While unusual, the tell-tale signs of magicka in proximity was enough to draw the attentions of every being in the cathedral who was sensitive to such things. With one arm wrapped around the Mace, Viconia shifted uncomfortably and pressed her free hand into her temple, audibly groaning as she too was left reeling by the sensation. What was worse though, was the way that Falid’s expression hardened in the moments it took for him to unclasp his winged helm from his belt and place it firmly over his head.
If it wasn’t for the way that most people around us were left groaning and hunching over slightly in pain at the alien sensations, I would have struggled to seek out their source through the press of bodies. I could feel the magicka hammering into my mind but the portion that wasn’t entirely human was already rising to the surface, growling in displeasure and allowing me to see the way that the interior of the cathedral began to warp and twist.
Beginning like the first hints of predawn light there was a puckering, swirling beam of sunlight that seemed to stretch into existence from one of the many spearing from the stained-glass windows. The beam seemed to drink in all other colours, merging and growing and yet splitting like a rainbow despite the colours being wrong and utterly impossible. The headache that thundered its way into my mind at the sight was enough to tell me that whatever I was witnessing was not something that could be comprehended by mortal minds.
Further along the enormous expanse several of taller candle holders were illuminated in increasingly bright light, as though their tiny flames were suddenly enhanced somehow and the primary chandelier above our heads was reacting the same way. Four metres across and containing dozens, if not a hundred or more softly burning candles, the central chandelier was bathed in a harsh white light that grew brighter by the second.
One moment the expanding beams of light were almost physical and the next they had whip-cracked together and stretched into impossible shapes before breaking away from their sources. The magicka was still growing but it was no longer headache inducing now that what had been summoned tore themselves into reality.
Like the bastard merging of a sunbeam and a will-o-wisp, the shuddering, flickering forms dropped from the light sources that had given birth to them and began to dance about the cathedral’s interior. They were difficult to focus upon but I caught semblances of humanoid figures leaping and cavorting before utter pandemonium erupted.
Priests and the faithful alike suddenly scattered from the things that had appeared without warning and it took mere seconds before the first screams ripped through the air. Initially in fear and terror of the unknown, the shouts of warning and alarm were replaced with full-throated shrieks of pain and agony as the things fell upon those closest to them. I saw one priest fall as though tackled by one of the shapes, the energies that it consisted of burning him horribly and blinding him even as he screamed and slapped ineffectively at it.
“Ssussun errdegahren!” Viconia shouted, growling in the lingering pain from the creatures’ appearances and obviously trying not to limp from her injured feet.
“What?”
“Light Atronachs!”
With growing horror at the indiscriminate way that the flickering beings leapt about and attacked whoever they could reach I found myself struggling to think or act, finding my limbs growing as solid as lead.
“What in all the hells are Light Atronachs doing here?”
Thedret, like the rest of us had already drawn his weapon and he gripped the enormous three metre length of his bladed glaive in both hands. “They are creatures of Meridia! Umaril must have sent them for the Mace!”
In the weeks and months of reading and learning all that I could about the Knights of the Nine, Pelinal and his ancient nemesis there had been one being who was mentioned in every written works. The Daedric Prince Meridia was considered to be one of the ‘good’ or at least ‘lesser evil’ of the princes but the sight of some of her creatures attacking innocents proved that there was truly not a ‘good’ daedric prince. She was one of the more difficult princes to describe and consider to be wholly evil with her everlasting hatred of all things undead and a permanent rivalry against the likes of Molag Bal, but she was also the patron goddess of Umaril the Unfeathered. It had been her blessings and support during the Alessian rebellion that had allowed him to contend with the might and blessings of the Eight Divines and survive the destruction of his physical body at the hands of Pelinal Whitestrake. The appearance of her servants within the Cathedral of Zenithar shortly after the retrieval of one of Pelinal’s artefacts was no coincidence and did not bode well for any of us.
In a handful of seconds, I felt a strange calm wash over me that was wholly unlike anything that the vampire could offer. I felt my muscles tighten, stomach clench in almost the opposite of quivering nervousness and for the first time in days at least I felt my mind clear of all doubts and worries. Months of Legion training as a minor commander and Praefect suddenly took over in its own kind of muscle memory and I could almost feel like blood chill in my veins.
The nervousness from the fact that every armed individual near/by was suddenly waiting on me was washed away by my sudden rush of confidence. Here was an enemy, and around me were men and women sworn to combat such things. While this didn’t appear to be the same sort of attack that had resulted in countless desecrated temples, churches, chapels and cathedrals throughout Tamriel we were certainly in the position to do something about it.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
One of the humanoid collections of sunbeams bounced off one of the walls, twisting unnaturally in mid-air as it hurled itself into the centre of our ad hoc formation but before anyone could react Thedret had impaled it on his glaive in a shower of twinkling lights. The air was suddenly filled with the hint of fireflies as it shivered and came apart on the bladed polearm, somehow screeching inaudibly before he flicked it away.
“We need to get everyone the hells out of here!” I shouted over the increasingly loud screaming and cries of absolute terror and gesturing to the collection of Men-at-arms surrounding us. “You all clear a path to the entrance if you can. If you can’t, I want you all to get as many people into the catacombs as possible.”
The wide-eyed expression of the Bishop reappeared as I turned and I could see the man’s sudden terror in his pale features and quivering jowls. “The relic cannot fall to the hands of the Unfeathered,” he said with his voice cracking with fear. “and you must also save the faithful!”
“I fully intend to, my lord Bishop.” Taking a quick tally of the number of armed warriors with me I quickly nodded to some who quickly moved off in the direction of some of the creatures with their weapons drawn. Others I motioned between themselves and Viconia who was now holding the Mace close to her chest as tightly as she did her coin purse and valuables in Bravil. “I need you all to escort Madame DeVir and the Relic out of here and not stop for anyone or anything.”
They nodded and I turned away from the Bishop despite his attempts to keep my attention. As for Viconia, she only had eyes for me as she drew Dragonbane. “I can fight.”
Our expressions mirrored each other and I couldn’t help but think of the inevitable words she would have with me at a later time. “We’ll hold them off but you need to get the Mace to safety. We can’t afford to let them get their hands on it.”
“Always the hero Mrannd’ssinss.” She said softly, nudging my shoulder with her forehead before gripping her sword even tighter. There was the briefest moment of concern on her beautiful face that framed the old acid scarring and tattoos of her forehead and cheeks before she turned away and I was left facing the others.
Slightly off to the side I saw the old retired centurion hardening his expression at the sight before us as the dozens of armed soldiers and guards engaged the flickering light atronachs. The preparations and precautions that the Church had implemented since announcing the attacks was already paying dividends but the collection of volunteers, and hired guards couldn’t stand up to the increasing number of daedra spawning from every flicking candle or stained-glass window.
“Carodus.” I said, seeing his gaze twist to look at me at his name. “I want you to escort the Bishop and everyone else you can into the catacombs.”
Despite being unable to hear it over the sound of one of the militia being born down screaming under a pack of the creatures, I could see the way that Carodus snorted. “No disrespect intended my lord,” he said, rolling his shoulders and drawing his gladius in a smooth, experienced motion. “but you can shove that order up your arse.”
There was no use arguing, nor was there any time to as a collection of the capering things rushed forward. While they casually swiped or stuck at anyone in their path they paid little heed to the few armed soldiers or militia or even the unarmed civilians in the way. Their attentions and burning, shapeless gazes were fixated on us and the Mace in Viconia’s arms.
Even as we shifted forward to engage the Atronachs I could feel myself tensing at the growing realisation. The cathedral interior was enormous and could hold congregations of hundreds if not more at a time. While it was not a day of worship there were still dozens, if not a hundred or more worshippers and priests scattered and panicking in all directions and only two or three dozen armed guards and soldiers to defend them. Several of the guards that the church had hired had already been killed or wounded and besides the small number of Knights and Men-at-arms from the Order of the Nine there were very few capable fighters.
The way that the things moved and their semi-transparent natures made it impossible to make even a somewhat accurate estimation of their numbers but everywhere I looked there were dozens of them squirming around the increasingly panicked defenders. The only true saving grace regarding the whole situation was that they appeared to be extremely fragile and had difficulties inflicting injuries on anyone wearing decent armour. They were hard to hit and moved like lightning but unless a group of them managed to pin someone down they could do little more than momentarily blind and inflict something akin to severe sunburns.
As we rushed forward it was Falid who encountered the first of the light Atronachs, a gleaming, stuttering streak of light in the rough semblance of a humanoid shape. It launched itself at him without hesitation, leaping and twirling through the air with ease which didn’t seem to help it much when it met an enormous black plated leg coming from the other direction. The force behind the kick would have been more than enough to outright kill a grown man, but the atronach appeared to explode instead.
Although he staggered and lost his footing from the moment’s surprise at how easily he killed the atronach, Falid was already moving like a storm. With his sword grasped in his enormous gauntlets he turned two more of the creatures into sparkling droplets of energy that dissipated into the air in two sweeping blows. Thedret, Alexi, Carodus and the small collection of Knights by my side also quickly made short work of several of the shimmering daedra. More than one of us were left blinking away the sheer intensity of their forms and their partially explosive deaths as we carved them apart but with our comrades close by there wasn’t any opportunity for them to take advantage of the momentary weakness.
The first that fell to Sunchild’s edge dropped from one of the towering pillars supporting the roof like a glowing insect, shrieking with voice that sounded faintly of wind chimes as its formless claws of sunlight sought out my eyes. With barely a thought I had cut it in half but only after I gained the impression of a howling mouth, a face lacking any form of eyes and the vaguely feminine shape only from the curved edges of its half-formed appearance. Like the others that died it dissipated with a muted thunderclap of imploding energies as it was banished back into the Oblivion Realm of its Prince.
