It didn’t take long for Dynjyl to prove that he was, in fact, good with a bow.
Andante took off at a trot toward the castle, with the others in tow. The closer they got to it, lightning strikes got closer and thunder became louder. He thought he heard an odd sound, but couldn’t make out what it was until he heard Brynjolf shouting.
“Yeargh!”
Andante turned to see Brynjolf rushing a group of skeletons. Or rather, they looked like skeletons, on the surface. But they were black, gleaming like ebony, not the bleached beige of bone. Brynjolf waded into them and Andante broke into a run to help.
Dynny’s arrows took one down, as Serana shot lighting at another.
“Arrgh!” he heard Dynjyl yell. “Bastard!”
An arrow caught Andante in the pauldron, hard enough to set him off balance. He turned to find its source standing atop a rise, and ran to take him down. Skeletons usually fell apart at the least touch of his axe but this one took several blows to disintegrate. Whirling, Andante spotted Dynny and Brynjolf hammering on yet another bone man with Serana firing magic at another. He hadn’t quite made it to them when he heard Dynjyl say “Victory! For now.”
Somehow that made him grin. He slid up beside the ghost and said “Nicely done. You are still good with a bow.”
“Thank you,” Dynny said with a grin. “I had a feeling we would be fine, between all of us.” He turned and tossed Brynjolf a wide, brilliant smile. “You’re even better than you used to be.”
Brynjolf smirked. “Well. It’s just lots of years of practice. I’ve had a few since you saw me last.”
Andante felt knives stabbing at his heart whenever they looked at each other, and grimaced at himself. He’s just a ghost. He’s not alive. He’s not even a complete soul. He broke into a trot again, passing beneath another peaked archway and up the fairly steep hill toward the ever-nearer castle. Ah but we’re not complete souls, either, are we. None of us is complete. It’s all absurd, isn’t it. I don’t know what being jealous of the man is going to accomplish. I am at least… solid.
He reached the castle and mounted the steps to its courtyard, the light around them changing from the bluish hues of the open wastes to a now-familiar, purplish, magical glow. The same sort of barrier he’d encountered around Serana’s resting place in Dimhollow Crypt and along the edges of this wasteland stretched across the front of the courtyard. He thought he could see movement behind it, but wasn’t sure what was moving. In front of the barrier, though, were huge mounds of bones, bloody, gnawed-on, and stinking as the similar mounds in Volkihar’s undercroft had been. He wrinkled his nose, and then laughed at himself, silently.
I’m getting to be a bit particular for a vampire, aren’t I?
Whereas he and the other two men had rushed up the stairs and were scouting about for clues, Andante noticed that Serana hung back, below the stairway. He returned to her.
“What’s going on?”
She made a face. “I wasn’t expecting it to smell quite this bad.”
He grinned. “I know what you mean. I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who is a bit bothered. Blood is one thing but this is…” He shook his head. “Are you certain Valerica has the Elder Scroll, Serana?”
“No. But there’s no way she would have left it in Tamriel. She wanted to get it as far away from my father as possible. I can’t imagine a better place.”
Andante frowned. “And if she doesn’t?”
“Then… we find out where she hid it. If she’s still alive. Well… as alive as she was before. Or is now. Or… you know what I mean.”
“Yes. Yes I do. But why not just hide the scroll here in the Soul Cairn and return?”
She looked thoughtful. “Well, possibly to avoid whatever my father would do to her if he could get his hands on her. Or maybe she planned to come back but was stuck here. Either way, we won’t know until we find her.”
“Right. Well, come up here, then, and help us look. You know what she looks like. We don’t. Or, maybe Dynjyl does, but I can’t imagine he’d have a lot of influence over her.”
“Right.” She turned and slowly walked up the stairs. Andante waited a moment, turning to scan the horizon for threats. Aside from the eerie horse galloping back and forth, there was nothing obvious moving.
“Mother? Mother!”
A deeper, older voice answered.
“It can’t be! Serana?”
He ran up the stairs to see an older woman standing behind the magical barrier. If not for her much more worn complexion and a different hairstyle she might have been Serana looking out at them, rather than the other way around.
“Mother! Is it really you? I can’t believe it! How do we get inside? We have to talk!” Serana yelped.
The vampire behind the barrier frowned.
“Serana. What are you doing here? Where’s your father?” Her voice was sharp, stern, and unforgiving. Her face had no welcome on it, no happiness, nothing but disapproval.
Andante glanced at Serana just in time to see her flinch and cross her arms. What a warm greeting, Mother. How many hundreds of years has it been since you saw your daughter? You’re not quite as bad as Harkon but the two of you certainly are a pair, aren’t you?
“He doesn’t know we’re here,” Serana said, her voice changing from the excited tones she’d had to the sarcastic one Andante had grown familiar with. “I don’t have time to explain.”
“I must have failed,” Valerica snapped. “Harkon’s found a way to decipher the prophecy, hasn’t he?”
Does she think we’re here to capture her, somehow? To take the Scroll for ourselves?
Andante smirked. Unwelcome, a thought bubbled up from somewhere inside him.
Clever woman.
“No. You’ve got it all wrong,” Serana continued. “We’re here to complete the prophecy our own way. Not his.”
Valerica suddenly turned to stare at Andante, as though the words “we” and “our” had finally made an impression on her where his physical presence had not. Her gaze bored into him, and he let his own reflect the same sentiment.
“Wait a moment. You’ve brought a stranger here? Have you lost your mind?” She pointed at Andante. “You. Come forward. I would speak with you.”
“I hardly see this plane of Oblivion as your private domain, Madame,” he murmured. “As you have no doubt noticed there are a great many souls here, and I would wager that you’re not familiar with all of them. Perhaps you’ve not met our friend Dynjyl, for instance,” he said, nodding behind him to where Dynny and Brynjolf stood, together, silently.
She ignored everything he’d said.
“So how has it come to pass that a vampire of mixed blood is in the company of my daughter?”
Andante’s mind shifted, somehow. This is going to be a delicate dance, I see. Best tread carefully. Once more he felt the sensation of being outside himself, in some way, while his body engaged in what was clearly going to be a vital conversation.
“Hardly of mixed blood, Madame, unless your dear husband left some of my old blood behind when he changed me. I was a Nightlord before, and am now a full-blooded Volkihar vampire lord. And so, I might add, is my companion Brynjolf standing behind me.” He didn’t turn his head to look but he could sense Dynjyl staring at his former lover. “Now then. I happen to be in the company of your daughter because we have been keeping her safe. From your husband. But,” he said, feeling himself smirk, “as you have surmised I am here for the Elder Scroll.”
“Glorious,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You are supposedly Serana’s guardian, but your first instinct appears to be greed.”
He inclined his head. “I am a thief by trade. So are we all. Greed comes naturally.”
Behind him, he heard Dynjyl chuckle quietly and Brynjolf shush him. He had to stifle a grin.
“I see that Serana is as naïve as ever,” Valerica said, her voice cold. “She sacrificed everything to prevent Harkon from completing the prophecy. I would have expected her to explain that to you.”
“And so she has. That’s exactly why we are here for the Elder Scroll. I would hardly have risked us all to fight our way here if not for a good reason. I can become a great deal wealthier and more powerful for far less effort back on Tamriel.”
She laughed at him.
“Do you think I would have had the audacity to place my daughter in a tomb for centuries for the protection of her Elder Scroll alone? The scrolls are merely a means to an end. The key to the Tyranny of the Sun is Serana herself.”
A means to an end. That’s how you and your husband have treated Serana. You’re no better than he is. Andante felt his thoughts fighting with each other. And so have I. But I am not her parent.
He stood, quietly, listening to Valerica go on at length about Auriel and his bow. Auriel was the being worshipped by most Altmer and Bosmer, an equivalent to what other races named Akatosh, eldest of the gods. By imbuing elven arrows with the blood of a Daughter of Cold Harbour, Auriel’s Bow could end the Tyranny of the Sun, blotting out its light. And Serana, having survived being offered to Molag Bal on his Summoning Day, was just such a being.
“So once again, Serana’s blood is the key.”
“Now you are beginning to see. In Harkon’s eyes, she would be dying for the good of all vampires.”
Andante pondered. Only a small amount of his blood had been necessary to open her vault in Dimhollow. Only a small amount of her blood had been necessary to open the portal to the Soul Cairn. Surely only a small amount of her blood would be needed to coat arrows. He considered his next words carefully. I need to sound sincere.
“I don’t believe she needs to die. I wouldn’t allow that to happen.” The truth is that if I should retrieve the Bow I would need her alive, for a continuous supply of her blood.
“And how exactly,” Valerica sneered, “do you plan on completing the prophecy without the death of my daughter?”
Your daughter. Your tool, you mean.
“I plan to kill Harkon.”
He heard a sudden intake of breath from Brynjolf, behind him. Oh my dear Guildmaster, did you truly not realize that was my goal all along? How else do you suppose I was going to have that castle for myself? Had you simply not followed the thoughts to their logical conclusion?
Valerica spluttered, while he stood chuckling to himself. She called him a fool. Had he not considered that she weighed the option herself?
“And what of Serana’s opinion?”
“You care nothing of Serana. You see the Tyranny of the Sun as your chance for deification, and like Harkon you won’t hesitate to destroy anything that stands in your path!”
Andante fought to keep his facial expression from changing. Well, well. You have me there, Madame. You’ve seen right through me and gotten right to the heart of the matter. I cannot deny a single word. Well done. I am truly impressed. And now to take a lesson from my darling Brynjolf.
He composed his voice into its most soothing, persuasive tones.
“Serana believes in me,” he said softly. “Why won’t you?”
Andante stood with clenched jaw, listening while Serana and Valerica argued about him and the Prophecy, Harkon, and his fanaticism. And then they bickered like family, Serana accusing her mother of not understanding, Valerica protesting that she’d given up everything to keep Serana safe. They argued for long minutes, hurt feelings and centuries of resentments pouring out until they both agreed that the most important thing was stopping Harkon, and that Valerica would help them if they could just free her from her prison.
They were to look for the tallest of the towers emitting energy, and destroy the Keepers guarding each one. That should drop the barrier. They also needed to be wary of a dragon, Durnehviir, who had been tasked by the Ideal Masters with guarding the Cairn and assisting the Keepers.
Andante nodded. “I’ve heard of the Keepers but not the dragon. We will be careful. But I’m curious, Madame. Why have you not pursued the prophecy yourself?”
“Harkon’s vision is a world plunged in eternal darkness, where the vampire can flourish, and never again fear the tyranny of the sun.”
“That seems… not altogether an unpleasant prospect, at least at first glance.”
She nodded. “What he fails to realize is how much attention would be called to our kind if the prophecy came to fruition. If eternal night fell, there are many who wouldn’t stand for it. They would raise armies in attempts to return things to normal. The order of the day would be our destruction, until every last vampire was hunted down and eliminated.”
Andante suddenly heard Babette’s voice. “We’re being hunted, Andante, each and every one of us.” He stared at Valerica. She’s right. It’s already begun. The Dawnguard is only the first wave. He didn’t speak for a moment; then he sighed.
“So you prefer to live in the shadows.”
She nodded. “I do. It’s how the vampire has survived, and how we will continue to survive.”
But not all of us are confined to the darkness. You simply need the right smithing skills, the right armor, to keep yourself fed…
He could survive. He could help Brynjolf survive. But they wouldn’t be able to control anything, not even Volkihar Castle, alone. Slowly, he nodded.
“I understand.”
“Be careful,” Valerica said. “And keep my daughter safe.”
But even as he turned to face the others, to explain what they had to do next, he knew that it didn’t matter. We will have that power. The power to blot out the sun.
He had that thought; and then he shook his head. What am I thinking? I’m an idiot.
They stepped down off the platform, back into the wastes, and looked around. Off to his left, Andante saw a tower, taller than some of the others, with what seemed to be a whirling cloud above it. He pointed at it and turned to the others.
“That one first. Let’s go.”
It was not a leisurely stroll between Valerica’s prison and the tower. Lightning strikes were close, and frequent, and would have been deadly if they hadn’t all been quick on their feet. There were bone men all along the path, some walking like skeletons on Nirn, others without visible legs, floating just above the ground. All were tough, and daunting; and even as strong as he was Andante was grateful for the presence of the other three with him. He heard Brynjolf’s grunts and the smash of his shield against bone, and the sizzle and crackle of Serana’s spells. He lost count of how many times he heard Dynjyl shout “You don’t stand a chance!” or “Stop! This ends now!” He had to smile whenever he heard the voice. He wasn’t certain whether the bone men could understand Dynjyl, but he could. Even more than that he could understand why Brynjolf had been drawn to this brash, brave man who, even in death, had no fear.
The tower, when they reached it, was an enigma, for it didn’t reach the ground. It ended well above their heads, broken at the bottom, bits of stone dangling beneath it held up by some power Andante didn’t recognize. There were carved pillars beneath it, set at the corners of a large platform of black bricks, the place the bottom of the tower might once have reached.
“I’m sure this is the place. Look around. There must be some way we can get up there.”
He was on one side of the platform when Brynjolf called “Over here, lad” from the other. Where Brynjolf was standing was a pool made of four concentric circles, filled with a purple liquid. He pointed at it and met Andante’s gaze.
“It reminds me of the other places we’ve found.”
“Right. Portals made of circles and purple energy. Looks right to me. I’ll go first.” He climbed up to the top of it and stepped in. The next seconds were bizarre and unsettling. The liquid started churning, turned black, and erupted from the pool to surround Andante in a cloud of black bubbles. When it cleared, he found himself standing high above the ground, on a balcony hugging the tower. As uneasy as it made him to be that high above the ground, worse was the sight he encountered running around the balcony. Stationed at its very edge were men and women, or the shades of them, their energies being siphoned in columns of brilliant light toward the top of the tower.
That’s what that ghost meant. Must stay away from the Keepers. Or end up like these people, being drained.
For a moment he stopped, as the incongruity of what he’d just thought struck him.
Is that not what I do, on Tamriel, to living people?
He shook his head to rid it of that stunning notion. What a time to develop a conscience, Andante. There are things to do right now.
On the far side of the balcony, stairs led upward. He ran for them, and up them, and stopped in his tracks. There was a being above him, dressed in dragon bone armor, holding a deadly-looking bow and reaching for a deadly-looking arrow. It was enormous, nearly twice his size. Andante heard the others running to catch up with him; the sounds alerted the Keeper – for there was nothing else this could possibly be – and it turned to face him.
Except that it had no face. There was nothing there, nothing but a cloud of black vapor of some kind, undulating at its edges, with blue points of light where eyes would be. Eyes… without a face. Andante froze.
For long, agonizing moments, while his gut clenched and his veins turned to ice, Andante saw the horror that had been Roggi wearing the mask he’d found in Markarth. He saw, once again, the terrified face of the old woman from his vision, the one who’d died by a vicious overhand stab to her heart delivered by a man in that mask, the hand of a man who didn’t even have eyes.
The voice inside him laughed. Is it coming back to you now, “Andante?”
But as he gasped for a breath, time returned to normal. It could only have been a fraction of a moment, as the Keeper’s hand was still moving to pull a huge arrow from its quiver. He hesitated, still, part of his mind shrieking at him to move, to do something.
“You don’t stand a chance!” he heard Dynny shout behind him, just as Brynjolf yelled “Come on! Show me you’ve got what it takes!”
He began moving again, his practiced skills in battle kicking in automatically, whirling and striking with Mehrune’s Razor and his deadly daedric axe, slipping around behind the Keeper to make room for the others, dodging Serana’s lightning bolts and Dynny’s spectral arrows. The four of them beat on the creature until it finally fell, collapsing, becoming a cloud of the black vapor that quickly dissipated. Nothing remained of it or its armor.
They descended the stairs to find the upper end of the portal. As he looked around himself in a daze, he noticed that all of the spirits, and the columns of their energy, had disappeared as well. He stood staring at the portal, not moving.
A quiet voice murmured next to his ear.
“Are you alright, lad?”
He turned and looked into the bottomless golden eyes that he loved.
“I don’t know, Bryn. I… don’t know.”
Then he turned and stepped back into the pool.
The second tower was easy for Andante to spot, now that he knew more or less what to look for. In fact, it almost seemed as though the broken parts of the first tower might somehow have been transported to the second, as there was a cloud of debris swirling around its top in what looked like a violent storm. As they neared it, fighting through bone men along the way, it became clear that the specters being drained of power were situated not somewhere in the air, but at the bottom of the tower.
Thank the gods, no portals this time. I’m getting really tired of portals.
The Keeper of this tower was seated on a bench up a short flight of stairs, a stinking pile of bones on either side of it. It rose as Andante approached, and raised a monstrous dragon bone battleaxe. He gritted his teeth and sprinted into the creature, attacking with everything he had. It seemed to go on forever, as he dodged and struck and backed, and tried to outmaneuver the creature by rolling around it, and a small, detached part of his mind wondered whether he had remembered to bring any blood potions with him because he was getting hungry and there was nothing living here in the Soul Cairn upon which he might feed aside from other vampires who might also be hungry.
It didn’t occur to him that the others hadn’t been with him in this battle until the Keeper fell and he heard the sounds of battle behind him. There was a mass of bone men there on the dirt near the tower, and all three of them were up to their necks in adversaries. He sighed and ran down the stairs to help.
The third tower was in the midst of a large building that they reached after running across the wastes for what seemed like years. Andante wondered, idly, whether all the towers might once have stood in complexes like this one, buildings that had long since collapsed. There was a tall, open archway in the wall nearest Andante’s approach; he dropped into his most silent stealth and crept through it.
It turned out to be not simply one building with a tall tower, but a series of buildings arranged around an open, central courtyard. At the far side, seated at the very base of the tower they’d been looking for, was another Keeper. In spite of Andante’s considerable skills at remaining unseen the Keeper was aware of him almost instantly, and rose, raising an enormous bone shield up before him and drawing a ghastly, multi-headed warhammer.
Andante was barely aware of a floating bone man rushing past him to attack his companions as he rolled forward with weapons drawn, an attack that sometimes gave him a slight advantage on a first strike. It did him no good, this time. The shield struck him, tossing him backward and knocking the breath from his body. He rolled, barely ahead of the massive weapon that still struck him a glancing blow and delivered an intensely painful shock when it struck.
He was dimly aware of Brynjolf shouting “You’re pathetic! No mercy for the weak!” and thought yes. I am. I’m done for this time unless I can steer clear of that hammer.
But he somehow managed to heave himself to his feet. The Keeper, while powerful and enormous, was a victim of its own size in that it was slow. Andante pulled his bow, found a small ledge upon which he could jump for height, and started peppering the creature with the heftiest arrows he had. It seemed to go on forever, and his arm was howling with the agony of exertion, but it paid off; each time the Keeper started for him again he hit it with an arrow, staggering it, buying just a second more of time.
Finally, it dropped.
Andante could hear the others still battling bone men, outside the perimeter of the complex, but he was too exhausted to help. He hopped down from his ledge and reached into his pack for a blood potion he hoped was there, and downed it even though he knew it would taste horrid. He knew he should check on the others, but all he could do, as he felt the potion work in his exhausted body, was think about the faceless Keepers, and the spirits being drained to maintain the magical barrier, and the thought that had been so clear: is it coming back to you, now?
It is. I think it is. But it’s not clear enough, not yet, and I’m not sure what exactly it is that I’m going to find when it is.
And I don’t know whether I want to know.
I think I’m afraid to find out.
He was still standing there, his head hanging, eyes closed, trying to regain some strength, when he heard footsteps.
“The barrier should be gone now,” Serana said. “Let’s head back.”
Andante opened his eyes and looked at them, then nodded.
“All right. Let’s go.”
He started moving toward the opening and was nearly out it when Brynjolf’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Lad?”
He looked at Brynjolf and saw Dynjyl’s form shimmering just behind him, and smiled. He shook his head.
“Not right now, Bryn. We can talk about it later. Let’s get back to Valerica.”
It was a long trek back to the castle, and none of them spoke, either too exhausted for chatter or too sobered by what they’d just been through to care to speak. If not for the lightning and thunder it would have been silent. The barrier was gone when they got there; Valerica stood before a gigantic set of ornate doors, her impressive alchemy station tucked into the corner of what had been her prison.
Andante approached her silently, noticing the difference in her expression. Her eyes were open, not calculating; her eyebrows raised.
“You managed to destroy all three Keepers? Very impressive.”
“Well hardly on my own. You will have noticed that there were four of us fighting them. Still, I understand why it seems like quite a feat.” He tried to muster a smile, but couldn’t. “Are you able to give us the scroll now?”
Valerica nodded.
“Yes, please follow me. Keep watch for Durnheviir. With the prison’s barriers down he’s almost certain to investigate.”
She turned and left through the huge doors. Andante looked back at his companions.
“Well, let’s go get a scroll,” Serana said.
“Or fight a dragon,” Andante replied, grinning. “Why should Dardeh have all the fun?”
“I certainly have nothing better to do at the moment,” Dynjyl chirped, smiling.
“It’s a good thing you’re already dead, lad,” Brynjolf grumbled. “Otherwise…”
Dynjyl laughed, and they all followed Valerica through the doorway.