Chapter 24

"What do you mean 'stay out here'?" Ferise found her tone rising at Eldwin's suggestion she stay outside to guard the cave's entrance. "You can't go in there alone."

He didn't look up as he sorted through a number of vials he carried with him, gauging which potion he might need. "I have certain advantage you do not. I also have skills in stealth and subterfuge. I'm afraid in this task, you're more of a hindrance than a help."

The Dunmer opened her mouth to protest, and then shut it when she couldn't think of a retort. He was right. She was mortal. He wasn't. She couldn't help but rankle at his smug attitude though.

"And how long do I wait before I go in to find you?" She asked irritably.

Ever so calm, the vampire turned to look at her. "You don't. If I'm not back by dusk, you'll know I'm dead." Turning back to his task, he continued to gather only what he need to carry.

"That's it?" Ferise knelt beside him, tugging his arm until he looked at her. "You go in, die, and that's it?"

His lips tensed in a smile. "I don't intend on dying. Don't be so dramatic."

She didn't know why his attitude bothered her. Somehow she suspected the worry for him nagged her senses. Why should I care? He's a vampire. He'd just as soon kill me if it suited him.

Unable to voice this, however, she opted to make a simple camp near a boulder outside the cave's entrance.

"Don't linger past dusk." Eldwin told her pointedly. He tucked some knives in sleeves and boots. "If I'm dead, this vampire will hunt at nightfall."

Ferise nodded, mimicking his own manner of not looking at him as she started a fire. Striking flint, she felt a hand her shoulder. Eldwin knelt, staring intently with an odd expression on his face.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes," She told him. "I heard you. Get out of the area before dusk. I got that."

"Good." He paused, before moving towards the cave. "Oh…and Ferise?"

"What?" She found him again with the odd expression which slowly transformed to a smile.

"I'm glad you're here." Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the darkness. Ferise found whatever annoyance she felt dissipated like a morning fog.

Hunger…desire…..a need…a craving for blood abated only during the void of a vampire's dreamless sleep…

Ghola woke from the emptiness, feeling the cramped quarters of the coffin surround him from all sides like a blanket. He emerged from the dirt laden casket knowing the lid wasn't sealed. The knowledge that he shared the same fate of vampirism with his fellow brethren also lingered in his thoughts. He'd slept in the same coffin for hundreds of years, sealed in the Gutted Mine with his brethren; followers of Azura.

He expected to find their familiar faces waiting for him, as he had so many times before. What he didn't expect was the thick scent of blood in the air. Not spilled blood, but blood pumping through a living heart, with the promise of a feeding if they faltered.

Death also lingered like a heavy perfume, and immediately he knew this was not mortal death.

Not mortal…. The death of a vampire. One of his kindred passed into ashes.

Ghola paused for a moment, looking to the cavern walls with suspicion. No mere adventurer could kill his clan member. Someone of skill lurked amid these shadows.

Hope flared with a mixture of anger. Having grown weary of eternity, the orc would nonetheless, avenge the death of any one of his brethren.

How long since he warmed his face in the sun, or felt the fresh breeze of the dawn upon him? So adoring of the dawn, he followed his fate through the worship of the Daedric Lord Azura, Lady of the Dawn and Dusk, only to this end as some bloodthirsty monster. As an Orc, he couldn't appreciate the irony in that.

Dratik, a vampire lord, died by his hand, whereby cursing Ghola and the others to the same fate. Fearing the death they'd bring to loved ones, they agreed to seal themselves to their doom in this mine, hoping Fate would eventually provide them the reward of death to their existence.

Blood…

Ghola drew in a deep breath. Nostrils twitched and his mouth worked at the thought of feeding. The tusks of his Orsimer lineage were not as sharp as they fangs now thirsting for blood. Once an impressive Orc with a large frame, low brow, and heavy jaw, he knew his appearance shared the faded green skin and weathered look of the dead. Unable to see his own reflection, he knew the hollowed cheeks and emaciated body left him half the Orc he once was.

Vision adjusted to the gloom of the cave, finding a body lying to the far end of the room. Here was no stranger. He recognized the Nordic chainmail. The weapon of Nille Elf-Daughter still clutched in the remains of ash and bone. Her once golden length of hair now appeared as a shroud of ashen gray-white.

Sorrow transformed to relief when the Orc realized her pain ended. Although he grieved her death, he knew their day would come. How many times had he prayed a noble end to their torment?

He found the others, all bones and ashes. Donning their armor and weapons by their side showed their killer be no mere thief. The scent of life resonated close by, closer than before.

"I know you're here." Ghola spoke in a voice too long unused. The growl sounded more threatening than intended. He doubted it mattered much to whoever entered this mine. Their intention was clear. His day had come. "Show yourself."

A shape took form far enough from his battle hammer, but close enough so Ghola saw his would-be executioner. A Dark Elf? Ghola couldn't remember the last time he saw a Dunmer, having spent centuries with only one other elf and that one was Altmer.

Black hair, cropped short spiked slightly. Skin, dark as ebony, almost concealed him in the shadow save for the ember red gaze. This was the stare of someone focused on one thing and one thing only. His light armor glowed faintly of magic. A single fighter entering a cave filled with vampires showed him as either foolhardy or very good with the weapons.

A sword remained sheathed on a shoulder harness. A bow rested in his left hand. The other hand kept an arrow knocked, pulled slightly and at the ready.

In the moments of assessing his foe, looking for weaknesses and strengths, Ghola recognized the elf released the spell when he didn't have to. He just as easily remained under the Chameleon spell and killed from behind. Furthermore, only now the Orc realized who broke the seal of the mine.

Azura…

Ghola straightened, seeing the one sent to end his curse. For his brethren, their curse already lifted with their deaths. "I know why you've come, elf."

The elf nodded once, drawing his bow.

Ghola smiled. "And I promise you, I won't go easily."

To this the Dunmer matched the smile. "I would expect nothing less."

The arrow flew with an audible twang, hitting the stone wall behind him when Ghola sidestepped the bolt. Having the powers of the undead had its benefits. He drew his hammer, feeling the surge of power and anticipation when the elf drew his own blade from its sheath.

With a resounding song of steel, the blade twirled in a dizzying pattern, blocking the first blow of his mighty hammer. Ghola let the weight of the weapon carry his weight to dodge the thrust of the sword, admiring his opponent's skill. He retaliated not with the hammer, but with a fist to strike at the face.

The elf braced the impact, falling backward and then fell low to duck from a swing of the heavy mallet.

"I am Ghola gro-Muzgol!" The Orc snarled, ignoring a nick the curved sword left on his forearm. He blocked another pass before continuing. " You will remember my name!"

The elf offered no reply, dancing away only to move to the side with incredible speed. He slashed again, leaving a gash to the vampire's side.

"Nille Elf-Daughter!" Ghola snarled, ignoring the pain as another blow hit him from the front as this stranger seemed to move at dizzying speeds. "A Nordic Bard from Atmora. You will remember her name as well!"

The battle hammer swung, missing his foe. This move met another slash to the back of his leg. Frustration turned his hope for a death with honor to one of anger. "And Aranalda, the archer!" He changed tactics to throw a fist and caught the elf to the face. It only stunned him momentarily, but Ghola felt the satisfaction of seeing blood now. Bloodlust began to churn his fury.

"Avita Cassiana!" Ghola roared, wanting badly to kill this elf and feed. Even if this meant another hundred years of solitude in this dark cave, now with no one to speak to, and time without end in this undead state. He still wanted to sink his teeth and drink deeply. "Yes! You will remember that name!"

Still, the Dunmer spoke no words as he moved easily out of the heavy swings of the hammer. The vampire snarled this time, throwing the hammer as he lost control. When the Dunmer evaded the weapon, Ghola roared in anger. Lunging himself he simply grabbed the elf in the hopes of crushing him with his bare hands. He barely felt the sword cutting through him.

His first sense was surprise; surprise such a small blade cut through his armor made of Orcish design, imbued with magic. The next sense was relief, as the cold numbing bite of true death wrapped around him.

"Umar…." Ghola gasped, slipping to his knees. He gaped at the sword in his chest, looked up at his killer who remain unmoved as stone. "Umar gra-Khar….you will…remember her as well?"

Death for a vampire felt like sand drifting on a beach, the body disintegrated piece by piece, as the undead soul relieved its burden of eternal life. Ghola watched the dark elf give a single defined nod.

"They will be remembered." The words sounded so far away now. Ghola smiled, dropping forward to turn to dust.