Chapter Fifty Seven

A light breeze swept down from the mountains, the morning light shining on the waving grasses of Whiterun Hold. Gjukar’s Monument rose from the hills to brush the sky. The banner flapped in the wind, the sound waking Gaeolin from his sleep. He crawled out of his tent to stretch. He cried out as his back cracked, the injury from the battle last night sore. The fire had burned low in the night. He walked to Auroth’s tent, calling to him. “Auroth, did you want breakfast?”

He heard a grumble from within. “I don’t eat this early…”

Gaeolin smirked at the late riser, leaving him to wake at his own pace. By the time Auroth left his tent, the Bosmer had already nursed the fire back to a decent size. He was skewering a piece of rabbit leg, positioning it near the flames to roast. Auroth nodded to him as he sat.

“Morning…”

“You’re sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’ll eat later while we walk.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t think there is enough time in the world to sleep off two dragons in one day.”

Gaeolin could hardly argue this. His body was still protesting the fights. “I would say we could rest for today, but we really should get to Solitude quickly.” A nod was the extent of his friend’s reply. The pair packed up their tents, kicking dirt over the fire before turning westward.

The road sloped downward after they passed Rorikstead. Auroth lagged behind a little, still not quite awake. Gaeolin stopped to wait for him. When the wind shifted, he tensed. He could have sworn he had heard something. Bow in hand, he scoured the hill below with sharp eyes. There was a cart on the road with a large chest in it. A body lay ahead of it, likely the poor soul who had been pulling it. Gaeolin crouched down, stepping lightly along the cliff. He didn’t like this… It all seemed like a trap to him. He motioned Auroth to join him near the wall. The Altmer obeyed, his hands prepared with flickering flames. 

The body, as it turned out, was not a simple traveler. He looked as though he had been a bandit. He had no cuts or arrows in his corpse. There were marks where flames and frost had attacked him. Gaeolin looked from one side of the highway to the other. “Mages? Necromancers?”

Auroth closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind. “I don’t sense any nearby. But…” His face wrinkled as he reached further. “Wait, there are magic users down the next hill. Powerful magicians…”

Gaeolin lead the way toward a stone across the road. Try as he might, he could not see the spell casters. He wondered if they were hiding from nothing. Another part of him warned not to ignore Auroth’s senses. “What should we do?” He turned to his friend. The Altmer searched the ground below.

“It’s hard to say for sure. They might be hiding themselves with magic, in which case all the time in the world will not help us. We could wait for them to reveal themselves. Or we could lure them out.”

“How would we do that?”

Auroth ground his teeth in thought. “It will be dangerous. I will stay up here with my spells ready. You would need to go down and trigger their trap. Once they appear, I will confuse them with a barrage of spells.” 

Gaeolin looked down to the slope. It could work… Or it could go sour and be his death. There really wasn’t much choice though. “Very well, we will go with your plan.” He swallowed his fear. “But you had better cast before they kill me.” He slid down the hill, a few pebbles clattering down the rocky slope. HIs cloak trailed behind him as he skidded to a stand. His bow was ready. He made his way to the road proper, taking no more than twelve steps before they appeared. 

At first he did not remember the garb. The robes were tan, covered in a dusting of ash. They wore masks of bonemold. Each had a pauldron on their left shoulder. Four of them stepped out from their hiding places. One stepped forward, speaking in a tone of authority. “You have fought many battles, and slain many men, Gaeolin of Woodhearth. But your life is offensive to the truth. You stand opposed to the true Dragonborn, and you must die.” Gaeolin snatched an arrow from his quiver, drawing it back as the cultist prepared his strike. 

The crackling of flames filled the air as a rain of fireballs made the cultists disperse. Auroth ran down the hill, his arms swirling in flames. Gaeolin crouched down turning in a circle while shooting. His arrows found their marks, but the robes seemed to be more protective than he first anticipated. The cultists showered them in fire and lightning. The leader stood above the battle, sending his spells over the hill. Auroth swung his hammer free, hand outstretched in a ward to block the magic. Gaeolin rolled free of a bolt of energy. He hid behind a stone, quickly pouring a bottle of poison over the tips of his next few arrows. He stood, firing at the throat of the nearest cult member. It struck, piercing the man’s neck. He fell, clutching the wound as the venom took effect. Gaeolin put his bow on his back, drawing his sword. He chased a cultist to the rocks to the east. The magician prepared a spell, but Gaeolin sliced his chest, causing blood to litter the ground between them. The cultist cried out, turning to run for his life. Gaeolin pursued him. After a vain attempt to heal himself, the cultist fell to the steel blade. 

Auroth prepared to light one of the enemies aflame. He did not see another appear behind him until the lightning began to leave his fingers. Gaeolin ran up, striking the new cultist across the face with his bow. He yelped, falling to the ground for Gaeolin to drive his dagger into the man’s chest. Auroth took down the third cultist with a well placed hit of his hammer. As the body crumpled, they turned to the Ascendant. He growled at them, a cloak of flames whirling around his body. 

“For Lord Miraak!” He raised his hands to his chest. He began to levitate, the flames around him being pulled inward. They turned up, forming a column of heat and light the likes of which Gaeolin had never seen. Auroth’s eyes grew wide.

“Gaeolin! Get behind me, now!” The Bosmer obeyed. Auroth planted his hammer in the ground, a ward forming in front of them nearly ten feet in diameter. It formed just in time. The cultist threw his arms wide, a thunderous sound heralding the burst of fire.

Even behind the ward, the heat was enough to make them sweat. Auroth grunted as he forced the shield to stay in place. It flickered as the flames licked and battered it. The inferno lasted for a few more seconds before finally ending. Auroth dropped to his knee, out of breath. Gaeolin took the opportunity, plunging his blade into the leader’s midriff. 

The Ascendant coughed, sliding down the boulder to lie on the ground. He looked to Gaeolin from behind his mask. “You may have won this day… But…” His words grew softer as life ebbed from him. “We are not the only ones… And this is not… the only… way…” If he had more to say, his death prevented it. Gaeolin rummaged in his robes, finding a note.

Ascendant Adhavis,

You and your men are instructed to kill the false Dragonborn,  Gaeolin. He has already slain several of your brothers, and must not be allowed to thwart the master’s plans. He is extremely capable, and should be taken by surprise if possible. Since it is entirely reasonable to think you might fail, Ascendant Fedausi will be sent with a team to pursue our alternative plan.

Arch Cultist Llaaveli

Gaeolin stood, the note inspiring a frown. “Alternative plan?”

Auroth read over his shoulder. “Maybe next time they’ll try to lure you with cream tarts.”

Gaeolin chuckled. “I have to admit, they almost got us this time. I can’t believe they are still trying. I’ve beaten them back three times now.”

Auroth looked at the corpse with interest. “Miraak… Why does that name sound so familiar?”

Gaeolin folded the note, stuffing into his bag. “Lunerio spoke of him in Golden Tongues Rest. I just want to know what he has against me. I’ve never even heard of him.”

Auroth shook his head. “I swear I have before. Not just the bard’s tomb… It’s like something I learned when I was back in the Isles.” He stared for a moment longer. “Come on, we should keep moving.” They walked down the hill, leaving the bodies in the sun for the bone hawks.