Applying Exotic Metaphysics (Changes, 20.3)

The ancient ruins still trembled, the stones and dust falling from the ceiling. It hadn’t caved in entirely, and the alterations I’d made to the internal structure would mean it wouldn’t collapse, at least for now. We had blocked off some of the lower tunnels, though I was pretty sure there was a cave leading to Blackreach somewhere in that system-

The exit, however, was more than welcome. The morning’s light shined through, and fresh, crisp air greeted us as we stepped out.

Rolling hills and lush valleys of the Western Reach stretched out before us. Ancient trees stretched into the sky- Redwoods writ large, but not redwood at all. On the other side of the mountains, back on the eastern side, the Reach seemed so much less lush. Here, they were healthier. The plants were much more numerous, much more overgrown.

“It’s beautiful.” I said.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Emylee says. “It had roads. It was… tamer. It felt more civilized. You could find old aldmer ruins, forts where they’d tried to stop the rebellions. Kind of like the ayelid stuff in Cyrodiil, only with less traps. But now… It’s all overgrown.”

“Was it something that happened during the Warp?”

“Time passed, here,” she says. “More and more time. Centuries here, in these groves, when mere days passed outside of them. The ruins decayed.” Floating next to her, its tendrils wavering as it floated on the wind, floated a small, hovering jellyfish-like creature. She waved it away, but it bobbed back toward her.

“These things related to Netches?”

“From Morrowind? I guess.” She said, blowing on the creature. It floated away for a bit, before deliberately drifting back. “Doesn’t Morrowind have Wormteeth, too? Little two-legged lizards?”

“Guar. And Kagouti.” I responded. “What are the little floating guys?”

“Stingfloaters. The babies aren’t a problem, but the bigger ones like to stick you with their tentacles.” Emylee said. “Good way to get Rockjoint, if you’re not careful.”

The old ruins behind us crumbled, slightly, but it stayed intact. The Ogrim’s rampage had done a lot of damage to the falmer, bad enough that they’d probably move deeper into the caves.

“So.” I said. “Where to now?”

“I was hoping to go to Jehana.” She responded. “But you wanted to meet with the Coven, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then here’s where we separate.” Emylee said. She raised her hand… and pointed.

On a bluff, a hill not far away, I saw a large, crooked tree. Something was hanging on it. I enhanced my vision with a quick restoration spell- and wished I didn’t. A skinned hare was hanging from it, daedric sigils carved into the wood.

“Your magicka senses aren’t as strong as mine,” she said, “but you should be able to track down the coven from there.”

“Of course.” I drawled. “Joy.”

“Good luck, Mary.” She said. “If you need me, I’ll be in Jehanna. Or back in Kvatch, when I’m done here. I’ve got it Marked.”

“Alright. Take care.” I responded. She winked, and from Oblivion came a hollow shell- something that would soon become a horse. Vermai souls flooded in, giving it texture and realness. She clambered atop it, and the beast shot down the hill.

I sighed. I’d summon Sessalan… but I didn’t want any magic to mess with my senses. I’d have to walk.

======

Roots grew over rock and rubble alike. The road I walked was a game trail, like many- tough tufts of grass growing between quarried stone broken down into gravel over centuries. I could feel the magic, though. It spilled out along the game trail, along with small ruby droplets of blood.

The droplets weren’t fresh- but they were still liquid. I didn’t think they would dry, even. There was a still-living anima, using the hare’s blood as a trail. The witches- the coven- had taken the hare’s anima and stretched it over the landscape. If I tried the same, it would be a feeble, fleeting thing. But somehow, magicka pulsed through it was like the trail was a meridian line- an artery for magic. Around me, and below me, the beasts were starting to gather. I could feel them connecting to it. Bonding with it. Led on by instincts that weren’t quite their own.

This was Reach Magic. Something I hadn’t touched, with all of my potential selves, with my shadow magic. There was divinity here, but it wasn’t the kind I was used to. Focused and lensed through so many different layers of thaumaturgy and mysticism that it was something else entirely.

I followed, too. Even as the worms and beetles pulled themselves out of the ground, as wolves and wormteeth flanked beside me. A cold chill wrapped itself around me. I could bear it, but I wrapped Shadowrend around me more tightly- a cloak and hood to obscure my features, just in case.

Eventually, as we got closer to where the hare was leading us, I felt presences around me.

“Oh look. It’s a traveler.” Crooned a low, hoarse voice. I looked up. Barely perceptible, a young woman was crouched there, atop a branch. Her fingers were wrapped in spriggan-flesh, shaped into fierce claws. Some of them were stained in blood. She was a breton- round, soft face. Short brown hair. Twigs had been braided into a crown, bone beads hanging from her.

“Interesting, interesting.” Came a voice from the other side. A bird- a crow- with too-human eyes. “Are they meaty? Fresh?”

“They smell of magic.” The breton said.

“I can hear you, you know.” I said.

There’s a pause. A moment of tenseness- and then the breton locked eyes with me. 

She leapt back, off the tree. The tree itself seemed to shudder- and two spriggan stepped out of it. Their claws were covered in the same blood hers were. 

“The Reach Wilds are not a place for ickle wizards with more eyes than sense, girly.” She hissed.

“You’ve come to the wrong place.” The crow responded.

“I think I’ve come to the right one.” I responded. “After all… I’m hunting the Tamarilyn.”

“A hunt, hm? You think you’re a hunter now? An ickle-”

I stepped forward. She crouched, taking a half-step back. The spriggan moved simultaneously, stepping inward like bodyguards.

“If you would like to make this into a fight, we can.” I said. “But I would like to meet your beldam.”

“Prove yourself.” The crow called. It took to the air, spreading its wings. Magicka pulsed- a wave of necromantic energy, digging into the hare’s anima, pulling from the lifeforce of the beasts it had been luring.

The ground shook, slightly- and ancient skeletons, wreathed in vines, pulled themselves from the ground. Wood replaced what bone did not, and branches hung from their heads like antlers. Still-living Taproot hung in their ribcages.

“Sessalan,” I commanded.

Behind me, his back to mine, the Lurker stood. All four hands holding duplicate oar-blades.

“Take care of the scrubs.” I said- and shot toward the witch.

Both spriggans raised their palms toward me. Sparks of virulent, hissing toxic magic stung at me like bees. My body was naturally resistant to it, from Mawaleel’s tinkering- so I ignored it. From my shadow, a pre-prepared burst of telekinetic force- and a wide-angled Feather spell- had the spriggans soaring up and away, off of the ground- weightless and drifting. I pushed past them, toward the witch.

Her claws battered Shadowrend away before it fully formed into my halberd. I moved from one swing into the other, a proper dunmeri war-dance. Each move magnifying into the next with all the talent Almalexia could invest in me. The Witch scrabbled to batter the attacks away and block what she could. 

After the first few steps, the wooden claws wrapped around her hands were cracked and barren, bark hanging loose. I could see sap and blood, mixed together, dripping from them.

It was hard to hold back a grin at the sudden panic in her eyes.

Behind us, hordes of bones scattered across the ground. Sessalan was leaping from rock to rock with an agility that didn’t match his size at all, ripping through wide swathes of undead with every swing. He had so much area control that he was keeping them from interfering with the fight between the witch and I at all.

I turned back just in time to pulse the Atronach pattern- my ward caught a stream of lightning.

Strategically thinking, lightning’s generally the best to use against a spellcaster. Drain me, I can’t sustain Sessalan, then the undead will get me from behind. But in this case, the lightning was being converted into magic resistance. I didn’t even need a hand to sustain the spell.

The witch seemed to realize that after a moment, and tried a burst of force. I was able to weave a weakening pattern against it, digging my feet into the ground- and vines seemed to crawl up my legs, grabbing them- holding me in place.

She grinned, a fierce thing, sharpened teeth on display. 

Shadowrend flashed back into a cloak- and I washed it over myself, hiding myself from view for just long enough to step into my own shadow- and back out again, this time outside of the vines. Shadowrend whorled back into my palm-

And a heavy, crooked staff crashed against my forearms and reflexive shield.

A second witch was standing there- taller, crooked, a cloak made of feathers and shadow. She wasn’t human, entirely- but she wasn’t quite a hagraven.

She had the crow’s eyes.

“Enough playing.” She snapped. She whirled around and smashed the other witch in the head with her own staff. Then she glanced back at me. “Tame your beast.”

“Sessalan.” I said. The daedra paused, standing against the still-standing corpses. “Good work.”

He bowed, and faded.

“To steal a servant from his own master…” The crone laughs. “The cub sent you to us, didn’t she?”

“Let me guess- you can smell her on me.” I said.

She grinned. "No."

"No?" I raised an eyebrow.

“I can smell the Doom Drum on you,” She hissed. “as I did the cub. Come. I’ll show you our mother.”