Eyja expertly distracted the Orc as Sethyas ate the distance as quickly as he could with his stride.

She's no Assassin. She's a Nightblade! He thought in admiration. Mage-Thieves that mastered in forms of trickery, cleverness and using spell and shadow to benefit their circumstances; and just as deadly.

After the second bolt snapped against the rock and the Orc turned and fired, he closed the remaining distance sprinting. As the world blurred around him and the green-hued sniper became a center of focus, he saw the Orc's look of surprise.

He would not have enough time to reload for a shot. Seth jumped over the log, landing square on the Orc with an audible thud.

His gauntleted fists met with his tusked jaw blow after blow, as the Orc struggled underneath him. The Orc's superior strength catapulted Seth off, but not without the Dunmer grabbing his crossbow from him. Landing on his back, he agilely returned to his feet and threw the weapon off into the clearing.

The Orc pulled out a wicked looking dagger. Twisted and a dark-hue of greenish metal, it was undoubtedly Orc-make as well. The opponent was apparently unfazed with the assault, simply licking the blood from his lips, and giving a tusked grin that said: Come on!

Seth pulled out his own ebony shortsword; Shimsil and stared the Orc down, and began to speak aloud rustling the leaves with his boots.

"Where is Earana?" He said aloud. "Where is the White Khajiit?" he continued, careful to not move his glance to the stealthy Eyja.

Eyja:


Honditar could be heard plunging up the road sounding more like a Nord than the hunter he was. Eyja pulled the dagger Seth had given her and kissed the blade, hoping that would make the ancestor ghost within more inclined to aid in the fight. She poised in position to throw the blade into the Orc's massive neck, but Seth's question stopped her.

The Orc didn't have the Welkynd Stone on him, they had to find out...

With a sudden clarity Eyja realized the Orc had already delivered the Welkynd Stone to Earana. Earana was conniving and intelligent; the Orc wasn't smart enough to set up this trap and lay in wait for them. Earana had sent him back to buy her time.

Still in chameleon, Eyja dropped off the path's edge and onto the hillside below, skidding down the incline to the ledge where Seth was pounding the Orc. She breathed in relief that Seth had already gotten rid of the crossbow.

Though he couldn't see her, there was a mockery about the Orc, like he knew she was there and her mission was fruitless. There was no doubt in Eyja's mind now that Earana had the Welkynd Stone in her possession.

Eyja put the full force of her arm into one swing with the blade trying to sever the tendon on the back of the Orc's foot and barely nicked the tough hide, but she saw the mist move from the blade to the Orc's wound. The inherent poison in the blade had begun working. She gripped the blade with every bit of strength she had and stabbed into the tendon and barely made a deeper wound than the first, but the slight give of that leg let her know the thick tendon was injured.

"Damn his hide!" She cursed over and over again while Seth grappled with him, and kept stabbing that tendon over and over again, but never felt the blade sink into the thick sinew.

She remembered Maxical's trick with killing Orc, stabbing the only place their skin wasn't tough. She tried it, plunging the dagger into his crotch and twisting the blade. It cut readily through the leather pants and seemed to pass through soft tissue, then almost bounced back out against her hand when she tried to twist the blade.

"Damn him!" Eyja forgot she was in chameleon and shook her head at Seth, feeling stupid immediately when she realized he couldn't see her.

As soon as she had a clear shot at the Orc without catching Seth in her swing accidently; she plunged the dagger with full force into the Orc's eye, squirting the slimy liquid onto her hand and down his face.

The roar from the Orc sent shivers down her spine and she backed away feeling the panic of an enemy she couldn't cut to kill.

"Tell us where she is or I'll take the other one out!" She almost growled it, but even Eyja could hear the fear in her own voice negating the threat.

"I'm not strong enough, Seth. I can't get the blade in him anywhere unless you want me to get his other eye. Earana's already got the Welkynd Stone, could be killing Maxical while we're busy with him. She planned it that way to keep us from stopping her, I'd bet on it."



*

Sethyas heard her words, and the truth in them.

He brought Shimsil's point down hard into the Beast's throat. Severing windpipe, artery, and finally spinal cord. It was his favored strike point, quickly incapacitating opponents with a minimum of effort, while also incapacitating their ability to move or feel as well as make any sounds.

The Orc's hide was indeed tough, as tough as armor. But Ebony had been called 'crystallized blood of the gods' for a reason. It was one of the toughest known substances known to man and mer, and cut through with a bit more ease than the silver-steel alloy of Eyja's dagger.

She was far more astute to the situation than he, being up close and personal. Given his minimal dress and the trap that had been set...she was right.

The Orc was here for speed and ambush.

He pulled out his blade with a bit of effort.

"Than let's not waste any more time." he nodded, rising back to his feet.

"Uhhh. Hmmm. I'll need to ride with one of you until we can track down my horse." he said, wiping the Orc's blood off his blade, and resheathing it.

Abiene

Seth closed with the orc. Abiene could hear Eyja with him, though she couldn’t see any trace of the Nord. Their words chilled her to the bone.

The orc knows where we should go. And they are going to kill him.

She broke from the trees at a run, pulling a Charm spell to her mind even as she braced herself for the healing trance that would join her with the orc, giving her influence over him beyond her skill in trickery.

Too late. Abiene stumbled to a halt as Sethyas yanked his blade out of the orc.

“I'll need to ride with one of you until we can track down my horse,” he said.

Abiene kept her eyes on the ground. Her stomach churned with anger and disappointment.

She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Kip can carry us. If you like, you can ride with me.”

Eyja:

Eyja dispelled her chameleon and nodded. "Take my horse, I can ride behind you or Honditar."

Honditar and Abiene arrived the same way Seth had, coming from the east; probably because the climb was too steep to the west. Honditar held the crossbow and horse's reins in one hand and was pointing up above them on the hillside with the other.

Eyja noted the crossbow in his hands and yanked the quiver full of bolts off the dead Orc, handing it to Seth just as Abiene ran up, winded from the climb. She looked upset, angry for some reason. Was it over what Honditar was trying to signal them?

"What is he saying?"

She had asked Abiene, but before either Abiene or Seth could answer there was a loud CRACK and lightning zig-zagged across the sky, touching down and locking on a high ledge above and to the northwest of them that was surrounded by stone pillars. For just a second Eyja was sure she saw something black fly backwards.

The scream that formed in her throat was suffocated by lack of air in her lungs as she ran blindly towards Honditar.


*

The suddenness of the situation didn't faze Seth. Not from some fictional claim to machoness out of a Casta Scribonia novel, rather from decades of exposure to them.

It was with that he realized: That is Cloud Top. The Orc was guarding the site.

He shook his head and unslug his bow. He whistled too Honditar and slung the bolt quiver towards him, he didn't know if he was as familiar with the device as he was, but the principles were similar enough.

His bow was a bit more handy. The Bow of Shadows was suspected to be a Daedric Artifact. A Longbow crafted by Nocturnal herself, the legends said. If the enchantment were used, it would make the user invisible and fleet of foot. Given the limited charges and slow; or expensive, regeneration of the inherent enchantment, he saved it for the most dire of occasions.

Every instinct was telling him this situation had become just that.

He glanced at the figure that had been blown back by the lightning. The mass of black cloth hid the figure leaning over onto their side, its back to them. The white tail that lay limply gave a clue as to their identity.

Maxical. He thought. Damn. We may be too late. He pondered the scenario with lightning speed.

Maxical needs a healer, and our healer will need protection. Honditar can cover our approach. Eyja and I can take her out with...

His thought process taking less than the blink of an eye was cut out by another black-robed figure slowly approaching and gauging the scene with golden eyes.

Earana. He thought.

Eyja had warned him: That she was a Battlemage of no small measure.

Battlemages.

Kynareth curse it all!

I HATE Battlemages!

Abiene

Abiene had turned to whistle for Kip when a massive bolt of lightning cracked across the sky. She found herself cringing on her knees, arms raised instinctively to protect her head.

She looked up to find Sethyas with bow in hand and Eyja running toward Honditar. Above a small figure was visible on its side, white tail vivid against its black clothing. Maxical.

Abiene gathered herself for the sprint, spells running through her mind. First fortify your own magicka and skills. Then the healing.

A tall woman in black robes came into view, claiming her attention. Mother Mara, could she have cast that lightning? Abiene’s breath stopped, and her muscles froze. She crouched in the grass like a rabbit startled at night by a light spell.

*

Eyja:

The offer of her horse to Seth was forgotten in her fear. Eyja grabbed a lock of Sapphire’s mane and swung herself into the saddle, barely waiting while Honditar lifted the reins back over the horses head before digging her heels into the mare’s side in a headlong gallop up the hill.

She was forced to slow down as it wound to the west along the narrow ridge of the mountain’s peak. She saw the stone pillars well before reaching them, knew Earana had to hear her and know someone other than the Orc was nearing. Eyja didn’t know if Earana would come out fighting or wait till the fight came to her; but knew she’d better dismount before reaching the pillars just in case.

Following Seth’s lead earlier, she cast chameleon and slid off Sapphire, smacking her rump so the horse would distract Earana at least till she could find Maxical...or cover.

Sapphire followed the trail around a bend and up toward the pillars, Eyja shot to the opposite side and entered the pillars from behind Earana.

Maxical could only be the crumpled heap of black cloth on the ground outside the farthest pillar. Her tail lay limp and still. Eyja choked back the scream that rose in her throat and tried to sneak silently around to where Maxical lay.

Earana turned from the rider-less horse to looking directly at Eyja. “You're a bold little thing, aren't you?”

She should have known better than trying to sneak past a Battlemage. Earana must use some form of Detect Life enchantment.

“I don’t want trouble, Earana. I’m not here to fight, just here for my friend. She is like a sister to me, I’m only here to see she is all right. Please, can I check her? She looks so...still.” Eyja moved closer to Maxical as she spoke. “I’ve brought a healer with me, will you allow her to heal Maxical?”

Earana stepped between her and Maxical. “You can do what you please with her once she has returned my belongings.”

“Are you talking about that robe?”

“The robe, but more importantly she has borrowed a book and a spell of mine. Once they are in my possession I will leave and you may take her to any healer you wish.”




***



Earana had plenty of time to get those things from Maxical and be gone before Eyja arrived, why hadn’t she just taken them?

Earana stepped to the side and Eyja hurried forward. She could see a charred and smoking book clutched in Maxical’s hands, but as she neared Maxical she heard a loud humming sound. Eyja kneeled down beside Maxical and reached one hand out for the book.

When her fingers neared Maxical something crackled in the air between them. Eyja drew her hand back quickly.

“Where is the Welkynd Stone?”

Earana‘s voice sounded surprised. “You know about the Welkynd?“ She hesitated. “It’s gone. You’ll need to get another stone to touch her.”

That explained why Earana hadn’t gotten her spell and book and run. She couldn’t get them from Maxical. Would the healer be able to heal her like this?

Eyja cast dispel over Maxical, but the spell hovered in a circle feet away from her body.

“Don’t you think I would have tried that?” Earana's voice dripped sarcasm.

Eyja dug through her spells till she found a scroll to protect against shock and cast it on herself, then reached out to grab the book. A force more powerful than she’d ever felt knocked her in a backward arc and left her laying stunned at Earana’s feet.

Out of her peripheral vision she saw Seth entering the pillars and Earana stepping toward him. She tried to call Seth and warn him not to fight, but had no wind in her lungs to make a sound.

And then, with a huge feeling of relief she saw Maxical’s tail move. She was alive, that’s all that mattered now. Eyja’s head sank back onto the dirt as she fought to breath, to keep from blacking out.


*

Honditar:

Honditar shouldered the crossbow and waited to mount, unsure if Abiene would let Seth ride with her on her horse. After seeing how quickly Seth was able to dispose of the Orc he wasn't taking any chances on the man being left behind, they would need him going up against Earana if it came to that.

Seth was as smooth as Eyja leaping up behind Abiene, before Honditar could urge his horse forward they were already in a full gallop passed him and blocking the way on the narrow trail. Instead of following them his horse took exception to being passed up, balking suddenly and bucking Honditar off.

Honditar caught the rein quickly before the horse bolted, not bothering to dust his britches off before trying to mount the sidling beast again. Then suddenly he saw what was giving his horse a fright and felt the chill of it go through his own bones. The dead Orc was glowing with purple light.

As Honditar watched the massive Orc began rising up, the huge gash in his neck still dripping rivulets of blood. His eyes had an eerie glassiness that nearly gelled Honditars blood in his own veins. He was dead, Honditar was sure of that...now he was walking. Walking dead.

Honditar couldn't get the frantic horse to stand still long enough to mount him, the horse was dragging him in circles by the rein Honditar still held; and every time Honditar tried to leap up the horse had circled him again, snorting and neighing its terror.

The Orc was walking toward him, getting closer. Honditar didn't know whether to run or keep trying to mount the horse, and stood still staring at the Orc in his indecision.

"Well, ain't you the high-tom-titty? You want something, I guess, or you wouldn't be messing up my air." An odd gurgling seemed to be echoing out of the huge gash in in the Orc's neck when he spoke, and the glassy eyes honed in on Honditar.

"Nothing, just...have a nice day..." With as powerful a leap as his shaking limbs could muster, Honditar made a grab at the horse's mane and heaved, holding on for dear might as the horse took off up the mountain.

Honditar never made the saddle, was sprawled across the horse's back at an angle and still clinging to the clump of mane. The heavy crossbow kept slapping down on the horse's flank, driving him faster up the hill.

Where the trail deadended in the pillared enclosure the horse ground to a halt and Honditar was jerked loose, tumbling over the horse's head and landing on the ground between Seth and Earana.

"She's raised the Orc from the dead, he's coming..." He warned Seth, then pulled himself up and tossed him the crossbow and quiver full of bolts. "You better take this, don't know how it's loaded."

He saw Eyja stretched out and turned back to Earana. "What have you done to Eyja?"


*

Abiene

Kip charged up the hill like he was going to war. Abiene shortened the reins and lifted her weight, trusting that Sethyas would still be on the horse at the top of the mountain. She sank back into the saddle to slow him as they reached the pillars. Kip responded like a dream. Abiene turned him to give Seth a quick view of the mountaintop from Kip’s height, hoping they wouldn’t get shot or scorched while they were moving. She breathed thanks to Jerric for leaving Kip behind, wherever he had gone this time. For steady nerves it was hard to beat a battlemage’s horse.

She slid to the ground with Kip’s bulk between them and Earana. Eyja lay at the Altmer’s feet. Abiene smacked Kip’s rump to move him out of the way. Then she slipped behind Sethyas and to the side, uncertain.

Abiene’s fingers barley flicked as she cast the spells she used before a long healing session. Her internal magicka well swelled and her body began refilling it at an increased rate. She drew a resist shock spell into both hands, one for herself and one to cast upon another. Her Breton blood gave her a native resistance to all cast magicks including shock spells, but her Nord, Dunmer, and Altmer companions did not have that advantage.

She glanced at Maxical’s still form, scanning the ground for obstacles should she need to bolt in that direction.

Her tail twitched. She lives.

Sethyas held onto the back of Honditar's horse, and imbibed one of his custom potions. An elixir of such potency that only a Master Alchemist could make.

He disembarked at the top of the trail, and took in the conflict.


She's down. He thought, glancing over Eyja. Her eyes were pleading something, as though she were scared for her life.

No. For Maxical's...or mine. He knew the difference between the look self-preservation and compassion. He'd stared into dying eyes until the light faded away more times than he cared to count.

He took the crossbow from Honditar, and had it cocked, locked and loaded in three moves. Adding the Walking Dead Orc to his equation of the battlefield.

He glanced over at Earana, who took in the scene with the arrogant eyes that only a Battlemage would have.

"I've been around a long time, Earana. A *lot* longer than you. So I know how this goes, you will fail here. Save the derisive laughs for after. I'll make a magnanimous offer this once. Return Maxical as she was before you abducted her, and you walk away with your life, same as you are now." He grated out in a low tone.

"Now; the next step is you reject that offer completely assured in your power. A trait common to mages. We tussle, you fail, and I take my time with your demise. After I ensure Maxical is okay; of course." he continued circling around her, as she smiled more and more to his dialogue.

"You've heard it said: 'I've killed far worse than you'. Now meet the one who has. Many times."

"You look me in my eyes, and you tell me if I'm lying." Something about his tone was beyond a threat and more powerful than a simple command. Earana looked up, and her golden eyes peeked behind the black hood and met his crimson ones.

In them, she saw Death.

Eyes that didn't blink in the face of a hundred murders, that didn't waiver in the face of a thousand demises, that never shed a single tear for any of them.

"Well, as you say. You know how this goes." She sneered, and cast a lightning bolt upon the decaying pillars of Cloud Top.

The magical site claimed the energy, and sent it soaring into the heavens. The magicka raced across the skies in less than the blink of an eye, returning too the pillars with the electricity of the gods. It rained down upon the pillars with a terrible flash.

Sethyas had stepped into the middle of it, quite intentionally, guessing it's purpose with the limited interaction, and with Earana's rising sadistic smile.

The lighting writhed around him, passing through him in jagged white-hot arms to the white marble. He merely stood there, unfazed.

"What?! Impossible!" Earana shrieked.

"First mistake." he said, firing the heavy artillery of the crossbow to the Orc just now coming up the path. The bolt landing in chest, knocking him down to the ground.

The potion was in fact a 'resist shock' effect elixir. It provided near-immunity very temporarily, even Sethyas' show was largely self-control as he felt the energy buzzing through every facet of his being. His bones, his hair, everything was alive and crackling with the sensation of pure power and pain.

Just enough to distract Earana for the next step.

Earana:


The powerful Dunmer was more than a surprise; he was a danger. Who was he? Where did he come from? Earana changed her tactics immediately to trying to negotiate. The numbers were against her till the Orc got here. She wasn't going to battle her way out against all these except by last resort. If she could live to tell about it then. She eyed the Dunmer with the strange tattoo again. Who was he?

"I brought no harm to this Nord, or the Khajiit either. She was caught in a bolt of lightning; they both were."

Maxical stirred and moaned. "Earana...Earana help...stomach hurts."

"There, you see? Would she call me to help her if I'd brought harm to her?" Earana took a step back from the Dunmer with the odd tattoo, glancing in Maxical's direction.

"Come along, dearest child. Tell your friends here what good care Earana has given you."

Maxical's body made a few jerky motions, but she never raised up.

"Come, Maxical. Your friends want to see you are well, they think I've harmed you." The words were belied by the commanding note in her voice.

"Can't move...stomach hurts...need more cream. Please, Earana; I need the cream."

Earana turned to the two men facing her. "There, you see? Cream! A rare treat, and I have freely given it at her demands. I have some in my pack there, give her a bowl of it and you will see. I have spoiled the child if anything."

Honditar reeled on her. "Drugged cream, you've given her; I found your lab in the sewers below Chorrol. You've made a thrall of her with your potions."

Earana bent down quickly and snatched the book from Eyja; raising up with it held in front of her like a talisman.

"Get back! You have no idea the power you are facing or what it will do to you if I unleash it. Look at your friends on the ground, both warriors reduced to limp rags by its mighty charge. I'm not fighting all of you, just let me get my spell and robe and you can take your friend home."

She looked from the Dunmer to Honditar as if throwing down a challenge rather than trying to bargain with them.

Behind her she heard Eyja stirring and stepped to the side in time to see Eyja's head shake no at the Dunmer with the tattoo.

Eyja's voice echoed off the pillars around them in a rasping choke. "She's bluffing. The book holds no power without the spell, Maxical still has it." Eyja was trying to roll over and rise.

Maxical was struggling to move too, too much movement to keep an eye on everyone. Earana took a step back and tried to raise her hand to cast Maxical to stillness when a strong hand gripped her wrist like a vice, squeezing the magicka back down her arm it was so tight.

"Oh no you don't." Eyja breathed into her ear.

"Unhand me, I was just going to help the dear child!"

Maxical was calling to her again, trying to crawl toward her. "I need the cream, Earana. Give me the cream, please!"

Earana's glance around froze and riveted on the tattooed Dunmer's eyes; there was a coldness in them that saw death and didn't care. As if he spoke the words she knew he could and would snap her in two without a second thought.

Behind the Dunmer a movement caught her eye, and relief washed over her as her late boyfriend finally made it to the edge of the stone pillars. Earana took advantage of Eyja's shock and jerked her wrist from Eyja's grasp.

"Now, if it's a fight you want; it's a fight you'll get."

She leaped easily to the low stone wall and conjured a Daedra into the midst of them. With her other hand she cast toward Eyja with a command spell but it blew past her. She aimed the next at Maxical and it struck cleanly in her midsection.

Maxical tried to move but couldn't. "Hey, hey! What are you doing to Earana? Leave her alone!"


*

Honditar:

Honditar glanced at Sethyas and jerked his head toward Maxical when she called for the cream. When Sethyas nodded, Honditar ducked behind him and slid the bottle of cream from Sethyas's pack. He was about to give it to Maxical when he saw the command spell hit and Maxical beginning to defend Earana. Perfect timing.

He yanked the cork from the bottle of cream and teased a bit of it on Maxical's lips before laying one of his own bowls down and pouring a small portion into the bowl.

That would dispell the command Earana had on her; and the addiction to Skooma would be more powerful a draw than protecting Earana. It would keep Maxical out of the fight, at least till she realized there was no Skooma in the cream.

Honditar felt an inner groan at the sight of the dead Orc nearing the pillared structure. How much harder would it be to kill an Orc that was already dead?


*

"Lies." he laughed, reloading the crossbow.

"The last refuge of the weak and surrounded." he fired with an expert eye to the Orc's knee. The powerful punch of the bolt piercing the tough Orc hide, shattering the patella behind it.

No small feat given the density of Orc bones. Their corpses being primary targets for Necromancer's largely for this reason.

"As you know, Orc corpses are among the most sought after for the durability of their skin and the strength of their bones." The macabre line from 'Corpse Preparation' flashed through his mind. She was not the first Necromancy practitioner, nor was this the first walking corpse he'd dealt with.

"You could have walked away and lived. Upon my honor and upon the graveyards and urns I've made with these black hands, you would not have joined them, Earana." He said reloading once more, the effect of the lightning blast now starting to catch up to him.

He saw the 'ghost snakes' of the blood rushing through the retinas, and it became painful to move. The Orc got up, and started to limp on one leg, soon joined by Earana's summoning.

The Dremora looked over the spectacle with hate-filled red and yellow eyes, and black skin with reddish tones.

His expression was one of malevolent ecstasy. The War Spirit summoned could enact his daedric purpose.

Suddenly his eyes fell on the Dunmer, and they opened wide in recognition. His black lips spread open in a yelled curse, spitting saliva as his voice reverberated like a rusty saw through their very souls.

"YOU!!" it accused Sethyas.

Sethyas actually blinked, and replied: "Have we met?"

"Shara! Morrowind! You stole my Kataaannnaaa!!" He raged. "It was presented as an honor gift by my Valkynaz! Since it's loss I've served as a lowly Caitiff! You. Will. DIE!" the Dremora swore as he pulled out a Daedric Battle-Axe, twisted and darker than the void, like a soul in pain was desperate to crawl out from it's unholy substance.

Shara? Morrowind? Wait,...the Necromancer's Abode,...the Morag Tong Writ...THIS is the same Dremora? I took the Daedric Katana from his banished corpse...oh, Gods. Sethyas thought.

Abiene

Honditar crouched over Maxical, tending her in some way Abiene couldn’t fathom. Surely he knew Maxical was under Command by Earana. He hadn’t called for her help. Abiene had to trust that it wasn’t needed.

A shuddering groan yanked Abiene’s attention back to the orc. Earana must have raised him from death.

The air inside the circle ripped open with the sound of a Daedric summoning. Earana stood triumphant on the low wall.

Icy fear clenched her belly and prickled the palms of her hands. Death was her enemy, and she faced it down daily across the broken and ailing bodies of tailed folk, mer, and men. Now it howled around her on all sides. Her own end must be near.

She snapped her fists closed in defiance.

Her stars had given her the Blessed Word at her birth, a power she hadn’t used since she cheated on her Intro to Conjuration final. Now she called it forth in a blaze of righteous light and pushed it out toward the undead orc.

It didn’t Turn him, but he paused.

Abiene moved toward him, brushing the moisture out of her eyes. Her Breton’s Dragonskin settled over her without her conscious attention, providing the protection of metal plate armor.

Restoration gave her the keys to a body’s energies, for good or ill. Now Abiene drew her darkest knowledge to the front of her mind, this time unflinching.

Sethyas shot the orc, and it staggered to the side. An unholy voice split the air, shrieking through Abiene's very bones. The Dremora. Sethyas spoke to it.

Abiene approached the orc, completely misjudging his reach. He backhanded her across the side of the head. “Weak and worthless!” he growled.

She hit the ground and rolled back toward him. One hand brushed his leg. She grabbed and clawed upward while he kicked, drawing out his energy as she rode him to the ground.

Eyja:


"Oh crap!" Eyja heard the Dremora's gravely words with a sinking feeling. All they needed now was a summon with a grudge. She caught Earana's smug smile and wondered if she'd known before summoning it. Had she? What did it matter now, the Dremora had Seth's attention and the Orc as advancing at a limp.

Eyja flipped out her dagger, still sticky from the Orc's eyeball goo. She slunk in a circle around the focused Dremora as if going after the Orc, but at the last moment grabbed Earana's casting arm in a viselike grip and slung her around till Earana's back was pressed against Eyja's stomach; her arms bound tightly to her side in the steel grip of Eyja's arms.

"Call off the Orc, or I'll use you as a shield. You know how dumb he is, he'll kill you trying to get to me, now CALL HIM OFF!"

Maxical yowled from the edge of grass surrounding the pillars. "STOP! LEAVE EARANA ALONE!"


*

The Dremora covered the ground between them, his massive weapon cleaving the air, which Sethyas' bobbed and weaved around. Slowly directing his direction and arcs.

"Two hundred and fifty years, and you still can't hit spit. Pathetic, no wonder I banished you so easily." He mocked, and the red eyes saw only red.

Careful to mind Abiene's position, and placing himself between the Orc and the Dremora, he gave him a mocking look.

"I'll give you one for free." He smirked, as the embodiment of red rage brought the axe up high over his head for a downward swing.

"NOW ABIENE! MOVE!" He yelled as the swing came down.

The full ferocity of daedric axe and dremoran strength came raging down on the Orc. Cleanly cleaving in two from crown to just above the mid-section.

The head's two sections folded back from the neck wound priorly placed there by the Ash-born Assassin. The internal organs displayed in a grotesque cross-section. The flat of the Axe was caught in the ribcage and spinal cords. Despite the sheer power of the swing the Dremora couldn't release the axe and gave an unearthly howl as he placed his right foot onto the Orc's midsection, and comically tried to release the weapon.

The sound of a liquid hitting a surface and the clicking of a weapon was secondary to the Dremora's focus. Until he felt the pressure against his temple. His eyes looked over to his left, and his focus shifted to the Dunmer holding the crossbow to his head. He guessed easily enough that the splash he heard was poison, as the acrid smell hurt even his nostrils that were used too the winds of The Deadlands.

The last thing that went through his mind; besides the poisoned bolt, was that he would return someday for revenge.

Sethyas reloaded the crossbow after the Dremora was banished, and assessed the impressive damage it had done to the Orc. As far as he could determine, even if it still had undeath, it couldn't do much in that state.

Eyja:


Eyja saw she couldn't use the Orc as a threat anymore and charged a silence spell down her fingertips into Earana before releasing her with one hand and giving a strong jerk with the other. Earana was forced to spin around and face her just long enough to receive the full contact of Eyja's fist in an uppercut whose speed was enhanced by magic.

"Maxical taught me that move." She said, showing the bleary eyed Earana that her knuckles were covered in a fitting made of brass slid over her fingers.

Her silence spell was not as powerful as Earana's, or Earana had some form of shield protecting her from it. The next thing Eyja knew Earana had blasted her with a powerful jolt of burning liquid that left her fingers in a hot ball of fire.

Eyja staggered away, healing herself as she ran to get near Maxical; knowing Earana wouldn't risk Maxical being killed till she had that spell.

Eyja drew her dagger out and dipped it in poison, only to hear Maxical scream beside her.

"STOP IT! Don't make me have to hurt you, Eyja! Leave Earana alone!"

Earana grinned and stepped forward. "Yes, Eyja. Maxical is my friend now, she wouldn't want to have to kill you; but we both know she will if you push her to."

Eyja lunged toward Earana. Maxical dove forward and grabbed Eyja's leg, tripping her. Eyja tumbled forward with force, the poison dagger piercing Earana's left shoulder deeply as she fell on top of Earana. Eyja held her down with the weight of her body on top of her; still pushing with force against the dagger in her shoulder while she whispered in her ear.

"Oh, she will help you in every way, Earana. What you don't know is that all Maxical's strength in battle is one on one. In melee her clumsiness is always her allies' downfall. Every destruction spell she casts will strike you and yours, and her destruction capability is much higher than yours. We are safe as long as she is against us."

Earana writhed in pain, moaning. Eyja stradled her to get better control and bore down heavy with the blade, twisting it. Earana arched beneath her with little mewling sounds.

"Hey! Is she hurting you, Earana?" Maxical called. Eyja heard her struggling across the dirt, moving toward them.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE, MAXICAL! WE'RE MATING!" Eyja called. She twisted the blade and whispered into Earana's ear. "Say it, or the knife goes in your throat."

Earana moaned, but no words accompanied it.

"EW!" Maxical didn't come any closer.

Eyja didn't hear her move away either. Drat what was taking so long for Earana's drugs to wear off? She leaned down again to Earana's ear and whispered,

"See, I know her and you don't. I can use her weaknesses to my benefit, and to your detriment. You only have a blade in your shoulder so far. Let's see what else she can do to you." Eyja pulled out the blade and leaped up fast, moving back close to Maxical again.

Earana began casting healing, good; Eyja thought. Wearing her magicka out on healing herself, she might not have what she needed for her high powered destructions spells, or commanding Maxical either.

She tried to reach Maxical through the mind control, giving every expression Maxical may connect with in her memories. Maxical's only response was staring at her with a wary expression.


*

Abiene

Abiene crab-crawled backward out from under the orc. His stolen energy sang through her body, chasing out the ringing in her ears and bringing her vision back into focus. She stared up at Sethyas in shock through the empty air once occupied by the raging Dremora. The Dunmer reloaded his crossbow while he regarded the orc wreckage with almost clinical interest. No wonder I rarely heal injuries from crossbow bolts.

Shouting came from the women struggling on the ground and Maxical beyond them. Abiene stayed low and started toward Maxical, but Eyja leaped up and away from Earana, hissing threats. Abiene couldn’t begin to guess her intentions.

Why is Maxical still under Command?

Abiene couldn’t risk getting in the way of Seth’s shot, and she would likely miss Earana with her own feeble Destruction spells. But even from a distance she could try to help Maxical.

No doubt Earana’s power was far greater than her own. Abiene’s Command spell might only further weaken Earnana’s, but that support combined with Maxical’s own will could be enough to break the spell. Besides, Honditar must have done something in their favor. Abiene reached out her hand, sending all of her love and belief in Maxical toward the Khajiit in a green swirl of magicka. Illusion spells were rooted in lies, but this one held only truth. Maxical, fight!

Honditar:

Maxical had dumped the bowl of cream he had poured her, seeking the Skooma it didn't contain. Honditar was afraid that would happen. While Eyja had Earana distracted he tried again, pouring another bowl of the cream halved with dispel potion. This time he slipped a vial of Skooma he'd taken from Earana's lab, dribbling the tiniest bit into the cream in the bowl. It was the only way to get the potion into her.

"Earana said to give you her cream since you didn't like mine." He whispered low, luring Maxical out of the war zone inside the pillared area.

Maxical followed, her eyes glassy at the thought of Earana's cream. She didn't throw the bowl over this time, but showed obvious signs of being frustrated by the small amount of Skooma in it as she lapped it up. Earana must have had her on a high dose to get her this badly addicted so quickly.

He waved at Abiene, trying to get her attention to the Khajiit; but turned back around when Eyja got off Earana. He readied himself to fight again, hoping the Khajiit would not defend Earama this time.



*

Sethyas pulled out a thin, long needle and walked close to Honditar. He pressed the flat of it into his palm behind the Altmer's back, obscured from Maxical's vision.

He whispered very softly. "This is a paralysis poison. Nothing else. No negative effects. I am not saying you should use it, but I'd rather you would have it and not need it, than otherwise. I leave it to you and Abiene. Eyja needs me." He finished.

He walked briskly as Earana writhed in the pain that Eyja expertly put her in.

"Thing with Command spells. They end when the caster dies. I know the College of Illusion quite well, Earana." Seth said while approaching them.

He put the crossbow two inches from Earana's forehead.

"What happens next, I leave to you Eyja. I said my skills and my blades are at your service. I am your Black Hand."

*



Eyja:


Eyja had never been so impressed as she was by Seth's words. Any other time, other situation she would have given her nod to him. But Maxical was still under Earana's control, and the last thing she wanted to do was make Seth an enemy of Maxical's.

She lay her hand gently on Seth's taut arm holding the crossbow and shook her head, but held the hand there as a signal not to raise the crossbow; so to Maxical it would look like he was continuing to threaten Earana; whispering to him to follow her lead.

"Let Maxical do it, or she'll hold you as an enemy beyond the wearing off of Earana's control. Once she fires a spell, get as close to her back as possible. It is the safest place to be, she never gets hit with her own spells."




Maxical:


The pleasure she sought from the thick cream burned too small a trail down her throat. The familiar explosion of euphoria never came, instead she was left shaking in the need for more and the edge was barely taken off the pain radiating in her stomach.

Through the fog of desperation came Earana's voice, commanding her to help; begging her to save her in a scream that temporarily shattered through the need for that cream.

Maxical looked up and saw a Dunmer man, so much like Gils...no, his face was covered by an odd tattoo that frightened her. What was he doing to Earana? She needs me. Earana needs me to stop him.

Maxical cast at the Dunmer automatically, not checking to see which spell was loaded. Earana's robe disappeared, and in the fog in her mind it suddenly struck her the Dunmer man was trying to rape Earana.

"Hey, that's Eyja's girlfriend! Leave her alone!"

She checked her spells again and loaded a shock spell she hadn't seen before. "What's this?"

Eyja grabbed the Dunmer man's arm and whispered something; pulling him close to Maxical. She signaled the man Honditar and Abiene; and suddenly everyone converged close to where Maxical lay on the ground.

Her wavering vision saw the Dunmer's face coming near her and she cast at him. The bolt zigzagged by his head with a hissing sound and slammed into a pillar before ricocheting off and striking a tree well outside the pillared site of Cloud Top.

The tree made a loud crack and toppled. Eyja was grabbing people and pushing them; the Dunmer and the others were suddenly gathering so close behind her that she could feel them touching her butt.

"Hey! Get your hands off my tail! Who touched my butt?"

Earana was rising in the middle of the pillared area when the lightning bolt ricocheted off two more trees on opposite sides and well outside of the Ayleid site. The others were tugging Maxical's struggling body out of the pillared area and onto the ground outside it when the lightning arced back around and shot in a straight line directly into the main pillar; exploding in a firworks of several sizzling bolts.

Earana was caught by several of the bolts, and hung suspended as if on a string in the air; making jerky convulsive movements with a shocked look on her face...literally.

"Earana, NOOOOO!" Maxical cried when Earana's body was released and tossed in an arc to the ground. She jerked free of the hands holding her and crawled over to the woman, cradling her head with her arms.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Earana. What have I done?" She looked around at the others, barely recognizing faces until her eyes caught onto Eyja and that healer Abiene from that inn she had stopped at.

"Help her! You've got to help her, please? She is my friend..."

Inside her something felt like it released. She looked back at Earana's limp head laying at an awkward angle in her arms.

"It was an accident, I didn't mean to kill her. She was my friend...wasn't she? I think she was my friend...I can't remember."

Eyja came forward and lifted Maxical away from Earana, taking her into her arms. "Come on, Maxical. I know you didn't mean to hurt your friend. She would have wanted to go by that spell if she could have chosen it."

Eyja indicated the others, who seemed to be moving about with strange wariness. "Maxical, you need healing now; these people have come to help you."

Maxical's eyes landed on that Altmer man Honditar, the one who had given her the cream. "I need more cream. Please, my stomach is hurting for more."



*

Eyja:

Eyja watched Maxical follow Honditar and get on her hands and knees to lap from the bowl. Maxical would never knowingly drink that way, the woman must have made her do it after she was strongly addicted, some humiliation to the Khajiit she detested.

While Maxical's attention was diverted Eyja scooped up the book Earana had dropped, sliding it into her own pack.

She turned to Seth with a feeling of helplessness. "She is badly addicted to that Skooma, is there a potion you can make to cure that?


*

Honditar:


Honditar dribbled a small amount of the Skooma into the cream again, not sure if he was helping the situation or hurting it. He hated feeding the girl's addiction, but wasn't able to withstand the pain she was enduring by not having it either. Matters like these were best left with those who knew, maybe getting her to Chorrol before tackling her addiction problem would be wisest. At least he could sop the guilt he was feeling with that excuse.

When he heard Eyja's question to Sethyas he decided it may be best to come clean with what he had done. He left the Khajiit lapping the cream and approached Sethyas with the vial of Skooma and the rest of the cream mixed with Dispel.

"Eyja, will you see to the girl? She is insisting Earana get a decent burial up here, said this place meant a lot to Earana."

When Eyja walked over to where Maxical was, he handed the vial and cream to Sethyas. "I hate to admit it, but I've put a few drops in the last two bowls of cream she's had. She was hurting, and tossed the first bowl with none of the Skooma in it. It was the only way to get the Dispel into her. Don't want to keep doing it though; unless you think we should; just to be able to bring her quietly back to Chorrol."


*

Abiene

Abiene scrambled to keep up. Finally the lightning stopped. Earana was dead, and they had survived. She turned to look for Maxical.

Her eyes passed over the Altmer’s body, the bare limbs in an awkward tangle. Abiene remembered the woman’s haughty tone as she spoke to the guards in Great Oak Place, her proud bearing, and the care she always took with her silk and velvet clothing. Abiene’s heightened energy left all at once. She lunged for the nearest pillar, stomach heaving.

When she straightened, Eyja had returned to Maxical.

Abiene’s own words to Honditar returned to her mind. At the least I’d like to be there to help when you find Maxical. We know she will need healing.

Skooma addiction could be complicated by Maxical’s magical disorder, and any condition would be compounded by shock burns and illness. Her spells could ease the suffering in Maxical’s body, but a Master Alchemist’s potion would be the best way to cleanse the poison from her blood. Perhaps a potion like the one she carried tucked into her blouse.

Abiene stood with her hands full of light, reluctant to reach out and upset Maxical further.

Honditar spoke to Sethyas. Abiene looked to Eyja for direction.

*

Eyja:

Eyja waved Abiene over to Maxical. "She's sleeping now, but keeps tossing and crying as if she's in pain. She said her stomach hurts, but I think that is the need for Skooma...it could be from that electric shock though. Her forehead feels like she is burning up with fever; but that could be from the shock too."

Eyja turned to face Abiene, showing her own hand and arm that had been burned. "I got this just touching Maxical when I first got up here, that's why Earana couldn't get that book from her. Spells hovered over her like the electricity formed a shield or something. When I touched Maxical all that electricity went into me, and it was well after Maxical had been hit. I had cast a strong shock shield on myself, and it was still the most powerful shock I've ever felt; blew me about eight feet back."

Eyja pulled the front of the black robe open to show Abiene the burns on Maxical's stomach where the electrical jolt had hit her. "Look at this, she was hit full force." She lowered her voice then. "With her complete weakness to magic, no telling what internal damage she has from that. Do you think you can you help her?"



*

Sethyas lowered his head in a slow, single nod. He understood her instructions, and followed her lead. He almost chuckled at Maxical's reaction to Eyja's 'girlfriend' being threatened by him. Eyja set her stage for Earana's demise, and they closed in on the Khajiit Caster. She really could not aim in this state, he thought as Eyja used his frightening countenance to continue her plan.

"Hey! Who touched my butt?!" Maxical cried, disoriented. From where I am standing that would be physically impossible. He thought wryly.

Finally, Eyja's sense for a poetic death was granted to Earana. The spell she had worked so hard to grasp and master was now her downfall. Too often he had seen the struggle for this illusory, temporary sense of control ruin so many individuals. She was worse than Maxical in her addiction to skooma; regardless of how it was brought about, Earana had given herself over completely to her lust for power. Then, to use and manipulate others into becoming her stepping stones, that was tying her own noose. So long as there was loyalty in the world, between friends such as they the machinations of those such as Earana would face this opposition. Gods be praised if they succeeded.

And with that, just as he had said, when the caster dies so too did their spell. Maxical slowly started to come around, regaining whatever sense of self she had prior. The aftermath still had her addicition left over, and the wounds that enacted the price of learning the power of the new spell.

Abiene left her last meal behind her. One could say it was her poisoning. Yet, somehow he knew that all this death was too much for her. Events such as these were more commonplace to he and Eyja. Even Honditar seemed a little off-put. Abiene and he were opposites. Two sides of the same coin. Whereas death was her foe, it was his profession. Yet, they both worked around the same foundations. Anatomy, chemistry, intimate knowledge of herbs and their effects, and how to deal with people in a certain way. What sprang forth from these identical qualities, was worlds apart. Yet, he'd met Healers that were the epitome of heartless, and knew Assassins that were the very definition of compassion. It was whether you let your profession define you, not that you needed a particular disposition to excel in either.


Honditar's inquiry for a potion that could cure skooma addiciton almost brought a smile to his face. He evidently had never heard of the writings "Confessions of a Dunmer Skooma Eater." There was no 'cure' as in magic. Rather it was a long hard road out of hell. A choice the individual must make to leave it behind, or not

. He once delivered this book to an ex-lover of his guildmate Ahnassi, in the Theives Guild. His inquiries with Jo'Basha; the book dealer and abolitionist in Vivec had him commenting that everyone knew there was no cure, and Khajiit especially would know this. Then, he handed him the book and said that, perhaps Khajitt know some things that aren't true after all.

"I can make a potion that can separate the drug from her system, definitiely." Seth started and was starting to complement his statement, but held his tongue. It would be best if she beleived that the potion would cure her. The mind, after all was a powerful thing.

*

Eyja:

Eyja watched Abiene’s expert hands working on Maxical. She seemed to really know what she was doing when it came to healing; and thought outside the box so to speak.

She turned around and glanced back at Honditar talking with Seth. He’d had a guilty look on his face when he sent Eyja to help Maxical. She saw the jug of cream in his hand and the smaller than average vial. It didn’t take much to put the two together.

Eyja’s initial anger at Honditar for it was overridden by putting herself in his boots. She may have done the same, till she could get help for Maxical. Honditar’s heart was always a soft one, he did what he felt best. And he confessed to the right person if he was bringing his guilt before Seth as she assumed he was doing. Seth would know the right path to take, she was sure of that.

She was also sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that Maxical’s secrets were safe with Seth. She had felt he needed an explanation for why she‘d pulled him in to have a destruction spell of that magnitude cast nearly into his face. It wasn’t mere chance the spell didn’t hit him, nor the Skooma fog that would not have been predictable.

What she’d told him in the quietest whisper, she was sure he’d understand. More importantly, she was sure the secret was safe with him.

“I didn’t have time to explain before, but I‘m sure you saw the odd trajectory in the path of Maxical‘s destruction magic. I’ve watched her in combat enough to know you would be safe from being hit. The safest place to stand when she casts is nearest her back, that's why I pulled you in that way. She has a magic conduction disorder, a condition that has her magic flipped somehow. Her healing power is non-existent, and her destruction always targets her allies rather than her enemies. I knew you’d be safe, or wouldn’t have pulled you in that way...knew Earana would end up the target no matter how many ricochets the spell took.”

She paused and gave her boyish grin. “As you also saw, she is as dumb as an Orc on Fredas when it comes to sex. It doesn’t matter what you are doing, tell her you are engaged and she’ll leave embarrassed. It overrides everything, even the powerful command spell Earana had on her. When you know an ally’s weaknesses, you can use them to your advantage in combat in the same way you would your enemy‘s weaknesses. I’ve learned Maxical’s well. You see what she is capable of, and now you also see her limitations. I hope you will protect them as I have, she has many enemies that would use them against her if they knew.”



Eyja’s eyes lingered on Seth for another minute before she turned back to watch Abiene working on Maxical. He did inspire confidence in one. She had felt safe and protected with him here, something she’d never known before. Maxical was small and delicate, she looked as vulnerable as she was.

Eyja glanced down at her sturdy Nord frame in comparison. She didn’t look vulnerable, had never felt that she could or would be. But Seth had acted as if she was, stepping up that way. She had no doubt he saved all their lives from that Orc twice today. He was a powerful force in battle, dynamic.

Eyja brushed the hair gently from Maxical’s forehead and was shocked to see the vein in the center raised high against the skin.

“Abiene, what is causing this? Is her blood pressure too high?”


*

Sethyas brow furled at her descriptions. It was something out of a tale a demented squirrel would perhaps tell, perhaps Sheogorath's pet bent on world domination through creating a cult or somesuch. But, he held no ill will for her pressing concern.

He shook his head gently. "Fear not. Many secrets do I know, and none have I told. This shall be another. Plus...frankly...I don't think anyone would believe me. I see now that she needs you, and...you need her." he chuckled slightly.

His eyes returned her look.

Setsuna... He realized. That is who you remind me of. These last two days have been such a whirlwind of intrigue and conflict...yet even in the direst storm, you hold onto that innocence. Blood stains your hands. Not your soul.

With that, a twinge right behind his sternum opened up a floodgate of emotion. He'd ignored it and built walls between it and himself. Something in that made him remember.

When he'd taken the life of the adventurer, he'd done so to protect not only himself, but Setsuna. He cared more for her safety than his own. That moment he discovered the trait, it wasn't something that was there all along, nor was it a scar from years of abuse and hate.

It was his creation.

He'd hardened his heart so she would not have too. We bear the burden, that others may not. This trait in himself that he reviled so much, was in fact an act of love, he realized.

But years of separation from his head and his heart made it register as the faintest of squinting.

Suddenly she noticed the throbbing vein in Maxical's forehead.

Hypertension. Shock Damage.

Abiene knelt at Maxical’s side, recovering. Curing the disease had proven complicated, as it had taken hold throughout Maxical’s body. Skooma damage and shock burns brought several organs close to failure. Throughout the process Maxical’s emotional distress had battered the barriers she set up between them.

In the end she had given in. Opened herself to Maxical’s need and grief and offered in return the comfort of her own defenses.

Now Maxical slept peacefully, her mind quiet and the worst of the damage repaired. Abiene drew back until she gently broke the contact between them. As always after a difficult healing she felt terribly alone. Bereft.

This will pass.

Abiene tipped her head back to feel the sun, eyes still closed. She held on to Maxical’s hand.

Seth’s words drifted in her empty mind.

“What happens next, I leave to you Eyja... I am your Black Hand.”

To offer death on another’s judgment… a childish part of her suggested that she should feel afraid. But lives had been restored by the same hands acting on Eyja’s behalf. Hers and now Maxical’s. “Two hundred and fifty years…” Long enough to fill an ocean with pain. She touched the shape of the potion vial inside her shirt and looked over at him.

As before his face looked distant yet connected. Composed behind his tattoo’s black mask. And in his eyes, recognition.

Then Abiene had another thought. We’ll need to find the horses.

Eyja spoke. Her voice held an edge of panic. “Abiene, what is causing this? Is her blood pressure too high?”

Abiene saw the source of her concern. “It looks that way. Eyja, my magicka is spent. I had to take some of Maxical’s to finish the healing. I thought it would be a bad idea to restore it with her mental state and wild casting. She’s in so much pain, and I don’t mean physical. It could be the addiction or something else entirely, you would know much better than me.” She gave herself a shake to stop her babbling. “Her organs are damaged. Beyond healing. She needs a restoration.”

*

Eyja:

Eyja gripped Abiene's arm more tightly than she meant to; leaning close so her words wouldn't be overheard by Honditar.

"I don't know how it works; is the magicka stored in one big pot inside us, or...like in separate wells for each discipline? Because I know she has no magicka for healing in reserve, but her destruction is off the charts; you saw that spell she was able to cast! Can you imagine the magicka usage it must have cost? Have you tapped into it as well? Can it be converted to use for healing...or have you already used it all?"

Eyja felt stupid, out of her element when it came to these matters. She felt helpless in the face of what was happening with Maxical, and that feeling was as foreign and alien to her as...as how Seth made her feel protected and vulnerable. Seth.

"Seth may know some alchemical way beyond the average knowledge, something to help her. Will you ask him? I want to sit with Maxical."

Eyja released her arm, embarrassed; brushing it off. "Sorry, my nerves are stretched to their limits."


*

Sethyas overheard the emotional outpouring. He shook his head as he focused on his mental alchemist formulary.

"Technically, we don't 'have' magicka. We tap into the inherent magicka from Aetherius." Seth muttered going through his pack.

"Magicka is Creatia. Energy. All things in the Aurbis, Aetherius, and Oblivion are inherently the same thing." he said pulling out a few herbs and his mortar and pestle, adding them together into the ebon bowl, and crushing them together with the smooth handle, pausing to add some liquor.

He put the cork back on, only to look back at it and then pop it back off and took a deep swig and handed it off to Honditar. The Altmer followed suit.

Seth lit a hackle-lo, exhaling a thick plume of smoke and threw his lit twig into the pestle. It created a flash which produced a small cloud of pleasant smelling odor.

"All things are a compound, that can be broken down and combined into new forms. Much as the Aedra crafted this world, we lesser et'Ada can do the same." he said mixing the final batch, and passing the hackle-lo to Honditar. The golden-hued hunter also took a large toke.

"Okay, this concoction won't 'restore' her, but it should stabilize her long enough to either get her out of here and get to more proper surroundings for adequate care." Sethyas explained.

"Honditar, you're the expert for these surroundings and the forest. Please track down the horses if you can. Abiene, please assist me in administering this too Maxical. Your hands are far gentler than mine. Eyja, please hold this liquor and hackle-lo." Sethyas instructed gently.

"And as long as your holding them, perhaps you should finish them, the rest of us will be busy with other things and they'll spoil otherwise." He said softly, if soft were possible for a Dunmer's rasp.

Abiene watched and listened, all the while stroking Maxical’s hand. She was tempted to smack Eyja, risking a beating to spark the woman’s anger and clear her head. Seth provided a wiser solution when he handed off the liquor and hackle-lo.

“Whistle for Kip,” Abiene called to Honditar. “I doubt he’ll be far.” Jerric’s horse was strong and steady, but he tended toward indolence. Even the mountain exploding wouldn’t get him to run for long.

Seth’s quiet command calmed all of them and pulled them together as a unit. Abiene found her confidence returning along with a trickle of magicka. Her hands knew her work. She lifted Maxical’s head into her lap, gently positioning her so she wouldn’t choke on the potion.

Don’t forget your own treatment, she reminded herself. You’ve been poisoned and someone still wants you dead. Maybe. Returning to Chorrol meant descending into danger. Then Abiene remembered the two bodies nearby and almost laughed. I suppose events have changed my perspective.

*


Cloud Top:


http://up1.joystick.ru/i/0/5e7bbc2.jpg



Eyja:

Eyja downed a good-sized gulp of the liquor, glad for the strength it gave her. She held the hackle-lo awkwardly, not sure how to use it. The smoking end wafted a scent that reminded her of Seth. She tentatively put it in her mouth, then took it back out. Was he sucking on it? She tried again, this time sucking on the end in her mouth.

“HUACK! HUACK! KA KA KA!” Eyja doubled over, pointing at her back. Someone whacked it hard for her, but through her tearing bleary eyes she didn’t see who had done it.

She stubbed out the hackle-lo and took another gulp of the liquor, letting the warm liquid trickle down and sooth her throat after the hackle-lo.

Eyja pulled off her dirty cuirass and tossed it against the nearest pillar, tugging the undershirt below it loose from her skin. She lay down beside Maxical, gently petting the hair back from her face.

It had been a long time since Maxical had been this ill, years. Everything with her seemed to come around full circle, this was one she’d hoped never to see again.






*





Maxical:


The large soft mound cushioning her head felt like it moved. Maxical’s eyes opened to a distorted blur of pink.

“Am I in the dreamsleeve?” She reached up and touched the pink mounds. “No…just Eyja’s breasts.” She pushed feebly against them. “Get them out of my face, they’re taking all my air.”

“I smell Gils...I think I saw him, but...” She turned her head and saw it again, the blurred vision of gleaming black hair, so near it felt like she could touch it. But the face wasn’t Gils, unless...was that a tattoo one got after dying?

Maxical tried to sit up, but her stomach felt torn in two. The Dunmer helped someone lay her gently down. While he was leaned over her something about the tattoo struck a chord of memory. She gently traced the outline of the tattoo with one finger and it came back to her, the poem of Mephala from the Blasphemes. She whispered it aloud, looking into the Dunmer’s eyes.

“Mephala the Webspinner thrives; on murder, sex, and lies. Threading needles with the hair of wives; weaving plots from the Aedra with mortals' lives. You‘re Black Hand...for me?”

Her hand dropped down and caught his wrist. “Please, sit by me first with your brandy and hackle-lo. I just want to smell it one more time. My husband smelled the same.”

The condition she was in, if he was here to take her out she couldn’t fight it; just hoped he’d grant her that last wish; to smell the brandy and smoke filling her nostrils...so familiar. So long since she’d smelled the two together.

She closed her eyes, but clung to that wrist with what strength she could muster, breathing as deeply as her lungs would take in the aroma of brandy on his breath; of the faint aroma of hackle-lo that clung to the cloth in his armor.

Before the weakness took her over she pulled his hand to her, rubbing the back of his hand against her cheek to feel the tears there.

“Thank you.” She let go of his hand, unable to find the strength to hold it anymore.

Inside her stomach burned like an inferno raged, and worse than that was the incessant throbbing need for that cream, her whole body ached in need of it. Where was that man that had given it to her...



*

Sethyas could almost laugh at Eyja's reaction to the hackle-lo. It reminded him of his first attempt to try it in the cornerclub. The harshness of the smoke didn't compare to the Cyrod's tobacco, but it definitely had an edge that could catch the unwary off guard. The effects it used in alchemy, such as a restorative and even water-breathing weren't so strong as to make one a champion swimmer when used in that manner. However the 'paralysis' effect did join the restorative effect in a slight adjoiner. It seemed to 'force' the body and mind to slow down, ever so slightly, being one of the reasons he enjoyed it's use, other than the fact he could swear the plant was good luck. It helped to restore the equanimity of mind he needed to move through these phases of life.

He worked with Abiene whose concentration seemed to return, as she deftly attended to her patient. Maxical's pain must have been nigh unbearable, which was part of the concoction he'd made. Her lapsing in and out of consciousness came with odd perspective and half-remembrances even as Eyja joined her down by her side.

The root of the word 'compassion' was literally 'to suffer with'.

Maxical recited a line from the Acceptable Blasphemies, in tracing his tattoo. Rather astute considering her state. Then something about his particular scent when she clamped down on his wrist with her hand. Her husband smelled the same she said. Odd combination for anyone outside of Morrowind.

Had she been married to a Dunmer?

His black hand met her tears.

He glanced over at Eyja. Her face was something beyond simple concern. Perhaps this was why healers were expected to recuse themselves from patients they knew too well.

Maxical seemed to find the pain a bit more bearable. The excitement of the battle always seemed to make the world afterwards more colorful and vibrant. Each sensation weaving the fabric of experience.

Now was time for recovery; and while Maxical was certainly in a bad state, he had not forgotten that there were two victims here as he glanced up at Abiene. Though Maxical was certainly the worse for wear between the two of them.

So much intrigue and cruelty in one spot. He thought dolefully.

Honditar returned with the sounds of clopping hooves. He'd managed to find the horses, and now they'd need to get Maxical into a healer's abode or somesuch.

"Abiene, you're a healer of no small skill. What amenities do you have in this regard? A guild, a shop?" He inquired.

Abiene

Eyja cradled Maxical against her as Maxical returned to consciousness. Maxical whispered to Sethyas about her husband. Abiene looked away, Eyja’s heartache as hard to witness as Maxical’s pain.

If addiction could simply be cured there would be no remorseful addicts. A person’s mind could be their own enemy. Folk felt pain from phantom limbs though their sleeves had long been empty. Such conditions were out of Abiene’s reach, locked away behind the will of the afflicted. Maxical’s suffering felt like Abiene’s failure. There is so much to learn.

A black shape on the ground caught Abiene’s eye. Earana’s robe? How or why the Altmer managed to remove it was a mystery Abiene was willing to leave unsolved. She could wrap the body in the robe and drag it to the orc even without a strengthening spell. The high elf had towered over Abiene, but there hadn’t been much meat on her.

Not like the orc. She hoped he lay on ground suitable for burial. It would be a huge effort to move him. His name was Gaturn gro-Gonk, she remembered. Just last night she had cured him of fever.

It took a priest to fully invoke Arkay’s Blessing over the bodies, but as a layman Abiene knew some of the rituals that would protect them under Arkay’s Law. Enough so the bodies couldn’t be raised again, at least by a simple spell.

Before she could begin Honditar returned with the horses. Abiene breathed out that worry, grateful for the smallest relief.

“Abiene, you're a healer of no small skill,” said Sethyas. “What amenities do you have in this regard? A guild, a shop?”

Abiene felt her cheeks flush. She could fit her belongings in a small trunk, and her allies counted mostly among the poor and disaffected. The wealthy and powerful didn’t get that way by offering help to Khajiit addicts. Abiene’s influence only extended as far as favors for herself. She lacked the clout that would bring others to the aid of her friends.

“I’m afraid I have only a small sleeping cell at the Chapel of Stendarr. I’m a student at the healing hall there, in shaky standing it seems. I’m a member of the Mages Guild, but the Chorrol chapter head won’t allow non-members into the private chambers. I’d attempt a lie to get Maxical in but there was an incident yesterday. She’s known to them.”

Abiene glanced at Honditar. His house lay outside the city walls, but it was not hers to offer.

“I’ve rented a guest cottage in the park from Seed-Neeus. It’s more of a...” Lovers’ getaway “…one-room apartment than a cottage, but there’s a big bed and bath. Other than that there are the inns. I’m welcome at the beggars’ camp, but that’s no place to recover from addiction.” Too easy to get more skooma.

“I have an account with Seed-Neeus, and if the cottage is in use I have no problem encouraging the occupants to check out early. Peacefully, of course. And I’ll gladly swipe every ingredient we’d need from the guild and chapel shelves.”

*

Maxical:

It felt odd, waking up; wasn't she supposed to be dead? Instead she felt soft arms around her and something even softer...

"For the gods sake, Eyja! Get your breasts off me, do you want me to suffocate? Dear gods, are you crying?"

Eyja sat up quickly, brushing her cheeks off before taking Maxical's hand. "I'm not crying, just...got choked trying to smoke hackle-lo."

"Hackle-lo! No, it wasn't you..." Her eyes fell on the Dunmer. He hadn't killed her. She turned back to Eyja and tried to whisper.

"I think I wet my pants, Eyja."

Maxical tried to sit up and couldn't. Something about a Welkynd Stone exploding at her stomach when lightning hit it. Lightning. Earana.

"I want Earana buried proper, and a prayer said. I think she was my friend...can't remember. She was going to bring me to meet Casta..." She broke off, feeling the soft arm touching her again; but with some kind of healing.

"Is that Abiene? Abiene, are you here? My stomach hurts real bad...real bad."



*

*

Honditar:

Honditar stepped over to the group around Maxical. "My cabin is available for use. It's only one room, but I've extra bedrolls. If you think an inn would be better, I'll stand the cost to put her and Eyja up in a decent room; not the Gray Mare."




*

Sethyas was merely considering his options. Abiene was selfless to a fault, of that he was certain. She was also resourceless to a fault as well, unfortunately. He needed to keep the two of them within his care and protection until the matter was resolved.

He sorted through his pack and pulled out three different potions, handing them off to Honditar.

"We'll put them up in the Wobbly Goblet. These potions are rare and expensive,...but otherwise useless. See if you can pawn them off with the Mages Guild, or any apothecary would likely shell out high coin for them." He instructed.

They were just things he had made while playing around with new ingredients and the like. They were mostly 'fortify fatigue' effects, but had a variety of other non complementing effects. Apparently the Mages Guild and alchemists liked to use the highly refined potions for a base in their own studies and potions. He'd actually shown surprise when one alchemist had appraised one for well over two hundred drakes. She'd explained it too him when he was speechless, even one with a 'weakness to common disease' effect was still valuable in a mix that used a restorative with a quality that worked in the same way as a disease that a normal immune system greatly weakened the effects of. Usually used for autoimmune disorders, potions of that quality were evidently in great demand.

Maxical woke up again, becoming comically cranky. Then she held his countenance in her surprised gaze.

"I think I wet my pants, Eyja." She whispered burying herself into her friends bosom that had previously been a source of ire.

Eyja gave Sethyas a bemused look as he raised an eyebrow.

"It's all right. I'm used to it. I wasn't given this visage to inspire happy thoughts in others." he slightly joked. His muscles began to feel like they contracting on their own accord. The massive lightning attack, and the subsiding adrenaline were beginning to take their toll on him.

"Let's load up and get our charges to a safer location." He said aloud.

"I'll stay behind and take care of the bodies." He said, pulling out an Amulet of Arkay. "Don't worry Abiene, I'll not make a hypocrite of Earana." He could pass on a simple blessing, though he was no priest.

In his more macabre view, he saw that the death he granted was eternal rest. Best to see to it staying as such.

*

Maxical:

Maxical tried to catch the eye of the Dunmer. "Will your prayer keep her body from being...raised up? I...there are a lot of necromancers in this area, I don't want her used that way."

Another thought struck her. He'd said something about getting a room at an inn. Her eyes fell on the Altmer he was talking to, and she felt a terrible hungering inside for that cream. He had given her the cream, the kind Earana gave her. She waved her hand at the Altmer man, trying to get him to come closer.

"Oh, er...Honditar is it? If the cost is the same for a room with two beds, can you bespeak it? When I'm ill Eyja hugs all over me like she squeezed me out her loins herself while I'm trying to sleep."

She tried to catch his hand and pull him closer, but he hung back with an odd look as if he knew what was coming. Maxical felt frustrated, knowing if she whispered her voice would carry. Khajiit notoriously can't whisper quietly. She didn't even know why she didn't want the others to hear, but for some reason she didn't.

"Er...I'm thirsty, do you have anymore of that cream? I..." She broke off, the Altmer was already shaking his head. He pointed at the Dunmer.

"I gave it into his care."

Her eyes slid over to the tattooed Dunmer that smelled so much like Gils. By the look in his eyes, she was pretty sure he'd overheard.

There was a decisive strength in the denial in his eyes. Why? Did he not know Khajiit liked cream? She'd said nothing, but one eyebrow raised as if he'd heard her ask from the desperation inside her. It remained arced, as if prompting her to answer her own question. He knew. But was withholding this cream. Why?

For the first time it struck her, she'd never felt this way over cream before. She wanted it whenever she could get it, but this terrible need for it; this was...dear gods, had Earana put drugs in it? The Dunmer still held her eye, waiting for her to answer a question she'd never asked.

"My parents only gave cream as a rare treat. I always desired it, but there's something different now; isn't there? A desperate aching need for it inside me. Did Earana put drugs in the cream?"

His head gave a barely discernable nod.

"What drug? What would cause this terrible aching need?"

She had a sickening feeling she knew the answer. She had spent enough time at Castle Bravil, seen Gellius Terentius in the throws of desperation. Skooma. Earana had been dousing her cream with Skooma, but why? Why would she do that? She was her friend, wasn't she? Was she?

Maxical lay back against Abiene, tugging her arm. "Is it Skooma? You have to take this from me. Please? And keep me rallied so I have the will to fight it."



*

Sethyas considered her state. He didn't want too say anything one way or the other. Eyja knew her much better than he, and wanted to defer to her judgment. He also wanted to use her Willpower to her advantage. If he told her that there was no cure, she might believe that and follow through with it to the bitter end. If he told her that the potion that would remove it from her system would also cure her, she might believe that too and follow through in a similar fashion.

He didn't know how much Abiene or Eyja knew, but wanted to keep them in the dark for much the same reason. Lies of Omission, or even just lies, were okay by him if they served some higher purpose. Eyja might agree, but might find withholding it too painful. Abiene slept in the Stendarr Chapel, he assumed lying would be crossed out in her book.

But, a little pain, a little suffering would be necessary to trick the mind as well. Give it something to compare the simple monotony of simply not being addicted, too. He didn't relish the thought of pain or suffering, but even he knew there were varying levels of it. Compared to a shorter lifetime with rotting teeth falling out and patches of fur falling prey to a Khajiit form of mange...this was no more than a stubbed toe.

Then J'Dhannar curses you, and J'Dhannar curses this faithless mate. Ahnassi calls ME a coward and a fool... There IS no cure for the skooma addict! All the world knows this! No one knows J'Dhannar's shame better than J'Dhannar!...What can J'Dhannar do? Nothing. But beg and starve and cry and die....

The image of a might-as-well-be-dead J'Dhannar and his hopeless, slitted eyes and all those symptoms he thought of still haunted him to this day, nearly two centuries later. The change he made in a fortnight of study with the book and the choice to walk away from it all always reminded him of the potent; nearly divine power of choice.

J'Dhannar is sorry for what he says. You... return to Ahnassi and tell her, J'Dhannar is sorry, and J'Dhannar forgives her, and J'Dhannar will always have Ahnassi in his heart, but our bond is broken now, for better or worse, and we must each find our own way from this cold time and hard place....

"I can treat this. Be assured. It will take some time however. Leave with her now, and I will tend to the bodies. No necromancer will ever use these bodies for their dark art." Sethyas spoke, and turned to tend to the tasks.

Abiene

Maxical lay back against Abiene, tugging her arm. “Is it Skooma? You have to take this from me. Please? And keep me rallied so I have the will to fight it.”

Abiene started to answer but then stilled her tongue. She feared doing the wrong thing while trying to help would only substitute one dependence for another. Her eyes went to Sethyas for guidance.

The Dunmer stood in thought for a moment. His face betrayed nothing.

Then he spoke. “I can treat this. Be assured. It will take some time however. Leave with her now, and I will tend to the bodies. No necromancer will ever use these bodies for their dark art.”

Abiene curled over to kiss Maxical on the forehead. Then she carefully stood. “I’ll get Earnana’s things,” she said, putting her words to action. “There may be something we can use.” She slung the packs to the ground beside Eyja and then went to Kip. A rummage through the saddlebags produced an old half-empty waterskin. Oh please, let it be magicka potion. She raised it to her mouth and took a quick swallow, wincing in anticipation.

Magicka surged through her in a warm rush while she gagged on the rancid mushroom bits. Jerric’s potions were simple but potent, if you could get them down. Abiene coughed again and spit out some flax seed hulls.

She spoke under Kip’s neck as she moved over him, checking for injury. “Eyja, may I heal your burns? What about you, Honditar? Are you injured?” She knew Seth must have suffered some damage in the fight, but he was surely supplied with potions. Besides, her earlier offer still stood. She doubted he was one to forget, nor to hold back if the situation required it.

Back to the Wobbly Goblet, she thought. I may never drink their tea again, but Dibella knows I could use a bath.

*

Honditar:

Honditar felt the relief of being able to pass that burden of denial onto Sethyas. He knew the desperate appeal in those eyes would be too much to bear; he'd end giving the girl the drugs and be no better than Earana.

He turned to Sethyas with the gratitude in his eyes.

"The girls can't travel these woods unescorted. I can help with the burial now; return straightaway, or send someone from the inn to help. It'll take more than one to get that Orc covered up.”

He glanced over the three horses he'd been able to re-catch. Abiene's big calm horse, the skittish stud and mare from the Wobbly.

“We’re short one horse. I'd say that one you were riding headed back to the stable, his trail led in that direction. Take that black stud I rode, he’s good to go. The girl there will need to be carried; she'll not be able to sit up for the ride down with that wound on her stomach. I can get mounted, if you’ll bring her to me and hand her up.”

He turned back to Abiene and Eyja.

“I'll need your horse, if you'll permit it, Abiene. You’re not strong enough to carry the girl, and he’s the only one of the three calm enough to ride her down. That mare might buck at a leaf blowing across the road. You two will have to ride together on the mare, leave the stud here for Sethyas.”

He paused, realizing he hadn’t made a good recommendation of riding the mare if Abiene wasn’t much of a horsewoman.

“Eyja can handle her, if you’re worried. You'll need to stay close, heal Maxical on the way down as needed."


*


Maxical:

Maxical patted Abiene’s arm when she kissed her, then suddenly was struck by a thought.

“Hey, wait a minute. Did you say the Wobbly Inn? Some sleazy man there tried to have his way with Abiene by drugging her morning tea! We’ll have to keep our eyes out for her, in case he is still there...er...lusting for her.”


*


Eyja:

Eyja caught Seth's eye with a twinkle of amusement in her own. If he hadn't believed her on the naivety of Maxical when it came to these things, he'd realize soon that she'd not exaggerated.

"Casta Scribonia romance novels." She whispered quietly with a grin at Seth.

"I heard that!" Maxical called. "Hey, I don't want to wear this black robe in a public inn, and I've wet it. Eyja, will you change my clothes before we go?"





*

Sethyas nodded. He didn't wish to leave any unattended, but as he'd mentioned to Eyja in their first meeting disposing of the deceased was something he'd done all the way from Morrowind to here. To lift the Orc, all he really needed was some of the Sujamma he'd brought. Made you as strong as it made you dumb, and he needed a stiff drink right about now.

"I said I could handle these arrangements, Honditar. I wouldn't offer if it were out my league. However, I thank you all the same." He said with cordiality but with a subtext that screamed I need to be alone for now! at the same time.

"Take anything you need from my pack. I have potions, weapons, scrolls. They should be marked clearly enough: I use Aldmeris, not Dunmeris." He offered as he grabbed a hatchet-like tool and another bottle of liquor, pausing as he considered and took out a restorative as well. His head was starting to pound from that lightning.

He imbibed the restorative and let the effects subside the others. His eyes didn't hurt as much now and the pounding was finally gone.

He drank the Sujamma, letting the slow burn give a different kind of pain, and set about to his task, grabbing the Orc first and dragging him by his legs up behind the pillars, and then Earana.

He grasped the Amulet of Arkay, and went about muttering the incantations he'd known since a child.

When he was finished, he took to the ground with his modified axe, and quickly as he could started to dig two graves.

*

Eyja:


"Hush, Maxical. You're giving Seth the headache."

Eyja bent over Maxical, carefully untying the robe so not to cause any pain to the horrible burned wound on her stomach. It looked like an explosion had taken place there.

She left the robe under Maxical, taking her own water cask and cleansing her carefully off. Eyja glanced up at Abliene.

"She'll need something loose to wear back, I don't thing anything should rub that wound. Do you have anything? If not, will you see if Honditar does?"



*


Honditar:

Honditar recognized the signs of a man needing time to himself, he became the same bearish way when he'd had enough. He took the cue from Seth's mood to get the girls moving faster and quieter.

At Eyja's question he was already pulling one of his longish nightshirts from his pack. The girl would swim in it, as tiny a thing as she was; but it wouldn't harasss that wound.



*

Drugging me to get under my skirt? Abiene smiled at Maxical’s notion. It was good to hear her voice again.

Seth got to work. Abiene held the horses while Eyja prepared Maxical. Honditar and Maxical got situated on Kip. The big gelding stood unperturbed. Abiene breathed a prayer for their safety, not the least of which for the horse.

Abiene glanced at Eyja’s prodigious bosom and then straight down past her own to her feet. “I’m not worried about staying on this mare, but maybe I should ride behind you just the same.”

*

Maxical:


Maxical tugged uncomfortably against the heavy thickness of Honditar's shirt. Her legs felt bare without greaves or covering of some sort.

When Honditar was mounted, the Dunmer man...Seth, Eyja had called him; stopped his attacks on the ground with that hatchet and walked slowly over.

He'd never cursed while he dug, but Maxical had felt them emanating from him. Eyja said she'd given him the headache, but Maxical sensed it went beyond her mouth running to something much deeper.

Seth's mood was a Dunmer trait. They kept everything inside, and through the years the pain and death they lived through showed through the surface in these bearish moments. He needed time to face this alone, like Gils used to when something really harsh overwhelmed him.

When Seth carried her over to Abiene's horse to lift her up to Honditar she buried her nose in the cloth drape of his armor and breathed in deeply, once again savoring the combination of ingrained smoke and his breath; the brandy so heavily laced now that she could almost close her eyes and believe Gils was there filling her nostrils with those scents that brought him back to life for her in a way nothing else could. Dear gods she missed him.

It wasn't fair that a stranger could smell so much like him to evoke his memory so strongly. It taunted her with weakness, something she couldn't afford to feel; but didn't have the strength to stop breathing it in. Gils.

It was a relief when he handed her off to Honditar, whose manly sweat, dirt and leather scents brought no painful memories to dwell on.

Honditar moved Abiene's horse with slow care down the slope, keeping an occasional eye on the mare behind him to ensure they didn't get too far back. More than that he kept his eyes on the road ahead and to the sides of the path for enemies. Maxical watched his eyes, his focus and attention. He really would be good for Eyja if she would ever settle down.

At several points Honditar stopped the horse to let Abiene heal her, and it was a relief each time. The pain in her stomach was radiating through her with each step the big horse took.



*

Abiene

The priory bells rang out as Honditar and Eyja guided the horses into the yard at the Wobbly Goblet. Abiene stayed behind to groom Kip and settle matters with Lowren while the others whisked Maxical into the inn.

Before she followed, Abiene stood for a moment looking up at the darkening sky. Exhaustion made her want to sink down into the primroses and sleep until the snows fell.

Hethilion was waiting for her inside the tavern. He led her up to the second floor and into a small guest room. To her surprise he opened another door within it. “Through here, miss.”

Abiene followed him into a well-appointed two-level apartment. There’s even a kitchen, she thought, amazed. Who would have known all this was behind one of those doors?

Hethilion spoke in a murmur. “Will you have a meal?”

The others must be asleep upstairs, Abiene realized. “No thank you, but I would like a bath in the lower chamber. I’ll sleep there tonight. I don’t want to disturb my friends.”

Hethilion nodded on his way back out.

Abiene found a windowed sleeping alcove and a larger bed chamber on the upper level. Maxical lay on the big bed cradled in Eyja’s arms. They both were asleep.

Years of sneaking out to meet inappropriate boyfriends had given Abiene the silent feet of a night thief. She drifted to Maxical’s side of the bed. A touch confirmed her fears.

Why does that wound keep opening? She cast the healing spell with the care she used at the bedsides of critical patients. No sound or light disturbed the chamber’s peace, but the skin knit together again across Maxical’s belly.

Abiene remembered the Welkynd stone explosion. Perhaps shards had been driven into Maxical’s flesh and been made undetectable by either Maxical’s magical disorder or the nature of the Welkynd stone itself. She would look again in the morning. For now they all needed sleep.

On the way back down to her room she realized that Honditar wasn’t there anymore. Perhaps he went out this back door. She tried the knob to make sure it was locked.

Back in the small chamber Abiene stripped out of her filthy clothes, stuffed them into the inn’s laundry bag, and hung it out on the door knob. The inn’s staff would know what to do. She retrieved the necessities from her pack and slipped into the steaming water.

Bathe first, then relax. She had dry blood in her ears from gro-Gonk’s punch, but most of the day’s filth had landed on her clothing. Abiene scrubbed away the sweat, rinsed her hair, and lay back against the tub’s high edge. Don’t fall asleep.

She woke some time later in the cold tub. Her hair was still damp but no longer dripping.

Jerric’s Weatherward ring kept her from shivering, but she hurried just the same. Wet towels onto the rack, nightie over her head, feet under the bedcovers. She was asleep again before her cheek hit the pillow.

Earth met hatchet and was thrown out to the pile alongside the graves. The sujamma and remnant energies were being redirected into this task. Ninety percent of Master Goren Andarys defensive philosophy was about redirection.

The heart beats. It knows no direction. It merely goes on, in unending rhythm. The veins and arteries guide and redirect this force, bringing life to every extremity. This is the essence of Redirection. It takes more effort and power to meet a force head on, why do this? I carry no shield that can be seen, my knowledge; my mind is my shield. I let my opponent move as they wish. Then I move them as I wish.

He grabbed the greatly damaged body of the Orc, and carefully laid it out into the grave. To him, he returned his weapon, gave some coins and alcohol, and repeated Arkay's Blessing once more.

He took Earana's corpse and laid her out carefully. To her he gave a potion of magicka, some coin and alcohol, and repeated Arkay's Blessing once more.

Go now. If you return as vengeful spirits, your unsavory actions brought this upon you. See the truth in this, and seek redemption. Not the unending cycle of vengeance. He thought prayed over them.

He filled and covered them as best he could, trying to make them look part of the natural surroundings rather than freshly dug graves.

I am finished. Now, can I take a damn bath, Mephala? Or is there more intrigue you have set aside for me? He thought crossly, yet in jest.

He returned to the Wobbly Goblet in shorter time than one would expect for a mer on foot. But he'd walked all the way from Morrowind here, and to most places in his years. He was more than just a little used too it.

The evening had come, and the drinking revelers brought their end of the day relief with them, in spite of the bustling crowd he still managed to get a bath brought into his room. While he waited he silently checked in on his new companions, preferring to observe than to engage at that moment in time.

Besides, he was sweaty and smelly from his laborious efforts, even he was offending himself with his scent.

Finally, he checked and rechecked everything in his room. The hairs he'd placed on the windows with a bit of saliva were still there, the thin layer of saltrice flour, which was more grey than white and nearly invisible on these hardwood floors showed no signs of disturbance or tracks other than his.

He took off the armor piece by piece, laying it neatly next to the dresser and laid out his weapons in similar fashion, keeping his silver dagger with him as he did at all times. He let himself surrender to the warmth of the bath, which he'd added some salts and herbs too, and let it go to work on his strained muscles.

He extended his senses listening to anything and everything in the Inn. Sipping slowly on a flask of flin, even in rest he continued his vigil.

Finally clean and relaxed, he dressed for bed but went to his alchemy station and prepared a concoction for Maxical's skooma addiction. He re-read his own notes on the subject as well as some studies he'd acquired over the years from mages and healers who 'lowered' themselves to working with the afflicted.

He'd tried moon sugar himself, but not in the conventional sense. It had it's use in alchemical preparations such as 'fortify speed' and 'dispel'. It was also quite illegal, especially in Morrowind. Out here, the Cyrod's seemed to be a bit more lax on it, if a little more open to alternate forms of trade. He believed the Dunmer simply refused it on the basis that it was a 'Khajiit' drug and were notoriously racist. That didn't mean Morrowind didn't have it's fair share of addicts as well. They were known as having a 'sweet tooth'.

Skooma was the more powerful narcotic, still derived from moon sugar and it was powerfully intoxicating. Divayth Fyr; the ancient Telvanni wizard was also a casual user. It was in fact he who had taught him how to create the separator philter. Apparently derived from his work with attempting to cure corpus disease, he tested it extensively on addicts who were desperate for the 'cure'. Initially the brew was a little too powerful, resulting in the addicts actually dying from the stress of extreme withdrawal.

He'd cut it back quite a few notches, and started to see some progress. When that progress halted, he'd lost interest and moved onto another avenue of treatment, abandoning the libation altogether. Not without using it on himself after the occasional skooma use however, which helped to prevent a physical addiction in the first place.

Since then, Sethyas had made a few of his own adjustments to the remedy. Notably adding simple tannins from trama root tea that reduced the stress hormones in the bloodstream helping to induce a sense of general wellbeing in to the imbiber. He in fact instructed that it was best taken with dark teas over a short period of time.

Maxical was doubtless suffering, and he finished the potion with a sense of relief himself. He scribed it's direction for use on a loose parchment, and folded it neatly, wrapping it together with the vial that housed the 'cure', and left his room to deliver it too Eyja.

*

Eyja slipped out of bed so not to disturb Maxical, and tiptoed down the steps when she saw Abiene sleeping in the bedroom at the far end of the suite. She rifled through the kitchen and had eaten more than she'd intended to when she heard the knock on the connecting door to the room. She hurried to answer, glad to see Seth had made it back.

"We left a horse for you, but while we were unsaddling it showed up riderless." She stepped back and invited him in, leading the way to the suite. "Are you hungry? There is a full kitchen in this suite."