Character Backstory: Elara's Journeys in Skyrim, the land of her father, Chapter 18--Northwatch Keep, pt 2

  •                “We are here for Thorald Grey-Mane,” Avulstein demanded, stepping in between Elara and the Thalmor guard.  She sighed.  There was no controlling or even politely guiding Avulstein Gray-Mane.  Elara gave a sideways glance to Onmund, as two more guards appeared at the entrance.  Both of them instinctively stretched their fingers slowly, preparing for the spells they knew would have to flow soon.  The subtle movement was not lost on the two guards, who drew their swords.

                    “So much for diplomacy,” Onmund muttered.  Elara stiffened.  She knew Avulstein was looking for a fight ever since she spoke to him in Whiterun, as proven by his carping and deliberate blundering.  She had spent enough time observing Nords to recognize the signs. 

                    She was weary of all the fighting.  She knew she had lost much physical strength when she healed Onmund back in Markarth.  She did not regret it, but she also did not know how much longer she could keep looking for her father.  She could not allow Onmund to continue risking his life for her, when his dream had always been to be a mage. Onmund saw her as a frail, vulnerable rabbit that needed to be protected.   He is right, and in this state, I am not helpful to anyone.  She shook the doubts out of her head.  This would be their last battle, and she would convince him to return to the College.   As for herself, she would not abandon her search for her father; even if it cost what life she had remaining.

                    “He is a traitor to the Dominion.  Leave immediately, or you will suffer the same fate,” the gatekeeper glanced impassively at the trio. He resumed his gaze over their heads, not doubting that he would be obeyed.

                    “Then your fate will be to meet my blade,” Avulstein, lithesome for his size, heaved himself into the air and sliced the sword blade down upon the surprised Altmer, who crumpled to the ground.  Arrows began pelting the trio from above as five Thalmor guards rushed through the gateway, wielding fire and swords.

                    The trio scattered, two Thalmor after Onmund and Avulstein, and one for Elara.  That one is going to be surprised, Onmund thought, as he watched Elara take her out with a powerful firebolt.  She glanced at him and nodded, and he gave his full attention to the two Thalmor bearing down on him as Elara began to focus on the archers.  She dashed through the gate into the compound.  Damn, she moved inside to draw the archers’ fire away from them, he cursed internally, staggering the nearest Thalmor with a thunderbolt.  Onmund ducked the sword blade of the second, releasing a disintegrating blast to the Thalmor’s abdomen.  The first soldier, recovered, lobbed a succession of fireballs at Onmund, which he absorbed with his ward.  Onmund quickly dual cast a lightning bolt before the Altmer could summon a ward.  Both soldiers lay in a heap, twitching.

                    Avulstein handled the other two soldiers with ease and fluidity, side stepping blows or blocking them gracefully with his shield.  This dance allowed Avulstein to find a tiny weakness in their well-trained defenses, which he quickly and cleanly exploited.   One arrow embedded itself in his thigh as he ran towards the entrance.  Nonplussed, he pulled it as Elara blasted the final archer off the stone parapet.

                    Elara immediately healed the wound, though Avulstein tried to push her away.  “This is not a contest to see who can bleed the most before falling,” she said sternly.

                    “Unless it is the Thalmor,” Avulstein huffed, surprised by the golden glow encircling his thigh. 

                    “Sweet rolls?” Onmund asked.

                    “No, lavender,” Avulstein replied bewildered.  “Ma uses it everywhere.”

                    “Hmmm,” Onmund furrowed his brows, still puzzled by the healing magic of his Breton companion.

                    “Three for me, two for you mage, and one for the little one, here,” Avulstein said proudly.

                    “Hate to say it friend, but you will have to count again.  Elara took down four,” Onmund grinned.

                    Avulstein stared at the three Thalmor archers lying on the snow inside the gate, his face displaying complete and utter surprise.

    “It is an advantage to be continually underestimated,” Elara replied smoothly, looking at both men pointedly.  “Now let’s go get your brother!”  The Breton rushed toward the door to the keep, downing a health and stamina potion, along with an extra prayer to Stendaar to get through this.