Chapter Fifty

“Gee up there!” Thaer slapped his reins, attempting to keep his horse moving at an acceptable pace for the trip. In his carriage rode Auroth, Bai’lira, Gaeolin, and Inigo. The Khajiit both slept, their tails wrapped close to their legs. Auroth sat back against the side of the cart with his pipe lit. He savored the Elves Ear before exhaling a plume of fragrant smoke above them. Gaeolin sat across from him with his leg up on one knee. 

A book rested on his leg, a piece of paper on top of it. He set his inkwell on the seat next to him, careful to keep it well away from the edge. He tapped the quill against his stationary, wondering what he should say.

“What are you writing?” Auroth rapped his pipe against the side of the wagon to clear the spent herbs. “I should tell you, they do make bound journals.”

Gaeolin nodded. “I know. That’s not what this is. I promised Faendal I would write.” He stared off into the pines that littered the northern Druadachs. “I figured writing them now, when we are so near our goal, might be appropriate.”

Auroth nodded, slipping his pipe into his bag. “Then don’t let me keep you. I think I’m going to follow those two in their examples and get some sleep.” He shuffled to his right, resting his head on a post in a way that seemed less than comfortable. Gaeolin looked back to the paper. The blank sheet intimidated him in a way that nothing he had faced over the past few months had. What should he talk about? The pirates? The city? His newfound family? It all seemed so much to fit into one letter. He let out his breath, tapping a foot lightly to try and jog his mind. He finally forced himself to start after many bumps in the road.

‘Dearest Daughter,

Not a day has passed that my absence from home did not cause me pain. I miss you terribly, and hope that you have been brave and good for Faendal. I am heading to Morthal from Solitude now, watching the stars through the trees. Secunda is bright, only half seen from our paths in the world. I wonder if you have ever heard the story of Fadomai and Ahnurr? If not, you should tell me when I return, so I might read it to you. 

Long ago, when I was but a child in Anvil, a Khajiit woman read it to me. It is a tale of the time before the Gods, or so it is told. I always find the night hours lead me back to the story. I thought, were the stars there? Were the Gods watching from beyond that twinkling sheet of diamonds so far away? The answer I think is dependent on how we look at life.

Kynareth is the wilds. The deer, the streams, the trees that grow tall. She is the gentle breeze that guides us through the days, and nights. She offers us her creations, that we might eat and come to know beauty in its raw state. Every time I look at the night around me, I know that she protects the balance in her own way. If you find that you miss me before I come home, look up at the stars, just before the light is gone from the sky.

I will be looking at that first star in the west, Lo Mirilli. I promise that I will not rest until I can come back to you. There is one last thing we have to do before my eyes are better. As soon as I am well, we will travel until we are there with you again.

All my love,

Your Father, Gaeolin’

He read it over, wondering if there were more she should hear. Not how dangerous it would be, certainly. He flipped the sheet over after it had dried. He brought his pen down once more at the top of it, now writing in the elegant, yet wild script of the Bosmeri.

‘Jone kalgeal ort ^[1], Faendal,

I hope all is well for you and Ma’isha. We are nearing the end of our quest for a cure. I wish I could promise that it would be a simple task, but I fear this may be the most trying test we have faced on this journey. According to one of our companions, the last thing we need are the ashes of an ancient vampire. Falion of Morthal may know where we might find them, but I worry all the same. 

Make sure that Ma’isha is happy. Read her letter to her, and try to make it sound like I’m not feeling as anxious as I feel. I will be careful, before you send something back telling me to do as much.’

He stopped, remembering the last time they had seen each other. He recalled Faendal having left the room in a rush. 

‘Also, when I do get home I want to pick up with the question I asked. I … Ní raibh mé ag súil leis sin uait. Má tá sé fíor, agus is é sin an chaoi a mbraitheann tú, ní mór dúinn go leor labhairt.

mise go fírinneach, ^[2]

Gaeolin’

He waited until the last letters had dried, folding the paper in thirds before tucking it into his shirt. 

The night was almost over when they arrived in the town of Morthal. A light blue tinted the horizon to warn of daybreak. Bai’lira hopped off the cart first, making for the Thaumaturgist’s hut without a second thought. Auroth followed, with Inigo joining him. 

“If the gentlemen wouldn’t mind, Bai’lira wishes to go back to Lami’s house now. She has had enough adventure for a while.” She looked exhausted. Gaeolin nodded to her. 

“You guys can go with her if you like, I have a few things I want to do. If you need me, I’ll be in the marsh with Falion.” He left them, going to the notice board on the tavern porch. He took a nail, posting his letter in the area reserved for outgoing letters. He had made a point to put the address on both sides of the paper. Only after doing this did he notice the smell.

It was the scent of burnt wood. He could not guess at how he had missed it, since it seemed to overpower the entire town. He now saw what had once been a house. It’s walls were burned to little more than stray planks. A blanket of snow covered the floor inside as he walked over to investigate. The snow was undisturbed, his footprints alone as he walked onto the porch of the home. He stopped, hearing a whimpering like a child. He looked around, met only by the sound of the wind over the marshes. He shrugged off the feeling and made his way toward the edge of town.

 He did not have to go far before he found the wizard. Falion stopped when he saw him approaching, a hand on his dagger. Gaeolin held up his hands to calm him. “I promise, I will not attack you. I only mean to apologize to you for my reaction at our last meeting.”

Falion relaxed. “I accept, but you’ll forgive me if I’m a little on edge around you for a while.” He noted the mask and hood. “You seem to be taking more trouble to avoid recognition.”

“I just want to avoid anything that might make this even harder than it already has been.” Gaeolin crossed his arms. “We are close to having everything we need for Bai’lira’s cure, but there is something we need that I wanted to ask you about.”

“If I know anything, I will tell you. I warn you though, I am not now, nor have I ever been an alchemist.”

The bosmer pulled down the mask, a smile on his lips. “Nothing like that. We need to find the ashes of an ancient vampire. Someone powerful, I was hoping you could help us on that front.”

The man thought for a moment. “Honestly, I’m not so sure. It would depend on how old of a vampire you were looking for. If it weren’t dangerous for you to go to them, I would say the Vigilants of Stendarr would be more knowledgeable about known vampires. I mainly study the disease itself. You could also ask the Jarl’s steward, Asulfur. I know that the hold has had a lot of trouble with vampires in the past.”

Gaeolin was ready to ask about when Idgrod held court when a roar echoed down from the sky. He grabbed his bow, something in his body flaring at the sound. He tore down his hood and looked to the skies. A dragon was descending on the town, its maw spread wide as it let loose an arc of blue flame. It spoke, the words rumbling the houses. “Thuri lost bolaav laas zu’u! Faas dii bah!”^[3] The creature came to land on the longhouse with a loud snapping of wood. It reached down, snatching up a guard to devour him. Inigo and Auroth ran from the Thaumaturgist’s hut with their weapons ready. Gaeolin reached into his mind, calling forth his voice.

“Fus Ro Dah!” His words battered the drake, causing it to crash from the roof onto the road below. Auroth ran forward, bringing his hammer down on its head. Inigo fired a few more shots before jumping in with his sword as well. The guards took courage at the men, joining them to back the dragon against a cliff face along the road. At this point, the wyrm could not take flight. It snarled, sending flames above the mob. It reared up, giving Gaeolin a shot.

He nocked his arrow, letting out his breath. He raised his bow, all sound gone from his mind. There were only three things. His arrow, his body, the dragon’s eye. He Turned his waist, then his shoulders, the limbs of his bow bending as he brought back the string. He could see the pupil. With an instant more to aim, he let the string return, the arrow flying through the air with only purpose.

It struck, the beast falling forward into the sea of warriors. Inigo rushed forward, driving his blade through the space between the scales on its chest. With a final roar, the dragon fell into death. Gaeolin strode forward, his bow at his side as he felt the wind once more change to blow to him. The fire started to consume the body in a cascade of colors. He watched as the power began to surge toward him. The guards backed away, watching as the light surrounded him. The muttered to themselves while he took the soul. Gaeolin closed his eyes, hearing the faint voice speak in his mind. 

‘Hi lost meyz gut, kiir. Nunon dreh ni qahnaar hin dez.’ ^[4] He nodded to himself, feeling the dragon’s spirit meld into his own. He put his bow on his back. Inigo watched him with concern as he left the scene. The khajiit caught up with him, leaving Auroth to follow farther behind.

“My friend, is everything okay?”

Gaeolin sent him a questioning look. “Yes? I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

He seemed nervous. “I just worry at how comfortable you seem to be getting with absorbing these souls. This makes what, six of them? How many dragon souls do you need? I mean… When will enough be enough? Watch that you don’t get addicted.”

Gaeolin laughed. “I don’t think it works like that, Inigo.” He sent his friend an encouraging glance. “I promise that I will not be careless though. Come on, let’s check in with Bai’lira.”

They returned to the hut, being met by a very disgruntled Bai’lira. She had not bothered to change out of her robes, which still had dried blood from the fight at Broken Oar Grotto. She turned to them, her eyes glassy. “Do you three always have to make such a racket? Bai’lira is having a hard enough time starting this brew without the sound of an avalanche outside her shop.”

“For the record,” Auroth began, “it was a dragon we were killing. Kind of hard to do in silence.”

She huffed. “Perhaps, but if this one makes a mistake, Gaeolin could end up worse than he is now. Assuming you find the ashes within the next day, it will still take about three more for the potion to brew correctly.” She looked at them all, growing more irritated by the second. “Are you waiting for Bai’lira to hold your hands? Go get the ashes! This one has no more patience, for she has had little sleep for the past week.”

Taking the hint, Gaeolin ushered his friends from the hut. The crowd were still gathered near the smoldering bones. A few of the stronger men began trying to move the skeleton out of the road, their faces going red as the heaved the mighty bones from the ground. Gaeolin stifled the laugh he wanted to let out, instead opening the door to the Jarl’s longhouse.

Asulfur was heading to the door when they arrived. He looked tired, his clothes put on in a  most untidy way. “What was going on? The roof sounded as though it was going to come down on us.”

“You had a smelly, scaly winged sausage on your roof,” Inigo raised his arms high for emphasis, “fear not, my friends and I have dealt with it.”

“I was wondering about the house that burned down near the Inn.” Gaeolin asked. “Has this dragon attacked before now?”

The steward’s face fell. “Oh… That… No, Hroggar’s house burned down in an accident. He lost his wife and daughter to the fire. Honestly, if you want the truth, there have been whispers of foul play in that. The Jarl might actually want someone to look into it for us. She should be awake. Hard to sleep with a dragon attacking your city. Go ahead and speak to her.” He made his way out, struggling to tie his belt correctly all the while. Gaeolin knocked on the door to the Jarl’s chambers. Idgrod sat in a chair in the corner, her face pensive.

“So, life has brought you to Morthal, and to me.” She studied him. “What purpose this serves, we will no doubt see. Welcome, Gaeolin of Woodhearth.” She honored him by nodding her head in a small bow. He entered the room, confused by her knowing him.

“You have heard of me, my Jarl?” 

She seemed to look into his soul. “It is hard not to know you in these times, young man.” She stood, her bones creaking. “Word has traveled of your deeds from far and wide. You and your Cathay companion have done much for Skyrim in the past months.” She gave him an approving nod. “I even hear that Balgruuf has named you a thane in his hold. Man can be hard to impress. And I didn’t need to hear second hand that you just slew a dragon not a hundred yards from my house.”

Gaeolin appeared uncomfortable with the compliments given him. “Right… We can help clear the road for you, if it is needed.”

“No need. Our men are strong, and you have done enough by helping defeat the beast. I am sure you did not come to me just to talk about the dragon. You need other information, some concerning my town, more concerning it’s past.”

“How did you know?”

“I have my gifts. They have served the hold well, and they continue to serve well.” She sat on her bed. “Tell me why you have come.”

“I wanted to know what happened to that burned down house. Your steward said there was an accident.”

She shrugged. “My people think the home is cursed. Who am I to gainsay them?” 

Gaeolin found her apparent disinterest strange. “What does Hroggar say happened?”

“He blames his wife for spilling bear fat in the fire. Many folk think he set the fire himself.”

At this all three of the men wore faces of either skepticism or shock. Inigo piped up, “With his own wife and child inside? Why? What could drive a man to that?”

Idgrod adopted a disgusted face. “Lust can make a man do the unthinkable. The ashes were still warm when he pledged himself to Alva.”

Auroth sat on the footboard of the bed, fighting to keep a yawn from breaking through his words. “So why haven’t you had him arrested yet?”

“On rumor and gossip? No…” She paused, looking to Gaeolin in realization. “But you, a stranger, might find the truth for us.” She stood, putting a hand on Gaeolin’s shoulder. “Sift through the ashes that others are too fearful to touch. See what they tell you. Should you prove him guilty,” the woman held up a finger to make certain her point was made, “or innocent, I will reward you.” 

“We will do our best, milady.” Gaeolin bowed. Leaving her to hopefully relax after the events of the evening.

*****************************************************

The clouds began clearing to the west of them, but the town was still very much covered by the rolling clouds that threatened snow. Gaeolin led his friends to the home. He could sense something in the night. He drew his knife as he climbed the steps, nodding for Auroth and Inigo to do the same. When his feet touched the inside of the ruined house, a pale, faded blue light rose in the corner of the room. Inigo gave a yelp as the ghost appeared, but stayed when he saw the form of a little girl flare into being. She was humming to herself, pacing the floor as if waiting for something. Gaeolin put his weapon away, kneeling next to her. “Who are you?”

She turned to him. “Helgi, but my father says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” She looked nervous, but hopeful. “Are you a stranger?”

“I’m not a stranger.” Gaeolin smiled. “I’m a friend. Do you know what happened here? What happened to your house, Helgi?” A stray thought of losing Ma’isha in a fire made his efforts to smile at the ghost difficult. The fact that this girl had died was bad enough as it was.

“The smoke woke me up. I was hot and I was scared, so I hid.” She looked at the fireplace. “Then it got cold and dark. I’m not scared anymore… But I’m lonely. Will you play with me?”

“If I do, will you tell me who set the fire?” Gaeolin struggled through his feelings. The girl looked so happy to have a playmate in death.

“Okay! Let’s play hide and seek. You find me, and I’ll tell you.” She adopted a fearful expression. “But don’t let the other one find me. She plays at night too, and I don’t want her to find me.”

“Other one? Who is that?” Gaeolin did not get an answer. Helgi ran from the house to hide, her legs blurring as they carried her away to the south. He heard her voice echo in his ears.

“I can’t tell you. She’s too close, she’ll hear you. If you can find me first, I can tell you.”

Gaeolin could see her glowing form heading along a path up the hill behind the Inn. He turned to his friends. “What does she mean? Another ghost?”

Inigo shuddered. “I do not know, but something makes me feel like we are walking into something sinister.”

Auroth stepped toward the door. “We won’t find anything out by standing in here. Let’s follow the girl.”

The party made their way along a faint path in the grasses. The traditional markers that the Nords left near their burial grounds began to pop up around them. The sound of a spade cut through the night. Inigo dropped to a crouch, inspiring the others to join him in stealth. Gaeolin took out his knife. A figure was digging in the graveyard, a large mound of earth having already been shifted. The head of a coffin could be seen. Most of it was exposed, the need to dig deeper obviously if someone planned on moving it. He heard Helgi’s voice in his head. “Hurry! She’s going to find me! Don’t let her!”

He rushed forward. Allowing his body to change into smoke as he ran. The digger was a woman, he reformed behind her as a specter of malice. “Why did you disturb this grave?” She spun around with the spade, trying to take off his head. Gaeolin grabbed the handle of it, his features growing more and more feral. “Don’t test me…” He growled. He saw her eyes, having to mentally check if he were seeing things. Her eyes were red, like his. Her fangs were bared as she broke free of him. She tried to use her vampiric spell on him, looking infuriated and confused when it yielded no results. He let his own fangs show, slicing at her with his blade. Auroth cast a ring of flames around them, blocking her in with no escape. She lunged toward Gaeolin to rip out his throat.

She was stopped by Inigo stabbing her with Dawnbreaker. She screamed while the golden flames caught, sending her up in a blue and gold inferno. When the khajiit drew the sword out, she burst in an orb of holy light. Auroth shielded Gaeolin with a well placed ward. The power broke upon the magical shell. As fast as the hill had gone alight, it was just as quickly returned to darkness as the fires faded from the ground. All that remained of the vampire was a pile of ashes, the wind starting to spread them across the dirt. The sound of a man shouting down the hill made Gaeolin cover his face again. Gaeolin remembered him from the crowd that had met them the first time they had arrived in Morthal. It was Thonnir.

“Laelette! No!” he came to the ash pile, falling to his knees. His hands shook as he reached out to the pile. He watched in horror as they fell through his fingers, scattering in a new breeze that came in from the marsh. “My Laelette… She’s dead… Ye gods! She was a vampire?”

Inigo watched in pity as the man mourned. “You know this woman?”

He turned to the khajiit, anger and grief on his face. “Laelette was my wife. I thought she had left to join the Stormcloaks…” Tears welled in his eyes. “My poor Laelette!”

Gaeolin turned back to the grave while the others tended to Thonnir. He could hear Helgi’s voice echo from the coffin. “You found me! Laelette was trying to find me too, but I’m glad you found me first.” Her voice sounded sad. “Laelette was told to burn mommy and me, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to play with me forever and ever. She kissed me on the neck, and I got so cold that the fire didn’t even hurt. She thought she could take me and keep me, but she can’t… I’m all burned up.” Her voice began to fade. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep for a while now.”

Auroth was trying to calm Thonnir, meeting a bit of resistance from the man. “I saw you! You all killed her!” He looked down to the ashes again. “I hadn’t heard from her since she left. You killed her in cold blood!”

“Would you shut up and listen to us?” Auroth snapped. “She was digging up a grave. That isn’t something people just do. And when we questioned her about it, she attacked us. I for one am not keen on just letting myself be killed.”

“Did you notice anything strange before she left?” Gaeolin asked. “Any odd behavior changes, lack of appetite?”

He paused, thinking back. “She began to spend a lot of time with Alva. Yet just a week before, she despised her.” His eyes began to widen. “In fact, the night she disappeared, she was supposed to meet with her. Alva told me later that she never showed up. I never got to tell her… goodbye.”

Gaeolin inspected the ashes, looking away into the night. “I think they may have met after all. I think Alva turned your wife, and set her on this task. To what end, I cannot say.”

Thonnir looked down, then to the others. “Then that means… Gods! You think Alva is a vampire?”

Inigo wore a grim face. “It is a possibility that we should not ignore.”

“No! You’re wrong. You must be wrong. Laelette may have met her fate out in the marsh.”

“Then we still have a nest of vampires near the town that poses a threat to your safety. But as we do not know the location of the lair, our lead on Alva is the most likely one to bear fruit.” Auroth swung his hammer onto his back, ignoring the look Thonnir sent him. 

“I refuse to believe Alva had anything to do with this. There is no way you can prove it to the Jarl.” He turned from them stomping down the hill with an unjustified rage. Gaeolin shook his head, lowering his hood. 

“It is already getting worse. Alva is either enthralled, or a vampire herself, and has obviously used some borrowed power, or her own seduction to turn the men to aid her.” Gaeolin paced. “Laelette started the fire, burned the home to the ground, but for what? She was ordered by Alva?”

“Alva is the one Hroggar began to live with after the fire.” Auroth mused. “Could it be that it was all just an elaborate plan to get him for her own?”

Inigo allowed his worry to show. “It does not seem likely. Even if it were the case, the fact that she got a vampire to do her bidding is alarming at best.”

Gaeolin started down the hill. “You two wait in the longhouse. I’m going to find something to prove all of this.”

“Where?” Inigo asked. Gaeolin turned, his face serious.

“Where else? Alva’s house.”

Gaeolin walked through the town, his senses alight. He knew he was right. Ever since they had returned, he could feel it. A strange, dark presence nearby. He could smell her, smell the blood on the wind. Clearly, she was not taking as much care as he to hide her condition. The scent led him to a house on the pier to the northeast of the longhouse. The door was locked tight, but he knew it was her home. A few drops of dried blood littered the porch. Fishing a lockpick and probe from inside his shirt, he waited until a guard passed to set to work. 

He felt the pins, marveling at how complex a lock this backwater house wore on its door. He turned the probe, trying to find every facet of the inner workings before trying to pick. After a few minutes, he dared to put the pick into the plug. The first pin was easy, sliding up above the shear line with ease. Moving on to the next, he found it a bit more challenging. Whether it was corroded, or simply designed to be stubborn, it took far more force than he thought necessary to put into place. He would have been sweating, if he were able to. After a few more minutes, he turned the plug, hearing the lock open with audible relief. 

He was met at the door by Hroggar. The man was clearly enthralled, his eyes glazed and his response animalistic. He charged at Gaeolin, stumbling when the elf sidestepped his attack. Gaeolin sunk his knife into his heart, easing him onto the bed before searching the house. He ignored the pang of thirst, vowing not to complicate the situation by getting his own vampirism caught up in this. He saw nothing suspicious, heading to the steps down to the basement. 

There was no denying it now. Her coffin stood on a raised dais, a set of candelabra lighting the room in a way that made him think of some of the necromancer cults he had seen. He crept closer, looking into the vacant casket. A journal lay in the bottom, along with a quill and inkwell. He took it, reading her entries going back a few months. He pocketed the book and made his way upstairs. This was all he needed.

Auroth and Inigo sat patiently by the fire in the longhouse. They stood when he came in. Gaeolin passed them heading to the Jarl on her throne. She looked at him with interest. “So, is Hroggar innocent, or not?”

“Alva set the fire. She’s the murderer.” Gaeolin noticed a look of surprise cross the woman’s face.

“Alva? Huh, I didn’t think she had it in her.”

“Actually, she’s a vampire. She planned to enslave the town, to use you all as cattle for   her master.”

A stern air came over Idgrod. “I assume you have proof? Can’t go making claims like that without some sort of proof.”

“I have her journal.” Gaeolin handed her the notebook, waiting while she scanned the pages.

“So it’s true.” Her aging features twisted into a bitter scowl. “The traitorous bitch! Morthal owes you a debt. Here,” she handed him a bag of coins before going on, “I promised you a reward for solving our mystery. But I need to ask one more favor of you. Morthal is still in danger. The journal mentions Movarth, a master vampire I thought was destroyed a century ago. I will gather some able-bodied warriors to clear out Movarth’s lair. They’ll be waiting outside for you to lead them.” She gestured to the door. “Go with Stendarr’s blessing.” Gaeolin bowed, turning with a billow of his cloak.  

They arrived at the lair, a group of men indeed waiting for them. Thonnir stood at the front, a torch in hand. He met them halfway, his eyes fixed for vengeance. “I want my wife to be avenged…” He looked into the maw of the cave. Bones and blood littered the entrance, his former willpower draining from him. “But I’m just a simple farmer. I would have left Morthal if it were in my power. Maybe then none of this would have happened…”

Gaeolin took his shoulder. “You and the others, go home. My friends and I will deal with this alone.” The men looked relieved, but Thonnir shook himself, looking convinced.

“They may be cowards,” he looked at the others in disdain, “but I am not. I’m coming with you.” 

Gaeolin moved closer, removing his hood and mask. Thonnir gasped, stepping back. The bosmer wore a fearsome expression. “I think it would be better if you waited in town. Nothing in there can do anymore harm to me than has already been done. I won’t risk your life, or any others aside from these two.” He looked to Auroth and Inigo. “The only reason I am letting them follow me, is the fact that they would come in anyway.”

Thonnir considered the group. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not a fighting man.” He looked at his pathetic weapon with a bit of shame. “Go, and avenge my Laelette for me.” With that, he led the townsfolk back to their homes, leaving Gaeolin, Auroth, and Inigo to enter the cave. 

His bow was in his hand, the damp of the cavern made all the more menacing as the smell of rotting flesh and blood wafted from the deep. Gaeolin fought the thirst, using it to fuel his wrath at the situation this vampire had created in town. A family had been destroyed, a child dead… All for a convenient source of blood. Auroth saw his face, whispering to him as they sneaked further down the passages. “You know, I feel like I’ve heard of this vampire. I can’t remember where from, but the name sounds familiar.” He sidestepped a loose rock. “If he is as old as Idgrod says, I think his ashes will be more than enough for our lovely alchemist to use.”

“The thought had not escaped me.” Gaeolin muttered. “First, let’s focus on killing him. He has already managed to reach out from here and affect the town. We can not underestimate him.”

They made their way through the caves, killing several thralls, and one lesser vampire without a sound. Gaeolin led them onto a rickety wooden catwalk. As they went, Auroth cast a subtle spell to extinguish the torches. The walkway led to a large chamber, a long table filling its center. Three people sat there, with a large throne at the head filled by Movarth himself. Gaeolin tried to get into position, just a few more steps.

A board cracked beneath him, sending him rolling down to the floor of the hall. Movarth leapt from his seat, a cloud of bats coming from the roof of the cave to swarm around him. “So, after all these years, the Jarl of Morthal has finally found me out?” Inigo fired two shots, bringing the other vampires to crumble. Auroth cast a spell at Movarth, which the vampire cast aside with a flick of his wrist. “Centuries I have waited for prey, always scavenging. No more…” He smiled as he held a hand out toward the Altmer. Auroth stiffened, some sort of power trying to overtake his senses. “Come, child of Summerset. I haven’t met one of your kind for over a hundred years. I remember the blood of your people being delightfully sweet.”

Gaeolin stood, drawing his shot. He aimed for the heart, but lost his balance at the last second. The arrow hit the vampire in the shoulder and brought him out of his focus. It worked, Auroth shaking himself free of the charming to fight. Gaeolin attacked Movarth, their eyes meeting just as their blades clashed. 

The ancient Imperial smirked. “Ah, a young vampire, challenging me. Do you know who I am, elf?” He took Gaeolin by the throat, his strength like nothing the bosmer would have guessed for someone of his size. “I am Movarth Piquine,” he parried the sword away, standing in an ever deepening darkness, “at one time, the greatest vampire slayer Tamriel had ever seen. I killed many vampires, of many kinds… But at the end of it all, I was lured by my very teacher.” He scowled. “I managed to be written into a book, one which accounts my very turning. Now I am forgotten to all but my few disciples, whom you have now killed.” He vanished, the candles flickering as an unnatural wind tore through the cave. “I will not fall to a child like you.”

It began in a flash. Movarth glided as a mist around the room, his hands casting his vampiric drain to both living fighters. Inigo shot as fast as he could, though the arrows flew straight through Movarth with little effect. Auroth tried to cast his holy magic, but was interrupted by the master’s attacks. Gaeolin threw down his sword, casting himself into the air. He could feel his body change, an aura of rage spreading from him in a red cloud. The magic took hold of Movarth, ripping him back toward the wood elf. He wore a look of surprise, clawing at the ground to try and fight the pull.

“I have fought for years, always running.” Gaeolin’s voice was soft, only the power coursing through the cavern giving away his rage. “I have lost everything time and time again, seen the few friends I’ve ever had die because they tried to help me. I finally had something like a home, finally started a family…” He grabbed Movarth, his hand gripping the ancient beast by the collar. The power around him turned to a strange fire. It was the color of blood, with purple hearts to the flames. As he lifted Movarth higher, the fire grew, a deep orange flaring in it. “I saw my daughter’s fear, how she wanted to run from me. I crossed the country, killed necromancers and pirates, consulted with Daedra, and even tried to barter for my soul from the Princes themselves.” His eyes burned as Movarth began to pant. “Now all that stands between me and my life is you. I WILL kill you…”

He reached his hand out, snatching Dawnbreaker from Inigo’s hand with his mind. The holy light burnt his skin, but he forced himself to hold on. He threw down Movarth, holding the sword out below him as he followed him to the ground. The blade sank into the master vampire’s heart, the golden power starting to burn him away. He screamed, cursing as the glister witch’s weapon cleansed him of his undeath. Gaeolin stepped back, dropping Dawnbreaker as he staggered to fall on the cave floor. Auroth ran to him while Inigo saw Movarth render to dust before him. 

“Arkay’s sake, Gaeolin! Why did you do that?” Auroth caught him, keeping him from hitting his head on the stones. “You shouldn’t have tried such powerful magic.”

Gaeolin stared up at him. “But it’s done… He’s truly dead, and soon I may not be.” He closed his eyes, his body crying out for blood to replace that which he had used to fuel the magic. “So thirsty…” He sagged in an exhaustion he thought could not have plagued him. Auroth searched the Bosmer’s bag for a bottle of blood. Giving up on the mostly gelatinous one he found, he grabbed one of the corpses from the table, dragging it to Gaeolin. He cut the arm of the body, placing the wound on his friend’s lips.

“Drink this. Idiot… You might have made yourself too frail now to do anything for a week…”

Gaeolin drank greedily. He felt the burning in his throat fade a bit, but a strange soreness filled him. His eyes were heavy. He could feel his skin creaking in protest to how dry it was. Looking down at his exposed wrists, he thought for sure his skin was snow. He tried to stand, but needed to lean on Auroth to do so. “Let’s just… Get what we came for. I want to finish this. Inigo, could you grab some of his ashes?”

Inigo eyed the pile, scooping a small portion into an empty purse that lay on the table. “Okay, we have them. Let’s get out of here. It stinks down here.”

As they climbed back out of the cave, they saw little Helgi’s ghost waiting for them by the entrance. She smiled at them as they approached. “Mother is calling me.” She told them. She walked over to give Gaeolin a hug he could not feel. “It’s time for me to sleep now. I’m so tired. Thank you for making her feel better.” She vanished, fading for the last time into Aetherius. Gaeolin smiled. He was sad, but pleased that she would now be at peace.

**************************************

Gaeolin coughed, the smells of cooking herbs invading his nostrils as he woke. He sat up slowly, his muscles stiff and unwilling to move. Bai’lira was at the alchemy station, turning to him when she noticed that he was conscious. “Alkosh, it’s about time you woke. Bai’lira hears that you were a sight to see fighting Movarth.” 

Gaeolin looked around, his head throbbing. “Where is everyone?”

“Auroth and Inigo went to talk to the Innkeeper about supplies for your trip home. You slept for over two days.”

He shook his head. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not really. Lami complained about you sleeping here, but this one did not like the thought of you being elsewhere and possibly growing worse.” She turned back to her workstation, grabbing an empty flask from the cabinet. “You awoke just in time to see our work finished. Here is your cure.” She held out a vial, filled to the stopper with a tan fluid. It flared with a faint gold light when she swirled it around. Gaeolin took it, staring at the potion with disbelief. “Drink. You have waited long enough for this.”

Gaeolin made to take off the stopper, but did not. “Actually, I want to do this somewhere else.” He stood, catching himself on a chair as he lost balance. Bai’lira helped steady him.

“Do not be a fool. Here is as good as anywhere.”

“No,” he said obstinately. “I want to go to the ritual ruins.” He looked at her in a pleading way. “Please… If this doesn’t work, I want to be outside when the sun rises.”

She blinked in surprise. “But you will die…”

He smiled. “If this fails… I would prefer to.”

The pair walked through the dark, Bai’lira supporting the bosmer whenever he felt he was going to fall. They reached the stone circle as a faint light began to fill the sky. Gaeolin held the bottle in hand. Finally, after all this time… It would end. One way, or another. “Ma’isha… “ He turned to Bai’lira. “If this is my last night. Tell her I love her.” The alchemist nodded. He took out the cork, turning the bottle up. He felt a prickling in his throat as it flowed down. He closed his eyes, waiting for the change.

He felt a warmth spread over him. He held his chest, a tension forming there as the elixir worked. He gasped. The first beat of his heart sounded like a drum to him after so long not having one. It was slow, not truly what he would call right. His body tingled as a glow began to emit from him. He suddenly felt as though he were out of breath, inhaling as his lungs cried out for the air of the marsh. He felt his heart begin to beat faster, his face growing warmer as his blood began to pulse through his veins. A smile worked its way onto his face, the sun cresting the horizon, the red shining through his eyelids confirming to him that the day had begun. 

He opened his eyes, the red irises gone. Bright turquoise blazed once more in them. He couldn’t hold it in. He laughed, pulling off his gloves to marvel at his skin. His heart danced in his chest. He was alive. He looked to the sky, falling to a meditative pose. Though he was given new life, he was completely spent. He would rest, buy food from the Inn, taste cheese, and bread… And he would soon return to his home. He was ready to relax there, and hug his little girl properly for the first time in months.

It was over.

Translated Lines:

1. Secunda shine brightly on you, Faendal,
2. I did not expect that from you. If it is true, and that is how you feel, we have a lot to talk about. Your’s truly, Gaeolin
3. My Lord has granted me new life! Feel my wrath!
4. You have come far, child. But do not deny your destiny.