but not as much as the kicking in of the door.

 

     “I thought…the blood on Solveig and mother’s…but the guards said and…and-“

She just started to cry again.

 

     “I’m fine, really.  I had Helmer bring me right home, and when things calm down, we have some things to discuss.  Right now, I need to check on Ingred.  The blood you saw was hers not mine, and I need to know what is going on and why she’s here.”

 

Laurenna sniffled and wiped at her eyes with both hands.  She was calming down, but not by much.

 

     “Ingred?  You mean that big Imperial bodyguard from Balmora?”

 

     “Yes, the very one.  The blood is hers and she is in a bad way.  If what you told me is true about Solveig and Sigrid, then they must have worked on her all night and morning long.”

Dandowin went to retrieve his other boot and pulled it on.  As he bent to place his foot in it, Laurenna grabbed his back and laid over him, sniffing and breathing heavy as she held him.  Bent so, she kept him from rising but he knew that she needed this small indulgence.  What must have gone through her mind at the mention of the guards must have been terrible.  When she rose and he rose, she immediately checked the welt on his face again.  Her eyes were starting to clear and all Dandowin could think of was how beautiful she was.

 

     “Then how?” She inquired suspiciously.

 

     “Ingred just said “Hello” you might say.”

Laurenna stiffened and cocked an eyebrow in doubt.  Their moment was immediately broken as Sigrid appeared at the doorway.  Her look was grave, and for the first time Dandowin saw hairs out of place in her usually tight bun.  Sigrid was exhausted. 

 

     “Dandowin dear, you’re fine I see.  Laurenna, I need to speak with him.  Now.”

It was more a command than a comment, and with all that had happened so far; Laurenna resigned herself to being patient and waiting for later.

 

     “Yes mother.”  This was all she could respond to Sigrid’s command.

Dandowin kissed her forehead and was about to leave when he turned abruptly.  His look was just as worried as her mother’s.

 

     “Please, for me…check on Ingred.  Stay with her until she rouses or until I am finished with Sigrid.  If she asks, make her aware that I will speak to her in time.  If she needs anything, please have Sonja or Anneliese tend to it.  Just keep her company.  Please?”

 

Laurenna nodded and went to follow Sigrid and Dandowin out of their bedroom.  He turned one last time to kiss her, and lightly rubbed her belly, which was starting to rouse with activity from their child.  The movement of the arms and legs within her womb reassured her, and helped salve all the panic she had just experienced.  Her husband is alive.  That is all that mattered to her now, and she placed both hands on her belly and rubbed softly, whispering to herself that all will be okay.  When her mother and husband disappeared from view down the stairs, Snorri came out of his room with a few poultices and linen wraps.  Seeing Laurenna, he smiled widely and she stepped closer to take the items from him. 

 

     “That wee one, Solveig?  She’s pretty amazing.  I heard she and Sigrid saved this woman’s life!”

Laurenna had just thought of Solveig at the mention of her name, and decided that she needed to keep her promise to her husband just a few minutes later.  Right now, her cousin is just the person she needs to see, and Laurenna felt that she owes Solveig an apology for panicking so.  Turning around, she went a few doors back until she found Solveig’s room.  Opening the door very slowly and quietly, she tiptoed inside to check on her cousin.  The sight inside brought warmth all over Laurenna’s body, and her chest tightened with the emotions it brought to the surface.

Solveig was facing the door on her bed, wrapped in her covers with her cousin Lena also wrapped into the covers with her. Both their heads were a tangle of white and blonde hair from restless sleep. She had her arm draped over Lena’s shoulder, where her hand was holding Lena’s, the fingers entwined.  They both snored that steady, deep, breath that children do when they are very tired.  Not wanting to upset the moment, Laurenna just backed up slowly and let herself out.  Poor thing, she wondered.  First they endure a fearful life for them in Skyrim evading the bigoted townsfolk; now other troubles to endure.  It just isn’t fair.  Children should at least have a childhood.

 

     By the time Ahnassi finished retelling all that she heard from Nidryne Redas and Sedris Omalen that night in Maar Gan, her friend was no longer sitting beside her, but pacing back and forth wringing her hands herself.  The look of astonishment on Senyndie’s face started to mimic Ahnassi’s, and it was clear that they were both unsure as to what to do with the information at hand.  There were some unsure obstacles to just reporting this to someone of authority in the Great Houses, especially if Sedris Omalen has been elevated in status in some way.  With the death of an entire Skar filled with the finest of House Redoran’s nobility and individuals of power; that means that the Redoran Compound here in Vivec will be the seat of Redoran power for the time being.  If Sedris has influence here, the resulting information could prove disastrous.

     Then there is the issue of how to warn the Nerevarine, if he doesn’t know already.  Solstheim is on the other side of the land, and what can two women of limited means hope to accomplish with any sense of immediacy? 

Senyndie stopped pacing.  She knew of a few such as she, masters of their talents, and some were indeed loyal Redoran.  But first, she needed to visit the Canton to see what the nobility there thought of the destruction of Ald’ruhn.  If by any chance there were some who were survivors, maybe some who escaped the destruction before it happened might be allies.  Would that there were some of the Houses of Sarethi, Arobar, Llethri, Ramoran, or Morvayn surviving.  Only a handful in House Venim were ever friendly and respectful to Kinswoman Dilvene Venim.  She was the rightful power and leader, but her husband saw to it she was kept down and insignificant.  When the Nerevarine won that duel, she had truly seized the opportunity to rule, and I am sure he did more than a few good words to sway the other House votes to increase her standing and overall power.  Many saw Dilvene as a new, fresh, honorable start.  Pity that a viper such as her husband’s lover had to be the one who survived the holocaust.

 

     “My friend, I want you to stay here in my room for a few days, okay?” 

Ahnassi nodded and stood up, hugging her friend.

 

     “What will my good friend do with this juicy secret?  How will we save my true and good friend?”

“Leave that to me.  It is time for me to be the one who shall be stealthy.  First I shall go to the Redoran Compound and see how the winds have changed.  Maybe I can find us a friend, even better, a friend with some influence.  In the meantime, I will contact some fellow talented people to see if they would consider dropping in on our “true and good friend” as a favor.”

 

Senyndie looked for her sandals and also pulled on a pair of loose cotton pants. 

Ahnassi was still very nervous, and seeing the worry, Senyndie stopped lacing her sandal and smiled at her.

 

     Fusozay Var Var.” Senyndie said as she resumed her lacing.  Ahnassi took great risk to share this care, and Senyndie was not going to add to that risk.  Walking to Ahnassi, she lifted her legs and settled her into her bed, stroking the hair on her ears.  Ahnassi breathed deeply and seemed less fearful.  At least for a while, she will be safe and sound.

 

Turning to leave, she was stopped immediately by Ahnassi’s quick hand.  Her claws held her wrist carefully but very tightly.  The look that Ahnassi gave her was that of a mother warning her child of an unfriendly world outside the door.

 

“If trouble comes, it will come with everything.  Those that call the ‘Night Mother’ are the most dangerous.  You are also my true and good friend.  Ahnassi cannot live knowing she has brought the danger with the secret to you.  Promise Ahnassi something…”

Senyndie looked in her eyes and nodded. The words that came next, told her all she needed to know.

 

     Fusozay Var Dar.

 

Senyndie grinned widely.  When she spoke, it was her turn to be the strong mother.

 

     “Do not worry my friend.  As you and I both know as Sisters of the Desert, I have learned a lot more than tumbling from our homelands.”


 

Chapter 9

 

 

     The sea, deep and roiling, even in the illumination of a cloudless sky, bore death on its foamy surface.  The ship that Sedris Omalen had relieved from the few Imperial guards who walked its decks in the Mournhold harbor was filled from crows nest to bilge, with blackened hearts and death bringers.  There was no turning back now, as killing an Imperial contingent surely carried the Death Sentence.  There was no care in it for her.  She had simply walked onto the deck and thrust a dagger into every guard she smiled at.  Their look of surprise and horror, lost forever in the deep ocean. 

Disposing the bodies at sea was the best way to ensure that plans would continue without interruption.  For all intents and purposes, any who would inquire would assume that the ship just left for Imperial business. 

     There was no pleasure in killing those guards, just a mild sense of need due to her growing hatred for her co-conspirator, Nidryne.  How she had hoped that providing the right circumstances and sacrifices, tools and timeframes to exact justice would have shown Nidryne how deeply she felt for her.  At first it was just an attraction.  Part of it due to her beauty, and part of it due to her ferocity in wanting the Nerevarine and his sires dead.  Her determination and assumed loyalty to Bolvyn Venim made Sedris excited, and she wanted her.  But as these days and weeks went on, all she could see was that she was nothing more than a spoiled tart that was the illegitimate receptacle for a great man.  Her blind sense of vengeance was all she wanted, and now that this was most surely assured, she just kept to herself; bored with the friendship Sedris offered and certainly unappreciative of the affection she most emphatically refused from her.

     She talked to the assassin who had experience with captaining a ship, and got a sense of their destination and plan of entry.  The towns bordering the eastern side of Vvardenfell were mostly inland save for the Tel Island chain, and the eastern shoreline of Solstheim’s Lokken had a huge mountain to provide a clandestine mooring. So there was little chance of exposure unless it is an adventurer or scout on patrol. Hoisting the flags of the Imperial Legions and the King of Morrowind, to all they look no different than any other departing droves of Imperial swine. They would break off into two forces, one smaller force to cut off and destroy the mead hall town of Thirsk, then a larger force would storm Lokken straight from their channel dock right up to the castle proper.  Lokken has no army to speak of, just a small force of perpetually drunken fighters, who were mostly hunters from the intelligences.  It was said that Thirsk never fully recovered from some sort of animal or fell creature attack that the locals and the Nerevarine finished off, so a sweeping slash and burn should eliminate them easily.  Then the smaller force can rejoin the larger and drive the whole of Lokken Island into oblivion.  Hopefully the intended message of demoralization by killing all that the Nerevarine loves beforehand will shake his resolve and show him that even a hero of legend, can be gotten to.  As a reminder to the generations of explorers to follow, Sedris instructed all that after burning everything to the ground, all skulls from every man, woman, child, and animal were to be piled in the center of the town, and a trail left leading back to the primitive and animist Skaal.

     Leaving the top deck, Sedris opened the door to the lower decks to go to her quarters for a while.  As she walked down the dark brown creaking steps, she glanced at all who busied themselves about the ship.  Hard, dangerous men sharpened all manner of weapons in one corner, exchanging lewd tales of rapes and entire families killed.  This was a mixed lot of mercenary scum, mostly Dunmer and Bosmeri. A few Orcs sitting in the back just laughing at the tales of unspeakable atrocity, who were watched suspiciously by the standoffish rogue Telvanni mages and necromancers. Some of the more dangerous, mostly the women, were off in one corner gambling while slitting the feet of any stupid males who tried to give them an unwanted advance.  That is not to say there wasn’t fraternization.  The even lower decks were teeming with the yelps, moaning, and most disgusting pillow talk from those that felt the voyage was best spent on one’s back or belly. Whatever vampires were in the assembly at the old Dark Brotherhood enclave, had deserted with the rest of the unappreciative cowards.

     Passing Nidryne’s cabin, she thought to knock and enter, but quickly changed her mind.  Instead, she grabbed a Flin, and opened her own cabin door.  She bolted it immediately.  If she cannot fill the desires she has in her intended subject, then she will fill that need with bad drink and her own hands.  There will be no uninvited anything this voyage.

 

     The room came very slowly into blurry view for Ingred Rems.  There was the smell of strong leaves or flowers, some oils, and the burning wood from the fireplace.  At first panicking, she vaulted forward to find that she was in great stinging pain and still very much exhausted.  She had no idea exactly how long she was unconscious or asleep, but it was midday in the room now, and she was hungry.  Before she could turn she was thrust back very hard onto the bed, the action making all her cuts and bruises scream in remembrance. 

The hand was strong, and insistent.  It held her fast to the bed and try as she might, she couldn’t raise herself.  There was no strength left in her for that.  Bringing her hands to her eyes, she noticed that she was quite clean.  All the blood had been washed off, and she was in a loose fitting gown of some sort.  Just as her vision cleared, a spoon full of shredded meat, most probably bear, was thrust into her mouth.  Gagging at first, not because it wasn’t good, but because her saliva had welled up at the back of her throat, she sputtered and coughed until her head was lifted a bit so the food could go down.  When a ceramic cup was brought to her lips, she smelled the sweetness of the Nord mead immediately, and shook her head in refusal.

 

     “You’re going to have to drink something. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you’ll need to regain your strength.  You look like Hell.”

 

     “Better than you-“

Ingred stopped her comment.  There was no way she was going to win that argument, because the woman that was feeding her and holding the cup was unbelievably beautiful.

Silver white hair that fell to just under her chin, eyes that were bluer than the sky itself held her fast with a cocked eyebrow of amused doubt.  She was dressed in fine wolf fur and linen, a gold ring shining from her hand that held the cup glistened in the midday glow of the room.  There was something else she noticed; she was very much pregnant.

 

     “You must be the Lady of the castle.”

 

     “One of.” Laurenna said smiling.  She still held the cup of mead in front of Ingred’s lips and was not moving it until she at least took a sip.  They stared at one another for a whole minute before Ingred gave up, and swallowed the Nord mead until the cup was empty.  It was sweet, potent, and trying as she might, she couldn’t ignore that it was very refreshing.   Laurenna wiped Ingred’s mouth with the back of her own hand, and moved the rolled up furs under her head so she could lean forward a little.

 

     “One of?” Inquired Ingred quizzically.

 

     “My mother, Sigrid, who helped heal you, is the Great Lady of Lokken.  I am her daughter Laurenna, daughter of the late Wulfgar the White, my father.  Then there is my half-sister Lena, and cousin, Solveig, whom is the other person who healed you.”

 

Ingred was full of questions.  How bad was she when they brought her here?  Is Dandowin okay?  Then she remembered hitting him before passing out and immediately turned her eyes away from Laurenna. 

 

     “You’ve caused quite a commotion here in our castle.  The guards are gossiping like fish wives wondering who you are, and my husband and brother are with my mother now trying to find out why you’re here.  In a few days, you’ll be able to get about, but rest for now.  You’re still not healed enough for walking around.”

 

Ingred checked her arms and legs and noticed that she had thread stitches all over her body.  She winced as she poked and squeezed each one she could reach.  Laurenna smacked her hand away and was shaking her head negatively.

 

     “Leave the dressings be.  You’ll be fine so long as you rest.  I’ll have Sonja bring up some food and water, but you’ll find that our Lokken mead would take the edge off those wounds far better.”

 

     “I guess I owe all of you for saving me.  These dressings are exceptionally done, and well, it’s...”

 

     “Not too bad for a bunch of big-breasted, smelly Nords?”

Ingred’s face turned immediately red.  It was the first time some true color came to her cheeks since they found her.  Ingred was about to accuse Laurenna of being telepathic, when Laurenna rose, stretched, and rested her hands on her belly.  Rubbing it as if showering the child within her with hugs, she smiled at Ingred.

 

     “You talk in your sleep.  A lot.”  She laughed.

 

Ingred chuckled herself a bit, but was still embarrassed for her comment.  Laughing, Laurenna turned to leave.  Ingred looked at her as she was leaving, and it was easy to see why Dandowin loved her so.  She was taller than many a man she knew.  Her beauty was unbelievable, and even with the weight of a child within her, you could easily see how curvaceous and strong she was under her robes.  From the way she said “my husband”, it was more than clear that Dandowin was very much loved here. 

 

     “I’m Ingred.  Ingred Rems.  I was his bodyguard and friend in Vvardenfell.  We…used to fight a lot together.”

 

     “I know.  He’s mentioned you many times when he entertains our family and town folk when they ask him about his adventures, especially Red Mountain.”

 

Before Laurenna opened the door, she turned again, the smile still there but something in her eyes gave Ingred the distinct impression that what she had to say was worth remembering.  Ingred raised her eyebrows as if to say with them,  “Yes?”

 

     “Just for future reference.  It’s my job around here to kiss my husband, and punch his face in.”

 

     “Uh, yeah.  I am very sorry about that, really.”

 

Laurenna laughed aloud.  Ingred relaxed knowing that this Lady of Lokken was not only beautiful, but she had a great sense of humor.

 

     “It’s not me you have to apologize to, and not my husband.  Our cousin is very protective of both of us, but more so of Dandowin.  It was he that picked her and my young half-sister up from being abandoned in Khuul.  She is very fond of him, and I think she feels like a daughter to him.  I know he feels the same way, and well, remember that when she comes to check in on you.  She is the probably the best healer any of us have ever seen.”

 

Laurenna grabbed the door handle and opened the door, but before she took a step Ingred called out to her.

 

     “Laurenna?”

 

     “Hmm?” Laurenna stood to the side with a hand still on the door.

 

     “You are still big-breasted though.”

Laurenna laughed heartily and walked out, closing the door behind her.  Ingred turned her head as she walked out, and yawned.  When she turned her head again back to the door, she found a very serious looking young lady just standing there, looking at her.

 

     When Dandowin entered the throne room, it was more resembling of a War Room.  Sigrid sat at her desk, Wulfren stood at her side, and Ljot stood on the opposite side closest the throne.  When he emerged, Ljot immediately gave him the salute of fealty.  Dandowin clasped his arm in return, and he surveyed the table.  Spread out all over it were various letters, including the one he received from the Emperor himself.  Joining them, he bent to Sigrid and she placed a hand on his head.  He thanked her for saving Ingred’s life, to which she just softly grabbed his ear, and shook his head in family love.

The look on her face was grave, and clearly she was terribly tired and very much worried.

She had, like most thought the terrible times were over with the death of Ragnar, but it seems, there are still a few more trials for her family and her people to endure.

 

     “Come.  Dandowin.”  Sigrid said.  She handed him the notes that she found in Ingred’s satchel, detailing her interrogation of the Dunmer in the bar and of Nidryne Redas.  Dandowin read them to himself, his eyes darting back and forth as his brow knotted more with each sentence. 

 

     “I know of these things.  All of Vvardenfell is talking about the catastrophe at Ald’ruhn.

The gate that appeared is of another realm, and from the hand of the Daedra Lord himself.  This is something that has to be fought at the source, and there is still much undiscovered.  Perhaps the other Daedra Lords or Gods may help, perhaps not.

The last of the God-Kings, Vivec, visited me here in Lokken to ask my help to find a solution to the Dreamer genocide, which I haven’t decided about that yet.  Lives hang in the balance I know, but to fail in a solution will be worse than not trying to find one.”

 

     “And the rest?” Asked Wulfren.

 

Dandowin paused, looking to each face in the room.  None held him in judgment, but there was a prevailing sense of worry as to what he was going to do.  More than that, when he looked to Sigrid and Wulfren, they both knew that whatever he decided, it would involve leaving again and facing dangers that Laurenna will not like one bit.  Not now, so close to being a mother.

 

     “The rest?  The rest…the rest.”

Dandowin’s eyes were closed, shaking his head slowly.  He moved away from everyone to the top of the throne.  Standing in front of the throne, he looked down at the assemblage of family and warriors.  Laurenna entered the throne room then, seeing the solemn scene and immediately took the chair next to her mother. Even more surprising was when Lisendra opened the door directly after, and immediately stood next to her husband, grabbing hold of his hand.  It appeared she was very much sober.  When he spoke, it was with such a tiredness and emotion that it caused Sigrid to cry, something Wulfren had not seen since Wulfgar was murdered.

 

     “My family, and my fellow warriors of Lokken.  The roads that were laid before me I would have never chosen for myself.  The Gods have seen to it that I was placed either at death’s mercy, or as death’s deliverer.  The lives I have taken and have to take seem to number more than the lives I have hoped to save.  It seems that I bring more danger to you after so many years of the dangers you already suffered, and for that, I am so very sorry.  When I first set foot on your shores, it was not for the hunt that drew others.  I came, to leave the world of death behind, and the want of song, for the simple hope of family.

The Gods did bless me with family, but it was family as we all know that had to be wrested from danger and death as well.”

 

Some of the guards were nodding, and Ljot again saluted Dandowin.  Laurenna started to rise, but Sigrid held her to her seat, holding her hand so tightly, it frightened her.

 

     “If I can stop, or at least lessen, the threats that my deeds have brought to the land I love here, the land of Lokken, then I go to meet those threats to whatever end the Gods will decree.  In all my travels from one end of this world to the other, I have learned that the legends are true, the demons are real, and threats must be answered.  You were already a strong people before I came here, with legends of your own.  I believe you will write more while I go to face my own.”

 

Wulfren stepped forward, and grasped Dandowin’s arm.  He was moved, and Dandowin thought perhaps he’s strong enough to finally lead his people as he was supposed to.  But this moment of strength was shattered as Laurenna rose, and ran crying from the throne room holding her belly.  Sigrid wiped at her own face, and stopped Dandowin with a hand to his heart.

 

     “I will speak with her.  Leave all preparations with my son and the men.  By the Goddess I do not want you to go Dandowin.  You are as much my son now as Wulfren, and your place is here. Our heir to these lands needs their father too!  Do not leave just yet.  Give this some days as we prepare and ready our defenses.  My daughter is as strong as the man she married, and she will be stronger still.  For now, I will speak with her.”

 

Dandowin nodded and Sigrid left, going straight to the master bedroom and to her daughter and unborn grandchild within.  Lisendra hugged Wulfren, and left to go back to their cottage.  From the kitchen, Dagfeal emerged, holding something.  He walked right to the Castle Master, and held it before him.  It was an arrow, the very arrow that took out the Tusked Bristleback when Ingred was attacked.  Amongst the guards, there were arm slaps all around, and Wulfren and Dandowin settled down at Sigrid’s table.  Kielreen brought over two tankards. 

There was much to do.

 

     The night’s reconnaissance proved very fruitful for the Dark Brotherhood operative.  Taking care to still use the shadows and cover, he hazarded several chances to survey the castle walls, probing for weaknesses.  Just one, towards the mountainous side, proved most surprising.  There was obscured by some cover of bush and trees a hidden entry into the castle.  It would have been nearly impossible to find without disturbing the terrain and leaving evidence of his investigation, until one of the townsfolk, a woman in a brightly colored red cloak had emerged from it.  The crimson cloak signaled to him almost immediately against the dark gray of the castle wall and the white of the snow.  This was a most fortuitous find indeed.

Moving back to the place where he dispatched the snow wolf, he laid out his weapons and kits before him to check his inventory.  Two glass daggers; one envenomed.  A small vial of fast poison with acidic properties, that was nearly empty.  A folded packet of miscellaneous picks and probes.  One Scroll of Recall, that will enable him to leave undetected and take him back to his enclave.  Flint and striker, part of his survival bundle which housed the various potions of Cold Resistance that he has been utilizing to bide his time.  These, like the poison, were nearly depleted, which meant that the time to fulfill the contract was upon him.  The castle entry solution was almost enough to break the contract, until the cloaked woman emerged.  Perhaps he will have to thank her, by relieving her of her life before the forthcoming madness.  It was the least he could do, he mused.

Taking off in the direction at an angle to intercept her, he kept cloaked as he followed both her deep snow prints and the red cloak, as the fierce winds whipped it all about her.  She looked as if she was walking in a cloud of blood, so stark was the contrast against the white of the snow and the gray of the day.  He jumped down off an adjacent rock as she turned around a huge rock leading up to a path.  It seems to lead to a cabin off in the distance.  Seeing the smoke rise from the cabin chimney told him that there are now two people he should thank with death. Perhaps they will be of no consequence to the castle proper, perhaps not.  It will not matter in a matter of days…death comes for all of them.

Flattening against the wall still chameleon cloaked, he slowly turned around the rock to sneak up behind her.  Coming around the rock, he stopped.  She had disappeared.  There weren’t even snow prints to show which direction she had gone.

 

     “Where have you gone, you snow witch?”

The Dark Brotherhood operative was stumped.  Still cloaked, all one could see from the sight was snow being moved about, with a final burst of snow which had apparently been kicked by something.  Not wishing to waste time, he sped back to his roost, deciding to leave this mystery to others.  The contract could wait no longer.

 

From the top of the tallest tree, Anneliese withdrew her red cloak from the confines of her basket.  Dressed in uncharacteristic snow wolf skins and woolens, she was almost indistinguishable from the snow covered branches and trunk of the tree.

 

     “You are not the only doggie who can do tricks.  I know some tricks too.”

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

 

     There was nothing in her wildest imagination to prepare Ingred Rems for the sight of the young lady standing a few feet from her bed.  It was not that she was unsightly, or was frightening to look at.  Quite the contrary, all outward appearances were that of a preteen Nord girl, on her way to becoming a young woman.  It was her eyes that held Ingred.  It was the way that she entered the room without so much as a sound that completely took her by surprise, and injured or not, she was immediately alert because of it.

 

     “You’re very quiet.”

Solveig didn’t answer directly.  Standing there for a moment longer, she just kept looking at Ingred in the face, in her eyes, without wavering. 

 

     “It’s impolite to stare.”

Ingred closed her eyes and laid her head back down.  She may owe this young girl her life, but respect, if any, is earned. She decided.

 

     “Who are you?” Solveig said plainly.

 

Reopening her eyes, Ingred shifted on the bed so that she could see Solveig.  It was difficult, she was starting to feel her wounds, and sensing this, Solveig moved to her, and pushed her gently back down so that she was lying as she was before.  Solveig then pulled her blanket down and checked her stitches.  In her hand she had fresh bandages and salves.

 

     “I am Ingred.  Ingred Rems.  I hear I owe my life to you.”

 

Solveig took out her dagger and removed some of the wrappings that needed changing.  Ingred just lay there, watching with interest as this girl carefully took her sharp silver dagger and removed soiled dressings, rubbing salve over the wounds, and then carefully wrapping them again.  She spoke finally, but it was flat and without emotion, and Ingred needed to know why.

 

     “You owe me nothing.  I was told to heal you and I did as I was told.”

 

     “So, you’re just a servant then?” Ingred asked coldly.

Solveig stopped what she was doing and looked at Ingred with anger.  Perhaps misplaced.

She took the dagger that was still in her hand and brought it to just under Ingred’s chin.

 

     “I am Solveig.  Daughter of Yrsa, cousin to Lena, and family to Dandowin and Laurenna.”

 

     “Well, that’s surely a mouthful.” 

Ingred continued to be calm, and smile.  If she truly thought this girl was a threat, she would have tried to take care of her before she brought a blade to change her dressings.  As much as she hated to admit it, this was interesting.  Probably the closest she came to an actual honest conversation since she left Balmora.  Ingred was beginning to see what Laurenna warned her about Solveig, and she envied this ferocity in loyalty.

 

     “I have a few questions.”

 

     “Since we have been properly introduced, and you have the dagger, go ahead and ask.”

 

Solveig did not move an inch.  She looked at Ingred without fear, and Ingred liked that.  A lot.

 

     “Why are you here?”

 

     “To find Dandowin.  I was his bodyguard back home and we looked after each other.  I heard a very nasty rumor that he was dead, and I came to find out for myself.  Seems the people of Solstheim are not as friendly as I had hoped, and well, you know.”

 

Solveig nodded.  There was no denying that she had fought long and hard to get here. 

 

     “Why did you kiss him?”

 

Ah, the reasons are becoming clear, Ingred thought.  Dandowin and Laurenna picked up Solveig and Lena from Khuul.  Lena is the blood relative, and Solveig the distant.  In typical Dandowin fashion he has more than likely earned the love of this distant relative, who by all actions, is behaving like a dutiful, loyal, daughter.  With a baby on the way, that has to worry her some, and a strange woman kissing her father figure threatens the whole family picture even more. 

She’s got to earn Solveig’s trust, and that won’t be easy.

 

     “Ah, that.  You see, I thought he was dead, and I was pretty much dying myself.  He and those two other Nords came to my rescue, and seeing him, well, I was glad he was alive.

I kissed him because he is my friend.”

 

Solveig knotted her eyebrows and pushed the dagger until Ingred moved her head an inch upward.  It looked like she wasn’t buying that at all, even if it is the truth.

 

     “Then why did you punch him?

 

     “Because he is my friend.”

 

Solveig pulled the dagger away from Ingred, and just stood there at the bedside, with her arms at her sides.  She was confused, and beginning to feel she will never understand adults, especially their quirks.  Sensing this, Ingred had questions of her own.

 

     “You love him and Laurenna, don’t you?”

 

     “Of course I do.”

 

     “So knowing that, and how old he was before he came here to Lokken, don’t you think that he would have made friends that love him just as much?”

 

     “Yeah, maybe.”

Ingred noticed how Solveig’s world seems to be falling apart, and knowing Dandowin as she does; he probably is going to have to leave again, which is more worrisome than a strange woman kissing him. 

 

     “Solveig, help me up.  Please.”

Solveig turned to Ingred and lifted her up gently, holding an arm and bracing her back to a mild sitting position.  Ingred hurt, but was getting better.  What she didn’t look forward to was the itching when cuts and scars heal.  That felt like bugs crawling all over your body.

 

     “Thank you.  I’m going to tell you something that even Dandowin doesn’t know, and we fought together in the shrines and hills of Red Mountain.  Will you hear me?”

Solveig sheathed her dagger and just threw the old dressings and bandages into the waste bucket at the side of the bed.  She moved to sit next to Ingred, who with great pain moved her legs to make room for her to sit.

 

     “Before Dandowin bought our home, and the servants in it, I used to be the bodyguard to the former owner.  His name was Dennir.”

Solveig nodded.

 

     “You see, we all lived in that house for many years.  He was the one who took me in when I was without a home too.  Just like Dandowin and Laurenna took you in.   I used to be in the legions.  One time, well, my commander tried to kiss me, and I well…broke his nose.  It’s not important.  When Dennir hired me to be his personal bodyguard, he always took me traveling.  He was not just my new boss he was my friend too.  After years and years of being together, in our little home, well, I fell in love with him, and I could tell he really loved me too.”

 

     “What happened?”

 

     “We were like Laurenna, Dandowin, you, and Lena, only it was Dennir, me, Beth, Berna, and Meira.  They were the servants too, but really they were more like my cousins.  Like you two, sometimes you love them, and sometimes you want to punch them.”

 

Solveig smiled when Ingred weakly punched her in the arm, demonstrating the point.

 

     “Anyway, I really thought that the day would come when instead of being his bodyguard, I would be his wife, like Laurenna is to Dandowin.  But then something happened.”

 

Solveig leaned closer.  It was clear that this sharing was starting to ease her suspicions a bit, and maybe, just maybe, Ingred can return the favor, and help ease Solveig’s suffering.

     “One day we were walking about our town, and he just stopped all of a sudden.  He asked if I could just go home, and he would be home later.  We were at one of the Imperial temples.  I thought that he might be getting things ready for a wedding.  I went home, and waited.  But when he came home, he was so…different.  We were sitting at our dinner table together, when he got up, and announced that he was giving away nearly all his money and all his things, and going on a pilgrimage.”

 

     “What did you do?”

 

     “That night, I was so angry with him.  You see, I was thinking that he wanted to marry me, but something else happened.  You remember when Dandowin told his story about how he became the Nerevarine, how sometimes these old Gods and Goddesses talk to you?”

Solveig nodded.  She had no idea what it was like, but from watching both Sigrid and Dandowin talk about when the Gods talk to you, it seems to change you somehow, on the inside.  Solveig prayed that they would never have a reason to talk to her like that.  Ingred continued, but sadder in voice and look, which Solveig noticed immediately.

 

     “Well, the Gods had talked to him.  They were probably talking to him that very day he asked me to go home.  He never told me why or what the Gods asked him to do.  To make him give his things away including the house to us, must have been so important, that it was more important than marrying me.  So we talked.  More and more, every day until the day he left.  At first, he wrote letters, and I looked forward to them.  But soon, in time, they stopped.  I feared the worst, and part of me likes to believe he is still alive, but I just don’t know anymore, and well, that is the worst part, the never knowing.  I made a promise to myself when I fell in love with him, that I would only love him, the same way your Laurenna loves Dandowin-forever.”

 

     “And you never heard from him again? Ever?”

 

     “Never.”

 

     “So what about Dandowin?  You said he was-is your friend.  Didn’t you kind of love him like that?”

 

     “Sure, a little.  Dandowin I love like my older brother now.  He bought our house, yet gave it back to us and enough money to keep it.  He always shared things from his travels, with all of us.  He’s kind of easy to like you know?  But I knew, in my heart, the only man I will ever love is Dennir.  If the Gods need him more than I can have him, well, who am I to argue with that?  But Dandowin, I decided I cannot love like that.”

 

     “Why not?” Yelled Solveig. The thought of not loving her Dandowin seemed odd to her.

There must have been a reason she is not saying, she thought.

     “Was he bad or something?  He takes care of me, Lena, Laurenna, and even does things for Sigrid and everybody.  I even heard Sigrid call him her son, just like Uncle Wulfren.”

 

Ingred continued.  She turned Solveig to face her, since she was looking down again, deep in unpleasant thoughts.

     “Do you know why Dandowin came to Lokken?”

 

     “To hunt the White Wolf too?”

Ingred shifted her position so she could look Solveig squarely in her face.  She wanted to make sure she had her full attention. 

 

     “Nuh-uhn.  He came here, for you.

Solveig shook her head doubtfully. 

 

     “It’s true.  Let me share one more secret.  You know how he never really talks about being the Vvardenfell or Thirsk hero?  That’s because when he kills, and he has had to kill so many people to protect thousands of other people, it bothers him.  It bothers him so much, that all he wanted in life was a wife, children, and to be like everybody else.  None of my “cousins” at our home would be good wives.  One drinks too much.  One loves her mirror too much.  One yells and is even older than your Lady Sigrid!  Me…”

 

     “You love Dennir.”

 

     “Exactly honey.  So instead of just going to a tavern, or the temple, or even marrying one of the Ashlander girls like they wanted him too, he decided to leave the whole country, and come back home.  Yes…home.  He is a Nord after all.  This is where he would have come from long ago.  Well, here or Skyrim, but I heard the girls there are just too smelly.”

 

Solveig giggled a bit and told Ingred of her trials back home, leading right up to the day they were left in Khuul.  When she finished all Ingred could do was stare at her.  No wonder everyone thinks the world of this girl, and thank the Gods she was here to heal her.

 

     “So when he left, I was sad too but for him, because I knew that if he could not find a family even in his home country, where people maybe didn’t know about all the things he did or how many people he had to kill, he would die...alone.”

 

     “But he’s not alone.  He married Laurenna and he cares for my cousin and I.”

 

     “Yes, but more than that Solveig.  He cares about everyone.  Don’t you see that?  That is why the Gods probably picked on him to do those many terrible things, because he cares about everyone.”

 

Solveig sat for a while, and then rose.  She was clearly more relaxed, and Ingred was comically thankful not to have a knife at her throat anymore.  If Dandowin wasn’t blessed with what he was always looking for now, he would never be.  Which reminded her, she wanted to see him as well, if nothing more than to apologize.

 

     “Are you hungry?” Solveig asked nicely.

 

     “Your Aunt Laurenna gave me some meat and a little mead, but what I could really use is some water to wash up, and some clothes.  I’m not pretty enough to wear these gowns like she does.”

Solveig snorted and shook her head.  She wasn’t buying that for one second.

 

     “I’ll get you some things.  But you’re wrong. All the guards are dying to meet you, and all the other women here might want to punch you.  Not me, but I am sure the other women think you’re too pretty or something.”

Solveig left and Ingred lay back on the bed until she returns.  It was good to talk to someone other than her housemates, and those of the taverns in Balmora.  She felt that sharing her secret love for her former home master was a pretty good start to earn her trust.  Besides, good friends are often ageless.

 

     Sigrid found Laurenna lying on their bed, curled up and crying loudly.  Her hands hugged at her belly as her shoulders shuddered with the full effort of crying.  It moved her so, and she tried very hard not to cry herself.  Seeing her this way, it brought back all her own deep longings.  Not just the physical, but the often taken for granted ones of long glances, the sound of your love’s voice, and the security of hearing them breathe alongside you. The sound of their heartbeat as you would lie upon their chest.  Laughter, and long talks about days passed and days yet to come.  All these things were wrested from her when Ragnar murdered her husband, and it pains her so to think that Laurenna would be forced to share this fate, at such a young age.

     Moving to the side of the bed, she removed her daughter’s boots and held her feet in her hands.  She rubbed them as she did plenty of times when she was a child, when her world would seem to make her worry about everything in it.

 

     “Laurenna dear, I know how you feel.  I do not want him to go either.  But if what we have read is true, it is his destiny to-“

 

     “I will not let him go mother.  He CANNOT GO!”

 

     “Laurenna?”

 

     “NO!  He MUST stay here, at home.  I will not lose my husband, and our child will not be born without their father.”

 

Sigrid understood, and wished that such demands were as easy as saying them.  But any danger that threatens the whole family, nay the whole of the Lokken people, is bigger than any personal needs, no matter how deeply we need them.

     “Say you were to convince him to stay.  What would you do if the dangers materialized and are at our front door?  We cannot be awake every hour.  Even rotated, the guards must sleep.  Lokken is far larger than the populace to protect it.  What if they harm, or kill one of our citizens?  Or kill one of our family members?  How will you live then?”

 

Laurenna continued to cry.  She knew all that her mother said was true, but she couldn’t stop crying.  So many things are going far different than she had hoped for.  They were rescued, and restored.  She married a man she loves beyond life, who was given the responsibility of the whole of her lands and people without asking for it.  Her brother just left it to them.  There was so little time spent, just to enjoy the simplest of company and the tiniest of pleasures.  They set about righting the wrongs of Ragnar almost immediately, and she had hoped with the baby now life would give them a chance to be simply, a family.  So much is different than she had hoped it would be.

 

     “Mother…I…I cannot lose him. I love my husband.”  Laurenna broke down further and grabbed her mother tightly.

 

Sigrid held her daughter and rocked back and forth.  They have to be strong, as strong as they were before he came to their home and freed them from the things that kept them all apart.  It is time for the family to be strong…for Dandowin.

 

     “I know…I know.  We all love him too, as much as he loves us.  Think about what he said dear.  Do you think this must be easy for him?  You are his life now.  We all are.  You.  The baby.  Lena, Solveig, Wulfren and Lisendra, all of us.  For me, it is as if my son is turned into the White Wolf again.  Dandowin brought our family back to us, and we owe it to him to be as strong as he was to free us, in believing that he will come back to us.”

 

     “But what if he...he...he…Oh Mother!”

 

     “No Laurenna.  You must believe in your husband.  You must believe that he will come back to us, and that we will keep our home safe for not only us, but for him, and our heir.  He has survived horrors unknown, treachery and deceit, and the hosts of the wilds and underworld.  These he did with few friends, and the help of the Lady of Dusk and Dawn. Now he has a family.  A family that never gives up on one another.”

 

Sigrid just held her daughter as she slowly, and with great effort, stopped crying.  The life within her protested its mother being so upset, with a great moving of arms and legs.  Feeling this, she took her daughter’s hand and placed it on her belly.  Holding her hand over her daughter’s, they both felt the life within move about with the promise of futures that have yet to be. 

 

     “I’m ready now mother.  I will be strong.  I have to be.”

 

     “I love you, my daughter.”

 

     “I love you too mother, and thank you.”

 

     Sigrid covered Laurenna with the bed furs and let her rest.  She was still awake, but drained from all the crying.  Stroking her hair softly with her hand, Sigrid stayed until Laurenna closed her eyes, and was resting with normal breathing.  With a last look at her daughter for the evening, she quietly left the room and headed downstairs.

 

     The Redoran Compound in Vivec was much busier than Senyndie remembered.  Her last jaunt here to meet a friend at the Flowers of Gold Corner Club found the tiers barely filled with people.  Sporadic at best, she could hear her own footsteps resonate off the walls of smooth brown stone.  Now, with the news of the destruction of the Ald’ruhn Skar and so many dead from the noble houses, the tiers were bustling with people. 

     Many, those who were on holiday or business away from the Skar, now found them not only homeless, but also terribly worried about the fate of their missing loved ones.  With eyes and ears open, Senyndie weaved through the people listening to snippets of conversation, trying to find someone who has an investment in the nobles that were lost, that were not from the House of Venim.  The emotions she passed were heart wrenching.  Some lost spouses.  Others, their children or their entire family line.  There was weeping, yelling, and many who would drop to their knees and beg the Gods for safety.

     Winding her way to the Waistworks, Senyndie found the hall leading to the Flowers of Gold Cornerclub.  Upon entering, it was almost as crowded as the canton walkways.  The publican, a rather pretty Dunmer with long red hair was trying desperately to answer questions, supply water and drinks, and maintain order.  It seemed futile, with so many who were clearly frightened.

 

     “Please, please, everyone settle down.  We will get you water and information, but you must settle down!”

 

Senyndie lifted some of the mugs from the publican’s hands and started to disperse them to those behind her.  When she noticed who it was, Sorosi Radobar smiled and looked skyward as if thanking the Gods for help.

 

     “Looks as if you need more hands.  This is madness.”

 

     “What I really need are more arms Senyndie.  Madness I can deal with, but I’m just a publican.  They expect me to know answers to what no one here has any idea about.”

 

     “Any nobles amongst the refugees?”

 

     “If there were, you’d never know.  Whatever chaos came out of that destruction has both high and low born wailing in terror and confusion.  Most here are the families of those killed.  It is breaking my heart, to see such misery.  Why are you looking for the nobility?”

 

     “Perhaps I can help?”

Off to the side, a voice from Senyndie’s past broke through the multitude of voices.  Both she and Sorosi turned to find Redoran Scout and Drillmaster Brildraso Nethan trying to keep order.  Senyndie immediately smiled and clasped arms with her fellow acrobatic impresario.

 

     “So my friend, have you come to compare our techniques?  Or are you thinking of joining the ranks?”

 

     “I come bearing news that I need to substantiate as well as do something about.  This concerns House Redoran, as well as all the Great Houses.  The fate of the Nerevarine, to be honest, is my concern.  What intelligence I bear is of such grave content, that I can only give it to those who were loyal to not only the Nerevarine, but to Dilvene Venim.  I know many in her own house didn’t like her because she brought forth unconventional ideas, but this involves those that were involved with her late husband.  If only she had survived the holocaust at Ald’ruhn, or I could find someone loyal to her.”

 

Brildraso scratched at her temple for a second, and then smiled.  Senyndie was puzzled, and before she could say anything, Brildraso clasped both her arms on Senyndie’s shoulders and gave her a very reassuring look.

 

     “In this, I think I can help you my friend.  Come.  There is someone I know who would be very interested in what you have to say.”

 

Senyndie hoped she was doing the right thing.  She had known Brildraso for many years and they both often shared acrobatic techniques as well as defensive ones.  Like Ahnassi, she knew of Senyndie’s status as a Secret Master.  There was a trust, but she was still reserved.  Dilvene Venim was a Kinswoman of power, and that made many diehards in the House Redoran nobles and military uncomfortable.  With few options, she nodded and followed behind her friend.


 

Chapter 11

 

 

     The throne room returned to its normal stillness.  Candles burned, guards sniffed, and all was quiet within.  Wulfren had returned to their cottage.  Ljot had taken to the guard’s quarters, most probably preparing for the days drills and fortifications of the castle and town.  Kielreen had cleared off the remaining tankards, but left the table as the men had prepared it, with papers, plans and candles holding them in place. 

     Dandowin stood with his back turned to the room at full, in front of the throne itself.  He stared down at the empty chair, never having sat in it himself.  To him, it didn’t seem right.  This was Wulfgar’s chair, and none but he and his sires should sit in it.  Sigrid often told him that this feeling was silly, and that he should treat it as any other chair, but Dandowin would just respectfully disagree. 

 

     “I did not want this Wulfgar.  I did not want to bring troubles to your doorstep.”  He chided himself.

 

He just stood there, arms folded about him, his eyes closed, his breathing deep.

 

     Sigrid entered quietly, closing the door behind her.  The sight of her son-in-law standing before the throne made her stop.  What troubles must weigh on his mind and heart, she thought.  What was this about him that made her feel as if he was her own son?

It shamed her to think it, but she wished that Wulfren had been as strong, but knew that such strength often came from the price of great loss. 

     Walking up to him, she turned him slowly to see that his eyes were still closed.  When he opened them, she saw how tired they were, yet filled with emotions she could only guess at.  He smiled weakly, and brought his arms about her.  Sigrid took his head and brought it to her shoulder, rubbing his back to let him know that the family is behind him. 

Fighting her own emotional moment, she lifted his head and brought him at arms length.

 

     “Go to her now.  She rests, but briefly.”

 

Dandowin nodded and then started to walk away.  Sigrid held onto his shoulder as he passed, firmly shaking it to let him know that they all understood.  The children will be the hard ones to convince.  So small are their hearts, but so huge in their love for Dandowin and Laurenna.  Solveig will definitely not approve.  So protective she has been of everyone since coming to the castle, that the thought of a separation such as this will be very hard to understand.

     When Dandowin closed the door, she breathed deeply, looking about the room from one corner to the next.  Walking over to two of the guards on duty, which immediately nodded their salute, she spoke quietly but firmly.

 

     “Escort me to the Hunting Cottage.  There is something I need to do there.”

 

     “At once, Great Lady.” They said in unison.

 

This night, Sigrid wished to spend at the side of her late husband.  There were things she needed to say to him, and worries that she needs to gather strength from him for.  Gathering the collar of her robe up to her neck, she grabbed a torch as the guards drew their swords and steeled their eyes for the Lokken night.

 

     Nidryne Redas sat alone with her thoughts in her cabin.  All about her, the ship was bustling with both the sounds of travel and the sounds of filth.  To her, all who sailed with them were filth.  Nothing more than expendable vermin to exact her revenge, she avoided contact with everyone until the helmsman declares that the Solstheim coast is in sight.  The worst of them was Sedris Omalen, she thought darkly.  What was she thinking?  Every small and open advance she would try, as if she were of the same mind?

What made her think that she could ever replace her beloved Bolvyn, let alone that she would be interested in another woman?  How stupid can she be?  Nidryne grit her teeth as she remembered how Sedris would touch her in friendship with far too casual a length in time.  She smelled her desire almost immediately, and it sickened Nidryne.  Bolvyn was the only man she ever knew, and the only man she would ever want.  No woman, man, or Gods themselves will ever replace what she lost, to her thinking.

     Lying on her hammock, she thought to herself what she would do when this enterprise of revenge was complete.  She could not return to House Redoran, nor did she want to.  Having long grown tired of politics and overzealous loyalties to outdated traditions, she was more than content to be a simple house guard.  All she needed was what she had, before they were all taken from her.  There was a small house that her family had left for her in the grazelands, where perhaps she could rest alone and isolated from everything whilst she decided how to spend her days.  Never giving a single thought until now to the far future, there were so many roads ahead of her that she can take.  All the sweeter knowing that she brought justice to the memory of her slain lover; she could greet each day with total satisfaction.

     A knock at her locked cabin door followed by a jiggling of the handle broke her concentration.  She spat her distaste for the intrusion, not caring whom it may be.

 

     “WHAT? What is it?”

 

     “We’ve reached the Solstheim coastline Nidryne.  I…I thought you would like to know.”  Sedris said sheepishly.

 

     “Fine.”

That was all the news that Nidryne needed to know.  Getting closer to seeing justice done, and also an end to company in full.  The sooner all of this was over, the sooner she could spend her days alone and in reflection of the love she had for Bolvyn.  Bolvyn.  The very thought of him brought a mix of sadness and such longing in her, that she wept and became wet with desire simultaneously.  It was a terrible thing, the longing.  Her life was so complete she thought.  It never mattered that he belonged to Dilvene.  Never a moment did she think he would leave his wife for her, or offer marriage.  Each night, he was hers and she his, unless business or duty called him away.   Life was perfect then.  The only thing that she never had the opportunity to offer him sadly was a child.  It was what she planned, and thought to breach the subject with him when he was to return from the duel.  The Nerevarine destroyed her plans when he killed her Bolvyn.  He stole her entire life, and now, it is his entire life that will be stolen.

 

     “Soon, Nord.  It will be me that looks down at what is left of what you loved.”

 

     In the dark, cold, hallways of the Lokken castle proper, tiny feet padded from the downstairs kitchen up along the winding staircase to the bedrooms above.  The candle held by tired, tiny, hands flickered so that the shadows danced along the stone like reeds on the shoreline of a windy, warmer, day.  The crunch of holly berries still in her mouth brought tart sweetness to Solveig’s tongue as she passed her own bedroom door, and stopped before the master bedroom.  Ever quiet, she turned the handle of the large wooden doors and opened them slowly, stopping abruptly as she noted the sounds within.  Dousing her candle with her free hand, she put it down and knelt, before softly climbing the steps on hands and knees.

     Within the room that was warmly lit by the roaring fireplace, Laurenna lay on her side facing the steps with wet closed eyes, the streaks of the tears still catching the firelight.  Her left arm raised above her head tugging at Dandowin’s hair, as her right arm was slightly beneath her, the fingers of the hand entwined with his as they both held her swollen belly. Their legs were a tangle at the ankles, Laurenna’s foot locking his own as they moved in unison.  With his free hand Dandowin cupped her face, their mouths joining in deep kisses, which parted briefly for Laurenna to pant loudly, stiffen, then seek his mouth again.

Solveig had heard of the joining of man and woman many times, in conversations passed on the roads in the lands of Skyrim and in the castle talk of the guards here at Lokken.

Never had she seen it, or anything like it. Regardless of how many naked people she had seen and had worked upon with her healing, this was startling to her.  Emotions she could not describe raced within her, from simple shame at intruding and spying on such a tender moment, to complete curiosity.  It was so puzzling, this joining.  Even with a very large belly filled with a child, Laurenna loved Dandowin physically, and he loved her in return.  To Solveig’s mind, she thought that with a belly so round with child, the joining wouldn’t be possible, let alone desirable.  Having seen and heard enough, she backed down the steps still on hands and knees as she slowly pushed the door open with her foot only to be yanked roughly by it by a very strong arm.  She yelped, but covered her mouth directly after, hoping that all within did not hear her.  When she turned around, she found Ingred Rems standing with her arms folded, half smiling with a cocked eyebrow.

 

     “Just what have you been up to young lady?” Ingred chided affectionately.

 

Solveig was completely embarrassed.  She sat on the floor with her legs before her just looking up at Ingred with a face that was as red as the holly berries that she munched on but minutes before.  Before she could utter a word, a loud moan from Laurenna came through the still ajar bedroom door and startled Solveig, who just turned even redder.  Sensing the moment, Ingred shot a quick hand straight at Solveig’s head which made her duck in defense, only to have it grasp the door handle lightly, and slowly close the door.

 

     “Come with me Solveig.  Let just us girls have a very, very, long talk.” She said with a wink and a smile.

 

Solveig picked up her cold candle and was about to run when she noticed that Ingred was still limping.  Bracing herself under Ingred’s arm, she helped her walk until they were at the bedroom door that used to be Lena’s.   Once inside, Ingred hobbled to the bed, and immediately started to scratch at her stitches.  Some of them looked about ready to be taken out, whilst others were still red and angry looking.  Solveig walked over to Ingred and felt her forehead.  She wasn’t feverish, which was good.  While Ingred shifted and scratched, Solveig checked her more dangerous wounds, and asked Ingred to raise her gown.  The puncture wound from the crossbow bolt was still seeping, but it wasn’t festering.  When she checked the arrow wound in her shoulder, she noticed that there was dried blood all around the stitches and some of them were undone.  She gave Ingred a light punch to the area making her stiffen straight and turn around.

 

     “You really shouldn’t be scratching these…you’ve reopened this one.”

 

Ingred smiled.  Looks like someone is trying very hard to forget just what happened.

 

     “So, you want to tell me why you were spying on Dandowin and Laurenna?”

 

Solveig blushed again.  She stopped fiddling with Ingred’s wounds and just looked at her.

 

     “I wasn’t spying.  I went there because I used to keep her company while Dandowin was away.  I had heard she was upset, and I wanted to stay with her.”

 

     “But Dandowin is home now.”

 

Solveig felt herself getting red again, and also, annoyed.  Who was this woman to accuse her of anything?  She started to leave, when Ingred stopped her with one great long leg held out barring her.

 

     “Solveig.  It’s all right.  I don’t mean anything by it.  I guess I am just lousy at conversation these days.  I am glad that you didn’t interrupt them.  They both have had one really bad day and I imagine that they needed to remind each other how much they love each other.”

 

     “I guess.  What do you mean by “a bad day?”  I have been asleep most of the day, which is why I am wide-awake this night.  What happened?”

 

Ingred didn’t know how much Solveig knew of the current troubles, so she started from the beginning.  First reminding her of why she came to find him, the meeting downstairs with the family and guards, and now, the realization that he may have to leave again, to face whatever his fate has in store.  When she finished, Solveig stood up quickly.

 

     “Surely he won’t leave while Laurenna’s pregnant?  What about the baby?  What about us?”

 

     “What about the dangers to everyone Solveig?  How would you feel if they came here and hurt Laurenna?  Or hurt your cousin? Or killed the baby?  Leaving here may be the only way to stop it, or at least find out whom is behind it so that they may be stopped.  He is doing this for everyone, especially all of you, his family.”

 

Solveig was getting upset, and tears were forming at her eyes.  The reality of all of it was hitting her fast.

 

     “But what about YOU!  You’re his bodyguard, can’t you stop whatever it is?”

 

Ingred widened her arms to show her the enormity of all of Solveig’s handy work.  She then tried to stand and woefully looked like a bird trying to stand on one leg.

 

     “Even like this, I would give my life for Dandowin, AND Laurenna.  But right now, look at me.  Even running here to find if he was alive, in the end, it was he that saved my butt again.  No, if I know him, he knows that the only way to get to the bottom of all of this is to get to the source of it.  Me?  I will return the favor by staying here.  Sigrid and your aunt will need me.  Maybe not as the best fighter, but I know how to galvanize guards and set up proper defenses.  With your help, of course.”

 

     Solveig smiled at that and wiped away her tears.  Yes. She would have to be strong, and do whatever she could to protect Laurenna, and the baby.  Maybe Ingred could teach her the ways of a warrior, while she was healing and helping here. 

 

     “When you’re feeling better, I want you to teach me how to use a sword.”

 

Ingred smiled.  This is what both of them needed, and she won’t let either of them down.

 

     “It would be my pleasure.”

 

     From the deep shadows of the tree line, the Dark Brotherhood operative had noted the torchlight and armed guards leaving the castle.  With two of the main guards away, there may be a chance to slip into the castle through the hidden entry he found.  Leaving the cover of darkness, he patted snow and pine deadfall onto his uniform and crouched low against the snow.  With painstakingly slow movements, he crawled along his belly heading in an indirect line towards the hidden entrance.  It was now or never, he decided.  Too much time had been spent in reconnaissance, and his weapon stores were dangerously low.  He was not without talents, and could probably disable most of the guards hand to hand.  But the Lokken cold had exhausted all of his potions, and it is just unwise to fight an enemy who is more comfortable with the environment than you are.

     The local wildlife was thankfully away from the area, and this also provided him with the element of stealth.  Nearing the tree and bushes that obscured the entryway, he pulled from his uniform a selection of expensive lock picks and probes.  If there was a lock of any sort, he was confident that it would prove to be no challenge at all.  If there were other guards within, they would also pose no threat if his skills were worth their training.

Crawling past the bushes, he flattened himself against the cold stone and then started probing it with fingers every few inches, with luck there would be a-

 

“Ah.  Found you!”

 

Pushing the peg in the hole on the stone, the stone door easily moved inward to reveal a dimly lit tunnel.  This was going to be much easier than he thought.  Creeping down the tunnel, he noticed that it branched off into two hallways.  One hallway had stone steps leading upward, the other off to the right.  With no hesitation, the operative veered right and hugged the wall, in case his steps resonated and gave away his presence.  Rounding a corner, he noted that there was a clear passage for at least a hundred feet.  With fleet movements, he darted off into the gloom.

 

 

  

Chapter 12

 

 

     When Brildraso Nethan brought Senyndie to the uppermost tier of the Redoran Compound, she wondered silently, which of the noble houses she would be taken to.  There were the Sarens, and there were the Dralors.  Each in their own way had their issues, and it was this that made her worry about the enormity of the intelligences she bore.

     The doors to the upper tier were opened, and Brildraso steered her directly to the house of Dralor.  It was a modest manor, with warriors and other nobles about.  When they opened the door, the warriors saluted Brildraso and eyed Senyndie suspiciously.  She kept her eyes to the back of her friend’s head and held her head high.  There was no need to invite probing or conversation, not until she knew who and what she could trust.

Inwardly, she was already planning the second phase of her help.  Before leaving Ahnassi, she sent a parcel of coded letters to all of her fellow Secret Masters.  She knew that it was unrealistic to expect all of them to answer, but she was almost sure most of them would answer the call.  This was a terrible plot her friend uncovered.  If realized, it could not only destabilize the Houses, but also give rise to a war between the Clans. 

     Trusting her friend, but cautious, Senyndie prepared herself for anything.  If Brildraso was a hard-liner in line with those such as Sedris, then she had to think of how to escape with her life.  If she finds her an ally, then having the expert drillmaster of House Redoran to galvanize some help couldn’t be better.  All depended upon what happens in the next few minutes.

The door to Favela Dralor’s room was already open, and Brildraso knocked lightly as she bowed to Favela Dralor.  The noble Dunmer matron of House Dralor smiled widely showing much elation at having the drillmaster pay a visit.

 

     “Brildraso!  Felicitations!  What brings the most stalwart scout and drillmaster to my humble manor?”

Brildraso saluted Favela again, before turning to present Senyndie.  Senyndie followed her friend’s lead, and bowed most deftly to Favela Dralor.  The noble Favela smiled and nodded, giving the drillmaster a puzzled look wondering just who this robed Redguard woman was.

 

     “Noble Favela, my friend here is a most skilled acrobat and trainer, and is a most trusted friend.  She comes with dire news that I am still unaware of, but she states without hesitation that it affects not only our Great House, but the fate of the Nerevarine as well.”

 

There was the shuffling of hurried feet from within an adjoining room, its door thrown open wide startling those newly arrived.  A very familiar and most unexpected voice interrupted the conversation, and when all turned, it was Senyndie who’s face was one of pure shock.  A slow smile broadened from her lips, and she immediately knew that she had come to the right place.

 

     “I would be VERY much interested in what you would have to say about the fate of Dandowin Nerevarine.”

 

     Morning brought Lokken a clear blue sky, and cold winds free of snow.  The guards had changed shifts, the kitchen staff was busy with baking and preparing dishes, and the throne room was already filled with Sigrid teaching the children at her table.  Lena and a tired Solveig sat at her table, papers and quills in hand as Sigrid instructed each on how to write in the Runic alphabet of their homeland, as well as teach them the histories of their new home.  They sipped their herbal juices, and ate soft warm bread as they listened to Sigrid teach.  Her daughter came down before the children, looking very tired yet feeling very much at peace.  It did her good to see Laurenna smile so, and when she checked her pregnancy progress she took great comfort in noting how healthy she and the baby are.  Much to Laurenna’s chagrin, the beginning of the next phase of motherhood started, which were breasts filling with life-giving milk.  The leaking brought chills to both Dandowin and she, as they awoke from their long night to cold, soaked, linens.

     With her daughter and son-in-law gathering heated water for a bath, Sigrid herself felt renewed as she remembered walking to her husband’s shrine, kneeling at first but giving way to her emotions at seeing his Stahlrim covered unspoiled body.  A wave of such loss shook her, and when she reclaimed her composure, she told him of their son’s returning from the curse of Kreikan; the marriages of Laurenna and Wulfren; and how their new son-in-law was a man that he would be proud to have known.  She spoke of his infidelity and of Lena, and forgave him.  Lastly, she begged that he offer what blessings he could from Sovengarde for the birth of their daughter’s baby.  All these she reflected on, amidst looks to the children as she pointed out corrections to their runes, and accolades to their being able to identify many of the herbs she laid on the table. 

     The door to the throne room opened, and Wulfren and Lisendra had entered, a roped packet of mail in his hands from Skullum.  They were tired as well, but from the looks of it their reason was far from that which Dandowin and Laurenna shared.  Wulfren went to his mother and siblings and kissed each, while Lisendra knocked on the bar to have Kielreen fill her a tankard.  Wulfren just shrugged in disappointment after handing the letters to his mother, and headed for the kitchen, pausing to kiss his wife as she shouldered her response.  Wishing to speak to her son in confidence, she walked over to Lisendra and handed her the letters.

 

     “Lisendra.  Would you be a dear and please take these up to the master bedroom?  They are bathing now but I am sure they would both appreciate your delivering this.”

 

Lisendra took a long drink, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and burped her disapproval.  She hated coming to the castle, and the thought of having to stay here ensconced until Dandowin killed whatever was making everyone ill at ease, made her want to drink more.

Snatching the letters from Sigrid, she stood, stretched, and bowed sarcastically.

 

     “Yes, Lady Sigrid.”

 

She started to leave but made sure Kielreen refilled her tankard before she did so.  When the throne room doors closed, Sigrid went into the kitchen to talk to her son.  The very moment the door closed, Solveig rose, and was heading for the secret passageway behind the throne to the Master bedroom.  Lena started to protest but Solveig just put a finger to her lips.

 

     “Shhhhhhhhhhhh.  Don’t tell!  I will be right back, I promise.”

Lena didn’t want to be left alone, but figured that one of them getting in trouble would be enough.  Taking Solveig’s share of the bread and pouring her cousin’s leftover juice into her own empty cup, she raised her nose to her in mock indignation.  Solveig disappeared into the secret passage.  Running as fast as she could up the steps, she turned this way and that until she came to the ladder leading to the floorboard panel just underneath the large chest by the door to the display room.  She moved the panel just enough to see into the room.  If it was Lisendra’s plan to mess with Laurenna’s things, Solveig was going to catch her.

She didn’t have long to wait.  Lisendra opened the door loudly and stormed up the steps from the hallway.  When she got to the bedroom itself, she threw the letters onto the bed, and looked around the room.

There were boots and leggings off to the side, empty mead cups on the table and soaked linen sheets crumpled at the foot of the bed.  Nothing of interest she mumbled, until off to the side on the dresser, Lisendra spied Laurenna’s famous wig.  It was hanging on a wooden stand, the tiara woven into the wig by her very own mother.  Seeing this, Lisendra downed her tankard and grabbed the wig from its stand.  She affixed it onto her own head, without care as to the fit.  From the concealed space, Solveig grew angrier at every offense.  When Lisendra made for Laurenna’s closet, Solveig had enough of this affront and started to climb out of the passageway.  Lisendra grabbed the handles to the closet doors, and opened them-

 

     “Let’s see what the dress of the day is for fat cows.”

Just then, there was a terrible sound as Lisendra yelped.  She backed away from the closet holding her abdomen.  A misty distortion in the air whirled about her, and Solveig crouched down back behind the chest.  Immediately, there was a tearing of cloth as Solveig witnessed in horror as Lisendra’s belly started to bleed and burn.  Smoke billowed from a deep gash on her belly. There was a sizzling as if something was cooking, and Lisendra reached outward at the air.  She fell to the floor and Solveig screamed.

     At that instant the Dark Brotherhood operative reached out for Solveig, who ducked and dodged all attempts to grab her from behind the chest, still screaming loudly, she unsheathed her knife and slashed at the hands that groped at her.  A glove tore open and a gray palm underneath started to bleed all over the scrolls and vials that were stuffed into it.  There was a howl of a deep voice, and the chest was grabbed and thrust from the wall with a great crash.  Solveig immediately dropped below, not bothering to cover the panel to the secret passage.  To Solveig, this was some sort of demon.  She had never seen anything like this in her life, and screaming at the top of her lungs, she raced down the passageway straight for the throne room.

 

     Ingred Rems was fastening her leggings when she heard what could only be described as screaming coming from the solid wall.  At first she thought it was rats, as they were common enough in drafty castles.  This was different, and it unmoved her.  Call it intuition.  Call it heightened awareness.  Something was not right.  She hurriedly pulled the tunic top Solveig left for her over her itching skin and had inadvertently reopened the shoulder wound.  Not caring, she just started limping as fast as she could to the door, and decided to forgo the benefit of boots.  Looking for a weapon, she noticed that there were none to be had, only the spoon that Solveig had left for her with her meal.  Taking it, she headed straight for the throne room when she heard the large crash of something heavy come from the master bedroom.

 

     Dandowin and Laurenna sat in the huge tub that he had constructed in what used to be a spare storage room near the guards quarters.  The morning was spent bringing bucket after bucket of hot water heated from the kitchen.  It took nearly all morning to fill the large vat that was very much nothing more than some unused mead vat with some strengthening to the base and a small stair to the rim.  He had helped her into the tub first, watching her literally yell at the contrast in temperature from cold Lokken skin to hot water.  Apparently, very hot water was a luxury here in Lokken, especially for bathing.  Since most are resistant to the deep cold, cold water channeled from the grotto in the castle bottom was good enough.  Dandowin thought of the idea from his adventures to the northern island off Solstheim proper, where he earned a castle from a very grateful Nord ghost.  Laurenna thought the entire action odd, but so was her husband for a Nord.

With their robes and clothes set aside on a dry stool, the two of them sat facing in the tub as Dandowin held Laurenna’s leg in one hand, rubbing the rose scented soap filled mucksponge up and down its long length.  She looked absolutely radiant, her wet silver-white hair plastered to her scalp, the crystal blue eyes more pronounced by her reddening skin.

 

     “Mmmmmm.  You are going to spoil me with these you know.” 

 

Dandowin kept sponging her leg, then foot, then asked for the other one.  Considering he will have to leave soon, he didn’t want to miss a single moment of pampering his wife and unborn child. 

 

     “We’ll have to start thinking of names for the baby.  Since I don’t have a family name or even relatives that are known to me, I guess it will be your family that we draw names from.”

 

Laurenna pulled her leg away and looked at her husband.  She had forgotten in all the drama of her family and repairing of her peoples that her husband never had any of the things that she was blessed with.  No knowledge of his parents.  No brothers or sisters that he can speak of.  Not even a sense of where he was born.  He knew nothing but his first name, and the fact that he was a Nord by stature and talents.  She moved to him, straddling him with the weight of her Nord frame and their unborn child.  Looking down at his face, she searched his eyes and whispered as she kissed him.

 

     “We’ll find a name together.  You.  Me.  Together.  Youuu…meeee…togetherrr.”

 

Sigrid had sent Sonja to gather some raw local materials from Leilana and sent Anneliese to fetch Granny Torunn.  The decision had been made to start gathering people slowly to the main castle for safety reasons, starting with those who were most remote.  Later, she would send for the hunters and warriors.  Last would be the townsfolk proper, leaving the guards to garrison the main road.  Needing this time to talk to her son, she wanted to assure him some privacy whilst his wife ran the small annoying errand. 

 

     “I take it your wife’s mood has not improved since yesterday?”

 

Wulfren sat upon the kitchen worktable.  He sighed as his mother stirred pots and pinched herbs.

 

     “She wants us to leave for the mainland, and in truth, I never should have brought her back here.”

 

Sigrid continued to work the pots.  It helped her concentrate and without facing her son squarely, maybe he could feel less intimidated.

 

     “Marriage is never all mead and merriment.  This is doubly so when one marries part of a ruling family.  There are responsibilities that go beyond the self.”

 

Wulfren took the comment as if it were an arrow.  Like Laurenna, his mother had hoped that he would have taken his rightful place as chieftain, but instead he rushed into a marriage without thinking of at least spending time with everyone, as a restored human.

 

     “Mother.  Is it so difficult to run a nation?  I admit that I made such a fool of myself with my boasts to reclaim the throne, yet when the time came, I, well, I did not do as I should have.”

 

     “You would have to ask Dandowin, truthfully, and your sister.  Remember, when I came to Lokken I was a child bride to your father, and he ruled.  After his murder, I was locked in the tower trying to stave off Ragnar’s advances.”

 

     “Dandowin.  Yes, it must be easy for a living legend to rule.”  He muttered darkly.

     “Easy?  Is that what you think?  Remember my son; you left this responsibility to him, even after he was gracious enough to allow you your honeymoon tour when it was the right of your sister.  He has often tried to ask me to assume the full rule, and to some degree, I have, because he respects the line of succession.  When he brought your letter that you and Lisendra had become pilgrims to Dibella, it was very difficult for him.  The Goddess herself had spoken to me and advised me to accept this fate, for as we have all seen, the Lokken people have come to need him to repair the damage of Ragnar.”

 

     “You know mother, I did things.  Great things, when I was turned into the White Wolf.  I traveled our lands trying to protect the people from whatever dangers assailed them.”

 

     “Yes, and these things he also took into consideration when he agreed for the honeymoon tour of a few months.  You had endured what others can only imagine, as did your sister and I.  Dandowin did not come to Lokken to claim the throne, regardless of how well he has managed it.  He came to find peace, and instead found troubles, a family, and earned a throne, yet to date, he has never sat on it.  Never.”

 

Wulfren was dumbstruck.  Never having sat on the throne?  Perhaps he misjudged his brother-in-law.  Still, he wondered how he could rule in his stead after the people have come to depend on Dandowin.  Then there was Lisendra.  He loves her madly, and knows taking the throne will further drive a wedge between them. 

 

     “Tell me Wulfren, honestly, why did you rush to marry Lisendra so quickly?  She was not with child.  She had no official suitors, just those she hunted and drank with.  Was the need so great in you both that you could not court her in earnest?   If you don’t mind me saying, I think that you still love the Lisendra that you remember from the few times you were both in the frame of mind for love.  You have been parted by the most terrible of circumstances, and perhaps were both needing time to adjust, than to just rush into marriage straight away.”

 

Wulfren was bothered by the truth.  Hearing his own heart from his mother’s lips didn’t make it any less painful.

 

     “Was Laurenna any more prepared for love and marriage?  She is as much a country girl as I am an unproven warrior.  What makes their marriage any more stable than what I can have with Lisendra?  So Lisendra doesn’t want to live in the castle.  The castle isn’t the most comfortable home in Lokken, is it mother?”

 

Sigrid stopped stirring pots and closed their lids.  She wiped her hands on the kitchen rag.

When she turned, she was the most serious Wulfren had ever seen.  Not since they were children had he seen such seriousness.  Instinctively, he knew that if there was a line in the snow not to cross, he had crossed it.  He braced for what he surely was not prepared to hear.

 

     “My son.  I read your heart as plainly as the scrolls on my table.  I know that life has not been the easiest, and that the murder of your father and curse of Ragnar’s mage was the most terrible thing in the world.  I knew in my heart, as did your sister, that you were not the murderer of your father.  She defended you every single day, and for that was banished from the castle by Ragnar.  Every day she stood vigil to give me strength, even though in shame I almost faltered when he threatened to never restore you.  She cut her beautiful hair in protest, and kept it that way until the family was restored.”

 

     “I know this mother.”

 

     “Hear me.  Yes, you know this, and now hear what you seem to have forgotten.  All that your sister ever wanted was for our family to be restored.  It was by divine providence that the very person who would free our family, nay, our peoples from the tyranny of Ragnar also is the person who has freed the entire lands of Vvardenfell from ruin.  You call Dandowin a “legend”.  I call him my son.  You have not been here to see the man that married your sister.  You were not here to see the weight of fame on this simple man’s heart.  I have seen into his heart and know that he would gladly trade all the fame and title to live the life as the Klangs or Njorns do.  Let me ask you this, my son.  Do you love your sister as much as I do?  Would you not want the man she would chose to spend her life with, love and cleave to, raise children and honor the rights of our people, be worthy of such as the daughter of Wulfgar the White?  What Dandowin lacks in family line, ancestry, or heredity, he has made up for in deeds worthy of song.  It is a gift to your sister and boon to our people that these deeds have humbled him, and not turned his heart to stone and his mind to vanity.”

 

     “Your truth shames me mother.  For I wasn’t thinking of Laurenna when my mind was filled with doubts.”

 

     “You are a son of Wulfgar the White, as she is a daughter of Wulfgar the White.  Nothing in history will take that away from either of you.  If it is our fates to join our proud family and peoples to a man that will add songs to it, then it is the least we can do in return for his defending of it.”

 

Sigrid grabbed her son by the shoulder and led him back to the door to the throne room.  He seemed more assured, and that was good.  He will work out the problems with his wife, and whilst her son-in-law faces his destiny, her daughter will be soon mother to their heir and protector of their people.

 

     The Dark Brotherhood operative chased after Solveig with fierce determination.  He was undone, and by a child no less.  Sorely regretting having depleted his supplies, he knew that it was either silence this child, or quickly leave the island with the job incomplete.  Try as he could, she was just too fast.

Her screaming was resonating off of the walls in the inner passageway, and he hoped that they were not discovered.  The navigating of this secret passage proved interesting, yet limited.  One avenue lead to the master bedroom, one to the throne, the other, to a guarded tower keep meant for a prisoner too soft for the jails below.  Looking at his hand, he stopped cold.  She had severed the nerve in his palm and his thumb no longer could hold things properly.  To make this matter worse, she had cut deep enough to cut the escape scroll he had in half, rendering it useless.  His blood saturating it was also no help.  The Night Mother will be most unpleased with him, and he was sure that there would be repercussions for such failure.  At least he had stabbed the wife of the Nerevarine in the abdomen, deep enough for the acidic poison to enter her entrails as well as dissolve any child she could have hoped to bear. 

     The screams stopped.  This was not good.  She must have breached the throne room and will surely report what was done.  It is too cold to risk going outside, and his blood will leave a better trail in the snow than it does in the passageway.  Better to reach the grotto, then double back to either the tower keep, or find some corner to prepare.  At least he still had the ability to remain chameleonic.  This would prove useful.  He could spirit away to either a healer’s room, or the kitchen.  Kill those within, and then bind his wounds as best he could until escaping, or enclave himself until the attacking force arrives soon.  Leaving this unfortunate child her win, he swore that she would also never see another moon.

 

     Ingred shouldered the door to the master bedroom and the pain was intense.  It didn’t matter at all, because she couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible has happened in this room.  Did Laurenna lose the baby?  Were one of the children hurt?  Her mind couldn’t stop preparing scenarios and she grew angry at the lack of focus.   There was a terrible smell of blood and burnt human flesh in the room.  It raised bile in her throat at the onset.  When she hobbled up the short stairway, she stopped in her tracks at the scene before her.

Lisendra lay on the floor, blackening blood spread all about her abdomen as well as the floor.  Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth, and one of her eyes had clouded over.  She was still alive, but in unbearable pain and suffering.

 

     “Please…help…me.” 

     


 

Chapter 13

 

 

     For the first time in her life, Solveig was afraid beyond anything she had ever experienced.  She had heard of Drauger.  She had seen the spirits of those that passed in Skyrim.  But a creature to go from nothing but mist to being whole, and to kill Lisendra!  WHY?  Was it waiting for Laurenna?  Or Dandowin?  It was now after her, and she was terrified.  She ran as fast as she could with tearing eyes and burning breath.  She jumped two to four steps at a time down the spiral staircase, and never let go of her dagger.  She stabbed it!  It bled!  What was it?  Its voice was so deep, so terrifying!  It was black as the night itself from head to toe.  It had no eyes!  How did it see me?  Could it hear my screams?

When she saw the latch and door to the throne room, she dove with all her might right through the opening and cut her arm on the metal latch as she pushed through.  Light filled her eyes, and she tumbled past the throne to land smashing onto the table right in front of Lena.   The room spun, and the roar of the fireplace filled her ears.  She was dizzy. 

All she could hear was her cousin screaming.

 

     Laurenna was feeling so much better than she had felt in months, after her hot bath with Dandowin.  It was not just the pampering, or the lovemaking that followed from the relaxing hot water and her husband’s touch.  It was the sense of finally feeling that they would survive whatever life threw at them.  Her mother was right, we are a family and we will be strong for the whole of Lokken. 

     In her long fur dress, she looked down at her belly feeling the life within move about.  That was her favorite part of being pregnant.  These moments when the child was most active gave her so many things to think about.  Is it a son?  A daughter?  Will it have the silver-white hair of the Wulfgar line?  Will their eyes be as blue as hers, or as brown as Dandowin’s?  So many mental puzzles of how much of each of them will be present in their child.  Time will tell, she reasoned.

Holding Dandowin’s hand, they walked the halls of their home.  Cold and drafty as it was, it was still home.  The only home she ever knew, the only home she would want her children to ever know, and the only home for her and her husband.  Yes, Dandowin owns his share of homes across the lands as well as his castle in the far north, but it was Lokken, that he chose to call home, and she was never more thankful.

     As they passed the armorer, an emerging Sven Schmidt who was his usual smiling self met them.  He had something for Dandowin.

 

     “Ho!  Castle Master!  I bring your new and improved Snow Bear shield.” 

Dandowin took the shield from Sven and noticed the reinforced straps that he asked for.  It was such beautiful thing, forged steel covered with hard leather and the soft, white pelt of the local snow bears.  Hefting it, he noticed that it was still quite light, and of course offered extra protection from frost attacks.  Sven just slapped his arm and walked away, leaving the happy couple to their day. 

     Turning up the spiral steps on their way to the throne room, Dandowin helping Laurenna navigate the hardest movements, they were cresting the last step when they heard the loud piercing scream of Lena break from the throne room.  Laurenna instinctively grabbed his arm, and vaulted herself from the last step.  She shoved him to run ahead of her.

 

     “My love…Go!”  She panted.

Dandowin didn’t hesitate, and closed the last few feet from the stairs with a jump.  He shoved the throne room doors open just as Sigrid and Wulfren were entering through the kitchen entry.  Sigrid’s smile immediately left when she saw that Dandowin had burst through the door, as they all turned in the direction of the scream.  Laurenna was not far behind, her fist stopping the closing door with a loud thud, her other hand protectively covering her belly.  When Dandowin turned to the scream, he found Lena standing on her chair as Solveig was lying on top of Sigrid’s desk.  A rend in her tunic on the arm and a gash seeping blood all over their homework, she didn't seem to be moving.  He closed the distance in a second as the guards had snapped defensive positions around the children.  One of them ran to the secret passage, and entered with sword drawn.  Scooping up Solveig, he checked her arm and head as Sigrid moved to join them, checking her all over.  Lena stopped screaming but was crying loudly as she ran to Laurenna, who even with a baby within scooped up Lena and held her protectively close. 

Wulfren was at their side, looking about and all at once wondering where Lisendra was.

Solveig was coming around.  She was shaking, and out of breath.  The wound on her arm was not fatal but would need stitches, and the guard noted that there was a piece of her tunic on the latch.  He picked up her Nordic dagger from the platform…there was blood upon it.  When she opened her eyes again, she grabbed Dandowin about the neck and cried aloud.  He rocked her back and forth, each time trying to bring her face to his face, which she resisted.  After a few moments, she didn’t, and he was able to question her.

 

     “Solveig.  What has happened?”

 

     “Dandowin.  A…demon!  It…it…it…Lisendra!” 

Sigrid gasped, and yelled to Wulfren and the outer guards who had drawn within the room.  The kitchen staff was all at the door, worried faces and fear spreading amongst them.

 

     “TO THE MASTER BEDROOM!  NOW!” 

 

Sigrid took over as Dandowin handed Solveig to her. She was sobbing with eyes wide and her heartbeat was so fast; Sigrid felt it through her own robe.  Throwing down the snow bear shield, Dandowin went to the throne and drew one of the axes from the wall.  As he turned to the throne doors, the guards were backing away slowly as Ingred limped into the throne room, her tunic front to her bare feet covered in blood.  In her arms was a ghostly pale and limp Lisendra.  Blood and vomit bubbling from her mouth.   Ingred struggled with the effort but was otherwise intact. 

     Wulfren charged past everyone and knocked a guard to the ground.  He snatched Lisendra from Ingred’s grasp so hard she fell on her backside.  He laid her on the fur rug. Sigrid immediately gave Solveig back to Dandowin and rushed to his side to help.  When she knelt to her body, she noticed that Ingred had stuffed the linen sheets from Dandowin and Laurenna’s bed into the wound.  Dandowin walked over to Ingred and lifted her up while still holding Solveig in his arms. 

 

     “Thank you, Ingred.”

Ingred smiled weakly.  Her face was as hard as stone as she looked about the room.  Laurenna immediately took her place at Dandowin’s side still holding a crying Lena.  Sigrid carefully removed the sheets from Lisendra’s abdomen and she gasped aloud.  Lisendra just moaned deeply in torment.  The sight before them caused them all to close their eyes in shock.

     Lisendra lay on her back as Sigrid observed the damage.  A glaring gash was cut in her abdomen just above her womb.  It was an upward slice at an angle.  The flesh around the gash was burned, and blackened.  The tunic and leggings that surrounded the wound were but ashes, and her entrails were showing.  Her stomach was pierced, and all the mead she had previously drunk was saturated around her flesh and the wound.  The smell was a mix of burned flesh, potent acids, and faint honey from the mead.  Some of her entrails were dissolved, but most of them were still whole.  The worst of the damage was lower.  Her womb was utterly destroyed.  There was a small whole in the gash where one could see a glint of her backbone.  Whatever the poison was, it had traveled so fast into her blood that it clouded one eye.  This was beyond the help of Sigrid.  She felt this was beyond the help of Solveig as well.

 

     Wulfren was enraged.  There was no sense to this attack.  He looked at his wife as he held her hand and listened to her ragged breath.  Just then, Granny Torunn entered and immediately ran to the scene.  She pulled a small vial from her tunic and poured it into Lisendra’s mouth.  Immediately Lisendra sputtered and vomited again.  When she did, she seemed to be breathing steadier.  Granny Torunn wasted no time.  She barked at Sonja for fresh water, and was about to call for Solveig until she noted her crying with wide eyes in Dandowin’s arms.  All she could do was ask what everyone wanted to know.

 

    “What in Sovengarde is going on here?” 

 

     Dandowin put Solveig down and tried again to get some form of answer from her.  Ingred knelt to join him, and held her hand hoping it would give her some strength.  The guard who found the dagger brought it to Dandowin, and he handed it to Ingred.  The blood on it was red, no doubt about it.  This was no animal that either of them knew.  It was not black blood, as one would expect from the Daedra.  They needed answers, and quickly.

 

     “Solveig.  What did this?  You said a demon.  Tell me, what did this demon look like?”

Solveig was still shaking terribly, and talking was taking such an effort.  She looked at Lisendra and would just start to cry again.  When she spoke, her voice was as meek as her cousin Lena’s.

 

     “I don’t know.  I don’t know.   It wasn’t there at f…first, when she opened the c…closet, then it appeared.  It was b…black all over, with no eyes.  It s…stabbed her, and she f…fell.  I s...screamed.  It t…tried to g…get me and I c…cut it!”

 

Solveig started to cry aloud again and grabbed at Dandowin who just looked at Ingred and Laurenna in bewilderment.  Black?  No eyes to see?  It couldn’t be an ash zombie.  Those were far too slow and would have been noticed by smell alone.  They also could not be cloaked.  If it were a Dreamer, that wouldn’t make sense because all Dreamers are now like blank pages…form with no substance within.  Why was Lisendra opening our bedroom closet?  This was a puzzle that needs to be solved.  This was an attack that was calculated, precise, and already inside our home.

 

Ingred spoke then, producing something from under her tunic, stuffed in the back of her leggings.  It was Laurenna’s wig.  All eyes stared in bewilderment and shock.

 

     “When I found her, she was wearing this…I think this attack was meant for you.”

She turned to Laurenna who’s eyes were wide and full of tears.  The realization hit her home and she clutched Lena tighter. 

 

     Suddenly, Wulfren roared and stormed at Solveig and Dandowin.  He punched Dandowin in the jaw knocking him with a spin to Sigrid’s desk.  Solveig fell to the ground and he roughly grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her fiercely. 

 

     “WULFREN!”  Laurenna screamed. 

 

Wulfren, enraged by grief and worry, was like a man possessed.  His eyes were wet with tears yet wide with fury.  He gritted his teeth as he spat daggers of hate at Dandowin.

 

     “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!  IF YOU HAD NOT COME TO LOKKEN, LISENDRA WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ATTACKED!  All this ruin, YOU bring to our home!  If she dies, IT WILL BE BECAUSE OF YOU!”

 

     “WULFREN!  HAVE YOU GONE MAD?  YOU PUT THAT CHILD DOWN THIS INSTANT AND BE SILENT!”  Sigrid commanded. 

She shot a glance to Ljot who just emerged into the room and he knotted his brow at this unkind sight.  Laurenna gave Lena to Sigrid, who picked her up and was giving her reassuring kisses and trying to calm her.  Laurenna ran to Dandowin’s side; he was stunned but otherwise fine.   Laurenna was incensed. Family or no, this was not going to stand.

 

     “IF IT WASN’T FOR MY HUSBAND YOU’D STILL BE THE WHITE WOLF!  YOU PUT SOLVEIG DOWN!  HAVE YOU LOST YOUR SENSES?”

 

Wulfren was unchanged.  He glared at everyone in the room in between heart wrenching glances at the damage done to his wife, who was being worked on feverishly by Granny Torunn.  Her hands were so soaked with Lisendra’s blood and viscera; it was amazing that she still lived. 

 

     “NO!  I AM GOING TO GET ANSWERS FROM THIS BRAT IF IT IS THE LAST THING I DO!  SHE WILL TELL ME WHO DID THIS, OR I SWEAR-“

Wulfren didn’t finish the thought.  While everyone was yelling in alarm, Ingred had quietly snuck up around the chaos and with the very same bloodied dagger Solveig defended herself with, brought the blade up with blinding speed to just under his left ear.  She pushed the blade so deep that it split his skin but not his artery.  He gritted his teeth angrily but still would not release Solveig who was squirming weakly and in deep pain since Wulfren was pressing on her injured arm.  No one spoke, no one moved, save Dandowin who was immediately on his feet to snatch Solveig from Wulfren’s hands.  Laurenna then grabbed Solveig and whisked her away to stand behind her mother.  The words Ingred spoke were slow, quiet, and deadly.

 

     “Prophetic speech Nord, because if you didn’t put that child down right now, this would have been the very last thing you did.  You’re upset.  I get that.  You are worried about your wife and I get that too.  But Solveig did not hurt your wife, and neither is it Dandowin’s fault.  Every minute you embarrass yourself is a minute we could be out looking for the thing that did this.”

 

Dandowin stood to face Wulfren, who was still looking at him with rage.  Ingred still didn’t relax her hold of him, but she did look extremely tired.  It was clear that she was not fully healed and she would need to be looked at after Lisendra and Solveig.  When Dandowin spoke, it was with a sad voice and a heavy heart, but it was also a stern one.

 

     “Wulfren.  By the Gods I wish it were I and not Lisendra.  I have no doubt that she was not the one they wanted.  But know this-it was your sister and our baby they wanted to kill!  Whoever did this, mistook Lisendra for Laurenna when she put on her wig.  The answer you seek I will find out, I swear it.  Ingred...let him go.”

 

Ingred removed the dagger slowly but still kept it level with his chest.  She was not taking any chances with this one, family to Dandowin or no.  Wulfren wiped at the blood on his neck, closed the distance to Dandowin so that they were practically nose-to-nose.  When he spoke, it let Dandowin know that this was an issue that there will be no forgiving.

 

     “I wish it were you as well.”

 

Kneeling now to Lisendra, he looked pleadingly into Granny Torunn’s eyes.  Her look was just as grave, but compassionate.

 

     “I have done all I can.  Whatever poison, whatever evil did this, is beyond my help.  I have sealed the wounds to her exposed insides, but it is clear, and the Gods help me for saying it, she shall never ever bear children.  I do not even know if she will walk again.  Her eye may clear, or it may not.  She must not stay here.  My cousin Solgerd on the mainland is better skilled to help in this.  She has experience with things of this nature, as well as the temples that abound there.  Take her there, and make haste.”

 

Dandowin walked to them and Laurenna joined him with Solveig.  Ljot took a defensive position to their side, as Sigrid also stood near Granny Torunn with Lena, who was now quiet but breathing in upset gasps.  There would be no restful slumber for any of them.

 

     “I will have Helmer take us to Fort Frostmoth, where we can get quick passage to the mainland.  We’ll get her straight to the Pelagiad, and Solgerd.”

 

Wulfren rose and spat at Dandowin’s feet.  He glared at him and spoke with nothing short of gritted rage.

 

     “I would rather burn in the fires of Oblivion, than ever ride a ship with you.”

 

Laurenna stood protectively in front of Dandowin, and leveled her gaze at her brother. 

 

     “You speak not right, dear brother.”

 

Wulfren snorted as he looked at everyone around the room.  Sigrid’s eyes were full of sadness and shame for her son.  They were pleading, as she felt in her heart that her world was being rent from her again.  He just glared, looked again at Lisendra, and spoke lowly.

 

     “If she dies, you are all dead to me.”

 

All everyone could do was look at him in shock.  He then turned and stormed out of the throne room, barking orders to the outer door guards to prepare the ship at the docks for a long voyage.  He then barked more orders about until distance and the closed doors silenced him.  All inside were still.  Solveig looked exhausted, and Ingred checked on her wound. She herself was bleeding through her tunic and her legs and feet were a sticky, bloody, mess.  Laurenna turned to put her head on Dandowin’s chest, and she sobbed openly.  Dandowin looked to Granny Torunn who was looking up at Sigrid.  Sigrid still held the sniffling Lena in her arms, but her eyes were wide and tears were flowing down her cheeks.  She just stood there, looking at the closed throne room doors and crying without a sound. 

 

In the kitchen, under the table, the wolf Lucky started to howl.

 

 

     

Chapter 14

 

 

     The whole world changed at Lokken castle.  What light and peace it had known during the healing from Ragnar’s reign was short lived.  Now, guards patrolled each hallway and torches were carried into every secret passageway in the entire castle.  Everyone was armed, and the kitchen staff was busy with the terrible task of cleaning the floors and rooms of blood.  Fresh herbs were brewed to help rid the rooms of the stench of violence, but it was already etched into everyone’s memory. 

     Helmer came to the castle after mooring his ship and noticed that Skullum and Dagfeal were outfitting theirs practically for war.  He noted Wulfren barking orders to them as if he was the chieftain, and there were ill faces everywhere.  After stopping to check on Leilana, whom he had taken a soft unspoken affection for, he walked into the castle to see Ulfgrun and Svinghammar armed to the teeth.  What had happened here since he last dropped off Dandowin and they rescued that dark haired beauty?

Opening the doors found more guards at station at the throne room doors, their hard faces alert for anything.  Gone were the smiles and chuckling that he had come to appreciate on the times he would rest at the castle before getting the ship underway again.

    

     In Sigrid’s room, she sat looking down at the sleeping Lena.  She chose Arinbjorn of Ljot’s Berserkers to be her personal guard because he was newly fathered.  He, like all fathers here, had that extra interest in protecting Lokken’s citizens, and he would slay the beasts of Hell itself before letting anyone harm any child.  The occasional sniffing and catching of breath from Lena’s crying was keeping Sigrid from sleep, but in truth, no sleep would come as she thought of her son.  To lose a son to death or destruction, that is more than any parent can bear.  But what can a mother do when she is losing her son to the flaws in himself?  Would that Wulfgar were here, she wept inwardly.  So much is not as it should be.  Attacking her son-in-law, for something that was clearly meant to kill not just her only daughter, but also her grandchild?  The enormity of the viciousness of the attack just made Sigrid cold inside.  Right now, all she could do was sit on the bed and watch Lena sleep.  She knew that she should be attending to Solveig’s wound, but she couldn’t do it.  This precious child who bears her husband’s eyes was all that she could stand to be near now.  She needed this, and so did the sleeping Lena. 

 

     Granny Torunn was attending Solveig’s wound when Helmer walked into the kitchen.  The dark haired beauty was there as well, as the throne room was a mess of activity with the cleaning of blood, the burning of the bear rug, and the sealing of the passageway behind the throne.  Seeing the wee child getting bandaged was bad enough. But when Helmer saw that the dark haired woman was washing her feet of dark blood, the curiosity was far too much.

 

     “The Castle Master?  Is he here?”

 

Ingred spoke first, as Solveig was silent and clearly very upset.  Her red eyes and nose betrayed that something happened here that has touched everyone. 

 

     “You’ll find Dandowin in the master bedroom.  Have a care Nord, this has not been a good day for anyone.”

 

Helmer backed out and walked upstairs to the master bedroom.  So many thoughts ran through his head and none of them were to his liking.  When he got to their door, Ljot was standing outside of it and looked as if he were ready for war. 

 

     “Shipmaster.” He nodded solemnly.

 

     “Warrior.  What in Sovengarde has happened here?”

Ljot knocked on the bedroom door and announced Helmer’s presence.  Before opening the door, he leaned to Helmer and spoke in a whisper.

 

     “This is best asked of the Castle Master.”

 

     Laurenna and Dandowin found no comfort anymore in their bedroom.  The thought of not just the attack, but what could have happened if it were Laurenna played over and over in their minds.  For Dandowin, it was the realization that they didn’t just want to kill him, but anyone who was attached to him.  This was the very worst, because it made him feel as if all the things that Wulfren said in his rage were true…this was his fault.

There was no time to spend in self-hatred.  Laurenna was the one who needed him now.  When he looked at her, all she could do was sob uncontrollably.  Not just for the violation of their bedroom and the sanctity of their home.  The reality that they would even go so far as to kill their unborn child brought the most horrible images to her mind.  Combined with all of this fear, was the utter shame she felt at having teased, angered, and

hurt Lisendra all these years.  In her mind, the reason she was still alive to love her husband and carry their child was because of Lisendra.  She was deeply sorry, and she vowed if Lisendra were to live, she would never hold her in contempt again.  Her brother, that brought the most sadness.  She had believed in him from the start.  She defended him to the world at large, and it was her love, her Dandowin, that restored both him and their family.  To strike her Dandowin was one thing.  To wish what had happened to Lisendra, were him instead, was another.  Deep in her heart, she knew that he was just grief stricken.  She had to believe that.  But there was something else, the feeling that she felt betrayed.  What she yelled at him was true.  They all owe their lives and their land restored to her husband who never asked for anything in return.  All Dandowin tried to do was the very best he could do given how all of this was placed in his lap.  These feelings overwhelmed her.  She felt shame for her treatment of Lisendra, but she felt her love of her brother slipping away because she was realizing how single-minded he truly seemed.  What of their mother?  The terrible look of loss in Sigrid’s eyes tore her heart to pieces.  To witness all of this, from his rage, to manhandling and threatening a poor child who lived to report what she saw?  It was as if he was somehow more like Kreikan than himself.  The thoughts bombarded her, and all she could do was cry and hold Dandowin.

When Helmer appeared, she nearly screamed.  Not in anger, but in fear he would soon take her love away, never to return. 

 

     Fridgeir was assigned to protect Solveig, even though Ingred never left her side.  The bond that was developing between Ingred Rems and Solveig was strong, and Sigrid was thankful without words for it.  It was proven time and again, that her son-in-law seems to choose people of such character to befriend, that her trust in the Goddess’s wisdom was sane.  Most everyone would look at Solveig, but none dared to speak.  She felt exposed.  She knew none of this was her fault, but the looks were bothering her.  It was not her fault Lisendra was stabbed.  It was not her fault she could not kill the demon.  She is just a girl after all, she thought. 

     Sensing this, Ingred lightly grabbed her chin and brought her face up from the staring of her shaking hands to meet her eyes.  She spoke calmly, and with purpose.  Time was running out, and the searches had proved unsuccessful.  She needed to help these people the best way she knows, and that means thinking like the soldier she once was.  Reaching into the fireplace, she withdrew a small shard of burnt wood and blew off the ember.  Next, she grabbed one of Sonja’s cookbooks and tore out the first page.  Sonja started to protest, but was silenced immediately when Ingred frowned at her.  There was already enough excitement for this evening.

 

     “Solveig sweetie.  Look at me.  I need you to do something for me as best you can.  I know you don’t want to think about it, but everyone here is depending on you.  The life of not just Laurenna, but the baby and everyone depend on what I am going to ask you.”

 

Solveig wiped at her nose with her only good sleeve and bit her lower lip in response.  She knew what she was going to ask, and she was very afraid.  Ingred continued, with care.

 

     “I know sweetie, I know.  Even I don’t want to think about it, and I found her.  So please, I am begging you.  As best you can, try and draw me a picture of what you saw.”

 

Very carefully with shaking hands Solveig took the shard of charcoal and put it on the paper.  She immediately broke it in half with her shaking, and Ingred just put her arms around her, pressing herself into her back to steady her with a hug.  She held her free hand and Solveig grabbed it so hard that the color left both of their hands.  With slow movements of her fingers, Solveig traced the outline of a human form.  Good, Ingred thought, this was a human after all.  Next Solveig filled in the arms and legs, coloring them with the stick until they were all black.  Finally, she drew a pattern in the chest area of armored plating, and when she drew the head, she just drew lines across the face until the whole head was blackened in, except for one, small, round thing like an eye, but not.  When she finished, Solveig brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms about them, rocking back and forth.  She shoved both paper and charcoal away from her. 

Ingred kissed the side of her hair and rose.

 

     “Thank you sweetie.”

 

Ingred didn’t have to look at the paper long to know this was trouble.  Big trouble.  She yelled at Fridgeir to stay with Solveig and if harm came to her, she would drink mead from his skull.  Solveig protested and rose, grabbing Ingred’s hand and staying close.  Ingred smiled, and just told Fridgeir that he had better keep up with them.

 

This was something that Dandowin needs to see.  Immediately.

 

     “An assassin?  You’re certain of this?”  Asked Sigrid.

 

Dandowin held the paper of Solveig’s drawing in both hands, before crumpling it and throwing it into the fireplace.  The look he had was not only grave, but also enraged to the point of distraction.  They had all gathered into her room the very minute Ingred brought him the drawing.  After the incident with Wulfren, there was no way he was going to let the rest of the family become fractured.

 

     “Not just any assassin Sigrid, but this is the Dark Brotherhood.  They are the eyes, ears, and hands of Sithis, and the Night Mother herself.  Their reach is long, and their methods are relentless.  This is an evil from my past, and I fear that Wulfren was right.  This is all my fault.”

With great sadness Dandowin told all of the assassination attempts from the Dark Brotherhood, and of their source, the current King of Morrowind itself.  He spoke of exacting his revenge, in locating their enclave in the Mournhold underground and of the totality of his actions, leaving nothing alive.  Judging from the evidence that he was given by Ingred, it would appear that this is personal indeed.  With an even greater sadness he spoke of his deeds that the Lady Azura asked of him in becoming Hortator of the three Great Houses.  He told with closed eyes of the slaying of Bolvyn Venim, in a duel of his challenging, and threats of revenge from members of the house of Venim.  The list of deaths by his hand was long, and seemingly, without an end.

 

     Sigrid rose from the bed, Lena in her arms.  She looked at her son-in-law without judgment, but was clearly tired and determined.  Dandowin stood before her; head bowed and tired as well.  Laurenna stood to his side, her arm about his shoulder, stroking it back and forth.  When Sigrid spoke, the entire room turned to hear her.

 

     “My husband Wulfgar once told me, “violence may solve one problem, but it often sows the seeds for many others”.  His wisdom was never more evident than it is now.  As the Great Lady of my Lokken peoples, I have seen what violence has done, in robbing me of a husband and hurting the whole of our peoples.  But as a mother who loves her children with every fiber of her being, I know that it was violence that freed our people from the same tyranny.  As your Great Lady Dandowin, I command you to do whatever you can to save my family and our people, which are your family now.  I command you also to see that my son finds the best care for his wife, and that he is protected.  Do this in secret if you must, since his grief has robbed him of his fealty to you.  May the Gods protect him as best they can.”

 

Dandowin bowed again, and was just about to leave when she stopped him with a firm hand on his own.  The seriousness in her look was tempered with a love that was only  dwarfed by the love his wife. 

 

     “As your mother, for in truth, you are my son now as much as my Wulfren, I beg you to also do whatever you must to return to us.  Give my home their Castle Master.  Give my daughter her husband.  Give my grandchild their father.  Take with you the love of your family, and return to us so that we may return and share our love until Sovengarde sent.”

 

     Sigrid kissed her son-in-law, and carried Lena to a meal with Arinbjorn shadowing them.  She stopped before Laurenna, who she kissed as well, and shook her shoulder knowing that her daughter would be as strong as she.  To Ingred, who was standing behind Solveig with arms about her shoulders, she bowed and smiled, in which Ingred bowed as best she could to the Great Lady.  Laurenna hugged Dandowin, and with her arm still about his waist, they stood before Ingred and Solveig.  Ingred was teary eyed, to which she just wiped at them with her rough knuckles.  She mock punched Dandowin winking at Laurenna simultaneously.

 

     “To you Ingred and Solveig, I leave the protection of my family.  You share this with Ljot and Fridgeir, who will serve you both as they have served me.  Ingred, use whatever you can to ferret out this assassin.  Something tells me that he has not left, and all evidence shows that he is still cloaked.”

 

Ingred saluted him with the sign of fealty.  He next knelt to Solveig so that he could be nearly eye-to-eye.  She was smiling weakly, but looked as if she could break down and cry at any moment.  He put his arms on her shoulders as well, lifting her head high.

 

     “You.  You have done great things I will never forget Solveig.  You have saved the life of my Ingred, and for that, I am in your debt forever.  You have helped to save our whole family, and our whole people.  If you had not sought to protect Laurenna’s things, and fought with this assassin, we would never have truly known what had happened to Lisendra.  You have and continue to protect my Laurenna, and our baby, and I love you always for that.  You, Solveig, are the daughter I would have always wanted.  If it would please you, and if you would honor us, I would like you to be our daughter.”

Laurenna also knelt with help from Ingred, who was also in front of her.  They both knelt before her, and with pleading eyes and clasped hands, they bowed to Solveig.  She was shaking lightly, her eyes all wet as tears ran down them to wet her tunic.  Looking before her at Dandowin and Laurenna on their knees with their heads bowed, she was a flurry of emotion.  Ingred then shook her with a weak punch to her uninjured arm, bending to whisper in her ear.

 

   “Well, say something!  Don’t have your aunt Laurenna sit like that too long!” She whispered amiably.

 

Solveig just smiled and cried, her eyes and face a wet mess as she wiped at it with her tunic sleeve.  She then rushed at them both, an arm about their necks sobbing and speaking with a broken voice filled with such love, even Ingred had to turn her head to hide her welling emotions.  They hugged her fiercely in return.

 

     “YES!  Oh Yes.  I would be honored, to be your daughter.”

 

Solveig and Ingred helped Laurenna rise.  She took her husband out the door to their master bedroom, where she would help him pack.  Ljot followed behind, pausing to wink at Ingred who slapped Fridgeir’s arm to keep up.  They then headed downstairs to the throne room, to the kitchen and then to their charges at hand.

 

     Wulfren couldn’t get Skullum and Dagfeal to move fast enough.  If he had a whip, he would have been tempted to use it, so great was his concern.  The townsfolk stood around the ship to watch as Wulfren barked orders and moved things himself.  When the ship was ready to sail, he ordered Ismir, Kolbein, the town guards and Lisendra’s hunting partners Karl and Stephann to help him carry the unconscious Lisendra who was wrapped tightly in several furs and blankets.  Even though he protested most embarrassingly, the rest of his family walked behind them to see them all off.  Granny Torunn made the decision to travel with them, to make sure that Lisendra’s condition did not worsen.  She knew that Sigrid was a good healer as well, and with Solveig, they could handle any emergency until she booked passage back to Lokken.  Wulfren would not look at his family,  just kept his eyes on Lisendra.  When the mooring lines of the great longboat were pulled, he turned to face them finally.  There was no focusing on anyone but Sigrid.  He looked at her, with no emotion.  Sigrid looked at her son in return.  No smile, but raising her hand to him in salute.  Behind her eyes and deep in her heart, she sent all the love a mother could possibly have for her firstborn.  She  turned when he turned, and walked back up to the castle, with Lena in hand and Arinbjorn in protective tow.

     Helmer emerged from Leilana’s trading house, with a small package.  He turned just as she appeared as well, leaning against the doorframe looking as if the sight of him was sweeter than the Lokken mead.  Laurenna turned to Dandowin then, tapping his arm and motioning with her nose at the sight.  Dandowin felt hopeful.  When love can develop in the face of tragedy and the unknown, there is always hope. 

    

     “My friend, we’ll leave on the morrow.  There has been already too many departures this day.”

 

Helmer was pleased to hear that, and he winked at Leilana.  She just smiled, shook her head and closed her door.  Everyone at the dock then dispersed, those of the castle returning, and those with homes in town preparing to leave them to stay at the castle, until the crisis coming was put to rest.

 


 

Chapter 15

 

 

     Ingred didn’t bother to join the family to see Wulfren off.  To her mind, it wouldn’t be proper and personally, she didn’t want to look at him.  For her, this was not her family so she had no emotional investment in Wulfren.  Her loyalty began and ended with Dandowin,  but she admitted that as of late, she has gotten quite fond of Laurenna, and even more so of Solveig.  There were so many similarities in their lives, and upon first glance, one would swear they were sisters.  She knew that the day would come when Solveig would grow and surpass her in height, as is the way of Nord women.  For now, she  enjoyed having someone to train and the trust from Sigrid to whip her guards and others into a cohesive defensive force. 

     The itching of her wounds was incessant, but like wearing wool Imperial tunics, she was learning to ignore it.  Sitting in the throne room, she sat at Sigrid’s table and ate her meal of meat and fish while pondering the next move.  She had seen the armory, and spent many of her nights wandering the hallways taking stock of weapon stores.  There were plenty of axes and swords, and shields of all kinds.  Typical.  There were stations with bows and complements of arrows, and that she liked.  Ranged weapons were essential to defending any castle.  What surprised her the most was that Dandowin had restocked the empty weapons display room with some of the finest enchanted weapons from all over Vvardenfell.  There were Daedric weapons, glass weapons, bows of all races and an entire shelf devoted to throwing weapons. 

Protection was her primary concern now, and the thought that the assassin was not only still on Lokken but concealed in the castle gave her no peace.  Chameleon spells and enchantments were difficult to deal with.  While they masked an opponent more than totally conceal them, they did not suffer from the same drawback as full on invisibility, which was revealing the user upon action.  Turning in her chair, she looked about the room.  The guards at station stood looking ahead, and that was the first thing she was going to change.  You can’t guard a room if your nose was pointed only in one direction.

But how was she to protect the most important part of this castle, its inhabitants?  That they were guarded at every  moment was helpful, but not enough.  An arrow shot from the darkness or a dirk thrown from the shadows could easily penetrate this type of protection.  No.  She would have to institute some sort of extra-protection for the family here that was not as noticeable.  But what can be done?

It was then that she spotted Dandowin’s new Snow Bear shield on the floor.  It was quite beautiful, and an idea hit her immediately.  Getting up and wiping her hands on her leggings, she walked over to the shield and hefted it.  It was light as leather, but fine silver infused steel.  Excellent. 

 

     “Dandowin, you’re just going to have to forgive me.”

 

With a nod to the guards, she sped from the throne as best she could and limped her way down to Sven Schmidt, Lokken’s smith.

 

    The Dark Brotherhood operative had evaded the impossible.  He noted with nothing short of glee how guards had passed and probed all around him yet never saw him.  It helped that he was lying in the water of the grotto, flattened to the rocks but totally concealed.  The cut on his hand and the damage done bothered him greatly, and it took nothing short of laying his hand on the one of the passageway torches to cauterize it.  He didn’t yell out, such was his training.  There were dark thoughts though.  He could try and leave in the cover of night but his tracks would be seen and followed.  His escape scroll was as he feared, ruined.  The death he planned for the spying brat that witnessed his attack was the only thing that still drove him on.  Even if he were to be caught and killed, he vowed that before that, he must silence forever the brat who undid him.  It was not professional, but it was comforting.  His life was vengeance.  So personal vengeance was no conflict of interest.

     There were some sobering realizations though.  He had failed.  From the talk of the guards that pursued him, he had simply killed or harmed some insignificant family member.   Served the bitch he thought, to place herself in harm’s way being in the master bedroom.  There was no sympathy from the operative.  Sympathy was for weak-minded people, as was compassion.  His purpose was death.  His trade was vengeance.  If he killed some lesser Nord woman, the world would be better for it.  In his mind, he hoped it would radiate outward to whoever loved her, so they would know that this was a fate that was waiting for them all, in time.  The water was surprisingly cool, not freezing.  There must be some volcanic veins in this land.  Too bad they weren’t close enough to extinguish the entirety of this Nord land.  One less Nordic land would be of no consequence. 

     When he heard the last lock of the passageway door, he emerged and sat amongst the rocks.  A small crab scuttled out of the rock where he put his hand, and he immediately mashed it with his fist.  Scooping up the mess, he immediately ate it and licked his fingers clean.  It would be time to probe the locks soon.  They were foolish, to believe that mere locks and chains could secure this passageway as well as keep him from killing anyone he wanted.  The child will die, and then he will see to it that the right female was killed.  He didn’t have any more poison, and his blades were gone, but none of it mattered.  The entire castle was littered with weapons right at hand in every hallway.  If nothing else, these stupid Nords were careless to display items that could be used to kill.

 

     “Night Mother forgive me, I will not fail again.”

 

     Laurenna and Solveig helped Dandowin pack for the voyage.  They laid out his old clothes, hunting leggings and the Shirt of the Noble Heart.  Solveig brushed his snow wolf boots while Laurenna saw to his weapons.  She gathered three of his bows, one wicked looking Daedric one that shimmered with some unknown magic.  When Laurenna inquired about the shimmer, Dandowin placed it into her hands and  helped her draw it back.  As she did so, her eyes flashed in an instant, and she looked about the bedroom as if she were an animal.  She could see the shimmering heat of Solveig’s body, Ljot just outside the door, Lena and her mother down the hall, and the guards pass by in the hallway.  When she returned the bowstring to normal, her normal vision returned.

She liked this bow, a lot.

Giving Solveig a key, she unlocked their bedroom chest and withdrew three locked boxes.  They weren’t very big, but they were unusually warm to the touch.  It was as if whatever was within, was thrumming with some inhumanly life.  These he took from her hands, and placed into a larger sack.  When Solveig inquired what they were, he knelt to her, and whispered.

 

     “These will be a gift for a friend.  What they are, were the tools and weapons I used at Red Mountain.”

 

     “You mean-!”

 

     “Shhhhhhhhhhhh.  Yes, they are the very ones.”

 

Solveig wanted to see them, but Dandowin politely refused.  These things were dangerous to hold, which accounted for why they were under lock and key.  With everything nearly packed, Dandowin turned to kiss his wife.  She looked up at him from sitting on the bed.  She was confident, with no trace of the doubt and sadness of before.  He thought to apologize again for what transpired between her brother and he, but decided against it.  Looking at his hands, he stared at his wedding ring, and his birthright, the fabled Moon and Star ring of Nerevar himself.  He started to remove them, but Laurenna rose to her knees on the bed and grabbed his hands tightly.  Solveig peered over their shoulder not wanting to miss anything.  She was their daughter now, and what her new mother and father did, she would do too.

 

     “Don’t even think about it, my love.” 

Laurenna was serious as she frowned her disapproval of his intended action.  There was no way he was going to face any fate without the ability to contact and keep her informed.  She threatened to jump in his gear bag in earnest if he even tried to leave his wedding ring home.  Solveig nodded her agreement, and he smiled to both.

 

     “These could be used against me my love.  Especially the Moon and Star.  It is a death sentence for anyone to wear this ring other than myself.”

 

     “All the better, don’t you think?  If it gives you the power of persuasion, then don’t you think now more than ever my husband needs to be persuasive?  What do you say, daughter?

Solveig loved the sound of that, and in no way did it make her feel as if she was betraying the memory of her mother, Yrsa.  She felt in her heart that if her mother were looking down on her from Sovengarde, she would be delighted that her new parents were the likes of Dandowin and Laurenna.  She thought about the question,  weighing the options and just glad that someone thought her opinions would be valuable.  She had an idea.

     With a dagger from the table, she cut a small square of cloth from her tunic.  Over by their dresser was some needle and thread.  Taking Dandowin’s leggings, she started sewing the square on the underside of the front waistband of his leggings.  Laurenna was puzzled.

 

     “But what are you up to young lady?” Laurenna inquired.

 

Dandowin got the idea immediately.  Solveig’s solution pleased both parties. When she was nearly done, he removed the Moon and Star and placed it carefully into the new concealing pouch.  With care and caution, Solveig sealed the Moon and Star into the pouch, not visible at all from the front of the snow wolf hair leggings.

 

     “Problem solved.”  Solveig said with confidence. 

 

     The armorer door was closed to the castle at large, but all the guards who patrolled up and down the length of the hall heard the sound from Sven Schmidt.  None took note of the wounded Imperial guest as she knocked on the door with shield in hand, but they took note that he was yelling.

 

     “You want me to do WHAT?”

 

Sven Schmidt was beside himself with shock.  When Ingred came to him with the Snow Bear shield in hand, he thought that there was something wrong that needed to be adjusted.  What she was asking was well, unbelievable.  Droning on about disgracing the memory of his father, Ingred listened until he had winded himself with his protestations.  Standing just to look at her, he just huffed until she spoke.  Instead, Ingred just looked at the collection of swords on the table before her.  She ran a finger along the sharpest of them, then lifted it with deft speed to hold the point of it directly under his chin.

 

     “Nord, you do excellent work.  I salute you, and your dead father.  Now if you don’t want to join him, and give your pretty wife an excuse for a younger man, you’ll hear me.  Don’t speak again until I have finished, and remember that every minute you delay you risk lives, my job, and worst of all, my patience.”

    

Sven listened as if his life depended on it, which in all honesty, it did.  When she was done, he nodded his approval, and saw the wisdom of her idea.  Before Ingred turned to leave, she picked up one of his hammers. 

 

     “I’ll be needing this.   I’ll return in a moment and then we’ll get started.”

 

     Wulfren spent the voyage within the tented confines of the end of the longboat.  Granny Torunn tried in vain to get him to speak, and open up, but he shut her out with a glance.  Rather than upset him further, she attended Lisendra, who was going in and out of fever.  She could keep no solid food down, so Granny Torunn just kept her drinking.  Water, mead with water, and some of the children’s herbal juices rotated, so that she could hopefully flush the poisons out of poor Lisendra’s body.  Poor Lisendra, she thought.  Granny Torunn was old enough to remember Lisendra’s birth, and how she had grown to be the feisty hunter of bears and the focus of attention from the boys.  Life wasn’t the greatest for her, and this reflected in how she got along with others.  Wulfren and she were always fast for each other, until Laurenna came to join and then conflicts arose.  Their wedding was not really a surprise, given how Wulfren always loved Lisendra.  His timing for it, well, even to Granny Torunn that seemed far too impetuous. 

   Wulfren was always the one she worried about.  Even Wulfgar himself felt his son needed to perhaps leave the island occasionally to learn the ways of others, as well as see that there are other women in the world besides Lisendra.  Such tragedy, this family suffered.  Having witnessed the births of so many of Lokken’s citizens only to see how they have struggled so both during and after Ragnar, it made Granny Torunn tired.

 

     “You should rest Wulfren, and let this child rest too.  Lisendra will be fine, and when we get her to my cousin, we will get her back to the peak of health.  She’ll be ready to come back to Lokken in no time, you’ll see.”

 

Wulfren looked at Granny Torunn as if she was an enemy.  There was such hatred behind his eyes that it made her so uncomfortable, all she could do was turn her gaze back to Lisendra.  His voice was hard and devoid of any affection whatsoever.

 

     “We shall never return, old one.  Lokken is nothing to me, and there is nothing I feel for those there.  He who rules has hurt the only woman I have ever loved and will ever love.  I will never go back.  Never.”

 

Granny Torunn was insulted at his tone and even more so at his selfishness.  Given that they are on a ship, and far from shore, she felt there is nothing to risk in speaking her mind.  She was there when this brash young man was born, and by virtue of that, royal or no, she will not fear him.

 

     “So, the only woman you will ever love is that it?  Nothing for you back home, and no one?  You are a selfish boy.  That’s right, you’re acting like a boy Wulfren.  Your mother risked her life over and over to protect you when you were turned into the White Wolf.  Your sister was even banished for defending you.  Every citizen, from Kielreen to this poor dear here, sought only to find you and have you restored as chieftain.  The man you hate so much, this Dandowin Castle Master, came to me more than once to fetch the necessary items to not only save your life, but to restore your family.  Never once did he shirk a responsibility that was asked of him by your sister, or the townspeople.  When he married your sister, at least it was clear to everyone but you that he is in love with her.  He protested loudly the title of Castle Master, but by the Gods he has done great by it.”

 

Wulfren yelled in defense.  He was so very tired of the Dandowin worship.

 

     “YOU CALL THIS GREAT?  LOOK AT MY WIFE!  SHE BARELY CLINGS TO LIFE BECAUSE OF HIM AND HIS ENEMIES!”

 

Granny Torunn was not afraid of Wulfren, or his tirades.  You don’t live to be her age letting people step on you, especially selfish ones.

 

     “It wasn’t his hand that wielded the blade that stabbed your wife, but it will most likely be HIS blade that ends the life of the one who hurt YOUR wife!  Let us not forget, that the blade that hurt Lisendra to near death was meant solely for your sister Laurenna, and their unborn baby!  Oh I forgot, you don’t care about your sister or their baby, which is to be your niece or nephew!  You “have nothing there” anymore by your own words, even your poor mother.  You know what I see, boy?  I see a man who continually is being asked or left to do things that you yourself should have done, and instead of being thankful that he does it out of love for your sister, mother, wee ones, and you, you just whine like a jealous, spoiled brat because people remember him for it.”

 

Wulfren heard enough and roughly grabbed Granny Torunn’s arm and thrust her from the tent.  Taking her shawl and wrapping it around her head and shoulders, she stormed off to the bow of the ship to where Skullum stood.  He immediately handed her his mead and she took a drink.  They both exchanged a hurtful look and shook their heads.  There was really nothing else that could be said, and they let the wind wipe their ill thoughts from them.

 


 

Chapter 16

 

 

     It was the early morning hours for Lokken castle, the Night Watch.  A snowstorm had come in from the North and what first started as a light snowfall, was now the typical howl of a Lokken snowstorm.  Logs were throne on the fireplaces throughout the castle; furs were shaken and then left by the fireplaces to warm.  With dinner long over, and the bar station closed, most were on their way to guard duty, or bed.  Sigrid retired early, and dined in the private of her room with Lena.  Dandowin, Laurenna, and Solveig ate their first meal as husband, wife, and newly adopted daughter.  The Berserkers and castle guards ate both together and singularly, each keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.

     Two of the castle’s inhabitants, one a guest, the other a tradesman, were still up and about at this hour.  Sven Schmidt was at his forge, bending a great plate of his new silver and steel metal over a small empty barrel that was brought to him by his apprentice for the day, Ingred Rems.  With her tunic top off, she worked the hot forge covered in sweat as Sven averted his eyes to the obviously ample gifts her heritage gave her.  With hammer in hand he banged and banged, stopping only for the mead that Ingred was kind enough to line up for him, a row of seven tankards along the table.  Their third one in, they had been working since dinner on the request she made.  With a length of thin leather in hand with markings at every foot, he would call for Ingred to stand with the barrel in her hands as he measured, then marked.  This he did several times, one of which was his most nervous as he measured her breasts and back, trying not to look and sweating far more than if he worked the forge.  This amused Ingred to no end, and she would further his discomfort with the occasional wink.

They both worked the leathers and furs, each taking turns with the ship’s needles and smaller hammers.  What puzzled him greatly was why she came downstairs with nearly all the plates, platters, and bowls from the kitchen in a cloth sack.  He didn’t have long to wait for the reason, as she took the fourth tankard, took a long drink, then with the large hammer she took earlier, started to smash the dishes in the bag with great determination.  Sven stopped banging when she started, but she insisted that he continue banging and not stop until she had practically powdered the contents within.  Shaking his head, he did as he was told.

     In the hours that passed, Sven was soaked with sweat and Ingred was scratching her stitches raw, but when they looked at their finished product, Ingred shook his shoulder like a fellow guard in praise. 

 

     “Your father would be prouder than you imagine, Nord.  This…is your best work yet, I think.”

 

Sven gave a tired smile, to which Ingred handed him another tankard.  Toasting their achievement, they both drank a full draft.  They were done at least, until Ingred produced Solveig’s dagger.  It was dull and bloodied still.  Remembering the day of the incident, Ingred swirled the dagger into Sven’s cooling barrel until it was clean.  Sven produced a whetstone and Ingred used the oils from her own sweaty skin to prime the blade.  She then worked it back and forth for several minutes, not stopping until she was able to split the some of the stitches on her sword arm with one pass.  This she tucked into her leggings, and put her tunic back on.  With a salute, she grabbed the bag of ground ceramic dishes, and then their handy work before heading upstairs. 

    

     Sigrid was plagued by the worst nightmares a mother could have.  Part deepest fears realized, part a revisiting of the harshness of the previous day, she snapped up from her bed and sought out Lena.  She was sprawled as usual all over her legs and thighs, a gentle snore replacing the shudders and cries from the night before.  Sitting up, she was alert to every sound in the room and without.  Footsteps up and down the hallways.  Guards mostly, the occasional booted feet of their Imperial guest, all these she would single out as she sat up in bed.

     Lena reached up to grab the folds of Sigrid’s robe.  Looking down at her, she remembered when it was Laurenna who did such things, and Wulfren before her.  She missed her son already, and heaviness plagued her chest whenever she revisited that day of Lisendra’s attack.  She silently prayed for the Goddess to watch and care for them, until her son-in-law can get those earthbound to do so as well.

The howling winds outside told her of another full day.  Today, Dandowin will leave for the mainland, and she and her daughter will rule in Lokken.  The Imperial bodyguard that came for her son-in-law has proved quite resourceful, and Sigrid planned to spend a great deal of time in her presence.  It was not unknown to her that the early morning hours were spent teaching her newly adopted grandchild to wield a sword.  This has done much good for Solveig, and her daughter and husband officially adopting her relieved all her inward fears of being discarded.  Were it not for the vicious attack and her son’s rage, this would almost be considered the castle’s golden times.  This and other things she pondered until a light knock on her door broke her concentration. 

 

     “Great Lady, may I disturb you this morning?”

It was the very person of her thoughts.  Sigrid lightly moved Lena to rest on her lap and offered the end of her bed to Ingred, who politely refused.  Her refusal seemed odd until it was clear that it was much more than manners, her sweaty scent assailing Sigrid’s nose immediately.

 

     “It would appear that you’ve been working hard all morning.”

 

Ingred sniffed at her own arms and bowed apologetically.  She then bent to Sigrid so that they could whisper and not risk waking the wee one.  Sigrid noticed that she was not only sweaty, but also rather dusty as if she were baking bread as well.  This was becoming more curious with each minute.

 

     “I have a request of you and the castle Great Lady.  I would ask that the morning fireplaces not be lit.”

Sigrid’s eyes were wide.  This was most unusual, and with the storm outside, she was beginning to think Ingred was losing her mind. 

 

     “Perhaps you should tell me what this is all about first?”

Ingred smiled very wide.  Her sweaty face and dusty hair could not dull the gleam that her eyes seemed to be giving off in the dimly lit bedroom.  This made Sigrid even more puzzled.

 

     “Great Lady, I wish to catch a rat.”

 

     Dandowin and Laurenna were lightly resting when the knocks were starting at the bedroom doors.  As they vaulted awake and at the ready, Ljot walked in to allow both Ingred and Stormann inside.  Stormann walked to the fireplace, and collected all of the logs by the mantle.  Dandowin looked to Ingred quizzically, who just slapped Stormann’s back in thanks.  When Laurenna started to point out the window and protest, Ingred just put her finger to her own lips and shushed her.

Dandowin and Laurenna looked at one another.  She hugged at her chest, noting how the cold of the morning was really stinging her already milk soaked chest.  Dandowin just gathered the furs to her, and was about to rise when Ingred stopped him.

 

     “Not yet you two.  I have something for you.”

 

Again exchanging looks, Ingred snapped her fingers and a wide-awake Solveig entered holding something.  When she got closer, both her new parents looked in pleasant shock.

In Solveig’s hands was a cuirass of Snow Bear armor that was formed for a very pregnant Laurenna.  It was gleaming silver at the breasts, with great Nordic scrollwork.  The belly was not too much bigger than Laurenna’s now, and was covered both outside and on the inside with pure, white, Snow Bear fur.  There were leather straps that were covered in White Wolf fur to provide comfort, which fastened at the sides and at the shoulders.  It was the most beautiful piece of armor that they had ever seen.

 

     “With my compliments, well, Dandowin’s as it was his shield and all.”

 

They both smiled from the bed, Laurenna getting out of it almost immediately to try it on.

Ingred sent Ljot to the door and Solveig and Laurenna marveled at this creation.  Dandowin rose from the bed and grabbed Ingred’s shoulder.

 

      “Well done, Ingred…well done indeed.”

 

     The longboat ride to the mainland took less time than they had hoped.  The storm surge that blew them towards the mainland most surely is whipping Lokken fiercely.

     They were able to hire a Guar pulled cart to carry the sleeping and ill Lisendra whilst Wulfren and Granny Torunn walked alongside it in silence.  Having made good connections from their Silt Strider passage from docking at Dagon Fel, they blew through the island chains of Sadrith Mora via boat, and traveled through the Mages Guild directly to Balmora without stopping.  The healers of Balmora offered to help with Lisendra’s recovery, but Wulfren ignored all pleas.  His purpose was to get both Lisendra and Granny Torunn to her cousin Solgerd and that is exactly where he was headed. 

     Along the roads leading from Balmora to the Pelagiad, they encountered no threats, which all were thankful for.  A single rat pursued them briefly until Wulfren threw a rock in anger and split its skull.  Granny Torunn was shocked, but said nothing.  The walk alone was tough enough.

They reached Fort Moonmoth and stopped briefly to inquire about Solgerd, and Granny Torunn insisted that they stock on healing supplies.  Wulfren started to protest but she just walked inside and left him to stew.  Inside, she gathered as many potions and raw materials that were available from the fort sellers.  Wulfren was silent again as they started towards the Pelagiad.  The blasted pathway and teeth-like rock formations howled their disapproval of the weary travelers, and they were never so thankful when vegetation finally appeared at the fork in the road and the signpost that read “Pelagiad”.

When they pulled up to the doorway of the Halfway Tavern, fortune favored them when Granny Torunn’s cousin Solgerd was leaving with a package.  Like her cousin, Solgerd was a tall and stately Nord, hair as white as the snow they left behind, and a face that was all full of lines.  Seeing her cousin lit her face immediately, as it had been ages since they parted sadly in Lokken.

 

     “Solgerd!  By the Gods, it is great to see you again!  I was quite saddened to hear of your husband’s passing.” 

They hugged but briefly.  Solgerd immediately noticed the cart and Wulfren standing next to it, quite agitated.

 

     “Is this Wulfren?  Young Wulfren?”

Wulfren immediately grabbed the blanket covering Lisendra and revealed whom they carried.  Solgerd immediately went to her, bending low.  She felt her head, and asked her cousin the needed questions.

 

     “This Lisendra?  Little Lisendra?”

 

     “She’s been attacked.  Something wicked and deadly did this.  The damage is quite severe, and there was some sort of poison involved.  Ate away some of her insides, but I healed what I could and sealed the stomach well.  See her eye?”

 

     “Mmm.  There are some poisons made from the spit and stomach acids of these local vermin.  The eye will heal, and that it went cloudy lets me know at least what we are dealing with.  But why risk coming all the way to me?  Surely you passed a few temples along the way here that have fully stocked potions.”

 

Granny Torunn said nothing.  She just touched her arm, which in one movement told her that this was more than a poison at work, but a matter of rifts best not discussed in the open.  Solgerd understood perfectly, and grabbed the other end of the cart.

 

     “Let’s get her to my home here.  I will need both of you to fetch what I need as well as strong stomachs to help with the coming dirty work.  Don’t worry Wulfren, your wife is in good hands, and we will get right to work.”

 

     There was not a single person in Lokken castle that didn’t think Ingred Rems had lost her mind.  By the time all logs were collected and piled outside, snow was already forming on the floors everywhere there was a window.  To make matters worse, she had insisted that they all meet in the throne room.  The only ones absent were the guards that she posted at every entryway into both the amorer’s room, and the armory display room, which had been not only guarded but locked with chains as well.  Everyone was dressed as if they were walking outside.  Sigrid was dressed in full robes, wolf skin boots, and shawl.  Lena was fully dressed as well, and was held very close to Sigrid.  The main guards were now positioned not at the walls but at the corners, and moved their heads in all directions under Ingred’s orders.  Sonja was shivering and muttering all manner of curses, as Anneliese just sat on the floor in front of the kitchen rubbing Lucky’s fur.  Everyone was so cold, that their breath was visible, coming out in puffs with each word spoken.

     By the time Laurenna, Dandowin, Solveig, and the Berserker’s Ljot and Fridgeir behind them entered, it was then that Ingred reappeared, just quickly scrubbed and uncharacteristically pleasant.  As soon as she entered the room, a very angry Sonja charged at her finger waving.

 

     “You!  What have you done with all my dishes?  Are you INSANE?  Are you TRYING to kill us all?”

Ingred just smiled at her and shoved her to sit on the floor with Anneliese.  Sonja sputtered like a boiling teakettle but Ingred just covered her mouth with her gloved hand and shushed her.

 

It was then that she walked over to Sigrid’s table, took one of the chairs, and sat it directly in the center of the room.  Everyone was puzzled and shivering, Sigrid turned to Dandowin with a puzzled look to which he just shrugged.  He had his satchel, several bags and boxes, and a quiver full of arrows.  Oddly, Laurenna was dressed in her fine Wolf Fur robes and boots, which strained with the full roundness of her belly, also with a quiver full of arrows strapped to her back.  She winked at Dandowin, who had just placed his weapons bag behind her.  She let out a surprised gasp and slapped him, everyone noting he just pinched her bottom.  Ingred walked over to Solveig, took her hand, and placed her in the chair in the center of the room.  Everyone looked to Dandowin who again, just shrugged.  All who thought Ingred was insane now felt confirmed of it when she next spoke.

 

     “In honor of Solveig’s new adoption, I would like to bestow to all a little song that I learned from my own mother.”

Ingred cleared her throat and removed her gloves.  Unlike all in the room, she was without a robe, just her tunic, leggings, and boots.  She winked at Solveig who was so nervous; her breath had almost obscured her face entirely.  Moving in the room with arms wide and a huge smile, Ingred began to sing a childlike song.  All muttered and she shushed them, walking to face everyone and Solveig as she spoke the lines slowly and with a melodic tone.

 

     “This little Nix-Hound went to maaaarrketttt…

 

Ingred twirled slowly and stopped, looking at all in the room again.  No one smiled, but Lena was giggling at the silly song and at Ingred’s behavior.  Sigrid looked to Dandowin pleadingly again who was also looking around the room slowly.  Laurenna stood in front of him, her hands behind her back holding Dandowin’s, looking at Solveig, smiling.

 

     “This little Nix-Hound stayed hooooooommmmmme…

 

She then walked in front of each guard, making a silly face that had them immediately grabbing their sword hilts and looking to Dandowin.  She then walked to Solveig who was looking left and right, still breathing heavy.  She kissed her head and tugged at her ears.  Twirling again, she walked to the throne, sat for a second, and then got up again, walking in a slow circle around the room.  Sigrid was just about to protest this nonsense when she noted that Laurenna was fumbling with the front of Dandowin’s leggings.  How dare she!  Has this whole castle gone mad?  What makes this insanity even remotely stimulating?  She shot glances at everyone, then back to Ingred with anger.  She was just about to end this with a word when Ingred raised her voice uncomfortably loud.

 

    “THIS LITTLE NIX-HOUND HAD ROAST SCRIIIIIIIIIIIIBBBB…

 

Just then the entire room erupted.  Ingred drew Solveig’s dagger from her leggings back and lunged at Solveig.  The guards jumped at the ready but were too late.  Ingred dove at Solveig, who immediately leapt from the seat and landed at Laurenna’s feet.  Ingred slashed at air just behind Solveig’s neck, and there was a great roar, stopping the guards in place.  Before any could register a thought, Laurenna was standing with Dandowin whispering at her ear, his Daedric bow in her hands and an arrow nocked.  She shot an arrow immediately at Ingred to the horror of all present. As they stood shocked, the arrow stopped directly in front of her, blood pouring from the very air as breath was also seen.  Ingred slashed at the air from a crouched position and the chair tumbled forward.  Laurenna shot another arrow and more blood appeared.  Dandowin took his short sword from behind his back and cleaved the air in front of him, which sent a gloved hand to spiral to the guard’s feet.  Immediately the Dark Brotherhood assassin was visible, crawling to a stop as Ingred kicked him onto his back.  She then removed his mask, showing the heavily tattooed Dunmer face that glared at everyone with red eyes, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. 

 

     “And this little Nix-Hound had none.”  She spat.

Solveig ran to stand behind Dandowin, and Lena screamed.  Sigrid just stood with eyes wide as Lucky growled and strained in Anneliese’s grasp.  Sending Solveig to Sigrid, Dandowin, Laurenna, and Ingred stood before the dying assassin.  He bled from his wounds, and gasped wet air in his dying lungs.  He looked at each of them with contempt, but settled his eyes on Dandowin.

    

     “You…have won nothing…Nord.  It is…already…too late.  You are all dead.”

 


 

Chapter 17

 

 

     It took all morning and afternoon to explain to all what just happened in the throne room.  First Ingred spoke of how she spent the previous nights with Sven Schmidt.  Laurenna lifted her robe to show the newly created Snow Bear cuirass, which Sigrid walked to immediately with Lena in arms, feeling the construction and marveling at the beauty.  Next, she walked to Sonja and apologetically explained how she needed every single ceramic plate, bowl, and platter to pulverize into fine grains.  That morning was also spent in powdering the floors and corners of the castle.  She knew immediately that the locks on the secret passages were ineffective, as evidenced by the pattern of the assassin’s footsteps that had left a clear track from the grotto to the weapons display room.  Knowing that killing the caretaker within would give away his intent as well as his trail, he just helped himself to more poison blades from Dandowin’s stores, and left to the shadows.

Ingred continued, and spoke of how she devised the plan of removing the logs in case any hardheaded Nords would insist on warming the place up.  She needed the castle freezing, because Dandowin and Ingred suspected that the assassin was either using a chameleon enchanted item, or access to consistent spells.  The cold would make its breath visible, which she depended on.  The reason everyone was called to the throne room was a matter of safety.  With everyone in their rooms or about the castle, it would have been impossible to safeguard their safety with a cloaked assassin.  She then explained painfully that she knew from the vicious attack on Lisendra, that the primary target was Laurenna, but now Solveig as well because she had undone the assassin. 

 

     “But what was all that singing and dancing for?” Asked Sigrid doubtfully.

 

Ingred and Laurenna both spoke then.  They explained that with everyone cold and annoyed, they would most likely want to keep their distance, if Ingred showed herself to be clearly unsound of mind.  This was a terrible risk to Solveig, who was asked to place herself in their trust to ferret out the assassin. 

     “I knew if I could get the castle cold enough, eventually, his breath alone would show where he was.  When I walked around the room singing, Dandowin, Laurenna and I were watching the room for his breath.  In the event that didn’t work, there was always Dandowin’s bow, which Laurenna can tell you about.”

 

Laurenna produced the bow, which was loosely put into the weapons bag that Dandowin kept between them.

 

     “We kept it hidden until the last moment because had we had it at the ready, it would have signaled to the assassin the nature of our trap.  The bow has an enchantment that gives the archer wolf-like vision.  In essence, you see the body’s heat.”

 

Ingred walked over to Solveig and stood behind her with hands on her shoulders.  She patted them as she noted to the room the risks.

 

     “It was a terrible risk, but I wanted to make sure that when your Castle Master left, his home was free of the danger.  We’re still not out of this yet, if there is any truth to his dying words.  But for now, the castle is secure.  What we all must do now is fortify this place and make sure there are never any uninvited guests.”

 

Ingred kicked the corpse for emphasis, and hugged Solveig a long time. 

 

Sigrid was silent.  This had been a most exhausting morning, and suddenly she felt the weight of all her concerns on her shoulders.  She walked to Dandowin and Laurenna, who she just smiled weakly.  More of a bit lip than an actual smile, but her eyes told them both that she was tired.  Walking to Ingred next, she put Lena down who walked to her cousin as they held one another.  Sigrid stared at the children for a few moments, before settling her gaze again on Ingred.  When she spoke, it was tired, but full of intent.

 

     “Ingred.  I thank you for securing our home.  I shudder to my bones to think of what this assassin may have planned for my family, and the people of the castle.”

Ingred bowed, the hint of a small smile on her face.  When Sigrid spoke again, it was Ingred’s turn for a tired seriousness.

 

     “Know this, Ingred.  If you ever place any of these children in harm’s way again, friend or no, fealty or no, I will end your life myself.”

Sigrid left, leaving both children and adults to ponder her words.  This was but a small victory for those involved, but the risk was great.  None were angered by Sigrid’s words…perhaps shamed a bit.   Dandowin gathered the children as Laurenna slapped Ingred’s back in friendship.  They all left for a meal, and the preparation of Dandowin’s departure.

 

     For two straight days, with little rest, Solgerd and Granny Torunn worked on Lisendra.  Wulfren was helpless but to watch, but Solgerd insisted that he hold her hand during the entire healing and helping.  Wulfren was torn to pieces with every movement of these two healing women.  They had their hands in the very body of the woman he loved more than life.  They touched parts of her that he could only imagine, and his heart was breaking with each comment they made about how lucky she was to be alive.

     When it was done, they all looked down at Lisendra’s body.  She was no longer pale.  Her eye, which was clouded over was now starting to clear.  The gash that had been rent into her abdomen was sealed and sewn, and Wulfren lost count of exactly how many stitches were placed into the wound.  Poultices, herbs, and wrappings were wrapped about the wound, and Solgerd prepared a series of special potions that were designed to help her not only heal, but to help Lisendra regain her blood loss.  It was going to take a long time, but that is what they now had, time.

     Granny Torunn pulled Wulfren from Lisendra, and he was seated in a chair across from the two women.  Their look was sympathetic, but was also stern.  He had no idea what they had planned to talk to him about, but it was clear that he was expected to pay attention. 

 

     “We’ve dodged the Arrow of Death, lad.  Lisendra sleeps, and will get better, with time and with love.”

Wulfren began to breathe deeply, as if doing so would prevent the tears that he was holding back.  He never took his eyes off the two women, and they him.

 

     “You will have to take full care of this child now Wulfren.  Her recuperation will be long, and when she regains consciousness, we are sure there will be moments of terror, memories, and reflection.  You will have to be stronger than you have ever been, but more than that, you will have to learn to be patient.”

 

Wulfren nodded.  He still didn’t take his gaze from them.  Granny Torunn cleared her throat, as the next sentences were difficult to repeat again.

 

     “Young master Wulfren, while we were able to save her life, only time will tell if she will be able to walk again.  During her healing, we tried to stimulate her to move her legs, but from this early stage, not a wiggle was noticed from a single toe.  You will have to carry her everywhere she needs, and that also means when she must relieve herself.”

 

Wulfren’s eyes were fixed at nothing now.  He seemed to look through them.

 

     “Lastly, and this pains us both to share, you know the damage to her was substantial.  So much so, that it has destroyed her ability to bear you children.  Her womanhood is still intact, and we both feel that she, in time, will still be able to enjoy your love between one another.  But the part of her that would keep your seed and grow your child has been destroyed completely.  We are both, very sorry.”

 

There were no words.  No questions asked.  Wulfren just looked straight ahead as the first tears just fell from the corners of his eyes.  He then breathed heavily, put his head upon the table, and wept loudly.  Granny Torunn and her cousin Solgerd just stood, put their arms about his shoulders, and held him as he cried.

 

     Logs were set ablaze again in Lokken fireplaces, the warmth of their fires brought welcome heat again to rooms, halls, and citizens within.  Ingred and Dandowin saw to the body of the assassin.  He was originally to be dumped outside, and left for the wolves and bears, but Ingred thought that his armor might be of some use in the coming trials.  It was she who had stripped him like a camp follower and actually sewn the knife gashes shut.  These were then taken to the grotto and washed in the waterfall, and now hung drying over the grating of the throne room fireplace.  The throne room, now clean of blood and empty of violence, was the place where the family now sat at dinner, the last meal they would share as Dandowin and Helmer were to leave directly after.  All were surprisingly hopeful.  Perhaps it was the death of the assassin.  Perhaps it was true hope.  Whatever the reason, faces were light again.  Sigrid sat eating her meal, taking time to fork pieces of meat for Lena, who whilst she could feed herself, just loved to be fed by Sigrid.  Solveig and Ingred sat facing one another, eating and kicking each other’s feet in a playful test of wills.  Laurenna, who was originally silent but fell into a bout of silliness as she teased Dandowin with her fork of food, leading him closer and closer to steal a kiss, before eating her meal.  It was pleasant, but it was not missed by anyone the empty two chairs at the end, where Wulfren and the brooding Lisendra would sit.  They would face one another with looks that ranged from purely naughty, to outright disdain.  All, even with the distraction of a family meal, felt their absence.

     The meal done, all bundled up in their robes and boots, while Ingred and Dandowin shouldered the supplies.  It was a solemn affair, the guards Ulfgrun, Esbjorn, Svinghammar, and Jorgen ringed the little family procession with armor and torches.  Many who lived around the castle were outside, bundled and waving their goodbyes.  None wanted any of this, none held Dandowin in judgment, but all wondered inwardly when these tough times would finally come to an end.  Laurenna held Dandowin’s hand, but she looked straight ahead towards the longboat.  Deep inside, she was as rattled as a broken glass, and fearing that one look at her husband would shake her resolve.  Their child within was a mess of movement, as if in direct protest to its father leaving to face an uncertain fate.  As they passed by Leilana’s trade house, Helmer appeared, waving his arm in greeting as a set of robed arms gathered about his waist from behind him.  Laurenna broke from her longboat stare to turn in their direction.  Smiling widely, she hazarded a glance at her husband who was looking at her with pure love.  His smile was reassuring, and he drew her so that they were arm in arm, their steps nearly in unison. 

     At last they reached the longboat, which was already rigged for departure by Skullum and Dagfeal, giving their fellow shipmaster Helmer a chance to spend a few hours in quiet with his newfound admirer.  The majority of the family held back some, and Dandowin turned to face each one.  He went to Sigrid first, who was a rock of strength.  Not knowing what to say, she just smiled and grabbed his ear as she was fond of doing and shook his head.  She hugged him, taking a second to whisper into his ear.

 

     “Come back to us, my son.  Remember your promise, and see that Wulfren and Lisendra are well cared for.” 

He bowed in promise, and then bent low to Lena, who was sad, but strong as her half-sister.  She just hugged him and kissed his cheek, preoccupying herself with her teddy bear after.

     Solveig was next, and he scooped her up and lifted her clear off the ground.  They hugged fiercely, and Laurenna felt herself getting emotional.  Very soon, she thought, you will have a new baby to lift to the skies, one of many, if she has her way.  When Dandowin put Solveig down, he turned to Ingred who immediately handed her share of the supplies to Helmer, who winked and started to stow them on board the ship.  Leilana didn’t join them, preferring to remember their time in the quiet of her own environment.

They were at arms length, and Dandowin put his arms on her shoulders.

    

     “Again, it seems, I owe you more than I can repay my friend.  You saved my family, have saved my home, and now I leave you to save my whole world here.  What can I possibly do to show my good friend how much I love her and appreciate her?”

Ingred just smiled, and nodded slowly.  She then turned in the direction of Laurenna who was smiling, but clearly on the verge of tears.  Her nose red, a clear sign that tears soon would follow.  In a moment of pure mischief, she winked at Laurenna and planted a loud smooch on Dandowin’s lips.  Ingred pulled his ear to her lips and whispered as well.

 

     “We’re even Dandowin, but hear me good.  Don’t make me come after you.  If you break this family’s heart, or leave these children without their father, I will have a necromancer drag your ass right back from Sovengarde!”

To that he just hugged her like a fighting comrade, and turned to his wife.  She was looking at Ingred as she passed her by, with a cocked eyebrow and a half smile.  Ingred immediately slapped Laurenna on the backside to let her know that nothing was meant by the faux affront. 

     There the two of them stood, the family quiet as they watched Laurenna and Dandowin say their goodbyes.  Solveig thought to join them as was her right as a daughter, but she was sidetracked by Ingred’s placing snow upon her ear.  They shoved and giggled a bit, then turned to the couple.

 

     “So, you go to meet your destiny my husband.  I trust you will meet it as the man that freed my family and drove tyranny from my land?”

 

Dandowin held her close, staring at her deep blue eyes catching the light of the torches and the moons above.  He kissed her deeply, but briefly, to not keep his family in the bitter night cold too long. 

 

     “I go to fix what is broken, and to see to it that I never have to leave your side again.  Would that I didn’t, because our child is soon to be here.  Now is the time for my Lady of Lokken to lead her people.  The songs you write, our children will sing until Sovengarde sent.”

Laurenna grabbed his face, and looked in his eyes with a seriousness that was deeper than the Lokken cold night.  When she spoke, it was a desperate voice that gripped Dandowin by the soul.

 

     “Come back to me my love.  I will not bear our child without their father.  You keep your promise to me, so I won’t keep this promise to you.”

 

Dandowin stared at her with equal seriousness.  Without a word, his look deeply reiterated his intention.  He will return.  He must return.  There can be no other choice.  Bending to her belly, he kissed her belly and rose to kiss her deeply once more.  With a smile, he boarded the longboat to the welcome face of Helmer. They gripped arms, and Dandowin looked upon the assemblage before him.  A family.  A people.  A home. 

 

     “I will do whatever must be done Azura.  But I beg you…let me come home to my family.”

 

     The tall mountains of Lokken were still visible from the ship’s stern, and Helmer and Dandowin ate a small meal as the first rays of morning’s light touched the uttermost peaks of the island.  They were hopeful, and still worried.  What was to come, and what he can circumvent, only Azura herself knew.  As the ship dipped and rose, the steering board held firmly in Helmer’s grasp, Dandowin was reassured by his friend’s perpetual smile.  Perhaps Helmer too, made and was given promises to keep.  That his interests were now in his new homeland as well, gave them both a sense of purpose.  We will ride these seas to save our loves, and the Gods help any fools careless enough to try and stop us.

 

Off in the distance, on the Solstheim shore, Dandowin noted the large Imperial ship moving slowly along the coastline.  Perhaps the Emperor had some help to spare after all?  For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to be confident in their chances.

 

  

 

 

Chapter 18

 

 

 

     The seas were friendly for a change, for the two men from Lokken.  The sky held a blue comparable to Laurenna’s eyes, and the wind whipped about the sails as if the Gods themselves had decided to push them ahead.

     Dandowin manned the steering board, while Helmer checked their position via his maps and charts.  He knew these seas well, and really had no need of them, but to his mind leaving anything to chance with so precious a cargo would be foolish.  Dandowin wasn’t just his Castle Master; he was his friend as well.  The time would come when he would have to board unknown ships to seas that even Helmer never sailed, and that bothered him.  Knowing Dandowin as he does, he knew he would never ask him to accompany him to Akavir.  Few sane people traveled there.  But for now, their destination was a short run to Tel Mora, the odd town where men such as they were most unwelcome, yet secretly desired.

     They were coming in view of the Tel Island chain, a long labyrinth of jagged rock formations and shallows surrounding small islands of the Telvanni ownership.  Dandowin had traveled these chains before, in both friendship and as an adversary.  His destination, the coastal town of Tel Mora, and the great Mistress Dratha herself, awaited him.  He is coming unannounced, which is a bad idea, but he hoped he could exert a little of his Hortator pull just this once.  Lord Vivec would be incensed if he knew he was seeking the very same people he vehemently protested, but it was evidently clear that he could expect little to no help from the last of the God-Kings. 

Looking to Helmer with his usual smile and tall stance, Dandowin thought about what he and his family noticed the day of their departure.  Leilana the Trader always seemed more business than one to entertain a love interest.  Perhaps his smiling friend was able to melt her icy heart enough to share the warmth of her fires, both in the store and under her furs.

 

     “Try to behave yourself in Tel Mora, Helmer.  You wouldn’t be the first Nord to have fallen for the charms of the Bosmeri women there.  Not to mention, Leilana would probably test her axes out on you.”  He chuckled.

Helmer laughed aloud, and walked up to where Dandowin was steering.  He grabbed his hand and they swapped places, Dandowin sitting on the plank in front of his amused friend.

 

     “You know my friend, I would almost welcome an axe, instead of these-“

Helmer lifted the front of his Snow Wolf-hair tunic, and exposed his side.  There were two large bites near his stomach and a series of deep red scratches on his side.  Dandowin’s eyes went wide with shock and amusement, and both men laughed raucously.

     The shoreline to Tel Mora was in sight, the great large mushroom dwellings coming into view through the mist of early afternoon.  There were guards and shipmasters on the shore, and Dandowin rose to lower the main sail.  Tonas Telvanni, a right fine shipmaster in her own right, saw the longboat and waved from shore.  Her sharp Dunmer features shone brightly from the sunlit shore, hair pulled back with long bangs to the sides of her head.  Her family was the one who founded the small city, and it was a wonder that she hadn’t carved a larger standing for herself with the local hierarchy.  The sea, they reasoned, was her true calling, even though she admitted she was a bit clumsy. 

     Helmer slowed the longboat to a stop as the mooring lines were tossed to the shipmasters on shore.  It was decided that while Dandowin attended the unpleasantness of political fencing with Mistress Dratha, Helmer would restock their supplies from the local shops.  In one of his many bags on board the longboat, Dandowin pulled out his fine Robe of the Hortator.  It hadn’t been worn since the day he stood before Vivec himself, and received Wraithguard as well as instructions on how and why Dagoth Ur had to be destroyed.  The smell of it was of old leather, having been wrapped in furs to keep it from the vermin of old castle.

 

     “Well, don’t you look official?”  Helmer laughed aloud.

 

Dandowin smiled and bowed with a flourish.  He then grasped his arm in friendship and handed him a small bag of gold for expenses.  Helmer refused, but Dandowin slapped him on the battle scars he hid underneath his tunic from his lovemaking with Leilana.  This made him yelp as well as laugh aloud, and he acquiesced.

     Tonas Telvanni strode up to Dandowin and threw her arms about his shoulders.  It had been ages since he was through here, the last time to book passage to Tel Vos to go on a clothes-shopping spree for the castle household as well as Anna, Lokken’s clothier. 

His friend noticed the robe immediately and backed away slightly.  Her look turned into an immediate look of apprehension, and this startled Dandowin.  She had seen this robe before, so what was the cause of such concern?

 

     “Dandowin.  I…it’s so good to see you.  Please tell me you’re not here to see Mistress Dratha.”

Dandowin noticed the look in her eyes, and saw it as deep fear.  What has happened to this town since last he was here?  He pressed her for an answer, but her look remained fearful and she just avoided a direct answer.

 

“It is better if you just see for yourself.  She turned to walk away, but ran to him again and just brush-kissed his cheek.  Next thing he knew she was busying herself with knots and deck supplies, carefully glancing his way for a few seconds at a time.

Whatever this was, he wasn’t going to find out standing on the docks.  With a wave he turned to walk up the long ramp to the main quarters of the Upper Tower.

 

     Laurenna and Ingred wasted no time fortifying the castle proper.  Most of the citizens of the town had moved into the castle, but a few, such as Anna the clothier, Aunt Gwen and Borka of the brewery, and of course the locals who were usually found in the Main Hall refused to move.  They figured, that anyone crazy enough to interrupt a Nord and his mead would be sorry in the trying.  Laurenna protested, but Ingred let her know in a whisper that she’d see to it that everyone would be shadowed and protected.  The only citizen of Lokken that gave them both the hardest time of it was Anneliese.  She would adorn herself in her wolf’s head embroidered cape, and disappear in the woods behind the castle, red cloak and all.  It was a complete mystery to them both.  Once, Ingred shadowed her and lost her near the now empty cottage where Granny Torunn lived.  What were stranger were the footprints that walked beside and behind her.  Some were wolves clearly, but one set was unlike anything Ingred had seen before.  Yet, each evening and morning there Anneliese would be, serving breakfast and clearing away dinner dishes.

They decided to give up.  In this, she was definitely the wiser of the two.

  Sigrid stayed in her room most of the time, and only withdrew to eat meals and tend to the children while checking on Laurenna’s progress.  Laurenna noticed the change in her immediately, because she no longer slapped her backside in affection after the examination.  She also did not smile anymore.  They all knew what was wrong, but none bore the courage to talk to her about it.  The absence and words of Wulfren replayed in all of their minds.  It was hard not to think of it.  Laurenna, usually in a corner of the throne room conversing with Dandowin via their wedding rings, would be found crying about it after making sure her husband was safe.

     Solveig on the other hand had taken to an immediate depression since Dandowin left.  When busy, such as her sword lessons with Ingred or eating, she was attentive though silent.  But when at rest, or walking about the castle grounds, she would be in a foul mood and unapproachable.  Ingred tried to speak to her about it in friendship, but Solveig would run away, disappearing into her room.  Once, Ingred heard the sounds of crying from outside the door and thought to intervene, but decided not to.  Everyone in this castle had a reason to feel whatever he or she wishes, and there was still much work to do.

     All weapons such as bows and arrows were removed from the walls, and placed in the towers and in marksman chests on the castle roof.  It was best to keep these at hand.  Under great protest from Agnete, Ingred emptied the entire armory and trophy room of its weapons in preparation for whatever was to come.  Commanding a handful of castle guards they carried these to their stations, as well as placing some of the more lethal glass daggers about and behind certain innocuous items such as flowerpots.  Ingred’s reasoning was that in the unlikely event that another assassin got inside, those who knew were these weapons were could defend themselves stealthily. 

The actual training was surprisingly easier for Ingred.  She took guards in groups of twelve, starting with sorting out the swordsmen from the archers.  Archers were then given the task of both fine-tuning the bows and fletching the arrows.  Only two among them, Bore and Njordgrun, had experience in fletching arrows.  Fowl were scarce on Lokken, but quill pens weren’t.  To the delight of the children and the grimace of the adults, Ingred commandeered all writing quills for use in fletching more arrows.  Before long, Bore and Njordgrun had started training other guards as well as some of the children like Joar and Agnes, to fletch.

     Standing outside in the early morning Lokken snowfall, Ingred stood at the edge of the castle wall and looked out at the expanse of the Lokken land.  There were mountains to the East of them, a dense forest to the South.  Their Northern and Western sides were water and land locked, with the channel of Lokken separating them from the Solstheim shore.  In short, there was no place to escape a large force if they came at them with legions or armies of beasts.  In her heart she knew she would do her best, not just for Dandowin, but also for all of these people that she had come to respect and care for.  It pained her the distance between Solveig and herself, but she understood.  To gain new parents, only to be separated from them by terrible circumstances, it reads worse than any saga she could think of.  There was the crunch of snow behind her, and she was pleasantly surprised to find Solveig walking up to her.  Ingred nodded her respect, and watched as Solveig just took a standing position next to her, also staring out at the expanse of the Lokken land.  She spoke, but didn’t look at Ingred, just the land before her.

 

     “I want you to promise me something.” 

 

     “What is it Solveig?”

Solveig kept her eyes on the land, but was eerily cryptic. 

 

     “If it looks as if we will all be killed, I want you to kill me, and take my cousin away from here however that it may be done.  I don’t want her to see whatever would happen to us, and I want her to live.  She is all the family I have left in the world.”

 

Ingred was angered.  She leveled her gaze at Solveig who she noticed was starting to cry silently.  This softened the anger, but she was still put off by such a request.  Ingred knelt, and on her knees was nearly as tall as Solveig.  She grabbed her shoulders and held her firm, enough to cause her to wince in the pain of it.

 

     “What would your new mother and father say if I were to do such a thing?  Have you no faith at all in Laurenna’s skill?  Or better yet, our Dandowin?  I have known Dandowin far longer than anyone here on Lokken, and if he promised that he would stop whatever was coming, and come back, he will keep that promise.  Your new mother has faith in him.  I find it hard to believe that his new daughter does not.”

 

     Solveig was shaking a bit and the enormity of their situation struck home.  Perhaps she had not been given enough time to get past the assassination attempt, and for that, Ingred was sorry.  But now was the time for this family to show how strong they can be, and of all times, they need one of its strongest members to stand to.

 

     “This I will promise you Solveig.  If it seems that our cause is lost, I won’t give up.  I made a promise to your father that I would protect all of you, and I keep my promises.  As the new daughter of Dandowin and Laurenna, I would of course see to it that you, and the rest of the children here would be either secreted away somewhere or removed from the island somehow.  Would that it could have been done already, but time was surely against us from the start.”

 

Solveig wiped her face with her sleeve and removed her dagger.  She turned it end first and shook it at Ingred.

 

     “Here.  For luck.”  She smiled weakly.

Ingred took the dagger and unsheathed her short sword, the enchanted one that was given to her by Dandowin upon their first meeting.  He had drawn it from a stone they found walking along the shoreline just outside of Balmora, the very day he bought their home.  The next day he took it to the Mages Guild and had it enchanted with the ability to shock all who are struck with it.  It was heavy, but when Solveig grabbed the handle immediately the hair on her young arms stood straight up.  Ingred smiled; a wide-eyed smile full of mischief.

 

     “For luck.” 

 

     The Pelagiad was bathed in a great sunlit morning.  Birds chirped amongst the very active sounds of tree frogs, while children’s voices could be heard laughing and teasing one another in earnest.  Squirrels, active from hunger or play, scurried across the roof of the small cottage just outside the main road of the town.

     It was during this, that Lisendra awoke from a weeklong bout of unconsciousness.  She thrust herself upright with a loud scream, only to fall back down again on the bed. Wulfren was seated nearby on the floor, and immediately rose to check her.  Her eyes were still closed, the effort to keep them open too much for her.  Her breath came and went in long gusts, but she was only just barely lucid. 

Wulfren checked his wife with tender care.  Solgerd heard the scream and went to her doorway from her room, to see Wulfren kneeling again to poor Lisendra.  He carefully pulled down the covers from her to check her dressings, which were lightly seeping.  She had soiled herself, wetting the gown she was dressed in.  Turning to Solgerd, she just withdrew for a moment to reappear with a fresh gown.  Granny Torunn was still asleep, the long voyage and the effort of keeping Lisendra alive had all but taken every bit of her strength.  Handing the gown to Wulfren, Solgerd closed her own robe and drew a bowl full of clean water and a piece of mucksponge.  Helping Wulfren remove her gown, Lisendra moaned and shook as they carefully sponged her forehead, then her chest.  With even greater care Solgerd instructed Wulfren how to sponge the area around the dressing, which would be changed the next day.  She slowly and carefully parted Lisendra’s legs so Wulfren could sponge away her soiling, and then they put her into a new gown that was fastened with small lacings in the front, instead of pulled over her head.  This would allow them to change her dressings and clean her without too much distress.  Solgerd then cut an odd hourglass shaped piece of mucksponge, and told Wulfren to cover her womanhood, as this would help with future soiling. 

     She was covered again, and Wulfren stroked her forehead.  She was warm, but not feverish as before.  Her feet were exposed, and Wulfren raised to cover them, taking one toe in-between his fingers and pressing it firmly.  There was no response.  The women had warned him that it was too soon, but he had to try and see for himself. 

     Solgerd came from the kitchen with a mug of Flin and some apples.  Wulfren ate hungrily and looked to Lisendra and next to Solgerd.  She just shook her head “No”.  No solid food for Lisendra for a while.  When her cousin would rise, they would prepare together a few healing soups and gruels.  That was best right now.  Wulfren started to rise when Lisendra in her sleep grabbed his wrist, murmuring.

    

     “Mm…Love you.  Love you Wulfren.”

 

Wulfren fell to his knees and started to cry.

     

 

 

Chapter 19

 

 

 

     The walk up to Mistress Dratha’s quarters was longer than Dandowin remembered.  There were twists and turns, all the while passing the dimly lit interiors of the Telvanni hollowed out mushroom buildings.  Familiar faces came into view, rather, familiar shapes.  Passing the three armored Bosmeri sisters; Gelduin, Elphiron, and Nathien who patrolled the Upper Quarters, each in turn saluted him with the sign of fealty.  None spoke, which was odd.  Remembering the last time he was here, they were far chattier than they are now.  Something was definitely not right here, as if the whole man-hating thing was ever right to begin with.

     The main ramp to Mistress Dratha was in sight and Dandowin took it up.  Immediately a woman in Bonemold armor wearing a Telvanni Cephalopod helm spun him about, grabbing his shoulder.  The gruff Dunmer voice within he recognized at once.  It was Sadela Areth, the personal guard to Mistress Dratha herself.  A long time ago, he was privileged to see the woman underneath the helm.  They spoke at length of their pasts, which were similar to one another as well as their current dispositions.  Both were tired of taking lives, and both were longing for a simpler life.  Dandowin found his, but he wondered if his friend bothered to look for hers.

 

     “I’m afraid Mistress Dratha is no longer seeing visitors, even one as important as the Nerevarine.” She said quietly as she released him.

 

Dandowin straightened out his robe and grasped Sadela’s hand in friendship.  In a return gesture she removed her helm.  There, with tired eyes that were still deep set in her mature yet beautiful Dunmer face, she smiled.  Her short red hair was plastered to her skin by nervous sweat.

 

     “I come on a matter of great importance, my friend.  It cannot wait, for lives hang in the balance.”

 

Sadela was not moved; instead, she looked as if she were in great haste.  Whatever was going on, it must be directly involving her Mistress.  Looking past her shoulder, he could see that Mistress Dratha’s room was completely dark.  Not a single candle.  Not a single lamp.  Nothing.  This was more puzzling than everyone’s odd behavior.

 

     “She will not see you.   She will not see anyone.  You must go.  NOW!”

Sadela’s face was of pure panic now.  Never in a million years would Dandowin believe that a former assassin such as she would be prone to such fear.  He did not understand, but he respected her care.  It would seem that it was not out of fear for her Mistress, but out of fear for Dandowin’s safety.

 

     “Is there no way?  Who leads in her stead now?  I need her help desperately!”

Sadela was insistent.  She grabbed Dandowin’s arm and started to shove him back down the ramps when a roar came from the darkness of Mistress Dratha’s room.  It was otherworldly, disembodied, and in great pain.  It shook the walls of the surrounding rooms and made Sadela release Dandowin and back away.

 

     “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!!!!!”

Dandowin stood prone and ready.  Whatever it was, he would face it.  He protectively moved Sadela behind him but was shocked to see her move in front of him instead.

 

     I will see him.  Please.  Please.  I will see him.”

Dandowin recognized the voice, but could not believe it.  It was Mistress Dratha, but it was changed, echoed, as if she spoke from the bottom of a deep chasm.  Sadela turned to face Dandowin, bowed her head and closed her eyes.  Her eyes were wet, as if she was suppressing tears.  When she opened them, she handed him a single candle from within her armor.  She lit it, and moved aside.  Dandowin moved toward the darkness of Mistress Dratha’s room, taking very slow steps.  As he reached the archway, the candle brought the barest light to the room.  A large shaped shuffled from one part of it to another. 

     Dandowin stood at the archway.  Waiting. 

 

     “Come.  I will not harm you, Dandowin Nerevarine.  I...I...I need your help.”

Dandowin moved a few steps forward.  He stretched out his arm, raising the candle.

 

      “BY AZURA!”

 

     In a small room in the large Nordic structure known as the Thirsk Mead Hall, a newly wedded young woman sweated with frantic breathing in the cool of her room, the Chieftain’s Room.  Long were the months since its former owner, the absent chieftain known by song as Dandowin Nerevarine, had warmed this very bed alone.  In the low light of a single candle, Svenja Snow-Song moved her head to and fro, her legs jerking with the effort of whatever chased her in her nightmares.  She was nude, beautiful as the Maiden of Snow itself, but in complete terror.  To her side, snoring lightly was her husband and new chieftain, Agnar the Unwavering.  Their ceremony was a loud one, with much drinking of mead and carousing in the lower level of the Mead Hall.

     Few could blame the young warrior woman for her action.  A handful felt it improper, without at least contacting the previous chieftain.  But Svenja argued with her dissenters that their former chieftain made a choice when he wed the princess of their neighboring island, Lokken.  There are no secrets on the wind, she argued, and it was clear that he was not going to return and rule.

Now, in the low light of their room, the new spent young chieftain and his troubled wife shared a room and a responsibility for their people.  It was a responsibility that proved to be quite tiresome, at least for her Agnar.  As fair as he was, and as brave as his words, he had little experience with the day-to-day running of an entire community.  The days were mostly the realm of Svenja, as she broke up fights, settled disagreements, doled out the Mead Hall profits to her people.  She kept contact with the Skyrim Mission in Ebonheart as well as the elders in Skyrim itself.  But her nights were not her own, as she spent each one in complete terror, often ending with her vaulting from bed grasping shadows about the room.  This particular night, their wedding night, she had hoped would be different.  Sadly, their ardor was shorter than the candle on the table and her husband fell out cold exhausted from the simplest movements of her body.  Now, she moved in fear, and was trapped in a nightmare that repeated over and over each night. 

 

     “NO…HELP…NOOOO!” She screamed, flailing at the air above her.  Sitting upright, Svenja wiped at the sweat on her forehead.  Exhausted, nauseas, and shaking, she brought her knees to her chest and hugged her legs.  Agnar mumbled softly at her side, deep in his own sleep from the earlier festivities.

     There was only one thing to do she thought.  She would have to travel to Skyrim and seek out someone who could interpret these nightmares.  The Uderfrykte was dead; its heart sits on top of the Stone of Triumph, wrested from it by the former chieftain.  Yet, each night, a new horror assailed her mind, many times the size of the beast she fought, yet vaguely similar in its appearance. 

Looking at Agnar resting peacefully, she moved to him and drew close to his body.  Hugging his warm and firm body, she closed her eyes and started the mental list of what she would do come the morning light.  Things were so different now in Thirsk.  Since Dandowin stopped coming, even for the Mead Hall profits, the people fell into that kind of boredom that breeds all manner of ill behavior.  At present, they were right back to the same drunkenness that cost the lives of their bravest when the beast attacked.  Were one to attack them again, the result would be the same…save for no hero to hunt the Uderfrykte down to its lair and finish it off.

    

     “That’s it!”  She said aloud.

Agnar stirred, and rubbed at his eyes.  Turning to face her, he looked at his beautiful wife and wondered what roused her.

 

     “Are you okay?  What stirs you so early?”

Svenja just kissed him, and pushed him back on his pillow.  Placing her head on his chest, she snuggled to him and breathed her words silently in his arms.

 

     “Tomorrow my husband.  Tomorrow.  We have some traveling ahead of us.”

 

     The castle of Lokken was quiet for the night, its hallways only showing the flickering of torch fires where but hours before, the shadows of many citizens danced along its walls.  In the hallway of main bedroom areas, stood a single figure too full of emotion to sleep, so she set about to walking up and down the halls.      

     Laurenna was pacing slowly past each room.  The sounds within were comforting, but it did little to ease the sadness she bore for her family.  Her mother was crushed, with the storming off of Wulfren.  Solveig kept company with Laurenna at night but spoke little.  There was something weighing very heavy on her heart.  Their newfound friend Ingred was a pillar of strength, but like Solveig, offered little in the way of conversation.

The truth was, she dearly missed her husband.  The show of strength she put up when he was leaving was now faded, and the full insecurity of an uncertain future kept her awake.  The child within her moved about more each day, bringing with it love and hope, but also the deep fear that she might just lose the man she loves. 

     Stopping before her mother’s room, she tapped the door and waited.  It immediately opened to find Sigrid also wide awake, the snoring Lena within taking full advantage of the motherless bed.

 

     “You too, mother?”

 

     “Yes my child.  I cannot sleep, and my thoughts are filled with many things that I wish were otherwise.”

They stared at one another but for a second until a tear trickled down Laurenna’s face.  The child within her moved about, forcing her to rub her belly in the hopes of settling it.

 

     “Would you walk with me mother?” She cried.

Sigrid took her daughter in her arms and hugged her fiercely.  There was still strength within them all, but there was also the need to remind one another that they need each other.  Sigrid moved to her abdomen, and placed her hands on it feeling the life within.  She smiled with her eyes closed and this immediately brought hope to Laurenna, who feared deeply that her mother would never smile again. 

 

     “He will come back to us mother, and Lisendra will live as well.”

The softness in her daughter’s voice surprised her.  There was no agitation, no sarcasm.  These terrible series of events had changed her daughter, perhaps helping her mature even more.  It is a strange thing, she wondered.  How one’s children can surprise us, and also, grow so differently.  Here her daughter was showing strength yet having moments to need support, and her son who she always thought would be the strongest, fell to single-mindedness.  Perhaps Lisendra’s misfortune will change him as well.  Would that the circumstances were less damaging.

 

     “Have you spoken to Dandowin?” 

 

     “Every day, mother.  He and Helmer have made it safely to the mainland.  He tells me that he will dispatch friends of his to see to Wulfren’s safety, as well as make sure Lisendra gets the very best of care.  After all, Granny Torunn went with him to find Solgerd.  That alone is the best care anyone can hope for.”

 

     “The Goddess bless Dandowin, and may she protect him until he returns to us.

You have done well my daughter.  Of all the men you could marry, I couldn’t have wished for a more responsible son-in-law.”

Laurenna softened at the remark, and silently echoed her mother’s blessing in her heart.

Yet, she was still worried about something.

 

     “Do you mean that mother?  Have I done well?  In the face of all that has and is to happen, I worry about the hearts of all those within and without our walls.”

Seeing her daughter’s uneasiness, Sigrid moved to her and took her about the shoulders.

She put her head against her Laurenna’s, as they walked slowly towards the stairs.

 

     “Yes I do.  Enough to know that I feel sorry for having commanded him so, when knowledge of the assassin was brought to me.  Even your father had enemies, which proved to be right in his own family.  I just hope Dandowin can forgive me for such sternness.”

 

     “I believe my husband would have said, “It’s about time!”  She laughed.

 

They both laughed quietly in the gloom of the torchlight and descended the stairs to the kitchen.  There they would share some warmed mead, a few small cakes, and each other’s strength. 

From the shadows, a vigilant and watchful Ingred Rems smiled contently. 

 

     The afternoon in Balmora was a wet one.  The rains came early and people ran from establishment to establishment trying to keep dry.  Sandals slapped the wet and pool filled stones, boots stomped up steps, and children splashed one another to the anger of their parents.  As the steady downpour brought sheets of rain on everything, Beth Gilian and Berna Chalo fought their packages to find their keys.  Berna was the smarter of the two it seemed, for she wore a simple flowered dress that would dry quickly when removed.  Her normally bound hair was loose today, plastered dark against her nut-brown Bosmer skin.  Her large pointed ears were filling with rainwater, and she was constantly shaking her head to empty them.  She kicked off her sandals, preferring the cool rain to wash her tired feet, and that’s when she noticed the roped letter on the stone steps.  Picking it up, she noticed the handwriting and the various seals from Solstheim, and Lokken.  It was from Ingred.

     Showing it to Beth, her normally stoic Dunmer matronly face lit up with a wide smile.

Beth was soaked as well, but you’d never know it in her meticulous dressing manner.  Perhaps she had news of their home master, Dandowin.   Beth missed Dandowin, for his various adventures and constant gifts broke the boredom of running a household with three other women.  Life was so worry free now, since he had given complete ownership of the home to Beth.  There was more than enough gold and gems left from Dandowin to pay for the home and living expenses for well into an Elf’s old age.

     Once inside the women hurried to the kitchen, and stowed away the produce and necessities that they purchased.  Berna called for Meira, who was lying on her bed reading a book.  Even Berna noticed that Meira didn’t dance as much as she used to, since the news of Dandowin’s marriage to a Nord in the remotest part of Solstheim.  She remembers when Ingred first broke the news of his marriage, and how in mid performance of her dancing, Meira stopped, walked over to the forge, and started to bang her hammer on the empty anvil.  She did that until the hair in her normally tight bun fell lose about her shoulders, and then stormed off to her room to rearrange Berna’s things, which of course was done via throwing them against the wall.  Since then, Meira danced very little. Although none of her housemates would dare to mention it directly, they all noticed that she started to look a little rounder in her normally toned hips and backside.

     Taking a dagger from her table, Beth opened the letter and started reading aloud.  Berna sat at the kitchen table first removing her soaked dress, and then drying her hair with a towel.  Meira rose from the bed, but preferred to just stand in her doorway.  Exchanging looks, Beth and Berna chuckled to one another figuring that someone was still a bit on the jealous side.

 

      Dear housemates,

I found Dandowin. He’s very much alive.  Damn near killed myself in trying to find him, but he’s doing great.  His family is nice and his big-breasted Nordic wife is very much pregnant.  He’s off doing whatever the Gods ask of him, and for now, I am minding the castle and his family.

 

Beth, Berna, and Meira, I need to ask a favor of all of you.  The brother of his wife is there in Vvardenfell.  Dark Brotherhood attacked his wife, so they went there to save her life.  I have to stay here, and he needs someone to keep an eye on them.  They are staying with some old Nord woman in the Pelagiad.  Shouldn’t be too hard to find. 

Beth, I need you to get my share of the house gold and see that this family of his gets it for the wife’s care.  Do it quietly, because they had a falling out and the brother is being a Guar’s ass about things.  Work with the old lady, that’s the best bet.  Any potions you could spare, would be of great help.

Berna, I need you to get a hold of some Almsivi or Divine Intervention scrolls.  If you can’t, then I need someone at the Mages Guild to make a teleportation scroll large enough to transport six children and possibly two more infants.  Use some of my gold share to purchase this.  Do this for me, and bring them to me via my ring, or the ring and Dandowin’s scroll that transports you to his castle on the island off Solstheim.  Once there, his enchanter can get you to and from Lokken.  You’ll find the ring and the scroll in his room, next to the Dwemer puzzle box.  Do this for me, and I will get you a case of this famous Lokken mead.

Meira, if you wouldn’t mind, I need you to take my other two bows and the quiver of arrows to the Fighter’s Guild across the street.  Downstairs, if she is there, ask for a Luthien Morvayn.  She’s a friend of Dandowin’s and I need her to perform a little unseen guard duty.  Explain to her what is happening, and ask her to go with Beth when she brings the gold to the old Nord woman.  She might do it for Dandowin out of the shared past together, if not, again, use my gold.  Meira, do this for me and there’s a new gown in it for you.

Don’t know how long I will be here, but I will keep you informed.  Berna, I really need that scroll or scrolls so get moving.  Now.

 

Thanks to you all, in advance.

 

Ingred

 

     When Beth finished, the women stared at one another.  Meira just sucked her teeth and went back to her bed, preferring to finish her book than to be of any help.  Berna was finished drying herself, taking the letters from Beth to reread Ingred’s requests.  Beth rose, and went to her desk.  In one of the smaller drawers she withdrew a single silver key. 

 

     “Berna, I will tend to the gold.  It is no large task to make such a simple delivery. Besides, I may want to drop in on Ygfa to see if she has any really good potions.  What will you do?”

 

Berna took a hair stick from the table and bound her hair up into her bun and bangs.  She tilted her head looking up to Beth with the most adorable yet mischievous smile.  Her brown eyes sparkled with the thought of Lokken’s legendary mead, and she unfastened the towel about her waist, standing naked in the kitchen.  Reaching for her already soaked dress, she wrapped the dress into the towel and started to wring it into a tight, thick, bunch.  When she released the bunch the dress fell, wrinkly and still damp.  Slipping it back on, she patted herself down to make some sense of the wrinkly mess.

 

     “After all Beth, I must think of those children!  I’ll go with you to get the gold needed for the scrolls.  Then you can help me find the items in the Master’s Bedroom.”  She said with a chuckle and a wink.

Beth was amused enough to chuckle and looked into Meira’s bedroom.  There she was back in bed again, lightly turning the pages ignoring her housemates.  Her bound hair neatly packed into her pearl net, lounging against her pillow in a lovely silk and sheer purple gown that Dandowin had bought her from Dagon Fel.  The jeweled accents around her neck and arms caught the warm light of the Dwemer lights, and sparkled as she turned each page slowly.  Beth knew that Meira barely tolerated Ingred, and Ingred knew how to push her to annoyance.  Depending on her answer, Beth had already decided to make the trip to the Fighter’s Guild on Dandowin’s behalf.  She remembered the young Dunmer woman who was actually far older than her housemates and even Dandowin, but was quite lovely and shapely for a former royal guard.  Sending Meira to ask for her help was a part-prank in including her.  The dress enticement came at the price of confronting a former bedmate of Dandowin’s.  Ingred, Beth learned long ago, has dark humor.

 

     Standing in her doorway, she just tapped the frame with the silver key.

 

     “Well?”  Beth asked nicely.

Meira put her book down on her chest, and raised one of her shapely toned legs.  She flexed her foot and pointed her toe.  Turning to Beth very slowly, her face bore the look of someone that if she could have, she would send a punch in the face via a wrapped letter.

They stared uncomfortably for over a minute, until Meira put her book down on the bed.

 

     “Oh…alright!  Let me put my sandals on.”

 

 

 

Chapter 20

 

 

     The clarity that the candle brought was not just to the room’s illumination.  It finally laid bare all the answers to the questions that plagued Dandowin regarding the strange behavior he had seen in Tel Mora.

In the deep gloom of the room, the hulking shape of what was once Mistress Dratha shambled back and forth, never letting the light from the single candle stay on her for long.  She need not have bothered, because Dandowin would never again forget the sight before him.  Mistress Dratha was hunched over, covered in what appeared to be three robes sewn hastily together.  One of her arms clutched at the chest of her robes, holding them together in a tight grasp.  This hand was normal, as was what little of the arm that Dandowin could see. 

That is where sanity ended.  Spreading downward in the candlelight her robes were strained against a perversion of her Dunmer flesh.  They covered most of her, until her calves, which were misshapen beyond anything he had seen in the Corprusarium.  One foot was entirely dwarfed by the bulbous gnarled infected flesh, while the other, was so bloated and deranged that her toes were but mere blemishes at the end of the flesh.  There were patterns in her flesh that formed a terrible landscape of pain and suffering.  The patches of her flesh where the skin broke open from the strain of the infection were festering.  The smell of sick blood and pus was everywhere, and Dandowin fought the urge to wretch.  Above her normal hand and arm, great nodules of gray flesh shot outward from her chest and neck, in the pattern of a human skin mountain range that curved about her neck, and along the back of her head.  Where it circled the face, all her features were destroyed.  Her once lovely red flowing hair now was a dried and tangled mess of tortured scalp. She possessed but a single eye on her face that was starting to cloud over.  Her mouth was normal but only on one side; the ever-growing range of nodules twisted the other side.

 

     “I suppose…you find my state of health quite amusing now, Nerevarine.”

 

Dandowin was taken aback by the comment.  He knew she felt little for the likes of men, but to think that anyone would enjoy her suffering so?  Remaining calm, he pressed her for answers.  There was still hope, if she were willing.

 

     “I am not finding much amusing these days Mistress.  From what I hear in the streets and read in letters, things seem worse than they were when Dagoth Ur was still a threat.”

 

Mistress Dratha shuffled over to her bed and sat upon it, the weight of her tortured flesh made the timber beams groan and there was the cracking sound of some, which gave way.  Her breathing was ragged, and the disembodied voice she possessed was difficult to understand fully.

 

     “Indeed…indeed.”

Taking a stool off to the side, Dandowin sat directly next to her bedside.  Sadela stood in the room entryway, awaiting any need her Mistress could ask.  Dandowin looked at her, and she was visibly upset.  This was a most terrible turn of events for both of them.  To a great surprise to both of them, Dandowin reached out and grabbed the normal hand of Mistress Dratha that held her robes closed.  She flinched at first, and her breathing intensified, but soon she acquiesced, and gripped his hand tightly.

 

     “Dear Mistress, how did all of this come to be?”  He asked compassionately.

Mistress Dratha’s robe fell open, and Dandowin could see the extent of the damage she sought to keep hidden.  Out of deep respect and sympathy, he kept his gaze to her single eye.

 

     “HOW? How…how?  Yes.  I remember Nerevarine.  You remember of our talks before I gave you my vote for Hortator?  I was working with Corprus husks in theory and application for use in a military and defense fashion.  My studies intensified, and I was making some progress.”

Dandowin said not a word, but still gripped her hand.

 

     “I had started to increase the size of the flesh patches on donor skin, keeping a mindful watch on how deep and fierce the infection would attach.  But there was an unforeseen aspect of the Corprus flesh…preservation…sentient survival.  In my overeager wish for success, I dared to hazard a test, on myself!  One of the patches I attached to my flesh had divided, multiplied.  Instead of it attaching to the skin where it was applied, it…it…Oh by the Goddess!”

Before Dandowin could reason it, she thrust his hand to her abdomen.  It moved and undulated, as the infection was no longer topical, but within her body as well.  She did not have to speak it, as all know how vulnerable the unprotected parts of a woman are.

 

     “My magic failed.  My potions, my defenses, all were ineffective.  I had changed the ferocity of the deranged flesh and by my magic had increased its ability to attack.   Irony.  I sought to create a weapon, only to have it attack its creator.  I…despair.  Soon, the madness within will remove all of the Dratha that was, and my own citizens will be forced to kill me.  That is, until you appeared.  Perhaps…perhaps…you will kill me?”

 

     “That is not why I have come, Mistress Dratha.  I come to seek your aid, as well as someone whom you know well, to help me find a way to reverse the damage to the late stage infected.  The blight is over, but the curse of Dagoth Ur lives on in his Dreamers and Sleepers.  I do not know if you have noticed, but there is a genocide happening in all of the cities.  Lord Vivec would be most angry if he knew I was even here, and more so when I plan to go to Tel Fyr.  Perhaps it is good that I have come, for I can take you to Tel Fyr.”

 

Mistress Dratha snatched her hand away in disgust.  Her anger was only matched by the onset of her madness at the thought of standing before Divayth Fyr in the current shape she was now.

 

     NEVER!  I shall NOT join the beasts of his menagerie.  You are unkind, Nerevarine!”

 

     “You misunderstand Mistress.  I seek not to have you entombed; I need your scientific mind to work in unison with his, to end the genocide.  He has created a potion, which has quite unique effects.  I too suffered the Curse-of-the-Flesh if you remember my Mistress?  It was he and his potion that cured me.  Perhaps he has perfected it, perhaps not.  From where I stand, you have little options, and I will NOT be your executioner.”

 

     From the doorway, Sadela Areth walked to her Mistress and knelt before her.  The look in her face was pleading and her eyes matched her red hair. 

 

     “Please…my Mistress.  Listen to Dandowin.  If what he says is happening, and there is indeed a cure of sorts, perhaps the Goddess has answered our prayers and sent him to us.  I know of your feelings towards Lord Fyr.  I am sure it will not be remotely easy.  But if there is the slightest chance, we must act upon it.”

Mistress Dratha ‘s eye focused on Sadela, then again to Dandowin.  All knew her fears, and her history.  But Dandowin had a plan, and a good one by his reasoning.

 

     “Surely he will not be so swayed.  I know Divayth Fyr far better than anyone living, and there is nothing where his heart should be.”

Dandowin rose then, and folded his arms.  There was the barest hint of a smile upon his lips, as he reassured both Sadela and Mistress Dratha.

 

     “Let me deal with Lord Fyr.  I have anticipated the difficulty, and brought some…enticements.”

 

     On the Solstheim coast, many eyes watched the lone longboat coming from Lokken Island.  On the decks and in the cabins of the stolen Imperial ship, hushed voices argued back and forth as to the disposition of the ship.  Some felt it should be incinerated immediately, as a practice of the deadly magic.  Others, advised caution in case those on board had the means of teleporting away, thus giving away their intention.  In the end, it was Sedris Omalen who made the final decision to leave the ship be.

 

     Sedris and Nidryne gathered the crew of mercenaries below, reiterating the plan and dividing them into two groups.  Some were immediately against splitting the forces, especially the rogue mages who felt their strength was best used as a whole cohesive force.  Sedris was adamant though.  She countered that both parties needed magic users, and since supplies and weapons were limited, best not to exhaust them prematurely.

     There was something else Sedris noted.  Nidryne was unusually antsy.  She had seen this behavior before with recruits and other soldiers.  A type of fear, not the kind that comes before a battle, but the kind when someone is holding a secret that they do not want found out.  She will have to keep her eye on her, since trust was no longer between them. 

A scouting party was sent the evening they hit the shore.  As they now emerged on the upper deck, the party was approaching the ship.

 

     “Report.  What is the situation at Thirsk?”  Barked Sedris.

The two Bosmer scouts ran forward, their breath coming in clouds about their face in the Solstheim cold.  They were dressed in light armor and bows, wearing furs of the local wolves to blend in with the broken snow terrain.  Their faces were camouflaged with streaks of brown paint in the pattern of branches.  Each wore a brace of wicked knives at their waist.

 

     “Thirsk is a mess.  There was some sort of celebration days ago and the Nords there are still drunk and useless.  Two of the villagers left in the early morning hours, one man, one woman.  They were armed.  They took the only longboat, and even the Khajiit housemate of the shipmaster left as well.”

 

     “Were you seen?”  She demanded.

The Bosmer scouts were insulted by the question.  The silent one, spat at her feet.

 

     “Anything that could have possibly seen us no longer lives.”

 

     Sedris counted her good fortune.  If the Nords of Thirsk were incapacitated, then the first part of their plan will be far simpler than she imagined.  For this, she decided, to send the Orcs and a handful of rogue mages.  The Orcs will be dressed in the Nordic armor that was taken from the unfortunate party of smugglers and Berserkers they came across when the ship came to the coast.  The two Bosmer scouts, once rested, will head to the Skaal village and prepare a trail of death leading to Thirsk.

 

     “Good.  Rest yourselves but prepare to head to the Skaal village to the north.  In the meantime, have the Orcs dressed into Nordic Mail with full helms to cover their faces.  Have the mages don the Imperial armor and fur robes.  They will also carry one of the banners from the ships sails, to further the subterfuge.”

 

     “At once.”  The Bosmer scouts nodded in unison.

 

With a glance to Nidryne, Sedris entered the lower decks in preparation for the business of death.

 

     On the sea, Svenja Snow-Song felt a peace for the first time in weeks.  The nightmares continued, but making the decision to investigate the source was helping.  Also, secretly, she longed to see Skyrim.  There were many tales and songs of their homeland, and while Thirsk was her home and her clan, the thought of the mountains and snows of Skyrim were very enticing.

     Her new husband was trying his best to be enthusiastic, but she could see that in this, he was as useful as a drinking horn with a broken end.  She loved him, and in time perhaps he will grow into a fine chieftain for her clan.  Right now, she will have to be the strong one for both he, and her peoples. 

In their belongings she carried her most prized possession from her youth, the Frostwyrm Bow.  It was a gift passed down through her bloodline, and a thing of beauty.  It bore gold leaf and feather designs, scrolling around its length from tip to tip, with the faces of Nord kings on the riser.  Her quiver was filled with a score of silver arrows, left from the previous chieftain.  With weapons such as these, she felt confident in her intent to match and meet the horror of her dreams.

     Agnar the Unwavering was off by the steering board, a quill in hand and his small brown journal in the other. Held firmly between his furred boots was a small cup of ink.  Svenja watched her handsome husband with love, his blonde hair whipped about his angular face and light blue eyes.  Like their previous chieftain, the Nerevarine, he was a Nord unlike many others, with his writing skills and well traveled past.  Sadly, he didn’t possess the same fighting skills as Dandowin, and sadder, herself.  She knew from their first hours together that she could, if it were her intention, throttle him easily.  Yet, she loved him.  It was rather easy, given how the men of her village were either already married, or so given to drunkenness that they made poor partners for bed or battle.

     Turning to face the sea again, she smelled the salty air and closed her eyes.  Back home, she wondered if her clan had even sobered long enough to know of their departure.  Surely the children and their blacksmith, who was always awake in the pre-dawn hours preparing for work, will notice the missing newlyweds.  Hopefully, when she and Agnar return, they will have such a tale to share amongst the horns and tankards of the mead hall.  They will bring back a tale worthy of the same songs as the fight with the Udyrfrykte.

     

 

    

Chapter 21

 

 

     It was during the change of the midnight watch that Dandowin took Mistress Dratha down from the tower to their longboat.  Sadela Areth provided a few levitation potions to facilitate the trial of moving her Mistress from the great height, and this also afforded her the chance to keep the three Bosmeri guard sisters; Nathien, Elphiron, and Gelduin, busy so that they would not question the activity in the upper tower.

     Helmer had thankfully finished stocking provisions and had the ship ready to sail.   When the levitating pair had touched down, Sadela came running from the tower ramps to greet them.  She bore many packages wrapped for the long voyage.  The preparation to make Mistress Dratha ready took some time, as both Dandowin and Sadela both took the sheets and covers from several beds to sew into a proper robe, one that would conceal her damage and provide her with some dignity.  For her feet, Sadela gently wrapped her in soft silks that they purchased from their clothier, as well as wrappings in soft leather to keep them bound to her.  It was the very best they could do, and it touched Mistress Dratha so deeply she wept. 

     Her necessary alchemical and scientific tools were wrapped, and then bagged.  Her various journals documenting her progress and failures of experimentation were bound and also bagged for the journey.  Everything that could possibly be of use was prepared for travel.  Sadela missed nothing, and Dandowin marveled at how thorough she was.  It was more than evident to him that her Mistress was far more than her noble matriarch; she was her friend as well.

Helmer was proving to be a valuable friend as well.  He noted the unusual passenger they picked up, but made no comment nor asked any questions.  Taking her hand, he seated their passenger on the softest bunch of furs, and then helped Sadela Areth stow the supplies.  He was about to help Sadela disembark the ship, but was stopped as she instead took a seat next to her Mistress.  Looking to Dandowin, he raised his eyebrows in question but Dandowin just nodded, letting him know that this is how it shall be. 

     On the shore, Tonas Telvanni was looking in their direction, holding her arms as she stood under the dock torchlight.  She waved a caring goodbye, as Dandowin raised the sail while Helmer walked to the steering board.  The wind was with them this night, and the ship started to slowly make its way towards the Tel Island chain.  It would be a difficult but short trip to Tel Fyr, given the large rock formations that jutted out of the water surrounding the island.  This would be a job for the shipmaster, and Helmer was one of Lokken’s best.

     It was nearing dawn when they approached the docks of Tel Fyr.  The island was almost silent.  Devoid of a true populace above ground, its hilly and rocky appearance was only broken by the winding ramp, and the very Telvanni shaped circular spiked vine-like doorway.  Not braving to navigate these, Sadela administered another levitation potion as Dandowin did the same but not before taking a large wolf-skin satchel from the corner of the ship.  Soon, just as in Tel Mora, a great rush of magic swept over their bodies as spiraling light of soft hues swept under their rising feet.  As they watched below, the longboat as well as Helmer looking up grew farther away, and they headed for the door to Tel Fyr.

Once the potion wore off, Sadela, Dandowin, and Mistress Dratha walked up the steep carved ramps of the Onyx Hall in inner Tel Fyr.  Turning this way and that, each taking turns to help the hulking form of Mistress Dratha navigate the footpath, they soon came to the first level, and were greeted by the dulcet singing of one of the infamous daughter-wives of Divayth Fyr. 

     Bent over a frying pan and boiling pot, the lovely white haired Dunmer Beyte Fyr stirred the meal as she closed her eyes and sung a traditional Dunmer ballad.

 

     “ We lost some gallant gentlemen, from ranks of brave House Drenim.

And many a wand’ ring widow weeps, on the hills of Molag Beran.”

 

The shuffling of the visitors interrupted her singing and she rose suddenly.  Upon seeing the cloaked form of Mistress Dratha, Beyte just pointed to the pathway leading down to the Corprusarium.  She was without emotion, as if this were a regular occurrence that she performed daily.

 

     “Hello Dandowin, it is good to see you again.  I am sure you know the way to the Corprusarium.”

 

Mistress Dratha shuddered and began to protest.  Sadela nearly lost her grip on her and Dandowin embraced her cloaked hulk to quiet her.  The trembling he felt beneath her robes showed that she was at the point of terror and was about to flee.  He turned to speak but continued to hold her still.

 

     “We’ve come to see Divayth Fyr on a matter of great import.  This guest is not here for the Corprusarium, but at my request and honor.  She has a history with your father-mate, and I have great need to speak with him.”

 

Beyte Fyr just tilted her head in doubt, and putting down her spoon, walked closer to the three visitors.  Dandowin still held Mistress Dratha and Sadela bowed in greeting.  Taking the hood of her robe, Beyte pulled it back just slightly to see the undamaged part of Mistress Dratha’s face.  She immediately closed it and stood aside.  For the three, it was perhaps the first time they wagered that such a visitor brought emotion to Beyte.  The look in her eyes was compassionate, and she clasped her hands before her as if in regret for her previous comment.

 

     “You’ll find him in his study.  I…I wish you much luck, Nerevarine.”

 

     “Thank you, Beyte.”

 

     Sadela and Dandowin continued to help Mistress Dratha navigate the ramps.  They passed his other daughter-mate Delte, on her way to check upon the meal her sister was preparing.  No words were spoken, just an odd look and a bow of her head.  Her long red hair held in place by her exposed ears.  Turning this way and that, they finally came upon the overhead shaft leading directly to where Divayth Fyr stood.  Taking the last of the levitation potions, they floated one at a time with Sadela first, to steady Mistress Dratha as Dandowin brought up the rear.  He shouldered his bag of enticements and rose until he stood face to face with Divayth Fyr.  Off to the side, Sadela and Mistress Dratha waited, her breathing ragged as fear and anxiety started to take her.  Sadela did as Dandowin had done holding her steady in an embrace, while the other daughter-mate Alfe Fyr came at a pace to investigate.  Alfe Fyr gruffly looked under the cloak, and turned her head of long brown hair directly at Dandowin.  Her face was grim, as if she knew that this was an ill advised act.  It didn’t matter, Dandowin thought.  Wise or not, he was committed as were his companions.  This was a time when he silently wished he had Nerevar’s legendary mastery at persuasion, since his ring was sewn into the pouch that Solveig had created for him. 

     Divayth stood with his back to the visitors until Alfe Fyr walked to him and announced them formally.     Divayth Fyr was as Dandowin remembered him from his visit in the hopes of curing his Corprus infection.  When he turned, his mildly weathered Dunmer face and snow-white hair that fell to his shoulders bore the oddly mischievous smile Dandowin remembered.  It was unsettling, this smile of his.

 

     “Well, well, the Nerevarine returns!  I’m afraid to tell you that my hopes were dashed when I tried the potion on some of my more advanced cases.  Killed them most quickly, subsequent attempts were also disappointing.  Must be something wholly different about you, or your blood.  Whatever the case may be, what brings you back here?”

 

Handing his satchel to Sadela, he walked closer to Divayth so that he could speak in whispers.  Divayth cocked an eyebrow at the need for candor in his own home, and was even more curious at the cloaked figure that the female Dunmer guard was taking great care to pacify.  From the distance, Alfe Fyr looked at her father-mate with a concerned look.  When Dandowin finished, Divayth pushed passed him with a start, and immediately Dandowin felt this was indeed as Alfe cautioned, ill advised.

 

     “Truly?  This I cannot believe!  I MUST see for myself!”

With a start he closed the distance and withdrew the hood from Mistress Dratha’s head.  Seeing her in her tortuous condition, his eyes widened with what could only be described as glee, and he howled in laughter.

     “HO-HO-HO-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”  Divayth howled cruelly.

Sadela recovered her Mistress immediately and shot Dandowin a glance of caution.  Sadela would endure much for her Mistress, but she would not endure this cackling fool.

Divayth returned to Dandowin and spoke as if elated.

 

     “You bring great gifts Dandowin!  The thought of having the Nerevarine, as a guest of my Corprusarium was good enough long ago, but this!  The venerable Mistress Dratha, the perfect addition to my collection of Corprusarium monsters?  Oh Dandowin, you give the best gifts!”

Dandowin grew angry.  He knew that given the shared past between Mistress Dratha and Divayth Fyr, that this was to be expected, but as these years had wore on him he found he lost the patience for casual cruelty.  Behind him, Mistress Dratha wept openly and was giving Sadela some difficulty in keeping her restrained.  He looked to Alfe, who seeing this, walked to Mistress Dratha as well and helped Sadela keep her calm with reassuring words that she would not be a guest of his menagerie.  It was then that Dandowin turned to face Divayth, and his anger was far from kept in check.

 

     “Perhaps it was foolish of me to expect someone who has lived far beyond their years to have matured enough to understand desperation.  What truly was the sense in your want of living forever to eliminate Corprus, when the compassion necessary for those afflicted is vacant from you?”

 

Divayth still stood smiling and amused.  Perhaps he thought, the Nerevarine wishes to challenge him.

 

     “We didn’t come here for your sport, and we certainly didn’t come here to bring further pain to Mistress Dratha.  Whether you care about it or not you perpetual Dunmer bastard, those that were cursed and afflicted with the very same infection you are seeking to cure, are being rounded up and incinerated.  I came to Mistress Dratha since I knew of her brilliance in working with the disease, but I was too late, since she suffered a setback.  Knowing as well of your brilliance, I hazarded the chance that maybe, just maybe, you would be welcoming the chance to pool your minds again.  Not for just yourselves, but for the Dunmer people of which you both are a part of.  Pity that the only person in this damn room that has actually done anything for those truly afflicted has been a foolish Nord who thought the noblest of the Dunmer were better than he.”

 

     Divayth stroked his chin, all the while maintaining his amused look.  When he spoke, it was still devoid of any compassion.  Dandowin breathed slowly to calm down, reminding himself inwardly that he needs this man even though he wishes he could carve that smile from his face.

 

     “An impressive speech, worthy of Nerevar himself!  I have heard many such over these millennia Nerevarine, and that was a good one.  If there is one thing I have learned with my age, is that never do anything for which there is no return gain.  Clearly, working with a former “friend” might yield some use, but the gain is all hers.  As she is right now, I couldn’t even get a return on my time invested with her womanhood.  What possible incentive is there in it for me to spend my time, which I have in abundance?”

 

Dandowin moved to Mistress Dratha and Sadela.  Sadela stood straight and handed Dandowin his wolf-skin satchel.  He nodded to Sadela, and bent to grab the hand of Mistress Dratha, who was shaking terribly.

 

     “I anticipated that a collector such as yourself would need an incentive, but first, I propose a bargain, in the interest of civility.”

Divayth just cocked an eyebrow and shrugged.  Dandowin continued.

 

     “First, I want your word that you’ll stop this antagonism of Mistress Dratha.  Yes, I know it was based on her views of long ago, but you’ll find that even she, can and has changed and not the obvious.  Also, in earnest respect for your wish to end the disease, I am willing to leave some of my blood behind in the hopes that a true cure can be found.”

Divayth looked at the satchel in his hands, and with renewed interest, he flatly spoke.

 

     “That, Nerevarine, will greatly depend on what incentives that you have brought.”

 

Dandowin opened the satchel and withdrew three locked, dark wooden boxes.  Withdrawing a key from his tunic, he unlocked each in turn and left them closed.  He placed them in front of him upon the empty fur bag.  Looking up to Divayth with a half smile of his own, he decided that it was his turn to be the calculating one.  With a very slow movement, he opened the first box.

 

     “I believe you are familiar with the history of Kagrenac’s Tools?  I present as a gift, the legendary Sunder.”

Divayth eyes were quite wide.  Long was the time he desired to look upon the Tools of Kagrenac since his long talks with Yagrum Bagarn, the last living Dwarf.  It was as he imagined.  A fine example of Dwemer craftsmanship in fine alloys with a look of not quite gold and not quite bronze, its round powerful hammer head showed almost no wear at all from the legendary use.  It shimmered in the dark of the box with the magic it was imbued with millennia ago.  The thought of owning them was almost too good to imagine.  But, he had to play this gamble out carefully in his favor.

 

     “Well, it is indeed a most impressive incentive.  But I know my history as well, and what good is just half of a legend?  I believe that Kagrenac’s Tools were a set?”

 

Dandowin was ready for the game, and wasted no time in opening the second box slowly as Divayth Fyr was finishing his sentence.  He noticed immediately that Divayth swallowed hard when he had the box lid lifted fully.

 

     “Of course they are a set.  I remember using the set well when I faced Dagoth Ur at Red Mountain and struck the Heart of Lorkhan, as it was entombed into the very chest of Akulakhan, the Second Numidium.  I also present, the legendary blade, Keening.”

Divayth actually moved forward this time.  To peer closely at the second of Kagrenac’s Tools.  It was absolutely beautiful.  A shining, crystalline blade of most occult origins, housed in a guard and pommel of an alloy that like Sunder, favored both gold and bronze.  Its magic still coursed along the blade in an undulating fashion.  From the moment that Dandowin unveiled the previous Sunder Divayth knew he wanted them.  If all he had to do was be kind to an old former colleague and also help cure her, he knew that this was indeed as Dandowin said, an act of desperation.  That made it seem all the more sweet if he continued to have some sport with his desperate guests.

 

     “Oh my, Nerevarine, you indeed drive a hard bargain.  But perhaps, I need time to think about this.  Say perhaps millennia or two?  That way when you die of old age, I can just try and locate these again from your sires?”

Dandowin knew that he was calculating, but unfortunately for him, so was Dandowin.

 

     “Oh Divayth.  I thought you were a scholar of history.  Perhaps I was quite wrong about you all along?  Surely you have heard of the Nerevarine Prophecies?  I believe the passage goes “Neither Blight nor Age can harm him.”  It would seem that I have as you have said, a “millennia” as well to ponder their disposition, thanks in part, to you.  If we cannot strike an amicable bargain, then perhaps I should just have these ill used legends returned to the fires of Red Mountain.  Surely the deep lava of that cursed place can dissuade others from entertaining the thought you just voiced.”

Dandowin closed the open boxes and withdrew his key again.  Divayth Fyr for the first time since their visit looked actually concerned.

 

     “I jest, I jest, Dandowin.  My, how serious everyone has become these years.  These enticements are truly wonderful, and perhaps I have been hasty and have become a bit callous in my years.  But, as you and I both know, these ancient Tools of Kagrenac cannot be wielded by just anyone.  What good is having the legends if they can never be held in the ha-“

 

Dandowin stopped his statement cold with the opening of the third box.  There, in all its shimmering glory was the exquisite Wraithguard, the gauntlet of Dwemer origin that must be worn in order to hold Sunder and Keening.   Divayth Fyr knelt as Dandowin was, and ran a finger along its shimmering and wondrous design.  As he did, Dandowin reopened the other two boxes, so that the entire set of enticements stood on display.

Nodding enthusiastically, Divayth turned to him, and agreed.

 

     “We are in agreement then.  I shall care for and work with Dratha and see if we can put an end to both the disease, as well as the current madness in the cities.  I will of course expect you to honor your part in leaving a few samples of your blood for analysis and to help in the research.  In exchange, I get to keep these treasures.”

 

     “It was my intent from the beginning, Lord Fyr.” Dandowin said confidently.

They turned to Sadela, Alfe, and Mistress Dratha, and rose.  When they walked to them, Divayth removed her hood softly this time and surveyed the damages.  Sadela informed him that on the ship, they had all the research items they could carry.  Divayth was now a scientist, looking at the progression as well as thinking of ways to arrest the damages.  He carefully replaced her hood, letting Mistress Dratha know that they would get right to work after their evening meal.  He sent Alfe to fetch her sisters, as they would all prepare his very own chamber to house Mistress Dratha.  He then motioned for Sadela to take her to his adjacent room to rest.  Before she turned away, she grabbed Dandowin’s arm and drew him close to her hood.

 

     “I scarcely believed you would pull this off, Nerevarine, and I am in your debt.  I still have my doubts about Divayth’s sincerity, but given the circumstances, I have no choice left to me.  Why?  Why would you do this?  It was more than evident that I have never been a fan of men, or their ways, yet you surprise me.  You could have left me to rot.  You could have even killed me when I asked.  What possible gain can you get from all this?”

 

Dandowin just grasped her hand and smiled.  It seems so odd that those who stand so high in praise of their intellect and ability often cannot see the simplest meanings that are brought in front of them.

 

     “I did it for the Dunmer, Mistress.  I did it because destiny has decided that I am constantly asked to do these things.  What is not within my power, I try and find those that have it within theirs.  I seek no reward Mistress, though there is one thing I am in need of. ”

 

     “You have but to name it Nerevarine.  Tell Sadela whatever you require, and I am sure she will gladly see to it that you have what you need.  For now, I must rest.  I…I am so very tired, Dandowin.”

With a weary sigh Mistress Dratha just turned and walked with Sadela to the adjacent room.  Divayth Fyr was once again on his knees before his treasures, and Dandowin decided that it was time to get moving again.  He announced to Lord Fyr that he was going to the ship to procure the supplies for their research, when Divayth stood and joined him unexpectedly.

 

     “I shall help you, Nerevarine.  Along the way you must tell me what it was like at Red Mountain, and how it felt to wield these tools!  Leave no detail out, and walk slowly, I want to savor this tale!” 

 

     They descended down the ramps and headed for the Onyx Hall and the ramps leading outside.  Mistress Dratha settled in for the night as Sadela removed her own armor and stayed with her.  She thought of Dandowin, and how he handled both her Mistress and the powerful Lord Fyr.  She wondered what type of woman he married, and what circumstances brought them together.  For the first time in a very long time, she found she was actually going to miss the presence of a man.  Were the circumstances or the timing of their fates different, she would liked to have known him better the first time he arrived, when he showed great respect and restraint when dealing with her Mistress and her dangerous nature. 

     Her Mistress was breathing slowly, and apparently sleeping quietly for once since their voyage.  Sadela stood, stretched, and walked about the room.  This would be home now, for however long it took.  Sadly, it is really still a house filled with just women for the most part, she mused.

 

 

 

Chapter 22

 

 

     It was a torrential downpour in Balmora, the rain coming down in sheets that not only made walking difficult, but seeing ahead of one as well.  Securely protected from the rain in her cloak, Meira Aleen muttered darkly at being coerced into running errands for the absent Ingred.

     With every step into the pooling rainwater, Meira cursed the day and the sloshing of water between her toes in her open leather sandals.  The bag of gold she carried with her was heavy, and she was in no mood to have conversations with anyone, especially former bedmates to their former homeowner.  She opted to leave Ingred’s bows and quiver behind; because even the clueless knew that rain is no friend of bows and arrows.

It was insulting, to her senses, that someone of her caliber and training couldn’t entice and hold the attentions of the likes of Dandowin.  He was a Nord after all she thought, and probably didn’t know better.  To her thinking, what better wife was there to walk beside the national hero than a Breton who is an accomplished dancer and most skilled armorer?  She tried everything in her seductive repertoire, and at best, all she gained was a wardrobe of some fine clothes, a share in the house gold, and compliments each time he was home.  Those times were brief enough.  How in the world did some smelly mountain Nord girl win the heart of a hero?

     The unanswered questions would have to wait, for she stood before the doors to the Fighter’s Guild.  Opening the door, her nose was immediately assaulted by the damp heavy air that was filled with old sweat and polished iron.  Not risking getting it on her new dress, she just removed her hood only and walked to the ramp leading to the Guild member quarters.  She hadn’t been to this Guild in ages, and found that surprisingly the faces were the same.  Most barely recognized her, and some, immediately thought to inquire if she had opened the wrong door, mistaking theirs for the Mages Guild.

     Down the slick ramp she padded, coughing a bit as the air became even heavier.  When the floor leveled, she saw in the distance at the end of the hall an extremely tall Altmer woman dressed in the same leathers that Ingred was fond of wearing.  Seems she found where Dandowin went shopping for his bodyguard.  The Altmer was quite comely, with long hair and eyes the hue of early dawn.  Her legs were incredibly shapely and unmarred, for someone in the business of arms and armor.  Standing before her, she inquired as to the whereabouts of this Luthien Morvayn.

 

     “Well met Altmer.  Would you know if Luthien Morvayn still resides here?”

Genevieve looked down at the cloaked Breton with interest.  Smiling, she just pointed at the door at the end of the hall.

 

     “I thank you.”

Genevieve just smiled in return and wondered about the little visitor.  Most patrons and interested parties were the more hardened fare or those from their neighbors, the Mages Guild.  This Breton in fine clothing and expensive though drenched sandals, was the first noble looking patron she had seen in quite some time.  She hoped that whatever tales were to be gained from the day would be interesting, as business had been slow as of late.

     When Meira opened the door, she noticed Luthien immediately.  It had been well over two years since they were introduced through Dandowin, and she remembered taking an immediate dislike to her.  Not because she was a former guard, like the ever so troubling Ingred.  It was the fact that as a guard, now fighter, and a Dunmer one at that, she was rather beautiful.  Her dusky-white hair was short, to just under a very quaint chin.  Her lips were full and round, very unlike many of the older Dunmer that she had come across like their own Beth.  Her ears were large but slender, tipped with a very impressive set of caged diamonds that accentuated the most unusual hue of Dunmer eyes nearly the color of the local heather flowers.  Her nose was fitting to her face, and even though she wore heavy armors, it was more than evident she was just as shapely as Meira under those armors.  Her back was to her until she turned with the opening of the door. 

     Luthien Morvayn gave Meira a puzzled look, and walked up to her.  She remembered her as well, and more than likely remembered her demeanor.  Meira hoped that she would be able to take care of this errand quickly and without any rancor.

 

     “I know you, don’t I Breton?”

Meira gave a half smile and simply nodded before responding.

 

     “Yes, we’ve met a long time ago.  I live across the street, in the dome shaped home.”

 

     “Meira?  You’re Meira aren’t you?”

Meira bowed slightly and Luthien nodded back.  Looking her up and down, she saw the fairly heavy small sack she was carrying.

 

    “So what brings you to the Fighter’s Guild Meira?  I haven’t seen you since Dandowin and I parted ways.”

 

     “He’s the very reason that I am here it seems, if there is any truth to be found in Ingred’s letters.”

Meira knew what she was doing.  If there were going to be any outbursts, ill feelings, or awkwardness, better to lay the full responsibility on the missing Dandowin, and the equally missing Ingred.

 

     “Perhaps you better tell me what this is all about Meira.”

Meira retold all that she had known, starting with Dandowin’s leaving and giving of the home.  Then of his marriage to a princess in the frozen lands of Lokken, and ending with Ingred’s charge and the demands made from her letters.  When she finished, there was an uncomfortable silence as Luthien just stared at her.

 

     “So.  He’s married now.”

If Luthien held any emotion, it was being carefully masked by her unchanging stare.  Like Meira, it would appear that Luthien perhaps held some inward fantasy at living at the side of Dandowin and sharing in his fame.

 

     “Yes.”  Meira said flatly.

 

     “And this wife?  She is with child?”

 

     “Yes.”  Again she spoke with the same flatness.

     “Well, it would appear that he got his wish after all isn’t it?  This brother-in-law of his, I take it that they don’t see things the same way?”

Meira just nodded, and Luthien then looked to the sack she was carrying.  She motioned to peer inside, which Meira just handed it to her.  When Luthien opened the drawstring, she saw that it was literally filled with Septims as well as various gems.  A wry smile came on her lips, and she drew the sack closed and looked back at Meira.  She then lifted her chain mail, then her tunic, and pointed at a scar on her abdomen just below her navel.

 

     “You see this scar Meira?  I got that when I accompanied Dandowin to the bowels of Kogoruhn.  I took an arrow that was meant for him.  He got me to safety, and eventually a healer.  When he went to talk to the Ashlanders shortly after, it was made clear to me that the arrow damage would prevent me from ever having children.  I never told him this, and I am not sure why I am telling you now.  Maybe like me, you kind of thought that life would have been different.” 

Meira cocked her head in understanding and nodded slowly, listening.

 

     “I loved him dearly, and we had great adventures together, but I knew he wanted a family and I just couldn’t burden him with the guilt of this causing me to lose the ability to give him one.  You know him, he would have probably married me right away and thrown his true wants and dreams to the wind.  So, I broke it off with him rather badly, so that he would never know and never try to find out why.  Want to know what the real shame is?  I never wanted children anyway.  I looked at the injury as a blessing.  Swollen bellies and infants at my tits were not what I wanted in this life.  Not at this time anyway.”

 

     It was Meira’s turn to stare and wonder.  Seems that she had more in common with this former bedmate than she had originally thought.  Knowing what she did in order to see his dreams come true was worth the sloshing in the rainstorm.  Meira then looked to the sack and to her again.

 

     “So, this is Ingred’s share of the treasure?  Good.  I never cared for her attitude and her constant calling me “Dunmer” got on my nerves.  I would have done the secret guard duty for this brother-in-law out of our past alone, but knowing that this is Ingred’s, well; I’ll just have to honor her wishes.  Don’t you think?”

Luthien winked at Meira and grabbed the sack.  After hefting it in her hands a few times, she smiled at Meira mischievously.

 

     “Care to join me for a drink Meira?  We can both toast to Dandowin’s kids, and Ingred’s poverty.”

Meira laughed aloud at the comment and nodded in agreement.  Luthien took her by the shoulder and they walked out of the room and headed for the Eight Plates tavern.

 

     It was very early dawn when Brynjolfr packed a small meal and his tools to visit the exiled Skaal that were the keepers of the Stahlrim craft.  For the past three years, after much trade and even more negotiations, he had earned the right to learn this secret facet of Nord lore from the source.  Each month, he would gather gift items for the small family as well as enough raw materials to learn a little at a time. 

     Leaving the small hut where he did the majority of his smith work, he stopped in front of the Mead Hall and thought to check on his fellow clan members before leaving.  Opening the double set of doors, he was immediately met with a sight and smell of utter chaos. 

All before him, from one end of the mead floor to the opposite walls, were the strewn, drunken bodies of his clan members.  It looked more like a battlefield, were it not for the sheer nakedness.  Men were entangled with women, some apparently passed out from too much mead yet still joined in coital union.  Knotting his furry brow, he thought darkly how quickly his clan had fallen into such ruin since the leaving of their new lord.  For just a brief period since the slaughter of his friends and the reclaiming of their honor, they had enjoyed feasting and song, sharing long deeds of heroism and adventure.  But when their new chieftain had left to answer the call of his other fates, the absence left his kinsmen with little to occupy their time.  The werewolves were done.  The beast was slain, its heart still on display.  The mead flowed from Skyrim to Thirsk freely, and even their shield maidens were marrying.  But sadly, this was not enough to stay the tide of boredom.  Soon drunkenness and complacency took root, and like a vine on an old oak, it threatened to choke the life from his clan.  If only the new chieftain had not left.  He brought songs back to them, and should have continued to do so.  Pity that he could not find a suitable mate amongst their women, and even Svenja held out hope, enamored as she was of his valor.  Their new chieftain was a poor substitute, though a comely lad.  In this, he tried to dissuade Svenja, but she would hear none of it.  Many here at Thirsk were offended by the news of the marriage of their chieftain to the princess of the icy island.

   When the smell, snoring, and moans became more than Brynjolfr could bear, he closed the door again and made his way down the slope to the shore of lake Fjalding.  There he would walk slowly to forget his mood and anticipate the learning to come.

     Off in the distance, beyond the tree line, a contingent of armed Orcs in full Nordic armor bled through the trees and circled the Thirsk community.  In the lead were two Dunmer scouts, with wicked blades drawn.  The local dog would have howled their approach, had he not been silenced by poison the night before.  As silent as the death they brought, the small army took careful steps as they fan outward to form a wall of terrible resolution side by side.  Soon they branched outward like the fingers of a hand to snake this way and that amongst the small homes, whilst the larger part of them headed straight to the Mead Hall.

Three of their darkest mages now surfaced from the ranks, each with gloved hands making several movements as they prepared to cast a dangerous mix of spells that blinded as well as immobilized.  This was a slaughter they brought, and unlike most works, this would be devoid of an authoring signature.  Now, each faction stood before a closed door.  Thieves worked the locks as mages and mercenaries drew their blades and bows.  A small bolt of spark was shot in the air signaling the moment from one of the mages.  With a howl, this terrible force broke through each door and window, a thundering crash of activity from one home to the next.  Windows were shattered as death poured on through, the screams of men, women, and children howling in terror as they were silenced nearly as quick.  Some of the more prepared Nords of Thirsk grabbed bed-hidden blades and axes, only to be riddled with crossbow bolts of poison.  Soon, the smaller homes were deathly still, and blood flowed freely from the door fronts.

     At the Thirsk Mead Hall, the Orcs flooded through in a howling rage to the still slumbering clan members.  The women screamed in terror as they were hungrily rent from their sleeping partners, many of who were just beheaded before they could open their eyes.  Half empty mead tankards were polluted with the blood of the slain, which was greedily drank by the howling Orcs.  Naked Thirsk women fought in vain as the Orc men just broke their jaws or necks, gurgling their terrified screams as they were in turn raped most viciously before a final strangling.  The boarders of the upper apartments ran down to find the sight of horror itself, before a dagger or arrow sent them tumbling to their deaths.

     What took many months of planning and many pounds of gold exchanging hands were over in a matter of hours.  Soon, the entire floor of the Thirsk Mead Hall was dark red.  The bodies of its clan members were in pieces.  The invading army stood amongst them, severing fingers for their gold rings, ears for their earrings.  The vilest of them ate of the bodies, washing their feast down with the very last of the mead shipments.  The Mead Hall profit chest was shattered and what little gold was there was greedily gathered and fought over.

When Nidryne Redas and Sedris Omalen ventured inside of the Mead Hall, they surveyed the carnage and looked at one another.  The entire floor was a puzzle of arms, legs, torsos, and heads.  Sedris commanded the more lucid Orcs to take all the heads to the front of the hall, to be piled with the rest of the peoples of Thirsk, in the center of the village.  Nidryne looked at the piles around her and shuddered, her foot caught on the head of a once beautiful Nord woman who was missing her lower jaw.  She kicked it off furiously, and stormed outside.  Once she hit the cool of the afternoon air, she retched what little was in her stomach all over the snow.  Sedris snorted, and just yelled to get the attention of the war party.

 

    “NOW!  TO LOKKEN!!”

 

The howl of the Orcs and screams of the Elven resounded off of the wooden beams and shook the foundation.  As she passed the doorway, the Bosmer scouts appeared, and she whispered something as they drew from the two sacks they were carrying the bloodied skins of several wolves, both gray and white.  These they littered amongst the carnage, before leaving as well.

 

     It was pre-dawn in Lokken, and the winds were just whistling throughout the castle halls.  Most were asleep, or pretending to be, as uneasiness settled in on everyone’s mood.  Ingred Rems was lying on her bed, wide-awake staring at the ceiling.  Next to her in the gloom laid Solveig, dressed in her leggings and tunic, wrapped in a blanket as her arms were wrapped around one of Ingred’s legs. 

     She thought of Dandowin, and hoped he was making progress with all the challenges set before him.  Time was passing here in Lokken, and as she got to know each and every one of its inhabitants, it was easy to see how and why he could come to consider this frigid mountainous land his home.  Laurenna was so much larger now, and all wondered when the baby would make its debut.  Ingred had taken to shadowing her nightly walks, or early morning ring-to-ring talks with Dandowin.  There was always a guard nearby, and Solveig would never seem to be far from her newfound adoptive mother.  Yet, with all of this, Ingred never left anything to chance.  This very beautiful, busty, funny lady was the world to Dandowin, and that meant she was the world to her.  The child that slept within her who all looked at as hope incarnate, was even more so.  Ingred was confident in their security, but never overconfident.  The minute you feel you’re your safest, is when rats invade your cupboard she mused.  Still staring at the ceiling, she slowly withdrew her tingling leg from Solveig’s grasp and wrapped her again in her blanket.  Rising from the bed, she recoiled in shock from the coldness of the floor.  How do these Nords do this every morning? 

    

     Outside, near the Lokken shore a large bull horker skims the shallows with its great ivory tusks in search of shellfish.  Its beautiful silver-white gleaming fur hide rising to meet the early sun and dipping below the water line in a splash as its tusks brought up clouds of sand.  Nearly indistinguishable from the smaller ice floes that dotted the shoreline, it sent radiating ripples of water outward that lapped audibly along the shore.

As it reared its head to bring in air and flip the sand, a silver blur cut the air above the surface of the water and buried itself in its spine at the base of its neck.  There was a huge splash, as it breached the water nearly full and landed crashing back in the water.  Blood flowed from the arrow that stood like a reed straight out of the water, and the horker lay still for good.

Trevor padded through the water and grabbed the arrow lifting the head of the horker above the surface.  With a twist he broke it free, and then grabbed it by its long ivory tusks and dragged it to the shore.  He had made camp where he always did, just at the shore where they seemed to hunt for shellfish and occasionally seek the warmth of the sun.

Rubbing his nose with his gloved hand, he withdrew his skinning dagger and was about to dress his prize when he heard the unmistakable twang of a longbow.  Before he could turn his great blonde head in its direction, the impact of the arrow broke through the back of his skull, the point shattering the front as it protruded from his forehead.  He grasped it and tried to wrench it forward, but it was too late.  The paralyzing enchantment had taken effect, and he fell forward, the last sight he beheld was the still eye of his prize horker as the darkness took him to Sovengarde. 

 

  

 

 

Chapter 23

 

 

     Two weeks would pass before Dandowin and Helmer could prepare the longboat for the next part of their journey.  It took two days to settle Mistress Dratha in, and three days of several blood donations and subsequent resting for the promise kept to Divayth Fyr.

True to his word, he no longer antagonized Mistress Dratha about her condition or her gender.  Each morning, he brought breakfast to her himself, and checked on her condition.  They worked until she tired, and when she went to bed, he and Dandowin would talk for hours.  Helmer busied himself with writing to Leilana, and getting the guided tour of Tel Fyr by Beyte Fyr. 

     Sadela was usually found either at Mistress Dratha’s side, running errands during their experimentation, or helping Delte Fyr hauling supplies and provisions from delivery ships back up to the Hall of Fyr.  She spoke little, except to offer her own experiences and adventures when Divayth and Dandowin would finish the evening with brandy and tales. 

One very early morning, the warm, nude form of Sadela Areth lying next to him startled Dandowin awake.  He was in the midst of his usual nightmare, and the presence of her warm form broke through and he sat upright looking down at her.  She slept lightly on top of his covers, her dusky gray hands clasped beneath her right jaw, as she was nearly fetal posed beside him.  In the candlelight he stared a moment before waking her, looking at the expanse of her well toned body.  She was literally covered in scars, many of which he could identify the weapon that caused them.  There were slashes from swords, and punctures from arrowheads and crossbow bolts.  A large burn scar formed a hand-like pattern on her thigh, most probably received from torture.  This, he surmised, was a physical landscape of the most painful experience, and he lightly stroked her short red hair to awaken her.  The action caused her to snap awake, and her eyes searched the gloom until she looked up at him.  She smiled; those warm welcoming smiles that a lover shares before and after passion, and he was thankful that she could not see how red he was turning.  He shifted, and crossed his arms about his chest and crossed his legs at the ankles.  To his surprise, she spoke first.

     “I suppose you’re wondering why I am in your room this very early morning?”

Dandowin could see her uneasiness, yet it was not from modesty, but from something altogether different.  Truthfully, he was wondering less about the ‘why’, and more about the ‘what next’. 

 

     “This has been a year of surprises Sadela, and lately I am beginning to get used to them.  What troubles you, at this hour of the early morning?”

Sadela shifted herself so that she was sitting cross-legged to the front of him.  They were nearly face-to-face, and she never took her eyes from his. 

 

     “It has been a very long time Dandowin, since I laid next to any man.  Men come and go in Tel Mora, but in the tower, they rarely leave in the same condition that they arrive.  My Mistress has been very…steadfast in her conviction.”

 

     “Knowing the source, I can understand her position some.  Divayth Fyr infuriates me as well.  But I am quite relieved that he is keeping his word and helping your Mistress.  I can leave here with one less thing to worry about.  For now at least.”

Sadela kept her eyes fixed on his.  She barely blinked and it was beginning to concern Dandowin.  Her next words greatly confused him, which is obviously what Sadela was hoping for.

 

     “Dandowin…I am deeply sorry.”

 

     “Whatever for Sadela?” He asked with some concern.

 

     “For this! 

It was lightning fast, Sadela’s attack.  She lunged from her cross-legged position to land prone upon him pinning him against the headboard of the bed with her forearm.  In her hand was a small dirk that she pricked his neck with, and he was immediately struck with a paralyzing cool.  The last motion he was able to muster was a frown and his left arm raised to fend her off.  He was paralyzed, yet very much aware.  His mind was racing with all manner of thoughts, the uppermost of the violent nature.  Sadela stayed where she was, but withdrew her forearm and placed both hands on his face.  When she spoke, it was with urgency and great need.  The ability to blink was now gone from Dandowin, and her hurried breath on his face made his eyes tear with each sentence.  Staring in her eyes now, he realized that he was very much at her mercy.

 

     “Never fear Dandowin.  I would never mean you any harm.  You may not believe me in the face of this attack, but it was more out of selfish desperation than of any ill intent you could possibly think from me.”

Sadela kissed the tearing from his open eyes and kissed his closed mouth.  Pinching the wound she inflicted, she held it until it stopped bleeding freely. Her breathing was rushed and warm against his tingling skin.  It was becoming very clear the ‘what now’, as she rose to move forward, grasping his head and smothering it to her sweaty breasts.

 

     “This…condition, will only last a few hours but I will be brief.  I like you Dandowin.  You showed such strength and gentleness when you handled and cared for my Mistress that I knew I wanted to know you better.  But that is not enough.  I wanted to know what it is like to be held deeply by a man such as you.  We are far from the mainland, and we are even farther from more men.  You will leave soon, and I knew that my next years here in Tel Fyr will be very busy and very lonely.”

Moving with deft hands and purpose, Sadela lightly pulled the covers off of Dandowin.  Resuming her position as before, she sat prone upon his abdomen as she then kissed his face again.  She smelled his hair, she nuzzled his neck, and she took his paralyzed raised arm and stroked it with her hand until she found his hand.  Fingering each finger with purpose, she lightly removed his wedding ring and placed it on the table next to the bed.

 

     “I knew that if I approached you, you would have politely refused my advances because I know how deeply you love your wife.  When you speak to her each night through your rings, I could see and hear from the shadows how deep this love is.  In my heart I so envy your princess.  I have no wish to dishonor her, and no wish to do so to you.  Yet, I cannot help this within me.  There is so much that I have not enjoyed in life, and I beg both of your forgiveness for this violation.”

With great care Sadela checked his pulse, his dilated eyes, and his breathing.  Everything was normal, save for the frown on his face and the now growing tumescence of his loins.  Seeing this, she smiled and looked deeply in his frown, moving a slow hand to wrap around this reaction.  She licked at his face and lips, all the while keeping a hand on him and the other rubbing his chest. 

 

     “In those many years of being an assassin, I had the chance to learn many things from many people.  It was my time spent with the Mabrigash witches that I was taught how to mix the many different fluids from Vvardenfell’s fauna.  This reaction you are feeling is a marvel of alchemy they taught me using the musk of the Shalk beetle, in conjunction with the paralyzing venom of the local scrib.  Mixed with other secret ingredients, it is this concoction that they use to apply facets of their religion.  As you can see and feel, it is more than effective.”

Sadela now took both her hands to his face, using both thumbs to lightly close his eyelids.  Dandowin was now in darkness.  The low candlelight played shadows against his eyelids, but he didn’t need eyes for the sensations and sounds that were now surrounding him.  He first felt her mouth upon his chest.  Then kisses and bites against his stomach.  Her breathing was now nasal, as she was silent again.  He felt her turn upon him, placing her feet flat to the sides of his hips.  One hand braced upon his thigh as the other was missing briefly.  It was found again as she spread her womanhood upon him, pushing her full weight as the hot, wet, flesh surrounded his own with snug muscular caresses.  There she sat for a minute or so before moving very slowly up and down, leaning her head backwards to lay it upon his shoulder.  Her hands now grasped her breasts, cupping and stroking. Her voice was barely audible, amongst the shudder and sighs.

 

     “P-Please…please…do not…ha-ha-hate me.”

 

     It would be on the open sea after a three-hour silence when Helmer prodded his friend as to his mood and the hurried way at which they set sail.  Unlike other trips, this one had them just seen off by his host, Divayth, and not the other inhabitants of the island.  Dandowin practically got the ship readied himself, and Helmer was just returning from their pantry with supplies when he saw Divayth and Dandowin at the docks, hands clasped and notes exchanged. 

Taking the steering board, Dandowin retold all that befell that night of his surprise bedmate and the equally surprising violation.  With great detail and bowed head he shared with Helmer the assault.  The lovemaking for hours, and even how before he was restored to movement Sadela had washed him thoroughly and returned his wedding ring to its rightful finger.  In low tones he spoke of how he wanted to immediately contact Laurenna, yet stopped cold.  Shame, and perhaps something else, bothered him.  He was furious at the assault.  The broken trust.  Yet, he found himself understanding the reasons why she did it.  She was right-he would have refused her advances, and would have also spoke of his deep love of Laurenna.  He knew how unfulfilling it was for many of the Tel Mora women to live with such a shortage of men.  It didn’t make it right, but it did present a moment of understanding, given her history.

     When he finished, Helmer stood looking at him scratching his new beard growth.  Reaching for two tankards and the cask of mead, he poured two drafts sloppily and posed his own questions.

 

     “Last I remember there were axes in the throne room?”

Dandowin narrowed his gaze on Helmer with confusion.

 

     “Yes, several.”  Dandowin responded quizzically.

 

     “There are axes in the Master Bedroom as well, if my memory does not fail me.  I’m of the mind that this is best kept between the three of us.  You, me, and that desperate dusky lass.”

With that said, they clanked tankards and drained them both.  Dandowin still felt terrible, but it would pass in time he reckoned.  There were a few moments of panic, such as worrying about the possibility of Sadela being with child, but he shook his head to the sea air and focused on the next leg of their journey.  It would soon be time for him to part with his good friend, for he would never ask him to join the expedition, to Akavir.  But first, there was the matter of his favor asked of Mistress Dratha. 

 

     Cottage life in the small town of the Pelagiad was agreeing with Lisendra’s recuperation.  She was conscious now, though fell into napping throughout the day due to her weakened condition.  Granny Torunn and her cousin Solgerd did wonders for her health, and their small meals were very tasty to Lisendra. 

She spent her days being towed in a small vegetable cart by Wulfren, mostly just a few yards from the cottage, for fresh air.  The soiling of herself due to her condition was lessening, and all were thankful.  Her nights were still rough, as the memory of her attack would resurface in her dreams, but even these, were lessening.

In time, Wulfren breached the subject of what had happened since her attack and how they came to be in the Pelagiad.  Granny Torunn would fill in the parts he purposely left out, during the hours he slept, so she would not also become filled with the same consuming hate for his sister and her husband, the Castle Master.

     Cousin Solgerd took note of some rather odd occurrences around the cottage.  Every so often, a small leather bag of gold and gems would be left in her empty watering can.  The bag bore no insignia, no crest.  The amount came approximately the same time, each week.  This was no thief’s stash, because the act seemed purposeful.  During jaunts to the town proper, she kept an eye out for anyone who seemed new or unusual for the Pelagiad, but no one stood out.  Whoever was responsible for this generosity, was obviously tied to Wulfren and Lisendra.  One didn’t need to be a psychic to reason that out.  In an act of gratitude, one evening before dinner and bed she placed a small note of thanks into the can.  The next morning, the note was gone; replaced by a new bag of treasure.

     The early morning hours were calm, but noisy.  Cicadas screamed in the humid night as Luthien Morvayn settled down for another round of guard duty.  Not to exhaust herself with long shifts, she broke the time up into four-hour intervals, one in the evening, one in the afternoon, and another one in the early morning.  When Meira offered her Ingred’s bows she left behind, she refused, preferring to use her own equipment that she trusted far better.  Leaning against an Emperor Mushroom stalk, she pulled a piece of bread from her pack and ate a small snack as she looked about the cottage.  There was mild activity about, with the matrons within preparing meals for the week and the large, noisy, feet of the brother-in-law as he stomped about.  On occasion there were the sounds of light laughter in the afternoon, and screams of terror in the evening.  She found herself feeling great sympathy for the poor wounded sister-in-law.  That she survived a Dark Brotherhood attack was miracle enough.  Looking at the way Wulfren carried Lisendra about in the vegetable cart made Luthien smile.  Seems there is indeed great love amongst these Nords, and although she missed him at times, she was inwardly glad that Dandowin had found someone to share his dream with.  Pity it seems to always come with a terrible price, and she wondered what other prices were being paid as he ventured to seek out the source of his troubles.  At least this minor favor was bringing much help to the couple.  Given the note of thanks she found in yesterday’s can, seems that the matrons within have reasoned out that Dandowin is doing the best he can, from a distance.

     Wulfren was beginning to have hope again.  With Lisendra awake and actively talking and occasionally helping out, he seemed for the first time in a very long while to feel actually happy.  Every day they spent together walking the grounds, sitting about the cottage, talking of their travels before coming back to Lokken.  He carefully made sure to never bring up home, or anyone there.  Preferring never to think of it himself unless she breached the subject, he was very much unprepared for the statement that escaped her lips during the afternoon meal.

 

     “Wulfren.  We should go back.”

Wulfren stopped eating his stew and dropped his spoon into the bowl.  Solgerd was in town, and Granny Torunn was sleeping soundly in the adjacent room.  Were it not for the leaves of the trees outside being moved by the wind, the silence would have been profound.  Wulfren just stared at her.  At first violently angry, but he immediately changed his look to mere concern.  Her look was serious, as if this was something she had thought of often but only found the courage to state now.

 

     “I…I don’t think that would be wise, my darling.  You are freshly healed, and I can only assume that the dangers at home are still real.  Besides, Granny Torunn is catching up with her cousin still.”

Lisendra stopped eating her meal and placed her spoon down softly.  She looked to her husband with understanding, but steeled her resolve to speak further.  Since Granny Torunn shared with her the things that happened in the throne room, she knew that he would use any excuse not to face his family and his brother-in-law again. 

 

     “Aren’t you the least bit worried about your sister and mother?  You know that the attack on me was meant for her, and the baby?  They need you my husband, as much as I need you.  You should-“

Wulfren had heard enough and slammed his fists into the table.  His bowl jumped upwards and Lisendra winced at the action.  A moment later, Granny Torunn limped sleepily to the doorway startled by the ruckus.  Seeing this, Lisendra just shouted to her that all was well and that she should get back to bed.  When she returned to her bed, Wulfren spoke in a tone that worried Lisendra.

 

     “Never.  I am never going home again.  Those that are there almost cost me the woman I love.  I’ll not risk your life again for the likes of them.  Ever.”

Lisendra was angry now.  Not only was she feeling as if this was her fault, but also that he was using her as an excuse as well.  Taking up her spoon, she flung it at Wulfren and hit him in the chest.  Shocked, he turned to her to see her very angry, arms folded about her chest.

 

     “SO!  Your family is now just a “them” is it?  Listen to me my husband.  I have never had any use for your sister, and barely for your mother.  But they are still our family.  I don’t have any family of my own, yet when you married me they became mine.  Nothing that transpired between your sister and I, fight or fall-out, is worth the life of her baby.”

 

     “Lisendra…you just don’t understand.”

 

     “I understand plenty Wulfren.  I understand that you hate your sister’s husband.  I understand that in your shame, you blame him for all the things you lack in yourself.  But none of this was his fault.  An assassin attacked me…ME WULFREN!  An assassin stabbed me from the closet that was clearly meant for your sister, and the baby.”

 

     “I KNOW THIS!  I was there too.  It is why we are here now, long from there and long from the danger.  I almost lost you…lost you forever.”

Lisendra calmed down some, as Wulfren was getting so upset that he was shaking.  She knew that this was more than any husband should bear, and indeed, she owed him her life as well as her safety.  Perhaps, she will have to wait, and hope, that those home will be strong enough to deter what had happened to her.  The worry for those back home is great, but it is all out of her hands, for now.

 

     “Wulfren, forgive me.  I…I was just worried about those home.  I won’t speak of it again.”

Wulfren rose and returned her spoon to her, taking the chair next to her.  Neither ate, nor spoke, as the mood for both seemed to have passed.

Outside the door, Solgerd stopped herself from entering at the sounds of argument and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.  Looking into the watering can, she saw the new bag of treasure and took out a bit of parchment from her robe.  Sitting on the steps to her cottage, she scrawled a hurried note on it and placed it into the can.  Then she looked out at the woods about her, and withdrew inside.

 

  

 

Chapter 24

 

 

     The winds of Lokken morning moaned and screamed throughout the castle.  The weather was being particularly brutal, as if something in the air made it angry.  Many were huddled around the castle fires, sitting at tables, or busying themselves with helping with the castle’s defenses.

     It had been several weeks since Laurenna and Ingred Rems had gathered the town and country populace to the castle proper, and many were feeling that they wanted to go home.  Those that kept the island running, such as Skullum and Dagfeal, Leilana and Ingrid, still ventured outside but under full guard.  The town was eerily quite when they went about their tasks and traveling, and this they voiced in great protest to Ingred.  She of course would wave them off.  Usually with an ending statement that these were the wishes of the Castle Master and that was all they needed to know.  There was much grumbling, and some were feeling as if this precautionary move was a waste of time.

     Laurenna was finding getting about to be difficult.  She walked with the weight of the baby upon her, and got very little sleep, as the child within would be fighting its own battles.  Many a night she would lie in bed, rubbing her great stomach as the arms and legs would flail about.  She would sing soft songs of her husband’s deeds, and talk to it with many promises of adventure and love.  Her nights were lonely as well.  It had been several weeks since she made love to her husband, not since the day of their shared bath.

At times, she wished that Solveig still would keep her company, but with her newfound friend, her absence was understandable.

     A knock at the door broke her concentration.  It was Ingred Rems.

 

     “Laurenna?  Are you awake?”  She whispered.

Laurenna moved to an upright position and sat upon the bed, her legs before her.  It has been quite a long time since she and Ingred spoke, not since the delivery of the armor gift.

 

     “Come in, Ingred”

Ingred Rems tiptoed into Laurenna’s bedroom, fully dressed but barefoot.  Even after all these weeks, she never fully acclimated to the Lokken cold.  Laurenna chuckled as she cursed with each step, the stinging cold making her pull her feet up and hold them against her leggings on her shin.  She took a seat next to Laurenna on the bed, helping herself to some of the fur covers as she sat cross-legged in front of her.

 

     “Can’t sleep either huh?” She asked, as she shifted to make room for Ingred.

 

     “I don’t know Laurenna.  Something just feels…off.  You know what I mean?”

Laurenna did know what she meant.  It was more than just anticipation of the unknown.  It was if something with this entire series of events was more than what is seen on the surface.  She felt inwardly that she was the only one who felt it, apparently not.  At any rate, it was good to have some company right now.

 

      “So, how is the heir?  Not long now, judging by how big you are.”

Laurenna cocked an eyebrow in amusement.  She knew that this was Ingred’s way, flat and to the point.  There was no offense in the observation, but she did feel the sting of the comment anyway.

 

     “Busy as can be.  She or he is practicing fighting even as we sit here.  I hope Dandowin wraps up whatever he has to do soon.”

 

     “Knowing him like I do, he is probably knee deep into it, while looking at having to be up to his neck in it later on.”

Laurenna didn’t like the sound of that, and Ingred noticed how she winced at the thought of it.  So much depended on him here, not just for love’s sake, but for the people as well.  Time to change the subject, she surmised.

 

     “Tell me Laurenna, how is it that you two met?”

Laurenna shifted her gaze from the floor and stared at Ingred.  She smiled knowing that this was an attempt to make her feel better, and it was appreciated.

     “I met Dandowin after a while.  After he touched down here, Ragnar was still in the castle and had my family prisoner.  Many men came from all over to participate in the hunt for the White Wolf.  At first, I thought he was one of them, but Aunt Gwen told me of the things that he had done since he stepped off the longboat.”

 

     “Things?”  Ingred was intrigued.

Laurenna moved to get comfortable by stretching out on the bed, holding her head propped up with her hand.  Even in the early morning gloom of the candlelight, she was radiant, and Ingred followed suit.  Lying on the bed like a couple of teenage sisters, they faced one another and talked comfortably.

 

     “First thing I heard was that he met with Kielreen, our bartender.  She asked him not to hunt the White Wolf, explaining how it protected everyone.  He didn’t.  He explored the island ridding it of some unwelcome guests.  It was when he rescued one of our children here that he came to my attention.  A meeting was set and I wanted to see for myself, who this mysterious Nord was.  Back then, I had no idea in the world he was the Hero of Thirsk, let alone the Nerevarine.”

Ingred spoke of when they first met, and how he was simply a man who was recently released from an Imperial prison ship, and was fresh on the road of his destiny.  She spoke of their many adventures, escapes, and times when it seemed as if they were doomed; yet, he always made sure they were safe and sound.  Laurenna smiled at hearing a bit of her husband’s past, as told from those he knew long before her.

 

     “When he first walked up the path to my cottage, wearing his leggings and that “Shirt of the Noble Heart”, I knew that I wanted to know him for the rest of my life.  I know it sounds foolish, but remember, on this island we all kind of favor one another.  For a Nord, he was as different as you and I are Ingred.”

 

     “Aw.  That is sweet.”  Ingred fanned herself mockingly, and Laurenna kicked her with her foot.  They giggled a bit and then continued.

 

     “Tell me something now Ingred…what happened with you two?  Why is it that you didn’t make him yours?  It’s obvious that he cares for you, and judging from the way you keep kissing my husband, you like him.”

Ingred blushed and kicked her now, but softly.  She shifted so that she was lying on her back and stared up at the ceiling.  Placing her arms behind her head, she then spoke of the former master of their home.  Retelling the tales of Berna, Beth, and Meira, and the fateful day he had been spoken to by the Gods as she had told Solveig previously.  All the events leading up to the day Dandowin showed them all a room full of treasure, and then said goodbye. 

     Laurenna was confused about something, and had to press further. 

 

     “So…you two have never…you know.”  Laurenna asked sheepishly.

Laurenna was very serious now, with a hint of worry to her face.  As silly as it was to think it, she wanted to know that she was something special to her husband.

 

     “Us?  You mean sex?”  Ingred asked mischievously.

Sensing Laurenna’s seriousness, she decided not to lie and tell her they were as hot as rabbits in joking, but felt it was time to share a secret trust.

 

     “This is something that even Dandowin and Solveig don’t know Laurenna, but I haven’t been with anyone…ever.”

Laurenna sat up.  She was shocked.

 

     “No one?  NEVER?”

It was Ingred’s turn to sit up, and she faced her newfound friend squarely.

 

     “Not a soul Laurenna.  I decided that I would wait for Dennir, and if it came to pass that he would never have me, then I would leave this world without knowing anyone that way.  That is how much I still love him.  For life.”

Laurenna looked at her a long time.  The baby kicked within and she grabbed her belly.  Taking Ingred’s hand, she placed it to her belly so she could feel the life within her.  Looking at her with a soft smile, she spoke honestly.

 

     “Are you sure that is what you want to do Ingred?  Times such as this are worth the sacrifice.”

Ingred smiled as she felt the moving about of the child within Laurenna.  With a start, she moved her head to Laurenna’s belly and listened within.  Pulling away now, she laid back down looking up at Laurenna from the bed.

 

     “There are times when I wonder if I am just being silly.  But at the same time, finding good, stable men are very rare.  You have Dandowin, and by far, he is one of the best men I have known.  Dennir was such, and like Dandowin, was called by the Gods.  Sadly for me, and better for you, Dandowin was able to find a way to serve the Gods and love you fiercely.  I will just have to be patient.  In the meantime, when I need a quick kiss or a deep hug, I can always get it from your husband.”

Ingred winked and Laurenna kicked her again, and they both laughed.  Deep inside, she knew that Ingred was no threat to her marriage, and something within her told her that this perky, impertinent Imperial would give her life for her, her husband, and their baby.

 

     As Dandowin and Helmer were navigating the Tel Island chain, Dandowin sat with Helmer in preparation of their goodbyes.  He had felt deeply that he had abused his friend long enough, having him ferry him to each and every one of his duties and destiny.   Now was the time for him to go home, perhaps savor a little time with Leilana before whatever troubles are to come. 

     When their ship approached the Tel Mora shore where they had been not too long before, there was a great commotion at the docks.  It seemed as if the whole of Tel Mora were at the docks looking at the men who were working feverishly to complete their project.  As they pulled into the shallows, Helmer looked and pointed at the dock, excitement in his voice.  It was a beauty to behold.

In the harbor was a longboat, at least one half larger than the one Helmer owned, that was being worked on by at least a dozen shipbuilders.  The wood was of the finest oak, with Nordic scrollwork winding from the prow to the aft, intermixed with carved Daedric runes.  Its main mast was immense and detailed with scrollwork to the tip of it.  There were Bosmeri artisans with legs wrapped around its girth, with paint wells about their waists and brushes placing gold along up and down its length. 

     Helmer and Dandowin brought the ship a few yards from the docks, at the shoreline before the city proper.  After a quick mooring, they both disembarked and ran towards the ship.  As soon as the craftsmen and townsfolk saw Dandowin, they all cheered, and the shipbuilders lined up along the starboard side and saluted.  The Bosmeri artisans just waved from the mast, not wanting to lose the daylight as they painted.

Helmer walked along the length of her, and ran a hand along the scrollwork and Daedric runes.  Turning to Dandowin, he cocked his head in question as to their meaning.  Dandowin did the same, reading each Daedric word separated by each set of Nordic scrollwork.

 

     “It reads…One Clan Under Moon and Star.” 

Helmer took a great look at the craftsmanship, the same way an Imperial tax collector reads over his list.  There were things that caused a great shaking of his head, and other things that he nodded his approval.

 

     “I take it this was the favor you asked for my friend?  This is truly something.”

Dandowin put a hand to his friends shoulder and pulled him from the ship’s side.  When he spoke next, there was sadness to his voice.

 

     “This…is where you and I must part ways my friend.  The journey I must make I make alone, and I am sure that Lokken needs her other shipmaster.  I have already kept you from home far too long.”

Helmer took a long look at his friend and then to the ship being built.  He then put a hand to Dandowin’s shoulder and shook his head very slowly.

 

     “Dandowin.  You are my Castle Master, but more than that you are my best friend.  What time I spent taking you about is my time, and I give it freely.  Your wife is our Lady of Lokken, and your children our heirs.  It is my responsibility as a Lokken subject to see to your safety, but it is my duty as your best friend to see it to the end.  Where you go, wherever that may be, I will be there.”

Dandowin was moved, but adamant.  There was more than peril where he plans to voyage; there was the unknown. 

 

     “No my friend.  I understood when I was asked to undertake this voyage that there is the possibility that I may not return.  Even with the best of preparation, I can only be responsible for myself.  I cannot ask anyone to place their lives in such peril.”

 

     “No, you don’t understand.  Dandowin, you’re a warrior, a hero by fate and fashion, and not a shipmaster.  While you can steer a ship and help with the rigging and mooring, you don’t know the seas.  The waters of Lokken are not the open sea, which I have traveled, even more than Dagfeal and Skullum.  You need me.”

Dandowin was humbled, and running out of excuses.  It is true, he needed a well-traveled shipmaster, but Helmer is his best friend.  He thought of his fondness for Leilana, and would feel terrible if anything happened to him.

 

     “Look my friend, the ship isn’t fully ready, and won’t be for at least a few days.  Think about it, for a while.  Maybe you might change your mind.”

 

     “Then I can be a better help while you stock up on supplies.  I can oversee the shipbuilding with these other fellow shipmasters.  Maybe give them some help to finish it, since time is of the essence here.  As I said, you need me.”

Dandowin gave up for now.  There was no getting around it, and he was tired from the voyage and the previous week’s assault from Sadela.  He needed a meal and a bed, and decided to let Helmer help with the building of the ship.  When he walked up to the ramp and met Tonas Telvanni, Tel Mora’s shipmaster, she greeted him with a hug and the latest gossip.  She walked with him to the top steps and hugged him again as he made his way to The Covenant Inn.

 

     Some days, life throws you a boon and everything you are asked to do goes exactly as you plan it. 

This was not one of those days for Berna Chalo. 

Her plan was simple; find Ingred’s ring, take the treasure share to the Mages Guild to get the scrolls, finish off with a drink at the Eight Plates before packing and heading out to Solstheim.  Sadly, everything ended up backwards.  She opted for a drink first at the Eight Plates, which turned into four.  By the time she arrived at the Mages Guild it was after hours, and Estirdalin had already gone to bed.  Those on the night shift muttered something to her about coming back when she was sober, so she decided to go home.

     Ingred’s ring was missing.  She said in her letter it was in the room, but all searching proved to be unsuccessful.  Berna was lying on Ingred’s bed, her hair a mess behind her head.  Her arms and legs were splayed outward as she sighed and pondered where it could be.  If only Dandowin…

That was it!  With a jolt, Berna jumped up from Ingred’s bed and ran to the Master Bedroom.  It was unlocked, as Dandowin never cared for locking the doors but the front door, and when he was involved with that Dunmer girl kept the house pretty much open.

Everything was as he left it.  Books, tokens, and mementos all on display as if he had never left.  His jewelry box was there, but open.

It was empty.

Just then, leaning against the doorway, Meira appeared.  She was tracing her jaw line with a single finger on which sat Ingred’s teleport ring to Dandowin.  She was different.  Meira saw it in her face…she was drunk.

 

     “Looking for this?”  She purred in her inebriated way.

Berna walked up to her and Meira immediately put the ring in her mouth, threatening to swallow it.  Berna stopped, and crossed her arms impatiently.  This nonsense was going on too long, and Meira needed to get over her disappointment fast.

 

     “What is wrong with you?”  Berna chided.

Meira just shrugged her shoulders and mock danced in the doorway.  She still held the ring in her mouth, showing no signs of swallowing it or giving it back.  When she turned to do a pirouette, Berna ran up to her and socked her in the stomach, firmly.  In one violent instant Meira spit out the ring, and stumbled to the floor holding her abdomen.

 

     “You…you didn’t have to hit me.  I was just having some fun.”  She breathed heavily amidst shudders.  Meira sat against the Master Bedroom door and with hands covering her face she started to cry.  Berna felt awful now, as something was eating at Meira still.  Removing her apron, she immediately wiped Meira’s face and tears before sitting to join her on the floor.  The ring, she placed in her dress top.

    

     “Meira?  What is going on with you honey?”

Meira looked up at her roommate with watery eyes and a sadness that Berna had not seen before.  When she spoke, her voice shook as if she had been holding it in for a very long time.

 

     “Oh…I don’t know.  It’s just that so much has happened and is happening, and yet my life just seems so empty now.  Dandowin is married and having babies.  Ingred is with him, or his family and doing things.  Beth is making trips to help that Nord family of his.  You’re going to help him in Solstheim.  E-even his old lover is doing something great!  B-but me, I just sit here all day reading books and have nothing.  No family.  No adventures.  Nothing.  Look at me…I’m even getting fat!”

Berna just hugged her roommate as she started crying again, chuckling lightly that it seems that the rock of their home is indeed human after all.  When Meira’s shoulders stopped shaking, she held her friend at arm’s length and looked deeply in her eyes.  Her words were hopeful and kind.

 

     “Meira, Meira, Meira.  Life changes for everyone, and yet, we’re still together.  Beth is only doing this favor for Dandowin for a while.  Ingred will probably come back home.  I know, I know, she said she would go back to Cyrodiil, but you know Ingred, she keeps pining for Dennir.  She‘s not going anywhere too soon believe me.  Me?  I am only doing a favor that will get me some of that famous Lokken Mead.  I have no intentions of freezing my well-tanned ass off in that frozen hell.   Besides my roommate, have you forgotten that you are a rich woman now?  We own this house thanks to Dandowin, and I for one am glad to be able to sleep without fear of losing our home again.”

 

     Meira sniffed an agreement but still felt terrible.  Her eyes were red and her face flushed.  Berna did not stop though.

 

     “Sweetie.  Another thing.  You are NOT fat.  You may have gotten a little rounder here and there, but you’re still the prettiest member of our house and still the greatest dancer in all of Vvardenfell.  I have an idea…why don’t you come with me to Solstheim?”

Meira thought about it, and was conflicted.  It would be good to get out and about, and end up doing some good.  On the other hand, Solstheim and Lokken were known to be very cold, brutally so.  Did she want to really expose herself to that?  Yet, staying the same here at this lonely home will only be more of the same.  She decided…she would go with Berna to help Ingred.

 

     “I…I guess I will come with you Berna.  It would be good to get out of here for a while.  Who knows, maybe they could use some help with an extra armorer?”

Berna was pleased.  She knew that this would be best, to get out of the house and put some of her skills to work again in the hopes she would feel good about herself as she used to.

 

     “Excellent Meira!  You won’t be sorry.  Now let’s pack up our things, and make sure we dress warmly.  First we go to his castle estate outside of Solstheim, and then we can synchronize our rings so when Ingred calls, we’ll go straight away to Lokken.  You’ll see this will be just what we needed.”

Meira smiled weakly as Berna helped her up and gave her a hug of both understanding, and an apology for striking her.  Arm and arm they went to their shared room to pack.

 

 

 

Chapter 25

 

 

     When Dandowin was finishing his breakfast, there was the sound of footsteps to his room.  Helmer appeared at his side, grabbing the last piece of bread and munching on it hungrily.  He slapped his friend on the shoulder in mock thanks and reported the news.

The ship was finished.

 

     “We’re done my friend.  I helped steer them here and there, but this Dratha of yours knew some very good shipbuilders.  Aren’t you done yet?  Come now my friend, your ship awaits!”

Helmer was in a very good mood, and Dandowin was enjoying it by proximity.  He couldn’t help but tease him.

 

     “You’re in good spirits.  Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with an entire city filled with frustrated, spirited, Elven women would it?”  Dandowin said with a wink.

Helmer stopped munching and looked at his friend with a serious look.  Then all at once, he burst out in a thunder of laughter that made the both of them laugh.  They slapped each other’s shoulders as Dandowin left a few gold for the publican’s wait staff.

 

     “Your princess isn’t the ONLY one in Lokken with axes in her bedroom!”  He bellowed.

With breakfast done they filled and emptied their tankards amidst great laughter that had the residents of the inn looking in their direction.  Dandowin had spoken to Laurenna just before breakfast, and to think of her with her hair wild and belly full, wielding an axe at him had him giggling to himself all the way down to the dock.

 

     The morning in Tel Mora was brilliant.  The sun was just rising and the blue of the sky was chasing the nights previous violet.  The smell of the sea and sounds of life from the mushroom structure greeted him with the hope for a pleasant day.

Turning the corner of the walkway, he saw the same crowd as before, this time, the shipmasters and builders were lined up before the ship.  It was coming into view and he stopped in his tracks.

It was beautiful.

     What stood in the harbor was literally a golden ship.  They painted every inch of the ship in gold, save for the Nordic scrollwork, which was of silver.  The Daedric runes were painted crimson, which showed a stark contrast amidst the silver scrollwork.  But it was the sail that drew his attention.  The very minute that Helmer and Dandowin set foot upon the dock, all that were present looked toward the mast as the Bosmeri artisans unfurled the sail.

Cascading down from the mast was a shimmering sail of the deepest blue.  In the center of the sail painted in gold was the sigil of the Daedra Lord Azura herself:  the fabled Moon and Star.  This ship was the most beautiful sailing vessel either man had ever seen, and now it belonged to Dandowin.

     When he bowed to the shipmasters and builders in gratitude, the entire dock exploded in cheers.  Turning to Helmer, he grasped his friend’s arm in friendship and thanked him as well.  As he did so, the quartermaster that was on loan from the city approached him.

 

     “Nerevarine, all provisions have been stocked, and her casks filled with fresh water.  Her sail has a special channel sewn in to divert any rainwater to these fill casks on her port and starboard sides, in case of dry times at sea. With thanks to your ‘friend’ here, we’ve been able to make a few modifications so that two men can effectively pilot a ship of this size.

Dandowin was amazed, and turned to Helmer.  He had hoped beyond hope that he didn’t have to take him along, preferring to ask those of the Great Houses to provide him with a crew for this exploration.  Before he could protest, Helmer vaulted on board and held out his hand to Dandowin.  Grasping, he tried one, last, futile time to change his friend’s mind.

 

     “You can still take your ship back home my friend.”

Helmer just shook his head and ran to the steering board.  To Dandowin, he winked and shouted instructions.

 

     “If you would please get the mooring lines Castle Master, we’ll be underway.  We have a great wind upon us and can be by the pass of Firewatch by nightfall.”

Dandowin gave up for the moment.  There is much water between Tel Mora and Firewatch, and perhaps he might find a way to protect his friend.  Time will tell, or at least he hoped so.

 

     Brynjolfr had just emerged from the cottage of the Skaal that were teaching him the ways of the Stalhrim, when he noticed the light above the tree line.  It was far too early for dawn, and then the smell hit his nose immediately-it was fire.  Fire, and the sickening smell of burning flesh.

Dropping his armor tools in the snow, he ran with all his strength up and down to the shoreline of Lake Fjalding, his breathing ragged, as he feared the worst.  By the time he came upon the Thirsk dog, gutted, he knew something terrible had happened.  Over the ice, to the shore and then up the hill, the heat had hit his face even through the Solstheim cold.

Thirsk was in flames.  Every home.  Every long house was engulfed in fire.  When he came upon the Mead Hall, it was the site before it that stilled his blood and broke his heart.  There, in a pyramid nearly his full height, were the skulls of every man, woman, and child, some still with flesh and hair upon it.  All their faces had been stripped off, and cast into the fires within.  Littered around the pile of his kinsmen, were randomly thrown skins of wolves.  Whomever or whatever did this was trying to blame the Skaal, but even the most remote Nord of Solstheim knew that the Skaal themselves would never, ever, harm a wolf. 

     Brynjolfr fell to his knees.  Off in one corner, was the ripped off arm of one of the children.  Seeing this, he howled into the chaos, his wail lost in the roar of the flames of Thirsk.

 

    

     Wolves, normally cautious and wary amongst the Solstheim trees, now bolted with great speed away from the forest and headed towards the glaciers.  There was death on the wind and blood on the snow, and no creature was safe from its passing.

Wherever it touched, even the great white bears were no match.  Such was the ferocity at which it took lives.  Glenna, a Daughter of Kyne, who the rude would call a “Fryse Hag”, ran with equal speed as she sought shelter of any kind.  Her day was almost normal, as she left with her fellow sister Angfa to gather deadfall for their den.  The first thing they noticed was that the normal pair of grizzly bears who they foraged with was missing.  Their tracks showed that they took off at a run towards the North.  It was then that they smelled the fire, and the sickening stench of roasting human flesh and hair.  Her sister took off in the direction of the smell, which she yelled at her not to go.  When she turned around to tell her to follow, it was then that whatever evil caused this, had taken her as well.  First, she noticed how her sister could not move, as if struck by the very same enchanted daggers they all carried.  Running to her, she was stopped immediately by the way she just burst into flames, and was left a pile of burning bones in the snow. 

     Glenna ran then, as fast as she could, as arrows and other dangers whirled past her head.  Disappearing into the snowstorm that had come from the North, eyes blurred by the tears of the last sight of her sister, she ran and just kept running.  She barely noticed the snow and gray wolves that appeared at her side, some splattered in blood, while others bore burns to their fur.  Something evil has come to their island home, and it brought death for them all.  When she spotted the cave, she nearly dove for it, but immediately thought the better of it.  Jumping over it in an explosion of snow, she made for the tree just to the left of it, and with all her might pulled herself up the tree, disappearing into the dense branches of the snow covered pine needles.  The storm was intensifying, and as the wind whipped her face and ears, it covered her anew in heavy, wet snow.  The wolves at her side kept running, and disappeared through the trees.

     It was soon when she saw what pursued her.  Five huge dangerous looking men all heavily armored and covered in blood. Two were Orcs.  Their rough looking faces, and lower tusks jutting fiercely from their lower jaws.  Two were normal looking men much like those she would see smuggling things from the mainland.  It was the last one, the like she had never seen before.  When the clouds of their breath would clear as they huffed in exhaustion, she saw his face clearly.  This one, with his nearly golden skin, high forehead, with ears that jutted from the sides of his face to poke through his long, straight hair that was tied loosely behind him.  The eyes, which angled upward and were of a bright color, but held no compassion in them.  He was robed, wielding a staff of some sort that glowed wickedly even in the haze of the snowstorm.  The way he craned his head made it seem as if he was listening.  In that instance, Glenna held her breath.

 

     “A cave.  She might have gone inside.” Said Murza gro Dimluk through great gasps.

They had been chasing this woman since the death of her friend, and were surprised at her speed in eluding them.  The two normal men just rushed inside the cave, but the High Elf rogue mage just stood there, listening.  The Orcs were confused, but wary.

 

     “What is it, mage?”

The mage just remained quiet, turning his head this way and that, peering all around him.  Just then he settled his eyes on the tree that Glenna watched him from, but then turned away just as quickly.

The men emerged from the cave.  They were out of breath, but clearly disappointed.

 

     “Nothing inside but bones and bear shit.”  The taller of the two muttered.  Just then, the trees behind them broke their conversation as more hardened men and equally hardened women killers appeared.  In the lead, were two smaller dark skinned women, with red eyes, and pointed ears such as the man in the robes.  Elves, Glenna reasoned finally.  Murderous Elves.  One of them was armored and quiet in her black robes, her red glowing eyes betraying nothing but murder in them.  The louder talking one seemed to be in charge.

 

     “Well?  Did you kill her?” Sedris Omalen demanded.

 

     “She seems to have run with the vermin to the mountains.  Very fast, for a Fryse Hag.” Said the tall Elven mage.  He still looked slowly all around him, as Glenna fought with her lungs to let out her breath.  They were burning, badly and she needed to take a breath but didn’t for fear of discovery.

 

     “Well enough of this nonsense.  We are nearing the crest of the hill that leads to the channel of Lokken.  Follow me and prepare to fan out your men into two tight groups.”

The men just grunted, and turned to follow her.  The quiet dark skinned Elf just stood there a moment, looking at nothing.  Soon it was just she and the gold skinned Elf mage.  When she turned to walk behind the group, the mage turned as well, but stopped instantly.  Turning, he looked directly up into the tree where Glenna held for dear life and smiled wickedly.  Motioning with his hands, he then released a ball of fire directly at the trunk of the tree, which immediately wrapped around it and started to engulf it.  Bark crisped and the sap within it boiled and sizzled as the flames grew and traveled upward.  With a wicked laugh, he departed, leaving Glenna to burn alive.

 

      Things were getting tense at Lokken Castle.  Everyone who was asked or forced to stay at the castle wanted to go back to his or her own homes.  Few could argue that weeks have passed, and no sign of any danger could be seen.  Ingred would wade though the townsfolk, ignoring both pleas and the disapproving looks.  If there was one thing that she had always known, is that just because things seem safe, they are usually far from it.

Following the guard that summoned her to the Great Lady, she stood looking straight ahead as she wondered what was to come.  She knew that everyone was unhappy, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the calm before the storm.

     Standing in front of Sigrid’s chambers, she knocked and heard Sigrid bid her enter.

 

     “Great Lady, you summoned me?”  Ingred said with a respectful bow.

Sigrid was just finishing up writing on some scrolls and parchment, and placed them upon her table.  She faced Ingred with a most serious face, and spoke commandingly.

 

     “Yes, Ingred.  I summoned you.  I wish for you to allow my people to return to their homes.”

Ingred was shocked, and angered simultaneously.  She had to control her emotions for fear of setting more damage to this situation.

 

      “But Great Lady, surely you don’t believe that this is over?”

 

     “What I believe Ingred Rems is that my people are unhappy.  They have been removed from their homes, for a danger that while present in the beginning, has subsided some.  It has been months since the Castle Master, my son-in-law has left, and we have had no-“

There was a banging at the door.  It was Arinbjorn.  He was covered in sweat, unusual for the Lokken cold of the castle.  He was also pale as a ghost.

 

     “Great Lady!  Forgive this intrusion.  The guards at the docks intercepted a man running from the shoreline, he was…it is better if you see this yourself, both of you.  I fear something terrible has happened.”

With great haste Sigrid walked from her desk to the door.  She stopped in front of Ingred and grabbed her arm in a grip of iron.

 

     “Fetch my daughter, please.  Do not leave her side, Ingred.”

 

     “At once, Great Lady.”

Ingred Rems saluted Sigrid and was directly behind her.  Like Arinbjorn, she had begun to sweat the minute that he stated his news.  It begins, she thought darkly.  She hoped inwardly that Berna had gotten her letter, and that her roommates were able to give Dandowin some help back on the mainland.  More importantly, she was worried about the few children here.  With many worrisome thoughts, she took Dandowin’s Servant Ring and put it on her thumb, the only finger it would fit. 

 

     “Please, by the Gods, have your rings on ladies.”

 

 

 

Chapter 26

 

 

               Great blasts of lightning flashed white upon the small windows of the rooms in Tel Fyr.  The booming of the thunder reverberated along the hollowed out mushroom walls, causing books and kitchenware to vibrate and shift. Pots on grills shook, and the very ground shook under the feet of its inhabitants.

     Soon, sheets of rain fell upon the roof that made a continuous wail and brought the entire structure a smell of fresh wet earth.  Its smell blended with the early-prepared meals that Beyte Fyr had cooking on her stove. 

Sadela Areth was seated at the table, her small breakfast before her.  She stared into her mug of tea and noticed that her short red hair was much longer than when she first arrived.  She would have to do something about that she reasoned.  Her nights were busy as she thought they would be, running errands and seeing to her Mistress’s needs.  For a time, she was beginning to have some hope, as Divayth Fyr worked long hours on addressing her malady, cataloging and documenting the slightest effects of treatment.

     Her thoughts were all a whirlwind.  Days were spent helping her Mistress, nights were spent the same.  But in her mind, she was everywhere.  Sometimes she would remember her past battles, other times she would see the faces of those she killed.  Lately though, all she could see when she closed her eyes was the angry face of Dandowin as she took her night of wanton lust from him.  The very thought of it saddened and excited her simultaneously, and it was this that bothered her.  Her new housemates, Divayth’s sister-wives took no note, as nearly all of them performed their duties and enjoyed their meals as if having guests and infected noble mages were commonplace occurrences.

   The meal before her was getting cold, and as she took a piece of the herb filled bread, she stopped suddenly as a great wave of nausea overcame her.  It was so fast, that she had no time to rise before she shuddered and threw up against the wall next to the table.  Hearing the splatter, Beyte Fyr came from the adjoining room to investigate.  She found Sadela bent before the waste bucket, shuddering again as she emptied her stomach.

 

     Sadela looked up from the bucket first at Beyte’s sandaled feet, then her overdress, and then to her face.  The look on her face was of great concern, until she saw the almost imperceptible smile form at the corners of her mouth.

 

     Upstairs, Divayth Fyr was bent over three books at once.  A quill in hand jotted notes in one, as he dipped it in the inkwell and then scribbled notes on another.  He was muttering to himself calculations and formulas, all the while making notes.  A small knock and the shuffling of a heavy foot broke his concentration as Mistress Dratha appeared in the archway.

 

     “Ah! You’re awake!  Good, I have been compiling data all morning.  I have some theories I would like to put forth to you.”

Mistress Dratha looked a little different from when she first arrived, for there were minute changes to her deranged flesh.  Using all manner of alchemy, Divayth was able to heal some of the external damages such as the pustules and other surface care.  She was able to eat some, mostly soups, and it was bringing at least some color to the unaffected parts of her.

     Their progress has been slow, yet no less remarkable.  Her first few days Divayth had his daughter-wives bath her completely, and with Sadela they were keeping her clean for examinations.  They also took time to speak with her, asking many questions about her past so her mental health was spent exercising her mind and keeping it from despair.  The applications of potions made from the blood of the Nerevarine were promising.  One such application, in the early stages, arrested the further movement of the disease internally.  There were no more rumblings in her body as she felt her organs and muscles being reformed, deranged, and changed.  Another application to her face actually freed the covered eye just long enough to allow her to see with both for almost an hour, something she had been devoid of for some time now.  It seems, there is hope, but all applications seemed to be temporary at best.  The answer lies in Dandowin’s blood most surely, but how to release this answer and turn it into hope, there lays their challenge.

 

     “ I bid you good…good morning, Lord Fyr.”

Divayth rose and helped to seat her at the table in front of him, piled with his notations.  Mistress Dratha wondered where Sadela was, who normally would be already in her room for her waking.  She appreciated the loyalty of her personal guard, and knew that these days must be taxing to her physically.  Perhaps she needed a few more moments to rest, poor child.

 

     “I was going over some of the treatments, and the lore.  Our lore, to be specific.”

Mistress Dratha nodded, intrigued.

 

     “My knowledge of our own genetics, Dunmer genetics, is expansive.  But there was a facet that I was completely overlooking, that until now, I have been giving serious thought to.  Now bear with me, because what I have to say will leap over the border of rational, alchemical training, and cross the divide of the realm of the religious.”

Divayth moved to her, bringing a chair for her to rest her heavy deranged leg upon.  He removed a blanket from his chair and covered her with it.

 

     “For the longest time I have always wondered why is it that the Nerevarine’s blood was able to transform my healing potion, while in others, it killed them outright.  Aside from the obvious, him being a Nord, there had to be some other reason.  Yet, under investigation, his physiology is really no different than that of any other Nord.  His parentage is uncertain, and I am beginning to believe that perhaps his lineage somehow, bisects our own.

Now blood by itself is of little consequence, but ponder this…the blight curse from Dagoth Ur possessed certain ‘selectivity’ in those who it afflicted.  Some, it mutated and killed almost instantly.  Others were affected by the slow progression of the Divine nature of the disease.  While others still, were embraced by the blight curse and evolved from their Mer forms into the stages leading to Dagoth and Ascended Sleeper.  Our own bloodlines have been quite changed from our earliest Dunmer and even Chimer origins.  Hence the differences in our pigments and eyes you may have noted.  It is my belief, that although we all share the curse from Azura, those with more homogeneous bloodlines show a distinct propensity to evolution while those without show one for the deranged flesh.”

Mistress Dratha looked puzzled, and Divayth clarified.

 

     “That is not to say what happened to you means that you come from less homogeneous parentage.  In your case you altered the very nature of the living aspects of the disease, thus creating a more virulent, hostile organism.

Here is where I beg your indulgence.  We all carry taints from the curse of Azura in our genetic make-up, which Dagoth Ur targeted in his ‘gift’ of the blight.  Dandowin Nerevarine carries for some Divine reason which eludes me, the blessings of Azura, which from what I can ascertain are even unknown to him, but mostly on the genetic level.  He looks, acts, smells, and probably sires like a Nord, but his blood in my research behaves like a Dunmer.  Not just a Dunmer such as you and I, but like an almost pre-Dunmer Chimer!”

 

     “But that’s…that’s impossible.  None of our ancient ancestors survived the Curse of Azura, and certainly this Nord does NOT look like a Chimer.”

 

     “That’s exactly what I thought too, but his blood possesses certain aspects that when exposed to everything I apply, reacts like one of our oldest and most pure of the Dunmer.

His being the reincarnation of the prophesized Nerevar is one thing.  His blood giving providence to it is a matter altogether different.  As I said, this is beyond the science, and more the realm of the theologian.  It could be, that one of his ancestors was a Chimer!”

 

     “How is any of this useful to our plight though? As we have both seen, while his blood directly infused with my own can arrest the internal infection, it only temporarily affected the external perverted flesh.”

 

     “I have been calculating this all morning.  Pouring over the books both of lore, and of legend.  I have a theory, which is just that, but I am having great reservation at having let him leave here.  Absorb this my dear…we bear the Curse of Azura.  He carries her Blessing in his very blood.  This disease is tainted with the Divine, a selectivity that seeks out only our blood purest beings to evolve.  If we could have married the three, in one organism, I have a theory that this would produce an antigen in its blood that would then become an antibody for those afflicted.  With the Divine nature of this disease, it is my hope that it would see the blending of our Curse and his Blessing, and a sort of cancellation or I dare say an evolution would occur treating the blight and removing it from the body.  All of this is theory mind you, and without Dandowin Nerevarine here, it might as well be.  I can only pray that he survives whatever ordeal the Gods set before him to get him back here.  If we could only convince him to mate with one of our kind, one whose line is very close to homogeneous, we could test this out in a very real setting.  I should have never let him leave here.”

The clearing of Beyte Fyr’s throat at the archway interrupted their discussion.  Mistress Dratha turned her good eye in the direction just as Divayth cocked his head in curiosity.

 

     “We may already have a solution to that predicament, my husband-father.”

With that comment, Sadela Areth appeared at the archway as well, her head lowered as she walked softly into the room.  Mistress Dratha looked at her friend and guard in bewilderment, as Sadela looked at her, a great look of shame upon her face.  Her Mistress’s voice had risen as high as her single eyebrow.

 

     “SADELA??”

 

Divayth Fyr fell backward into his chair and howled with laughter.

 

      On the upstairs level of a frozen castle, down the hall was a room where water was heated from a subterranean volcanic shaft and fell in great sheets on either side of the room.  In the center of this room, surrounded by candles and freshly laid out flowers harvested in the spring, was a large, claw-footed tub.   Submerged in this tub, a very curvy Breton with magnificent legs stretched and sighed as the steam rose off of each surfaced foot. 

     Taking in the scents of the flowers and the warmth around her, Meira Aleen literally purred with each submersion in the bathtub.  Berna and she had arrived at Solstheim Castle with supplies and Ingred’s letter in tow, and after a few moments with night staff to explain their situation, they were welcomed and offered a chance to rest.

When the Khajiit J’smin asked her to follow her to the bathroom, she could scarcely believe her eyes at the entire wealth of the castle.  What a strange man, Dandowin is, to leave an entire island castle such as this one practically empty for what?  For some castle belonging to some frozen princess even further away? 

She let the questions pass.  The water was too delicious on her skin.   She felt wonderful.

All her previous insecurities were washing away.  She thought that if they get the chance to stay here for a few more days, she could speak with the dancers she had passed in the dance hall when the servant took her upstairs.  Surely, they could spend just a little while before meeting Ingred.  Grabbing the sponge, which she noted right away was a sea sponge not the muck variety they have at home, she began to rub it on her shoulder and arm when the bathroom door burst open, startling her.  She yelped loudly until she saw the sight if Berna in a bathrobe.

 

     “Well?  Did you get the message too?”  She asked concerned.

Meira had no idea what she was talking about, and when her heart settled, she shook her hands back and forth as if to say “What?”  Berna walked up to her and thrust her hand into Meira’s face, brandishing her servant ring.  It was vibrating on her finger as if it were alive.

     This message!”  She stated with concern.

Meira had taken off all her jewelry when she submerged into her bath wanting nothing between her but skin and water.  With a groan she looked at her folded clothing at the foot of the tub and put her ring on.  The minute she did, it thrummed with life on her finger, and soon she was hearing the disembodied voice of Ingred in her ears.

 

     “Ladies.  When you are ready, please get here soon.  Things are developing and I need you here.  I hope everything is going well.  Wish I could say the same thing here.  Meira?”

Meira’s heart was pounding in her ears, and her skin was cold all over, even in the hot tub.  Her voice shook slightly as she answered Ingred.

 

     “Y-yes?”

 

     I’m really glad that you decided to come along.  They have need of another master armorer.  Besides, no one dances here.  You’ll be a wonder to them, if we all survive that is.”

Meira was blushing slightly even though the conversation was telepathic.  She looked at Berna who was also smiling widely.

 

     “Got to go now sweeties.  Finish up there and when I contact you again in the morning, be ready to be transported to me here.  Be dressed for the cold Meira.  That goes double for you Berna.  This floor is freezing!”

With Ingred gone, their rings stopped humming and were silent.  Looking at one another, Berna bent to Meira and hugged her in the tub.  She gave her a look of concern and perhaps a bit of anticipation.  Meira smiled weakly, and removed her ring and placed it back onto her clothing pile.   She returned to the warmth of the tub, but inwardly she was still shivering.  If this was how adventurers spent their afternoons, then she was beginning to appreciate the solitude and normalcy of her sedate, circular home.

Lifting her knees in the tub, she muttered to herself before submerging her head under the water.

 

     “By the Nine, I hope I haven’t made the biggest mistake of my life.”

With a moan, she went under and let the warm water block out her voice in her ears that told her she was making a very big mistake.

 

    

 

  

Chapter 27

 

 

     A great roiling of the sky awaited The Azura on the horizon.  The sea had graced the ship with good currents and moderate waves across the Sea of Ghosts, quite strange for this time of year.  But as the great golden ship started to head into the Great Wilderness leading to the unknown seas, the winds became stronger and the water showed its discontent in the form of very large waves.

     Dandowin held the steering board with both hands, keeping the ship on true course according to the old maps he received from someone in Bruma whom he had never formally met.  It was just a rolled up parcel covered in chamois to keep the parchment supple, with a small note in what appeared to be a woman’s handwriting stating that he please take great care, and if he would, write everything he saw.  The parcel and sentiment were strange, as he had not mentioned to anyone in the Imperial City or outside of Lokken of his intention to go.  Even the Emperor himself did not know that he had decided in his favor.

     Helmer worked the sails and their new style of rigging like the master seaman that he was.  Dandowin stared at his friend, pulling ropes and using his own hair to check the wind gusts.  With his every thought, he prayed that he would not see harm come to Helmer.  It was his intention that he would be back home, with the family and his Leilana, but Helmer proved to be more than a friend, more than a shipmaster.  Dandowin decided that should they both survive this voyage, he would personally see to it that his best friend and Leilana be wed at the castle and honored as heroes.

The storm before them intensified, and strange mists covered the surface causing visibility to be difficult.  They both knew that they were not even close to Akavir, not even past the three-quarter mark of the small islands that surrounded the unknown land, which were the realm of the Goblin races of legend.  Helmer belayed the mainsail’s rigging into the pin rails temporarily as he ran to Dandowin.  It was time for a status report.

 

     “My friend, it looks as if she will get a full test of her worth in this storm!”  Shouted Helmer against the wind.

Dandowin traded places with Helmer, and grabbed the tankards.  Dipping them in the water casks, he just drew enough to wet their throats.

 

     “Are you sorry you didn’t go back to Lokken, as I told you to?”  Dandowin shouted amicably.

Helmer just slapped his arm and returned it quickly to the steering board.  The wind whipped both the men’s hair about their faces, and Dandowin retied the tankards to one of the belay pins.  The wind stretched the magnificent blue sail forward, and now the sky was darkening as the first droplets of rain were starting to fall on the ship.  Dandowin ran to the center well and pulled out four poles the height of a man.  Taking one at a time, he ran to the port side and found the beam holes that his friend had the shipbuilders at Tel Mora install.  First port, then starboard.  Rolled up into a large roll was the tent canvas, coated in some sort of waterproof oil that was made from the local fauna.  It was heavy and coarse on one side, slick and shiny on the other.  Dandowin withdrew his dagger and dragging the tent canvas behind him, found the ships extra rope and began to erect the small tent structure.  The wind made holding it difficult, but he soon had the two fore poles laced, and then ran towards to aft.  Just as he was fastening the first aft pole, Helmer screamed at him and pointed toward the prow.

There, just breaching the water mere yards from their ship was an immense whale.  Its huge, slick surface raised twice the height of the ship only to land with a splash that covered poor Dandowin and Helmer with seawater.  Soaked to the skin, they both regained their positions and with a large tug, Dandowin had the tent fixture secured to the beams.  He dared not raise the tent, as the winds were fierce and unpredictable, but at least when this storm subsided, he and his friend could seek shelter and warmth.

     Twisting his wedding ring to the left, the heat and thrum warming his hand as he tried to speak to Laurenna, before they lose the opportunity to do so for a while.

 

     “My love?  How goes the voyage?”  She spoke in the center of his mind.

Laurenna’s voice was reassuring and he fought the wind and heavy rain for concentration.

 

     “We’re past the Sea of Ghosts, and are in the open Wilderness. A storm has us, and we might not be able to speak again for a spell.  I miss you, my wife!”  He shouted at the air.

Helmer, seeing this, smiled at his friend as he shouted his love while manning the rigging.  Pulling free the lines and moving about the mast to follow the wind, he stood sure-footed as he turned to see Helmer pointing directions with his nose.

 

     “I wish you were home, I miss your body my husband.  Our adopted daughter has been quite sullen since you left, and even your Ingred can’t seem to get her out of it.  Oh!  Speaking of which, she’s here.  Seems mother wants me.  I’ll talk to you later my love, when I am done.  Please be safe.  Come home to me and our child, and remember, I love you.”

Before he could get his loving sentiment in return, the ring went cold and her voice was lost to the wind.  The rain made seeing difficult as large drops pummeled his eyes.  Wiping them, he noticed that to their starboard side, the clouds were breaking up.  Yelling to Helmer, he saw where he pointed and they decided to head for the clearing to assess their situation.  With great pulling of the sail and the steering board, the men turned the ship towards the break in the sky.

 

     With urgent thoughts Ingred Rems vaulted down the hall and knocked on the Master Bedroom.  Not waiting to be given permission, she just opened the door startling Laurenna as she was speaking to Dandowin through their rings.  As soon as she was finished, she noted how antsy Ingred was and got concerned.

 

     “What?  Has something happened Ingred?  Is mother alright?”

Ingred just looked left and right, seeking Laurenna’s Snow Bear armor that she had made for her.  Finding it on the table next to the fireplace, she snatched it up and also snatched up her Snow Wolf robe.

 

     “Your mother is fine.  She wants to send everyone home.”  Ingred said with disappointment. 

Laurenna threw her head back in shock.  What was she thinking?  Things are far from over.

 

     “She can’t be serious Ingred.  Dandowin is not home yet, and we still know very little.”

Ingred helped the pregnant Laurenna up and undressed her hurriedly.  Laurenna helped her, looking for her boots amongst her unmade bed.  Ingred turned Laurenna to her, put on her protective armor then turned her around to fasten it.  When the belts were tied, she pulled her chemise on then followed it with her robe.  She spoke as she worked the lacings.

 

     “It was my very thoughts and comments as well.  Before I could reinforce my own opinion, a guard, Arinbjorn came to her room stating they found someone running towards Lokken.  He wouldn’t say who or what, just that your mother and I should “see this for ourselves”.  I don’t like it Laurenna.  She sent me to get you, and commanded me to not leave your side.”

 

     “Then let’s not keep her waiting.”  Laurenna said as Ingred pulled her up from the bed.

 

     As Arinbjorn led the way downstairs, Snorri poked his head out of his room and Sigrid commanded him to follow with her hand.  Her heart was beating fast in terrible uncertainty.  What has happened?  Who was here?  The questions ran over and over in her mind.  When she got to the foyer, the throne room doors were opened and her entire servant staffs were crowded around the entry, all holding one another and looking terrified.  Her heart sank at the thought.

Just as she descended the last step, the object of her worries was in plain view.  There, in the center of the floor, sat a large, balding, bearded Nord who was covered in blood and black soot as if he just escaped a fire, mumbling incoherently.  He was wet faced and wide-eyed.  Guards stood around him with swords drawn, and Sigrid angrily ordered them at ease.  As she surveyed the scene, it was what he was holding rocking back and forth that made her gasp.

It was the arm of a small, Nord child.

Kneeling to face the man, Sigrid removed her shawl and covered him.  He barely seemed to notice her.  She asked his name, but he would not respond.  She asked where he came from, and received the same.  Laurenna and Ingred arrived, and pushed through the crowd.  When Laurenna saw the man she stopped cold, eyes wide in horror.  Ingred stopped as well, her own eyes wide and at once recognized the man.

 

     “I know this man… he’s from Thirsk.  He’s their armorer.  I believe his name is Brynjolfr.”

Ingred knelt down to where Sigrid was and Laurenna stood behind her.  She lightly moved Sigrid out of the way and sat in front of Brynjolfr.  Taking his chin, she raised it to look into his face.  He slowly looked up at her, and his eyes went wide with recognition.  He gripped the severed child’s arm tightly as tears flowed from his wide stare.

 

     “You…you…I know you.  You were with him, our chieftain.”  He cried.

Ingred placed her hands on his sooty face and wiped his tears.

 

     “Yes, I’m Ingred.  You remember?  You’re Brynjolfr.  You fixed my sword.”  She said calmly.

 

     “Why lass?  Why did he leave us?  Were we not good enough for him?  We made him chieftain.  We made him…him…” Brynjolfr trailed off, crying aloud.

Ingred wiped his face again, this time shaking his shoulders a bit.  She made a move to take the child’s bloody arm but he just recoiled at the attempt. 

 

     “Brynjolfr…what has happened??”  Ingred said with urgency.

Brynjolfr just cried aloud and gripped the arm tighter.  Seeing this, Laurenna started to move to her knees to join Ingred.  When Ingred rose to help her down, Brynjolfr’s eyes were drawn to the brightness of her robe and let out a gasp.  The action made all three women in front of him freeze in place.

 

     “It’s YOU!  YOU’RE THE ONE HE LEFT US FOR!”

Brynjolfr rose with a start that knocked both Ingred and Laurenna backward.  Towering over them, Ingred immediately took a defensive position in front of Laurenna as Arinbjorn, Ljot, and Stormann drew swords and circled Brynjolfr.  Solveig and Lena appeared downstairs and immediately ran towards Sigrid.  Solveig stopped in front of Ingred and helped Laurenna to a standing position.  She also took a defensive stance in front of Laurenna.

 

     “He left us!  All because of YOU!  None of our shield maidens were good enough for him.  Even our boldest, Svenja, hoped she would claim him but he left us for here, and YOU!” He growled.

Ingred felt great pity for this man, for something terrible has happened and as usual, it is being placed at Dandowin’s feet.  Now is not the time for this, she decided.

 

     “Brynjolfr…don’t.  I beg you…don’t.” Ingred pleaded.

The pleas were ignored, as he just looked around him at the Nords of Lokken.  When his eyes settled on Lena, and then Solveig, it was then he noticed that Laurenna was very much with child.  He spat at the floor brandishing the child’s arm.

 

     “A…A...CHILD?  CHILDREN?  We of Thirsk had children.  We of Thirsk had women, and families, and…and…CHILLLLDREEENNNN!!!”

With a howl Brynjolfr fell to his knees again, sobbing wildly.  The men stayed in position with their swords and Ingred bent to face him on her knees.  When he opened his eyes again, he spoke words to chill even the Lokken blood.

 

     “Lass…they’re dead.   Everyone.  The women.  The children.  The men.  The whole of my home is dead.  They murdered…everyone.  There is no one left.  No one left.  No one left.  They…they…SKINNED THEM LIKE BEASTS!”  He howled.

Ingred wrapped her arms around Brynjolfr as the men lowered their swords.  Solveig was holding Laurenna for dear life with eyes wide and full of fear.  Sigrid held Lena, rocking her back and forth and lifted her off the ground.  Snorri approached with Borka holding a tankard.  Bringing it to Brynjolfr’s lips, he drank heavily and sloppily, not stopping until heaviness took his eyes, and he collapsed onto the floor.  Ingred picked up the lone arm, and removing her tunic, wrapped it within.  Ingred looked to the staff that was still cowering. 

 

     “Please, Ladies of Lokken, clean him, put him in my room and lock the door.”

She turned to Sigrid.  She was stone faced, and looked down at Sigrid with sadness in her gaze.  She was about to speak, when the entire castle shook as an explosion sounded off in the distance.  All ran to the front door as Ulfgrun pointed with his sword at the docks and shoreline.  There was a huge fireball and cloud of black smoke where the longboat was moored.  Off into the distance across the shore, was a mass of black shadows that grew darker as they broke the tree line.  Grabbing Solveig by the hand and Laurenna by the arm, Ingred snapped to attention.  Her voice resonated off the entire foyer.

 

     “MEN AND WOMEN OF LOKKEN!  IT BEGINS!  TO ARMS! TO ARMS!”

 

     It was nearing midnight for the sleepy cottage just outside the Pelagiad.  Those within had long finished supper and gone to bed, save one.  She waited on a bench, the many lines of her face foretold a lifetime of experiences.  Sadness, joy, wonder, regret, they all melded within one another as her tired eyes and snow white hair felt the cool breezes of evening. 

     Solgerd sat in her robe, the watering can in her lap.   These weeks leading to months of taking care of young Lisendra and her equally young husband Wulfren were starting to tire her.  She more than appreciated the company, and seeing her cousin again brought such joy to her.  Long since the passing of her husband she had been alone, and very lonely.  The Pelagiad, as a hub for trade and protection of the fort was always a busy place.  She had gotten to know some that lived around the small city, and in truth, it was they that suggested she take the small cottage.  But if the conversations she overheard were true, and that her homeland of Lokken and those she loved were at risk, perhaps some way could be found for young master Wulfren to get involved, as the rightful chieftain of Lokken.  She knew very little about this Dandowin, only that he was very kind, determined, and obviously loved Laurenna and her peoples with all his being.  That is why she scrawled the quick note into the watering can.  She wanted to meet and thank their new benefactor and see if any news can be shared from home.

A lantern being carried up the road just turned towards the cottage, as it got closer, Solgerd noticed that it was a very well dressed Dunmer woman.  A matron perhaps, this is most unexpected, thought Solgerd.  She knew that the Nerevarine knew many people, but she had no idea a wealthy matron was among them.  As Beth Gilian walked upon flagstones, Solgerd rose, and bowed slightly.

 

     “Well met, worthy matron.  I beg your forgiveness for making you come out this late in the evening.”  Solgerd said apologetically.

Beth smiled openly and bowed in return, closing the distance; she grasped Solgerd’s hand.

 

     “Well met, indeed.  But I am simply the caretaker of a home with three other women who seem to have wayward masters.”

They both chuckled and Solgerd motioned for her to sit with her on the bench.  She apologized again for the hour, and got right to the heart of the matter.

 

     “I wanted to meet you, and thank you so much for all you have done.  Your help has greatly improved Lisendra’s health and I would imagine her life.”

 

     “The thanks belong to Dandowin, and his bodyguard Ingred, who also shares our home.  It was her letter that asked all of us to see to it that his family is taken care of.

From what I could tell, something grave has happened and things progress to get graver.”

Beth withdrew from her robe Ingred’s letter.  She brought the lantern to her knee so that Solgerd could read it.  When she was done, they stared at one another in the darkness.

 

     “So it is all true.  I have tended the damages to young Lisendra with my cousin, and it was severe.  The thought that this was planned for young Laurenna, and her unborn baby with Dandowin, chills my blood.” 

There was a rustling of the leaves at the side of the cottage, and Luthien Morvayn appeared from the darkness.  She walked to the seated matrons and embraced Beth while she sat.  Solgerd looked quite puzzled and turned to Beth who just smiled.

 

     “A friend, and one who also offers much in the way of protecting Dandowin’s family.”

Luthien smiled at the reference, and shook Solgerd’s hand.  What a wonder, these Elven folk were thought Solgerd.  She had seen many since moving to the mainland, yet each time she got the chance to meet one properly, she always marveled at their diversity.  This Dunmer was quite beautiful, even if dressed in clothing of a warrior.  Her short white hair and spectacular diamond earrings reflected the lamplight, and enhanced her beauty.  Her look was quite grave as she bent to face Solgerd.

 

     “It chills your blood for a good reason, Lady Solgerd, I come bearing terrible news.”

Solgerd shivered at the thought and was shaking uncontrollably.  Her voice could not contain her fright.

 

     “You don’t mean little Laurenna and the baby?”  She cried.

 

     “To the best of my knowledge they are safe, and still live.  The news I bear is more frightening, so much so that my Guild Master Eydis Fire-Eye has left for the Skyrim Mission in Ebonheart, to seek help.”

 

     “What has happened lass?”

 

     “My lady, the village of Thirsk, has been completely destroyed.  Every man, woman, and child…is dead.”

With the utterance Solgerd brought her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry.  With wide eyes, she stared at Luthien in horror as tears welled up at the corners of her eyes.  She reached out to Luthien who grasped her shaking hands, holding them with great empathy.

Beth Gilian placed an arm about her shoulder, as she shuddered in sadness.  Steeling herself after a few moments, Solgerd grabbed both of the Dunmer women’s hands and rose.

 

     “Please, follow me within.  I will wake all, for all must hear news such as this.  I do not know if even this is enough to melt this selfish boy’s heart, but I can only hope so.  I pray those poor souls of Thirsk are in Sovengarde now.  Please, follow me, I shall prepare some tea.”

With great sadness, all drew within.  Luthien looked about the cottage grounds first, making sure that there were no further dangers or surprises to interrupt them.  She thought of Dandowin then, and wondered what and where he was in all of this.  He was the chieftain of Thirsk, before his marrying the Lokken Princess.  What would this news do to his already harrowed soul?

 

  

     

Chapter 28

 

 

     Horns blew, as armored men ran throughout the hallways and removed arms.  Ljot’s Berserkers all took defensive positions around Sigrid, Laurenna, and Ingred with the children.  Giving Solveig to Laurenna, Ingred apologized and excused herself.  She needed to prepare for battle, and there was something she must do.  Solveig started to protest, in which Ingred bent low, hugged her deeply and kissed her cheek.  When she rose, she faced Arinbjorn squarely. 

 

     “You.  Fetch your wife and newborn son, and bring them to the throne room.  Take Von Schlepp and have him find all the children and also bring them to the throne room.  Then keep watch until I return.”

Arinbjorn looked with trepidation to Sigrid, who just nodded and spoke commandingly.

 

     “See to it Berserker.  Get it done.” 

 

     “At once Great Lady.”

Turning to Laurenna and Sigrid, she saluted and was about to leave when Laurenna stopped her with an iron grip.  The look she gave her was as commanding as her mother’s.

 

     “Come with me to my room.  We will prepare each other for battle.”

Turning Solveig around, who was breathing heavily, she bent low and kissed her forehead.

 

     “To you my daughter, I leave the protection of the young ones.  Stay with my mother and your cousin.  Protect them as you have protected me and our child.”

Holding her shoulder, Ingred removed the silver dagger that Solveig had given her, and placed it in her hand.  She smiled, and shook it.

 

     “For luck, my friend.”

Solveig shuddered but managed a small smile.  She looked at both of them, her adoptive mother and her newfound friend, striding to the staircase as tall and bold as two shield maidens of legend.  If only Dandowin could see them now.  Sigrid placed a grip on her shoulder, and led her and her cousin to the throne room.  Once inside, she addressed the terrified staff as they all stood looking about to run.  Lucky paced back and forth about the room, wanting to put his wolf teeth to good use.  Only Anneliese was unafraid.  Most peculiar, Sigrid thought.

 

     “Women of Lokken, hear me!  We fight to defend our home, and our loved ones!  Steel your hearts!  Our men go with strong hearts, and my daughter goes to fight as well, even with a child within.  Never again will we let anyone take our home from us.  Ragnar is no more!  Ousted by my son and son-in-law.  Today, it is our songs that shall be written!  The women of Lokken are as strong as the mountains of our island home!  Today, we fight!  For Wulfgar!  For Wulfren!  For Dandowin! For Laurenna and our heir!  WE FIGHT FOR LOKKEN!!”

With a great roar, all the women of the room yelled, “HAIL!”  The guards at their posts ran to surround the children and Sigrid, and with swords drawn into the air echoed their sentiment, shaking the very walls of the throne room.

 

     Solstheim castle was a flurry of activity.  Once the news of an impending battle came to the island all were making preparations for war.  Berna and Meira were first provided with warmer clothing, from the stores of Dandowin’s own closets both in the Master’s as well as the Lady’s chambers.  They were both dressed in Nordic leggings, Snow Wolf boots and skirt, a warm woolen tunic and Snow Wolf gloves.  Their original supplies of casks and boxes were replaced with convenient satchels, which were much easier to handle.  J’smin provided them each with some dried fish, as well as fruit from the Servant’s Quarters.  They were all worried, for they were the first to see the ungodly glow of fires far off into the western distance.  The dark black sickening smoke had made it’s way to the Solstheim castle shores, and filled all inhabitants with dread.  Lokken was to the east, so the two visitors were relieved, but only slightly.

     “Meira honey, are you okay?”  Asked Berna cautiously. 

She had noticed that all morning and afternoon, her friend said very little. 

 

     “I’m scared Berna.  Really scared.  I don’t want to die.”  She shuddered before crying.

Berna dropped her bag and embraced Meira who held her for dear life.  She was so out of her element here, and Berna was sure she was having second thoughts about having come.  But Berna was glad she came.  Meira was her friend.  Meira was her family.  All annoyances aside, she loved her roommate as the sister she never had.

 

     “Hey sweetie.  Don’t talk about dying!  You know just as well as I do that Ingred is far too dangerous and bitchy to let us get killed, when she always says that it will be she that kills us.”

Meira laughed weakly at the joke and held her roommate’s hand.  As they settled to their fates, the castle enchanter Felicia came walking up to them with haste.  Felicia was shrouded in her black hooded dress as usual.  Her sharp Dunmer features hidden within the folds of her hood save for her piercing eyes and notable facial markings. She padded up to them, her bare feet smacking loudly against the wooden and stone floor.  When she got to Berna and Meira, she handed them both a scroll covered in chamois.

 

     “My sisters!  These are duplicates of the scroll that your master carries that enabled him to teleport back here at the castle.  I have used all his remaining soul gems to fashion these, so take good care of them.  If you find that the tides of battle sway against you, perhaps you can get here, maybe with the children too.  I wish you both much luck!”

Berna and Meira were moved by the generous gift, and hugged her in thanks.  The dancers Gretta, Lallaran, and Gillian came out of the Dance Hall and hugged Meira en force.  They were all exchanging goodbyes when both Berna’s and Meira’s ring began to vibrate and hum simultaneously.  Meira jumped at the motion.

 

     “Ladies, it begins.  Meira and Berna, are you both prepared?”

Grabbing each others hand again, they both answered in unison.

 

     “Yes, Ingred.”

As they were answering their roommate, Einar Wolf-Heart placed a Silver Dagger of Paralysis in each of their satchels.  He smiled and winked, taking a nervous boyish stand next to Felicia.  She looked up at the big Nord with affection.  When they turned back to their visitors, they were mouthing “Goodbye”.

 

     “Then come to me now, and be ready to get busy.”

With a great flash of light, and the twinkling of residual energy, both Meira and Berna faded and were gone.  All those witnessing it from Solstheim castle just nodded, and dispersed to their task at hand, the fortifying of the castle.

 

     It was mid afternoon in Lokken, the sky gray as the stones beneath the snow and the wind picking up.  It was starting to snow, first the light pleasant fall that turned harsh with the wind, and now fell in white, gray and occasionally black flakes.

     With the destruction of the only longboat in Lokken, Nidryne Redas and Sedris Omalen became confident that Lokken would be a repeat of Thirsk.  They counted their good fortune that most of the homeless inhabitants of Solstheim had either fled to the mountainous region, or perished in the driving of the beasts.  They were sure that any of the survivors who would come upon the destruction of Thirsk, would immediately blame the Skaal, given the trail and mementos they left.

     Also of note to the two Dunmer women, the remaining warriors and mages of their small army were more than pleased with the gold, jewelry, and weapons caches they had liberated from the dead and deserted.  There were fights, but things such as that was commonplace when thieves, murderers, rapists, deviants, and all such scum were thrown together.  With a wave of her sword, the long line of two rows deep killers advanced to the Lokken shoreline.  All earlier scouts reported that aside from smugglers and berserkers, there was only one citizen that could have raised an alarm, but he was silenced right in the middle of his Horker hunt.  Sedris quietly hoped that he was married, so that his widow would weep at his absence before her hordes dispatched her in likewise fashion.

     As they set foot on the Lokken side of the shore, they heard the castle horns sound.

 

     “So, it appears they wish to fight.  Good, with the death of his woman the Nerevarine must be demoralized by now.  I bet he is out searching in vain the hands that took the breath from her.”  Sedris said with amusement.

Motioning to her mages, they set up a wedge while the archers stood behind them.  One by one, they focused all of their energy and magic on creating a huge fireball, and aimed it at the first establishment on the left.  With a wave of their arms, Leilana’s Trader shop was immediately ablaze and exploded in a shower of timber.  The blast shook the advancing killers and they howled in response.

A horn sounded again, this time it was louder.  All on the shoreline as well as those in front stopped in their tracks.  Many braced for an attack, while others strained to look ahead to see if an army was advancing.

Nothing came.  Sedris looked at Nidryne and then to those around her, who just shrugged.

 

     “THEY SEEK TO TRICK US!  THEY HAVE NO ARMY! FORWARD!”

With a great, deafening crunch of boots on snow, the army of Sedris Omalen and Nidryne Redas advanced.  Even the howl of the Lokken wind could not mask their approach.

 

     In the Master Bedroom, Ingred Rems placed the tunic wrapped arm of the Thirsk child into the fireplace, kneeling to quietly say a prayer.  Laurenna walked behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder before heading to the hallway. Laurenna stood before the large chest that Dandowin had filled upon his first settling in to the castle proper.  The secret passage that lay underneath had been locked, and Sigrid herself sealed it with a dangerous trap.  A warning to both foe and family, that these tunnels are now no longer to be used, ever.

She stood before the chest, her hands braced upon its surface and her head bowed.

The life within her moved with great unrest, as if their child could sense the dangers present.  Ingred noting this, moved to hold her shoulders.

 

     “What is it Laurenna?  Does the baby come now?”

Laurenna just stood for a minute longer, then opened the chest and withdrew Dandowin’s first bow, his quiver of Ebony Arrows of Slaying, and a fur bundle with Laurenna’s name upon it.  Handing the bundle to Ingred, she carried the weapons to the bed, sitting them gently upon it.  Turning to face her, Laurenna looked at Ingred almost commandingly.

 

     “Would you dress me for war, my friend?”

Ingred said not a word, just saluted her in response.  Unfastening her Snow Bear pregnant cuirass, she let it fall to the bed.  Then she undid her robe fastenings, which fell to her feet.  Bending to the floor, she then gathered the bottom of her chemise and slowly and with great care brought it over her head.  Laurenna stood before her naked, her full pregnancy and strength adding to the natural glow of her.  She was magnificent to behold.  Ingred opened the fastening on the fur bundle and withdrew a pair of beautiful snow leopard boots.  Their silver shone brightly leaving twinkling patterns on Laurenna’s skin.  Taking her foot, she placed one foot in the boot, fastening the top, then the other.  Next she took out and unfolded a wonderful snow leopard full dress that she placed over her head and rolled it down to her boots.  Next was her pregnant Snow Bear cuirass, which was refastened, then her snow wolf robe anew.  When Ingred took out the snow leopard gloves, Laurenna just took the left one, which was her bow arm.  The last thing Ingred helped fasten on was Dandowin’s quiver, and before she could protest, she fetched her wig from its stand.

 

     “It puts the whole thing together really.  In lieu of a crown, that is.”  Ingred tried.

Laurenna just smiled, and taking her washing bowl from the stand, she moved Ingred’s hands to above her head, and with the bar of rose soap, she washed the blood and grime of the child’s arm off of her torso.  Spinning her around, Laurenna finished off Ingred’s back and then handed her a towel.  Moving to her own cabinet, she withdrew the pieces of her snow leopard armor that were not part of her bundle.  She handed them to Ingred, who cocked her head in bewilderment.

 

     “This is the tunic and skirt to my snow leopard armor.  I obviously can’t wear it now, but would be honored if you would wear these.”

Ingred held the ensemble up to her and smiled.  Although it was clearly not her taste, or her size, she acquiesced and removed her leggings.  Laurenna reached further into the cabinet and removed another pair of snow leopard boots and gloves.

 

     “I had Anna make a spare pair, just in case.”

 There was also a wolf bundle with Ingred’s name on it.  Inside the bundle, there was a beautiful silver breastplate with Cyrodiil markings, obviously a gift from Dandowin.

When the women were done, Laurenna laid out a selection of Dandowin’s finest weapons that he did not take on his journey.  Ingred grabbed his Ebony bow, and already had a quiver when she was first found.  Looking down, she saw something that caught her eye right away.  She could scarcely believe it, even though Dandowin told her of it long ago, to which she denied it as a lie.  Lying amongst the various long swords and scimitars was a long blade of Dwemer design, giving off an almost blinding blue-white light.  As she reached for it, like her Ebony blade, the hair upon her arm rose in response.  She withdrew her hand away, absorbing the full meaning of it being in Dandowin’s possession.  It was the fabled Hopesfire, the blade of Almalexia herself. Laurenna noticing this, pressed further.

 

     “What is it Ingred?”

Ingred drew the sword from the bed, and brought it to her face.  Her arm tingled with the sheer power of it, and she turned it this way and that.  Turning to Laurenna, she just smiled briefly, and motioned to the door.

 

     “For another time Laurenna.  For now, let us save your people.  Call Dandowin, and I will call for some help of my own.”

Laurenna turned her ring to the left and moved to the door, speaking as she opened it.  Ingred followed with their weapons and took out Dandowin’s servant ring.  As they got to the throne room door, she got a response from her housemates.

 

     “Ladies, it begins.  Meira and Berna, are you both prepared?  Then come to me now and be ready to get busy.”

 

     The Azura dipped nearly vertical when Dandowin and Helmer turned her towards the storm break.  With a great groan of the timbers she drew deep, and water splashed them both.  The wind howled fiercely, and both men blew the foamy water from their beards and wiped their eyes.  On the horizon, it seemed as if the clouds themselves had come to the sea surface, a great gray billowing of roiling darkness.  The break shone like a small beacon from the Gods, and the patch of water it hit disappeared with every dip and rise of the waves.  They were tired, but determined, for both had seen storms as these before. One remembered as a shipmaster, the other as a prisoner on an Imperial ship.

The rise of the next wave threw both men to their knees, but Dandowin held the rigging and Helmer supported the steering board like the true master of the seas.  Upon the down swell, they landed with such a crash that they lost one of the fixed water casks that were channeling the rain from the sail.   The break approached, and soon they felt the brief bit of calm wind while the world itself screamed in protest from the surrounding storm.

     As Dandowin was securing a rail pin, his wedding ring thrummed and soon his wife’s hurried voice boomed in his ears.  It startled him but it made him warm in his heart as well as his finger, to hear her voice amidst such torment on the sea.

 

     “My love!  War begins!  They have brought it to our shores, and we dress and prepare for battle!  Come to me, and fight by my side my husband.  Let us both drive back these bastards who dare to harm our families!”

Dandowin could hear the background noise of yelling and screaming of orders in his head, and heard Ingred bellow to the men to ring the castle.  So, they have stepped up their schedule, and attacked his home.  Time for him to hurry home, and they will all make them pay for it in blood.

 

     “My love!  We fight a storm at the moment, but we are coming home!  We will write our songs together!”

 

     “Come to me my love!  I love you!”

      “I love you, my wife!  We will turn around immediately!”

With Laurenna done, his ring went cold, and Dandowin turned to face Helmer.  Just as he did so, the break of light above closed.  They were soon nearing darkness of the storm again.

 

     “MY FRIEND!  TURN HER ABOUT!  WAR HAS COME TO OUR HOME, AND WE MUST MAKE HASTE TO DO OUR PART!  THIS MISSION, THIS VOYAGE IS AT AN END!  WE MAKE FOR HOME!”

Helmer shouted a joyous “HAIL!” and turned the steering board in his hand about.  As he did so, there was a thunderous boom that shook the sky itself.  The men were shocked, and as Helmer regained the board, Dandowin fixed the sails to bring the Azura about.  Just then, amidst the howls of the storm, Helmer vaulted up from his seat and pointed towards the horizon where they were turning.

 

     “CASTLE MASTER!  LOOK!”

Breaking through the billowing clouds on the sea surface, were great blasts of light.  Soon, the most wicked looking ships either man had ever seen followed these lights.  They were sleek longboats in gold and black colors with spikes all around, with maidenheads that were of snarling serpents.  Their black sails were full and each ship bore some sort of fire aboard.  With a groan of timber, the closest one shot a fireball directly at the Azura.  It struck their mainsail, and even wet, the brilliant blue sail bearing Azura’s sigil in gold was immediately ablaze.

 

     “WE’VE BEEN HIT MY FRIEND!”  Bellowed Dandowin.

Helmer tried to compensate by turning her about so that she had a more narrow profile, but it was too late.  Another fireball was launched and this one hit them broadside.  Both men were knocked to the ship’s floor, as timber was thrown all about.  Water flowed from both the high waves as well as the gaping hole to their port side.  Helmer was on his knees, searching for his bow, which was knocked free.  Dandowin climbed to his friend as a hail of arrows came pouring out of the clouds from the ships. 

 

 

 

Chapter 29

 

 

     There was nothing but solemn faces sitting at the eating table in the small cottage outside the Pelagiad.  Two matronly elder Nord women held one another and sobbed, a young married couple sat holding hands, the damaged one sitting atop the other’s lap.  The two Dunmer women sat across from them, staring between their now cold tea, and those about the table.  Solgerd had woken the couple first, then her cousin Torunn.  When she set the tea before all that is when Luthien Morvayn retold that which she first told Solgerd.  The news hit all present again very badly, and it wasn’t soon after that silence overtook the assemblage.  It was Lisendra who spoke first, and shocked all that were present.

 

     “I’m going back.”  Lisendra declared finally.

All heads rose, and Wulfren stared at her as if in shock.  Grasping the tabletop, she pulled herself along the table’s edge to land in the chair next to Wulfren.  She grasped his hand, and looked in his eyes.

 

     “My husband, I will not leave my friends and family to face so terrible a fate.  I cannot walk, but I can still fight.  I can shoot a bow a well as your sister, and my mind is made up.”

Wulfren snorted, and rose.  He looked at her angrily, and all present prepared for a storm.

 

     “Have you forgotten why you cannot walk?  Don’t talk nonsense.  We will wait until these times pass, you’ll see, just be patient.”

Lisendra took up her teacup and threw it at Wulfren.  It hit him soundly in the chest and fell to the table.  All turned in her direction and Solgerd rose.

 

     “You…you…COWARD!  Have I forgotten?  I bear the full brunt of the troubles and the fate that was meant for your sister.  I will never bear children or walk because of it!  But even with this, I don’t blame Dandowin or my people, I blame the monster who did this to me!” 

Lisendra turned to the others there, looking at each in turn.  She turned to Beth and Luthien, eyes pleading.

 

     “Will you help me go home?”  She begged.

Luthien Morvayn stood next, and walked to Lisendra.  Undoing her leggings, she pulled up her tunic and lowered her leggings enough to show her the scar.

 

     “Lisendra of Lokken, I also shall never bear children because I prevented an evil meant for Dandowin.  That time, he was my companion and my love, and I have no regrets.  I never blamed him, only the evils we sought to destroy who were turning my people into monsters.  If nothing else, I learned from him that sometimes, you have to do what is right even if there is nothing to look forward to but your own death.  He risked all to save my Dunmer people from Dagoth Ur, even when it was evident he did not have to.  If you ask it, I will take you home to Lokken.”

 

Just then, Beth jumped in her seat.  Her servant ring started to thrum upon her finger, and she rose and excused herself to the corner of the room.  Lisendra grasped Luthien’s hand in friendship as Wulfren started to slap it away.  Luthien Morvayn stood defiantly, facing Wulfren and his anger.

 

     “Nord, I have fought with men and monsters far bigger than you for centuries before you swam in your father’s balls.  I don’t know why you allow yourself to be shamed by your wife, and I don’t care.  You think you have your reasons, but just once, I need you to absorb the enormity of what has happened at Thirsk.   Nothing lives there anymore.  Whatever evil has passed through there killed everyone, and now they head for your home.”

Wulfren was about to speak when Beth came hurriedly back to the table.  She was urgent to be heard.

 

     “That was my housemate Berna!  They’ve been transported to Lokken as per Ingred’s wishes.  A war has started!  A force now marches on the shore!  Your sister Laurenna and my Ingred are preparing for battle!  Oh my dear Ingred!”  She sobbed.

All eyes now turned to Wulfren.  His brows were knotted in deep anger, fear, or concentration.  None at the table could gauge which.  Taking his fists, he banged them on the table and bent lower to face Luthien Morvayn.

 

     “Elf.  What is the fastest, safest way you can get us back to Lokken.”  He asked menacingly.

Luthien Morvayn smiled widely, as Solgerd and Granny Torunn embraced one another.  Beth was wiping away her tears at the thought of her Ingred in a war, as Luthien grasped her shoulder and shook it in hope.  Lisendra grabbed Wulfren’s tunic and dragged him to her to kiss her husband loudly.  She could never be more proud of him, as she was now. 

Luthien stood, refastening her tunic and light armor.  She turned to Wulfren and all present.

 

     “Pack your things, and leave it to me.  We’ll have to make use of some of the Mages Guild transports, and Ald’ruhn is still closed off due to the Oblivion gate there.  But I might be able to get us to Khuul by mid morning.”

With haste, she left the cottage with Beth Gilian in tow, and all stood getting ready for the journey.  Lisendra pulled Wulfren close again, and simply hugged him.  Wulfren was still wracked with guilt, and shame, but his anger was slowly pushing it out of the way.  If he were lucky, he could solicit some help along the way as a Chieftain of Lokken, he hoped.

 

      Her ring cold, her nerves steeled, Laurenna walked slowly and confidently towards the throne room.  Dandowin was coming home!  Ingred had whipped their guards into a cohesive fighting force, and there was at least a plan where their children were involved.

She knew she should be frightened as everyone else, yet she was more angry than afraid.  Angry at whoever injured Lisendra in mistaking she for her; angry at whatever unknown forces made her husband face death again and angry at this menace outside for daring to assume that they would be easily dispatched.  With each step she took, her anger grew, and in response, the child within her seemed to march as if in direct kinship with its mother.  She smiled at that, saying quietly to herself “Soon enough little one, soon enough.”

     With all her deep thought, she barely noticed the large white flash of magic behind her as she approached the throne room doors.  Ingred turned to face the flash and there was the sound of unknown voices.  Laurenna turned to see Ingred standing next to two women, one of which was an Elf, both encumbered with satchels.  They chatted but for a second as Ingred grabbed their hands and brought them to Laurenna.  The shortest of them, a very pretty Breton seemed so dearly out of place that Laurenna feared she would shatter to pieces if yelled at.

 

     “My Lady of Lokken, I bring you my roommates, and my family.  This one here is Berna Chalo, our most able Bosmer cook and housekeeper.  This other one is Meira Aleen, a fantastic armorer and most probably the best dancer in all of Vvardenfell.”

Meira shot Ingred a surprised look and blushed deeply, Berna just bowed quickly.  Meira followed suit but was interrupted as Laurenna grabbed her by the shoulders.  Meira was in awe.  Laurenna was so tall, and even with a huge pregnant belly was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.  Towering over her, she did all she could keep her lip from trembling.  When Laurenna spoke, both women seemed to be rooted at the spot in concentration.

 

     “My friends, welcome to our castle home.  Would that these were better times, for our Lokken hospitality will have to wait until we take care of some unwanted guests.  My husband is away, but tells me that he is coming home!  This is wonderful news and I am sure he as well as all of us, thank you for your courage to aid us in this terrible time.  For myself, like this big Imperial cow next to me, I consider you my sisters.”

Both women were nearly fainting at the enormity of everything, and Ingred shot Laurenna a wink for the “cow” reference.  Looking up to the nearest guard, Laurenna commanded him over; it was Furmann with his usual smile.

 

     “Furmann, take this beautiful Breton down to Sven.  Protect her with your life for she is my family.  See to it.”

Furmann saluted Laurenna and Meira bowed again, which made Laurenna smile widely.

 

     “Thank you, milady.”  Meira managed.

Just then Arinbjorn showed up with a howling infant in his arms.  His son had come very early and was already a handful.  Reaching for the infant, Laurenna lifted him and cooed for a second before handing him to Berna.  She turned to face Arinbjorn and Ingred. 

 

     “Arinbjorn, your son is in good hands, and I want you to join me on the parapet after you take this great lady to the throne room.  Protect and treat her with the utmost respect, for she is my family.”

Arinbjorn looked at Berna with her noticeable Elven features and made a doubtingly wry smile.  He wouldn’t begin to question the Lady of Lokken, but found this very interesting.  Laurenna turned to Berna, and spoke with seriousness.

 

     “Berna, you have the charge of seeing to our children and the house folk who will not be fighting.  My daughter Solveig shares this charge with you, and will protect you and them should any danger invade the castle.  Ingred tells me you come bearing a way to transport the children from danger?”

Berna fumbled with her satchel and drew the three scrolls, two from Felicia at Solstheim Castle and one made at the Mages Guild in Balmora.

 

     “Well done Berna.” Said Ingred proudly.

Laurenna bent to face Berna closely, and smiled deeply.

 

     “You truly are magnificent, Berna Chalo.  I pray to my father that we will not need them, but I thank you with all my heart for bringing them.”

Another explosion outside rumbled the walls and broke the moment.  Turning to Arinbjorn, Laurenna gave her last command in the castle.

 

    “See to it Berserker.  Remember; meet me above when she is properly stationed.  Ingred, come!  War awaits.”

Slapping Ingred on the stomach Laurenna turned and headed for the main hall doors.  Her white furs and armor shone all around the walls, reflecting every light that was within.  Ingred grabbed Berna’s shoulder a last time in love, winking and making the hand gesture of mead tankards when this was done.  With a bolt she was behind Laurenna, heading for dangers unknown.

 

     It was a rare occasion at the Hall of Fyr, in that all of its residents were seated at dinner.  Not since a very long time ago, did Divayth Fyr remember having all his daughter-wives present at the dinner table.  To his side, the cloaked Mistress Dratha sat, deep in reflection.  Sadela Areth also reflective, sat at his left, as Alfe Fyr with her long brown hair and Uupse Fyr, who takes care of his Corprusarium, joined them.

Delte and Beyte Fyr, Beyte humming in pleasant tones as she placed the warm food in front of everyone set the plates.  Moving her long white hair out of her face, she placed a tress behind her ear as she winked at Sadela.  Soon they were all seated and were eating, but the silence was most unusual.  It was soon broken by Divayth’s moaning and mumbling as he ate, the flavors delighting his palate as they always did.

Sadela Areth ate in small bites, and Mistress Dratha fed herself, enjoying a newfound range of motion from the treatments.  As the pitcher of water and wines were poured, Sadela interrupted the dinner with her thoughts.

 

     “Dandowin must never be told.  Neither he nor his princess of the icy lands must ever find out about this child.”

Three of Divayth’s daughter-wives nodded in solemn agreement as they chewed; yet Uupse cocked her head back in amazement, as they all remembered that she was not present when the news first was broken.  Her sister Delte nodded her red head in Sadela’s direction, cocking her eyebrow for emphasis.  Uupse’s eyes widened in amusement; she would have to start spending some time above ground she mused silently.  Divayth Fyr retorted, while not bothering to stop eating, such was his enthusiasm for the meal.

 

     “Nonsense!  Mmm…you don’t see the value…mm…of this situation.”

Sadela stopped eating and started at him angrily.  It was clear that he was planning something she wasn’t going to like.

 

     “You see my dear, the Nerevarine is indeed a powerful ally, but he is also a calculating one.  He knew the minute he arrived that he could entice me with those ancient Dwemer relics.  But with this, this leverage, I can have him at my will for fear of exposing the truth.  I really should thank you Sadela; I had no idea that he was so easily swayed by the charms of our Dunmer women. You have done me-“

There was a loud banging of fists on the table, as Sadela Areth rose, and subdued Divayth Fyr with a forearm on his chest against his own dining chair.  She immediately drew a dirk from her bodice; similar to the one she used on Dandowin and pricked his neck the same way.  Within moments, Divayth was beginning to freeze in a moment of amused panic.  His daughter-wives rose, as Mistress Dratha pleaded with Sadela not to harm him.

 

     “SADELA!  Please…we NEED him!”  Cried Mistress Dratha imploringly.

Sadela stayed Divayth Fyr with a foot upon his leg, her arms still about his neck.  Alfe Fyr closed the distance, but stood still as to not force the situation.  When Sadela spoke, none dared interrupt her.  This was serious business.

 

     “Listen to me, and listen well you cold and ancient bastard.  You think it was my charms that caused this predicament?  I betrayed Dandowin Nerevarine!  He was kind, caring, and helped both my Mistress and my people and I repaid that kindness in the same manner as I subdued you.  There was no love in his eyes as I took my lust out on him and now shamefully carry the fruit of his seed!  I broke his trust, his heart, and he will NEVER know of this child!  My Mistress needs you, so that means I need you too.  But you both need this child within me for a cure. So help me, if you try and hurt Dandowin further, I will kill this child within me!

Sadela removed her arms and foot and threw the dirk from her.  She looked at Mistress Dratha with such sadness and shame that it was tangible to those present.  Divayth just laid there, eyes wide and a frozen smile upon his face, taking in the ultimatum he was just issued.  Before Sadela left the room, she returned once again to face him.

 

     “Know this well and burn it into your scheming mind.  Once it is born, I will not allow you to harm this child in any way.  Yes, you need its blood, and I understand there will be many tests, but this is still a child, my child, and its life is my responsibility.  You will honor my demands.”

With a curse, Sadela stormed from the dining room and his daughter-wives went to check on him.  With amused faces they pointed at his straining trousers.  Only Uupse reseated herself and continued to eat.  She looked to her sisters and chuckled.

 

     “I have got to start spending more time at family dinner.”

 

     A flash of lightning…the deafening roars of thunder.  The screaming of arrow shafts cutting into the wind.  Two men clawed at the chaos around them, their ship taking on water, the port side of their most beautiful golden ship listing toward the tumultuous sea.

Dandowin clawed upward to Helmer who was struggling desperately with the steering board, an arrow in his shoulder.  Dandowin bore one through his leg, the point snapped off by the motion of crawling.  Their voices were lost to the wind as the friends sought each other out. 

     With a great groan and cracking of timber the Azura broke mid ship, and her keel vaulted upward throwing Helmer into Dandowin.  They grabbed each other at the arms, as Dandowin grabbed the shaft in his leg and wrenched it free.  Blood spurted from the wound, as blood dripped from the arrow in his friends shoulder. 

 

They were sinking. 

 

The men grabbed the ship’s end as it slowly angled towards the sea.  As it did, the first of the great wicked gold and black ships was bearing down at them.  Seeking to finish them off, it turned its snarling serpent prow right at them.  Helmer braced for impact as Dandowin did the same, removing one hand to fumble with the pocket in his tunic. 

 

 

 

Chapter 30

 

 

     Sigrid, Great Lady of Lokken, stood looking down at the great, subdued form of Brynjolfr as he was coming back from unconsciousness.  The draft of mead that he was given was from Borka’s newest stock, far too potent for general consumption, but had other uses as it seemed to render the drinker unconscious.  He was tied to the bed, loosely as to not harm him, or have him harm himself.  Seeing the Great Lady above him, he nearly forgot where he was.  Then it all returned and he silently cried to himself.  Sigrid stroked his great beard, and spoke softly.

 

     “Weep for them not, great man of Thirsk.  We will avenge the wrong done to your people.  I too must thank you, though it pains me to do so.  Had you not come to Lokken seeking my son-in-law, we would have not known how close the danger was to us.  I…I nearly sent my people to the doorstep of doom, not foreseeing what had befallen Thirsk.  You prevented this, and from my heart, I thank you.”

Brynjolfr turned his head to her, his great eyes red and wet with such sorrow.  He seemed to ask with them why all of this had to happen.

 

     “Please do not hate my daughter, or my son-in-law for loving her. When he came to our shores, he found us as much in need of him, as he was in need of us.  He saved my family and my people from doom, as is the way of those called by the Gods.  I am deeply sorry that this has caused such turmoil for your peoples.”

Brynjolfr softened some, yet in his eyes, Sigrid saw a pleading, and knew what he would ask before it was uttered.

 

     “Great Lady of this icy island…would you help me join them in Sovengarde?  Free me to earn my place with them and reclaim the honor of Thirsk.”

Sigrid looked into his eyes, and the weight of his heart, and taking her dagger, undid his bonds.  Helping him to rise, she brought him to the armory.  It was empty, save for one single sword, framed by two candles as it sat alone upon the stone dais.  Sigrid grabbed it with both hands, and presented it to Brynjolfr.

 

     “This blade is called “Kin Slayer”.  It is an evil thing that was used to rob me of my husband, and our peoples of our chieftain.  My son and son-in-law, who forbade all to touch it, retrieved it from Ragnar.  Take this with my blessing and fight for my people.  Send this horde to the fires and rejoin your people.”

Brynjolfr fell to his knees before Sigrid, who stroked his head in understanding.  He then rose, grabbed the sword, and with Sigrid leading was taken to the fight.

 

     When Nidryne Redas and Sedris Omalen rounded the hill of Lokken with their invading army, they came across a hastily erected fort wall.  By Ingred’s urging, timber from the island was used to connect the Lokken Brewery with the wall of Lisendra’s house.  The snowstorm that started was whipping their torches, and it was blowing against them in favor of the Lokken people.  After the destruction of their longboat, the hordes of killers flooded into the small town homes and shops, finding few of anything of value and set to starting fire to them in disappointed rage.  The wall before them was high, but the castle could be seen just above it.  The walls were ringed sparsely with Nords, all armored and many with bows and swords.  There were women there too, carrying shields and spears; some carrying bows and quivers.  Sedris ordered the archers and mages among them to the front as they hailed arrows at the castle against the wind, the mages flooded magical fireballs at the wall.  With a great roar, Orcs ran ahead to chop wildly at the wall with their axes and swords, while others flooded around the forest and shore to ring the castle from the rear.

The horns blew again, followed by the deafening cheering of the Nords on the walls.  Some stopped attacking as others ignored it, the two Dunmer women looked up in surprise.  Two women emerged at the wall, one dark haired that caused Nidryne to gasp in recognition and another who lit the entire wall with the brightness of her armor, furs, and being.

Ingred Rems walked briskly amongst the small throng of the Lokken populace and rallied their strength, as Laurenna followed and stood directly in the middle of them.  She looked like a pregnant shield maiden of Sovengarde itself, and drew her bow from around her arm.  The snowstorm blew behind her, whipping her silver-white hair in front of her. 

     Nidryne Redas dropped her sword in the snow.  The look of utter horror on her face stunned Sedris.  The woman and unborn of the Nerevarine are still yet alive?  They have killed the wrong one!  They are not demoralized!  Sedris snapped at Nidryne to get a hold of herself, but it was too late, all she could see in disgust was her backing away slowly from the wall and watched her struggle to flee from the throng of those around her.  Sedris, enraged, gave the cry to attack, while grabbing the nearest Orc and ordering viciously.

 

     “Bring that bitch back here to me!  No one deserts Sedris Omalen!”

 

     When Arinbjorn joined Laurenna at the wall, Ingred took over.  Ingred commanded Arinbjorn to protect Laurenna and Lokken’s heir at all costs.  Pulling out Hopesfire, she raised the glowing sword and commanded the first volley.

 

     “FIRE!”

With a great twang and whoosh in the air, the guards and berserkers of Lokken let loose a rush of arrows into the army.  Ingred commanded that they set their sights on the Mages and Orcs, but be mindful of any Bosmer archers amongst them for their skill is legendary.

Laurenna knocked her husband’s bow and with the Ebony Arrows of Slaying, she picked a mage who had just broken through the first set of timber logs.  Through the snow, the arrow flew with blinding speed to bury itself up to the fletching into the mage’s chest.  He fell to the ground and his flaming hands extinguished.  Ingred commanded the women with spears to be ready.  As the wall gave way with a loud creaking, she commanded the women to release their spears.

 

     “NOW!”

Spears left their hands and angled right into the horde pouring in.  Arrows were returned from the Bosmeri archers and tower guard Finn took one to the neck.  He tumbled over the wall to smash into the Orc and Dunmer assassins.  Laurenna sent three arrows in succession into the first row of Orcs, as a Bosmer arrow was sent directly at her from the throng.  Arinbjorn deflected it with his shield, as another flew past her head.  Ingred, seeing this, grabbed Muller’s bow from him and sent an arrow straight through the crowd to land into the forehead of one of the Bosmeri archers. 

 

     “Like THAT! Get the idea?”  She barked angrily.

Fjorngrin, the very man who taught Laurenna and Wulfren to fight and to hunt, who was shooting arrows into everything he could, stopped long enough to blow loud kisses at Ingred Rems.

 

     “I think I love you, you dark haired witch!”  He laughed aloud.

 

     Their arrows were getting low, and Ingred yelled for restocking.  Creeping low Sonja and her daughter Anneliese crept up to her with a basket of arrows.  Anneliese seemed mesmerized by the chaos, the most disconcerting smile on her face.  Over the wall, the horde started to pour in and fan about castle walls.  A small band of Orc and Imperial women dressed in wicked spiked leathers were trying to push a table up the main steps to get at the defenders.  As the men rounded the stairway to force them back, a thrown axe took the life of young Gartheim.  He fell backward to land on the steps, his arm reaching out to Anneliese as she stared at him with sadness.  Looking at the chaos, Anneliese growled in anger and yelled at her mother and Ingred.

 

     “I’ll get help!”  She yelled.

Before anyone could stop her, she ran towards the western side of the castle and jumped off the wall.  Ingred and Sonja ran after her screaming but she ran and disappeared into the woods.  Sonja howled after her crying as more arrows flew past their heads.  Ingred grabbed Sonja by the waist and lifted her clean off the ground, taking her kicking and screaming back to the main doors.  When the prison guard Von Schlepp opened the door, Ingred threw her inside.

The women invaders were nearly to the bend in the Lokken steps when a howl broke the battle sounds and Brynjolfr leapt from the wall and landed right behind them.  With one great slash and a roar, he cleft two of the women in half at the waist, as he beheaded the remaining on the return stroke.  Body parts flew about him as he turned to face the throng in rage.  Ingred ran to the steps ordering cover fire from Bore, Esbjorn, and Ulfgrun.  Her white loaned snow leopard dress was splattered in blood, as she whirled Hopesfire in lethal arcs around the side of Brynjolfr.  Great heaps of Orc and madmen fell in bursts of electrical flame.  Arms and heads were piling up on the Lokken stairs.  Two fireballs were sent at Laurenna.  One missed her, and Arinbjorn braced to take the brunt of the other.  Just then, a single, large ice ball that came from the Main Hall doors deflected the other.  Laurenna turned around to see Meira Aleen in light chain mail standing there with her arms posed at the ready.  Running to her, Meira took a defensive position at the side of Laurenna as Arinbjorn took the other.  Laurenna kept volley after volley of arrows into the largest threats, felling one mage after another, while sending an Orc or two back to the void.   Just then, the large, single tower where Ragnar kept Sigrid prisoner exploded in a shower of bricks and fire.  Stones fell all about, and both Meira and Arinbjorn shielded Laurenna from the debris.  They were now besieged on their rear. 

Ljot appeared then, pointing with his sword at the tower. 

 

     “They’ve breached the wall by the Guard’s homes and seek to get within! We have them held but need help!”

Laurenna gave the order for the frontline defenders to fall back to the breach, with Ingred and Brynjolfr keeping the hardiest to stand a line at the steps.  The horde throng was thickening so much it blackened out the white of the Lokken snowy main road.  Breaking through the mass, a lone Dunmer woman with a vicious looking scimitar stood in front, covered in armor and a black cape.  Brynjolfr went to move forward, but Ingred Rems stopped him with her sword.  The woman moved forward as Ingred Rems walked down the steps.  None seemed to pass either woman though arrows flew past both their heads into the masses on both sides.  The guards ringed the deadly women, as they fought now with swords and axes at the mass of killers.  Ingred reached down, and tore free the dress from her legs.  She stood with the blood splattered snow leopard tunic, the silver Cyrodiillic breastplate made for her, and Laurenna’s snow leopard boots.  Her hair was wild and free, a dark mass blown about her head by the wind as if it were its own entity.  Laurenna and Meira bent low to the wall, sending arrows and bolts of magic into the chaos around Ingred and Sedris.  They circled one another, lessening the circle as the taunts began.  Another Lokken log home burst into flames with a roar.

 

     “Can you hear that Imperial bitch?  That is the sound of your doom.  We ring this castle as we speak!”  Sedris taunted.

Ingred Rems raised Hopesfire so that Sedris could see it undulate with power up and down the blade.  Sedris’ eyes widened in recognition of her temple’s histories, and Ingred fed off of it.

 

     “That’s right dark one, this is the sword of your Goddess.  My master has slain your Tribunal Goddess, and gave this sword to his woman.  He will pass it on to his heirs, when your name is long forgotten!”  Ingred said with taunting glee.

 

     “NOW YOU DIE!!” Sedris howled.

With a clang of swords the two went at one another, both enraged for the affronts.  Sedris drew her scimitar in an arc to trap Hopesfire, then parried with a slash at Ingred’s throat.  Ingred dodged the slash and drew her blade to singe the armor at Sedris’ shoulder. The two jumped and their blades met, trapped, and met again.  Great blasts of light and crackling of lightning flew off each exchange, throwing light from the stairs to shine all about Lokken’s stonewalls.  With a feinted stab, Sedris tricked Ingred, and brought her sword down slashing her forearm to the bone.  Hopesfire fell to her feet, and Ingred made a grab at it with her left arm.  Sedris kicked her in the face for trying.

 

     “Your time is done, Imperial bitch!  We will soon shred your faces and pile your skulls as we did those in Thirsk.  The death of the Nerevarine and his heirs is at hand!”

Hearing this over the battle sounds, Brynjolfr howled with the fury of his entire people, and jumped off the wall after cleaving the arm off of his attacker.  As Sedris raised her scimitar to kill Ingred, she turned to the howl in just enough time to see Brynjolfr cleave her from skull to crotch.  With a wet, sickening thud, the two halves of Sedris Omalen, once Priestess of the Tribunal and Retainer to House Redoran, passed from Tamriel into shadows.

     Brynjolfr bent to raise Ingred Rems with his hand, a satisfied smile on his face as she stood.  There was a dull thud, as if an arrow struck wood and Brynjolfr pitched forward a step, to fall in Ingred’s bloodied arms as an arrow protruded from the back of his skull.  Ingred’s eyes widened as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.  She followed the arrow’s path to see a Bosmer standing defiantly a few yards in front of her, knocking another shaft.

Before he could release the arrow, an angry Laurenna shot out his eyes.  Laurenna commanded Arinbjorn and Meira to fetch Ingred, who then jumped to the stairwell and started to drag her up the stairs to her.  As Ingred was brought to Laurenna’s kneeling position, she tore her own robe and wrapped Ingred’s wound.  Looking at the war still about them, the horde was unmoved by the death of their leader.  A bloodlust was in the air, and this seemed to end badly.  Laurenna looked down at Ingred and stroked her face. 

    

     “We’re surrounded my friend.  I’ll have your Berna take the children to safety.  To the death then, it seems. Dandowin would be proud of us.”  She said quietly.

Ingred smiled back and was about to comment when Sigrid appeared with Snorri at her side.  Laurenna looked up in bewilderment at her mother, who was just looking at the advancing horde angrily.  Snorri was beside her, wrapped strangely.  His eyes were covered and his mouth was bound.  This confused all present and Laurenna started to speak when Sigrid spoke first.

 

     “Not this day, my beloved daughter.  Not this day.” 

Reaching up to Snorri, she undid his blindfold and it was then that Ingred and Laurenna noticed that his eyes were just as if they were orbs of ice.  They shone with a luminescence that neither of the women had ever seen before, and it frightened them.  When she undid his mouth binding, she chanted slowly to him in a manner even Laurenna was unfamiliar with.

 

     “The Wind is our Life…In The Throat of our World…Lives the Breath and the Voice.”

With a great sucking in of air, in a most inhuman way that seemed to rival the Lokken wind itself, Snorri drew a breath inward whose shrill had pierced the wind.  The horde of death stopped advancing to the first steps and the Lokken guards drew back.  Laurenna shielded Ingred’s ears as Meira and Arinbjorn did the same to their own.  There was immediately a stop to the wind.  It was as if the entire world just stopped for a second in time.

In a great blast of sound and air, Snorri let out a yell, which could only be compared to the roar of Gods.  His mouth a large vessel of power, as frozen air and frozen wind flew forth to blast all in front of it with deep, paralyzing cold.  Those directly in front of the blast were turned to ice and shattered instantly, as those that tried to run were frozen in place.  In the outskirts of the main battle, invaders seeing this turned and ran, with only a few trying to find cover from the blast unsuccessfully.  With a sudden stop, Snorri fell to the floor at Sigrid’s side, his eyes open, frost and ice around his mouth.  With great sadness Sigrid closed his eyes, and a tear from her face fell upon his to turn into ice.  The wind returned, but was replaced by the din of multiple howls in the air.  Ingred, opening her eyes pointed at the two figures standing off to the rise of the Lokken Mountain.

 

     “Now what’s that?” She said weakly.

In the distance, stood Anneliese with a tall man in barely any coverings with long black hair.  He was bent low, as if sniffing the air itself.  Appearing at her side was one wolf, then another.  Soon, these were followed by more wolves, both snow and gray.  To everyone’s amazement, two fairly young polar bears came running with more of the wolves.  With a great howling and growling, the animals ran down the mountain in a fury of claws and teeth at the remaining invaders.  Soon Lokken Castle’s own Lucky and Bella came thundering out of the main doors and charged past Laurenna and Ingred and at the attackers below.  Those frozen in place were shattered into chunks, while those attempting to defend themselves were torn to pieces.  From the other sides of the castle, came the howl and screams of dying invaders, a great tearing of clothing and wailing of death with each wave.  Ljot returned at the Great Lady’s side with astounding news.

 

     “Great Lady!  The island’s beasts are attacking the invaders!  Those not killed already run for the channel of Lokken!  By the Goddess, we’ve beaten them!  They flee Great Lady!”

Sigrid just continued to hold the body of Snorri in her arms, and Laurenna asked Arinbjorn to help her rise.  Ljot scooped up the injured Ingred, as Meira grabbed Hopesfire off the ground and held Laurenna’s bow.   Laurenna was tired, and worried all around.  Was this truly over? 

 

     “Berserker.  Gather your men, and some of the uninjured and sweep the castle.  When the castle is clear, sweep the island until you are sure that none remain to regroup or enclave.  If they cross the channel, do not give chase, just return home so we can assess our losses.  See to it.”

Laurenna then bent to her mother with the help of Meira.  Meira looked empathetically into Laurenna’s eyes at the sight of Sigrid holding Snorri.  His sacrifice saved their lives.  There were many who were sent to Sovengarde this day, and there would be much mourning among them.  She thought of her Dandowin.  He missed a great battle, but the songs of his wife and friends will be added to his, and their children will learn them.  His enemies learned today, that Lokken women are far from meek.  They learned that friends on two feet and four would stand and protect the ones they love.  If they ever dare to come back, we will drive them from our lands, and our world.

     While Sigrid rocked back and forth with the body of Snorri, Laurenna stood looking at her home.  Homes can be rebuilt, their shops and establishments the same. The loss of the tower is a good thing, as none needed a reminder of Ragnar’s cruelty.  Such a loss of friends this day, and when her husband returns, she can see that he will do good by their families.  But poor Thirsk!  What will this news do to her husband?  He already carried the burden of so much, and will feel guilty for this day’s loss of life.  For the first time in her short, married life, Laurenna was more worried about Dandowin’s sanity than his safety. 

 

     “Please father…let this be the end of our trials.  We have been suffering enough.”

Laurenna pleaded.

 

 

 

Chapter 31

 

 

     Nidryne Redas ran past the destruction of the longboat, a dagger in hand as she splashed into the channel of Lokken, braving the cold as she ran for the shoreline.  An Orc was yards behind her, cursing and yelling at her to give it up and return as she was commanded.  Hiding behind a tree trunk, she fumbled with the folds of her robe until she found the hidden scroll she had prepared.  She unrolled it with shaking hands just as the Orc was approaching from the left.  Making a grab for her she dodged his grasp to trip on a deadfall branch and landed on her backside, still clutching the scroll. 

He stood before her, contemplating his next move.  With a wicked grin he fumbled with the ties of his leggings.  Nidryne’s eyes widened in horror and disgust.

 

     “No need to let a good opportunity waste.”  He said menacingly.

Just as he fumbled with the belt, he growled loudly as the sharp end of a Riekling lance pierced his back and dripped bloodily from the front of his pants.  With a twist, there was the crunching of bone, and he fell to his knees.  Before he lost his sight and subsequently his life, Nidryne Redas disappeared in a flash of light and a puff of snow.

 

     The sounds of the explosions were rattling Solveig’s nerves.  She stood with Berna at her side, dagger in hand as all the Lokken children busied themselves with following Berna’s directions.  She had them fill their packs with food, some clothes, and she handed each one a few pieces of gold, which some of the children had never seen before.

Solveig was beside herself with worry.  What was happening to Laurenna?  What was happening to Ingred?  The last she heard from peering into the hallway when Laurenna emerged from her bedroom was that Dandowin was coming home!  So much going on, so fast.  It was a bit overwhelming.  She could hear the fighting, but most of it was muffled by the Lokken wind.

 

     “Are you okay sweetie?”  Asked Berna as she stuffed the kid’s sacks.

Solveig looked into Berna’s face with wonder.  This is the second Elf she has seen in a span of months and she was marveling at the experience.  Berna Chalo was pretty, with wild brown eyes and long thin ears.  Her voice was so high, compared to the throaty and loud voices of her own people, and her nut brown skin was such a contrast to Solveig’s pale one where you could see the blue of her veins.  She studied Berna, just to take her mind off of the war, until she heard the sounds of howling wolves outside.  Just as she looked all around the room in fear, Lucky bolted from the kitchen area to claw at the throne room doors.  Joar, annoyed with being surrounded by so many girls, ran to the door and let Lucky out.  Solveig ran to Joar and bopped him on the top of the head.

 

     “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?  DO YOU WANT TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?

I’M IN CHARGE HERE STUPID!” Solveig admonished.

 

     “Girls are so stupid!” Joar retorted, before sitting amongst Marianna, Lena and Hilde.

Solveig returned to Berna’s side and Berna bent to give her a hug. 

 

     “Well done, sweetie!”  She whispered in her ear.

 

     Moments passed.  As the children sat in the center of the throne room, Ljot came though the door with a few men behind him.  He went to speak to the protecting guards, and they grasped his arm with a smile.  Something is happening, they all wondered eagerly.

Moving to Berna, Ljot stood before her and put a hand on Solveig’s shoulder.  He looked terrible.  He was covered in blood and sweat, and his hair was plastered to his face.

 

     “The worst has passed lass.  We sweep the castle first then cleanse the island of any that are crazy enough to remain.  It’s over.  Thank the Gods!”

He was about to turn around when Solveig stopped him by grabbing his arm with both hands.  She was frantic.

 

     “What of my mother?  What of Ingred?  Are they okay?  TELL ME!”  She pleaded.

Ljot picked up Solveig and the other children ran to ask what was going on.  Ljot spoke quietly to Solveig.

 

     “Your mother is just fine.  She fought like a Goddess of Sovengarde.  Your grandmother is well, but saddened.  We lost many good people today young one.  The dark haired beauty fought like a demon, and lives.  She is injured pretty badly though.”

Solveig didn’t wait.  Scrambling from Ljot’s grasp, she jumped to the floor and ran for the main doors.  Berna brought a hand to her face in worry.  Just how badly is Ingred injured?  What of Meira?  She has not heard from her since they were separated?  Looking at the children’s faces, she bit her lip and continued to keep them close.

 

     “Come children.  Let’s see if we can get something started for us to eat.”

As they headed for the kitchen, Joar spoke loudly.

 

     “Does that mean she’s not in charge anymore?”

Berna grabbed him by the arm and moved him ahead of her.  She bent to face him smiling.

 

     “She will always be in charge!”

With a moan Joar slumped his shoulders and walked dejectedly to the kitchen.

 

     Outside, Solveig ran through the throngs of warriors and house folk, looking desperately for Laurenna and Ingred.  The sights and smells threatened to make her faint.  There were bodies everywhere, most of them in pieces.  There were bodies of people she knew, being laid side by side and covered with furs.  She saw them lay down Snorri, and she froze in place.  Feeling nauseas, she turned to vomit just as Ingred Rems limped in front of her.  Solveig looked up to see Ingred smile weakly, her arm bandaged loosely and slung in a sling.  Blood seeped from the cloth. 

 

     “Now that’s not a very nice thing to do.  Your mother just loaned me these boots.”  Ingred chided amusingly.

Solveig grabbed Ingred around the waist and cried loudly.  Ingred held her to her as best she could, and Laurenna walked up behind the two and embraced them both.  Meira stood to the side of them, smiling as the sight too moved her.  Sigrid walked up to Meira, and turned her to face her.  Sigrid was harrowed.  Her hair was loose from its bun, and her eyes were beyond bloodshot.  Putting an arm around Meira, she introduced herself.

 

     “Greetings lovely Breton.  Thank you for saving my daughter’s life. My name is Sigrid, and welcome to my home. ”

 

     The stars were beautiful thought Lisendra.  Sitting in the Silt Strider, leaning against Wulfren, she looked up at the night sky as the huge, hulking creature walked along the trees and grasses of the Ascadian Isles.  It bellowed its haunting call, echoing off of the mountains and the Emperor Mushroom caps.  Laboring slowly yet so gently, as each long leg moved in unison with another.  The strider operator manipulated the exposed nerve organs with great care, a gentle touch here, and loving squeeze there.  The creatures of this land were so amazing to her Nord mind.

     Looking about the cab of the creature, Solgerd and Granny Torunn napped holding one another.  Luthien Morvayn sat cross-legged next to them, munching on an apple and looking from the sky, to her fellow travelers, back to the sky.  Her silken white hair reflecting the starlight, as the caged diamonds that graced her Dunmer ears shone brightly, as if lit from within.  When she paused to look at the couple in front of her, she smiled.  Noting this, Lisendra inquired softly.

 

     “You miss him, don’t you Luthien.”

Luthien took a few more bites of her apple and tossed the rest over the side.  She uncrossed her legs and stretched them a bit, weighing her words carefully.

 

     “Sometimes I do.  He was easy to love and easy on the eyes.  When we first met, he was so green though.”

 

     “Green?” Lisendra inquired.

Luthien moved closer to Lisendra so they were shoulder to shoulder, that way they could talk softly as to not wake the elder women.

 

     “Yes, “green”, unskilled.  He saw me downstairs at the Fighter’s Guild and asked who I was and would I consider being his companion for adventures.  I looked him up and down, and told him get some muscles first.”  She laughed.

Lisendra laughed quietly, and looked at Wulfren, who was just staring ahead showing no emotion.  She shrugged, and leaned in on Luthien.

 

     “What changed your mind then?”

 

     “I had heard that he was making a name for himself both around town and within the Guild.  Then the rumor started about him being the Nerevarine, and well, I watched him carefully.  If he were a lunatic heretic, he’d have to be dealt with.  If he ended up being the actual reincarnation, then his life was going to be very interesting.  Adventurous even.”

 

     “But what made you love him?” She asked with anticipation.

Luthien looked up at the night sky, and then to Lisendra.  She smiled and had such a far away look that Lisendra hoped that she didn’t open an old wound.

    

     “We fell in to traveling quite a bit when he returned after gaining some much needed experience.  When he was trying to earn the right to being named the Nerevarine of the Ashlander tribes, we had to visit and stay with the tribes.  They live rather simply, in yurts, not like our cities and buildings.  One of the tribes we stayed with let us stay in their yurts.  Nights out in these remote areas are quite beautiful, and well, we couldn’t sleep.”

 

     “And?”

Luthien chuckled at Lisendra’s inquisitiveness.  Life of the country girl she surmised.

 

     “Those yurts are just so thin, that as you pass them you hear everything.  Laughing children, weeping unhappy couples, and of course, the sounds of the happy ones.  We couldn’t sleep, as I said, so we walked a bit around the greens and along the shoreline.  This was a big mistake, because everywhere we walked, something or someone was mating.”

Lisendra laughed openly and it was good to hear such laughter.  Luthien continued with a “shush” of her finger to her lips. 

 

     “So, we climbed on top of one of those Emperor Mushrooms, and laid down to stare at the stars.  He talked, I listened, and with each word I was getting very interested in him.  When it got to the end of the night, I reached over and we kissed.  A few moments later, we made love atop the mushroom cap.  He gave me this ring after.”

Luthien showed Lisendra the extravagant ruby ring, and she smiled warmly.

 

     “We were so spent, we overslept.  It was late morning when we were found.”

 

     “Found?”

 

     “The Ashlanders got concerned and sent out a search party.  When our trail led to the mushroom, one of the tribesmen leaned on the stalk.  It gave way and we tumbled naked in front of all the party.  They thought it was hilarious, and went back leaving us to get organized.  When we got back to the camp, they had served mushroom soup in honor of the Clan friend’s great conquest, meaning “me”.

With the story done, they laughed again quietly and Luthien rose.  After a long stretch, she moved back to where she sat before.  Before she crossed her arms to sleep, she whispered to Lisendra smiling.

 

     “Yes, sometimes, I really do miss him.”

 

     The last of the invading army broke formation when the beasts attacked.  There weren’t many left, but they all ran as fast as they could back to where the ship was moored.  Judging by headcount, most figured there were enough to man the stolen Imperial Galleon.

One of the Orc killers stopped to readjust his bag of loot stolen from Thirsk.  When he placed it in his other hand, there was the sound of speed and his hand was nailed to the tree by an arrow.  Another arrow shattered his kneecap, and a third shattered the other.

Groaning in deep pain, he looked up to see various armed and armored men and women bleeding out of the trees.  It was then that he noticed that all of those that ran with him were lying on the ground, all dead.  Two male warriors, a Redguard and a Dunmer walked up to him with bows in their hands.  The Redguard grasped the arrow in his right kneecap and twisted it.  The Orc screamed in pain and begged for his life.

 

     “Orc, there is only one thing I want to know from you.  Did the ones who hired you get away?”  Ian asked menacingly.  

Before he could respond, Missun Akun grabbed the other kneecapped arrow and twisted. 

 

     “Quickly Orc, my patience is thin and it is cold outside.”

With great squeals of pain the Orc told of the attack against Lokken, the death of Sedris Omalen, and the earlier desertion of Nidryne Redas.  He spoke of things that seemed unbelievable, such as a man calling frozen wind from his mouth and an army of wolves and bears led by a skinny Nord girl.  He didn’t know whether Nidryne Redas was killed or not, but surmised that she missed all of the battle, so he could take from that whatever he wanted.  When he was done, Ian handed a quickly scrawled note to one of his fellow masters, and they sped off.  As they turned to leave, Missun knocked an arrow and shot the Orc right between his eyes, impaling his head to the tree.

 

     With the wicked ship bearing down on the two friends, Dandowin steadied his good leg on the cross beam of the longboat as he unfurled the small scroll with his teeth.  Against the wind in his ears, and the rain in his eyes, he flattened it as best he could in his palm.  He was holding Helmer around the chest, trying very hard not to bury the shoulder arrow deeper into him.  He was breathing loudly.  Helmer was on the verge of shock.  Pieces of the Azura were floating all about them, as the wave produced by the ship bearing on a course to ram the two men grew in height.  Helmer reached out and grabbed a small book sized piece of the Azura’s hull, the gold and silver scrollwork still shining even in the dark of the storm clouds. 

 

     “It was such a pretty damn ship.” Helmer coughed.

The wake water rose enough to place both men into the sea, as the keel dipped faster into the ocean.  Before them, the wickedly spiked prow was moments away, behind them, the disappearing keel threatened to drag them under with the swell.  Dandowin spun Helmer around in the water, placing himself in front of the ship and the danger.  Looking at his friend, he smiled once, slapped the scroll into Helmer’s tunic, and kissed him on the forehead.  As the words left Dandowin’s lips, he let Helmer go, and soon everything was awash in bright light as Helmer felt himself tingle all over, and felt as if floating.

 

     “Go home…my friend.  Tell the Lokken people what has happened here, and that I tried my best.  Tell my wife…my love…I will love her forever.” 

 The wake of the ship overtook Dandowin before the spikes could impale him.  The last thing that Helmer saw before his sight was filled with blinding light was his Castle Master and his best friend, Dandowin, twirling head over heels in the dark water until he was gone from sight. 

 

 

 

Chapter 32

 

 

     Nervous feet paced back and forth, echoing against the walls of the House of Dralor.

Weathered gray hands wrung their fingers in trepidation.  Were they assembled in time?

Has help been successful?  What are the damages?  The questions ran through their mind over and over. 

With a start their concentration was broken by an urgent knock at the door.  The venerable matron Favela Dralor opened the door and hurried inside.

 

     “I bring a report from the field.  It was rushed here.  There is also a communiqué from the Imperial City of Cyrodiil.  It is sealed with a wax seal.  Here, use this to open them.”

A silver dagger was passed and with shaky hands, the first report was opened.  Very intense eyes scanned the page, widening ever wider with every sentence passed.  Soon, they filled with tears.

 

     “My dear friend, what is it?”

The paper fell from the shaking hands of Dilvene Venim as she looked up at her friend and host, Favela Dralor.  The tears fell down the side of her face as she absorbed all that she read.

 

     “We are too late.  They annihilated the village of Thirsk.  They skinned every man, woman, and child and then proceeded to Lokken.  There was a battle there, but it seems the Lokken people prevailed, though without confirmation how badly they suffered is still unknown. The Tribunal priestess of House Redoran Sedris Omalen was killed in the battle, but that former scat of my late husband, guard Nidryne Redas has escaped.”

Favela Dralor seated Dilvene Venim and held her shoulders.  The news was so grim, that she just didn’t have the words to offer in help.  There was still one letter left, the one from the Imperial City.  Taking it in her hands, Favela Dralor took the dagger from Dilvene and broke the wax seal.  She then unfolded the various letters inside and began reading them aloud to Dilvene.

 

     “Most venerable Kinswoman of House Redoran, Dilvene Venim

 

     In response to your inquiry and request for help, we have indeed uncovered a terrible plot against the Nerevarine, but unfortunately are unable to offer help at this time.  It is with sincere regret that we share this information, but our Emperor, Uriel Septim the VII was murdered while attempting to escape the city from an internal threat.

His heirs have been murdered as well, and as I write this, we are besieged in our land by multiple occurrences of the large Daedric Oblivion gates, similar to that which had destroyed your beloved Ald’ruhn.  We share and offer our deepest and most sincere sympathy, Noble Kinswoman.

Within our intelligences, we uncovered that one of our highest officials was in fact, a worshipper of the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon.  Using his access to our most sensitive artifacts and information, we found that he had sent a sensitive document to the Nerevarine urging him to undergo a terrible and foolish expedition to the unknown lands of Akavir.  We believe this was a plan urged by the Daedric Prince himself to capture or destroy the Nerevarine, so that he would not be able to help during these most tumultuous times.  Through my operatives, I tried to send him some help, and a warning, but my operative was eliminated before the Nerevarine left Tel Mora.  We were too late, it seems.  I can only hope that his skills or divine influences that have raised him to fame are still with him.  For us here, we have a war underway with the forces of Oblivion itself, and are harried at all ends.

 

Again, we are most sorry that we cannot help in your plight, but we will pray to our Gods that we all can persevere what is to come.

 

                   Your most humble servant, and confidant,

 

                    Caius Cosades,

                    Administrative Advisor

                    The Blades”

 

When Favela was finished, she and Dilvene just stared at one another for minutes.

 

     “What can we do?” Asked Favela with great concern.

Dilvene brought her clasped hands to her lips, almost as if she was in preparation of prayer.  She owed so much to Dandowin Nerevarine, who kept his promise and opened up many avenues and restored her importance as the Kinswoman for House Redoran.  She thought when news of this plot came to her, she could circumvent it, but she was woefully too late.  What could she do?  With a moment of clarity, she decided to do what she could do that was within her power.

 

     “We may be too late my friend, but we can still do one thing.  We must find that traitorous bitch Nidryne Redas.  She must answer for what she had done.”

 

     It was a most solemn affair at Lokken castle.  Warriors and wives, noble and commoners walked their destroyed town and collected their dead.  The beasts mostly consumed the bodies of the invading horde, and those who were not consumed were thrown into a bonfire at the shoreline.  The homes and shops north of the Lokken Brewery were completely destroyed, and both the Brewery and Lisendra’s vacant home sustained damage to their channel facing walls.  The main tower that was destroyed was roped off, with future plans of removing it in place of Lokken’s first chapel.  Laurenna decided that her people will need a fresh, sacrosanct place to have their weddings, blessings, and in cases of those that pass into shadows, remembrances.  The Great Lady her mother approved the thought most enthusiastically, and added the one request that the body of their beloved Snorri be enshrined in family Stalhrim so that Lokken shall never forget his sacrifice, and how he saved the Lokken people at their most darkest hour.  She knew that Dandowin would approve, since they both thought that the various deaths and tainting of their own throne room made for too many unwelcome memories.

   Of those that were sent to Sovengarde besides Snorri, were Gartheim the Fair, tower guards Finn and Thorstein.  The last survivor of Thirsk, the great armorer Brynjolfr, and when the Berserkers and Guards swept the western shoreline, they found the frozen remains of the murdered hunter, Trevor. 

     The injured were far more numerous.  Many of the castle guard sustained arrow and sword wounds.  Two of the house women, Stina, wife of Arinbjorn and her sister Valkyriana suffered broken bones when the tower exploded and were harmed by falling debris.  House wolves Lucky and Bella suffered paw injuries, but they were not serious.  Anneliese suffered cuts to her arms and legs as she ran through the chaos with her animal army.  Sonja fainted shortly after Ingred Rems threw her into the castle with a bruise to her head from her landing on the stone floor.  Ingegerd suffered a sprained foot when she ran after throwing her spear into a Dunmer killer, and of the castle’s inhabitants, Joar suffered an unexplained headache he was unwilling to discuss.

       By sunset, the Lokken snowstorm threatened to cover the indignation to her island grace, and all were tired, hurt, hungry, and in need of rest and healing.  Sigrid and Solveig set up a makeshift triage in the castle throne room, where space was the greatest.  She saw to her adopted mother first, who she held and cried after holding Ingred.  Many looked at Laurenna as if she were Goddess touched.  In the entire battle, she was unscathed.  Even her armor, save for some soot, bits of blood, and the tear from wrapping Ingred’s injury, seemed to shine amongst all the dark bloodied and dirty survivors.  Some whispered as if she were really there, and sought to touch her as she passed.  The heir was well protected in its armor home, and she left with Arinbjorn and Meira in tow to her bedroom to wash.  After a while, she dismissed Arinbjorn who was quite anxious to rejoin his wife and son.

     Meira stood in the bedroom with Laurenna, helping her out of her snow bear pregnancy armor, and her boots.  When she was down to her full dress, Laurenna stopped, bracing her hands on the table by the fireplace.  She shuddered for a few moments, erupting into a wail of tears.  Her breathing was heavy between sobs, leaving Meira Allen to begin to panic.

 

     “Are you all right milady?  Is it the baby?” 

Laurenna continued to sob, finally sitting into the chair and covering her face with her hands.  When she finally calmed long enough to speak, she looked up at Meira with such a look that it was hard to not be affected.

 

     “I’m…I’m just a country girl, Meira.  I wasn’t meant for all of this like your Ingred.”

Meira looked at Laurenna with empathy.  She had been so wrong about Laurenna, and felt inwardly small at her previous comments.  Here was this tall, beautiful, Nord that fought without fear and commands an entire realm.  Even with a child ready to burst from her belly she fought and still won the day.  Yet, when the moment has passed and the dangers done, she’s just a simple, loving wife and soon to be mother.  Meira understood immediately why Dandowin fell in love with Laurenna.  She now understood why the women of Lokken are so legendary and strong.  She knelt to Laurenna then, and embraced her with great affection.  Laurenna sobbed a bit longer, pausing to wipe her nose on her sleeve and face Meira.

 

     “I never thanked you for saving my life Meira.  You were magnificent today, and your name shall be sung along with the tales of my people and my husband.  Gods I hope he gets here soon!”  She wept.

Meira was warmed by the sentiment and inwardly was just barely holding on.  Never in a million years did she think she would leave Balmora, come to the frozen islands, and fight in a war alongside the Lady of the Lokken lands herself.  This was far different than anything she read in her books. 

 

     “Milady, you are no simple country girl.  You are even much more than just the Princess of Lokken.  You fought today, and lived to see your people survive.  You will be a mother to a child of the Nerevarine.  Your name shall be written in songs, in books, and when both you and I are dust, they will still sing the songs of Laurenna of Lokken, and the day she fought a war with a baby inside her.”

Laurenna sniffed, and smiled.  Her husband does indeed find the most interesting friends.

 

     After Solveig tended to her arm, Ingred Rems joined Laurenna and Meira in the private vat bath that Dandowin had constructed.  Heated water from both the kitchen and the Master Bedroom fireplace made the trips short, and the filling time shorter.

It was strange, at first, but soon the three got over their modesty and let the warmed water rinse away all the reminders of the previous battle.  They admitted to themselves, that something changed within each of them.  Something that was visceral, and not easy to find the words for.  But they all agreed when dressing after that a deep friendship was forged, tempered and reinforced by the shared responsibility of having helped save a nation.  Ingred was in much pain, and though it was against her better judgment, she willingly took a full mead tankard when they arrived at the throne room.

All of the injured were tended to, and Sigrid sent Solveig, Lena, and the rest of the children to the dining room to eat, along with many of the most severely injured.  The Great Lady Sigrid sought out her daughter the moment she arrived, hugging her and kissing her forehead.  Laurenna was dressed in a simple maternity dress of green linen and brown leathers, walking barefoot as she wanted, nay, needed the cold of her home castle to keep her grounded.  Berna and Meira ran to each other, with a great rush of hugs and fast paced conversation.  Arinbjorn and his screaming infant son walked to Laurenna and he beamed proudly.  Ljot and Fridgeir his fellow Berserkers joined him, hailing the wailing son and each predicting his future vocation.  A great evil was thwarted this past day, and many will come and go to the castle and remember what part they played in it.  More mead was dispersed amongst the citizens present.  Not since Laurenna’s wedding has she seen so many people present and happy to be alive.  Ingred took a seat at Sigrid’s table, putting her sore, tired muscles and feet to rest.  Laurenna loaned her Dandowin’s favorite Bonny Swan dress, a snug fitting white long dress adorned with great animal embroidery.  Large in the chest herself, it drew Fjorngrin and many of the less injured guards to her like a lantern, much to Laurenna’s amusement and Ingred’s chagrin.

     Sigrid walked to the throne steps, and stood before the assemblage.  She cleared her throat and raised her hand.  All drew silent in respect and anticipation of what she had to say.

 

     “Citizens of Lokken, my beloved family, and our most treasured friends. Brave warriors, and our most daring wives and mothers, hear me.  Today, we honor the lives and sacrifices of the many who rest now in Sovengarde.  We humbly pray that we brought justice to our unspoken neighbors, the citizens of Thirsk.  We pray we taught the foes of our Castle Master, my son-in-law and husband to our Lady of Lokken, that never again will the people of Lokken live under tyranny.  We pray my son, Wulfren will return to us, his heart healed and his wife, our own Lisendra, whole again.  Those who came to our home whose friendship and sacrifice showed such strength, we shall forever call you our family.  Your names, are added to our songs, and will be told and treasured for Lokken’s children and future children for all time.  We ask that my son-in-law, who faces dangers unknown in unknown lands, make it back home to us safely.  My daughter tells me he journeys home as we speak, and we wish him speed and love.  We add songs to his this day, and all will be remembered.”

 

    “HAIL OUR GREAT LADY OF LOKKEN!”  Shouted the guards and Berserkers.

Sigrid put up her hand in response, silencing further hails.

 

     “Today, we rest and heal.  With the next moon we will rebuild, and remember.  When my sons come home, we sing our songs and hope that peace will reign in Lokken, forever.”

Sigrid motioned to the children who were now present having come from supping in the adjacent room.  She handed each a parchment with a song written.  They stood before her on the throne steps, and sang to those present.

 

     “They came to take our lives away, when our sons were far from home.

So many lives they stole from Thirsk, where no man or beasts now roam.

Laurenna stood with child within, to fight the angry horde.

Beside her fought dark-haired Ingred, a match for any Nord.

Our men fought valiantly that day, our women just as strong.

With Brynjolfr, the Last of Thirsk they tore right through the throng.

Fair Breton Meira at Laurenna’s side, kept dark magic at bay.

Wood Elf Berna kept the young ones safe, from dangers and harm’s way.

Our Ingred fought their Dark Leader, at the steps of our great wall.

Great Brynjolfr would save her life, but would sadly cost him all.

The horde would not be swayed we feared, and our hopes at first seemed lost.

Wise Snorri saved our lives just then, but would pay a terrible cost.

From parts unknown came help at last, from our forests and our wild.

Fair Anneliese led this great charge, which we thought was just a child.

Our homes they burnt, our men they took.  But we can build again.

Our scars will heal; our hearts may too.  Though we cannot say just when.

So remember well, this solemn day, when you tell it far and wide.

Of Lokken’s heroes and its friends; and the brave ones that have died.”

 

     There was a brief moment of great silence, and then a rush of hail and applause.

Sigrid bent to each child and bestowed a kiss, while many were choked with emotion and wept openly at the remembrance.  Ingred smiled at Berna and Meira, while carefully wiping a tear under the pretense of wiping her nose.  Kielreen refilled tankards and cups; even the children were given their cups of Lokken’s great mead, made more precious with the partial destruction of the Lokken Brewery.  Smiles were shared, and conversations in full when a scream from Agnes cut through the din.

 

     “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”  She shrieked.

All eyes turned to her as she ran to stand behind a guard, for there was a great commotion happening in the center of the throne room.  As if ghosts beset the room, an odd wind picked up inside swirling in a tight ball then expanding outward.  Twinkling lights danced around the ball, first at the bottom, then from the top to twinkle downward in a cascading shower of light.  A dark form, mostly shadow started to appear in the center of it, and was causing the guards to ring it with their swords drawn.  Ingred pushed herself up from the table, concerned for Laurenna’s safety and very curious.  The figure within seemed to struggle, as it appear to all that is was surrounded by water.  With one great blast of light, the large ball exploded into a great release of seawater as the form within landed soundly on the throne floor.  Water rushed to everyone’s feet, Laurenna feeling the added cold to her bare feet.  She couldn’t contain her glee, and rushed forward knocking many out of the way.

 

     “DANDOWIN!”  She screamed with great hope.

All stared in disbelief as the harrowed and drenched form of Helmer landed hard upon the floor.  Laurenna stopped right at his back, as Ingred bent low to turn him over.  Helmer was bloody and soaked.  His hair was a mass of tangles and blood, his shoulder still hampered with the arrow that hit him.  Blood soaked the wound area, and the front of his tunic.  He was clutching a book-sized piece of wood to his chest.  He was weeping loudly.

     The whispers of his name made it to Leialana’s ears, as she ran forward, to bend low with Ingred, as she cleared the hair from his eyes.  Ingred looked at Laurenna, who was wide-eyed with panic.  Her teeth were gritted as if to utter a word would shatter her resolve.  Ingred’s own panic took over, as Sigrid joined them, checking the arrow’s depth for fear that Helmer may have punctured a lung.

 

     “Nord!  What has happened?  Where is Dandowin?  ANSWER ME!”  Ingred shouted.

Leilana shot Ingred an angry look as she tried to embrace him.  Ingred knocked her arms away and shook him, causing great pain to his damaged shoulder.  Sigrid took over, her own look of panic barely masked as she removed Ingred’s hold on Helmer.

 

     “Ingred…please.”  Sigrid pleaded.

Turning Helmer to face her, Sigrid stroked his face as he lay shivering with the piece of wood in his arms.  Looking up at Sigrid with bloodied eyes, he finally spoke in a raspy, tired voice.

 

     “Great Lady…we were attacked…turned to escape the s-storm.  Great ships.  G-Golden ships, with…black sails.  Its all my fault…he saved me…it’s all my fault!”

Ingred was frantic.  Pushing her way back to his face, she shook him hard with her questions.   

 

     “NORD!  NORD!  YOU TELL ME…WHERE IS MY DANDOWIN?  YOU TELL ME NOW!!”  Ingred screamed.

Helmer unfolded his arms as he was slipping into unconsciousness.  Before the darkness took him, he managed to face Ingred, weeping as he spoke.

     “Lass…the Castle Master, my…my best friend, Dandowin, has fallen.”

With this, the last of Helmer’s strength gave out and he fainted, the wood dropping to the floor with a wet splash.  Sigrid motioned to the guards to take him up and take him to her room to be healed.  All eyes turned to Laurenna, save for Ingred.  Ingred was on hands and knees, looking at the empty space where Helmer was but shortly.  She just shook, the barest hint of a voice coming from her mouth.

Laurenna just stood staring at nothing.  Her eyes were wide and tear filled.  Sigrid was mortified, and fearful of her daughter and the baby.  She was without words, and could not contain her own grief.  The tears welled and fell in streaks down her face.

With a great groan of pain and holding her belly, Laurenna turned from all present, and walked very slowly to the throne.  Moving the axe from the front of it, she braced her arms on the throne’s armrests, shook violently and then stopped.  She then sat upon the throne, eyes wide, tears running from her face to her belly.

 

     “Nnhhhn…Everyone, get out.”

All present whispered to one another.  Sigrid rose and started to walk to Laurenna, who was still staring at nothing.  She gritted her teeth again, as she held her belly.  She gripped the arms of the throne and bent her head.  When she raised it again, she was in enraged.

 

     “GET…OUUUUUTTTT!!!!”

  

 

 

Chapter 33

 

 

     Free.  Alive.  Those were the thoughts that ran through Nidryne Redas’ mind.  When her teleportation scroll brought her to the Foreign Quarter of Vivec, she immediately stripped off her armor and wrapped it in her cloak. Few to none took notice, as Vivec was still getting a steady wave of refugees from the destruction at Ald’ruhn. Taking it to the nearest armorer, she sold it for what few gold she could get for it, and planned what her next move should be.

Nothing was as it should be.  The Nerevarine’s woman was alive!  She still carries her child!  Even that blasted Imperial bitch that manhandled her was alive!  What good was the Dark Brotherhood, if they couldn’t accomplish one single murder?  Her thoughts were a jumble.

Thinking of every move and moment, she realized that there was nothing to tie her to the destruction of Thirsk, or the war at Lokken.  If Sedris and her horde prevailed, she could just get lost with all the other refugees, until she found her way off the mainland.  If they were wiped out, then her involvement, and her secret, dies with them.  Smiling to herself, she counted the gold coins she was given for her armor, and decided to go to a tavern to calm down.  There was one in the Foreign Quarter, perfect for those who don’t want questions asked, the Black Shalk Corner Club.  There she would lie low, and then decide how to get out of Vvardenfell.

 

     Fort Frostmoth was unrecognizable.  The last time Wulfren sailed through, they were rebuilding it and there were few to any but tradesmen, guards and the few roaming Nords who preferred to stay close to the fort.  What he and the others found was almost a bustling city of activity.

There were literally hundreds of inhabitants milling about, many of whom were injured.  It was the diversity of them that struck odd to all who disembarked the ship from Khuul.

Fryse Hags were standing amongst hunters and guards.  There were armored men and women who were armed, giving reports and repairing their weapons.  Supply wagons were loading and unloading, as many were getting set in while others were leaving as quickly as they can.  Luthien Morvayn noticed some of her fellow Fighter’s Guild members, and walked over to get the latest news.  Wulfren left Lisendra in the elder women’s charge as he followed her.  He was starting to feel very sick inside, as the worry and the guilt shook him to his core.

 

     Luthien grabbed one of the archers present and tried to get information.  He was a fellow Dunmer in robes and furs, with a full quiver of silver arrows.  His tattooed face bore the markings of one of the Ashlander tribes.

 

     “Well met, archer.  Tell me, what has happened at Lokken?  Is there any news?  I bear their chieftain and kinsmen.”

The archer embraced forearms with Luthien and looked Wulfren over from head to toe.  He snorted, and then addressed Luthien solely.

 

     “From what intelligences we gathered, after Thirsk, they attacked Lokken head on.  A contingent of warriors intercepted them as they were fleeing, for it appears the Lokken people won the day.  Much of the report doesn’t make sense.  Some nonsense about animal warriors and wind throwing old men, and they were led by a pregnant woman.”

Wulfren pressed forward and stood before the Dunmer archer.  He was visibly upset and his fists were balled.

 

     “Tell me, Dunmer, does my sister and her child still live?”

 

     Ingred Rems didn’t hear Laurenna’s demand.  She didn’t see the people of Lokken plead and whisper and weep.  When Sigrid tried to lift Ingred off of the floor, she resisted.  Ingred didn’t even hear her roommates Berna and Meira pleading with her.  All she could do was stare at the small silver and gold piece of the Azura as it lay in a small pool of seawater.  All she heard over and over in her ears, in her mind, was the voice of Helmer saying “my…my best friend, Dandowin, has fallen.”

Kneeling on her hands and knees in that white dress, her hands clawing at the stone floor chipping and bloodying her nails, Ingred let out a great cry and bolted from the throne room and out into the cold, Lokken evening.  Meira and Berna gave chase immediately, calling after Ingred as they paused briefly to bundle up their coats and furs, taking a spare fur robe for Ingred.

The outside wind was fierce, and loudly screaming in Berna and Meira’s ears.  Snow whipped their faces and stuck to their eyelashes and nose.  Ulfgrun was at his post, and when they appeared outside, he pointed to the ruins of Lokken with his sword.  Berna and Meira ran down the steps, seeing Ingred’s footsteps on the newly fallen snow.  They followed the wide gait of it as they wound left then right, until they found Ingred kneeling in the snow in the ruins of the Njorn’s home.  It was burned and blasted to nothing but black timber.  Not one single memento of the family remained, and even the black timbers bore the weight of the new snowfall.

Ingred Rems was heaving great gasps of air as she cried loudly.  With a crunch of the snow and debris underfoot, Berna and Meira walked slowly to stand a few feet from her.  She wailed, and she screamed.  Never before, not even since the days of their former master Dennir, had they seen Ingred so forlorn.  All they could do was hold one another as she wailed to the stars.

 

     “WHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?  WHY GODS? W-WHY DID YOU T-TAKE AWAY MY DANDOWIIIN?  WAS IT NOT ENOUGH THAT YOU TOOK MY DENNIR?  WAS IT NOT ENOUGH?  HAVE YOU NO HEARTS AT ALL?  HE WAS ALL I HAD LEFT…HE WAS ALL I H-HAD L-LEFT!  W-WHAT OF LAURENNA AND THE B-BABYYY NOW?  I…I…HATE YOU ALL! I…I hate you all.”

With a great pounding of her fists Ingred pounded at the snow before her, crying loudly and screaming. She had reopened her battle wound and now blood flowed from it turning the white of Laurenna’s dress arm a crimson red. Berna and Meira were crying too, to see Ingred this way.  They ran to her, and covered her with the spare robe.  Ingred kept pounding until her strength was spent, and just collapsed into a ball and kept crying.

 

     Solveig was in shock.  When Laurenna screamed Dandowin’s name, she immediately ran to her adopted mother’s side in anticipation of her adopted father’s return.  To see Helmer instead, at Death’s door, her little heart shattered.  She couldn’t speak.  She couldn’t move.  She just stood there looking at the destruction of the life that she had so desperately wanted and finally had gotten.  Dandowin, her loving father and her deepest love, is now dead?  Her mother now sits on the throne, and will not move?  What has her world come to?  Life took away her mother Yrsa.  Evil, stupid, people nearly took her own life and that of her cousin.  Her friend, her loving friend Ingred, wailed and left at the news.  Her chest hurt in her small body, the pounding of her shattered heart now in her ears as well as reverberating all over her body.  With a great gust of air she took a breath, then fainted falling with a wet smack to the soaked floor.  She did not see her cousin cry and scream, or see Sigrid cry out.  All she saw was the spinning room, and then the black of nothingness take her away too.

 

     Laurenna was numb and hollow within.  She didn’t feel cold; didn’t feel hot.  She just sat on the throne hearing Helmer’s words over and over in her mind.  There was terrible pressure on her abdomen, and greater pressure on her womb.  The child within her banged and stormed in great turmoil, and couldn’t bring herself to console it.  It was as if just thinking of what to say would shatter her to pieces.  When Solveig collapsed, she didn’t move.  She couldn’t.  All her world was glass shards, which cut her with every glance, every movement.

Memories of Dandowin flooded her mind.  Their first meeting and how he ran errands for her.  The night he rescued her mother from the tower, and how she first kissed him.  Wedding vows, echoing in her mind as each word brought her heart to beat faster.  Their wedding night, as he with gentle hands held her face kissing her deeply as her maidenhead gave way.  The many gifts they received from far away, and friends even farther as he read his mail aloud to her.  More days of laughter, more nights of bliss and love flooded her mind.

It was dizzying, and tearing her into shreds as the thoughts she refused to listen to whisper into her mind, that all these pleasures were now at an end. 

Nothing would come to her eyes in the room, for it all was out of focus.  Voices were just noise to her.  Her mind would only allow the memories and sounds of her husband as she replayed their short life together over and over. 

 

      Sigrid was for the first time in her life, genuinely scared.  When her husband was killed, she stood strong.  When her son was framed for the murder, and turned into a wolf by Kreikan, she persevered and stayed strong.  Even when it seemed as if hope was lost, that lantern across the snow on the mountaintop of her daughter kept her sane.

But now, her entire life was undone.  Her husband was gone.  Wulfren, her first born and only son was stricken with hate and left.  Her other son, her most wonderful Dandowin who she owed so much family happiness has fallen.  Now the only solid, sane part of her life left, her most beautiful daughter and her grandchild threaten to leave this world as well.  It was more than one mother could bear.

Looking down at the unconscious Solveig, she worked feverishly to heal her.  She had a pulse, and her heart still beats.  She’s alive, but what damages have been done to this poor fragile soul?  Tears fell down her face to wet Solveig's bare chest as Sigrid applied poultices and herbs to help with calming her body, and bringing sleep to her mind.  Little darling Lena, blood of her late husband’s blood and kin to this poor fragile child under her hands sleeps fitfully just at her cousin’s feet.  What a life this has been for all of them.  Such loss, to endure in so short a time wore her down to her bones. 

She cannot lose her daughter.  Laurenna is all she has left, save for these wee ones and there must be something she can do.  Perhaps if she sleeps, she can have the guards remove her to her bedroom.  Maybe she could place something in her food or drink, if she will even partake of such, to make her sleep deeply.  So many things she thought of to save her daughter and her grandchild’s life, yet what can be done for poor Dandowin?

Sigrid looked over to her desk, and saw the small gold and silver piece of the ship that Helmer held.  Her sorrow came anew and the tears ran down her face.  In her mind, she saw herself tugging his ear in love as he always smiled and closed his eyes.

 

     “Dandowin.   Oh my poor, poor Dandowin.  Why have the Gods taken you from us?” She wept. 

There was a knock on her door loud enough to stir Lena.  Covering Solveig warmly, she raced to the door and opened it. It was Ljot, covered in snow.  He seemed upset.

 

     “Great Lady, there are torches approaching from the shoreline.  I do not know if they be friend or foe, but there are many.  Perhaps two score.”

Sigrid nearly folded with the news.  Are we to be attacked again so soon?  With a heavy heart that cracked her voice with the uttering, she commanded Ljot.

     “By the Gods!  What next are we to endure?  Thank you Berserker.  Please assemble what men you can and form a line at our wall.  Has anyone found Ingred?”

 

     “The dark-haired one took the news of our Castle Master badly Great Lady.  She was last seen storming out into the storm, barefooted.  Her friends went after her, and we have not seen them since.  We were about to send some men to search for them, until the torches were noticed on the shoreline.”

Sigrid wiped her hands on her robe.  She was tired and beaten emotionally, but she was still the Great Lady of Lokken. 

 

     “Then it is just we Lokken people to the call again.  See it done Ljot.  Also, please have Arinbjorn keep watch on my daughter.  She is close to death I fear, and even closer to losing her mind.  We must keep her alive, no matter the costs.”

 

     “At once Great Lady.”

Ljot saluted Sigrid and made to leave, pausing long enough to look at his Great Lady in the face.  Reaching out, he placed his massive hand upon her shoulder and squeezed it gently; understanding her pain and reassuring her they will survive.  With a half smile, he was off.

Sigrid covered her two young kin and then proceeded down to the throne room.  Grabbing her shawl, she then left with Ljot to meet whatever was to come at such a dire evening.

 

     Candlelight and a numbing pain brought Helmer back to the world of the living.  He had been stripped, cleaned, and the arrow that was in his shoulder was removed.  His wound was stitched and wrapped with a healing poultice of herbs and boiled Snow Bear urine.  He felt a heavy pressure at his thigh; it was Leilana, sitting on the bed next to him, holding the arrow in her hand.  She was wide-awake, twirling the wicked looking arrow between her fingertips as she sat there with shuddering breath.  She had been crying, the streaks of the tears dried upon her beautiful face.  Helmer looked at her for a few moments, studying the woman that had entered his heart and never left. 

Helmer loved Leilana so.  The candles and fireplace reflected off her pale skin.  The pale blue of her eyes glistened wetly in the dancing light, staring at nothing in particular.  Her long braid the color of freshly hewn wheat hung like a golden rope down her back.  Every curve of her, every line, even the smell of her he held on to.

 

     “I pray those tears are not for me my love, for I am undeserving of them.”  He said weakly.

Leilana turned to face him.  She didn’t smile, but she was warmed that he still lives.  Reaching out with her hand, she brushed away a lock from his forehead.  She then turned back to staring at nothing.

 

     “I thought I lost you.  I have never needed anyone.  I ran my shop and led my life without needing anyone in it.  But all of that has changed, with you.  But what good is having love in your life when your whole world turns upside-down?”

It was then that she explained all that happened when he passed out.  She spoke of Laurenna having yelled at everyone and sitting on the throne, and of Ingred’s wail and storming outside in the snowstorm.  How his news affected everyone, and how they all fear that Laurenna will lose the baby.

Helmer just lay silent, and listened.  He even felt more terrible, and his next words were difficult to speak.

 

     “Leilana.  This is entirely my fault.  He…tried so hard to get me to sail back home.  I thought it was pride, or just his way of always feeling that he had abused our friendship having me ferry him to his quests.  But I see it now, he knew that something like this may have happened, and prepared.  He…He had a scroll.  He set it to bring him back to the throne room, but he…he…wasted it on me!”  He cried.

Leilana put the arrow down and faced Helmer.  She wiped his wet face and placed her hands on his chest, gently.  Close to his face, her breath warm upon it stilled him.

 

     “Listen to me, Helmer of Lokken.  Never say that our Castle Master wasted that scroll on you ever again!  Dandowin was always one to put others above him, after all that is what he did when he came to Lokken. You had no idea that he had prepared, and yet you risked your own life to see our Castle Master, and your best friend, safely through the unknown dangers.”

 

     “But if I hadn’t gone with him, he would have escaped to make it home to us all!”

Leilana gripped him firmly then, perhaps too firmly as he winced at the pain from his still fresh arrow wound.  She was very serious and very determined.

 

     “You don’t know that Helmer.  Listen to me well; let’s say he had actually gotten someone else to pilot the ship.  Do you think that he could have just easily escaped and left an entire crew to peril?  I think that Dandowin made the scroll as an escape, yes, but he perhaps meant it for when he touched down in that unknown, forsaken land.  He more than likely would have ventured alone on that land, leaving the crew to stay moored and safe.  I have heard how he is when that dark-haired Ingred spoke of their times together, and it is always been his way of limiting the risk to himself.”

Leilana released his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him deeply.  Helmer felt lucky to have such a strong woman as she to love him.  But the guilt!  It festered in his mind and in his heart.

 

     “But how can I live my love?  How can I face our people and Laurenna?  You know what his last words were to me?  “Tell my wife…my love…that I will love her forever.”

I…I can still see him under the water before the ship struck, turning over and over until the dark sea took him and the light took me home.”

Leilana leaned in on him in the bed, bringing her own legs to the side of his.  Lying facing him, she moved the length of her to lie next to him so that she rested her head upon his chest.  Listening to his heart, she stroked it gently with her fingers.

 

     “I will tell you how you will live.  First, you will keep your promise to Dandowin.  You will tell his wife his words, and you will not burden her further with your feelings of guilt.  Then, you will see about getting your ship from Tel Mora.  I will help you with this for I have some gold to help you.  You will name your ship ‘The Dandowin’ after your best friend. Then when we have rebuilt our homes, and our land, you will marry me right away because I will not raise our child alone.”

Helmer raised himself with great pain and faced her as she did the same.  The small smile upon her face was in unison with the sadness of their current castle’s woes.  All he could do was look at her until he brought her face and to body to him, and kissed her and held her with all his might.

 

     Sigrid bent her head against the cold and biting wind, as she navigated the steps with the ring of guards about her.  When she got to the line of them, the torches were coming into view.

Roughly thirty torches walked in two columns in a straight line up the main road of Lokken, in between them were four or five figures she could not make out, as the light kept moving toward and away from them.  They seemed to look at the destruction about them.  One in the forefront was tall, carrying another in his arms wrapped in furs and blankets.  When they were but a few yards from them, she grabbed a torch from Kolbein and briskly moved past her own men.  They ran to keep up, trying to keep her ringed and protected.  Finally at the front of the visitors, she stopped cold, dropping her torch into the snow.

 

     “Hello, mother.”  Said Wulfren sadly.

Sigrid fell to her knees in the snow with her head bowed and sobbed.  Her great shoulders shook as she whispered between the sadness.

 

     “Thank you, Wulfgar.  Oh my dear love, thank you.”

 

 

 

Chapter 34

 

 

          Deep in the calderas of a great silenced volcano chain, slept great Tosh Raka.  Having grown impatient waiting for news about the outbreak of Oblivion gates and the Nerevarine on the mainland, he ventured out at the deepest dark of night, when the moons were at their blackest.  Sweeping his realm in great circles looking for the slightest changes to his realm.  All seemed as before.  The snows of winter were starting to lessen and thaw, and that meant the reawakening of the Kamal.  He tolerated their nuisance every year, and in some cases, enjoyed it for the distraction.  There were the usual patrols of Tsaesci ships on the coasts and open water that he despised, promising himself over and over to one day remove these snakes from his lands when he has rebuilt the dragons populations to a sizeable strength.

     Having tired himself, he laid to rest in his den, breathing deeply until another stone kicked by Da Nan’Rin down the stone steps awakened him.  He was not as amused this time as before, and huffed menacingly.

 

     “Acolyte.  I have told you before about your habit of heralding your presence with a stone.  Even if I slumber, I will hear your approach.  There is no need for this constant cowardice.”

Da Nan’Rin stepped lightly down to the brim of Tosh Raka’s den, his toe claws making their usual clack amongst the obsidian walls and stalagmites.  He bore two cylinders in his hand that were of gold and silver.

 

     “A thousand apologies most venerable one.  I always humbly endeavor to never awaken you from your much-needed slumber unless the need is of great interest, or importance.  I bear two messages, and a guest most venerable one.”

Tosh Raka raised his immense scaly and finned head to look at Da Nan’Rin with his bright luminescent golden eyes.  He stared at him, but saw just the single acolyte.

 

     “A guest?”  He bellowed.

     “Yes most venerable one.  May I present to you a messenger from the Daedra Prince Azura, her Twilight maiden Sharia.”

With a flapping of leathery wings the Winged Twilight flew to where Da Nan’Rin stood.  She wrapped her great wings about her form, and bowed her head.   Tosh Raka always enjoyed seeing Winged Twilights, and found their singsong voice when relaying their messages wholly pleasant.  Shifting his great length to face her, he spread his enormous striped wings and bowed his great head in return.   In her enormous feet-claws was a cloth bag that was rather full and somewhat damp.

 

     “Do proceed.”  Tosh Raka commanded.

With a simple flight of her wings, Sharia lifted off the ground and spilled the contents of the bag upon the obsidian floor.  Before all were about a dozen pieces of wet wood, ornately carved and painted in gold, silver, and crimson.  When she came back to the ground, she opened her wings and began to speak.

 

     “Great dragon King, my Lady knows of who and what you seek.

The snakes that sail, have taken him this moment that we speak.

I know not why the Daedric Prince, such pain must bring to weak.

Such torment that all Men and Mer futures are surely bleak.”

 

Tosh Raka just looked at the Winged Twilight, then to the pieces at the floor.  Looking next to his acolyte, Da Nan’Rin bent to retrieve the pieces.  Impressed with the scrollwork and fine details, he laid the small pieces as best he could, in the hopes that his ancient knowledge of the old Daedric runes and the fitting of the broken pieces were correct.  Judging from their size and curve, these were a ship’s pieces.  His black claws went to finger the pieces, then his furred chin, then back to the pieces.  When he was done, he scratched his great whiskers and stood back.

 

     “Most venerable one, I have tried to put them in order of how they were carved.  I believe it reads…”One Clan Under Moon and Star.” 

Just then the Winged Twilight opened her wings again and started to sing.

     “Great Dragon King, my champion was friend to Dragon born.

They seek to wipe him from this world and also his unborn.

You know they killed the Dragon born; his sires too were shorn.

Great gates of evil dot their lands where soon all will be forlorn.”

 

With a single bow, Sharia folded her wings again, and with a flash of light, was gone. 

Leaving Tosh Raka and his acolyte to ponder these messages.  Tosh Raka then lifted his head and faced the sky.  With a roar he let loose a stream of fire, and raised his immense wings.  With a tremendous leap, he vaulted into the sky with roar.

 

     From the blackness of dreamless sleep awoke the tired and worn Ingred Rems.  She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, but it must not have been long.  Her arm was wrapped and sewn anew, and she was dressed in bed linens.  There were furs that were brought up to her neck and arms across her legs.  Sitting up, she saw the limp forms of both Meira and Berna draped across the foot of her bed.  They were both seated into chairs and apparently kept vigil on her condition.  Then the reality returned and hit her hard in the chest.  Dandowin was dead.  A man she loved like a friend, like a brother, and she would finally admit to herself like a betrothed. As she loved and honored the memory of Dennir her only love, she loved Dandowin too.  Not as deeply as a wife, and of course, never as intimately as lover, but by the Gods, she loved him so.

Laurenna popped into her mind and she drew her knees to her chest and hugged them.  How is she taking this?  How can she possibly be taking this?  The questions ate at her resolve, and she cried silently.   When she was done, she withdrew from her loving housemates and looked for clothing.  Dressing into some leggings and a tunic, she raised the snoring Berna and the shivering Meira and placed them both into the bed.  After covering each one in furs, she sat a moment looking at her friends.  How she loved them both, even with their annoyances.  Meira surprised her most, having not only come to the frozen Lokken lands, but also actually fought at Laurenna’s side. 

 

This was her family.  This was her life, and a great big part of it was taken from her.

Closing the door silently, she put on her boots and went to find Helmer with haste.

 

          It was nearing dawn when the procession of warriors and Lokken citizens were finally in the castle.  Many of the guards; Kolbein, Ismir, Thurman, and Ulfgrun lowered their heads in great disappointment when Wulfren arrived, remembering his departure.  Sigrid saw to Lisendra, who looked at the missing side of her quaint red walled cottage and shook.  What a battle that must have raged here, to cause such damage?  Sigrid welcomed the various warriors, Men and Mer alike, who protected her son and his family back to Lokken.  When she came to the small and beautiful Luthien Morvayn, it was Wulfren and Lisendra who formally introduced her, and explained how before Dandowin left he had her and others seeing to their care on the mainland.  It was then that Wulfren noticed the solemn faces all around at the mention of his name, and worried about his sister.

 

     “Mother?  Where is Laurenna?  Has the heir come at last?  Where is my sister? For I need to apologize to her.”

Sigrid could not contain her grief, and bit her lip as the tears just flowed from her eyes.  Seeing this, Wulfren went to barrel past her to the throne room, which was heavily guarded from the outside by Ljot and Fridgeir. When they saw Wulfren, they nodded slowly in respect but would not move from their post.  She stopped him with a firm hand.

 

     “NO!  Do not go in there my son.  Please…a while.  Bring Lisendra, Solgerd, and Granny Torunn to the lower dining room, we shall speak there.”  She said with a shaky voice.  She turned to face Luthien Morvayn, placing a hand upon her shoulder as well.

 

     “Would you please join us as well lass?  This is of great importance to you I fear as well.”

Luthien swallowed hard, her amethyst eyes narrowing to Sigrid’s as she searched her tearful face.  She nodded her consent, and followed all to the dining room.

     Once inside, she seated all slowly, helping Wulfren get Lisendra comfortable.  Luthien she sat next to herself, on the opposite side of the family and elder citizens.  She placed her hand upon Luthien’s, which made her jump slightly.  Luthien was not so accustomed to such affection from those she barely knew.  Something in her stomach told her that one of her worst fears had come to pass, but she tried to mask her own emotions.

 

     “My son, and friends, we lost many the day of the battle, amongst them the Wise Snorri whom saved all our lives at our darkest hour.  We prevailed, but during our healing, came upon such terrible misfortune.”

With great emotion Sigrid told all of the appearance of Helmer, battle scarred and clutching the piece of the Azura. Sigrid withdrew the piece from her robe, first passing it to Luthien Morvayn.  Luthien shuddered when it touched her, and she thumbed the scrollwork.  She then without looking at him passed it to Wulfren.  Before it left her hand, a tear fell to her arm as it reached for his.  Sigrid continued.

 

     “All within and without took this news badly, but none more than your sister and wee Solveig.  Solveig collapsed the very moment and I have been healing her.  I fear for all their lives, and your sister the most.  She has ensconced herself into the throne room and will not leave the seat.  No food or water will she take, and by will alone she refuses to let the heir come forth.  I…I…Oh my daughter!  I fear she seeks to join Dandowin in Sovengarde, with my grandchild as well!”  Sigrid wept.

 

     Wulfren turned to Lisendra who was crying.  Granny Torunn and Solgerd wept as well.  Was there nothing they could do?  Luthien Morvayn just stared at the piece of the Azura again, biting her own lip.

 

     “Well what are we doing here?  Why not just pick her up, and drag her to the Master Bedroom and keep her safe?  Tie her down if need be for the sake of the heir!”  Wulfren shouted.

Sigrid shook her head placing her hands upon the table.  Her words were almost too hard to utter.

 

     “NO!  My son, you were not here the day of the battle.  We were at the Door of Doom, and it was your sister, Imperial Ingred, Snorri, and fair Anneliese who won the day.  She became more than The Lady of Lokken.  Your sister fought and shone like a beacon of hope, and many here and without feel she is Gods touched.  In the stead of Dandowin our Castle Master, it is your sister, Laurenna, who rules in Lokken.  Even I, as the Great Lady of Lokken cannot order her to be handled thus, not as her mother and not as ruling family.  None that fought beside her that day would ever challenge her, even in this madness.”

 

     “Well then what are we all going to do?  We can’t just let her die over Dandowin can we?  Is there no one who can or will break through to her?”  Wulfren shouted disgustedly.

Luthien Morvayn rose then, and placed her hands upon the table.  She faced Wulfren with sadness and something dangerous in her eyes.

 

     “Prince, do you love your wife?”

Wulfren didn’t like her tone as well as the question, but in the face of all she did, he just nodded affirmatively.

 

     “Then understand something.  Your Castle Master, your brother and my late love, was more than just “Dandowin”.  Many owe not just their lives to him, but also their love to him.  Try and understand what he meant…means to your sister.  I loved him just as much as she and let him go so he could chase the dream he found with your sister.  Your great love for your wife made you turn your back on your family, home, and people, but it is his love for everyone that left the will to sacrifice ours for his.  I do not wish to see his legacy pass from the world nor the woman that bears it.  But if she has chosen to do so, who am I or anyone to stop her?”

Wulfren was beside himself.  This was madness!  Madness!  He rose and barreled his way past those seated and headed for the throne room.  Sigrid grabbed Luthien’s hand and squeezed it, pleading.  Is there nothing we can do?  She seemed to say with her eyes.

     Another knock at the door brought their attention to Ulfgrun, who saluted Sigrid.

 

     “Great Lady, the townsfolk, warriors, and citizens of Lokken have gathered outside the castle and wish to enter.  They wish to beg for the life of the heir and The Lady of Lokken.  They wish to be heard.  They all wish to speak to your daughter.  What shall I do Great Lady?”

Sigrid rose still holding the hand of Luthien.  Wiping her face, she commanded.

 

     “Let them enter, and we shall let them try. If it is my daughter’s destiny to join her husband, my poor missing son, then let destiny earn that right!  She is my daughter!

With determination Sigrid rose, and gathered those about her to join her.  Luthien stayed behind in the dining room, and sat again.  In her hands she held the piece of the Azura and just closed her eyes.

 

     Ingred Rems opened the door to the children’s room to find Helmer lying in the arms of Leilana.  She was napping quietly and the sound snapped her awake.  Helmer still slept, but was shivering.  A fever had begun to set in, and Leilana used her own heat to warm him. 

When Leilana saw Ingred walk into the room with purpose, she rose, and took an axe from the wall.  Standing defiantly before the shivering body of Helmer, she stood her ground with resolve.

 

     “If you’ve come to harm my beloved, you’ll have to do so through me Imperial.  I am soon to wed him and already bear his child.  I won’t let anyone ever harm him again!”

Ingred stopped and gave Leilana the oddest look.  She softened, and was slightly hurt to think that she thought she would harm an ill man.  Instead, Ingred extended her bare arms and turned the palms upward, imploring her.

 

     “Nord, I am just barely holding on here…I ask, nay, beg you.  Please let me speak with him.  Let me know what the final hours of the man I loved so much were like.  Help me, please…to get…past…this pain.”  Ingred cried.

Leilana lowered the axe and reached out to Ingred, and brought her to sit at the bedside.  Ingred startled Leilana by placing a hand on her still trim abdomen and asked quietly.

 

     “Truly?”

Leilana nodded with a small warm smile, and Ingred closed her eyes.  Gently Leilana woke Helmer who was startled to see Ingred Rems at his bedside.  He sat up slowly, still shivering a bit.  He looked sadly and smiled weakly.

 

     “Nord…Helmer, please tell me of his last hours.  Give me something that I can leave here with, that will give me peace.  I beg you.”

Helmer took Leilana’s hand and started at the beginning.  He spoke of their first voyages, of leaving Tel Mora in the early hours with the infected Mistress Dratha.  Retelling of their preparations at Tel Fyr, and of returning to Tel Mora to see the Azura being built.  There was the journey to the Wilderness, and of the storm that overtook them until Laurenna contacted him about the war. How they turned around only to be attacked by vicious ships, and they each took arrow wounds.  With a choking voice, he spoke of how Dandowin turned him around, kissed his forehead, and sent him home to Lokken with a message to his wife.  Lastly, was of seeing his best friend and Castle Master tumbling into the dark, foamy void of the stormy sea.

Behind them came the sound of a great cry.

 

     “Nnhhhn!”  Cried Solveig aloud.

Dressed in a simple night chemise, she dropped to her knees as Ingred rose.  Scooping her up in her arms, Solveig buried her face into Ingred’s neck and sobbed as Ingred did the same.  Quietly, Ingred walked out of the room with Solveig in her arms. 

 

     A groaning gate broke the sound of the stormy winds outside of the ruined, decrepit fort that stood vine covered on the shoreline. Barely recognizable from the surrounding terrain, it was the small fires that burned in sconces outside and from within that betrayed that life still dwelled within it. 

Down a dark corridor, broken by the dim gray light from outside that shone through holes in the ceiling, walls were lined in moss covered prison cells.  Most of these were empty, and unusable.  Their bars long eaten by age, rust, and war.  All but three were without cell doors. 

     A great shuffling of the gravel and stones that littered the floor hallway brought hands to a single occupied cell door.  Two pairs, one dark gray with blackened, broken, fingernails grasped the bars.  A loud clang of their slave bracer and a face covered in wild unkempt hair strained an eye to see unsuccessfully in the gloom.  The other pair, pale as the clouds on friendlier weather also grasped at the bars, the dirty, stringy blonde hair plastered against her skull and down her bare chest.  One frantic blue eye peered to see as an approaching shape started to appear in and out of the beams of skylight.

A club was beaten against the bars knocking the hands back.  Chains rattled and scraped along the stone floor as the bare feet of the prisoners slapped against the damp floor scurrying to crouch in the corner. 

 

     “Get back.  Scum!”

     A jingling of keys brought panic and the two huddled holding one another.  The cell door opened with a loud groan and the shuffling grew louder.  Two sets of scaly, golden arms gently lowered a wet and bloodied body with a thud to the stone floor.  It was naked to the waist, in ripped fur leggings and also, barefooted.  A slave bracer adorned its right wrist the same as the other cellmates. When the shuffling left the room, the keys jingled and locks were turned.  Orders were given and obeyed, just as the first sounds of life came from the body on the floor.

 

     “It lives.  Go fetch our Mistress and inform her that the mission was successful.  I must contact the Lord.”  Hissed the voice.

When the groan of the outer gate heralded that they were alone, a Dunmer woman crawled to the man on the floor.  She looked at his body of scars, and noticed the seeping wound on his right leg.  Tearing a piece off his leggings, she ran to the waste bucket and dipped it in the freshly deposited urine.  Upon returning, she jammed it into the wound.  Holding it in place, causing him to moan.  The other prisoner moved to the new occupant, bending to remove his hair from his face.  Rainwater from the ceiling fell on her back and dripped off her breasts to fall upon his face.  His eyes opened slowly in the gloom.

 

     “Who are you Nord? From where do you come from?”  Asked the Dunmer woman.

 

 

 

Chapter 35

 

 

     Try as he might, Wulfren could not get Ljot or Fridgeir to open the throne room doors.  His threats were hollow, his rants ineffective.  None forgot how he left, and even as part of the ruling family, few were going to forgive him.  The way that most of the citizens looked at it, Laurenna rules in Lokken if Dandowin is in Sovengarde. 

At the height of his frustration, Sigrid appeared, and with the guards opened the main doors.  Looking out at her beloved Lokken, she saw it was filled with dozens of her citizens, all carrying tokens, and mementos, just things to offer.  It touched her deeply as she saw all those who fought and were injured during their battle.  Ingegerd limped with a stick carrying her gloves; Fjorngrin carried his bow and arrows, with two tankards.  The Njorns lost everything, but even they came with meals and flowers from the surrounding wilds.  Warriors and hunters, wives and women alone, filed into the foyer each addressing Sigrid as they passed.

     “Great Lady.”  She heard, as each bowed in passing.

 

     When they were all inside, she walked to the throne room doors and quietly and softly moved Fridgeir and Ljot aside.  As she did so, Ingred appeared holding the still body of Solveig.  Concern overtook as she ran to her, and felt her head.  She was warm.  She checked her pulse-she was alive.  The poor dear was sound asleep, eyes and nose wet from crying.  Ingred herself looked terrible, with eyes red as Dandowin’s hair and nose to match.  She held onto Solveig tightly and would not release her.  It was she who Sigrid let enter first, then herself, and then Wulfren.  Karl and Stephann, Lisendra’s dearest friends and hunting partners, carried her from each side.  Soon many filed in though none approached too close.  The sight before them stayed all, save Ingred with Solveig in her arms.  It brought a gasp to Sigrid, who ran to Ingred’s side.

     Before them sitting on the throne Laurenna sat with her deep blue eyes surrounded with red.  She was deathly pale with dark circles that formed under her eyes.  Her hair was a mass of wild silver white that fell to her shoulders.  Her lips were dry and parched.

The front of her tunic was drenched in her own life giving milk at the breasts, and her lower seat and rest of her maternity dress was drenched in her own urine.  She gripped at the sides of the fur-covered throne, looking without focusing straight ahead.  Her knees were holding the weight of her huge belly, while her legs bowed outward to end in bare feet that were dangerously close to turning blue.  When she focused a bit, she moved her head left and right, going from Sigrid, to Ingred, to Solveig, which brought tears to her eyes.  Wulfren brushed passed his mother and Ingred, to kneel at his sister’s feet.  He began to choke on his own words.

 

     “My sister…I…I am so sorry.”  He wept.

Laurenna looked down at Wulfren as if he was a ghost.  There was no smile; just her gritted teeth as she was enduring internal distress that Sigrid surmised were the contractions of labor pains.  There was a danger present that all could feel; something had to be done.  When Laurenna spoke, it chilled the soul to hear her speak so cryptically.

 

     “So…Wuuulfren.  Come…to…uhn…claim your throne…uhn…now?  Not long now…not long…now.  Soon I will be with my husband, and you can…uhn…have it all.  I…I…made…him…promise.  “Come back to me.” I...uhn…told him, or I will not have this baby without him.  I…uhn…will keep my promise.”

Wulfren made a desperate grab at Laurenna’s feet and paid for it.  Laurenna kicked him in the face and drew up the axe that she moved to the side of the throne.  Taking it up, she brought it to her chest, clutching it like a love.  Wulfren fell backwards on the steps as Laurenna hissed at him.  All inside were shaken to their core.

 

     “I…Nnhhhn…TOLD YOU WULFREN!  You will have to…wait.”

 

     Desperately, Laurenna held the axe with one hand as the other grabbed the chair.  She let out a great gasp of air through her teeth as her knees shook.  Breathing heavy, she regained her posture as before and stared out at everyone, gasping.  Ingred couldn’t take the sight anymore and removed the sleeping Solveig to the dining room.  When she walked inside, she noticed someone at the table at the end with their head down.  She noted the ears and earrings and when she got closer, Luthien Morvayn raised her head up.  In her hands was the piece of the Azura, wet anew from her own tears.  Ingred laid Solveig on the table and covered her with her a tablecloth.  She sat across from Luthien, and reached out to hold her hands.

 

     The Black Shalk Corner Club was busy with the usual riff-raff, and Nidryne Redas was counting her luck.  She had been able to secure their only room, and with her mug of Flin, she sat looking out at the patrons.  The price was right, affording her to save most of her gold.  Tomorrow she would first get information about Solstheim, and depending on that news, she would either make passage to Cyrodiil or entrench with the other refugees in the Redoran compound. Then she could make her way to her brother Timor in Balmora, who would put her up for a while.  Since all that she worked for and knew died in the destruction of Ald’ruhn, there was no one she had to worry about that would recognize her. 

In her mind, she spat on all those that were involved with her revenge.  She didn’t ask for help, they volunteered so she owed them nothing.  Worst of them; that Tribunal twisted Priestess Sedris Omalen with her constant attempts at affection.  The mere thought of her with her stroking her hair, or trying to kiss her made her angrier and more satisfied that she abandoned all of them.  She could enact her revenge another day, she promised.  So the cow was alive, but that doesn’t mean she can’t kill her, her child, and the Nerevarine later if she needed to.  Better with a smaller amount of people involved, not some stinking big army of trash and degenerates.  A clawed hand thrust into her face broke her thoughts and interrupted her planning.

 

     “A coin perhaps you share with me?  A coin for me Sera?”  Purred the robed Khajiit.

Nidryne barely looked in its direction as she slapped its hand away with her mug.  The prattle of the people stopped only for a second or two before everyone shrugged and went about their business.

 

     “Disgusting creature, be gone before I kill you!”  She spat.

 

     “As you wish Sera.  Many apologies to you.”  Purred the Khajiit.

With a waddle the Khajiit padded away from Nidryne Redas and out the door.

     Outside, Ahnassi clicked her claws and headed straight for her friend Senyndie at the Redoran compound. 

 

     Blurred eyes burned from seawater scanned the dimly lit cell.  The floor was very cold and very wet.  First was the smell of urine, and then stale air filled with deep body sweat.  He felt himself being dragged to the corner of the cell, his heels scraping on the damp stone floor until the pale arms lifted them. 

 He was propped up upon the Dunmer’s knees, hearing bare feet smack along the damp floor about him.  Soon a cup of rainwater was brought to his lips and he gagged on it at first.  The gray hands stroked his temple, while the pale hands steadied his hands to sip the water.  As his vision began to clear, the first thing he noticed were a pair of dirty pale breasts dangling off to the side of him.  As he looked upward, red glowing eyes peered from a canopy of wild dark hair that was unkempt and quite dirty.  Trying to speak, he raised his arm but a few inches off the ground and shook it weakly.

 

     “Thank you.”  Coughed Dandowin.

Under the canopy of black hair and red eyes a smile appeared, where two of the front teeth were missing.  The voice of the pale breasts echoed at his side.

 

     “Don’t thank us yet stranger.  You have no idea what is in store for us.”  Came the comment in an unmistakable Breton accent.

 

     “Shush! Mirelle.  Given the bracer and lack of clothes, it is obvious he is in no better way.”

Mirelle moved closer to the two to share body warmth.  Dandowin’s sense was assaulted with the heavy scent of their sweat and their musk, but was thankful for the warmth.

 

     “I am Gehenna Dilavani, from Cyrodiil.  I was a merchant there, bringing my wares from the Summerset Isles to Mournhold when we hit a storm, and then were attacked.  The monsters killed my crew and threw me in here, alone.  Then they put Mirelle in later."

Mirelle snorted and spat.  She grabbed Dandowin’s face at the chin and shook it.

 

     “When she says ‘killed’ darling, she means ‘eaten’.  Welcome, whoever you are, to Akavir.  Land of snakes and death.” 

Dandowin tried to rise but was too weak.  He had lost so much blood even holding up his head was a chore.

 

     “The cheery one is Mirelle Delim.  She was-“

Mirelle bumped Gehenna with her shoulder and gave her a stern look.

 

     “I can speak for myself Dunmer.  Darling, I am Mirelle Delim, clothier, arbiter of fashion sense, and now more than likely your roommate for the next ‘rest of your life’.”

Gehenna shook her head at her and rubbed Dandowin’s temples. 

 

     “Soon they will be back with food, which won’t be much.  While we have this moment, who are you stranger?”  Asked Gehenna softly.

Dandowin looked up at Gehenna and again, tried to raise his hand.  Getting it as far as his stomach, she took it in her hand in greeting.

 

     “Dandowin, of Lokken” He managed.

 

     “Dandowin what? Darling.”  Asked Mirelle.

Looking up to her now he tried to see her face in the space between her breasts.  Sensing his movement, she brought her face nose to nose with his own.  Her breath was rancid as she also, was missing a few teeth and what ones she had were nearly green.

 

     “I…don’t have a last name.  I don’t know where I come from or who my parents were.  I only know that I am a Nord, and from the looks of it not a very good one if I am here and not in…Sovengarde.”

Mirelle moved back a bit to get into focus and smiled. 

     “Well then, looks like you are going to be “Dandowin Darling” until they decide what to do with us.  Lokken…isn’t that on Solstheim?  That’s the other side of the world!”

Gehenna tried to move Dandowin to a seated position; leaning him against the wall of the cell. He shivered until she joined him. 

 

     “How is it you came to be here yourself Dandowin?”

 

     “I was on an expedition, to save my people.  The emperor suggested that I undertake this journey, but like you, we were attacked trying to turn and go home.  My wife…”

Dandowin choked and then looked at his hand.  His wedding ring was gone.  Closing his eyes, he just banged his head against the cell wall over and over until Mirelle stopped him by grabbing his head.

 

     “You’re married?  Wow, I pegged you for a lone adventurer type Darling.  So, who is your wife?  Any kids?”

Dandowin still kept his eyes closed as a tear left the side of his face next to Gehenna.  Seeing this, she motioned to Mirelle to stop asking so many questions.

 

     “What?  I am interested?  We may not get this chance again Gehenna.”

Dandowin opened his eyes and looked at Mirelle.  She was fairly pretty though disheveled.

 

     “It’s okay, I don’t mind.  Laurenna.  I married the Princess of Lokken, Laurenna.  She is with child.”

 

     “And you went adventuring because she got big as a Guar didn’t you?  Ah you men are all the same…get a little big in the hips or the ass, and you’re ready to sail away until something slimmer comes along.”  Spat Mirelle.

 

Dandowin tried to raise himself but fell.  Gehenna shot Mirelle a stern look to which she just sucked her teeth.  Moving over to the waste pail, she squatted to relieve herself and then sat facing the two.

Dandowin just looked at her with pain in his face.  Mirelle started to think that maybe she does indeed talk too much.  Dandowin surprised her by speaking again.

 

     “War came to my home, the ghosts of my past enemies you might say.  I was away when she told me through my wedding ring.”

Dandowin lifted his hand and there was the unmistakable depression of a ring band where his wedding ring was.  Mirelle moved closer to look at his hand.

 

     “Hey I heard of those!  Never seen one myself, but I heard that you can talk and such for miles away.  She must be a princess to afford that trinket.”  Chuckled Mirelle.

 

     “How is it that you came to be here Mirelle Delim?  Was your ship attacked as well?”

Mirelle stopped chuckling and looked seriously at Dandowin. 

 

     “I got larger in the hips and the ass and my companion sent me here, while he married someone slimmer.”  She said with no emotion.

After a few seconds and a chiding from Gehenna, Mirelle spurted with a chuckle and kicked at Dandowin’s bare foot with her own.

 

     “I was on Gehenna’s ship Dandowin Darling, we were both transporting wares to the mainland.”  She chuckled.

Their mild moment was interrupted by the groan of the outer gate.  All mirth ended and true fear replaced it.  Dandowin instinctively tried to place an arm around each in protection, but could barely manage it.  The same shifting sound came and Mirelle muttered under her teeth.

 

     “Damned snakes!  They’re back!”

Dandowin had never seen a Tsaesci.  Even the books he read and the parchments he studied in his travels spoke little about them.  All he knew from the lore was that they ate all the Mer and Men of this land.  If they came to eat the three of them, he couldn’t defend them from doing so.

     He didn’t have long to wait; for first there was the small one.  He was slightly round, with large golden scales.  His tail was spiked with smaller spikes, and he wore a leather-studded vest with arm guards.  His head bore a deformity, where his eye was put off nearly a hand’s length lower than the other.  At his waist was a set of keys.  His hands, which were lithe and clawed, were scaled as well until Dandowin noticed something he recognized.  There, on the center finger of its hand, was his wedding ring.

The smaller one was followed by two much taller others, one in armor with a wicked series of spikes and a more wicked sword, the other was a female.  She was for lack of a better word, unbelievable.  From the waist up she appeared as almost a normal woman save for having no nose, and her hair was like that of the Argonians, more skin and horn than hair.

She had the same scales, though hers was smaller and more uniform.  Her movement was precise as she undulated her muscled tail along the floor, moving the dust and rocks beneath her.  She was bejeweled and wore a robe of the finest colors and design.  Her nearly amber slotted eyes fixed on Dandowin immediately, and that unnerved him to his bones almost as much as her fanged smile did.

 

     “Ah!  So, you have already gotten acquainted with one another.  That is good.  Excellent even.  Ladies, I present to you Dandowin Nerevarine, the Castle Master of Lokken, Chieftain of the village of Thirsk, Hero of the Red Star of Tel Nechim, Bloodskal of the Skaal of Solstheim, Slayer of Dagoth Ur and of the Tribunal Goddess Almalexia.  An Operative of the Emperor’s Blades; One Survivor of the Great Hunt of Hircine, and champion of the Daedra Lord Azura herself.  Have I left any out?”

The women next to him stared between the Tsaesci female and Dandowin.  He still held them closely and protectively, even if it was merely bravado.

 

     “How is it that you know of me here?  What is it that you want?”

The Tsaesci female slithered closer and grabbed him right off of the two women.  Lifting Dandowin to her face, she looked him in his angry eyes with much amusement.  She held him there by his neck, strong enough to subdue him but not harm him.  All Dandowin could see was his reflection in her cold, amber, stare.

 

     “Direct.  To the point, which I like Nerevarine.  How is it that you couldn’t figure it out for yourself?  How is it that you could slay both a Mad God and a God King and be so easily deceived into making a fruitless voyage to an unknown land?  Shall I tell you?  Considering you shall never leave here, it is the very least I can do.  It was I who sent that letter to you, not your beloved Emperor.  By the time it had reached your hands, he was already dead, as was his sires.  As a student of history, I have watched your development with interest, and when the Prince of Destruction himself contacted us with his plan for you, well, it was an answer to our prayers.  But we will discuss all of that in your many years here, which if the legends are correct, shall be eternity.  You, like we, are immortal.”

 

Dandowin was tired, and had nothing left.  He was deceived!  By a Daedra Lord he never even had any dealings with at all.  He was taken from his home and his wife and child for nothing more than some personal vendetta.  It enraged him, and would he were able, he would have dug out her eyes for her mocking him.

 

     “What possible use can I be of the Tsaesci?  If you haven’t noticed lately I can barely save the Dunmer people.  I slew Dagoth Ur, but his own people are killing his followers and the blight remains in those affected.  I killed Almalexia only in defense of myself, for she planned to murder me for her cause.  None but the King of Morrowind and his mother know that she is dead, and now you it seems.  Most don’t believe me when I have said it. As for Thirsk, or my home, we stayed to ourselves and let the world fix its own problems.  I didn’t even go to Cyrodiil or Ald’ruhn to address the Oblivion gates.  The Great Houses finally pulled together last I noticed.”

The Tsaesci female lifted him and dropped Dandowin onto the floor.  She twirled once with her arms extended and spoke with laughter.

     “But where are my manners?  Nerevarine, I am Sheniala Etim Versidue-Shaie.  A surviving much distant relative to potentate Versidue-Shaie who once ruled your ancient Cyrodiillic Empire, murdered by the vicious Morag Tong, and my kin and teacher.”

She then slithered over to him again and lifted him anew.  She bared her fangs then and with her black serpents tongue, licked Dandowin’s face from chin to forehead.  He struggled in her grasp as the women huddled in the corner nearly mad with fear.

 

     “As for your possible use, well, let me tell you.  We Tsaesci have taken to raiding the sea islands of the Goblin races because in our shortsightedness, we had exhausted our favorite food, the Akavirii.  It is no secret that what holds in your books are true.  Walk this land from one end to the other; you’ll not find one survivor of your humankind.  Just those wretched Tang Mo and their equally disgusting Ka Po’Tun, led by their evil Dragon.  We cannot stomach the demons of the Ice, and in truth, we stay on the seas away from the Kamal.  Feasting on them causes…complications.”

She then pointed to their jailor, who just slithered over and bowed to his mistress.

 

     “It was then that the Prince of Destruction proposed a most wonderful solution.  He would attack the lands he intended to reclaim.  The threats, which were the Dragon born family of the Septims and you, God-Slayer, were to be eliminated.  The Dragon born line is extinguished, but you, with your Divine immortality, are best served here, in the ruins of the ancient Septimia, which were originally OUR ancestral ports!  You have met your cellmates.  The Dunmer will live for centuries at least, while the Breton, perhaps decades.  Through your seed, you will repopulate our lands here while the Prince of Destruction will supply us with more and more from his conquest of not only the Imperial lands, but all the surrounding lands as well.  Eventually, we will even get fresh beginnings from even your frozen lands!   You will rebuild our food, and spend your eternal life supplying our stores!”

 

     “MADNESS!  WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WILL EVER DO AS YOU SAY?”

With a twist of her wrist she threw Dandowin against the cell wall.  She then slithered quickly to Mirelle and grabbed her by the leg as she screamed, kicking wildly.  With an evil grin she opened her mouth and fangs wider than believed possible, and proceeded to swallow Mirelle feet first as she writhed in her grasp.  Mirelle pleaded and screamed and cried desperately as she was being slid slowly down Sheniala’s throat.  When Dandowin came to his hands and knees, he begged for her life.

 

     “STOP! I will do as you ask…please do not take her life.  I will do as you ask.”

Sheniala yanked Mirelle from her mouth and threw her atop Dandowin.  She screamed and grabbed at his neck trying to crawl into a ball in his embrace.  Gehenna was crying as she also surrounded the two of them frightened beyond reason.

 

     “SO!  The stories about you are true.  One who can take the life of Gods and beasts and demons and foes, cannot allow the harming of an innocent.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  This is glorious!  You would have disappointed me greatly if you had let me eat her Dandowin Nerevarine.  For then I would have missed your delicious surrender.  But do not fret.  Think of it, the wonders you will see and the enjoyment to my people when we feast on your kin for an eternity.  In a day or so we will move you to our warrens, deep within the ground.  Daylight will be a memory for you, as will all those women who will die of old age when their time with you is done.  I shall return for you all, tomorrow!”

With wicked laughter Sheniala Emit Versidue-Shaie slithered confidently out of the cell and down the halls.  She left the guard at the ruins to keep watch. 

 

For long moments, all the three could do was shiver in the dark.

 

  

 

Chapter 36

 

 

     The Lokken citizens all stood in the throne room paralyzed.  They had endured a battle.  They had endured the tyranny of Ragnar Fire-Hair before this.  They looked at one another, helpless to save their Lady and at a loss for words.   How can you tell a grieving widow who loves her husband to the point of distraction to forget him, and think of the future?  None but her own mother has experienced this loss, and in her case, she was entombed and saw her children banished.

     Wulfren could not believe his eyes, or his sister’s despair.  Was her love for Dandowin so different than his own for Lisendra?  He had chosen Lisendra over his responsibility as chieftain, and over his own family.  It was not Dandowin’s fault he had excelled in the role of Castle Master.  Wulfren left it to him, and the Gods themselves told his mother this should be so.  But there was a child at stake; a child that was his blood kin and will be heir to the Lokken Kingdom.  How deep the grief is, that would drive his own sister to such despair instead of facing a life without her husband.  She seemed so weak, yet she struck him with a power that was frightening.  Now she is armed?  Could she really do this?

 

     Inside the dining room, Ingred Rems and Luthien Morvayn sat staring.  At first, there were no words between them.  Not out of animosity, but out of respect.  Luthien Morvayn shared a love with Dandowin that Ingred Rems could only imagine.  Ingred Rems spent more time with Dandowin than any living person in Vvardenfell, having been with him since he bought their home many years ago.  She watched him grow, as a person and as a man, even though he was the elder.  There were moments they both faced their death and she knew that at his side was the place she would rather be.  When he left the first time, there was such emptiness within her.  Not since her former master Dennir leaving had she felt it.  Deep in her heart, she knew that no matter whom he married or where he traveled, she would come to his side at his asking.  Solveig still slept fitfully atop the dining table, Ingred keeping her near her for reasons that could only be summed up in one word: Love.

     “So what do we do then?”  Asked Ingred after a while.

Luthien continued to stare at the piece of the Azura on the table.  She would take a deep breath and shudder a little bit on exhaling.  Picking it up this time, she held it in her hands again, thinking.

 

     “Tell me something Ingred…do you believe he is dead?”

Ingred looked at the ship’s wood in Luthien’s hand and thought about it, replaying Helmer’s words in her mind.

 

     “Were it coming from anyone else but Helmer, I would call them a liar.” 

Luthien placed the piece of wood down in front of her.  When she spoke, it was with such longing that it made Ingred inwardly shake.

 

     “Ingred.  If our Dandowin is indeed dead, if he is in Sovengarde as they all say, then this child within Laurenna is all that is left of him.  From my heart I would never intervene with his wife’s wishes, even if that wish were to join him in their afterlife at her choosing.  But I cannot help it, call it love, call it whatever you want, but something tells me that he would want this little piece of him to be saved.  Having a family of his own was so important to him.  It was what he spoke of lovingly to me, and I am sure to you as well.  I couldn’t appreciate what that meant until now, when I see how his death affects all around here.  It was more than just wanting a part of himself to live on; it was the love that comes from that I feel is what he wanted most.”

 

     “So, what do we do?  Ingred pressed.

Luthien stood, and braced her hands on the table.  She faced Ingred and bit her lip to hold back her own sadness.

 

     “We save that baby.  We go in there, and find an opportunity to stop her.  It may cost us in the end, her friendship and possibly her wrath, but for Dandowin, we save that child. It is all that is left of a man that loved so many more than himself.”

Ingred rose, and grasped Luthien’s forearm in friendship.  It was settled then.

     “For Dandowin.”  She agreed.

    

     The dank cell was nearly completely dark, save for a bit of starlight that filtered through the clouds and cast a blue hue upon the wet floor.  The torchlight barely illuminated the three as the sat in the corner, huddled and embracing one another.

 

     “Dandowin Darling.  I never thanked you for saving my life there.  I didn’t want to die.”  She cried.

Dandowin stroked her blonde dirty hair and picked up her chin.  Mirelle’s blue eyes were shining in the low light, picking up the starlight from above.  Gehenna’s eyes were shining in the dark, that rare Dunmer strain that would almost make one think she was a vampire.  When she spoke, it was so very weak.

   

     “Tell me truly Dandowin…do not lie.  Is it true, what she said?  Is my Goddess…dead?”

Dandowin turned to face Gehenna and grasped both her hands.  At first, she resisted his touch, and then slowly placed her hands in his.

 

     “Gehenna.  I went to Mournhold to find out who sent the Dark Brotherhood to kill me.  It was with great sadness that I found out the very King of Morrowind himself sought my life.  I earned his confidence, and he asked me to see if the Goddess planned to move against him.  I owed Helseth no allegiance Gehenna, but I needed to know some things about my destiny.  At first, I served the Goddess faithfully, but found out a terrible truth about her.  She had me believe that her fellow God-King Sotha Sil was turning against the people of the land, but when I found him he was long since slain. As I made to leave his city, Almalexia appeared and confessed to killing Sotha Sil, had betrayed her own husband the great Nerevar, and decided to kill me as well.  We fought, and with the great sword of her long dead husband Nerevar, I took her life.  There was no pleasure or honor to it, just sadness, for her death would never be believed of her loyal servants and people.

I left then, never to return.  I even left the mainland of Morrowind, seeking the simple life of a man, to be a husband and hopefully, a father.  I found it, through my Princess, but it was a life that was hard won by freeing her family and home from tyranny.”

 

Gehenna listened, without comment.  Dandowin released her hands and bowed his head.

 

     “All I can do Gehenna is say that I am sorry and ask that you forgive me.  This is not the life I wanted, not at all.  But it is what the Gods have decreed so.”

Gehenna moved to him, and embraced Dandowin.  Mirelle broke the moment by placing her cold feet against his back.  Dandowin jumped, and faced her.

 

     “Sorry Darling, but we have other troubles remember?  In the morning we get moved to the dark and spend our lives in slavery and death.  Would that this bloody bracer were off my arm, I would just cast my way back home!”

Cast.  Home.  If only he had thought to bring another scroll, or had learned to cast as the Breton’s can.  If only.

 

     “You could cast your way home from here Mirelle?  I had a scroll, to return me to my castle throne room, but I sacrificed it to save my best friend.  I tried in vain to get him not to come on this journey, but in truth I needed him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  For myself, all I learned were Almsivi and Divine Intervention, which this far away would be useless.”

Gehenna became interested, and moved to join them.

 

     “Useless?  How so Dandowin?”  She whispered.

Dandowin drew them both close enough to whisper, while their guard slithered back and forth looking mistrusting of their whispering.

 

     “Divine Intervention brings you back to the nearest fortification.  Judging from what that Tsaesci female said to us, we are sitting in the ruins of the ancient Imperial fort, Septimia.  My cast would just bring us here.  As for Almsivi, which would deposit me to the nearest shrine, call it guess, but I think that these creatures would possess some sort of shrine to honor their Gods, if not themselves.  But Mirelle…how is it that you didn’t escape when the ships first attacked?”

Mirelle scratched her tangle of hair and attempted to separate a part to show her scalp.  Having done so, she showed a fair sized bump on her scalp with a bloodied scab that was healing.

 

     “You see this Darling?  I was checking my inventory in the cargo hold when they attacked.  Their first blast knocked me to the floor and everything fell on top of me.  I remember being pinned when the sea was flooding in.  After that, I woke up as you did, in the arms of Gehenna here, stripped and with this bloody bracer on my arm!”

Mirelle pulled Dandowin’s ear to her mouth.  She spoke in desperate whispers.

 

     “If you could only get these damn slaver bracers off Darling, I could maybe get you to my home in Cyrodiil.  I set a Recall spell, but my magic and my spell has room for only one more.”

Dandowin looked at Mirelle.  His face was of pure anger and shock.

 

     “Would you leave your fellow shipmate and friend to death and enslavement?”

Gehenna hearing this lunged at Mirelle with her nails clawing at her.

 

     “You N’Wah!  I should have let them EAT YOU!  How could you do this to me?”

The women grabbed at each other, until Dandowin grabbed Gehenna off the ground as she kicked Mirelle in the stomach. The plug Gehenna placed into his arrow wound came free and bled anew. The Tsaesci jailer just laughed at the chaos.

 

     “Nothing…uhn…nothing personal Darling.  You would have done the same thing!”

Dandowin sat Gehenna down and grabbed her face in his hands.  She was crying and quite angry.

Dandowin moved to her, pulling her hands in his own.

     “I promise you Gehenna, if there is any way I can get these slave bracers off, then she will take you with her, not me.  You both will be spared the terrible fate they have in store for us all.  I promise you.”

Gehenna was breathing heavily as the tears dripped down her dirty face.  In desperation, she tried to kiss Dandowin and started to undo the bindings to her ragged skirt.  He stopped her as she fumbled with the knots.

 

     “That won’t be necessary Gehenna, you’re getting out of here, I promise.”

Turning to Mirelle, Dandowin walked slowly to her as she sat on the damp floor rubbing her stomach where she was kicked.  He bent low to face Mirelle in the dark.

 

     “What?  Are you going to hit me as well Dandowin Darling?”

Dandowin moved with purpose and grabbed her right arm that the slave bracer was clasped upon and held it up to her face.

 

     “As much as I appreciate the offer, I must insist that you take Gehenna instead.”

 

     “Won’t that depend greatly on IF you can get these bracers off Dandowin Darling?”

Mirelle moved her nose directly to bump his own and smiled her green teeth mockingly.

 

     “You’d better hope I can Mirelle.  Imagine what having an infant each year until you are too old to have them will do to you.  It is a decent assumption that these creatures would waste nothing, so come the day your usefulness is in jeopardy I foresee a repeat of yesterday in your future.  Gehenna will at least outlive you by centuries.”

Mirelle drew her knees up to her chest and backed her face away slowly.  She shivered at the memory of nearly being eaten alive.

 

     “I see your point crystal clear, Dandowin Darling.”  Mirelle acquiesced.

Moving over to Gehenna, she made a motion of asking forgiveness and Gehenna embraced her. Turning, they both looked to Dandowin in utter horror when the first colors of early morning light were coming through the holes in the ceiling to frame Dandowin’s mass of auburn and gray hair.  Looking up, Dandowin cringed and closed his eyes.  Whatever he did, he had better work really fast, or all was lost.

  

     With Leilana’s help, Helmer made his way down the steps and through the throng of Lokken’s citizens.  All turned and whispered as he passed, many shaking their head as he walked by.  Leilana held her head confidently, ignoring the whispers about her too.  She kept her eyes on Laurenna, even though to do so was so painful.  Bringing Helmer to stand before her, she then walked away to join the Lokken populace.

 

     “My Lady, I am deeply sorry I could not bring us home before the storm or the attack.

Deeply sorry.”

Laurenna just looked at Helmer with those same haunted, red and crystal blue eyes.  She didn’t smile or frown, just stare at him tilting her head left and right, as if she were trying to focus.

 

     “The Castle Mast-Dandowin, told me to tell you something before he saved me, my Lady.”

Laurenna winced at the mention of her husband’s name, and tears dropped anew.  It shredded Helmer’s heart to be the cause of the pain.

 

     “Your husband, my best friend…said…this “Tell my wife…my love…I will love her forever.”  Helmer said as the sadness overcame him.

Laurenna eyes flutter briefly as more tears ran down her cheeks.  Her breathing came fast again as the contractions of her pregnancy were increasing.  Gripping the throne, she winced and drove back the pain, still clutching the axe dangerously to her belly.

Leilana came to withdraw Helmer to the crowd, and as she turned, she noticed that the Dark Elf warrior woman and Ingred Rems were moving very slowly and with purpose around the main group of people towards Laurenna.

Laurenna noticed the movement when her tears cleared her eyes.  She narrowed her gaze first at Luthien Morvayn, who she had no idea who was this Dark Elf woman in her home, and then to Ingred. Ingred, her dearest friend who loved her husband nearly as much as she, seeks to betray her at last.  Focusing on Ingred, looking into her eyes, Laurenna rose to the shock of all, and with shaking hands raised the axe above her head, posed to strike.  Luthien stopped where she was, but Ingred slowly advanced, one slow foot at a time.  Laurenna spoke to her, in a voice raspy and full of woe.

 

     “SO!  It comes to this then, my sister.  I…I…thought you of all people would understand, since you love my husband as much as I do.  Yet, you bring your own assassin to help you?”

Ingred winced at seeing Laurenna so forlorn, and surmised the pain and loss is clearly making her mind go.  Their only chance now was to save her from herself, and save the baby. Save the baby for Dandowin, for Lokken. The people of Lokken in the throne room started shouting.  Fjorngrin, who taught Laurenna to fight and to hunt, turned his head from the sight.  He remembered the little child with the long silver-white hair who his chieftain entrusted with training her, and watched her grow to be the strength of Lokken itself.  Now, this chaos pained him, to see her gain a love to rival her mother’s, and yet to lose him to the same unknown forces.  He grabbed his tankard and drank deeply, praying the mead would drown out the chaos.

     The shouting outside the dining room startled Solveig, who was weak and felt numb all over.  With a start, she heard her mother’s name and scrambled off the table to stumble weakly to the throne room. 

It was utter chaos.  People were shouting and pleading.  Ingred was slowly walking to Laurenna and a Dark Elf woman was approaching from the opposite side.  Her mother, her dear mother Laurenna stood in complete disarray of damp dress and wild hair, an axe raised high above her head as she stared at Ingred, then to the Dark Elf woman, then to the people of Lokken.  Sigrid pleaded with everyone to calm down, and was not heard.

 

All Solveig could do, was ball her fists and scream as loud as she could.

  

 

 

Chapter 37

 

 

     It was near midnight in Vivec when the door to the House of Dralor heard the knock.  Noble matron Favela was in her night robe, while her guest Dilvene Venim was seated at her dining table in her own robe, writing letter after letter stopping only to rub her tired hands.

   She kept at it, moving the candle closer as it was slowly diminishing to nothing.

Favela hurried to her side, pulling the clawed hand of her visitor who was cloaked.  The robed Senyndie was with her, tired and very enthusiastic.

 

     “Dilvene dear!  We FOUND her!”

Dilvene Venim dropped her quill and grabbed her candle.  She brought it up to meet the visitors. 

Ahnassi removed her hood nervously and bowed her head to the matron Dunmer in her presence.  It was Senyndie who made the introductions.

 

     “Noble Favela Dralor and Noble Dilvene Venim, may I present Ahnassi, my very good and true friend, and the one who first brought the news of the plot to me, as well as the one who has found her.”

Dilvene gave her candle to Favela and grasped Ahnassi’s clawed hands in her own.

 

     “I am very, very pleased to meet you dear.”

 

     Dandowin needed a moment.  His thoughts were erratic, caused by the panic of the early dawn light coming through the ceiling.  His wound was bleeding down his leg and Gehenna sought to replace her simple plug dressing.  Dandowin refused, giving her a simple smile and shake of her head.  His stomach growled, so loud that his cellmates noticed it.

 

     “Well, don’t look at me Darling.  It wasn’t mine!”  Frowned Mirelle.

Gehenna sighed, she was hungry as well, as it looked like they forgot to feed them in the excitement of their new prisoner.  His stomach growling again, Dandowin rubbed at it and felt the small lump underneath his leggings at the waist.

 

He then was struck with a very hopeful idea.  Moving to Mirelle, he extended his hand and lifted her off the floor and walked her over to Gehenna.  To Gehenna, he stroked her worried face.

 

     “Whatever happens, stay here in the corner, and don’t interfere.  If it goes awry, then I may need you girls to act fast and grab his keys.  Run to somewhere hidden and safe and get yourselves free and away.  If you can for me, contact my people in Lokken and tell them I tried again, and what happened here.  There may be the chance that they won’t kill me since I am part of ‘their plan’.”   

 

     “I don’t like this Dandowin…I’m frightened.”  Cried Gehenna.

Dandowin grabbed and kissed her forehead and reassured her.

 

     “Hey, you’re going home Gehenna. You and Mirelle both trust me.  When you make it home, say a prayer for me, and my pregnant wife.  She must be in a terrible way by now.”

Mirelle pushed Gehenna out of Dandowin’s face, and grabbing his hair, she quickly pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply and sloppily. 

 

     “For luck Darling.”

 

Moving to the cell door, the jailer eyed Dandowin suspiciously.  Dandowin just made a frown, and stood defiantly at the bars.  The Tsaesci regarded him coolly, but suspiciously.

 

     “I believe you have something of mine, Tsaesci.”

The jailer immediately put a hand to his finger and hid the ring.  He then mockingly waved his hand at Dandowin to show it, and flicked his forked tongue at him.  Dandowin narrowed his gaze at him when he was taunted.

 

     “Not yours anymore human, mine!”  It laughed.

Dandowin ripped open the small patch that Solveig had sewn for him, and withdrew the Moon and Star ring.  Showing it to the jailer, he held it between thumb and forefinger with a wicked smile.

 

     “What is that?”  It hissed with interest.

 

     “It is my means of leaving here Tsaesci.  With this, I will leave here and take the women with me.  When your mistress returns, she will kill you for being so incompetent and letting us escape.”  Dandowin taunted.

The Tsaesci hissed louder and banged against the jail bars furiously.

 

     “YOU WILL GIVE ME THAT RING!  NOW!” 

 

     “Come in and take it…if you can, snake.”

The Tsaesci did not wait; it immediately opened the door and went straight for Dandowin.  Swinging his club in desperate arcs trying to hit Dandowin, to which he just dodged out of its reach.  The women cowered and screamed, and in a calculated move, it thrust its tail between Dandowin’s legs and swept his legs from beneath him.  Blood poured out of his old arrow wound and before he could reach it, the Tsaesci knocked Dandowin flat with the butt of his club.  He fell back hitting his head on the damp floor, dazed. 

Confident and hissing with glee, it snatched up Dandowin’s hand and wrenched the Moon and Star ring from him.  Dandowin raised his head from the floor to spit out one of his lower teeth and warned the Tsaesci one last time.

 

     “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.  That ring is for me and me alone.”

 

     “Mine now, scum!”  It hissed. 

Latching its club to its belt, the Tsaesci placed the Moon and Star ring upon its center finger, much like it wore Dandowin’s wedding ring on the other hand.  With a wicked grin it extended its arm to flaunt its new possession.  That is when it started to change.

It began at the fingertips, slow and painful as its golden claws withered and cracked, the smaller scales of its golden skin grew brittle and opaque.  It couldn’t move, for it was paralyzed as if set into stone.  Soon its entire arm was withering as more opaque scales dropped to the floor in a cascading shower of death.  It mewled and it cried from its closed lips, as the withering spread faster now, to its chest, its other arm, and down its tail.  With great fear in its eyes it looked pleadingly at Dandowin as the wither desiccated its throat, then its face, as the shine of its open-slotted amber eyes faded to a dark brown. Then they powdered within its now empty sockets, and its life was done.

 

     “You should have listened.”  Dandowin said quietly.

 

With care he removed the Moon and Star ring from its finger.  As soon as he did, the finger broke off, and the arm shattered to pieces.  Grabbing the keys from its withered and shriveled leather belt, he unlocked his slave bracer and then tossed the keys to Gehenna and Mirelle.  Walking to the other side of the dried husk of the creature, he saw his wedding ring on the opposite hand and with shaky fingers removed it as the other arm fell to dust.  Bringing it to his lips, he kissed it with eyes closed and returned it to his finger as Mirelle and Gehenna ran to him embracing him for dear life.

 

     “We should go, now, Dandowin Darling.”  Said Mirelle anxiously.

Dandowin looked at the two with tired eyes and a bloody smile.  He held up a finger motioning that he needed just one small moment first.  Twisting his wedding ring to the left, it thrummed on his hand and the familiar warmth brought tears to his eyes as it warmed his cold hand.  Looking at his confused and still frightened cellmates, he spoke in a normal tone with missing teeth and a bloody lip words that echoed off the cell walls.

 

     “Frost…boar…tusk…in…the…butt.”

 

     It was a scream that shook the very throne room.  Solveig with eyes closed and shaking her fist screamed so loud the arguing and yelling people stopped instantly.  Luthien Morvayn stopped moving towards Laurenna as Ingred turned to do the same.  It was quiet but for a moment, and Sigrid ran to her wrapping her shawl about her trembling frame.

Just then, a loud, deep gasp escaped Laurenna’s lips.  All turned to her immediately as they saw her eyes widen, and the axe fell from her hands to land on the steps with a loud clang.  Her parched lips trembled a few seconds, and she spoke words in a whisper first, repeating them louder and louder.

 

     “F-frost boar tusk in the b-butt.  F-FROST BOAR TUSK IN THE BUTT!” She repeated.

All eyes were on her now, and some started to whisper that she finally lost her mind.  Just then, she let out a great painful moan and there was a large splash at her feet as her water finally broke.

Ingred ran to her then, kicking the axe out of the way, as Laurenna fell back into the throne chair wide eyed and smiling widely.  She grabbed Ingred by the hair and drew her to her face.  With her wild look, she just kept saying it over and over.  Ingred was thoroughly confused.  Sigrid, Wulfren, and Luthien Morvayn ran to her also, all trying to call the next move.

 

     “Perhaps we’re too late, she’s lost her mind in full?”  Asked Ingred with concern.

Fjorngrin, hearing this, downed his mead and barreled past everyone and yanked Ingred out of the way, causing her to fall on her backside on the throne steps.  He pushed Sigrid out of the way too and looked with a great smile at Luthien.  He spoke to Laurenna who was still smiling and starting to cry.

 

     “Frost boar tusk in the butt?”  He asked Laurenna enthusiastically.

Laurenna nodded, and then started to writhe in contracting spasms.  She tried to repeat it, but was sucking in great gusts of air as she grabbed the throne chair and yelled at the top of her lungs.

 

     “HE’S ALIIIIVE!!!”

Fjorngrin turned to face Sigrid, and then everyone else.  Shouting at the top of his lungs, he hollered wildly.

 

     “THE CASTLE MASTER LIVES!  DANDOWIN IS ALIVE!”

Then he grabbed Ingred Rems by the waist and spun her about, planting a great big kiss upon her lips and letting her fall again. Luthien nearly screamed with the news and looked down at the gasping Laurenna.

Sigrid yelled to Sonja to bring her hot water, many towels, and a new robe for Laurenna.

To Ingred, she asked her to fetch her the soap from the kitchen.  Laurenna just looked left and right, eyes wide as she mumbled and then started talking to herself.  Luthien was worried, but Sigrid pointed to her wedding ring.

 

     “She speaks to him right now Lass.” She said with emotion in her voice. 

Everyone started to crowd around the throne when Solveig ran ahead pushing everyone out of the way.  She knelt down to Sigrid and took Luthien’s dagger from her waist sheath.  Before she could stop her, Solveig took the dagger and cut Laurenna’s filthy soaked dress open to the breasts.  Wulfren moved through the crowd to fetch Lisendra from the stool she sat upon and scooped her up in his arms, hugging and kissing her.

     When Ingred and Sonja returned with the hot water and soap, another gush came from Laurenna’s womb as she started to moan loudly.  Ingred and Luthien moved her from the throne to the floor, bracing her legs in each of their arms.  Both Solveig and Sigrid dipped the towels into the hot water as Sigrid soaped her womanhood clean and wiped it with the hot towels.  They removed her soiled, smelly dress and the women ringed her, as their Lady of Lokken was quite naked in that crowded room.  The men of Lokken were ushered outside, except for Wulfren, who held Lisendra in his arms.  Helmer protested leaving but Leilana silenced him with a kiss.

   Laurenna’s words were causing concern to her family as they worked on her. 

 

     “I love you…I love you…NO!  DON’T GO!  Stay with me…stay with me.”  She rasped.

Another contraction and push brought the child’s head to Laurenna’s womb.  All present saw the first tresses of silver-white hair as her child was crowning.  The women smiled and whispered, as she moaned aloud and sucked in more air, gasping in between her words to keep Dandowin talking.  Ingred with emotion bent to her as she held Laurenna’s bare leg in her arms, bent at the knee.  She whispered to her happily.

 

     “It bears your family hair, my sister.”  Ingred choked.

 

Laurenna relayed the news to Dandowin as she spoke and listened.  There were times of terror when Laurenna would yell, “RUN!” with eyes full of fear, and all would stop and gasp.  How terrible this must be, to have her husband facing Gods knows what in her mind as her child comes into the world at her womb.  Solveig placed her hands on Laurenna’s belly as Sigrid placed her fingers at the crowning to help deliver the head.

Pushing and holding, Laurenna screamed in pain, as the baby’s head was moving forward. Luthien and Ingred struggled to keep her large powerful legs in their arms as she kicked outward and back again as the shoulders of the child were coming now.  First one shoulder came, and then the other.  Laurenna was whooping in heavy gasps as Sigrid and Solveig continued to tell her to push downward.  Another scream.  Another gasp.  Finally, with one last push Laurenna screamed and shook and with another great splash, the baby tumbled forward into Sigrid’s hands.  As the umbilical cord unraveled, all present saw a beautiful, healthy, screaming infant girl with a full head of silver-white hair.

 

     “It’s a girl my love…it’s a girl…my…love.  We… will call her, Agna.” 

The last of her strength gone, Laurenna, daughter of Wulfgar the White, Lady of Lokken, and wife to Dandowin Nerevarine, fell unconscious.  Her great long legs fell limp in Luthien’s and Ingred’s grasp, and Sigrid immediately felt her pulse.  It was strong and steady.  For the second time in two days, she looked up with eyes closed and whispered.

 

     “Thank you, Wulfgar.  Oh my dear love, thank you.”

 

     Luthien Morvayn helped Ingred carry Laurenna to the master bedroom.  She was washed thoroughly by Solveig and dressed into a light gown.  After she was wrapped in the covers and furs, Solveig crawled into bed with her and lay beside her mother.

Sigrid held little Agna in her arms for dear life.  The heir to their kingdom, first of many she had hoped, survived and was alive.  Her daughter as well, lives.  Dandowin, against all odds and evils, lives, but with no further word, all worried for how long.  Sigrid sat in the chair across from Laurenna and Solveig, and just held Agna and rocked her back and forth.

     Ingred walked inside the children’s room and found Berna and Meira still asleep.  She looked down at them snoring loudly embracing and she kicked off her boots, and crawled into bed with them, moving to rest behind Meira.  With a great smile on her face, she too fell asleep.

On Sigrid’s request, Luthien Morvayn was asked to sleep in her room.  As Luthien walked quietly inside the room, she noticed the tiny little girl fast asleep sucking her thumb under the covers.  Looking down at her, with her great silver-white hair and peaceful loving face, Luthien smiled and wiped a tear from her face. She then removed her armor and boots, and sat on the bed.  Soon, she leaned forward to rest her head behind Lena’s head.

     The rest of Lokken stood about in the throne room.  Talking and laughing, drinking and remembering, as eventually, they all too found rooms and places to be.  Wulfren and Lisendra under armed guard were the last to leave the castle, and walked up the hill and through the snow to his father’s hunting cottage, where Laurenna spent her exile.  While the guard kept watch for the night, Wulfren and Lisendra for the first time in many months, gently and quietly, made love. 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 38

 

 

     After Dandowin’s message the three wasted no time.  With a great flapping of bare feet on the puddle water of the ruined hallway they ran as fast as they could towards the entrance gate and the approaching dawn.  Their gasps were frantic, and Mirelle tripped, twisting her ankle.  Dandowin scooped her up in one movement and carried her the rest of the way as best he could.

     Breaking through to the outside, the wind whipped their hair as fresh air, sweet and scented by the sea filled their lungs.  Gehenna stopped but for a second to take a full breath, their eyes seeing the now amber gold of the approaching sunlight.

Dotting the horizon and approaching fast, were the lights of the Tsaesci ships.

 

     “Keep moving Dandowin Darling!”  Urged Mirelle.

Still carrying her, he limped and hobbled as the blood from his wound was starting to run from him.  This was not good; he was leaving a trail for them to follow.  There were steep hills behind them, and rocky cliffs to their right.  Their left was the beach and the sea, with ships pulling in faster than they wanted.  They must have been seen.  A horn sounded in the distance from the ships and a lone fireball was launched, hitting yards from where they stood.

 

     “How soon before your strength returns enough to cast Mirelle?”

Mirelle closed her eyes and concentrated.  She bit her lip and tried to focus.  She was so nervous and cold.  The pain of her ankle was making concentrating difficult, and she was beginning to panic. 

 

     “Dandowin…I can’t concentrate!  The pain, the fear, it is all too much!”  She cried.

Gehenna ran back to the stumbling Dandowin and crying Mirelle and helped her to a standing position to lean against the back of the ruined fort. 

 

     “Dandowin!  They’re firing at us!  What do we do?”  She asked frantically.

Mirelle just shook leaning against the wall on one foot, biting her lower lip and frantically trying to concentrate.  Another fireball hit the front of the ruins…they were getting closer.

Scooping up Mirelle he limped with Gehenna in front of him to navigate the steep hill so that they were out of view of the ruins.  In front of them now were more hills leading to a deep-forested area broken by more cliffs and hills.  Behind them, the sea and the danger.

 

     “If only I could focus!  But it’s so hard Darling!”  She cried further.

Gehenna started to pray.  Dandowin stopped her with a hand and shook his head. 

Instead, he asked quickly something quite odd.

 

     “Gehenna…do you know any songs?”

 

     “A…a few, WHY?  I am too nervous to sing!”

Dandowin grabbed her by the face and shook her head with a smile.  Bringing her head to his lips, he whispered into her ear and mouthed the words “please try”.

Mirelle was confused and very nervous.  Just then, Gehenna sat cross-legged on the grass before the two and started to sing softly.  Shaky at first, more hum than song, but soon she sang softly a Dunmer ballad that neither of the two had known.

Dandowin looked at Mirelle, who was breathing hard.  He smiled softly, and taking her head in his hands, he brushed her hair away from her face.  He brought her ear to his lips and whispered.

 

     “Just listen to her singing Mirelle, and look at me.  Keep your eyes on mine and try very hard to ignore everything around us.  There are no ships.  There are no snakes.  All there is, the sound Gehenna’s singing and my eyes on yours.  Can you do that?  Try.” 

Mirelle was about to protest in fear when Dandowin stopped her mouth as she did his earlier with a kiss.  It was soft as a brush at first, and then he kissed her again.  She tried to look left and right, and he pulled her face forcibly to face his own.  Keeping her eyes open and looking into his, he kissed her again.  He parted her lips this time with his own and kissed her deeply.  She returned the kiss as he lifted her right off the ground.  Their eyes were closed this time, and her breath came faster against his skin through her nostrils.  Her greening teeth and his broken and bloodied smile were ignored and forgotten, as she grabbed the back of his head with fingers wrapped into his auburn hair.  She slid her tongue over and under his hungrily while grabbing the back of his legs with her heels.  Holding her tighter to him, their clammy bare chests breathed in unison.  With a heavy breath, she broke the kiss and whispered in his ear.

 

     “Thank you Dandowin.  By the Nine, Thank you.”

The moment he set her down, she limped to Gehenna and grabbed her hand, startling her from her singing.  With deliberate movements, she drew breath and strength inward, mumbling at first to herself the spells and casting of energy needed to perform her Recall.

With Gehenna’s arms about her waist behind her, she raised her arms in preparation of the cast, and blew a kiss to Dandowin.

 

     “May the Gods get you home safely to your wife and baby, Dandowin Darling.”  Prayed Mirelle.

With a flourish Mirelle drew the power to her and soon she and Gehenna were surrounded by a shimmering series of lights that started at their heads, and cascaded down to their dirty feet.  They dimmed slightly as Dandowin saw them both smile and with a flash, they disappeared.

Dandowin doubled back just as the ships were sliding into the shallows.  Ramps were thrown hurriedly down the sides of the ships as the Tsaesci disembarked quickly.

With sand flying under their great tails they slithered towards the ruins and him.  Tearing a piece of his already torn leggings, he stuffed it into his wound, grunting from the pain.  He pondered quickly…the forest or the cliffs?  Opting for the sea, Dandowin ran as best he could towards the cliffs as he turned his ring to the left.  The thrum and his wife’s voice gave him strength.

 

     “My love, I do not know how I will make it off this wretched island, but I have to try.  I am on the other side of the world, but I won’t give up!  I just needed to tell you again, that I love you forever.”

Laurenna’s voice in his mind was harried and in gasps, she was in labor.

     “I love you…I love you.”  Laurenna gasped, in between moans and grunts.

 

     “My love, I am being pursued!  They seek to recapture me and I must flee.  I head towards the sea.  Maybe I can escape under the water.  I will contact you the very second when and if I am safe.”

 

      “NO!  DON’T GO!  Stay with me…stay with me.”  She pleaded.

Dandowin left his ring on as he grabbed and climbed up the sheer angled rock face towards the cliffs.  He hoped beyond hope that there was a way past the cliffs, and not a dead-end or drop.  Hearing his wife scream and gasp in his mind, he pictured her there, giving birth as he ignored the pain of sharp rocks under his feet and cuts on his hands.

The wind off the sea whipped his hair into his eyes, so he closed them, concentrating on climbing and his wife’s voice.

     The Tsaesci grabbed at the rocks furiously, their mistress barking orders and hissing violently.  She threw all manner of threats at him, but he ignored them for the gasps and cries of his wife in his mind.  Arrows soon followed her threats.  They smacked and careened off of the rock face and fell about him.

 

     “Ingred tells me our child bears my family hair!  Oh my love, it is silver-white!”

Dandowin was smiling at the thought of imagining his child with the Wulfgar line of silver-white hair, when an arrow struck him in his right arm.  It fell limp to his side, and his grip faltered on his left hand.

 

     “I am hit, my love!  An arrow hit my right arm!  I fear…I may fall.  I am just at the top…have to just…get over.”

 

     “RUN!”  Laurenna screamed in his mind loudly.

Scrambling over the top, and now bleeding from both his arm and his leg, Dandowin limped on hope alone.  He was breathing hard and loudly.  Laurenna screamed in his mind, and was given competition with his own heartbeat.  Lumbering one foot in front of the other, his heart sank as he noticed the cliff was a small plateau that dropped off into the sea.  The pursuers crested the rock face and slithered closer to him. 

 

     “This is it.”  He resigned woefully.

 

There was screaming in his mind.  Loud, consistent screaming that heralded the birth of their child.  His heartbeat was loud and fast in his ears, and he felt it pound at his temples.

His leg was now numb, as was his right arm, and difficult to move.  Turning to face the Tsaesci, they slowed down and just slithered slowly with weapons drawn.  Sheniala appeared between them then, her golden, beautifully frightening form smiling triumphantly.  In her hand she held a new slave bracer whose magic glistened in the now morning daylight.

The wind picked up his hair, the smell of the sea fresh with the crashing of waves against the cliff wall.  He closed his eyes once more to smell his last smell, just as Laurenna spoke in his mind, one last time.

 

     “It’s a girl my love…it’s a girl…my…love.  We… will call her, Agna.”

His ring went cold then, for Laurenna must have passed out from the stress of the birth.

Agna! A daughter!  How he would have loved to hold her in his arms, and raise her to the Lokken sky and show the Gods how much he loved her.  He thought of Laurenna’s face and her body next to his in the fireplace light, and of his Lokken family.  There were others that flashed in his mind, such as Ingred’s smile, and Luthien Morvayn’s beautiful Dunmer face.  Lastly, Solveig’s face and voice came into his memory, as she sat upon his belly smiling and laughing as he tickled her and spoke the words she held so dear.

 

     “What can a simple hero do?”

Backing away from the approaching enemy, he smiled softly as he moved inch after agonizing inch, towards the cliffs.  Sheniala’s eyes widened, and she made a mad rush to grab him.  He fell backwards, the air of the fall flinging his wild auburn streaked hair about his face, the roar of the ocean beneath him coming closer.  As he closed his eyes bracing for the impact of the sea, there was a great wail of madness from the cliff face.  Opening them, he saw great flames shoot forward over the cliff in an arc.  A great roar drowned out the wail, and soon the sky went dark as he passed into the arms of darkness itself.

    

     Laurenna awoke with a start with the crying of her daughter Agna.  The sleeping form of Solveig lay protectively over her lower half hampered her movement.  Smiling, she reached down and stroked Solveig's hair, as a very tired Sigrid rose from the table to place Agna into her arms. 

 

     “She’s quite hungry, my daughter.” 

Laurenna unloosened the ties to her night robe and placed the screaming Agna to her breast.  Almost at once she brought her wrinkled hand up to grip her breast as she immediately began suckling.  Now dried and warm, Laurenna looked with great love at Agna’s silver-white hair and enchanting face.  She continued stroking Solveig’s hair while she breast fed Agna, and her mother sat on the edge of the bed.  With a shaky voice she inquired of her husband.

 

     “Mother…the ring is cold.  He was being pursued and attacked and all I could think of was keeping him talking to me during the labor.  Mother?  Can he yet still live?”  She choked.

Sigrid reached over and took Laurenna’s head and brought it to her own forehead.  She closed her eyes and just held her quietly as she broke down and sobbed.  The movements disturbed Agna and she cried, until Laurenna moved her to the other breast.

 

     “My daughter, I pray to the Goddess for an answer, but she is silent.  I fear thinking of him for falling into despair at how the Gods have caused him so much pain and suffering.

You have brought so much happiness to him, in his life that had so little of it.”

Sigrid stroked little Agna’s hair and then touched her daughter’s face.  The entire scene was filled with so much love that she could almost not bear it.  Solveig stirred and gasped loudly as she turned over, holding Laurenna’s leg.

 

     “Mother, I am so very sorry for my actions before.  The grief…was…too much to bear.”  She cried.

Sigrid just wrapped her arms about Laurenna and Agna and rocked them both softly back and forth.  All she could do was hope, in her heart, that their trials were finally at an end.

If there were any Gods listening, she begged them to bring her son-in-law home to her.  If not, then please let him sit at the side of her husband in Sovengarde. 

     A knock at the door brought Luthien Morvayn holding a very sleepy Lena to the master bedroom.  She laid the sleeping child in Sigrid’s arms; Lena readjusted herself to Sigrid’s body.  Luthien then introduced herself to Laurenna.

 

     “Great Princess of Lokken, I am Luthien Morvayn, once known to your husband. Your Ingred asked me to watch over your brother and his wife, and it was I who brought them back home.  I…I wanted to see the baby, with your permission.”

 

Laurenna sniffed and wiped her nose on her robe.  She extended her hand to hug Luthien and thank her for staying at her side during the entire birth.  Luthien just smiled, taking her dusky hand to stroke the head of little Agna, who still nursed quietly.  Still holding Luthien’s hand, she brought Agna to her shoulder and burped her soundly.  When she laid her down, she did so in Luthien’s arms, surprising her.  Luthien held her with some coaching from Sigrid, and stared quietly in her beautiful face.

 

     “I am glad you are here, I wanted you to know, her full name is Agna Ingred Luthien of Lokken.”

Luthien looked at Laurenna with surprise, and hugged little Agna to her before returning her to her mother.

 

     “Has there been any more word from Dandowin?” 

Laurenna looked at her still smiling, but tears ran down her face at the mention of his name again.  She didn’t wipe them, but instead gripped her hand tighter.  With a sigh, she asked Luthien pleadingly.

 

     “Please, tell me more about my husband.  Tell me of my Dandowin before he became mine.”

 

Luthien closed her eyes, as if bringing all her memories of Dandowin to the front of her mind.  As her eyelids fluttered for but a second, she faced Laurenna.

 

     “Are you sure you don’t want to hear that from Ingred?  She knew him far longer than us all.”  She said quietly.

Laurenna shifted to lay Agna on her lap as she still stroked Solveig’s hair.  Luthien looked down at Solveig, wondering if this young one was another of their children.  Looking quizzically to Laurenna, she nodded in her sleeping direction.

 

     “Ah, this one is our newly adopted daughter.  She…she thinks the world of our Dandowin and it was his idea that she no longer be orphaned.  I think, like he, he did not want her to grow up without the benefit of love and family around her.”

Luthien moved a slow hand to Solveig’s head and very lightly stroked her head as well.  Laurenna reached out and gently tugged at Luthien’s hair, with a smile.

 

     “With that white hair of your own, you could almost be our kin.”  She chuckled.

Luthien moved a lock to her eyes and smiled again.  It was then she moved her hand to Agna, who was starting to sleep.  The Great Lady Sigrid warmed at the sight, and hazarded a guess.

 

     “My son-in-law was your companion, wasn’t he?  The loving way you look at my grandchild and the loyalty you have shown to us all speaks volumes of your love for him.”

Luthien smiled once more and removed her hand from Solveig’s sleeping form.  When she spoke, the emotion of her words was so much that it moved the two women of Lokken.

 

     “Yes, Dandowin was more than my…he was my one love.  You see, he spoke of his want and vision for a family then, but in my heart I knew that I didn’t share it.  Perhaps I was vain.  Perhaps I was just enjoying the active life we shared as warriors, but I couldn’t see the great love that comes from a family that he did.  Not until here, and now.”

Luthien fingered her scar a moment before continuing.

 

     “The dangers we faced were many, and I loved that he faced them for a people not only not his own, but for a people that would barely accept him.  The hate between Nords and Dunmer run very deep it seems.”

 

     “Not so deep to prevent you from loving him.”  Laurenna softened, holding her hand.

Luthien turned to face Laurenna with tears of her own.

 

     “No, not so deep.  I loved him, and to see him have his dream, I ended us badly so that he could be free.  Had he known that one of the dangers we faced, robbed me of the ability to bear him a child as well like your Lisendra, I daresay that it would be me mourning the loss of a husband now.  As you already know, loving him, that he takes responsibility for the actions of those that do us harm when it is not his place to do so.”

Luthien rose, showing the scar as she showed Meira and Lisendra.  Laurenna fingered the scar with her finger giving her such a look of deep sympathy.  She sat again, reaching out to touch Agna again.

 

     “When news came that Dandowin had left Balmora, and wed the Princess of Lokken, I had a moment of such sadness first.  No woman likes to imagine that their love can be replaced so, but then peace as I knew he had finally gotten his dream that he loved so.”

Luthien held Agna now, looking into her beautiful face trying to see parts of Dandowin in it. She knew it was far too soon, but it was comforting to see her alive. 

 

     “So dear Lady of Lokken, when you ask me to tell you of our Dandowin, all I can tell you of was a man who was more than what he seemed, but unfulfilled because he lacked the life he wanted desperately.  Instead, although I have no right to ask, I beg you dear princess to tell me of your Dandowin.  Tell me that he was happy here, and that you love him beyond compare.  If he has truly fallen into shadows, please let me know that my decision to set him free brought to his troubled life at least some peace and love. Also, please, I beg your forgiveness for attempting to intervene on your grief with Ingred.  It was for this baby here, this last piece of Dandowin, that we were driven to do so.”

 

Laurenna stared at Luthien for moments, Sigrid as well, who swallowed hard.  Lightly removing her legs and feet from under Solveig, she stood shakily from the bed, her mother steadying her as she watched Luthien holding Agna.  Then she knelt to face Luthien, reaching out her arms to hold her as a sister.  When she looked again at Luthien’s face, the tears were fresh and running down her face.

 

     “Come with me to breakfast Luthien.   Let us sit by the fire and I will tell you of the man that we both love, and how he saved my people and my world.  Let me show you through those who live here how much we have come to love him as one of our own.  Also, on behalf of every citizen of my land, bless you, Luthien my sister-friend.  Your sacrifice of love brought hope, peace, and love to us all.  Will you join me for breakfast?”

Reaching out, Laurenna helped Luthien rise and took the sleeping Agna into her arms again.  Sigrid climbed into Laurenna and Dandowin’s bed to sleep next to Solveig, placing the already asleep Lena between them.  Draping her arm across both, Sigrid sighed heavily, safe in the knowledge that her daughter still lives. She thanked the Gods her grandchild survived, and that her family was blessed with so many friends from across the waters.  With her last thought before much needed sleep enveloped her, she prayed silently for Wulfgar to look after Dandowin.

  

 

    

Chapter 39

 

 

     The moons, like lovers stood one behind the other, their backs to a sky of stars.  Dotted amongst the vast universe of dark blue and twinkling white, were the clouds, like great light and dark sentinels that watched over the sky and the world below.

     A child with gangly limbs is awakened from his bed by the bright moons, which wash his freckled face and copper hair in red and white light.  The sea, which lulled his home to sleep but hours before, cries out to him.  “Explore!” It calls.

Tiptoeing through the cottage, he stops at the door of his parents.  Such great love rests within.  His mother, tall and freckled as well, with hair nearly as red as the larger moon above, rests her head upon his father’s chest.  His great angled features and hairless face all sharp and golden.  A smile, soft and so often there as his lips brushed the red hair of his wife.  His high forehead peacefully rests as his blonde hair fell nearly as long as his wife’s about his head.  The tips of his pointed ears just peaking from the hair like field mice from the room of wheat that their crops were stored. 

Wind, strong and fierce blows a window open, and the child is thrown from the cottage.

A young man now, with features strong as his father yet red as his mother, dig with hands and rough-hewn metal tools in the glass mines.  Daylight of midday just a memory to him now, as he enters the dark at morning’s start and leaves it at evening’s crest.  The sea is so far away, and not felt since he was stolen from his home and thrown onto the dark ship.  There were many children within, boys and girls, all frightened, all crying.

One of the Breton girls, now a woman-child, stumbled and dropped her basket of the glass he just cut from the rocks.  A large one shatters and cuts her hand as she hurried to place it back in the basket.  Bending to help her, their leg chains and slave bracers catch the torch light of the Imperial guards as they fumble to get the pieces back inside.  As they reach for the same piece, her hand falls atop his and she smiles as warm as the palm upon his hand.  He moves forward to tell her his name, only to lose his breath as the Imperial whip lashes out at his back, stealing the moment and the memory.

     In a cave now, with sightless horrors and as the boy, now a man, holds his breath to avoid detection.  The road here has hardened his face as much as the deaths he has endured, both friend and foe, all buried from his trials.  A vast cavern, with an abomination of the like he had never seen, the beating God heart encased in fire and magic mere steps away.  Looking up as great flames escape the face of the Second Numidium, the shimmering hammer in his hand to strike at it.  A blast of pain from its guardian and his once friend in another life, he strikes at it as the clawed hand rakes at his armor, placing flames upon him in desperation.  Drawing the crystal blade which courses energy through his whole being, he cleaves the heart in two, a great wail from both the heart and the guardian, as the entire cavern and abomination fall to ruin.  He turns to stab the guardian as he is flung over the rope and plank bridge, to tumble to the rocks and lava below.  Great heat sears his skin as his eyes close to brace for the death long deserved. 

     Eyes open now.  The sea's call was now gone, and the memory of his parents driven from his mind as the cold wind blew across his skin.  The smile of the Breton woman-child faded as his body floated amongst the clouds.  The abomination’s flames and the guardian’s wail faded too, erased by the wind in his ears.  Flames gave way to stars, and there was still the feeling of floating.  There were so many stars!  From every turn of his head, the wind cleaning his eyes with his own tears brought clarity to the eyes.  The beauty of it all brought him to other nights.  Of great, cool, glorious nights of silver-white hair against his cheek as strong arms drew him closer to loving kisses as stronger legs held his waist fast.  With eyes closed, he savored the memory.

 

     “To Sovengarde, at last it seems.”  He spoke softly as the wind whistled murmurs of safety to his ears.

 

A great, deep, disembodied chuckling broke the wind, and his thought.  Looking for the source, it was then that he noticed the shimmering waves reflecting the moon and starlight.  Turning as best he could, for it was clear he was held fast in the claw of something immense, he noted immediately the two moons appearing and disappearing as the great striped wings fanned outward; upward, then downward. 

 

     “You’re finally awake Nerevarine.  I though you would never give me a chance to speak with you.”

 

A great scaled and finned head turned to him them, eyes as large as barrel tops and luminescent, giving competition to the moons themselves.  It looked at him then returned to looking ahead.

 

     “I am called Dandowin.  Simply, Dandowin.” 

Tosh Raka chuckled again, and it pleased Dandowin to see him amused.  If he were in danger of being a meal, at least his diner would think the meal memorable.

 

     “Simple?  Ho-Ho-Ho-Ho-Ho.  Nothing about you human is simple.  Not your life, not your songs, and certainly not your luck!  It was purely luck on your part that I had seen the fireballs from those wretched snakes and followed.  You picked a very good time to escape.  I must admit though, the shape you are in nearly made the attempt fruitless.  But here you are, finally awake and on your way back to Tamriel.”

Dandowin’s heart jumped.  Tamriel!  This must surely be a dream, or the last of his mind going before death takes him in the black of the water.

 

     “I thought I was on my way to Sovengarde, and perhaps I still am.  You must be the Great Tosh Raka.”

Tosh Raka turned then to face him, and if Dandowin wasn’t hallucinating, he could almost swear he saw a smile on his face.

 

     “That is what I like about you humans.  You’ve never seen a dragon, only know of me from books and lore I imagine; yet you have the wisdom enough to show respect in your honorifics.  Tell me something, Champion of the Lady of Dusk and Dawn, what are YOUR feelings of Dragons and Dragon-kind?”

Dandowin just looked at the great Tosh Raka and marveled.  Here he was, in the giant claw of a great dragon, and he is having a conversation as if he were having it at a mead hall with his wife.  Whatever his opinions and fears were before, in the interest of safety and gratitude, common sense dictated that from this moment forward he loves dragons.

 

     “Being the first one to speak to me and save my life, I can honestly say that my newborn daughter will be very pleased with this bed time story, if I survive to tell it.”

Tosh Raka turned sharply on the wind and Dandowin was nearly knocked unconscious from the speed of the wind upon his face and lungs.  As the great scaled and leathery wings drew upward, the moonlight was casting a light glow upon the land in the distance.

 

     “I am sure that you will endure Dandowin Nerevarine.  That you escaped the Tsaesci, and dispatched the Mad God and God King, speaks greatly of your tenacity.  I would hope, that when the time comes when I reclaim these lands for Dragon-kind, that we would do so as friends, not enemies.  I…have many new ideas.  But for now, our time is nearly done I’m afraid.  I have no desire to let the world know that I am this close at hand…not yet.  As much as I have done you the service of saving your life, I ask you to do me the service to keep your kind from my lands for now.  The Tsaesci are still loathsome, but I feel that they are starving.  Perhaps, as our numbers grow, theirs will finally weaken.”

 

     “One could hope, Great Tosh Raka. One could hope.”

Dandowin felt the pressure from the great dragon’s dive, and his ears popped.  Looking down, he saw that he was but mere yards from the water’s surface.  The moons had moved as all things do, and the first rays of orange-gold dawn were appearing on the horizon. 

 

     “Ah, the dawn.  When next you speak to your Daedric Prince, you must have her show you how to listen to her messengers.  Whenever they appear, their songs are most pleasing to listen to.  I bid great health to your sires Dandowin.  Perhaps in the scrolls of time, I will meet them.  Nerevarine?  Fare…thee…well.”

As he soared closer to the shoreline, the sun finally peaked a bit on the horizon.  With a great rush, the mighty and venerable Tosh Raka flung Dandowin in the air like one would skip a stone, twirling and careening head over heels.  With a great thud, he landed upon the top of the outer skin of an immense Bull Netch. The impact from the throw had made him hit it too hard, and he felt the unmistakable “crack” of his arrow-damaged arm.  The pain was intense, and the Bull Netch started to move erratically.  Losing his balance, he slid down the side of it towards the ground below. 

As he fell, something shiny protruded from the side of the Netch.  Reaching for it with his left hand, he managed to grab hold of the object as his legs swept past and dangled beneath him.  The Netch responded to this action very badly, and it shook back and forth until with a tear and pop, the object jarred loose from its body. With a twist Dandowin fell from the Netch to the damp earth below him.  He was on a shoreline.  He had no idea where he was as there were no signs, ports, shacks, or any recognizable features to be seen from where he lay.  Raising his head briefly, he looked at the item in his hand…it was a large fork.  Silver and some tarnished embellishments were crafted up and down the large two-pronged fork. 

What in Tamriel was a fork sticking in the side of an immense Bull Netch? Was someone trying to eat one while it still hovered? He wondered.

     The mumbling of a raspy voice and the tremors from footprints behind his head let him know that he wasn’t alone.  His right arm was now useless, as it was broken in two places and very pale from blood loss.  As the voice drew closer he was just barely able to make out the conversation.

 

     "The Fork for Big Head! Oh, where has Master put the Fork? It sings alone, far from home. Sad, sad, Fork. Sad, sad Big-Head."

 

The footsteps stopped just shy of his head.  One scaly and clawed hand grabbed the fork and tried to wrench it free from Dandowin’s grasp.  Still holding the fork, Dandowin weakly pulled the Argonian to him.

 

     “Fork for boat ride?”  He offered.

 

     It was near evening when Timor Redas managed to get his sister Nidryne Redas settled into the small cottage out in the southeast coast of the Grazelands.  It was partially secluded by high grasses, yet offered a view of most of the surrounding land in case she needed to keep an eye out.

     Leaving a few friends to keep guard duty, he decided to make a supply run so that she had enough food and necessary items for however she intended to stay.  Timor always considered his sister trouble, and now that he was forced to seclude her just reinforced his opinion.

There was a chill to the air, and a storm was imminent.  Pulling his hood over his head, he focused on the road and getting to Vos.  As he made his way to the coastline road, three hooded pilgrims with lanterns passed him. Stupid pilgrims.  Always on some fruitless pilgrimage to look for the meaning of life, when all one had to do was live it, he mused.  Let’s see how far they get with this rainstorm coming.

     The lead pilgrim stopped when Timor Redas was out of sight past the bend in the shoreline.  Turning to face the others, it handed two daggers to the others and withdrew a length of rope from under its cloak that it kept wound it its hand. 

 

     “One less obstacle to take care of it seems.  Let us be quick, and justice guide us!”

 

As the first droplets of rain started to fall, the three extinguished their lanterns and set them behind some rocks.  They stood crouched out of sight, as two hardened Dunmer guardsmen stood in front of the cottage door with torches.  Holding the other two back, the leader stood and removed their cloak.  Senyndie stood in a short tunic with tight leggings and no shoes.  She then walked quietly and carefully around the grasses until she stood just yards from the two guards.  From a crouch, she vaulted to a handstand, and then somersaulted to land a solid kick upon the neck of one of the guards. With a sickening crack he folded as the other guard drew a dagger and was about to yell in alarm when a dagger out of the shadows silenced him, its blade deep within his neck.  Gurgling on his own blood Senyndie put him out of his misery by snapping the rest of his neck.

The torches fell to the wet ground, and she retrieved them, motioning to the two in the grasses to come forward.  Handing a torch to one of them, she turned the other upside down in the ground snuffing it.  Taking the keys from the first guard, she unlocked the cottage and they all stepped inside, but not before she put her cloak back on with the hood.

     Nidryne Redas was sleeping soundly on her bed as the door opened.  Worn from the travel to the cottage, she laid on her back naked to the room partially covered by a blanket.  Her head moved back and forth as she fought her own nightmare, until the wetness from their dripping cloaks caused her to awaken.  Startled and furious, she lashed out with her foot at the person closest to the bed.  It was deflected with a swat, and she howled in anger.

 

     “How DARE YOU awaken me?  What is it, and why aren’t you outside?  I didn’t give you permission to come inside!” 

At first, there was no answer.  Just three hooded and cloaked figures standing at each side of her bed; one at the head, one at the foot, and one at the side holding a torch.  It was the one at the side of the bed who swatted her leg away that moved at all.  Nidryne finally realized that these were not her guards the moment the hood was dropped.  Her eyes went wide, first in recognition, then in complete shock.  She drew up her knees to her chest and wrapped the blanket around her as if to protect her.  The one at the bedside brought the torch closer so that she could see even clearer.  The words of the bedside one that were spoken filled her with panic.

 

     “I told you before, you wretched, conniving filth…your services are no…longer…required.”  Said the smiling Dilvene Venim.

Nodding to the cloaked figure behind Nidryne, a dark hand was pressed against her forehead, as the other was thumb-pressing pressure to the base of her skull.  The very last thing she saw as she weakly tried to fight was Dilvene Venim smiling in her face.

 

     Three days would pass while Laurenna spent time with Luthien Morvayn.  She would walk the castle, stopping to talk to each citizen.  Under an armed guard party she walked about the damaged and ruined Lokken streets, pointing out where homes and shops were.  Many who lost these were already clearing away debris, not wanting to wait until the new moon. 

At night, she would invite Ingred and her housemates to add further tales and feelings of her husband, and when they retired to bed, she would sit with Luthien as she breast fed Agna.

They talked of possibilities and of harsh realities.  They cried openly at the thought of accepting the death of Dandowin.  When grief was at its deepest, they would look at Agna, and Sigrid would come to each in turn, with sympathetic thoughts and memories.  On the third night, as Luthien sat holding Agna at the desk and Laurenna wept herself to sleep, a knock at the door brought Wulfren to call upon his sister.  Luthien brought Agna to his arms, as he held her so carefully, and with much emotion.  Passing her back to Luthien, Laurenna roused to sit facing Wulfren from the bed.  Kneeling at her bedside, he just stared at her for long moments.  Laurenna didn’t move, just stood red eyed and facing Wulfren.  Clearing his throat many times, he bowed his head and spoke.  Luthien made to leave but Laurenna stopped her with a hand. 

 

     “I cannot begin to say how deeply sorry I am my sister.  From the moment I was returned to myself, thanks to your husband, your Dandowin, I have made one mistake after another.  All I can do…all I can say…is that I am so very sorry my sister.”

Laurenna still did not move.  She just stared at Wulfren for moments.  When she spoke at last, she did so with such strength, that it moved Wulfren.  He still knelt at her bedside as she faced him.

 

     “My brother, I know you are sorry.  Many people are sorry.  You are sorry for the things you have done and said.  I am sorry for the pain I brought to mother, our friends, our people, and most of all, my daughters.  My Da-Dandowin was sorry for so many things; many of them were not the fault of his hand.   Even dear Luthien here is sorry for having let him go without telling him a great many things.   We are all sorry in one way or another.”

Wulfren extended his hands to his sister, at which she took them but with little behind them.  There was much he had to atone for, and it would take time.  If it took the rest of his life, he would make good where he failed, both as a Chieftain and as a man.

 

     “Your husband, my brother-in-law was a great man, my sister.  I am sorry that I was too blind and jealous to see that.”

Laurenna let his hands go, and looked briefly to Luthien who returned Agna to her arms, and sat a foot or so from Laurenna on her bed.

 

     “My husband is a great man, my brother. All he ever wanted when he came to our lands was a wife, this child, and a home.  Whatever we gave him, whatever he was blessed with, was earned.  I hope one day when we all have healed we can remember that.”

Wulfren stood then, as Laurenna stopped talking and turned her attention to Agna.  She was right, they all had to heal first, and like all scars, they will take time.  When Wulfren left, Luthien turned to Laurenna.

 

     “Your brother seeks your forgiveness Laurenna.”

Laurenna loosened her night robe and placed Agna at her breast.  She wrapped her arms about the feeding Agna and also the covers of the bed to keep her warm.  When she looked at her, and then to Luthien, she seemed so fragile in the fireplace light.

 

     “I know Luthien, and one day perhaps sooner than we know, he will earn it.  Part of me wishes to for mother’s sake, part of me for Dandowin’s sake.  But I honestly don’t know if I can so soon my friend.  He hurt not only me, but also many here with his grief.  I understand it now, having done the same with my own actions.  But part of me doesn’t trust him anymore.  I may be wrong, and I hope that I am. But for now, I must rule my people, as my husband would have.  It is all I have left, save for my daughters.”

Luthien stood then, bending to place her hand upon Agna’s head as she nursed.  She then put it on Laurenna’s shoulder, smiling warmly.

 

     “You have more than that Laurenna.  You have friends.  Friends from your husband, and friends earned yourself.  For myself, I will forever be your friend, and will come whenever you need of me.  For now, I have intruded enough and will leave on the morrow.  Some of the warriors have decided to stay for the rebuilding, to help out and in memory of our Dandowin.”

Laurenna looked up anxiously.  She was getting quite comfortable around someone that loved her husband too, and found that her presence did help ease the grief a bit.  It was odd, as there were no feelings of jealousy or mistrust, just a shared feeling of deep loss and understanding.   It was new, to her. 

 

     “Must you leave so soon?  Surely you could stay a while longer?”  She pleaded.

Luthien kissed Agna’s head, and held Laurenna’s hand.  Her look was a sad as Laurenna’s and Laurenna began to understand that her newfound friend needed to grieve and heal in her own way.

 

     “Thank you, but I must return to my guild.  I am sure there is plenty still to do.  But from the bottom of my heart, Lady of Lokken, I thank you for allowing me to spend this time with you.  I am honored that your daughter carries my name, and will cherish the memory of her birth.  From myself, Laurenna, sister, I will be grateful for the knowledge that for the time we gave him, Dandowin lived and was loved well.”

With a smile Luthien left, to prepare for her morning departure and to rest in a bed by herself.  She passed Solveig, who on her way to the Master Bedroom smiled weakly as Luthien touched her shoulder in passing.  Once inside Sigrid’s room, now empty with Sigrid having taken Lena to supper, Luthien removed her boots and leggings, and crawled under the covers.  On her hand, she stared at her ruby ring and tried to remember the day she received the gift and fell asleep.

    

   

 

    

Chapter 40

 

 

     The room was humid within the large mushroom complex, the passing storm brought that usual earthy smell followed by a moist chill that often made the inhabitants shiver.  Warmth from the candlelight and lanterns often offset this chill, but today, it couldn’t move it.

     Sadela Areth sat upon her small bed, cross-legged in the center as she laid her dusky hands gently upon the growing roundness of her lower abdomen.  Not quite a noticeable pregnancy from the outside, but when nude the signs were there.  A gentle puffiness followed by the definitive small dark line that led from her navel to her womb.  But it wasn’t the external telltale signs that she studied, it was the gentle vibrations of the moving life within her that made her reflect.  How reckless she had been with her act, and now she bears the responsibility.  To her mind, she regretted only the deception, not the physical act that she replayed over and over in her thoughts.  She pretended that woeful night that Dandowin wasn’t belonging to another, that he was hers.  In her mind she imagined that he was not repulsed by her scars and burns, but found her most attractive and strong.

The paralyzing assault and subsequent chemical erection she pushed from her mind as false that night, and with each upward and downward movement of her body, she convinced herself that night that she was wanted and the reaction genuine.  Each release of his seed she took within her, for the effect of the stimulating agents prevented the normal flaccid outcome, and she was determined to have him for the full amount of time that was several hours.  The Hero of Vvardenfell was hers, and she imagined such until the effect started to wear off.  It was dishonorable and a betrayal, especially for one who only sought to help her people, and the shame she felt was deep as the longing was to remember.  Now, holding her abdomen as the movement within continued, she thought of him, and wondered if he still lived.  There were reports from Tel Mora that he set sail for Akavir, and to date, no other messages were received.  If this were to be a surviving part of him, then her shame was worth the cost to her reasoning.  Pulling a blanket to her, she lay down and thought of the future.  For good or ill, she was going to be a mother in a matter of months.

      A commotion outside her door caused her to sit up.  Moving to the door she placed her ear upon it, but couldn’t make out the words.  Feet walked hurriedly to the ramps as levitation magic was cast.  It was Divayth’s sister-wives, perhaps with new arrivals.

Moving back to the bed, she covered herself up to the neck and closed her eyes, replaying her one, desperate night over and over in her mind.  A bright flash off to the corner of her room hit her eyelids, and she opened them with a start, sitting up as she prepared for whatever it could be.  To her shock it was a standing Winged Twilight, with wings folded about it peering down at her.  Covering herself protectively, she peered about her room for her dagger, which was out of reach.  As she thought to bolt from the room, she was quickly stayed by the creature’s barbed tail that poised just above her heart.  Shrinking in fear for her life, she covered her face and waited.  With a brush of wind to her face, she uncovered it to see it had opened its great wings.

     Sadela was in such awe when it started to sing, that she couldn’t move.

 

 

     The Lokken royal family saw Luthien off, as well as the larger compliment of warriors who escorted Wulfren and the others back home.  Guards both citizen and not, shook hands and grasped arms.  Solveig stood with Sigrid, until she saw Ingred and ran to her.  Standing apart from Ingred, Meira, Berna, and the rest of the Lokken royals, Luthien walked with Laurenna and Agna, who was wrapped snugly in the snow wolf bunting that Sigrid herself had made.  They embraced but for a moment, and Luthien shouldered her quiver of arrows and bow.  One, loving last time she bent her white and dusky head to place a kiss above the forehead of Agna, as if it were the only way she could say goodbye to Dandowin.  Laurenna softened at the image, and spoke softly.

 

     “So what will you do now?”

 

     “I suppose just go back to my guild and fill my days.  I will remember this time and who knows, perhaps I will return one day for the young one’s birthday.  What will happen now, Lady of Lokken?”

Laurenna looked down at Agna as she spoke, and never took her sight from her. 

 

     “I will be a mother to my daughters, and a Lady to our people.  There is much for us to do, such as rebuilding the town and placing our honored dead in family tombs.  Ingred has decided to stay, so that will help some.”

Luthien looked to Ingred who was standing with Solveig in front of her, her arms about the young one’s shoulders protectively.  Looking down, she asked softly a heart-wrenching question.

 

     “And of Dandowin?” 

Laurenna looked up from Agna with a quivering smile and returned the question.  Her look spoke of many busy days, but empty nights of great sadness.

 

     “What did you do?” 

It was clear, the answer for both of them and with it, Luthien turned to walk away towards the channel of Lokken with the warriors who were returning home.  What did I do?  She repeated in her mind.

 

     “I loved him forever.”  She said silently, closing her eyes.

 

     When Dandowin was brought to the shores of Solstheim and the dock at Fort Frostmoth he was at the door of Death.  Big Head kept his promise, and rowed his tiny little boat from his tiny island near Dagon Fel across the sea, singing such songs of lament and gratitude to his master and his newfound fork. 

With an unceremonious heave, Big Head dumped the ailing Dandowin upon the shoreline much like one would dump a dead fish.  Then he muttered something more about his fork and slowly rowed back.  Those on the dock seeing this, jumped down to the shore to investigate, and there was a great yelling for guards, shaking of heads, and casting of magic from the Breton shipmaster.  When the guards came to the shoreline he was raised off of the ground and brought to the repairing fort.

     Healers and alchemists both worked on poor Dandowin.  His leg was festering and his right arm looked terrible.  It was a swollen appendage of dark purple and green bruises, and the arrow wound they found in the back of his arm had split his upper arm bone the length to the elbow.  For many days they kept at it, even resorting to bleeding him to release the sickened blood from his body, which was dangerous considering how much blood he had lost previously.  There were guards that remembered him from the werewolf attack long ago, and there were others, mostly refugees, that had heard and strained to see the healers work on him. 

At the last, they were finally successful in binding the broken bones, and the festering wounds were cleaned and healing poultices applied. He retained a damaging fever though.   His broken arm was wrapped between two planks, and his left arm was bound from all the various cuts from Gods know what they guessed.  His physical damages were severe.  He lives, but had fallen into a coma to which they did not know if he would awaken or when.  Not knowing who to contact and what to do, it was one of the refugees, a hunter from the Skaal village, who said that his home was not Thirsk anymore but Lokken.  Hearing this, the new commander of the fort set a cart with four armed legionnaires to escort the Nerevarine back to his home, so that if he did die, it would be at his home.  A letter was sent with the cart, stating all that was done and what shape he arrived.

 

     Beautiful stars danced over and over his eyes, until he realized that they were closed.  With a great effort and a sucking in of air, he opened them to bright sunlight that was being filtered between the branches of the trees.  The entire world looked too bright, and he was floating again it seemed. 

Dandowin couldn’t move, and noticed that he was wrapped and bound to a cart.  One eye was quite fuzzy and the vision from it red tinged.  His throat was very dry, and he was wondering if he was dead, and being transported to his grave. He coughed a bit, and the cart halted.  A healer then withdrew a potion bottle and poured some slowly into his own hand for Dandowin to sip from.  He did so and noticed it was a healing potion.  Grateful, thankful, he just smiled as best he could before the black of dizziness took him again. 

 

     The throne room was nearly back to normal at Castle Lokken.  Kielreen stood at her post at the bar, the four guards stood at attention from the corners of the room.  Sigrid sat at her table with Lena and Solveig, the trilling Agna being rocked slowly in her arms.  Ingred stood with Berna and Meira at the bar, speaking of home and Beth, wondering how she fared.  None present had the heart to relay the news to her through their rings, figuring such news was best delivered personally.  Wulfren and Lisendra were eating in the adjacent room, a newfound peace between them that Laurenna smiled at outwardly but inwardly kept her in sorrow, and longing.  She stood just at the throne room doors, taking in the entire room of life.  It was almost as before from the outside, but to her, it might as well have been her lonely cottage of her father’s atop the mountain.  Without a word, she opened and closed the doors, and went back upstairs to her room to cry.

 

     Luthien Morvayn walked slowly within the two rows of some of the warriors that had escorted Wulfren, Lisendra and the elder citizens.  There were no words to say, and in truth, few felt like speaking save for those warriors whose nature was to handle silence with laughter.

Off on the shoreline road, several yards from her group of warriors, she saw a small covered cart being pulled by two healers and ringed by four guards from the nearby Imperial fort, Frostmoth.  Taking off at a small trot, she broke from her fellow warriors telling them all to stay put, as she would ask and see if there was any news from the fort.

When she got to the cart, she saluted the guards as they told her that they were in great haste, for they were Lokken bound.  She immediately told them she had just come from there, and with a jump in her heart; she barreled past the guards and peered into the cart.  One guard placed a hand upon her and she twisted it, stating that she was on great terms with the ruling Lady of Lokken and she would take this affront badly.  They withdrew, and she asked that they all stand but a pace or two from the cart.  One healer moved a few cloths to the cart, wiping the forehead of the man within. 

     Looking down, Luthien Morvayn stared at a miracle.  She immediately bent into the cart kissing him about the face and removing her gloves to place her hands upon him.  A healer tried to push her back, and was shoved for the effort, as they insisted that he was still far from danger and needed his rest.  They had to make Lokken before nightfall, when dangers in these woods would hamper their traveling.

The kissing to his face roused Dandowin, and with a cough, slowly opened his eyes.  One of his eyes was fully red, the blood having damaged the white to full red.  His other unharmed eye focused its brown pupil on her, and he smiled a wide broken toothed smile.

 

     “I must be…*cough…dead for sure, because you said you would never speak to me again, let alone kiss me…*cough.”

 

Luthien just bent into the cart again as the healer prepared another draft of potion.  Moving their hands aside, she held her small hands to Dandowin’s face as the healer poured the potion into her hands for him to drink from.  He did so quite pitifully, and tears fell down her face, as her smile grew wider.  She bent down again, and this time kissed him deeply.  She had not kissed him so since they were in love with one another.  He barely responded, as he was so very weak.  Placing her hands over his heart, she spoke softly to him while the healers paced nervously.

 

     “You’re not dead, my love, you’re going home.  I have just come from there, and your wife and family are very anxious to see you.”

Dandowin looked up at Luthien with great affection.  The mention of his wife and family filled him with such hope.  If only he would live to see them, he hoped silently.

 

     “You met my family?  How are they?  How are my daughters?”  He asked weakly.

Luthien just hugged him briefly and placed her head on his chest whispering a prayer and thanks.  Dandowin was surprised and very confused, since his last moments with her were in argument.  Sensing him tense, she just kissed him again and whispered amidst tears.

 

     “You’ll find out yourself, when you get home my love.  I have seen them all, and your newborn daughter will be most happy that her father is alive.”

Dandowin smiled but looked terrible, as if the effort sapped his strength.  With a serious face he focused on Luthien with his mismatched eyes.

 

     “Whatever I did Luthien, to have ever hurt you so much to leave, I am so terribly sorry.  I don’t know what it was, but if I could change it, I would.  I…”

Luthien shushed him with her fingers, looking lovingly into his face, and one last time, she kissed him deeply with love. 

 

     “You’ve done nothing my love, and from my heart, I will always love you Dandowin.  You must do me a favor now.  You must live.  You must rest.  Your wife and daughters need you, and I need you…alive. For them.”  She choked.

A shout from the distance from the warriors broke the moment for Luthien and Dandowin. 

 

     “ARCHER!  IS THAT THE NEREVARINE?  HAS HE RETURNED?”

Two of the guards were about to respond, when Luthien yelled back before they could, to their bewilderment.

 

     “NO!  THE NEREVARINE HAS GONE ON AN EXPEDITION TO AKAVIR.   HE HASN’T BEEN SEEN SINCE!  JUST AN IMPERIAL REFUGEE!”

The guards looked to her with confusion and she shot them all a heated glance.  She slowly shook her head and they understood.  The healers pressed Luthien further to let them move along, and she nodded her consent.

 

     “Thank you, my lovely Luthien.”  Dandowin said with emotion quite weakly.

Luthien smiled while wiping away her tears and getting herself together.  It was hard to contain her smile, but she had her reasons. 

 

     “Your welcome, my love.” She managed.

Dandowin was weakening, but spoke desperately.  He looked to pass out again, as his eyes were having a hard time seeing her clearly.

 

     “I…I…haven’t been awake for very long, and I haven’t been able to contact them since I was found.  They…must think I no longer live.”  He coughed again, wetly. 

Luthien then kissed his cheek and reached down to his left arm, running her hand down the wrappings until she found his unwrapped fingers.  Turning his wedding ring to the left, she held it until it warmed and thrummed on his finger and then she whispered to him.

 

     “Then think about the day you first met Laurenna.  Tell her how you felt, and how you love her so.  Tell her how you will spend the rest of your lives wrapped in each other’s arms, and surrounded by your children.  Now go my love, go home to her and love her forever.”

 

Luthien apologized to the nervous healers and sped back to her fellow warriors.  She didn’t look back; she didn’t need to for she was at peace now.  She didn’t need to burden him further with ‘whys’ and ‘wherefores’, just hope that the love she has for him, multiplied by the love that his wife and daughters have for him, will surround him till the end of time.

     As the cart continued on its way, the healers looked down at the damaged hero as he slowly spoke aloud of eyes bluer than the sky, hair the silver of the stars, and love that would never, ever, end. 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 41

 

 

     Water dripped from the stalactites of the dank caves to fall into murky pools that echoed throughout the passageways.  There were other sounds as well, shuffling, heavy breathing, and rocks and pebbles falling.  But there was one sound that fought these others…the sound of steady, rhythmic, drumming.

It was this environment that Nidryne Redas found herself awakening slowly to.  She was soaking wet and naked on the wet sandy floor, the pain behind her head reminding her of her nightmare.  Her vision was cloudy at first, just a dull, yellow-green hue to everything as her headache beat to the sounds of the slow drumming.  Moving to sit upward, and then to her knees, she shook her head to clear her vision.  When it began to clear, the wet sand first came into clarity.  She grasped at it and wiped it off her hands. 

 

Then she heard the sounds of heavy breathing amidst the drum beating.

 

     Wiping her eyes again, they became clearer as she saw where she was.  She was sitting on a small sandy island, no bigger than her own bed, surrounded by shallow, murky water.   The yellow-green hue of the low lit cave was everywhere, broken only by large boulders, rock walls, and now, dark shapes. 

With great horror her eyes focused on the shapes, and she noticed she was surrounded by abominations.  Corprus victims and infected, in varying stages of madness and deformity ringed her island on the opposite sides of the water.  Each one from lame to stalker was decomposing and deranged.  They lumbered at the edge, eyes wide with madness as they salivated and moaned.  Some were barely dressed, their large deformed humps laboring over their backs and legs.  The smell was sickening, and she retched into the water in front of her.  They just rocked back and forth, all eyes on her, all arms and legs quivering as if they were being held by restraints.  The drumming continued, and as she started to rise, it stopped.  The dangers around her shook once, then with howls of fury they all lumbered forward crossing the shallow pool until they were upon her.  She screamed wildly as her fists beat at them in vain and her kicks were equally useless.  The throng of deformed and mad flesh converged on her and lifted her off the ground, biting and tearing.  Bit, by terrifying bit, she watched in horror as they bit off her toes, then her feet. Blood splattered everywhere spraying her attackers as they groped, bit, and tore. Her fingers and hands were gone and she waved her stumps wildly as the strongest of them ripped her apart, piece by agonizing piece.  When her head hit the ground, she saw them carry away her body as they ate greedily.  Her mouth mewled a tiny whimper as her eyes rolled back into her skull, taking the sight and her life from the world.

 

     Uupse Fyr picked up her Guarskin drum again, and sitting on a stool next to Yagrum Bagarn, she tapped lightly upon its surface as the Last Living Dwarf stared at her in confusion.  What terrible thing has this person possibly done, to earn such a punishment?  Picking up a book, he turned his attention to his notes and away from the sounds of the world around him.  Outside by the wooden gate, Dilvene Venim passed a cloth-covered large object to Divayth Fyr.  When he opened it, it was the Daedric sword of her late husband, Bolvyn Venim.  Smiling to himself, he walked back to the Corprusarium entrance as Dilvene Venim followed, who was also smiling. 

 

     The Master Bedroom was quiet save for the crackling of the fireplace, the howl of the outside Lokken wind, and the quiet sobs of the Lady of Lokken.  Lying upon her bed, curled up into a ball she held Dandowin’s last worn shirt in her hands up to her face, the scent of him still present on it.  Everywhere she looked, a memory would return to her.  At their table they ate intimate meals while she sat upon his lap.  Their dressers were filled with shared clothing and gifts from far away adorned the tops.  The large Snow wolf rug in front of their bed and fireplace brought back the memories of their most passionate fireplace nights.  Everywhere she looked and everything she touched, was triggering a flood of memories to her. 

     Pulling his shirt from her face, she sniffed and looked at his pillow.  There, amongst the creases and folds of the fur was a single, auburn hair.  Almost fearing to touch it, she slowly moved her hand to it, removing it and holding it between her fingers.  Every glance, every fireside look, every sunny Lokken day she stared at him was remembered, and she laid back on the bed bringing her hands to her eyes to weep heavier.  As she choked and sniffed, as she wiped at her eyes and nose, she shut her eyes shaking her head.  It just would not stop.

 

Until she felt the heat of her wedding ring. 

 

     It was subtle at first, just a slow warmth that as always spread outward around the gold band until it encompassed it, then in the tiniest way, the band would vibrate like the heart of a newborn bird.  Her eyes widened as she straightened up in the bed, her feet outward as she sat there, with her left hand in her right.  With shaky, unsure hands she slowly turned her ring to the left, and her mind immediately heard the weak voice of her husband.  Almost a whisper, she savored each word with eyes closed as slow warmth spread down her arms, across her chest, and through her belly.  She closed her eyes, and just listened.

 

     “It…was when I walked up that t-tree line towards her cottage.  The dark of the trees obscured the path with their uneven girths, as the path gave way to a rise.  There, standing before a fallen log in a dark fur robe and boots, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.  Her eyes were bluer than the sky…her silver-white hair was as the stars, and I knew from my very soul, I would love her forever…”

Laurenna opened her eyes and bolted from the Master Bedroom.  She ran down the steps taking them two at a time huffing all the way.  Her breath came to her in gasps, as if stopping threatened to lose it altogether.  As she rounded the steps to the throne room, Ingred opened the door wide, having decided to check upon her health and welfare.

 

     “Laurenna, I was just-“ 

She didn’t stop.  Laurenna ran past Ingred without looking and pulled open the main castle doors.  Unrobed and barefoot, dressed in a simple wolf fur dress she flung the doors from her, gasping aloud and running.  Ingred ran back inside the throne room alarmed and shouted to everyone, waking the baby in the process.

 

     “SOMETHING’S UP!  LAURENNA JUST RAN OUTSIDE FROM THE CASTLE IN HER BARE FEET!”

Everyone rose and Sigrid rocked Agna to quiet her down.  Ingred grabbed Ljot and Arinbjorn and sped after Laurenna.  Wulfren, hearing the commotion also went after her.  Solveig thrust from the table and bolted from the doors while Sigrid protested and called after her.  From kitchen to guard’s quarters, the entire Castle Lokken was in alarm.

 

     Laurenna labored and slid down the hill from the castle’s main wall and double steps.  She was still weak from having gave birth almost a week ago, and the pain in her abdomen was being worsened by her heavy breathing.  She didn’t care; for all that mattered were the words in her mind and putting one bare foot in front of the other in the snow.  The wind whipped in her eyes as she blinked to clear the tears from them.

 

     “…Then you kissed me, and the whole of Lokken now knew us as man and wife.  After speaking with Sigrid we went to the Master Bedroom, where the fireplace caught your eyes…”

Down past the ruined town, weaving the damages and ignoring the numbing cold in her feet, she ran, gasping and listening, grabbing her belly to stay the pain.

 

     “We have our daughters now, and like their mother, I will love them for the rest of my life, for you are all I ever wanted, my love…”

The castle emptied into the main Lokken path as they all ran after Laurenna.  Ingred was nearly to her, running with great strides as she leapt over debris that most had to run around.  Behind her were the Berserkers with Solveig close at their heels. 

     Laurenna got to the channel of Lokken and stopped.  She was out of breath and it came in great gasps.  Holding her stomach, the pain and tightness beat like a heart as it kept pace with her heartbeat.  Ingred caught up to her, as she also was bent over slightly, still gasping.  She put an arm around her shoulders to steady her, when Solveig caught up and pointed over the channel to the shoreline and the top of the hill.  There, coming into view, were two Imperial legionnaires, then two robed healers pulling a cart, followed by two more legionnaires.  Laurenna looked Ingred in the face with a wide-eyed smile and sped into the channel waters with a splash.  Ingred followed suit, as did Solveig.  Sigrid came to the channel finally calling after them all, trying to keep her grandchild warm.  Lena giggled at her side to see her cousin splash in the cold water, and Wulfren stood next to Sigrid, putting his arm around her shoulder.  He was shaking, with his sight on the shoreline and the approaching cart.  He smiled widely as a single tear fell down his cheek.  Others soon approached, wrapped and robed and booted.

     Laurenna flapped her bare feet on the cold wet rocks clawing on hands and knees up the steep hill to meet them.  But with no boots, she kept slipping back down.  She yelled and grunted.  There were no Rieklings thankfully to contend with, and Ingred helped her up by pushing her up by her shouldering her backside. When the cart was before them, the legionnaires saluted and addressed her formally.

 

     “Lady of Lokken.”  They bowed, formally.

Parting to let her come closer, the healers introduced themselves as Ingred tore them away from the cart by their robes and shoved them to stand with the guards.  Solveig was gasping as well, with tears running from her face to wet her tunic.  When Laurenna peered into the cart, she exploded with emotion.  A gasp literally ruptured from her lips with a flush of tears.  Dandowin opened his eyes, trying to focus with the now late afternoon light passing, and stared up at the face of his most beautiful wife.  He smiled his broken tooth smile as Laurenna literally climbed into the cart to hold him.

 

     “Hello, my wife.”  He whispered.

 

     “Welcome home, my love.”  She choked, as she kissed him over, and over, and over.

Ingred bent inward to see and gushed, and lifting Solveig off the floor, she sat her atop the cart, holding her by the legs as she too bent inward to also shower Dandowin with kisses. 

The healer’s protested, and were ignored, as Ingred, Ljot, Arinbjorn, and the others who crossed the channel lifted the cart right off the ground and proceeded to walk down to the shoreline and across to the others there. 

Sigrid walked briskly with Agna against her to the cart as they carried Dandowin from the channel waters.  Her heart was racing and her own teeth chattered from the nervousness.  She saw her daughter sitting within the cart rising and lowering to hold, kiss, hold, and wipe at her face.  Solveig held onto the passing cart never releasing her hold on it, with Ingred Rems doing much the same.  As they lowered the cart to the snowy floor Sigrid walked up to the cart and surveyed the damage.  She ordered the guards and turned to face the healers.

 

     “Put my son in my room, and prepare some hot water and fresh linens!”  She commanded.

Turning to face the healers and Legion guards, they saluted her as she bowed, still holding Agna.  She motioned to the healers to come forth.

With much detail they hurriedly gave her an account of his damages and what was done to help.  The guards handed her the letter from the Fort Frostmoth commander and she placed it in her robe.  Walking fast, the healers had the hardest time keeping up with her as she sped to follow the cart to her home.  Wulfren took over for Solveig but she still kept a hand on the cart.  Laurenna was practically lying on top of Dandowin, stroking his chest and kissing his face, whispering great words of love.  Ingred yelled to the men to keep up with her and Berna and Meira were also shadowing the cart, bundled up against the cold wind and walking arm in arm. 

 

     Inside the warmth of Sigrid’s room they deposited Dandowin.  The covers were removed and like Ingred and the injured Lokken citizens, a sheet was placed in case there was bleeding. 

Laurenna had to be physically removed by Sigrid just to get at his bindings.  She wouldn’t let go, but stayed kneeling at the bedside holding his foot.  All were removed from the room save Sigrid, Solveig, Laurenna, and Ingred who was now holding the infant Agna very awkwardly.  Sigrid called for the healers, and they stood within as well. 

Solveig didn’t wait; she took a dagger to her adopted father’s linens and surveyed the damages herself.  Quickly and with great skill she sliced through the linen tunic, the trousers, and also through the healer’s handiwork.  Almost at once, they protested at having this child do such a thing but Ingred just growled like a Bruma mountain lion at them, causing them to flinch and Agna to start crying.

A knock brought Sonja with fresh linens and hot water, and Solveig reached over to Sigrid’s things for herbs, plants, and other botanicals.

     Dandowin’s left arm was full of fresh scars.  Parts of it were as if someone tried to rub his skin away.  Solveig took a hot wet towel and rubbed off the healer’s salves, pinching her own herbs with the help of Sigrid.  Laurenna marveled at her daughter’s movements, as she knotted her brow and didn’t smile, but moved with precise and knowing actions.  The healers looked from the distance whispering to themselves, and one, the Redguard, took out a parchment, quill, and ink and started to jot notes of her techniques.

     The right arm, when released, made all gasp. Laurenna dropped his foot and rose.  It was literally held together with their stitches.  From the shoulder to the wrist, hundreds of crisscrossing stitches formed designs up and down his arm.  Some seeped healing fluids from his blood, while others bled crimson.  The dark purple and green patches were still there, and Solveig turned to the healers with a disapproving look.  Barreling past Laurenna and Sigrid, she went running to the kitchen while Sigrid surveyed the full damages.  Broken bones set oddly, a split bone from the shoulder. Festering.

Solveig returned with some charcoal embers from the kitchen fireplace, and with some herbs and other salves, she placed them all in Sigrid’s mortar and ground them down into a black, oily looking paste.  She stripped the stitches off of the shoulder wound and reached within.  Dandowin heaved upward at the pain while Laurenna ran to his head and rubbed at his temples.  Motioning to Sigrid, Solveig looked lovingly at her new mother and new injured father and smiled weakly.  She then rose, kissed Dandowin on the cheek and apologized.

 

     “I’m sorry, my father.” She said softly.

She then dug her tiny fingers into his wound and manipulated the spilt right arm bone.  Blood spurted from around it immediately as she dug, fingered, and then brought the oily paste to it.  She slathered it within the wound as Dandowin screamed at the action.  Agna screamed at her father’s scream, and Ingred made to remove the child when Dandowin begged her to stop.

 

       “No…please…Ingred…please don’t take my little girl away.  I …need my daughters near me.”

 

Solveig smiled at the reference and inclusion and she jumped up again as she kissed him again on the cheek.  Laurenna looked down at his mismatched eyes and kept whispering to him.”

 

     “I love you.  I love you, my love, forever.”

 

     Two hours would pass before Solveig and Sigrid were finished, and they brought warm mead to Dandowin which also, the healers were jotting down into their parchments.  It was the special batch that Borka had made, the very one that brought stillness to the late Brynjolfr of Thirsk.  With a few gulps and a turn of his head, Dandowin was unconscious.  Ingred brought over Agna to Laurenna, who placed her upon his slow rising chest, and then she wiped her feet off with her hand and then climbed into bed with him, placing her head on his slightly less injured left arm.  Solveig hugged Sigrid and washed her hands in the now lukewarm water pail, wiping them dry on her brown tunic.  She also climbed into bed with her parents, taking the same side but lying on his leg below the arrow puncture that she redressed.

Sigrid looked at the assemblage on her bed and was moved to tears.  For a final time she prayed, looking upwards with eyes closed and uttered softly.

 

     “Thank you, oh thank you, my Wulfgar.”

 

She then left the happy and harrowed family to their rest, and Ingred Rems looked at them all with great love.  She walked over to Dandowin, and looked down at him.  Solveig’s eyes were already closed and breathed with great inhales.  Little Agna cooed and sucked upon her own fingers as all infants do.  Laurenna was still wide-awake, looking at the rising and falling of her husband’s chest as if to not do so would cause it to cease.  Looking up at Ingred, she smiled softly, and Ingred made to leave, when Laurenna’s whisper stopped her.

     “Hey?  Where are you going?”

Ingred just smiled peacefully and then nodded to the door with her head.  Before she could turn, Laurenna whispered again and made Ingred nearly chuckle out loud.

 

     “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

Ingred smiled wide walked over to the bed, and with a very gentle bend she bent to Dandowin’s lips, and kissed him ever so lightly on the lips.  She then repeated in turn to Solveig, and then little Agna.  Looking at Laurenna, who was smiling so wide as to nearly break her cheeks, she winked.  Backing away from the loving scene, Ingred Rems closed the door and with a deep breath, literally skipped downstairs to the throne room.

 

 

 

Chapter 42

 

 

     Dandowin slept for two full days.  He never roused, he never got up to even relieve himself, and he just lay unconscious for two days.  There were concerns at first, but Solveig and Sigrid assured Laurenna that his body was trying to heal it, and the poultices and salve her daughter and mother created had a numbing effect. 

The aftercare was where they were really worried.  Those broken bones of his right arm would be worrisome, and being his sword and bow arm, they wondered if he could ever defend himself again. 

Laurenna slept, ate, and ran Lokken from that bedroom.  She decided that when he came to, it was her face that he would awaken to.  On the second day she got her wish, as he roused to find her looking right into his face, and at first sight, she kissed him like the newlyweds they were. 

 

     Four days into his recuperation, Dandowin sat up slightly in bed and wanted to see everyone.  Sigrid took charge and allowed only a few at a time, and there were many questions and many congratulating of the couple and family for being reunited.  On his fifth day, Helmer and Leilana came to his bedside.  Solveig was changing his dressings and Laurenna went to fetch fresh water.  The sight of their reuniting since being separated at sea moved everyone.  Like childhood brothers they hugged and shook each other’s heads.  Helmer showed off his shoulder wound and Dandowin just shrugged his shoulders at his own dilapidated condition.  Helmer then brought forth Leilana who immediately fell to her knees at his bedside and wept.  Dandowin lifted her head and shook his head and smiled his broken toothed smile.  Helmer announced their betrothal as well as their upcoming birth.  Laurenna joined them, and there was much feeling of bellies and passing of Agna from one to the other.  Solveig sat upon Dandowin’s legs as if protecting him and he just draped his left arm around her, holding her to his chest.  He kissed her hair and just closed his eyes often, with many a loving prayer for such a daughter.

 

     In time, it was Wulfren and Lisendra’s turn.  Lisendra was carried in which she just put her arms about his neck and hugged him with kisses.  When she was brought away, she asked quietly  “Please forgive him?”

Wulfren knelt to his brother-in-law and at first just stared.  Dandowin just smiled his usual smile and extended his left arm.  Wulfren didn’t take it, surprising him instead with a brotherly hug.  He apologized for so many things…the honeymoon tour on his sister’s wedding time.  He asked forgiveness for the leaving of the ruling to him and Laurenna, and his outbursts at the harming of Lisendra.  Lastly, he turned to Solveig who just stared at him.  With tearing eyes, he begged forgiveness, at which Solveig just leaned over, and kissed his forehead. 

 

     When everyone was seen, in a group or individually, it was time to do something that few wanted to do…they had to tell Dandowin all that transpired.  First came the letters. There were some from Dilvene Venim, and others from the Great Houses. The room was emptied save for his family, Sigrid, Ingred, Berna, and Meira.

Berna and Meira spoke of their charges from Ingred, and how Luthien agreed to watch over Lisendra and Wulfren.  They spoke of their coming to Lokken and being transported to the start of a war.  Taking his hand, all remained quiet as Laurenna with Agna at her breast spoke of what befell Thirsk.  Dandowin shuddered as each word brought daggers to his heart, and a chill to his spine.  Solveig immediately held her father as he silently wept at the losses, promising to do whatever he could for their memory.  As he settled finally, Solveig sung the Song of the Battle of Lokken, detailing the great battle and what part all present in the room played that day.  He looked at each one present, and as before, promised to do all he could for those around him.

     Laurenna herself spoke of her fall at the appearance of Helmer, and the mention of his death.  How the great love of her mother, all Lokken and his friends who she calls her sisters now, stood by her.  Next she spoke of Luthien, how never knowing that she was his previous love, stood vigil during the birth and why she honored Agna with her name.  When he finally contacted her before the birth, she retold how and why she begged him to stay with her, even realizing how this might have endangered him during his escape.  Laurenna wept at the memory to which Dandowin just lovingly kissed her and kissed Agna, never taking his arm off of Solveig who would lean against him lovingly.

Lastly, she spoke of how Luthien stood by her after bringing Wulfren home, and how Ingred was her strength and her family now, deciding to stay here at Lokken.  Looking to Ingred, she just waved her hand in mock embarrassment, and blushed.  She spoke of how she was determined to rule as he had done, but found that her nights punished her with the memories of all their love around her.  How she was in despair even then, until her wedding ring warmed and she heard his words leading her to him.

     When all were done, Sigrid called for mead for everyone and then pressed Dandowin for all that transpired when he set sail with Helmer.  Dandowin was tired, and emotionally drained, but he told them all as he rested on the lap of his loving wife.

Starting with Tel Mora, and the fate of Mistress Dratha, and the leaving behind of his blood.  The many alchemical tests they did, and of her bodyguard Sadela.  He did not mention her violation of him in the night, just that he knew her from his early days of the Hortator Quests.  Next came the asking for a new ship, and their surprise as they saw the Azura being built.  How Helmer, his best friend had supervised the building with the others shipmasters, and how he tried in vain to get him to stay behind.

     Dandowin held his daughters close as he spoke of the storm, and hearing of the war here at home.  They tried to fight the storm and come home, only to be attacked by the Tsaesci.  With painful memories and emotion he choked as he spoke of sending Helmer home, and his last words for his loving wife Laurenna.  Laurenna, hearing this again, gathered her tall frame to him on the bed, and draped her legs about her husband and daughters, holding them closely.  The blackness of the deep ocean, and how when his last breath escaped his lips, he was drawn from the sea by the Tsaesci.

Woken up in the ruined cells on the Akavirii shores, he spoke of how he met two survivors from a previous shipwreck, Mirelle Delim the Breton and Gehenna Dilavani the Dunmer.  Their meeting of the Tsaesci and their noble female, and the terrible plot they had in store for them all, reinforced by her display of trying to eat Mirelle.  Of Mehrunes Dagon, and how it was Solveig’s wisdom again, that saved his life and the life of the other women.

     Solveig beamed at the fact that her simple solution to hide his ring had in fact saved her father’s life.  She nuzzled into Dandowin as Laurenna rubbed her arms with great love.  The retelling of the retrieving of his wedding band made all who were present tap each other in recognition, as they all painfully remembered the moment of Laurenna’s desperate hour and the raised axe.  With a mild embarrassment he retold how being pursued, and fired at by the ships, he used the persuasion of his ring in hand with a tender kiss, to enable Mirelle to concentrate enough to get them both to safety.

 

     “Told you those things were magical.  Bet you didn’t believe me huh Laurenna?”  Jested Ingred as she made a kissing gesture at Dandowin.

 

With great tiredness, he spoke of the arrows, and hearing the birth of Agna in his mind.  How he had prayed to see them again, for he loved everyone so much.  The last detail he spoke of was falling over the cliff to evade recapture, and waking up in the claw of the legend of “Mysterious Akavir” itself, the Great Tosh Raka.  By the time he got to him falling on a Netch with a fork in its side, Laurenna and the others assumed that he must be tired; because that was the silliest thing they had ever heard.

 

     The stories and adventures done for now, everyone rose to give Dandowin some much needed rest.  Ingred made a big show of snatching another lip kiss from Dandowin, feigning dizziness and power.  Meira and Berna kissed him “good night”, and Solveig and Sigrid left to get a late meal.  Laurenna took the letters from his hand let them fall to the floor.  She sat Agna in the cradle he bought from Seyda Neen, for the wee thing had fallen asleep in the story telling.  Undoing his linen tunic from the front, she opened it to the expose his chest, and placed her head upon his heart.  She listened to it beat as she spoke quietly against his chest.

 

     “She still loves you, my husband. I don’t think she ever stopped.”

Dandowin didn’t need to insult her by pretending he didn’t know who she meant, nor would he by asking “Who?”  He just took his left arm and placed it around Laurenna and stroked her now much longer silver-white hair.

 

     “I know she does, my wife.  She told me as much.  But know this my beautiful wife, it was she who told the others to keep my return secret, and it was she that turned my ring on and told me to remember the day that I first met you.”

 

     “She did this?”

Turning to face him, Laurenna looked in Dandowin’s eyes and read his heart in them.  All she saw was she in them, with no conflict whatsoever.

 

     “Oh yes.  I do not know what has happened, or why, but she was no longer angry or upset with me.  She seemed just glad I was alive, and I think that you were the reason for much of that my love.”

Laurenna shook her head and raised it to kiss his lips.  Like the caring wife she is, she fingered his mouth and exposed his broken teeth.  Shaking her head in sympathy, she kissed him deeply and passionately, letting him know it won’t matter one bit.  Broken smile or no, she will love him forever.

    

     Much later that evening, Dandowin rose from the bed with some difficulty, and stood looking at the beautiful Laurenna and the lovely Agna.  Solveig decided to sleep with Ingred, so it was just this idyllic scene.

Putting on his robe he limped out of the room, closing the door quietly.  He walked down the hall from the Master Bedroom to Sigrid’s room.  There was still candlelight from outside the door, and he softly knocked in the hopes she was still awake.

 

     “Sigrid?  May I speak with you?”  He whispered softly.

Sigrid opened her door and was in her usual robe.  Her bare feet made no sound on the stone floor as she tiptoed back to the bed, covering the lightly snoring Lena who sucked her thumb as the covers touched her.

Sigrid embraced her son-in-law and motioned him to sit down, which he still stood.  Seeing the pain on his face, she first checked his wounds before Dandowin spoke of what bothered him. 

     Taking her hand, he told Sigrid slowly and painfully of the night of Sadela Areth’s physical attack.  He left nothing out, save what he could not see during the time when she closed his eyes and mounted him.  There was shame in his voice as he spoke of how he wanted to call Laurenna upon the first coming back to motion, but thought the better of it.  He even was reluctant to tell Helmer, his best friend and shipmate until he pressed, and he shared with her their secret pact to tell none but themselves.  Dandowin was breaking that pact now, telling the mother of his very own wife.  But the memory of it bothered him, and when he thought of it further, the fears returned that this could be such as what befell the late Wulfgar, her husband.

     At the last of his retelling, Sigrid stood and went to him, tugging his ear in love as she had always done, and in truth, he missed that about his mother-in-law during his voyage.

She spoke also in whispers, with no judgment that he could see in her words.

 

     “This Dunmer woman, are you absolutely sure that she has taken your seed?”

 

     “Sigrid, her attack paralyzed my body, but through some arcane alchemy, she was able to retain my sensations though heightened. It apparently was something she learned from the Mabrigash.  Were it just for the moment, and but one time, I would have doubts.  But I fear the length of time and the amount she drew, leaves no doubt."

 

Sigrid crossed her arms and paced from one end of the room to another, she then stopped when she heard a small gasp from Lena as she turned over.

 

     “My son, what strange creatures we women can be, to take forcibly from some men while there are usually others who would give willingly.  Once, this would be the realm of the men only you’d think.”

 

Dandowin looked forlorn and as sick as he did when he first arrived from the cart.  She reached out to him and held his good arm.

 

     “Had you told Laurenna when first it happened, I daresay that she would have boarded a ship from Lokken to Tel Fyr, and sought to kill this woman.  It is almost a safe assumption that your dark-haired Ingred would have helped her.  If there has been a life created from your issue, then we are all at the mercy of time to bear witness.”

 

     “I am so sorry Sigrid.  I did not instigate this in the least, and could not move!”

Sigrid continued her hold on Dandowin, and tugged his ear in understanding.

 

     “Such is what happened to my Wulfgar, and had I known at the first, perhaps like my daughter, I would first think to violent deeds.  But now, at this part of my life, and the losses I suffered, how can I look at that child who sleeps in my bed now as anything but a blessing?”

 

     “But unlike the great Wulfgar dear Sigrid, your daughter still lives.  How am I to live with the fear and the knowledge?”

 

     “Let me tell you something my son.  Even those that love us dearly may often keep secrets for what they feel are the greater good of all.  Wulfgar kept his, and since you are home now and shared this with me, I feel I must tell you something that was kept from you.”

Dandowin cocked his head to the side in confusion.  He had no idea where this was going or who it involved.

 

     “In your absence, the woman you once loved returned my son and Lisendra home.  It was I who broke the news of your believed fall when Wulfren and Lisendra spoke of who she once was.  I gave her this.”

Sigrid handed Dandowin the very same piece of the Azura that Helmer held when they were floating and facing their end of their lives.  He shuddered with the memory.

 

     “That dusky lass, your Luthien took the news of your death badly my son.  She wept, as I have seen no one weep save my daughter.  It was then I knew that you meant something to her still.  Come the birth of your daughter, she bonded with Laurenna.  One evening to early morning, she came to formally introduce herself and ask permission.”

 

     “Permission?”  Asked Dandowin, puzzled.

 

     “Yes my son.  She wanted to see the baby.  As she sat, your wife noted as did I that she was barely holding on.  I took a guess and what I felt at the first was true, that Luthien loves you still.  She sought to see the baby, as a way of seeing a piece of you.  When I guessed that she loved you, it was then that she spoke of why she left you.”

Dandowin moved to sit, as this was too much.  His heart raced and he was feeling dizzy.  As Dandowin sat on a chair, Sigrid knelt to him.

 

     “What do you remember of her injury, my son?”

Dandowin told of their Ashlander trips, and on one quest set by the Urshilaku, he ventured into a most dangerous Sixth House Base called Kogoruhn.  There were many dangers there, and one such shot an arrow into Luthien.  He had gotten her to safety and a healer, and then laid waste to the entire enclave, retrieving the items he was charged to find.  It was months later, after she was all healed and they back in Balmora, that she grew furious and said she did not love him anymore.  He didn’t even know why.  He just chalked it up to being left for another, and he left Balmora for Solstheim.

 

     “She kept something from you my son.  The truth.  The arrow, which pierced her stomach like Lisendra, left her unable to bear you a child.  She knew of your want of a family, even though at that time, she revealed that she did not share your dream.  She loved you very much, but was not ready for motherhood.  So, in a loving, desperate move to see you happy, she ended your love.  She did so badly so you would not pursue the reasons why.  Tell me, what would you have done had she told you that she could not bear your child?”

 

Dandowin thought but for a second, and his face realized the truth of himself, and now knew why she did it.

 

     “I would have wed her and loved her anyway.”  He reasoned.

 

     “So now you know, why she left.  She loves you, enough to see you happy, even if that happiness is to love my daughter and fill our lives with children.  In my mind, that is the greatest gift one can give, and one to be cherished.”

 

     Dandowin thought in silence and absorbed all he was told.  So many realizations in one lifetime, it made his head hurt.  Plans, secrets, truths, lies, mistruths, legends, when does it all end?  Right now, all he wanted was peace, quiet, and love.

 

     “And this problem in Tel Fyr?”  He asked finally, while rubbing his head.

 

     “It will only be a problem if it comes to our shore.  Am I right in assuming that my son-in-law has no more intentions of traveling the world at large?”  She winked.

 

     “You assume correctly, mother dear.”  He smiled weakly.

Sigrid hugged Dandowin and pulled his ear one last time before yawning herself.  Her words were encouraging and hopeful.

 

     “So, off to bed with you.  Think no more of those that took from you, and just love those of us that give to you.  In time, all will be well.  Love my daughter, love my grandchildren, and love my peoples.  For in all sincerity, we surely love you.  Good night, my son.” 

 

Dandowin kissed Sigrid and left to go back to the Master Bedroom.  Once inside, he noticed little Agna was awake and cooing.  Lifting her from the cradle, he held her in his good arm as she moved her great head of silver-white hair about.  Looking into her eyes, he couldn’t be happier than he was now.  Laurenna stirred, and he carefully lay her down between the two of them.  Moving over his wife, he bent for a kiss to which she kissed him lovingly, and feeling Agna between them, moved to give her plenty of room.  Their heads touching, all three settled down to rest, and eventually sleep.  For the first time that Dandowin could remember, he dreamt of a room filled with children, and Laurenna braiding the hair of a teenage daughter.

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

 

     Ahnassi was very glad to be home again.  She had been away from her quaint cottage since she had uncovered that terrible secret plan to hurt her one “true and very good friend”, the handsome Nord who shared things with her, for too long.  Padding along the stone and grasses, she passed by all the familiar faces that she missed.  Kunthar walked hand in hand with his new wife.  Guards patrolled up and down the road, fewer than before since so many were recalled to Cyrodiil.  She had heard from the talk at Vivec that for some reason unknown to all, the large Oblivion gate that destroyed Ald’ruhn had just one day collapsed in on itself.  There were many, many, sad deaths.  She would not go there for some time, she decided.

     Putting the key into her lock she turned it and opened her door with its usual quaint creak. 

Closing it behind her, she turned and gasped out loud. 

 

It was unbelievable.  From one corner to the other of her quaint little cottage room, were chests upon chests of gold and gems.  There were so many piles of Septims that the glow of them had outshined the candles she left on her table. She noticed a single rolled note, and a fresh Coda flower, something she also shared with the Nord friend.  Unrolling the parchment, she just saw two words written large upon it:

 

“Thank You.”  It read.

 

The chests were as high as her chest, and some were so full the coins spilled all over her floor so deep, one could not see her carpet!  With a purr and a shout of glee, Ahnassi turned and jumped backward onto the piles of gold on the floor, waving her arms and legs as if swimming on a sea of gold.  Coins and gems flew everywhere and she just laughed and laughed.

 

 

     Early morning sunlight, a sight so rare in this frozen land, gracefully draped everything in the promise of a new day.  The snow, which often concealed the signs of the day before was absent today, leaving all a reminder of the things that transpired.

 

     A voice, soft and disembodied wafted softly through the now peaceful town of Lokken.  It flew past the rebuilding of a new longboat, now being worked on by a crew of hopeful travelers.  It flew to a mountain top cottage, where a troubled young warrior and his broken wife slept embraced.  It drew through the young man into the young woman, and with a wondrous glow ran up and down her body, bringing healing to parts damaged, growing new parts long destroyed.  It left the mountain to weave through the trees and establishments, both saved and destroyed, touching each within and without with a simple word.  The voice spoke a word that told of the new day, and a reason for cheer.  For some, it spoke of a promise.

 

That word heard, was Hope.

 

     The voice now found entry through the large castle atop the hill, through an open window that let the crisp, cold, air fill the halls and the rooms.  It took away the scents and thoughts of the previous day, giving all within just reasons to move closer, and share warmth.  Drifting up the cool steps, circling the spiral stairs it stopped first at the room closest the stairs.  Within was a weary matron who was sleeping peacefully with a tiny child wrapped about her almost as snug as the skins atop the bed.  She snored ever so slightly, her thoughts away in that blissful place that children know and adults imagine.

 

The voice just brushed at her ear, with soft whispers of family and safety.

 

     Leaving the room the voice now came upon another room, where within were a battle tired woman who fought as much for the covering skins on the bed as the growing woman-child that pulled at them.  Each frowning and snoring as the fight for the covers volleyed back and forth.  The scars they bore spoke of love and kinship, and the voice gently washed over their scars and made the skin anew, removing the damages but leaving them the memory to rekindle and retell.  It left as quietly as it entered, amused how their contest ended with both covered, a head at each end of the bed and their legs thrown over each other.

 

     The voice finally found its destination, the Master Bedroom and the occupants within.  As it wafted inside, it stopped to take in the sight before it, warming in memorable compassion before having to spoil the sight with waking them.  The youngest of them, newly come to the world before it, was awake already.  It noted the voice, as it now took form, and the infant giggled slightly as Azura bent slightly to touch young Agna on the forehead.  Agna smiled her wide infant smile and waved her arms about, as Azura placed a protective blessing upon her head, causing her to giggle with the laughter that could melt the most frozen heart.  She floated above the couple that laid spread out like starfish joined at the head.  Azura smiled, as she took in the sight. 

 

Dandowin and Laurenna both lay with their heads touching, but their arms and legs splayed out as if staked out to the bed they laid upon.  Dandowin was still in his brown leggings and Laurenna wore the simplest linen chemise, which was already soaked at the breasts with milk.  Both snored loudly with open mouths, which was part of the reason that little Agna was awake.  The room was slightly warmed by the fire that was still crackling in the fireplace.

 

Time pressed on, and Azura broke the idyllic scene with a gentle wave and comment.

 

     “Nerevarine, awaken.”  “Lady of Lokken, awaken.”

 

Laurenna awoke first, bringing her hand immediately to their daughter to check and see if she was okay.  She wrung her fists into her eyes and punched Dandowin in the arm as she saw the shape of Azura focus into her eyes.  Dandowin snapped awake, vaulting himself upon his injured arm, and winced.  He let out a gruff “Oomph”, reaching for the sword he left at his side of the bed.  When he got within reach, it just moved under the bed as if shoved by an unseen force.  Looking up, Azura spoke, her voice soft and her Dunmer face held the softest smile.  Her red eyes glowed but Dandowin found nothing in them to fear.  Dandowin leaned to Laurenna’s ear and whispered.

 

     “Can you see her as well?”

 

     “Uh-huh.  Who is she and what does she want?”  Laurenna asked with panic in her voice.

 

She immediately snatched up Agna and held her so close that Agna protested being brought to the chill of her moist chemise.  She cried and fussed, and Laurenna hazarded the danger by pulling down one shoulder of her chemise to place Agna to her breast.  Agna quieted immediately, leaving her parents to deal with the stranger as she hungrily started her breakfast.

 

     “Yes…Azura?” Dandowin started, with some trepidation.

 

When Azura spoke, she had the same disembodied voice that sounded male, female, and otherworldly simultaneously.  She opened her arms in the way Dandowin remembered, when he saw her both in Mournhold and at the caves of Red Mountain.  Dandowin protectively put his arm around his wife and child, to which Laurenna grasped his free hand, all forming an unmovable rock made of a loving family.

 

     Dandowin.  Laurenna.  You have both survived and conquered a great evil, and the whole of Morrowind and beyond is able to sleep peacefully because of it.  I come before you both, because there is one last thing I wish to do, which is of importance to you both.”

 

Laurenna stiffened.  She had heard of Azura’s deeds as well as her favors asked.  She instinctively covered Agna, and placed herself in front of Dandowin.  Dandowin tried to place her behind him, but his broken arm prevented him from being able to. 

 

     “Have no fear Laurenna.  I do not come to separate your family ever again, but instead, come to bestow a gift to your love that will ensure you shall never be apart again.  You see, my child, Dandowin has been both cursed and blessed by the blight that was of Dagoth Ur’s evil.  Divayth Fyr had removed its harmful effects, but left the Divine aspects of the affliction.  In truth, as the years would pass, you and your sires would age year after year, yet Dandowin would remain the same.  “Neither blight nor age can harm him.” She quoted.”

 

Laurenna looked to Dandowin with eyes widened, a touch angry at the fact untold and both sympathetic as to why he did not mention it earlier.

 

Azura continued.

 

     “Do not be cross with Dandowin.  Had he told you, would that undo all that he sacrificed for both Morrowind, and Lokken?  I think not.  No.  It was his destiny to end the evils of Red Mountain, free the people of the blight, and to reunite the sires of Wulfgar and Sigrid thus freeing the peoples of Lokken.”

 

Laurenna moved to kiss him then, erasing the pain of deceiving her that was far worse than his broken arm.  Dandowin smiled weakly, and they both turned to Azura to listen intently.

 

     “For your triumphs and sacrifices, I have moved throughout your home and healed all those who fought valiantly and those harmed by treachery.  I left their memories, for these deeds will resonate from now till the end of times.  For those who lost the ones they loved, I touched their hearts with hope, and the knowledge that when their lives move from twilight to night, they shall see their loves and friends again.

 

     To Dandowin and Laurenna, I give this gift…I lift the Divine aspects from Dandowin.  He shall age and pass into shadows as all things do, but I left enough that shall touch your family, where death shall not come for many, many, years.

 

Spend each year with love and hope, and teach your children to honor the past.  Know that evils are like the ages, and when one leaves an age, often one comes to replace it even if for not some time.  Prepare your sires to be strong, and know that there may be a time when they will have to honor your deeds, by adding their own to the songs of Dandowin and Laurenna.”

 

Azura waved her arms once, and Laurenna gently placed Agna between her and Dandowin, and they both slowly fell backwards and asleep as they were, splayed and snoring. Dandowin’s arm was healed and made anew. Little Agna just giggled and cooed.  Not asleep, just moving as all infants do, with a great flailing and kicking amused by the sights before them.  Azura bent forward one last time, placed a kiss upon Agna’s forehead and small light flashed.  She then floated backwards with these words:

 

     “To you, little one, I give the gift of foresight.  Guide your mother and father with great insight, and love.  Teach your siblings to be wise, and fair.  Give to your own sires, this gift, so that the Lokken people will always be able to heed the call and answer it with compassion and readiness.”

 

     Her message done, she faded into the darkness of the room.  Little Agna cooed and yawned a few times, only to gently fall asleep herself.  She soon snored that little breathy snore that safe and happy children do when they are well fed, well warmed, and well loved.  Just under the little silver-white bangs that graced her most beautiful face, there rose a new birthmark, a tiny double crescent moon partnered with a tiny swirled six-pointed star.

 

 

 

 

 

The End

 




The Heir to the Lokken Kingdom is fan created fiction inspired by the lands, characters, and mods created for the game Morrowind, a Bethesda/Zenimax property.  All characters, items, lands, and legends are the sole property of Bethesda including but not limited to nomeclature, visages, and all visual renderings.

This novel work is by no means endorsed by Bethesda/Zenimax, and no such action is implied whatsoever.

It is with the utmost respect and admiration that this was inspired by the modding team, the late Grumpy(for his character Ingred Rems and the Dome Home Staff) and Emma, the creator of The White Wolf of Lokken Mountain mod, made for the terrain created by TeuTonic.  Other characters that were included and fleshed out such as Luthien Morvayn, created by Neoptolemus' MCA mod and Korana's Solstheim Castle staff, were also used with the greatest respect.  The LGNPC Team, whose excellent work helped inspire some of the events in the story and dialogue from their Tel Mora mod, are again, very humbly thanked and admired.  There are others and I tried to track down your handles and names to make sure you were mentioned, and if I failed, I most humbly apologize. 

When I wrote this novel, it created itself because as I was playing the game Morrowind and the enjoying all the mods associated with it, I found that when I day dreamt or had a creative moment, the characters played out their lives like a movie in my mind.  It took several years to take this jumble of thoughts and mental images, and put them first to paper and then to bits and bytes. 

The character of Dandowin was my first Morrowind character, and my most favorite, because in essence, he is myself.  Not in looks certainly and most definitely not in titles, but many of his mannerisms, thoughts, failings, foilables, and graces, I share with him in full.  Most of all the putting others first, and the internal desperate want of a simple life with a family.  Where I failed, he succeeded and I hope that he lives his digital world with peace, harmony, family, and love. 

This novel is dedicated to Emma, the most wonderful Lady of Lokken who inspires a great many people.  Also to my loving wife Elizabeth, who proofchecks, edits, and helps catch the thought bubbles that fly out of my head.  When I saw her wiping her eyes as she read through the novel, I figured I was either lucky to get a passage right, or was going to be in marital trouble.  : )

Sincerely, Eric Dana Vaughan (Eirik)