Chapter Forty Two

Gaeolin wished they had taken a more dry approach to the fort, thinking it senseless for them to wade through the swamp to get there. Behind him, Bai’lira held a torch above the gentle waters to light their way. Inigo and Auroth brought up the rear of the troop with equal looks of discomfort.

“Why are we allowing ourselves to be so…” Inigo searched for the appropriate word. “Dampened?”

Bai’lira smirked. “You want to maintain the element of surprise, yes? Arriving along the shore will be better for this. They are likely to be watching the roads.”

Auroth cocked an eyebrow. “If you’re so worried about stealth, why do you have a torch lit?” The khajiit paused, looking to her torch as if only just realizing the irony of the situation.

“Such a smart mage. Bai’lira offers her apologies.” She tossed the stick into the water, a slight hissing signaling the flame’s death. Gaeolin wondered for the second time since they had left the village why she had accompanied them.

“You could have stayed home. It will be dangerous in there.”

“This one is aware,” she said, “it sounded like she might be of use to you. Also, one can stand Lami and her cautiousness only so long. The promise of adventure was too much to resist.”

Auroth grinned. “You’ll grow out of that eventually.”

She ignored him. “This one is curious, Gaeolin. How long have you been affected by this curse?” 

Gaeolin had to think about the question. “It’s been about… two months? I can’t really remember. It all seems to run together anymore.”

She pressed further. “You were quite reserved when Falion asked about your symptoms leading up to turning. Were there no warning signs for you?”

“Just weakness, fatigue…” He struggled to remove his boot from a particularly soft patch of clay underfoot. “A few dreams. Nothing that I would have thought anything about.”

“Dreams?” Her ears perked up a bit. “Nightmares, this one presumes.”

“Yes, but does that make a difference?”

Their conversation was stopped by Auroth. “Fascinating though this may be, I would ask that we all stay focused on the task at hand.” He was shivering as they left the icy water. Above, they could see the fort. A tower off the keep held a large fire. It shone like a beacon across the expanse of dead trees and dry grasses. The snow shimmered with the refraction of light off the flakes. Gaeolin drew his bow as he climbed the slope. He plucked the string, freeing it of excess water. Though he could see no one on the walls, he could sense the lives of the necromancers from here.

Despite its age, the fortress walls had no visible areas they could sneak through. Auroth waved them toward the main gate. Inigo drew his sword, preparing for the fight to come. The creaking of bones could be heard as the entrance neared. A figure, clad in black, strode across the barbican. Gaeolin nocked an arrow, sending it whirring through the air at the necromancer. A skeleton chattered its teeth at them, drawing a bow to attack. Bai’lira rushed forward, claws out to scratch at the creature. Inigo slashed with Dawnbreaker, Auroth sending a gout of flames between them with an uncanny level of precision. Gaeolin pressed through the trailing embers past the thrown together barricades. He shot the first necromancer, the arrow going through his throat, the head emerging on the back side of his hood. 

Three more necromancers called out from the lower courtyard, raising skeletons to send to the intruders. Inigo leapt from the terrace, sweeping his blade across their chests. The skeletons burst into blue torches, stumbling back before collapsing to dust. The magicians seemed too cowardly for their own good. They turned to flee, a flurry of ebony and steel arrows on their heels. Auroth threw his hammer, the head cracking the skull of the last necromancer. Gaeolin’s arrows peppered the lead summoner, while Inigo’s brought the last to the ground by piercing his knee.

The fighting stopped, bones rolling down the slope as they searched the necromancers’ robes. After a few minutes, Auroth stood. “A few coins, but no soul gems…”

“This one sees no gems, but these are wondrous ingredients!” Bai’lira held up what looked like a small fish. “This one is confused by necromancers. Not everything is as useful dead. The spadetail is better alive in mixtures.”

Inigo shook his head. “Of course, when we need the demonic soul gems, they don’t have any.”

Gaeolin looked around, seeing a small door into the keep. “We just have to keep looking. They must have one somewhere.”

The interior was much warmer. Moss clung to the stones, a large pelt stretched across the floor, likely to serve as a mat to knock the snow from boots. Spider webs stretched through the door frames as a testament to the lack of domestic care the black magicians gave their dwelling. As Inigo made to close the door, a blast of air slammed it shut. The sound echoed through the halls like an explosion. Gaeolin readied an arrow out of instinct. They heard a woman approaching.

“What was that?” She entered the room with a spell at her fingertips. Gaeolin fired, the shot impaling her heart. A man followed her, seeing the vampire and slashing with his dagger. Gaeolin drew his sword, lobbing off his head in one stroke. Bai’lira nodded in approval. She found a battle axe leaning against the wall. 

“Maybe this one should arm herself. She prefers a crossbow, but this will do.” She rigged a strap out of a torn bit of robes. “I look the part now, yes?”

Gaeolin couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, you look rather intimidating.” He tried to ignore the smell of the blood on his blade, turning to delve into the depths of the fortress. 

Two more necromancers met their end as the group descended the stairs. The bottom held a dead end. To the right was a room with several casks of mead. The left was blocked by a cave in and flooding. In none of the rooms, and on neither of the enemies were there any black soul gems. Gaeolin turned to the group in a defeated manner.

“They don’t have any… This was all for nothing.”

Auroth scowled. “We aren’t even finished going through the fort yet.”

Bai’lira clicked her tongue at him. “One should not be so ready to give up. Bai’lira knows no necromancer who did not have what we seek.”

Inigo was near a set of cupboards, scrounging the food stuffs. “They also have plenty of cheese…”

Gaeolin blinked, no longer surprised by this type of comment. He sheathed his weapon, looking to the others. “If you guys need to rest for a bit before we go back up, go ahead. I’ll be back in a moment.” He left the room, his throat burning with need. He climbed up to the woman he had killed earlier, sinking his teeth into her now cooling neck. He drank deeply, putting the thought that she was dead already out of his mind. He finished in silence, his tongue catching a drop that had strayed from his lips. Bai’lira had come up, watching from the door. 

“You are a strange one.” Her tail twitched in amusement. “”Would not it have been more pleasant to wait to feed on one whose heart was still beating?” 

Gaeolin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t feed for pleasure.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps, but to treat oneself as a scavenger would be unseamly. Though you might not wish to admit it, you are a predator. Bai’lira knows you do not want this, but to act as though you are not what you are can only cause suffering. Soon, you will be free. Until then, do not deny your nature, Gaeolin.”

He considered her words. “I don’t know why it feels so wrong to me.” He looked down at the corpse. “I’ve killed before, wiped camps of bandits from the map. But ever since this happened, I have felt disgusted.”

“Strange indeed. Your people are known for their cannibalistic ways. You act more like an Imperial, or a Breton.”

Gaeolin chuckled. “Probably due to spending so much of my life running from what I am. Ever since my home was destroyed, I’ve lived as a nomad. Bosmeri culture wasn’t something I grew up with. I grew up an urchin in Cyrodiil. I moved from County Anvil, to Cheydinhal, then to Bruma. Maybe I am more like a human in my morals, my ideals.” He smiled. “Oddly, I don’t feel bad about it either. I am who I am,” his face fell, “and I can’t accept that I am a monster.”

She examined him. “You are no monster, friend. Merely a victim of circumstance.” She motioned him to follow. “Come, relax with us. We will cure you soon. Do not doubt our success. Now,” she resumed her scholarly inquisition, “tell Bai’lira of the nightmares you had during your turning.”

After they had enjoyed a respite, The party found themselves climbing a set of stairs that was blocked by a wooden portcullis. Gaeolin looked around for a chain. “Okay… How does this work?”

“The button on the wall.” Auroth pointed to a round, orange glass hemisphere. It was bordered by a square of bronze. “It’s a dwemer design. Kind of out of place here.”

“But also good for surprising any intruders who would not expect it.” Inigo mused. 

The gate rose after the button was pressed. Clinging to the walls, they sidled into the chamber. Bai’lira perked up, rushing to an end table in excitement. “A crossbow!” She whispered. “Come to Bai’lira.”

As soon as she picked it up, strapping the bolt quiver to her belt, a necromancer jumped down from the stairs. He cast a wave of frost toward her. She reacted quickly, sending a bolt to cut his jugular. He fell, his hand coming to the bleeding cut. Gaeolin walked up to him, showing his fangs.

“Listen to me…” He breathed into the man’s face. A glaze came over the magician, a strange influence gripping him as the vampire drew near. “Where do you keep your black soul gems?” His eyes possessed a strange light. Gaeolin’s companions noted that he seemed both charming, and terrifying in equal measure. The necromancer struggled to respond, his throat gurgling as he croaked.

“The… ritual chamber… with the Ascendant…”

Gaeolin waited until he had heard the answer, lunging forward to latch onto his wound. His teeth sank into the flesh as he fed. The necromancer did not fight the assault, slipping into death as his body was drained.  

He let go when finished, letting the body fall back onto the nearby bed. No one said anything as he turned back to them. Inigo looked as though he were petrified by the methods used. Auroth, on the other hand cracked a smile. “Getting a little more comfortable with your gifts?”

Gaeolin shrugged. “Just using the tools at my disposal. I’m tired of trying to find what we need by chance alone.” He led the way up to a room full of shelves. An enchanting table and alchemy lab greeted them, along with a note that lay on a table. A key sat atop the parchment. Gaeolin took the key, sure it would prove useful if the gems were as valuable as Auroth seemed to imply. They went through a door into a short hall. The door at the end turned out to be that lock the key belonged to. As soon as the door swung in, they were met by ice and fire.

The Ascendant cast his spells from behind an altar. He sneered as they rushed in between the waves of energy. Bai’lira shot at him, tossing the ranged weapon down in favor of the axe. Before she could swing, she was struck with a blast of fire. She screeched as she fell to the floor. Her fur did not catch fire, but in the fall, her head struck a broken stone block. All three of the men ran at full speed to defend her.

The necromancer panicked. He backed away, his hands trembling as he sent the last of his magic toward them. Auroth shouted as he raised his hammer. Inigo drew his bow string, while Gaeolin twirled his blade to lunge at the magician. As he closed the gap, Inigo drew his sword with his free hand, joining Gaeolin and Auroth as all three weapons struck him.

He died without a sound. He slid down the wall, forgotten before his eyes grew dark as the men rushed to help Bai’lira.

“Are you okay?” Inigo gripped her shoulder. Auroth cast a restoration spell, the golden light winding around her as her eyes opened.

“This one has a headache…” She squinted against the light. “But she will be fine. Axes are not preferable. Hard to keep balance with.”

Gaeolin rubbed his neck as relief washed over him. “You had me afraid we had lost you.”

Auroth helped her up. “Next time, try not to rush a mage by yourself. It’s not a great call.” He offered her a potion, which she denied. Instead, she pulled a few flowers out of her bag, chewing them instead. 

“Do not waste a potion on something herbs can heal themselves.”

Gaeolin spotted a chest across the room. He opened it, seeing a pile of off black gemstones. Some glowed with a faint light. Gaeolin grabbed one of them, feeling a strange cold as his fingers brushed the crystal. He could sense the soul within. “Auroth… Is this what we need?”

Auroth took the gem, holding his hand over the lacrima. His expression was blank as he nodded. “It will suffice. Come on. We should get back to the village. Falion will need to prepare.” He put the stone in his bag, leading the way out of the fort.

Falion waited near the ruins. He nodded to them as they approached. “Did you find the soul gem?”

Auroth handed it to him. “Will this do?”

The wizard studied the gem. After a moment he nodded. “This will do nicely. Very well. I shall need time to prepare. Meet me back here at dawn.” He turned to Gaeolin. “We will banish the creature you have become.” He made his way to his house, leaving the others to wait out the remaining hours there. Bai’lira wore a look of confusion. 

“This one still struggles to understand. These dreams you speak of, Gaeolin. They do not remind one of Vampirism. It sounds too much like the work of Vaermina to be a curse of Molag Bal.”

“I fail to see what dreams would have to do with any of this.” Auroth yawned.

She did not expand on her thoughts, instead sitting to read a book she had in her bag. Inigo held the torch for her, asking more on her thoughts. Gaeolin knelt by the water’s edge. His eyes stared back at him, their red strangely frightened. He worried as the hours passed. He barely noticed that dawn was near until Falion waded toward him.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

Gaeolin stood, nodding. 

“Very well, stand on the platform.” He waited, raising his hands to the sky. As Gaeolin turned to him, he called out to the air. “I call upon Oblivion Realms, the home of those who are not our ancestors. Answer my plea!” A wind began to whirl around the ruins. The sky lightened as the sun approached the horizon. “As in death there is new life, in Oblivion there is a beginning for that which has ended. I call forth that power! Accept the soul we offer!” He held up the soul gem, a purple light flaring out as a new darkness wrapped around the group. “As the sun ends the night, end the darkness of this soul, return life to the creature you see before you!” Gaeolin felt the power pulling at him. He looked to the sky, willing the curse to leave him. 

But something was wrong. He felt his thirst flare. His eyes grew wide, the sound of the four hearts beating nearby thundering in his ears. He clamped his hands to them, crying out in pain as the magic once again tried to work in him. He screamed as the darkness broke. His vision went red, an aura surrounding his living friends as the most powerful hunger he had ever felt rose in his throat. As the pain lessened he felt the prickle of light on his skin. He looked down at his wrists, the color of his arms still pale in undeath. He brought his head up slowly, eyes sharp in a wrath he had only felt once before. He raise a hand toward Falion, the mage rising into the air, coming to levitate before him as the telekinesis gripped his neck.

“You said it would work…” Gaeolin’s voice was deadly, dark… His eyes burned with a fiery glow. “You promised me it would end.” Auroth looked mortified, Inigo and Bai’lira stood frozen. “You lied…”