Into Oblivion

23

Over the horizon did the bloodied sun lift. It symbolized the massacre that was to be within a few mere hours. The Hero of Kvatch stood upon the fortress wall with eyes deprived of any sleep. All through the night had he stayed up contemplating about this war. He made strategies and figured out facts hoping that he would be wiser when he approached the battlefield. He closed his eyes as he let the mountain fog roll over him and cool his burning nerves. Behind him, on the walkway, Daelon approached fully suited in Ebony armor. A helmet was cradled beneath his arm as he shared the same view of the Hero. The Altmer licked his parched lips as he spoke out his first words of the morning, "... it shall all be over soon."

Without detaching his eyes from the horizon, the Hero's response was silence. His structure was still tense as he could only think of one thing and that was Elizabeth. He pondered upon the thought if that Black Dremora could have lied to him. Possibly, she was in agonizing pain at this precise moment. He began to fear for her safety with shaken anxious woodland eyes. His lips sealed together as he made an effort to bask in the silence.

Daelon's long sun kissed ears curved as he became burdened with his own worry for the knight. He placed his gauntlet upon the man's shoulder and reassured him with a buoyant voice, "... Elizabeth will be fine."

With a jerk of his arm, the Hero pulled his shoulder away and turned around. He walked past Daelon and demanded of him, "... go prepare your brothers. We leave at midday."

The Altmer watched as he paced away. Daelon's eyes narrowed and he turned to the horizon looking at it for the last time before. For in a mere few hours he would be trudging through the jagged wasteland of Oblivion; the origin of nightmares.

All through the night, the Commander sat by Elizabeth's side. He sat upon the ground with his back pressed against a wall. The inferno within the hearth burned vibrantly and favorably. The Altmer was positioned next to Broga's side. Her body shifted upon his chest with one arm draped over his abdomen while the other was nestled under her cheek which permitted her fingertips to stroke against the warmth of his tunic.

With one arm, the Commander held her securely to him. He could feel her fluttering heart pound into his chest. It echoed back at her heart for his heart had been dead within his chest for such a long time. The fingertips of his other hand softly slid through her long snow-white tresses. His own locks had abandoned the black ribbon that they had usually been tied within. His lengthy waved onyx hair fell around his face as he looked down upon the sleeping beauty which embraced him so affectionately.

It befuddled him why she would turn to him from that lack of compassion that she received from her former darling. He was certain that she only turned to him out of desperation; nevertheless, he would cherish this moment as much as he could. The first rays of light came through the pane and Broga felt his heart harden for this was a sign for him to depart. Commander of Dagon's armies and most powerful Dremora within the realms of Oblivion had its disadvantages at times like this. With vigilance he shifted the maiden into his arms and lifted her from the surface of the floor. He raised himself and the Altmer easily enough.

With grace he had glided over to the sleeping slab and tenderly placed the quiescent maiden down. Her body formed over the cushions and she let off a gentle sigh. Broga found a blanket and draped it across her body to keep her warmth from escaping her. His hands were kind as they tucked her in and made sure that she would stay slumbering until the war was over.

Just as he was to turn and leave he felt her petite frigid hand fall over his own. He became startled for a moment and as his timid crimson eyes shifted back to her, he saw her eyes flutter open for a mere second and then once again close as she whispered purely, "... Broga... don't... leave."