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Chapter Text

Emily looked up at the stone archway. It was rumoured to have once been a portal despite the fact that, to her knowledge and that of many who researched such curious natural structures, it had never actually been seen to function.

Tales and legends abounded but these were likely borne of mankind’s natural desire for fantasy, a desire to prove that things existed outside the sphere of science and rationale.

The faint scent of alpine blooms: Jacob’s Ladder and Alpine Catchfly, hung in the air as she sat down on a rock to sketch the formation. There were other stone structures like this, dotted across the globe. Many believed they acted, or once acted, as a kind of mystical transport system and their placement was not coincidental.

But then any learned man will tell you that wind buffeting relentlessly against a soft enough stone will sooner or later create an archway like the one she sat before.

The cool Norwegian sun was getting to its highest point, casting long shadows across the ground. Emily took out a bottle of water from her bag and took a long draught from it.

She looked down at the half-finished sketch. The perspective was off and she took an eraser from her bag and scrubbed out the bottom half. She found perspective to be the trickiest aspect of drawing and though she had improved, it still vexed her from time to time.

For another hour she sat and after a quick lunch of cucumber sandwiches she got up, tucking her sketchbook under her arm.

She got up and regarded the stone structure for a second. Then an amused smile came to her face as she thought of the old legends and skipped merrily through the stone archway.

Chapter Text

From the moment she stepped through the archway what appeared to be a heat haze sprang up which was strange as the air around her seemed to be getting colder. It got to a point where she had to shield her eyes from the shimmering shapes.

Soon she stopped altogether, remembering that the stone archway was situated atop a cliff and she had no desire to go walking off it in her blinded state.

A cold brisk wind gambolled about her, raising goosepimples on her arms. She rolled down the sleeves of her hooded jacket and pulled the hood up over her head. She thought of the mug of hot chocolate waiting for her back at the café in the visitor centre which acted as a waypoint between here and the nearest town.

Presently her vision began to clear as the heat haze dropped. The cliffside looked different somehow. Underfoot where once had been reasonably flat granite was now rocky grey shale. Frost crunched underfoot. She bent and examined a patch of flowers with spindly leaves and stem, covered in small red blooms. She rubbed one of the frosty leaves between thumb and forefinger. The plant wasn’t one she recognised. She couldn’t identify it and she prided herself on her knowledge regarding things of a botanical nature. It looked a little like a ragged poppy but the leaves were all wrong. She stood up and looked around. She must’ve accidentally wandered into a different part of the mountain park. That was the only sensible explanation for it.

She turned back and looked at the stone archway she had come through. It too looked different, composed of the same grey stone that made up the rocks she was standing on and it resembled more the trilithons of Stonehenge in her native England than the natural stone archway.

She turned her attention back to the impressive vista. Before her stretched an expanse of mountains and valleys with a large river winding through them like a large glistening serpent. None of this made any sense to Emily. She couldn’t remember seeing the distant valley before or the winding river. On the way up she’d seen only mountains and beyond that had been the lake of Bessvatnet.

She looked up to her left and saw, not so far away, what appeared to be an old ruin. That didn’t make any sense either. There weren’t any ruins for miles. Stone eagles glowered down at her from what had once apparently been an entrance. It was blocked by a large pile of rubble. At the top she could just make out what appeared to be a statue of a woman that somewhat resembled the traditional depiction of an angel with great stone wings reaching imploringly toward the sky.

Shouldering her bag, Emily left the slope behind. She soon came to a cobblestone road. Cobbles, she knew, meant civilisation so she followed them.

What she saw before her, when she crested the next hill, could only be described as a medieval town. She saw several people milling about the streets. Had she somehow happened upon some kind of convention? It all looked very authentic.

One of those nearest to her paused with the firewood he was carrying and looked at her. Then he muttered something under his breath and continued about his work. Maybe he was dismayed that she had shown up out of costume, she wondered.

‘Well, hard luck,’ she thought, ‘It’s not as though I meant to wind up here.’

The first building on her right that she came to had a sign above the door, swaying gently in the breeze, that marked it as a tavern. A drink would be very welcome, she thought.

The air inside the tavern was warm and close. There were a few people seated at the crude wooden tables. A woman stood behind the counter, cleaning a metal tankard with a spotted rag. Emily sat down on one of the wooden barstools. The woman set down the tankard and tucked the rag into a band on her apron.

“You want a drink?” she asked. Emily noticed the way she eyed her, with what seemed to be a vague air of suspicion.

“Yeah, what do ya have?” Emily replied.

“We’ve got a fresh batch of ale in since yesterday,” said the woman, “Some good mead and spiced wine in from Solitude.”

“Mead then,” Emily replied, “Will this cover it?” She fished in her jean’s pocket and pulled out five coppery 20 kroner pieces. She handed them to the woman.

“Hey, what are you trying to pull?” she asked crossly, “What do you call this?”

“Where I come from, we call this money,” Emily answered, affronted.

“Well, wherever you’re from we don’t take it here. Now, off with you.”
She was taking her role rather too seriously, Emily felt.

“Hold on, keep your hair on,” she said, “So, what do you take around here?”

The woman considered chasing the petulant young woman out with her broom but decided against it.

“Septims,” she replied, “Gold septims.”

“Know where I can earn some?” Emily asked. The woman rested the broom back against the wall.

“Horgeir usually needs some help at the mill,” she said, “Speak to him.” Her reply was curt and Emily decided not to press her further.

She left the tavern and followed the cobblestone path to a lumber mill which straddled the river just before where it fell from the cliffs with a tumbling roar. A campfire crackled merrily in its pit next to the mill and a cooking spit with a roasting joint hung over it.

A man she took to be Horgeir was busily chopping wood near the campfire. He had ginger hair and beard and appeared to be wearing an iron breastplate over a tunic, a pair of iron armguards and boots.

“It must be jolly heavy work chopping wood in that,” she muttered as she approached him.

“Excuse me,” she said, “I was told you’d be the man to talk to about earning some…septims.” She remembered just in time what the woman had called them.

"You were told right then, traveller,” said the man, “Tell you what, you help me with that woodpile there and I’ll pay you sixty septims. Sound fair?”

“Will that get me a bottle of mead?” Emily asked, “I’m new here so I don’t know the going rate,” she added quickly.

“It’ll get ya some good strong mead, a room for the night and maybe some food if you don’t mind living a bit meagre-like.”

“Sounds good then.”

Horgeir handed her a wooden handled woodcutter’s axe and they set to work.

It was hard going and soon Emily’s arms and back began to ache but she pressed on. Horgeir was an amiable sort of man and they talked as they worked. He told her a little bit about Dragon Bridge, the town she now found herself in and about Solitude, a city that was a day and a half’s travel up the road. He told her about the stone archway upon which it sat and the great windmill.

“Do you get many travellers through here then?” Emily asked.

“Not so many as we used to with this war on. Nowadays it’s mostly soldiers,” said Horgeir, wiping the sweat from his brow, “But I’ve been told it won’t be long now. Ulfric’s influence is dwindling. He hasn’t done what he set out to do so his people are losing faith in him. He’ll be brought to the headsman’s axe sooner or later.” Despite believing his whole tale to be pure fiction made to make the visitor’s experience more immersive, Horgeir spoke so gravely that she could not bring herself to say anything.

“I’ve never seen a traveller through here like you before,” said Horgeir, breaking in on her thoughts, “You’re dressed outlandishly. Where are you from?”

“Somerset,” replied Emily.

“Oh, the isle,” said Horgeir. Emily had never heard it referred to as such before but she nodded.

“Just visiting then?” enquired Horgeir, “You heading for home soon?”

“I’m hoping to,” Emily replied, “My visa expires soon.”

“You’ll want Captain Sunhawk when you reach Solitude then,” said Horgeir, “Elf regularly makes trips to and from Summerset.”

“Elf?” questioned Emily. Surely she could not have heard right.

“Aye, a bit stuck up like most High Elves but asks an honest fare,” Horgeir replied, “He’ll see you right.”

Something had been gnawing at Emily since her heated conversation with the woman in the tavern or perhaps before but she felt she didn’t dare address it. The notion was simply too terrifying.

Chapter Text

Emily crossed the road back to the tavern, carrying a small purse filled with gold coins. She entered the tavern and ordered a bottle of Honningbrew mead and a bowl of vegetable soup. The woman behind the bar still looked at her distrustfully but took the coin nonetheless. Clearly their previous spat was still fresh in her mind.

The soup was thick, more akin to a broth and was rather richer than she had anticipated. She turned over one of the gold coins in her fingers as she ate. On one side was the profile of a man and on the other was an angular symbol that greatly resembled a dragon.

She took a swig of the mead from a metal tankard. It was sweet and warmed her as it made its way down her throat. Once the woman had cleared away the earthenware bowl, Emily went to sit by the crackling fire pit. Now full of food and tired she found it a little more difficult to worry about her predicament. She would just have to sort it out in the morning. She surprised even herself with how calm she was. In one corner of the room stood a man with a carved wooden flute. He was playing a lilting tune that had the air of a folksong about it. She’d been to an old-style Norwegian tavern three nights before and there had been a folksinger there, singing several old Norwegian folk songs. She remembered the songs, at times high and sing-song and at times low and guttural. Perhaps this bard would know one of them. She got up and approached the young man who stopped playing as she approached.

“A request, ma’am?” he asked. His accent, unlike the innkeeper’s, was more cosmopolitan and Emily could not quite place it.

“Do you know Barnesko?” Emily asked. The young man looked puzzled.

“I’m afraid I don’t know that one,” he replied.

“How about Vandringsvise?” Emily asked. The young man shook his head.

“They never taught us those at the bard’s college,” he replied, “They sound like Old Skaal music though. Probably very popular over on Solstheim.” He paused. “I could sing you Ragnar the Red,” he said hopefully, “Or the Dragonborn comes. That’s a popular one around here.”

“Alright, that sounds good,” she said. She checked her pockets, “Do you have to pay to make requests?” The man just laughed.

“No, ma’am,” he replied good-naturedly, “Please, take a seat and I’ll begin.” And so she did. The man put away his flute and began to sing, in a voice deep and sonorous.

“Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior’s heart,” he sang. As the song started she noticed a few heads turn. One man in scaled armour poured another tankard of mead.

“I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes. With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art. Believe, believe, the dragonborn comes.” Two men got up and were raising their tankards in something resembling reverence.

“It’s an end to the evil, of all Skyrim’s foes, beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes,” sang the bard, “For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows. You’ll know, you’ll know, the Dragonborn’s come.”

Emily, who had sat in rapt attention as the bard sang, looked around as several men in the tavern gave out cries of approval and drank their mead. The spell of silence and reverence in the place had been broken and they revelled in the dying notes of the song.

“What’s the story behind that song?” Emily asked the bard. He looked at her in mild surprise.

“Do you not know it?” he asked, “It’s Skyrim’s most well-known legend. The Dragonborn was a man with the heart of a warrior but the soul and blood of a dragon. There have been many dragonborn throughout the ages, all great warriors in their own right. Like Tiber Septim, who brought peace to our land and ruled as Emperor.” Taking note of the man’s surprise at her ignorance, Emily decided not to ask of Tiber Septim. But a leaden weight in her stomach dropped. Skyrim. She’d never heard of such a place.

“Are you alright, friend?” asked the friendly young bard, “Are you ill?”

“No, just a little homesick,” Emily replied.

“Where are you from?”

“Somerset,” she replied.

“You’re from the Isle?” he said with a whistle, “Phew, you must have seen some rare things out there. They say magic clings to that place like a second skin.”

“It’s true we have a lot of tales and legends,” Emily said carefully. Somehow though she doubted they were talking about the same place and the leaden ball in her stomach seemed to grow heavier. “Well, I think I’m going to see about renting a room,” said Emily, “I’ve got to be up early tomorrow so I’ll need my rest.”

“Safe travels then, friend,” he said. He leaned over to the wall where a lute stood. It was a fine instrument carved from a deep red wood.

Emily got up and crossed the room to the bar where she asked the Innkeeper for a room and dropped thirty of the golden coins into her waiting palm. She showed her to a room off to the side. The room had a wooden double bed covered in what appeared to be skins. There was no door, the room was open plan. In one corner stood a wooden dresser and a wrought iron chest that sat low to the ground. When the Innkeeper left Emily sat down on the edge of the bed. Not having prepared for such an event, she had neglected to pack her night things. She remembered, with a sinking feeling, that they along with many of her other possessions were still back at the hotel. What would they do when her stay was over and she was not there to check out? She assumed they would just dump them which made her feel sick. Some of her best clothes were in there. And her tablet. She lay down on the bed and rolled over. No, she’d get to this Solitude the people mentioned. She still had a week left. The boat would take her back to Svolvær and she would pick up her things and return home. With that last comforting thought in mind she rolled over and fell into a fitful sleep.

The day dawned with a thick mist hanging over the town of Dragon Bridge. Emily packed her things and left the town after asking one of the farmers how to get to Solitude.

“Just follow the road East and make for the stone archway. But don’t take any of the side roads. They’re bad news. Lead up into witch country,” he had warned. Emily had thanked him and shouldered her bag, setting out.

The cobblestones were rough beneath her well-worn boots as she set out and the mist made it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. It was midmorning when she reached the slope she had come down from the afternoon before. She could just make out the stone archway peering out from the mists. Emily frowned before taking a few deliberate steps off the path towards the arch. She could see through it and saw the trunks of the trees that towered above it. She touched the rough stone of the archway and looked up once more before stepping through.

There was no heat haze this time, no glittering light and she could see plain the bark of the trees on the far side. She could not see the rock she had sat upon the day before to sketch. Remembering the sketch, she took off the backpack and rummaged around until she found her sketchbook, pulling it out and flipping through the pages to find the sketch. She held it up to the archway, seeing how different it looked. Hers was smoother, more rounded and natural looking. This one definitely looked manmade. A sound cut through the mist, a lone howl. It was joined seconds later by another. She shoved the sketchbook back in her bag and strode back to the path.

“Damn, they’ve got wolves here,” she muttered, “And goodness knows what else.” The man in the town had mentioned witches. Surely he didn’t mean real witches. The mist around her seemed to be filled with strange sounds, some she could identify and others she could not. There was a wolf, its lonely howl seemingly muffled by the mist and there was the cry of some bird of prey circling high above. The mist clung to her like a second skin, dampening her clothes and causing her to shiver in the still morning air.

Another howl sounded close by and she quickened her pace. It was joined by another and another. Her brisk walk became a run. She saw, or thought she saw, loping grey shapes in the mist. Then she heard yelping barks. They sounded on either side of her, clearer then before. Then a ragged black shape broke from the mist. She saw teeth glinting in the hairy muzzle and she screamed, turning her run to a sprint. The beast was gaining on her and she felt hot air at her heels. At any moment she expected to feel the weight of the creature slam into her back or its teeth in her leg, dragging her to the ground. If she fell, that would be it.

Then she saw shadows in the road ahead. More wolves? She plunged on. Something glinted in the shadows ahead and something shot past her ear with a whistle. She heard a yelp behind her. Two more of the objects whizzed past, accompanied by two more yelps. Emily skidded to a halt. The air behind her was silent now.

“Not safe to be walking the roads alone, traveller,” said a voice in the mist. A man in leather armour emerged from the mist, placing a wooden bow back on his back. He was tall with blonde hair and beard, “You headed for the capital?”

“Yes,” Emily replied. She looked back and saw the bodies of three wolves stretched across the path. One of them had its mouth open in a vicious soundless snarl. The hunter walked past her and pulled the arrow embedded in the shaggy neck of the foremost wolf, placing the arrow back in his quiver.

“Fraid I’m not headed that way myself,” he said, pulling another arrow from the second wolf. It snapped off and he cursed under his breath, “I’ve just come from there, selling pelts. These will fetch a good price in Rorikstead.” He gestured to the wolves.

“There’s a Khajiit caravan that sometimes comes along here from Eastmarch,” continued the man, “But I’d steer clear of them. They’re troublemakers.” Emily gulped.

“How much further to Solitude from here then?” she asked.

“At least another day,” the man answered. The man looked her over suddenly. “Are you some kind of fool? Coming out here without so much as a blade. Or are you one of those fancy wizards?”

“A wizard, no,” Emily replied. The man folded his arms.

“Tch, you greenhorn adventurers,” he said, shaking his head, “Storming out to take on the world, thinking it all a merry lark. At this rate you’ll be carrion for the crows before you’ve made it to the Northern Escarpment.” He turned on his heel and whistled into the mist. Emily heard snorting and heavy footfalls as a chestnut mare pulling a wagon emerged from the mist. The man stopped the beast and reached into one of the saddlebags, pulling out an iron blade. Emily took a step back instinctively. The man strode toward her and held out the blade.

“Lucky for you I had a spare,” he said. Emily took the blade and tied the leather strips around one of the belt loops on her jeans.

“Thank you,” she said. The man nodded before moving to the wolf carcasses, lifting each one and throwing it into the back of the wagon. He swung himself up onto his horse and moved it into a trot. Gradually the sounds of the horse and wagon faded into the mist and she was left alone again. Only the small puddles of drying blood on the cobblestones marked his presence. Emily touched the blade at her hip before continuing down the path.

It was not until mid-afternoon that the mist finally began to clear and she had a view of the land around her. On one side the land sloped steeply downward into a valley filled with tall pine trees. Beyond it she saw vast plains and beyond that again were mountains.
On the other side the land rose steeply upwards with overhanging rocks. Small birds twittered in the overhanging branches and Emily saw what appeared to be a squirrel in the topmost branches, its ash grey fur almost blending in with the bark. With the mist gone she could see ahead. The cobblestones stretched on and far, far in the distance she saw a great stone archway. Perched atop it was a building, palatial in appearance. Emily took a deep breath, letting it out in a low gust. What a view.

She stopped for lunch beneath the spreading limbs of a pine tree. She had packed some bread and cheese she’d bought from the tavern that morning and she ate quietly. More than once she glanced at the blade at her hip, admiring the leather scabbard, the wood and metal handle. Once she’d finished she removed the blade from its scabbard and turned it over in her hands. The blade was the length of her hand and quite shiny. There was a nick near the tip. It looked very like the blades she’d seen at the museum in London.

Following her brief lunch she sheathed the blade and slid off the rock she had been resting on to continue her journey.

The mist kept away for the rest of the day. Late in the afternoon she met a peddler leading his horse along the cobblestones. Emily fingered the remaining twenty septims in her purse. She hailed down the peddler and he stopped by a large flat stone.

“And what can I do for you?” asked the man. He was dressed in a doublet and hoes, a small hat perched atop his greying head. “I’ve got potions, scrolls and a few knickknacks. Emily had a look over the merchant’s wares. The man was patient and pointed out several of his better deals. A roll of yellowing paper caught Emily’s attention. It lay on the stone, weighted down at the corners by a few vials of red liquid. It looked to be a map and written at the top in a calligraphic looping script was the word, ‘Skyrim.’

“How much for the map?” she asked.

“Fifteen septims,” replied the merchant, shrugging his shoulders.

“Done,” Emily replied, handing the man the coins. He handed her the map which she studied as he encouraged his horse back into a loping stride. She saw the symbol of a wolf near the top left corner and under it was the word, ‘Solitude.’ Further down the road was Dragon Bridge so she reckoned herself to be somewhere halfway between the two. That was a start. At the far side of the map was Windhelm in an area known as Eastmarch, the place the hunter had mentioned when he talked of the Khajiit caravan. She figured that if she was stuck here much longer it could come in useful and if she was not, it would make a pretty souvenir. A souvenir of the day she accidentally wandered into an unknown country.

Before too long the sun began to set behind the mountains off the path. The sky turned a russet orange and then to a pinkish red. Emily stopped by a large flat rock. Soon it would be too dark to see, even by the light of her wind-up torch. She gathered together some sticks and dry moss from the undergrowth before pulling a packet of matches from her backpack. The red tip of the match caught on the rough side of the matchbox, flickering into life. She held it to the moss until a wisp of smoke and tiny flames leapt among the green fibres. She blew softly on the tinder until it took before sitting back and looking around, suddenly fearful that her activity may have caught unwanted attention. But the surrounding slopes were quiet, and she unrolled her bedroll which was tied along the bottom of her backpack. She curled up as close to the fire as she dared, hoping it would keep away any that might happen across her in the night. She thought of the witches the man had mentioned and shuddered, turning over restlessly. She jumped when she saw glowing eyes in the dark. The eyes were unblinking and bright green. She watched them warily. Suddenly they moved, drifting farther apart and revealed themselves to be two glowing beetle-like creatures. Emily breathed a sigh of relief but could not bring herself to lay back down. She took a book from her bag and opened it, leafing through the pages until she found her bookmark. The pages were worn from many readings but were otherwise well cared for. She began to read and soon found herself in the familiar world of words.

She poked the fire, adding another few sticks when it burned low, watching the fiery sparks leap up from its centre. It was gone midnight when she finally laid down the book and curled up by the fire once more. This time she slept, waking every few hours to poke at the dying embers and to add a few more sticks.

At last the sun rose above the plains to the East, turning the sky a beautiful pink. She got up and doused the fire with what remained of her water bottle before setting off.

At midday she rounded a bend in the road and breathed a sigh of relief. The archway was much closer than before and she could see other buildings now too. There was a fortified wall with a windmill at one end and what appeared to be a large cathedral. At the base of the next slope she found herself on, the road diverged and she could hear the sounds of hens clucking mixed with the keening cries of the seagulls. A bell clanged in the distance, marking the presence of a dock nearby.

Emily followed the cobblestone path down to the fork in the road. She could now smell the briny water and the seaweed drying on the rocky shores. A stone watchtower rose overhead, casting great long shadows across the path that led down towards the docks. She followed the path and came to a set of wooden stairs that led down to the dockside. She passed a man in full armour and a closed faced helmet. He gave her a curt nod as he passed. She noticed the steel battle-axe strapped across his back. She stopped at the top of the next flight of stairs, a sudden worrying thought come to mind. The purse in her pocket was disturbingly light and she knew five septims would not be enough to charter a ship any more than twenty would have been. Still, she thought, she could at least find out the price. She reached the dockside and visited a squat building where the harbour mistress, a woman dressed in finery she didn’t feel quite suited the salty atmosphere, stood.

“Is there a Captain Sunhawk here?” she asked, suddenly remembering Horgeir’s advice.

“Certainly, he’s on board now, the Silver Eagle, two boats down,” she replied, pointing with one bejewelled finger down the dock. The ship was large and, Emily thought, likely expensive to charter. A man with golden skin stood at the helm. He had long red hair that billowed in the wind blowing in through the stone archway. He wore a red long coat over a white shirt and a pair of dark breeches. As Emily approached the gangplank he turned to look at her with piercing amber eyes. His ears were indeed pointed and his gaze chased away the last bit of doubt Emily had. She wasn’t in her world at all.

Chapter Text

Without waiting for the elf to respond, Emily spun on her heel and left. The harbour mistress watched her with a mildly puzzled expression as she hurried up the steps and back towards the watchtower. If she was truthful with herself she didn’t know where she was running to or indeed, what she was running from. She stopped by the watchtower to catch her breath. After several moments she looked up at the walled city. Remembering her encounter with the wolves on the road, Emily headed towards the front gate.

As she reached them she realised just how high the stone walls were, towering above her some sixty feet. The guards at the gate paid her no heed as she passed through the open gates. Ahead of her stood a tavern, marked by the sign above that read, ‘The Winking Skeever,’ and by the drunken revellers outside despite the early hour. Mixed with the drunken singing was the sound of market stall holders hawking their wares. Cries of, “fresh fish,” and, “Spiced wine for sale,” were mingled with the sounds of children at play. Emily wandered in the direction of the market. It was crowded, as was to be expected at this time of day, and merchants hurried to and fro. Two conversed in the doorway of a large shop and a woman in a patched skirt swept dust from another doorway. Emily’s stomach rumbled as she eyed the apples on a fruiterer’s stand.

“How much for one of your apples?” she asked the stall holder.

“Five septims,” the woman replied. Emily dropped the remaining five septims from her purse into the waiting palm and then, pocketing the now empty purse, she plucked an apple from the stall and bit into it. The apple filled the gnawing hole in her stomach but could do nothing about the one developing in her purse or her heart. She deflected her attention from the latter by focusing on the former. She would have to make some money.

She turned to the shop nearest to her. A sign above the door read, ‘Angeline’s Aromatics.”

“A perfume shop?” Emily mused, “Hope it doesn’t smell as bad as the one back home.” But the smell when she pushed open the door was nothing like the one back home. Many of the smells were alien to her but she was able to place one or two. There was a faint smell of lavender but there was also a clean cold smell and another that smelt of burning coals that made her nose twitch. And still another that somehow smelt of nothing at all.

On the shelves were all manner of things. There was a cluster of flowers of deepest indigo covered in what seemed to be veins or something similar, jars of a thick, sticky, green paste that glowed slightly and another jar filled with a collection of roots that resembled little people. A plant with glowing turquoise leaves that otherwise resembled that of a dandelion hummed quietly in one corner.

As she was looking at one of the jars a woman emerged from one of the back rooms. She had short wispy white hair and a kindly old face, well lined with a hooked nose and jutting chin. She looked just like one of the witches out of the fairy-tales Emily read as a child.

“Can I help you, my dear?” she asked.

“I hope so,” Emily replied, “I’m looking for work.”

“I already have my niece helping me at the moment,” said the woman, tapping her bony fingers on the counter top, “So I wouldn’t be able to pay you all that much but if you’re keen…well, I’m sure I could find you something to do. Can you mix potions?”

“I’m sure I could learn,” Emily replied hopefully.

“Well, we could use a potion runner,” said the old woman, “Someone to take the potions and ingredients to our clients. And in between runs I’ll show you how to mix a few rudimentary potions.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Emily.

“Please, call me Angeline,” replied the woman, “And what is your name, child?”

“My name’s Emily.”

“Right then, Emily, we’d better get you started right away,” said Angeline, “I have a consignment of frost salts that need to be delivered to the East Empire Company warehouse. Just hand them in to the harbour mistress.”

Angeline picked up a crate full of jars containing small grains of powder blue. They did indeed look like salt or fine grains of sand but when disturbed, twists of frosty vapour rose from them. Emily turned back towards the door and as she did so, the door opened and a young woman with shoulder length dark hair came in, carrying a sheaf of paper.

“Good timing, Vivienne,” said Angeline as she fetched down some strange knobbly glowing roots, “This is Emily, our new potions runner. She’ll be helping out here for a while.”

“Charmed,” said Vivienne although she did not sound as though she entirely meant it.

“And this is my niece, Vivienne,” said Angeline as she turned back toward Emily, “Oh, and could you be a dear and drop these taproots in to Sybille up at the palace on your way back?”

‘Palace.’ Emily’s head spun at the thought. Palaces meant royalty. The palace at Buckingham back home had never allowed visitors except by royal invitation. Could she really just walk in?

“Of course,” Emily said as Vivienne opened the door for her and she stepped out onto the street.

The East Empire Company Warehouse was easy enough to find as she had only visited it scarcely half an hour ago. She handed the crate over to the harbour mistress who handed her a small pouch of coins to bring back to the shop.

As she walked back in through the city gates she looked around. She’d seen what she assumed to be the palace whilst out on the road, the towering blue edifice at the far end of the stone archway.

A group of children were playing a game of tag near the market, dodging in and out between passers-by.

“Excuse me,” Emily said to the one who looked to be the eldest, a redhead wearing a red and white dress that was slightly frayed and worn at the hem, “Could you tell me where I could find the palace?”

“I’ll show you for two septims,” said the girl shrewdly.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any money,” said Emily, “But I should get paid by the end of the day.”

The girl shook her head and took the hand of the youngest, a girl with blonde curls and bright blue eyes and began to lead her away.

“Perhaps we could make a trade then,” Emily suggested. The girl stopped.

“I’m sure I’ve got something.” Emily removed her backpack and began to rummage through it.

“Hmm…no…maybe, no,” she muttered under her breath as she sifted through the contents. “Aha,” she said at last, holding up a small pocket of jelly sweets, “How about these?”

“What are they?” asked the girl.

“Jellies,” Emily replied, “Sweets.”

“Candies?” said the girl. Emily nodded.

“Deal?” she asked.

“Deal!” replied the girl. Emily opened the packet and handed them to her.

“You have no idea how sick of fish I’ve been getting,” said the girl as she shared the sweets among her friends, “Oh, I’m Svari by the way. And this is Kayd and Minette,” she said as she gestured to the young black boy wearing a tunic and hose and the brunette wearing a dark blue dress.

“And this is my little sister, Marta.” The little blonde let go of her sister’s hand long enough to give Emily a shy wave and a small smile that only had one or two teeth.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” said Emily, “I’m Emily.”

“That’s an unusual name,” Minette observed, “Are you from around here?” Emily shook her head.

“No, I’m from Somerset,” she replied.

“You’ve come a long way then,” said Kayd, “I heard you say to Svari that you were looking for the palace. Do you have business there then? Are you a witch because you look a little like one?”

“No, I’m not a witch,” said Emily, “Though it’s funny you should say that. You’re not the first to think I’m a witch. The Innkeeper at Dragon Bridge thought so too.”

“It’s the hood,” said Kayd matter-of-factly, gesturing to Emily’s hooded jacket.

“Anyway, I’d better show you where the palace is,” Svari cut in as she began to lead Emily away from the group.

“So, if you’re not a witch,” mused Svari as they walked up the main street, “And if you don’t mind me saying you don’t look like a sellsword or one of those stuffy courtiers, then what are you doing at the Blue Palace?”

“I have to drop these off with someone named Sybille,” Emily explained, holding up the net sack full of taproots.

“She’s the court wizard,” Svari said helpfully, “She’s kind of scary.”

“Oh? Well, I’ve only to make this delivery,” said Emily, “I’ll get out of there quick before she has the chance to bite me.” The two of them laughed at this and Marta joined in, giggling.

“Well,” here we are,” Svari said as they came to a halt outside the palace, “Oh, and a word of advice. If you’re making a trade with someone, make sure they give you the information you need before you give them whatever trade you agreed on. If you’re as trusting as that all the time, there are many in Skyrim who would rob you blind.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that, Svari,” said Emily, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Svari replied, “See you later, Emily. Come on, Marta.” Taking Marta’s hand, Svari led her away from the palace, back towards the market. Emily turned back to the palace. Gripping the sack of taproots tighter, she strode towards the palace. The guard at the door barred her way as she moved closer. ‘I should’ve known I couldn’t just walk in,’ Emily though to herself.

“Halt,” said the guard, “State your business.”

“I’m here to deliver some ingredients to Sybille, the court wizard,” Emily replied, holding up the taproot sack.

“I’ll need to see your papers then,” said the guard. Emily hesitated.

“I don’t-,” she started to say but then she noticed a slip of paper nestled between two of the glowing bulbous roots, “Hang on a second.” She opened the sack and pulled out the slip of paper, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw the shop’s insignia on it. She handed it to the guard who looked it over before stepping aside to let her pass.

“Hey,” he said, “You’ll need this.” He handed her back the slip of paper, “Now, go on inside.” Emily thanked him and went inside. The heavy door shut behind her with a clang. Before her was a room of such opulence that it took her breath away. Rich tapestries hung from the walls and carpets ran from the door to the twin staircases that led to the higher levels of the palace. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and carved wooden benches decorated with soft blue and white cushions lined the walls. In a pot on one of the tables were several sprigs of lavender. Their delicate scent wafted throughout the entrance hall. Two guards stood on either side of the archway which led to the main section of the palace.

“I’m here to see the court wizard,” Emily said to them as she approached, producing the slip of paper and handing it to one.

“She’s upstairs in the throne room,” he said, “Talk to Falk Firebeard, the steward first. He’ll be able to arrange a meeting once she’s free.”

Emily moved through the archway and climbed the stairs to the throne room. At the opposite end of the room were two thrones occupied by a man and a woman. They both had red hair and each wore a golden crown beset with jewels and fine flowing robes. The man was deep in conversation with a hulking bear of a man in full steel armour. The woman held herself upright, listening politely to the armoured man, offering her views now and then. Emily stood for a moment before remembering her purpose for being here. She approached a man with a fiery red beard who sat apart from the two on the throne. He was writing something down, his quill scratching across the rough parchment. He leaned forward to dip it in the inkwell that stood on the table before resuming his writing.

“Are you Falk Firebeard?” Emily asked as she approached him.

“Aye,” said Falk Firebeard without looking up, “Do you have business with the court?” He stopped writing and looked up. His gaze was friendly enough yet business-like.

“I need to speak to the court wizard,” Emily explained, “I have a delivery for her from Angeline.”

“I’ll see if she’s free,” said Falk Firebeard, setting aside quill and parchment as he got up.

He approached a woman wearing flowing, hooded, blue robes and talked with her for several moments. She nodded and crossed the room to where Emily was standing. She carried herself with confidence and spoke commandingly when she reached her.

“These must be the taproots I ordered,” she said, “I don’t recognise you, usually Angeline sends her niece up here with whatever I need. Is she ill?”

“No, ma’am,” Emily replied, “She hired me this morning. I went looking for work as I’m new here and needed a way to make a few coins. Her niece is back at the shop.” She wasn’t sure exactly why she gave the woman such a lengthy explanation. It was something in the way she looked at her. She could almost swear she had seen her amber eyes flash with a red glimmer when she’d spoken to her.

“Very well,” said the woman, dropping a pouchful of gold into Emily’s hand as she took the net sack from her, “I’ll see you around, then.” With that she left. After a moment Emily mentally shook herself and thanked Falk Firebeard before leaving the palace. Svari had been right. The woman was downright terrifying.

The bell above the door sounded as she pushed it open and stepped back into the dimly lit alchemists. Angeline was grinding down some roots with a pestle and Vivienne, her hair now tied back, was sweeping the floor. Emily handed Angeline the two pouches of gold. She tucked them away behind the counter before fetching down some wheat and brown capped mushrooms.

“Alright,” she said, “Let’s start with healing potions.” She set the ingredients down on the top of a strange looking contraption. There were four interconnected green glass vessels lining the far edge, one of which sat atop a tiny boiler. The flat surface in front of the vessels was lined with markings which all led to the glowing green centre. Angeline showed her how to grind the cap of the brown mushroom into a fine pulp and run off most of the fluid. She showed her how to prepare the wheat in a similar manner and mix the ground grains with the mushroom paste before heating the mixture in the green vessel above the boiler.

“We power the boiler with fire salts,” she explained and added when she saw the puzzled look on Emily’s face, “Those are the remains found on dead bound flame atronachs, that is, those whose bodies don’t immediately return to Oblivion on death. It’s a highly volatile substance so I would ask that you let me refill the boiler when it needs it. I remember the first time my daughter tried to refill it for me. Goodness, such a racket, threw her halfway across the room.” Emily noticed the sadness in Angeline’s voice as she spoke. “She’s off fighting in the war,” Angeline continued, “I haven’t heard from her in quite some time. But we just have to keep hoping.” There was a small puff of blue smoke from the boiler and Angeline turned a small knob on the neck of the green vessel, allowing the fluid to move between the vessels. It appeared to be beige in colour but this was difficult to tell through the thick green glass. Angeline allowed it to settle in the second vessel before running off the liquid into the third and final vessel. From here she decanted the liquid into a small red bottle. She handed it to Emily to inspect.

“So, what exactly does this do?” she asked, tapping the side of the bottle.

“One of this strength is enough to cure minor wounds and bruises. It won’t heal large gashes though,” Angeline explained, “I usually keep this one for the mothers of rambunctious children who are forever getting themselves into scrapes. Like young Kayd, for example. Only last week he tried to climb one of the walls near the palace to get birds' eggs. He fell and caught his arm on one of the stone blocks. His mother rushed him in and had me administer a potion like the one you’re holding. Fixed him up in a heartbeat.”

“You mean just like that?” said Emily, clicking her fingers, “Gosh, I wish we’d had this back home.”

“No alchemists near you?” asked Angeline. Emily shook her head.

After writing out the label and setting the potion up on the shelf alongside the others, Angeline had Emily repeat the same process. Her crushing of the ingredients was nowhere near as deft and when she decanted her first potion half of it ended up going down the drain at the centre of the alchemy lab.

“A little too much blisterwort,” said Angeline as she regarded what was in the bottle. Emily wondered how she could tell but knew better than to say so, “It needs to be two parts wheat to one part Blisterwort.”

“How did you measure it out?” asked Emily, “I never saw you use any scales or anything.”

“That,” said Angeline, tapping the side of her nose, “Comes with practice. Now, why don’t you have another try?”

By the end of the afternoon Emily’s attempts had improved if only a little. She watched as the light coming in through the windows became more orange in colour.

“I think that will do for today,” said Angeline as she came around the side of the counter to see how Emily was getting on, “That’s looking quite a bit better. Perhaps tomorrow, after you run a few errands for me, I’ll show you how to make a few magicka potions.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a pouch of coins. “Here, this is for you,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Emily gratefully, pocketing the coins. Angeline eyed the backpack on the young woman’s back, taking note of the bedroll tied along the bottom.

“Do you have a place to stay, child?” she asked.

“Well, I was probably just going to get a room at the Inn,” Emily replied. Angeline shook her head.

“No need,” she said, “You can stay here if you like, in my daughter’s old room.”

“Are you sure?” asked Emily, “I wouldn’t like to impose.”

“Nonsense,” said Angeline, “There’s plenty of room.”

“Well, I’ll cook dinner then if you like,” Emily offered but Angeline shook her head again.

“No dear, you’re our guest,” she said, “Now, how about some apple cabbage stew?”

That night Emily dined with Angeline and Vivienne at the small dining table at the back of the house. She couldn’t quite get her head around the events of the day. She’d been taken on as an apprentice alchemist, Angeline had mentioned potions that had something to do with magic, or magicka as she called it and she had met a real live court wizard. Ever one for fantasy and adventure books as a child, Emily looked over at the fire burning in the grate and she almost expected a fire demon to stir in amongst the coals, speaking of bargains and singing a silly little song about saucepans.

Following the meal, she helped Angeline and Vivienne wash the dishes before heading up the wooden stairs to the upper floor. Angeline showed her the room she’d be sleeping in and once she’d left, Emily collapsed onto the bed with a grateful sigh. Following her otherworldly revelation about where she was, she wasn’t exactly sure of her plans. Certainly getting the boat home was out of the question. Whatever deity, or deities, ruled over this land, only they knew how far from home she was. No, she decided, for now it would be best to just earn a living to get by and look for information whenever she could.

Chapter Text

Emily awoke the following morning to sunlight streaming in through the windows above the bed. She sat up slowly, yawning and pushing her strawberry blonde hair back from her eyes. She looked around the small bedroom. Last night she had been too tired to take much of it in. There were paintings lining the walls, paintings of flowers and mushrooms and several other things she recognised from the shop floor below. There was a small pile of drawings on the bedside table but these ones looked to have been done by a child with a stick of charcoal. One was of a woman fetching something down from a shelf. Emily recognised the alchemy lab and the counter. Below the pictures were words, poorly written but just about legible.

‘Mama’s shop.’

One of the drawers of the bedside table was open and more of the drawings lay inside. Angeline must have been reminiscing, in the way that mothers do when their children are away.

Emily left the room and went downstairs. She found Angeline by the alchemy lab. Emily took a step back in amazement when she saw what the old woman was doing. Rivulets of water were running down her fingers and into one of the glass vessels which had been disconnected from its peers. She made a motion with her hand and the water in the vessel bubbled and swirled within it. Then she emptied it down the drain in the centre of the table. Along with it came some dark coloured sludge which she cleaned up with a rag before reconnecting the green vessel.

“Good morning, Emily,” she said when she spotted her.

“How on Earth did you do that?” asked Emily, pointing to the beaker.

“A simple trick,” Angeline replied, “It gets gunk out of these old beakers rather well. Perhaps when we’ve made these magicka potions we could put a few of them to good use and teach you a simple spell.” Now it really did feel to Emily like she was in one of the fantasy books she’d read as a child.

Angeline fetched down some brown capped plate-like fungus with a white underside and what appeared to be a clump of dry-looking grass with large seed pods.

“These, mixed with a little water, will make a potion that will replenish even the driest of magicka pools,” Angeline explained.

“Magicka pool?” said Emily with a puzzled expression.

“The reserves of power every mortal draws from when casting spells of any kind,” Angeline explained patiently, “See these gills in the mushroom that are larger than the rest?” She pointed to four or so of the gills which looked as though they had been inflated with a bicycle pump. Emily nodded.

“These are the ones we need to cut out, pulp and mix with the crushed seeds of this particular type of grass,” she continued, picking up a dagger and deftly cutting out the engorged gills. When she picked up the pestle and began to mash up the gills a glowing bluish-purple paste spilled out. It glittered on the pestle and mortar and smelt curiously of ozone. She opened a couple of the seed pods and emptied the small brown seeds into the mortar where she resumed her mashing.

When she was done she emptied the pulp into the beaker and conjured a small amount of water from her fingertips and let it run into the beaker before setting the boiler to heat the mixture. What emerged from the beaker at the end was a blue glittering liquid whose brightness constantly fluctuated with each passing second.

She had Emily repeat the same process.

“Don’t worry if you accidentally mix in a little of the smaller gills,” said Angeline as Emily pulped the mixture, “All that will happen is that there will be trace amounts that will boost illusion spells by a small amount.”

Once five potions had been prepared with varying levels of success, Angeline turned to Emily.

“The spell I’m going to teach you is a very basic but very useful one,” she said, “A magelight spell.”

“What does it do?” Emily asked. By way of response Angeline clicked her fingers and a small glowing orb of white light flickered into being above her fingers. When she moved her hand, the light moved with her. It remained for several seconds before disappearing with a small pop.

“Can I…really do that?” Emily wondered aloud. After all, she was an Earthling. Could Earthlings even do magic or were the humans in this world different?

“With practice,” said Angeline.

“What do I need to say?” asked Emily, “Is there some kind of incantation?”

“Most basic spells don’t need one,” Angeline explained, “It’s all about will and intent. You will the light into being. You think of it lighting the way, driving away the darkness.”

“Sounds rather poetic.”

“Magic is,” said Angeline, “Give it a try.”

Emily didn’t even know where to start. Physical exertion required a flexing of muscles, something she was reasonably used to. Magic, what did that require? Intent. But what kind of intent? What should she imagine? She held out her hand, trying to imagine a small white orb like the one Angeline had conjured. She imagined darkness and something piercing that darkness. She closed her eyes for a moment but soon opened them, realising that if she did somehow succeed, she wouldn’t be able to see the fruits of her own efforts. After several moments where nothing happened except Emily scrunched up her face in an effort to will the light into existence, Angeline placed a small bottle into her hand.

“Try drinking this,” she suggested, “It may be that your magicka pool has not developed enough yet. You are still young by magicka standards.”

“What is this?” Emily asked.

“A potion to grow your magicka pool,” Angeline replied, “Temporarily at least. It may be enough to help you cast the spell. After you’ve cast it a few times it will become easier and you won’t need to use as much magicka.” Emily regarded the dark blue swirling liquid in the bottle. What would it taste like? Indeed, would it taste of anything?

Emily uncorked the bottle and downed the potion in one as though it were a shot of tequila. Immediately her eyes widened. Something in her mind felt as though it had unlocked, like an old rusty chest opening and myriad things spilling forth. It was like a window had opened and a cold wind was blowing in and around her thoughts. Humans have five senses, it is a well-known fact. Now Emily felt as though she had six, or perhaps more. She was so distracted by this new feeling that she never even noticed how the potion tasted. She set down the bottle and looked at her palm. She focused again on the thought of a light shining in the dark.

For several minutes they stood in silence. Then, very faintly, the air above her palm began to glow. Emily stared at the glow, willing it to grow stronger. She felt a pinching sensation behind her ears as she continued to concentrate. The glow became stronger, equal in brightness to a candle flame. Then the pinching became a dull ache and the light faded away.

“That was a decent first try,” Angeline said encouragingly, “The more you practice, the brighter the light will become and the more control you will have over it.”

Throughout the afternoon Emily continued to help Angeline with her potions. She took a delivery of one health potion to Beirand, the Blacksmith, who had managed to injure his hand working the forge, a crate of stamina potions to Castle Dour for the soldiers’ training and yet another net sack of taproots to Sybille at the palace.

“I wonder what that woman’s up to,” Vivienne said as she removed the stamens from some cottony white flowers, “That’s the third lot she’s ordered this month alone.”

“Well, that’s her business, dear,” Angeline replied from behind the counter, “Emily, I have to go and run a few errands. Captain Sunhawk will be coming in later this morning. I’ve left his order up there on the shelf at the end of the counter. It’s the potion of waterwalking and the glowdust.”

“Which is the glowdust?” Emily asked as she tucked her hair back behind her ears for the thousandth time that morning. She was bent over the alchemy lab, brewing up an order of health potions to stock the shelves with.

“It’s the glowing turquoise dust in the vial next to the white bottle,” Angeline replied, taking her shawl down from the hook by the door. She opened the door and stepped out into the street, closing the door behind her.

“Have you got those healing potions ready?” Vivienne asked, dropping the remainder of the stamens into the glass vial.

“I’m just working on the last one,” Emily replied.

The door opened and a tall man came in. He was wearing a red long coat over a puffy white shirt. Emily recognised him as the elf she had met briefly down at the docks. Well, met in the sense of seeing him and then running away as the realisation of her situation hit her. He removed his tricorne hat as he entered the building. Emily spotted him and crossed over to the counter, drying her hands on the apron Angeline had given her that morning.

“Captain Sunhawk?” she said.

“Have we met?” the elf replied politely.

“In a sense,” said Emily, “I was on the docks yesterday.”

“Ahh, yes, I remember,” he said, “You took off like you had Potema herself hot on your heels.” His expression was amused.

“Yes, well, I forgot something up at the city,” Emily lied. She got the distinct impression that the Captain didn’t believe her though he didn’t say anything to that effect.

“Do you have my order ready?” he asked pleasantly.

“Yes, the potion of waterwalking and the glowdust, wasn’t it?” asked Emily as she fetched down the two items from the shelf. She handed them to the elf and he handed her a large pouch of gold coins. He lingered for a moment to talk to Vivienne who seemed only too happy to entertain their visitor. She heard the words, ‘tavern’ and, ‘this evening,’ mentioned and Vivienne nodded, flashing him a smile. In the time they’d spent working together, which admittedly had not been long, Emily couldn’t recall seeing her smile before.

Captain Sunhawk opened the door just as Angeline returned, carrying a basket of mushrooms. Some of them, Emily noted, were glowing faintly in the fading light. Sounds of the evening faded in through the door: the sounds of stallholders closing up shop and children being called home by their parents. There was another sound, that of horse’s hooves on the cobblestones. She crossed to the door in time to see someone on horseback cantering down the main street past the market. She’d seen horses in the main street before. Most belonged to the merchants who had come to do business in the market. Captain Sunhawk watched the horse and rider disappear from sight behind the buildings.

“Well, I’ll bid you adieu,” he said, “See you later, Miss Onis.” Vivienne smiled from the alchemy lab as Captain Sunhawk left. Angeline draped her shawl back on the hook by the door and hefted the basket of mushrooms up onto the counter.

“These can wait until after dinner,” she said as she made for the kitchen.

They sat by the fireplace, eating some grilled chicken and leeks. Angeline told them about a cave she’d found not far from the city that was perfect for cultivating glowing mushrooms and imp stools.

“You should’ve had me or Emily fetch the mushrooms,” Vivienne said, “It isn’t safe to go venturing outside the walls at-” She stopped herself.

“At my age, that’s what you were going to say,” Angeline snorted, “Nonsense, child, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

“And if you’d met a Stormcloak patrol,” protested Vivienne, “Or a witch?”

“Pah, the Stormcloaks have other things on their minds than some old woman doddering about,” Angeline said dismissively, “And as for witches, they prefer to stay up in their mountain caves and remote woodland shacks.” She took another sip of her tea.

A sound not unlike an explosion suddenly rent the air in the small room, causing Angeline to spill her mug of tea. There was an almighty crash from upstairs as two of the bedroom windows came in and Emily and Vivienne let out startled yells. The echoes of the sound still rumbled in the air outside as Vivienne got up and rushed over to the window, peering out.

“Get back from the windows,” Emily heard Angeline say, “There might be more.”

“What was that?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know,” said Angeline, “Emily, you should check upstairs, see what state the rooms are in.” Emily nodded before hurrying up the stairs, two at a time.

The windows in her room had blown in and glass littered the bed. Several pieces of paper had been blown from the bedside table by the explosion. She picked them up, cutting her hand on a sliver of glass hidden between two sheets of paper. She took care not to let the blood get on the old drawings and she sucked at the wound.

The other room, which belonged to Vivienne, was much the same. She spotted a broom in the corner and swept the worst of the glass into a pile and repeated the process in her room.

As she was doing so she heard the clatter of hooves outside, made clearer by the absence of glass in the windows. Mingled with the sound were screams. She dropped the broom and hurried to the window, leaning on the window ledge. She saw the horse and rider fleeing toward the gate. As they reached it, the horse snorting and stamping, the gate opened and the horse and rider disappeared into the gloom. Someone came running along the street, evidently in pursuit of the fast fleeing rider. She was yelling after him in a voice hoarse with anguish. She dropped to her knees in the middle of the market. Emily left the room and hurried down the stairs, bolting for the door.

“Wait, Emily,” Vivienne called after her as she opened the door and hurried out.

As Emily reached the woman she recognised her from the day she made the delivery to the palace. She had been sitting in the throne alongside the man with the red hair and beard.

“He’s dead,” she was wailing as Emily knelt next to her, “My Torygg. He’s dead. That bastard.” Emily wasn’t sure what to do or say to the woman so she rested a hand gently on her shoulder. She turned and looked at her, tears running down her face and into her hair.

“He shouted him to death,” she said. Then she fell to weeping once more. Several of the guard had joined them and two of them knelt next to the woman.

“Come on, Jarl Elisif, we need to get you back to the palace,” said one, “You’re an easy target out here.”

“I don’t care,” Emily heard the Jarl say, “I don’t care if the whole bloody lot of them come. I’ll fight them all to get at Ulfric. Avenge my Torygg.”

“Did you see anything?” another of the guard asked her.

“There was a man on horseback,” she said, “He left through the gate.”

“Shor’s bones,” said the guard, “The gate was left open?”

“No, someone opened it for him,” Emily replied.

By now, Captain Sunhawk had joined them. He spoke with the guards and told them he would have his crew search the docks.

“Though if he was on horseback as the young lady said, he probably wasn’t headed there,” he said, “It would still be worth looking though.”

Three of the guards escorted the Jarl back towards the palace, two accompanied Captain Sunhawk and the remaining two called together a legion of men from the garrison and set out to search the roads. Emily returned to the Alchemists. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest.

“What happened?” Vivienne asked as she came in through the door.

“The High King,” said Emily, “He’s been murdered. By someone named Ulfric.”

Chapter Text

News of the King's death spread through the city like wildfire. The following day there was a marked change in the city's inhabitants. No children were playing out in the streets. Only the occasional housewife stood on the steps to sweep off the dust but as soon as their task was complete they vanished back into their houses. It was declared a day of mourning and all the shops were closed as a show of respect.

Emily swept some dust out through the back door and leant on the broom. As if her world hadn't been turned upside down enough. Except it wasn't her world, she reminded herself. "Who is Ulfric Stormcloak?" she asked Vivienne who was storing away some ingredients. She looked at the blonde in undisguised disbelief.

"You don't know who Ulfric is?" she asked. Emily shook her head.

"We didn't hear about him back home," she replied. "We lived in a little fishing village," she added.

"I'm still surprised you didn't hear of him," Vivienne said, "He's angered the Thalmor more than any man in my lifetime. They've been trying to track him down since he started this damn insurrection."

"And who exactly is he?"

"He's the leader of the rebellion, the Stormcloaks as they call themselves," Vivienne explained, "And he's the Jarl of Windhelm. High King Torygg was his brother."

"He killed his own brother?"

"Kinship doesn't matter to him anymore," Vivienne said with feeling, "He wants the crown for himself. He says it's so he can push the Aldmeri Dominion out of Skyrim and reinstate the worship of Talos but it's so much more than that."

'Who's Talos?' Emily wondered to herself, 'A deity of some kind here by the sound of it.' The only Talos she'd heard of was the great bronze man in a Greek epic.

The day was long and without work to do, Emily spent much of the morning in the living area, practicing her magelight spell. Since drinking the potion the day before that strange sensation of having an extra sense had not left her. The window in her mind was still open. It was as though something long dormant in her had awakened. But while she was awake all of Solitude was eerily still. That same stillness had settled in over the shop.

Emily sat at the scrubbed wooden table, willing the light above her palm in and out of existence. Until a day or two ago magic had been but a mere fantasy. The light grew brighter on her palm.

“If magic is all about intent,” Emily said to the orb, “Then I ought to be able to turn you any colour I wish, shouldn’t I?” As though in response the orb flickered and the merest hint of pink crept into it.

“Well,” said Angeline as she joined her at the table, “As we haven’t any orders left to make, why don’t I teach you some more practical magic. A spell any self-respecting mage should know.”

“What kind of spell is that then?” Emily asked, curious.

“A ward spell,” Angeline replied, “A well-cast ward will guard you against even the most wicked of magicks. And, for an alchemist, it can protect against the common accidents that happen around the lab. Why, if I had a septim for every time my Fura nearly set her hair ablaze while trying to make a potion of flamebane I would be a very rich woman indeed.” She got up and beckoned Emily over.

“To conjure a ward imagine a wall of energy that absorbs all energies thrown at it,” Angeline explained, “That’s the tricky part. Imagining a concept such as absorption is more difficult than imagining something you can see.”

Angeline raised her palm and gestured as though bracing herself against a strong wind. The air before her palm began to shimmer and a wall of light formed, accompanied by a rippling sound.

“Emily, how good are you at controlling that orb of yours?” Angeline asked, “Can you throw it?”

“I can try,” Emily replied.

“Try throwing it at the ward,” said Angeline. Emily conjured the ball of light, bouncing it on her palm as though it were a baseball. When she moved her hand the orb followed and she drew back, throwing it at the ward. It collided with the ward and was immediately absorbed in a flash of blue light. Angeline lowered the ward.

“How about you give it a try?” said Angeline.

Emily stood as Angeline had done and raised her hand. She imagined the wall as Angeline had told her. Something glittered before her palm like a heat haze. It shimmered and spread out.

“Let’s see how it stands up,” said Angeline as she conjured a ball of magelight. She threw it at Emily’s ward and Emily reflexively shut her eyes as it neared her ward. To her dismay it passed straight through the shimmering haze and popped as it reached her face, fading away.

“You created a wall of light,” Angeline explained, “But it didn’t have any protective properties. It was essentially an illusion. We can try again if you like.” Emily nodded. She focused once more, conjuring the wall of light. She imagined it as hard as a brick wall. It shimmered and flared up brighter. Angeline cast another orb of light at it. This time the orb of light struck the ward. There was a sound like shattering glass which made Vivienne jump as she adjusted pots of ingredients on the shelves. One fell to the floor and shattered, spilling its contents onto the stone floor. Vivienne swore under her breath and went to fetch the broom.

“What happened?” Emily asked, startled.

“Your ward is weak at the moment,” Angeline replied, “But this time it would have protected you, at least for a moment. Your wards will get stronger the more you practice with them. A powerful mage can create a ward which protects on all sides, against the strongest magic. Even the ancient power of the Thu’um cannot stand up to a well-cast ward.”

“What’s the Thu’um?” Emily asked.

“It’s what Ulfric used to murder the High King,” Vivienne cut in, “Some kind of ancient magic the Nords used and apparently some still do. It’s not to be trusted, if you want my opinion.” Vivienne swept the remainder of the spilled ingredients into the fire, causing the flames to burn a violet hue. Then she left the room, closing the door behind her.

It was late in the evening when Emily heard the guards outside. She hurried upstairs to her room and leant on the window ledge. All the broken glass had been swept away and the bed had clean sheets on it. She leant out to see better. A man was being led towards the castle, flanked on either side by several guards. He was clearly a prisoner, dressed in rags with his hands bound in front of him. He did not, however, carry himself like a prisoner. His head was held aloft, his back straight and his stride confident.

After a silent supper the three of them retired to their rooms. Emily tossed restlessly as the wind blew in through the window, billowing the curtains and carrying in the sounds of the city at night. The last thing she heard as she nodded off was the sound of a heavy door someway off shutting with a heavy clang.

The following morning saw Emily emerge from her room, tousle haired and sandy eyed. She had not slept well. Every time she had fallen asleep she’d woken with a start, certain she’d heard crying. Each time she’d gone to the top of the stairs to listen but each time she heard nothing and returned to her bed. Once she awoke to a loud crash or so she thought until she discovered the rest of the house was still asleep. ‘I guess those events shook me up more than I care to admit,’ she’d said to herself as she turned over and pushed her face into the pillow.

Angeline was sitting by the fire with a cup of tea resting on the table beside her. She was studying a small slip of paper that had some kind of instructions written on it.

“What I wouldn’t do for a cup of coffee,” Emily groaned as she pulled open one of the cupboards.

“Coffee?” Angeline asked. Emily hadn’t been aware she’d been listening. “What’s that?”

“A drink we had back home,” she replied, “It helps you wake up in the morning.” Emily found a small bottle being pushed into her hands.

“This should do the trick,” Angeline said. Emily studied the small green bottle.

“A stamina potion?” she said. She’d got to know how the bottles were generally sorted in the shop. Green for stamina, blue for magicka and red for health. It made sense and stopped most unfortunate mix-ups.

“This one is a little different,” Angeline explained, “Rather than directly giving you more energy this one allows you to recover it naturally at a quicker rate. It’s dangerous to take stamina potions when you don’t really need them.”

“I see,” Emily said as she uncorked the bottle and took a swig. She grimaced. It did not taste pleasant. But within a few minutes she began to feel more alert. As the shop was still closed Angeline sent her out on a few errands. She had her journey down to the docks to look for clams. She found them along the shore between the docks and the lumber mill. They had large ridged shells and Emily pried them open one by one and used her dagger to cut out the pale meat. Some contained pearls of varying size and she put them in the basket she was carrying. It was these Angeline was particularly interested in. The larger pearls, when mixed with the spiky grass pods could make a powerful elixir to restore magicka and the smaller pearls, mixed with salt could strengthen restorative spells. Such pearls are less common in clams than in oysters and Emily was only able to find a small handful.

On the way back to the city she picked some of the mushrooms growing by the roadside after consulting the book Angeline had leant her. These were fly amanita going by the illustration and could be useful in making flamebane potions. The book also warned her not to consume this particular species as it made any that ate it fly into an uncontrollable frenzy.

Emily returned to the city and made her way along the cobblestone streets. She noticed a familiar figure sitting on the edge of the well in the market.

“Cheer up, it might never happen,” she said as she approached the figure. Her smile vanished at the look Svari gave her. “Hey, what’s the matter?” she asked.

“They’ve arrested Uncle Roggvir,” the child said miserably.

“Who’s Roggvir?” Emily asked as she sat down on the edge of the well.

“He’s my momma’s brother,” Svari replied, “They’re saying he let Ulfric escape after he killed the King. But he didn’t. There’s no way Uncle Roggvir would do something like that.” They sat in silence for several moments. Emily unwrapped the lunch she’d packed herself that morning and handed Svari the apple.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your Uncle,” Emily said quietly. Svari nodded.

“Thanks Emily,” she said.

“I saw some sea otters while I was down at the docks today,” Emily said. She reached into her pocket and took out her phone. She had only used it once before since she’d come to Skyrim to listen to some music while she’d packed away her things in Dragonbridge following her first night in the strange land. She was loathe to use it, knowing full well that once the battery was drained there would be no way to charge it. But the sight of the otters frolicking about on the riverbank had been too good an opportunity to miss and she had taken it from her pocket, flicking it on and making a short video of the two otters at play.

Now she opened the video.

“Here, take a look at this,” she said as she showed the phone to Svari, pressing the play button. Svari watched the video, wide eyed. The otters swam about in the shallows, surfacing now and then and almost seeming to glide over the stones that made up the riverbed.

“How did you do that?” Svari asked, “What kind of magic is that?”

“It’s not magic,” Emily replied, “Well, not in the conventional sense. It’s called a phone, well, I suppose you could call it a little bit of manmade magic.” Emily flicked through to the gallery.

“These are some photos I took when I was back home,” she said. She was careful not to select any pictures that were too outlandish or difficult to explain, sticking mostly to photos taken in her village or in the surrounding countryside. After all, how could she explain the Eiffel Tower or a rollercoaster?

“Your village looks really nice,” said Svari, “I’ve never been to Summerset. It looks beautiful.”

“It is,” Emily agreed, “Well, I’d better get these ingredients back to Angeline.” She got down off the edge of the well and hefted down the basket.

“See you later, Emily,” said Svari, “And thanks for talking to me.”

“No problem, kiddo,” Emily replied, “I’ll see you around.”

She switched off her phone, pocketed it and returned to the Alchemists.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough and it was towards evening when Vivienne suggested going over to the Winking Skeever for a few drinks. Angeline elected to stay at the shop while the two girls headed over to the tavern. It was much larger than the one in Dragon Bridge and more packed with patrons. The owner was a man with red hair and a beard named Corpulus though in truth it was his son, Sorex, who did most of the legwork. They each bought themselves a bottle of spiced wine and took a seat near the far wall to listen to the bard. She was a young woman and yet her hair was as white as new fallen snow. Despite recent events the mood in the tavern was jolly, men singing songs and swapping tales. One of them offered to buy Vivienne a drink but she refused him, in Emily’s eyes, a little bluntly.

“You need to be firm with these Nord types,” she explained, “Let them know where they stand.” Emily nodded but said nothing, taking another sip of wine.

* * *

It was getting late and the twin moons had risen just above the windmill. The guard leaned on his spear wearily. He’d been on guard since dawn. The King’s death had shaken the city to its core and their numbers, already depleted from the war effort, had been spread thin with most of the guard ordered to protect the palace. And so it fell to those remaining to guard the walls, meaning long hours with few breaks. The guard stifled a yawn, looking out over the cobblestone path leading up to the city. Then he stood up straight, gripping his spear tightly in both hands. A single yell had sounded down near the farm. A single yell that was cut off halfway.

* * *

As they left the tavern they heard the shouts echoing along the stone walls.

“What’s happening?” asked Emily. Vivienne listened to the shouts for a moment.

“Run,” she said quietly and then when Emily did not move she yelled, “Emily, RUN!”

They broke into a run as the town gates were flung open. Emily looked back over her shoulder but saw nothing. It was as though a large gust of wind had blown the gates open. Then she saw them. They moved like shadows and indeed looked as though they were made from them, melding into them at will. Pure unadulterated fear shot through her and she turned her run to a sprint. She saw a red light out of the corner of her eyes, snaking toward one of the guards. When it engulfed him he started to shake and crumple to the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Then she felt a heavy blow on her leg followed by a white-hot searing pain. She fell to the cobblestones with something between a scream and a yell. She could not move. She could not see. One by one her senses dulled and she fell into a shifting black void filled with pain and stillness.

Vivienne burst in through the doors of the Alchemists.

“What was that?” Angeline demanded, getting up from her chair by the fire, “I heard shouting. What’s going on?”

“Vampires,” said Vivienne, still trying to catch her breath, “And they’ve got Emily.”

* * *

Emily groaned, opening her eyes only to close them again a moment later as a wave of nausea swept over her. Her leg throbbed painfully and she winced. She opened her eyes again and slowly brought her hand to her face. Her arm felt stiff, half asleep. She heard voices echoing in the chamber she was in. The chamber smelt damp and earthy. She guessed it to be a cave of some sort.

“I told you before, Hraffna,” said a man. His voice was sibilant and quiet, “No one feeds until we get back to the castle.”

“But Lokil, surely Harkon will not notice if one of them is a little depleted,” said a woman, her voice dripping with honey. Anyone besides the man would have instantly given in to such words but the man laughed derisively.

“If it was just your fate that rested on the supplies reaching the castle then I would gladly let you sate your appetite,” he said, “But I’m not about to go drawing the Lord’s ire for your foolish appetite.” It was in a half daze that Emily heard these words spoken. The voices faded into the dark and as she lay on the floor of the cave the pain began to seep into her leg as full sensation returned to her limbs. Something cold separated her from the earthen floor and it took her a moment to realise what. Iron bars. They lay beneath her and surrounded her on all sides. Water dripped close by into a small pool. She tried to move and jumped when a hand rested on her shoulder.

“Ssh, quiet, lass,” said a dry cracked voice. Emily twisted her head back and looked into the face of the one who now rested his hand on her shoulder. His face was heavily scarred and his blue eyes stood out from the rest of his face, startling in the near dark. “I think they’re gone.”

“Who are they?” Emily asked.

“Vampires,” said the man.

“Real vampires?”

“Real as you or I,” he said, “You’d better let me have a look at your leg.” Emily pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked down at her leg. There was a thin ragged gash torn along her thigh where it looked like something had been ripped out. The sight of the blood made her feel sick and she turned away. As much to distract herself from the pain she asked, “What do they want with us?”

“Food,” came the reply, one she half-expected and which filled her with dread. She gasped as she felt a warm sensation spreading out across her leg. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a golden halo of light around her wounded leg and the man’s hands. Her skin felt as though it was crawling and she felt the tendrils of flesh weaving themselves back together.

“It’ll still be sore for a while,” said the man, “But you should be able to stand.” Now that she was looking at him properly she recognised him as one of the town guards she had seen the night Torygg was killed. He had been among those who escorted Jarl Elisif back to the palace.

“Come on, no time to stand on ceremony,” the man said as he got to his feet. He took a small metal lockpick from a satchel at his waist. He approached the cage door and bent to pick the lock. Emily got to her feet. As promised her leg was painful but she found she could stand. The lock clicked and the door swung open as they stepped out into the cave.

Chapter Text

They were not alone in the cave. Two more cages like the one they had just left stood nearby. The guard picked the locks on both and led the confused prisoners out. Some of them were in such a state of stupefaction that they took some coaxing to leave the confines of the metal bars. Emily found herself wondering how long they had lain there in that squalor. Many of them had a haunted look in their eyes and many were scarred. Among them was a young man who still looked like he had a bit of fight left in him. He had long stringy black hair and a single dark eye. The other glared out blindly from under folds of scarred skin. He wore tattered leathers and his build suggested he had not long ago been a seasoned warrior.

Together the group of stragglers crept through the darkened cavern with the dark-haired man and the guard leading them. The guard carried a steel dagger and the man wielded a cudgel and carried a torch which cast a pool of light ahead of them. Other than the guard, Emily recognised no one in the group. The dark-haired man stopped, flattening himself against the side of the stone tunnel. Then Emily could hear it. Raspy uneven breathing and heavy footsteps.

“What is it?” she asked the guard. He shook his head.

“A Daedric Ravager,” said the dark-haired man under his breath, “Horrible beasts, used as bodyguards by some of the more fearsome princes.” He gripped the cudgel more firmly. “If we’re to stand a chance, we’ll need to rush it. Arm yourselves however you can.” Emily pulled the dagger from its scabbard at her hip. She looked back at the other prisoners. She felt certain at least two of them had neither the will nor the inclination to raise a weapon. One prisoner wielded a mace and two others who looked to be twin sisters wielded swords.

The heavy breathing was getting closer.

“NOW!” yelled the dark-haired man and the prisoners threw themselves into the cavern where the beast lurked. It truly was horrific. It possessed the legs and head of a goat with four long curving horns, the arms and torso of a man, the great leathery wings of a bat and a long whip-like tail that ended in a black blade-shaped piece of flesh. Its hooves looked to be made of gold and it wielded a spear made of dark metal. Something glowed red on along the length of the spike of metal. It uttered a terrible sound somewhere between a bellow and a roar as it sprang at them, raising the spear above its head. The dark-haired man led the attack on the beast, raising his cudgel. As the spear jabbed forth at them it flared up and fire danced along its length. The man slid under the spear and brought his cudgel down on its heavily muscled shoulder. The twin sisters followed in pursuit, slashing at the beast. One blade caught the steel pauldron adorning its right shoulder and was wrenched from her grasp, skittering off into the dark. It bellowed at them like a mad bull, swiping with one clawed hand at the woman. It caught her on the shoulder and slammed her into a stone column.

Then it raised its spear again and charged the other woman, head bowed low. The woman’s sister leapt to one side and it skidded, stirring up large clods of earth, its tail lashing wildly. Then it charged the guard and Emily. It was in a frenzy at this point, slashing all who came near. Emily dodged its spear and stabbed at its chest with her dagger. It stuck in the leathery flesh where it remained. But she was not quick enough to dodge the clawed hand which caught her in the chest and sent her flying. She landed several yards away and scuffled in the dirt, forcing herself up onto her hands and knees. She watched as the guard engaged the creature and as if in slow motion she saw the spear swinging for his chest. There was a sickening squelch and the beast brought the spear back and plunged it down into the man’s already bleeding chest and he was no more. A cry tore from her lips as she staggered to her feet. Then the dark-haired man was behind it. As the beast turned to bellow at him he raised the torch he was carrying and smashed it into the creature’s hideous face. It screamed in pain and in its pain dropped the spear. Seizing his chance the man picked up the spear and aligned it with the creatures hairy chest, lunging forward.

Dark blood ran down the blade and the creature bellowed in a mixture of pain and anger. Clawed hands swiped desperately at its attacker but the dark-haired man dodged each one. He braced himself against the spear and tore it out before plunging it back into the creature's left side. Its wings scraped against the rocky walls of the cave and it reared back. Dark blood gushed from its maw. And then, slowly, it crumpled to the ground where, to Emily’s amazement, it vanished into the shadows. Emily crossed the cavern slowly, wincing with every other step. She glanced at what had once been the guard and quickly looked away as a fresh wave of nausea swept over her.

All that remained of the beast was a dark pool of blood and her dagger whose blade was stained with its tar-like blood. She picked up her dagger and cleaned it in one of the pools.

“We need to keep moving,” said the dark-haired man as he bent to pick up the spear, “Even if they didn’t hear that commotion, they’ll soon discover our escape. Let’s go.” One of the twin sisters was bleeding from a cut in her arm and her sister supported her, holding both her and her sister’s blade. The others were in varying states of exhaustion and terror.

Ahead of them the cave narrowed back down into a tunnel and at the mouth of this tunnel moonlight spilled in. As they neared the mouth a terrible screech rent the air behind them. They turned to see a red light behind them in the tunnel.

“RUN!” yelled the black-haired man. And they did. Out into the darkness they ran, where shadows melded together like an old tattered tapestry, making it difficult to see where was earth and where were trees. They heard their pursuers giving chase. Then the red light struck again and she heard a dull thud somewhere behind her. Her lungs felt like they were burning and her leg seared with pain.

At times she was running alongside the twin sisters and at times she found herself abreast with one of the other prisoners whose face she did not know. Onward they plunged, a ragged group in the dark, at times bunched together and at times straggling apart.

She did not know when it happened but at some point she found herself running alongside the dark-haired man and none of the others were in sight.

“Come on, you need to keep running,” said the man, “We need to keep going until we reach the river.”

“Oh, because vampires can’t cross running water,” Emily replied.

“What? No,” said the man, “Wherever did you get that idea? No, but it’ll be more difficult for them to follow us. And they won’t want to leave the cave far.”

“Why?”

“Why? Look at the sky.” Emily did. The stars above her were beginning to fade. The twin moons hung low to the horizon and the sky itself was lightening.

They kept on running for what felt like hours. Each time Emily seemed to be slowing the man would urge her on, even grabbing her arm at one point and dragging her to keep pace with him. Emily’s lungs burned and her legs felt like rocks. She heard crickets chirping in the long grass and the sound of owls hooting to one another as they returned to their trees to roost. Then she heard another sound. A faint dull roar.

Ahead of them the scrubland they had been running on gave way to loose gravel and they found themselves at the bank of a swift running river. They stopped at the water’s edge and Emily bent over, breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. The dark-haired man stooped at the river’s edge, scooping handfuls of the crystal-clear water. He drank deeply before splashing more water on his face, washing off what remaining of the beast’s tar-like blood.

“What do you think happened to the others?” Emily asked as she joined him at the river’s edge.

“Captured possibly,” he said, “Or killed. I saw at least two in that cave who didn’t look as though they had the strength to go the distance. One or two may have made it out alive. We’ll never know though.” Emily looked down at the water and scooped some into her hands. Her hands were shaking, with fear or exhaustion or a mixture of both, she could not tell.

“There’s a Dwemer ruin further upstream,” said the man, “We’ll cross there and head downstream. We can’t hang around here. Vampires aren’t Skyrim’s only danger.”

“Dwemer?”

“The Dwemer, an ancient race of underground dwelling elves,” the man explained as they resumed walking, “They possessed magic and weaponry men could only dream of. Then they vanished without a trace, disappearing off the face of Nirn entirely. But you must have heard of them.”

Emily shook her head.

“There is much I do not know,” she said simply, “But I mean to learn.”

Before long they crested some rocks and below were the ruins the man spoke of. It was a bridge made mostly of stone but the domed towers of the bridge were wrought of a strange bronze-like metal. They slid down the rocks and approached the metal structure. Up close it was massive and cast a large shadow across the rocks. The stone was cold to the touch and they crossed it quickly, making for the far side where the ground was softer.

As they reached the far side the first rays of the rising sun peaked over the mountains in the east, far across the plains. Emily shielded her eyes from the glare. The sun had never been such a welcome sight before. The rocky grey land seemed to blossom under its gaze and colour seemed to creep into the leaves of the trees and the petals of the small mountain flowers that grew in clumps near the rocks.

They followed the river downstream over large flat rocks and muddy banks. In the shallows grey crabs of varying size fed on the freshwater algae. As they neared a tussock of grass a rabbit burst from it, white tail flashing in the morning light, disappearing down a hole at the foot of a tree stump.

They stopped at a point where the river diverged. At the centre of the diverging river were several small mud flats. The man gathered together some dry sticks and grass. With a gesture he loosed a tongue of flame which set the kindling alight. Emily briefly flinched back from the newly created flames but quickly hid this and sat down next to the campfire, warming her hands.

The man strode towards the river, carrying the spear. He seemed more comfortable with it than the cudgel, holding it more securely. She watched as he strode out into the water where he stood motionless, spear raised. For several minutes he stood there, only the wind blowing his hair revealing him to be a man and not a statue. Then he lunged. There was a fierce splashing and he pulled a fish from the river. When he brought it back to the shore Emily saw that it was a vicious-looking thing with rows of razor sharp teeth and long fins stretching the length of its body.

The man took a knife from a strap on his boot and cleaned the fish before slicing it and placing the meat on a large flat stone. He rested the stone on the campfire and sat back. After several minutes of silence Emily spoke.

“Thanks,” she said, “For getting me out of there.” The man nodded but said nothing.

“Where did they take you from?” Emily asked.

“I was camped out near Broken Oar Grotto,” he said, “I was trying to track those bloodsuckers back to their lair. The bandits at the Grotto told me they had been seen around the coast before after I convinced them not to slit my throat.” By the way he spoke Emily got the distinct impression that the convincing had not consisted of diplomacy on his part.

“What about you?” he asked, breaking in on her thoughts.

“Solitude,” she replied, “I was working as an apprentice alchemist there. Angeline’s probably worried sick about me.”

“And your name, what is it?”

“Emily,” she replied, “What’s yours?”

“Talof.”

Talof lifted the flat stone from the campfire and set it down between them.

“You’d better eat, we’ll need to keep our strength up. It’s a long way to civilisation.”

“What are you going to do then, when we reach civilisation?”

“A few weeks before I visited Broken Oar Grotto I was in Solitude myself,” said Talof, “And while I was there I heard rumours. Rumours about the Dawnguard. Do you know who they are?” Emily shook her head.

“Vampire hunters,” Talof continued, “They were formed in the second era but broke up sometime later for unclear reasons. But I heard they’re being reformed in an old fort near Riften. I plan to go there and join them. I would advise that you do the same. Attacks like the one on Solitude you were caught up in are becoming increasingly common. The Dawnguard could offer you protection from those monsters.”

“I’ll travel with you then, if that’s alright,” said Emily. Talof nodded.

After they had eaten the fish and rested briefly they continued, taking the left fork in the river. The bank grew more rocky and they climbed up over them, away from the river. They came to a point where a fallen tree lay over the river like a bridge and they slowly made their way across. Ahead of them the river rushed over rocks, filling the air with a roar that grew louder as they approached. Talof didn’t speak much during their journey other than to offer some small bits of information regarding the area they were travelling through. He pointed out a Forsworn camp to her. All she could see of it at first was the smoke puffing up into the sky from a campfire. The rest of the camp blended so naturally into the surrounding rocks and trees that it took her several moments to spot the tents.

“Who are the Forsworn?” she asked.

“The men of the Reach,” Talof replied, “They claim the area as their ancestral home and will kill anyone they deem to be trespassing.”

“They sound as horrible as the vampires,” said Emily.

They briefly left the river and followed a track up into the mountains when the way along the river became too rocky. The way was steep and from the top they could see over the plains.

“See that building way out there over the plains,” said Talof, “That’s Dragonsreach and just below it is the city of Whiterun. We should reach there in about a week provided the weather holds out.” He looked up at the sky where clouds were scudding across the sun. Almost as though in an act of defiance against Talof’s words a drop of rain fell onto Emily’s nose. Before they had gone much further a rainstorm had settled in over the mountains and a mist blanketed them. Progress was slow and turned the earth to mud.

As they crested a hill and the mist around them broke they saw the welcoming lights of a village below. At the sight of these lights Emily imagined a hot bowl of stew and a warm bed. Then she remembered, with a sinking feeling, that she had no money and her backpack was in Angeline’s house. Talof had started down the dirt track that led back toward the river and the village below and she followed.

It was late evening by the time they reached the village of Karthwagten, a small settlement on the nearside of the river. On the far side, further downriver was the mining settlement of Karthwasten. The Inn was smaller even than the one in Dragon Bridge and made up mostly of miners who worked the nearby silver mines. In one corner a storyteller sat, regaling his listeners with a tale of a pirate captain who roamed the Sea of Ghosts to the North. Emily approached the Innkeeper. He was Elven but his features looked as though they had been hewn from rock and a pair of tusks jutted from his lower jaw. She explained their situation and asked if there were any tasks they could complete in exchange for food and shelter. He regarded her with a look of suspicion when her tale concluded but nodded toward a wood pile by the fire.

She and Talof spent half an hour chopping wood until their backs ached and they longed for a rest. The Innkeeper served them each a tankard of mead and showed them to two rooms in the back. Each was furnished with a single bed, a chest and a wardrobe.

Feeling restless, Emily stole back into the bar. The storyteller was beginning a new tale and she sat down with the others a while to listen.

Chapter Text

The storyteller drained his tankard and set it down on the worn wooden table. He stood up, drawing himself up to his full height before speaking.

“Any self-respecting traveller worth his salt has heard the rumours. Rumours of merchants plucked from the roads and travellers spirited away never to be seen or heard from again,” began the storyteller, “Some say goblins, I say folly. A goblin knows the worth of coin and jewels as well as any bandit and yet merchants disappear, leaving their valuables behind. In my youth I tracked these creatures and I was privy to things no mortal should ever see.” He ordered another drink from the bartender before continuing. “But it was my journey to Gloomstone Cave that left the biggest mark.”

Emily and several others listened with rapt attention as the story began.

* * *

Gloomstone is a cave system in Eastern High Rock, competing, in size, with the fabled Blackreach Caverns. A vast underground world of gigantic mushrooms and lumbering great beasts. Slow, stupid things that are tended by them as giants tend to their mammoths.

Though nowhere near as fearsome as the Chaurus found in Skyrim I still had to exercise caution when approaching them. If they deem that you are too close they will toss their shaggy horned heads and swing their clubbed tails. They have enough strength in their tails to smash boulders like they were eggs.

It was twelve years ago to the day that I entered the cave at its mouth near Evermore and ventured deep into the bowels of Nirn. You can distinguish caves belonging to the Deepfolken from others by the grotesque effigies constructed from the bones of their victims on display outside. They are, at times, strikingly similar to those constructed by the Reachmen but I believe this to be pure coincidence as the Deepfolken have shown no tendency towards allegiances bar those they maintain with their beasts of burden and livestock.

The Deepfolken go by many names: The Deep Ones, not to be confused with the Dark Beings once worshipped by the people of Hackdirt in Cyrodiil during the Third Era, may they rot in Oblivion, Falmer, Snow Elves, the Poisoned, Blind Screechers and the Betrayed. It is not clear where that last name originated from. I have heard it used only sparingly but anyone who knows their history knows that the Falmer were betrayed by the Dwarves when they sought protection from the Nords and as part of the bargain they were blinded completely and eternally.

It wasn’t long before I stumbled across one of their settlements. Some are so well hidden in the shadows that you cannot afford to drop your guard for so much as a second. The trick is to remember your enemies one major weakness: their blindness.

When I drew near to the main tent, I heard one of them inside. Its presence was marked by its raspy breathing and the smell of fetid meat that hangs around them in a cloud. Judging by the positioning of the tent I guessed this one to be a sentry. They do seem to have a rudimentary form of hierarchy.

I plucked a small stone from the dirt and threw it some feet from the tent flap. As I expected the Falmer emerged, unnaturally acute hearing alerting it to the minor disturbance outside. It cocked its head from side to side, bat-like ears twitching as it listened.

Without hesitation I leapt forth, burying my dagger in its throat. It screeched, a horrible sound, convulsed and fell still. I stepped back into an alcove in the rocky tunnel, fearing the scuffle might have attracted unwanted attention. But it seemed it had not. I looted the tent for supplies. The Falmer are masters at crafting deadly poisons and many of their weapons are dipped in such poisons. Deep in some of the caverns you can find the subterranean plants they use to make their poisons. They are curious things, a central poison spore pod protected by webbed petal-like protrusions that shake at your approach. You have to be swift to cut off the spore pod before it bursts open and fills the air with toxic spores which get into the lungs, causing internal bleeding.

I gathered what poisons I could find and tipped several of my arrows with the mixture. Then I left the tent and looked down the dark tunnel ahead. Until now I had navigated by the light of the glowing mushrooms that grew in the cave. I knew I could not always rely on them. So I used an old trick an alchemist in the Rift taught me. The glowing mushrooms can be pulped and combined with a mixture of fire salts and ectoplasm which, when lit, creates something akin to magelight. However, unlike magelight it burns with a brightness equal to that of ten magelight spells and lasts as long as fuel can be provided. Though I am no scholar, I believe it is this mushroom that provided the raw materials the Dwemer used for their lighting though I doubt they would use such crude materials as ectoplasm. I placed the mixture in my lantern and lit it before continuing down the tunnel. I trekked through for several minutes and the tunnel twisted and turned. I found myself wondering how far below the surface I was.

Presently the tunnel I was in opened out and I was standing at the edge of an enormous underground chasm. Somewhere in the distance I heard a low steady hissing. It was a good thing I had my lantern for the chasm ahead had no light and the ground dropped away almost as soon as I left the mouth of the tunnel.

As I edged along the narrow path along the edge of the chasm that led vaguely downward I noticed that the rock and dirt walls at my side was freshly scarred. I was mindful as I moved along, both of the treacherous terrain underfoot and the possibility of meeting a Falmer along the narrow path.

As I rounded a bend I saw a shaft of light piercing the gloom. It was sunlight, cast down from a hole in the ceiling, illuminating the rubble strewn floor below. Suddenly the whole chasm made sense. The massive fissure was the result of a cave-in. At that moment I became very aware of the rocks above my head. The absence of any Falmer in the chasm led me to wonder just how recent the cave-in had been. Perhaps the Falmer sentry had in fact been a member of the tribe isolated from the rest by the rockfall.

This theory was proven correct not long after I left the chasm through a tunnel near the bottom. At times the way became so narrow that I had to crawl through. The hissing I’d heard before grew louder.

As I entered the next room I found the source of the hissing. A broken Dwemer-made pipe jutted from the wall. Several Falmer were crowded around it. I decided there were too many to take out from where I was and the steam would likely drown out most noise I would make. I was wrong.

Before I had made it halfway toward the Dwemer bridge I had set my sights on, the Falmer furthest from the steam duct raised its head and growled. I kept still and took my bow from my back. I took one of the tipped arrows and shot the Falmer. There was a frenzied growling as they scrambled to their feet. They seemed to know roughly where the arrow had come from through hearing or some unknown higher sense.

I broke cover and ran for the bridge, hoping to pick more off from atop it. I reached the base and ran up the smooth stone surface. Here I turned back and aimed at the advancing ranks. Two fell to my arrows before they reached the top and I was forced to retreat back along the bridge.

To my horror, another band was approaching from the opposite side. It was too far down to jump to the ground. Trying to fight my way through would have been suicide. But here I stand before you so what do you think I did?

* * *

It seemed the storyteller’s tale had become a matter of open discussion and Emily was put in mind of a university lecturer posing a problem to be solved by the class. One of the listeners, a tall grey-skinned elf with red eyes and dark hair put forward his suggestion.

“You bashed through the weaker side with your shield.”

The old storyteller shook his head. “A shield is the tool of a seasoned warrior which I am not,” he said, “I was once a scout in the Imperial legion where I received some martial training. I relied on my bow, my blade and my wits to survive in battle against foes bigger and tougher than I.”

“You used magic, a spell,” piped up a young girl wearing flowing tan robes. Emily saw the elf hide a sneer behind his palm as though he found the notion utterly ridiculous.

“Of a sort,” said the storyteller encouragingly. The elf stopped and sat quietly but his lips were now pursed in thought.

“I am not a gifted mage though,” admitted the storyteller, “And I know only a basic fire spell, a ward and a healing spell.”

“It would take someone who was at least adept in fire magic to cast it in two directions at once,” the elf said thoughtfully.

“Indeed it would,” the storyteller agreed.

The elf sat pensively but it was the young girl who gave the answer.

“A scroll,” she proclaimed proudly and the old storyteller nodded.

“But surely you would not have us guess which one,” asked a tall man with fair hair, “There are hundreds of spells belonging to each school of magic.”

“Indeed not, worthy Broduin,” laughed the storyteller, “We would be here until Last Seed. It was a scroll of firestorm.”

* * *

I withdrew the scroll from my pack and unfurled it. As the words flashed across my eyes the spell took and the scroll burned away between my fingertips, engulfing my hands in fire.

When unleashed the explosion of fire was catastrophic. The Falmer nearest to me were reduced to ashes while those further back were blown from the bridge into the inky blackness below. Then I heard a deafening rumble from above. The force of the blast had weakened the rocks above and I watched as a rock the size of a mammoth crushed one of the Falmer tents. To my horror another boulder fell in front of the tunnel I had entered through. Now I would be forced to press on in the hopes of finding another way out. I looked from the bridge and saw that the way ahead was sloping gently upwards. This gave me hope and I crossed the bridge to the other side.

There were more settlements on the slope and a large patch of gleamblossom where several of their livestock grazed in the pale light given off by the blossoms. I kept to the shadows, picking off the outskirters. From one of them, a shaman judging by the look of her, I replenished my supply of poisons. Dotted here and there along the slope were Dwemer dwellings, little more than outhouses. At the crest of the slope was a Dwemer ruin of such enormity that it took my breath away just to look at it. I guessed it to be the mansion of an influential or otherwise wealthy figure in Dwemer society. On the roof was a massive Centurion head, glaring down at me as I stood looking upon this wonder. And standing in the centre of what had once been the grounds in front of the mansion was a Falmer. Dwemer dwellings often have a way out to the surface so that Falmer was standing between me and my freedom.

I nocked an arrow and fired. As though in slow motion I watched my arrow streaking towards its target. Then the Falmer leapt to one side and turned its head to face me, bearing its teeth. I drew back. Once they know they’re under attack shooting them becomes an increasingly difficult task. I drew my blade and made for the monster.

I realized too late it was a shaman when a blast of cold magic turned the floor to a sheet of ice and it floated inches above the surface. An Aldmeri swordmaiden would have had little trouble, as graceful in battle as out but for a former scout it was another matter. My attacks were uncoordinated. I’m lucky I survived long enough for it to happen.

* * *

“For what to happen?” Emily found herself asking.

“For it to awaken,” the storyteller replied.

* * *

The ground beneath my feet began to shake violently and I heard a great hissing coming from somewhere above me. The Falmer seemed equally perturbed and was growling, tossing its head this way and that. I had the moment to strike but found myself rooted to the spot as a great shadow fell over me. I looked up and nearly dropped my blade. What I had taken to be a roof decoration was in fact an enormous centurion that had been sitting inactive behind the mansion: an Animonculossus. Now it towered to its full height, almost filling the immediate area with its massive form. I thought its head would crash into the roof of the cavern. It was on the move, manoeuvring its way around the mansion.

At last I found I could move and I started to back away. One great metallic foot came crashing down and the Falmer shaman was no more. Then it turned its attention to me and steam gushed from its maw. I sped away, feeling the hot air behind me. I felt utterly lost. A centurion of average proportions is difficult enough to beat. They are mostly resistant to magic and the trick is to go for the joints. But these joints were massive. The knee alone was the size of a full-grown frost troll. I found myself dashing around the cavern, always with the steam hot on my heels. Each time I stopped behind a rock to catch my breath I found myself on the run again as a metal fist came crashing down, crushing the boulder as though it were a cracker. I couldn’t even think of trying to attack it. The hiss in my ears of the steam was deafening. But then a new sound filled the cavern. A familiar sound. It was a deep ominous rumbling. I saw several small rocks hit the cavern floor ahead. Its movements were loosening the rock above. I saw my chance even if it was slim.

I pulled my last fire scroll from my pack. This was a scroll of firebolt for I needed something with a greater range. I knew I had one shot. The spell took and I launched it as I ran, aiming for the rocky ceiling. The effect was immediate. Rocks came loose, tumbling down on the metal beast. Another caught my arm, breaking it and throwing me to the ground. I saw a hollow in the rock from my new place on the floor and though my arm throbbed painfully I set my thoughts on reaching it even as the world around me seemed to crumble. The sound was deafening but even it could not stop me from collapsing when I reached the hollow and passing out.

When I came to, how much later I cannot say, I found the world quiet and still. Before me was a cascade of rock and in between the rocks bronze-like metal glimmered in the sunlight streaming in from above.

Battered and bruised, my broken arm strapped to my side, I crawled up towards the light and emerged on a hillside. The flowers swaying in the slight breeze and the sun streaming down made what I had just been through seem all the more extraordinary and otherworldly.

I was found by a shepherd who had been tending his sheep when the ground opened up and dragged two of the poor beasts in. He helped me to the village where a healer set my arm. It will never be quite as good as it was but I can still grip a tankard as well as the next man so that’s more than enough for me. But I will never again venture into the dark for fear of what lies in Nirn’s darkest recesses.

* * *

The storyteller concluded his tale. On Earth Emily would have immediately dismissed the story as pure fiction. Here in Skyrim, she was not so sure and the notion that such horrors existed unsettled her. She retired to her room, now wondering if staying up to listen to the storyteller had been such a good idea after all.

Chapter Text

Emily sat up and looked around in disbelief. Slowly a smile spread across her face. She was home.

The old house looked exactly as she’d left it. It was slightly untidy just as she remembered, a stack of old magazines piled on top of the already cluttered coffee table next to a television remote and a small vase of creamy white flowers. She got off the sofa and folded the blanket in some semblance of neatness.

“I must’ve got sick while I was out on holiday,” she said to herself as she crossed the room to the window, “Made it back here, passed out on the sofa and dreamed up all that crap about Skyrim and vampires.”

She drew the curtains and her face fell. For what lay beyond the window were not the rows of painted townhouses with the street curving gently down towards the sea. Instead she saw Nordic longhouses and cobblestone streets, fortified walls and a night sky with two moons shining down from above.

Emily snapped the curtains shut and turned away from the window. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest and she took a moment to calm herself. She looked around. At least her sitting room still looked like hers.

She went into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. She pulled a can of beer from the fridge and opened it. She turned to the cupboard to fetch out a glass but when she opened the doors she saw red eyes leering out at her from impossibly inky blackness. Then it lunged at her and she fell.

She felt her back slam into the vinyl floor but then it gave beneath her, shattering like glass. She fell through the dark. The further she fell, the more the opening looked like a fissure with light pouring through and in that light she saw what the thing was. It had pale skin and clutching long fingered hands. Its eyed burned into her as its hands grasped the fabric of her hooded jacket. She tried to fight it off but could not pry its vice-like grip. Then one hand grasped her throat and it lunged forward, filling her eyes with bright red light.

Emily sat bolt upright, drenched in a cold sweat and shivering profusely. She held the furs to her and looked around the room of the Inn. Everything was just as it had been when she’d checked in the night before. The bed she lay on was a wooden affair with furs that acted as a duvet and sheets. She got up and fetched her hooded jacket from the peg by the door. She looked at it critically and took a cautious sniff, wrinkling her nose. It smelt of the cave, of the strange Daedric creature they had faced and of blood. It needed a good wash. But she wagered that would require money for soap and the leisure time to wash them and allow them to dry. Leisure time she didn’t really have right now and money she definitely didn’t have. She found herself wondering how Angeline was doing. It didn’t look as though she’d be returning to Solitude for some time and she felt regretful.

She zipped up her jacket and left the room. Talof was sitting by the fire. He’d had a wash and his hair no longer hung lank across his face. The firelight flickered off the white film over his left eye and the scars that ran down his cheek. The Daedric Halberd rested against the back of the chair. He got up when he saw Emily and nodded.

“You ready for off?” he asked.

“I’m ready,” Emily replied, feeling anything but. At least, she reasoned, they shouldn’t have to travel by night anymore and the land was significantly less daunting when the sun shone down on it. They left the Inn and walked down the cobblestone street. A few children were playing near the entrance to the mine where a man in hide armour stood guard. There was no bustling market in this little village and after Solitude and Dragon Bridge it looked decidedly small. As they passed the final house Talof spoke.

“I’m going to have to teach you a few things if you’re to survive out here,” he said, “You can run well enough but running will only get you so far. Sometimes escape isn’t an option. Sometimes you will be forced to fight.”

“If you’re thinking I can swing that thing,” said Emily, pointing to the halberd strapped across Talof’s back, “Then-.”

“I was thinking of something altogether smaller,” he replied, “A bow maybe. Or a sword and shield.”

“I don’t know…,” Emily said.

“Well, you’re not going to get far with that,” he said, gesturing to the dagger belted at her hip, “That’s fine for gutting fish or maybe taking out a stray wolf at most but it won’t do much good against a sabre cat or a troll. When we reach Rorikstead we’ll look into getting you some proper gear. I should still have enough left over.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a pouchful of coins.

“Where on Earth did you get that?” she asked.

“While you were listening to the storyteller last night, I had a little look around,” he explained, “It wasn’t a decision I took lightly,” he added when he saw the look of look of dismay on Emily’s face, “But until we find work, we need to take what we can, when we can.” Emily nodded and they continued walking. They turned a bend in the road and Talof led Emily down towards the river.

“We’ll cross here,” he said, “The water’s shallow enough.” They waded out into the shallows. The water was freezing and an instinctive shiver ran up Emily’s spine. The river was dotted with rocks and the water bubbled over them. Reeds swayed in the early morning breeze and a bright green bird was perched on a bobbing twig by the water’s edge. It shuffled its wings and in one quick movement darted into the water, beak thrust forward. It speared one of the small fish that floated below the surface and flew with it back to the branch where it tore at it with quick darting movements.

They reached the far side and made the steep climb up the muddy slopes towards another cobblestone road. On the far side the road dropped away as suddenly as the side they had just come up, affording them a view of a winding river and the wide-open plains. Emily found herself wondering if these were the same plains she had seen from the road in Haafingar. Ahead of them was a stone bridge that stretched across a ravine. On the far side the road was lined on either side with boulders and above the boulders on one side Emily could see the stone towers of an old fort. She could see someone standing at the top of one of the towers. A pair of branching antlers adorned their head.

“Is that Rorikstead?” she asked, pointing to the fort. Talof shook his head.

“Forsworn camp,” he replied, “We’ll cross the bridge. There’s a game track that leads around the back of those boulders. We should be able to avoid detection and re-join the road by the afternoon.”

Although the bridge was sturdy Emily was glad to be on the far side. Talof was keeping to the edge of the road where the overhanging boulders ahead obscured him from the view of the fort. Emily followed suit and didn’t take her eyes from the figure atop the tower until he disappeared from view. The game track they turned onto was little more than a dirt path between the low flowering shrubs and spindly plants. Emily braced one hand against the boulders to her right as she negotiated the path, choosing carefully where to plant her feet on the slope. Once in a while she would look up to make sure that Talof was still ahead of her. At one point he put out a hand to stop her and pointed to the path ahead. Emily looked and saw the loping shapes of two wolves crossing the path ahead. One sniffed the air. It was a yearling, barely more than a pup. In a moment of playfulness it leapt at the adult wolf, knocking it into the grass. The wolf reprimanded the adolescent with a sharp bite before continuing on into the tall grass, the yearling following behind decidedly quieter than before. Talof waited for several more minutes before continuing, making sure the two wolves were out of sight.

As the sun reached its highest point in the sky they left the cover of the boulders and struck out across the plains. The tall grass whipped about their legs and gnats buzzed between the tussocks. Emily watched a rabbit dart down the path ahead and disappear down a hole near a large rock. It was different from the others and as Emily examined it she noticed it was covered in some kind of black pigment and covered in distinctive markings. Then she spotted the rope tied around the top and the long, polished bones hanging from the rope.

“We’re crossing giant country now,” Talof warned, “Stay on your guard.”

“Giants?” Emily replied, “How big are they?”

“Big enough,” Talof replied, “They aren’t usually too much of a threat so long as you stay away from their mammoths.” Emily wondered if she’d heard correctly. But then again, she thought to herself, she was in a world where elves, magic and vampires existed. Why not mammoths? Besides, maybe it just sounded like mammoths and he was referring to some creature quite distinctively different but similar in name.

This was soon proven false as they crested another hill. Below them was an area where the ground had been trampled flat and the grass had been stripped away from the earth. More rocks like the one further back along the path dotted the landscape. A large fire burned at the centre of the encampment, casting blazing heat across the plains. But it was not any of this that had Emily’s attention. It was the lumbering hairy beasts roaming the grasslands. Here and there they stopped to graze, long trunks ripping out great tussocks of grass and disappearing up into their mouths. Each mammoth looked to be the size of a large truck and sported a pair of long tusks each as thick as her forearm. A great two-legged figure strode between two of the massive beasts, almost their equal in height. It had pale skin and a lumpy craggy head with a ragged beard and two pale blue eyes set deep in the skull looked out upon the world. It wore a loin cloth decorated with bones of varying size and carried a large club that looked as though it was carved from wood and bone. One of the mammoths raised its head and trumpeted at them.

“Come on,” Talof said, “It’d be better if we didn’t hang around.” Emily didn’t need telling twice and followed Talof along the game track. Emily’s thoughts were still on the mammoths as they crossed the plains and stopped briefly by a small river to catch fish, eat and rest. As Talof hauled his catch up onto the sand Emily heard a sharp squeak. She looked up and listened intently. It sounded again, close by. It sounded distressed and she got up from the short rock and ventured down towards the river. Something was splashing about in the shallows. She’d seen them before up at the docks near Solitude. It was an otter, a young one. It was this small creature that was making furious squeaking sounds and splashing about in the water. Then Emily saw it. A large fish like the one Talof caught not long after they escaped the cave. It darted towards the young otter and the otter struck back as well as it could from its vantage point. The fish would retreat each time but never far. It was waiting for the otter to tire.

Emily drew her dagger and strode towards the shallows. At her approach the fish ceased its attack and instead turned to face Emily. Before that day Emily thought it impossible to fear something so small as a fish but once she stepped into the shallows the fish lunged at her and she was forced to spring back onto a small rock. From here she stabbed at the fish. It was swift and slippery, darting between her attacks and snapping at her hands. Then it tried a different tact, diving into the water and reappearing just below her, lunging up onto the rock to snap at her ankles. She cried out and fell back into the water. Then it lunged again. In her surprise Emily had dropped her dagger and she grabbed at the fish with her bare hands. Its scales were like sandpaper and scraped at her hands as it squirmed. Emily yelped and tossed it some distance away. It landed on the bank where it thrashed about in the mud.

“Are you trying to catch us dinner or something?” Talof said as he watched from further up the bank.

“No, there was an otter, I was trying to-,” Emily looked around but the otter had vanished amidst the skirmish. Talof looked at her hands which had been rubbed raw by the slaughterfish’s scales.

“Should know better than to go hunting a slaughterfish bare handed,” he said, “Bathe them in the water and rub some of those blue flower petals on them.” Emily looked sheepish as she plunged her hands into the water. The stinging sensation was cooled by the water and when she rubbed the blue flower petals on her palms the pain began to subside.

She re-joined Talof by the small fire he’d started to cook the fish. She noticed her fish lying on the stone slab.

“Might as well not let your valiant efforts go to waste,” he said as she sat down. Emily just nodded and looked into the fire. The fish sizzled over the flames and sent wafts of the delicious scent towards Emily’s nose. She realised then just how hungry she was and after the fish was served she bit into it hungrily. As she finished the first slice Talof nudged her shoulder.

“I think that otter of yours might be back,” he said. He pointed over towards the bank. There a nose twitched in the reeds and beady black eyes watched them carefully. Emily turned slowly to face the bank. The otter withdrew back into the reeds but she could just see its nose poking out. Slowly she reached for the second slice of fish and tore off a piece, throwing it towards the reeds. The reeds rustled as the otter darted back. Then slowly, very slowly, its nose emerged again, followed by its head. It raised itself up and sniffed the air. It pressed back low to the ground and crawled out of the reeds towards the piece of fish. It sniffed it cautiously before reaching forward and picking it up in its hand-like front paws, nibbling away. The whole time it ate, its eyes never left Emily.

When it had finished it sniffed the ground for any morsels it might have missed before crawling towards the camp. It nosed its way about the rocks, flicking its eyes up every so often to watch Emily and Talof. It reached the flat rock the rest of the fish lay on and raised itself up, resting its paws on the rock. Emily reached forward and took another piece of fish from the rock, handing it to the otter. It darted forward and took the piece of fish from her, turning it over in its paws as it nibbled. Every so often it would make curious little chattering squeaks.

When it was done it sat back and cleaned its whiskers. Emily watched as it resumed its exploration of the camp.

“It’s unusual to see them out during the day unless they’re mating,” Talof observed, “But looking at this one, it’s barely more than a pup.”

“Where do you think its parents are?”

“You say it was being hunted by a slaughterfish,” replied Talof, “I’d say there’s a good chance a slaughterfish got them too, perhaps even the same one. I’m afraid it’s nature’s way.”

Emily looked down when she felt a little nose nuzzle her fingertips. The otter sat back and looked up at her, emitting short squeaks. Emily reached down and the otter at first shied away. Then it stopped and let her stroke its head. Its fur was still wet and stuck up in little spikes down its back.

“We’d better keep moving,” Talof said as he got up and doused the fire with water from the river. Emily got up too. The otter took a few steps back and watched as they packed up camp. Emily looked back over her shoulder as they left. The otter was sitting up and sniffing the flat rock that the fish once rested on.

Further into the plains the grass grew thicker and the clouds of gnats grew more numerous. Emily found herself swatting at them every few steps. It felt like being pricked by hundreds of tiny little pins.

“What I wouldn’t give for some bug spray,” she said as she came to a halt. Talof was a few feet ahead and didn’t seem phased by the buzzing insects.

Emily set off again, following the barely discernible path. She stopped again as she heard movement in the grass behind her. What were those things Talof had mentioned that morning? Sabrecats? How big were they? She turned around slowly but saw nothing but tall grass and the odd lonely pine that stood silhouetted against the sky. Clouds scudded across the sun. There would be rain by evening. Emily started as something brushed against her ankle.

She looked down and saw a familiar dark brown creature moving about her ankles. It was the otter. He raised himself briefly up onto his hand legs and squeaked. Emily remembered what Talof said. He was still young and would probably die on his own. She made up her mind then and there. Gently she knelt down and stroked the otter along its smooth back before lifting it gently. It weighed a little more than she expected and when she held the little creature to her chest it gripped her jacket in its little clawed paws and squeaked.

She turned and followed Talof’s retreating figure along the path. The otter watched its surroundings from its new vantage point.

“I guess I should have guessed, the way you were babying him earlier,” Talof said as she caught up to him.

“Well, you said yourself, he’s young,” Emily replied, “Something would’ve got him if he stayed out alone.”

“It would just be nature taking its course,” said Talof.

“I know, it’s the circle of life, isn’t it?” she replied, “But humans are part of the circle too. And I’m just going to play my part in the circle by taking him in, you know, until he’s old enough to fend for himself.”

“It’s all the same to me as long as he doesn’t delay our trip to Riften,” said Talof, shrugging his shoulders. Knowing that would be the closest Emily would get to an approval, she smiled and tucked the otter more securely in her arms.

“You going to name him then?” Talof asked. Emily looked down at the otter who was still watching the plains with interest. As though sensing her gaze he looked up, fixing her with his beady eyes.

“Finn,” she said, “He looks like an adventurous type to me. I reckon it’ll suit him just fine. It’s also the name of a giant from folklore.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard that one.”

“He built the causeway between two great landmasses so he could battle his rival, the giant, Benandonner,” Emily continued.

“Maybe you should talk to those bards up at the college,” Talof replied, “One of them might have heard of this legend of yours.”

At last they re-joined the road and followed it until they came to a crossroads. The sky above was beginning to redden as the sun set behind the lands to the west. The otter in Emily’s arms was dozing, its chest rising and falling slowly. They turned right and followed the cobblestone road up a steep hill. Emily could smell woodsmoke close by and the faint clang of metal on metal that marked the presence of a Blacksmith. She’d heard the sound frequently whilst in Solitude. The thought of a settlement close by gave hope to her weary limbs and she climbed faster towards the top. Talof was just a few strides ahead.

As they rounded the next bend in the road they saw the stone sentry posts and the town gate. A guard patrolled the platform above the gate and when he saw them approach he called down to them.

“What business do you have in Rorikstead?” he asked gruffly.

“We’re passing through,” replied Talof, “We’re seeking room and board for the night. We’ve travelled a long way, from Haafingar. Can you point us to an inn?”

“You’ll want the Frostfruit Inn then,” said the guard, leaning on his battleaxe, “Just you respect the law and we won’t have anything to quarrel about.”

Talof nodded to the guard and they passed through into the village. It was larger than Karthwagten, more on par with Dragon Bridge. At regular intervals along the road there were tall wooden posts. Lanterns hung from the tops of each one and Emily saw a man in hooded robes go to each one in turn, clicking his fingers. With each click the lantern he was standing beneath sparked into life, casting a pool of light across the street. There were more lanterns by the door of each of the dwellings or perched on the wooden fences that ran along the porch. Much of the land around Rorikstead was farmland though it looked as though planting had not yet begun. A few chickens pecked around the yards and from one of the fields came the occasional plaintive lowing of a cow. The streets were mostly deserted by now, now that night was falling and they made a beeline for a squat building with a sign swinging in the slight breeze, by the door. The words, ‘Frostfruit Inn,’ were plain to be seen on the wooden sign. Emily could hear the raucous laughter coming from inside. The otter, who had been dozing, sat up in her arms and looked around. Then he chittered, crawling up her chest and burying his head in her neck. The noises coming from the Inn evidently unnerved him and Emily resolved to find him a quiet corner to curl up in.

They opened the door and stepped inside. Talof bought them a room for the night and handed the Innkeeper the money. Then he ordered them both a hot meal each and a bottle of mead. Emily took the bowl of clam chowder and the mead to her room. Finn had not left her arms since entering the Inn and now he was curled up on her lap, eating a piece of clam. Once inside the comparative quiet of the room and distracted by the shellfish he seemed to settle down. Emily found herself thinking over what Talof had said earlier regarding training with a bow or a blade.

“You know, I’m not much good at fighting, Finn,” she said, “I mean, I didn’t do the best job at fending off that slaughterfish, did I?” Finn glanced up at her and she handed him another clam piece.

“But I can do a little magic. Does that make me a mage?” Emily continued, “And you? Maybe you could be my familiar. Mages are supposed to have familiars, aren’t they? At least, they did in all the books I read. But then this isn’t a book, is it?”

Finn had devoured the last bit of clam and was now curled up in her lap like a cat. He yawned, exposing a set of tiny sharp teeth. The yawn made Emily yawn too and she picked Finn up, carrying him over to a pile of sacking she’d prepared in the corner. The otter curled up in the sacking, fixing her with beady black eyes.

“You know, when we reach the next big city I’m having a bath,” Emily said as she removed her hooded jacket, “And this is getting a wash.” She collapsed gratefully onto the bed and rolled over into the pillow.

“See you in the morning, Finn,” she said drowsily as sleep took hold. Finn squeaked quietly from his bed in the corner as if in response.

Chapter Text

This time it was different. She was standing on a stone platform in a subterranean cavern. All around her were tall, arching columns. Some were cracked and others still lay broken, bits of rubble strewing the carved stone floor.

She was alone on the platform though the body of a man lay close by, lips pulled back in a fixed, fierce grimace, red eyes glaring coldly at the cavern ceiling.

There were grooves gouged in the floor and Emily bent to examine them. They were surprisingly deep and worn perfectly smooth. She followed one of the grooves to a silver brazier on a pedestal. It had handles on its north and south sides and deep in the brazier were nestled glowing purple embers.

Emily pushed at one of the braziers but it would not budge. She heaved at it from either side but it would not move so much as an inch.

Then something caught her eye at the centre of the colosseum. It was another pedestal, broader than the rest. It was many sided and at the top of it was a raised button. Unlike the other pedestals it was wrought entirely of stone. The edges of the button were tinged with a rust coloured substance and grooves like those on the floor ran down from it.

Emily reached forward and placed her hand on the button. It felt cold and smooth beneath her palm. She pressed down and there was an audible click.

Then there was a flash of searing white light that filled her eyes and flooded all her senses with pain.

She sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and clutching her right hand in her left. She flexed her fingers and felt no pain. It was then she noticed Finn sitting with his front paws resting on her knee. She picked him up gently and held him to her chest. He nuzzled her chin, emitting small squeaks before hopping out of her arms and down onto the floor.

Emily got up and dressed. She left the room with Finn following on behind.

Talof got up from the barstool when she entered the main room.

“Right,” he said, “We need to be out of here as soon as possible if we’re to reach Westkeep by nightfall, so let’s get you fitted up with some armour for the journey. And we’ll see about getting you a bow as well.”

Emily followed Talof out of the Inn and down the cobblestone road that led through the village. On either side sat squat stone houses. Most of them were bungalows with thatched roofs and few windows but here and there stood two storey houses with a wooden balconies running along the front of the first floor that could be reached by a wooden stairway that ran up the side of the house. Emily noticed a bunch of red tulips sitting in a metal bucket at the front of one of the two storey buildings. Above the door hung a sign like the one that hung outside, ‘Angeline’s Aromatics.’

“Must be an apothecary,” she thought to herself. Talof followed her gaze. “If we have a few coins left over, maybe it would be an idea to visit the apothecary as well,” he said. He led Emily up a dirt track that veered off from the road and up a steep grassy hill. A little way up the track sat another squat building not unlike the others with smoke belching from the chimney. However, unlike the others, it had a stone furnace built onto one end along with an anvil, a pull chain of some sort and a water trough.

A stone bench supported by thick metal legs sat at the front of the house. Next to it was a grindstone built into a wooden stool-like contraption and a section of hide stretched across a wooden frame.

A man with a ruddy complexion was attending to the forge, a hammer in one hand and what looked to be a glowing red-hot iron sword held against the anvil with the other. Glowing sparks erupted from the blade each time it was struck. Once he was satisfied with his work he took the blade and dropped it into the trough where it hissed, sending up a large cloud of steam. The man set down the hammer and turned to face them.

“And what can I help you with?” he asked.

“I was hoping you could set up my friend here with some armour,” he said, gesturing to Emily, “And a short bow and some arrows if you have some on hand.”

“Alright then, lass,” said the man as he approached Emily. He was wearing a thick spotted apron and there were a few singed patches in his large bushy beard.

“What sort of armour do you want?” he asked.

“Huh? What sort?” said Emily.

“Yes, what sort,” the man repeated, “Heavy or light?”

“Oh light, definitely light,” Emily replied.

“Leather would probably be best,” Talof put in.

“I might just have a set that will fit you then,” said the Blacksmith, “Some jumped up little wood elf ordered it a week back and then never came to collect it. Said she was on her way to join up with the Dawnguard, put her pa’s silver dagger to good use. Pfft, what the Dawnguard would want with her is anyone’s guess.”

“As it happens, that’s where we’re headed,” said Talof.

“Good luck finding the fort then,” said the Blacksmith, folding his arms, “Said to be hidden away in a remote valley where the sun shines brightly all day no matter the weather outside the valley.”

“Well, we’ll ask around Riften when we get there,” Talof replied. The man nodded before turning and disappearing into the Smithy. He reappeared some time later, a set of leather armour slung over one arm and carrying a leather helm, a pair of boots and armguards. He looked critically at Emily’s attire.

“Should fit over what you’re wearing,” he said, handing Emily the armour. She pulled the leather cuirass over her head and fastened the buckles holding the pauldrons in place before tightening the straps down one side of the cuirass. She kicked off her trainers and pulled on the leather boots and the armguards before donning the helmet. It weighed more than she expected, likely because of the metal nosepiece and the metal that spanned the section that covered the forehead and extended back over the top of the helmet. Finn watched from his place perched atop a small boulder. Emily tied together the laces of her trainers and tied them to her belt buckle along with the iron dagger.

The blacksmith handed her a wooden bow and a leather quiver full of arrows fletched with red feathers. He showed Emily how to fasten the bow across her back along with the quiver. Some gold changed hands and then they were walking back down the track towards the road.

Talof stopped her as they passed a thick tree stump at the side of the track. One side had several mushrooms dotting the bark.

“Alright,” he said, “Let’s see how your aim is. Try and hit one of the mushrooms.” Emily took the bow from her back along with one of the arrows. Talof showed her the best stance to take when firing and how to hold the bow properly.

“The armguards,” he explained, “Are as much to protect your arms from the bowstring when its released as to protect them from your foe’s attacks.” He showed her how to nock the arrow. She drew the arrow back against the taut bowstring.

“Make sure to pull all the way back,” Talof instructed, “So the shaft of the arrow is level with your shoulder then aim and release.”

Emily looked down along the arrow at the mushrooms highest up the stump. Then she released the arrow. The air whistled as it sliced through it, embedding itself in the bark next to the mushroom.

“Your aim will improve with practice,” said Talof, “I will let you have another few tries but then we have to get moving.”

Emily retrieved the arrow and returned to her position, ready to take another shot. Only on her fourth shot did she manage to graze the mushroom. She retrieved her arrow once more and set it back in her quiver. Finn climbed up onto her shoulder and they set off again.

The road led them out of Rorikstead and onto the plains, a vast open space with few trees and plenty of rough, scraggy grass. Here and there a rock stuck up out of the ground like a giant’s tooth and not far from the road she saw a mammoth skull staring blankly back at them. It was this skull that served as a stark reminder of how far from home she was along with the man striding alongside her with a halberd strapped across his back.

By midday Rorikstead was just a speck on the horizon.

“Why don’t you head out and see if you can find some kindling?” Talof suggested, “I’ll get the tinder and set up the fire pit.” Emily nodded and left the camp, Finn scampering behind.

Here and there she found the remains of a dead tree and snapped off what branches she could.

She stopped as she heard a frantic squeaking and growling close by. She whirled around, expecting to see a wolf or some other giant beast but found herself alone. She crept through the grass towards the squeaking.

Pushing apart two tussocks of grass she suddenly staggered back with a choked outcry. Finn darted after her, diving behind her legs as she stood, transfixed by the grisly sight.

A woman lay sprawled in the ditch, clothes muddied and covered with blood. A large gash in her back exposed ribs and viscera. Emily resisted the urge to vomit, instead taking a few deep breaths. It was then she noticed the woman’s ears were distinctly pointed. She could not have been much taller than her.

“Wood elf,” said a voice behind her. It was Talof. He bent to examine the corpse, noting the gash on her back and the lack of a weapon or purse.

“She hasn’t been dead long,” he concluded, “I’d say it was bandits. Opportunists. We shouldn’t hang around any longer than necessary. Get that kindling back to the camp, we’ll eat and then we’ll leave.” Emily just nodded, still unable to speak. She couldn’t decide which was worse. Back in the vampire cave when the Daedric ravager had ripped that poor guard to shreds, leaving him barely recognisable as a human or here where the victim still looked recognisably human, or elven as was the case. She only moved when Finn tugged on her jeans. She felt numb as she walked, cradling the kindling in her arms.

Something metallic clanked under her boot as she pushed through one of the scraggy bushes. She stopped and looked down. Under her boot was an ornate dagger wrought of silver. She stooped to pick it up. The hilt was carved into the likeness of some kind of bird of prey with a ruby set where the eye would be and there was a nick in the blade near the tip. The blade itself was coated in blood. Emily recalled the wood elf the Blacksmith mentioned and touched the leather of her tunic. Perhaps if she’d made it back to town. She shuddered, turning the blade over and over in her hands. She bent and wiped the blade on the grass, cleaning off the worst of the blood.

By the time she re-joined Talof at the campsite the fire pit had been scraped out and lined with large stones. Emily dumped the kindling onto the fire pit and took a seat on one of the rocks. Talof added the tinder and lit the campfire with a gesture.

“Alright, we’ll leave the campfire to settle while we go hunting,” said Talof, “This will be a good opportunity for you to learn to hunt.” Emily shook her head.

“I know how it must feel,” said Talof suddenly, “It’s never easy when you see your first dead body. I was only a lad at the tender age of six when I saw mine. My older brother. Our homestead was attacked in the night. We thought at first it was just a stray wolf or a roaming sabrecat so my brother went out to drive it off. We heard the screams a moment later. By the time we reached the front gate he was dead.” He had a far-off look in his eyes as he spoke.

“Do you know what killed him?” Emily asked.

“A vampire,” Talof replied, “His body was completely dry, emaciated-looking. His skin was as white as the snow and I’ll never forget the look of terror etched onto his face. Nothing could scare my brother, not even bandits, witches or wraiths. That’s why, when I was old enough to seek my fortune, I set out to rid the world of these vicious bloodsuckers.”

“And how is hunting going to help me forget what I saw?” Emily asked.

“It won’t,” Talof replied simply, “But it will give you something different to focus on. When faced with situations like these it’s best to keep busy any way you can.” After a moment’s thought Emily got up and followed Talof into the tall grass. They kept low to the ground and moved slowly to avoid making anymore noise than was necessary and their conversation dwindled to only quick questions with even quicker answers. They had travelled from the camp in the opposite direction to the corpse and this led them down a slight slope towards a river. Finn was riding on Emily’s shoulder and he sniffed the air every so often, resting his paws on the top of her head.

Talof crossed over a stream which was barely more than a rivulet of water babbling over the loose gravel. He pointed ahead of them to a tussock of grass. Emily followed his gaze and saw a hole below the tussock. Sitting in the hole was a rabbit, a buck. He sniffed the air around the burrow before hopping slowly towards a white flowering plant where he began to nibble at one of the large leaves. Talof signalled to Emily and slowly she removed the bow from her back and nocked an arrow. She pulled back, setting her sights on the rabbit. It sat up, combing its ears.

She closed her eyes and loosed the arrow. There was a whistling sound followed by a high-pitched scream which rent the air. Emily squeezed her eyes shut tighter and covered her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. The screaming seemed to go on for an eternity before it was silenced and she opened her eyes. Talof was holding up the rabbit and had retrieved the arrow which he handed back to Emily. She wordlessly put it back in the quiver and followed Talof back to the campsite. She had eaten rabbit before more times than she could count but she had never once had to kill one for herself. Now as she sat by the crackling campfire, she found hunger to be the farthest thing from her mind and when a portion of rabbit was handed to her on a flat stone she picked at it half-heartedly. Instead she looked out over the plains. In the distance she saw the same building Talof had pointed out to her not long after escaping the vampire’s lair. Dragonsreach, he had called it. An unnerving thought occurred to her. Were there dragons in this world? She looked up at the clear blue sky, squinting into the sunlight but only a few birds of prey circled overhead. She looked again at the silver dagger which lay in her lap. Back home tales abounded of how the undead and lycanthropes couldn’t bear the touch of silver. It seemed that here this was a well-established truth. When this brought up more thoughts and questions concerning such creatures she decided to put such thoughts aside for the time being.

Finn nuzzled her fingers and she handed him a strip of the meat which he eagerly grabbed in his small paws and nibbled on. Deciding that starvation was not a welcome thought she returned to her meal.

Once the fire had been extinguished they left the campsite and returned to the road. By now the sun had left the highest point and a few clouds had appeared on the horizon. Down in the plains Emily saw a few mammoths lumbering across the gently sloping ground, stopping here and there to tear off a few sprigs from a low growing plant. A giant was sitting in the shade close by, almost perfectly camouflaged against the boulder he leant back against.

By late afternoon her feet were growing weary and each step made her wince. They had stopped briefly by a stream to refill the waterskins Talof had picked up back at the Inn. They had contemplated staying longer but a wandering wolf had hurried them along. Emily looked ahead and saw, in the fading light, the welcoming lights of a small town. The sight spurred her on and she ignored the dull ache in her legs and feet.

“Is that Westkeep?” she asked as they walked.

“That’s it,” Talof replied, “We should be able to get a room for the night there. And by tomorrow we’ll have reached Whiterun. We’ll be halfway through our journey by that point.”

“Halfway?” groaned Emily, “I think when we reach Riften I won’t move for a week.”

“You’re not accustomed to travelling, are you?” asked Talof.

“I am,” replied Emily, “But usually there’d be big cities, hotels and transport involved.”

“Hotels?” said Talof.

“Kind of like Inns,” Emily replied, “But with linen sheets, comfy mattresses, coffee in the mornings and mints under the pillows.”

“So, a more lavish lifestyle,” said Talof, an amused expression on his face, “That would explain your naivete I suppose.” Emily snorted derisively but said no more.

By sunset they passed through the town gates and sought out the nearest Inn. It was located near the back of the town, built up against the town wall. As such the thatched roof sloped downward from the ramparts to the street below. It was two storeys high with a heavy wooden door and small windows. Frost was already beginning to collect on the ground and crunched beneath their feet. Children were being called home by their parents who stood in the doorways, hands on hips. The streets were quieting down with merchants closing up shop and beggars retreating to the marginally warmer corners of the town.

Emily followed Talof into the tavern and took a seat near the fireplace where she removed her helmet. Talof joined her a short time later, carrying two bowls of stew.

“I’ve got us each a room,” he said as he sat down.

“Thanks,” Emily replied as she picked up a spoon and began to tuck into the stew. It was rich and creamy and she quickly realized how hungry she was.

When the dinner things had been cleared away Emily decided to retire to her room. Comfy the beds might not have been but they provided her with a respite from the long trek. Finn was curled up on the pillow next to her, dozing with his paws over his nose. Emily decided to follow suit and rolled over, curling up against the pillow. Soon sleep overcame her and she nodded off, thoughts of dragons and vampires at last surrendering to the calm of sleep.

Chapter Text

The fire in the grate popped, stirring Emily out of the fitful doze she had fallen into. It had been a restless night. The thought of the wood elf girl lying dead in amongst the bracken kept returning to her. Her experience with dead bodies stretched only as far as roadkill. It was still a couple of hours off what even the early-rising local Nords would call a sociable hour and the only others awake were the barman and a couple of men who left the bar a short while ago carrying long poles with what appeared to be candle snuffers affixed to the top.

Finn was curled up by Emily’s feet, his paws over his nose. He stirred, yawning and displaying sharp little teeth, as Emily got up and crossed the room to a bookshelf where some decidedly tatty-looking books were stacked. She took one down and leafed through the pages. It was a book on cultivating various plants found in Skyrim’s more temperate regions: tundra cotton, lavender, Mage’s bugloss and scabious. This was a book Angeline would be interested in, she thought to herself.

Emily sat back down in the chair and contented herself with leafing through the pages. The book, as well as suggesting the kind of soil the plants would require also gave a useful tidbit of information when it came to which ones would need hardened against the coldest months of Frostfall and Evening Star. It was strange: the things back home you never gave a second thought to but here they took on a new importance. Frostfall and Evening Star were months. Likely winter ones, assuming Skyrim had seasons in the conventional sense of course. And how many months were there? Could she take it for granted that they measure time in years as well? And what of the days of the week? Were the months made up of weeks? At least she could be sure of day and night.

She got up once more and had another look through the books. One in particular caught her eye with its faded blue cover and what appeared to be a celestial map embossed in silver on the front. On its spine in sharp angular lettering were the words, “The Firmament.”

Emily returned the book on flora to its place and picked up the Firmament. She sat back down by the fire and opened it to the first page.

“Thirteen signs in all exist to shape the lives of those born under them. Twelve are bound to the months while the thirteenth, the Serpent, wanders through the veil that separates us from blessed Aetherius, blessing or cursing those born under its wavering gaze. The first sign is the Ritual and its month is the first month of Morning Star.”

And so the book went on, naming each of the twelve months in turn and the signs associated with them. It also, rather helpfully, listed the days of the week and Emily was astonished to discover that they numbered in the same amount as those on Earth and that each month was analogous to one on Earth. And by this reckoning she was born in the month of Second Seed and were she a native her sign would have been, ‘The Shadow’: one who is gifted in the art of melding with the shadows.

She set herself to memorizing the days of the week and the months of the year. It wouldn’t do, she decided, to be asked a question concerning the date and make herself look a simpleton by not being able to answer, or worse, an outsider.

“I don’t know, Finn,” she said, “Here I am in a world of warlocks and warriors and I’m busy learning the days of the week. Haven’t done this since I was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

It was another hour before Talof emerged from the adjoining room.

They ordered a bowl of porridge each and sat down at one of the scrubbed wooden tables. The barman also put down a wooden bowl by the bar containing a couple of clams and the scrag ends of a gutted slaughterfish. He watched with mild amusement as Finn scampered over and picked up one of the clams in his front paws, nibbling away.

After breakfast had been cleared away they paid the barman and left. Finn was back in his usual place, curled about Emily’s shoulders as they followed the cobblestone street down towards the stone archway that marked the edge of the village.

“So, Whiterun then,” Emily said cheerfully, “What can you tell me about it?”

“Skyrim’s biggest centre of trade,” Talof remarked, “Apart from Solitude of course. It lies at the very heart of Skyrim and so far it is the only Hold not to openly take a side in this civil war. Wise choice, if you ask me.”

“You mentioned Dragonsreach before,” Emily replied, “Why is it called that?”

“An old tale dating back to the first age,” Talof began, “Olaf One-Eye, Jarl of Whiterun, went to Mount Anthor where he used the ancient power of the Thu’um to shout Numinex into submission. He brought him back to Whiterun where Dragonsreach was constructed to house the beast.” Emily walked on in silence for a moment. She’d heard mention of that word before, the Thu’um, used by Ulfric Stormcloak to murder High King Torygg.

“He shouted him into submission?” she questioned.

“The ancient power of the Thu’um is called shouting because that is how it sounds to any who cannot comprehend the true power behind it,” Talof explained.

The road took them out along the southern edge of the plains. A few mammoths grazed near some ruined stone pillars. They watched them with what Emily fancied to be a wise yet grave air not unlike the elephants on the African savannah. She found herself wondering if this world had elephants at all.

“What else are we likely to see out here?” Emily asked, gesturing towards the mammoths.

“Wolves,” Talof replied, “The occasional lone sabrecat or giant frostbite spider.”

“Giant?” Emily interrupted him, “How giant?”

“Not fond of spiders I take it,” said Talof, “Well, most don’t get much bigger than a dog. Occasionally a few grow to be bigger than a man but that’s quite rare and they’re generally found underground.” He paused. Emily’s face had gone an awful chalky white and she was tight lipped.

“Come on, we’d better keep moving,” Talof continued. Emily just nodded and followed.

It was noon and the sun had reached its highest point in the sky when they reached the crossroads.

“What’s up that way?” Emily asked as they sat down on a flat rock to eat their lunch.

“Lake Illinalta lies just over that hill,” Talof replied, “And if you keep following the road far enough south you’ll reach Falkreath.”

“What’s it like there?” Emily asked.

“Dense misty forests, rocky crystal clear pools, a hunter’s paradise,” Talof replied, “And lots of rain.”

“Sounds a lot like home,” Emily said wistfully, “Especially that last bit.” She unpacked the lunch she’d packed herself. It was a simple cheese sandwich and the cheese was something called Eidar. It reminded her a lot of stilton. Finn was crawling up over the rock, stalking a small blue butterfly that had just landed a couple of feet away.

Talof looked up. The wind was picking up, blowing westward toward their position and carried with it the sound of metal clanking and grinding against metal. Then they heard heavy rhythmic footfalls.

“Come on,” said Talof in a low voice as he packed away their things and led Emily off the road towards a copse of tall spreading pines. Finn followed along behind, abandoning the butterfly he had been stalking.

“What is it?” asked Emily in a hushed whisper as she peered through the branches.

“Soldiers,” Talof whispered back.

For another minute or so all they heard were the steady footfalls of armoured boots. Then they saw them. They marched in steady formation, dressed in red livery and led by a man in a steel crested helmet. Most carried swords though Emily spotted a few archers among their ranks.

“Those are Imperial soldiers,” Emily said quietly. She had seen them frequently around the castle in Solitude, “Aren’t they on our side?”

“That depends on who you talk to,” Talof replied, “The Imperials themselves aren’t so bad but the Thalmor they answer to are relentless. They bear an almost undisguised hatred of humanity. You don’t want to risk getting taken for a Stormcloak sympathiser. Those damn Elves would have you on the executioner’s block quicker than a Riftman could snatch your last gold coin.”

“But if they’re so terrible, why are the Imperials working for them?” Emily asked.

“The White-Gold concordat,” Talof answered simply. Evident by the way he spoke, Emily decided she was supposed to know what this was and kept quiet. Now was not the time for getting into a history lesson.

The soldiers marched on past them and took the road that led further on into the plains towards Haafingar. Once the sound of their heavy footfalls had died away Talof and Emily returned to the road and their journey to Whiterun.

It was late evening when the twinkling lights of the city came into view once more. Emily breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them and Finn yawned from his place about her shoulders.

The road took them right up through a stone archway and over a lowered wooden drawbridge to the city gate. Here two guards commanded them to halt and state their business. It was Talof who answered.

“We mean to stop here on our way to the Rift,” he said, “Can you point us to some decent lodging?”

“The Bannered Mare is your best bet,” replied the guard, leaning on the handle of his axe, “It’s straight ahead once you’re beyond the gates, at the market square.” He leaned back and called up to another guard on the rampart. There was a heavy grinding as the gates slowly creaked open.

Beyond the gates a cobblestone road led up through the city. Next to the gate was a Blacksmiths and opposite that was a fortified stone building. Aside from these two buildings most of the area was residential.

At the end of the road, as the guard described, it opened out into a stone plaza. At its heart was a well and around the edges were several empty stalls, closed for the night, covers draped across them. There were two shops at the edge of the plaza. Emily recognised them by the signs swinging outside in the faint evening breeze as a general store and an apothecary. She could hear running water and soon found the source to be two shallow channels of water running down either side of the stone steps that led further up into the city.

Ahead of them, up a short flight of steps, was the Bannered Mare. It bore the same style of architecture as the surrounding buildings with carved wooden dragon heads adorning the tops of the roofs and windows criss-crossed with thin metal rods. A sign depicting a horse’s head creaked slightly where it swung by the wooden double doors.

Talof pushed open one of the doors and stepped across the threshold. Emily followed behind. The room was relatively large and at its centre was a fire pit where the flames crackled merrily in amongst the logs. In one corner a woman sat, garbed in a full set of steel plated armour. She was holding an iron tankard, staring somewhat morosely, or so it seemed, into it.

Emily took a seat by the fire while Talof made for the bar. Finn crawled down onto her lap where he curled up, staring into the flames. Emily tickled him behind his ears and soon his eyes closed. “Well, halfway, eh Finn?” she said quietly, “Do you think they’ll actually help us? The Dawnguard?” Finn just yawned. Emily heard someone sit down next to her on the wooden bench. She looked over to see a woman perhaps a year or two older than herself. She was wearing a worn, handstitched, blue dress and she had auburn hair.

“You’re a new face around here,” the woman noted. Her tone was not accusing, instead it was more a polite curiosity.

“Yeah, we’re just passing through on our way to Riften,” said Emily.

“We?” said Ysolda. Then she noticed the otter curled up in Emily’s lap.

“Are you a witch then?” she asked, a note of interest creeping into her voice. Emily shook her head.

“I don’t really think I have the right to call myself a witch,” she laughed, “I don’t know an awful lot about magic. I should probably learn though. I wager I’ll do better with spells than this thing.” She gestured to the bow strapped across her back.

“You should probably check out the college then,” replied the woman.

“What college is that?” asked Emily.

“The one in Winterhold, to the Northeast,” said the woman, “You could do that or get a job as a mage’s apprentice.”

“Are you a mage then?” Emily asked. Now was the woman’s turn to laugh.

“By Aetherius, no,” she said, “I’m a merchant. Or at least, a merchant-to-be. I’m Ysolda by the way.”

“I’m Emily,” Emily replied, “And I’m not really sure what I am yet.”

“What business do you have in Riften?” Ysolda asked. It occurred to Emily that if this woman knew where the mage’s college was despite having no particular affiliation with magic, just maybe she would know about this, ‘Dawnguard,’ they meant to find.

“We’re looking for the Dawnguard,” said Emily, “Talof and I.” She gestured over to Talof who was busy chatting with the publican, a woman whose face was careworn and her hair was tied back into a loose ponytail. “We were captured by vampires and taken to a cave somewhere in the forests in Haafingar. Talof helped me escape. Now we’re trying to find the Dawnguard. Talof thinks they can offer us protection.”

“He’s probably right,” said Ysolda.

“Do you know where their fort is then by any chance?” Emily asked hopefully.

“Not exactly,” Ysolda conceded, “But I’ve heard it’s somewhere out past the city near Stendarr’s Beacon.”

“Well, that’s something,” said Emily, “All we knew was that it was out past the city in a canyon where the sun shines all day.”

“A good place for a band of vampire hunters,” Ysolda remarked.

Emily and Ysolda talked for several more minutes before Ysolda, having drunk her tankard of mead, bid her goodnight and left the Inn. Talof had rented them each a room for the night and after a quick meal Emily climbed the stairs to her room. The Inn here was noticeably more lavishly decorated with proper sheets covering the bed instead of animal skins and some kind of wicker wall hanging, hanging from the far wall. There was a wooden cabinet and perched on this was a small vase with a bunch of lavender sitting in it.

“I think we’ve gone upmarket, huh Finn?” she asked the otter perched on her shoulder. Finn just nuzzled her ear in response. “Shame it’s only for one night,” Emily continued as she sat down on the edge of the bed, “I wonder how long before we reach Riften.” Finn clambered down off her shoulder and curled up on the pillow. He yawned, curling his tail over his nose and closed his eyes. Emily chuckled. “I think you’ve got the right idea,” she said, “There’s no sense thinking over it now. Better just to get some sleep.” With that she got into bed, blew out the single candle at the bedside and turned over, nestling down into the sheets.

* * *

It was another four days before they crossed the boarder into the Rift. A slight wind was blowing sluggishly through the tall grass when the city of Riften emerged from the thick fog that had settled over the rolling hills that morning. The stone walls were high though still far eclipsed by those of Solitude. The stonework was grimy and weathered, a far cry from either the capital or Whiterun. Two guards stood on either side of the rotted wooden town gates. They wore livery of deepest navy and the closed faced helmets common among the Hold guards. The livery sported a depiction of crossed daggers; the city’s emblem. At their approach the guard on the right raised his head to watch them. His unseen gaze left Emily feeling distinctly uneasy.

“Hold and stand down there, kinsman,” he said. He was addressing Talof who seemed unfazed by his manner.

“Before I let you in, you’ll need to pay the visitor’s tax, both you and your outsider friend there.” He turned to Emily who flinched back. Could this man possibly be aware of her otherworldly origins? ‘No,’ she reasoned, ‘He’s a guard, not a seer nor a mystic. He can’t possibly-.’

“This isn’t my first visit to Riften,” Talof said coldly, “There is no visitor’s tax. This is a shakedown.” When he moved to fold his arms his halberd clanked in its holding straps. The guard eyed the ebony weapon warily before ushering them on with a few muttered oaths.

Inside the city walls ramshackle buildings huddled together as though for safety. Weeds grew wild and sprawling between the cobblestones and from one of the darkened alleyways came a cat’s harsh yowling cry. It was soon answered by another.

Much of the city was given over to a canal where the grey waters ran sluggish below the streets and small boats were moored by the rickety-looking wooden piers. In one of the alleyways Emily spotted three shambling figures dressed in rags huddled over a small damp fire. One of them turned to look in their direction as they walked past. Emily felt a shiver run down her spine. The man had a grizzled scarred face and a single eye.

“We’d better call in at the tavern,” said Talof, “See if anyone knows anything about the Dawnguard.”

The tavern stood apart from the other buildings, overlooking the market. Lining the edges of the market were several weather-beaten stalls. At one stood a man with ginger hair dressed in blue robes that suggested that the wearer enjoyed a somewhat affluent lifestyle. He called to the patrons of the market in tones exotic, extolling the virtues of the elixir that stood in several slim necked red bottles on the stall’s counter.

At another stall a woman was selling armour, mostly of leather make. A young man was appraising a leather helmet, trying it on at the woman’s insistence.

An elven man with grey skin and red eyes hawked exotic wares from a far-off land to various onlookers and at the final stall stood a figure with features alien to Emily’s eyes. He was tall and his face was reptilian. Instead of skin he had green scales and in place of hair, red feathers adorned his head. He was holding a silver necklace in one clawed scaly hand, displaying it for the customer to see.

“Whoa,” Emily said quietly, “There are lizard people here.” Talof stopped and followed her gaze.

“I’d avoid calling them that if I were you,” he advised her, “Leave those terms to the narrow-minded.”

“What should I call them?” Emily asked.

“Argonians,” Talof replied.

The tavern, too, was run by Argonians. A husband and wife, Emily assumed. The Argonian woman spoke brusquely and when Talof explained they were only there for information she quickly lost interest and shooed them away from the counter. The Argonian male, more quiet and soft-spoken, stopped wiping down the tables and approached them. He was about a head taller and had mossy green scales while hers were earthen in colour. His head was decorated with brilliant green feathers. Emily found herself wondering if the feathers grew out from between his scales like the feathers the velociraptor supposedly possessed or if they were some form of traditional headdress common among the Argonians.

The Argonian’s voice had a slight serpentine hiss to it when he spoke. He told them that they weren’t the first that day who had come to him for information regarding the Dawnguard. A local farmboy had done just the same. He told them what he told him, that the entrance to the Canyon was East of the city, in the foothills of the Southern Velothi mountains near Stendarr’s Beacon. The entrance, he said, was lit by a brazier that burned day and night. Talof thanked the Argonian and they left.

“Talen,” the Argonian woman said exasperatedly when the door closed, “We don’t make coin off of rumour and gossip. Why give those two vagabonds the time of day?” Talen set down the bottle of mead on the wooden counter.

“I’ve had the Thieves Guild twice at my door this morning alone,” she continued, “We’re still two hundred septims short.”

“They wished to join up with the Dawnguard, Keerava,” Talen replied.

“I know that,” she snapped, “I heard them.”

“And if that band of rogues want to drive the vampires from the Rift, I’m happy to let them,” Talen continued unperturbed, “Vampires are bad for business after all.”

Chapter Text

It was Emily who spotted the brazier first, a welcoming glow in amongst the bracken. Next to the brazier was a cave that led into the mountain. At the far end Emily could see a pinprick of light. The cold Rift wind blew past them, ruffling their hair and whistled down the tunnel. Emily conjured a ball of light on her palm and held it before her as they advanced along the tunnel. The ground beneath their feet was uneven and Emily felt the immense pressure of the mountain above her. It pressed in on her ears and made her feel quite uneasy.

The pinprick of light got steadily larger as the exit drew nearer. As they exited the cave the bright sunlight dazzled them. Emily dispelled the ball of light and shielded her eyes from the sun. It was a stark contrast to the misty hills and slopes they had left behind at the cave entrance. Emily looked around in awe as they followed a dirt track that led further into the canyon.

Ahead of them lay a lake partially encased in ice that was fed by a waterfall that tumbled down from the edges of the canyon. The track began to curve round to the left and they followed it.

“Excuse me.”

Emily looked around in the direction the voice had come from. It belonged to a sandy-haired young man who stepped from a group of trees by the track. He wore a faded green jerkin over an even more faded pair of breeches and had a short handled iron axe belted at his hip.

“Are you going to join up with the Dawnguard?” he asked. Emily noted the slight anxiety in his voice.

“Yeah,” she replied. The man was perhaps a year or two younger than herself and carried that same eager air she had seen before in newly recruited army cadets.

“So, how did you hear about them?” the young man asked as they continued walking.

“Talof told me about them,” Emily explained, gesturing to Talof, “I’d been working as an alchemist’s assistant in Solitude when vampires stormed the city. They kidnapped me and took me to a cave somewhere around there. That’s where I met Talof and when we escaped he said we should join up with the Dawnguard.”

“That’s some story,” said the young man, “Lucky you escaped. Most people you hear about who are taken by vampires are either never heard from again or they come back as bloodsuckers themselves.” At these words the young man flinched back.

“You’re not, are you?”

“No, no, we’re not,” Emily said hastily.

“Wouldn’t be standing here talking to you if we were,” Talof added, pointing up at the sky where the midday sun hung, bright and pendulous.

“Oh, of course,” the young man said, looking mildly embarrassed.

As they rounded a bend in the dirt track Emily saw, towering over even the tall pine trees, the stone towers and battlements of an enormous fortress.

“Wow, there it is, Fort Dawnguard,” breathed the young man, gazing up at the towering edifice, “Bigger than I expected.”

The dirt track led them around the base of one of the stone towers and through a large wooden gate flanked on either side by high wooden walls made from logs driven deep into the ground.

They followed the dirt track all the way up to a set of stone stairs that led up to the Fort’s entrance. A man in heavy armour stood to one side. The sun gleamed off the silver Warhammer slung across his back.

“New recruits, eh?” he said. His tone was friendly yet appraising as he sized each of them up in turn.

“Isran’s inside,” he continued, gesturing to the doors behind him, “He’ll decide if you’re Dawnguard material.” Emily felt her stomach drop several inches. So there was to be a test. She glanced at Talof and the young man who had accompanied them up the path. She had no doubts about Talof and even the young man likely had more fighting talent than her. A few pub brawls, most of which she’d ducked out of the moment they’d started, didn’t quite measure up. She figured she’d soon be knocking on the door of the Riften job agency, that is if such a thing even existed, or maybe one of the nearby farms could use a new farmhand. She was just considering how she could get used to a life of planting turnips when the big heavy doors swung slowly opened and they stepped inside.

They found themselves in a cavernous main hall. Far above them was a vaulted ceiling and at its centre was a large hole through which the sun shone down. Three doorways led off from the main hall. One seemed to lead further in to the fort while two led to a set of spiral stone stairs. At the centre of the room two men were deep in conversation.

“I warned you, Tolan, warned you that the Vigilant’s soft approach could only lead to one end,” said the first. He had a deep gravelly voice and though he spoke quietly all those in the hall could catch every word. He was dark skinned and bald, dressed in the same armour as the man who greeted them outside the fort. “And now that you’ve stirred the vampires up against you, you come looking to the Dawnguard for protection. I distinctly remember Keeper Carcette telling me that restoring this place was a waste of time and resources.” Now the other man spoke. He was dressed in robes and steel plated gauntlets and boots.

“Isran, Carcette is dead. I was one of the few who escaped.” His voice rose in volume as he continued, “I saw them burn the place to the ground. You were right, we were wrong, isn’t that enough for you?” Isran hesitated a moment, his expression unreadable.

“I never wanted this to happen,” he said solemnly, “I tried to warn you all. I am sorry, you know.” He looked up, catching sight of the three of them standing just at the edge of the main hall.

“And what do you want? State your business.” It was Talof who spoke first.

“I’m here to join up with the Dawnguard,” he said, “I want to help rid Skyrim of these foul abominations.”

“Well spoken,” Isran growled approvingly.

“And I have one travelling with me who seeks the Dawnguard’s protection,” He gestured to Emily, “And refuge within the fort.” Isran’s eyes narrowed at these words and he folded his arms.

“The Dawnguard are a group of capable warriors seeking to rid Tamriel of the ever-growing vampire menace,” he said sternly, eyeing Emily up and down, “We are not a refuge for the weak and cowardly.”

Emily resented this statement but found she could do little to argue against it. Vampires did indeed terrify her and she doubted she’d last long in combat against a common knave, let alone one of them.

“You, girl, step forward,” Isran said suddenly. Emily crossed the floor to where he and Tolan stood. Her knees felt liable to give way at any moment. Isran looked at her appraisingly.

“What’s your name?” he asked sharply.

“Emily,” she replied quickly.

“Yes,” Isran said at length, “You look nimble and quick enough to get by some slow-witted draugr.” Emily wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this last remark and she was even less sure of what a draugr was.

“And you seem quick witted enough,” Isran continued, “The only way you can hope to get stronger is to face danger head on. If you succeed at this you’ll be counted as one of our own. And we look after our own.” He turned to Tolan. “Tell her about, what was it, Dimhollow.” Emily turned to face Tolan.

“It’s a cave up in the mountains just North of Stonehills,” he said, taking a map from his pack and pointing to a mountainous area just off the Great North road, “Brother Adalvald was studying the crypt a couple of weeks ago. He was there when the hall was attacked. I couldn’t find his body so either they took him with them or he escaped. I hope the latter.” Emily gulped nervously.

“He seemed to think the vampires were after something in there,” he continued, “Some kind of artifact. His notes were either taken or destroyed in the fire so we’ll have to rely on our wits to get in.”

“Tolan, if you’re thinking of going I’d reconsider,” Isran spoke up, “You had a lucky escape last time.” He was eyeing the bandage wound around the vigilant’s right arm. Tolan’s eyes narrowed at this remark.

“I know what you’re thinking, Isran,” he said coldly, “You think I’m soft, an easy target for those bloodsuckers. I have a duty to avenge my fallen comrades. Stendarr grant that you do not face the same fate.” Vigilant Tolan shouldered his pack and turned to Emily.

“Let’s go,” he said, "We still have a few hours before nightfall.” Emily hung back for a moment, looking from Tolan’s retreating back to Talof and Isran. Then she hurried after Tolan, feeling the weight of the bow and arrows jostling against her back.

“We’ll head past Whiterun and take the road North through the Bromjunaar Pass,” Tolan explained as they walked through the sun-drenched canyon, “That will bring us out near a little mining settlement called Stonehills. It’s there we will need to leave the road and head up into the mountains.”

“And Dimhollow?” Emily asked, “What are we likely to find there?”

“Draugr, traps, obstacles set in place by the Crypt’s original architects,” Tolan replied.

“And what exactly is a draugr?” Emily asked.

“They are the Nordic dead,” Tolan explained, “How they came to walk the halls of their crypts as the living once did is a mystery but the threat they pose is not.”

“So, if they’re basically zombies, how are we going to stop them?” Emily asked, “I’m guessing that running them through with a sword or filling them full of arrows won’t be enough.”

“It depends on the weapons you use,” Tolan replied. He glanced at the dagger belted at Emily’s hip and the bow strapped across her back, “Let me see that dagger for a second.” Emily unsheathed the dagger and handed it to Tolan.

“This is silver,” he replied, “It will burn anything undead it comes into contact with. A useful weapon to have. And here.” He reached behind his head and drew a handful of arrows from the quiver on his back. “If we meet any undead, use these.” The arrow tips gleamed with the same silver as the dagger and Emily placed them in her quiver. Ahead of them lay the cave which led back out of the canyon into the South-Eastern Rift. Emily took a deep breath and Finn chittered in her ear.

“You’re right, Finn,” she said, “This is going to be a long journey.”

It took them four days before they reached Whiterun Hold. Each night they’d pitched a tent at the side of the road and Emily helped Tolan to gather firewood. They ate the small game which Emily would hunt with bow and arrow on the condition that it was Tolan who prepared it.

“Never met a warrior who was scared of the sight of blood,” Tolan had remarked as Emily gingerly picked up a dead rabbit by the scruff of its neck and removed the arrow. She grimaced but said nothing. She decided this was not the best time to admit to her less than stellar fighting prowess.

Each night they would take it in turns keeping watch while the other slept. Finn would scamper about in the grass, hunting the faintly glowing moths flitting about the long stemmed plants and ferns while Emily poked at the fire with a stick, gazing into the embers. Once in a while she would lean back and gaze up into the night sky where the aurora wended its way through the sky like a glowing turquoise serpent.

It was on the morning of the fourth day that they rounded a bend in the cobblestone road, and the city of Whiterun, built on the hill with the large building at its summit came into view. They called in briefly at the General Store in the town to stock up on supplies including mead and furs. Tolan had told her a little about the Bromjuunar Pass during the time they’d been travelling together. In the pass was the ruined city of Bromjuunar, an ancient structure built by the Early Nordic people and in it were the ruins of Labyrinthian, an ancient temple built by the Dragon Cult built in honour of the dragons that once ruled Tamriel.

“But there aren’t any dragons now, right?” Emily asked him as they packed away their things.

“No, they disappeared long ago,” he replied, “So long ago, in fact, that their deeds have passed into folklore. There are many in Skyrim that no longer believe they exist. That perhaps they were merely tyrannical rulers whose evil deeds caused such hatred among their peoples that their very appearance was embellished to make them the very embodiment of evil.”

“Do you believe they existed?” asked Emily.

“I do,” Tolan replied.

They left Whiterun and continued along the cobblestone road that led to the West. It took them past a large stone watchtower where several guards were posted. They wore yellow livery decorated with the symbol of Whiterun: the head of a horse. The style in which it was depicted put Emily in mind of celtic carvings often found on the stone ruins in Ireland.

Tolan stooped at the roadside to pick handfuls of the blue flowers growing at the roadside. Emily paused. “What are the flowers for?” she asked.

“Potions,” Tolan replied, “It always pays to be prepared.”

“Oh, healing potions, right?” Emily asked, remembering the lessons Angeline had given her.

“And damage magicka regeneration poisons,” Tolan replied, “And pick some of that tundra cotton? We can use it to make some magicka resistance potions.” Emily obliged and knelt by the road, plucking the small cottony blossoms from the thin stemmed plants. Before long they had gathered a decent amount and resumed their journey.

“When we set up camp tonight, we’ll brew them up,” Tolan explained, “A well brewed potion can be just as important in battle as a sharp axe. And I’d like to see how you handle that dagger of yours.” Emily wondered exactly what Tolan meant by this.

As the sun reached the highest point in the sky they reached a crossroads. Directly ahead of them lay a fortress partially in ruins. One of the towers had come away from the rest of the structure and lay, half buried in dirt and rubble. A cage, supported by wooden beams, hung outside the main gate and in it lay a man. Judging by the cloud of flies and the rancid smell of rot that hung around the main entrance, the man had died some time ago. The rest of the fortress was in reasonably good condition and a wooden structure stood not more than twenty feet from the entrance. It looked to be a sentry tower of sorts. Emily saw the figure of a man silhouetted against the midday sun.

“Bandits,” Tolan said under his breath, “We should give them a wide berth.” Emily nodded, more than happy to oblige and she began to back away from the fort. She came to a halt as something thudded into the ground just a foot from her leather boot. It was the feathered shaft of an arrow.

“Find cover,” Tolan yelled as he pulled his bow from off his back and nocked an arrow. Emily ran towards a great stone sticking out from the earth and dove behind it as more arrows buried themselves in the earth she had covered scarcely a second ago. She watched as Tolan fired an arrow towards the archers swarming the battlements. One man clutched at his chest and slumped forward over the weathered stone wall where he landed in a crumpled heap on the grass. Emily heard an arrow ricochet off the stone she was ducking behind and she desperately tried to think of what she should do. Had she been a brave knight she would have leapt out, sword held aloft and armour glinting in the midday sun. And had she been a powerful mage she would be loosing almighty fireballs from her palms, raining down merry hell on the men who’d foolishly sought to attack them. But as she was neither of those things she flattened herself against the rock, breathing heavily, trying to keep her legs from turning to jelly.

A shadow fell across her hiding place and she looked up. For a second she hoped to see Tolan. Instead she saw a hulking great man dressed in ragged armour and wielding a heavy looking war hammer. Emily’s legs suddenly didn’t feel quite so jelly-like and she leapt from her hiding place as the great war hammer swung down. Her hand whipped round to the dagger belted at her hip and drew it from its scabbard. At the sight of the blade the man just laughed, shifting the war hammer in his hands. “And what do you expect to do with that, mouse?” He advanced on her, raising the weapon again. Emily decided her best bet would be to stay on the move so she took to her heels. She could hear the man’s heavy footfalls as he gave chase. She dodged between the boulders that littered the area around the fortress. Ahead of her the ruined stonework formed a natural ramp up onto the battlements. Taking her chance she leapt at the ramp and scrambled up it. She heard the harsh clang of steel on stone as the war hammer crashed down onto the stone inches behind her. When she reached the top she looked back to see the man shaking his fist at her. The war hammer, incredibly suited to caving in the skulls of its foes, was not a weapon that made scaling uneven rocky surfaces an easy task. Emily saw Tolan by the entrance to the fort, locked in combat with a woman wielding a war axe and shield. As she watched Tolan bashed aside the shield and ran the woman through with his silver blade. She crumpled and slid off the blade to the ground, blood blossoming in the dirt.
A flicker of movement caught her eye and she turned, a lump forming in her throat as she saw the giant of a man with the Warhammer climbing the wooden steps to the battlements. Evidently there was more than one way up and he had his gaze firmly fixed on her. Emily sheathed her dagger and instead reached for her bow, hoping it would not merely make her opponent laugh as before.

She nocked and arrow and aimed at the man. At least, she hoped that was where she was aiming as she had shut her eyes. She let the arrow fly and it whizzed straight past her opponent. Fumbling, she nocked another arrow and let fly. This time the man let out a sputtering cry as an arrow lodged itself in his gullet. For a moment Emily froze. She had just killed someone. A living breathing person. She watched as the man dropped the war hammer and scrabbled hopelessly at his throat. A moment later she realised her error. The arrow was sticking out of the side of the man’s throat, an angle impossible for her to reach unless he had suddenly and inexplicably turned to his right. She looked down into the courtyard to see Talon, bow raised as he shot another arrow that landed in the man’s chest. He stumbled back until the backs of his legs collided with the low wall that ran the length of the battlements and tumbled back out of sight.

Tolan motioned for Emily to join him and after several moment’s hesitation, she did.

“What were you doing up there?” he asked as she joined him.

“I was trying to stay alive,” Emily replied. Tolan shook his head.

“You weren’t doing a very good job of it,” said Tolan gravely.

“I’m still here,” Emily replied with a slight note of indignation at this last remark.

“Only because your would-be killer was too intent on killing you to take notice of his other foes on the battlefield,” Tolan said, “I saw. You had your eyes closed. You can’t hope to hit your opponent if you aren’t looking at him.”

Emily looked down at the ground. Even in the midst of the battle she could not truthfully have said there had ever been a time when she actually wanted to hit the man and mortally wound him. She would much rather have run far away and never looked back. But nor could she have left Tolan at the hands of these marauders though it seemed to Emily that he was perfectly capable of fighting them off alone.

After taking the remaining arrows from the dead archer’s quivers they left the fort and followed the cobblestone road north. As the sun set behind the mountains to the west they stopped to make camp. Emily helped Tolan gather kindling for the fire which he lit with a small gesture. He sat down by the fire and pulled a most peculiar device from his pack. It looked like two glass containers joined by a very thin curving pipe. He set the device on the ground and lit a small burner at the base of one of the containers. He then pulled a pestle and mortar from his pack along with the bunches of flowers he and Emily had gathered earlier that day. He first crushed the blue petals of the mountain flowers into the mortar and added to it the crushed wings of a butterfly whose colouration was reminiscent of the Monarch butterfly. He added the mixture to the first of the two glass containers and waited. The mixture bubbled and hissed, giving off twists of vapour. Once the mixture had come to a boil it was decanted off into several small red bottles.

Emily watched as Tolan prepared two other mixtures. The first he made by mixing the remainder of the crushed blue petals with the yolk of a chicken’s egg and the second he made by crushing up the cottony blossoms of the tundra cotton and mixing it with the crushed leaves of a strange glowing plant that hummed gently as he poured the mixture into the glass container and set it to boil. The first mixture he decanted into small deep blue bottles with a distinctly different shape to the ones containing the health restorative. This, he explained, was to make the difference between potion and poison abundantly clear. The second he decanted into bottles more reminiscent of the health restorative in shape but a more lustrous blue in colour.

Following a quick dinner of dried meat and bread he instructed Emily to unsheathe her dagger.

“Hold on, we’re not going to fight, are we?” Emily asked, getting to her feet and pulling the dagger from its scabbard. Tolan shook his head and made a curious gesture with both hands. The ground at his feet shimmered a brilliant blue and a man rose from the ground. He had blue translucent skin and he shimmered at the edges. Most curious, and unsettling of all, was that his eyes had no life to them. They were just shimmering orbs in an emotionless face.

“What is that?” Emily asked.

“An illusion,” Tolan explained, “I want you to fight it.” As he said this the illusion drew a blade as blue and shimmering as he and lunged forwards. Emily leapt back with a yell and ran towards a great boulder sticking out of the ground. The illusion bore down on her and its blade plunged at her. Emily screamed, waiting for the inevitable white hot pain. But it never came. She opened her eyes and looked down. The ghost of a blade was embedded in her gut but there was no blood, no gash and no torn clothing.

“You won’t always have the luxury of running from your battles,” said Tolan, “You need to learn to face your enemy head on.” The sword withdrew and the illusory warrior lunged again. Emily reflexively brought her dagger up to shield herself from the blow and, to her surprise, the ghostly sword rebounded back from the dagger. She did not stop to question how the blade could behave corporeally or incorporeally as it wished and instead she lunged forward with her dagger. The warrior sidestepped and aimed a blow at her head. Emily ducked and lunged again. The illusory warrior evidently bore the same fighting skill as the man who conjured it. Again and again Emily lunged but she could not land a single blow.

“How am I ever to fight vampires if I can’t even fight an illusion?” she asked between bouts.

“You need to find your enemy’s weakness, the break in their guard,” Tolan replied, “You mustn’t give up. You won’t survive long if you do.” Emily didn’t feel she needed reminded of this.

Then, as the illusory warrior moved to dodge another of her attacks she saw a break in his defence and lunged. Her dagger shot straight through his ghostly visage and he disappeared in a wisp of blue vapour.

“Well fought,” Tolan said, “Now let’s see how you fair with your bow.”

They trained for over an hour before Emily, her limbs aching, sat down by the fire. Much to her relief, Tolan offered to take the first watch. Finn was curled up by the fire, his small chest rising and falling with each breath. Emily decided he had the right idea and she too curled up by the fire, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning dawned bright and early. Emily helped Tolan to pack up the bedrolls and they set off again. Finn was curled up in his usual place about Emily’s shoulders. Tolan, the first time he’d seen the small animal, had asked what a couple of people had asked before, if he was her familiar. Emily had told him he was but simply because it sounded better than, ‘pet.’

Their travels took them through a small graveyard known as Hamvir’s Rest. The early morning mist clinging to the tombstones made Emily feel distinctly uneasy. Nightshade grew wild about the stones and at the back was a large iron sarcophagus. Considering what she knew about this world by now, Emily asked if they were in danger of being attacked by zombies.

“This place is protected by mighty Arkay,” Tolan replied, “Only those foolish enough to steal from the offering chest would face his wrath.” He pointed to a large iron bound chest standing next to the sarcophagus.

They followed a small path up beside the graveyard which took them up into the icy foothills. Far above them Emily saw the stone pillars and archways of Bromjuunar. It began to get colder and Emily was glad of the furs she had changed into that morning. As the chill grew more pronounced Finn buried himself in the fur hood. There was little vegetation up here save for the pine trees that grew out of the slopes at seemingly impossible angles. Snow crunched beneath their boots and a stiff wind blew down from the mountains.

At around midday the snowy ground abruptly gave way to stone steps. This marked the beginning of Bromjuunar. Tolan had warned her of the possibility of trolls and insisted they keep their voices down to avoid drawing attention to themselves. ‘Trolls are stupid but vicious killers,’ he had warned her.

They followed the steps up to a stone walkway which led along the bottom of the high stone walls. It was here they saw their first troll. At first Emily did not see it at all, it’s shaggy white fur was almost perfectly camouflaged against the surrounding snow. Only its ragged breathing gave it away. They waited, perfectly still, and watched. It shambled away from them, its knuckles pulling it forward as it lumbered through the snow. Once it had gone a suitable distance ahead they slipped forwards and moved quickly up the next flight of stone steps. At the top of these they found themselves in a large flat expanse dotted with towers and domes. Emily spotted another troll just inside one of the ruined towers. It had with it the carcass of a goat and was tearing into it, biting off large meaty chunks and swallowing them whole.

When they were finally out of sight of the tower they breathed a sigh of relief. By now the snow was several inches thick and each step was beginning to become an effort. They did not stop, however, as kindling would be virtually impossible to find in such harsh conditions and, in any case, a fire would draw attention to them. Emily shivered uncontrollably as they climbed the next flight of steps. To her relief, when they reached the top, they saw the entirety of Northern Skyrim stretching out before them. To the North West Emily saw the city of Solitude sitting atop its lofty stone archway. Far, far below them the road could just be seen snaking between the pines and nestled in the foothills below Emily could make out the thatched roofs and lighted windows of a small settlement. Seeing the settlement far below seemed to give her back some of the power in her legs and they set off down the steps which would take them back to the road.

It was almost nightfall when they finally reached the road and followed it into the small settlement. It turned out to be a mining settlement with several buildings given over to house the workers. Smoke belched up from the smelters that were dotted about the mine’s entrance. Several men worked at loading iron ingots into crates stamped with the logo of the East Empire Shipping Company while others were coming up from the mines, weighted down by iron ore and with pickaxes slung across their shoulders.

They soon found the Inn, a large building on the far side of the road. It was named, ‘The Chipped Pick.’ Inside the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. A large fire crackled merrily in the fire pit. Several of the miners were already there, dressed in heavy woollen clothes, eating large bowls of steaming broth. Emily and Tolan strode up to the bar where they gave the Innkeeper gold for food and a place for the night.

“There’s a mountain path which should take us right up to the entrance to Dimhollow Crypt,” Tolan explained as they sat at one of the wooden tables. Finn was sitting at the corner of the table, nibbling on a small piece of fish Emily had given him from the fish soup she’d ordered.

“And what do we do once we get there?” Emily asked.

“We find out what the vampires are looking for and secure it for ourselves,” Tolan replied, “Or if it’s too big to be moved, we destroy it.”

“And what if it’s something….alive?” Emily asked.

“Alive? Where vampires are concerned?” said Tolan, “I very much doubt it. But if it is, we kill it.”

When the meal was done they retired to their rooms. Finn curled up on Emily’s pillow.

“What do you think the odds are of us getting out alive?” Emily asked the otter. Finn nibbled her fingers in response. He chittered softly.

“I suppose you’re right,” Emily murmured, “There’s no good thinking about it now.” She turned over and nestled into the pillow.

It felt like only a few hours had passed when she was shaken awake by Tolan. When he left to get breakfast she hurriedly got dressed and joined him downstairs. The inn was nearly empty with most of the patrons being miners whose work began early and in earnest as soon as the sun rose above the horizon. The sky was a pinkish-red when they left the Inn and clouds scudded across the morning sky. Above them towered the mountains and in the side of one of those mountains was the entrance to Dimhollow Crypt.

The mountain path Tolan had mentioned was little more than a steep dirt track. It made for slow going and it took them much of the morning to get up into the foothills. They met little whilst up in the mountains save for a lone snow hare that bounded ahead of them, disappearing into a hole in the embankment. There were a few trees dotted here and there in the snowy ground and sharp-looking rocks jutted out like giant’s teeth.

The mountain track took them in close to the side of one of the cliffs which towered above. The ground below it looked more well-trodden than the other areas of the mountainside and she could make out the tracks of mountain goats and other small mammals that called the mountainside home. As she took another step Emily noticed something strange about the ground beneath her feet. Beneath her foot was a heavily worn stone step. There were several more along that section of the track and they led upwards towards a large crevice in the rockface.

“Dimhollow Crypt,” Tolan said as he handed her a torch. He lit one himself and used the burning tip to light Emily’s. “Be careful,” he said over his shoulder as he climbed the last few steps to the cave, “We may not be the first ones here.” Emily gulped and followed him into the gloom which quickly swallowed them up.

Snow crunched underfoot and the wind whistling past threatened to extinguish their torches with each step. Tolan suddenly came to a halt and signalled for Emily to do the same. Then she heard it too. Voices. She flattened herself against the rocky wall of the tunnel.

“And how do we know Lokil won’t make off with the prize as soon as he’s secured it,” said a voice which, despite its alien quality, was somehow vaguely familiar.

“Tsk tsk, Hraffna, I’ve told you before, we must have trust in our elders,” replied the other. The name, too, was familiar and Emily wondered where she’d heard it. It certainly wasn’t an Earth name so it had to belong to someone she’d met in this alien world.

“Yes, Jeron,” replied the woman. Emily watched as Tolan wedged his lit torch into a snowdrift and took his bow from his back. He nocked a silver arrow and took a few steps forwards towards the cavern opening. The arrow whistled through the air and a piercing cry followed. Then all hell seemed to break loose. Tolan drew his silver blade and leapt into the cavern. Staying hidden was no longer an option. Emily heard a terrible deep rasping bark as she ran after Tolan into the cavern. A small stream ran along the cavern floor, emerging from a hole in the rock face and disappearing into another hole on the far side of the cavern. Leaping across that stream was the most terrifying creature Emily had ever seen. It had a pitch black hide and two red eyes like hot coals glared about upon the world above a wide set of sharp glimmering teeth. It’s jaws stretched much too far back into its head for a normal dog and its skin seemed to be partially rotted. Shadows seemed to trail behind it as it leapt at Tolan. Emily drew her silver dagger and ran towards the beast. She had no idea why her legs were carrying her forward toward the danger. Tolan brought his blade up to meet the beast and tore a gash along its side. The flesh bubbled and sizzled at the touch of silver and the beast was knocked to the ground. Another blow finished it off. But as its body fell limp to the earth a shadowy being leapt at Tolan. Emily ran at the being and tried to wrench it from Tolan. Instead she found herself being thrown off and cracking her head against a rock that jutted from the cavern wall. Stars popped before her eyes. She got back to her feet and watched, with horror, as the shadowy fiend dropped Tolan’s limp form. Blood stained her lips. Her bright eyes flickered with recognition.

“Now here’s a meal I recognise,” she said, “I never forget my prey.” Then Emily remembered where she’d last heard her voice. She was one of those in the cave she and Tolaf had escaped from after she was taken from Solitude. Then she lunged. Emily dove to one side as the woman’s dagger scraped against the stone wall with a grating sound. Emily glanced at the lifeless form of Tolan slumped in the snow. Then she turned back to face her attacker. The vampiress lunged again and Emily brought up her dagger to deflect the blow. She tried to remember what she had learnt in that brief night of training with the illusory warrior. A break in her opponent’s defences.

She leapt back and felt the edge of the dagger graze her cheek. The sight of blood made the vampiress grin still more broadly and she licked her lips. Emily saw her chance and lunged forward.

Dark blood gushed out over her hands as the silver dagger buried itself deep between the vampiress’ ribs. She screamed, a bloodcurdling sound and scrabbled at the dagger. Emily closed her eyes and stabbed again, feeling cold liquid gush over her hands. Then the screaming stopped and the cavern was silent.

Emily pulled out her dagger and stood there, breathing heavily. There was no error this time. She had killed someone. She slumped back against the wall, shaking uncontrollably. The dagger felt slick on her palm and she bent to wipe off the worst of the blood on the snow. Finn emerged from the dark corner he’d been hiding in and climbed up her arm to her shoulders.

“What have I done?” Emily asked. Finn just nuzzled her jaw. “I killed someone.” The words seemed to echo in the cavern. Her throat felt dry and her voice rasped when she spoke. Then her gaze fell upon Tolan’s still form. She hurried over and dropped to her knees beside him. His face was frozen into a grimace, caked with dried blood and his skin was pale. His eyes were like marbles in his head and stared blindly at the cavern ceiling. There was no doubt in her mind that he was dead. Emily took the remaining arrows from his quiver along with the potions he had brewed the night they spent on the plains. She found another potion she did not recognise. It had the shape and colouration of a bottle of health restorative but she saw a faint glimmer beneath the glass. She stowed it along with the other potions in her pack. The last thing she did before standing up was to lift Tolan’s silver blade. She belted it at her hip and looked around. The only way forward looked to be a tunnel leading away from the cavern but an iron portcullis barred her way. Emily picked her way around the cavern, hoping to find some clue to help her among the rocks and rubble. It was then that a light caught her eye. It was coming from a ruined stone tower. A wooden ramp, partially rotted, led to the upper floor. Emily scaled it cautiously and peered inside. There, on the far wall, was a pull chain. It was decorated to look like a dragon and Emily pulled on the ancient iron ring. There was a grating sound and she looked out the small window in the tower to see that the iron portcullis was rising slowly up into the stone ceiling of the tunnel. Before leaving the tower she took the torch from the bracket as her own lay extinguished in the snow by the entrance.

She descended the ramp and made for the stone tunnel. She followed it down long forgotten hallways with well worn stairs. Her torchlight flickered off the ancient stone reliefs that covered the walls. The stone underfoot was cracked in places and she had to take care where she put her feet.

The stone tunnel opened out into a large cavern down which water ran between great stone pillars. Fires burned in the braziers carved into the likeness of eagles which stared down from these pillars. Emily stopped as she heard ragged breathing ahead of her. A figure clad in rags shambled down the steps towards her. Emily could not be sure if it had spotted her already so she darted behind one of the pillars, praying to whatever divines might be listening that whatever it was would simply shamble on past. She noticed a narrow gap between the pillar and the earthy ledge behind it and set herself to scrambling through as the ragged breathing drew nearer. Then she saw it from her hiding place. Its flesh looked dried out and emaciated. A pair of glittering blue eyes stared out at the cave and it, or rather she, carried an old-looking steel war axe. What hair remained was blonde and woven into a plait down her back. As the shambling corpse continued past Emily slipped out the other side of the pillar and hastened on towards the stone steps.

Before she was halfway up she heard a guttural cry and looked back to see the corpse staring straight at her as she cursed her in some ancient language. Without a second thought Emily turned and ran.

To her dismay this tunnel was also blocked by an iron portcullis and she panicked, eyes darting left and right. She could hear the shambling footsteps of the walking corpse closing in and her breath caught in her throat. Then her eyes fell upon an iron lever and she dove at it, pulling at it with all her strength. The lever slid over and the portcullis began to open. She darted through it before it had even reached its halfway point and plunged on into the tunnels. She didn’t stop until she came to the next cavern. In this room were several more of the corpses. But these ones were behaving in a way she was more accustomed to dead bodies behaving. They were lying prone in their caskets. Still, she did not want to linger in case the one from the previous cavern should catch up with her and so she continued on.

She stopped as she saw an all too familiar red light, light up the chamber ahead and the cries of a woman as she battled one of the shambling figures. Despite its haggard appearance the walking corpses possessed an immense strength and she watched as it pinned the vampiress to the wall with its blade. Her form went limp and the corpse turned, scanning the room. Its blue eyes fell on Emily and she unsheathed her silver dagger. With surprising speed it ran at her and Emily dove to one side, avoiding the mighty steel blade it wielded. She brought up her silver dagger and plunged it into its neck. Its flesh bubbled wherever the silver struck and it reeled backwards. Without thinking Emily lunged and plunged the dagger into its chest. It did not bleed but nonetheless fell limp, the blue light fading from its eyes.

Without pausing Emily began to search the large room for a way forward. They looked to be catacombs judging by the indentations in the walls where more of the dead lay. Or perhaps they only slept. In this place Emily didn’t feel like hanging around to find out which.

At the far end, cloaked in shadow, she found another iron pull chain. When pulled a previously hidden gate to her left was opened and a torch lit itself at the far end of the tunnel. Below the torch was a heavy-looking chest. Emily cautiously approached the chest and heaved it open. Inside it lay handfuls of old looking coins. They looked to be made from silver and strange runes were carved into the edges. Several gemstones lay nestled in the coins. It looked like a treasure hunter’s dream. Emily pocketed a handful of the coins and three of the gemstones, reminding herself that if she did make it out of this place alive she would still have to eat.

She had still better luck with the second iron pull chain she came across for this one opened the way to a tunnel that led further down and into the crypt. Earlier she might not have considered this quite so lucky but it had become apparent to her by now that she could not turn back. The tunnels were dark and she was glad of her torch to lead her through. At the far end was a large cavern that looked more natural than the previous ones she’d encountered. A large shallow underground pond covered the lower half and sticking up from the waters were several carved tombstones. At the far side were a set of stone steps which led up to a door. She ducked low to the ground as she spotted a vampire peering out from the ledge outside the door. She pulled her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, taking a few cautious steps forward.

She loosed the arrow and to her dismay it hit the stonework behind her. The vampire hissed and red light flared up on his palm as he looked about for his assailant. Cursing to herself she nocked a second arrow and fired. This one found its mark and the vampire tumbled from the ledge.

“That…went better than I expected,” Emily said wryly as she straightened up and took a step into the water. She swallowed these words a moment later as the water beneath her feet began to bubble and two skeletons rose up from the depths. Emily returned her bow to her back and unsheathed her dagger. Briefly she wondered how to kill something that had no flesh but she dismissed that thought a moment later when the nearest skeleton drew an ancient looking blade. The first one she ran at, bashing aside its shield as she’d seen Tolan do before with the bandits at the fort before cutting off its head with one swift movement. This immediately broke the enchantment holding its bones together and it tumbled to the earth. The second one lunged and she dove to one side before kicking out at its spine. This was not quite as effective as her blade and merely knocked it back a few feet where it stumbled. She took the opportunity to plunge her dagger between its eyes which faded, losing their blue glow as it too fell to the earth. Emily sheathed her dagger and quickly moved on, mounting the stairs to the doorway. She cautiously peered around it and found herself standing in a stone corridor. The dingey space was lit only by a few candles set into deep indentations in the wall. It looked to be another area of the catacombs. As she rounded the next bend she came to a halt. There, on the ground, was the massive form of a spider. Something glistened on its mandibles and Emily momentarily panicked. But after several seconds where the spider remained motionless she took a cautious step forward. On further inspection she discovered it was dead. The ground and walls around it were littered with thick sticky cobwebs.

As she advanced through the catacombs she found more dead spiders littering the hallway and at each one she paused to make sure it truly was dead.

At last she came to another large cavern. Here the architecture changed abruptly. Until now the stone carvings had been crude, fashioned in the likeness of dragons and eagles. The stones up to this point were well worn and light came from candles and braziers. The stone wall ahead with its iron gate was ornately carved. Each edge was sharp and the flagstones that made up the floor looked comparatively newer. Beyond the portcullis were the crouched forms of what appeared to be gargoyles. They too were meticulously carved and the wooden door that lay beyond resembled the gothic architecture back on earth with its arched shape that culminated in a point at the top.

The portcullis was opened by a lever at the side and Emily passed through it and crossed the small room to the door.

It creaked as she pushed it open and stepped through. She found herself in a stone viewing gallery. At its centre was a pedestal on which a strange scroll of paper rested, bound with a seal. Emily pocketed the scroll and moved on. She was thinking of the story told by the old adventurer back in the Inn in Karthwagten. He had mentioned scrolls containing spells and she figured that having anything at her disposal could be an advantage.

As she neared the doorway she heard voices. The first sounded anguished. “I’m not telling you foul blood drinkers anything,” he was saying, “My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me.”

“No matter,” said the second and Emily heard the first give a strangulated gurgle as he was lifted from the ground by his throat, “You’ve already outlived your usefulness by leading us here. Now, go meet your beloved Stendarr.” There was a sickening squelch, a wheezing gurgle and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground before all fell silent once more. Emily peered over into the gloom below. Two vampires, a man and a woman, stood over the corpse of a man in rags.

“Are you sure that was wise, Lokil?” asked the woman, “He might still have had more to tell us. We haven’t got anywhere ourselves with-.” Her companion cut her off.

“He knew nothing,” he spat, “He served his purpose in leading us here. We’ll have this place secured before nightfall and then we’ll bring back the prize to Harkon. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this.”

“And don’t forget who it was who brought you news of this Vigilant’s discovery,” the woman replied bitterly.

“Oh, I don’t forget my friends, Sibbet, or my enemies,” Lokil sneered as he led the way from the stone dais to the colosseum at the centre of the massive subterranean lake. Emily gazed out over the lake at the colosseum which was made up of large stone arches. A pedestal stood at its centre. To Emily it seemed vaguely familiar. She watched the two vampires crossing the stone bridge and made up her mind, pulling her bow from her back.

The first arrow struck the female vampire in the back and she crumpled to the earth. Lokil looked up, eyes flashing and when he spotted Emily he sneered.

“Another vigilant perhaps,” he said as he drew his sword and ran back across the bridge to the steps. Emily gulped and nocked another arrow. This arrow hit Lokil in the chest but rather than crumpling he merely stumbled and kept running. “Foolish mortal,” he spat as he reached the top step and lunged. Emily dodged and his blade ricocheted off the carved pillar behind her with a horrible grating sound. Emily saw her chance and slashed at him with her blade, tearing a neat gash in his arm. He cried out in pain and lunged again. Emily reeled back as the blade slashed through the thin air her head had previously occupied. She ducked and rammed the blade into his gut. They fell back on the floor and Emily pulled out the dagger and plunged it into his heart. With a long drawn out gurgle his body went limp and he fell silent.

Shaking, Emily got to her feet. Finn was shivering as he re-joined her, climbing back into his customary hiding place.

“I think,” she said aloud, “I think we’ve reached the end.” She realised she wasn’t speaking out of a need to communicate but out of some kind of strange necessity as though it could drive away the images that flooded her mind. Of Tolan lying unmoving in the cavern, of the vampire pinned to the wall by the draugr and of the bloodied form of the vampire she’d just killed.

Numbly she crossed the bridge to the colosseum. She walked around its perimeter but saw little of interest save for several immovable silver braziers and so she crossed over to the pedestal. Still she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d seen it before. On top of the pedestal was a button tinged with a rust coloured substance. She traced her fingers over the button before pressing down. There was an audible click and a moment later she screamed, grasping at the side of the pillar as a metal spike burst through her palm. It was all she could do to stop her knees giving way beneath her. Then as quickly as it had shot out the spike retracted and she lifted her bleeding hand from the pedestal, clutching at it as she cried out in agonized gasps.

A rumbling sound silenced her and she looked up to see purple flames sprouting from the cracks in the colosseum. Slowly she took a step towards the purple fiery barrier. The flames moved slowly, almost lazily, and she reached forward. Her fingertips brushed against the flames. They were cold. Freezing even. She noticed that the flames came to a halt next to one of the braziers. She crossed the room to it and gingerly pushed against it. Previously immovable it now slid with terrific ease, slotting into an indentation further along. The flames licked their way along the crevice, advancing further around the colosseum before coming to a halt next to another brazier. She repeated this task twice more and as the last brazier slid into place a rumbling filled the cavern and Emily cried out as the floor beneath her feet began to sink. The crevices opened up, filled with purple flame and a stone structure rose from the centre. Emily moved slowly towards it. One side appeared different to the others and she rested her hand against it. At her touch the panel slid down to reveal a woman.

Chapter Text

The first thing the woman saw through clouded eyes was the figure standing over her. At first it seemed to her that she was seeing double for next to the figure’s blue eyes were a pair of glowing green ones. As her vision cleared she saw that the green eyes belonged to a small creature perched on the figure’s shoulder. The figure was revealed to be a woman in furs and she brandished a small silver dagger which was level with the top of her head. Yet the way she held it and the way with which her hands shook suggested she was not accustomed to holding such a blade.

Emily’s eyes never left that of the woman’s. They glowed red in the dim light. At any moment Emily expected the woman to pounce, fangs exposed in a hiss. But instead she seemed to be gathering her thoughts. Her eyes never left the blade Emily brandished however, nor did she flinch back from the silver. Emily gulped. After what seemed like an eternity the woman spoke.

“Who sent you?”

It was the last question Emily expected. “Who are you?” “How did you get in?” and “Would you mind not pointing that dagger at my head?” sounded like much more reasonable questions to her.

“I-Isran,” Emily stammered. The woman’s brows knitted together in puzzlement and she frowned.

“I don’t know that name,” she said slowly, “Is he…like me?”

“If you mean, is he a vampire, then no,” Emily said, trying to sound as though she had the situation under control. Then in a moment of extra bravado she added, “The Dawnguard would want me to kill you.” Even as those words left her lips she realised this was a very foolish thing to say to an immortal who could kill you with one snap of her fingers if she so wished. But instead one corner of the woman’s mouth rose in a half-smile.

“Not fond of vampires I take it,” she said. Emily shook her head. After a moment where Emily said no more the mysterious woman continued.

“Well?” she asked. She looked from Emily to the dagger, “Do you fancy your chances?” Emily shook her head and lowered the dagger. Her heart was racing and somehow she got the distinct impression the woman could hear this.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way we’d better see about finding a way out,” continued the woman. She got to her feet and looked around. “This place has changed a lot since I was put in here,” she remarked.

“How long ago was that?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “A long time ago. Who is Skyrim’s High King?” Emily shook her head.

“There isn’t one right now,” she explained, “The High King was murdered by someone named Ulfric Stormcloak.”

“Well, at least the world didn’t get boring while I was gone,” the woman said. Emily was taken aback by this remark. To speak of death so calmly, almost flippantly.

“His widow didn’t seem to think it merely lacking in boredom,” she said in a low voice. If the woman heard her she did not reply.

“And who are the contenders for the crown?” she asked.

“Ulfric Stormcloak has the support of the rebels but the Empire supports Jarl Elisif, the King’s widow,” Emily explained. Now the woman showed genuine confusion.

“Empire? What Empire?” she asked.

“The Empire, y’know, from Cyrodiil,” Emily replied.

“Cyrodiil’s the seat of an Empire?” said the woman, “Looks like the world’s changed more than I thought.”

“Where are you going to go, once you get out?” Emily asked as they crossed another bridge on the far side of the colosseum. The vampiress paused.

“Home,” she said after a moment. She turned to Emily. “Would you…take me there?”

“Wha-,” Emily said in surprise, “What do you need an Earthling for? I’d probably just get in the way y’know.” A sudden, rather nasty thought had struck her.

‘She probably wants a travelling meal. After all, she hasn’t fed in goodness knows how many hundred years.’

The more she thought about it, the more she realised she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

‘If I try to run she’ll probably kill me,’ she reasoned, “Where’s home?” she asked.

“My family live on an island off the coast of Haafingar,” said the woman, “I’d imagine they still do.” Emily reached into her pack and pulled out the map she’d bought from the peddler on the way to Solitude.

“Could you show me where?” she asked, opening the map. The woman reached forward and pointed to a blank area off the North coast.

“Around there, of course, it won’t show up on any map,” she explained.

“Why not?” Emily asked.

“My mother is a gifted conjurer,” the woman replied, “She and several of the island’s sorcerers hid the island in a gap in time. Unless you were looking for the island specifically, you’d row right past it.”

They climbed the stone steps which led up towards another ruined structure. Emily heard the scrape of a dagger leaving its sheathe and whirled around to see the woman pull a blade from her hip. Emily’s hair stood on end as she leapt to one side. She thought the vampiress would have at least let her escort her home before jamming a knife in her gut. But then she realised the vampiress’ attention was not on her but on something behind her. The ‘something behind her’ loomed over her, casting a dark shadow and a screeching roar shook the chamber. Emily whirled around, drawing her dagger as a great stone claw caught her in her chest and knocked her to the ground. As the beast turned to lunge at her an icy spike suddenly blossomed from its chest. It roared in pain. Emily saw the vampiress balancing another icy spear on her palm which she launched at the ghastly creature. It doubled up and fell headfirst onto the flagstones.

“Not much of a fighter, are you?” asked the woman as she held out a hand to Emily. Emily took her hand and got to her feet.

“What was that thing?” Emily asked, staring back at the beast lying prone on the ground.

“A gargoyle,” the woman replied.

They climbed the remainder of the steps and found themselves standing outside a wooden door. Emily pushed open the door, peering cautiously into the gloom before stepping through. The tunnel led them to another room where there were two sarcophagi and a lever at the front of the stone dais they stood on.

“I bet you fifty septims when we pull that lever the gate will open but some kind of undead horror will come out of those coffins,” Emily said as they neared the centre of the room. She drew her silver dagger and pulled on the pull chain.

“Called it,” she yelled as she leapt back from the coffins as both crashed open, revealing two draugr. Two skeletons which had been sitting on two benches also sprang to life. This, Emily had not counted on. Serana rounded on the first skeleton, neatly cleaving its head from its shoulders. Emily lunged at the first draugr. She ducked under the blow it aimed at her face and thrust upwards with her dagger. The draugr reeled back.

“Look out,” she heard the vampiress cry and she leapt to one side just in time as the second draugr aimed a blow with its battle-axe. The vampiress thrust an ice spike through the draugr, sending it crumpling to the flagstone floor. The last skeleton she neatly sidestepped and launched another spear of ice at its back.

“Whoa,” Emily murmured to herself as she followed the vampiress through the open gate. Sitting on the shelf next to the gate was a book. Something about it piqued Emily’s interest for on the cover was the symbol of restoration magic. She picked it up and shoved it in her pack before running after the vampiress. The last tunnel led them to a cavern of truly epic proportions. On all sides stairs led down to a central pit where a fire burned brightly. Emily saw several burned figures lying in various positions across the pit and she swallowed back a wave of nausea.

“What kind of place do you think this was?” she asked.

“From the fire in the middle and the burned corpses I’d guess a sacrificial chamber,” the vampiress replied coolly, “Look out, we have company.” The nearest draugr was rising from its throne and pulled a bow from its back. Emily and the vampiress split up, racing down either side of the stone balcony and onto the steps. Emily made for the draugr with the bow while the vampiress targeted the two skeletons which had risen to fight her. The first arrow whizzed past Emily’s ear and she ducked before continuing toward the draugr, dagger raised. But the second arrow found its mark, embedding itself in her shoulder. She cried out in pain and rolled down the last few steps. She scrambled quickly to her feet as another arrow bounced off the stone steps. In desperation she lunged at the draugr, embedding her dagger in its undead flesh which sizzled and hissed as the draugr fell backwards over the edge of the lower balcony and into the pit.

She clutched at her shoulder, at the broken shaft of the arrow as she saw another draugr rise from its throne. This one wore a tall horned helmet and let out a guttural growl as it braced itself against the ground. The next second the air before it rumbled and quaked as a blue light shot from its mouth and hurled itself at Emily. The force of it nearly knocked her off her feet and she shielded her eyes from the dust and debris it kicked up.

“Thu’um,” she said under her breath. By now the vampiress had joined her on the lower balcony, dagger in hand. She conjured an ice spike and launched it at the draugr. The draugr shielded itself with a ward spell which absorbed the power of the ice spike, sending it careering back towards them. Emily ducked as it whizzed over her head and struck the stairs behind them. The vampiress swore under her breath and raced at the draugr. Emily ran after her and plunged the dagger into the draugr’s unarmoured side. It loosed a cry which shook the cavern and Emily was thrown back by the force. She looked up to see the vampiress clinging on like grim death as she stabbed at the draugr again and again. At last it dropped to one knee and the vampiress finished it of with an ice spike through its skull.

Emily climbed to her feet, grimacing as her shoulder throbbed painfully. She tried to cover the patch of red that was spreading across her fur jerkin. The vampiress moved towards her, sheathing her dagger. Emily instinctively flinched back when she saw her red eyes flick over the wound. “You’d better let me have a look at that,” she said, “You won’t be much good to me if you collapse before we’re halfway.” She closed the last few steps between them and eased Emily into a sitting position.

“Hold still,” she said, “This might sting a little.” She grasped a hold of the broken arrow shaft and Emily flinched, closing her eyes. A second later she cried out as the arrow was ripped from her shoulder. She was left breathing heavily. The next sensation that came to her was one of warmth. She expected it was the blood draining out of her and running down her arm but when she opened her eyes she saw a soft warm glow surrounding her shoulder, running down from the tips of the vampiress’ fingers. Her skin began to tingle and crawl as it knitted together and when the light faded there was no wound at all. She looked up at the vampiress whose brow was knitted together in concentration. She let the light fade and drew back. She made to move away toward the body of the lead draugr.

“Hey, uhh…,” Emily began. The vampiress paused. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she replied, bending to examine the draugr. “You’d better hang on to this.” She tossed Emily the Draugr’s blade.

“Why?” Emily asked, “I’ve already got a dagger.”

“Look at it a bit more closely,” the vampiress instructed. Emily did but saw nothing different.

“It just looks like a regular sword,” she said. The vampiress knelt down next to her.

“There’s an enchantment on it,” the vampiress replied, “Do you see the faint blue glimmer around the blade?” Emily looked more closely and saw that the vampiress was right. There was a very faint sheen of blue coating the sword.

“And if you hold it, you’ll feel how much colder it is than normal metal,” the vampiress continued. Again she was right.

“Judging by this blade, I’d say we just took out an ancient Nord general,” she said, “Only the generals and chiefs were allowed enchanted weapons and armour. You should keep it and bring it to an arcane enchanter for study. You might learn something useful.” Emily nodded and slid the blade and scabbard onto her belt alongside Talon’s blade and her dagger.

“I’m going to be clanking around like an armoury if I keep on like this much longer,” she said with a hint of a chuckle. They got up and crossed back across the room to the final set of stairs. It was here that the chanting started. At first it was faint but soon it was all Emily could hear. A wall off to her right, covered in runes, seemed to be beckoning to her. One word was aglow and she found she couldn’t tear her eyes from it. She moved closer and closer as her mind grew more fogged.

When her thoughts cleared she was standing before the wall. The light had faded and dimmed and someone was shaking her shoulder.

“Hey, snap out of it,” said the vampiress. Emily jumped, realising where she was and who she was with in an instant.

“L-let’s get going,” she said, “Before anything else happens.” They climbed the last of the steps and before them lay the exit. Dim moonlight spilled through the opening. Emily peered out of the cave. She did not recognise the side of the mountain on which they’d emerged.

“Any idea where we are?” she asked. The vampiress surveyed the horizon.

“Dawnstar’s somewhere that way,” she said, “We’d better find a road and follow that.” Emily paused as the vampiress went to leave the cave.

“Hang on a moment,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“What?” she asked with a slight air of impatience.

“It’s five in the morning,” Emily replied, “Is that whole sun thing true with vampires?”

“You mean will it turn me to a pile of ash?” she asked, “Yes.”

“Then we’d better wait it out,” Emily replied, “The sun will rise in another hour or so. We’d never make it to a settlement in time.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” she asked.

“Because my watch says so,” Emily replied, “I synchronised it the day I came here. It might be off by about fifteen minutes but it’s accurate enough. It would be sunrise before we reached the foot of the mountain.”

“I guess we’d better wait it out then,” the vampiress conceded and headed back into the cave.

Now that her adrenaline was no longer pumping with the need to fight or flee, Emily began to feel the chill of the old tomb. She made her way down the steps to the fire pit where she sat down at its edge to warm herself. The vampiress followed but she noticed, or thought she noticed, a flicker of fear dart across her face when she saw the flames.

“Does fire have the same effect on vampires as the sun?” Emily asked.

“It has the same effect as it does on mortals,” the vampiress replied, “But yes, vampires are more vulnerable to fire. Being undead will do that. So, you know my weaknesses now, what’s yours?” The question was posed with almost a playful air.

“Well, running a sharp pointy object through me tends to work pretty well,” Emily replied. She hesitated. “You’re not planning on doing that, are you?”

“Depends,” the vampiress replied.

“On what?” Emily asked.

“On whether or not you try to do the same to me first,” she replied. Emily hurriedly shook her head.

“No, no, no such intentions,” she said quickly.

“Then, we’ll get along fine,” said the vampiress. Emily looked down at her hands which were folded in her lap. A silence had fallen over the two of them.

“Um, I’m Emily by the way,” she said.

“Serana,” replied the vampiress. She expected the silence to resume but to her surprise it was Serana who broke it.

“Where’s your name from?” she asked, “It doesn’t sound Nordic.”

“No, it’s English,” Emily replied.

“English, where’s that?” she asked.

“A long, long way from here,” Emily replied, bringing her knees up to her chest, “I’m not sure how far. Just…far.” Serana seemed content with this answer and let the matter drop. Emily fished about in her pack and pulled out the book she’d picked up back in the crypt. Emblazoned across the cover were the words, “Necromantic healing.” She flicked through a couple of pages. The parchment was covered in various diagrams detailing hand gestures and copious amounts of notes. Emily soon found herself lost in the world of words and magic that lay before her. Looking at a real life spellbook was something she had long wished to do and now here was one, propped up on her knees as she flicked through the pages.

“That thing on your wrist,” Serana asked some time later.

“My watch?” Emily asked.

“Does it say when the sun will set?” she asked.

“At around eight,” Emily replied.

“May I see it?” Serana asked. Emily unbuckled the watch and handed it to Serana. She held it up to the light and tapped the glass face of the watch with one finger.

“It looks.. Dwemermade,” she said, “How does it work?” Emily shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know really,” she replied, “It runs off a little battery in the back and some cogs and wheels keep the time. Don’t know what I’m going to do when the battery runs out though. I highly doubt the general store will have a replacement. After that I guess I’ll just learn to tell time by the sun and moon…err…moons.”

Serana handed her back the watch and she fastened it back onto her wrist.

She returned her attention to her book but after reading through several pages she realised she’d read the same paragraph seven times without really taking in what it was saying. She stifled a yawn as she set the book back in her pack. Finn, who hadn’t left her side since meeting with the vampiress, sat on her shoulder, watching Serana intently. Even when she took a piece of dried fish from her pack and offered it to him he refused, instead focusing his gaze on Serana. Emily felt his tiny claws digging into her jerkin.

“Come on, Finn, I want to lie down for a bit,” she said, trying to lift the otter off her shoulder but he gripped on tightly. Serana watched as she tried several times more to lift the small animal from her shoulder. A few minutes later she gave up and leaned back against the stone wall. She folded her arms, allowing her eyes to close. She stirred only when Finn finally climbed down off her shoulder and nestled into her arms. Still, he did not take his eyes off Serana who was now sitting by the fire, absentmindedly casting small stones into the embers.

“Ow!”

Emily was jolted awake by the outcry and she looked up to Serana gripping one hand in the other. Finn was growling from his place atop Emily’s knee.

“Wha, what happened?” Emily asked dazedly.

“I was trying to wake you up when your familiar decided to take a bite out of me,” Serana replied, “It’s dark out.”

“Finn,” Emily said sternly, “You shouldn’t bite people. Look, I know you’re trying to protect me li'l guy but I can handle myself.” She got to her feet and Finn clambered up onto her shoulder.

“Look, I’ve got some healing ointments in my bag if you need them,” she said.

“No need, vampires heal fast,” Serana replied nonchalantly, “Besides, your potions won’t work on the undead.”

“I guess we’d better get going then,” she said, indicating the steps that led to the cave’s exit. Serana nodded and they climbed the stairs to the cave exit and the world that lay beyond.

Chapter Text

“It feels so good to breathe fresh air again,” Serana said as they stepped out of the cave. She paused, “Well, you know what I mean.”

They left the cave behind and began the trek down the mountainside. It was pitch dark out and yet Serana walked ahead confidently. Emily reminded herself that being nocturnal, she likely had much better night vision than a mortal. They found a well-trodden path and followed that as it meandered back and forth down the mountain. A light wind was blowing and snow was falling from the cloudy sky in flurries.

Ahead of them, a mountain goat, disturbed by the sound of their boots trudging through the thick snow got up from its place by the path and galloped off ahead of them. As they descended the mountain path the pine trees grew more numerous and the rocks jutting out from the slopes more scarce. Before long Emily was blowing on her hands in a vain attempt to keep them warm. Her breath was coming out in clouds and her teeth were chattering wildly.

At last they came to a cobblestone road. Emily looked up and down the road. In one direction she could make out the lighted windows of an old stone fortress. Both its towers were partially in ruin and there was a wooden sentry post built outside the entrance. And in the other direction there was nothing but wind and snow, mountains and road.

“That looks like the right way,” said Serana, pointing towards the fortress. Emily followed her down the road. As the fortress came more clearly into view Emily came to a halt. Outside the entrance was a gibbet cage where a body lay, rotting, in the bottom. There were spikes protruding from the earth where more bodies were impaled.

“Serana, I don’t think this is the right way,” Emily whispered urgently, “I think this might be a bandit fort. Maybe we should find another way around.”

“No, that will take longer,” Serana replied, “It would be quicker just to deal with them.”

“And by dealing with them I suspect you mean killing them,” said Emily, taking a few steps back.

“You don’t think they’ll just let us through, do you?” Serana said over her shoulder.

“I don’t like killing things,” Emily replied, folding her arms, “I especially don’t like killing people. I know that’s what v-.” She stopped herself. Serana came to a halt.

“That’s what vampires do, that’s what you were going to say,” she said. Emily said no more and instead looked down at the ground. Serana stood looking at the fortress for a moment before turning on her heel.

“Come on then,” she said as she passed Emily, her cloak whipping up under the gust of wind that blew along the road, “Show me this alternate route of yours.” Emily gulped before following the cobblestone road back the way they came. She stayed a few steps ahead of Serana, scanning the edge of the road for a track, a path, something to indicate another route they could take. ‘Perhaps there isn’t one,’ she found herself thinking. She shook her head. This was no time for pessimism. Ahead of her, in the gloom, she spied a pile of stones stacked on top of one another.

“A cairn,” she murmured to herself as she reached them. Next to the cairn was a well-trodden track, likely a game track. It led up back up into the hills and, to Emily’s relief, would take them in roughly the same direction as going through the fort. “See?” she said turning to Serana, “Here’s another way. And no fortress full of raving lunatics who would spill our guts for a few gold coins.” Serana rolled her eyes.

“Fine, your call,” she said with an exasperated smile. Emily led the way up along the track. The small orb of light she’d conjured hovered by her shoulder and lit the track ahead. In the small halo of light she could see the tracks of hares, goats and, to her dismay, wolves. For now the air was still and she hoped it would remain so. They passed by bushes thick with red berries and scraggly dead-looking plants whose bare branches reached imploringly towards the sky.

Something clanked beneath Emily’s boot and she took a step back, shining the orb down towards the ground. The item in question was an empty iron cooking pot. Next to it lay what remained of a campfire. The wood had burned down to ashes which looked as though they hadn’t known heat for some time. Next to the campfire was a bedroll half covered in snow.

“What do you think happened here?” Emily asked, “I mean, I don’t see any blood but-.” She stopped and looked over at Serana who was staring into the gloom.

“We should get out of here,” she said.

“What is it?” Emily asked. Serana pointed into the darkness. Emily shone her orb of light in the direction Serana was pointing. In the side of the rockface was a cave and on either side was a curious-looking effigy. On closer inspection she saw that it was composed of human bones with a strange chitinous material strapped to the pelvis that made up the top section.

“Falmer,” Serana replied. Emily grimaced.

“Ye-eah, let’s go around it,” she said hastily.

They followed the path up past the cave which led further into the hills. As they climbed higher the wind blew colder. The path wound in between rocks and several times became steep enough that they had to climb up the rocks hand over hand. It was well over an hour before they came to the summit and Emily breathed a sigh of relief. This relief did not last long however as she looked down at the valley below them. Nestled in the valley was another fort very much like the one they’d left behind.

‘Well,’ Emily thought to herself, ‘At least this one looks a bit smaller. And not every fort has to be inhabited by bandits, right?’ The unfortunate thing about the human mind is that as soon as you think something like this, the mind has a nasty habit of conjuring up other worse ideas. Perhaps vampires lived in this particular fort. Or goblins. Maybe witches.

“Well, let’s go,” she said, trying to sound confident. Serana followed her down the hill towards the fort. Emily moved quietly through the underbrush as they neared the stone edifice. She crouched low to the ground when she spotted a figure atop the battlements carrying a torch. They stood stock still until the figure began to move away from them. Emily let out the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. She moved another few steps. She flinched as she heard a dry twig snap under her boot. Again she froze in place.

The air whistled and Emily leapt back as an arrow embedded itself in the trunk of a tree scarcely a foot from where she’d been standing. “Looks like your plan worked perfectly,” Serana said sarcastically. Another arrow embedded itself in the ground at their feet. Without thinking Emily grabbed Serana’s hand and plunged off into the undergrowth, abandoning all idea of stealth. They ran between trees and over rocks. More arrows whistled past and Emily forced herself not to look back. She heard angry shouts behind them and Serana’s footfalls as she kept pace with her.

They re-joined the road and ran full pelt along it. Emily’s breath caught in her chest but she forced herself to keep going until they had left the fort far behind. They stopped at a bend in the road and Emily leant on her knees to catch her breath. The air about them was silent once more. Around the bend the road stretched north and far on the lightening horizon she could see the vast grey expanse of the sea. Rising up over one of the slopes near the coast she could just make out the thatched roofs of cottages and other larger buildings. The sky above the sea was slowly gaining a pinkish hue. She glanced at her watch.

“It’ll be sunrise in another hour or so,” she said, “We’d better keep moving.”

* * *

The city of Dawnstar was already beginning to show signs of activity as they passed through the town gates. Several miners were heading for the iron mines located near the harbour. A wagoner had picketed his horse outside the tavern and was already laying his wares out on a large rush mat spread out on the ground. Two sailing ships were docked at the harbour and in the distance Emily heard the toll of a bell.

The inn was a large building and the sign that hung outside it read, “Windpeak Inn.” Its roof was thatched like many of the other buildings in Dawnstar and it had small iron-framed windows. When they entered the Inn they found it to be mostly empty. A man with red hair and beard stood behind the counter, scrubbing the wooden counter of the bar. He looked up when he heard the door close.

“Sorry, kitchen’s not open yet,” he said.

“That’s alright, we need a room for the day,” Emily replied, “When will the kitchen be open?”

“Another hour or so,” said the man as Emily dropped some coins into his waiting palm, “You can have the room on the right.” With that he returned his attention to the bar while Emily and Serana pushed the door open to the adjoining room. The room was furnished with a double bed, a large wooden bath and a table and chairs. Emily sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the map from her pack.

“Okay, we’ll probably make it as far as Stonehills tonight,” she said, “Maybe Morthal if we’re lucky.” Serana sat down next to her. Emily noted the silence which hung between them when her words failed her. Emily cleared her throat.

“Look, uhh, about what I said near the fort,” she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Serana replied. Emily twirled a lock of hair around her fingers, looking down at her lap. “You can’t keep running from your problems, you know,” Serana continued, “Sometimes you have to face them.”

Emily removed her helmet and set it on the bedside table. Looking for something to occupy herself she took the spellbook back out of her pack and began to leaf through the pages. Finn had crawled down off her shoulders and was curled up on the pillow.

After several minutes Emily looked over at Serana. She noticed the way she was fidgeting with her hands and how she kept looking over towards the door. She almost seemed to be straining to listen to something Emily couldn’t hear.

“Is something the matter?” Emily asked. Serana turned to face her. Her eyes were bright, alert though her face remained a mask of calm. Then she looked down and her expression grew slightly uneasy. After a few moments she spoke.

“I haven’t fed…in a long time,” she said quietly, “That…was part of the reason I wanted to go into that fort.” Emily bit her lip. She didn’t need to be told that travelling with a ravenous vampiress was not a particularly safe idea. And provided what she’d read in fantasy stories was true, things would only get worse the longer her thirst went unsated. The more likely it would be that she would pounce on her and drain her completely. She shuddered at the idea that was beginning to form in her mind but so far it was the most rational solution she could come up with.

“Serana,” she said, her mouth dry, “What if…umm..” She took off one of her fur gauntlets and rolled up the sleeve of her hooded jacket. Serana watched as she exposed the flesh of her wrist and arm. Her eyes flicked from her wrist to her face. She noticed the almost imperceptible shiver that ran through her body. Serana shook her head.

“No, you’re frightened,” she replied.

“I’m not,” Emily said, trying to keep her tone calm, “Besides, won’t the thirst get worse the longer you leave it.”

“You are, Emily,” Serana replied, “Skyrim has no shortage of brigands and waifs. I can hunt tonight.”

“And you think that bandit is going to be any less scared than I am?” Emily asked, “Look, why not let’s get it over with.” Serana looked down at Emily’s exposed wrist.

“Are you absolutely sure?” she asked, “I won’t unless you are.” Emily swallowed and nodded.

“I’m sure,” she said. She held out her wrist to the vampiress and shut her eyes. She waited for the sharp prick of her fangs and whatever sensation would follow. She felt Serana take her wrist in one hand. Her skin was surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, cold. Not ice cold but cooler than any hand ought to have the right to be. Emily turned her face away and waited. And waited. She opened one eye.

“Why are you hesitating?” she asked.

“I’ve never fed off of anyone willingly before,” Serana replied, “Supposing I can’t stop.”

“And the longer we leave it, the more likely that would be,” Emily said. She took a deep breath, “So, I’m ready.” She had scarcely closed her eyes again when she had to stifle a yelp. Her fangs seemed to go very deep and she felt a strange dragging sensation as her blood was leeched from her body. This sensation seemed to go on forever and still she kept her eyes tightly shut, not daring to look. Maybe she couldn’t stop. Maybe she’d already taken too much. Emily braced her other hand against the bed as her head began to swim. Then the pain receded from her wrist and she no longer felt the pressure of Serana’s fangs. Instead she felt a hand rest against her arm, steadying her.

“You’d better lie down,” she heard Serana say, “You’ll feel a bit dizzy for a while.” Emily complied, lying back on the bed. Through her heavily lidded eyes she saw Serana pour a few drops from the bottle she’d recovered from Tolan’s body onto a bandage and wrap the bandage around her wrist.

“What’s in the bottle?” Emily asked sleepily.

“It’s a curative,” Serana replied. She paused, “But don’t you know? I found it in your bag. I had to get past your familiar first. Those teeth hurt almost as much as mine.”

“It was Tolan’s,” Emily explained.

“Who’s Tolan?” Serana asked.

“He’s..was.. a vigilant of Stendarr,” Emily replied, “He came with me to Dimhollow. Vampires in the first cavern tore him to pieces.” Serana edged a little nearer.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Emily raised herself up onto her elbows. “I take it none of your dealings with vampires have been pleasant then?”

“Not really,” Emily conceded, “I’ve only met vampires once before. I was working in an alchemists in Solitude. One night vampires stormed the city and I was one of the ones captured. I escaped with the help of a man named Talof. Then we went to join up with the Dawnguard.” She closed her eyes again. Serana picked up the book she’d been reading and flicked through the pages.

“Serana,” Emily murmured a few minutes later. Serana looked up from the book.

“Yes, Emily?” she replied.

“Clean slate?” Serana tilted her head to one side.

“A what?” she asked.

“A clean slate,” Emily repeated, “It’s an expression. It means, ‘Can we start again?’ I know we kind of got off to a rocky start.” Serana smiled.

“Sure,” she said. She got up off the bed. “Do you want anything from the bar?”

“Hmm, something sweet maybe,” Emily replied, “That’s what they used to give us back home after we gave blood. There’s some gold in my bag.”

Serana pulled the drawstring purse from Emily’s bag and left the room. She returned several minutes later carrying a wooden plate on which was placed something that resembled a sponge cake with a hole in the centre. White cream was drizzled over the top. She set the plate down on the bedside table. Emily raised herself into a sitting position and took the cake from the plate, taking a large bite out of it. Serana sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“What did you mean, ‘when you gave blood,’ she asked, “Did the English give blood to vampires?” Emily shook her head.

“The blood wasn’t for vampires,” she said before taking another bite, “It was for the sick and the injured.”

“There are many people here who would call vampires sick,” Serana replied.

“There weren’t any vampires back home,” Emily explained, “A lot of stories about them. Some good, some a bit…well, naff. But no real vampires. I didn’t think they were real before I got here.”

“No vampires,” Serana said thoughtfully. When next she looked over at Emily, another question on her lips she found her dozing lightly against the pillow. She got up and crossed the room to the dresser. On top of the dresser was a small stack of books. She picked up the top one and admired the ornate green cover with its curling golden lettering, spelling out the words, ‘The Mystery of Talara.’ She sat down on the chair across the room from the bed and began to read.

* * *

It was several hours before Emily awoke. She yawned and stretched, sitting up in bed. Finn was still curled up on the pillow, dozing. She looked across the room at where Serana was sitting, one hand propping up her chin. Her eyes were closed and the book lay open in her lap.

“I didn’t think vampires slept,” she said to herself as she slung her legs over the side of the bed. The bed creaked as she got up and Serana stirred, rubbing her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“A lot better,” Emily replied. She crossed the room to the wooden bathtub. “I think I’m going to have a bath before we set out,” she continued, “Goodness knows I need one.” She paused. “Umm, is it okay if…you know?”

“Yeah, I was thinking of sitting down by the fire anyway,” said Serana as she picked up the book and made for the door.

The hot water was kept in large metal barrels in the basement which stood over fire pits kept burning day and night. The innkeeper provided Emily with a bucket and through a hole in the floor she hauled up several bucketfuls of hot water from the barrels. Once the bath was full, after making sure the door to the main room was firmly closed, she undressed and slipped into the water. The soap left with the bath smelt of lavender and seemed to ease the aching in her joints. She took a deep breath and slipped under the water. She re-emerged a moment later, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes. Finn was sitting on the bed, watching the bubbles intently. When one drifted his way he swatted at it with his paws, leaping across the bed. He’d grown since Emily had rescued him from the slaughterfish. It wouldn’t be too long before he was out of puppyhood. Emily chuckled.

“Hey Finn, do you think you could stop giving Serana such a hard time by the way?” she said. Finn just squeaked and swatted at another bubble.

After several minutes Emily got out of the bath and towelled herself dry. She pulled her hooded jacket and jeans back on but left the fur amour on the bed. She smoothed down her damp hair and opened the door to the main room. Serana had taken a seat by the fire and she was already engrossed in the book propped up on her lap. Emily joined her by the fire.

“We’ll have to set out in another few hours,” she said, “Do you think we’ll make it as far as Morthal?”

“I hope so,” Serana replied, “I need to get home. I’ll be safe there…depending on who’s there.”

“What do you mean?” asked Emily.

“Me and my father don’t exactly get along,” Serana replied. She looked over at Emily. “I’m not in any actual danger or anything just-.” She left the sentence hanging. “How much longer until sundown?” she asked.

“Another three hours or so,” Emily replied, “I guess I’d better go get some supplies for the journey.” With that she got up and made for the bar.

Chapter Text

The second morning brought them to the city of Morthal, a settlement that stood on the edge of the Hjaalmarch Marshes. A great stone wall separated the squat thatched buildings from the spreading marshes beyond. Half the city was waterlogged and wooden platforms had been erected to allow the townsfolk to travel from one building to another. Where wooden platforms would not suffice there were small rowboats. When they arrived it was still dark and the streets were deserted. From the marshes came an array of strange sounds: whistles, clicks and chirps.

“What do you think is out there?” Emily asked, pointing through the heavy iron portcullis to the marshes beyond.

“Nothing you would want to meet,” Serana replied, “Chaurus, giant spiders, trolls. I could go on but I wouldn’t want to give you nightmares.”

“So, is there anything out there that would give a powerful vampire sorceress nightmares?” Emily asked jokingly.

“There are,” Serana replied, “But if I told you about them you’d never sleep again.” Though the reply was joking Emily got the distinct impression that deep down Serana meant exactly what she said. She looked up at the sky which was just beginning to lighten.

“I guess we should think about getting inside,” she said, pointing over her shoulder at the Inn. It was called, “The Moorside,” and when they entered they found the place to be as quiet as the grave. Soon Emily found herself wondering if this was down to the Inn’s location or the talent of the local bard. He was an Orsimer, tall and hulking like most of his kind but unlike the few Orcs she’d encountered before he carried with him an air of jollity. Unfortunately this jollity did little to help his singing capabilities and Serana made a point of retiring to their room as soon as it was paid for.

“And I thought the bard in Dawnstar was bad,” she grumbled under her breath while Emily pulled off her gauntlets, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She scratched absentmindedly at the bandage on her wrist. Serana sat down on the chair by the dresser and picked up one of the books sitting atop it.

“What’s your home like?” Emily asked. Serana looked up from her book.

“Very big and very old,” she replied, “Older than I am in fact which is saying something.”

“Is it a castle?” Emily asked, “In all the books I used to read, vampires usually seemed to live in castles.”

“Your books didn’t lead you wrong then,” Serana replied, “It is a castle far out on the Sea of Ghosts.”

“We’re not going to meet any actual ghosts out there, are we?” Emily asked, a note of hesitance making itself evident. Serana shook her head.

“Those are just stories,” she replied. Emily considered asking what kind of stories but decided she didn’t dare. Instead she asked, “How are we going to reach the island?”

“There should be a jetty on the Northern coast,” Serana replied, “My mother would row across occasionally to gather alchemy ingredients. The boat might still be there.”

“And what do we do if the boat isn’t there?” Emily asked.

“I think we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Serana replied.

“Pretty big bridge,” Emily murmured under her breath. She lay down on the bed and rolled over into the pillow. It was still a long way to Haafingar.

* * *

It was another night’s worth of travelling before they reached the small town of Dragon Bridge. It hadn’t changed much since Emily had arrived there scarcely a few weeks ago. It seemed strangely longer than that. Travelling by night and arriving by morning was a curious feeling. It left Emily feeling tired, living on frayed nerves throughout the night as they trekked through the wilderness. It was both unnerving and comforting to know she had the back of a powerful vampire sorceress. Each morning she would soon retire to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. But as they reached Dragon Bridge Emily resolved to pick up some supplies before hitting the hay. It was still some hours before the stores were to open so she booked them into a room in the Four Shields. When it came close to opening time she got up from the bench she’d been sitting at.

“Are you going to bed?” Serana asked from her place by the fire.

“Not just yet,” Emily replied, “I’m going to take a trip to the general store and pick up a few supplies.” Serana looked over the top of the book she was reading at the Earthling.

“Not getting ideas of leaving me here, are you?” she asked, “Planning your escape?” Emily laughed.

“Serana, Fort Dawnguard is all the way over in the Rift,” she replied, “I’m about as far from it as I can get. Like I’m going to turn back now. Besides,” she bent to tie the leather straps on one of her boots, “You’d be able to track me down before I reached Whiterun, I’m sure. Just trust me, alright?” Serana did not reply but nor did she object when Emily pushed open the door and stepped out onto the sun-drenched street.

The general store lay across the street and Emily crossed over to the large wooden front door, pushing it open and stepping inside. The owner was a large woman with thick curly dark hair tied back behind her head.

“Just browsing?” she asked, “Or is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m looking to sell a few things,” Emily replied. She reached into her pack and pulled out two of the gemstones she’d recovered in Dimhollow Crypt. She watched as the woman picked them up and inspected them both in turn.

“Hmm, good quality,” she said under her breath, turning them over in her hands. Her look became stern. “Where did you pick these up? I don’t take stolen goods, you know.”

“In a cave,” Emily replied hastily, “I was scouting it out. Found these in a big iron chest buried near the back.” Partially a lie and partially true, the woman considered her story. At last she put the gems down on the counter.

“I’ll give you one hundred gold for them,” she said.

“Sold,” Emily replied. The woman counted out one hundred gold coins and Emily deposited them in her purse, “I’m also looking to buy. Do you have camping supplies?” The woman came out from behind the counter and showed Emily the array of camping equipment sold. There were lanterns and tinderboxes, bedrolls and tents. In the end Emily bought a lantern, tinderbox and tent.

“Oh, and this too,” she said, dropping another item onto the counter. She handed the woman the coins and left the shop, carrying the supplies back to the Inn.

“Get anything good?” asked Serana as Emily emptied the supplies onto the bed.

“Just a few camping supplies,” Emily replied as she tied the roll of fabric that made up the tent to the bottom of her pack and put away the lantern and tinderbox, “It’s going to be a long way back to the Rift.”

“Just one more day,” said Serana wistfully, looking up at the ceiling.

The day passed peacefully enough. Emily passed part of the morning practicing her magelight spell before resigning herself to getting some sleep.

The candles in the room had burned down low when Serana woke her.

“Time to go already?” she yawned. The next second Serana had thrust her pack into her lap and began packing away her things. She was tight lipped as they left the Inn and walked briskly up the cobblestone road.

“Hey, hey wait up,” Emily called after her as she shouldered her pack and ran up the cobblestone road after her, “What’s the hurry?” She caught up with her and kept pace as they left the town behind. “Is everything alright?” she asked cautiously.

“Everything’s fine,” Serana replied. She kept her eyes on the road ahead. Emily looked back in the direction of Dragon Bridge which was quickly receding behind them.

“You didn’t…umm, quench your thirst back there, did you?” she asked.

“What?” Serana stopped, “No. I didn’t.” She sounded offended. Emily decided to let the matter drop. She wasn’t sure what had come to pass to cause this change in mood but she figured for now she should concentrate on the road ahead.

The cobblestone road led them up into the hills and along a mountain path. A cold brisk wind blew across the stones, rustling the sparse grass that grew in the cracks. It was a clear night and the twin moons lit their way along the hilltops. Serana stopped at a point in the road and looked off across the snowy hillocks. “I think it’s down here,” she said at length, “This road should take us down to the coast. From there we need to head west.”

“Okay,” Emily replied. She kept her words few as the night was steadily getting colder and it was all she could do to keep her teeth from chattering and making speech a nigh impossibility.

The path down to the sea was made slippery by the compacted snow and several times Emily almost lost her footing. Finn was buried in her hood and refused to move from his spot. Emily looked out over the sea. It was eerily beautiful and unimaginably vast, stretching from one side of the horizon to the other. A thick mist hung near the horizon, lending the ocean an almost ethereal quality. A few islets dotted the otherwise unbroken grey waters and she thought she saw the spindly limbs of a shipwreck stretching up towards the sky not too far from the shore.

At last they reached the coast. Their boots crunched on the grainy sand. It was not like the pale sands she was used to back home. The sand here was dark and dotted with pebbles which she could feel through the soles of her boots. Something nearby grunted and shifted on the sand. Emily turned quickly to see a rotund grey creature that almost blended in with the sand raise its head and regard her with beady eyes. Three long tusks curved out from its snout. She soon realised there was not one but three of the creatures lying on the sand.

“What are those?” she whispered to Serana. Serana followed her gaze.

“Horkers,” she replied, “Don’t worry, they won’t give us any trouble.”

“So those are horkers,” breathed Emily, “They kind of look like walruses. And people eat them?” She recalled seeing them on the menu at one of the Inns she’d visited in her travels.

They followed the coast round to the west, following the meandering shoreline. Emily spotted several more horkers as they trekked along the coast. At times they had to wade through ankle-deep water where there was no sand separating the rocks from the sea. The air was heavy with the scent of brine and the keening cries of gulls. Ahead of them Emily spotted a stone fort. She gulped. Surely there were no bandits this close to the sea. Or would it be more proper to call them pirates on this occasion. But instead of rugged brigands standing guard at the gates there were official looking elves in armour that shone like gold. Their skin too had a golden hue shown up by the torches they carried. They held themselves with a cold, stiff air and as they passed they gave them no more than a vaguely disdainful glance. She’d seen elves wearing similar garb in Solitude who carried themselves with a similar arrogance.

Not far past the fort Serana quickened her pace. “There it is,” Emily heard her say and she sped up to keep up with her. What she led her to was a small half-sunken wooden jetty. Moored at the jetty was a boat just big enough to comfortably seat two.

“Do you think it’s seaworthy?” Emily asked as regarded the small boat.

“Almost certainly,” Serana replied.

“Almost?” Emily said with a grimace. She watched as Serana climbed into the small craft. Then she held out her hand to Emily.

“Come on,” she said, “We only have another few hours of moonlight left.” Emily took a deep breath and took Serana’s hand, climbing into the boat.

“If there’s a god of the sea listening,” she murmured to herself, “Let this trip be swift and uneventful.” Then she reached into the bottom of the boat and picked up one of the oars, locking it into place on the side of the boat. Serana untied the moorings and they paddled out into open sea. They heaved at the oars, putting more space between them and the Skyrim mainland. The sounds of the shore faded away and before long all that could be heard was the slap of wavelets against the sides of the boat and the oars slicing into the water. The mist encroached on them and before long they were swallowed up in the swiftly developing fog. Soon they could see only a few feet ahead of them. The fog seemed to deaden the sound further and all was silent.

“Emily,” Serana said. Emily turned to face Serana. She was looking off into the mist. She absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. When she said no more Emily began to wonder if perhaps she’d been hearing things.

“I know I was bit…off…in Dragon Bridge,” Serana said at length. Emily watched her as she spoke. “I was just a bit…nervous.”

“What about?” Emily asked though she felt she could take a fair guess.

“Going home,” Serana replied, “Seeing my father. I just wanted to get on the boat as soon as I could. I was afraid that if I didn’t I might lose my nerve and turn back.”

“Why do you want to go see him though if it’s making you so nervous?” Emily asked.

“It’s difficult to explain,” Serana replied evasively. She seemed to be searching for the right words. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. You’ve got me this far and you didn’t get us lost too often.” It was a weak attempt at a joke and Emily smiled. “But, well, my father and I don’t exactly get along.” Serana huffed a sigh of annoyance. “Ugh, it sounds so common when I say it like that. Little girl doesn’t get along with her father. I’ve read that story a million times.” Emily listened patiently as she continued. “But at the end of it all, he is my father, I’m his daughter and home is the only place I can think that I should be now I’m out of Dimhollow.” She looked over the side of the boat, at the calm waters lapping against the wooden slats.

“I guess none of this is getting us any closer to the castle,” she said at last. Emily wasn’t sure how exactly to reply so she picked up the oar once more and began to row.

It was over an hour when the island loomed suddenly up out of the grey mists. It was as though it had suddenly been called into being which, Emily reminded herself, it had in a sense. She remembered the enchantment Serana told her had been woven upon the island. It must have been powerful magic to conceal an entire island. The castle dominated a large portion of the island and was built from stone of deepest grey. The towers reached up to dizzying heights and fog swirled about the pointed roofs. At the forefront of the island was a smaller tower built of lighter stone. It looked to be a lookout tower of sorts. No lights were present in the windows and a sloping bridge led up to the front gate.

They moored the boat at a wooden jetty next to the lookout tower and climbed out. Serana looked up at the towering edifice and drew herself up straighter, drawing a breath of unneeded air. Then she turned to Emily.

“Emily, once we get in there you’d better let me do the talking,” she said, “I’m sure you can imagine that it isn’t the safest thing for a mortal to walk into a vampire’s lair.” Emily nodded. “I promise, I won’t let any of them harm you.” Emily smiled. It was a weak smile. How many of “them” were there? And what kind of sway did Serana hold within those walls? But those were questions better not addressed. She reached into her pack and pulled out a package.

“Then, if that’s so, I should probably let you have this now,” she said, holding out the package to Serana. Serana took the package from her and unwrapped it. Inside there was a book with a green cover and ornate golden writing.

“I saw you admiring it while we were in Dawnstar,” Emily continued, “I found a copy of it while we were in Dragon Bridge and I thought you might like it.” For a moment Serana just looked at the book. Then she smiled, a genuine smile that didn’t contain even a hint of sarcasm.

“Thank you,” she said. Emily smiled back, forgetting the fact that she was about to walk into a castle full of vampires for a moment. A cold wind blowing along the beach brought them back to reality a moment later and Serana turned back to the castle.

“We’d better go in,” she said. She led the way up the stone bridge to the main gate. An old man with wrinkled wizened features spotted them.

“By the sons and daughters of Oblivion,” he said as they approached, “Serana.” He called up to someone behind the gates. “Open the gates. Lady Serana has returned.”

‘Lady Serana?’ Emily thought to herself as they approached the gates, ‘If I ever get home I’ll have some tales to tell. Now I can say I’ve met the High Queen and the Lady of a Vampire Castle. Well, as soon as I tell them that they’ll throw me in the funny farm for sure.’ These thoughts were cut off as the great iron gates opened and she and Serana crossed the threshold of the castle.

To say the castle’s interior smelt of blood would be an understatement. It seemed to permeate every crack in the stonework and hung in the air like a miasma. Emily kept close to Serana as they made their way over to the balcony.

“Mind yourself around our Lord Harkon,” she heard the watchman growl behind her as the great wooden doors were closed. “My Lord Harkon, Lady Serana has returned to us.”

A figure seated on a throne at the far end of the room stood up. A sweeping crimson cloak hung from his shoulders and the armour he wore was ornate, regal-looking. His eyes burned brightly in his head yet somehow they remained cold as he regarded his daughter and the mortal standing next to her.

“At last, my daughter returns to us,” he said. His voice too was cold and measured. It carried with it none of the warmth that could be expected from such words. “I trust you have the Elder Scroll.”

“I’ve been gone all this time and that’s all you can think to ask me?” Serana replied, “Yes, I have the scroll.” She gestured to a cylindrical object strapped to her back. Emily had seen it the day she freed her from the crypt but had never thought to ask about it. The casing was ornately decorated and heavy-looking. Her father’s lip curled in a thin smile.

“Of course I’m delighted to see you, my daughter,” he said, “Do I really have to say the words aloud? Oh, if only your traitorous mother were here. I would have let her watch this happy reunion before putting her head on a spike.” Then his gaze fell upon Emily who shifted nervously under his piercing gaze. “And who is this stranger you’ve brought to our hall?” His gaze was hungry and reminded her of how a wolf might regard a pheasant. Subconsciously she brought a hand to her throat.

“She’s my saviour,” Serana replied, “She’s the one who freed me from the crypt.”

“So you are the one I have to thank for my daughter’s safe return,” Harkon said, smiling another of his thin smiles, “What is your name, mortal?”

“E-Emily,” Emily stammered.

“I am Harkon, Lord of this court,” he gestured grandly to his surroundings all without taking his eyes from Emily for so much as a second, “And by now I’m sure you know what we are.”

“Y-you’re vampires.”

“Oh, not just vampires, Emily, we are among the most ancient and powerful vampires to walk the face of Nirn,” Harkon replied, “For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the mortal world.” Then his face took on an ugly scowl. “That is, until my traitorous wife stole from me that which I value the most.” Emily gulped and glanced at Serana. Then the scowl vanished from his face, replied by that thin lipped smile. Emily wasn’t sure she much preferred that expression.

“And for returning my daughter to me, you deserve a reward,” he said, “I offer you my blood.”

“Excuse me?” Emily replied, confused.

“Take it and you will walk as a lion among sheep, men will cower before you and you need never fear death again.” Emily laughed nervously.

“Not that that’s not a tempting offer, your eminence, but I think I’d better not,” she said quickly. Now was Harkon’s turn to laugh, a mirthless laugh.

“Perhaps you’re not listening to what I’m saying, mortal,” he said, “Or perhaps you need some convincing.” Emily watched open mouthed as a dark energy surrounded Lord Harkon. She felt her hair stand on end as he was entirely consumed by the darkness. A snarl wrenched from his maw which sent a shiver down Emily’s spine and a viscous red substance spattered the ground. And there, where once stood a man with pale skin and piercing red eyes, now stood a monster. His skin was a greyish green hue, his ears were pointed and his face resembled that of a bats but one gruesomely twisted by the cruel hand of some dark entity. Leathery wings sprouted from his back and his regal armour was replaced with a ragged loin cloth, a crimson cloak and an ornately decorated crown which sat atop his shock of white hair.

“Behold the power, mortal,” Lord Harkon said, his voice twisted further by his transformation, “Behold the son of Coldharbour.” He paused. “So, are you ready to take your first step towards true power and might?”

“And supposing I refuse?” Emily replied, trying hard to keep her voice from shaking.

“Then you are prey to us, like all mortals,” said Harkon with a look of disdain, “For bringing my daughter to me, I will spare you this once but there will be no second chances. Is that your final answer?” Emily nodded. “Then you are banished, mortal.”

A cold aura sprang up around Emily and she looked around fearfully as her surroundings seemed to melt, growing dark and indistinct. She felt as though she were falling through a void. Then she felt something cold pressing against her cheek. Tiny paws scuffled in agitation before pulling at her hair once more. She opened her eyes and found herself lying on the cobblestone bridge outside the castle. Finn was tugging at her hair with his tiny paws and he squeaked impatiently.

“Don’t worry, Finn, I’m alright,” she said shakily, getting to her feet as the otter scampered up her arm and back into her hood. She looked up at the towering castle.

“I guess we’d better think about reporting back to Isran,” she said, “I get the impression he’s not going to be happy about this.” Finn nuzzled her chin reassuringly. She turned away from the castle and began the walk back to the boat.

“Emily.” Emily stopped and turned back to see Serana hurrying after her.

“Serana?” she said as she caught up to her. She looked over her shoulder at the castle. “Won’t you get in trouble with your dad for coming out here?” Serana shook her head.

“He knows I won’t leave the island,” she said. Once more that look of unease flickered across her face for just a moment. Then it was gone. “I just wanted to say thanks for getting me here safely.”

“No problem,” Emily replied. She shifted from one foot to the other. “Look, Serana, if you’re ever in the Rift, look us up, okay?”

“You mean walk right into a den of vampire hunters?” Serana chuckled, “Sure, if I’m ever feeling particularly crazy, I’ll come visit.” Now was Emily’s turn to laugh.

“Well, if mortals can walk into the castle of a vampire lord then anything’s possible,” she said, “Hey, take care of yourself, Serana.”

“Goodbye, Emily,” Serana replied as Emily got into the boat and took up the oars. She watched until the rowboat had been swallowed up by the mists before turning and walking back up the bridge to the castle.

Chapter Text

“An Elder scroll?” growled Isran as he regarded Emily, “And why didn’t you secure it?”

“I didn’t think it was an item of any value,” Emily conceded. At these words a vein began to throb in Isran’s temple.

“You didn’t think it of any value?” Isran repeated. His voice was low and dangerous. “You didn’t think an Elder scroll, a legendary artefact, was of any value?”

“I didn’t know what it was,” Emily protested, “I’ve never seen or even heard of such a thing before. I didn’t even know what it was until her father mentioned it.” The vein in Isran’s temple seemed to pulse more strongly.

“What on Nirn are they teaching the younger generation?” he asked of no one in particular as he turned away from Emily. Even though his voice remained quiet his anger was palpable.

“They have everything they want,” he growled, “And we have nothing.” He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up towards the ceiling. After a moment contemplating the ceiling he spoke.

“Alright, let’s see if you can redeem yourself,” he said, “Talof!” A few moments later Talof joined them in the main hall. He was wearing a set of heavy Dawnguard armour and his halberd was strapped across his back.

“It’s clear to me that if we hope to have a chance against these vampires we’ll have to step up our own forces,” said Isran as he regarded them both, “We’re going to need the expertise of two people I worked with in the past.” He turned to Talof.

“Talof, I want you find Sorine Jurard,” he said, “Young Breton girl. She has a fascination with Dwemer machinery, weapons in particular. Last I heard she was out in the Reach, not far from Druadach Redoubt. Do you know it?” Talof nodded.

“And you, Emily, I want you to find Gunmar,” he continued, turning to regard her, his face stony, “He’s a Nord, good with wild beasts. He should be somewhere in the Rift, looking for more beasts to tame. I’d check around Ivarstead. That’s where he was last seen.”

“Yes, Isran,” Emily replied.

“You should both leave immediately,” said Isran, “And don’t disappoint me again, Emily.” Emily scratched absentmindedly at the bandage still wrapped around her wrist. Isran’s eyes narrowed as she made to turn and leave.

“What happened to your wrist?” he asked.

“My…my wrist?” Emily replied. She pushed her wrist behind her back and watched as Isran took a step toward her. He reached out and took her wrist from behind her back, unwrapping the bandages and letting them drop to the ground. On her wrist he could faintly make out the two fading pin pricks which showed rosey pink against the relative pallor of her skin.

“This vampire marked you?” he asked.

“When I freed her from the Crypt and agreed to take her home,” Emily explained, “She told me she had not fed for a long time. Hundreds, perhaps a thousand years or more. I figured it would be better if I let her feed rather than jump some poor villager.” Isran scowled.

“And did you disinfect the wound?” he demanded.

“She did,” Emily replied, “There was a curative in Tolan’s pack that I recovered after he was killed.”

“How long ago was this?” Isran replied, “That you willingly became a vampire’s meal?”

“It must’ve been at least five days ago,” Emily replied. Isran was silent for a moment. And then he nodded.

“Very well,” he said, “The infection would have shown itself before now. But a word of caution, Emily. Vampires are bloodthirsty killers. I would’ve thought that your experience in Haafingar would have taught you that.” His eyes narrowed. “She wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice you for your blood or any other leverage she believed she could get by killing you. Remember that.”

With that he strode back into the Fort’s large training room.

“You’re treading a dangerous path,” Talof warned, “Vampires get through guile and seduction what they can’t get through bloodshed. She likely just wanted to get the location of the fort so she and her father can take it for themselves. I trust you didn’t tell her.” Emily gulped.

“No, I didn’t say a word,” she lied, “Besides, she didn’t seem all that interested in where I came from or who I had to report back to. She just wanted to go home.”

“Well, let’s hope that’s indeed all she wanted,” said Talof as he made for the door.

Emily followed him out into the fort’s grounds. Already construction on a wooden outer fence had begun along with a raised platform where archery targets were to be placed. Crossbows were the weapons of choice among the more agile members of the Dawnguard, allowing them to take out vampires from afar. Isran’s main concern among his members was that one might return infected to the fort and spread the infection within the fort’s walls.

Emily followed the dirt track away from the fort towards the entrance to the canyon. Isran and Talof’s words buzzed about her head like a swarm of angry wasps. If it was so that vampires would kill for their own benefit, why had Serana not killed her? Certainly she’d had plenty of opportunities while they were in Dimhollow or on the road. Though, she reasoned, she also had a reason to keep her alive as both a travelling meal and a guide. Could it truly have been all an act? Or a kind of sorcery she had yet to understand? Isran had mentioned enthrallment as one of the possible fates vampire hunters succumbed to, becoming a seemingly willing servant to the vampires and the dark powers they invoked. Emily shook her head, dismissing that thought. She mightn’t know much of this world but she knew her own mind.

She conjured a ball of magelight as she entered the dark cave that separated the canyon from the rest of the Rift. Perhaps it would be better to put such thoughts out of her head entirely. It wasn’t as though she was likely to cross paths with her again after all. Instead she set her mind to the task at hand. So long as the weather held out she would reach Ivarstead by late afternoon. It was a small village, barely more than a hamlet, which sat at the foot of Tamriel’s tallest mountain. Most of the area around it was farmland given over to growing crops and raising goats and chickens.

Emily emerged from the cave and began the trek up towards Riften. Golden leaves blew across the cobblestone path from the silver birch trees that lined the road and heaped together in clumps. It looked like Autumn was beginning to set in, in this world.

The sun had not yet reached its highest point in the sky when Emily reached the high stone walls of Riften. There was a narrow dirt track which led around the side of the city, allowing her to bypass it altogether. From over the walls drifted the sounds of a smithy and the clamour of steel on steel as the Jarl’s men and women trained in the grounds outside the Keep. She had since learned that the citizens of the Rift were, for the most part, staunch supporters of the rebellion. She’d had the misfortune to come upon one of their conquests on her return journey to the fort. The Imperial soldier had been left to decay at the side of the road, one of his arms cut off and shoved hand first into his broken-jawed mouth. Iron pokers had punctured his eye sockets and his face was frozen in an expression of gaunt horror. On catching sight of this monstrosity Emily had taken to her heels and run a good mile down the road before allowing her to come to a halt long enough to throw up into the ditch.

Emily left Riften behind and began the long trek that would take her along the Southern edge of Lake Honrich. Situated on the southern shore was a spit of land given over to the Goldenglow Estate, Riften’s largest source of income. In the shallows slaughterfish had made their nests and laid their eggs. Finn paddled in the lake water but kept a marked distance from the clusters of pale leathery eggs. A stone bridge that spanned a small stream that ran down from the mountains to the south marked the rough halfway point between Riften and the point where the River Treva emptied into the lake. Here Emily stopped to eat her lunch. The bread had seen better days but she bit into it hungrily. Besides, the strong Eidar cheese managed to mask most of the bread’s stale flavour. The ale she drunk with it was weak but this suited her just fine. The Skyrim wilderness was a place that was dangerous to explore even whilst sober, let alone roaring drunk.

After lunch she packed away what remained of the bread and shouldered her pack, returning to the road to continue her journey.

The road took her up away from Lake Honrich and into the foothills of the Upper Riftland. On the path she ran into a traveller headed for Riften and asked him for directions. He wore a motheaten looking cowl and ragged clothes. A young boy with shaggy hair accompanied him, dressed in rags still more shabby than his own. He raised a bony hand and pointed on up the road. Emily thanked him and headed on up the road. It took her until she had almost reached the village to realise that her drawstring purse along with the gold it contained was missing. She cursed under her breath as she crossed the stone bridge that led into Ivarstead.

The sun was sinking lower in the sky and she stole into the small Inn that sat on the edge of the river. The interior was reasonably quiet. In one corner a woman with dark hair played on a lute while two of the Inn’s patrons listened. Emily crossed the room to the bar. Behind the bar was a balding man in plain patched jerkin and breeches. He looked up when he noticed her approach.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked as she reached the bar.

“No thanks,” Emily replied, “I’m looking for a bit of information actually. Would you happen to know if a man named Gunmar passed through here? A beast tamer?”

“Aye, he did,” said the bartender, “He’s taken some work for Temba over there. A group of bears have been causing trouble and she asked him to track them to their lair. If you want to know more, you should ask her.” The woman he indicated looked far from approachable. She seemed to have a scowl plastered permanently across her face as she sat by the fire, a tankard in one hand and a ledger sitting open on the table before her. Emily left the bar and approached the table where she sat.

“Temba,” she said as she approached her. The woman looked up at her, still frowning as she regarded the stranger.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I heard you hired the services of someone named Gunmar recently,” Emily explained, “I’m with a group that could also do with his services.” The woman put her tankard down on the table. “Once he’s completed his work with you of course,” she added quickly, “Could you tell me where I might find him?”

“He’s gone to a cave just across the bridge that leads to the 7,000 steps,” Temba replied, “Damn bears have been destroying all my lumber. He told me he tracked the big sow there this afternoon. If you want to find him, you should go to the cave. But he’s not to leave Ivarstead until I have the head of that sow in my possession.”

“Of course,” Emily said quickly. She glanced at her watch. There would still be another few hours before the sun set. If this cave was close by she reasoned it would be best to head out and track down Gunmar. She left the Inn and walked down the main street towards the edge of town. On the edge of the town stood a lumber mill. Some of the logs had deep gouges dug into them and wood chippings littered the ground, the bears’ mark and the source of Temba’s anger. Across the street was a farm. A man was pushing at the handle of a mill wheel which turned in its stone basin, grinding the wheat down into flour while a woman and her daughter scattered feed for the hens pecking their way around the yard. Just past the mill was a stone bridge that spanned the river as it ran over sharp rocks and tumbled down the falls into the valley below. Across the bridge Emily could see several stone steps built into the side of the slope. She crossed the bridge and began to make her way along the ledge that ran alongside the river.

The first thing she saw on cresting the slope was a bear. The fur around its muzzle was clotted with blood and its glassy eyes stared unseeing at her. There was a large gash in its side and blood stained the earth it lay on. Its mouth was open in a vicious soundless snarl. Next to the bear lay the corpse of a man. His chest was torn and bloodied, his face twisted into a scream of pain. Emily drew her dagger, taking a step back. What if this man lying on the blood-soaked earth at her feet was Gunmar? She peered apprehensively into the cave. There was no sound but the rustling of the wind in the grass. Cautiously she conjured a light on her palm and stepped inside.

Vines snaked their way up over the rocks and small white blossoms bloomed in the few patches of sunlight where there was a break in the rocky walls and ceiling. A dry twig snapped beneath Emily’s boot. Ahead of her something moved in the shadows. Whatever it was, was big and hulking. Emily brought her dagger up as whatever it was rose to its full height. A shaft of sunlight fell upon shaggy red hair and beard.

“Put that light out,” ordered the man, “There’s a bear in here. Bigger than most I’ve hunted over the years.” Emily extinguished the light and peered into the gloom. “I told you townsfolk to leave it to me,” the man continued, “One man’s already lost his life to that beast.”

“Is he the one I saw outside?” Emily asked in a whisper. The man nodded.

“I’m not from the town,” Emily continued, “Are you Gunmar? I’ve got a message for you from Isran.” The man looked up sharply.

“Isran?” he said, “What does he want?” A moment later he looked sharply towards the back of the cave. “No, that can wait. Help me deal with this bear and then we’ll talk.” Emily nodded, sheathing her dagger and removing her bow from her back. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and followed Gunmar further into the cave. The cave soon opened out into a large cavern. At its heart a shaft of sunlight broke through the ceiling, shining down on a large rock in the centre of the floor where a stunted spindly tree grew. Emily looked around the cavern, peering into each shadowy corner. Then she saw it. It’s hulking shaggy form was curled up in one corner of the cave. She couldn’t tell if it was awake. She looked over at Gunmar who nodded to her. Gritting her teeth she nocked the arrow, aimed and let it fly.

The air whistled and the bear’s head snapped up as the arrow embedded itself in its shaggy side. It roared in pain and was up in an instant. Emily quickly cast her bow to one side and pulled out her dagger. Gunmar brandished the steel war axe he was carrying as the beast ran towards them, maw open in an angry bellow. Gunmar jumped to one side and brought the axe crashing down on the bear’s neck. The axe embedded itself in the shaggy neck and Gunmar held on like grim death.

“Now!” he yelled. Emily ran forward and plunged her dagger into the thrashing beast. Blood gushed out over her hands and spilled onto the ground. The great beast roared again but this time the sound gurgled in its throat and it collapsed to the ground, breathing raggedly. Gunmar took the axe from its neck and with one blow put an end to the creature’s ragged breath.

They stood, breathing heavily for a time. Emily reclaimed her bow from the rocky ground and strapped it back to her back.

“So, what does Isran want?” Gunmar asked.

“He needs your help,” Emily replied.

“No, you must be mistaken,” the man shook his head, “I distinctly remember him telling me that he could handle anything alone.”

“But Gunmar,” Emily said quickly, “We’re up against vampires.”

“Vampires?” said Gunmar, “That might change things. What more can you tell me about them?”

“Not much,” Emily conceded, “But they have something called an Elder Scroll.” The effect these words had on Gunmar were immediate.

“Is he still at that Fort of his?” he asked.

“Fort Dawnguard?” Emily replied, “Yes.”

“Fine, you helped me take care of this bear so I suppose the least I can do is see what he wants,” said Gunmar. He looked out of the cave at the red skies. “We’ll make camp here tonight and head back in the morning.”

* * *

“So, are you one of his newest recruits?” Gunmar asked from across the crackling campfire. Roasting on the spit was a rabbit Emily had caught just outside the cave.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I’ve been working for him for just under two weeks. He wanted myself and Talof to go and find you and someone named Sorine Jurard.”

“Good luck with that,” Gunmar replied, taking a swig of ale from his hipflask.

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“He and Sorine didn’t part on good terms,” Gunmar explained, “I’m sure you’ve learnt by now that Isran isn’t much of a people person.” Emily nodded. “He took her on sometime ago to make weapons for him and Celann. They’d just formed a partnership after leaving the Vigilants.”

“And what happened then?” Emily asked.

“Sorine can be a little…slapdash at her workspace, a little eccentric,” Gunmar explained, “Isran mistook this for inefficiency. And a lack of commitment. Neither of which is true. He told her as much and to pack up her things and leave.”

“Well, I hope Talof is able to persuade her to come back then,” Emily replied.

“What was that you said before?” Gunmar asked, “About an Elder Scroll?”

“The vampires have an Elder Scroll,” Emily replied, “I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that though.” Gunmar’s eyes narrowed.

“That doesn’t make much sense,” he said, “Not yet, at least. But if they do, then maybe Isran has the right idea.” He looked out through the mouth of the cave. “You’d best get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

Emily curled up in the bed roll by the fire. Finn was already asleep, curled up next to the bed roll. Since returning to Fort Dawnguard something had been nagging at the back of her mind. Clearly this Elder Scroll was something important. Something Isran didn’t want the vampires to have. And he was aware that she knew the scroll’s location and, by extent, that of the vampires. Emily turned over as though trying to dislodge the troubling thought from her mind. The firelight danced on her eyelids, finally coaxing her towards sleep. The last thing she heard as she dropped off was the sound of rain falling outside the cave and the distant rumble of thunder.

Emily woke early the next morning and got up from her place by the glowing embers to fetch water from the stream. She doused the embers and took her dagger from the cave to clean it in the fast running water. Gunmar was already awake when she returned and he strapped his war axe to his belt.

“Right, let’s go see what the old Redguard wants,” he said as he strode out of the cave. He carried with him the head of the large cave bear, a grisly sight that would nonetheless please the Nord lumber worker. They followed the path back to Ivarstead, drawing stares from the villagers at the sight of the warrior carrying his gruesome trophy. They met the woman at the lumber mill and when Gunmar handed over the bear’s head she actually smiled and handed over a pouchful of gold in exchange.

They left town and followed the cobblestones back towards Riften. The journey seemed much shorter this time around. Gunmar and Emily spoke as they left Ivarstead behind.

“When we return to the Fort Dawnguard I’ll see about making you some new armour,” he said, “That leather armour of yours will do alright in a skirmish but if you’re going to go up against vampires you’ll need something a bit more sturdy.” Emily looked down at the leather armour she wore. There were a few shallow tears in the cuirass and the bracers and the tops of her boots were already starting to show wear in a few places.

They reached the fort late in the afternoon and when Emily pushed open the large wooden doors of the fort she saw Talof standing with a woman in the centre of the main hall. She was about a head shorter than him with short auburn hair. She wore thick leather armour and she was looking up at the balcony above them where Isran stood. Emily and Gunmar joined the two of them in the centre of the hall.

“All right, Isran,” the woman spoke up, “Now that you’ve got us all here, tell us what you want with us.”

“Hold it right there,” Isran barked down at them. There came a sound of stone grinding against stone above them and a shaft of bright sunlight shone down through the hole that had been opened up in the ceiling. It illuminated the four of them in its golden light.

“Hey, what’s going on?” asked the woman.

“Had to make sure neither of you had become vampires during your time out there in the wilds,” Isran explained, “Can’t be too careful. Now to business.” The hole in the ceiling was slid closed again once more. “I’m sure by now you know something of what we’re up against. Vampires, powerful vampires and they have an Elder Scroll.”

“An Elder Scroll?” said the woman, “What do they plan to do with an Elder Scroll?”

“We don’t know,” Isran replied, “But I intend to find out. In the meantime, get acquainted with the space. You’ll find the space you need to continue tinkering with that new crossbow design of yours, Sorine. And Gunmar, there’s a pen out back where you can pen up some trolls.” He stopped and looked down at Emily.

“And you,” he continued, “Come up here. We’re going to find out why a vampire showed up here looking for you. Let’s go and have a little chat with it, shall we?”

Chapter Text

At these words Emily froze. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest. There was only one vampire in this world, or any world for that matter, who could be looking for her. She sprinted from the main hall and ran up the stone spiral stairs two at a time. Isran was waiting for her on the balcony.

“Follow me,” he said gruffly before leading Emily from the balcony. He led her into an adjoining room. It was dark except for a single thin window through which shone a bright shaft of sunlight. It shone onto a torture rack which was perfectly positioned to catch the sun’s rays. The flagstones were spattered with congealed blood and a row of bloodied skulls sat, glaring down at them from a shelf near the ceiling. Standing in the farthest corner, red eyes glowing in the shadows was a familiar figure.

“Serana?” Emily said with quiet surprise.

“I expect you didn’t think you’d see me again,” she said. Despite her surroundings her tone remained one of faint amusement.

“I assume it’s the one you found in Dimhollow,” Isran said in a low voice, “Says it’s got something really important to tell you.” It took Emily a moment to realise that by “it” he meant Serana. Isran turned to Serana. “Alright, vampire, say what you must.” If Serana was bothered by the way Isran spoke of her, she didn’t show it.

“I needed to talk to you,” she began, “It’s important, so please just listen before your friend here loses his patience.” Isran muttered something under his breath. “It’s about the scroll and why I was sealed away with it.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“It all comes back to my father,” Serana explained, “I’m sure you’ve figured out that he’s not exactly a good person, not even by vampire standards. It concerns a prophecy he found. He wasn’t always like how you saw him. But when he found that prophecy he just…lost himself in it.”

“What kind of prophecy?” Emily asked, “And what does that have to do with the scroll?”

“The Elder Scroll holds information concerning the prophecy,” Serana replied, “We had to stop him getting his hands on it. That’s why I was sealed away with it. It’s pointless and vague like most prophecies but there was one bit my father latched onto. Something about controlling the sun so that vampires need never fear it again. He wants to control the sun so vampires can control the world.”

“Alright,” said Isran, taking a step towards Serana, “You’ve heard what it has to say. Now give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill this bloodsucking fiend right now.”

Emily took a sharp intake of breath and she took a step forward, standing between Isran and Serana. By now her heart was hammering in her chest.

“Isran, she’s trying to help us,” she protested.

“And how do you know it isn’t luring us right into its trap,” Isran shot back.

“Because she’s not,” Emily replied.

“And why the sudden empathy for this creature of Oblivion?” Isran demanded, “Does it have you enthralled?”

“I know my own mind, Isran,” Emily replied, “Besides, shouldn’t we at least find out if there’s something we can do about this prophecy?” Isran looked from Emily to Serana.

“Fine,” he said at last. Emily turned back to Serana.

“So, can we just read the read the scroll and find out more about this prophecy?” she asked. Serana shook her head.

“Reading an Elder Scroll isn’t like reading a book,” she explained, “There’s only one group that I know of that can read them. The Moth Priests. But they’re all a long way away from here, in Cyrodiil.”

“Then, why don’t we go to Cyrodiil?” Emily asked. Again Serana shook her head.

“As much as I’d enjoy the idea of going on a little sightseeing trip with you,” she replied, “I don’t think we have time. While we’d be away in Cyrodiil my father would be using his own means to decipher the prophecy. We could return to find a full scale vampire invasion underway.”

“Not so long as I’m standing,” Isran growled.

“This is a nice little operation you have going here,” Serana shot back, “But if my father did manage to set that prophecy in motion you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, merely a fact.” A vein was throbbing in Isran’s temple again as he fell silent. After some time he spoke.

“One of my men saw an Imperial scholar pass through while he was staking out the road,” he said, “Maybe that was your Moth Priest.”

“Do you know where he went?” Serana asked.

“No, and I’m not going to waste men looking,” Isran replied, “If you want to look for him, that’s your problem.” He looked at Emily. “It can stay,” he continued, “But if I find out it’s harmed anyone, just one person, I’m holding you responsible.” He then turned to Serana. “Don’t feel like a guest because you’re not. You’re a resource, an asset. Don’t make me regret my sudden outburst of generosity because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it.” Emily gulped. With that Isran turned on his heel and left the room. As his footsteps receded Emily let her shoulders relax. Only then did she realise how tensed up they were.

“You took a big risk in coming here,” she said. Then she smiled, “So, what made you decide to forsake your sanity?”

“When I returned home and I saw how my father welcomed me, or rather didn’t,” Serana replied, “I realised that there was really only one other person in this world I knew. You. I feel like I can trust you. I hope I’m not wrong.”

“No, you’re right,” Emily replied, “We just need to convince the others of the same.”

“Good luck with that,” said Serana, leaning against the wall. “But standing up to your superiors like that,” she raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You have no idea how much I wanted to throttle him,” Emily muttered, “’She,’ I wanted to say, ‘She, not it.’ It is for…well, it isn’t really for anything, not even dogs and cats but definitely not humans.” Serana smiled.

“Well, never mind him for now,” she said, “Why don’t we get back to figuring out how we’re going to track down this Moth Priest?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking,” Emily admitted, “I’ve never heard of Moth Priests before. Are they like, priests with giant moth wings and heads?” Serana chuckled at the image that sprung to mind.

“No, they’re an order of priests devoted to the reading of Elder Scrolls,” she explained, “Usually they stay holed up in their monasteries. If one really has come to Skyrim, we’d better track him down before he returns home.”

“Do you have any idea where we should look?” Emily asked.

“The college of Winterhold is where I’d go if I was looking for anything mystical or magic in nature,” she replied after a moment’s thought. Emily removed the map from her pack and spread it out against the wall.

“Could you show me where that is?” she asked.

“Uhh, sure,” Serana replied. She pointed to a spit of land on Skyrim’s North-eastern coast. “I’m…a little surprised you haven’t heard of it,” she continued, “Or the Elder Scrolls.” Emily shook her head, laughing.

“Yeah, that’s not exactly out of the ordinary for me,” she said, “There’s an awful lot I’m pretty clueless about. Things that are perfectly commonplace to most others. But I’m learning.” She glanced out of the window at the sun which was still shining across the Fort grounds.

“Looks like we’ll have to wait it out for a bit,” she said. She looked around at the rack and the row of skulls. “Why don’t we find somewhere a bit…nicer?”

The other Dawnguard warriors eyed them suspiciously as they took a seat at the main dining table before the open fire. Only Bran, a husky wearing padded leather armour, seemed unfazed by their presence. He was lying under the table, catching the odd scrap that Emily tossed to him. Finn preferred to sit on the table, nibbling at a piece of fish. Every once in a while he would glance up at Serana as though to make sure she didn’t try anything.

“Why don’t you tell me about your homeland?” Serana asked, “About England. I’ve never been outside Skyrim before.”

“What do you want to know about it?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know, anything,” Serana replied.

“Well, it’s an island,” Emily began, “A big-ish island but an island nonetheless. It’s relatively temperate but it tends to rain a lot. The capital city is London. It’s part of a larger country known as Britain, Great Britain or the United Kingdom. The other countries are Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.”

“What’s London like?” Serana asked.

“Huge, way bigger than Solitude even,” Emily replied, “With buildings over one hundred storeys tall and a vast network of underground tunnels used for transportation. There are loads of art galleries, eateries, big green parklands and museums.”

“Did you live there?” Serana asked.

“Only while I was studying there,” Emily replied, “I lived in a county outside London called Somerset. Not to be confused with the one people here keep calling, ‘The Isles’.”

“Were you studying magic there?”

“No, not magic,” Emily replied, “I studied history and archaeology.” Serana raised an eyebrow.

“And didn’t any of your history classes mention the Elder Scrolls?” she asked quizzically.

“I…must have been sick that day,” Emily replied evasively. Serana didn’t look as though she entirely believed her but she let the matter drop.

“I guess I’d better get some sleep,” Emily said, getting up from the table, “It’s going to be a long night tonight.” She crossed the room to one of the makeshift beds in the corner. “Maybe you should get some rest too?” Serana shook her head.

“Vampires have little need for sleep,” she replied, “Besides, I don’t think letting my guard down around a band of vampire hunters would be a very smart move, do you?”

“Um..probably not,” Emily conceded, “I’ll see you in the evening, then.”

Emily awoke early in the evening to the sounds of silverware clinking against plates. She opened her eyes blearily and looked around the room. Several of the Dawnguard were seated at the table. Their plates were piled high with venison, boiled potatoes and grilled leeks. She looked over at Serana who had taken a seat beside the bed. She was reading from the book Emily had bought her on the way up to the castle. Emily smiled and was about to nestle back into the pillow when Serana noticed her gaze.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said, “We should head out soon.” Emily got up, yawned and stretched. They left the dining room and were midway across the corridor when Gunmar spotted them and called Emily over.

“I’ve just finished your armour,” he said, “You should change into it before you leave.” He eyed Serana warily. “Especially considering your travelling companions.” Emily rolled her eyes.

“Let her alone, Gunmar,” she said, “I’m perfectly safe.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” he replied.

Emily went into one of the adjoining rooms to change. The armour fit well and was made from the same material as Celann and Isran’s. It consisted of a deep russet red sleeved surcoat, thick padded leather gloves with buckled straps and boots made from a similar material. The helmet was made from leather and reinforced with steel, leaving most of the face exposed except for a strip of material that protected the nose.

Dressed in her new armour, Emily left the Fort with Serana. Their first night would likely take them as far as Shor’s Stone, a small mining settlement North of Riften. Crickets chirped in the underbrush as they made their way along the dirt track that led through the canyon. A few torchbugs drifted lazily on the sluggish breeze. Emily conjured a ball of light that she bounced on her palm. With each bounce it subtly changed colour.

“Who taught you?” asked Serana.

“Hmm?”

Serana pointed to the orb of light.

“Angeline,” Emily replied, “The Alchemist over in Solitude. I only know a couple of spells though.”

They reached the long tunnel which led through the mountains to the Rift. In the growing darkness she could not see the far end of the tunnel. Their footsteps echoed as they followed the orb of light. It shone off the walls and floor and elongated their shadows.

‘It must be a fine thing to have no need of magelight,’ Emily thought to herself as she glanced over at Serana. Serana caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow. Emily looked back at the orb.

“Serana,” she said at length, “How far down this cave can you see?” It was a funny sort of question to ask but then again, Emily reminded herself, it was not a question you would have to ask of a fellow mortal.

“I can see to its end,” Serana replied, “Why?”

“Just curious,” said Emily, shrugging her shoulders, “I’ve never spoke to anyone with…powers before.”

“Have you never spoken with a Khajiit before?” Serana asked.

“That depends,” Emily replied.

“On what?” Serana asked.

“What’s a Khajiit?” Now Serana truly was dumbstruck. She could just about believe someone never having heard of an Elder Scroll, maybe even the College of Winterhold given that she was not native to this frigid land but to not have heard of a Khajiit.

“The catfolk,” she replied slowly, “From Elsweyr.” Emily heard the hesitance in her voice, the disbelief. Clearly this was something she was meant to have known. She did not feel like explaining her decidedly unbelievable story at this moment in time. She wasn’t exactly sure she ever wanted to explain it but certainly not now.

“Oh,” she said quickly, “Oh them. No, no, not at any great length anyway.”

“And I thought I was the one who didn’t get out enough,” Serana joked. Emily laughed. She stopped as Serana put a hand out to stop her.

“Extinguish your light,” she said quietly. Emily did as she asked. By now they’d reached the mouth of the cave. Serana was peering into the darkness. Then she saw them. Only their red eyes told them from the shadows.

“Have they seen us?” Emily asked in barely a whisper. Serana was about to answer when an icy shard hurtled towards them from the shadows. Serana pushed Emily to one side. The ice splintered against the rock wall of the cave entrance. Serana raised her hand and a shimmering wall of light sprang up, shielding her from the oncoming spells. Emily followed suit, conjuring a ward of her own. She pulled her silver dagger from her belt and bolted from the shadows of the cave. The first vampire turned on her, dull red light snaking its way towards her. It struck the ward which held firm for about half a second before shattering before her eyes. Emily took the opportunity to dive to one side as another wave of red light narrowly missed her. The vampire drew a blade as Emily lunged with her dagger. The vampire sidestepped and swung his sword, slashing at the air where Emily’s neck had been mere moments before.

“Traitor!” screamed the second vampire as she thrust her hand out before her, the magicka generated shockwave knocking Serana back against a large boulder. She recovered and rolled to one side as the vampire’s blade struck the rock, conjuring an ice spike and firing it at the advancing vampiress. The icy spike embedded itself in her chest and she was thrown to the ground. Serana turned her attention to the other vampire who was trying to impale her travelling companion. She was fast, at least, she would give her that. She was dodging to and fro as the vampire lunged yet again, turning and thrusting her silver dagger at the creature of the night. This time her blade plunged deep into his stomach, the flesh bubbling and sizzling at the touch of silver. Emily pulled back and with one last strike the vampire was no more.

“My father must have sent them,” Serana said as she crossed the cobblestone road to where Emily stood. The vampire’s face was contorted into a soundless snarl.

“Do you recognise them?” Emily asked. Serana bent down to examine the vampire.

“They were at the castle,” she replied, “They were fledglings though and I didn’t recognise them. He must’ve brought them into the fold while I was gone.” She stood up quickly. “We need to keep moving.”

Following the skirmish the world around them seemed to grow eerily quiet. Even the wolves Emily had heard before on her journey back to the Fort had fallen silent. It was a relief when the walls of Riften came into view. Instead of taking the well worn path that would take them round to the western exit to the city they struck out eastward through the birch forests. The moons shone off the bark, casting an almost ethereal silvery glow on the slender trunks. They didn’t speak much until they re-joined the cobblestone road that led North from Riften. It took them in between large sentry posts with reinforced stone bottoms and wooden walls and roof. Emily could see two to three guardsmen standing on the top floor of each one, burning torches in hand as they surveyed the landscape.

It was already past midnight when they left the city behind. The wind had picked up and blown thick grey clouds across the moons.

“I think it’s going to rain soon,” Emily observed, looking up at the sky. As if in answer a large raindrop landed on her nose. This was followed by another. And another.

“Great,” said Serana, a note of exasperation evident in her voice.

“I take it you’re not a fan of the rain,” Emily replied.

“You could say that,” Serana mumbled.

“Hey, wait a minute, do vampires melt in the rain?” Emily asked, “No wait, that’s witches.”

“Witches melt in the rain?” Serana replied. Then she laughed. “You have some strange ideas, Emily.” Now was Emily’s turn to laugh. A sudden thought struck her.

“Serana, am I a witch?” she asked, “I mean, I know I’m not a very good one. A ward spell and some magelight doesn’t exactly measure up but still-.”

“No, you’re not a witch,” Serana replied, “It’s got nothing to do with your skill in magic though. A witch is a woman training to become a Hagraven and she is often in service in some way to a Daedric Prince.” Emily once again got the distinct impression that these were terms she was expected to understand and so she asked no further on the matter.

In the distance lay a ruined stone fort. It spanned the road and looked as though it once acted as a waypoint of sorts between Riften and the neighbouring settlements. As they drew nearer Emily saw banners hanging from the ramparts. They were blue, ragged at the edges and depicted the head of a bear.

“Hold there, outsider,” a man in blue livery called down to them, “State your business.”

“We’re just passing through,” Emily called up to the man, “How far is it to the next town?”

“Not a town, traveller,” replied the man, “But Shor’s Stone is just a few miles down the road. You’ve picked a bad time to go out for a stroll though. Kyne’s winds blow wet and stormy this night.”

“Indeed,” Emily said, “May we pass through?” The man looked at them appraisingly, lit by the lantern he carried which cast a faint light upon them.

“You may,” he said at last. Emily thanked him and they continued.

“That was the symbol of Windhelm,” Serana remarked, “That’s miles from here though.”

“Windhelm,” Emily said thoughtfully, “That’s the hold Ulfric Stormcloak is Jarl of. Then those must have been Stormcloaks.”

“I saw a band of them while I was passing through Rorikstead,” Serana remarked, “Looks like they’ve moved their little campaign southwards. They’re probably trying to cut off supply routes from Cyrodiil. Weaken the Empire’s grip on Skyrim.”

As they crested the next hill they saw the faint lights of a village in the distance. There looked to be no more than twenty buildings. Some were built right up against the side of the mountain while others lay further out on the plains. Emily pushed her wet hair out of her eyes and looked over at Serana. “Maybe we should stop here?” she suggested.

“I think that sounds like a very good idea,” Serana replied. Her own hair was lank and clung to her pale skin. Water dripped from the ends of her cape and sleeves. Finn, however, seemed unconcerned and stood on Emily’s shoulders, sniffing the air. His fur was damp and stood up in little spikes on his head and back.

It was another hour before they reached the village. By now they were both wet through. At the centre of the village was a well with several wooden buckets stacked up against its stone edges.

“I guess we’d better find an Inn,” Serana said, looking at each of the buildings in turn.

“Umm, about that?” Emily began, “I don’t actually have any money. It kind of got stolen from me when I was returning to the Fort.” Serana stopped. “But,” she looked around, “Maybe we can find some other accommodation?” Serana followed Emily up and down the empty streets.

“Maybe someone will let us stay the night,” Emily suggested.

“The night, maybe, but how do you explain our wish to stay the day as well?” Serana pointed out.

“Fair point,” Emily conceded, “I guess are travel requirements are kinda unique.”

Their search took them towards the foot of the mountain. Emily followed the winding path that led further up and away from most of the dwellings. The vegetation was more sparse up here and the path was well worn. Several crates were stacked one on top of the other and a pickaxe leaned up against the nearest crate.

“How about in there?” Emily asked, pointing to the dark opening of a cave.

“A mine?” Serana replied, “Wouldn’t exactly be my first choice but it has to be better than staying out in this.” She pointed up towards the heavens from which the rain still fell steadily.

The air in the mine was dense and heavy. Ahead of them the ground gave way to a wooden bridge that spanned the length of the mine. They crossed it and followed the path hewn from the rock down further into the mine. Lit lanterns hung from the ceiling and stood at corners of the path, lighting their way. At the bottom was an area where the rocky ground had mostly been flattened out. Judging by the wooden logs surrounding an empty firepit Emily judged this to be the area where the miners would take their breaks. A pile of firewood stood in one corner and Emily and Serana gathered it together, throwing it on the firepit. Emily pulled her tinderbox from her pack and within a few minutes a small fire glowed at the centre of the firepit. Emily removed her helmet and bracers, setting them down at the edge of the fire. Finn shook himself, sending little droplets of water cascading from his pelt. He got down off her shoulders and curled up near the fire.

“We’d better see about getting dry,” she said to herself as she wandered away from the firepit. At the edge of the cave lay several knapsacks. Emily opened the first one and began to rummage through the contents. From the knapsack she pulled a jerkin that looked decidedly too big for her, two pairs of breeches and a faded long sleeved top.

“Here,” she said as she handed the jerkin and breeches to Serana before disappearing behind a conveniently placed rock with her own top and breeches. She re-emerged a few moments later dressed in the dry clothes which were, as she imagined, a little on the big side. Serana looked quite different dressed in traditional peasant’s clothing, her wet hair still clinging to the sides of her face. Emily found some metal rods and fashioned a drying rack of sorts from them. She took their wet clothes and placed them on the drying rack as close to the firepit as she dared. Serana was sitting down on one of the logs at a distance from the fire she considered safe. Emily sat a little nearer, warming her hands on the flames and getting her hair as close as she dared.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Serana remarked, “I don’t want to have to cast a frost spell on you if you should set yourself on fire. I don’t think you’ll find it all that pleasant.” Emily sat back from the fire. Perhaps letting it dry naturally would be a better strategy after all.

“Could you teach me how to do that?” she asked Serana, “To cast those icy spikes.” Serana smiled.

“I think that might be a little beyond your skill level at the minute,” she replied, “I could teach you something easier though. Something which could be useful.”

“Well, I’m game,” said Emily, “What did you have in mind?” Serana stood up and made a curious gesture with her hand. A purple fire billowed up from nothingness, accompanied by a strange unearthly sound. At its centre something howled and when the fire died away a spectral wolf stood there. Finn let out a startled squeak and darted into one of the darker corners of the mine. The wolf regarded them with the same fierceness as a corporeal wolf might. Its eyes burned brightly in its head and it paced the floor restlessly as though awaiting a command. Serana made another gesture and the wolf collapsed in a glowing mesh of light and vanished.

“Wow, what was that?” asked Emily as Finn hesitantly re-joined them.

“That was a familiar,” Serana replied, “Mages summon them in battle to act as their allies.”

“And you can teach me to summon one?” Emily asked.

“I can try,” Serana smiled, “Come over and stand next to me.” Emily got up and joined Serana on the opposite side of the cave.

“First, you need to make the summoning gesture,” Serana instructed, “Like so.” She made a curious arching motion with her hand, punctuated by a thrust of her open palm outwards against the empty air before them. “You make the shape of the Daedric letter Oht,” she explained, “It symbolises the Oblivion gates and from that, the act of summoning as these gates allow Daedra and other allies used by conjurers to pass through from their realm to ours.”

“But, aren’t Daedra bad?” Emily asked.

“That’s…a difficult question to answer,” Serana replied, “But good and bad aren’t words you can really apply to the Daedra. Their realms are so far removed from our own that them and their actions can’t really be described as either.”

“I see,” Emily replied though in reality her answer served more to confuse her.

“When you make the symbol of Oht you’re preparing to open a small temporary Oblivion Gate,” she explained, “But nothing will happen until you envision what you want to bring through the gate.”

“But why a wolf?” Emily asked, “When I imagine Oblivion I think of demons and big beasts with goat heads.”

“The shape is up to the caster,” Serana replied, “What you are actually summoning is a low ranking beast Daedra. One without the ability to reason. Like an animal.” Emily listened as she continued. “By forcing it into your chosen shape you meld its will with yours and it will follow any command it’s given.”

“And how do I do that?” Emily asked.

“Imagine the form you wish it to take and imagine pushing it into that form and bringing it into existence,” Serana replied, “Do this as you complete the summoning gesture. If you do it right the portal will open and your familiar will come forth.”

Emily sat for a moment, contemplating the form of her familiar. She thought of the animals she was familiar with, either locally or through watching wildlife documentaries. The animals she encountered in her native Somerset were hardly what you’d call battle beasts. No, something from the wilds would probably be a better choice. Perhaps a lion. Powerful jaws and claws would certainly be an asset. Or maybe something heavier. An elephant. But she looked around the mine. Perhaps summoning an elephant in such a small space would not be advisable. Then another animal came to mind, a favourite of hers among the myriad animals she’d watched on the wildlife channel. She got to her feet.

“You’ve thought of something?” Serana asked with a slight smile. Emily nodded. She clenched and unclenched her fists, preparing herself for what she was about to do. She set her mind to imagine the creature she’d chosen, willing it to form before her as she made the summoning sign with her left hand. Nothing happened. She glanced over at Serana.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“It might take a few tries,” Serana replied, “Try again.”

Emily set herself to imagining the creature once again, her left hand arcing in the same pattern she’d seen Serana form. She thrust her palm forwards into the air and this time felt a shockwave blast forth into the air.

“That was better,” Serana remarked, “You need to make the sweeping motion fluid. Magic is a little like a poem or a song.”

“Yeah, that’s what Angeline said too,” Emily replied. She took a deep breath and focused on the space in front of her. She made the gesture once more, arcing her hand and completing the gesture. The air before her fizzed and crackled. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She concentrated hard on its centre where purple flames were beginning to erupt, towering higher and higher. Then from that fiery gate came a hissing growl. Two bright pinpricks of light made up the creature’s eyes as it stepped forth from the dissipating portal. Its long spotted tail lashed from side to side and its spectral spotted fur rose up on its back as it hissed at them both. Emily felt a tendril of thought that seemed to stretch between herself and the creature. It felt tenuous.

“You need to strengthen the bond between yourself and your familiar,” she heard Serana say, “And whatever you do, don’t let it feel any fear you feel. You need to show it you're confident or it might become unbound.”

“And if that happens?” Emily asked.

“Don’t think about that,” Serana replied in a whisper, “Try and link your mind with it. Give it a command. Say it out loud if that helps.” Emily drew herself up into what she hoped was a confident pose.

“Sit,” she said as though this were an unruly dog she was training. To her great surprise the cheetah sat down on its furry haunches. She felt the bond between them wax in strength. It was looking at her with those burning eyes. Emily swallowed, allowing herself a slight smile. The cheetah rose to its feet and Emily’s smile faltered. She hadn’t told it to do that. In that instant the tendril broke and the cheetah snarled. Emily stumbled back against the cave wall. It paced back and forth, hissing. Serana’s eyes darted from it to Emily. Then the cheetah ran at her. Emily cried out, closing her eyes. She expected any second to feel its paws knock her to the ground and jaws clamp shut on her neck. Instead she heard the cold scrape of metal and a savage snarl. She felt a blast of wind and when she opened her eyes Serana stood before her, dagger drawn and breathing heavily.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked, sheathing her dagger. Emily nodded.

“What happened?” she asked.

“It sensed your fear and broke its bindings,” she replied, “When a Daedra becomes unbound it acts on its own will, usually turning on the one who summoned it or whatever living thing happens to be near.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. Serana shook her head.

“Don’t be,” she replied, “Conjuration magic takes time and practice to master. That was…actually pretty good for a first try. What was that creature by the way?”

“A cheetah,” Emily replied.

“Hmm, that’s not something I’ve heard of before,” said Serana, “Anyway, practice makes perfect.”

“Maybe we could try something a little less dangerous,” Emily suggested.

“Maybe,” she replied, “But rest first. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Chapter Text

Emily was woken early in the morning by the sound of heavy boots on the wooden walkway above. The fire had burnt down to glowing embers which lay nestled in the fire pit. Emily pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.

“Damn it,” she heard Serana whisper close by, “Come on.” Serana took her arm and led her over to a darkened corner of the mine. Emily’s mind was still half fogged with sleep but the sound of the heavy boots descending the rock path snapped her back to full wakefulness. They watched as five men in miner’s clothes, carrying pickaxes, reached the bottom of the mine. One of them nudged another and pointed at the firepit filled with glowing embers.

“Someone’s been in here,” he said in a low voice, “Agrenor, go check the supplies.” The second man made for the group of knapsacks in the corner of the mine.

“Spare picks are all still here,” he said appraisingly as he counted the number of pickaxes leaning against one of the crates. He knelt down and opened the nearest knapsack, rummaging through the contents.

“Hey, look at this,” said another of the men, a youth. He was holding up Serana’s red long sleeved shirt and cuirass, “I think our intruders might still be here.”

“Keep your voice down, boy,” snapped the eldest member of the group, a man with a long grizzled grey beard and bald head. Emily heard Serana breathe in sharply as one of the men took a step closer to their position. She looked up to see her eyes bright as she stared intently at one of the men. At first Emily thought her thirst had gone unsated for too long but then she noticed the small gestures she was making with her right hand. They were small, almost imperceptible. Emily saw the man frown, as though he were struggling to comprehend something. Then he slowly started to back away from the rock they were hiding behind. It was then Serana started to murmur in a low, singsong manner.

“These intruders in your mine are not to be feared,” she intoned, “Nor are they or their belongings to be disturbed. You will forget you saw them when they leave the mine.” No physical change seemed to come over the men but the youth holding the clothes put them back on the drying rack and one by one they took up their pick axes and got to work. Serana stood up and led Emily out into the centre of the room towards the firepit. None of them men took notice of them and carried on with their work.

“They shouldn’t bother us now,” said Serana as she sat down on one of the logs. Emily looked around at the men at work.

“What exactly did you do to them?” she asked, “Did you enthral them?” Serana shook her head.

“Not really,” she replied, “True enthrallment robs you of your free will. They can come and go as they wish. They just don’t see us as anything of importance.”

“How long before it wears off?” Emily asked.

“I should be able to maintain it until this evening,” Serana replied, “Spells that alter the mind tend to last a long time when cast properly. They just need to be reinforced every so often.”

The miners, as Serana promised, were completely unperturbed by their presence and indeed, they did not seem to take them under their notice. Instead they spoke among themselves. It seemed to Emily that “office chatter” for want of a better word, was the same wherever you went. They spoke a great deal about their families, their children. One of them, a man with greying beard and hair was telling his friend, an Orsimer with short black hair how he took his eldest son out hunting and he felled his first deer. Another was complaining to one of his colleagues about his wife.

“And every time I get home after a long day of hauling iron out of this pit it’s the same story,” he said, “The moment I set foot in that house she’s on at me to attend to some task or other. Last night it was the wagon, ‘Could you fix that squeaky wheel so it doesn’t drive me crazy next time we head out to Riften?’ The night before the roof of the pigsty was leaking. Tonight I’m sure she’ll have thought of something else that isn’t working right in her eyes.”

“Oh, you poor poor thing,” smirked the Orc, “Sojolf, if you were married to one of the women in the Stronghold I came from then you’d have a right to complain.”

The man, Sojolf, scowled and returned to the ore vein he was mining. Emily glanced over at Serana. She looked as though she was supressing a laugh.

As lunchtime drew near Serana got up and made her way over to the knapsacks. She rummaged about in one of them and pulled out an apple and some bread.

“Here,” she said, tossing the apple to Emily as she crossed back over to where she was sitting, “Not much of a lunch I know but eat up.”

“But, it’s not ours,” Emily replied, glancing over at the miners who had taken no notice of the pilfered lunch.

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly go out and buy lunch,” Serana reminded her, “And you have no money.” Emily turned the apple over in her hands.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” she said after a moment’s thought.

“Good,” Serana smiled, handing her the bread.

“Hey, speaking of food,” Emily replied, “When did you last feed?”

“On the way to the Fort,” Serana answered, “Don’t worry, your blood is safe for now.”

“Yeah, about that,” Emily said, “Isran wasn’t exactly happy about that. Next time I’ll have to hide the bite marks better.” Serana smiled.

“I guess next time I could bite you somewhere it won’t show,” she suggested. Emily chuckled.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough. Emily spent much of it practicing with her magelight spell and throwing small stones at the walls.

When evening drew in the miners left the mine one by one. When the last one had packed up his gear and departed Serana got up and crossed the room to where their gear lay on the makeshift drying rack.

“One of your better ideas, Emily,” she smiled as she took her gear from the rack and made for the large conveniently placed boulder that stood in the corner. Emily quickly changed back into her armour and stowed the borrowed clothes back in the knapsack.

“So, are you ready to go?” Serana asked. Emily nodded.

They left the mine and followed the cobblestone road out of the village. At the edge of the town stood a watchtower not unlike the ones they had seen outside Riften. However, unlike the ones outside Riften, an air of quiet hung over this one and there was no light burning at the top.

“Is it just me or is there something creepy about this building?” Emily asked.

They ventured a little closer. It was then Emily saw the skeletal remains of a soldier in familiar blue livery. A shiver ran down Emily’s spine.

“Stormcloaks,” she mouthed to Serana. Then she added, in a whisper, “What do you think happened here?” She wasn’t quite sure what compelled her to speak in a whisper but it didn’t seem right to speak in anything louder.

“Well, from what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen of this rebellion for myself,” Serana replied, “I would guess an Imperial patrol came through here.” She crossed over to the watchtower.

“Hey, where are you going?” Emily hissed.

“Just having a look around,” Serana replied, “There might still be some supplies the Imperials missed.”

Emily followed Serana across the threshold. The base of the watchtower was sparsely furnished with a wooden table and chair and a few crates stacked together under the wooden staircase.

Serana picked up a letter and opened it.

“It was Imperials,” she said, handing it to Emily to read as she returned her attention to the table. On it lay several blank sheets of paper, a quill and a half empty pot of ink. She spotted a small green bottle and picked it up, passing it to Emily to put in her pack.

“Should we check upstairs as well?” Emily asked, gesturing to the staircase.

“It can’t do any harm,” Serana replied. They climbed the wooden stairs that led them up to the top deck. As they climbed higher a putrid stench pervaded the air. At the top they found the source: the decaying body of a rebel soldier was sprawled against the wooden railings. Serana grabbed Emily’s hand. “Emily, get back downstairs,” she said urgently.

“Why?” Emily asked.

“No time to explain, just do it,” Serana replied.

They hurried down the stairs but as they reached the bottom flight Emily heard the sound of steel scraping against steel. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Serana ready an ice spike on her palm.

“Now might be a good time to practice that familiar spell of yours,” she whispered to Emily. Emily gulped. She’d only managed it once and that was in a quiet empty mine with only her vampiric tutor and the crackling fire for company. And even then things hadn’t gone particularly well. Still, she raised her hand and made the summoning motion, concentrating on the shape and form of her familiar. Now that she had seen it once before imagining it was less of a chore.

There was a shockwave of energy which resonated in the air before her. Purple fire sprang up and within that fire she saw her familiar take form, spotted spectral fur rising along its back as it bared its fangs in a snarl.

They advanced down the stairs behind the familiar. Then Emily saw it. It was one of the skeletons she had seen lying in the dirt outside the watchtower. Except now it was standing glaring in at them, a dark energy swirling about its skeletal form. It was carrying a blade and when it moved its bones grated against one another. It advanced upon them, vacant eye sockets locked on them. Emily drew her dagger.

“Go,” she ordered the familiar, trying to remember what Serana had told her the night before concerning confidence. The effect on the familiar was instantaneous. It leapt forward at the intruder, mouth open and claws spread to attack. The skeleton raised its blade but the cheetah was quicker, knocking it to the ground where it bit down on the skeleton’s skull. Another raised skeleton joined the fray, this one holding a bow and arrow.

The cheetah snarled as one of the arrows buried itself in its flank and it abandoned its quarry who now lay broken in the dirt. It charged at the second skeleton with startling speed but the skeleton drew a dagger. The dagger plunged into the animal’s belly and it collapsed in a ball of energy and faded. Serana threw the ice spike balanced on her palm and struck the skeleton between the eyes. As soon as the spike made contact with the bone the skeleton fell apart, bones scattering across the earth.

“Wh-,” Emily said in disbelief, looking across the yard where the bones lay in the dirt, “What, why did that happen?”

“I think some necromancers visited after the Imperials left,” Serana replied, “Either that or one of their battlemages has a twisted sense of humour.” Emily bent to examine the nearest skeleton. The dark energies had dissipated and although the grinning skull still unnerved her it no longer held the same malevolence as before.

“I knew when we saw the body upstairs,” Serana continued, “I thought when we found these skeletons that we’d just stumbled on an attack that must’ve happened a long time ago. The body upstairs disproved that.”

“You’re starting to sound like a crime scene investigator,” Emily remarked, “So, do necromancers make a habit of removing all the flesh before they raise the dead?” Serana shook her head.

“Not always,” she replied, “Weaving the flesh to do your bidding as well as the bones beneath takes stronger magic. They were probably a novice.”

“But why do that?” Emily asked, “Why do that at all?”

“Necromancers like to meddle with people,” Serana replied, “Both living and dead.” Emily shuddered.

“Let’s move on,” she said.

The cobblestone road curved sharply as it led them down the hillside. Leaving the watchtower behind, the still of the night once more enveloped them and a cool wind blew down the road, blowing with it leaves from the nearby trees. Trying to put the image of the reanimated skeletons out of her mind, Emily turned her attention to the pine needles drifting across their path, coaxed from the trees by the wind. They were flecked with gold when they caught the ball of magelight and turned over and over in the air like dancers. The sight of them served to slow her rapidly beating heart and return her to a state of calm.

“So, where do you have in mind for us this morning?” Serana asked.

“I think we’ll make it as far as Darkwater Crossing,” Emily replied, “Maybe Pargran so long as we don’t run into more stormy weather.”

“I passed through Darkwater Crossing on my way to the Fort,” Serana remarked.

“What’s it like?” Emily asked.

“Warm,” Serana replied, “For Skyrim at least. The area around it is volcanic. There are geysers, hot springs. Probably a good place to relax if you don’t mind the giants and bears.”

“I still don’t know how we’ll pay for a room in the morning,” Emily admitted, “That encounter at the watchtower was a lot more terrifying than it was lucrative.”

“Something will probably turn up,” Serana replied.

“I wish I had your optimism,” said Emily, “When I used to travel back home I always had a travel plan. I’d always have the room booked ahead, all the travel arrangements set up.”

“That sounds…a little boring,” Serana replied.

“No, no, I still had fun,” Emily said, “The days were my own. I’d take myself off to explore the surrounding countryside, wander to my heart’s content and then I’d come back for a cooked meal and a warm bed.”

“Didn’t you ever just leave home in the morning?” Serana asked, “Never knowing where you’d end up by the end of it all?” Emily laughed, shaking her head.

“Certainly not,” she replied, “So we didn’t have bandits, reanimated skeletons and necromancers lurking behind every corner waiting to jump us but it still wasn’t safe to just wander out like that.”

“You sound like you’d rather have the life of a merchant,” Serana chuckled.

“Believe me, Serana, I would,” Emily replied, “More than anything though I want to go home. I don’t think that’s possible though. It’s so far.”

“Every journey begins with a single step,” Serana reminded her.

“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” said Emily, “No, for now I’m just going to focus on Moth Priests and surviving long enough to have a stab at finding my way back.”

‘Who knows,’ she thought to herself, ‘Maybe these Elder Scroll things will have something in them that will help me get home.’

The cobblestone road led them to a crossroads. The boards of the signpost standing at the side of the road were weathered and the painted letters were chipped in places. They took the road that would lead them westward, down towards the volcanic tundra. In the distance they could hear the rushing sound of a waterfall mixed with the sound of crickets chirping at the roadside. Emily elected to stay on the inner half of the road for the outer half sat on the edge of a steep ravine and the ground dropped away sharply not more than two feet from the road’s edge. It afforded them an amazing view of the volcanic tundra which stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see and far far in the distance on the North-eastern horizon they could just make out the faint lights of a great city.

“That must be Windhelm,” said Emily, glancing down at the map, “And another couple of hours should bring us to Darkwater Crossing.”

As it was it was just over an hour and a half when they reached the stone bridge that would take them into Darkwater Crossing.

“How many hours have we got?” Serana asked. Emily glanced at her watch.

“Just over four,” she replied.

“We should be able to make it to Pargran then,” Serana said, “We could take a short cut across the tundra and cross the river just before we reach the village.”

They crossed the bridge that led into Darkwater Crossing and made their way through the village. It was another mining settlement but, according to Serana, rather than iron they hauled up a copper coloured metal called corundum. She described it as a metal that was stronger than iron but weaker than steel which it was a component of.

The village was comprised of about ten buildings. Four were given over to the miners and the Overseer, one was an Inn and the other five looked to be farmhouses. The land, not suitable for growing many crops, was given over to goat farming. Emily noted the odour of sulphur which only got stronger the further they went through the village.

“Come on, through here,” said Serana as she vaulted over one of the low fences designed to keep the goats penned in. Emily followed her through the paddock, past the sleeping animals. She joined Serana at the far side. Beyond the fence the village ended and the tundra began. She could see steam rising up in steady columns in the distance and the smell of sulphur was almost overpowering. The land was rugged, deep gouges and cracks cutting deep into it in places from which more steam escaped.

They vaulted over the fence and struck out North across the tundra. Growing in clumps were plants Emily could identify as some kind of ground-growing grape-like fruit. There were many others, however, that she could not identify. There were flowers with golden petals with a purple centre that resembled a snake’s tongue, red root-like plants that spread out from their centre in all directions for at least a yard and spindly brown dead-looking bushes. She stooped and plucked one of the low growing grapes.

“Do you know if these are safe to eat?” she asked, showing it to Serana.

“Jazbay grapes?” she replied, “Yes. They’re not very flavourful though from what I’ve heard.”

“Well, food is food,” said Emily as she shrugged her shoulders. Her stomach had been grumbling since they left the mine. She popped the grape into her mouth and soon realised that Serana was right. The grape was almost absolutely tasteless.

They reached Pargran as the sky was just beginning to lighten. It was a reasonably large village built around the lumber mill that sat on the banks of the White River. Log fences separated the village from the wilderness and were manned by several guards wearing the Eastmarch livery. They found an Inn which stood on the main street and stepped inside. They took a seat in a shadowy corner so as not to draw attention from the barmaid serving at the bar at the far end of the Inn. Finn was crouched between them, sniffing his way across the table on his search for scraps. He’d grown since Emily rescued him from the riverbank and the slaughterfish intent on eating him.

“He is a cute little guy,” said Serana, reaching out to the otter, “So long as you keep your fingers away,” she added hastily as Finn squeaked, snapping at her fingers.

“Finn,” Emily scolded him, “Serana’s our friend. We don’t bite friends.” A moment later she chuckled, “Well, unless it’s necessary.”

“So the experience didn’t traumatize you for the rest of your mortal life?” smiled Serana.

“I admit I was scared at first,” Emily replied, “I won’t lie. But you didn’t drain me and you bandaged me up after. That warrants trust.”

“Though you could argue I was just saving you for the next meal,” Serana replied. The tone of her voice sounded faintly playful but Emily got the impression she was testing something.

“Ahhh, but so far there hasn’t been a next time,” Emily reminded her, “Bottom line is, I trust you.”

Emily’s stomach grumbled loudly. “Wish I’d eaten more of those grapes,” she said, “Even if they were a bit bland.” She drummed her fingers on the wooden table top, deep in thought. Then she sat up.

“Ping, got an idea,” she said, “I could see if they’ve got any work going down at the lumber mill. Once I’ve made enough I can get us a room and something for me to eat.”

“Alright,” Serana replied.

“Come on, Finn,” said Emily, resting her hand on the table. The otter scampered up her arm onto her shoulder, “You can play in the river while I make us some septims.” The otter squeaked in her ear as she left the table and pushed open the door, stepping outside into the morning sun.

She followed the dirt track down towards the lumber mill. A tall woman with dark hair wearing a faded green dress was hefting a large log into place on the wooden track that ran the length of the mill. Once in place she threw the lever standing to one side which set the metal blade in motion at the end of the platform and started the log moving toward the blade. Emily approached the woman.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any work available, would you?” she called up to her.

“If you’re willing, I’d be glad of it,” she replied, “Give me a hand with these logs.” She gestured to the pile of unsawn logs lying to one side. “I’ll pay you for your time.”

Emily joined her on the platform where she handed Emily a billhook, a curved metal hook attached to a wooden handle. The two of them plunged the hooks into the next log, hefting it up onto their shoulders and dropping it into wooden platform.

“Do you run this place by yourself?” Emily asked as they worked.

“It’s just me and my husband now,” replied the woman, “We used to have a group of men working with us. But then this war began. They all upped and left because they were ‘true sons of Skyrim.’” The woman gave a derisive snort at this.

“What’s this war all about?” Emily asked as they turned their attention to another log, “I only came here a few weeks ago.”

“It’s pointless and stupid like most wars,” she replied, “A group of rebels don’t like the idea of Skyrim being a part of the Empire.”

“So, they’re fighting for independence?” said Emily.

“Exactly,” replied the woman, “Well, that and they want to overturn the law banning the worship of the Nord god, Talos.”

“Gosh, I thought I’d left rubbish like this behind when I left home,” Emily said under her breath.

Emily toiled away for much of the morning, helping the woman heft logs from the pile to the sawmill platform. Halfway through the morning a man joined them, logs stacked high on his wagon and helped them load them up. He was a tall man with short dark hair and broad shoulders.

“Shame you’re only passing through, traveller,” he said, “Makes the work a lot easier having an extra pair of hands at the mill.”

Emily thanked them and the woman handed her a pouch full of gold. She left the mill and returned to the Inn, cheerfully waving the bag of gold in Serana’s direction. When the room was paid for there was just enough left in the bag to allow for a heaping helping of venison stew and a good bottle of strong mead.

Chapter Text

It was another two night’s worth of travel before they saw the College of Winterhold appear on the horizon. It was on an island apart from the rest of the city, a towering edifice of stone with a single stone tower rising high above the others. A crumbling stone bridge connected the college to the mainland.

“So this is where magic is taught in this land?” said Emily as they gazed out over the frozen wastes at the college. She reached into her pack and pulled out her hooded jacket. “Might as well look the part,” she continued as she pulled the jacket on.

“Is that what the dashing mage about town is wearing this era?” Serana joked. Emily just stuck her tongue out at her.

“Well, good to see they’re more mature at least,” Serana continued. They had passed through the small settlement of Amol which was little more than a fortified hamlet nestled between the mountains and the ice floes. Now a long icy road ran from where they stood to the city of Winterhold.

“From what I read it used to be the capital city before the Great Collapse,” said Serana as they followed the road.

“What’s the Great Collapse?” Emily asked.

“Some kind of catastrophic event that led to much of Winterhold collapsing into the ocean,” Serana replied.

“Sounds horrible,” said Emily.

When they entered the city limits Emily at first thought they had wandered into a ghost town. There were only four intact structures standing. Winterhold could hardly be called a village, let alone a city, in her opinion. One of the buildings had large tapestries hanging from either side of the door which bore the symbol of Winterhold: a crown. Another building looked to be an inn while another acted as the base of operations for a general store. The fourth, she could only assume, was purely residential. There were another five buildings in various stages of disrepair. One was barely more than a stone foundation buried deep in the snow. At the far end stood what appeared to be a gatehouse of sorts but instead of a gate there was a stone carving of an eye with five spikes spreading out from it and a woman standing guard. She watched them with sharp eyes as they approached, arms folded. She was dressed in flowing red robes and when they reached the foot of the slope that led to the gatehouse she put out a hand to stop them.

“Halt,” she commanded, “You cannot enter the college. The gate is sealed to the inexperienced and the bridge is treacherous. You shall not pass.”

“Who does she think she is? Gandalf?” Emily muttered out of the corner of her mouth to Serana.

“We need to get some answers,” Serana spoke up, “It’s a matter of importance so if you would kindly let us pass.”

“The college doesn’t tolerate impudence,” replied the woman.

“Serana, I really don’t think we should antagonise her,” Emily said quietly.

“If you wish to pass, show me you have some degree of skill in magic,” continued the woman, “A test, if you will.” Emily and Serana looked at one another.

“What do we have to do?” Emily asked.

“Cast the spell I ask of you,” the woman replied, “I’m sure that will be simple enough.” She eyed Serana. “You first,” she said, “Cast a fear spell upon the sigil.” She pointed at the stone eye on the floor of the gatehouse. Emily watched as Serana made a curious gesture similar to the one she made when manipulating the minds of the miners. A red light flashed on her palm and hit the stone sigil.

“Very well, you pass,” said the woman. She turned to Emily, “And now you. Conjure for me a flame atronach.”

“A…what?” Emily asked.

“A flame atronach,” the woman repeated.

“I don’t think I know that spell,” Emily replied.

“You may go,” the woman said over her shoulder to Serana. She looked over at Emily.

“And she’s coming with me,” replied Serana.

“Not without completing her test, she’s not,” said the woman, “I am not authorised to let anyone within the college walls who has not completed such a test.”

“Do you have a spell tome?” Emily asked, “I’m sure I could learn it.” Her reply sounded a good deal more confident than she felt but the woman took a book from her robes and handed it to her.

“Just give it back when you’re done,” she said. Emily opened the book and found the section regarding flame atronachs. There was an illustration of what she guessed to be the atronach emblazoning one of the pages. It looked like a woman made entirely from magma, floating just inches above the ground. Her feet were clearly not built for walking and twisted horns curved from her head. The symbol to initiate the spell was similar to the one used to conjure familiars but was more swaying in form and put her in mind of a dancing candle flame. The spell instructed her to imagine the concept of a flickering fire as she cast the first symbol. That was to be followed by another symbol which resembled the horned head of some unknown creature. This, she learned, was the symbol for Daedra.

Emily took a deep breath, steeling herself as she stood at the centre of the walkway. She raised her hand, tracing the summoning shapes in the air before her. She felt a warm glow burgeoning around her outstretched palm. The air around her palm then began to glow a fiery red and her hand shook. She felt a pinching sensation behind her eyes. It grew into a dull ache and her arm dropped back to her side as a wave of fatigue swept over her.

Emily shook her head. She took a deep breath and raised her hand once more. Serana watched as she traced the shape once more. She felt the ache building up in behind her eyes again but she ignored it, focusing instead on thoughts of fire and burning. Her hand started to shake and she narrowed her eyes. “I can do this,” she muttered to herself, “I can.” The shaking in her hand grew more violent.

“Emily, stop,” Serana said, making her way quickly over to her. There was a loud bang and Emily was thrown backwards by the force as flames billowed up in front of her. A creature made of glowing embers and burning fire stood in the centre of the flames, piercing eyes fixed upon them. Then it was gone as quickly as it had emerged. The woman atop the gatehouse lowered her hand and walked down the slope towards them.

Emily was breathing heavily. She gradually realised she was lying in someone’s arms and she looked up at Serana’s worried expression. Her vision seemed to swim slightly before her eyes and her right hand hurt.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked.

“I think so,” Emily replied.

The woman regarded the space the creature of flames had once occupied.

“Well, you passed the test,” she said, “Even if you did nearly set an unbound Daedra upon the good citizens of Winterhold. It’s well I was here to oversee the matter.” Serana frowned at the woman.

“You’re free to head inside whenever you wish,” she continued.

Emily got to her feet, albeit rather shakily and handed the book back to the woman as she and Serana passed.

“That was very dangerous,” Serana said as they crossed the bridge, “You took a big risk back there.” Emily looked down at the burns on her palm and fingertips.

“I could’ve gone in alone,” Serana continued, “Got the answers and met you at the Inn.”

“I just wanted this to be something I was good at,” Emily replied.

“What do you mean?” Serana asked. The bridge on either side of them was badly damaged and possessed no walls to separate them from the abyss below. Emily made sure to cross this gap quickly and avoid looking down.

“Well, I’m not exactly the best fighter,” Emily replied, “Nor am I much of an alchemist. But I can do magic. Not much yet but it’s what I’m most comfortable doing. I didn’t want this to be yet another dead end. And I didn’t want to let you down.” At these last words Serana turned to face her.

“You English and your chivalry,” she said, frowning. Emily stifled a giggle which soon became an outright laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Serana asked, a faint tinge of annoyance in her voice.

“It’s just kind of ironic,” Emily replied, “Once upon a time the English were indeed known for their chivalry.”

They reached the large wrought iron gates which opened as they reached them. Ahead of them, in the centre of the courtyard, stood a large statue of a robed figure wielding magic and before him was a large stone pool from which rose a column of blue light. Beyond that lay a great wooden door which led into the main college buildings. Emily stared up at the great stone tower. The same eye symbol could be seen on the stained glass windows at the top of the tower.

“Wow,” Emily breathed. They pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. As the door swung shut behind them they looked around. They were standing in an antechamber with a high ceiling. Ahead of them lay another set of metal gates and beyond that was a large room with a glowing stone basin, not unlike the one outside, standing at its centre. On either side of them were two smaller doors.

“Can I help you?” a voice echoed through the chamber. The speaker was a man of advanced age wearing a sweeping set of turquoise robes. He had long white hair and a beard that reached to the middle of his chest.

“We’re looking for information,” Emily explained, “Concerning a Moth Priest. We figured here was our best bet.”

“And you’d probably be right,” replied the man, “My name is Tolfdir, I am the head of alteration magic here at the college.” He held out his hand for Emily to shake. “Information, well,” he continued, “You should speak to Urag. He’s the head librarian. Runs the Arcaneum through that door there.” He pointed to the door off to their right. “You’ll have to wait until morning to speak with him I’m afraid. You’ve picked rather a late hour to be visiting.”

“Is it alright if we wait in the library?” Emily asked. Tolfdir nodded.

“You may,” he replied, “Just mind that you leave it as you find it. Urag is very protective of the Arcaneum and its contents and I’d warn you not to get in his bad books.”

The Arcaneum was truly a sight to behold. On its lower floor were rows upon rows of books stacked on shelves which reached a good thirty feet up the walls. There were small alcoves dotted here and there in the walls which were furnished with a bench and table. On these tables were stacked yet more books. There were no candles in the Arcaneum and instead balls of magelight hovered at regular intervals around the room. At the heart of the room was a set of stone spiral stairs which led up to the higher levels. Here were placed more shelves as well as an array of benches and worktables with all manner of strange instruments sitting atop them. The very air around them seemed to hum with magic. As Emily stood, staring in awe at the shelves, she began to imagine the sheer wealth of knowledge that must surround her, inscribed into each of these books.

“You’d better let me have a look at your hand,” said Serana, breaking her out of her reverie. In that instant she had almost forgotten the throbbing pain in her right hand. They sat down at one of the tables at the edge of the room and Serana took her hand in hers. Her hands were cool and she gently touched a fingertip to the centre of the burn. A warm light spread out from her fingertip and ran over the burn. Emily’s hand felt as though it had been submerged in cold water and when the light dissipated the burn was gone.

“Thanks,” Emily said.

“About before,” she said, “I didn’t mean to sound so…off. You just worried me, that’s all.” It was then Emily noticed Serana’s hand still resting lightly on hers. These were not exactly the words she’d expected from the vampiress.

“I’ll be more careful,” she replied. Serana smiled. She got up and made her way over to one of the bookshelves.

“Might as well do a little light reading,” she said, “We’ve got a few hours to kill yet.” Emily got up then and joined her at the bookshelves. The books came in a disparity of sizes and a plethora of different colours. Their titles were written on the spines in a fine looping script. She ran a finger over the spines. There was a book on the various creatures observed in Skyrim’s wilderness, one on the study of ancient Nordic runes, one on the proper cultivation of magical flora and another on the theories concerning the aurora present in Skyrim’s night sky. When she came to a section on ancient Nordic structures a sudden thought came to her. She lifted down a copy of ‘Magical Structures and What they Mean’ and flicked through a few pages. Perhaps the answers she sought on returning home lay between the covers of one of the Arcaneum’s books.

The first chapter covered stone carvings known as ‘Doom Stones’ or ‘Standing Stones’ dotted around Skyrim’s landscape. Emily quickly flicked through this chapter. Another chapter detailed the Oblivion Gates and their role in the Oblivion crisis at the end of the Third Era.

After a time Emily set the book down on the table and resumed her search. Over the course of half an hour she gathered several likely-looking books including one called, ‘Wayshrines of Tamriel: A Guide to Travel.’ She sat down at the table and picked up the first book.

* * *

Serana glanced out the stained glass windows at the lightening sky. It would still be another hour or so before the sun rose above the leaden seas. The book she had chosen was, ‘The Life of Uriel Septim VII’. She had resolved to learn as much as she could about the time she had lost in Dimhollow Crypt. She was already several chapters in, absorbing each piece of knowledge and committing it to memory. She turned over another page and continued to read.

She glanced over at Emily. Several books lay open on the table in front of her and Emily herself was slumped across the table, her head resting on her folded arms. Serana hadn’t spent much time in the company of mortals but she noted that Emily was a strange one. She’d told her she was an outsider, far from home but the gaps in her knowledge weren’t ordinary. Still, she was pleasant company.

Serana got up and crossed the room to where she sat. She picked up one of the books that littered the table. It showed a diagram of a wayshrine and the magical energies that powered it. Another book entitled, “The Murkmire Portal: Fact or Fiction” lay open on the table top. She picked up the books and returned them to the nearest bookshelf. Then, as an afterthought, she unfastened her cloak and draped it across the sleeping woman. Emily mumbled something in her sleep but didn’t wake.

Serana returned her attention to, ‘The Life of Uriel Septim VII’ which still lay open on the table. It would be morning before long and then, perhaps, they could get the answers they sought.

* * *

Emily that morning was woken by the sound of two voices talking among themselves.

“This one is telling you, it is about time they let us do something useful with our magic,” said one, “Brelyna, you are serious about magic, yes? Perhaps you could say something to Tolfdir or Faralda. Use the influence from your house.”

“J’zargo, I keep telling you,” said the second, a woman, “My connections to house Telvanni hold no sway here.”

The voices faded as the duo made their way over to the bookshelves on the far side of the room. Emily sat up, Serana’s cloak slipping off her shoulders as she did so.

“Good, you’re awake,” said Serana from her place across the table from her. Emily rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“How long was I out for?” she asked.

“Few hours,” Serana replied, shrugging her shoulders, “You must have needed it.”

“Has our guy shown up yet?” Emily asked. Serana looked across the library where the two: a Dunmer woman and a Khajiiti man were still deep in conversation.

“I don’t think so,” she replied, “Just a couple of students.” Emily followed Serana’s gaze. Elves she was already familiar with but the man standing there was unlike any she’d seen before. His face was feline in appearance with mottled grey and black fur and a tail protruded from under his robes. This must be the Khajiit Serana mentioned once in their travels.

The doors at the far end of the library banged shut and an Orcish man strode along the length of the library towards the desk that stood at the head of it. Serana nudged Emily before getting up from the desk. Emily followed her over to the Orsimer who was sorting scrolls into small cubby holes behind the desk. He looked up when he saw them.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if there was something you could help us with,” said Emily.

“If it’s about books, I’ll need to see your library passes,” replied the Orc, “I don’t lend out books to non-College members.”

“It’s not about books,” said Emily, “We’re looking for information. About a Moth Priest. Have you seen one recently?”

“A moth priest,” replied the Orc, “Normally I’d say you were foolish, asking for such a person here in Skyrim given that their monastery lies all the way in the South but today you just happen to be in luck.” Emily and Serana exchanged hopeful glances. “Yes, I’ve seen him,” continued the Orc, “He came in here a few days ago to study. Then he left for Haafingar. To catch a caravan headed south by all reckoning. If you hurry, you might catch him.”

“Thank you,” said Emily. The Orc turned away from them and refocused his attentions on the scrolls. Emily and Serana returned to their table in one of the more shadowy corners of the library. Serana drummed her fingers restlessly on the table. Emily felt she had an idea of what was bothering the vampiress.

“We’re going to have to move fast tonight,” said Serana, confirming Emily’s suspicions. Emily nodded.

“If only there were a quicker way,” she replied, “If we could just go straight there as the crow flies without having to navigate around the mountains.”

“We could go along the coast,” Serana suggested, “It would speed things up a little at least.”

“True,” Emily agreed, “And maybe it would be less dangerous than going by road. Unless Skyrim has a kraken problem of course.”

Emily sat in thought for some time. “As the crow flies,” she murmured to herself. She looked over at Serana. “Serana?” she said, “Can you fly?” Serana met her gaze. “You know, like your father did when he turned into the bat monster?”

“Vampire Lord,” Serana corrected her, “Yes, I can. At least, I have that power, but-.”

“But what?” Emily asked.

“It’s not a power I like to use,” Serana replied, “Besides, that wouldn’t solve your problem. I can’t carry you like that. And I’d rather not become your pack mule.”

“I understand,” said Emily, “Hmm, there has to be a way.” She rested her head on her folded arms, looking around at the other patrons of the library. The Khajiiti man was sitting in one of the alcoves, a small bottle of mead lying open next to him as he thumbed through the pages. A tall woman with long blonde hair was practicing incantations as she made intricate gestures with her hand while a tutor oversaw the spellcasting and the assistant librarian was sweeping dust off the stairs. Emily frowned thoughtfully. An idea began to take form but she wasn’t sure if it was even possible. This was a world with its own rules, its own laws of magic. She got up and Serana watched as she made for one of the bookshelves.

She returned some time later carrying a large dusty volume. In a looping script on the cover were the words, “Practical enchantments: An Enchanter’s Guide.”

“What’ve you got there?” Serana asked.

“It’s just a thought and I make no promises,” Emily replied, “But if it works we might just have us a quicker way of getting to Haafingar.”

Emily began to thumb through the pages. There were ones that fell under the category of housekeeping such as self-sweeping brooms, dirt repellent plates and a heat enchantment with the purpose of quickly drying laundry. Still more were designed to help the aspiring adventuring mage which included a torch that never went out and a lantern that would give out light even when completely submerged in water. At last Emily found what she was looking for. It was a levitating charm. Emily got up.

“Here, hang on to this,” she said, “I’ve got to make a quick dash to the general store.”

“Hold on, you seem to be forgetting we’re still short on money,” Serana called after her as she dashed towards the door.

“It’s alright, I’m sure I’ve got something I can barter for it,” Emily called back before sprinting from the library. Serana looked down at the book which lay open before her.

‘What does that girl have in mind?’ she thought to herself as she read over the incantation.

Emily returned about half an hour later wearing a triumphant grin. Tucked under one arm was a broom.

“A broom?” said Serana. Emily nodded.

“If this works, this is our ticket to Haafingar,” she replied, “No mountains or rivers will stand in our way. I just need to get one more thing but I’ll need your help with this one.”

“What do you need?” Serana asked.

“Something called a grand soul gem,” Emily replied, “I’ve never seen one before so I wouldn’t know what to look for.”

“We should ask to see the college’s resident enchanter then,” said Serana.

After a brief conversation with the Orsimer librarian they learnt that the enchanter was a man named Sergius Turrianus and that he usually frequented the Hall of the Elements where he taught classes on enchanting. Serana accompanied Emily to the Hall of the Elements where a couple of classes were already underway. The elderly man they’d met the night before was teaching ward spells to a group of eager students while the woman from the gatehouse was casting fire balls at the wall opposite while an Argonian and two Nords watched. A man stood apart from the others, dressed in sweeping yellow robes. He had a bald head and he was reading from a book balanced on his palm.

“Are you Sergius Turrianus?” Emily asked as they approached him.

“I am,” he replied, “And what can I help you with?”

“We’re looking to buy a grand soul gem,” said Emily.

“Well, as long as you make it quick,” replied Sergius, “I have a class starting in five minutes.” He produced a large crystal from his robes. “Filled?” he asked.

“Yes please,” Emily replied. She looked to Serana and she nodded to her. Emily produced a pouchful of gold and handed it over to the man.

“Where did you get all that money?” Serana asked as they left the Hall of the Elements, Emily clutching the filled grand soul gem in one hand and the broom in the other.

“I sold off the rest of those gems I found in Dimhollow,” she replied.

“I hope it was worth it,” said Serana.

“I hope so too,” Emily replied.

On the top floor of the library there stood an arcane enchanter. It was a strange looking device that resembled a sturdy ebony table standing on four clawed feet. At the back of the table sat a horned three-eyed skull with a green orb sitting atop it. It was flanked on either side by a row of candles which tapered in size down the length of the rows. Glowing symbols were emblazoned across the table top which was scored with deep grooves. She recognised one of them as the conjuration symbol. Emily placed the broom, the book and the filled soul gem on the table.

She studied the book carefully and practiced the hand gestures for several minutes and the incantation for several minutes more. Lastly she took the time to imagine the concept in her mind’s eye that she hoped to imbue into this simple wooden broom: the concept of levitation, of flight. She cleared her throat and focused on the broom. She ran her hands over it, making the gestures described by the book. A glow formed around the broom. She willed her breathing to slow and even.

‘If I can conjure a flame atronach I can do this,’ she repeated to herself as she completed the gestures before beginning the incantation. The words flowed and weaved themselves about the broom, seeping into every knot, every crack. She closed her eyes and focused on the ideas of soaring through the skies unhindered. Again she repeated the incantation. The light glowed brighter and her gestures became more pronounced.

Serana watched as the broom rose slowly, unsteadily at first, from the arcane enchanter. When Emily felt the wood grain graze her palm she opened her eyes. The soul gem was empty, devoid of all light and the broom hovered gently against her palm. A grin spread across her face as she lifted it from the enchanter.

“I’ve done it,” she grinned, “I’ve really gone and done it.”

“What exactly have you done?” Serana asked.

“I’ve made a way we can fly to Haafingar,” Emily replied, “Assuming it works properly. I’ll test it tonight as soon as the sun sets. If it works, we’ll fly to Haafingar in style.”

“May I ask, why a broom?” Serana asked.

“We had stories back home of wizards that used brooms to get around,” Emily replied, “I wasn’t sure if the same rules applied here so I had a look at that book.” She gestured to the copy of ‘Practical Enchantments’ lying open on the arcane enchanter.

“Well, if it works then we really stand a chance at finding this priest,” said Serana.

“We’ve got a whole eight hours before the sun sets,” said Emily as she picked up the book, “I was wondering, would you give me another lesson in magic?”

“Alright,” Serana replied, “But considering your track record of summoning unbound beings I have something else in mind.”

“What might that be?” Emily asked.

* * *

“What I’m going to teach you is a base level version of the ice spike spell I use,” said Serana, “It’s a spell known as frostbite and when used properly it can slow down your foes and chill them to the bone.” They were standing in the Hall of the Elements facing one of the stone walls. Finn was sitting on Emily’s rucksack in the corner, watching the lesson with interest. On the wall was a sigil bearing the symbol of ice.

“Destruction magic is magic in its rawest, most primal form,” Serana explained, “Because of this you need only the will and the power in the form of magicka to use it. There are no incantations and few gestures which are reserved for the most powerful spells. This is why lesser creatures such as ice wraiths and chimeras can harness its energies.”

“So, what do I need to do?” Emily asked.

“Use your hand as a focal point and channel the will to cast ice from it,” Serana replied, “Will the ice into being and command where it flows. Use it to strike the sigil on the wall there.”

Emily stood before the sigil and raised her hand, imagining the cold of the Skyrim weather, the sight of snowflakes and the cold winds that blew unhindered on the roads of the frozen north. At first she felt nothing. She concentrated harder and felt the familiar pinching sensation behind her eyes and ears. Then a chill spread down her arm and into her fingertips. A mist gathered about her palm and she focused on sending a chill ice-filled wind at the sigil. Snowflakes danced above her fingertips as the chill set in deeper. Then an icy blast erupted from her palm and shot at the sigil. It struck the stone, leaving it covered in shimmering ice.

“Not bad,” said Serana appraisingly, “See if you can concentrate it a bit more.”

Emily spent the remainder of the morning and the earlier part of the afternoon practicing ice magic in the Hall of the Elements, pausing for a quick lunch in between. Late in the afternoon she found a quiet corner of the Hall of the Elements to curl up in, in preparation for their flight.

At last the sun set and Emily watched the fading glow receding from the sky from one of the library windows. The enchanted broom leaned against the window ledge. She picked it up and made purposefully for the door. Serana followed her down to the courtyard. Emily took a deep breath before mounting the broom.

“Wish me luck,” she said to Serana. She kicked off from the ground and felt the wind whistling past her as she rose slowly into the air. She looked down at the receding ground and the vampiress watching her from the courtyard. She gripped the broom tightly and leant forward experimentally. The broom moved forward through the air, haltingly at first but she found that the further she leant forward the faster it went. She then tried tilting slightly to one side and the broom veered over to the right.

“Whoa!” she cried out, gripping tightly to the handle as she felt herself slipping off to one side. She struggled back onto the broom and tilted slightly in the opposite direction. The broom followed her instruction. She decided to take it on a short flight around the courtyard. It took some time to get used to the highly responsive nature of the broom but soon she was swooping around the courtyard. A sudden mischievous thought struck her and she veered to the right, swooping down towards Serana and zipping past her where she stood.

“College looks great from up here,” she called down as she reached the top of the courtyard buildings.

“Think we can head out soon?” Serana called up to her. In response Emily swooped back down into the courtyard and brought the broom up next to Serana.

“Alright, I’m ready,” she said, “Let’s go!” Serana got on the broom behind her and Emily steered it out of the courtyard and into the open skies of Skyrim.

Chapter Text

The cold wind whipped at Serana’s cloak, causing it to billow out behind them like a flag and the sharpened pellets of snow stung her face and caught in her hair. Yes, this was certainly a swifter way to travel but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. But, she reminded herself, she could at least be grateful for avoiding the mortal pitfalls of frostbite and shivering. The same could not be said for her companion.

Emily shivered uncontrollably as she sat astride the broom. The wood of the handle was already coated with frost and her hands gripped the handle so tightly she feared they might freeze there. Ahead of them was cloud and behind them was cloud and it was with a sinking feeling that she realized that the ground below was steadily becoming more and more obscured.

“I’ll have to fly us lower,” she shouted over the wind which blotted out most of the sound. Serana didn’t reply but held on more tightly as Emily tilted the broom forwards and they began a slow descent. After a time they flew out of the cloud and saw Skyrim stretched out below them. On one side of them lay the Sea of Ghosts and on the other were towering grey mountains which gave way to the pebbled beaches of the Northern reaches. Below them they could make out the lights of small coastal villages and far ahead of them the great lights of Dawnstar twinkled in the distance. Finn was curled up in Emily’s hood and nothing in this world or the next could convince him to move.

“I can’t wait until we hit Haafingar,” Emily said through chattering teeth, “It’s not much warmer but it would probably feel like a desert in comparison right now.” She watched as the lights of Dawnstar drew nearer until they were flying over the coastal city. Lights meant warmth and Emily found herself wishing they had the luxury to stop in at the Inn and bask in the heat of the firepit.

Over time it seemed that all thought had seeped from Emily along with the last hints of warmth. Her fogged mind could just about handle the idea of keeping the broom going in a straight line and no more. An unpleasant shudder brought her back to some semblance of alertness.

“What was that?” asked Serana.

“I don’t know,” Emily replied, “I think it might have been the broom.” These last words she spoke under her breath. “Come on,” she coaxed the broom, “Don’t give out on me now.” The Sea of Ghosts did not look an inviting place to swim and that was provided they survived the fall. By now they were skirting the edge of the marshes and could see the outline of the stone archway atop which stood Solitude. Emily began to steer the broom inland. They’d already decided that flying the enchanted contraption into the city would be a bad idea with magic and its practitioners not being looked upon terribly favourably by most outside the College. Instead they hoped to land in the foothills outside Solitude. But it would seem that the broom had other plans. As Emily steered them towards the forest the broom lurched to one side, almost unseating them.

“Come on, broom, you’ve come this far,” said Emily, “Don’t fail us now.” But the broom was carrying them away from the forest near the city and was trailing westward. Emily steered against it, trying to make a very wobbly beeline for the trees. It shuddered again and dropped a few feet. Emily felt her stomach doing somersaults as she struggled to keep control. A burst of sudden speed sent them hurtling forwards as she lost control of the broom.

“Emily, look out for that tree!” cried Serana. But it was too late. The broom and its two passengers crashed right into the stout trunk of the pine tree. Emily let out a yell as she plummeted towards the ground and she shut her eyes, anticipating the awful crunch that was to follow. But it never came as someone had ahold of her wrist. She looked up to see Serana hanging on to one of the topmost branches.

“All right, Shalidor, any ideas on how we get out of this mess?” she said through gritted teeth. Emily looked down from their dizzying height. She noticed that one of the branches was just a few inches below her dangling feet. It looked sturdy enough but then again, the broom looked like it worked for most of the trip.

“I think I can reach this branch below us,” Emily called up, “Um, then I could lift you down and we could figure something out from there.”

“You don’t sound very sure about that last bit,” Serana replied.

“Well, I daren’t rely on the broom to get us down,” said Emily.

“Fair point.”

Emily turned her attention to the tree trunk and looped her other arm around it before lowering herself down onto the branch below. To her immense relief it remained solid and she wedged the broom between two branches before reaching up to Serana. Serana reached down and put one arm around Emily before letting go of the branch. Emily backed up against the tree trunk as Serana lowered herself onto the branch.

“Okay, now what?” asked Serana. Emily glanced down at the ground below and wished she hadn’t.

“Now, we climb down,” she said, “That branch looks easy enough to get to.” Emily grabbed the broom and tossed it down to the ground before edging her way around the trunk, gripping the bark firmly. She clambered down onto the lower branch and Serana followed. This branch too was sturdy enough and they considered their next move. They were still some twenty feet above the forest floor.
It took them another fifteen minutes to negotiate the branches below and once Serana deemed she was close enough to the ground she leapt off the branch and dropped to the forest floor below. Emily did not feel so sure of herself.

“Come on,” Serana called up to her, “You can do this.”

“It’s awfully high yet,” Emily called back. The awful truth was that there were no more branches within reach.

“I’ll catch you,” Serana called up.

“Now I know you’re joking,” Emily replied, “I think I’d be a bit too heavy. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way down.” She glanced down again. “Somehow,” she muttered. She edged round the trunk and slowly began to slide down the trunk. Things went smoothly enough until she reached the ten foot mark. Then the descent became just a little too fast for her liking. Her fingers scrabbled at the bark and she let out a yell as she slid unceremoniously down the last ten feet, landing in a large scraggy bush. She leapt up a moment later with a yelp. The bush just so happened to be a particularly thorny specimen.

“Damn, I’m going to be pulling thorns out of my backside for days,” she muttered. She leant down and picked up the inert broom from the forest floor before walking rather stiffly out of the underbrush. Serana followed, trying to keep a smile from her face. Emily glanced over her shoulder at her vampiric companion.

“Go ahead,” she muttered, “Might as well get the laughter out of your system before we reach the town.” Serana chuckled. “Know any good spells?” Emily asked ruefully.

“I’m afraid this is one problem my healing magic can’t really help you with,” she replied. Emily huffed a sigh and set her sights on the town of Dragon Bridge which lay ahead of them, picking thorns out from the spaces not adequately protected by her armour as she walked.

“And even if you did crash us headlong into the forest,” Serana added, “You got us here in one night. So thanks.” Emily smiled.

“No problem,” she replied, “I think we’ll stick to journeying on foot for the time being though, huh?”

“I think that would be best,” Serana agreed.

When they reached the road they elected to head for Dragon Bridge first considering its close proximity to their ill-fated landing site. It took them only half an hour before they reached the town. By now the only ones to be found outside were the town guards. Emily approached one of them as he stood at his post on the great stone bridge from which Dragon Bridge took its name.

“You’re out late, traveler,” he said, eyeing Emily.

“We’re looking for someone,” Emily replied, “A Moth Priest. Have you seen anyone like that come through here?”

“Aye,” replied the guard, “About two hours ago. He was with a group of waggoneers headed south.”

“Thanks,” said Emily as she and Serana hurried over the bridge. They followed the cobblestone road down towards the river. A slight wind blew up towards them from the river and Serana put out a hand to stop Emily.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“I can smell blood,” Serana replied, “It’s fresh, definitely human.” Emily drew her dagger as they advanced along the road. They spotted the wagon first. It was turned on its side and one of the wheels lay in the dirt several feet away. The horse lay dead, still in its harness and its blood pooled on the frosty ground. Among the wreckage they found the bodies of two of the waggoneers. One of them had skin as white as paper and an emaciated appearance.

“What happened to him?” Emily asked.

“They drained him,” Serana replied, “Completely. Look.” She pointed to a third body lying in the wreckage. This one had fierce red eyes that glared at them unseeing and pale skin that contrasted with the dark robes he wore. Emily knelt down next to the vampire while Serana examined the wreckage of the wagon. It was then Emily spotted the corner of a piece of paper sticking out from his robes. She pulled out the letter and opened it.

“Serana, take a look at this,” Emily said, holding the letter out to the vampiress.

“Forebears Holdout?” she said, reading through the letter, “That’s not a name I’m familiar with. Let’s hope it’s close by. The name’s familiar though. Malkus.”

“Who is he?” Emily asked as they got up and made for the bridge.

“An influential member of my father’s court,” she replied, “A lesser vampire but still someone to be reckoned with. If he’s there we’d better be careful.”

It was then they spotted the blood. At first there were only a few spatters on the stonework but as they reached the far side of the bridge they found more plastering the cobblestones. It was Serana who spotted the pair of drag marks in the dirt.

“I think we might be on the right track,” she said. Emily nodded. They followed the trail of blood off the road into a forest clearing. Dotted throughout the clearing in a vaguely circular arrangement were tall carved stone monoliths. In the shadows, between two spreading pine trees was an opening in the rockface. Emily crept closer to the cave opening, staring into the depths. Beyond the rays of the magelight orb balanced on her palm there was naught but darkness.

“Are you ready?” Serana asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Emily replied.

Gravel crunched under their boots as they followed the narrow tunnel down into the depths. Creepers hung in thick ropes from the ceiling and moss grew lush and green on the rocks. After a time they spotted the light of a fire glowing in a brazier which marked a turning point in the tunnel. Emily paused to extinguish her magelight and continued by the light of the brazier. At last the tunnel opened out into a vast cavern. Emily stared ahead at the underground fort that lay half buried before them. They were standing on a balcony which possessed similar architecture to what she’d seen in the depths of Dimhollow. A luminous turquoise orb swirled atop the highest tower, distorting the air around it into a shimmering haze.

“What is that?” Emily asked.

“It looks like a weyforce,” Serana replied, “An orb of magic built to keep others out or contain something.”

“Like a Moth Priest?” Emily asked. Serana nodded. They observed the stone fort before them and soon spotted the thralls patrolling the walls. Emily knew what the most logical course of action was but hated the thought of it. ‘Still,’ she reasoned as she pulled her bow from off her back, ‘If we wait around here long enough one of them will find us eventually and it will just mean killing them at close quarters.’ She nocked an arrow and let it fly. It struck the first thrall in the head and he tumbled from the battlements onto the earth below. Emily heard a horrible snarling bark from near the underground river and looked down in horror to see two hounds cloaked in darkness charging up the hill towards them.

Serana drew her dagger and charged at the first hound. It leapt at her, all gnashing teeth and red eyes. Serana thrust the dagger up through the beast’s chest and it snapped wildly at her face, saliva dripping from its maw. Its jaws missed her by mere inches and it fell to twitching as she threw it to the ground. The second one had its attention focused on Emily and was stalking just out of her reach as Emily faced it, dagger drawn, unwilling to take her eyes off it for a second. Suddenly it surged forwards. Emily sidestepped the beast and cast the summoning symbol, drawing her familiar from its native realm. Its blue spotted fur hackles were raised and it lunged at the monster, fangs sinking deep into undead flesh. The beasts snarled savagely as they tore at one another. The spectral cheetah broke free from the death hound’s jaws and buried its fangs in its throat. The death hound let out a horrific howl which died in a gurgle.

By now all semblance of stealth had been cast aside so they stormed the fort. Arrows bounced off the surrounding rocks as they followed the path that ran along the side of the river towards the stone archway built into the wall. The cheetah familiar streaked on ahead and Emily heard its snarls as it chased down the other thrall atop the battlements. They hurried on into the courtyard and up the stone steps that led to the tower.

The first thing they saw when they reached the top was the glowing orb. At close quarters it pulsated out a palpable energy and at its centre stood a man in grey robes. Standing by the orb were two vampires. They turned to face them. The first, a brutish-looking male Orc, spoke.

“Well, well, looks like we have company,” he growled. Then his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Lady Serana, what are you doing here in the company of this mortal?”

“My business is my own,” Serana replied, “Release the Moth Priest.”

“Hmm, so it is as my Lord Harkon feared,” the Orc said in a low voice, “You have betrayed us. I didn’t want to believe it of you.”

“Spare me your sentiments, Malkus,” Serana replied, “We both know who you truly serve.”

“Insolent brat,” snarled Malkus. Lightning crackled about his fingertips and he launched a bolt of energy at the two of them. Emily raised a ward as she hurried forwards, pushing Serana to one side. The lightning was absorbed by the ward which quickly shattered with the sound of breaking glass. Emily felt her hair standing on end as the residual energies crawled over her armour.

Serana recovered her balance and summoned an ice spike on her palm, throwing it at the Orsimer vampire. His assistant ran at Emily and she countered with her blade. She dodged the steel dagger aiming for her gut and cut a neat gash in the vampiress’ arm. Emily spotted her familiar over the vampiress’ shoulder charging for Malkus. Emily ducked as another swipe was aimed at her head and she rolled to one side in time to see her familiar tear Malkus to the ground. Then it turned and snarled at the vampiress. For a moment Emily thought she saw a flicker of fear in the vampiress’ eyes. Then the familiar charged and the Vampiress ran, abandoning her quarry. Her palm flashed with dark energy and she vanished from sight. The familiar plunged on unperturbed into the gloom, its snarls fading as it raced across the cavern after the vampiress.

Serana offered a hand to Emily and pulled her to her feet. They crossed the flagstone floor to where Malkus lay. His chest had been torn open and Emily looked away, stifling a fresh wave of nausea. Serana leant down and rummaged around in the vampire’s pockets until she found what she was looking for. She tossed a small carved stone to Emily. The grooves were lit with the same turquoise light which made up the weyforce.

“What is this?” Emily asked.

“A weystone focus,” Serana replied, “We need to find the source. There’ll be an indentation. It’ll disrupt the weyforce and we can get the Moth Priest back to Isran.” Emily nodded.

They began their search of the tower. Emily found several coffins lined up along the wall. Apparently Malkus and his assistant had been camped out here for some time while they waited for the right time to spring the ambush. At last they found what they were looking for. A stone altar sat on the stone bridge above the tower and Emily pushed the weystone focus into the indentation. The effect was immediate as the weyforce dissolved. But instead of the jubilant thanks she expected from the Moth Priest, the man spoke in a voice that sound like that of a sleepwalker.

“I serve my master's will,” he intoned, “But my master is dead, and his enemies will pay!”

“Look out,” cried Serana as the Moth Priest loosed a gout of fire from his palm. Emily dodged and ran down the stairs.

“What do we do?” she called to Serana.

“Use your ice magic,” she called back, “We need to disable him without killing him.” Emily ducked as a fireball whizzed over her head and exploded against a stone column. Small rocks rained down on them and Emily feared part of the ceiling may collapse. She summoned the icy energies and aimed them at the enthralled priest. The ice magic enveloped him, slowing him. Emily kept her focus on the magic, stopping only to dodge another fiery blast. Another icy blast froze one of his feet in place and he staggered, nearly overbalancing.

“Wait, stop, I yield,” he cried. His voice sounded clearer now and Emily let the ice dissipate from her fingertips though she held her hand aloft as she made for the Moth Priest. Serana approached from the opposite side, equally wary.

“That wasn’t me you were fighting,” the man said in bewilderment as they reached him, “I could see what I was doing but I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Are you alright?” Emily asked.

“Yes, I think so,” the man replied. He still sounded a little dazed and he sat down heavily on a large rock, “And to whom do I owe my rescue from those savage vampires?”

“My name’s Emily,” Emily replied, “And this is Serana.”

“And my name is Dexion Evicus,” said the man, “A Moth Priest of the White-Gold tower. Though I have no idea what those vampires wanted with me.”

“We know,” Emily replied, “Because we need you for the same reason.”

“And so enlighten me, young one,” said Dexion.

“We need you to read an Elder Scroll for us,” Emily explained, “We’re with the Dawnguard in the fort in the south east of the Rift.”

“An Elder scroll, you have one?” exclaimed the Moth Priest in mild surprise. Serana tapped the scroll which was still in its holder strapped to her back. “I see,” he continued, “Well, we had better make haste then. Experience tells me that when two forces are competing for control of such a scroll something big must be afoot.” Emily hesitated.

“We’ll have to wait until nightfall,” she said, “The uhh…moonlight, it suits us better.” The old man laughed.

“There is no need to try and fool me,” he said, “You think I can’t tell a vampire when I see one.” He looked over at Serana. She crossed over to where Emily stood.

“What we do next depends on one thing,” she said, “I’m going down to check the tunnel. I’ll be back in a minute.” With that she made for the stairs which would take her down into the courtyard.

“A vampire working against other vampires,” Dexion said thoughtfully, “Hardly unheard of but unusual to say the least.”

Serana re-joined them a few minutes later.

“There’s no sign of her,” she said as she neared them, “The vampiress that was with Malkus. I’m afraid we have to assume your familiar didn’t catch her.”

“She’s going to go back to the Castle, isn’t she?” said Emily. Serana nodded.

“You’re going to have to go on ahead,” she continued, “Take Dexion and head back to the fort.”

“Hold on, you’re suggesting I leave you here alone?” said Emily, “No, not happening.”

“Emily, she’ll be back at the Castle before the end of tomorrow,” Serana replied, “You need to get a head start. If father were to return with her, I don’t think I need to explain why that would be a bad situation.”

“And if he does return with her and finds you here,” Emily began but Serana silenced her.

“Unlikely,” she replied, “She’ll need tonight to get her back to the castle. I’ll be out of here the moment the sun sets and catch up with you. Besides, I can defend myself in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I know, Serana,” said Emily, “Just, be careful, alright?”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” smiled Serana, resting a hand on Emily’s shoulder, “You’re a ruthless vampire hunter, remember?” Emily laughed as she looked up at the vampiress. Then she hurried forward, hugging the vampiress tightly. Serana froze for a moment. Then she relaxed slightly. Emily stepped back.

“I’ll see you soon, then,” she said, “Take care, Serana.” Serana nodded and watched as Emily led the old man down the stone steps and through the caverns to the sun-drenched forests and hills beyond.

Chapter Text

Emily and Dexion left the cave and emerged into the morning sun. The clearing looked quite different in the daylight. Much of the ground was covered in lush green grass and the rocks were thick with moss.

“It’s good to get out into the fresh air,” said Dexion, a note of relief evident in his voice, “So, onward to the Rift I trust.” Emily opened the map.

“Going through Rorikstead and Whiterun would probably be our best bet,” she said, pointing to the locations on the map, “It’ll probably take us the guts of a week.”

“And the fort, what’s it like?” asked Dexion.

“Huge,” Emily replied, “Bigger than any castle I’ve ever seen. Turrets and ramparts and everything.”

“And who do you represent?” he asked, “Who’s your leader?”

“Isran,” Emily replied.

“And this vampiress, what part does she play in all this?” asked Dexion.

“She’s my friend,” Emily replied, “She’s the one who told us about the prophecy hidden in the Elder Scroll. We need to find out what it is so we can stop it.”

They left the cave behind them and followed the cobblestone road along the edge of the river.

“And you trust this vampiress, I take it?” asked Dexion.

“I’d trust her with my life,” Emily replied, “As it happens I already have several times.”

“Doesn’t seem to have done you much harm,” the old man noted with a chuckle.

By the end of the day they had reached the small farm steading of Rorikstead. It was a village comprised of ten or so houses, most of which were given over to farming purposes. The land surrounding the village was largely occupied by crops of various types and at the heart of the village stood the Inn. It was called the Frostfruit Inn and it was run by a father and son team though, Emily noted, the son seemed less than interested in helping out behind the bar.

Emily deposited some coins into the waiting hand of the innkeeper who showed them to two rooms near the back and provided them each with a steaming bowl of beef stew and a bottle of strong nord mead.

After eating the stew Emily sat by the glowing firepit. Finn, who had finally forgiven her for the wild and chilling flight over Skyrim’s northern holds, was now sitting on the arm of the chair, eating a piece of fish which he held in his front paws.

“Maybe she’ll catch up with us tonight, huh Finn,” she said. Finn nuzzled her fingers and squeaked.

“I hope so too,” she said. She glanced at her watch. It was already getting close to midnight.

“Well, no use sitting up all night,” she said, picking up the otter from the arm of the chair, “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

She retired to her room and set Finn down on the chair while she changed out of her armour and curled up under the blankets. Before long her eyelids drooped and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

It took another two days travel for them to reach the bustling capital city of Whiterun Hold and they booked themselves a couple of rooms at the Bannered Mare. Serana had still not caught up with them and Emily’s stomach was a tight ball of worry. She decided that if she did not turn up tonight she would head out and search for her though she discovered, with a sinking feeling, that she had no idea where to start looking. After dinner she sat by the fire for a time, watching the front door and perking up each time it opened only to be disappointed a moment later when one of the farmhands or merchants came in off the street and took a seat around the fire.

Before long she began to feel her eyes growing heavy and made for her room. Dexion was deep in conversation with a Redguard barmaid and the bar was a hive of activity. The noise was muted just a little when she closed the door to her room and sat down on the edge of the bed. After changing out of her armour she pulled the blankets up around her and nestled into the pillow.

The room was darkened, lit only by a small candle on the bedside table. Emily turned over in her sleep, pulling the pillow further under her head. A shadow swept across the bed and she mumbled something in her sleep. The bed sagged and she felt something touch the tip of her nose briefly, then the side of her face and her forehead. This continued in quick succession and it was starting to get faintly annoying. She swatted at whatever it was but it was unperturbed and resumed. She opened her eyes sleepily. As her vision came back into focus she saw a familiar pair of red eyes and a faintly amused smile.

“Serana,” she said, sitting up in bed.

“Thought it was about time I caught up with you,” Serana replied.

“Boy am I glad to see you,” grinned Emily, “What kept you? You had me worried.”

“I ran into some bandits on the first night,” Serana replied, “They didn’t give me too much trouble but they slowed me down.” She peered out through the open door of the room. “How’s the old man?”

“Making light conversation with the barmaid when I last saw him,” Emily replied. She glanced at her watch. “Should we head out now?” she asked, “We could probably make it to Riverwood.” Serana shook her head.

“One extra day won’t do us any harm now that we have the Moth Priest,” she replied, “And we’ve got enough of a head start now. My father won’t be able to pinpoint our location easily.” They settled back on the bed. Serana took out a book from her pack and began to read. Emily nestled back into the pillow.

“Say, you weren’t afraid I was going to abandon you, were you?” Serana asked, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” said Emily, sitting up, “No, no, I was just-.” Then she realised Serana was laughing.

“I’m just joking with you, Em,” she said. Emily felt the tips of her ears turning pink.

“So, we’re friends then, right Serana?” she replied. Serana nodded.

“You could say I’ve grown fond of you, mortal,” she joked. Emily paused. Something had been nagging at her for some time.

“In that case, Serana, can I tell you something?” she asked. Serana put down her book on the bedside table, noting the serious expression on Emily’s face.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“It’s about where I’m from,” Emily replied, “About England. I-it’s not that I ever lied to you. I couldn’t do that. But I didn’t exactly tell the truth either.” Serana raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to one side.

“What about England?” she asked.

“It’s not just across an ocean or anything,” Emily replied. She sighed, letting her shoulders slump, “You’re going to think I’m crazy. Gosh, if someone said to me what I’m saying I’d think they were crazy too. England…is in another world. Maybe even another universe.”

“Another world?” Serana repeated. Emily nodded.

“I didn’t come here by boat,” she continued, “I came here by a weird magic portal. I was out sketching rock formations in Norway. I walked through the stone archway there. I didn’t know it was an active portal. It spat me out here, or to be more precise, just outside Dragon Bridge.” Serana didn’t say anything for several minutes.

“You know how absurd this sounds, right?” she said.

“Believe me, I do,” Emily replied, “Wait, I…I have proof.” She reached into her pack and pulled out her phone. The battery was down by three quarters but thankfully it was still in working order. She pushed the power button and unlocked the phone.

“This is my phone,” she said, “A bit of earth tech. Back home virtually every human had one of these and we could use them to call one another. That side won’t work here though. There aren’t any satellites to transfer the signal. But the music will still work. And the gallery.” She opened up the music app and touched the play button next to one of the songs. At once a pop song began to play, throwing out sounds alien to Serana’s ears.

“What is that?” she asked.

“That’s music,” Emily replied, “Kinda different from Ragnar the Red, huh?”

“Just a bit,” said Serana. Then Emily opened the gallery and brought up several photos.

“And these are some pictures I took back home,” she said, “That’s London. And that,” she brought up another picture, “That’s the Eiffel tower in the neighbouring country of France.” She handed the phone to Serana and showed her how to flick through the pictures.

“And what do you call your world?” she asked.

“Earth,” Emily replied. For several minutes Serana didn’t say much as she flicked through the photos.

“Well, it does explain quite a bit,” she said at length, “I was surprised you didn’t know about the Elder Scrolls. And the college of Winterhold.”

“Common knowledge in this world, huh?” Emily replied. Serana nodded. “It feels…good to get that off my chest,” she continued, “It kind of felt…well, I felt like I was alone before. You know what I mean?” Serana smiled.

“Yes, I do,” she replied, “More than you know.”

“Do you mean being a vampire?” Emily asked.

“Partly that,” Serana replied. A note of unease had crept into her voice.

“Were you always a vampire?” Emily asked. Serana shook her head.

“That’s… a long story,” she said hesitantly.

“Well, we’ll be stuck here for a bit,” Emily replied, “That is, so long as you’re okay telling it.” Serana smiled.

“Haha, well, you did just tell me you come from another world,” she said, “Maybe it would be good for me to get a few things off my chest. Do you know where vampirism came from?” Emily shook her head.

“No idea,” she replied.

“The first vampire came from Molag Bal. He’s the Deadric Prince of Domination and Enslavement,” Serana explained, “She was not a willing subject. But she was the first. Molag Bal will bestow vampirism on those who are willing to subjugate themselves. But they must be powerful in their own right to earn his favour.”

“And how exactly did you become a vampire?” Emily asked. Serana looked down at the sheets and Emily noticed one of her hands clench briefly into a fist.

“It’s…not something I really want to talk about,” Serana replied. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “The ceremony was…degrading. But we all took part in it. Not really wholesome family activity.” Emily knew these last words were a cover up, an attempt at humour to hide the fact that she was hurting. On a sudden impulse Emily leant forward and rested her hand on Serana’s. Serana gave her what she hoped to be a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” she said. She got up from the bed. “Come on, you should get some sleep. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”

“Serana,” said Emily, “You don’t have to leave, y’know. You could stay.” She patted the bed. “And if you’re worried about keeping me awake or something,” she chuckled, “After the distance I travelled today I don’t think a full scale rock concert could keep me from falling asleep.”

Serana regarded the young woman with a raised eyebrow. She had no idea what a rock concert was but she sat back down on the bed nonetheless and picked up her book from the bedside table.

“I suppose I could use a rest,” she said, “Too bad they don’t rent out coffins here.”

“So vampires really do sleep in coffins?” said Emily.

“It hones the energies,” replied Serana, “It’s supposed to be good for us. I think I’d rather have soft linen any day. All that time in Dimhollow has really put me off small spaces.”

Once again Emily found herself full of questions for the vampiress but a yawn which she quickly stifled reminded her that she really needed the sleep. And so she nestled back under the blankets, soon surrendering to sleep. Serana read on for another hour, occasionally glancing at the mortal who lay fast asleep, one hand tucked under the pillow. Then she put her book down and let herself relax back against the pillows, closing her eyes.

* * *

It was another four night’s worth of travel before they reached the Fort. Dexion, though by no means a decrepit old man, was nonetheless slower than his younger companion and his much older one. Emily, despite herself, was filled with a nervous kind of excitement when the towering edifice came into view. Tonight they would learn what was contained in the Elder Scroll. She wondered what such a reading would entail. Perhaps it would be like when a shaman told the future from the fire or when a fortune teller reads tea leaves or a crystal ball. She kept pace with the two of them as they at last reached the stone steps that led up to the Keep.

They pushed open the wooden doors and stepped across the threshold.

“I’d better go get Isran,” Emily said to Serana.

“No need,” said a voice from above. They looked up to see Isran standing on the balcony above, hands clasped behind his back as he regarded the three of them.

“So, you actually managed to track down a moth priest,” he said, “I was starting to think you weren’t coming back at all. Thought it might have drained you before you reached Vernim Wood.” Emily frowned.

“’She’, Isran, and no, I was in no danger,” she said, “Look, let’s just get this reading done.” It was a lot easier to talk back to the Redguard when he was standing up there and she was down here. Isran left the balcony and a few moments later he had joined them in the main hall.

“Watch your tongue, Emily, and you,” he glanced at Serana, “I think I’ve already made myself quite clear how I feel on matters concerning your kind.”

“Perfectly,” Serana replied with a smirk.

“Very well, then,” he said, turning to the Moth Priest, “I trust your journey here wasn’t too traumatic.”

“Not at all,” replied Dexion, “These two have looked after me well. I trust you have the Elder Scroll for me to read?”

“I have it here,” said Serana, unbuckling the scroll’s container from her back and removing the scroll, handing it to Dexion.

“Ahh, yes,” he said, examining the scroll, “This is indeed an Elder Scroll. Well, if we are all prepared, I will read it and attempt to reveal the information you seek.” They watched as Dexion pulled open the scroll and stared at it for several moments. To Emily it looked as though nothing particularly of note was happening. It looked just as you might expect: an old man reading from an even older scroll. Then he began to speak.

“I see a vision before me of a great bow,” he said, “Wait, I know this weapon. It is Auriel’s bow, unmistakably. Now a voice whispers to me.” Emily strained her ears to listen but could hear nothing but the old man’s words. Serana and Isran were listening with rapt attention.

“From among the night’s children a dread lord shall rise,” continued Dexion, “In an age of strife when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness shall mingle with light and the day and night shall be as one.” Serana and Emily exchanged glances. Both felt certain they knew who the dread lord must be.

“The voice is fading and the vision shimmers and distorts,” said Dexion, “There is more, the secret of the bow’s power is written elsewhere. It is likely recorded in other scrolls.” He paused. “Yes, I can see them now,” he continued, “One speaks of the potency of ancient blood and the other contains the ancient secrets of the dragons. My vision darkens and I see no more.” At these last words Dexion rolled up the scroll. His face seemed to have aged in those few short minutes and he looked tired. “You will have to find the other two scrolls,” he said wearily, “Find them and bring them here to be read. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must rest.”

“Of course,” said Isran, “Take all the time you need, old man. There are some beds down the hall.” And with that he escorted the old priest from the room.

Emily took a seat on a stone ledge.

“So, any ideas where we should start looking?” she asked.

“Actually, yes,” Serana replied, sitting down next to her.

“Heh, could’ve said something a bit sooner,” Emily joked. Serana laughed.

“Yeah, while we were still old man-sitting,” she replied.

“So, where do you think we should look?” Emily asked.

“We’ll need to find my mother first,” Serana replied, “She’ll know where it is, or better still, she might have it herself.”

“But didn’t you once tell me you didn’t know where she went?” asked Emily. Serana nodded. “Then, how are we going to find her?”

“Before she sealed me away she told me she had to go somewhere safe, someplace not even my father would think to search,” Serana replied, “What she said was cryptic but she seemed to call attention to it.”

“Sounds vaguely riddle-like,” Emily said thoughtfully. She frowned. The two of them sat in silence for a time, contemplating the flagstones.

“The more I think about it,” said Emily, “The more this feels like this is one of these riddles where the answer is the exact opposite of what you’d expect.” Serana listened as she continued. “And if I wanted to hide from someone I’d first run as far from them as possible. So that would mean..”

“She hasn’t gone far at all,” Serana replied.

“What if…what if there’s some part of the castle she could hide in?” Emily asked.

“That’s,” said Serana, “Just crazy enough to be possible. There was a garden in the courtyard. I used to help my mother tend it. It was where many of our ingredients would come from.” Her eyes lit up as another thought struck her, “And father, he would seldom go anywhere near it. Said it was too peaceful.”

“So the castle then,” said Emily, “Wouldn’t that be really risky though?”

“Undoubtedly,” Serana replied, “But my mother’s no coward. I mean, I don’t think we’ll exactly trip over her there but it’s worth a look.”

“How will we get in?” Emily asked, “I’m banished and you’re not exactly on good terms with your father. Won’t it be a bit like walking right into a viper’s nest?”

“There’s an old disused harbour around the back,” Serana replied, “The old inhabitants likely used it to bring in supplies. There’s an escape tunnel that leads into the castle from there. That’s our way in.”

“We’d better leave tonight then,” said Emily. Serana nodded.

Chapter Text

The journey back to Castle Volkihar was a considerably long one which saw just over a week of travel. Each morning there was a different Inn and each night a long, seemingly unending road. By now, Emily was well accustomed to her new sleeping pattern and she and Serana would swap tales as they crested large hills and trekked through valleys and across the wild plains of Whiterun and Haafingar. On their eighth night they arrived at the Ice Water Jetty where the rowboat was still tied to its moorings. Serana got into the boat while Emily untied the boat and climbed in after her. Here they took up the oars and began their voyage across the Sea of Ghosts.

“What’s your mother like?” Emily asked. Serana took her gaze from the ocean ahead.

“She’s a talented alchemist and sorceress,” Serana replied, “Though perhaps not the warmest person you’ll ever meet. Living with my father will do that to you.”

“Were you two close?” Emily asked.

“I spent a lot of time with her when I was young,” Serana asked, “She taught me a lot of what I know about magic and alchemy. We confided in one another.” Serana smiled but it was a sad smile. “But then, when my father started to take an interest in that prophecy she just started to push me away. I’d come to see her in the garden but she was always busy.” She shook her head. “Come on, talking about my past isn’t exactly getting us anywhere.”

As they rowed further out to sea the foreboding silhouette of Castle Volkihar emerged from the dense mist surrounding them. They guided the boat around to the western shore to a small disused harbour. The stonework was crumbling in places and there was a half-submerged boat lying in the water between the two piers. As Serana got out of the boat she suddenly froze, eyes searching the harbour. “Ready your ward,” she warned, “I think we could be in for some trouble.”

An arrow embedded itself in the port side of the boat and Emily stood up quickly, causing the boat to rock ominously in the water. She readied her ward as Serana instructed and drew her dagger. Then she spotted them. There were three skeletons standing on the higher reaches of the harbour. Two had a bow and arrows while the third wielded some form of ice magic. Serana ran along the pier, her dagger drawn as she reached the stairs. Emily followed her as they raced up the stairs, dodging more arrows that bounced off the stonework.

The first skeleton Serana knocked to the ground, her dagger rending its skull from its spine while Emily confronted the second. She dodged to one side as it pulled a war axe from its belt and advanced on her before thrusting her dagger up through its jaw. The cold blue in its empty eye socks dimmed and it collapsed before her.

As she stepped back an icy shard struck her ward. The ward absorbed the icy spike and the ward remained firm. They circled the skeleton whose gaze darted between them. Then it began to wave its arms in complex formation. Serana’s eyes widened.

“Take cover,” she yelled. Emily just had time to dive behind a stack of crates before the skeleton thrust its hands skywards and a strong wind sprung up, swirling about the skeleton as snow formed in the winds and hail lashed the stonework. The wind howled fiercely as it scattered from the skeleton, forcing its way through the cracks between the crates, whistling as it went. Serana emerged from her hiding place and conjured a vampiric drain spell on her palm, casting it at the skeleton. It conjured a ward and the magic bounced off it, instead hitting Serana and knocking her backwards. Emily ran at the skeleton which turned just in time to see her dagger aiming for its bony neck.

The skeleton crumpled to the ground and Emily ran over to Serana.

“Are you alright?” she asked, helping the vampiress to her feet.

“I’ll be fine,” Serana replied, “I guess my mother was expecting company.” She gestured to the piles of bones lying on the snowy ground. “She must’ve raised them to keep watch. Stop anyone who should come looking.”

They crossed the stone upper level of the harbour to a wooden door and pushed it open. Inside the castle was dark and Emily conjured a ball of magelight before advancing onward. The walls were heavy with mould and cobwebs and the floor was cracked in several places. Somewhere ahead she could smell the unpleasant odour of stagnant water. Rats squeaked when caught in the pool of light and ran off at their approach, disappearing into nooks and crannies in the walls.

Something moved in the shadows ahead and red eyes pierced the gloom. As Emily readied magic on her palm it leapt from the gloom, all rotting skin and gnashing oversized teeth. Its jaws latched onto her arm and though the armour prevented the sharp fangs from piercing her flesh she found herself dragged to the ground by the death hound. She kicked out wildly as the beast slavered over her arm. One foot caught it in the stomach and it briefly released its grip. Emily rolled over and readied a conjuration spell. Her familiar appeared before her and at her command, it lunged itself at the death hound. The two clashed as another death hound joined the fray.

Serana plunged her dagger into its decaying hide and it let out a howl, dropping to the ground. Another blow silenced it. But then she made a complex gesture with her left hand and the death hound rose slowly back to its feet as a blue energy swirled about it and covered its decaying flesh in glowing runes. It growled and lunged at the death hound still biting savagely at the familiar whose weight held it down. It tore open the throat of the struggling death hound and at last silence once again pervaded the darkened corridors.

The familiar got up and followed them and the enthralled death hound through large double oak doors which led to a large room dominated by a body of still water. Large icicles hung from the ceiling, occasionally allowing a drop of water to drip into the stagnant water. A bridge spanned the body of water. Emily wrinkled up her nose at the smell coming off the water. The ground surrounding the body of water was slimy and slippery. Emily resolved to hold her breath until they’d left this room behind but a movement coming from one of the corners put this idea on hold. Someone was watching them, eyes burning in the cold gloom.

“It’s been too long since a mortal last set foot in here,” came a rasping voice. Emily drew her dagger which merely made the speaker cackle. Then she ran at them. Her mouth was open, fangs glinting as she sprang across the body of water, landing but a few feet from them. Then she bolted for Emily, ignoring Serana almost completely. Her movements were frenzied, uncontrolled and she attacked with neither spell or blade. Instead clawed hands reached for Emily. Emily ran for the bridge, commanding her familiar as she ran. The familiar snarled and lunged at the vampiress but she grabbed it and threw it bodily into the water where it collapsed in a ball of crackling light. Serana sprinted after her as she returned her attention to Emily. She knocked the vampiress to one side before raising her dagger, plunging it into the vampiress’ shoulder where it stuck. She hissed and lashed out, tearing a gash along Serana’s arm. She let out a cry of pain and jumped to one side as the vampiress aimed another slash at her.

The vampiress advanced on Serana, fangs bared. Suddenly her face contorted in pain and she shrieked, looking down at her chest from where the blade of a silver dagger now protruded. She spat and gurgled, trying to wrench the blade away but Emily hung on like grim death as the vampiress staggered back, trying to reach her with her clawed hands. At last she slumped forward off the blade and lay face down on stone floor.

“Feral vampire,” said Serana as she examined the corpse of the vampiress, “Probably been down here for centuries.”

“We’d better have a look at your arm,” said Emily as she reached into a bag to pull out some bandages. Her fingers collided with the leather-bound cover of a book. It was the book she’d absentmindedly tossed into her bag while they were climbing out of the depths of Dimhollow. She hadn’t looked at it since, promising herself she’d sit down and study it when she had the chance. On the cover was the symbol for the restoration school of magic and written below, in a fine looping script, were the words, ‘Necromantic healing.’ She pulled it out and opened it. On the first pages were an explanation of the spell’s effects.

Greetings, honoured reader,

You hold in your hands a rare tome of magic, little explored by many of Tamriel’s mages. A useful spell among necromancers and members of clans undead, this spell will allow you to heal undead flesh and make whole the bones of reanimated creatures. Casting the spell is a simple task, even for the most unlearned mage. Simply make the sign illustrated on the page opposite and speak the words, “Mortuas caro os emendo.” Because of the spell’s specific application such an incantation is required to solidify the will of the caster. The following pages cover its uses throughout history and the secrets of augmenting its power further.

Emily knelt next to Serana and set the book down on the stone floor, opened at the page bearing the incantation. She made the sign described by the book and began to chant. Serana watched as a bright light sprang up, dancing along Emily’s fingertips. She moved her hands over the wound, continuing her chanting and slowly the wound on her arm began to close.

The light dissipated from her fingertips and the effort of the spell left her with the familiar tugging sensation behind her eyes.

“Thanks,” said Serana. They left the body of the vampiress and ventured deeper into the Undercroft. Ahead of them, down a side corridor, loomed a raised wooden bridge.

“Looks like we’ll need to find a lever or a pull chain,” Serana remarked. They searched the area they encountered the vampiress in and found what appeared to be a section of the Undercroft where she had lived. There was a wooden keg from which blood dripped onto the floor, a woodworm ridden old coffin and a wooden shelf on which rested a human skull and an open bear trap. At the end of the stone ledge on which she’d made her home stood a rusty iron lever. It squealed horribly as Emily pushed at it and moved forwards, slotting into its new position. A moment later the wooden bridge dropped forwards, opening the way.

The bridge led them to a stone walkway with a stone tunnel leading off from each end. Emily glanced down at the floor below. Spikes protruded up through ankle-deep water and a thin mist hovered over the waters.

“We need to turn left,” said Serana, “This is one of those weird double-barred security measures my father put in when he got more paranoid.”

Emily did as she asked and followed the stone corridor along. Dangling from the ceiling were thin iron cables covered in spikes. The spikes were stained with blood and Emily pressed herself against the walls to avoid them. Then she heard a sound, a chilling raspy breathing. Whatever it was, it was somewhere above them and it sounded big. Emily swallowed nervously as they pressed on.

The tunnel opened out into a chamber The floor was littered with bones of various shapes and sizes. The smaller bones crunched under their boots as they stepped into the chamber. Emily cast her magelight about and saw a ledge overlooking the bone pit. She heard an iron gate swing open above her and more bones dropped down from above, making her jump a foot in the air. Her eyes were wide as they stared about the room for anything even remotely resembling a threat. Seeing none, she turned her attention to the ledge, climbing the stone stairs to it. On the top of a pair of wooden cupboards sat potions of various kinds. She recognised two of them as health potions and pocketed them. The third bottle was black and orb shaped, tapering into a thin neck.

“You should take this too,” Serana advised, pushing the bottle into her hands, “It won’t do much good against what we’re likely to find in here but might come in useful sometime.”

“What is it?” asked Emily.

“Frostbite spider venom,” Serana replied, “You can dip your arrows or blade in it to make them more potent. It won’t work on anything undead or immune to poison though so choose your target carefully.” Emily pocketed the bottle and followed Serana along the corridor that led off from the chamber. The breathing she heard before was louder now. As they turned the corner they found the corridor was thick with webbing. It trailed from floor to ceiling, blocking the tunnel. Serana took her blade and cut through the thick web. It stuck to their hair and clothes as they passed through. Then they saw it. Eight eyes glittered in the dark and what little light there was shone on the shiny black mandibles. They clicked at their approach and the spider rose up on its eight legs. Emily froze, her hair standing on end. It moved toward them slowly, ponderously, as though trying to discern whether they were food or threat. She couldn’t move as it bore down on them. She was rooted to the spot, every inch of her shaking. Serana noticed this and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out of the spider’s way. It hissed as it turned and Serana conjured an ice spike, aiming for its head.

Four eyes blinded by the shard of ice, it hissed savagely, stabbing at them with long pedipalps. Though swift to move the spider was slow to turn so when it missed them again Serana pulled Emily around the spider, aiming another ice spike at its large abdomen. Though resilient to ice it was not so resilient to the deep wounds caused by the icy shards. She then enveloped the beast in her vampiric drain spell and it writhed under the red vitality depleting light.

At last it collapsed with a pitiful screech, limbs curling in on themselves.

“What happened back there?” Serana demanded of Emily, “You just froze.”

“I’m terrified of spiders,” she said in a small voice, “Even the little ones scare me. Spiders never got that big back home so I could always avoid them before. I can’t be near them.” She shuddered. Serana glanced over at the spider.

“I can’t promise you there won’t be more,” she said.

“I know,” Emily replied. At last she seemed able to move and they found the lever that activated the other half of the bridge. They retraced their steps and crossed the bridge. The stone corridor they came to led them up a long flight of stone stairs.

“This should take us out into the courtyard if I remember right,” said Serana. They pushed open the door and stepped outside. The fresh air was welcome after the time spent in the dank corridors. They could just about detect the faint briny smell of the sea blowing in over the high walls. Emily watched as Serana crossed the courtyard. Her eyes darted from the ruined stones to the dead plants in the fenced off area.

“Oh no,” she said, “What happened to this place?” Emily followed her further into the courtyard. “Everything’s been torn down. It looks…well...dead. I don’t think anyone’s set foot here in centuries.”

“What do you think happened?” asked Emily.

“If I had to guess I would say my father destroyed it in a fit of rage after my mother fled,” she replied, “Anything that reminded him of her would have to be destroyed.”

“What did it used to look like?” she asked.

“Beautiful,” Serana replied, “Can you imagine how a garden would look when it’s carefully tended for centuries? Over there she grew beautiful flowers. Mushrooms too. Often they were what she used in her potions. And over there,” she pointed to a pile of rubble, “There used to be a small pond there where my mother would cultivate flowering water plants. When I was a child I’d catch frogs in it.” She laughed. “I’d try to keep them as pets. Mother would always scold me when she found them in my room. They made such a mess.” Emily chuckled at the thought of a young vampiress begging her mother to let her keep her new pet.

Serana turned her attention to the centre of the courtyard.

“Hmm, something seems off about this moondial,” she commented, “Look, some of the crests are missing and the dial is askew.” She bent to examine one of the spaces the crests should occupy. “I didn’t even know these could be removed,” she said thoughtfully, “Maybe my mother’s trying to tell us something.”

“You think this might be another of her cryptic riddles?” Emily asked.

“Maybe,” Serana replied. They walked through the courtyard to the far side. Where once there had been a door there was only a mound of rubble.

“This used to lead into the main hall,” Serana remarked, “Looks like my father had it sealed off. I used to come through here after evening meals.”

They went back down the stairs and crossed the courtyard to a small weed choked swampy area. As Emily raised the magelight spell to get a good look around something glinted in the light cast by it. She waded forward into the murky water and reached down, pulling out a strange looking crest made from iron and a shimmering white stone carved into the shape of a half moon.

“That’s one of the moondial’s crests,” Serana observed as Emily held it up to the light.

“Maybe if we put it back in the moondial,” mused Emily, “This is beginning to sound like some of the puzzles I read about in my old books.” She crossed back to the moondial and placed the crest in between the waxing gibbous and waxing crescent crests. While Emily made off to search the higher reaches of the courtyard Serana had a look around the areas lower down. Emily climbed the stairs to one of the stone balconies where she found another crest, this one depicting a full moon. She held it up and waved over to Serana. In response she held up the crest she’d found in the garden.

Emily hurried down the steps with the crests and they fit the remaining two into their place on the moondial. There was a rumbling as the last crest locked into place and they stepped back as the dial rotated and the ground around the moondial’s edges began to lower, revealing a set of stone steps.

“Clever, mother,” said Serana under her breath, “Very clever indeed.” Emily reconjured her magelight and they descended the stone stairs. At the bottom lay another door.

“Where does this lead?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know,” Serana replied, “I didn’t even know this existed. I was as surprised as you to be honest. I would guess the ruined tower though simply by a process of elimination.”

They pushed open the door and stepped inside. Ahead of them lay a corridor. It was short and at first Emily feared they’d reached a dead end. Then she spotted a pull chain hanging from the stone wall and pulled on it. One of the walls slid open, revealing a small room furnished with cooking spit and fire pit beyond. They stepped over the small pile of firewood in the doorway. Apparently when not in use this secret doorway served as a fireplace.

“I’ve never seen this part of the castle before,” Serana said quietly, “Be careful. I don’t know what might be around.”

“Believe me, I don’t need telling twice,” Emily replied with a nervous laugh. She had drawn her dagger and they advanced up the next flight of stairs which led them to a still larger room. This one lay in ruins, large chunks of the ceiling having fallen in. There was a broken table covered in rubble and an array of chairs. As they crossed the floor the fireplaces on the far side suddenly burst into flame and from the chairs rose three draugr. They growled in distorted voices, drawing their weapons. Emily conjured her familiar and it ran at the nearest draugr, knocking it to the ground. Serana conjured icy shards on her palm and sent them flying at another. The ice pierced its head and it crumpled to the ground. Emily advanced on the third, dagger raised. It swung its great battle axe at her and she dodged to one side before lunging forwards, plunging her dagger into its rotting chest. It too crumpled to the ground. As they turned to look around an arrow embedded itself in the table. Two skeletons had emerged on the walkway above armed with bows. Serana knocked out the first with an ice spike and Emily grabbed a rock from amongst the rubble, lobbing it at the other skeleton. The rock smashed through its ribs and it fell.

They hurried up the stairs to the balcony from which the skeletons had emerged and followed the corridor up into the next chamber. The room that lay before them was thick with webbing and Emily immediately cast her eyes about for any spiders, big or otherwise. Finding none she returned her attention to the far end of the room. Past the webs and hanging spike traps sat a statue. It was of a gargoyle which sat, hunched, on a small rock plinth.

“Be careful,” Serana warned her. As they passed the last column the brazier before the statue erupted into flames and the stone exploded as the gargoyle sprang forth. Emily’s familiar charged on ahead to meet the beast while Serana launched icy shards at its stony hide. It roared, sending the familiar crashing into the wall where it vanished but the two ice spikes tore through its wings. Emily conjured ice on her palms and focused it on the beast. It writhed and flailed under the icy onslaught, collapsing at last to the ground and allowing them onward.

The winding paths took them deep into the castle, through corridors, up and down stairways and across stone walkways. They faced more of the undead raised to protect the castle. One room they came to was filled with ancient nord weaponry displayed on wooden racks. Emily picked up a quiver full of arrows and added them to the considerably depleted ones in her own quiver.

Another room they came to was dominated by a large wooden table on which were arranged an array of human bones in a skeleton. A wooden display case housed a variety of skulls. Some looked human whilst others were more bestial. The largest belonged to a troll.

“What used to go on in here do you think?” Emily asked Serana.

“My mother was deep into necromancy,” Serana replied, “I would imagine we’ve stumbled upon one of her little experiments.”

“What exactly is the purpose of necromancy?” Emily asked, avoiding the gaze of the grinning skulls.

“It depends on who you ask,” Serana replied, “Many dabble in necromancy in an endless quest for immortality. I’m sure you can already guess that that is not my mother’s aim.” Emily nodded. “Others use it in battle, raising powerful undead to battle for them as I do,” she continued, “And some, like my mother, use it to unravel the secrets of life and death.”

In another room they came to they found it to be filled with large blocks of stone and gargoyles in various stages of being sculpted. Some of them burst forth to do battle and they faced off against them, standing back to back as they closed in on all sides. But one by one they fell, either to spell or blade. With the threat gone they set to exploring the room. There were no further tunnels leading off but Serana got the distinct impression that they had not yet reached the top.

“Have a look around,” she said, “I have a feeling there might be some kind of hidden passage or something.” Emily nodded and began to search the room. In one corner stood two coffins lined with red material. Apparently even when sleeping in coffins, the more discerning vampire favoured comfort. Sitting folded on a table were a set of robes not unlike Serana’s. Emily glanced over at Serana. The feral vampire they’d met just inside the Undercroft had left a large tear in one of the sleeves of Serana’s shirt. Perhaps, she reasoned, they could swap out the shirts when they had the chance. Of course, traversing through halls where undead might pounce at any time was not the best time so she stowed it in her pack.

“I think I’ve found it,” Serana called over to her. Emily joined her by the fireplace. She was pointing at one of the candles. This one was unlit and when she turned it, it gave way easily and the fireplace opened up to reveal another stone corridor. This one led them up several flights of stairs until they came to another wooden door. As soon as Emily entered the room that lay beyond she got the distinct impression that this was the place they had been looking for. How she knew, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was the concentric circles of stone covered in carvings that stood in the middle of the floor. Or perhaps it was the look of quiet amazement on Serana’s face as she crossed the threshold.

“Wow, this…this has to be it,” she said, “I knew my mother was deep into necromancy. I mean, she taught me everything I know but..” She crossed the room to a large wooden table covered in bones of various shapes and sizes, “I never knew she had a setup like this. She must have spent years collecting all this.” She gestured to the bones. Sitting among the bones was a large pewter bowl filled with finely ground bone meal. The carvings around its edge caught Emily’s eye and she paused to examine it.

“And what’s this thing?” Serana asked. She was gazing at the stone circles carved into the ground. “I’m not sure what it is but it’s definitely something. Look at these symbols. They’re Daedric. The Daedric language is used to invoke some of the most powerful conjuration magics.”

“So, what do we do now?” Emily asked.

“My mother was meticulous with her research,” Serana replied, “If we could find her journal I’ll bet we could get some clues to where she’s gone.”

“I think I spotted some bookshelves over there,” said Emily, pointing to a series of bookshelves which stood in the corner.

After several minutes searching they uncovered a thin tattered journal. Serana opened it and leafed through the pages.

“The Soul Cairn,” she said, “She created a portal to the Soul Cairn.”

“What’s the Soul Cairn?” asked Emily.

“A small sliver of Oblivion,” Serana replied, “The realm that acts as Mundus’ opposite in many ways. Each part of Oblivion is ruled over by a Daedric Prince or other powerful beings. This portion is controlled by the Ideal Masters. And before you ask, I’m almost as clueless as you when it comes to them. Their very existence is a mystery.”

“And how are we going to get there?” Emily asked, “I assume that’s where we’re going.”

“We need finely ground bone meal, soul gem shards and purified void salts,” Serana replied, “We’ll probably be able to find them here. At least, we’d better hope we can. I’m not sure how I feel about a journey back to the mainland just to visit an apothecary.”

They soon found the finely ground bone meal. It was in the pewter bowl Emily had been admiring only moments before. The soul gem shards they found on one of the upper levels along with the purified void salts. She’d seen void salts before back in Angeline’s shop but these ones, perhaps due to their purification, hummed slightly as she lifted them down from the shelf. They deposited them into the silver lined bowl atop the balcony and waited. And waited.

“Something’s supposed to happen, right?” Emily asked. Serana opened the book again. It was then she noticed that two of the pages were stuck together. She wasn’t sure if this was intentional or not but she carefully peeled them apart.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath.

“What is it?” Emily asked.

“We need her blood to complete the reaction,” Serana replied, “Which, if we had it, we wouldn’t be doing this.” Emily thought for a moment.

“How about your blood?” she asked, “You’re her daughter.”

“That might just work,” Serana replied, “I suppose we should give it a try. We’d better hope it’s good enough. Mistakes with these portals can be, well, gruesome.” She removed one of her leather bracers and rolled up the sleeve of her shirt. She bit into her wrist and when the blood flowed forth she allowed some of it to drip into the silver vessel. The effect was instantaneous. The stone circles began to revolve in their setting. One by one they rose up, breaking into sections to form stone steps which led from the rapidly forming hole in the floor to the balcony. The hole in the ground was filled with swirling purple lights and Emily could hear faint groans and screams coming from the depths.

“By the blood of my ancestors,” said Serana in amazement, “She really did it. She created a portal to the Soul Cairn.”

The stale wind that blew from the portal ruffled Emily’s hair and Serana’s cape. For several minutes they just stared into it, neither moving.

“I suppose we should head in,” Emily suggested, breaking the silence. Serana nodded. Emily stepped hesitantly onto the first step. It bobbed a little under her weight but otherwise held firm. One step after another took her closer to the gaping maw of the portal. This was nothing like the one that brought her here. This one felt…different.

Tendrils of light suddenly rose from the depths of the portal and ensnared Emily. Wherever they touched it felt like her skin had been set ablaze. She cried out in pain and as she did so, she felt a dragging sensation as though she were having to cling to her body to stop herself from being ripped away. Then suddenly the feeling was gone and she was sitting on the top step, breathing heavily. Serana still had her arms around her and she was looking down into the portal where the tendrils had withdrawn to. Then she turned to look at Emily.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

“I think so,” Emily replied, “What happened?”

“I…guess I should have expected that, sorry,” Serana apologized, “It’s difficult to explain but the Soul Cairn was hungry for lack of a better word. It was trying to take your soul.”

“How do we get in then?” Emily asked, “We kind of need our souls.”

“Well, I could go in without any problem,” Serana replied, “Being undead, you see?”

“Hold on,” said Emily, “I hope you’re not suggesting you go in there alone. I mean, who knows what’s in there. There has to be another way.”

“There might be,” Serana said hesitantly, “But I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Tell me,” Emily insisted, “Please.”

“Well, there are two options,” Serana replied, “Either I could partially soul trap you and use that portion of your soul to ‘pay the toll’ so to speak. You’d be weakened whilst in the Soul Cairn but we might be able to fix that once we get to the other side…probably.”

“And the other option?” Emily asked.

“The other option is I turn you into a vampire,” Serana replied. Emily sat for a moment, unspeaking.

“I know this is going to be a hard choice either way,” said Serana, resting a hand on her shoulder. Emily took a deep breath.

“I think you’d better turn me,” she said at length.

“Are you sure?” Serana asked, “That’s a big decision to make. You’d be like me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Emily smiled.

“Emily, I’m serious,” Serana replied, “You wouldn’t be able to set foot in the sun again and you’d have to hunt as I do.”

“And so am I, Serana,” said Emily, “It’s not that I don’t trust your abilities as a sorceress. I mean, damn, you’re the most talented sorceress I know. But we don’t know what we’ll face in there and we don’t know if we can recover the other bit of my soul. I don’t want to risk us going in there and me not being able to defend myself or protect you from danger.” Serana smiled. “So, I’m ready.” Emily got to her feet and stood on the balcony.

“Turning someone is a very…personal experience for vampires,” Serana said quietly, “It’s intimate. For us.”

“How so?” asked Emily, tilting her head to one side. There wasn’t much she imagined could be intimate about getting your neck bitten.

“When you become a vampire you share the very thing that makes a vampire what they are,” Serana explained, “Their blood.”

“Well, if that’s how it is,” said Emily, “Then I’m glad you’re the one doing it.” At these words Serana smiled.

“Alright, I promise I’ll try to make this as painless as possible,” she said. Emily nodded. Serana rested her hands lightly on her shoulders and tilted her head to one side. Emily closed her eyes and waited.

“Are you really sure about this?” Serana asked. Emily felt one hand cradle her chin gently and she opened her eyes.

“Yes, I am,” Emily replied, “It’s just…I’ve never done this before.” She smiled reassuringly at Serana, resting one hand on her arm. “I’m fine, really.” She closed her eyes again. She did not have to wait long this time as she felt a stabbing pain in her neck and the same strange dragging sensation from before. She felt her knees buckle underneath her and Serana lowered her gently to the ground. She felt her pulse begin to race and her breathing quicken. Her limbs began to shake and her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. Serana held her as the convulsions worsened. She stroked her hair, murmuring words of consolation.

“I promise this won’t last forever,” she said, “You’re going to be alright.”

Emily’s heart was hammering in her chest. Then suddenly her eyes widened, a leaden weight pushing down on her chest. Slowly the convulsions ceased and her breathing slowed. She sagged back into Serana’s arms. Shakily she drew a breath and reached up, placing a hand over her heart. There was nothing. She checked the pulse point on her neck and found it was still too.

“It worked?” she asked. Serana nodded.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I feel a bit…strange,” Emily replied, “But not a bad strange. Just…different. I can-“ She looked around at the once shadowy corners of the room.

“I can see more clearly,” she continued, “I can hear things I couldn’t hear before.” Cautiously she felt the tip of one fang with her tongue. She sat up slowly. She felt a strange kind of humming energy in her chest and no longer felt the urge to breathe. Serana helped her to her feet. They turned back to face the portal.

“I suppose it’s time to go in now then,” said Emily.

“Are you ready?” Serana asked, turning to face her.

“I am,” Emily replied. And with that they took their first steps down the stone stairs that led into the soul cairn.

Chapter Text

The air in the Soul Cairn was almost perfectly still and smelt stale as they descended the stone steps to the purple earth below. The sky above them swirled and at its heart was a gaping black void. Bolts of lightning periodically lashed the ground in the distance and the landscape was dotted with obsidian structures of varying size, bones and scraggly dead plants.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t smell this bad,” Serana remarked as they reached the bottom step.

“Where do you think we should start looking?” Emily asked.

“I really have no idea,” Serana conceded.

“Well, there seems to be some kind of path at least,” Emily replied, gesturing towards the barely discernible path that led away from the stairway. They followed it down between overhanging ledges and obsidian monoliths. At first they were just strange lights catching the corner of her eyes. Strange entities floating just out of sight. Then she saw one clearly, the figure of a man. He was spectral in appearance with a vaguely purple hue to the vapours that made up his form. She watched as he brought a hand up to his mouth.

“Arvak?” he cried, “Arvak! Please, come back! Come back!” Then he caught sight of them.

“Please, I need to find Arvak,” he said, “Please, help me find him.”

“Who’s Arvak?” Emily asked.

“He’s my horse,” the ghostly visage replied, “We came here together to this wretched place. I told him to run. He’s such a loyal beast and he’s been running for so long. Find my Arvak, find his skull, please.”

“Where should we look?” Emily asked. But it seemed the distressed spirit could no longer see them and he returned to frantically calling for his horse before disappearing entirely.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“About the horse?” Serana replied. Emily nodded.

“Yeah, I mean, this place is huge,” said Emily, gesturing to the space around them, “A horse could make travelling around a good deal faster.”

“That’s true,” replied Serana, “Though we have even less of an idea of where to find him.”

“Well, if we find him, we find him,” said Emily, shrugging her shoulders.

“Agreed,” Serana replied.

The path led them to a towering obsidian building. On either side were two monoliths with floating turquoise orbs bobb
3ing at their centre. The doorway was blocked by iron bars.

“What do you make of this?” Emily asked.

“I think these are contact points,” Serana replied, “Like levers but magic in nature. Let me try something.” Emily stood back as lightning crackled on Serana’s palm. She loosed a bolt of lightning that struck the orb. As soon as the orb was struck it vanished and one set of iron bars slid down, partially opening the way.

“Why don’t you take the other one?” said Serana, “Try using your drain spell on it.”

“How do I do that?” asked Emily. Serana smiled.

“Don’t worry, your instinct will take over,” she replied. Emily looked at her palm and then she thrust it out before her as she’d seen Serana do countless times before. Red energy gathered on her palm and spilled out towards the orb. It struck the orb which vanished as the first had done and the last row of iron bars lowered, allowing them access.

The interior of the structure was flat and featureless, the only object of interest being a large black chest covered in strange symbols that stood in one corner. Emily crossed over to the chest and lifted the lid. Inside the chest lay a finely carved dagger. It was wrought from a strange black metal which Emily felt made it perfectly suited to her surroundings. Inside the chest also lay a soul gem and a curious pale husk. Emily pocketed the soul gem before picking up the dagger and husk.

“What’s this thing?” she asked Serana, holding up the husk.

“From what my mother told me,” she replied, “I would guess a soul husk. They’re said to contain a powerful soul essence which can protect any who eat it from soul stealing magic.” Serana pocketed the soul husk.

“Also, I would keep that dagger if I were you,” Serana continued, “It will be safer for you. Like any vampire, you won’t be able to bear the touch of silver. If you even picked up your dagger and you just so as happened to touch the blade it would cause you great pain.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” grimaced Emily, removing the silver dagger still in its scabbard from her belt and put it in the bag, putting the ebony dagger in its place.

She let out a yelp as something latched onto her ankle. She looked down and found herself staring into the cold blue eyes of a skeleton. Its bones were black as tar and it was pulling itself up out of the ground at her feet. Emily staggered back, drawing her new ebony blade. On her palm she readied a drain spell. The skeleton had risen to its feet and now wielded an axe. Emily cast her drain spell which engulfed it in the eerie life-draining light. It advanced on her, only to receive a shock spell from Serana that made it stumble forward. Emily took the opportunity to lunge forward with her dagger, jamming it between the glowing blue eyes. The light in its eyes faded and it collapsed.

They left the structure and re-joined the path. It led them down further into the wasteland. Thunder echoed all around them. In the distance they saw a towering black edifice.

“That looks promising,” said Serana. The path leading up to the great black building was lined with skulls like some kind of gruesome lawn ornaments. Unlike the previous structure this one had no iron bars blocking the entrance. A flight of stone stairs led up to it and the interior was dark and shadowy. Emily stared into the dark and found her eyes became quickly accustomed to the low lighting. Apparently this was one of the perks of vampirism.

They stepped over the threshold and looked around. Just like the previous structure this one too was blank and featureless though the room they found themselves in was much larger with several other doorways leading off from the main room.

“Mother,” Serana called through the doorway, “It’s me, Serana. Mother? Are you here?” There was no response.

They passed through the doorway and looked around. In one corner stood a ledge of black stone and in another was a flight of stairs. They climbed the stairs and found themselves on a long landing that stretched out before them. At regular intervals along the corridor were small square windows through which they could see the vivid purple skies of the Soul Cairn. Emily noticed, with a grimace, that below several of the windows lay bones of various types. There were femurs, ribcages and eerily grinning skulls. Their footsteps echoed in the hallways as they moved along it.

Emily froze. A moment later she spun around, staring out the window.

“What is it?” Serana asked.

“It felt like something was watching us,” Emily replied, “Hmm, you think maybe we should check somewhere else?”

“We need to make sure my mother isn’t here first,” said Serana, “Come on.” And with that she continued walking down the hall. Emily hurried onward to catch up with her. The storms outside continued to rumble, thunder echoing through the corridor. There seemed to be another sound mixed in with the thunder: a deeper rumbling that seemed to permeate the very floor beneath their feet.
A sudden tremor shook the building and Serana staggered to one side, bracing herself against the wall.

“What was that?” asked Emily, drawing her blade and readying a drain spell. Serana likewise readied her spells. Emily ran her gaze along each of the windows but saw nothing but purple skies and ashen earth beyond.

There was another tremor and part of the wall came in. Through the wall came giant blackened bones. Emily let out a yell and scrambled back from the wall as the cracks snaked along the stonework. More giant bony projections broke in further down the wall.

“This way,” yelled Serana as she took off full pelt down the corridor. Emily sprinted after her. Another almighty quake juddered through the structure, throwing both Emily and Serana to the stone floor. They looked up in time to see the ceiling and part of the wall come away from the rest of the building. Huge lumps of rock crashed down around them, cracking the floor and casting a fine spray of rubble over them and their surroundings. They saw then what had lifted the ceiling from its place. The bony projections were in fact fingers, each with the thickness of tree trunks. And these fingers were attached to great bony arms connected to a towering torso. Bright white eyes glared down at them from a grinning skull. They watched as the towering skeleton threw the crumbling ceiling to one side. For a moment they lay paralyzed in fear. Then Emily sprang to her feet, grabbing Serana’s hand as she sprinted along the open corridor. The skeleton watched them, tilting its head to one side. It watched them, almost ponderously, before raising one skeletal arm. Emily saw the shadow pass over them and looked up.

“Look out!” she cried as the arm came crashing down. It struck the corridor some twenty feet in front of them, the ground crumbling beneath the heavy blow. Large chunks of stone were torn away and fell to the earth below and the corridor on which they stood tilted up sharply. They were knocked back to the ground and found themselves sliding down the tilted corridor. They tried to brace themselves against something, anything, but the stonework was almost completely flat, stopping them from getting a grip. Serana looked back over her shoulder at the rapidly approaching edge. She scrabbled at the stone work. She let out a startled outcry when she felt the rock give way beneath her and she was falling. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable sickening crunch. Then she felt someone grab her hand. She looked up to see Emily braced against a heavy lump of rock. And beyond her the skeleton stared down at them, white eyes shining vividly against tar-like bones. The stale wind of the Soul Cairn whipped their hair back as the clouds above swirled. She watched as the skeleton raised one bony hand.

“Emily, look out!” she cried as the hand swung down towards them. Emily looked over her shoulder, eyes wide with fright. Then she flattened herself against the stones as the hand crashed into the walls, showering them both with small bits of rock and debris. As the hand withdrew Emily heaved back against the rock, trying to pull Serana up over the precipice. She felt Serana’s other hand grasp first her arm and then the rock as she was pulled back onto the stone ruin. Her boots scrabbled against the loose rock, searching for a foothold. At last she found one and she scrambled forwards, past Emily, taking her hand as she ran. Together they raced up the sloping corridor, using the cracks in the stonework as footholds. Ahead of them loomed the highest point of the sloping broken corridor. They put on an extra burst of speed, racing for the top.

The stones at the edge were loose and some fell away into the deep crevice below as they leapt across. But as they leapt they saw the shadow pass over them once more and the skeleton’s bony hand crashed down on the stonework before them. Great cracks snaked through the floor but the ground held firm, the giant hand blocking their way to the rest of the ruin. They came to a halt on the far side, staring at the hand and the skeleton as it loomed forward. It looked like it was examining them. Serana readied an ice spike, launching it at the skeleton’s face while Emily hit it with a drain spell. It reared back, unleashing a roar from its open jaws that sounded like a great wind howling. It lifted its hands to cover its face and in the brief opportunity this afforded them they ran for cover into the building. Once inside they pelted down the stone stairs and through another door.

Serana’s eyes darted around the room, picking out each possible path.

“This way,” she cried, hurrying for another doorway opposite the one they’d come in by. This door took them to another long corridor. They heard a great crashing sound and looked back in time to see the room they’d just passed through collapse. Rubble and giant chunks of rock were all that could be seen through the doorway.

They sped down the corridor, listening to the crashes that grew closer behind them as more sections of stone fell to the giant skeleton’s rage.

They saw another room ahead and darted through the doorway.

“Look, there,” cried Emily, pointing to a stairway that led down. She pulled Serana towards the stairs and they hurried down them into the tunnel beyond. Their footsteps echoed in the underground passage and the unneeded breath caught in their throats as they ran. There was an echoing crash and they turned back to see several large rocks tumble down the stairs they’d just come in by.

“There’s no going back,” said Emily, “We’ll have to keep going.” And they turned away from the stairs and continued running. For how long they ran through the darkened corridor they couldn’t say. Even down here in the darkest recesses bones were scattered, crunching under their boots as they ran. They focused on the way ahead, neither stopping nor pausing.

At last they saw ahead of them a patch of pale light and another set of stairs. With a sigh of relief they rushed toward it and climbed the stairs, slowing as they reached the top. They peered warily over the top stairs. Far in the distance they saw the hulking form of the giant skeleton. It was still bent over the ruins, dismantling them piece by piece.

“What was that thing?” Emily asked.

“A Qethic Behemoth,” Serana replied, “I’d read stories about them. I never thought I’d see one in the flesh…well, bone.”

“I think we’d better get out of here,” Emily suggested, “Before another one comes along.”
They looked around the area they found themselves in. The land here was more hilly and was dotted with large skeletons of various beasts. It was a strange sensation to escape a near death situation with no beat in her chest and no urge to breathe heavily in both an effort to regain her composure and her energy.

They decided to set off in the direction of the hills. The earth beneath their feet was like ash and made climbing difficult as their boots could get little purchase on it. Their clothes were covered in dust from the stones and from the earth and their faces were smudged.

“I think I’ll need a bath at the end of this,” said Emily, patting dust out of her hair.

At last they crested the hill and before them lay a great stone tower. At its base there were several souls standing around an altar. Their hands were raised as though in reverence towards what lay on the altar. As they neared the tower they saw an eerie pale light emanating from its centre, illuminating the faces of the spectres. On the altar lay a skull, the skull of a large animal.

“Something’s not right here,” Serana said under her breath. Emily drew her dagger as they approached the tower. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement as the spectres turned to face them and where once were the faces of ordinary men and women were now the nightmarish features of skeletons. Some consisted of only ribcage, arms and skull floating above the ground and some were full skeletons wielding ancient-looking blades and axes. The skeletal warriors drew their blades and were the first to attack while the floating skeletons held back, wielding frost magic. Serana and Emily ran at the nearest two skeletons. Emily enveloped the first in a drain spell while Serana hacked away at the second. It parried her blows and knocked the blade from her hand. She leapt backward, launching ice spikes from her palms. One struck the skeleton in the ribcage and it stumbled back. Serana took the opportunity to roll to one side, grabbing up the dagger and thrusting it into the skull of the skeleton when it advanced on her.

They then turned their attention toward the three floating skeletons. The nearest one unleashed a storm of ice. Emily hurriedly pulled up a ward and the ice was absorbed into the ward. She countered with a drain spell which enveloped the skeleton, causing its bones to judder as the unnatural energies that pulsed within it were stolen away. The second fell to Serana’s blade and they turned on the third. An ice spike which shattered its skull put an end to it and it crumpled to the ground where its body melted away into a thick sticky tar-like substance.

They moved towards the altar, scanning the surrounding area for further threats. The skull lay inert on the stone plinth, eyes staring blindly into the surrounding gloom. Emily reached up and lifted the skull from the plinth. It was deceptively heavy but a warm energy pulsed at its heart. It grew hotter and she almost dropped it. Then it floated up from her hands where it hovered for a second before exploding in a ball of light and a loud whinny filled the air, dying away into nothing as a ball of light shot through Emily.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked. Emily nodded. She looked at her hands where a faint bluish glow danced on her fingertips.

“You’ve done it, you’ve freed Arvak,” said a voice behind them. They turned to see the spectral visage of the lost soul they had met at the beginning of their journey through the soul cairn. He was smiling.

“What was that all about?” asked Emily, “The skull, the explosion and that ball of light?”

“Arvak has aligned his spirit with yours,” the soul replied, “Now you can call him to you. He’s such a loyal beast. Please, take care of him.” And then the soul faded into nothing, leaving them alone once more.

“We might as well give it a try,” said Serana. Emily raised her palms skyward. She thought of what the summoners in her fantasy books would say. A glowing blue energy danced on her palms.

“Arvak, come forth,” she cried. The was a great blast of blue energy and purple flames erupted from the ground at the centre. A high pitched whinny filled the air and standing at the heart of the receding flames was Arvak. This horse was not of flesh and blood but bone. Tar-like bones like those of the skeletons they encountered. Blue fire ran down its neck and billowed from its tail. Its two great glowing eyes looked at them. For its menacing appearance there was something gentle about the beast. Emily put out her hand slowly and the horse approached, nuzzling her hand with its bony muzzle.

“Can you take us to Serana’s mother?” Emily asked. The horse, at these words, looked over at Serana and Emily got the most curious impression that it could understand. It snorted and stamped at the ground impatiently. Emily noticed the saddle still sitting atop its bony back and she put one foot into the stirrup, hoisting herself up onto the horse’s back. Then she held out her hand to Serana.

“Milady, wouldst thou care to join me astride my bony steed?” she asked. Serana smirked and took her hand.

“Why yes, brave knight,” she replied as she joined her in the saddle.

“Then hi-ho, Arvak,” cried Emily, “Onward.” They had to hold on tightly as Arvak reared up onto his hindlegs, neighing as his front hooves pawed the air. Then he plunged off into the mists of the Soul Cairn. He galloped over small hills and down into dust filled valleys scattered with bones. Emily brought Arvak to a halt at the top of the far side of the valley where he snorted, stamping impatiently in the ashen dirt. They scanned the horizons and their gaze fell upon a large foreboding castle that lay in the distance. Lightning periodically struck the highest towers whose tops were made up of swirling lumps of rock lit up from below by eerie purple lights.

Emily urged the horse on down the hillside where they found a pale dirt track. It led through carved stone archways up towards the castle.

“This looks promising,” said Serana as they rode up the hill towards the castle, “Or as promising as anything in this place can look.” The road took them right up to a flight of stone steps leading up to the castle doors. They got down off Arvak’s back and Emily tethered him to the stone pillar. She stroked his nose before turning to the stone steps. At the top of the stairs was a large porch divided in two by a great wall of purple swaying light. There was a woman standing behind the barrier. Her eyes burned with the same red as Serana’s and she wore similar robes but hers were faded and worn. Her dark greying hair was drawn back into two bunches on either side of her head and her face was pale and careworn. Serana hurried forward towards the barrier. “Mother,” she called out, “Mother, is it really you?”

“Serana,” her mother replied, “By the maker, it…it can’t be.”

Chapter Text

“Mother,” cried Serana, hurrying over to the barrier. Emily wasn’t sure precisely what expression she’d expected to cross the elder vampiress’ face but it certainly wasn’t the expression she saw now. She looked fretful, almost frightened but her eyes were sharp and when she spoke she almost sounded angry.

“Serana, what are you doing here?” she demanded, “Where’s your father?”

“It’s alright, mother,” Serana replied hurriedly, trying to placate her, “He doesn’t know we’re here.” But her mother wasn’t listening.

“I must have failed,” she said, wringing her hands, “Harkon’s found a way to decipher the prophecy, hasn’t he?”

“Mother, you’ve got it all wrong,” Serana replied, “We’re here to stop him, to put everything right.”

“We?” said her mother. Then her eyes fell upon Emily and her gaze hardened.

“You’ve brought a stranger here?” she said, “What were you thinking?” Her eyes flicked over the insignia on Emily’s cuirass and she took a step back.

“Dawnguard,” she said, “Serana, have you lost your senses entirely?”

“What? No, you don’t understand mother,” Serana replied but her mother stopped her.

“Her kind would hunt and slay you like a common animal,” she said, her voice low, “You, get over here.” Emily took a step towards Serana’s mother.

“It pains me to think you would come here, acting as my daughter’s protector, only to hunt me down,” she said, red eyes boring into Emily’s. Had the barrier not been there Emily felt she’d likely strike her down where she stood. Emily shook her head.

“No, I’d never hurt her,” she replied, “She’s my friend and I want to keep her safe. And I’m a vampire now so-” Her mother’s lip curled.

“I can see that she’s turned you,” she observed, “You think I didn’t notice that the moment I laid eyes on you? But you’re still a vampire hunter at heart. I can’t imagine your intentions are noble.” She folded her arms, “Serana sacrificed everything to stop Harkon from completing the prophecy,” she continued, “I would have expected her to explain that to you.”

“But that’s why we’re here for the Elder scroll,” Emily replied.

“Do you really think I’d have the audacity to place my daughter in that crypt for the protection of her Elder scroll alone?” snapped the elder vampiress, “The scrolls are merely a means to an end, the instructions. The key to the ‘Tyranny of the Sun’ is Serana herself.”

“What do you mean?” asked Emily.

“When I fled from Castle Volkihar I fled with two of the scrolls,” she explained, “The first speaks of Auriel and his arcane bow while the second declares that, ‘The Blood of Coldharbour’s Daughter will blind the eye of the dragon.’ Did Serana tell you how we became vampires?”

“Yes, it was Molag Bal who made you vampires,” Emily replied, “She called herself a Daughter of Coldharbour.” The elder vampiress nodded. “The Tyranny of the Sun,” Emily continued, “It requires her blood, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, “So now you see why I wanted to protect Serana and why I strove to keep the other scroll as far from her as possible?”

“Her father,” said Emily, glancing over at Serana, “Harkon, he wouldn’t kill her over the head of all this, would he?”

“As far as he’d be concerned,” the elder vampiress replied, “She’d be dying for the good of all vampires.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Emily said with sudden defiance.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” she asked. The look of determination on Emily’s face faltered. “Surely the lengths I’ve gone to would tell you how relentlessly he’ll pursue you both.”

“I don’t know,” Emily replied, “But, but we’ll do whatever is necessary.”

“Except adhere to my plans, I expect,” she said.

“And what is Serana’s opinion in all this?” Emily asked. The Elder vampiress frowned.

“I knew it,” she said, “You care nothing for Serana or our plight. It doesn’t matter if you’ve become one of us to enter the Soul Cairn, you are still a vampire hunter at heart. In your eyes we’re abominations, evil creatures to be destroyed.”

“That’s not true,” Emily replied, “I admit I was scared at first. But Serana’s been a real friend to me. Someone I can trust. So please, I ask that you trust me. Serana does.” Serana’s mother looked over at Serana.

“Is this true?” she asked, “You trust this stranger?”

“This “stranger” has done more for me in the brief time I’ve known her than you’ve done for me in centuries,” Serana replied.

“How dare you,” snapped her mother, bristling, “I gave up everything, everything I ever cared about to save you from that fanatic you call a father.”

“Saved me?” retorted Serana, eyes flashing, “You call shutting me away from everything I care about, sacrificing hundreds of years of my life, saving me? Yes, my father’s a fanatic, he’s changed, but he’s still my father. Why can’t you understand how that makes me feel?”

“Oh Serana,” her mother said in exasperation, “If you could only open your eyes. As soon as he finds out he needs your blood you’ll be in terrible danger.”

“And you thought shutting me away was the answer?” Serana asked indignantly, “You never asked me if shutting me away in that tomb was the best answer, you just expected me to follow you blindly. Both of you are so obsessed with your own paths.” She spoke more quietly now and her eyes were downcast. “Your motivations may have been different but I’m still just a pawn to you too,” she said, “I just want us to be a family again but maybe we can’t have that.”

Her mother’s expression melted from one of exasperation to one of regret.

“I’m sorry, Serana,” she said, “I didn’t know…I didn’t see. I’ve allowed my hatred of your father to estrange us for too long. If you want the Elder Scroll, it’s yours.”

“If my daughter believes in you,” she continued, turning back to Emily, “Then I will assist in any way I can. I have the Elder Scroll in here with me and you are in a position to breach the barrier.”

“You mean this barrier isn’t of your own making?” Emily asked. The elder vampiress shook her head.

“No, I am a prisoner here,” she replied, “When I bargained with the Ideal Masters I failed to realise the value they placed on my soul. I fled here and when they couldn’t get to me, they erected this barrier.”

“And how do we breach it?” Emily asked.

“Three Keepers oversee the barrier from the tallest towers in the Soul Cairn,” she explained, “Kill them and the barrier should fail. But be careful of Durnehviir. If you should meet him, run.”

“Who’s Durnehviir?” asked Emily.

“He’s the dragon who watches over the Soul Cairn,” she replied, “If he perceives you as a threat he’s likely to intervene.”

“We’ll return soon,” said Emily. The elder vampiress nodded.

“Please, keep my daughter safe,” she replied.

“I will, I promise,” said Emily.

They left the barrier and made their way down the steps to where Arvak was tethered. Emily noticed Serana wiping at one of her eyes. She took a deep unneeded breath.

“Are you alright, Serana?” Emily asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Serana replied, “There was just…a lot back there that needed to be said. I’ve been wanting to say it for a long time.” Serana untethered Arvak from the stone pillar. The horse snorted, looking over at her with glowing white eyes. “Come on, we can talk about this later,” she said, handing Emily the reigns, “Once we’ve got the scroll.”

“Alright,” said Emily, “She said the three tallest towers, right?” Serana nodded.

“And I have an idea where we can start looking,” she said, pointing over towards the eastern horizon. She was pointing at a large tower made up of the same stone as the other buildings. Like the tallest towers of the castle, this one too had floating lumps of rock swirling about the highest reaches. They got up on Arvak’s back and Emily urged him on down the track in the direction of the tower.

As they drew near to it they found that one detail set it apart from the other structures in the soul cairn. The bottom of the tower was not touching the ground. They brought Arvak to a halt and looked around.

“I don’t see anything remotely keeper-like,” Emily observed.

“It’s probably at the top of the tower,” Serana replied, “Up there.” She pointed up to a balcony that sat just below the swirling stones. Emily gulped.

“Well, unless you know a way we can fly up I don’t see how we’ll get up there,” she said, “I’m not sure I trust that broom yet.” Serana looked around at the surrounding area.

“There’s always a way,” she said under her breath. Emily too scanned the area, her gaze coming to rest on a strange glowing plinth. She got down off the horse and Serana followed her.

“What do you think that is?” she asked, nudging the edge of the plinth with her boot.

“I think,” said Serana with a hint of a smile, “That’s our way up.” Emily looked down at the meshwork of glowing light that covered the plinth. “If I’m right, and I think I am, that’s an apport point,” Serana continued, “It will take us up to the top of the tower.”

“Oh, so like a teleportation pad,” said Emily.

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Serana replied, offering Emily her hand, “We should make sure we step on together.” Emily took her hand and they stepped onto the stone plinth. Immediately their vision was obscured by a viscous tarry substance that engulfed them on all sides. Emily closed her eyes, reflexively moving closer to Serana. There was a rumble of thunder and when she next opened her eyes they were standing on the top of the tower. At the far end, staring them down was a giant brute with a face of smoky shadows, clad in bone armour and wielding a bow that also appeared to be made from bones. Two cold blue eyes glared out at them from the smoke as it pulled an arrow from its quiver.

“Spread out,” yelled Serana as she leapt from the apport point, drawing her blade and readying her ice magic. She and Emily raced towards the Keeper, approaching from either side. Serana launched an icy spike at its chest but the ice bounced harmlessly off the bone armour. She dodged to one side as an arrow bounced off the stonework at her feet and she readied a drain spell. Emily ran at the giant, jabbing at its legs and trying to find an area not covered by tough armour. She dodged a blow from the giant’s bow which it was now using as a cudgel, trying to rid itself of the two intruders who had besieged its tower. Serana’s drain spell engulfed it and it let out a guttural roar, launching a blow at her. She rolled to one side and continued her assault.

As it turned to confront Serana, it exposed a patch on the back of its left leg which was not covered in the sturdy armour. Emily took the opportunity to plunge her blade into the exposed flesh and the giant roared again. Emily tugged at the blade but it was caught in the flesh and wouldn’t budge. She pulled futilely at it, trying to prise it from the thick hide. She stopped as she felt cold blue eyes boring into her. She looked up from the blade in time to see a great arm swinging at her. It seemed to come at her in slow motion. She felt the blow catch her full in the stomach and she was sent flying back.

“Emily! No!” she heard Serana cry as she was propelled backwards. She began to fall and the stone ledge of the balcony with the Keeper standing atop it fell away from her. Serana stood for a second, gaping at the edge of the balcony. Then a split second later she was forced to dodge as another blow was aimed at her. “You monster!” she yelled as she leapt at the brute. She launched another icy shard at its arm, tearing the great bow from its grasp. The Keeper swiped at her and she leapt back. But she soon advanced once more, a drain spell at the ready. She fought furiously, trying to attack the Keeper from every point possible, seeking to drive it back to the same edge that had claimed Emily.

A fierce roar rent the air. When Serana looked up she saw a shadowy figure flying toward them through the clouds. Her eyes widened. Perhaps this was the dragon her mother mentioned. She thought they’d at least have finished off the first of the Keepers before he intervened. She readied a drain spell. It was then she noticed that the Keeper too seemed to have taken note of the newcomer. It had recovered its bow and was now aiming an arrow at the newcomer. As the arrow let fly Serana recognised the being for what it was.

Leathery wings closed and the figure dropped several feet to avoid the arrow, another beastly snarl tearing from its maw. It had bluish-grey skin and its long blonde hair streamed out behind it as it flew at the tower. It wheeled about the tower, launching balls of red energy at the Keeper. The giant brute launched more arrows at the soaring monster who dodged each one before countering with a volley of its own. Then it drew in its wings and swooped down, clawed hands outstretched. It caught the Keeper full in the chest and dragged it from the tower before letting go, letting it drop to the earth far below.

Serana waited as the being alighted on the stonework before her. It was looking down over the edge at the ground where the Keeper had dissolved, leaving only a tarry black substance.

“Emily,” said Serana, approaching the being. Red eyes, bright and alert, met hers. She didn’t move as Serana approached her but she emitted a low growl. Serana didn’t so much as flinch and when she reached her she rested her hands on the beings shoulders. The vampire lord is built for battle and each sinew is taut, ready to fight. Even now she felt the enormous amount of tension in the form before her who was once the timid mortal.

“It’s okay,” she said as the red eyes watched her, “You’re still you. You’re still Emily.” Another growl. She moved her hands up slowly to the bestial face that was twisted almost out of recognition. Instinct. Instinct had taken over midfall. It was an ancient power all those blessed by Molag Bal or turned by his children could tap into. The ability to change, to fly and to fight. Her hands cupped the sides of her face and though the Vampire Lord stiffened she made no move to attack. “Please, remember who you are,” Serana said, “Remember who I am, why we’re here.” Her eyes were locked with Emily’s. “You’re an Earthling, you confided that in me, remember?” she continued, “You told me we’re friends. We are friends, Emily and you know that.” Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the Vampire Lord before her lowered her wings, muscles beginning to loosen. Her expression, too, began to change. The brows slackened and the eyes lost their menacing glow.

“You can change back,” Serana reassured her, “Just remember who you are.” The Vampire Lord looked down at her hands. They were large and tipped with claws. Her hands began to shake and she curled in on herself, grimacing in pain. Slowly the wings receded and she bent double as her skin paled and her face morphed, cracking as it regained its proper shape. Her form shrunk back to its human scale and the claws vanished. When, at last, the transformation was complete she stood, gasping for breath she didn’t need. Her eyes met Serana’s and Serana saw the terror in them. She crossed the distance and put her arms around her. Emily did not respond and Serana felt the shivers still coursing through her.

“I thought I’d lost you,” said Serana.

“I thought I had too,” Emily replied, her voice rasping in her throat.

“I should never have turned you,” she heard Serana say, “I’m sorry, Emily.” They stayed like that for several minutes.

“I understand now,” Emily said quietly, “Why you don’t want to use that form. You don’t feel in control, do you?”

“Some can with practice,” Serana replied, “But it’s the more bestial side of vampirism. It will always be fiercer and stronger.” Emily shuddered again.

“At least it stopped me from falling to my death though,” she said, forcing a wan smile. Serana nodded.

“We’d better go,” said Emily, “There are still two left.”

They stepped back onto the apport point which brought them back to the base of the tower where Emily recovered her dagger from the tarry remains of the Keeper. Serana reached down and pulled out the bone bow and the quiver of arrows from the puddle.

Emily remained quiet as they climbed up onto Arvak’s back and cantered back into the mists. Serana found herself going back over the events at the tower, wondering if there was some way this could all have been prevented.

Emily steered them towards the second large black tower. The base of this one encompassed a courtyard which could only be reached by the thin passageways that led in. They could see the Keeper standing at the back, arms folded over its armoured chest. They got down off the horse.

“Maybe you should stay here,” Serana suggested. Emily shook her head.

“That took everything we had last time,” she replied, “I don’t honestly know what we should do this time with it being on ground level but I think we need to stick together.”

“Ice spells are no good,” Serana said as she paced the ground before Arvak, “Lightning might be more effective.”

“And its so heavily armoured it’s virtually pointless to attack with blades or bows,” Emily added, “Unless…”

“Unless what?” asked Serana. Emily was eyeing the bow strapped to her back.

“Perhaps we just need something stronger,” Emily replied, “That bow you recovered. Perhaps, being made of the same material as their armour, perhaps it will be just strong enough for the arrows to pierce it.”

“A lot of this battle plan is riding on ‘perhaps’ so far,” Serana noted.

“It’s about all we’ve got,” Emily replied, “I’ll use my familiar to distract it while you use your bow. If that fails, magic is our best bet.”

They left Arvak outside the courtyard and continued on foot. They kept to the shadows, peering out into the courtyard. The Keeper hadn’t moved from its post. Belted at its hip was a massive bone mace. They spotted several skeletons patrolling the outbuildings and stone dais above the Keeper.

“I think I have a plan,” said Serana. She was pointing at two stone pillars which stood at the centre of the courtyard. “I’ll get up there. That’ll give me the chance to land a few hits.”

“Right,” Emily replied. Serana left the tunnel and moved around the edge of the courtyard. The path she took led her along the outside of one of the outbuildings, melding into the shadows as one of the skeletons moved toward her position. She nocked an arrow and let fly. The skeleton crumpled to the stones, blue eyes fading. She recovered her arrow and continued. Emily watched as she reached the plinth, steeling herself for her next move.

Serana reached the stone dais, climbing the steps and slipping between the columns that lined the top. She stepped toward the edge of the dais and peered over. A loose stone skittered under her boot and tumbled to the ground below. She flinched back, freezing against one of the columns. For several seconds she remained unmoving and listened. When nothing happened she stepped back to the edge of the dais. She leapt from the dais, grabbing hold of the stone pillar, finding a foothold on a stone lip that jutted out from the midpoint of the pillar. She glanced down to see the Keeper still standing there, cold blue eyes fixed on the courtyard. Slowly she climbed up, hand over hand until she reached the top. She got to her feet and signalled down to Emily who still waited in the shadows. Serana nocked an arrow and fired. It penetrated the shadows surrounding the place the Keeper’s head should have occupied, embedding itself in the base of the neck.

Emily broke from her hiding place and conjured her familiar. Three skeletons nearest her turned their attention to her, rattling axes and swords. Emily commanded her familiar to attack the skeletons and bolted towards the Keeper who was still glaring about the courtyard for his unseen assailant. When he spotted Emily he raised his mace menacingly, taking a few steps toward her. Emily readied a drain spell and launched it at the Keeper. Serana nocked another arrow from atop her lofty hiding place and fired. It struck true, embedding itself beneath cold blue eyes. But still the giant did not falter. The red energies of the drain spell tugged at its undead flesh beneath the armour. Emily’s familiar turned from the remains of the last skeleton and snarled at the Keeper. It ran at the monstrous brute, leaping at it, jaws latching onto the great mace. A third arrow joined the first two and at last the brute stumbled forward. The mace left its grasp and the familiar dragged it away as it turned its attention to Emily. Its gaze made Emily’s hair stand on end and the smoky haze that made up its face was ever shifting. It loped towards Emily, raising one foot to crush her against the earth. Emily dodged to one side, maintaining the drain spell. The Keeper stumbled again and a guttural grunt escaped it. Serana nocked another arrow and let fly. This time the Keeper’s body seized up when the arrow found its mark. Dark liquid gushed from beneath the armour as it fell forward and its body melted away into the earth.

Serana and the familiar re-joined Emily by the pool of dark liquid. Several feet away lay the mace. It was as long as her arm and about as thick with curving spikes adorning the end. It looked much too heavy to wield.

“One more to go,” said Emily. Serana nodded.

“There’s something that worries me though,” she replied.

“You mean besides this bleak place and the last giant monster we have to face?” Emily asked.

“Durnehviir,” said Serana, “We haven’t exactly been quiet about killing these Keepers.”

“You think perhaps he’s waiting for us?” Emily asked.

“Maybe,” Serana replied, “Either that or Nocturnal is feeling generous.”

“Every time I think I’ve learnt the basic rules of this world something new comes up,” Emily said as she got up on Arvak’s back and offered Serana her hand, “So, enlighten me, who’s Nocturnal?”

“She’s the Daedric Prince of Luck, darkness and the night,” Serana explained as she joined Emily on the horse and they set off once more into the mists, “A lot of thieves revere her and so do some of the vampire clans for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

They found the third Keeper guarding an area between two great stone buildings close to another of the tall blackened towers. They dismounted some distance from the Keeper and crept over to a patch of spindly dead bushes.

“Got any ideas?” Serana asked, “I’m certainly open to suggestions.”

“Hmm,” said Emily as she scanned the area around the Keeper. Her eyes came to rest on the larger of the two buildings. “How about there?” she suggested, “We might find something of use in there.”

They crept through the undergrowth and across the dirt path to the foot of the stone steps. At the top lay an open doorway. It looked to be unguarded. Emily and Serana crept up the stairs, glancing back towards the clearing where the Keeper stood every so often. So far it seemed it had not seen them. When they reached the top they slipped inside. In one corner lay a chest sitting atop an altar. Emily opened the chest. In the bottom lay a curious item. It looked to be a staff, golden in colour with its head carved into that of a dragon. Emily picked it up. When her fingers touched it there came a faint hiss from the draconic head and the air coming from the dragon’s mouth wavered.

“What is this?” Emily asked.

“I think you’ve just found the answer to our problems,” Serana replied, “That’s a staff of firebolt.”

“How do I use it?” asked Emily, holding up the staff. Serana’s eyes widened and she pushed the staff away.

“Be careful,” she hissed, “The staff doesn’t require any of your own magicka, just your will for it to fire. So don’t go waving it around.”

“Cheepers, sorry,” Emily replied, lowering the staff.

“Alright, let’s see if we can take out that Keeper,” said Serana, gesturing towards the door. Emily glanced around the room.

“I think I might have a better idea,” she said, “Serana, stand by the window and be ready to climb through.”

“What do you plan on doing?” Serana asked sceptically.

“If I’m not mistaken, he’s going to be way too big to get in here,” Emily replied, “We can attack him here with relative safety. But in case he can push his way through, likely bringing most of the wall down with him, we’d better have an escape route.”

“Right,” said Serana, standing by the window. She glanced out. The ground was not too far below and though a pile of bones might not make for the softest landing it likely wouldn’t do them any harm.
Emily strode over to the door, looking distinctly more confident than she felt. She raised the staff and aimed it at the Keeper where it stood. The air before the dragon’s maw atop the staff billowed, bursting into bright flames. Emily focused the staff and launched the firebolt at the Keeper. It caught the Keeper full in the chest, sending it staggering back as flames billowed out over its body. Its cold gaze locked on Emily and it pulled a great bone battle axe from its back and ran at them. Emily backed through the doorway, launching another firebolt at the monster. It doubled back, if only momentarily, and kept coming. To Emily’s dismay it crossed its arms over its chest and ran headlong at the doorway. The stones cracked and a great rumble resonated through the building.

“Quick, out the window,” Emily cried. Serana wasted no time in crawling through the open window and dropping down onto the ground below. Emily backed into the corner as the Keeper stepped back, preparing to run into the building again. Emily aimed the staff at its shadowy face and the flames billowed, propelling towards the Keeper. It reeled back, shielding its eyes from the searing flame. Emily took the opportunity while it was still reeling to make a dive for the window. She crawled through and dropped to the ground. She scrambled hastily to her feet and ran around the side of the building to the ruined doorway. She could see the Keeper, eyes burning in amongst the dust and debris. A crack was snaking up the wall above the wreckage of the doorway. Instead of aiming at the Keeper, she aimed at the cracked wall above. Serana conjured a bolt of lightning on her palm and the combined forces struck the blackened stone. There came a rumble which resonated through the building and the ground beneath their feet and they watched, as if in slow motion, as the stones fell in, burying the Keeper. For several moments they stood, listening but all they heard was the distant rumble of thunder. They crept closer and climbed the stone steps to the ruined building. They saw the black liquid coursing down from between the rocks and knew the Keeper was dead. Serana leaned back against the remains of a pillar, breathing a sigh of relief. She looked over at Emily.

“Guess we don’t make too bad a team, huh?” she said. Emily smiled.

“We have our moments,” she replied.

“We’d better go,” said Serana, “The barrier should be broken. We can get the scroll and get out of here.”

“I certainly won’t complain,” Emily replied as they ran from the tower to where Arvak was waiting.

The ride back to the prison where Serana’s mother waited seemed shorter than before and Serana took the reigns this time, urging the horse onward, following the dirt track up towards the great blackened towers. The barrier was gone and her mother awaited them on the great stone porch. They got down off the horse and hurried up the stone steps.

“You really did it,” she said quietly, “I’m impressed. Come on, the scroll’s just inside.” She turned and led them towards the large heavy doors which would take them into the building’s interior. “This is the Boneyard,” she said, pushing the doors open and leading them down a flight of steps, “Keep an eye out for Durnehviir. With the defeat of the Keepers I fear he’s bound to investigate.” She walked briskly across the large open expanse that lay at the end of the corridor they’d come through. Serana stopped, putting a hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“Did you hear that?” she asked. Emily had heard it too. A faint distant roar. She’d hoped it had just been another of the unnatural sounds common to the Soul Cairn. Then she saw it. High up in the sky was a shadowy winged silhouette.

“It’s Durnehviir,” yelled Serana’s mother, “Find cover.” Another roar rent the air as they ran for the structures that dotted the Boneyard. They saw the dragon land heavily on the great walls of the Boneyard. He was vast with green scales. From his maw dripped rotting matter and his vivid green eyes were fixed upon them. He opened his mouth and let out a roar. With it came a pulsing blue light which arced through the sky, splitting and plunging to the earth. Red clouds billowed up where it struck and they watched as skeletons rose up from the earth to do battle. Serana’s mother pulled an ebony dagger from her belt and readied a great ball of lightning on her palm. The lightning shot through the skeletons, reducing them to ash.

The dragon roared in frustration and launched himself from the walls, crashing down into the Boneyard. From his mouth ripped purple energies which hurtled towards them. They scattered, Serana and her mother readying lightning spells. Emily took her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, launching it at the dragon. It pierced his scaly hide and he reared back as the lightning spells struck, rippling along his length.

Before they could launch another attack Durnehviir flapped his ragged wings, rising back into the air, letting loose another roar as he did so. Serana and her mother launched bolt after bolt as he wheeled around but each one whizzed past, missing by mere inches.

“We need to get him on the ground,” Serana called over to Emily. Emily’s eyes darted about the Boneyard. They came to rest on the small stone structures that dotted the edges of the Boneyard. “Get under the stone buildings,” she yelled, “He can’t attack what he can’t see.” With that she ran for the nearest building.

“She’s right,” said Serana, “Mother, you take you that one, I’ll take this one.”

“But Serana?” she replied.

“Mother, just go,” Serana said quickly, “Before he tries something else.” With that she took to her heels, making for the stone building nearest the entrance while her mother ran for the third one.

“Vonun fen ni saav hi’nu!” roared Durnehviir as he wheeled about the southern wall, “Hiding will not save you now!” Another tongue of blue flame coursed towards the earth and in the red smoke that billowed up rose more of the skeletal undead. Emily nocked an arrow and shot the first while Serana and her mother took out the other two.

Durnehviir landed heavily in the centre of the arena, facing the building Serana’s mother was hiding under. Emily broke cover from the tower, pulling the staff of firebolt from her back, summoning a ball of flame at the draconic head of the staff. She launched the firebolt which surged through the air, striking one of the dragon’s wings. The fire spread across the rotting leather of its wing and the dragon swung its great head around to lock eyes with Emily.

“GAAN LAH HAAS!” The purple energies hurtled for Emily who dove to one side, narrowly avoiding the strange magicks as she rolled across the ground, scrambling to her feet and running back towards the safety of the building.

“Come on then,” she yelled even as her hair stood on end at the thought of what she was doing. ‘I’ve done it, I’ve gone completely mad,’ she thought to herself, “Come on you great lizard!”

Serana watched from her stony shelter. One corner of her mouth curled up in a half smile as she realised the Earthling’s plan. The dragon was now clumsily crawling around to face Emily’s retreating figure. Serana took her chance to run from the safety of the shelter, conjuring a bolt of lightning on her palm. She launched it at the dragon who reared up, snapping its head around to lock eyes with the vampiress.

“Hi morah Dovah fen’mah fah hin Grahmindol,” he bellowed, loosing a blast of icy breath over his shoulder. The ice struck Serana, knocking her back to the ground. Emily felt cold fear coursing through her as she ran toward the dragon who was now turning towards Serana. Her entire body felt numb as she forced herself to her feet, staring the dragon straight in its cold green eyes. Emily made the summoning gesture as she ran, conjuring her familiar into existence.

“Over there!” she yelled as she leapt onto its back. Built for speed, the spectral cheetah much larger than its earthly cousins, raced across the dead earth. Emily brandished the firebolt staff as she ran. They dodged around the dragon’s scaly wings, blackened by the fire, towards the head. It was rearing back, preparing another breath attack. Emily launched the ball of flame which hurtled towards it. Durnehviir looked over in time to see the firebolt crash into his scaly head, the force knocking him to one side. Emily brought the cheetah to a halt between Durnehviir and Serana who was now wielding a bolt of lightning.

Durnehviir swayed his blackened head back to face Emily, flames still leaping over his scales. He growled savagely. The cheetah shifted from foot to foot as they stared the dragon down. Then Durnehviir opened his maw, displaying razor sharp yellowed teeth. Emily saw her chance. As she saw the icy energies building up in its maw she ran forwards, unleashing a firebolt from the staff. It hurtled straight into the dragon’s maw where it collided with the building supercooled ice. The resulting explosion from the two opposing forces was immense and Durnehviir reared back, his legs giving way beneath him as his blackened wings clawed at the sky. Then he toppled forward and collapsed to the earth.

Slowly Serana, her mother and Emily advanced towards the body of the dragon. Up close the stench of decay was overpowering. For several minutes they waited but the dragon did not move again.

“Forgive my astonishment,” Serana’s mother said, “But I never believed I’d see the death of that dragon.”

“Wait,” said Serana, pointing at the dragon, “Something’s happening.” Emily turned back to the dragon, brandishing her staff. Surely it could not be getting back to its feet. One hand gripped the fur of the cheetah and it too stared at the decaying dragon, fangs bared in a snarl. They watched as purple flames flickered along the length of the dragon’s back, spreading and enveloping every scale and claw. When the fires dissipated the dragon was gone.

“What happened?” Emily asked.

“It’s as I feared,” Serana’s mother replied, “I read in ancient tomes that Durnehviir could not be slain by normal means. It seems the tales were true.”

“Then, where’s he gone if he’s not dead?” Emily asked.

“A dragon’s soul is as resilient as its owner’s scaly hide,” she explained, “As long as his soul is not destroyed, his body can reform just as a Daedra does in the voidstreams.”

“How long will that take?” Serana asked.

“I don’t know,” her mother conceded, “It could be minutes, it could be months.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” Serana replied.

Serana’s mother led them to a chamber located at the far end of the Boneyard. It appeared that this was the area she had fashioned into rudimentary living quarters. The table was dominated by an alchemy lab and a long cylindrical box. It was this box she opened and she lifted out a scroll similar to the one Serana still carried on her back. She took a scroll holder from the table and slotted the scroll into it before handing it to Emily.

“You’d better go,” she said, “Before he returns.”

“You mean you’re staying here?” Emily replied.

“I have no choice,” she said, “As I told you, I too am a Daughter of Coldharbour. If I return to Tamriel that only doubles the chance that Harkon will be able to complete the prophecy.” Emily glanced from her to Serana.

“We’ll return when we can,” she said. The elder vampiress just laughed.

“Do not worry about me,” she said, “All I ask is that you’ll keep my daughter safe.”

“I will,” said Emily, “I promise,…”

“Valerica,” she replied. Emily nodded.

“I promise, Valerica,” she said.

Chapter Text

The dry earth crunched beneath their boots as they made their way across the Boneyard. They walked in silence until they had almost reached the entrance.

“I’m glad we found the scroll,” said Serana, gesturing the scroll container now slung across Emily’s back, “But I, I wish she could come with us.”

“We will return for her,” Emily replied, “As soon as this prophecy is well and truly stopped. But, there’s something that puzzles me.”

“What?” asked Serana.

“How has she been able to survive here all this time?” Emily asked, “I mean, only the undead live here so no blood.”

“Time doesn’t flow here in the same way as it does back on Nirn,” Serana replied, “Oblivion is a place that doesn’t follow the rules the Aedra, that is the gods, set in motion.”

“I think when we find a library I need to read up some more on all this,” said Emily, “It’s kind of staggering when I think of it. No human, I mean, no earthling has ever set foot outside their own world before, let alone into another world within another world.”

“Well, I think you’ll get your chance,” Serana replied, “I’ve been giving it some thought, the other scroll I mean. I think the College is where we need to go next. To find any information we can regarding the scrolls.”

“Well, at least I won’t feel the cold this time,” said Emily as they pushed open the large doors and stepped through. On the far side they found the great scaly green dragon waiting for them. His head and wings had been repaired during his regeneration and he regarded them as he perched atop the stones. Emily brandished the staff of firebolt and Serana readied a lightning spell on her palm.

“Stay your weapons,” said Durnehviir in loud booming tones, “I would speak with you, Qahnaarin.”

“How are you still alive?” Emily asked, lowering her staff. Durnehviir shook his great head, more of the slime dripping from his maw and spattering the ground.

“Cursed, not alive,” he said, “Doomed to spend eternity in this form, straddling the line between laas and dinok, life and death.”

“Why are we speaking?” Emily asked, “I thought you wanted to kill us.”

“I was bound by an oath to slay you,” Durnehviir replied, “As for why we are speaking, I have slain many in my time, rendered the flesh from innumerable foes but never have I myself fallen in battle.” The dragon turned his head to see her better. “I therefore honour-name you Qahnaarin which means ‘Vanquisher’ in your tongue and I find your ears worthy of my words.”

“I found you equally worthy,” Emily replied. It seemed the most reasonable response to her and harkened back to the fantasy novels she once read.

“Your words do me great honour,” said Durnehviir, bowing his scaly head, “It is because of our battle that I wish to speak with you, to respectfully ask a favour.”

“What kind of a favour?” Emily asked.

“Long have I served unwillingly in the Soul Cairn,” Durnehviir explained, “But before this I roamed the skies of Tamriel. I desire to return there.”

“Why can’t you?” Emily asked. The dragon once again shook his scaly head.

“I have remained here too long,” he replied, “I share a bond with this dreaded place as is what happens to any living soul who ventures here. If I were to leave my strength would wane until I was no more.”

“But, how can I help?” asked Emily.

“I will place my name with you, Qahnaarin,” Durnehviir replied, “And grant you the right to call my name from Tamriel and I will fight at your side as your Grah-Zeymahzin, your ally, and teach you my Thu’um.”

“But, how will calling your name bring you to Tamriel?” Emily asked.

“Dragon names contain great power, power enough to breach the barriers of this place and call me forth,” Durnehviir explained.

“How did you end up here?” Emily asked, gesturing to the dark featureless landscape.

“Long ago I called Tamriel my home and during that time the other dovah vied for slices of territory, resulting in violent and often fatal battles,” Durnehviir explained.

“And you were a part of all that?” Emily asked.

“I was,” Durnehviir replied, “But unlike my brethren I sought other means to dominate and control. I took the forbidden path of Alok-Dilon, or necromancy as you know it.”

“And let me guess, you sought the Soul Cairn for answers,” said Serana. Durnehviir nodded.

“I did,” he replied, “The ideal masters told me my powers would be unmatched if I agreed to serve as keeper until the death of the one known as Valerica.”

“But they didn’t tell you she was immortal,” Serana said, “That sounds just like them.”

“Indeed, I was tricked,” he replied, “I learned too late that the Ideal Masters favour deceit over honour and had no intention of releasing me. But though they possessed my mind they could not possess my soul.”

“Is that why you’re free now?” Emily asked. Durnehviir shook his head sorrowfully.

“Free? No, I have been here too long Qahnaarin,” he replied, “The Soul Cairn is a part of who I am now and if I strayed outside it for too long I would surely perish. I only hope you will allow me the brief moments of freedom through your call.”

“Why do you call me that?” Emily asked, “Qahnaarin.”

“In my language the Qahnaarin is the Vanquisher, the one who has bested another dovah in battle.” Durnehviir explained.

“Another dovah?” said Emily, “But I’m no dragon.”

“Forgive me, Qahaarin,” replied Durnehviir with a hint of amusement, “It was my instinct to grant you the title. Perhaps the reason will become clear to us in time.”

“Perhaps,” Emily replied.

Arvak was waiting for them at the bottom of the stone steps. He seemed unperturbed by the dragon’s presence and merely tossed his blue fiery mane, impatient to get moving. Emily and Serana climbed up onto his back and they raced off down the track, leaving the Boneyard behind. Across the dead featureless plains they rode, through the towering black archways and over hillocks scattered with bones of the less fortunate. They saw the beckoning light of the portal ahead of them and Emily urged Arvak onward.

They stopped at the foot of the steps that led up to it and dismounted.

“We’ll summon you again when we reach the mainland,” Emily reassured the skeletal horse, stroking his nose. He fixed her with bright eyes and nuzzled her head, whinnying softly. Emily turned back to the portal. Soon she would be back on Nirn, a space preferable to the Soul Cairn. It wasn’t Earth but at least it was alive.

They climbed the steps and as they reached the top Emily felt her boots leave the ground, taking her up into the light of the portal.

They emerged through the portal and their boots alighted on the bottom step of the portal. Finn awaited them at the top step but rather than taking his usual place atop Emily’s shoulders he seemed content to follow them as they left the laboratory. Emily glanced at her watch. Assuming their time in the Soul Cairn had not messed with the gears and cogs that made up the tiny device, it was currently a little before three in the morning. Emily walked briskly down the corridors. Their boots echoed in the narrow passages and large chambers. They reached the courtyard and Emily made a beeline for the door that led to the Undercroft and from there to the harbour and their boat.

She felt unease settling in over her as they walked down the stone steps that took them to the boat and Emily climbed in.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked her as she sat down next to her. Finn was curled up in the bottom of the boat as they guided the boat out from the harbour. Emily nodded but said nothing.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Emily snapped, wishing a second later she hadn’t. A silence hung over them now, a heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of water hitting the sides of the boat. For a time Emily watched the approaching mainland. Her hands were shaking slightly as she heaved at the oars and her mouth felt dry. Taking deep breaths no longer helped and served only to add to her feelings of unease.

Then a scent struck her, starkly different from the brine of the sea and the sea air. It was a heavy smell, faintly metallic. It caught Emily’s attention and she stopped rowing. It was coming from the mainland and seemed to set every muscle in her aquiver. It was unfamiliar and yet it drew her in. Serana noticed her companion had ceased rowing and now stared out to sea. Before she could say anything Emily stood up sharply and the boat tilted ominously.

“Emily, what are you doing?” she asked but Emily it seemed could not hear her. She made to reach for her but Emily leapt from the boat, causing it to rock violently, tossing up sea spray. As soon as she hit the water Emily began swimming in the direction of the smell as Serana called after her, sitting down and taking up the oars.

The cold of the sea did not bother her, nor did the salty water in her eyes and ears. She swam through the leaden grey sea towards the shore. Water dripped off her armour in rivulets as she surfaced on a small islet just off the coast. From where she was standing she could see the flickering light of a campfire. In the flickering firelight two people sat. Next to the campfire across a short wooden gangplank was what remained of a ship which had run aground. Its hull was buried in the coastline but the cabin seemed to be intact.

Emily slipped back into the water and swam around the side of the boat, her limbs moving with renewed vigour at the promise of what lay mere feet away. She pulled herself from the water and over the side of the boat, melding into the shadows cast by the cabin. From here she moved on silent tread, slipping around the corner of the cabin to the open doorway. Inside the cabin a man lay on a bedroll. His chest rose and fell and the gentle movements spoke of vulnerability. Emily quivered as she hovered over the sleeping man.

The piercing yells coming from the cabin caused those around the fire to leap to their feet, drawing their blades. They ran across the wooden gangplank to the cabin entrance. Three more emerged from the tent at the side of the campfire, tousle haired, eyes bright and alert.

As they peered into the gloom of the cabin they saw a sight that curdled their blood. Standing over their chief’s lifeless body was a woman in blood spattered armour. It was in her hair and stained her lips as she turned bright red eyes on them. One of them dropped his blade and ran while the other advanced on the fledgling vampire. Her blade was still in her hands and she lunged at the man. He brought up his own blade, parrying the blow. It was then he heard a sickening gurgle and glanced over his shoulder, his heart hammering. There was another of the monsters standing over the body of one of the other men. She now faced down the remaining three. But he’d looked too long and he felt a heavy weight crash into him and fangs sink into his neck. He flailed but the vampiress hung on tightly and he began to feel his strength leave him as he collapsed to the deck.

Emily stood up hurriedly. She looked around at the campsite where she could see a body floating in the shallow waters. She saw Serana fighting off two more of the armoured men and when she moved to run towards her she nearly tripped on something at her feet. She looked down and stifled a scream at the sight of the man. His neck was torn open and blood spattered much of his body and pooled in the dirt. His eyes were blank, unseeing. Emily reach up and felt the blood still wet on her chin.

When the last man fell to Serana’s blade she turned to see Emily standing on the deck of the ship, clutching at herself and staring out vacantly at the campsite. Serana crossed the spit of land to the gangplank. She glanced out over the sea at the lightening sky. Words seemed a little empty to her so she took Emily by the arm and led her into the cabin. Emily gave little resistance as she was led inside and made to sit on a pile of sailcloth sitting in the corner. Serana dragged the body of the bandit out of the cabin and cleaned her blade in the shallow waters before returning to where Emily sat. She was looking down at the ground and she didn’t so much as flinch as Serana knelt down next to her. It was only when she felt Serana’s hand on her shoulder that she moved. She looked over at Serana, red eyes meeting a pair that could have been a reflection. Emily bit her lip, fangs puncturing her skin as she squeezed her eyes shut. Tears began to well up and trickle down her cheeks, mingling with the blood.

“I killed them,” she managed to stutter out, “I killed them. Innocents. I. I killed.” Serana wasn’t sure how exactly to reply so she rubbed her shoulder gently.

“What I did,” she said, “What I did was…was evil. I’m…I’m evil.”

“Emily, you weren’t you when you did that,” Serana replied, “I’d forgotten how intense the first feeding was. It wasn’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t change what I did,” Emily said bitterly.

“No,” Serana conceded, “But the way you are now shows who you really are.” Emily looked up at her. “You’re not a bad person.” More tears leaked from her eyes and when she broke down again she leant against Serana, crying into her cloak. Serana put her arms around her, letting her move closer as she continued to cry.

“I could’ve got you killed,” she heard her say quietly, “I could’ve got you killed when I went…like that.”

“Nonsense,” Serana replied, “I was more worried about you.” Emily dabbed at her eyes, sitting up shakily. “You’ll be alright,” Serana continued.

“Will it be like this every time I have to feed?” Emily asked, a note of apprehension evident in her voice. Serana shook her head.

“You’ll be able to control the thirst in time,” she replied, “The first time is always the most…intense.” She got up and picked up a bucket which lay near the back, leaving the cabin to fill it with seawater before setting it down in front of Emily. Emily washed the blood from her face and her hair. Her armour was still wringing wet so Serana handed her the vampire armour they’d picked up in the castle.

“I’ll hang this up to dry,” she said as she got up, one hand lingering on Emily’s shoulder for a moment. Then she left the cabin, carrying the wet armour. It all seemed so strange, hanging out armour to dry as though it were the most normal thing in the world while the campsite was littered with the bodies dead by her own hand or Serana’s. Emily put her head in her hands.

“I need to atone for this,” she said quietly, “Somehow I need to.” She felt tiny paws grabbing at her fingers. Emily raised her head to see the little otter clinging to one of her fingers. He let go and crawled into her arms, nuzzling her chin and letting out a little squeak. Emily tickled him behind his ears and he nuzzled her fingertips. Emily allowed herself a small smile, burying her face in his fur.

Serana re-joined them in the cabin, sitting down on the sailcloth. “The sun will be up soon,” she said, “Remember, you can’t go out in it or-.”

“It’ll kill me,” Emily replied quietly, “I know.” Serana curled up in the corner of the cabin, taking her book from her bag and opening it. She flicked through the pages until she found the chapter where she’d left off. Once in a while she glanced over at the Earthling who still sat, watching the open doorway where sunlight was now creeping in.

“You should probably get some sleep,” she said, “The days can feel awfully long otherwise.”

Emily lay down on the sailcloth beside her a moment later and Finn curled up between them, putting his paws over his nose.

“Serana,” Emily asked her as she watched her from her place on the sailcloth.

“Yes?” Serana replied.

“When you were in Dimhollow, were you awake in that sarcophagus?” Emily asked.

“No,” Serana replied, “Not for most of it anyway. I was… ‘hibernating’ for lack of a better word. I woke up occasionally, once every few hundred years, but only for a few minutes at most.”

“It’s a good job you weren’t an insomniac,” said Emily. Serana raised an eyebrow.

“A what?” she asked.

“Someone who has difficulty sleeping,” Emily explained, “I used to have insomnia when I was a kid. My mum had an awful time trying to get me to sleep.”

“What were your parents like, Emily?” Serana asked.

“My mum’s a nurse,” Emily replied, “Y’know, like a healer and my dad’s an IT technician.” She chuckled, “There’s no real Skyrim equivalent. He worked with earth tech, computers.”

“What were computers used for?” Serana asked.

“Many things,” Emily replied, “Finding information, writing letters and books, talking to people, playing videogames, things like that.”

“Did you get along with your parents?” Serana asked, edging a little closer.

“Most of the time,” Emily replied with a smile.

“Do you miss them?” Serana asked. Emily nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I miss them,” she replied. After several minutes Serana returned to her book. She turned another page. Outside the wind had picked up and rain was now bouncing off the wooden roof of the cabin, the rhythmic drumming lending the atmosphere in the cabin a calming air.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” said Emily, “I’m glad I’m not going through this alone.”

“If I wasn’t here you wouldn’t be going through this at all,” Serana reminded her, “You’d still be mortal for a start.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Emily replied, “You’re not the only vampire in Skyrim, y’know.” She leant up on her elbows, “And I don’t exactly have the greatest track record for avoiding conflicts with vampires,” she continued, “That’s how I wound up working for the Dawnguard, remember?” She looked up at vampiress. “No, I’d probably have run into some other vampire sooner or later,” she said, “And they wouldn’t have been anywhere near as friendly.” Serana allowed herself a small smile.

“Maybe,” she conceded.

After a time Emily began to see what Serana meant about the length of the days. Even though the sun was hidden behind a bank of cloud she could not risk setting foot outside. The same four walls offered little to do and sleep became a much more viable option. She curled up tighter into the sailcloth, willing herself to fall asleep.

* * *

The rain had long since stopped and the moons had risen above the horizon when Emily stirred from the sailcloth. She looked around the cabin and the events from before hit her like a sledgehammer. The wooden floorboards on the opposite sides of the cabin were plastered with congealed blood and she knew that beyond the wooden walls there lay the bodies of men, at least one of which was dead by her hands. She’d killed before, she realised with a sickening feeling, but somehow that hadn’t seemed like the same thing. They’d been draugr, undead beings raised by magic or other means so perhaps that was different. She’d killed vampires too. But now she was one, lying in the company of another, one she called her friend, possibly even her best friend. What separated those vampires she’d killed from her other than who they aligned themselves with?

She heard the sailcloth shift as Serana sat up and stretched.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Emily replied. Serana handed her a small red bottle.

“What is this?” she asked, uncorking it. The smell coming from the bottle told her the answer before Serana replied.

“It’s blood,” she said, “It’ll help stave off the thirst for the night.” Emily took a swig from the bottle and almost retched at the thought of what she was drinking. What repulsed her even more was the fact that she found she enjoyed the taste. When the bottle had been emptied she handed it back to Serana. The thirst was indeed gone and they left the cabin, crossing the wooden gangplank to the campsite. Here Emily summoned Arvak and the horse appeared before her in a billow of purple flame. They got on his back and rode off across the coast.

They followed the coastline, riding between the corpulent bodies of the horkers who were sprawled out along the beach, great sides heaving as they slept. They crossed shallow waters and rode past wooden crates washed up on the beach. Ahead Emily saw the towering archway which housed the city of Solitude. It seemed like a lifetime ago since she’d last set foot within the walls. A sudden thought occurred to her.

“Serana,” she asked as they rode, “Do you think we could stop off at Solitude on the way to the college?”

“What for?” asked Serana.

“I want to visit the temple,” Emily replied.

“You know they can’t cure vampirism, don’t you?” said Serana. They rode around the headland where they joined the cobblestone road that would take them up towards the city.

“I know,” Emily replied, “I’ve heard people mention the gods of this world before, the divines, and I thought maybe I should seek their guidance.”

“Alright,” she said, “I’ll wait for you at the Inn then. I’m not good with temples.”

* * *

It was just after midnight when they reached the city of Solitude. Emily had borrowed Serana’s hood and pulled it up over her head as they entered the city. When she last entered the city she had been a woman of flesh and blood, alive and breathing and when she’d last been seen it had been when vampires stormed the city and captured some of the citizens. Her appearance might raise awkward questions not easily answered.

She passed by Angeline’s Aromatics and followed the stone slope from the marketplace up towards Castle Dour. Two soldiers guarded the entrance while another warmed himself on the fire pit that stood at the centre of the courtyard. She had never visited the temple of the Divines but she’d seen the monks go up into this courtyard and follow the stone steps up towards the temple. She climbed these steps now, following them up towards the tall impressive edifice that was the temple. It had large stained glass windows lit from the inside by candles placed at the windows. She followed the stone walkway around to the main doors. Her hand hesitated inches from the door handle. Could vampires pass through these doors? Perhaps standing on hallowed ground would cause her physical pain. But Serana hadn’t seemed that phased by her decision, merely wishing to stay out of it.

Emily pushed open the doors and stepped into the dimly lit antechamber. From the chamber below she could hear the chanting of the monks as she closed the door behind her. There were candles on many of the surfaces and they lit the set of stairs that led down to the floor below. Emily descended the stairs and found herself in a large chamber which was well lit at one end. Beneath these lights she saw a series of pedestals and on these pedestals were various statues of differing shapes and sizes. On one there was a dragon with a sword sticking into its open maw and on another was the carved face of a woman encircled within stone carvings reminiscent of the celtic style. Emily found herself conflicted. She did not know all of these divines by names or which statue belonged to which divine. She had heard Tolan mention Stendarr, god of mercy and righteous might and on one occasion he had mentioned Arkay, god of life and death but the others were unknown to her. So she knelt before the shrines.

“Divines,” she said, “Though I am an outsider in your lands I seek your guidance for I have sinned. I have killed for personal gain whether or not I was aware of my actions at the time and I beg your help. Please show me what to do and how I can repent for my sins.” She bowed her head before the shrines before standing up. She reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of coins. At each of the shrines she left a gold coin. One of the shrines appeared to be empty, bearing no statue but she left a coin on the empty stone nonetheless.

Emily left the temple and descended the stone steps, passing through the courtyard to the walkway. The city was quiet save for the guards patrolling the streets. They paid little attention to her as she walked past, making a beeline for the Inn.

She slipped in through the door and peered around the stone pillar into the main hall. Serana had taken a table near the corner and when Emily spotted her she waved over to her.

“Are you alright?” she asked as Emily sat down, “I noticed you were quiet this evening.”

“I’ll be alright,” Emily replied.

“We should probably get going,” Serana said, getting up from the table, “We could make it as far as Dragon Bridge before the night is over.” Emily followed her out of the Inn and along the street to the town gates. The guards took little notice as they passed through the tall gates and followed the cobblestone road down to where they left Arvak. They had tied him to a rock pillar out of sight of the locals. They both figured that the sight of a skeleton horse with a mane of fire might spook the locals just a little. Arvak was waiting patiently when they arrived and when they had both climbed up onto his back they took off along the cobblestone road towards Dragon Bridge.

Chapter Text

The horizon bore a pinkish hue as they reached the small town of Dragon Bridge. They left Arvak in a small wooded clearing not far from the town, promising him they would return at nightfall.

The Inn was almost empty when they entered, most of the town’s inhabitants still asleep. Two guardsmen who had just come off guard duty sat in the corner, nursing two tankards of mead.

Emily and Serana took a seat near the corner. After a few minutes Emily got up and approached the bar. She still had the hood pulled low over her head as she ordered a small bowl of raw clams. The bartender raised an eyebrow as she pushed the small earthenware bowl across the countertop. As she passed by the table where the guardsmen sat she heard a few words of their whispered conversation.

“Did you hear?” said one, “Roggvir’s case was brought forward last week.”

“I did,” the other replied, “Damn sorry business that.” He took another swig of mead, “They tried to break him out, you know,” he said. The other guard leaned farther across the table.

“They got the Thieves Guild involved from what I heard,” he continued, “Sent one of their best men too. Last I heard Elenwen took a personal interest in the affairs and had him carted off to the Embassy for questioning.” His companion shuddered.

“I think I would have preferred to meet the headsman’s axe,” he said.

Emily re-joined Serana in the corner, pushing the bowl of raw clams towards Finn. She took out the map and spread it out on the table.

“So, what do you think is our best route then?” she asked.

“I think we should follow the coast,” Serana replied, “It’ll be quicker than heading inland. And this time I won’t have to worry about you getting frostbite before we’re halfway.”

“That will be a welcome change,” said Emily with a hint of a smile, “Took me all day by the fire last time to feel warm again.” She looked around the bar at the few patrons and the bartender cleaning a tankard behind the counter.

“It’s strange, you know,” she continued. Serana listened as her companion continued. “Around this time I’d usually be exhausted from our night’s travel. But now-.” She left the sentence hanging.

“I know,” Serana replied, “Sleep takes on a new meaning now. A way to pass the time or escape your own thoughts rather than rid you of fatigue.”

“When will I need to feed again?” Emily asked.

“Tonight, before we leave,” Serana replied, “I still have three bottles left.”

“Where did you get them?” Emily asked.

“Do you remember where we met the feral vampire?” Serana asked. Emily nodded.

“There was a keg there,” Serana explained, “She’d probably been skimming off remnants from the bone pit.

“Don’t worry, I won’t elaborate further,” she said when she noticed Emily’s grimace.

At around noon Emily decided to retire to her room. She paid the bartender the coin and pushed open the door to the adjoining room. She found it hard to believe that this was the first bed she had slept in on entering this strange land. Finn accompanied her, curling up on the armchair across the room from the bed. Emily sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling off the leather bracers and breastplate, electing to sleep in the red undershirt and dark breeches. She huddled under the furs, willing herself to sleep. Though no tiredness lured her on she soon fell into a fitful sleep.

She awoke in a world of crystalline structures and above her burned a light that almost blinded her. It made her skin smart and she cowered from it.

“Child of night,” said a voice that shook the crystals beneath her, “Why have you sought the guidance of myself and my kin?” Emily fought against the smarting pain to look up into the light. In the light she saw, or thought she saw, a face.

“Are you…the Divines?” Emily asked. The light above her grew brighter as the great orb moved closer. She cowered beneath the light.

“I am the One,” the voice replied, “Now tell me, why have you sought guidance?”

“I killed…out of need,” said Emily, unable to face the gaze of the bright faced orb, “I killed to feed. I don’t remember doing it but it doesn’t change the fact that I did. I seek repentance.”

“You are seeking that which belongs to me, are you not?” asked the voice.

“We’re seeking the Elder Scrolls,” Emily answered.

“And this is in aid of finding that which is mine,” replied the voice. Emily waited for the orb to say more. She was about to speak up when it continued.

“You tread a path between sun and shadow,” it said, “Whether you plunge into endless night or stand tall in the light of the sun will be down to your actions alone.”

“But what must I do?” Emily I asked, “I don’t even know where to sta-.”

“Silence, immortal,” the voice boomed. Emily shut her mouth quickly. “To pursue the knowledge you seek you must go to the ice fields near the Northern beacon of Magnus’ wisdom. Find the madman who contemplates an artefact of ages past in his icy stronghold but beware, do not take knowledge that was never yours to own.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“Knowledge is tempting but an endless pursuit will rob of you your light, plunging you into endless night.” The orb was fading now, withdrawing as the crystalline structures began to shatter around her. The light dimmed as the orb disappeared from sight, leaving her in the shadows.

Emily’s eyes snapped open. She was lying on her back, facing the ceiling. The words still rang in her head as she snapped up. She looked down at her hands as they rested on the furs that still covered her. There were angry red marks on the backs of her hands that looked like burns. She got out of bed, dressing quickly before leaving the room. She found Serana at the table by the corner. She was reading from a book, only lifting her hand to turn a page. She looked up when she heard Emily’s footsteps.

“Is something the matter?” she asked as Emily sat down next to her. Emily rubbed the back of one hand with the other. The skin still smarted where the light had touched.

“I had a strange dream,” she replied, “And when I woke up my hands were like this.” Serana held one of her hands delicately.

“What was the dream?” she asked.

“There was an orb of light with a face,” Emily replied in a low voice, “I was on some kind of crystalline structure.” Serana listened as Emily continued. “The voice asked me why I sought the guidance of him and his kin,” she explained, “Then he said to retrieve the knowledge we seek we must go to…” she paused, trying to remember the words the being had used, “The ice fields next to the Northern Beacon of Magnus’ wisdom. He mentioned a madman who contemplates an artefact of ages past in his icy stronghold, something like that.”

“Magnus is the god of magic to the Altmer and Bretons,” Serana replied.

“And these marks?” Emily asked.

“They look like burns,” Serana replied.

“Perhaps there was a hole in the thatching above my bed,” Emily suggested but Serana shook her head.

“If it had been the sun,” she replied, “Even a small amount would kill you.”

“Are dreams something to be listened to in this world?” Emily asked.

“Are they not in yours?” Serana replied.

“Depends on who you ask,” Emily shrugged her shoulders.

“The Northern Beacon of Magnus’ wisdom almost certainly refers to the college,” Serana said thoughtfully, “The sea around it is sometimes known as the Ice Fields.”

“Do you think we should check it out?” Emily asked.

“Maybe,” Serana replied, “This dream of yours certainly seems like…something. I wonder who the madman is or the artefact.”

* * *

It took them a whole week of hard riding to complete their journey across Skyrim’s frigid coastline. Emily found herself feeling grateful that the harsh winds and freezing spray blowing in off the sea of Ghosts did not elicit anything more than a mild shiver from her in her undead state. What was far more difficult to come to terms with was the act of drinking blood, even when the first three feedings came from blood already gathered which did not necessitate drinking directly from a mortal.

But on the fourth night they stopped in the coastal city of Dawnstar. Emily felt the first traces of thirst creeping up on her. Serana led her through the snowbound city streets towards the houses that lay on the outskirts.

“Tell me what you hear from this house,” Serana said, gesturing to the small cottage they stood before.

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“As a vampire you can hear and smell things others can’t,” Serana replied, “Close your eyes and tell me first what you hear.” Emily closed her eyes, straining her ears to listen. At first she heard the slap of the waves against the snow encrusted sands and the howl of the wind blowing in over the sea walls. Then there came another sound, a quieter steady sound. It was a sound once familiar to her, the steady rhythmic beat of a heart.

“A heartbeat,” she replied.

“A or many?” Serana asked. Emily listened again.

“Just one,” she said. Serana smiled.

“Correct,” she replied.

“Why are you asking me all this?” Emily asked, puzzled.

“As a vampire you’ll need to learn how to hunt in a way that keeps you safe and those you feed on alive,” Serana explained, “This house has only one inhabitant. It will be an easy first peaceful feeding.” Serana led her to the door where she made a gesture over the lock. They heard a click and the door opened, allowing them to slip inside. On a bed upstairs lay a man, fast asleep, unaware of the two nightwalkers that kept vigil. Serana nodded to Emily who crossed the room to the bedside. She heard the man’s heartbeat and saw the veins in his neck twitching as the blood pulsed through. Slowly she bent over the man, every nerve in her body on edge at the thought of what she was about to do.

She bit into the man’s neck and warm blood flooded her mouth. It was intoxicating and she drank greedily, blood coursing down her throat. Then she felt Serana’s hand on her shoulder and she withdrew. The man still slept but his teeth were gritted and two puncture marks were apparent on his neck. Serana passed a hand over his neck and the bitemarks faded, closing over.

“You will be no more to him than a nightmare,” she whispered to Emily as they left the room, descending the wooden staircase and leaving the house.

“And he won’t become a vampire?” Emily asked.

“No, a vampire can only turn someone through biting if they truly wish it,” Serana replied.

“Then you wished to turn me?” Emily asked.

“So that we could enter the Soul Cairn together as you wished,” Serana replied.

“Is that the only reason?” Emily asked. Serana smiled and looked over towards the docks.

“There might have been another reason,” she replied. Emily waited for her to continue but she said no more, instead leading her outside the town to where Arvak awaited them and they continued on their journey to Winterhold.

On the seventh night the great island the College stood upon came into view. But instead of taking the track that would take them up into the ruins of the once great city they instead rode under the stone bridge, turning their attention to the icy floes. They dismounted from the horse and stood on the shoreline.

“So this icy stronghold of his is out there somewhere,” said Serana, “Doesn’t look like somewhere I’d pick.”

“What kind of place would you pick?” Emily asked as they stepped onto the first of the ice floes.

“A forest,” Serana replied, “Somewhere quiet with moonlight dappled clearings where I could read and wander. Somewhere with crystal clear pools and flowers of all kinds I could practice alchemy with.”

“It sounds beautiful,” said Emily as they leapt across the gap between two great slabs of ice. The ice rocked beneath them for a moment and they moved to the centre until the rocking ceased. The ice floes took them far out beyond the island of the college and out into the Sea of Ghosts. The night was clear and afforded them a view of the distant icebergs. As they neared the icebergs Emily spotted two lights outside one of them.

When they drew nearer they found the lights stood on either side of a jagged hole cut into the ice, partially boarded up with wooden slats. They slipped between the wooden boards and followed the dark tunnel beyond. Even as two undead they felt the chill of ice pressing in on them on every side. The tunnel was winding and brought them out into a large cavern dominated by a great metal cube. A man paced before the metal cube and he muttered to himself, seemingly unaware of the two intruders in his glacial home.

“Excuse me,” Emily said as she approached the man. He did not seem to hear her and continued his mutterings.

“The transcendent skies mock the earth bones below,” he wheezed, “As none can move as fast as they. But Septimus knows of the earth bones and their secrets. Their lies. Their treacheries.”

“Excuse me,” Emily said again, “I was told you could tell us where to find an Elder Scroll.” At these words the man whirled around with astonishing speed and Emily took a step backward.

“An Elder Scroll, yes,” he said, wheezing with laughter, “Indeed, Septimus knows. The Empire, they absconded with them.” He laughed again, a wheezy chortle, “Or so they think.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “The ones they saw, ahh, the ones they thought they saw.” He was now leaning so close that Emily could plainly see his yellowed teeth and his voice was now no more than a whisper, “I know of one. Forgotten. Sequestered. But I cannot go to it for I, poor Septimus, have risen beyond its grasp.” Emily looked on bewildered as the man’s words died away.

“Do you know where it is?” she asked, unsure of what kind of response to expect.

“Here,” replied the man with a toothy grin, “Well, here as in this plane. Mundus, Tamriel, nearby relatively speaking.” He laughed, “But then again, it’s all nearby.” Emily recognised the faint annoyance in Serana’s pursed lips and folded arms.

“Well, can you help us get it?” Emily asked.

“One block lifts the other,” Septimus replied, “Septimus will give you what you seek but you must first bring him something in return.”

“And what exactly do you want?” Emily asked.

“You see this masterwork of the Dwemer?” Septimus asked as he gestured to the great metal container, “Deep inside is their greatest knowings. Ahh, Septimus is a genius among men but he is but an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. But he is lucky for they left their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach one yet lies.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Have you heard of Blackreach?” he asked. Emily shook her head. “Cast upon where Dwemer cities slept, the yearning spires hidden learnings kept.”

“Okay, now you’re just speaking in riddles, old man,” said Serana, a note of impatience evident in her voice, “Can you tell us how to get there or not?”

“Oh yes, impatient child of night,” Septimus replied, “Blackreach is deep, under deep. Below the dark. Hidden Keep, Tower Mzark. Alftand, the point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits and Blackreach lies just beyond. Ahhh, but not all can enter there. Septimus alone knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock.”

“And that key would be?” Serana asked. The man reached into his robes and pulled out what appeared to be a bronze sphere covered in strange markings and a bronze cube covered in grooves which ran the length and breadth of it.

“Two things I have for you both, one edged, one round,” he explained, “The round one for tuning. Dwemer music is soft and subtle, needed to open their cleverest gates. The edged lexicon, for inscribing. To us it is but a hunk of metal but to the Dwemer it is a library full of knowings. But alas, empty.” He handed the lexicon and sphere to Emily. “Find Mzark and its sky-dome. The machinations there will read the Scroll and lay their lore upon the cube. Trust Septimus. He knows you can know.”

“And what exactly do I do with this?” Emily asked, holding up the sphere.

“The deepest doors of Dwemer listen for singing,” he explained, “It plays the attitude of notes proper for opening.” Here he put a hand to his ear as though listening to something. “Can you not hear it? Too low for hearing?”

“And the cube?” Emily asked.

“To glimpse the world inside the Elder Scroll can damage the eyes and the mind as it has to poor Septimus,” Septimus replied, “But the Dwemer found a loophole as they always do. To focus the knowledge away and inside without harm. Place the lexicon in the contraption and focus the knowings inside. When it brims with glow bring it to Septimus so he may read once more.”

Emily turned to Serana. “Any idea where this Alftand place is then?” she asked. Before Serana could reply Septimus clapped his hands, hopping from one foot to the other.

“A-ha, an eager one,” he wheezed, “Good, this is good to see. Septimus can show you if you have an inscription of the land you walk in your possession. A map.” Emily took the map from her bag and Septimus marked a spot South west of the city of Winterhold.

“We should be able to get there by daybreak,” said Serana appraisingly as she looked at the map, “So long as we leave now.”

“I think that would be a very good idea,” said Emily as she glanced over her shoulder at the madman who had resumed his ramblings. Serana and Emily climbed the icy ledge which brought them to the tunnel and back out into the open air of the ice floes.

“Did you get what he was talking about?” Emily asked as they made their way back across the ice floes.

“He was rambling,” Serana replied, “The Scroll drove him mad. But most madmen speak at least a few grains of truth. Besides, Alftand is our only lead for now.”

Across the floes they trekked until they reached the shoreline. From there they mounted Arvak and galloped off towards the snowy plains southwest of Winterhold.

Chapter Text

The Dwemer ruins of Alftand were situated atop one of the massive icy cliffs that looked out over the Sea of Ghosts. Two bare wooden structures had been erected. One lay at the foot of one of the great stone towers which protruded from the ice while the other lay nearer the edge of the cliff.

“Looks like someone was here before us,” Serana remarked as they got down off the horse and picketed him at one of the wooden structures.

“Let’s hope they don’t mind us being here,” Emily replied. They stepped inside one of the wooden lean-tos. Snow covered every surface and the slatted roof was full of holes. On a table Emily found a book covered in a thin layer of snow. She picked it up and flicked through the pages. It listed the members of the expedition and their attempts to breach the icy walls in the hopes of gaining access to the ruins.

“It looks like there’s a way in through a glacial fissure,” she said, closing the book and putting it in her bag. They left the wooden structure and searched the area along the edge of the cliff. Here they found a wooden rope bridge that led down along the edge of the cliff. The bridge swayed ominously in the winds that crashed against the cliffs and they held onto the ropes as they crossed.

“What do you think we’ll find inside?” Emily asked.

“I’m not sure,” Serana replied, “I read stories about the Dwemer. They were master forgers in the metal they alone knew the secret to working. According to the books I read they forged their own legions and serfs.”

“I heard a story about the Dwemer once,” Emily said suddenly, “I was in an inn in a small town and there was a storyteller. He told us a story about his exploration of a Dwemer ruin.” She shivered. “He encountered something called an Animonculossus. I hope we don’t encounter anything like that.”

“What’s an Animonculossus?” Serana asked.

“A giant metal thing,” Emily replied. Serana quirked an eyebrow with an amused smile.

“Very specific, Emily,” she said.

“Oh hush,” Emily replied with a laugh, “Daft vampiress.” They followed the wooden platforms down to a deep crevice that split the glacier in two. From the crevice there came faint sounds of hissing and metal clanking. They entered in through the crevice and found themselves in a narrow tunnel of compacted ice. They moved along it quietly, listening out for anything suspicious but the only sounds were the faint hissing and clanking they heard from outside the tunnels.

Presently the tunnel opened out and the walls and ceiling were supported by thick wooden posts. Crates and barrels littered the ground and ahead of them lay the remains of a campfire. As they drew nearer to the campfire Emily suddenly came to a halt, putting out a hand to stop Serana.

“Blood,” she said, pointing to dark spatters that covered the icy ground, “I think maybe there’s something unfriendly up ahead.”

“Probably Falmer,” Serana replied.

“How on earth do they survive out here?” asked Emily.

“Falmer are hardy beings,” Serana replied, “Almost as hardy as vampires.”

They crept past the remains of the campfire and followed the icy tunnels down further into the ruin. In some areas those belonging to the expedition had erected wooden platforms to cover areas where the ice was too treacherous to cross. They’d hung lanterns from the wooden beams, some of which were still lit while others had long since sputtered into darkness. Emily’s night vision made even the dimmest tunnels clearly discernible and they crept quietly along. Then they heard muttering up ahead. It sounded angry and urgent.

“Where is it?” said the voice, “I know you were trying to keep it for yourself J’zhar…You always try to keep it for yourself.” They heard the sounds of crates being overturned and crashes as objects were tossed to one side. Ahead of them there was a hole in the wooden scaffolding and through it they saw a Khajiiti man. His ears were laid flat against his skull as he continued his feverish search.

“No! There’s got to be more skooma… Shut up! Shut up!” he mumbled, punctuating each sentence by pummelling the sides of his head, “Don’t lie to me, J’zhar! You hid it! You always try to steal it from me!” He continued his mutterings as he stumbled further into the ruin and his voice gradually faded away.

“I think maybe we’ve found our killer,” Serana observed.

The tunnels they came to next were supported by large metal pipes, some of which still gushed steam which melted the surrounding ice. Here much of the ice gave way to carved stonework. The ground beneath their feet was an inch deep in water and this water gushed down the stone slope. Their boots sloshed through the water as they made their way down the slope.

As they reached the bottom they caught sight of something glinting in the light of one of the lanterns. It was a large metal device with eight jointed appendages. Steam gushed from the large section of metal that made up the body and there was a puddle of oil on the ground beneath it.

“What is that thing?” Emily asked.

“I would guess a Dwarven spider,” Serana replied, nudging the inert automaton with her boot, “According to the books I read they kept the Dwemer ruins in working order, performing repairs, that sort of thing.”

They continued on through the dark cavernous stone corridor. Here and there large piles of ice blocked part of the tunnels and icicles hung from the ceiling. In places large piles of rubble littered the floor. Ahead was an area more well lit than the rest of the cavern. At its heart was a stone table on which another Dwarven spider was spread out. Some of its limbs had been removed and lay next to it along with an array of tools and several thick covered books. Emily picked up a small thin book that lay among the others. It contained notes written in a messy scrawl that took her some minutes to decipher. It detailed the measures taken to stop further dwarven spiders from entering the area they were exploring as well as notes on how the spiders were observed to function and theories concerning their proposed power sources.

Emily put the book down on the table as she turned to face the pipes mentioned in the journal. Large amounts of rubble had been dumped in front of the pipes, cutting off any entrance by less than friendly intruders. On the far side of the chamber where a bedroll lay, covered in blood, there was a doorway blocked by metal bars. Seeing their way barred they instead elected to follow the chamber around past the blocked pipes. Small bits of rubble crunched under their boots and they listened intently for anything that might signal an imminent threat.

Something clanked and Emily spun around, drawing her dagger. Something was moving in the shadows behind them, whirring and clanking. It raised itself up on spindly metal legs and seemed to be watching them. Then it lunged. Emily dodged to one side as the sharpened points at the ends of its legs screeched horribly against the metal of the pipe behind them. Emily gritted her teeth at the sound as Serana gathered lightning on her palm, launching it at the offending automaton. It struck the Dwarven spider at full force, throwing it to the ground. Emily leapt at it, pinning it to the ground as she wedged her dagger into the spinning gyro atop the main piece. The gem set into the gyro juddered against the dagger and Emily, with one last heave against the dagger, sent it skittering across the room. As soon as the gem broke free the spider collapsed beneath her, becoming as inert as the one lying on the table.

“Phew,” said Emily as she got to her feet, sheathing her dagger.

“Remind me to teach you a lightning spell when we have a chance to rest,” said Serana, “They’re resistant to all magic up to a point but lightning is among the more effective spells to use.”

“How about frost?” Emily asked. Serana shook her head.

“They’re completely resistant to frost,” she replied, “It probably has something to do with the steam and soul energies that power them.”

They followed the cavern into a tunnel which sloped sharply upwards. Broken pipes lay across the path, gushing steam and water ran down the middle of the stone slope. At the top they came to a corridor where the stonework gave way to ice. More wooden poles were present to support the corridor and ahead there lay a pool of light. The light was cast by a discarded torch which was still burning. Emily picked it up and plunged it into the ice, extinguishing it. A week or two ago she would have been glad of it but the hungry flames now posed a new threat to undead skin. As the smoke twisted up from the burnt torch they heard the muttering begin anew ahead of them.

“Where is it?” came the voice, “Where is it, J’zhar?”

They crept along the icy hallways and Emily drew her dagger. The sound of metal scraping against metal behind her told her that Serana had done the same. They followed the muttering down an icy slope which led deeper into the ruins. They came upon another dropped torch which they similarly extinguished before moving on.

“What? Who is this brother?” came a voice close by. It sounded agitated. “Another of the smooth skins looking for food?” he said, “But this one wasn’t trapped with us…” From around the corner emerged a Khajiiti man. He was dressed in peasant’s clothes, carrying a hatchet and his eyes gleamed madly in the faint light.

“No…No!” he yelled, “You must be the one who took my skooma!” And then he lunged at them, hatchet raised. Serana blocked the blow but it was followed by another and another. The attacks were frenzied, uncoordinated. Emily readied a drain spell and when it struck the Khajiit he stumbled back, his ears laid back against his skull as he turned on Emily. His eyes gleamed brightly as he raised the hatchet. But abruptly his eyes dulled and the hatchet slipped from his grasp. He fell forward, slumping in the ice, a dagger protruding from his back.

Serana retrieved the dagger and cleaned it on the snow. They stepped over the body of the Khajiit and looked around. The tunnel they were in was plastered with blood. It covered the floor and was splashed up some of the nearby walls. A few feet along the tunnel they came to a bedroll. On the bedroll lay another Khajiit. His eyes were wide open, a look of surprise etched onto his still features and a knife protruded from his gut. Serana retrieved a small journal from his bedside and flicked through it.

“He tried to get his brother clean of the skooma,” she said, “Unfortunately we can see how successful he was.”

“Now I’m really glad you warned me off it when we were in Dimhollow,” Emily replied, “Is that…what would have happened?”

“Likely worse,” said Serana, “Khajiit have a bit of resistance to its effects but men do not.”

They left the bodies of the Khajiit and followed the icy path away from the bloodstained campsite. At last they left the ice behind and once more it gave way to stonework and metal pipes. The large chunks of ice and the pickaxe that marked this transition likely meant that this was the point where the team had broken through properly into the ruins. A pillar of light shone down ahead of them from an ornately forged metal gas lamp. The room was divided by high metal fences. Through the gaps they could see more metal and stonework stretching out before them. There was a stone table in front of the fence on which lay another dissected dwarven spider. Ahead they heard heavy clanking sounds followed by gushes of steam.

“It sounds like some kind of giant…pistons,” Emily said in a low voice.

“Pistons?” Serana replied.

“Moving metal parts,” said Emily, “Likely steam powered in this case. Used to power machinery. These ones sound huge.”

“An Animonculossus?” said Serana. Emily shook her head.

“I hope not,” she said.

They followed the tunnel around past the metal fence and before them lay a long corridor lit by gas lamps. Some hung from the ceiling while others were affixed to the stone floor. There was a loud clank of metal striking stone as they moved through and Emily saw a metal ball rolling across the floor towards them.

“Look out,” Serana warned, readying a lightning spell. As Emily drew her dagger the ball unrolled. From the metal shell rose a man made of the same material. A hideously carved face spoke of murder as it unfurled its arms. One arm ended in a finely wrought blade while the other ended in a large crossbow. It aimed the crossbow at them and fired. They spread out, the bolt crashing into the stonework where they’d been standing only seconds before. Lightning splayed from Serana’s fingers, engulfing the metal man. It withdrew the crossbow and readied its blade, lunging forwards towards Serana. Emily ran at the metal man, crashing into it and throwing it off course. It recovered quickly and turned on Emily, blade raised. Another bolt of lightning struck it from the side and it teetered. Emily took the opportunity to kick it in its metal chest, knocking it backwards. It toppled back onto the stonework where Serana launched another bolt of lightning at it. As the last waves of electricity died away it did not move from its place on the stonework and steam gushed from the joints that connected it to the metal sphere.

“What was that?” Emily asked as oil pooled below the automaton.

“I think that was a Dwarven sphere,” Serana replied as she knelt down to examine the automaton. She pried open its chest plate and retrieved a small purple gem.

“Looks like they use more powerful souls to power these ones,” she continued, “Makes sense. All we’re missing now is an encounter with a centurion.”

“I have no idea what those are but please don’t tempt fate,” Emily replied quickly. Their boots slid on the stone floor as they crossed the flagstones. In the dim light Emily saw that the stone’s surface was covered in a thick film of oil. It shimmered in a myriad different colours in the light of the gas lamp.

“I’ll bet you fifty septims that’s flammable,” Emily said as they reached the far side and she scraped one of her boots against the stone steps. Ahead of them lay the source of the heavy clanking they’d heard further back along the hall. There were large metal discs attached to metal poles that moved rhythmically up and down in the floor.

“See those?” said Emily, pointing to the nearest one, “Those are pistons.”

“What could they be possibly operating?” Serana asked, “I don’t see anything of importance around here.” Emily shrugged her shoulders.

“No idea,” she conceded. On a table in an alcove sat a large soul gem.

“That might come in handy,” said Serana, picking it up and handing it to Emily, “Remember that staff you picked up in the Soul Cairn?” Emily nodded. “You can use those to recharge it.”

“How do I go about doing that?” Emily asked.

“Hold the gem to the staff and allow the energy to flow from the gem to the staff,” Serana instructed, “But looking at your staff it still looks quite full. You might want to leave it for later. Any soul energy that can’t fit in the staff will just dissipate into the air.”

“Speaking of dissipating into the air,” said Emily as they rounded the next corner and found themselves in near darkness, “I think we’ve got some poisonous gases up ahead.”

“How can you tell?” Serana asked.

“See the way the air seems to shimmer, like a heat haze?” she said, pointing to the pathway ahead, “I don’t know if poisonous vapours will affect vampires but it would probably be best if we avoided breathing any of it in just in case. And we should avoid making any kind of sparks. If that’s the gas that normally lights those lamps,” she gestured to the darkened lamps, “Then this gas will be flammable. Even the slightest spark would ignite it, hmm..” She paused, thinking as she contemplated the darkened tunnel.

“What is it?” Serana asked.

“Stand back, back along towards that table,” Emily replied, “I’m going to try something.” Serana retreated back along the corridor and Emily backed away from the shimmering tunnel as far as she could go before taking up the staff of firebolt. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself as she willed the ball of fire into existence at the head of the staff. Then she launched it into the darkened tunnel. In an instant it blazed with bright flames and explosions echoed the length and breadth of it, billowing up and flaring. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the flames dissipated and faded to nothing.

“Come on,” Emily called to Serana and they raced along the corridor.

The corridor brought them to a large room with stone tables and chairs arranged around them. Many of them had floor lamps placed at the centre. They hadn’t time to take in much of their surroundings before a clatter at the far end of the room announced the presence of two Dwarven spiders. Emily aimed her staff at the nearest one, unleashing a bolt of fire that struck the wall behind it as it skittered to one side. With speed unparalleled it scuttled across the floor, leaping at her with legs extended, aiming for her face. Emily ducked and she felt the sharp metal scrape across the top of her helmet. She whirled around in time to engage it as it made a second lunge, striking the staff she held before her. She threw it off and launched a firebolt at it which sent it flying across the room where it collapsed in a tangled heap.

There was a bright flash of light as Serana sent the second spider scuttering to the floor where it too lay unmoving.

At the far end of the room they came to a heavy metal door which they put their shoulders to, heaving it open. After initially sticking it then swung easily and they were greeted by another long stone tunnel filled with the sounds of steam hissing and gentle whirring of gears.

“It’s all very…steampunk, this,” said Emily as they peered into darkened rooms and down short corridors that led to dead ends.

“What’s steampunk?” Serana asked.

“It’s uhhh… a genre of storytelling from Earth,” Emily replied, “Where the main technology is steam powered and people get around in giant airships and things.”

“Sounds interesting,” said Serana, “Did these things exist on Earth?”

“In a form,” Emily replied, “We did have airships and steam locomotives. The steam locomotives are mostly decommissioned now in favour of electric powered transport but I think the airships are still about up to a point.”

They came to a small table on which lay what looked to be a tiny boiler. It was so curiously different from anything else she’d seen in Skyrim. Emily picked it up, discovering that it weighed about as much as a bowling ball and was far more unwieldly.

“This is incredible,” she said, “It looks like a boiler of some sort. If we weren’t here on a life or death, or would that be death or undeath, situation, I’d like the opportunity to take a closer look at this.” She replaced the boiler back on the desk.

Through tunnels and caverns they trekked. Atop one chamber ran a stone ledge where pistons rhythmically pushed out onto the ledge before withdrawing into the wall. They made their way carefully along the ledge, following the pattern made by the pistons.

In one of the adjoining rooms Emily explored one of the small cramped spaces behind the pipes only to find the body of a man. His journal confirmed Serana’s earlier misgivings. There were Falmer in the lower reaches.

The lower reaches, they discovered, could only be reached by leaping from one of the ledges to a platform below. This looked to be the broken ramp mentioned in the man’s journal judging by the wreckage that lay on the platform: a metal sheet buried in amongst the rubble. In the rubble lay the remains of an Orcish woman. Next to her lay a health potion that she evidently hadn’t time to consume. Serana knelt next to the body to feed and advised Emily to do the same. The Orcish woman was evidently not long dead and once they were done Serana made a curious gesture with her hand. To Emily’s amazement the Orcish woman climbed to her feet with a groan.

“What are you doing?” Emily hissed, not taking her eyes off the Orc for an instant.

“We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Serana replied, “This might surprise you but it’s not exactly my first choice either.”

They journeyed down the nearest stone ramp. It was here they met their first Falmer. It came shambling towards them out of the dark, hunchbacked and blind. Its skin was wrinkled and leathery looking and where its eyes had once been were now folds of skin that did not look as though they had the ability to open. Its ears were long and pointed as were its teeth and the claws on its hands and feet. It wielded an axe made from a strange chitinous material and growled menacingly when it sensed their presence. Serana sent her thrall on ahead. Although slow to react the thrall fought savagely, cleaving the Falmer’s skull in two. But where one fell two more appeared from the shadows, announcing their presence with arrows that embedded themselves in the thrall’s chest. Now impervious to pain the thrall charged on. Emily launched a fireball at one, striking it in the chest while the thrall and Serana took down the second. Emily recovered the arrows from the quiver of one, adding them to her own.

The winding path took them down deep into the cavernous ruins and past pistons that jutted out onto the platforms. Emily heard a moan behind her and turned in time to see the Orc crumple and turn to ashes.

“What happened?” she asked.

“When you raise the dead, unless you take pains to keep them by your side indefinitely,” Serana replied, “They’ll eventually be called back into the void. It takes powerful magic to keep them at your side for eternity.”

Leaving the ash pile behind they continued. At one point they came upon a tripwire and stepped gingerly over it. It was then they noticed the massive chitinous claws resting against the wall, ready to strike should the tripwire be set off. Once they were past the claws Emily elected to trip the wire on purpose.

“I don’t feel like running into that without realising if we have to backtrack,” she said once the claws had slammed into the wall before returning to their resting position.

Where the walkway came to an end they came upon a column of flame gushing endlessly from a metal nozzle on the ceiling, blazing onto the ground in front of them. Emily noticed Serana reflexively tense up, the fire reflected in her eyes. Emily took her hand as they neared the flames. With her other hand she reached above her head, recalling the lessons she’d had with Angeline back in Solitude. White light shimmered before her palm, spreading out and growing brighter. Serana joined her beneath the ward.

“Ready?” Emily asked. Serana didn’t reply but she nodded, a sharp jerky nod that suggested they should get on with it before she changed her mind. They charged through the flames and although the heat was intense on all sides they passed through unscathed. Serana leant against one of the stone walls to regain her composure. Emily joined her, breathing heavily out of habit.

“Hey,” she said, giving Serana a friendly nudge, “You’re doing fine. That scroll is as good as ours.” Serana smiled back.

“You’re not doing so bad yourself,” she replied, her familiar playful tone returning, “For an Earthling.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Damn, I hate fire.”

“I’m not so crazy about it myself,” said Emily, “Come on, we’d better get moving.”

They found more fire traps on the floors below but these were easier avoided as they battled their way through the Falmer hordes.

The room they came to next looked to be some kind of horrific torture room. There were stone slabs with iron shackles at either ends and an array of iron tools lay with their ends buried in braziers full of hot coals. On one of these stone slabs was the body of a woman. Her body was covered in severe burns and she looked to have only died recently.

“Horrible creatures,” Serana muttered, casting her gaze over the torture tools and the skeleton lying half buried in one of the braziers. Emily felt no great inclination to stick around and nor did her companion.

“Think she was part of the expedition?” Emily asked as they left the torture room behind.

“Likely,” Serana replied, “Falmer have been known to kidnap people though. Either from nearby villages or lone travellers, caravans.” Emily shuddered.

“I thank my lucky stars I didn’t run into any of them on the way back to the Fort,” she said. For a moment her thoughts lingered on the fort and a worry formed, knotting in her gut. Isran would not react favourably to her recent choices. She shivered as another, more worrying, thought struck her.

“Serana,” she said.

“Yes?” Serana replied.

“What are we going to do…about Isran?” she asked, “He’s going to kill me.” Serana shook her head.

“Not going to happen,” she replied, “If he tries the Dawnguard will need to find a new leader.”

“Serana, I don’t want him dead,” said Emily.

“And I don’t want you dead,” Serana replied firmly. Emily smiled. “Come on, we can worry about this later.”

They followed the ruins to their deepest recesses. It was here they came upon a grand structure. A metal barred portcullis separated it from the rest of the ruins.

“Wow,” said Serana as she looked up at the towering edifice, “This is incredible. To think the Dwemer built this thousands of years ago.”

“What do you think this building’s purpose was?” Emily asked.

“If I had to guess,” Serana replied, considering her answer, “I’d guess either the dwelling of a noble or possibly some kind of storage area. All their buildings were so grand, it’s hard to differentiate.”

A large gas lamp presided over the grounds, casting an eerie turquoise glow over the stonework. On a ledge overlooking the grounds they found a lever. When pulled the portcullis withdrew, allowing them access to the inner areas of the grounds.

As they climbed the stone steps they heard a great hissing and turned to see a hulking beast of an automaton towering over them. Its face was wrought into the likeness of a man’s and it moved its enormous bulk towards them on sturdy-looking legs. One arm ended in a great war hammer while the other ended a battle axe of the same material that made up the metal man. A great gush of steam issued from its maw, stinging their eyes and skin. They dodged around a stone table as it swung at them, crushing the stonework asunder.

“How do we stop this thing?” Emily cried as they dodged another gout of steam.

“Conjure your familiar,” Serana replied, “Keep it distracted.” Emily made the summoning gesture, calling her familiar into being. Rather than issuing the command to attack she told it to distract the metal menace and stay out of reach. They too kept on the move, launching fireballs and lightning at it whenever the opportunity arose. But no matter what they threw at it, it just kept coming.

“Ngahh, nothing seems to stop this thing,” Serana spat in annoyance. Emily thought back to the story told by the storyteller in the small village Inn of Karthwagten. She quickly scanned the area in which they found themselves. Her gaze came to rest on a section of ceiling that was bowed under the weight of the half broken pipe above it.

“Over there,” she cried, grabbing Serana’s arm and pulling her over towards the steps beneath the crumbling ceiling. They hurried up the stairs before Emily pulled out the staff of firebolt, aiming it at the ceiling. The Centurion lumbered towards them, steam gushing from its maw.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Serana urgently.

“A clear shot,” Emily replied.

The Centurion’s great metal foot crashed down onto the stairs, cracking the stonework. Emily aimed at the ceiling, launching a fireball at it. Some dust came down along with a few small rocks but no more. Another fireball and still more dust fell. The Centurion continued unperturbed. Emily urged Serana further up the steps.

“If it gets too close, run,” she said as she hurled another fireball at the ceiling. A few larger rocks fell. Serana shook her head, conjuring lightning on her palm and launching it at the ceiling. More rocks fell.

“Together,” she said, readying another bolt of lightning. Emily conjured another fireball.

“1,” said Serana.

“2,” said Emily.

“3!” they cried in unison, unleashing their combined magicks. It struck the ceiling as the centurion pulled back, ready to swing. They watched, as if in slow motion, as the Centurion lunged towards them. Emily felt Serana grab a hold of her and pull her to one side as a large rock fell from the ceiling, plummeting down onto the Centurion’s metal head and toppling it back, sending it crashing to the floor where more rocks rained down on top of it.

It took several moments for the dust to settle and for a moment neither Serana or Emily dared to move. Emily glanced down over her shoulder at the Centurion lying inert in the pile of rubble. She turned back to face Serana and it was only then that she realised she was lying on top of her.

“Sorry,” she said hurriedly as she sat up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Serana sat up, looking down the stone steps at the prone form of the centurion.

“Looks like your plan worked in the end,” she said. If she felt any kind of awkwardness from the moments before she didn’t show it, instead getting to her feet and making her way down the cracked stone steps to where the Centurion lay. She pried open the metal chest plate and pulled out the soul gem from its holding chamber. She then retrieved a large metal key from a container on the Centurion’s arm and tossed it to Emily.

“Here, I think we’ll need this,” she said. They turned their attention to the remainder of the stone plaza.

“It’s a good job his friend slept through the whole thing,” Serana continued, gesturing to the broken form of another Centurion slumped against the far wall. They hurried up the stone steps to the gate where Emily put the key in the lock. The gates swung open and they stepped through into the courtyard. At the centre of the courtyard lay a strange contraption. It was made up of a stone base on which were metal concentric circles and at the centre were three crystals. There was a circular indentation on the edge of the metal circles on the far side.

“What do you think this thing’s for?” Emily asked, running her hand along the smooth stone. Serana was about to reply when a voice stopped them in their tracks. They ducked behind the stone block and listened.

“Sulla, let’s just get out of here,” came a woman’s voice, “Hasn’t there been enough death?” A man’s voice answered her.

“Oh, of course you want me to leave,” he said, “Just waiting for me to turn my back so you can have all the glory for yourself!” Then came sounds of steel on steel as the two warriors fought. They peered over the stonework where they saw a Redguard woman in full steel armour fighting a man who looked to be wearing the garb of a high ranking soldier.

“What should we do?” Emily whispered, “Intervene?” Serana shook her head. “But Serana, he’s going to kill her.”

“And she might turn and try to kill us,” Serana whispered back, “Stay put!” But Emily was already getting to her feet and hurtling around the stone block.

“Dammit,” Serana muttered under her breath, “I think I liked her better when she was a coward.”

As Emily ran towards the duelling warriors the Redguard lunged forwards, running the Imperial through. He slid off her blade with a moan.

“Damn, more intruders,” she yelled, rounding on Emily.

“Hey, hey, I’m not here to hurt you,” Emily replied, taking a few steps back. But the Redguard wasn’t listening, raising her spiked shield.

“Why should I believe you?” she spat, “Our expedition has been plagued with disaster from the moment it began.” She ran at Emily, raising her sword level with Emily’s chest. But the blow never came as Serana pushed her out of the way. She saw the metal glinting in Serana’s hand as she sidestepped the blow and plunged the dagger into the Redguard’s unarmoured shoulder. She withdrew the blade as the Redguard, already fatigued from her battle with her cohort, dropped her blade. Serana kicked the blade out of her reach.

“I’m giving you one chance,” she heard her say, “Leave now and I’ll let you live. But if you try to hurt us, I will kill you.” The Redguard clutched at her shoulder, staring into the red flashing eyes of the vampiress and she backed down. She picked up the blade, retreating from the room to the stone chamber at the back. Here there stood a lever and when she activated it the stone floor rose up, displaying a set of cogs and gears underneath. As she rose out of sight Serana rounded on Emily.

“What did I say about staying put?” she asked angrily. Emily felt her face turn hot with shame.

“I thought I could handle it,” came her reply.

“Handle it?” said Serana.

“I didn’t want anyone to die,” Emily replied, “All the way through here, they died one way or another. It all went wrong.” Serana stopped before her.

“You can’t prevent every death,” she said, “No matter how much you want to. Sometimes it’s inevitable.”

“How can you say that so easily?” Emily asked.

“I can’t,” Serana replied firmly, even morosely. Emily noticed the way her fists were clenched, “I can’t.” Emily took a step towards her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Serana sighed, sitting down on the edge of the stone block.

“I know how this is going to end,” said Serana quietly, looking down at her hands.

“You mean once we get the bow?” said Emily as she sat down next to her. Serana nodded.

“We’re probably, no, we are going to have to kill him,” she said, “As soon as we have that bow.”

“Can’t we just run?” Emily asked, edging a little closer, “Take the bow with us somewhere far, far away.”

“Emily, he won’t give up until he has me and the bow,” she replied, “No matter how far we run he’ll pursue us. We’ll never be safe.”

“But Tamriel, it must be massive, isn’t it?” Emily asked, “It’s a whole world.”

“You don’t know my father,” Serana replied, “You don’t know how relentless he is. He won’t rest until he finds us and Emily, he’s got all the time in the world.” Emily bit her lip, resting her hand lightly on Serana’s.

“Then…I’ll do whatever you think is best,” she said. She felt Serana squeeze her fingers.

“I guess we can talk about this later,” she said, getting up.

She walked around the stone block to the indentation in the metalwork.

“I think this might be where that sphere of yours goes,” she said, examining the mechanism. Emily took the attunement sphere from her pack and slotted it into the indentation. As soon as it clicked into place the metal rings rose and spun and a rumbling sounded throughout the structure. One by one the stone slabs around the mechanism lowered, revealing a set of stone stairs. They stood on the top step, looking down into the shadows.

“Looks like we’ve found our way into Blackreach,” said Serana, “Ready?”

“Think so,” said Emily as they took their first steps down towards the gateway to Blackreach.

Chapter Text

When they emerged from the metal doors they gazed in wonder at what lay beyond. An unimaginably vast cavern lay before them. It stretched at least one hundred feet above them to the rocky ceiling and Emily could not see how far ahead of them it stretched. They stood upon a carved stone dais, looking out over the expanse. The caves were lit by gigantic glowing mushrooms that far dwarfed the specimens in Solitude’s apothecary. Dotted around the landscape were Dwemer-made buildings of varying size.

“This is incredible,” breathed Emily, crossing the dais and resting her hands on the stone walls as she looked around.

“I think I read about this place once,” Serana replied, “A great underground city built by the Dwemer in an era long past.”

“Were they vampires?” Emily asked, “All this living underground and stuff.”

“No, not from what I’ve read,” Serana replied, “I think it was just a matter of preference. They valued their privacy to work on their wonders of engineering.”

They left the dais and walked down the stone steps to the cobblestone road below.

“Our best bet would probably be to keep to the roads,” Serana continued, “And to stick together. It would be easy to get lost in a place like this.” Emily nodded. Then she stopped, listening.

“I think we’ve got company,” she said. They hurried off the cobblestone path towards a clump of scraggy dark plants. Emily drew her dagger and watched the cobblestones which were bathed in the turquoise light of the glowing mushrooms. Then they spotted it, rolling over the cobblestones towards their hiding place. A dwarven sphere. It looked from left to right, surveying the area. Emily and Serana kept low to the ground, watching its progress as it drew level with them. It looked around again, drawing the blade mounted on its left arm. Then it looked up sharply and Emily gripped her dagger tightly. The Dwarven sphere abruptly recoiled into its sphere and rolled off down the cobblestones and into the shadows. Emily breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was a close call,” she said quietly. After waiting several minutes longer they left the bushes and returned to the road.

“He called it a tower, didn’t he?” said Emily, “The tower of Mzark or something like that, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Serana replied.

“So this was once a city,” said Emily as they admired the stone buildings of varying size.

“One of the largest outside of Dwemereth,” Serana replied.

“Where’s that?” Emily asked.

“East of Skyrim,” she replied, “It’s now more commonly known as Morrowind.”

“There’s a whole world out there,” Emily mused, “Y’know, back home, there are loads of people who wish to discover new places.” She looked up at the rocky ceiling. “But Earth has mostly been explored save for parts of the Amazon rainforest and the depths of the ocean,” she turned to Serana, “That’s why man turned to exploring space.”

“Space?” said Serana. Emily nodded.

“What lies beyond Earth,” she replied, “Like the moon. So far that’s the only place besides Earth men have walked on.”

“And Nirn,” Serana reminded her, “Guess that makes you an ambassador for Earth, huh?”

“So, what do you think?” Emily asked, “Think I’m making a good impression?” Serana paused, putting a finger to her chin as she pretended to mull it over.

“Not bad,” she said at last. Emily grinned.

The cobblestones took them under a stone crossing. A rampway of carved stone, reinforced with metal, led up to the top level. Emily scaled the ramp and stood on the crossing, peering out into the vast cavern. In the lower reaches of the cavern a dense fog hung. It was reasonable to assume then that a large body of water occupied that area. Far in the distance she could just make out something else. It looked to be an orb of light; great, glowing and golden.

“Do you see anything?” Serana called up to her.

“There’s some sort of orb of light off that way,” Emily called down, pointing in the direction of the orb, “I think we should reach it if we keep following the road. It looks important.”

She re-joined Serana on the cobblestones.

The great golden orb hung above an enormous structure that sat out in the centre of an underground lake, reachable by several stone bridges. It was at one of these stone bridges that Emily and Serana found themselves. They looked up at the great golden orb where it hung suspended over the stone buildings.

“My guess would be that this building marks the centre of Blackreach,” mused Serana, “And that orb is likely what the Dwemer used in place of the sun. Perhaps moving underground wasn’t entirely voluntary after all.”

“What makes you say that?” Emily asked.

“Haven’t you noticed something about that ‘sun’ up there?” Serana replied.

“You mean how we’re not burnt to a crisp?” Emily replied.

“Exactly,” said Serana, “Aside from light and maybe some residual warmth it doesn’t share the sun’s other ‘qualities.’”

“Like helping plants grow,” Emily added, continuing the line of thought. Serana nodded.

“It’s just a reminder of the life they had above,” she said, “Possibly. A frail, paling one.”

They climbed the stone steps to the upper level which afforded them a better view of their surroundings. The upper level consisted of a large open space surrounded by high carved stone walls with sentry points positioned at regular intervals along the tops of the walls. Two large buildings dominated the open area and it was towards the most tower-like one that Emily and Serana moved. Emily tapped Serana on the shoulder and she glanced over at the high wall Emily was pointing to. A Falmer was stalking along the ramparts at the far side of the Dwemer-built structure, a bow held at the ready. Serana sighed, removing her bow from her back. “Hope you’re not going to ask me to do everything for you down here,” she said with a half-smile.

“Not everything,” Emily replied, a note of false disbelief evident in her voice, “Just, you’re better with long distance shots than I.”

“You’re going to have to learn someday,” said Serana as she lined up the shot.

“Well, I’d rather not learn in a situation where one misfire might get us killed,” Emily replied.

“I think you might be exaggerating a bit,” said Serana as she loosed the arrow from the bow and it hurtled towards the Falmer, knocking it from the battlements with a sickening gurgle.

They kept to the shadows as they crossed the last few yards to the great metal doors. The doors opened onto a large room bestrewn with rubble and fallen pipes. The main feature of the room was a series of stone chairs seated around what looked to be an empty shallow basin. Seated around the basin were three men and one woman dressed in rags. One held an iron war axe in his lap and he was running a whetstone over the axe head.

“I think we might be in for some trouble,” Emily whispered. It was then she noticed the Falmer skulking near the back of the room. It was sitting back on its haunches, scratching rather unceremoniously at its backside.

“Alright, you take this one,” Serana whispered, with another half-smile, “Live up to the reputation stopping this prophecy might bring.” Emily rolled her eyes and she pulled the bow from her back, nocking an arrow.

The first shot missed by inches and Emily swore under her breath.

“I think you’ll need a little more practice,” said Serana calmly. The Falmer had leapt to its feet and was advancing down the steps towards them. The prisoners, likewise, had got to their feet and the one with the war axe was brandishing it, peering into the shadows. Emily nocked another arrow and fired. This time it found its target and the Falmer lurched backwards. An ice spike conjured on Serana’s palm joined it a moment later and it died with a retching gurgle. Emily wasn’t sure exactly what she expected to happen when the Falmer died but it wasn’t what was to follow. For a moment all eyes were on the dead Falmer. Then the humans, one by one, turned to face Emily and Serana. The one wielding the war axe raised it above his head, an animalistic outcry of fury ripping from his jaws as he ran at them. Emily drew her dagger and they ran towards their attacker. One was struck down by an icy shard as Emily vaulted up onto one of the fallen pipes. From here she unleashed an icy blast, catching the woman in the chest and forcing her to retreat. Serana rounded on the nearest, driving her dagger into his gut. He doubled over as another advanced on her from behind, raising a crude-looking cudgel. Emily sprang from the pipe, grabbing the man around the neck and causing him to topple backwards. He rounded on her, bringing the cudgel down on her arm. Emily let out a high-pitched scream as she felt the bone break and every hair on her head stand on end as her blade skittered into the darkness. He raised the cudgel again and Emily closed her eyes, trying to fight her way backwards towards the wall. Her arm dragged uselessly along the ground and she heard the air swoosh as the cudgel was brought down. Then she heard a sharp yell and looked up in time to see the cudgel clattering away from the now limp form of the man. Serana stood over the man, dagger in hand, taking deep breaths of unneeded air. Then she turned to face Emily who sat with her back against the wall, clutching her arm.

Serana knelt down next to her. Her arm was throbbing painfully and her head felt light. Serana gingerly removed her leather bracer, undoing the straps and pushing the fabric of her sleeve further up her arm. Emily winced, closing her eyes and biting her lip, drawing blood. She felt Serana move closer as she examined her arm.

“Can you heal it?” she asked as Serana rested her arm gently in her lap.

“I should be able to,” Serana replied. She reached over and picked up a length of metal from the ground and lay it on her lap before resting Emily’s arm on it.

“Hold still,” she said, “I need to realign the bones. This might hurt a little.” Emily grimaced, looking down at the ground, searching for something to distract her. She let out a stifled yell as her bones snapped painfully into place. Serana took some linen wraps from her pack and wound them around the makeshift splint, tying them tightly in place.

“There’s a tome on necromantic healing in my bag,” said Emily, grimacing, jerking her head over towards her bag. Serana shook her head.

“I’m afraid that won’t help,” she said, “Mending broken bones is a tricky business at the best of times. One mistake and you’d lose the use of your arm. No, it’s better to let it heal naturally.”

“But surely we don’t have time for that,” Emily replied, “And this isn’t exactly a hospital ward.”

“Don’t forget,” Serana said, “You’re a vampire now. You’ll heal quicker than your mortal companions. It’ll still take a week, maybe two, but you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks nurse,” Emily grinned, trying to ignore the pain in her arm. A moment later she frowned.

“Wait, what about you?” she asked.

“What do you mean, ‘what about me,’” Serana replied, “I’m alright. It’s you that got your arm smashed up. Maybe I should check your head as well,” she added, teasingly.

“That’s not what I mean,” said Emily. Serana rested a hand on her good arm.

“I know,” she said, “Don’t worry about me, I can look after myself.” Emily got shakily to her feet. Her head swam and she leant against the wall for support. She closed her eyes, waiting for the spinning sensation to subside.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked. Emily nodded.

“Just a bit dizzy,” she replied. She felt Serana’s arm around her waist as she led her over to one of the stone chairs.

“I’m going to see if I can get that gate open,” she said as Emily sat down.

“While I watch helplessly from the sidelines I suppose,” Emily replied ruefully.

“Hey, stop worrying,” said Serana softly, one hand lingering on her shoulder. Emily watched as she made her way up the stairs and began searching the upper level. She hadn’t long to wait for the great metal gates suddenly swung open and Serana hurried down the steps. Emily got up from the chair and followed her slowly through the gates and up the flight of stone steps.

“Another lever,” Serana said, “From what I could hear the other rooms were sleeping areas.”

“Why did they attack us?” Emily asked, “Thought they might have been glad to be free.”

“That’s assuming they were captive to begin with,” Serana replied, “Did you notice? None of them spoke a single word of Tamrielic. Or any language I could recognize.”

“You think they were born down here?” said Emily.

“It’s possible,” replied Serana, “The first were definitely captured but who knows how long this has been going on.”

At the top of the steps was a long corridor and at the far end there was a large cylindrical room. In the centre of the room was a lever not unlike the one the Redguard woman used to exit the ruins of Alftand. Serana pushed open the metal gate and they made their way through to the stone elevator pad. Serana pulled the lever and the stone floor beneath their feet slowly began to rise.

As the floor they’d just left slid out of sight they were engulfed in darkness as the gears kept turning, grinding against one another. It was a peculiar feeling, slowly moving upwards while even their vampiric sight could not pierce the gloom around them.

“What do you think we’ll find at this Tower of Mzark?” Emily asked.

“No idea,” Serana replied.

“It’s the last place we’ve got to go,” said Emily, “It’ll probably be a boss battle.”

“A what?” Serana replied.

“That’s what we used to call them in video games,” Emily explained, “When you went through a dungeon there’d be a really strong enemy to fight. We called them boss battles.”

“Well, this isn’t a video game,” Serana replied, “With any luck we’ll just find the scroll probably kept under some sort of Dwemer security.”

“Wonder what that will entail,” Emily wondered.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Serana replied.

A beam of light cut through the darkness above them and widened, revealing an upper level comprised of a stone structure built onto one of the rocky ledges that made up much of Blackreach. The elevator pad came to a halt and they stepped out onto the stone ledge. Emily’s face fell at what they saw. There was a set of stone steps that led down to the lower level which was occupied by a stone throne with a shallow slope leading up to it. On either side of the throne were two large dishes which looked as though they were designed to place offerings on.

“I might not know an awful lot about Elder scrolls,” said Emily, “But this doesn’t look like the sort of place I’d keep one.”

Serana strode over towards the edge of the stone ledge, folding her arms as she looked out over the expanse. Emily joined her at the edge. The caverns were draped in a strange blue fog created by the giant mushrooms growing along the walls. Spores drifted on the very sluggish breeze.

“It was a waste of time, wasn’t it?” said Emily. For a moment Serana didn’t reply. She was peering out into the mists.

“Maybe not,” she replied, “At least, I think I know where we should try next.”

“Where?” Emily asked. Serana pointed out into the mists. Then, as she watched, two banks of mist parted, almost poetically, and through them she saw the dim silhouette of a great tower of stone.

“You think that’s it?” she said.

“It’s the best lead we’ve got,” Serana replied with a slight smile, “Come on, sooner we get going the sooner we’ll be there and the sooner we can get out.”

“Agreed,” said Emily as she followed Serana back towards the elevator shaft.

* * *

It took them several hours to retrace their steps to the cobblestones and make the trek across the cavern towards the tower they’d seen in the misty distance.

The tower sat out alone in the middle of an underground lake. It was taller than the one they had just left and uniform in its design, stretching high up towards the cavern ceiling. It was covered on all sides in intricate stone carvings and reinforced with plates of metal. The archway over the metals doors was by far the most impressive sight, bearing gilded swirling patterns on cut stone. A brazier stood outside, filled with burning coals. Its crude design was of stark contrast to the grandeur that surrounded it, magnificent even in ruin.

Emily and Serana crossed the bridge to the doors. Emily’s arm had since been strapped to her side to prevent it from moving too much. It made walking a little ungainly but did much to reduce the pain.

Inside the tower they found another elevator shaft. This one was lit by a lamp that hung from the ceiling. Serana pulled the lever and the stone began to move inexorably upwards. Emily found herself wondering what kind of devices Dwemer security might entail. From what she’d seen she figured it could be one of two things. Either a very complex lock like the mechanism that allowed them into Blackreach in the first place or some kind of automaton monstrosity. Emily had a very clear idea of which she preferred.

When the elevator came to a halt they stepped out into a large room. A broken pipe on the ceiling gushed out great amounts of steam, making the room horrifically humid. The air made their clothes and hair damp, clinging to them like a second skin.

“Cheepers, it’s like a sauna in here,” said Emily, fanning herself. In the centre of the room there looked to be an abandoned campsite with several bedrolls surrounding a blackened campfire. A grey faded knapsack leant against a barrel. Emily opened it and rummaged through its contents, looking for anything of interest. She pulled out a small handful of coins and a necklace, pocketing them. She then turned her attention to the rest of the room. Serana picked up an empty greater soul from one of the many shelves and pocketed it.

“What’s this thing?” Emily asked as she pulled what looked to be a heavily decorated necklace from one of the chests. One large pendant wrought of brass with a polished turquoise gem at its heart hung from the centre of the necklace, surrounded by other smaller brass pendants of a similar design.

“That’s an Amulet of Mara,” Serana replied, “She’s one of the Divines. The goddess of love. I can’t understand those things.” She was busy rummaging through another of the metal chests on one of the shelves.

“The Divines?” said Emily. Serana laughed.

“No, Amulets of Mara,” she replied.

“What do you mean?” Emily asked, “It’s just a pendant.” She draped it around her neck. “I think it looks nice.” Serana smiled, crossing the room to where Emily stood.

“There’s more to it than that,” she said, “If someone in Skyrim wants to get married they wear one of these amulets to show they’re available.” Emily made a face of disbelief, looking down at the amulet.

“So they just walk up to people and say, ‘hey, I’m single, wanna get married?’” she said, “Doesn’t sound very romantic.” Serana chuckled.

“And how do Earthlings show their love?” she asked as they walked towards the door. Emily shrugged her shoulders.

“Depends on who you ask,” she said.

“Well, I’m asking you then,” Serana replied.

“Ask her out on a date,” said Emily thoughtfully, “Get to know her. Over time, maybe you fall in love. Then, one night, when the timing is right, think about proposing.”

“And how do Earthlings propose?” Serana asked.

“Well, they find somewhere really romantic,” Emily replied, “Where that is, I mean, different places are romantic to different people. Might be a lakeside or a beach.”

“Do they favour large bodies of water?” Serana asked with an amused smile. Now was Emily’s turn to laugh.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “Just a lot of romantic places seem to be beside the water. Mountain tops are another favourite.”

“And then what?” Serana asked.

“Then,” Emily replied, “They go down on one knee. I would but if I tried I don’t think I’d get back up again.” She gestured to her splinted arm. “Then they’d pull out a ring and say something like, ‘Serana, would you do me the honour of marrying me?’”

“Well, I suppose it’s a bit better than wearing an amulet,” said Serana as she pushed open the metal doors. All conversation ceased as they entered the room and looked at what lay before them. The room in which they found themselves was dominated by a large metal mechanism. Turquoise crystals were set into the four rounded corners and a stone slope ran up around the edge of the room. Slowly they climbed the stone slope and found themselves standing before a metal console. At the centre was what looked to be a star chart and it was ringed by metal columns. Two of these were covered by a metal sheet but two lay open, bearing small turquoise buttons. Ahead of them they could see the top of the great metal contraption. It was flatter on top with metal rings of various sizes encircling the edge. Around the top of the mechanism was a transparent glass floor where tables and chairs wrought of metal were situated.

“What kind of place is this?” Serana asked as she looked up at the ceiling where an array of glass lenses hung in metal loops. Emily was busy examining the console.

“It’s fascinating, whatever it is,” she said, “This thing here,” she added, pointing to the diagram at the centre, “It looks like a star field. Like something you’d find in an observatory.”

“How do we work it?” Serana asked.

“Hmm...let me have a look,” Emily replied, “I wonder what this button does.” She pressed the uncovered button on the far right. There was a click but nothing else happened. She tried the other with much the same result.

“Hmm…,” she muttered under her breath, examining the console. It was then she spotted a metal pedestal at the side of the console. The top lay empty, as though waiting for something. Emily pulled the lexicon from her bag and slotted it into the pedestal. A metal clang resounded throughout the room as though something had been released from its holdings.

“That seemed to do something,” said Emily as she returned her attention to the buttons. She pushed the second one and was rewarded as the metal rings at the top of the contraption suddenly swung around separately from the great metal contraption. Its movement was fluid, unhindered and although Emily had no idea what had been accomplished they both felt they’d made some kind of progress.
Emily then pressed the first button and the rings and contraption moved again.

“I think that just moved it back to its first position,” Serana observed. Emily nodded, pressing the second button again and waiting for the rings to complete their rotation. This time she pressed the second button again and the rings moved further, reaching a new position. After the button had been pressed twice more one of the metal plates covering the buttons on the left hand side of the starfield diagram opened. The lexicon was hovering above the pedestal, the metal covering open to expose a shimmering turquoise core. Emily reached over and pressed the newly opened third button.
The lenses hang from the ceiling rotated, swinging around the perimeter of the room to assume their new positions over the Dwemer mechanism. She pressed the button again and the lenses swung around again. This time as they came to rest a light shone through them, focusing on the crystal discs on top of the mechanism. Emily heard a small whirring sound as the fourth button was uncovered.
Emily grinned as she looked over at Serana.

“Care to do the honours?” she asked. Serana smiled back, pressing the fourth and final button. The lenses swung back towards the walls as a central fixture was lowered. It was vaguely ovoid in shape and supported by fine metal rods. Around it were smaller ovoid crystals which realigned themselves so that they all were level with one another. The largest ovoid in the centre rotated in its holdings and slowly it opened, revealing the scroll.

Emily and Serana removed the lexicon from its pedestal and hurried down the stone slope as quickly as they could and up onto the metal path that stretched across the centre of the Dwemer mechanism. Serana reached into the ovoid and pulled out the scroll. It was as heavy as the one she was entombed with and just about fit into the holder still strapped to her back.

“We’ve done it,” she said, a note of relief evident in her voice.

“Now we can get back to Dexion,” Emily replied with a grin.

“What time is it?” Serana asked. Emily checked her watch.

“Just after ten,” she replied, “We can head out right away.”

They left through the door on the glass platform which took them to another elevator shaft. This one would take them back to the surface. It was to be a long journey from deep within the bowels of Nirn but once they were outside they could start thinking about their next move. Emily felt a mixture of anxiety and building excitement as the Dwemer sky-dome vanished from sight and they rose inexorably towards the surface. She felt Serana take her hand.

“Nervous?” she heard her say in the near dark.

“A little,” Emily admitted, “But I’m sure it’ll be fine. We’ve got the scrolls. Now we just need to speak to Dexion.”

Chapter Text

The cold night air greeted them as they stepped from the elevator shaft. They emerged onto a snowy hilltop. At the foot of the steps they could see an array of tents surrounding a long dead campfire. Once they’d made their way down the steps to the campsite Emily summoned Arvak. The familiar purple fire sprang up on the snowy hilltop and Arvak stepped forth, bright eyes fixed on them.

“I think you’d better let me drive,” said Serana as she helped Emily up into the saddle, “After all we went through to get the scrolls it would be a shame if we rode off a cliff.” Emily stuck out her tongue at the vampiress as she sat down behind her.

“Good to see your arm hasn’t effected your sense of humour,” she smiled, putting one arm around Emily’s waist as she picked up the reigns in her free hand. “Come on Arvak,” she said as Arvak set off at a trot down the hillside.

* * *

It took them a week and a half to make the journey back into the Rift. They rode on towards the Fort, noting that the blue banners depicting the bear had been stripped away and instead ragged cloth swayed in the cold wind which signalled the presence of bandits. They guided the horse off the road and down into the birch plains. The sky above was lightening, the horizon turning to a vague pinkish hue.

“I think we’ll have to find somewhere to stop for the day,” said Emily.

“How about there?” Serana asked, pointing down to a rocky ledge which concealed what appeared to be a cave. They steered the horse down towards the cave entrance. It seemed to go quite a distance into the hillside and they got down off the horse. Moss grew heavy on the rocks around the entrance and they could hear the steady drip of water into a small pool. Serana tethered Arvak to one of the rocks and they ventured inside.

They hadn’t gone far in when Emily felt one of her boots plunge into ankle deep water. She hadn’t seen the edge of the pool of water in the near dark.

“I must say, my dear,” she said, lifting her foot from the water and shaking off a cascade of droplets, “You have excellent taste in caves.”

“Keep up that kind of talk and it won’t be just your feet that get wet,” Serana retorted, nudging Emily in the back. They sloshed on through the cave and saw ahead of them the faint light of a lantern. Here the cave angled round to the right and they left the water behind, climbing the dirt slope further into the cave. They came to a halt in an area lit by glowing mushrooms. Here they spread their cloaks out on the ground and sat down, resting their backs against the wall. Finn, who had remained curled up in Emily’s hood for a great portion of the journey, crawled down onto the cave floor and made for the water.

Emily rubbed at her arm. It still ached a little but she found she could wriggle her fingers.

“Why don’t you let me have a look at your arm?” Serana asked, “It might have healed by now.” She unstrapped Emily’s arm from her side and lifted it into her lap to undo the bindings on the splint. As the last strips of linen fell away Emily cautiously lifted her arm from the splint. It ached but moved easily enough, perhaps a little stiff at the joints. She flexed her arm slowly in and out.

“How is it?” Serana asked.

“Much better,” Emily replied, “Thanks.”

“You should still avoid using it too much for a while,” Serana advised, “And you’d better learn to wield your dagger left handed for a bit. Your arm will be a bit weak for a while yet.”

“I can live with that,” Emily replied, leaning back against the wall.

Time passed slowly in the cave beneath the fort. Throughout the morning Emily dozed, Finn curled up in her lap. Serana had long finished her book and decided to get a few hours rest. The air in the cave was quiet with only the steady drip of water to break the silence.

At around noon Emily awoke to the faint sounds of footsteps above. She sat up, looking up at the rocky ceiling. Lately it seemed to her they’d spent a lot of time underground. She resolved that once this was all over she’d go out into the forest or perhaps an open hillside. Anywhere but dank waterlogged caves. She looked over at Serana who still lay asleep. She noted that she still breathed as she slept, likely out of habit. Emily edged over to where Serana lay and shook her shoulder gently.

“I’m just going for a look around the cave,” she whispered as Serana opened one eye.

“Alright,” she replied, “Just don’t go getting yourself into any trouble.”

Emily got up and followed the tunnel further in. As she crept along the tunnel she listened. The footsteps seemed to be growing louder. She came to a metal gate which she found to be locked. Beyond it she could hear the sounds of slow flowing water and in the darkness ahead there was a pale pillar of sunlight shining down into the dark waters. A bucket bobbed on the water and in the centre dense ferns grew.

Emily pulled a lockpick from her pack and jammed her pocketknife into the lock, carefully inserting the pick and slowly rotating it, listening intently for the sound of the tumbler. Serana had taught her a thing or two during their journeys and when questioned on why a vampire princess would know anything about thievery she simply replied, “Some of my mother’s best and most useful alchemical ingredients were kept under lock and key.”

The tumbler clicked and Emily pulled open the gate. A mist hung over the water and Emily realised that some of the light was coming from the glowing mushrooms that grew on the walls. She figured that judging by the rope hanging down from the hole in the ceiling and the bucket bobbing about on the water that they were in the bottom of an old well. Off to her right she heard a faint trickling sound and turned to see water trickling down the wall from a sizeable hole in the wall. It piqued Emily’s interest and she crossed the room to examine it. It was about big enough for a man to crawl through and a lantern was hung on the wall just inside. Emily braced one foot against the wall and heaved herself up into the hole.

The floor of the narrow tunnel she found herself in was damp and she did her best to keep out of it. The tunnel was about twenty feet long and came to an abrupt dead end. Emily swore under her breath, looking back over her shoulder. She sat up and abruptly banged her head on the ceiling of the tunnel. As she rubbed her head she realised there was something distinctly different about the rocky ceiling of the tunnel in this section. For one thing, it was not rock but wood. Emily cautiously pushed against the wooden board and it slowly eased up. She peered through the gap and saw a dry stone floor. She listened for over a minute but heard no more than the sound of rats scuttling across the floor and the crackling of a fire somewhere close by. Emily quietly lowered the wooden board and shuffled her way back along the tunnel, dropping back into the room with a splash which sent a swash of water up her legs much to her chagrin.

Serana stirred as she re-joined her in the tunnel.

“Did you fancy a swim?” she asked as Emily stopped next to her.

“You could join me,” Emily replied.

“I’ll pass,” said Serana, tossing her a dry cloth.

“I’ve found something better than a lot of water though,” Emily continued, “There’s a tunnel up there. A tunnel that leads to someplace dry.”

“This tunnel’s dry enough,” Serana replied.

“Yes, but this place as a fire,” Emily replied, taking her hand and trying to coax her to her feet, “And stone floors. I think it must lead into the castle.” At last Serana relented and got to her feet.

“Well, if we find anyone we need to…replenish before we return to the Fort,” she said.

“And even if we don’t we might find somewhere more cosy to sleep,” Emily replied. Even with the thirst gnawing at her she was not particularly enthusiastic to slake it, especially in the manner Serana had in mind.

They trekked back along the tunnel to the cavern where Emily showed Serana the hole in the wall. One after the other they crawled in and followed the tunnel back along to the wooden board. Emily pushed open the board slightly and she and Finn looked around, listening intently. The room still looked to be empty so Emily pushed the board open and pulled herself up through the hole in the floor before turning around to help Serana up after her.

Serana dusted herself off, looking around at the room they found themselves in.

“Congratulations Emily,” she said, “You’ve found us a nice cosy cell.” Emily was about to protest when she noticed Serana was smiling. Serana pushed at the iron gate and it swung open easily.

“I guess they weren’t expecting any prisoners,” Emily observed as they crept through the open gate. They were seven other cells, all empty and a small storeroom where they found a supply of cookware and a few mouldy old carrots. Once they’d decided that there was nothing of interest in the dungeons they climbed the stairs to the main room of the prison. Finn was back in his usual position atop Emily’s shoulders, staring about at the shabby living quarters. In the middle of the main room there was a scrubbed wooden table and benches upon which lay a few unwashed tankards and empty plates. There was a half collapsed set of shelves leaning against the wall nearest to them with a row of unlit lanterns resting on the top shelf. Ragged clothes of varying sizes lay on the shelves below. At the far end of the room was another set of stairs which led up to the upper levels which were cloaked in darkness.

“I’m glad my sight improved since you turned me,” whispered Emily as they climbed the stairs, “Why do you think they’ve left this bit of the fort abandoned?”

“Let’s not tempt fate,” Serana replied. They reached the top of the stairs and looked around. Rush matting covered sections of the floor and the stubs of candles sat in iron holders on the walls. Up another two flights of stairs they came to a heavy wooden door. Serana pushed the door open and peered through. The room they found themselves in was long and more well-lit than the rooms and corridors they’d just passed through. Shelves lined one of the inner walls and an ornately carved silver horn splashing silver water into a silver dish stood upon the dresser.

“I saw one of those in the Temple of the Divines,” whispered Emily, “Which divine is it dedicated to?”

“Stendarr,” Serana replied, “God of righteous might and merciful forbearance.”

At the end of the room was a single bed which stood next to a roaring fireplace.

“This is a bit more like it,” grinned Emily, flopping down on the bed. Serana opened the other door across the room from the bed and looked in. There was a chest in the centre of the room, large and ornately decorated. Serana opened the chest and pulled out a large pouchful of coins and a few gems, depositing them in her pack. There was a bookshelf which caught her attention and she spent a few moments browsing the shelves. At last she picked up a book with a green cover bearing the title, ‘The Mystery of Talara Vol. 2’ and left the room, taking a seat at the wooden desk near the bed. Emily watched her from her position on the bed. Finn was already curled up on the pillow, bright eyes glowing in the firelight.

“Have they got books here?” she asked, pointing to the book balanced on Serana’s lap.

“In that room over there,” Serana replied, gesturing over her shoulder as she turned the page.

Emily got up and ventured into the room, soon locating the bookshelf. She picked up a book with a blackened cover on which were written the words, ‘Oposculus Lamae Bal ta Mezzamortie.’ The outlandish title intrigued her and she picked it up, carrying it back to the firelight. She opened it and lay back against the pillow.

As brighter grows light, darker becomes shadow. So it passed that the Daedra Molag Bal looked on Arkay and thought the Aedra prideful of his dominion o’er the death of Man and Mer, and it was sooth.

Molag Bal, that was the Daedric Prince Serana had once mentioned to her while they sat in the rented room of the Bannered Mare. She read on with interest until she came to a passage where the name, ‘Lamae Beolfag’ was mentioned. Her eyes scanned the passage and widened noticeably at what she read.

“Did you find something interesting to read?” Serana asked. Emily hurriedly closed the book.

“Uhh, yeah,” she replied. Serana raised an eyebrow.

“The Lusty Argonian Maid by the look on your face,” she noted with an amused smile. Then her eyes fell upon the book still clutched in Emily’s hands and her smile vanished.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, snatching the book from Emily’s hands. She flicked through the pages, a look of horror etched on her face when she saw the words on the page.

“I found it in the bookshelf over there,” said Emily, pointing to the bookshelf through the open door.

“Hey!” she cried as Serana tossed the book into the fireplace where the flames greedily snaked around it, consuming it and heavy black smoke twisted its way up the chimney. “What was all that about?” Emily demanded.

“You had no right to go prying like that,” Serana said coldly.

“Prying?” Emily replied in disbelief, “I picked up a book from a bookshelf, that’s hardly prying. How was I to know it contained….that?” Serana sat down heavily in the chair and put her head in her hands. Emily sat uncomfortably on the bed. She looked at Finn who looked back at her. Emily shrugged her shoulders at the otter.

“I never…ever wanted to revisit that day,” Serana muttered into her hands. Emily looked over at the vampiress who was slumped in the chair. Her shoulders shook slightly as she tried in vain to regain her composure. In an instant she looked small as she sat in the chair.

“Is that what happened?” Emily asked in an equally small voice.

“Yes,” she said coldly, taking a shuddering breath. A heavy atmosphere hung over the room, punctuated only by the crackles and pops of the fire as it devoured the shrivelled remains of the book.

“I wasn’t prying,” Emily insisted, “I don’t know about Daedra and what they do. If I’d known that book…”

“I’d rather not talk about this anymore,” Serana cut her off. Emily sighed before getting up from the bed and crossing the room to the chair. She rested a hand on Serana’s shoulder but she pulled away.

“Please, Serana, let’s not fight,” she said.

“We’re not fighting,” Serana replied, “I just…I just want to be left alone for a while.” Emily crossed back to the bed and sat down. She picked Finn up from the pillow and sat him on her lap. He nuzzled her fingertips and she absentmindedly tickled him behind the ears. The heavy silence had once again filled the room. It pressed in on her and she felt as though she dare not break it. Serana sat unmoving except for her shoulders which still shook with repressed sobs. It was as though a chasm had opened between them, a deep black chasm with no bottom. Emily looked down at the sheets, her hands clenching and unclenching at the futility of it all. Her jaw was clenched and she wiped hastily at her eyes where the beginnings of tears were starting to form. With a small muffled sob she got up, placing Finn back on the bed.

Serana only looked up when she heard the door close. Her gaze fell on the fireplace where the fire had died down and she could see the blackened remains of the book in amongst the wood. She drew a shuddering breath as she looked over at the bed where Finn was still sitting, bright eyes watching her. She got up slowly and crossed the room to the bed. Finn looked up at her as she sat down. His gaze looked, to her eyes at least, accusing.

“It’s no good looking at me like that,” she said shakily. Finn tilted his head to one side.

“I just…I never wanted to revisit that day,” Serana continued, “Those memories. Seeing it written down in that…that accursed book. It brought it all back.” Finn put his front paws on her lap and she reached over, stroking his smooth furry head.

“Finally warmed up to vampires, huh?” she said. Then she sighed.

“I know I was wrong,” she continued, “For yelling at Emily like that. I just…” She paused, “It’s easier admitting that to you.” She looked around the empty room, at the door to the book room still sitting ajar and at the fireplace.

“I thought I wanted to be alone,” she said with a rueful laugh, “Guess I was wrong about that too.” Finn looked up at her, whiskers twitching as he nibbled at her sleeve.

“I know, I know,” she said, “You’re right.” She eased him off her lap and got up, making for the door. She opened the heavy wooden door and looked out into the hallway. It was empty and a sudden fear gripped her. She knew she couldn’t leave by the door but there was always the tunnel they’d come in by. But even if she reached the tunnel she could go no further by daylight. But come nightfall, that might be different. It startled Serana just how much the idea of the Earthling leaving frightened her as she hurried down the stairs.

She breathed a brief sigh of relief as she spotted Emily standing with her back to the wall. This was short-lived as she noticed how one hand was clenched before her mouth and in the dim light she could see the tears rolling down her cheeks. Serana hesitated in the darkened hallway for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and crossed over to where Emily stood. She looked up when she heard footsteps and saw Serana standing there. For a moment neither of them moved or spoke.

Then Serana stepped forwards, reaching out to Emily, drawing her into an embrace. At this Emily broke down, throwing her arms around Serana. She felt Serana’s arms around her, fingers catching in her cloak where it fell over her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Emily,” she heard her say, “I shouldn’t have said those things.” Emily held onto her tightly, closing her eyes as she buried her head in her shoulder.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, words muffled by her cloak, “I wish I’d never found that book.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” Serana replied, “I overreacted. I was being unreasonable.” They remained like that for several moments. “Those memories hurt,” she continued, “But it didn’t give me the right to take it out on you.” Emily drew back, meeting Serana’s gaze. She gave her a teary smile.

“Why don’t we go back where it’s warm?” Serana asked as she stepped back. Emily nodded.

* * *

“I was scared,” Serana confessed as they sat by the fire.

“Of what?” Emily asked. Finn was curled up in her lap, dozing peacefully.

“I thought you might leave,” Serana replied.

“Where would I go?” Emily joked but she stopped when she noticed the serious expression on Serana’s face. She edged a little nearer.

“I was upset, yes,” she conceded, “But I wasn’t about to leave you. Truth is I was scared too. Scared you might not want to go with me anymore.” Serana shook her head.

“No,” she said. She reached over and took Emily’s hand, “We’re in this together.” Emily smiled. They sat together in a companionable silence, watching the firelight until Emily felt her eyelids growing heavy. She glanced at her watch. It was a little past noon.

“I think I’ll get some rest,” she said as she eased Finn off her lap and got up, crossing the room to the bed. Serana retrieved the copy of, ‘The Mystery of Talara Vol. 2’ from the desk and opened it, leafing through the pages until she found where she’d left off. Finn climbed into her lap and there he curled up as she started to read.

* * *

Emily awoke to the sound of heavy footsteps. She sat up in bed and looked over to find she wasn’t alone. Serana was curled up next to her, the book still lying open next to her, chest rising and falling as she slept. Finn was already awake and he scurried up onto the chair and from there onto the desk. He sat up on his hind paws, watching the other end of the room. The footsteps were drawing nearer and Emily shook Serana’s shoulder.

“What is it?” she asked, looking up at Emily.

“I think we’ve got company,” Emily whispered back. These words snapped Serana into full wakefulness and she sat up as the door at the far end of the room creaked open.

“Get Finn,” she said quietly and Emily grabbed the otter up from the desk. As she did so she felt Serana grab her other arm. Then a strange feeling came over her. She felt fuzzy, somehow unreal and when she looked down at herself she could not see herself, Finn or Serana. Serana, not breaking contact for a second, tugged her to her feet and across the room to the open doorway. As she did so they saw a man coming towards them. He was dressed from head to foot in heavy steel armour and a heavy-looking greatsword was strapped across his back. Emily faintly heard the sound of a dagger being drawn from its scabbard. Evidently the man heard this too as he came to an abrupt halt, looking around.

“Who’s there?” he growled, reaching for his blade. Serana crouched, motionless as the man moved towards them, blade raised. She felt Serana tense up as he drew within five feet of them. By the way her hand tightened its grip she had an idea of the expression she was wearing. It would be one of tight lipped tension. The kind of tension that sooner or later had to give. And when the man came within two feet of their position it did. Serana suddenly leapt up, kicking the man full in the chest. As she did so the contact between them broke and the three of them regained visibility as the man staggered back, almost losing his balance.

“Well, well,” he said as he regained his balance, “Two little mice.”

“I think you might want to rethink that notion,” Emily replied, “Look, why don’t you just let us go and we’ll be on our way.”

“I don’t tolerate intruders on my patch,” said the bandit, spitting into the fireplace, “We’ve only just finished executing those sorry bastards who occupied this place before us.” He levelled his blade at them, “Looks like our headswoman has more work,” he grinned, “She’ll like that.” He raised the great blade above his head and in that instant Emily unleashed a storm of ice which slammed into his chest, a thin sheet of ice spreading across his armour. Serana conjured an ice spike on her palm and launched it at the bandit chief. It bounced off his armoured head, leaving a sizeable dent in the metal and though this did not knock him to the ground, it caused him to wince and take a step back.

He recovered quickly, charging at them as he swung the great blade. They scattered, dodging to either side as the blade swung through the air, grinding against the stone wall and causing a cascade of sparks to rain down onto the stonework.

Lightning leapt from Serana’s palm as she scrambled to her feet. It arced from her fingertips and engulfed their attacker. It coursed over his armour, causing him to shake uncontrollably, loosing a horrific scream. His blade dropped to the ground with a clatter as the lightning surrounded him. Then he too crumpled to the ground, a dying gasp escaping from beneath his helmet.

Emily crossed the room to where Serana stood, looking down at the body of the bandit.

“I think we’d better leave,” said Serana, “Is it past sundown?” Emily glanced at her watch.

“Sun set an hour ago,” she replied.

“We’d better feed before we go,” said Serana, gesturing towards the bandit.

Chapter Text

After feeding from the bandit they left through the escape hatch in the Captain’s quarters. This took them up onto the battlements. Several bandits patrolled the lower battlements, peering out into the darkness, holding torches aloft. Serana led Emily over towards the wall and together they climbed down the rugged stone walls. The stones provided plenty of handholds and footholds and they soon reached the battlements below. These were hidden in shadow and they were able to leap, unseen, from the battlements to the high hillside. From there they crept around the perimeter of the fort to the cave entrance where Arvak still waited. Finn was curled in his usual place atop Emily’s shoulders as they climbed up onto the horse and Emily took up the reigns, urging the horse onwards into the birch plains.

They reached the fort sometime after two in the morning and cantered up towards the rocky outcrop just before the first wooden barricade where they tethered the horse to a stout log. From here they continued on foot. Emily had Serana’s hood pulled down over her ears and she’d changed back into her Dawnguard armour to avoid raising suspicion. Even so, once they got inside they looked around for any signs of Isran. The lateness of the hour was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be patrolling the battlements or supervising the crossbow training. “Sleep is for the weak,” was a favourite pet saying of his.

They made their way through the darkened corridors and passed through the large dining area. The fire was still burning in the grate and Emily spotted the old Orc seated in one of the chairs by the fire. They crept quietly past and through the corridor to the sleeping quarters. The beds were little more than animal skins stretched taut between wooden poles and they were laid out in the shadowy corners of the room. Two of them were occupied. Emily recognised the warrior lying stretched out under the furs. It was the Nord she’d met on the day they arrived at the Fort: Agmaer. Lying on the other bed was Dexion. Emily frowned. Covering the man’s eyes was a tightly wound cloth. They crossed the room to where he lay.

“Dexion,” she said quietly.

“Who’s there?” he replied, turning his head to one side.

“It’s me, Emily,” said Emily, “Serana’s here too.”

“Oh, it’s you, young one,” Dexion replied, sitting up in bed.

“What happened to your eyes?” Emily asked. Dexion frowned.

“It was my fault,” he said, “In my haste and excitement to read the first scroll you brought I didn’t make the proper preparations. I’m afraid I’m no longer of any use to you.”

“Did it…blind you?” Emily asked. Dexion nodded.

“I’m afraid so, Emily,” he replied. Serana sat down on one of the empty beds.

“Can’t anything be done?” Emily asked. Dexion shook his head.

“No, I’m afraid we’ll just have to let it run its course,” he replied, “And there’s always the chance I may never recover.” Emily thought for a moment.

“Then we’ll have to chance a trip to Cyrodiil then,” Emily said, “I don’t know how long that will take but it’s the only way.”

“Perhaps not,” said Dexion. Serana looked over at the old man as he continued. “But I can’t guarantee you’d come out of it unscathed,” he said, “Blindness could be the least of your worries.”

“And what does, ‘it’ entail?” Emily asked.

“There exist in Tamriel secluded locations known as Ancestor Glades,” Dexion explained, “There is one here in Skyrim, deep in the forests of Falkreath.”

“And what’s so important about these glades?” Emily asked.

“These glades are home to moths known as Ancestor Moths,” Dexion replied, “It is for these moths that we are so named, ‘Moth Priests.’ If you can complete the Ritual of the Ancestor Moth you may be able to read the scrolls.”

“And this ritual,” said Emily, “What exactly do I have to do?”

“Go to the glade,” Dexion replied, “There you must use a ceremonial draw knife to harvest the bark of a canticle tree. Beautiful heavy boughed trees with pink blossoms. Use the canticle bark to attract the moths to you and these moths will give you the second sight to read the scrolls.”

“How will moths allow me to read the scrolls?” Emily asked.

“The Moths maintain a connection to an ancient magic,” Dexion explained, “Their trilling, this ancestral chorus allows them to tap into a primal augur which those performing the ritual can share in and this augur creates a conduit that allows them to read the scrolls.”

“I’ll admit, this is all going a bit over my head,” said Emily, “But I think I get the idea. Find a glade full of moths, harvest bark using a special knife and attract the moths to me.”

“Well, that’s the layman’s understanding, yes,” replied Dexion, “Only the most resilient of priests can learn to do it this way. It can take years to interpret the harmony.” Emily paused.

“Then how on earth do I have a chance?” she asked, “I’m no priest and I’ve never done anything even remotely like this before. Serana, I think we’d better pack our bags.”

“Well, you’ve come this far,” said Dexion. Emily tilted her head to one side.

“I fail to see how that has any bearing,” she replied, “We recovered the scrolls but there’s a world of difference between finding and reading.”

“Let me explain,” said Dexion, “The scrolls, believe it or not, have a mind of their own. If they had not wanted you to find them they would not have let you. I strongly believe you are meant to hear this ancestral chorus.” Emily folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. Dexion chuckled. “Even in my blinded state I can sense your scepticism.” Now was Emily’s turn to smile.

“I suppose in a world of vampires, magic and steam powered automatons I should learn to be more open minded to such a notion,” she said at last.

“Indeed, the world is full of many wonders and the Elder Scrolls are but one of them,” he said, “The glade is located near an ancient Nordic tower which lies in ruins. Peak’s Shade tower I believe is its name.”

“Then we’ve probably got enough time to get as far as Riften,” said Emily, checking her watch. After bidding Dexion farewell they left the fort. Emily was deep in thought as they made the way along the dirt track that would take them back to the canyon entrance. Her hands were clasped behind her back as they always were when she was deep in thought. She remembered their encounter with Septimus Signus whom they’d met in his icy stronghold out in the middle of the ocean. She reached into her pack and pulled out the puzzle cube. She turned it over in her hands, wondering if he even remembered entrusting it to them. This cube, she reminded herself, contained the inscriptions from the Elder Scroll they’d recovered from Blackreach. She examined it carefully as they walked, poking at any bits that were slightly raised, hoping to stumble upon some button or switch which might allow her to access the cube. But this was a level of technology she was unfamiliar with. Indeed, it did not resemble anything she’d come into contact with before. Even the latest models of laptops and mobile phones paled in comparison. After several more unsuccessful attempts she stowed it back in her pack.

They reached the point where they’d tethered Arvak and untied him before getting up onto his back. Emily urged him onward down the path to the canyon’s cave entrance.

* * *

The horizon was turning a pinkish hue as they tethered Arvak in a secluded spot outside the city and made their way in through the back gates. Riften had not changed since she’d last visited it. It was still the same dank smelly hole it had been before. Some grey clouds loomed overhead and a few drops of rain were beginning to fall. The marketplace was empty save for a beggar curled up next to the stone wall, shivering under a thin blanket. Emily knelt and dropped a handful of septims into the tankard sitting by his head.

They crossed the cobblestone street to the Inn and pushed open the door. The atmosphere was noisy with many patrons sitting at the scrubbed wooden tables downing pints of mead. A man with ginger hair and beard sat at a table in the corner, talking in a conspiratorial whisper to a woman with a youthful face and a contrasting head of pure white hair. A Dunmer man sat at the bar, offering a bottle of mead under the counter to the woman sitting next to him. Emily crossed the room to the bar and spent some time talking to the Argonian barmaid before dropping some coin into her outstretched hand.

“You can have the room over the kitchens,” she said, “It’s the first door on your right.”

“Oh, and some seared slaughterfish if you have any,” said Emily, handing over a few more coins.

“Here,” said the Argonian, heaping pale fleshed slices of fish onto a plate and pushing it across the counter. Emily picked it up and carried it over to one of the tables where Serana joined her. As Emily put the fish down on the table and Finn scampered down her arm to tuck into it she looked over at Serana. The vampiress had been very quiet since leaving the fort and Emily tried to catch her gaze. She smiled, “Hey, you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Serana replied. A sudden crash resounded through the bar and they looked over to see one of the tables lying on its side while two of the patrons tussled in the middle of the floor.

“Imperial dog,” yelled one, a man with white hair and beard, dressed in finery. His opponent was little more than a boy with a thin covering of peach fuzz on his chin. They watched as the Argonian bartender strode over and tried to separate the two.

“Unhand me you filthy lizard,” yelled the white-haired man. At these words there came a fierce hiss from behind the counter as the Argonian barmaid joined the fray. She grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt and dragged him towards the door, kicking it open and slinging him out into the sodden city streets.

“I’ll have Maven see you hang for this,” they heard before the door was slammed shut.

“Keerava,” said the Argonian man, “Are you sure that was wise?”

“Talen, I put up with enough of that when I lived in Morrowind,” Keerava bristled, “I won’t have them talk to me like that. Or you.”

“The man knows Maven Black-Briar,” replied Talen, “Don’t think he won’t make good on that threat because he will.”

“And if he does,” said Keerava, “What’ll you do then?”

“If he tries, I’ll leave this cesspool,” replied Talen, “And I’ll take you with me. We’ll set up in Falkreath or perhaps Markarth.”

“You and your fool-headed ideas,” said the Argonian woman. Despite the harshness of her words the tone carried a certain amount of affection.

“Well, it’s certainly been an eventful morning,” said Emily, “And it’s not even noon. I think I’ll go up to bed.”

“I’ll come up in a bit,” Serana replied.

Emily got up from the table and made her way upstairs to their room. The room consisted of two single beds with a nightstand beside each. A dresser occupied the other end of the room. Emily changed out of her armour and slipped into her red shirt and breeches before throwing herself down on the bed. Each time their travels required them to spend the day at an Inn she revelled in the opportunity to bed down in some linens or furs as opposed to a tattered old bedroll, or better still, the earthy floor of a cave.

* * *

It took them the guts of four nights travel until they crossed into the forests of Falkreath. The pines were almost always covered in a dense fog by night which made progress slow. Emily looked at her map by the glow of a ball of magelight. The moons were obscured by heavy clouds which threatened rain.

“We should be nearly there,” she said, “Peak’s shade is just another mile or so down the road.”

“Emily,” said Serana, “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Emily paused. “The risks, I mean,” Serana continued, “The ritual.”

“I’m sure,” Emily replied, “You said so yourself that we wouldn’t have time to go all the way to the Imperial city to find a Moth Priest. And that was weeks ago. By that reckoning we have even less time now.”

“But if the ritual were to fail,” Serana said, “Or even if it were to succeed but you paid for it with your sight or your sanity.” She felt Emily take her hand.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared,” she said quietly, “Truth be told, I’m terrified. But I don’t see what other choice we have. I’ve been thinking about it since we left the Fort.” She looked up at the cloudy sky.

“Perhaps I could perform the ritual,” Serana suggested. Emily shook her head.

“Out of the question,” she replied, “Look, if either of us should take that risk, it’s me. You’re a skilled warrior and a powerful sorceress. You’d be better wielding that bow than me. No sense in you going blind and bonkers.”

“Uggh, enough with the noble act, Emily,” Serana protested.

“It’s not nobility, it’s just facts,” Emily replied, “Besides, I’m already a bit mad. Maybe the scroll won’t affect me. And we need that information or we’ll never be able to rest.”

“Just…make sure it’s what you want,” said Serana, “I want that information too but not if it’s going to cost what we can’t pay.” Emily smiled.

“I know,” she said, “And I will. Remember what Dexion said about the scrolls letting us find them? I think we’ll be alright.” She let go of Serana’s hand as they reached the tower. It sat upon the hill just off the road and lay in darkness and ruin.

“Not much of a tower, is it?” said Emily, “What do you suppose they built it for?”

“A sentry post most likely,” Serana replied, “Built by the ancient Nords.”

“How can you tell who built it?” Emily asked.

“Do you see that carved ledge?” Serana replied, pointing to the tower, “The one in the shape of an eagle. The eagle was an animal revered by the ancient Nords, an embodiment of Kyne.”

“Who’s Kyne?” Emily asked.

“Kyne is the Ancient Nord name for Kynareth, the goddess of the skies,” Serana explained.

They left the road and followed a game trail through the underbrush. With the absence of moonlight they travelled by the light of the magelight ball conjured on Emily’s palm. They passed by a shallow stream flowing over stones. Near the stream several tents had been erected. Emily could see the sleeping forms of men and mer on some of the bedrolls. They passed by quickly and quietly and made their way further up into the mountains. It got colder the further up they went and the vegetation grew sparser.

“Seems an unlikely place for a glade, doesn’t it?” said Emily as they climbed over the frozen rocks.

“Perhaps it’s underground,” Serana replied, “Skyrim has some beautiful underground caves. Dimhollow being an exception of course.”

The glade was indeed underground and they found the entrance to it in the higher reaches of the mountain. It was little more than a crevice in the rockface through which they entered. Although the entrance was caked in snow, as they ventured further in it soon gave way to rich earth in which plants of various types grew in abundance. Moss grew heavily on the rocks and hung from them in long tresses. Mushrooms nestled in the dark recesses and ahead lay two rock ledges. A fallen log stretched between them and they crossed it, taking the narrow tunnel which followed.

At the end of the tunnel the narrow space suddenly opened out into a vast cavern. Pale moonlight shone down through a great hole in the ceiling and plants of all kinds grew on the various ledges and hillocks. Several waterfalls cascaded down into the pools that lay at the bottom of the cavern. Steam gushed up from cracks in the bottom, lending the cavern a rather humid atmosphere.

“Geothermal energy,” said Emily under her breath.

“Geothermal?” Serana replied.

“Water gets heated deep underground, likely by lava flows, and gushes up here as steam,” Emily explained, “That’s why it’s so warm in here.”

They followed a set of stone steps down towards the pools. Up close the heat was stifling and Emily waded through the shallow water.

“Any idea what this draw knife looks like?” she asked.

“If the one my mother had was anything to go by,” Serana replied, “It will be a knife with two handles, used for scraping moss and bark off of trees.”

Then Emily spotted a strange circular stone structure bathed in moonlight in the centre of the pool. Hanging suspended at the centre of the structure was an instrument like the one Serana described. A knife with intricately carved wooden handles. Emily waded through the pool to the stone structure, reaching up and lifting the knife from its place. It was light, weighing next to nothing.

“That looks like what we’re looking for,” said Serana. She was resting one hand on one of the twisted boughs of a tree covered in pink blossoms, “And I think this must be one of those canticle trees Dexion mentioned.”

Emily took the knife and scraped off some of the bark. The knife was deceptively sharp and the bark came off easily.

“Now we just have to find some of those moths,” she said, looking around. Carrying the bark, Emily strode off into the undergrowth. Serana followed silently. They had not gone far when they encountered the first of the moths. It was small with beige wings covered in eye-like marks. It flitted towards Emily and settled on the canticle bark for a moment before flapping up towards her head, flitting about her. Another moth joined it from the undergrowth, followed by another and another.

“Seems like they’ve taken a liking to you,” Serana said with an amused smile, “And unless I’m imagining things you’re beginning to glow.” Emily looked down at herself and saw that Serana was right. A faint shimmering glow covered every inch of her as the moths flitted about her.

They moved slowly through the undergrowth, attracting more of the moths.

“Whoa, I think that’s what we were waiting for,” said Serana in awe at the glowing orb that now enveloped Emily.

“What do we do now?” Emily asked.

“I think we need to go over to that column of light shining down into the pool there,” said Serana, gesturing towards the light that now bathed a section of the pool at the bottom of the cavern. As Emily made to walk down the steps that would take them back to the light Serana stepped forward, taking her hand.

“Are you absolutely sure about this, Emily?” she asked. Emily squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she replied, “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. Hey, don’t go getting all sentimental on me.” Serana smiled, letting go of her hand as she turned back to the column of light.

The light was warm and bathed her in its bright glow as she took a deep breath before unfurling the Elder Scroll of Blood. A starfield emblazoned the sky before her, visible only to her and she could see little else. It grew brighter and lines started to snake their way across her vision. More and more lines appeared, criss-crossing and joining together. Blue swathes covered her vision and she stiffened slightly. Perhaps this was the encroaching sight loss Dexion had warned her of. But this swathe of blue settled into place as two red symbols appeared and she finally recognised what she was seeing. It was a map and the two symbols: a ram skull and a wolf head marked the locations of Solitude and Markarth. Another symbol appeared at the start of one of the snaking lines she took to be one of Skyrim’s many winding rivers. This one was a strange shape, a rune she didn’t recognise. The map faded, replaced by the visage of a cave entrance and she heard the words, ‘Darkfall Cave’ whispered to her by a cracked old-sounding voice.

Finally her vision faded to white and she felt dizzy as she staggered back. She felt arms supporting her and she looked into the white light. She felt her knees buckle beneath her and she was falling.

For how long she lay in that white haze she could not guess but slowly a face began to materialize. The face had bright red eyes that were wide with concern and thick dark hair that fell on either side of them.

“Emily,” said a voice, “Emily, wake up.” It took her a moment to realise that the voice was coming from the face. Slowly her vision began to clear.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked. Emily nodded slowly.

“I think so,” she replied.

“Damn, I knew we shouldn’t have trusted those scrolls,” said Serana. Emily felt one of her hands cradle her jaw, “Who knows what they could’ve done to you.” Emily smiled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be alright,” she replied, “I think I’ve still got all my sanity. Well, as much as I ever had of it.” These last words won her a smile from Serana. “I saw it,” she continued, “The bow’s location. I know where it is.”

“Where is it?” Serana asked. Slowly Emily sat up.

“Somewhere called Darkfall cave,” she replied, “It’s in the mountains west of Solitude and North-East of Markarth. Near the source of one of Skyrim’s rivers.” She pulled out her map and spread it out on the ground.

“About here,” she said.

“We’re one step closer,” said Serana, “Thank you. Soon we’ll be able to put an end to this ridiculous prophecy.” She stopped, looking over her shoulder.

“Is something the matter?” Emily asked.

“I think we’ve got company,” said Serana. Emily got to her feet and they looked across the pool at the four figures descending the stone steps. Serana dragged Emily behind one of the stone pillars.

“Let me handle this,” she said, “Those scrolls took a lot out of you.”

“No way, while I watch helplessly from the sidelines?” Emily retorted, “I don’t think so. You said so yourself, ‘We’re in this together.’” She readied a drain spell on her palm and they ran out from behind the pillar, Serana pulling her bow from her back. She nocked an arrow and shot the first of the thralls wading across the shallow waters. The thrall fell backwards, blood blossoming in the water around his limp form. Emily loosed her drain spell which engulfed the second thrall while Serana turned her attention to the two vampires.

“Blood traitor,” one yelled as she lunged at her. Serana parried the blow before lashing out, cutting a neat gash in the vampire’s arm. The vampire staggered back as Serana launched an ice spike which caught her in the chest, sending her crashing back against one of the stone pillars where she fell limp.

Emily turned from the thrall in time to see the other vampire charging at Serana.

“Serana, look out!” she yelled. Serana turned, raising her dagger just in time to block the blow aimed for her heart. Emily charged at the vampire, slamming into him and knocking him back against the rocks.

“Get away from her!” she yelled, her dagger plunging into his neck. Dark blood spilled out over her hands as he thrashed about, scrabbling at his attacker and she drew back and stabbed again, this time aiming for his heart. On the second blow his cries became a hideous gurgling and he thrashed a moment longer before he fell back against the earth with a rasping final breath.

Emily got up shakily from his prone form and hurried over to Serana.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she replied. She looked at the bodies of the vampires that littered the otherwise beautiful glade. “Father must have sent them,” she said.

“Then we should leave right away,” Emily replied. Serana looked up at the sky that could be seen through the hole in the cavern roof.

“You might want to put that idea on hold,” she said, “It’ll be sunrise soon. Come on, let’s go find someplace in the shade.”

Serana and Emily climbed up the stairs into the higher reaches of the cave and took one of the barely discernible tracks into the underbrush. They came to a halt beneath the spreading limbs of one of the canticle trees. Serana took her cloak from her shoulders and spread it out on the ground. Emily sat down next to her and Finn got down off her shoulders to explore the underbrush. He made a beeline for one of the pools further along and was soon splashing about in the shallows.

“What happened back there?” Serana asked, gesturing to the bodies of the vampires on the stairs below, “I’ve never seen you fight like that before.”

“I was scared,” Emily replied. Serana shook her head.

“I’ve seen you scared before, Emily,” she said, “That wasn’t fear I saw back there.”

“Well, I was scared for you,” Emily replied, “Scared something might happen to you.” Serana’s lips curled in a half-smile as she tilted her head to one side.

“I’ve told you before,” she said gently, “Don’t worry about me.” Emily shrugged her shoulders.

“That’s easier said than done, Serana,” she replied. Serana smiled and turned her attention the boughs of the tree they sat under.

“These blossoms are beautiful,” she said. A slight wind blew in through the hole in the ceiling, ruffling the tree's branches and sending a few petals floating and falling from the boughs.

“They’re a lot like the cherry trees we had back home,” Emily replied.

“Did they have any special significance?” Serana asked.

“They were symbols of love, romance and good fortune,” Emily replied, “There were festivals dedicated to them in Japan.”

“What kinds of festivals did you have on Earth?” Serana asked.

“Ooh, loads,” Emily replied, “There was Christmas where we’d give each other presents and decorate a tree with colourful lights and decorations, there was Valentine’s Day where we showed our love to those we care about, Easter where we’d we eat chocolate eggs and celebrate hope and rebirth.” She chuckled.

“What is it?” asked Serana.

“I just got thinking about Hallowe’en,” she replied, “Where kids would dress up as werewolves, ghosts and vampires and go door to door asking for candy.” Serana quirked a smile at this.

“As vampires,” she repeated. Emily nodded.

“I always used to dress up as a witch,” she replied, “I went as a vampire once before. Who would’ve guessed I’d be foreshadowing the future, huh?” They leaned back against the tree trunk, still smiling.

“What about Nirn?” asked Emily, turning to look at Serana, “What are the holidays here like?”

“Well, there’s the New Life Festival,” Serana replied, “Where we celebrate the new year. And Tales and Tallows which celebrates necromancy.” She looked up at the canticle blossoms as one drifted down, landing on her nose. She took the blossom carefully in her hands.

“And heart’s day,” she continued, “Which sounds a lot like your Valentine’s Day. And Jester’s Day which is a day for playing practical jokes. Not a holiday I got to indulge in for reasons I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Sounds like what we’d call April Fool’s Day,” Emily replied, “What date is it today?” Serana gave her an amused smile.

“You mean you’ve been going all this time without knowing what day it is?” she asked.

“Well, there hasn’t been an awful lot of cause for knowing,” Emily shrugged her shoulders, “Every day is the same. We travel, we rest, we fight.”

“It’s the 7th Last Seed,” said Serana.

“I remember reading a book on the months of the year not long after I came here,” Emily replied, “I found it so weird that Tamriel had the same number of months in the year and days in the week as Earth, just with different names. Think humans are drawn to certain numbers?” She nudged Serana playfully, earning a chuckle from her vampiric companion.

The day was long and before long they were both dozing against the trunk of the canticle tree. Emily woke every hour or so and when she did she glanced over at her vampiric companion. Serana, too, seemed fitful in her sleep, often changing her position as she lay against the tree trunk though much of this could have been down to the tree not being a particularly comfortable spot to rest.
At last the sun began to set and the sky visible through the hole in the cavern’s ceiling turned from cornflower blue through a pinkish orange to red. Emily awoke to Serana shaking her gently by the shoulder.

“It’s almost night,” she said.

Emily got up and after calling Finn to her they packed away their things and made for the cavern’s exit.

Chapter Text

The journey to Darkfall Cave took them far to the North, through Falkreath and Whiterun to Haafingar and saw them travelling for the guts of a week. On their seventh night they struck out from Dragon Bridge and made their way up into the foothills of the Northern Druadach Mountains. The weather turned colder the higher they climbed and lashing rain turned to driving snow.

“Uggh, I can’t wait until we find this godsforsaken cave,” Serana grumbled. The snow was lying thick on her hair and gathered in the folds of her cloak. It caused the landscape around them to fade into a haze even their vampiric vision could not penetrate. They huddled together as they trekked through the storm to avoid becoming separated from one another.

Emily peered into the snow-filled air, trying to discern the shifting shapes. Her eyes settled on something large and dark in the distance. It was tall and wide, domed at the top. Another domed shape lay further on into the haze. There was something vaguely familiar about the shapes. As they drew nearer they loomed up out of the haze: two tall towers carved from stone and capped with metal with a bridge of stone built between them over the rapids.

“I know where we are,” Emily shouted over the howling wind, “We passed by here when Talof and I were on the run from those vampires.”

They climbed the stone steps, stepping into the lea of the stone tower and out of the worst of the wind and snow. Serana shook the snow from her hair and cloak while Emily took out her map, conjuring a ball of magelight to read by.

“I think we must be here or thereabouts,” she said, “At the head of the river Karth.” She studied the map carefully. “Which means Darkfall is North West of our position.”

They left the Dwemer ruins and struck out to the North West. This brought them over frozen boulders cracked after years of water seeping into the cracks and freezing solid, across narrow gullies and through copses of snow laden pine trees growing so close together that they had to almost squeeze between the trunks.

At last they spotted the cave just as it had appeared in the vision.

“You ready?” Emily asked.

“I think we’d better be,” Serana replied, glancing over at the lightening horizon.

Inside the cave they could hear running water cascading into what sounded like a sizeable underground pond. The way ahead was lit by small glowing mushrooms and here and there torches had been wedged into cracks in the rocks.

“Looks like someone’s been here already,” Emily observed.

“Who would come all the way out here?” Serana asked, bemused. “No,” she continued when she saw the look on Emily’s face, “Not my father nor any of his friends. They’d have no need for torches.”

“Unless they brought thralls,” Emily suggested.

“Not likely,” said Serana although she didn’t look quite as sure as she sounded, “No,” she shook her head, “When I left the castle was short enough on vampire cattle. That is, mortals used for feeding on.” Emily shuddered. That was likely what the vampires had been seeking the night they stormed Solitude.

The tunnels they crept through took them past a large pool of water into which tumbled an endless cascade of water from the tunnels above. From there the tunnel narrowed down and Emily moved ahead, peering into the darkness. She gulped at what she saw. Thick webbing covered the wall ahead and she shivered involuntarily.

“I hate spiders,” she muttered as she pulled her bow from her back and nocked an arrow before continuing onward. Ahead she could hear the heavy rasping breathing of the giant arachnid and she felt her hair standing on end. Then she saw it. Five glistening black eyes stared back at her from the gloom and giant fangs dripped with venom. The spider seemed to sway before her on its eight hairy legs, staring as though sizing her up. For a moment Emily stood transfixed, rooted to the spot with fear. When the spider pounced it seemed to break the spell on her and she shot the arrow straight into the gap between its gaping fangs. The spider was flung back against the wall by the force of the arrow where it crumpled, its legs curling in on itself. For a moment they watched its still form and when it moved no more they continued on down the tunnel.

Ahead of them lay a wooden rope bridge which stretched across a large chasm to the far side. Emily peered over the edge of the chasm into the darkness below. The sound of rapidly moving water met her ears and she could just make out the crashing waters below. The bridge did not look very sturdy and they elected to cross one at a time. The bridge creaked ominously as Emily reached the far side.

“Watch yourself, Serana,” she called over to the vampiress, “It creaks a bit. Just don’t look down.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that,” Serana called back, a note of sarcasm in her voice. Emily watched with bated breath as the vampiress moved slowly across the bridge, holding on tightly to the ropes. They both froze as a sound met their ears, a most unwelcome sound. It was the sound of tearing rope. Emily’s eyes darted across the ropes on the bridge, trying to find the source of the sound. Serana, meanwhile, had frozen in place, trying to decide whether continuing or turning back would be a safer course of action.

There was another ripping sound and Emily spotted the frayed ropes linking the wooden posts to the two wooden pegs driven deep into the ground. Emily moved quickly towards the ropes. Abruptly one snapped, quickly followed by the other and she leapt at the writhing ropes, grabbing a hold of them as she slammed into the earth. She found herself being dragged forwards on her belly as she fought against gravity. Serana was still clinging to one of the wooden slats. Emily shut her eyes, gritting her teeth as she felt the loose earth moving beneath her. Abruptly the ground fell away and she was tumbling forwards, still clinging to the ends of the ropes. She opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of the rock wall of the chasm rushing towards her. She, Serana and the bridge crashed into the wall and with a terrified yell Serana’s grasp was ripped from the bridge and she found herself falling backwards. Emily looked up as she fell toward her and she reached out, making a frantic grab for her. Her hand found hers as she plummeted past her and the rope strained under their combined weight as they fought against the gravity pulling them down towards the rushing waters.

The bridge swung back and forth unsettlingly and Serana reached up with her other hand, grabbing a hold of Emily’s wrist. Emily tried desperately to find a foothold in the rocky wall but the rocks were slippery, wet with the damp air of the cave. She tried to haul Serana up towards her but found it to be a vain effort. Then they heard a sound which made them both go cold with fear. It was the steady creak of strained rope. This sound was accompanied by intermittent snaps as threads of the rope came away, fraying under the weight of the bridge and the two adventurers clinging desperately to it.

“No, no,” said Emily, “Please, no!” shaking her head frantically but the ropes seemed deaf to her pleas. One of the ropes gave way entirely and they found themselves swinging to and fro. Emily let out a yell as they lost several feet and they heard another horrible dry snap. They plummeted, bridge and all towards the raging waters. Emily fell backwards into the water and it surged up her nose and into her ears. She broke the surface, coughing and spluttering as the swift-moving current carried her along.

“Serana!” she called out, “Serana!” Serana surfaced near her, coughing as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. The current was carrying them swiftly down a narrow tunnel and they found themselves being pulled beneath the surface. They fought against the swift-flowing water as spray was flung into their faces and they spat out the brackish water. Suddenly they were falling yet again and as Emily looked up towards the tunnel that had just spat them out she let out a scream of terror. Spiders, giant spiders were hanging from the ceiling, glistening eyes luminescent in the dark and when they spotted their quarry they dropped from their lofty perches.

They landed in another pool and the spiders landed close by where they were swept ahead by the current which pulled them onward. Another tunnel of water deposited them into a waterlogged cave where a shallow stream tumbled over rocks. The spiders were already getting to their feet and Serana launched a spike of ice at one before scrambling to her feet. One of them loomed over Emily who was transfixed by fear, her red eyes staring at the widely gaping fangs. Then, as adrenaline surged into her bloodstream the spell of stupefaction broke and she rolled to one side as the large fangs lunged at her, striking the rocks she’d occupied mere seconds before. She reached for her dagger as she scrambled to her feet, readying a drain spell in her other hand. She backed away from the giant hairy beast, casting the drain spell which enveloped it and it let out a anguished screech. It reared back, striking at her with one of its pedipalps with astonishing speed. Emily dodged to one side as it struck the stone.

Serana brought down the second spider with another ice spike before turning on the third which was bearing its dripping fangs at the shaking Earthling. She ran at it as Emily tried once more to bring it under the influence of her drain spell. It lunged forwards and latched onto her shoulder. The armour kept the fangs from piercing her skin but did little to stop it lifting her into the air. Emily found herself staring straight into its five unblinking eyes and she screamed in terror. She lashed at it with the dagger in her other hand but the few pieces of soft vulnerable flesh were beyond her reach and the dagger instead bounced uselessly off its oversized armoured mouthparts.

Suddenly the spider let out a screech and staggered backwards. It was then Emily saw Serana dart from beneath the spider’s massive hairy body, dagger coated in green slime. She darted back beneath as the agitated spider tried to turn around and spot its attacker. Another screech and its legs collapsed beneath it as it dropped Emily. She landed in the shallow water and Serana hurried over to her, pulling her to her feet. They took to their heels, running away from the wounded spider which writhed in the shallows.

The caves they found themselves in were heavy with thick webbing and half open spider egg sacs littered the darkest recesses, far from the glowing mushrooms that covered sections of the wall. Emily shook the water from her boots as they climbed onto a rocky ledge and left the water behind.

“Phew,” she said, leaning against one of the walls as she looked over at her companion, “Thanks, for back there.”

“No problem,” Serana replied. She looked around. The tunnels in which they found themselves were well lit. A brazier stood in one corner, piled full of hot coals. “Be careful, we might not be alone here.” Further up the earthy slope the tunnels split in two. They elected to follow the more well lit tunnel which took them further up past clumps of thick growing bleeding crown and blisterwort mushrooms. They were silent as they followed the tunnels, daggers drawn and at the ready. Emily stopped as a new scent reached her nose. It was the scent of blood. She looked down and saw several flecks of red spattered into dark earth. They moved more slowly as they approached the light of the torch ahead. The smell of blood grew stronger. Emily looked down and saw a length of wire stretched across the path. She put a hand on Serana’s shoulders, pointing down to the tripwire. They stepped over it and continued onwards, looking briefly up at the ceiling where the rockfall trap was set.

In the light of the torch they saw more blood splattered across the rocky walls and floors and the silhouette of someone lying in the dirt. As they drew nearer they saw it was the body of a woman. Emily looked away when she saw the state her body was in. “She’s been…eaten,” she said, shivering.

“Who in their right mind would think to camp out here?” said Serana as she stepped over the blood spattered bedroll. A torch lay on the earth beside the dead woman. “Uggh,” said Serana, covering her nose as a strong odour hit her which blotted out the smell of blood, “Trolls.”

Emily opened a chest which lay in the corner. Inside there was a pouchful of coins, some steel arrows, a plethora of different potions, unlit torches and a length of strong-looking rope. Emily gathered together the arrows and stowed them in her quiver and emptied the coins into the drawstring pouch tied onto her belt. “We’d better hope we don’t run into them,” she said as she stood up, “I’ve only seen trolls once before. They’re massive brutes if the ones we saw in the Bromjunaar Pass were anything to go by.”

They left the ruined campsite behind and followed one of the tunnels which led further down into the caves. Ahead there lay another light. This one came from a brazier which had been tipped onto the earth and the coals lay in a glowing mass across the path. Past the broken brazier the caves were plunged into darkness, lit only by a few patches of glowing mushrooms. Emily conjured a ball of magelight and they continued onward.

After a time the tunnel they were in widened out into a vast cavern held up by several rough rocky pillars. The smell of troll was stronger than ever and the floor was submerged in places in a foot of water. They waded slowly through it, listening intently.

Somewhere ahead of them they heard a deep grunting as something shambled in the dark. Emily extinguished the magelight and they instead navigated by the bioluminescent fungi. In the eerie turquoise they saw the silhouette of a great shaggy creature. Two stubby horns protruded from the thick skin of its shaggy head and as it moved its hairy knuckles dragged along the ground. She heard the crackle of electricity as Serana readied a lightning spell in one palm. Emily decided to follow suit, conjuring a drain spell. So far the troll had not seen them and shambled away from the light. The darkness swallowed it up and they moved cautiously. The stench of troll grew stronger, mingled with the metallic smell of blood.

The water sloshed about their ankles as they crept up onto one of the islets that were dotted throughout the underground body of water. In the distance they could see the glow of a discarded torch. A shambling figure of a troll was hunkered down next to it, gnawing on something. Deciding to keep their distance from the gruesome sight they slipped back into the water and struck out away from the light and further into the cavern.

They looked back over their shoulder, checking to make sure the troll at the far end of the room hadn’t noticed them. They stumbled back as they banged into something. Whatever it was, was big. It was hairy and a musty smell hung about it. Worst of all was the fact that it was moving. It grunted as it turned to face them and they stared at the hulking form of a troll. Its fur was dark and mottled with moss. It raised one massive clawed hand and swung at them. Emily and Serana dodged back, sloshing back through the water. They heard the irritated grunts of a second troll and looked around in time to see the one by the discarded torch shambling towards them. All pretence of stealth gone, Emily conjured a magelight as they ran through the shallow water. It illuminated the two trolls giving chase. Serana struck at one with her lightning spell, causing it to reel back. Emily conjured her familiar and it lunged at the reeling troll. They heard the snarls and growls emanating from the dark where the two struggled.

They reached a ledge and Emily scrambled up over the rocks before reaching down to take Serana’s hand, pulling her up after her. From their vantage point they looked down upon the remaining troll. It leapt up and down in frustration, flailing its arms as it roared up at them. Then in the pool of light they saw Emily’s familiar charge at it, leaping on its back. Emily loosed a drain spell which engulfed the troll where it lay and Serana launched a bolt of lightning at the beast. It roared in pain as the magicks struck it. It tried to get to its feet but struggled against the magical energies surrounding it. Another bolt of lightning struck it in the head and it rolled back to the earth.

After several minutes during which the troll no longer stirred they got down off the ledge and hurried through the cavern, past the body of the other troll.

On the far side they came to a halt and peered around the corner. Someone stood at the far end of the cavern, arms up in a reverent gestured towards the statue before him. Behind him was a curious domed structure and the area in which he stood was lit by several candles. They advanced slowly, keeping their weapons drawn in readiness as they approached the figure.

He looked up, regarding them with piercing blue eyes. He wore armour as white as his skin and hair. It was ornate-looking and carved from moonstone.

“Come forward,” he said, “You have nothing to fear here.” His voice was commanding yet gentle and Emily and Serana lowered their weapons, crossing the cavern towards the stranger.

“Who are you?” Emily asked as they reached the rocky platform on which the stranger stood.

“My name is Knight-Paladin Gelebor,” replied the stranger, “Welcome to the great chantry of Auri-El.”

“Auri-El?” said Emily. The elf nodded.

“Yes,” he replied, “I believe you will be more familiar with the name given to him by man: Akatosh, dragon god of time.” Emily was not but decided now was not the time for a lesson on religious studies so she nodded.

“So, this cave is a temple,” she said, “To Auriel.”

“Indeed,” replied Gelebor, “Auriel, Auri-El, Alkosh, Akatosh, so many names for the sovereign of the Snow Elves.”

“Snow Elf,” said Serana, “You’re a Falmer?” Gelebor frowned.

“I prefer the term Snow Elf,” he replied, “I’m afraid the term Falmer has gained such negative connotations over the years. Those twisted beings that you call Falmer, I call the Betrayed.”

“Because they were betrayed by the Dwarves, right?” asked Emily.

“Yes,” he replied, “They held an uneasy alliance with the Dwarves for years but when the Nords threatened to wipe them out the Dwarves agreed to protect them but at a terrible price: the blinding of our race.”

“Surely everyone couldn’t have agreed to that,” Emily said.

“Indeed,” he replied, “Some sought other alliances or tried to strike out on their own but they were either slaughtered, vanished or accepted the Dwarves’ bargain.” He looked at the two of them as they stood in the candlelight of the altar. “But you are not here to here me retell the sorrows of my dying race, are you?”

“So, you know why we’re here?” said Emily.

“Of course,” replied Gelebor, “You are here for Auriel’s bow. What other reason would you have for setting foot in this remote cave?”

“You’re right, we are here for the bow,” said Emily.

“And I can assist you,” replied Gelebor, “But first, I require your assistance.”

“And what kind of assistance would that be?” asked Serana.

“I need you to kill Arch-Curate Vyrthur, my brother,” he replied. He spoke matter-of-factly, as though he were asking them to merely fetch something for him.

“Hold on, kill your brother?” said Serana, folding her arms, “We aren’t the Dark Brotherhood, you know?”

“I know,” he replied, “I would not ask this lightly.”

“Why do you want us to kill him?” Emily asked.

“The kinship between us is gone,” Gelebor replied, “I don’t understand what he’s become but he’s no longer the brother I once knew. I think the Betrayed had something to do with it, they did something to him. I just don’t understand why Auri-El allowed this to happen.”

“What did they do?” asked Emily.

“They stormed the chantry, killing everyone inside without pause,” Gelebor replied, his voice full of embitterment and grief, “I led a group of paladins but we were no match for their sheer numbers. This chantry was a place of peaceful worship. No one but myself and my paladins had the means or the training to deal with them and when we fell, all hope was lost. They stormed the inner sanctum and corrupted Vyrthur.”

“How can you be so sure they didn’t kill him?” asked Serana, “From what we’ve seen of ‘The Betrayed’ as you call them, they aren’t exactly prone to leaving those around them alive.”

“Because I have seen him,” replied Gelebor, “But something’s wrong. He never looks as though he’s in pain or under duress. He just stands there…and watches, as though waiting.”

“Why haven’t you gone after him?” asked Serana.

“Because leaving the Wayshrines unguarded would be violating my duties as a Knight-Paladin of Auri-El,” he explained, “And attempting an assault on the Betrayed guarding the Inner Sanctum would only end in my death.”

“Wayshrines?” said Emily, “What are they?”

“Yes, let me show you,” he replied. He strode towards the curious domed structure, summoning a ball of light on his palm. He cast the ball at the bronze sun sitting atop the dome and it lit up in response to the magic. The ground beneath their feet shook and they watched as the dome rose up, revealing an octagonal building. At its heart was a carved stone basin.

“So, this is snow elf magic,” said Serana, looking in awe at the building, “Incredible.”

“This is a Wayshrine,” Gelebor explained, “They were used for meditation and for transport when the chantry was still an active place of worship. The Prelates of these shrines were tasked with teaching the mantras of Auri-El to those undertaking the pilgrimage to the Sanctum.”

“And what does the basin in the centre signify?” Serana asked, stepping inside and resting one hand on the basin.

“Once the initiate completed his mantras he would dip a ceremonial ewer into the basin at the Wayshrine’s centre and proceed to the next Wayshrine.”

“So, you’re saying these initiates had to lug around a heavy pitcher of water?” said Serana, folding her arms, “Sounds marvellous.” Her tone was faintly sarcastic and Emily saw a flicker of annoyance cross the Snow Elf’s face. “ How long would they have to do that for?”

“Once the initate’s enlightenment was complete he would bring the ewer to the Chantry’s inner sanctum,” Gelebor explained, “Here he would pour the contents into the sacred basin at the Sanctum and this would grant him an audience with the Arch-Curate himself.” Serana raised an eyebrow at this.

“So after all this they’d just end up dumping it out?” she said, “That makes no sense.”

“It’s symbolic,” he said, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“So, let me get this straight,” said Serana coolly, “We’ll have to do all this nonsense to get inside the temple, kill your brother and claim the bow.”

“Believe me, if there was another way I would have done it long ago,” said Gelebor.

“How many of these Wayshrines are there?” Emily asked.

“There are five in all,” he replied, “The first lies at the end of Darkfall Passage which represents the absence of enlightenment.”

“Then, these caves must be massive,” said Emily.

“Caves? Oh no, the chantry encompasses far more than just a few caves as you’ll soon discover,” Gelebor replied. He strode back to his makeshift camp and pulled a large ceramic ewer from one of the caskets.

“Here, this is the ceremonial ewer,” he said, handing it to Emily, “You’ll need it if you are to follow the passage of the Initiates. At each Wayshrine you will find a spectral prelate, brought back by Auri-El so that they might continue to fulfil their sacred duties.”

“Can they help us?” asked Emily. Gelebor shook his head.

“No, in their current state they believe the chantry to be a place of active worship,” he explained, “They will only be able to see you as an Initiate and that you are taking the path of enlightenment.”

“Then, we’ll go,” said Emily, “If it’s the only way.” Gelebor nodded.

“May Auri-El light your path,” he said as they took the few steps up into the Wayshrine. The wall ahead of them appeared to dematerialize and in its place was the shimmering visage of a darkened cave. Emily and Serana looked at one another before taking deep breaths and stepping through the portal.

Chapter Text

They melded into the darkness of the portal and passed through into a long winding cave. Ahead of them were curious pink luminescent beings with snapping ends peeking out from small rocky tubes. Emily was not sure whether to class them as plant or animal but when they approached they shrank back into the tubes, extinguishing their pinkish light, only to re-emerge once they had passed.

Serana looked back at the portal they’d just passed through.

“That…wasn’t as unpleasant as I was expecting,” she said, “Kind of soothing, actually.”

“And warm,” Emily added, “Kind of reminded me…of the sun. Without the whole burning alive thing.” Serana gave her a half-smile as they passed deeper into the tunnels, past more of the pink cave dwelling beings and through shallow stretches of water. Serana crouched against the rockface, putting out a hand to stop Emily.

“What is it?” Emily mouthed to her. Serana pointed to something in the shadows ahead. It was bulbous and glistening, covered in a viscous green substance. Its sides were chitinous and slate grey and seemed to pulse slightly as they crept closer. Serana took her bow from her back and nocked an arrow. Emily followed suit.

Then it emerged, covered in bilious green fluid that dripped from its chitinous wings, large glistening mandibles and pincers that adorned its tail. Its great compound eyes were locked on them and it opened its mandibles wide, spraying them with a foul smelling dark substance. It chilled Emily’s skin and she felt as though she’d been plunged into a bucket of ice water but it did little else, such was the natural poison resistance held by vampires. Serana loosed her arrow and it embedded itself in the giant insect’s chitinous hide. Green blood splashed the wall behind it and it reeled in the air, spewing more of its vile venom. Emily gathered an ice spell on her palm and loosed it on the insectile beast. It crashed to the ground as its wings became encased in ice and they flapped feebly. Serana seized the opportunity to draw her dagger and plunge it straight into its bulbous head. At once all movement ceased and its wings and legs dropped lifelessly.

“What was that thing?” Emily asked.

“A Chaurus Hunter,” Serana replied, “The Falmer keep them and their larvae as livestock and beasts of burden.”

“And I thought those giant spiders were creepy,” said Emily, “Let’s hurry on.”

They left the body of the Chaurus Hunter behind and carried on down the tunnel. On some of the walls were luminescent cracks in the wall where the hyphae of glowing mushrooms wound their way through. Ahead was another narrow stretch of water and as they crossed something caught the corner of Serana’s eye. She looked up in time to see a Falmer drop into the water beside them from the rocky tunnel it had come from. She loosed a drain spell and it recoiled, giving Emily the chance to ready an ice spell. The ice froze the water around the Falmer, trapping it in an icy ring while the drain spell took effect. It collapsed, going limp as it floated on the water, its mouth open in a soundless snarl.

The next cave they came to housed no less than two of the sightless monsters and one of their Chaurus charges. This one was smaller than the hunter and possessed no wings. Its body was more bulky and its mandibles were beak-like, built for stabbing as much as biting. In one corner were luminous piles of multi-celled eggs. She’d seen ones like it on the shelves of Angeline’s aromatics and wondered what lengths the woman might have gone through to procure them. Serana nocked an arrow and fired at the far wall. Emily watched, wondering what she was planning. She watched as the Chaurus and the two Falmer hurried over to investigate the source of the noise. The Chaurus raised itself up on its six legs, looking around. Serana nocked another arrow and this one shot through the air, embedding itself in the Chaurus’ chitinous head. It collapsed to the earth and in the ensuing confusion the two vampiress’ crept across the cave and disappeared into the tunnel on the far side.

“Looks like these Falmer are here to stay,” said Serana, an obvious note of dismay in her voice. The cave that lay ahead was large and various structures had been built around the edges, ranging from crude dwellings to larger, more menacing structures. Paths and bridges made from chitin ran between them and down to the cave floor.

“A Falmer village?” said Emily. She spotted one of the blind elves patrolling one of the chitinous bridges while another sat at the base of one of the ramps. Emily spotted more of the Chaurus cocoons dotted in the more shadowy corners of the caves, pulsating slightly in the dim light. Emily nocked an arrow, taking down the one nearest to them. It collapsed with a sickening gurgle and they advanced. They were able to creep past the second Falmer and drop down from the other side of the ledge. Here the ground was covered in strange iridescent blooms. Purple leaves spread out on the floor aroun the bell shaped blue flowers with glowing stamens. The Falmer dwelling before them was large and the roof looked to be made from the hideous form of a giant Chaurus with cruel-looking mandibles. A Falmer was crouched in the shadowy recesses and they stared it down for a moment, unsure if it was aware of them or not. This one looked to be a female but with the hideously angled facial features and ghastly claws it was difficult to be certain. Eventually it became clear that the Falmer was not aware and they crept silently past. Their footsteps were muffled by the steady torrents of water crashing down from the cave ceiling into the dark depths below. A narrow stone ledge ran from one side of the chasm to the other. Emily grimaced.

“Okay, prepare to get wet,” she said quietly.

The water was freezing as they passed beneath and they emerged on the far side, rivulets of water pouring from the folds of their cloaks and over their armour.

“You don’t happen to know a drying spell, do you?” Emily asked hopefully.

“You think if I did I wouldn’t have used it before now?” Serana replied wryly.

“Well, how about after all this I whisk you away someplace warm and dry?” Emily suggested, “Not that I’m awfully familiar with the climates of Tamriel. Any suggestions?”

“I hear Elsweyr’s nice this time of year,” she replied.

The caves led them through more Falmer settlements ranging in shape and scale, many with chitin bridges strung between them. In the centre of one they found a curious effigy made from the skeletal remains of some unfortunate traveller arranged in a most peculiar fashion with the hands laid on top of the skull, the legs crossed and the arms nowhere in sight. The effigy lay in the midst of a patch of the glowing blue flowers.

“Do Falmer have a religion?” Emily asked.

“No one really knows what they have,” Serana replied, “I mean, can you understand what they’re saying?” Emily shook her head. “It does look very…ritualistic though so perhaps. I don’t think it’s one you or I want to join though.”

“Do you…still follow Molag Bal?” Emily asked. Serana took a moment to reply.

“I don’t know,” she said at length, “Something you should know, Emily, it isn’t wise to cross a Daedric Lord. I don’t make a point of completing any ceremonies but it isn’t as easy as it sounds to turn your back on his worship.” She peered down the nearest tunnel. “Look, we can talk about my theological preferences later, alright?” Emily nodded.

Through more caves and cramped tunnels they crept, over stagnant water where peculiar mists hovered and under more waterfalls. At last they came to what at first appeared to be a dead end. Two pull chains hung from the wall, beset with glowing yellow orbs. Serana frowned.

“Pull chains and traps,” she said, “Be careful, whatever was on the other side of this, the Falmer wanted to keep it there.” She was eyeing the claw trap set above the stone barrier and the holes of varying size around the edges.

“Hmm,” Emily said, glancing at each of the two pull chains in turn, “Now is not the time for eeny-meeny-miny-mo, I think.” She stood considering their options for a few moments longer. Then an idea sprang to mind and she opened her pack, pulling out the length of rope.

“Serana, go behind that corner,” she said, “I think I know a way we can test this risk free.” Serana did as she asked and after tying the rope around the first of the pull chains she joined her. Emily pulled on the rope and the chain was yanked downward. A second later the air before the stone barrier was full of pelting darts, three spiked metal rods shot out of the ground and the claw trap crashed downwards.

“I think we know which one not to pull,” said Emily with an uneasy smile. Emily and Serana left their vantage point and untied the rope from the pull chain. They pulled on the other pull chain and slowly the stone slid downward to reveal a hole in the wall. Emily’s eyes widened at what she saw. Lying on the rock before them was a sabre cat. She’d seen them in the wild before but only from a distance. Where the ones on Skyrim’s surface had faintly striped ginger fur and powerful sturdy bodies, this cave dwelling variety were leaner and more lithe with dark brown fur mottled with purple stripes that seemed to glow in the eerie half-light. When it saw them it froze. As they watched it lowered its head, raising its hindquarters. Its eyes did not leave them for a moment, nor did they blink. Emily heard the tell tale crackle of lightning on Serana’s palm and she readied a conjure familiar spell on her right hand. Slowly she made the summoning gesture during which the sabre cat watched intently, stubby tail swaying back and forth. She finished the gesture and in that instant the sabre cat pounced. The air before them shimmered and distorted, purple flames erupting into the air. They heard a snarl as the sabre cat collided with the spectral cheetah and they tumbled back to the earth, growling and tearing at one another. Emily jumped back and readied an ice spell but she dare not cast it in case she hit her familiar. The two cats fought savagely, their ears flattened against their skulls.

The sabre cat swatted at the cheetah’s jaws and used the momentary recoil in its foe to lunge at it, pinning it to the cave floor. In that instant lightning struck the sabre cat, rippling over its mottled fur and it writhed backwards. The cheetah seized its moment and leapt clear before lunging back at the wild beast, catching its throat in its jaws. It bit down, clinging on like grim death as the sabre cat thrashed about, roars of pain escaping its muzzle which was now clotted with blood. Emily launched her ice spell which caught it in the flank and it collapsed in a twitching heap. The moment it fell still the glowing purple areas of its fur paled and dimmed.

They left the prone form of the sabre cat and crept into the cavern. It was truly massive and lit by all manner of glowing flora. Water cascaded down from the ceiling into glowing pools. The most eye catching sight were the size of the mushrooms growing in clusters at the bottom, rivalling in size even those of Blackreach. Indeed, some of them appeared to be of the same variety.

“Incredible,” said Serana as she looked down at the walkways and pools below, “This is gorgeous.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” added Emily, “Except for Blackreach of course. Earth never had anything like this.”

“It’s too bad these places are infested with Falmer,” said Serana.

“Yeah,” Emily agreed, “It would make for a pretty romantic spot otherwise.” She paused, “I-I mean, it’s so picturesque.” Serana looked over at her, one eyebrow raised but said no more.

They crept down into the lower reaches of the cavern. By the side of the underground lakes Emily spotted deer with glowing green hides drinking from the crystalline waters. They saw more of the strange sabre cats lying under overhanging rocks or stretched out on the ledges, basking in the glow of the mushrooms. They found all manner of strange plants including one which shuddered at their approach and released a cloud of spores into the air which made Emily cough and splutter.

“It’s a good job you’re a vampire now,” said Serana as Emily wiped at her watering eyes.

“Why?” she croaked out.

“If you were mortal a coughing fit would be the least of your worries,” Serana replied, “That’s a poison bloom. Mother used to use them in some of her most powerful poisons.”

Once Emily had recovered they continued. At the far end of the tunnels there was a domed building like the one tended by Knight-Paladin Gelebor. Standing before it was a spectral elf dressed in long flowing robes. He watched them calmly as they approached.

“Welcome initiate,” he said in a strange echoing voice, “This is the Wayshrine of Illumination. Are you prepared to honour the mantras of Auri-El and fill your vessel with his enlightenment?”

“I am,” Emily replied, presenting the stone ewer to the spectral prelate. He bowed his head before turning to the domed structure, a glowing light present on his palm. The light resonated with the sun statue atop the dome and it rose, rumbling, from the earth.

“Then behold Auri-El’s gift my child,” continued the prelate as the portals opened, “May it light your path as you seek tranquillity within the Inner Sanctum.”

“We’ll find many things in the Inner Sanctum,” Serana said under her breath, “I don’t think one of them will be tranquillity.” Emily took the ewer and filled it with water from the basin in the centre of the Wayshrine. She looked at the portal ahead. Beyond it lay a rocky plinth bathed in moonlight. They passed through, melding with the portal and for a brief moment Emily felt her feet leave the ground and she felt as though she was swimming. Then they were back on solid ground, standing in a stone pit into which shone bright moonlight from the twin moons above. Ahead of them was a small tunnel that led off from the pit and they followed it. It took them steadily upwards, twisting and turning and passing through smaller caves. They could feel a steady breeze blowing down the tunnels and heard the sounds of night creatures filtering down to them.

At last they emerged onto a rocky outcropping and found themselves overlooking a spectacular landscape. Tall craggy mountains swathed in fog surrounded the vast valley where pine trees grew in groups and herds of vale deer roamed the grounds below.

“Golly,” said Emily as she looked out over the incredible vista, the wind ruffling her blonde hair, “This is…amazing.” Serana stood next to her, for once at a loss for words. Her cloak billowed slightly in the breeze as she looked out. They stood for several moments, quietly admiring the view. Then Serana snapped out of her reverie.

“Come on,” she said, “The bow must be somewhere in this valley.” Emily had an idea of what was on her mind. It was a reality no amount of beautiful sights could help her escape. Emily worried for the elder vampiress. Your average Earthling seldom had to entertain such thoughts and generally those that did were vicious killers who didn’t shy away from an act as horrific as patricide. But though she was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield Serana wasn’t a vicious killer. Emily caught up to her, keeping pace as they left the rocks behind in favour of the grassy hillocks of the valley.

A cobblestone road led through the valley, overgrown by grass in places and ahead there lay a stone archway. At some point the ground beneath it had partially subsided, causing it to lean slightly to one side. It was built in the same style of architecture as the domes of the Wayshrines. There were more archways in the distance in various states of falling apart.

“These structures must truly be ancient,” said Emily as she rested one hand on the stonework, “It’s a wonder any of them are still standing.”

They followed the cobblestone road up into the hills past piles of rock and clumps of scraggy grass. The light of the moons lit their way and they had not gone very far when they saw another Wayshrine with a spectral prelate tending to it. He looked up when he spotted their approach and smiled benignly, bowing to them as they neared him.

“Welcome Initiate,” he said, “This is the Wayshrine of Sight. Are you prepared to honour the mantras of Auri-El and fill your vessel with his enlightenment?” The question was posed the same as before and so Emily answered. The prelate nodded and performed the necessary magicks to cause the Wayshrine to emerge from the soil where it had lain dormant and Emily filled the ewer with water from the basin at its heart. But this time, instead of passing through one of the open portals, they instead left the shrine and continued on their journey through the vale.

They re-joined the cobblestone road and followed it up further into the hills. The higher they climbed the colder it became and a thin layer of snow and frost lay on the ground. The vegetation grew sparser, trees and bushes giving way to craggy rock. A cold wind blew through the pass, causing their cloaks to swirl about them. At the top of the pass they spied several large egg sacs and swathes of webbing. An involuntary shudder ran through Emily and she urged Serana to hurry.

On the far side they came upon a spectacular sight. A great wide river frozen at the edges flowed through the valley between towering cliffs. Here much of the ground was covered in a foot of snow and frozen trees and crumbling stone archways dotted the land below. The air was bitterly cold and snow billowed on the wind. They left the pass and journeyed down to the river’s edge. Here they struck out along its shore, heading westward. The valley seemed to be devoid of all life save for a strange creature watching them from its place further down the river. It was tall, taller than the giants native to Skyrim’s tundra and it was covered in shaggy white fur. It carried a bone club which was slung across its broad muscular shoulders and two great curved horns protruded from its scalp. It regarded them with what appeared to be disinterest and after several moments returned its gaze to the rushing waters of the river.

They made their way down to the water’s edge and hopped onto one of the large floating slabs of ice that lay on the water’s surface. From here they leapt to the far side, landing in the loose gravel that made up the river’s edge. On the far side of the river was another steep slope which they set to climbing, following a game trail up into the higher reaches. Serana took Emily’s hand, helping her up the last few feet of the steep slope.

The third shrine lay on a snowy cliff across a ravine reached by a natural stone bridge. In the distance, further along the cliff, they could see the tell-tale signs of Falmer settlement. Emily felt a wave of relief as they turned away from the direction of the settlement and instead crossed the rock bridge to the third shrine.

“You’ve arrived at the Wayshrine of Resolution,” said the prelate tending the shrine, “Are you prepared to honour the mantras of Auri-El and fill your vessel with his enlightenment?”

“We are,” Emily replied.

The third shrine was raised from the ground by the spectral snow elf’s magic and Emily filled her ewer from the basin. When they stepped back out from the Wayshrine and strode to the edge of the cliff they looked out over the mountainous landscape. The moons were lower in the sky and they knew it would not be very long before they would have to seek shelter. Emily checked her watch and saw that they had another three hours or so before the sun was due to rise.

“May Auri-El’s glow shield you from your enemy,” said the Prelate as they left the Wayshrine.

On the far side of the Wayshrine they came to a large frozen lake. Here and there rocks protruded from the ice which was only absent from the edges of the great cliff where the water tumbled over in great torrents into the depths below. They followed the snowy slope down to the lake’s edge.

“Does this ice look a little thin to you?” asked Serana as they stepped out onto the frozen lake.

“A little,” Emily agreed. She looked over at the far side where there was another stone archway which suggested the presence of another Wayshrine.

“What do you reckon?” Emily asked, gesturing towards the lake.

“I don’t think we have much choice,” Serana replied, “There were no caves back that way and it will be light soon. We’d better press on.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” said Emily, looking back at the ice, “I think I watched a video on frozen lakes once.” She got down onto her hands and knees. “We’d better make like penguins if we’re going to get across safely.”

“And what’s that in aid of?” Serana asked as she watched Emily push herself forwards across the ice on her belly.

“It helps us more evenly distribute our weight,” Emily explained, “We’ll be less likely to fall in even if it does look a bit silly.”

“I think looking silly is the least of my worries,” said Serana as she joined Emily on the ice, pushing herself along.

Progress across the ice was slow and Emily kept raising her head up to see how much further they had yet to go. Every now and then the ice gave out ominous heavy creaking sounds and they would stop, checking the ice and changing course to the clearer areas where it was thickest.

“I definitely hope we don’t have to backtrack,” said Emily as she pulled herself forwards, “Once is enough.”

“We’ll find another way back,” Serana replied, “There’s bound to be one and hopefully next time we’ll have the time to look for it.”

As they reached the halfway point Emily heard an ominous thud. “What was that?” she hissed, looking back over her shoulder at the vampiress.

“Don’t look at me,” Serana replied. She looked around and her eyes widened at what she saw. “Oh no,” she said quietly.

Across the ice was a towering shaggy creature covered in white fur. Its great knuckles dragged on the ice as the troll stopped and sniffed the air. It took another few ponderous steps, swinging its arms ahead and dragging itself forward. Emily and Serana redoubled their efforts to put as much distance between themselves and the troll as possible. The far side still looked unbearably far and when they looked back over their shoulder again the troll had shambled still closer. It was tracking them, moving ever closer as its three greedy little eyes were locked on their location.

“What do we do?” Serana asked.

“I think we need to take a chance,” Emily replied, “We’ll never get across in time. We’ll have to deal with it and hope the ice holds firm.” Emily and Serana pulled themselves up onto their hands and knees before getting to their feet. The ice beneath their boots was slippery and it was all they could do to keep their balance. The troll, seeing the movement, was closing the distance between them more swiftly. Emily and Serana readied their drain spells as it drew near. It lunged at Emily who leapt to one side, skidding precariously on the ice as she fought to stay upright. Its club-like arm slammed into the ice and Emily heard a sickening crack. Serana’s drain spell enveloped it and it roared in frustration, raising its heavy arms above its head. It changed direction, shambling towards the vampiress. Serana conjured lightning on her palm, striking the beast as it lumbered across the ice but for all the good it did she might as well have been striking it with pebbles.

Emily struggled across the ice, enveloping it in another drain spell as it raised one great shaggy arm.

“Serana,” she yelled, “Look out!”

The blow caught Serana in the chest and she was flung backwards onto the frozen lake surface, cracking her head against the ice. Emily yelled at the troll, pelting it with spells as it continued to shamble towards the still form of the vampiress. Then she heard it again. A great creaking groan. She looked down at the ice at the troll’s feet and saw a great crack snaking its way across the ice. She felt cold panic course through her as the cracks widened. Emily threw herself across the ice towards the troll and her vampiric companion.

With a large echoing crack that reverberated all around them large chunks of ice came loose, upending and crashing into the water. The troll fell backwards, slipping from the ice into the churning waters beneath. It was with horror that Emily realised Serana too had vanished from sight. She looked down into the churning grey waters she was lying on the edge of and a moment later she threw herself in. The water was freezing, piercing even her vampiric senses of temperature like arrows. She struggled through the water, eyes searching the murky depths below. She saw the troll, arms flailing uselessly as it was dragged deeper, its body too heavy and its great muscles which were such a boon on land now served as its downfall. Finn had left his place in her hood and was now swimming ahead, down deeper into the water, intently focusing on something beyond what her sight could discern.

Then she saw her, drifting down further into the darkness, cloak billowing out behind her. Emily dove down further towards her still form. The icy cold made her limbs feel leaden and heavy and she fought against the current which threatened to drag her from her companion. At last she reached her, grabbing her around her waist and kicking back towards the surface.

She broke the surface with a splash and began paddling for the ice. Finn paddled ahead of her. The sky was beginning to lighten and she realised, with a sinking feeling, that the frozen waters could end up being the least of their worries. She looked down at Serana who was unmoving in her arms and felt a cold sense of dread completely unrelated to the ice surrounding them. With her waning strength she thrust towards the edge of the ice, one arm grabbing onto the large slab of frozen water. She kicked against the current, pulling herself and Serana onto the ice. Finn climbed onto the ice after her, chittering uneasily.

“Serana,” she said, shaking her companion. She knew that CPR would be a useless effort given her companion’s need for oxygen or a lack thereof. There was no heartbeat to listen for and no breath in her body. She found herself frantically wondering how to check if a vampire was undead or, well, dead dead. Glancing up at the sky she decided to set her priorities.

Across the lake from them she could just make out the dark opening of a cave. Taking a hold of Serana she began to pull herself across the ice with Finn following along behind.

“Come on,” she said as she slid along, “You’re going to be alright, Serana, you’re going to be alright.” She slogged across the ice, pulling her companion after her. Still there was no sign of movement. “Please, Serana, don’t give up on me.” She did her best to ignore the ominous cracks which echoed across the ice, instead focusing all her attention on the cave entrance ahead.

At last she reached the edge of the lake and she got to her feet, pulling Serana towards the cave entrance. The cave looked to be empty and Emily breathed a momentary sigh of relief. Once in the shadows she leant Serana up against the wall and knelt before her. Finn rested his little paws on Serana’s lap, tugging at her shirt and squeaking. Emily saw a thin trickle of blood running down from her hairline to her brow. She bit her lip as she brought her hands up to her head, murmuring the incantation from the book of Necromantic Healing. Though her limbs ached with tiredness she concentrated on the spell, ignoring the fatigue spreading through her. The warm light glowed at her fingertips and danced along her brow. Her hands began to shake as the skin began to knit together.

Exhaustion forced her to stop and she sat there for a moment. The skin looked to be healed and she could only hope that it had been enough. “Vampires are immune to the cold,” she muttered to herself, “A cold day isn’t a problem…but what about frostbite?” She only knew that the cold in her own flesh was beginning to seep into her bones and even she was beginning to shiver. What separated the feeling of being cold from the devastating effects of frostbite and just how much could a vampire withstand?

“She’s going to kill me if this isn’t necessary,” she said as she removed her hooded jacket and jeans from her pack. Now she was grateful for the enchantment Serana had weaved upon it one night as they rested from their adventures, granting it the ability to keep all that was held in it, dry.

“I promise I’m not looking,” she muttered to herself as she removed Serana’s sodden cloak and tossed it over into the corner. Her leather bracers and red shirt soon followed and Emily pulled the grey hooded jacket over her head as gently as she was able. Then she turned her attention to her breeches, embarrassment mounting in her.

Several minutes later there was a meagre campfire burning in the cave fed by branches harvested from trees that grew near the entrance and helped along by dry hanging moss she’d found growing on the cave walls. Serana was lying by the fire and Emily sat close by. Finn was curled up near the fire. Emily fidgeted nervously in the firelight, glancing over at her vampiric companion now and again. She shivered miserably in her wet clothes.

She looked over at Serana again. “Please, Serana, wake up,” she said, kneeling by her head pushing aside a strand of her dark hair. Then a slight movement caught her eye and she looked down at her vampiric companion. Her chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly. It was a habit from her mortal life and it now made Emily breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said softly, one hand cradling the side of Serana’s face, “You’ll be fine. Just, wake up please.”

When Serana opened her eyes she lay still for a moment, trying to get a sense of where she was. It was dimly lit with the only light emanating from a nearby fire. Its meagre heat did little to warm her and she groaned as she brought a hand to her throbbing temple. She heard a voice shush her gently and a hand take hers. She knew that voice.

“Emily,” she said.

“It’s alright, Serana,” Emily replied, “We’re safe.”

“What happened?” Serana asked, looking up at the Earthling.

“There was a troll while we were crossing the ice,” Emily replied, “You hit your head on the ice and fell under the water.”

“That explains my aching head,” Serana winced, trying to sit up.

“Hey, you’d better rest for now,” Emily said gently, resting a hand on her shoulder, “It’s daylight out there.” Serana looked down at the hooded grey jacket and jeans.

“How did I get into these?” she asked.

“Ummm..,” said Emily sheepishly, “Look, I wouldn’t have done it otherwise but your clothes were all wet and these were still dry and I didn’t know if vampires could get frostbite and…” Her words trailed off at the look Serana was giving her, one eyebrow raised. Then she smiled, reaching up, taking Emily’s hand.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” she said, a hint of playfulness evident in her voice. Then her gaze fell upon Emily’s dripping armour.

“And what about your clothes?” she said.

“I only had one dry set,” Emily replied, shrugging her shoulders.

She sighed, her expression softening still further as she sat up slowly, turning to face her shivering companion. “There’s not a lot we can do about the under layers,” she said, “But you should remove those outer layers. That leather breastplate isn’t going to do you a lot of good.” She helped Emily undo the buckles and Emily felt her face heat up with embarrassment as she removed the breastplate, setting it down by the fire.

“Didn’t you have a grey shirt?” Serana asked, glancing underneath the hooded jacket she wore, “You don’t seem to have given it to me.”

“It’s probably still in my pack,” Emily replied.

“Then why on Nirn didn’t you put it on?” she asked.

“I…uhh, I was too busy worrying about you,” Emily replied, “I forgot I had it.” Serana opened the pack and pulled out the grey shirt, tossing it to Emily. She turned away while Emily removed the under layers of the top half of her armour and slipped into the grey shirt. Finn, meanwhile, had scampered over to where Serana knelt and put his paws on her lap.

“I’m alright now, Finn,” Emily heard Serana say as she stroked the little animal. She reached down, picking him up and edging back over to where Emily sat, gently depositing the otter in her lap.

“Thanks,” she said, “For saving me back there.” Emily smiled.

“No problem,” she replied.

“Serana,” Emily said after a moment.

“Hmm?” Serana replied.

“Can vampires get frostbite?” Emily asked.

“In this kind of cold,” Serana replied, “Possibly. I honestly don’t know. I seldom left the island, remember? But at least I didn’t have to find out.”

“It’s going to be ages before nightfall,” said Emily, “What do you want to do until then?” Serana chuckled.

“I think we’d better worry about getting dry first before figuring out how best to cure our boredom,” she replied, indicating her wet hair and Emily’s breeches and boots.

Chapter Text

“I spy with my little eye,” said Emily, looking around the cave, “Something beginning with I.”

“Ice,” Serana replied as she lay by the fire, not even so much as opening her eyes.

“Yeah,” said Emily, “Your turn.” Serana glanced over at the campfire.

“Something beginning with f,” she said.

“Fire?” said Emily.

“Mmhmm,” Serana replied. She sat up, “I think this cave is a little…limiting for this game of yours.” Emily sighed.

“You’re right,” she conceded. She sat there, thinking. Then an idea struck her and she began rummaging around in her pack. At last she found what she was looking for and pulled out two quills, a bottle of ink and several rolls of paper.

“How about we play Exquisite Corpse?” she suggested. Serana raised an eyebrow.

“And what exactly would that entail?” she asked. Emily chuckled, sitting down next to her.

“It’s not at all what it sounds like,” she replied, “It’s a drawing game. You draw something and then you fold the paper over and then someone else draws something and folds it over. Then after you have three drawings you open the paper up to see what sort of funny combined drawing you’ve come up with.” She set down the page and one of the quills. Serana picked up the other quill and dipped it in the ink before beginning to draw.

The day passed quicker following that as they drew ever more ridiculous creations, laughing and forgetting for a few brief hours that the fates of many rested upon their shoulders. Emily showed Serana how to play all manner of games she’d picked up over the years: Capture the Squares, Noughts and Crosses and Hangman and they drew silly sketches and cartoons, one of which was a rather comical cartoon of Isran with an arrow pointing to his head and the word, ‘stupidhead’ written in.

“Stupidhead,” laughed Serana, “Is that really the best you can come up with?”

“Hey, I don’t know any Skyrim swears,” Emily replied, stifling a giggle.

“Well, why don’t I change that?” asked Serana with a sly grin.

“And why would a vampire queen know such language?” asked Emily with mock astonishment.

“Queen, is it now?” asked Serana.

And so it went on. They competed to see who could flick the most septims into a rusted old helmet they found at the back of the cave and swapped tales.

“Come on Serana, you know I didn’t really adventure that much before I came here,” grinned Emily, “Besides a few holidays to Brighton and that fated trip to Norway that brought me here in the first place.”

“Then, how about an Earth folktale?” Serana replied. She was lying with her head resting against the knapsack, a piece of paper resting on her knee as she drew. Emily leaned back against the rock, looking up at the cave ceiling. “Earth folktales,” she said, tapping her knee with one hand, “I don’t think there are any I know off the top of my head from start to finish except maybe a few old fairytales.”

“Then let’s hear one of them,” Serana replied.

“How about Sleeping Beauty?” Emily suggested.

“Sure,” Serana replied. And so she began, telling the tale of the princess cursed at birth by a wicked fairy but saved by her fairy godmothers who bore the brunt of the curse, altering it so the infant princess would not die but would instead prick her finger on a spindle at the age of sixteen and fall into a deep sleep. The fairies took the child to the forest where they raised her in the hopes that the curse would not be fulfilled. But alas on her sixteenth birthday they returned to the palace and upon wandering through it she found a spindle, pricked her finger on it and fell into a deep sleep. Feeling aggrieved for letting their guard down the good fairies put everyone else in the palace to sleep until the day where a Prince from a neighbouring kingdom found the princess.

“This is starting to sound a little like waking from my time in Dimhollow,” said Serana.

“Except your ‘gallant hero’ held a silver blade to your head and was quaking from head to foot,” Emily pointed out. Serana smiled.

“Yes, I remember,” she said, “And how did this gallant prince wake his princess?”

“True love’s first kiss,” Emily replied, “A lot of fairytales had that element.” She rolled over onto her front. “Come on, your turn,” she said, “Why don’t you tell me some Tamrielic folklore?”

“Alright,” said Serana, setting down the paper and quill, “How about the tale of Vernaccus and Bourlor?” Emily nodded and waited as Serana began the tale.

“Long ago there was, and is, a Daedra by the name of Vernaccus,” she said, “And native or not to this land you would not hear his name spoken or hear of his fame for he was considered weak by his fellow Daedra. And this frustrated him greatly.” Emily listened as she continued.

“He did what any Daedra would do in such a state, he went on a murderous rampage,” Serana continued, “And all the while his rival, Horavatha, watched and taunted him, suggesting he collapse a continent if he really wanted some praise. The continent never came close to collapse but it wasn’t for his lack of trying.” Emily soon found herself absorbed in the story told by her vampiric companion. Familiar as she was with fairytales, these were the tales of another world and so were doubly fascinating.

“The land needed a hero and there was one. His name was Bourlor and his skill in archery was legendary,” said Serana, “Many say he was blessed by the goddess Kynareth for there was no other explanation for his sheer skill. He never missed a target even as a child and he would annoy his tutors by ignoring the rules and techniques they set for him.” The fire in the fire pit was flickering now and Emily tossed another couple of branches onto it.

“Bourlor arrived at the village where Vernaccus was on his murderous rampage while Horavatha watched, bored. She told him that murdering a small town mayor would not put him in famous company, that he needed a champion to defeat,” she continued, “She looked around and spotted Bourlor. ‘Like him,’ she said. She told him of his prowess with the bow and as Bourlor aimed at Vernaccus the Daedra felt like laughing as the man was not even aiming straight. But his look of confidence convinced him of Horavatha’s words and as the arrow was fired he vanished in a sheet of flame and the arrow struck a tree behind him.”

Back in Oblivion the Daedra was furious at his own cowardice. Not even a scamp would have been so craven. But as he considered a way to salvage what remained of his reputation he found himself face to knee with Molag Bal. The Daedra Lord congratulated him for proving the Daedra are more powerful than the Aedra’s blessings and he was exalted among other Daedra. He gathered worshippers and they built shrines in his honour and he was jubilant, known as the Elusive Beast, the Unpursuable One, He who Cannot be Touched and the Bane of Kynareth. The true story of his retreat was forgotten. Meanwhile Bourlor, disheartened by his defeat and found flawed, was never called upon again and instead lived as a hermit for the rest of his days. He died unmourned and unremembered.

For a year Vernaccus revelled in his worshipper’s cries of adulation. Tales were told of him eluding the arrows of one hundred archers and walking across the ocean without getting wet. But one day Horavatha came to him and told him, with great relish, that his shrines were being assaulted. Tempted by his title as the One who Cannot be Touched, they were casting stones at his shrines and Vernaccus, enraged, went to one of his shrines to confront those who dared to damage them. He came upon them and his anger was great. They fled before he could murder a single one and his worshippers knelt before him in adoration. But as he stood a rock struck him followed by another and another. The defilers laughed and guffawed, humiliating the Daedra who, angry and embarrassed, bounded into the shrine.

“A stone knocked the door closed behind him and he suddenly felt pain replace his anger. He asked the priest where he had got the wood from and he told him it came mostly from a copse of trees near Evensacon,” said Serana, “And the Daedra grunted, nodding and dropped forward to reveal an arrow embedded in his back which had been jarred loose from the wood and he vanished in a whirlwind of dust.”

“So, after all that time Bourlor’s arrow found its target?” said Emily. Serana nodded.

“What did Vernaccus look like?” Emily asked. Serana shrugged her shoulders.

“The tale did not go into detail about his appearance,” she replied, “But as he served Molag Bal he could have been a Daedroth, a savage Daedra resembling a bipedal crocodile or perhaps a Xivkyn, a navy skinned armoured warrior.”

“And he really existed?” said Emily.

“If the tale is at all true,” replied Serana, “And many have at least some truth to them then he is still around. Daedra don’t die, they return to Oblivion where they are reborn.”

And so the tales continued through the afternoon and when, at last, the moons rose above the mountains they changed back into their armour and left the cave. There were still two shrines yet to be found and they left the site of the frozen lake in search of them.

On the far side of the frozen lake the land suddenly sloped downwards towards a river similarly clogged with ice. Stone Snow Elf architecture littered the snowy ground, helping to reassure them that they were still on the right track. Their boots sunk deep into the snow and progress down the hillside was slow. The moonlight glittered off the snow and in Masser’s full phase it leant it a pinkish glow. Again Emily wished they had more peaceful reasons for traversing this beautiful landscape. She looked up at the sky. Their journey was nearly at an end by all accounts. Once the bow was theirs they would confront Harkon. And then what would happen? She feared for Serana when they had to take that step. Until now she was firmly convinced that it was this mission that was urging Serana onward despite any misgivings she might be having. This was not a situation Emily ever expected herself to become a party to and she did not know what words she would offer the vampiress when the time came.

At last they reached the river’s edge and hopped over the slabs of ice to the other side. On the far side they were met with another snowy slope and at the top of this lay the fourth Wayshrine with the fourth prelate attending to it. He looked up when he saw their approach.

“You’ve reached the Wayshrine of Learning, Initiates,” he said, his voice levelled and calm like all of his kind they had encountered, “Are you ready to honour the mantras of Auri-El and fill your vessel with his enlightenment?”

“Yes,” they replied. He nodded and prepared the magic that would call forth the shrine. And when this was done Emily took up the ewer and filled it from the basin at its heart. Afterward they pondered over their next move. There was no discernible way forward past the shrine and so they decided to journey back in the hopes of finding some unexplored area of the Forgotten Vale. They found it at the mouth of a river where there was a cave which led into the glacial cliffside. The chitin fencing outside spoke of those who called the cave home and they drew their daggers before heading inside. The cave was waterlogged and they waded through waist deep water into the main body of the cave. The entire cavern was made from ice and icicles hung in great numbers from the ceiling. The bottom suddenly dropped away beneath them and they swam through the glacial waters, hauling themselves up onto one of the larger slabs of ice. A commotion up ahead caught their attention and they pressed their backs against one of the glacial walls and watched as two Falmer advanced on a frost troll. One was armed with a bow and arrow, keeping his distance while he pelted the beast with arrows while the other was armed with a vicious looking war axe. They watched as he lunged at the troll, the axe raised above his head and the massive beast swung one of his great shaggy arms, knocking the unfortunate Falmer back into one of the icy pillars. It then roared as another arrow pierced its leathery hide and it charged at the second Falmer. Another arrow found its mark, embedding itself in the troll’s third eye and the beast toppled forward onto the icy ground.

Serana and Emily quietly left their hiding place and made their way across the ice. Serana pulled her bow from her back and nocked an arrow. The Falmer had turned away from the body of the troll and suddenly turned back, bat ears swivelling to catch the whistling sound swiftly getting nearer. Then it fell back against the snowy ground, blood pooling in the dirt.

They climbed the icy ledges until they came to a partially collapsed bridge made from the same chitinous material as many of the Falmer structures.

“Not the most stable of structures,” Serana said, looking at the ruined bridge, “About what I’d expect from creatures like…this.” At the top of the winding ledges there was a tunnel leading off further into the cave. Next to the tunnel was a crudely built tent of the same chitinous material with a rough hay pile dominating the centre.

“They’re like cavemen,” Emily replied. She peered briefly into the tent and found a couple of health potions and some Falmer arrows. She gathered together the arrows and placed them in her quiver.

They disappeared down the tunnel. The few light sources found in the cave were reflected on the ice which made up every surface, scattering the light further down the tunnels and lighting their way. They came to a gate which looked as though it was made from the legs of Chaurus which, Emily reminded herself, it probably was. When pushed open the legs curled over on themselves with a sound reminiscent of bones creaking. The sound was as repulsive as those produced by the living variation and they quickly passed through into the tunnels beyond.

The tunnel they were in narrowed down, forcing them to move through in single file. It eventually opened out into an underground fissure in the ice with icy ledges on either side allowing passage. At the opening they spotted a tripwire and they carefully stepped over it. Here and there along the ledge were small Falmer-built fences. Emily glanced over the edge of the ledge, into the chasm below and saw a small ice-choked river running along the bottom. They stayed close to the walls, planting their feet firmly in an attempt to avoid slipping. They stopped, staring into the gloom ahead. In the dim lighting they could see the silhouette of a Falmer. Scuttling alongside it was an insectile shape, a Chaurus. They watched as it grabbed something from the floor in its jaws and rocked its head back in a similar manner to a bird of prey when it consumes part of its kill. Suddenly the insectile monster froze and fixed its beady glowing eyes on them. Emily felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It could see them. And it seemed the Falmer had noticed its insectile companion’s change in manner, drawing its blade as it faced them down. Its face was hidden behind a hideous chitin mask. It advanced cautiously, apparently as aware as they of the precarious nature of the ledge. The Chaurus moved more swiftly, its four legs built to suit its icy territory and it surged toward them, leaping at Emily who blocked the blow with her blade. The force of the impact sent her crashing back against the wall and she wrestled with the insectile monster.

Serana engaged the Falmer, parrying each blow as she moved around the Falmer. Emily kicked out at the Chaurus, knocking it back and she seized her chance to stab at its head. The blade wedged in between two chitin plates and the bug reared back, screeching horribly.

Serana kicked the Falmer in the chest, sending him flying backwards over the ledge and she turned to see the Chaurus writhing back and forth before Emily, her dagger still wedged into its head. An ice spike silenced it and Emily bent to retrieve her dagger. It was coated in a slimy substance that she wiped off on the snow.

Halfway through the chasm they found a portion where the ice on either side met in the middle, allowing them to cross to the far side of the chasm and at the end of this ledge was a gate like the one they had entered the chasm by. They pushed it open and passed through. This took them to another cramped tunnel which was still more dimly lit and Emily conjured a ball of magelight. Where the tunnel sharply turned a corner they found another trap but this one looked to have already been triggered. By the trap they found the body of a hapless adventurer clad in an iron horned helmet and heavy iron armour. They stopped to feed before moving on.

The tunnel briefly opened out at what appeared to be a sentry post of sorts if the solitary Falmer patrolling the area next to a single tent was anything to go by. An icy slope led further down into the cave system and another tunnel lay straight ahead of them past the Falmer. It shambled over to the tent, sitting down in the entrance. Emily took her bow from her back and strung an arrow, aiming at the Falmer’s head. The arrow whistled through the air and the Falmer’s ears swivelled in the direction of the arrow. It leapt to one side, snarling and the arrow embedded itself in the wall of the tent. It raised its bow as Serana ran at it, nocking an arrow and firing. The arrow missed by mere inches, bouncing off the icy pillar behind. Her blade cut through the air, slicing a gash across the creature’s unseeing face. It fell to the earth, clutching its head in its hands. Another blow silenced it.

They left the body of the Falmer and went through the tunnel straight ahead of them. This brought them to a small Falmer settlement with two tents opening onto a blackened firepit. There was no sign of movement coming from either of the tents so they made their way to the icy slope which led up around the edge of the cavern. The slope was compacted from generations of Falmer feet and slippery so they kept close to the walls where the snow was less compacted. At last they reached the top which brought them to the top of another white chasm in the ice. This one was home to another two Falmer whom they picked off from a distance with their bows. At the far end there was another bridge which they crossed with some reluctance.

At last they reached the cave exit and passed through it. On the far side they found themselves standing at the bottom of an icy canyon. Through the top they could see the great red form of Masser in the paling sky above. The canyon was home to snaking chitin bridges, squat tents built at various levels throughout the canyons with yet more bridges connecting them. At the top, arcing over the canyon they could see another bridge quite different in design, made from pale stone. The moonlight shone off the edges, causing them to stand out starkly from their shadowy surroundings.

“I don’t think I need to tell you how much of a good idea it would be for us to get through here without arousing suspicion,” said Serana coolly, restringing her bow. Emily nodded, looking up at the multitude of tents before them as she felt the hilt of her dagger as though reassuring herself it was still there. Finn had not moved from her hood since they’d left the cave that evening and he looked apprehensively up at the tents. They saw a Falmer patrolling one of the bridges and slowly they began to make their way toward the Falmer village.

The snow was deep and they had to fight for each yard they gained on the village. There was just the steady clumping sound of snow reaching their ears. Everything else in the night was still. Falmer did not favour social interaction and so no sounds left the village. There was no talking by the campfires present in each tent, no sounds of children playing or elders scolding. No other sounds that could be expected from a village. Then a sound cut through the air. It was a sound that made Emily’s blood run cold, the sound of a tripwire snapping. She looked back at Serana who was grimacing, the end of a tripwire lying across her boot. Before she could utter a word a deep rumbling reached their ears and they looked up in horror to see large boulders tumbling towards them from a rocky ledge above. Then she felt herself being pushed and felt a wall of rock against her back. Hands were planted on the wall either side of hers and her red eyes met Serana’s.

“Well, this is awkward,” she managed to mumble out. She could see the rocks tumbling past behind Serana, rapidly losing momentum and coming to a rest in the snow. An arrow pinged against one of the rocks, bouncing off.

“Why don’t we carry on this conversation later?” said Serana, pulling back and drawing her dagger. They heard snarls from the upper reaches as Falmer loomed out from every tent. Their archers lined up along the bridges. Emily looked down to her right and saw the bones of one less fortunate lying in the snow. Lying next to him, wedged in a snow drift was a large kite shield. Emily dove for it as the first of the arrows were let fly, arcing through the air. She grabbed Serana’s arm, pulling her behind the shield. They ran headlong into the storm of arrows. Emily heard them clatter on either side of them and felt the impact as several of them embedded themselves in the wood plank that separated them from the Falmer hordes.

She saw the tip of one of the arrows penetrate the wood. The sharpened chitin was inches from her left eye and they plunged onward. Serana felt an arrow tear through her cloak and she ran closer to Emily. The bow had better be here after all they’d gone through.

By now they had passed the outer walls of the village and the shield now was as much a hindrance as a help as it could not protect them from the Falmer who now surrounded them on all sides. As if to prove this point an arrow embedded itself in Emily’s shoulder and she cried out. They were closing in on all sides. They pulled the shield around to where they guessed the next volley of arrows would come from. Serana heard them snarling on all sides and whether this was simply in fury or a battle taunt she could not tell. All seemed to be dissolving into chaos around her. Another arrow whistled towards them and Serana heard it more than she felt it. Her eyes were filled with searing pain as she doubled over, clutching at the shaft of the arrow. Tinges of red were encroached on her vision and she heard a rushing sound in her ears. Emily had dropped the shield in favour of her companion and she realised she was attempting to drag her through the snow.

Darkness surrounded them as they crashed through into one of the tents. They knew it would only be seconds before the Falmer broke into the tent and slaughtered them. Emily was rummaging through her pack. Seeing those bridges with the enemy lined up on it had awakened an old memory. It was nightfall in a dingy little Inn and a storyteller was telling a story of his exploration of an old Dwemer ruin.

I was trapped on that bridge and they approached on either side. What did I do? With this last question he addressed his audience and after some debate among his patrons one girl spoke up. A scroll.

At last Emily found it. An old scroll inscribed with the sign of the storm upon it in glittering iridescent symbols.

“Stay here,” she said to the vampiress, “I’ll be back. I promise.” Serana watched as her companion bolted from the tent into the snow drifts beyond. She heard the snarls of the Falmer as they spotted their target. She pushed herself up against the back of the tent, trying to ignore the pain in her gut before fighting her way towards the entrance. The next second she was thrown flat on her back by the shockwave that ripped through the canyon. Lightning savaged the bridges, tearing them asunder and the Falmer atop them toppled to the ground. Bolts shattered the sturdy beams which exploded under the rapid surge of energy superheating them from their core. She had to close her eyes as the whole world seemed to be full of light.

The silence that followed was almost absolute save for the crackle of smoldering timbers and the empty wind howling through the canyon. Yet still she listened, hoping that at any moment she might here footsteps or hear a call of triumph. She knew the second would never come. Disposing of the Falmer was a necessity to Emily, not something she reveled in. Still, she hoped to hear some sound from her that would prove that whatever she had taken from her pack had been enough to halt the hordes. The silence at least likely proved this statement to be true. She grasped the shaft of the arrow and managed to pull it out, drawing forth a short gasp of pain.

Boots stomped through deep snow and Serana looked up. Framed in the doorway was a familiar figure. The smell of burning hair pervaded the room as her companion knelt down next to her. Up close she could see the burns that covered her hands and the burnt ends of her hair which stuck out all over her head.

“It worked,” she said in a quiet voice, “I’m glad I picked up that scroll in your mother’s study now.”

“I should have recognized the effects of her more…experimental magicks,” Serana replied. Fingers ghosted through Emily’s shock of burnt hairs, blackened at the tips. It was then Emily saw the wound in Serana’s gut and the blood stained arrow lying inches from her. She placed a hand on her stomach, murmuring the words of the incantation and Serana felt the wound knit together. She smiled as she took Emily’s hand that she offered to her and got to her feet.

“I don’t know, I think the effect is rather nice,” said Serana as they wandered through the wreckage of the Falmer village. The bridges hung in ribbons and several of the tents had been blown apart entirely by the force of the lightning. She was gesturing towards Emily’s hair.

“Guess I should be thankful I have any of it left,” Emily replied, “Might start dying it when it recovers if you like it though. Just so long as it doesn’t start going curly. I never did fancy curly hair.” Serana smiled at her companion. It seemed surreal to be having such a mundane discussion as the topic of haircare when they were passing through the ruins of a Falmer settlement.

At the far end of the canyon there was a gate which they passed through into the caves beyond. These took them up a steep slope past clusters of glowing mushrooms and Falmer-made fences. In one of the smaller caverns there was a single tent. This one was empty and Emily glanced in. A purse of gold lay in one corner which she snatched up before moving on.

The steeper sections of the tunnel had ridged chitin ramps that they were able to climb up and this brought them past the strange stone structures that the Falmer presumably used as either sentry posts or as transport between sections of the ruins. There were ridged rungs leading up into the holes in the wall and Emily decided she daren’t glance inside in case a Falmer was lurking.

At last they reached the far side and outside the cave they could see more Falmer constructs. A stark contrast was the Wayshrine bathed in the first rays of the rising sun. They crouched in the cave entrance. The fifth shrine was in their sights but the sun forbid them from journeying any further. Serana sat with her back to the wall.

“Come on,” she said, “So long as we’re stuck here you should let me look at those burns.” Emily sat down next to her, removing her bracers and let Serana place her hands on hers, working the necromantic healing magic that made her hands feel as though they’d been submerged in cold soothing water.

“I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for your hair,” she said as she sat back.

“That’s alright,” Emily replied, “Hey, how about I take the watch tonight?” The smile faded from Serana’s lips and she looked down at the ground. Emily edged a little nearer.

“Look, I know what we’re doing, I know it’s weighing heavily,” she said, “And I just want you to know that if you want to talk, I’ll listen. And if you don’t, I’ll do whatever I can to help.” For a moment Serana said nothing.

“I’ve been trying to make my peace with it all,” she said, “Tell myself it’s all for the better. I don’t know how I’m going to feel when the time comes.” She suddenly turned to face Emily. “I want you to promise me something.”

“If I can,” Emily replied.

“If I can’t kill my father,” she said, “If I can’t raise my blade against him I want you to kill him. No matter what that does to me.”

“Serana..” Emily began.

“Emily, if you don’t he’ll enslave all mortal races,” she cut her off, “And don’t think he’ll let you live because you’re one of us. So promise me.” She was staring at her intently, eyes bright, almost fevered. Emily sighed.

“I promise,” she said at last. Serana smiled wryly. They sat in silence for a time. Emily picked up small stones, casting them against the far wall.

“What will you do after?” Serana suddenly asked, “When it’s all over?” Emily looked down a the handful of pebbles on her palm.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “I don’t really have anyplace I belong. I don’t really belong in Fort Dawnguard.” Serana looked over at her. “Even before you turned me,” Emily added, “I went there seeking protection from vampires but Isran wouldn’t give it unless I worked for him as an active member of the Dawnguard.” She threw another pebble at the far wall. “But whatever my future holds, I just hope you’re in it. That one day we can be happy.” She didn’t notice Serana edge nearer until she felt her presence close beside her.

“I hope so too,” came her response.

Chapter Text

The day passed slowly with neither of them being able to bring themselves to sleep. Serana spent much of the morning sharpening a blade that didn’t really need it while Emily pulled out a book and read. But after a while she tossed it to one side and got up to stand at the mouth of the cave. The sun spilled down onto the rocks not more than ten feet from her and she felt strange as she stood on the edge. It was an odd feeling to stand this close to something that could kill you. This would be perfectly normal were the thing in question swift flowing magma or a pit of sharpened spikes but simple sunlight? Even after all this time it still felt unreal.

At last the sun set behind the mountains and they could at last leave their shelter. Serana’s shoulders were tense as they marched with purpose towards the final wayshrine. When asked the same question they had been asked at the other four Wayshrines Serana just gave the spectral elf a curt nod. This seemed enough to satisfy him and he performed the necessary magicks to bring forth the Wayshrine. Emily stopped to fill the ewer and together they left the Wayshrine behind. Ahead of them was the towering edifice of the Inner Sanctum, resplendent in its design and grand scale. A bridge, the same bridge they had glimpsed from the canyon below, spanned across the chasm ahead, flanked on either side by stone balustrades. Great icicles hung from the balconies and the eaves of the roofs. The windows were arched and a great stone archway stood between them and the Inner Sanctum’s grounds.

They climbed the stone stairs on the far side of the bridge and found themselves in the expansive grounds. At the centre stood a massive statue of a snow elf wearing flowing robes and holding a sun above his head which was adorned in an ornate crown.

“This is a statue of Auriel,” said Serana, crossing the grounds to the foot of the great statue, “It’s using the older symbols of his power. This place must be ancient.”

“And he’s the same as the Nordic god, Akatosh?” said Emily. Serana nodded.

“Almost every race in Tamriel has their own names for the Divines and Daedra they revere,” she said. On either side of the statue there was a pond that had long since frozen over and behind the statue were two staircases leading up to the massive front doors. At the edge of the stone porch there was a basin like the ones found in the Wayshrines but unlike the others this was empty and in the bottom there was a small drainage hole. Emily emptied the ewer into the basin and watched as the water drained away. It drained into small channels cut into the stonework on the floor, running along towards the door. At the foot of the door was an indentation in the same shape as the sun held by Auriel. Here the water gathered, filling the indentation. As they watched it began to glow green and a pillar of light rose up from the water. There was a clunk as the two halves of the stone sun on the door came together and spun. A deep click came from deep inside the lock mechanism and the big heavy doors swung slowly open.

Before them was a room which looked as though it had once been very grand but parts of the ceiling had fallen in. In the centre of the room was a shrine to Auriel and surrounding it were the most ghastly statues whose arms reached forwards in great menacing gestures. As they drew nearer they saw that they were not statues but the frozen forms of countless Falmer and chaurus.

“These must have been the Falmer that stormed the chantry,” said Serana, “I wonder how long they’ve been frozen like this.”

“What do you think did this?” Emily asked.

“Magic,” Serana replied, “Powerful magic.”

“Vyrthur?” said Emily, examining the nearest Falmer. His facial features could just be discerned beneath his glacial mask, twisted into a snarl.

“Possibly,” Serana replied.

Around the altar various offerings of gleamblossom flowers and potions had been placed. The altar itself stood beneath a hole cut into the high ceiling with glass placed across it. As Serana stepped away to examine one of the smaller altars by the wall Emily paused before the shrine.

“Auriel, if you’re listening, I need your guidance. Help me fulfill my promise to Serana if it becomes necessary,” she said, “And give her the strength to get through this. I’m worried about her. She’s my dearest friend and I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“Emily,” said Serana, “I think I’ve found our way forward.” She was standing by a large wrought door. It was not what you would typically imagine when you hear the word door. This one was wrought of a bronze metal and was a meshwork of holes running the entire length of the door. They pushed it open and stepped through. The room they entered looked to be some kind of meeting hall as there were several polished stone tables lining the walls. There were numerous skeletons lying in corners, frozen in their final moments of life. One was clawing at one of the windows to the main chamber in a vain attempt to escape. A Falmer blade was lodged in his ribs.

They left the room and found themselves in a stone corridor. Here they found more of the ghastly frozen elves. Emily noticed that hanging from the clawed hand of one was a necklace with a ruby at the centre of the pendant. Judging by the faint red glimmer shimmering on the metalwork it looked to be enchanted.

“Serana,” she said, “What manner of enchantment do you think this is?” Serana lightly touched the pendant before replying.

“It’s a health enchant,” she replied, “Increases the resilience of those who wear it. Didn’t seem to do the Falmer much good.” Emily reached forward and pulled on the necklace. It wouldn’t budge, lodged between the frozen thumb and forefinger of the Falmer. She tugged harder and at last it came free, snapping off the Falmer’s hand in the process. There was an almighty crash as the ice seemed to explode. Then standing before her was the Falmer, growling angrily as it seemed to glower at the stump of its arm with its sightless eyes. Then it lashed out at her. Its icy claws raked across her armour with a horrible screeching noise. Then red vampiric energy engulfed it. Emily unsheathed her blade and slashed at the frozen Falmer. It leapt backwards to avoid the blade, giving Emily an opening. She surged forwards, plunging the dagger into its icy chest. The Falmer barely had the time to register a look of disbelief before it shattered, scattering its body to the four corners of the room. Emily stood, clutching the enchanted necklace in one hand. The pendant caught the light, throwing odd lights on the stonework.

“So, is your new trinket worth it?” asked Serana. She was smiling that amused half-smile of hers.

“I certainly hope so,” said Emily as she fastened the chain around her neck. She felt a warm glow pulsing from the pendant, spreading out from the place on her chest where it rested down to her fingertips.

“It feels a little strange,” she said, “Kind of…warm.”

“First time wearing some enchanted gear?” said Serana. Emily nodded. “Come on, we should go and unless you see something you really can’t live without maybe think twice about getting it.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Emily agreed, following Serana down the corridor.

They passed through another chamber with a long table and benches occupied by skeletons in various positions. Here too the ceiling had partially come down, strewing the floor with rubble. Here ice had invaded the Inner Sanctum, running from floor to ceiling in great cascades. The rooms were lit with curious-looking braziers where blue fire blossomed, burning steadily despite the apparent lack of fuel.

Through the doors they could see where the Inner Sanctum had fallen to complete ruin, dominated by glaciers that had encroached on the building for so long that they had broken through the walls. Now there was only a narrow crevice in the ice through which they crept. It eventually opened out and they listened to the echoes of their own footfalls. They saw more of the ice encased Falmer and their Chaurus charges, this time electing to give them a wide berth.

At last they reached a hole in the ice and dropped through it onto the icy platform below.

It was darker down here and in the ice they could make out parts of the Inner Sanctum that had been entirely buried. The ice which once threatened to break them was now what was holding them together despite the large deep cracks running through some of the pillars. The light down here came from the ice itself and was an eerie turquoise. The only sound they heard was the sound of their own footfalls in the glacial caves. They dropped down off another ledge and made their way through a gap between two walls. One of the walls was leaning against the other and they could feel the sheer weight pushing down on them from above.

Ahead of them the tunnel widened out and they found themselves standing in a large room with vast icy spikes protruding from the walls in great numbers. Ahead of them was a throne that looked to be made from ice and sitting on the throne was an elf. His skin was as white as snow and he regarded them almost lazily as they approached the throne. He did not rise from the throne and simply rested his chin on his hand, crossing one leg over the other as he reclined. There was a shimmering blue wall separating him from the two vampires that had entered his chapel.

“Did you really come here expecting to claim Auriel’s bow?” he asked.

“Are you Arch-Curate Vyrthur?” said Emily.

“I am, girl,” he replied, “And you have done exactly as I predicted in bringing your fetching companion to me.”

“You stay away from Serana,” said Emily, taking a step towards the vampiress. The Elf just laughed.

“And do you really think you have the means to stop me?” he said. They heard ice explode around them and saw frozen Chaurus crawling from the remnants of their icy husks. The Elf just watched with amusement from behind the shimmering wall as the insects crawled towards them, clicking their mandibles menacingly. Serana and Emily stood back to back, facing off against the frozen monstrosities. Serana launched a bolt of lightning which hit the first one and it exploded, scattering frozen bits of chitin across the room. Emily took out the second one with her bow but still more swarmed them. She fell back on her blade as two more closed in. Serana took out another Chaurus with a lightning spell which ricocheted off it, slamming into a second Chaurus which likewise exploded. The bugs were horrifyingly fast as another wave descended upon them and Emily brought up her dagger to block the attack of the first. Its jaws latched onto the blade, threatening to tear it from her grasp as it reared back, pulling her along with it. The second Chaurus aimed a blow at her torso but she threw herself forward at the first one, knocking it to the floor where it tried to scramble back to its feet. She pulled her dagger free and plunged it into the Chaurus’ back. It exploded beneath her and she shielded her eyes from the shards of ice that flew out. One cut her cheek and blood dripped from the small wound as she scrambled to her feet. The second Chaurus was stalking towards Serana who was preoccupied with two other Chaurus. Emily seized the opportunity to pull her bow from her back and nock an arrow, firing it at the Chaurus. It reared back, swiveling its head around to look at her, its mandibles opened wide. It turned on her, racing across the icy ground towards her. Emily backed away, nocking a second arrow. This one too found its mark and the Chaurus exploded.

Serana dispatched another and turned to the final Chaurus. It suddenly exploded as another of Emily’s arrows struck it and she looked over at her companion, flashing her a smile.

But the Elf just raised an eyebrow and more sounds of exploding ice resonated throughout the room as five of the Falmer leapt from their icy tombs to do battle. The first fell quickly to Serana’s blade while a second was pinned to the icy pillar by an arrow and as it struggled to free itself the cracks spread from the arrow embedded in its chest, splitting it apart as it snarled. They closed in on the remaining three who lashed out at them, teeth bared. One of them lunged at Serana and she raised her dagger, blocking the blow and forcing the Falmer back. Emily kicked the second in the chest as it advanced towards her. The blow sent it skidding backwards into the third and they fell in a tangled heap. Serana dispatched the first with a blow from her dagger and they advanced on the remaining two who were scrambling to their feet. A well-aimed ice spike took out the first while Emily plunged her dagger into the second. They exploded and littered the ground with shards of ice.

The elf stood up, a look of frustration replacing his previously calm visage. His eyes flashed as he spoke.

“An impressive display, but a wasted effort. You delay nothing but your own deaths.” Serana took a step back as the ground beneath their feet began to rumble and she watched as the rumbling worsened, spreading up the walls towards the ceiling until the entire room shook.

“Look out!” Serana cried, “He’s bringing down the ceiling.” She almost lost her footing as a large lump of stone crashed into the floor next to her. Emily looked up at the rocks of varying size came tumbling from the ceiling. Then they ran forwards, dodging between the lumps of falling rock as more Falmer leapt from the ice. All thoughts of attack were gone as Emily and Serana sought to dodge the falling ceiling. Emily pushed one of the Falmer out of the way, watching as if in slow motion as a great lump of stone crashed down onto a group of three Falmer, crushing them. Through the holes in the ceiling stark moonlight shone through and they glanced over at the Elf. He was floating a few inches above the ground and a strange energy swirled about him as the room continued to shake and the stones continued to fall. Serana kicked a Falmer in the chest, sending it crashing into a pillar where it shattered.

“This has gone on long enough,” yelled the enraged Elf as he made a summoning gesture and from a fiery portal stepped a creature made entirely of ice. It had no discernible face and towered over them.

“Your life ends here, Vyrthur,” Serana yelled in defiance.

“My life ended long before you were born,” the Elf spat, his face a mask of fury as his icy creation advanced on them. Serana loosed a bolt of lightning from her palm that hit the icy monster but did little to slow its approach.

“What is that thing?” asked Emily as they dodged to one side. The icy behemoth’s arm slammed into the ground where they had been standing mere moments before, sending up a spray of ice shards and dust.

“Frost atronach,” said Serana between loosing blasts of lightning. Emily joined in the assault, her vampiric drain spell encircling the atronach. It reared back with the sound of creaking ice before aiming its sharper arm at Emily. She dodged, rolling across the ground and scrambling to her feet as the monster advanced on her. She ran at it, dodging the blow aimed at her and dashed between its legs before doubling back and jamming her dagger into its leg, hacking out some of the ice.

“Aim for its legs,” she called over to Serana who obliged, launching a blast of lightning at the Atronach’s left leg. Emily dodged back as another heavy blow landed on the icy ground. But the ice making up its legs looked to be weakening and she could see cracks beginning to snake through portions of its icy knees.

More rocks tumbled from the ceiling, killing some of the Falmer that had since leapt from their icy tombs. The pillars were crumbling and larger chunks of stone were falling from the ceiling. One of the falling rocks caught the Atronach on its arm and Serana saw her opening. She conjured lightning on both palms, focusing it in on the beast’s legs. With a resounding crash they collapsed and the Atronach fell to the ground, thrashing madly as Serana loosed another bolt which blew one of its arms clean off. With a groan it fell back against the ground, vanishing into a purple ball of light.

“No, NO!” yelled Vyrthur, “I won’t let you ruin CENTURIES OF PREPARATION!” He was now floating higher off the ground and the shimmering light around him was growing brighter, expanding away from him.

“Surrender and give us the bow,” Serana yelled at the enraged elf. Spikes of ice were gathering around him and as they drew in closer Emily ran towards Serana.

“Serana, get down!” she yelled. But her words were drowned out as the Elf unleashed the built up energy and the icy spikes which now seemed to be full of light shot off in all directions. A white light blared out, blotting out everything and Emily felt her legs give way beneath her as the entire room shook. Her ears were ringing and she could hear nothing but the unbearable din that surrounded her. She could see nothing but the white light that pierced every sense, numbing her and blinding her. Then she saw a familiar figure stepping forth from the light and she raised her head from the cold hard ground. A pale hand took hers and words cut through the ringing.

“Emily, Emily, can you hear me?” she was saying, “Are you alright?” Emily could only nod, words seemed unmanageable right now but she made an effort to push herself up onto her hands and knees. Now Serana put her arms around her, helping her back to her feet. The ringing was beginning to subside at last.

“Come on, we can do this, I know we can,” she said. Emily saw the Elf fleeing up the stairs towards the great stone balcony. She saw now that the roof of the chapel was now entirely gone and they could see the moons shining above. Emily hobbled towards the stairs alongside her vampiric companion. She’d drawn her blade and Serana had done likewise. There was nowhere else to go. It had to end now, one way or another.

They passed the throne where the elf once sat and climbed the stairs to the balcony. Vyrthur was standing half crouched at the far end of the balcony, one hand clutching at his shoulder from which blood was blossoming. It was ironic to Serana but now, standing like this, he looked more like one of his blind brethren, or ‘The Betrayed’ as they were known, than a Snow Elf.

“Enough, Vyrthur,” said Serana, her tone threatening, “Give us the bow!”

“Ha, you threaten me and yet your companion is in no fit state to fight,” he replied without a trace of fear, “Even with a fraction of my real power I could destroy her and you would be next.”

“You’re not going to destroy either of us,” Emily spat.

“How dare you! I was the Arch-Curate of Auri-El, girl,” yelled the Elf, “I had the ears of a god!” Serana folded her arms but did not remove her gaze from the Snow Elf for an instant.

“Yes, yes, until, ‘The Betrayed’ corrupted you,” she said coolly, “We’ve heard this sad story before.”

“From my brother no doubt,” the Elf spat on the ground, “He and his kind are easily manipulated fools.” Serana watched in disgust as he continued. “Look into my eyes, Serana. You tell me what I am.” And Serana did. Emily noticed her visibly falter for a moment at what she saw. His eyes burned with an intense red, fuelled by anger and hatred.

“Wait..you’re a vampire?” said Serana in disbelief, “But how, Auriel should have protected you.” The Elf sneered.

“After I was turned by one of my own initiates Auriel turned his back on me,” his voice rising in volume until he was almost shouting, “I swore I’d have my revenge, no matter the cost.” Serana and Emily stared at the Elf in disbelief.

“You sought revenge…on a god?” said Serana, “That’s…impossible.”

“Not impossible,” the elf replied, “Auriel himself may have been beyond my reach but his influence on the world was not.” He stood up straighter and stared straight into Serana’s eyes.

“All I needed was his bow and the Blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour and I would destroy the very symbol of his existence,” he said darkly.

“The blood of a vampire,” said Serana as the realisation swept over her, “Auriel’s bow. It was you, you created that prophecy?” Her eyes were now flashing dangerously as she took a step toward him.

“Yes, I had the bow and all I needed was your blood,” he said, a sharp grin on his face which strongly reminded Emily of the thin-lipped smiles Harkon had given her in the Castle during their first meeting.

“You were waiting,” Serana said, striding towards Vyrthur and Emily watched as she grabbed him by the throat, lifting him a foot from the ground, “For someone with my blood to come along. You…you destroyed my family with your prophecy.” Vyrthur struggled in her grasp, kicking out at her. “You sent my mother into exile and turned my father into a madman. Because of you, I have nowhere where I belong.” The Elf kicked out at her, catching her in the stomach and forcing her to loose her grip on his throat. He rose higher into the air, a red energy pulsating around him. Emily saw Serana lunge towards him as a burst of bright light engulfed him and he dropped back to the earth, running at her. She heard the crash of steel on steel as their blades collided, the force knocking them both back several feet. Emily ran forwards as the Elf ran at her again. Another parried blow sent Serana skidding back across the stone.

Emily raised her dagger, aiming for the Elf’s neck but he sidestepped her, kicking her in the chest and sending her crashing into the stonework. Her blade skittered across the stonework, coming to rest by the Elf’s feet. He grinned, bending to pick up her blade. But his satisfaction was short-lived as Serana launched an ice spike. It caught him in the wrist and the newly acquired dagger was torn from his grasp. He scowled at the vampiress, launching a vampiric drain spell that engulfed her. Her limbs shook violently under the onslaught of the spell but she fought her way towards the Elf, her dagger raised.

“You won’t get away with this,” she yelled. She fought like one possessed but Emily could see the spell taking its toll. It forced her to her knees but still she tried to move toward her tormentor. Emily, from her place on the floor, summoned ice around her palm and loosing it upon the elf. It caught his other hand, freezing his fingers solid. He rounded on the Earthling and in his anger he engulfed her in his vampiric drain. This was to be his last mistake. As Emily cried out as the spell engulfed her Serana struggled to her feet.

One ice spike struck the Elf and sent him crashing against the balustrade. Then Serana was upon him, dagger glinting in her hand. The first stab from the sharpened blade ended the vampire’s life and he died, his breath rattling at the back of his throat. But Serana was not through.

“You destroyed my family,” she yelled, “You destroyed my past, my future. I lost everything to you.” She punctuated each sentence by stabbing the Elf’s lifeless body. “Years of my life, spent in exile,” tears were running down her face and her voice started to break, “Because of you my father wants me dead.” Emily got to her feet and hurried over to the vampiress who was crying uncontrollably as she continued her brutal assault of the corpse. Emily put her arms around her, pulling her from the lifeless body. Tears were running down her cheeks and she dropped the dagger where it clattered to the stonework. She curled in on herself. Emily didn’t know what to say to her. In truth she didn’t know what to do either so she did the only thing that made any sense. She held the vampiress close, letting her cry.

Everything felt as though it was falling apart and no matter how she struggled to gather all the pieces it just broke into smaller pieces. The only piece she could hold onto in any form was the woman who was now holding her in her arms. Emily felt Serana’s arms around her as she continued to cry into her neck. She wanted desperately to find the words to say that would make everything alright again, the words that would chase away the pain.

“You’re going to be alright,” was all she could think to say but to her ears the words sounded hollow. She’d never seen Serana like this before. The normally unflappable vampiress who never failed to stun her with how easily she adapted to the situation -until now.

After a while her sobs became hoarse spasmodic gasps and her shoulders shook. Emily was not sure of how long they had sat there next to the corpse of the Snow Elf. Serana’s eyes were red rimmed as they met Emily’s gaze. “He destroyed everything,” she said hoarsely, her voice made quiet by her anguished cries.

“Only if you let him,” Emily replied, “We still have our lives, Serana. He couldn’t take that from us.” Serana’s lip trembled. Emily wasn’t sure from where the words had come but she continued speaking, “And now we can make new memories. Memories untainted by him.” She leant closer, resting her head against Serana’s, “I’ll always be here for you.”

When she drew back she saw the merest ghost of a smile on Serana’s lips. Then she buried her head back in Emily’s shoulder. For how long they remained like that Emily could not say but eventually Serana drew back.

“We should retrieve the bow,” she said, getting shakily to her feet, “After all that effort we went through to get it.” In Emily’s haste to stop the vampiress losing herself in that final attack she had failed to notice the rumbling that had resonated through the lower half of the balcony as the final Wayshrine which connected the Inner Sanctum to the outside world had risen from the stonework. They walked together down the steps and there they beheld the bow. It floated above a dais in the centre of the Wayshrine. It looked to be wrought of some strange pearlescent material and its string glimmered brightly, lights dancing along every fibre.

“I expected it to be…shinier,” said Serana and Emily was pleased to see even a sliver of her dry humor returning. They watched as a portal opened beyond the bow and Knight-Paladin Gelebor stepped through. His expression was aggrieved as he addressed them.

“So, the deed has been done,” he said, “The restoration of this shrine means that Vyrthur must be dead and the Betrayed no longer have control over him.”

“It wasn’t the Betrayed,” Emily replied, “He was a vampire.” Gelebor’s blue eyes widened momentarily. Then he sighed.

“That…would explain much,” he said, “Where is his body?”

“On the balcony,” Serana replied. Gelebor nodded. “In truth I am glad the Betrayed were not to blame,” he continued, “Which means that one day they might still set aside their hatred and learn to believe in Auri-El once again.” He glanced over at the bow still slowly spinning over the dais. “The bow is yours,” he said, “You risked a great deal to get it and I can think of no worthier champions to carry it.” Emily looked over at Serana who had averted her gaze. ‘Worthy’ was not the word she would have applied to what gave them the right to carry the bow. This was just something that, in her words, ‘Had to be done.’” Emily thanked the Snow Elf and walked up to the dais, lifting the bow from its place atop it. It was lighter than it looked and Gelebor handed her a quiver full of arrows whose tips glowed with a strange bright light.

“These are arrows blessed by Auri-El,” he explained, “They will do catastrophic damage to undead and their power is linked to the sun.” Emily thanked him and slung the quiver and bow over her shoulder.

“Will this portal take us back to Darkfall Cave?” she asked.

“It will,” he replied, “I wish you both safe travels.” Emily and Serana walked into the Wayshrine and stood before the portal. Serana felt Emily take her hand as they stepped into the swirling black void.

Chapter Text

“I was wrong, before.”

Emily looked up from the meagre campfire fuelled by the glowing mushrooms found growing in the cave. It’s turquoise flames bathed the nearby walls of the cave in its flickering otherworldly light.

“What about?” asked Emily. Finn was curled up by the fire. He’d dove for cover when the ceiling came down and had only emerged when the moonlight broke through and silence pervaded the night air.

“He didn’t destroy everything,” said Serana, “Not quite.” Emily smiled from where she sat and rested her hand lightly on that of the vampiress. She felt Serana edge a little nearer.

“When all this is over,” she said, “Will you keep trying to find a way home?” Emily stared into the fire for a moment before replying.

“Honestly, Serana,” she said, “I don’t know. I don’t even really know where I’d start looking.”

“The college?” Serana suggested.

“Maybe,” Emily replied, “But I think that’s a matter for another day.” Serana nodded. “So, what do we do now? Now that we have the bow?”

“Now, we need to stop my father,” said Serana, looking down at her elven dagger which she held purposefully. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, Emily, and no matter which way I look at it I always finish up with the same conclusion.”

“Which is?” asked Emily. Serana sighed.

“We can’t do this alone,” she said.

“But who would we go to?” asked Emily.

“It has to be the Dawnguard,” Serana replied, casting a small pebble into the fire. Emily grimaced. “I know, I know, not your first choice either,” Serana smiled, “But they’re the only people we know with the experience to fight vampires.”

“They won’t help us, you know,” said Emily, “You remember how reluctant Isran was to have one vampire helping him. Imagine how he’ll be with two.”

“Well, we’ll just have to hope we can get him to listen to reason,” said Serana. Emily laughed.

“Reason?” she said, “Serana, he’s a stubborn git.” These last words caused Serana to chuckle and rest a hand on her companion’s shoulder. “I know you’re incredibly gifted in persuading people, you said so yourself, but I think this might be a little beyond even your skill level.”

“You might be right,” she said, leaning back against the wall with an almost casual air, much more like the Serana she knew, “But that won’t stop us from trying.”

Emily sat with the bow strapped across her back alongside the quiver of arrows Gelebor had given her. She had elected to remain awake throughout the day. Now that they had the bow she found herself checking every shadow. If Harkon was half as thorough and meticulous in his search as Serana told her, and she had no reason to believe otherwise, then he may very well know that they had the bow.

Serana lay next to her by the fire, dozing fitfully. Even in her sleep her expression seemed troubled. Finn got up from his place by the fire and padded over to where she lay, curling up by her head and going back to sleep.

The day passed slowly and it was with a sigh of relief that Emily greeted the moonrise. Even the slightest noise within the cave that day had caused her to reach for her dagger and her nerves were beginning to wear thin.

They left the cave where Emily called Arvak into being and they began the long ride back to the Fort. It took them just under two weeks to cross over into the Rift and ride down along the side of Lake Honrich towards Riften.

“There’s something that bothers me,” said Emily as they rode along.

“What’s that?” asked Serana.

“If your father knows we have the bow,” said Emily, “Why hasn’t he tried to take it from us? I mean, you said he has eyes everywhere. And he knew we went to the Ancestor Glade to read the scrolls.”

“We’ll just have to take each day as it comes,” Serana replied, “And count each day he doesn’t find us as a blessing.”

“You’re right,” said Emily, “I shouldn’t be looking for problems. We’ve got enough as it is.” Ahead of them they could see the brazier that marked the entrance to Dayspring Canyon. But unlike each time they had been there before there was someone standing by the brazier. Emily recognized him as they drew nearer. His blonde hair was lit up by the torch he carried and he was dressed in heavy Dawnguard armour. He was steadily watching their approach and although his face was as youthful as ever it carried none of the previous cheerful eagerness it once had.

“So it’s true,” he said as they got down off the horse, “You let it corrupt you, Emily. I expected better when I saw you that day in the canyon.”

“She,” said Emily, “Has done nothing of the sort.”

“How can you say that?” Agmaer replied, “You’re one of them for Arkay’s sake. How could you let it put you under its evil spell?”

“Don’t you fall into that bad habit of Isran’s, Agmaer,” Emily said hotly, “She. Agmaer, she. And I’ve never thought so clearly in my life before. Now, if you’ll let us past we need to speak to Isran.” Agmaer looked over Emily’s shoulder at the skeletal horse pawing the ground. He recoiled visibly before speaking.

“Fine,” he said, “But your Daedra steed will have to wait outside.” Arvak nickered at Agmaer who flinched noticeably before turning and leading the way through the canyon’s entrance. They followed the light of his torch down the long dark tunnel and Emily felt a leaden weight settling in her stomach. Though mortal ears were not so keen as those belonging to a vampire she did not dare voice her concerns to her vampiric companion. She glanced over at Serana who was looking straight ahead, focusing on the back of the Dawnguard agent. She had an idea of what was going through her head. A darkened tunnel would be an awful place to be taken by surprise.

But at last they left the cave behind and entered the canyon. The sky above was almost completely clear, the turquoise ribbon of the aurora arcing across the sky and the two moons, Masser and Secunda, shining overhead but there were clouds encroaching on the horizon. He led them down the dirt track which took them past the lake. Emily noticed that some nets and a rack where fish hung in a row had been set up since she’d last visited the fort. It did not surprise her that the Dawnguard were practicing self-sufficiency given how reluctant Isran was to rely on outsiders. They saw the great stone turrets of the fort above the tall pine trees which cast enormous shadows over the valley.

Isran himself was waiting for them outside the fort, flanked on either side by what looked to be the entire Dawnguard force. Emily recognised Gunmar and Sorine among their ranks as well as the old Orc she’d seen hanging around the dining area from time to time. Even Dexion was among them, his blindfold still covering his sightless eyes. Isran’s gaze was firmly fixed upon them as Agmaer led them to the base of the stairs. He then stood off to the left, awaiting further instructions.

“So, my sources were correct,” said Isran in a low quiet voice that somehow carried enough for all to hear, “I expected better from you. You showed real promise. But here you are, a vampire’s pet.” Emily scowled at this remark and one of the Dawnguard raised his crossbow when he saw her bare her fangs. “Hand over the bow,” he continued, “Your kind have no right to it.”

“Our kind,” said Emily, speaking slowly and deliberately, “Are going to use it to stop Harkon, to put an end to this prophecy once and for all. Why stand in our way? Our goal is the same as yours.”

“And when Harkon lies dead,” Isran replied, “What is to stop you becoming the new sole beneficiaries of the prophecy? What is there to stop you betraying those you once called your kin?”

“Because we are not like them.” It was Serana’s turn to speak up. “Don’t you understand, the longer we stand around like this the more chance there is of my father coming to take the bow for himself. Do you think he will give pause before plunging the whole world into eternal darkness?”

“If you really want to help,” said Isran, ignoring Serana and turning to Emily, “Then you get yourself cured. There’s a wizard in Morthal by the name of Falion. He supposedly has experience in such matters.”

“You mean you want me to go traipsing across Skyrim to seek a cure and traipse all the way back while you sit back, waiting?” said Emily, “Waiting for a cure which may not even work. Have you even spoken to this wizard? And meanwhile Harkon could have launched a full scale attack on the fort and retrieved the bow. Is that what you’re saying?”

“One vampire I can tolerate,” growled Isran, “Two is too many. If you don’t like those numbers you can walk away but know that I will see to it that you meet the same end as all the vampires of Tamriel.”

“You don’t see what damage your prejudiced hatred could put all of Tamriel in, do you?” said Serana.

“Quiet vampire, or I might decide to cleanse this fort once and for all,” snapped Isran. Emily subconsciously took a step forward so she was standing between Isran and Serana.

“Isran, see reason, the longer we wait the more needless danger we put ourselves in,” said Emily, “What does it matter what we are so long as we care what happens to this world. Would you really endanger all that out of blind prejudice?”

“Your kind is a blight on this world and I would make the choice to end the life of a vampire over trusting one a thousand times over,” growled Isran, “Until you’ve cured yourself we have nothing to talk about. Leave now if you want to leave with your life.”

He stared down at them grimly as thunder rumbled overhead and the normally clear skies of the canyon began to cloud over. Rain began to fall as they stared down one another, running down the metal of the Dawnguard’s armour and through the folds of the vampires’ cloaks. It caused wisps of steam to rise from the torches held by the Dawnguard and puddles soon gathered on the dry earth. Emily’s gaze ran over each of the Dawnguard, searching for any amount of reason in their faces.

Isran’s eyes flicked to one side as someone next to him stirred into motion. It was Sorine Jurard, the sharp eyed Breton with a passion for Dwemer tech unrivalled by most. She walked slowly down the stairs and watched as she came to a halt by Emily.

“She’s right,” she said, “The longer we sit here and wait the vampires could be planning their next attack.”

Gunmar and an Orc Emily did not recognise were the next to join them. Gunmar led a husky which walked briskly alongside him.

“I have not been with the Dawnguard long,” said the Orc, “But in my tribe we follow those bravest in the face of adversity. If they were willing to return here for our help, knowing our cause and despite what they are then they have my trust.”

“When I joined the Dawnguard it was to stop anyone from facing the same fate my family did,” said Gunmar, “And I could not stand the grief and the shame if our delay meant our defeat and those who depend on us were slaughtered to feed Harkon and his people.”

The next to step forward from the ranks was an Imperial with a close shaven head and a short goatee that Emily had seen only once during her last visit to the fort. He was known among the others in the Fort to be somewhat eccentric in his manner and believed himself to be in commune with the Aedra, Arkay. He led the blind Dexion down the steps and they joined the bolstering ranks.

“Arkay tells me what is right,” he said as he reached them, “And now he tells me to side with you, Emily and Serana. Together we will bring Arkay’s fire raining down upon Castle Volkihar.”

The last to join was a woman named Beleval. She was a Bosmer and an expert with a bow and arrow.

“I joined the Dawnguard because you were bringing the fight to the vampires,” she said, addressing Isran, “Now you refuse over the head of only two against many. And if Emily and Serana will lead us into battle against them, then I will align my bow with them.”

“Traitors,” said Isran darkly, “You’ll be walking to your deaths if you align yourselves with these Oblivion spawn.” He glowered at Emily and Serana.

“You have brought ruin to the Dawnguard,” he said, “And I will see to it that you will pay for your crimes.” He raised his crossbow and placed a bolt in the spring. Serana conjured an ice spike on her palm in retaliation but Emily stayed her hand.

“This is no time to turn this Fort into a bloodbath,” she said, “We must go if we’re to reach Castle Volkihar before the end of the month.” And she turned and walked away. She was not sure why she kept walking even though she felt the crossbow trained on the back of her head but somehow it seemed the most practical course of action. She heard the clank of metal as the other Dawnguard members slowly followed and felt Serana’s presence close beside her. She was still looking back over her shoulder at the Redguard standing at the top of the steps, crossbow trained on its target. At any moment Emily expected to hear the metallic twang as the bolt was released from the crossbow. But it never came.

“Why did you let them leave?” Agmaer asked the Redguard.

“What have I taught you, boy?” he asked in a gruff voice, “How many does it take to storm a den of vampires?”

“Um..five sir,” Agmaer replied.

“So how many would you take with you to storm a castle filled with the beasts?” Isran asked. Without waiting for an answer he continued, “They’re doomed to fail and will be remembered as such. The True Dawnguard will then step in to finish them off and take the heads of those two traitorous vampires as an example to all.”

* * *

“Where shall we go?” was the first question to be asked once they’d left the Canyon behind, stepping out onto the rain soaked cobblestones of the South-Eastern Rift. It was the Bosmer who asked. The rain was dripping from her pointed ears as she spoke. Emily was silent, deep in thought.

“The Ancestor Glade,” she said at last, “It isn’t far. If we hurry we could make the journey in a couple of nights.”

“Does it offer us the facilities we need?” asked Gunmar.

“There’s plenty of room for your trolls if that’s what you mean,” Serana replied.

“And the cavern is heated by geothermal energy,” Emily added, “We can tap into that and build a forge harnessing the same energy.”

“I have my schematics and a few bits of Dwemer metal,” said Sorine, “It won’t be enough to outfit the entire team but it’s something.”

“And as far as living conditions go,” said Emily, “It’s warm, it’s dry and it’s secluded.”

“Praise be to Arkay,” chimed in Florentius, “For he has told me of this place you speak of. He gives us his blessing to build a base there and assures me of your words. Your bow will be our symbol and we will conquer the night.”

Despite the Imperial’s eccentricities this seemed to be the last bit of convincing the rag tag group of ex-Dawnguard warriors needed and they began marching towards the great city of Riften.

* * *

True to Emily’s words they reached the Ancestor Glade after two nights of travel. The journey had been mercifully uneventful for the most part. The wolves kept their distance at the sight of the seven warriors, their husky charge and the priest. They had a little trouble with a bear on the second night of travel as they passed into the southern Falkreath pine forests. Gunmar had raised his crossbow level with the beast and fired. It had roared in a mixture of pain and anger as it crashed towards them out of the undergrowth and Serana silenced it with an ice spike through its skull. Emily was concerned over whether or not they would follow Serana’s orders as they had never once known her as a mortal. But she soon found that she worried over nothing for when they left the path to climb the mountainside and Serana spotted bandits camped out by the stream and ordered them to get under cover they did so without hesitating. Sorine Jurard led the attack, taking up her crossbow and shooting the first from the cover of the bushes. Then the Orc, Mogrul, and Gunmar charged forth, their weapons raised and at the ready while Beleval, Emily and Serana ran from their cover, kiting around the bandits and flanking them. There were five bandits in all. Three fell to Mogrul’s warhammer alone while Emily, Serana and Beleval picked off the remaining two.

They left the bandit camp after scavenging their weapons and shields and climbed the steep mountainside to the cave’s entrance. It was just as they remembered it, a dark crevice in the side of the mountain near the top. Gunmar took a torch and wedged it between two rocks by the entrance. They then went inside, the chill wind blowing outside ceasing the moment they passed into the rocky tunnel. The barren rocks gave way to clumps of thick leaved plants and moss growing on every surface. It got warmer the further in they went and the tunnel echoed with the sound of steel armour clanking. Beleval lightly touched one of the moss covered stones.

“Incredible,” she said, noting the lush leaves of the plants.

“Wait until you see the main cavern,” said Emily over her shoulder.

They reached the cavern and stood on the top steps for a time, admiring the pools and ledges below them. Steam gushed out from crevices between the rocks and from the pools at the base of the cavern. The canticle trees were heavy with pink blossoms and their heady scent filled the air.

“It’s a little….,” said the Orc, searching for the right words, “Pink. But I’m sure we can get used to it.” Meanwhile Gunmar had made his way down the steps and was examining one of the fissures where steam gushed.

“This will do fine,” he said, “And I think the cave trolls would thrive in a place like this. It’s a shame it would be unsuitable for their stronger cousins though, the frost trolls.”

“Any extra power we can get would be a boon,” said the Orc, “We’ll set up a hunting party come the morning to start bringing them in.”

“And what about silver?” asked Beleval, “I don’t think a few extra war axes would go amiss.”

“Arkay tells me we can liaison with the locals of Falkreath,” said Florentius, “There is a blacksmith by the name of Lod. He can supply us with all the silver we need.”

Bran, the Husky, was already down in the bottom of the cavern, lapping water from one of the cool streams that fed the pools.

“When will we be able to launch our attack, Gunmar?” asked Serana.

“If the Eight are willing we should be able to leave at the end of the week,” he replied, “No matter what happens, you know this will be a difficult fight. We don’t have the numbers we should.”

“I know,” said Serana, “But we appreciate you all coming with us.”

Throughout the week Emily and Serana surveyed the progress in the cavern. Using a combination of Sorine Jurard’s knowledge concerning Dwemer forging methods and Mogrul’s brute strength they were able to tap into a heated vent deep in the bottom of the cavern and weapons were forged in the resulting incredible heat that spewed forth.

Florentius and Mogrul journeyed down to Falkreath city where they negotiated a deal with the local blacksmith. They returned that afternoon, flushed with success and from the effort of lugging the silver in a crudely built wheelbarrow.

Beleval joined Gunmar on his hunting expedition and on the first evening they returned with three trolls. They were young but had already reached a suitable size and so would prove invaluable in battle. It was Gunmar who forged the iron required to make the specially crafted helmets and bladed gauntlets. A pen was erected in the lower reaches of the cavern and filled with hay and cuts of venison that had been hunted that afternoon.

“So far this isn’t shaping up too badly,” said Serana as they stood on the top steps, “We might just have a chance.” Emily smiled at her vampiric companion. As they stood there, watching Gunmar round up the trolls Florentius approached them.

“Arkay has spoken to me and has told me who we are,” he said. Emily and Serana regarded him with a puzzled expression. “I mean, what we should call ourselves,” he explained, “As we are no longer the Dawnguard.”

“And what has He chosen for our name?” Serana asked.

“We are the Mourning Sun,” replied Florentius, “And our symbol shall be Auriel’s bow.”

“I guess He must have been having words with Akatosh,” said Serana.

At last the day of their journey to the Castle was upon them and they sat around the campfire near the edge of the cavern out of the sun’s rays.

“How many are we likely to face before we breach the Keep?” asked Gunmar.

“Father will want his best men with him in the Keep,” Serana replied, “The watchman will likely see us before we even hit the shores. He’ll send out those lower ranking members of his court. And there are gargoyles lining the bridge. So we could be facing down as many as eight including the gargoyles. And they’ll have death hounds. Two at the least.”

“The trolls will make short work of the gargoyles and the death hounds,” said Gunmar, “It’s the vampires that worry me. Present company excluded of course.”

“We’re still going to be gravely outnumbered,” said Dexion who sat close to the fire.

“And this is before we even get inside,” added Beleval. Serana looked over at Emily.

“There is something we can do,” she said.

“What?” asked Emily.

“Father is the only member of the court whose gift came from Molag Bal besides my mother,” she explained, “And she won’t be there for obvious reasons. And then there’s us. I am a daughter of Coldharbour so my gift came from him and Emily’s power came from me. We can both tap into the ancient magic and become vampire lords.” She looked around at the other members of the Mourning Sun who had fallen silent, considering what the vampiress had said.

“It’s raw power, isn’t it?” asked Mogrul. Serana nodded. “It’s what we need even if we profane the Dawnguard’s vows by relying on such a power.”

“But we aren’t the Dawnguard any longer,” said Beleval, “We are the Mourning Sun.”

“My only conern,” said Dexion, “Would be if any of our brethren took either of you for the enemy once you breach the Keep.”

“You won’t mistake us for my father,” Serana replied, “I can assure you of that.”

“Gunmar,” said Emily, “Would you be able to fashion armour that would fit the…err.. physique of a Vampire Lord?”

“I would first need to know what one looked like but it should be possible,” he replied.

“That should clear up any remaining confusion,” Mogrul agreed, “Sorine.” He called over to the woman still working away at the workbench she had erected near the cavern’s entrance. “Will you have that crossbow finished by tonight?”

“I should do,” Sorine replied, “Have we decided yet who of our numbers should wield them?” They’d had enough parts to build only two crossbows and while they were complex and slow to build Sorine assured them that even two would give them a big advantage over the vampires.

“I’ll pass,” said Mogrul, “I prefer the weight of a warhammer in battle.”

“I’ll take one,” said Beleval, “If it has strings then I can fire it.”

Gunmar and Florentius elected to use their war axes so Sorine claimed the other crossbow for herself. Dexion was to remain behind in the glade with Bran. Florentius offered to remain behind as well but Dexion shook his head and told him their crew would need all the help they could get.

“And once we’re inside,” said Mogrul, “What can we expect?”

“You’ll almost certainly face my father’s two advisors, Orthjolf and Vingalmo,” Serana replied, “Plus the remaining members of the court. Possibly another eight or so. I don’t know if my father will join the fight or retreat further into the Keep. Either is likely.”

“We have the bow,” Florentius said with a measure of confidence, “I think we can do this.”

“A little bravado is all well and good,” said Beleval, “But we’ll need to work out some plan of attack.”

“I think two of us should remain outside the Keep,” suggested Sorine, “Serana mentioned a disused harbour around the back. They could regroup behind us if we’re not vigilant.”

“Good point,” growled Mogrul, “Who will offer to remain outside?”

“I will,” said Gunmar, “I’ll keep one of the trolls with me too.”

“That’s settled then,” said Serana, “We leave tonight. Make sure you’re well stocked with supplies. This is going to be a long journey and I can’t promise there won’t be any casualties. I trust you have those potions ready, Florentius?”

“Ready and waiting, Serana,” he said, “I have enough healing potions to revive an army.”

“Good,” said Emily, “Now we wait for moonrise. Divines grants us victory.”

Chapter Text

The journey to Castle Volkihar took them just over two weeks. Travelling in a group slowed things down and each morning they were forced to seek shelter. Sometimes they sought shelter in abandoned mines or caves and where they could they stopped in towns and villages to stock up on food and water. Emily was glad of the mornings where they were able to spend the day in an Inn rather than rolling out a bedroll on the floor of a dingy cave. In an Inn there was no need to keep watch and drinks flowed. Spirits were higher when there was a good bottle of mead to be had and a warm fire crackled in the fire pit. Although Emily could not partake of the food she was able to have a sip of mead and though it provided her with no sustenance it was still a pleasant taste.

“I’m glad vampires can at least appreciate the taste of a fine mead,” she said one morning as she and Serana shared a bottle of honningbrew.

“And now you can drink anyone under the table if you want to,” Serana replied. Emily paused in the midst of taking a drink and set down her tankard on the polished wooden surface.

“Come again?” she said.

“You’ve noticed by now, haven’t you, that it does nothing to satisfy your thirst?” asked Serana. Emily nodded. “Well, nor will it cause you to lose all sense of control and start babbling like an idiot. Well, no more so than usual.” She gave Emily a sly smile and Emily replied with a friendly nudge. Then she paused and slowly a grin spread across her face.

“What are you planning?” Serana asked, “That’s a daedrish grin if ever I saw one.”

“Well, it’s a bit underhand really,” said Emily, leaning forwards, “I’ve been thinking about life post prophecy.” Serana set down her tankard. “Well, I don’t want to live in a cave, even one as nice as the Ancestor Glade and who knows when or if I’ll ever get the chance to go home. Might as well have a roof over my head. But it’ll take coin. Lots of coin. So, how about a house built for two?”

“Are you asking me to live with you?” asked Serana. Emily nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, “I mean, if you want.” Serana smiled as she picked up her tankard and took a draft from it.

“And where does drinking hapless Nords under the table come into all this?” she asked though Emily felt she already had an idea.

“I bet them they can’t drink me under the table,” Emily explained, “This poor, pitiful, defenseless little girl.” Serana chuckled at this. “Could be a fun way to pass the day. So, how about it, want to be my drinking partner?”

“I think I’ll leave you to your skullduggery,” Serana replied, “It wouldn’t be seemly for a vampire queen, as you call me, to partake in such unqueenly behaviour.” Emily scoffed at this.

“Your loss,” she said. Serana smiled behind her tankard.

And so it was that that day Emily scammed half of Whiterun out of their drinking money and when they left it was with a large purse bulging with gold and in their wake were a group of Nords in a drunken stupor.

“Well, that wasn’t bad for a day’s work,” Emily smiled roguishly, “It was actually kind of…fun.”

“I think vampirism has brought out your dark side,” Serana joked, “Where’s that pure at heart little vampire hunter?”

“We should reach Rorikstead by morning,” said Emily, “Another few days like this and we’ll have the deposit for our new house ready and waiting.”

* * *

At last they arrived at the Solitude docks. It was a clear night and the faint sound of the bells attached to the tops of the buoys in the harbour met their ears. They followed the cobblestone road down from the small farmstead outside the city walls to the wooden walkway leading down to the docks. They drew strange looks from the night watchmen as they watched the three armoured trolls awkwardly navigate the narrow wooden steps followed by the band of warriors in heavy armour.

“Will they sit quietly for the trip?” Serana asked Gunmar, gesturing to the three trolls.

“Should do,” Gunmar replied, “All the trolls I trained before could keep quiet when needed.”

They reached the docks and followed the boardwalk along to the Harbour Mistress’ station. A man dressed in full Imperial legionnaire’s armour was manning the post while the good lady slept. He looked half asleep as he sat at the counter but snapped to full wakefulness when he saw the strange crew before him.

“We need to hire two boats,” said Emily, “Big enough to seat all of us.”

“Would this be for business or…,” he eyed the three trolls standing at the back and wished he didn’t have to stick to this ludicrous script of questions the East Empire Company insisted on him using, “Or pleasure?”

“Business,” replied Emily.

“Of course,” said the legionnaire, “Any cargo?”

“Just some potions,” Emily replied, “And what we’re carrying.” Florentius joined her at the counter and showed the legionnaire the contents of his bag where the healing potions and stamina potions were nestled in the fabric.

“You understand I’ll have to check these of course,” said the legionnaire, “Make sure you aren’t carrying any illicit skooma or moonsugar.”

“As long as it won’t take long,” Mogrul growled.

“I’ll be as quick as I can, I assure you,” the legionnaire replied. Mogrul nodded and they waited while the man took the bag behind the counter. It took him some fifteen minutes to check each bottle and phial but at last he was satisfied and handed the bag back to Florentius.

“Alright,” he said, picking up a sheet of parchment and a quill, dipping it in the ink well built into the counter, “That will be five hundred septims each for the boats plus a twenty septim surcharge.” Emily handed over a pouchful of gold and once the legionnaire had finished counting it he handed them the shipping charter and pointed down the docks to where two boats were moored.

It took them some time to get the three trolls in the boats and Gunmar elected to travel with them with Serana at the helm. Emily stood at the helm of the second boat with Mogrul, Sorine, Florentius and Beleval. Serana’s boat departed first and Emily was surprised to see the three trolls taking up the oars.

“I always thought they were stupid creatures,” she said under her breath as they followed Serana’s boat out onto the swells. It took them a great deal of effort to keep up with the combined efforts of the trolls and Emily wondered what shape they’d be in when they finally made land. The Sea of Ghosts seemed cursed to never remain clear for long and by the time they sailed around the port and struck out westward a thick mist was beginning to descend.

“Dammit,” said Sorine between oar strokes, “If we don’t hurry up we’ll lose them in the mist.” Emily stood up in the boat and waved over to Serana. She saw her wave back and she must have spoken to Gunmar for the boat ahead slowed to a stop and they managed to catch up to them.

“Is something wrong?” Serana called across.

“It’s this fog,” Emily called back, “It’s threatening to swallow us up. Gunmar, any chance you can get your trolls to slow down just a bit.”

“Yes, we have only one among us close to their brute strength,” added Florentius, earning a scowl and a feigned hit from Mogrul.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Gunmar called across to them.

“How much further, Serana?” Emily asked.

“Another two hours should see us there,” she called back.

“Good, I’ll be glad to get out of this boat,” grumbled Mogrul.

“I thought you were looking a bit green,” quipped Florentius.

“If that’s a joke…” said Mogrul, narrowing his eyes at the priest.

They resumed and Emily noticed that Gunmar had taken one of the trolls off the oars and they now found it a bit easier to keep up with the wooden craft. As Serana promised, just as the second hour was drawing to a close the island suddenly emerged from the mists. Emily remembered what Serana had told her concerning the island’s enchantments and she heard gasps of awe behind her in the boat as they gazed upon the blackened towers of the castle. They ran aground on the rough shingle and disembarked quickly. The trolls were sniffing the air and shambling from foot to foot. They could feel the tension in the air every bit as strongly as their human companions. Sorine and Beleval strung their crossbows as they advanced on the stone slope which led up towards the Keep’s doors. As they drew nearer a terrible shout went up from near the gate.

“Invaders,” yelled the cracked voice of the old watchman, “Dawnguard invaders and they have the bow.”

“Guess word hasn’t got around about our name change yet,” said Emily but Serana was not listening. She recognised the stern look on her face. This was the moment she’d been stealing herself for over the weeks.

“Ready to transform?” she said. Emily nodded. She sought herself for that dark seed of bestial energy she had lost herself in before, letting its dark energies escape and surround her. There was a rushing sound in her ears and tinges of red encroached on her vision. The thirst within her grew as her emotions entered a fever pitch, anxiety and fear mixing with determination and a primal urge to attack. She doubled over as the dark energies consumed her, surrounding her body and out of the corner of her eye she could see the same thing happening to Serana. She saw her face shift and change, all her teeth lengthening and sharpening as her face was twisted out of recognition and felt the same transformations taking place within herself. Serana’s dark hair streamed out behind her as their ears grew pointed and leathery wings sprouted from their backs. And there they stood before the crew of the Mourning Sun as the stone gargoyles on the bridge exploded into life and six vampires including the old watchman and a death hound swarmed at the top of the stone slope before running down towards them.

“The Heroes of Sovngarde will sing of this battle for centuries to come,” yelled Gunmar as he raised his war axe and they charged up the slope with Emily and Serana leading the assault. There is no greater chaos in this world than that of war and in the midst of it you were only conscious of your opponent and those on either side of you. The death hound reached them first and lunged at Serana. She stopped it in midair, clawed hands gripping its decaying flesh before tossing it to one side where it set up a fiercesome snarling. Emily did not look but heard one of the trolls smash one of its great shaggy arms into the death hound and it was no more. They floated above the ground, she and Serana, as they flew at their opponents, savagery coursing through them as they met the vampire hordes. A red light engulfed Emily but she barely took it under her notice, instead throwing a savage blow in the direction of the spellcaster, ripping a great gash in his shoulder.

Mogrul entered the fray with his warhammer raised and caved in the skull of the nearest vampire before turning to face the next. The trolls were grouped near the base of the slope, lunging at the beasts that had erupted from the stonework. Emily saw one fall out of the corner of her eye and the two gargoyles converged on it as the remaining trolls leapt to their fallen brethren’s aid.

A bolt whistled through the air and caught one of the vampiress’, a woman with fiery red hair, in the chest as she stood over Florentius, axe raised. Another bolt followed from the opposite direction, embedding itself in her back and she tumbled to the earth with a soundless snarl. Florentius recovered himself and rounded on the watchman who was running at him with his iron blade raised above his head.

“In the name of Arkay,” he yelled, “I send you to your final resting place.” And he brought down the silver war axe upon the Watchman, cleaving his arm from his body. The iron sword dropped uselessly to the stones and the Watchman turned from his arm to stare straight into Florentius’ eyes as the axe swung down again.

Serana lunged at the next vampire. His was a familiar face, one she had often seen around mealtimes as he prepared the thralls. As a child she had seen him as the stern yet somewhat kindly old cook. But now she saw someone different. She saw a monster and realised that a monster he had always been. And so she grabbed him by the shoulders and bit down savagely and he screamed. This only spurred her on and this time she aimed for his neck, tearing him asunder.

The trolls had killed two of the gargoyles and now turned on the third which lashed out wildly at the still wilder beasts before them. Only one vampire remained and he was backing away towards the door, perhaps hoping for escape. But there was none with the Mourning Sun closing in from all sides. He heard the final gargoyle being ripped asunder before the Vampire Lord with the burnt blonde hair rushed him and he heard no more.

The doors to the keep were thrown open and they found those waiting within were ready. They had heard the dying shrieks of their comrades and all stood, armed with whatever they could find, as the two vampire lords followed by their band of warriors entered the Keep. All candles in the Keep guttered into darkness as though swept away by some great wind. The vampires were on their own turf and intended to fight as predatory creatures of the night. But Emily and Serana could see them as clear as if the sun were burning above and they flew at them from the top of the balcony. Lightning flashed in the air around them as three of the Elven vampires launched spells from the upper galleries while those nearest swarmed them with axes and swords raised. As Emily threw one to the ground, tearing open his chest she saw another of the elven vampires, a Bosmer with a shock of red hair, flee the room. She growled deeply and Serana caught her gaze before giving chase.

Mogrul caved in the skull of another of the vampires but as he rounded to take on the next another of the vampires knocked him to the ground where she hissed savagely before biting into the Orc’s neck. Emily heard his cries of pain and tore the vampire from him. Her hands closed around the vampire’s throat and she struggled. She saw Sorine catch up to Mogrul and drag him across the floor towards the wall. The vampire’s eyes were popping in her skull when Emily let her drop to the ground. She heard pain filled shrieks from the adjoining room. Serana emerged a moment later, her face and chest stained with blood.

The two trolls had entered the fray and one was chasing after another of the death hounds. The shadowy beast was running in terror with the troll catching up behind. Beleval and another of the trolls were closing in on the final vampire on the lower floors. Emily heard lightning crackle and saw the troll that had been chasing the death hound tumble to the ground where it lay twitching before falling still. She growled to Serana and the two split, moving up to the upper levels on opposite sides of the room. The three Elven vampire mages caught sight of them and one charged Emily while the other turned on Serana. The third vaulted over the side of the upper gallery and landed on the ground below, aiming bolts of energy at the two Vampire Lords above. He did not notice Sorine’s crossbow trained on his back, nor did he notice the second bolt that followed the first from Beleval.

Emily swiped at the vampire and he leapt back, loosing more lightning that rippled across her modified armour and the bare flesh of her arms. She roared in pain and fury, lunging at the vampire but he was too swift. She felt a hot burning pain in her side as his dagger plunged into her grey flesh and she reared back, tearing the dagger from his grasp before swiping him to the ground. Then she was upon him and she tore open his neck with a second clawed swipe. He soon fell still, dark blood dripping down the balustrades his limp body leant against. She turned in time to see Serana throw the second from the balcony where his broken body landed on the floor below.

The last remaining vampire saw this and she and her death hound took to their heels, running for the doors. They heard her sickening cries as she encountered the troll and Gunmar waiting outside.

At last silence pervaded the Keep. Serana and Emily joined the rest of the Mourning Sun on the ground floor. Florentius was tending to Mogrul’s wounds who was smiling despite the pain as he applied a healing and curative salve to the puncture wounds on his neck. Sorine’s arm was bleeding from a knife wound that ran the length of her upper arm and Emily kept one hand braced against her side to stem the flow of blood. Beleval returned from her search of the remaining rooms and reported that Harkon was nowhere to be found.

“He’ll be in the Cathedral,” said Serana, her transformed state distorting her voice, “There’s a shrine to Molag Bal there.” She turned to Emily. “We’d better change back,” she said, “I can’t heal you like this.” Emily nodded and grimaced as she doubled over, feeling the leathery wings recede back into her body as she shrunk back to her regular size, her face cracking and reforming into its human shape. Serana too, reversed her transformation, gritting her teeth with the effort as they returned to their normal shape and size. As soon as Emily resumed human form she took an unsteady step forward. Humans were not nearly so resilient to such wounds as a Vampire Lord. Serana steadied her and cast her hand over the wound which began to knit together.

“Thanks,” Emily winced. Serana nodded before looking over her shoulder at the upper level.

“Is that where the cathedral is?” Emily asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “Up the stairs and through the portcullis.” She turned back to face Emily. “We’d better stay in human form,” she continued, “It would take too much out of us to transform again and you need to be able to use the bow.”

“Right,” said Emily.

“We’ll come with you,” said Beleval but Serana shook her head.

“We can’t afford for any mortals to come with us,” she said, “It’s nothing personal. But father will be difficult enough to defeat without a supply of blood to rejuvenate him.” Beleval nodded and stepped back. Emily felt her mouth go dry. This was it.

They climbed the stairs to the upper level, Emily pulling Auriel’s bow from her back and one of the sun blessed arrows from its quiver. As Serana promised a portcullis separated them from the cathedral and she pulled on the iron pull chain. It rose slowly, centuries old metal grating within the mechanism. Ahead of them lay the door and together they pushed it open, stepping into the darkened room beyond.

It was large and looked as though it had once been grand but like great portions of the Keep it was now dilapidated with large chunks of rubble littering the floor. At the far end was a hideous effigy wrought of dark metal. It looked to Emily what the face of a demon might look like with curving horns and sharp teeth. Gushing from its maw was a dark red liquid Emily assumed to be blood and standing before the altar was the hideous form of Harkon. His red cloak swept the floor and his wings arched over his head as he stalked towards them.

“Serana, my darling, I see you still favour keeping a pet,” he growled, his voice dripping with mock affability.

“You know why we’re here,” said Serana. Her voice shook with emotion as she faced down the monster she had once called her father. But he was gone now and in his place was a demon which belonged among the ranks of the King of Strife himself.

“Of course I do,” he said coldly, “You disappoint me, Serana, throwing away all I provided for you for this,” he looked at Emily with disdain, “This half-breed vampire.”

“Provided for me?” said Serana, her voice rising an octave, “Are you insane? You destroyed our family, you killed other vampires all over some prophecy we barely understand.” She drew her blade and Emily saw unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “Well no more, I’m done with you.” These words were spoken with such finality that Emily glanced over at Harkon, almost expecting shock to register on his twisted features but there was nothing, only calm indifference as he looked over at Emily.

“You will not touch her,” said Serana, noticing his gaze. Harkon’s voice took on a graver tone as he continued.

“I see now my daughter has fangs,” he said, “Your voice drips with the venom of your mother’s influence. How alike you’ve become.” She heard anger creep into his voice with these last words.

“No,” Serana shook her head, “Because unlike her I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.”

“And you,” he turned towards Emily and glided towards her, “It appears I have you to thank for turning my daughter against me.”

“I did not,” Emily replied, “You did that yourself. You would kill her in the name of this foul prophecy. Well, I don’t intend on letting that happen. You are a blight upon this world.” Never in her life had Emily spoken of someone with such venom. Never had she known what it was like to hate someone so intensely before.

“I see your new blood has done little to change your vampire hunter’s heart,” Harkon chided her, “And when you kill me, who will be next? So long as Serana remains alive the prophecy can be fulfilled. It will not die with me. Will she be next?”

“I would never harm her,” said Emily, “She means everything to me.”

“How touching,” sneered Harkon, “My daughter is truly lost then. She died the moment she accepted you into her life.”

“Enough of this,” Emily almost shouted.

“Yes, quite,” said Harkon as he rose up from the ground, wings flapping. Then he vanished in a cloud of bats and Serana and Emily looked around quickly. He reappeared behind Emily and lunged at her. She felt Serana push her to one side as claws raked along the vampiress’ arm. Serana cried out, rounding on her father and launched an ice spike that embedded itself in his shoulder. Emily regained her balance and they fled towards the steps.

Blue light swirled about the piles of bones that littered the floor and skeletons crawled out, eyes glowing eerily in the near dark. Emily traded the bow for her dagger and ran at the first, cleaving its head from its shoulders while Serana took down the second. Emily staggered back as something else rose from the bones. A gargoyle, big and menacing, roared as it swiped at Emily. She leapt back, boots skidding on the discarded bones. She managed to recover her balance and lunged at the gargoyle, dagger plunging into its chest. It roared, striking out and she was thrown backwards. She crashed against one of the pillars and she looked up in time to see Serana launch another ice spike at her father. She took the bow and nocked an arrow, aiming for the gargoyle. When the arrow pierced its grey flesh it exploded in a blinding light. She then turned on Harkon.

The arrow whistled through the air, striking Harkon and the resulting explosion of sunlight knocked him back against the stone wall, causing several cracks to appear. He disappeared in a cloud of red and Emily and Serana regrouped in the centre of the Cathedral. They looked around desperately. Then Emily spotted him by the fountain. There was a great rumbling which shook the entire room and Harkon was surrounded in a red pulsating orb as he drank of the fountain.

“The bow,” said Serana, then she yelled, “Emily, the bow!” Emily nocked an arrow as another gargoyle leapt from its stony tomb. She turned her aim at it but Serana stopped her.

“No,” she said, “I’ll deal with it. Stop my father!” Then she sprinted for the gargoyle, ice spikes at the ready. Emily turned back to the pulsating red orb where Harkon waited and fired. The arrow blazed with light as it shot through the air and when it pierced the orb surrounding the Vampire Lord the orb shattered and a great wall of sound shook the room, shattering the glass in the stained glass window behind the altar. Harkon turned to mist and Emily looked around in time to see Serana dispatch the gargoyle. She saw Harkon advancing towards her and she turned to face him.

“This is what your obsession brings you,” she yelled as she launched a bolt of lightning that struck him, rippling across his grey skin. He kept coming and lunged at his daughter but she sidestepped the blow aimed at her head and struck again. Emily retrieved her dagger. With the two fighting at such close range she could not risk using the bow. She ran at Harkon and jumped at his back, stabbing her dagger into his side. He reared back and reached over his shoulder. Emily felt him grab her by the scruff of her shirt and the next thing she knew she was flying across the room with such speed that it made her head spin. She crashed into something solid and stars popped before her eyes, fading to black as she slid down the pillar and rolled to the floor.

“No!” yelled Serana. Her father laughed coldly as Serana’s attacks grew more frenzied. He was still looking at the fallen Earthling and didn’t see the dagger until it was too late. It punctured his chest and he doubled over, wheezing. Then he snarled, rounding on his daughter as she ran to the Earthling. She dropped to her knees beside her and when she saw her father begin his approach she wrested the bow from her and took the quiver of sun blessed arrows. She nocked one, aiming at her father. She was breathing heavily and tears blurred her vision as she fired.

The first arrow struck his wing and burnt straight through, causing him to stagger back.

“No, Serana,” he said as the second arrow was levelled right at his chest, “Not your own father.” But it was too late. The arrow left the bow and even as it soared straight at him he looked at it and saw death staring him in the face. He had dodged it for so long yet here it was like an old adversary, appearing to strike him down.

The explosion was immense and in his struggling state Harkon dissolved several times into a cloud of bats, reforming at different points around the room, struggling with creeping mortality. Then he appeared before the altar and a great deafening rumble shook the room and he cried out in a voice more monster than man. “SERANA!” He stood frozen for a moment, arms stretching imploringly towards the sky. And then his body turned to red ashes which fell to the ground in a bloody heap.

Once again a horrible silence pervaded the room. Serana stood, breathing heavily for a moment, staring at the place where her father had been. Then she looked down at the still form of the Earthling and with a sob dropped to her knees beside her.

“Emily,” she cried, “Emily, wake up!” She cast aside the bow and pulled Emily to her. There was no response.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said, cradling her head in her lap, “You weren’t supposed to leave me alone like this. Emily, you can’t, you mustn’t.” Tears now ran freely down her face and dripped onto Emily’s face, mingling with the smear of blood on her cheek. Serana bent her head, shoulders shaking.

She stroked the burnt tips of Emily’s hair and the sides of her face as though trying to coax some life back into her. She heard the doors open behind her and running footsteps.

“We came as soon as we heard the explosions,” said Florentius, “Is he-.” He stopped when he saw Serana cradling the still form of Emily. “No,” she saw him mouth. Beleval and Sorine ran up behind him and he put out a hand to stop them.

“I’m so sorry, Serana,” said Sorine. These words brought the full reality crashing down around her and Serana broke down completely. Florentius made to step forward but Sorine shook her head.

“Leave her be,” Serana heard her say.

There were voices. She could place at least two of them. They were speaking in hushed tones. There was someone nearer, someone who did not speak but who cried in harsh agonizing sobs. The world was dark, filled with shadows that swirled. She could not make sense of what she was seeing. It was then she realised her eyes were closed. Her head throbbed and when she opened her eyes she winced and shut them again quickly as her head filled with pain. A few moments later she tried again and looked up to see a familiar figure. Serana was crying, her head in her hands. There was a neat gash along one arm but she was ignoring it. Why was she crying? She tried to ask her but her tongue felt like lead. Instead she reached up slowly and her movement caused the talking of the other voices to cease. Her hand lightly touched Serana’s arm and slowly she took her head out of her hands and looked at her. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying and for a moment they just looked at one another.

“What happened?” Emily managed to croak out. Instead of replying Serana looked at her, open mouthed. Then a slight smile spread across her face, widening as she looked down at the Earthling.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she said. Emily smiled back. Then she looked around.

“Is he gone?” she asked. Serana nodded. Emily slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position and turned to face Serana. Then the vampiress did something unexpected. She threw her arms around the Earthling and held onto her tightly. Emily returned the embrace, burying her head in the vampiress’ shoulder.

“I love you,” she whispered and she felt Serana’s embrace tighten.

For several minutes they remained like that while the rest of the Mourning Sun looked on.

“I think it’s time we head for home,” said Florentius.

“I’ll go get Mogrul and bring him out to the boat,” said Beleval.

“How is he?” Emily asked as she drew back.

“He’ll live,” smiled Beleval, “It was a nasty wound but there’s no infection. Just don’t expect him to be any more than his usual jolly self.”

Emily and Serana got to their feet, Emily a little unsteadily and Serana put her arm around her waist as they left the Cathedral and her father’s ashes behind. The castle looked very empty now, devoid of all life, or unlife.

“When do you want to go back for your mother?” Emily asked as they walked.

“After they’ve gone,” she replied, “I think I need time, Emily.” Emily nodded. They crossed the great hall and emerged from the Castle to find Beleval and Mogrul standing at the top of the stone slope, staring steadfastly at a boat that had just drawn up to the jetty. Standing at the helm was a familiar face. It was Isran.

Chapter Text

The sea spray leapt, dashing itself against the rocks as they stood staring down the stone bridge of Castle Volkihar to the two boats moored by the jetty, filled with the remaining members of the Dawnguard. Isran stood at the helm of the first of the boats, his grim face lit by the torch he carried. Standing at his side was Agmaer and the torchlight flickered on the metal of the crossbow he shouldered. Behind them they could just make out the faces of the other members of the Dawnguard. The members of the Mourning Sun, tired and battle-weary in their victory, met the gaze of their former comrades. Emily could sense thunder on the horizon. A storm was near, threatening to break on the rocks of the island. She felt tension in her vampiric companion while she herself was too weary to feel much of anything besides a sense of foreboding.

Serana’s hand gripped her waist tightly and she saw Beleval and Gunmar shift their weight in anticipation. Though they were moved to their cause by a certain urgency to lend their aid when Isran refused to take immediate action against the vampire threat they were unwilling to fight their former leader. She felt Emily shiver and knew she could sense the same as she: that the situation was building to a point where it would break from the tension and one action would decide the form it would take. She no more than the others wanted further confrontation but nonetheless she anticipated it. But none of their number were in any real shape to fight and she felt certain Isran saw this. It was she, rather than the others, who found herself speaking.

“My father is dead,” she said, “By my own hand. As are his court.”

She saw the effect her words had upon those behind Isran as both Celann and Durak looked at one another and Vori looked uncertainly at the Mourning Sun’s members, searching in their faces whether or not there was truth to the vampiress’ words. Emily saw Talof among their ranks and saw that he too was looking intently at the vampiress who had just spoken. The hefty Daedric halberd was still strapped to his back and glinted in the torchlight.

“How can we know if you’re telling the truth?” asked Agmaer, still clutching his crossbow.

“Look around,” said Mogrul, gesturing to the vampires lying on the cold stone amidst the wreckage left in the wake of the gargoyles that lay close by.

“And the bow?” Agmaer persisted.

“We have it,” replied Emily.

They said no more on that matter, not wishing to aggravate the situation further.

“We have no wish to fight you,” Emily spoke up, “But if you try to stop us from leaving we will defend ourselves.” Serana noticed a few on both sides grip their weapons more tightly. And still the wind blew and the clouds gathered above them.

Serana saw the glint of silver in the dark as the crossbow was levelled with Emily’s head and she saw Emily watching the crossbow’s wielder as the string was pulled taut behind the bolt. The battle with Harkon had made her weary, her head still throbbed painfully and she watched with an almost detached air. But it was Isran who moved next, placing his hand on the crossbow and lowering it. Agmaer looked to him with confusion as Isran’s blue eyes met Emily’s and he gave her a curt nod. Then, slowly, very slowly, he turned to the others and gave a signal to those in the back. Talof nodded briefly to Emily, a sign of recognition of their victory and mutual respect. Then the boats were pushed back out to sea and they watched until they faded from sight, swallowed up by the mists. Though Isran was by no means willing to bury the hatchet he was willing to acknowledge their victory over the vampires and allow their continued existence so long as neither interfered with the other. For now, he held a grim and reluctant respect for the group of rogues.

As relief broke over Emily and her crew so the storm broke over the castle. Heavy rain fell, bouncing off the stonework and thunder echoed all around. Very soon they were all wet through and talk turned to returning home.

“Where should we go?” Emily asked, turning to Serana. Now that all was done, her father was dead and all visible threats had been taken care of or vanished of their own accord she now seemed uncertain.

“I’m not sure,” she replied, “Where are you going?”

Emily had given some thought to the future during the long days spent in the Ancestor Glade preparing for war. She had an idea Serana wouldn’t particularly want to live in a cave, even one as nice as the Glade and she found she didn’t want to either. Much of Skyrim was relatively unknown to her and there were few she knew outside the Dawnguard and Mourning Sun. Serana was patiently awaiting her answer but she saw the weariness in her eyes and heard it in her voice.

“I was thinking of returning to Solitude,” Emily replied, “I think I might know someone who could give us shelter if you want to join me.” She smiled. “I’d be more than happy to have you with me.” Although they had spoken before of sharing a future she didn’t want to presume in case the magnitude of going up against her father and those who essentially had once been her family had changed things.

Serana gave her a small smile and nodded.

After relaying their plans to their comrades they climbed back into their boats. Now that they were down by one troll Emily rode with Serana. The vampiress spoke little during their journey and even in the haze Emily had fallen into she worried for her companion and when they got back to the mainland the members of the Mourning Sun decided they would make for the town of Dragon Bridge before starting the journey back to the Glade in the morning. And so they parted ways and Emily and Serana walked up from the docks towards the city after returning the boats to the Imperial legionnaire who had rented them to them earlier that same night. Emily felt that it seemed forever ago since they’d left the docks for the castle.

The walk back to Solitude was a quiet, uneventful one and seemed a marked anticlimax after all they’d been through. The rain still lashed the cobblestones and it seemed all the night creatures were taking shelter from the deluge. Another rumble of thunder echoed overhead and lightning flashed between the clouds. Emily put a hand to her head, rubbing at her scalp.

“Does it hurt?” Serana asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Emily replied, “I just think I need to rest, that’s all. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” said Serana, “Just my arm but it will heal.”

Serana’s hood was pulled down over her head and water ran off it in rivulets and poured from the ends of her cloak. Auriel’s bow was strapped to Emily’s back along with the quiver of sun blessed arrows.

“Do you remember I told you about Angeline?” Emily asked as they passed under the stone watchtower that stood at the top of the slope near the farmstead. A lantern swung in the strong wind that even now buffeted the shores.

“The alchemist, right?” Serana replied.

“Mmhmm,” said Emily, “I think she’ll give us shelter. At least, I hope she will. It’s been a long time since I was last there. I guess you could say she took me in though.”

They passed under the gatehouse and followed the cobblestone road up towards the city gates. They were closed and a man in full armour carrying a spear stood outside. He watched their approach and put a hand out to stop them.

“Halt,” he said, “What business do you have in Solitude?”

“Visiting friends,” Emily replied. The man raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

“You’ve picked a late hour to be visiting, traveller,” he said, shifting the spear in his grasp.

“I know,” Emily replied, “But our ship was delayed by a squall. We’ve only just arrived and we’re in much need of a good rest. The legionnaire manning the harbour can verify our story if you need.” The guard looked out from his post at the rain lashing the cobblestones and the strong winds blowing in off the sea, buffeting the trees. Where he stood offered him shelter however meagre and he decided he didn’t fancy the walk down to the docks to confirm the traveller’s story.

“Very well,” he said, “But I’ll be keeping an eye on you, outsider.” He signalled up to another guard on the roof and slowly the heavy gates were heaved open and they were allowed inside.

The streets of Solitude were well lit and there was a larger guard presence than when she’d last visited. Sounds of revelry and drunken singing drifted out from the open doors of the tavern and they watched as a man was thrown bodily out into the street amidst cheers from the other patrons. Rather than taking offense the man merely got to his feet, cheered and wavered off down the street. A dog barked loudly at him from an alleyway and he turned, saluting it before continuing on his way. The other shops were closed though lights remained on in a few of the windows as many lived either over or behind their place of business. A tabby cat watched them lazily from one of the windows, evidently glad it was not out in the downpour.

At last they came to the alchemists where it lay on the edge of the market. At its heart was the well and dotted around the edges were the stalls, all closed up for the night. A light was on in the Alchemists and Emily knocked on the door. She heard voices from behind the door.

“I expect that will be Greta for Marta’s medicine,” came a familiar voice, “Vivienne, can you get the door while I get the packets ready for her?” A moment later the door opened and Vivienne stood there in a nightdress and carried a lantern in one hand. It took her some time to recognize the bedraggled warrior and her eyes widened noticeably as they took in the blood spattered armour, the burnt ends of her blonde hair and the shining bow strapped to her back.

“Emily?” she said.

“It’s been a long time, Vivienne,” Emily replied.

“We thought you were dead,” said Vivienne, “How did you escape?” She looked over Emily’s shoulder at the woman standing behind her, garbed in similar armour. “And who is this?”

“This is Serana,” Emily replied, “If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t be here.”

“Come in, come in,” said Vivienne, ushering them inside and closing the door. She set the lantern down on the top of a wooden barrel.

“Angeline,” she said, “You aren’t going to believe who it is.” The old woman ceased pouring a pale powder into a paper sachet and looked over at the two women who stood before the counter. She squinted at them for a moment.

“It’s Emily,” said Vivienne, “And a friend of hers, Serana.”

“Emily?” said Angeline, coming out from behind the counter, “Is it really you? We thought you were dead.”

“It’s a long story,” Emily replied.

“Then come through and let’s hear it,” said Angeline, gesturing to the doorway that led to the back room, “I’ll make us a pot of tea.”

The four sat down at the table by the fire and Angeline poured them each a cup of tea. Emily began, telling them of how she awoke in a cave somewhere out in the mountainous forests of Haafingar and how she met with a man called Talof. She told them of how he helped her escape and of their journey south to join the Dawnguard. She was careful to keep the exact nature of how she met Serana vague and she danced carefully around any parts of their adventures too difficult to explain which, she found, was many of them.

Angeline sat back in her chair as Emily’s tale drew to a close.

“By the Divines,” she breathed, “That’s some tale.” She set down her cup. “Well, of course you can stay,” she continued, “The room is just as you left it.”

“Thanks Angeline,” Emily replied, “It’ll just be until we can get a place of our own. A few weeks, a month maybe.”

“Proudspire Manor’s been lying empty for sometime now,” said Vivienne, “It used to belong to the Matriarch of the Windsinger Clan.”

“Who was she?” Emily asked.

“She was the wife of a well-respected member of High King Torygg’s court,” Vivienne explained, “Her husband was killed in the Great War during the battle for the Imperial City. She died some years later and the house has been lying empty ever since.”

“A manor might be a bit beyond our budget right now,” Emily conceded.

“Well, you should speak to the Steward in any case,” Vivienne replied, “He’s in charge of housing in the hold.”

“I’ll go see him later on then,” said Emily.

“You two must be tired,” said Angeline, “Go on up when you’re ready.” Emily thanked Angeline before turning to Serana. She’d hardly said a word since they entered the city gates and she was looking down at her cup, her expression sombre.

“Yes, I think I could use a rest,” she said suddenly, standing up and setting her cup down on the table.

“Of course, dear, it’s the first door straight ahead of you when you get to the top of the stairs,” said Angeline. Emily watched as Serana left the room and headed for the stairs. The floorboards creaked overhead and they heard one of the doors close.

“Your friend’s kind of…quiet,” said Vivienne.

“She’s been through a lot,” Emily replied, “Her father died a little while ago. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it.” Her father’s demise was one of many topics they had kept intentionally vague. “I think I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” She got up from the table and left the room, heading up the stairs to the upper landing. The door to the room she’d once stayed in was closed and she gingerly opened it. Serana was lying on the bed, facing the far wall. Emily closed the door quietly and crossed the room to the bed.

“Serana, are you okay?” she asked as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied quietly without turning over, “I just need time, that’s all.”

“And I’ll give you all the time you need,” Emily replied.

“You do know they’ll find out what we are eventually, don’t you Emily?” Serana asked, turning over and facing Emily.

“I don’t see how,” Emily replied, “We didn’t exactly make a habit of being chased out of town with torches and pitchforks.” She chuckled but her laughter soon died away. “Serana, don’t worry, we can make this work,” she rested a hand lightly on Serana’s arm.

“And how will we feed?” Serana asked. Emily sat quietly for a moment, looking over at the door.

“Does it have to be human blood?” she asked, “Or can vampires drink animal blood?”

“They can,” Serana replied, “But it would mean feeding more often. Animal blood doesn’t contain the same inherent magical energies that human blood contains. So, it’s not as nourishing.”

“I can hunt,” said Emily, “I’m sure there has to be plenty of wild game in the forests. And perhaps I can sell the meat and ingredients. We do need the coin.” She looked out the window at the lightening sky. “Come on, we can talk more about this later.” She got up and pulled the curtains closed before changing out of her armour and into her hooded jacket and jeans. Her armour, she decided, would most definitely need a wash and she left it in a neat pile by the bed. Serana moved over, leaving her room to lie down next to her. She seemed content to let the matter drop for now and Emily soon gave into sleep, allowing her eyes to close and habitual breathing to take over. It occurred to her, in her last moments before sleep claimed her, that maybe vampires breathed when asleep to keep up a semblance of mortality and draw away suspicion should anyone come upon their sleeping form.

She awoke with a start late in the afternoon. Her first thought was that they were being attacked. But there was no sound of commotion and the door to their room was still shut. The curtains were closed and the room was mostly in darkness. She sat up and as her head cleared she realised that it was Serana who was thrashing about like a rabbit in a snare, her hands balled into fists as she restlessly tossed and turned. She made no sound but her eyes were squeezed shut and her teeth were bared in a grimace. Emily held her down gently, one hand moving up to stroke her hair.

“It’s alright,” she said quietly, “Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. You’re safe. You’re alright.” Serana took a few ragged breaths as her eyes opened and she saw Emily kneeling over her, one hand still lingering on her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated and she took a moment to regain her composure.

“He was begging me not to kill him,” she said. Another ragged breath. “He didn’t want me to. He didn’t want me to kill him.” Serana’s eyes were still slightly glazed. Emily wasn’t sure what to say so she took Serana in her arms. She didn’t respond immediately, instead crying into her shoulder. Emily didn’t remember much of the fight with Lord Harkon. The blow that knocked her back against one of the stone pillars had robbed her of the last moments of the fight so she had not seen how his demise had played out. But she did remember the ferocity with which he had attacked them and the tears in Serana’s eyes following the battle. She knew she couldn’t tell her they’d done it for the good of the world even if it was true. To her it was so much more than that. Through it all, he had still been her father. Now she had only her mother and she still resided in the Soul Cairn. They’d decided it would be safer to go back for her long after the members of both Mourning Sun and Dawnguard were gone. This would be a time decided by Serana, when she was ready.

At last she felt Serana’s arms around her as her sobs gradually dried up. Emily bent her head, resting her chin lightly on Serana’s hair. “How are you feeling?” she asked after a moment. Serana sat up.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. She took a deep breath. “I guess I can expect a few nightmares.”

“I think you should come out with me tonight,” Emily replied, “The fresh air, I think it would do us both some good.”

“Maybe,” said Serana, leaning back against the wall.

“I’m going to go out a little before eight,” Emily continued, “I’m going to sell off a few things. See if I can get us a head start.” She leant back against the wall next to Serana. “Where do you want to live? I remember you mentioning a forest.”

“Emily, I don’t think I’m ready for thinking about that sort of thing yet,” she said.

“Alright,” Emily replied, “I understand. Take as long as you need.”

* * *

Emily left the Alchemist’s not long after seven in the evening. The sun had just set and she crossed the street to the general store. The woman behind the counter did not recognize her and she couldn’t blame her having only visited the store once or twice before. She had changed much in those months and she hefted her pack up onto the counter, opening the flap.

“I have a few things I’d like to sell,” she said. The woman behind the counter waited expectantly as she pulled out the bow and leather armour Talof had bought for her in Rorikstead and her old Dawnguard armour which was showing its wear in some places. It was no longer who she was and she felt happier as she set it down on the counter. Each of the items grew back to their normal size as they reached the wooden counter top. It was a common enchant, Serana had told her, one very popular with adventurers. “How else do you think you’re able to lug around all that junk you insist on picking up in every cave we come to?” Serana had joked with her when they’d stopped for the day in one of the many caves they’d passed the time in. Emily hoped those times of joking and laughter would someday return. She emptied out a few gems she’d picked up in the caves and added them to the pile.

“Where did you pick all this up?” the woman asked.

“It’s a few old things I’ve no need for,” Emily replied, “The spoils of a few adventures. My friend and I are looking to buy a house and we’ve just started to get the coin together. I might have some pelts come tomorrow.”

“Going out hunting?” the woman asked. Emily nodded.

“Yeah, there’s supposed to be good game around here, right?” she asked.

“Deer and pheasant mostly,” the woman replied, “Well, if I can’t take the pelts I’m sure my husband Beirand could take them off your hands. He runs the smith up near Castle Dour.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” said Emily. The woman looked appraisingly at the goods on the countertop.

“Well, I’ll give you thirty for the bow,” said the woman, “It looks well cared for enough. The leather armour though, it shows its wear so I can’t give you the full price you must have paid for it. How about 135 gold for the full set? And 215 gold for the other set?”

“That sounds fair,” Emily replied. It was more than she’d paid for it, in fact, which was a grand total of zero and that gold would make an excellent start. Now the woman turned her attention to the gems which consisted of three sparkling amethysts, a ruby and an emerald. “And for these gems, how about 590 gold? I have a friend in Whiterun who could make good use of them,” said the woman.

“That sounds alright to me,” Emily replied and the woman handed her a large pouchful of gold. Added to the gold she already carried there was just over 1200 septims nestled in the fabric under the same shrinking charm as the contents of her pack. It was a good start and Emily returned to the Alchemists with it, stowing it under the bed in her room. Serana was brushing her hair and looked over as she got back up off the floor by the bed.

“Ready to go?” Emily asked. Serana picked up her bow from the bed.

“I’m ready,” she replied.

Chapter Text

The days turned to weeks and in turn those weeks bled into over a month. Serana was quiet during the first weeks and prone to moods of melancholy. During many a long day Emily would sit or lie by her side, mostly unspeaking but reassuring her by her presence, providing the warmth that was needed. They would hunt by night, leaving the confines of the city to trek through the forests, seeking out game trails and following them until they found their quarry. Most nights it was deer and they would hide downwind on the periphery of the herd, sizing up each of the beasts and taking down the one that looked to be the weakest. Where they could they would take lame ones and when one was caught they would drain it of its blood, decanting it into vessels. They would then carefully skin it and remove the antlers and eyes before carting the remains of the carcass back to the city. The pelts they would turn over to Beirand, the Castle Dour Blacksmith and the antlers and eyes would be taken back with them to Angeline’s for use in alchemical mixtures. The meat they sold to Corpulus in the Winking Skeever who would pay them 4 gold for each cut of meat. All in all they could make 26 gold off of each successful kill.

Serana was more like her old self out in the forests and seemed to take some solace in the tranquility of the night air. Often as the moons reached their highest point in the night sky they would find a rocky outcropping to sit upon and watch the stars. Serana would tell Emily about each of the constellations and the predictions made of those born under them.

“What sign were you born under?” Emily asked Serana one night.

“The sign of the Ritual,” Serana replied, “The 18th Morning Star.”

“And what happens to those born under the sign of the ritual?” Emily asked, looking over at her companion.

“They can have a variety of abilities depending on the aspects of the Divines and the phases of the moons,” Serana replied, “There was a book back home which gave all the meanings but the Ritual’s meaning was always kept vague. Maybe because those abilities can take so many different forms. What about you? When were you born?”

“7th May,” Emily answered, looking up at the stars, “That’s the…” she counted on her fingers, “Fifth month of the year on Earth so Second Seed had I been a Tamrielic native. Which sign is that?”

“The Shadow,” Serana replied, “Those born under the sign of the shadow have the ability to meld with the shadows.” She chuckled then and Emily rolled over onto her side.

“What’s so funny?” she asked with an impish smile, happy to hear such a sound coming from her friend.

“Sneaking isn’t exactly your strong point,” said Serana.

“I’ve got better though,” Emily reminded her, “Managed to sneak up on you last night when we went down to the pond, didn’t I?”

“Only because I let you,” Serana replied.

“Pfft,” Emily said, blowing the air through her teeth, “Now you’re just making excuses.”

“Your spells have got better though,” smiled Serana, “You haven’t summoned an unbound Daedra or frozen your hair solid in weeks.”

“I did have one of Tamriel’s best tutors,” Emily replied, “Would you teach me more spells sometime?” This last remark earned her a warm smile from her vampiric companion.

“What kind of spell did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Can you teach me to turn invisible?” Emily asked, “Like you did when we were in the Fort.” She nudged her playfully. “Then I really could sneak up on you.”

“If I teach you that spell I won’t know a moment’s peace,” said Serana. She got to her feet and offered her hand to Emily. “Come on, we’d better get back. It’ll take us half the night to get this back.” She gestured to the deer carcass that lay in the bushes alongside several full red bottles.

                                                                                                                                    *         *         *

As time went by Serana gradually lost some of her melancholic air and began to help out in the shop, mixing potions and preparing ingredients.

“You’ve got a real knack for alchemy,” Angeline remarked one afternoon as she helped her to harvest glow dust from a basket full of wisp cores brought in by an adventurer earlier that same day.

“My mother taught me,” Serana replied, “Ever since I was a little girl I’ve been around the alchemy lab.”

“Well, it certainly shows,” smiled Angeline, “Was she a healer?”

“She’s…an experimental alchemist,” Serana replied, “You know, researching the effects of various alchemical reagents.” Emily came out from behind the counter, carrying a large box of giant lichen. She set it down on the edge of the table where Serana and Angeline were working.

“She’s very lucky to have you as a daughter, Serana,” the old woman said. Serana didn’t say much in reply but seemed suddenly distracted by something she heard outside.

“How are those wisp cores coming?” asked Emily, pulling a stool out from behind the counter and joining them at the table.

“We’re almost done,” Angeline replied, “Did Vivienne bring in those mandrake roots?”

“They’re sitting in that barrel behind the counter,” said Emily, gesturing over her shoulder at a barrel that lay nailed shut behind the counter. The insides were heavily padded to stop the initial screams escaping which would emanate from the mandrakes during the first week of being removed from the earth. Vivienne had plugged her ears with tundra cotton soaked in an infusion of motherwort and Bergamot seeds during the transfer between crate and barrel. They were a much sought after ingredient and were imported from Cyrodiil where they were commonly used as a component in curative potions.

“How about I fix us a cup of tea?” Emily offered.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Angeline replied.

                                                                                                                                    *         *         *

It was late in the evening as Serana and Emily sat in their room above the shop. Emily was sewing a patch into her jeans, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she worked with needle and thread.

“Emily,” said Serana, “Can we talk?”

“About what?” Emily asked, looking up from her needlework.

“About my mother,” Serana replied, “I think it’s time. To go back, I mean.”

“Of course,” said Emily.

“I feel awful that I’ve left it this long,” Serana confessed, sitting down on the bed next to her, “I don’t know. I just couldn’t bring myself to think about going back there.” Emily bit through the thread and set the newly patched jeans down on the bed.

“I understand,” Emily replied, “There’s going to be a lot of memories tied up in there, isn’t there?” Serana nodded. “We’ll go along tonight then,” Emily continued, “Can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing the Soul Cairn again though.” Serana chuckled wryly.

“Nor am I,” she replied. Emily got up and picked up her armour from the chair, fastening the breastplate and pulling on the greaves. She beckoned to Finn and he scampered up her arm to his usual place about her shoulders. Serana got up and took down her cloak from the peg on the back of the door. She put it on, fastening the clasp at her shoulder and picked up her pack from the bed.

“Well, I’m ready,” she said to Emily, her voice carrying a tone of forced calm. Emily followed her from the room and down the stairs to the dining area. She took up a piece of paper and a quill from the desk in the corner and hastily scribbled a note to Angeline.

“Hi Angeline,

Gone out for a couple of nights. Will be back soon. Will bring back some alchemy ingredients if I see any.

Emily and Serana”

She set the note down on the counter before crossing the room to the front door. She took the spare key from her pocket and unlocked the door, pulling it open. A slight breeze crossed the threshold and they slipped through the open door onto the street, closing and locking the door behind them. Emily dropped the key into her pocket and they set off down the main street. The moons were shining high above the city, casting long shadows ahead of them and bathing the cobblestones in a pale russet light. The city was quiet save for the sounds of merriment drifting out through the open door of the Winking Skeever. All the shops were closed and the signs swayed back and forth, creaking slightly in the breeze. A cat yowled from one of the alleyways and was answered by another. Serana pulled her hood down over her head as they neared the city gates and the two guards in full armour standing on either side.

“A bit late to be leaving the city, isn’t it?” asked one, leaning on his glaive, “It’s not safe outside the walls.”

“We need to go out to collect alchemy ingredients,” Emily explained, “Nirnroot’s effects are a lot more potent if they are harvested by moonlight, you know?” It was a weak lie and Emily knew it. For a moment the guard just looked at her sternly. Then suddenly both he and his companion nodded and he called up to the guard at the gatehouse, signaling for the gates to be opened. Emily saw Serana’s hand disappearing beneath the folds of her cloak, the last whispers of illusion magic playing about her fingertips.

“Using your charm, eh?” said Emily with a slight smile as the gates closed behind them. Serana pushed back her hood.

“I just couldn’t risk anything holding us up,” she replied. Emily heard the unease she’d tried to disguise in her voice earlier making itself evident.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she said, one hand lingering on Serana’s arm, “Before you know it we’ll be crossing the border back into the Soul Cairn and riding across that ashen soil to the Boneyard. We’ll go deliver the news to your mother and we can all head back together.”

“And when we do,” Serana replied, “Perhaps we should talk about the future?”

“Nothing would bring me greater pleasure,” said Emily, squeezing her fingers gently. She held out her palm, closing her eyes and willing the purple flames into existence. With a sweeping gesture she conjured the skeletal horse who appeared before them in blazing purple light, bright lamp-like eyes fixed on them. He pawed at the earth as they got on and Emily took up the reigns.

“Come on, Arvak,” she said, “To Icewater Jetty.” Serana held on tight as the horse plunged off down the hill towards the coast. A tight ball of worry was forming in her stomach. It had been well over a month since her father had met his end and she felt a pang of guilt when she recalled all those days spent by the fire or in their room, idly passing the day or so she felt, when her mother was still trapped in the Soul Cairn. She briefly considered lying about the time it took to amass the forces they needed to take on her father but dismissed the notion a moment later. No, the time for lies was past. She took little notice of the journey until she felt the loose shingle beneath the horses hooves as they reached the shoreline. She saw the corpulent bodies of horkers stretched out on the sands, great sides heaving as they slept. One looked up, peering at them with beady eyes as they rode past before lying back down. The cold air whipped back her hair and carried with it the scent of brine and the cold, almost imperceptible, smell of snow. The moons still shone brightly above and it seemed that for a change the Sea of Ghosts would be clear. Emily spotted the fort first, the one that sat close to the coast, so close in fact that when the tide came in the water rushed almost up to the stone walls. She wondered at their choice of location, asking herself if they were not afraid the walls might someday crumble into the sea. As always there were guards posted at the two main entrances, golden armour glinting in the moonlight.

On past the fort they rode until they came to the weather-beaten jetty with its rotting wooden planks and the lone boat moored next to it. They got down off the horse and Serana climbed into the boat while Emily untied it from its moorings before hopping in after her. They took up the oars and began rowing out to open sea. The coastline receded behind them along with the sounds of the gulls and soon the only sound came from the wavelets lapping against the sides of the boat. The route to and from the Castle to the Jetty was one Serana knew well but tonight it seemed to drag on for much longer than was normal, almost to the point that she questioned her sense of direction.

“Do you think she’ll understand?” she asked as they rowed.

“Do you think who’ll understand what?” Emily asked.

“My mother,” Serana replied, “Do you think she’ll understand why I left it so long?”

“I would have thought so,” said Emily, pulling at the oars, “She’s bound to know how difficult it was for you.”

“For us,” Serana corrected her.

“For us then,” Emily replied, “She knew it wasn’t just a walk in the park. I think she’ll just be glad you’re alive…urrm…undead.” Serana allowed herself a small smile. She looked ahead at the empty sea before them. Then all of a sudden it wasn’t as the island emerged from its hidden gap in time. Moonlight glinted on the dark stone and shone on the cobblestones leading up to the keep. They guided the boat around the side of the island to the disused harbour. The waves slapped against the stone of the docks and the keening cries of the bone hawks reached their ears. Emily got out of the boat and tied it in place before holding her hand out to Serana. She took it and climbed out of the boat onto the docks.

The journey through the Undercroft to the courtyard seemed much shorter to Emily this time around now that she at least had a rough idea of the way and now that the halls and chambers were silent, devoid of all life or unlife. The gardens were still a sorry mess of tangled weeds and Emily found herself wishing she’d seen what they had been like when Valerica still tended them. Still, she reminded herself, she might yet get to see that someday. The steps leading down to the ruins were still open and they followed them down, pulling open the wooden door that lay at the bottom. Serana didn’t say much as they passed through the ruins and climbed up towards the ruined tower. The rooms they passed through looked to have got even dustier in their absence and a few new cobwebs had sprung up in the corners. They saw the light of the soul cairn reflecting off the stones ahead of them before they saw the portal itself and Serana felt a surge of relief at the still operational state of the interdimensional portal. The purple flickering light danced on the walls and ceilings as they climbed the stone steps to the balcony. Emily stared down at the portal. It seemed to her a lifetime had passed since she’d last stood on the stonework, looking nervously into the swirling purple void. A lifetime since she’d felt the searing pain of the tendrils of light latching onto her, trying to rip her soul from her body and a lifetime since she’d given herself over completely and eternally to the vampiress who stood at her side. She felt now it had been someone else who had stepped through that portal from distant Norway to Skyrim, someone else who had lived up until that moment atop the portal to the Soul Cairn.

“Are you alright?” Serana asked, breaking her from her thoughts. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d zoned out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, smiling at her friend, “Come on, let’s go.” Taking the vampiress’ hand they descended the floating steps to the portal and the air about them swirled. Emily felt a downward surge as their feet left the stones and they were cast downward into the portal. Then their feet touched solid stone as a loud rumble of thunder echoed about them. A bright flash of light and they were standing on the topmost step of the Soul Cairn’s entrance. The air was as still as before, the land unchanging. They saw the light coming from the tall turrets of the castle on the distant horizon. They descended the stone steps to the ashen soil where Emily once more summoned Arvak. The horse did not look particularly pleased to be back in this desolate bleak landscape and whinnied his displeasure as the two riders got on. But nonetheless he set off at their urging and followed the pale dirt track down away from the portal towards the castle. They passed by clumps of soul husks growing in the shade of the obsidian buildings, great steaming fissures from which emanated the wails of the souls damned to remain there for eternity and through the great dividing wall that separated portal side from Boneyard side. Up and down hillsides they rode, the horse’s hooves churning up the ashen dust. Lightning periodically flashed across the sky, throwing the landscape into stark relief.

At last they reached the foot of the steps leading up to the Boneyard and got down from the horse. Serana took a deep breath before climbing the steps, closely followed by Emily. Her eyes scanned the area where the barrier once stood, eyes falling upon a familiar figure working at an alchemy lab built into a darkened recess.

“Mother,” she said as she took a step forward. Her mother stopped midway through grinding a soul husk to dust with pestle and mortar, looking over her shoulder. When she caught sight of her daughter she dropped the pestle and mortar where they clanked onto the metal surface of the alchemy lab. Soul husk dust scattered unnoticed onto the surface as she turned hurriedly to face her daughter.

“Serana,” she said, “Can it really be? Is it done?”

“It is, mother,” Serana replied. Emily saw a look of relief pass over Valerica’s normally stern face and she took a few steps towards her daughter. “I’m sorry I took so long to return,” Serana continued, “I wanted to, really I did but-.”

“That’s alright,” said Valerica as she stopped before Serana, “I’m just relieved you’re still in one piece. That the prophecy is finally over.” Emily watched and waited as mother and daughter embraced. She saw the smile on Valerica’s face which seemed to in an instant lift several centuries from her. She couldn’t recall ever seeing the elder vampiress smile before. Her eyes fell upon Emily as she stepped back from the embrace.

“I was wrong about you,” she admitted to the Earthling, beckoning her over. Emily crossed the stonework and joined them before the towering doors to the Boneyard. “You kept my daughter safe and for that I thank you,” she continued.

“I wouldn’t be here were it not for her,” Emily replied, “I owe her my life.” She caught Serana’s gaze and smiled.

“And I owe you mine,” Serana said, “I guess we’re even then.” Emily chuckled.

“What will you do now?” she asked, turning to Valerica.

“If you’ll allow me to gather together my things, I believe it’s time I returned to the castle,” Valerica replied.

“If there’s anything heavy we’ve got a horse waiting at the bottom of the steps,” Emily offered, gesturing over her shoulder at the stone steps.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Valerica replied, “I didn’t take much when I fled the castle. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.” And with that she crossed the stones to the tall doors, pulling one open and disappearing inside.

It seemed to Emily an immense weight had been lifted from Serana’s shoulders and she leant back against one of the stone walls while she waited for her mother to return.

“Thank you,” she said to Emily as she joined her by the wall, “For coming out with me.”

“No problem,” Emily replied, “Told you she’d understand.” She felt Serana’s arm about her shoulders and she laughed softly as she allowed herself to be tugged closer.

“So, the future then,” said Serana. Emily looked up into her eyes and saw a twinkle she had not seen there in so long. She nodded.

“The future,” she replied, “And so it begins.”