I head up to the Fighters Guild in the morning, after having totally not spent the remainder of the last day messing around with alchemy and joining a trading guild, just to unwind after my little jaunt into Oblivion. (I might have to look into acquiring my own alchemy equipment at some point, to give the alchemist Siriwen a break from using hers all the time. Provided I can find a spot to fit it.) When I reach the Fighters Guildhall, I discover that the new guildmaster, Sees-All-Colors, has arrived. Seems like a strange name even for a lizard, but what do I know? It’s not like I’ve actually met many Argonians. And most of the ones I have met were dead.

“Well met, comrade,” Sees-All-Colors says. “I have a task for you. Are you familiar with the Dark Anchors?”

“How could I not be?” I say. “One of them is dropping right behind the guildhall half a dozen times per day. Many things might be said about the God of Schemes, but he’s sure not a quitter.”

“Two of our comrades were investigating other possible sites nearby, but they’re late in reporting back in,” Sees-All-Colors says. “Could you check in on them? They were searching the coast east of Vulkhel Guard.”

I agree, and head out. It’s a beautiful morning, but then every morning seems beautiful in Auridon, and there’s a distinct lack of any Maormer on the shore today. Kind of a pity, as I wouldn’t mind hitting a few more of them, but I’m sure there will still be plenty of skulls to crack when I meet up with the Fighters Guild folks. I scout along the beach but don’t see any sign of them before I reach the Harborage, so I pop inside to check on Lyris. She seems to be doing pretty well, considering what she’s been through.

“While this cave might be nice enough for the Prophet,” Lyris says, somehow keeping a straight face, “I’m afraid I’m likely to get stir-crazy in here. And I’m liable to draw attention here in Auridon, not like if we’d wound up somewhere around Skyrim. What if they mistake me for a member of the Ebonheart Pact?”

“You could join up with the Fighters Guild,” I suggest. “They’re neutral in the alliance war and are focusing on fighting Daedra.”

“Now that sounds more like it!” Lyris climbs to her feet. “Let’s go.”

“What, right now?”

“Is there something you’re waiting on?” Lyris asks. “Best that I’m seen walking with a Chimer who can pass for an Altmer. You can put in a good word for me with your guildmates.”

“I haven’t really gotten the chance to know any of them very well yet.” I say. “I’ve been busy running all over half of the island that will probably turn into running over the rest of the island, and now I’m actually going to check up on a couple of them who have been searching for cultists nearby. But I can introduce you, and definitely wouldn’t say no to some backup in case things go south. And to introduce myself, I’m going by the name Neralion around here. ‘Nerevar’ is not really a typical high elf name and I don’t want word getting back to my former friends that there’s someone running around calling himself that.”

“Understood,” Lyris says. “No alias for me, though. My own name will suffice.”

The two of us head out of the cave and back along the coast. Colors had directed me to find a Redguard man and a Khajiit woman. Probably not a lot of Redguard warriors around here. I finally spot them not too far from the beach entrance to the local outlaw’s refuge. (They probably have no idea what people are doing in that ruin.) They’re fighting when we first spot them, and we rush across the beach to try to help, but by the time we catch up to them, the cultists are already dead.

The Redguard, Merric, is friendly and glad to see us, but doesn’t stay to chat for very long before running off saying that he needs to investigate another location near the city of Skywatch, to the north. He leaves us with the snarky Khajiit, Aelif, and instructs us to search the bodies.

“Keep an eye on our new comrades, Aelif,” Merric says. “Colors won’t be happy if we lose anymore new bloods.”

As he’s running off, Aelif mumbles, “Yes, yes, Aelif will watch the new bloods. Aelif is quite sure they look like they can take care of themselves. Aelif thinks the tall Nord could break her with one finger, if she could catch her.”

So we search the bodies and find some odd trinkets, and then a projection of a Dremora appears and blusters something about how the Redguard’s soul will fuel the… Mumbling Vivec? That can’t be right.

“Well, that doesn’t sound good,” Lyris comments.

“Agreed,” I say. “Anything involving souls is generally automatically bad.”

“Aelif does not know why someone would want Merric’s soul. It is so bright and shiny; perhaps they need a new lamp? Aelif must go warn him, though. You two head back to the Guild and tell Colors what we found, quickly!”

We part ways with the Khajiit and return to Vulkhel Guard. Lyris draws a number of looks as we walk through town, not just for being a Nord but for being a Nord woman taller than most Altmer.

“Comrade, you’re back,” Sees-All-Colors says. “Did you find Merric and Aelif?” She looks to Lyris. “And who is this? A new friend?”

“My name is Lyris Titanborn. I’m here to take the fight to the Daedra.”

“Good! That’s what I like to hear,” Sees-All-Colors says.

“We found them,” I say. “But an image of a Dremora woman appeared saying she wanted Merric’s soul, in order to feed it into… uh… Mortal Vivec?”

“Mortuum Vivicus,” Lyris supplies. “Don’t ask me to spell that, though.”

“Whatever it is, it definitely can’t be good if it’s something that wants souls fed into it,” Sees-All-Colors says. “I’ll get the guild to look into it and see what information we can dig up. Meanwhile, could you two meet up with Merric and Aelif at Skywatch? They’re going to need the backup and I need to rally the forces here.”

“Absolutely,” Lyris says.

I nod in agreement. “Merric could be in serious trouble if the Daedra are targeting him specifically.”

“Where’s Skywatch, anyway?” Lyris asks.

Sees-All-Colors shows us a map. “To the north, about midway up the eastern coast.”

“Do you have a horse, Neralion?” Lyris asks.

I shake my head. “Nope, can’t afford one. Especially after I bought a magic bag… no regrets. Merric and Aelif were on foot, in any case. We can walk, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Am I ever!” Lyris says. “Let’s get moving, then. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before dark.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Now, you might have gotten the impression that I am apparently some sort of super-mer that can cross Tamriel on foot in the span of an hour. That is, of course, completely accurate and no intrusion of reality will make me admit otherwise. Really. Anyway, is it greatly important whether it took us ten minutes or ten days to walk from Vulkhel Guard to Skywatch?

I take the opportunity to catch Lyris up on what I’ve been doing since escaping from Coldharbour, greatly amusing her and thereby thoroughly convincing her that I am completely mad. I feel that I haven’t done anything too ridiculous. Aside from, you know, take skooma and fall off a cliff, repeatedly play with thunderbugs, deliberately set myself on fire twice… okay, maybe I have been pretty mad.

Somewhere along the road past Phaer (where we totally didn’t need to stop for the night), some books lay beside a broken cart. Trials of Saint Alessia looks interesting, so I toss it in my pack.

“Reading material for later?” Lyris asks.

I nod. “That, and I’ve got a friend in the Mages Guild who likes books like this. Or… books in general, honestly. She’s pretty indiscriminate. At least I managed to keep her away from books that will literally try to eat you.”

“Yes, those are best avoided,” Lyris agrees, and takes a deep breath of fresh air. “You know, this is… healing, in a way. I think I needed this.”

“I think we both needed this,” I say. “I guess there were worse places on Nirn to wind up in.”

“And it’s so peaceful,” Lyris says. “If this were home, I’d be expecting to have been attacked by wolves and saber cats at least half a dozen times by now.”

“Or if mine, it would be nix-hounds and alits,” I add. “It’s eerie to walk so far and have nothing attack you.”

Off to the left, the skies grow dark and the howl of Oblivion echoes across the landscape as massive chains rattle to the ground.

“…although Daedra falling from the sky definitely count,” I say.

“Akatosh preserve us,” Lyris breathes, bringing her axe to hand. “That’s what these look like from this side? This is even worse than I’d feared.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it,” I say as we head over to join the handful of fighters battling the Daedra that have started dropping.

At least Molag Bal’s taunting is just irritating on this side, when you can’t even see him. What is it about Daedra being so fond of boasting pointlessly? His greatest weapon is terror, but as the fighters finish off the Daedra and destroy the anchor pinions, they don’t seem even slightly terrified. They simply break for lunch, as if they’d just finished unloading cargo from a ship rather than keeping Auridon safe from the forces of darkness.

There’s a wayshrine not far away, and we stop there to light it and rest for a minute.

“Auridon is certainly a beautiful place,” Lyris says. “A bit warm for my tastes, though. All this color and greenery is refreshing to see, though.”

“There was a time I never thought I’d see a color that wasn’t blue again,” I say quietly.

We continue on. Next to another wrecked cart, I find a book titled Triumphs of a Monarch, ch. 3. How many book carts can there possibly be left on the side of the road like this?

Further down the road, by the beach, I spot the red swirls of portals in the distance, and we rush to meet up with Aelif who is already battling Daedra. The voice of the female Dremora who had spoken to us before echoes in the air, but there is no immediate sign of her. Once this batch of Daedra are dead and the portals stop opening, Aelif tells us that Merric ran off down the beach after some other Daedra, so we hurry off to catch up with him.

We do manage to catch up to Merric, just in time to see him disappear along with a brief projection of possibly that Dremora again but it’s gone too fast for me to get a good look.

“Mara’s mercy, we’re too late,” Lyris says. “Damn it!”

Aelif catches up to us, looking winded. “Did that simpering Dremora actually manage to best Merric?”

“I’m not sure what happened,” I say. “I was still too far away to get a good look.”

It’s something of the perversity of the universe that you’re always just slightly too late or just in the nick of time. Or maybe it’s just that the times you’re there with plenty of time to spare or when you’re way too late aren’t as memorable.

“We should meet up with Colors and get help figuring out where they went,” Lyris says.

Aelif scoffs. “Waste of time. We can figure this out ourselves. Did either of you find anything interesting on the bodies before?”

“Well, there’s a note mentioning an island tower,” I say. “There’s probably a few of those around here.”

Aelif suggest that it’s some Ayleid ruin whose name starts with a B, and points out the location on my map. “Aelif will go tell Colors. You two better hurry and see if you can find Merric. He is in grave danger that cannot wait for backup.”

“We’ve faced worse than this Dremora woman,” Lyris says. “Getting out to this island might be tricky, though. How do you swim, Neralion?”

“Like a sack of ash yams,” I say. “Which float, by the way.”

“Well, that’s better than a sack of potatoes, which don’t,” Lyris says. “There’s a small boat on the beach. Do you suppose it’s still seaworthy?”

“Probably more seaworthy than me,” I say.

With Aelif off, Lyris and I right the old boat and make sure that it doesn’t leak. The oars are broken, but we can still make this work. At least it beats swimming. I really hope we’re pointing at the right island, though. This is going to get incredibly annoying if not.

When we finally make it ashore, the ghost of a Nord appears before us wanting to speak with us, which is a good indication that even if this isn’t the right island, it’s probably at least an interesting island. Boring islands don’t have ghosts on them. Apparently he’s the former Fighters Guildmaster, Jofnir Iceblade, telling us the Dremora named Doshia has taken Merric into the vaults below the ruins. And gives an unnecessary warning to beware of Molag Bal’s followers, which we were already likely to do anyway. How much more ware could we be? He vanishes before we can even ask him anything. Or figure out what we’d ask him beyond the obligatory silly questions Lyris is shouting at the air where he’d been hovering moments before.

“He’s gone, Lyris,” I say. “Let’s figure out how to get inside.”

“Right. Yes.”

After some searching, we find a huge stone door which turns out to be easier to open than it looks, opening into a wide set of stairs leading down into someplace lit by glowy blue rocks. Also it’s full of scamps and Molag Bal’s echoing voice, so yeah, definitely the right spot.

“Ugh, that voice sends shivers down my spine,” Lyris says. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Not really,” I say. “He’s just blustering like always.”

“I suppose you eventually get used to it. I don’t think I could.”

“Most go mad first,” I say. “Takes a special sort not to.”

“The sort who were already mad?”

“I’m generously going to assume you are speaking of Cadwell,” I say with a grin.

We turn a corner and spot Merric and the Dremora woman. She’s got her hands raised and some sort of purple energy twining into Merric and I think that’s an excellent time to practice my long-distance aim with an Aedric spear. I sling a shaft of light through the air, and Blinky strikes true! Doshia goes sprawling to the ground and her spell stops. That gives time for Lyris and I to hurry across the room with our battle axes. And this might have been an easier fight if she hadn’t turned into one of those giant snake things with four arms, but we manage.

“Doshia, you have failed me!” Molag Bal’s disembodied voice declares.

“You know…” I comment. “If I were them, I don’t think I’d want to work for someone so unsympathetic to the plight of his followers. Here they are, getting killed trying to fulfill his orders, and all he can do is shout disdain at them. Next time I respawned, I’d be looking for a new employer.”

“Are you alright, Merric?” Lyris asks, ignoring me and offering a hand to help Merric to his feet.

“I’ll be fine, I think. I’m glad the two of you arrived when you did.”

While Lyris is checking on Merric, I explore the room to see if the Dremora left anything… well, I’d say incriminating but I’m quite certain that people are liable to attack a Dremora on sight regardless of whether they’re committing any crimes. Among her supplies I find a book that’s written in gibberish. Some code or a language I don’t speak, either way probably the best clue toward whatever the God of Schemes’ scheme here is.

When we get back outside, Sees-All-Colors and a number of other guild members have already arrived along with Aelif. Our sluggish crossing probably gave them ample time to catch up. Great, that means somebody else can row me back.

We debrief with Sees-All-Colors, and I hand over the journal for somebody else to decode. That can be somebody else’s problem.

“I’m heading back to Vulkhel Guard with the Fighters Guild,” Lyris says. “I want to check in on the old man. Are you coming, too?”

I shake my head. “Nah. I haven’t even explored half of this island yet. Who knows how many interesting caves I missed along the way when we were hurrying to get here? Every last one of them is probably full of cultists, bandits, or racist bandits.”

“Racist bandits?” Lyris asks.

“The Veiled Heritance,” I explain. “High elf supremacists. I’m sure you’ll hear more of them later.”

“Well, have fun,” Lyris says. “I’d tell you to be careful, but, well, it’s you.”