Chapter LX: The Ravaging

(Reyvin's POV)

Lightning danced from my fingers as it struck the retreating figure, its form buckling as its wing was nearly sheared off but still managing a quick retreat as it righted itself.

I click my tongue in annoyance and turn to the destroyed village the dragon had decided to 'visit' before I came and showed him the error of his ways "Another fucking coward." I mutter as I pass by the hunched from of Alor "You good there?" I ask the Falmer.

He coughs, forcing another glob of blue to leave his mouth before righting himself, cleaning his face up with his robe sleeve as he did "I am, my lord." He assures "Just not used to drinking so many potions in quick succession."

"Well maybe you should learn to move out of the way of errant shouts." I smirk at him "Then you won't have to fix your broken spine thrice in a single battle."

He lets out a pained laugh at that "Begging your pardon my lord, but I'd rather learn to not be anywhere near any shouting to begin with."

"Fair enough." I snort "Think another one is going to appear today?" I ask, totally not eager to see yet another burning village if it meant blasting these fuckers to bits.

"Well I certainly hope not." He bobs his head as we enter one of the last remaining buildings within the settlement and start offering healing to the survivors "Two attacks in one day is more than enough for me I say."

And wasn't that a kick in the head? It had been a mere week since Alduin's little declaration and dragon attacks have already become a normality.

As soon as I was done organizing my own forces I made sure to visit Solitude and help Torygg prepare the whole kingdom for what was coming... and what an absolute shitshow that was.

Riots broke out in Markarth, Riften and Falkreath, the tree southern holds getting reports of dragon sightings mere hours after big black and angry decided to yell at everyone, and the rest of the cities were growing in tension as well.

But that wasn't the true problem, these were after all Nords and their panic meant buying weapons and stocking up on munitions, the sight of my own ballistae on the walls serving as a potent reminder that they were not simply left to the genteel mercies of a bunch of flying soul-hungry lizards.

No, the true issue lay with the outlaying settlements and isolated villages, for even as an attack on Falkreath's walls was repelled with acceptable losses, five small settlements were left utterly destroyed in turn, slowly but certainly spreading panic to their surroundings like so much macabre dominoes.

And that was only the first day.

Things only continued to grow worse from there, with the number of attacks increasing without a single dragon being felled in turn. Torygg obviously couldn't just let that go on so he turned to his own personal teleporting wizard dragonslayer extraordinaire and so I found myself stuck on rapid response duty, chasing after every single attack Krein and I could predict with our powers combined.

It was just too bad that the dragons did not let it be so simple.

For you see, to my immense and immeasurable frustration, it would seem that Alduin was paying attention from his little cave over in the afterlife and decided that he didn't want to lose his idiot brothers to what essentially came down to terror raids... and so he ordered them to run away the moment they started losing.

If I did not feel the immense and unceasing urge to ram another beam of disintegration magic up his ass I'd probably applaud the sadistic fucker. Instead I was left chasing after a bunch of young dragons compelled to get the fuck out basically the moment I appeared.

Most did manage it even as one was left cut into absolute ribbons by Akulakhan and carried off by Krein as the poor fucker decided to attack a village between Markarth and Solitude that was exactly on the main trade road and more importantly right atop one of my wayshrines.

The sheer panic in his eyes as he was ambushed from all sides by both my own and the villagers themselves made me smile even now.

That was three days ago, and it was still the sole kill we managed.

I'd accept the situation then, if it was left as it was, but no! Things got even worse than a dragon invasion! For you see, a bunch of idiot fucking Nords (likely Stormcloak remnants that ran off from the final fight, fucking idiots the lot of them) Decided why not return to the really old old ways and worship the dragons? That ought to save their poor fucking hides, right?

I took great pleasure in slowly killing any one of them I could get my hands on.

Resurgence of the Dragon Cult aside, we did in fact have a plan that went beyond 'Fight them defensively and wait for death' but that all hinged on Minthara finishing her expedition as quickly as possible and us finding some kind of pattern in the attacks so that we could strike back properly.

Getting the Dragonborn to start actually hunting dragons would be great for morale after all.

And speaking of patterns, things did change yesterday, as Alduin finally left his hidey-hole for the first time since his proclamation, only to descend upon one of the ancient burial mounds and revive whoever was buried within, grabbing the numerous Draugr guarding them while he was at it.

The whole place looked like it had a massive chunk of itself just torn out of place.

And while the dragons finally getting revived was a scary thought, as most of those buried in the mounds were Alduin's champions as I've come to know, it also presented an opportunity, the old dragon-stone I got from Bleak Falls coming to mind rather quickly then.

Now all that was left was to wait for Minthara to grab whatever 'super secret dragon slaying techniques' the old Blades left which made Delphine gush so infuriatingly, and we could finally get to fighting back.

'You really think they are going to actually find something useful?' Scorch asks, doubtful.

I shrug and tap the now healed woodcutter who offers me a grateful nod 'Could be completely useful, but I doubt an order which is known to actually kill dragons effectively left us with absolutely nothing, that dragon-killing sword may hold some interesting enchantments as well.'

'True that.' He bobs his currently metaphysical head and snoozes off.

I leave the temporary healing hut, allowing my people to do the non-critical healing, and light up a cigar. 'At least the view is nice' I exhale a plume of blue smoke as I stand atop the small cliff serving as a natural defense for the southern Markarth settlement.

Holding back an annoyed grunt I speak "You sure you want to do that kid?"

A rather young man, technically adult by local standards, stops in his tracks for a moment "What do you mea- UGH!"

I look down at the Hermetic with pure disdain in my eyes as Blasphemy cuts off his connection to Mora "Sent on a suicide mission and you still continue willingly, what a fucking waste." I click my tongue and backhand him onto the ground, making sure to disarm him of his disgusting little tentacle dagger in the process.

"What would you know heathen?!" He spits out a tooth and a glob of blood "My deeds would lead me to paradise!"

"No." I deadpan "Your deeds will lead you nowhere for your connection to your disgusting master has been cut and his little ambush was foiled."

His eyes widen and his goes to stand up but stops as he notices a massive glaive at his throat, Akulakhan patiently watching for any particularly stupid movements.

"Now then." I incinerate what is left of my cigar and rub my hands habitually "We can do this the unpleasant way, or the immensely unpleasant way, which do you prefer?"

"I will tell you nothing, heathen!" He claims with utter certainty.

'Fucking fanatics' I sigh mentally "Very well then." And without any further preamble I slam a metaphorical lance of my own mind into his head, peeling him open like an onion and cutting his very personality apart as I sought what I wanted to know.

His pained hissing soon turned to whimpering, the screams of pain only stopped by my own will and Akulakhan's boot sitting firmly atop his broken mouth, he thrashes for a while, the movements becoming more and more tired before finally succumbing and accepting his fate as a vegetable.

Flicking my hand and turning the cultists to ash I turn back to the view once again and consider what I've found.

An entire coven hidden in Morthal, completely hidden from even themselves as Mora's commands came from vague prophecies and legends suddenly 'making sense' as everything connected. I naturally did not believe this to be it for even a moment but why inform a disposable pawn of everything if you are just going to use him as a portal to dislodge a bunch of Dremora in the first place?

Still... going to Morthal would take me a short while and I do have to be on standby in case a dragon decides that was the exact moment it wanted to come out and play... if only I had something that would damage them quickly enough to stop them from fleeing...

And then, as if to answer my question, the image of a shattered dagger inserts itself into my mind. I frown for a long while then, before finally accepting that the idea isn't that terrible and shrugging 'Fuck it, might as well give it a shot.'

'Twas time to go and visit the Daedric invasion enjoyer.

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(Minthara's POV)

The Hagraven squeaked/gurgled/chirped in fear as I pulled her to me with overwhelming telekinesis, her neck breaking like a twig as I decided she wasn't even worthy of a clean death.

These Namiran witches still gave me the creeps even years later.

Pointedly holding back a shudder at those particular memories I turned to the rest of the group, all of whom were not injured save for a few unlucky bruises "You sure this is the place, Esbern?"

He looked around, more for show than anything else, the old man was nothing if not thorough in his research, and hummed approvingly "This seems to indeed be the place we were looking for, my lady."

"Well, what are we waiting for then!" Marco stands up, pretending to have not been wincing in pain a moment later as Junia took care of a cut across his cheek "Onwards to ancient knowledge and mighty treasure!"

I huff at the sudden switch but do not stop him, the traps would do that well enough "Anyone in need of rest?" I ask, as much as I preferred simply going on until I dropped leading people came with sometimes irritating considerations.

Getting a bunch of negatives I followed after Marco, and into Sky Haven Temple.

-----

My eyes were locked in complete deadpan as I walked across the neatly ordered tiles, following the specific symbol and quickly unlocking the trap baring the way forward.

"Were all the ancients complete idiots?" Marco gave voice to my irritation "Like, why even build this? What is the point if you can simply bypass it by learning the symbol for Dragonborn?"

Esbern coughed awkwardly as both he and Delphine were struck by second-hand embarrassment "I posit that not many were learned in their language."

"Not even you believe that" I roll my eyes as we start ascending a series of stairs "One quick interrogation and you could get that much out of someone."

He grumbles but doesn't disagree.

It is Lydia who offers the most plausible answer, surprising a lot of my companions "It could be that the real defense was the secrecy of the place itself and all of this was to merely slow down any invaders?"

"Hmmm..." Esbern rubs his beard "Yes, I can see that..." He pauses suddenly "Can you feel that?" He directs his look to me with barely contained excitement.

Momentarily confused, I soon close my eyes and sense the air of the place, detecting a barely perceptible barrier surrounding us from all sides. My eyes snap open and I let out a hiss of frustration "That could have been a trap and we just walked in."

"It could, yes." Esbern seems unshaken though "But it has been so long that I don't think the wards would have survived if they were to power anything more potent than a mere concealment effect."

"An effect which would still drain the power source." I point out "Especially something of this scale."

"Could it be some kind of secret technique?" Junia asks.

I shrug "Anything is possible."

Our steps echo through the dusty halls as we all fall silent, all of us far more alert than we were earlier. Just because the wards weren't reasonably going to still hold some kind of powerful trap doesn't mean that reason was going to be a standing trait of this place.

Thankfully our very justified paranoia, thank you very much proved unnecessary as we finished our ascent and came upon a tall chamber, the only features of which were a circle in its center and an odd bald carving of a face.

"Oh my." Esbern sucks in a breath "A relief of Reman Cyrodiil himself." 

"What would he be doing in Skyrim?" Marco asks with furrowed brows.

Esbern hums and shrugs lightly "The reason may have been lost to history, or it could be that the Blades who followed him decided to make this place their home, or the carving was merely added much later than its construction."

Noticing my silence, and then my odd expression, the old man asked "Is there something wrong, my lady?"

I blink and quickly shake my head "No... its just that Reyvin had some pretty... odd tales about Reman and his legend gathered in his library."

Esbern's eyes light up and he starts chuckling in a decidedly creepy manner "Oh, I wasn't aware you knew the more... outlandish legends of the second founder."

Marco's gaze went between the two of us a for a while before he cautiously asked "Do I want to know?"

"A tale for another time perhaps." The old man chuckles creepily and focuses on his actual task "Now this is an interesting contraption..."

I sniff lightly and blurt "Something to do with... blood?"

"Indeed." Esbern's eyes light up "A blood seal to be exact, likely waiting for a very specific kind of blood as well."

"Yes, the theme of this place is pretty obvious at this point." I deadpan.

"Esbern." Delphine cuts in "Are you sure this is... safe?"

"As safe as it can be." He nods and looks at me expectantly.

Of all the bloody things... "So I need to cut myself to get us in there?"

He nods "Quite."

I sigh "Well, better get it over with." Not even bothering to get out a knife I slash my hand with a blade of wind, letting a few drops fall, and then quickly closing the wound with restoration. The seal lights up with pale light before settling once again.

Just as I am about to ask why nothing is happening, the head of Reman rises and opens a path to yet another staircase.

This place better be worth it in the end.

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Even the dreaded cum emperor is made of stone.

Starting to see a pattern yet?

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