Part III: Sympathy and Vows
Sounds of battle coming from outside his Balmora home caused the old archeologist's eyes to snap open. Leaping from his soft bed Nalik hastily threw on a random combination of clothes from a wooden dresser and grabbed a steel mace he kept nearby. Flinging the bedroom door open, he moved quickly down a short hallway to the top of a flight of richly carpeted stairs. He stopped abruptly when he saw a dirty skeleton waiting for him at the bottom with a long blade in one hand and a shield strapped to the other. A skeleton in Balmora... in my own house? All attempts of rationalization failed as the surprised Imperial stared at the abomination. The undead warrior almost seemed to laugh as it effortlessly navigated the stairs towards the gray haired, mace-wielding target. Nalik swung first and smacked the skeletons shield with a resounding gong. The intruder stumbled backwards from the surprisingly powerful blow. Nalik swung again and connected with the shield a second time, knocking the skeleton off its feet and causing it to tumble backwards down the stairs.
The Imperial was quick for an old man and descended the stairs in an instant. His powerful steel mace smashed the grinning skull into fragments with a satisfying crunch. Nalik moved with haste to the front of his well furnished home. The front door was hacked into small splinters and he could see citizens of Balmora running in chaotic patterns outside. He stepped through the broken doorway and was greeted by the most horrific scene to ever pass his eyes and register in the darkest recesses of his brain. Outnumbered Hlaalu guards wearing bulky, heavy, gold colored armor were hopelessly trying to hold off a tide of undead pouring relentlessly into the city. He watched in horror as unarmed men and woman were cut down where they stood, some dying instantly while others were left to scream in agony during their last minutes of life.
"Citizen!" Yelled a guard rounding the corner of the house, "We have to abandon the city, make for Fort Monmooth and get as many people as you can to follow you."
Nalik nodded and sprinted down the stone, blood-stained road. As he ran across the bridge he glanced over the side, the Odai River ran red from the blood of the fallen as mangled bodies floated lazily, almost peacefully, down the slow moving river. The archeologist yelled to as many people as he could as he ran by, urging them to the fort.
Twenty scared and confused citizens escorted by seven exhausted guards were the only ones to arrive at Fort Monmooth. The rest of what once was the great city of Balmora lay slaughtered in the streets, the ground drank their blood as the legion of armed skeletons trampled them underfoot further desecrating the sacred town. The survivors were quickly ushered into the fort, the doors shut tight and locked and the Imperial archers on the battlements were ready, their steel gaze pointing to the west. Nalik sat in a wooden chair in disbelief, some survivors wept for the fallen while others tried to comfort them, the remainder sat in an unblinking daze unsure whether they should feel rage or oppressive sadness.
Halldin watched from a distance, a menacing grin spread across his helmed face as the city was abandoned. The attack on Balmora was a statement-a warning, when Halldin wrested control of Vvardenfell, and eventually all of Tamriel, none would oppose him -none but The Channeler. I do not fear the weakling Arronax or his blade; his death will mark the end of Imperial rule. Halldin strode through the streets of Balmora admiring his new city and laughing at the wounded citizens cries for help.
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The euphoria that had accompanied the escape from their rock encased cells was waning now. Instead of running triumphantly down dimly lit corridors the three Imperial soldiers stepped hesitantly through a maze of rocky tunnels. The only light they had was a lantern they took from a storage room that had also housed their armor and weapons, but not their packs. Their ebony helms were strapped to their sides to give them better visibility in the darkness and they clanked noisily against their armor encased thighs with each step.
The soldiers walked single file through a narrow passage with weapons drawn. They had not seen anyone for what seemed like hours. Arronax led the way with Renwick following, Radont kept a wary eye behind them, looking for pursuers. They turned a corner and were greeted by another rocky narrow tunnel that stretched out of the reach of the lamps light. Arronax fought the urge to let his shoulders slump in frustration and despair, instead he pressed on resolutely down the tunnel with the other two soldiers following close behind.
Arronax almost walked right past the door before stopping abruptly, causing his trailers to scramble in order to avoid crashing into him. The door was made out of rock, blending almost invisibly with the surrounding tunnel. The only distinguishing feature was a dull iron handle covered with rust sticking out of the rocky wall. Arronax held the light up as if trying to discern more about what was on the other side by looking closely at the handle. He couldn't and backed away looking at Renwick then at Radont. The soldiers returned his gaze, waiting for his decision.
The new leader of The Ghosts put his gauntlet clad hand on the handle and turned, the door swung quietly inward into a large cavernous space. The three soldiers walked through greeted by flickering light coming from torches mounted around the walls. It wasn't a lot of light, but enough for Arronax to put his lamp on the ground in order to explore the area with the protection of his shield.
"Can you see anything, Renwick?" He asked, letting the elf move into the cave.
Renwick flicked his night eyes around the room noting the landscape, "Looks clear."
The cavern had a circular shape with rocky crags sticking out of the ground in random places casting shadows for potential enemies to lurk in. One such enemy hid in a deep shadow near the door the soldiers had just entered from.
"I don't think there are any other exits here," Arronax remarked as he finished his exploration of the cave.
"I found something," Radont called out. He had walked around one of the larger rock formations and was standing in a shadow holding the lantern.
Arronax and Renwick circled the rocks and looked where Radont was pointing. There was a bedroll wedged between two rocks with tattered clothes scattered around. Someone or something had been here before, though it was impossible to tell when the occupant would come back, if they planned on coming back at all.
A feeling of dread slowly crept over Arronax causing him to shiver slightly.
"We should get out of here." The other two soldiers nodded, the same feeling had come over them as well.
The soldiers rounded the rock formation and headed for the door when they were stopped by a sultry female voice behind them.
"What's the rush?"
The Ghosts spun around and looked frantically into the dim lighting.
"Who's there?" Arronax demanded.
Renwick's trained night eyes saw her first, a slim feminine figure slowly walking towards them out of the shadows. Arronax and Radont saw her at the same time as she moved into what little light there was in the large cavern. She was a Breton, a natural magik user, with straight dark hair that hung to her shoulders; a black robe hugged her figure, accenting her curves and giving a look of royalty. She swayed slowly up to the soldiers now standing shoulder to shoulder, purposefully giving them time to drink in her beauty.
"My name is Mabrelle-are you lost," she asked suggestively when she had finally stopped in front of the trio of soldiers.
Arronax swallowed hard before replying, "N-No, I- I mean yes, well, we're looking for a way out, yes."
She smiled and walked slowly around them as she talked, "Is that all you want?"
Her hand brushed against Radont's exposed neck; it was cold-unnaturally cold.
Arronax answered again when she was back in front of the group, "We could use some healing potions..." he said as he tried unsuccessfully to avert his gaze to the rocks.
The attractive Breton laughed, showing her white teeth.
"I can do better than healing potions," she said seductively, flashing another smile.
Renwick snapped out of his daze long enough to notice two of her top teeth were longer than the others and came to relatively sharp points.
"VAMPIRE!" He yelled, notching an arrow and firing. Mabrelle hissed, moving in a blur as the arrow bounced harmlessly off the opposite wall. The soldiers looked around frantically searching for the vampire. Renwick's eyes narrowed as he scanned the cave looking for movement. Arronax raised his shield and squinted into the darkness holding his blade with a white-knuckled grip.
Radont was barely able to leap and roll out of the way as a blurred shadow screamed past him. It turned quickly and came at him for another pass. Renwick made a quick judgment and dove for the figure as it ran towards his fellow soldier. He judged wrong and missed, grabbing only air as he tumbled to the ground. Radont was just righting himself when he was knocked off his feet again, landing hard on the rocky ground.
The vampire quickly moved towards Arronax, leaping at him with her mouth open and hands out. He deflected her with his shield and sent the temptress crashing onto the ground. The Imperial soldier tried to jump on her to pin her down but the robed figure rolled effortlessly out of the way. She's toying with us, having fun before she turns us Arronax thought as he stood again.
Another attack sent him reeling but he didn't fall, instead he regained his balance and charged at the slim figure. The vampire simply stepped casually out of the way, laughing. But in her attempt to wear out Arronax she had forgotten about Radont. It wasn't the first time an enemy of the young Imperial had done it, but it proved to be just as costly a mistake for a vampire as it was for an enemy soldier. Radont leapt out of a shadow and grabbed Mabrelle around her slim waist, bringing the Breton to the ground with him. He stood lifting the vampire and pushed her light frame easily against a rocky outcropping with katana drawn and gauntleted hand around her neck.
All three soldiers were breathing heavily as sweat dripped from their faces like rain.
Arronax caught his breath and spoke forcefully, "How do we get out of these caves foul demon?"
The vampire looked dreamily into the eyes of each soldier hoping for sympathy but found only a steel gaze staring back at her. Her eyes turned cold.
"Follow the tunnel you were on before you came in here, it will lead you to the surface." She said with a bored tone.
"Where is Halldin," Arronax asked.
"I don't know who you're talking about," the vampire replied truthfully.
Arronax didn't believe her, "You are undead; you should know where he is. Tell me and you will die quickly and escape your tormented state."
"I am not undead," she refuted, "vampires are just diseased people-like werewolves."
Renwick spoke up: "Is there a cure?
Mabrelle nodded slowly and let her gaze fall to the floor, she spoke in a sad quiet voice, "I have given up my search for it, I had hope at one time but that's gone now. All I have left is a thirst for blood and nightmare filled sleep. I am hated and feared everywhere I go, an abomination to life; if you have pity you will destroy me."
"Be careful, Radont," commanded Arronax, "she may be planning more trickery."
Radonts eyes locked with the bright blue eyes of the vampire. She reached down and took his hand in hers. He could feel the coldness of death through his gauntlet as she slowly lifted his hand and blade to her neck.
"Please..." she pleaded, a tear forming at the edge of her eye, "for me."
For a brief second Radont saw humanity in her eyes like a ray of sunlight stabbing triumphantly through a black menacing storm cloud.
"No. I won't... I can't do it." Radont said, releasing his grip around her neck and sheathing his sword. "There is a place northwest of Suran called Bal Ur, you will find your cure there."
She smiled at the young Imperial as a single tear slid down her cheek, "I wont forget you-or your kindness."
Radont returned her smile as he turned and walked back to where Arronax and Renwick were standing.
Arronax clasped him on the shoulder, "It was a good choice Radont-you will make a great leader someday." He turned and headed for the door, "let's move out," he commanded. The three soldiers walked through the door and continued down the narrow tunnel with renewed vigor in their steps. Mabrelle vowed silently to the walls that she would find Radont again after she found her cure.
The Three members of the Imperial Legion walked a mile down the tunnel; turning sharply to the right the path began to ascend slightly. After another three hundred meters the soldiers came to a wooden door set into the rocks. Arronax was hesitant to open it but resolved that there was no other way to go but through. Opening the door the trio of soldiers were greeted by a warm sun and fresh Vvardenfell air.
They were in the grazelands still, but it was the end of their journey through the rolling grass covered hills. Stretched out before them like a mirror for the gods was the Sea of Ghosts. Small waves lapped lazily at the white shore as mudcrabs slothfully moved over the sand.
A small wooden boat was overturned on the shore, the soldiers walked to it looking for an owner. Whoever may have once called this vessel their own was nowhere in sight and probably left the boat for the elements. Arronax, Radont, and Renwick heaved the boat over and pushed it out into the water. The two Imperials and their Bosmer companion stepped in carefully, the boards creaked and whined at the weight of the soldiers but held and managed to stay floating.
"This isn't a boat," remarked Renwick dryly, "It's a concoction of wood that someone managed to throw together after too many ales at the tavern."
Arronax chuckled, "It beats swimming with the slaughterfish, my friend."
Renwick shrugged and nodded agreement. "We should stop in Dagon Fel for supplies before we go to Crul."
Arronax agreed, "Good idea, it's just a short hop to an island off that way," Arronax waved his hand in the general north direction.
The town's outskirts consisted of small wooden shacks that were banged together quickly-fishing villages were set up the same way all over Vvardenfell. What separated Dagon Fel from the rest of the smaller fishing tows was its center; it had large two story buildings that housed an inn, a blacksmith, a tavern, and other general goods stores.
A cool breeze blew through the town as the soldiers arrived. They marched quickly to the general goods store. It was a warm place with a Breton merchant behind the counter who stared nervously when the soldiers entered. His wares were arranged neatly on wooden shelves and consisted of a small assortment of potions, a few low quality weapons, and a smattering of common clothes.
Arronax was the first to notice the nervous stares of not just the merchant, but all the patrons of the small store as well. Their eyes darted about as if they held some dark secret that they wanted the soldiers to know but were afraid to speak it. It was strange, but Arronax couldn't be bothered with the eccentric nature of this fishing town.
The Imperial walked up to the merchant, "I'm looking for healing potions, do you have any in stock?" He asked politely.
The merchant nodded and reached under the counter with shaking hands. He procured four bottles from a cupboard and set them on the wooden counter. "Will that be all?" He asked weakly.
Arronax nodded and noticed the merchants eyes dart to his right. The soldier looked to where the merchant had glanced and saw to his surprise a robed Dark Elf that he had not noticed upon entering.
It was Dronos, the same Dark Elf that had captured them before.
Arronax and Radont unsheathed their weapons in a flash of ebony while Renwick trained a notched arrow at the smug Dark Elf. Dronos put his hand firmly on the back of a female Wood Elf's neck and urged her forward staying behind her for cover. With his free hand, Dronos created a fireball and held it close to the trembling Bosmer's face. The Wood Elf whimpered but complied, moving forward as tears welled up in her brown eyes.
"Drop your weapons and the elf will live," he said fiercely.
Arronax glanced around the room, then stared at the dark elf with narrowed eyes.
"You wouldn't dare..."
Dronos smiled wickedly and pushed the elf forward. A fireball leapt from his hands and consumed the elf, killing her instantly. Some patrons screamed, others stared in slack-jawed disbelief. Arronax took a step towards the dark elf but he quickly grabbed another victim, stopping the Imperial in his tracks.
This time he held a male redguard, another fireball danced in his hand. "You choose, Arronax. Drop your weapons and I poison him slowly, come at me again and I'll burn him."
Arronax was speechless; he lowered his sword but didn't drop it.
"Fool," Dronos said, burning his second victim.
"I don't have time to wait for your answers." He said grabbing a Breton female.
"How many will have to die, Arronax? How many will fall before you listen? Their blood is on your hands."
"What do you want?" Arronax asked through clenched teeth.
"You know the answer to that question, Imperial," Dronos snapped, "take me to Stradyn and she doesn't get burned."
Arronax looked with compassion at the struggling Breton but remained silent.
She looked at the imperial with tears streaming freely down her cheeks, "Please, don't let him kill me..." she pleaded.
Dronos tightened his grip, "Do we have a deal?"
(c)2005 Sir Radont
On to the next part