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Born of the Reach - Part XVII


Started by Harlwystyr
Post #155638
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Daggerfall Covenant
Breton
Part XVII

Four great pillars of magic appeared: four great columns of whirling sparks with the writhing form of Captain Riancielle of Daggerfall in their midst. Tall figures stepped out of them, gesturing in unison - and the captain's spell-bonds grew dark and truly began to press her against the ground. The four newcomers were all tall, golden-skinned elves who wore great, decorative robes of the same patterns. Many rings winked and gleamed on their fingers, and the eyes in their hard, ruthless faces glittered in both anger and delight.

Harlwystyr spread his hands, fingers twitching and eyes half-closed as if feeling for something invisible in the air.

"Stand aside, old fool," one of the four commanded. "You must be part of the Righteous Conspiracy to so leash the captain of the Royal Crown Mages - but your life, like hers, is forfeit. No one mistreats an agent of the Dominion and lives!"

The old wizard murmured something, still seemingly in a trace - and Gilsorin of House Alquaren rose and advanced to meet the nearest of his newly arrived kinsmen.

"My thanks for this rescue, Larencatar," he said with a broad smirk. "Slay not these two, but keep them captive, for their minds hold-"

"Be silent, Gilsorin," the foremost Altmer said coldly. "Your fate remains to be decided by those we both answer to, and your orders and suggestions are unwelcome."

"Ah. That's a pity," Gilsorin of Alinor mumbled, in a voice oddly unlike his own - and sprang forward to throttle his fellow Altmer.

The startled high elf fell with a crash, struggling to keep iron-strong fingers from his throat and eyes. When he managed to push his assailant's arm aside, Gilsorin thrust two fingers into Larencatar's nostrils and jerked the elf's head back, slamming it onto the stone floor.

The dark bonds leading to Riancielle rose up, spasming and coiling - and the other three high elves dragged her away, shouting sharp, alarmed incantations.

Meanwhile, the two elves on the floor twisted and struggled, grunted and cursed - until Larencatar laughed in triumph beneath his foe, and a ring on his finger erupted in golden, crawling flames. They swirled, took the shape of a dagger, and struck into the face of Gilsorin of Alinor.

Blood spurted, an eyeball burst, and the squealing high elf arched backwards. Larencatar shoved and kicked to gain his freedom as the golden, fiery dagger tore down at Gilsorin's throat until he had nothing left to scream with - but even as his slayer scrambled out and away, laughing, the dying elf formed a sphere with his empty hands - echoing movements that had just been made by Harlwystyr, who stood swaying dreamily in the distance - and the golden flames fell from his ravaged face to swirl within those fingers. A moment later, they leapt out and struck the startled face of Larencatar like a serpent.

Gilsorin of Alinor slumped to his knees, emitting soft sobs of pain, but Larencatar's head blossomed into a blinding whirl of golden fire, racing around and around it in a sphere so swift and loud that no shout, even had Larencatar made one, could be heard.

The golden radiance suddenly exploded into a myriad of tiny bolts of lightning and went out - and a headless elven body toppled to the flagstones, not far from Gilsorin.

Flashes and high, roaring noises were all around Harlwystyr by then - but the looks of the faces of the Altmer told that they'd been expecting their spells to do much, much more than make a few pretty lights and sounds.

"Who are you?" one of them gasped, at last, as his most powerful spell winked out into nothingness, leaving nothing but impotent lines of smoke curling from his palm.

"Harlwystyr of Daggerfall, at thy service - or rather, at the service of Tamriel, which shall be vastly improved by the extinction of all Thalmor," the white-bearded mage replied jovially. Tiny light began to leap and spit from his raised, stretched fingers. Just behind them, like a wandering jester, the Old Meddler gave the quailing high elves a wide, lop-sided smile.

"Hold!" one of them snapped desperately. "Harm us, and the captain dies!"

He made a quick gesture with one hand, and the dark bonds clinging to the back of it tightened. As it obeyed his command, Captain Riancielle Fralena rose with it, fiercely clawing at her throat as her body quivered like a plucked bowstring when the spell-bonds narrowed.

Face pale, the Altmer glared at Harlwystyr - who was subtly muttering something similar over and over under his breath.

"We'll depart this place, now," another of the elves said harshly, "with the captain as our captive. You will remain here, and the crown mages will leave us be and make no move hinder our passage or block our spells as we go, or she will die."

Harlwystyr nodded his head. "I understand and agree," he said heavily, lowering his head in surrender.

Two of the Altmer gave him sneers of triumph as the third began to weave a spell to open a portal - and white fire erupted behind them, with force enough to make them all stagger.

"And we," a hoarse-sounding voice said coldly, "understand our roles in this little drama well enough and agree to it." A throwing dagger and two bolts of lightning burst forth from the fire to bite deep into brown-robed backs - and the three high elves, transfixed in mid-turn, gasped as those attacks struck into their torsos like razors. "Slaying Thalmor is, after all, amongst the things I do best!"

The dark, magical bonds melted away from Captain Fralena, who fell to her hands and knees, coughing weakly. Men were sprinting toward the cellar from all directions, now, and torches and magelights flared here and there as crown mages of Daggerfall teleported in to join them.

Their advance was checked as they beheld the white fires that slowly died out. In them stood two smiling figures - one in dark blue robes and the other wearing a jacket of soft leathers. The man in leathers was dark of hair and with stubbles and a crooked nose, whilst his companion spotted auburn hair and a friendly smile.

"Well met, all," said the one in leathers, his hand going up in a militaristic salute as the knights approached. "I am Halwend Thorne, of the Cobalt Cloaks."

His companion nodded gently and added in his own, far friendlier voice, "Trahaearn Coghlan, of the Cobalt Cloaks."

Halwend cast a swift glance over his shoulder, nodded towards Harlwystyr, and said. "Sorry, Archmage. We came as swiftly as we could."
This post was last modified: March 18th 2014, 03:17 AM by Harlwystyr
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