Piercing (1/2)

Tsajasuna awoke with a jolt, eyes flickering under the light of the fire. She raised her head - she had fallen asleep, head lying on one of her great tomes of magic. She was leaning on her front, collapsed over her desk and sitting in her favourite chair.
How unlike me, she thought. Of course she was tired - healing the wounds her cub, Nayan, had inflicted upon Mordessa, her dear apprentice, had taken its toll on the decrepit witch-cat. Weeks of slow, alchemical healing. Hours of worry over whether the young Khajiit would pull through.

Silence in the cabin. Where was her ward?

Those great emerald eyes widened, as Tsajasuna began to worry. Mordessa had been deathly ill since her attack, but there was something else that was wrong with her. A sickness of the mind, dark dreams that awoke her constantly. Tsajasuna would often wake to Mordessa's screams, begging the wicked golem not to hurt her. His name, screamed over and over again. Gods know what the Namiran venom was doing to the poor creature. Tsajasuna had kept an eye on any physical changes to Mordessa's condition, including any Daedric misdeeds that may appear after being maimed by such a beast, but the mental realm was much harder to heal.

Almost as if...As if, death would be a kindness.

The old Khajiit stood suddenly, chair on the floor behind her. She wrenched the door open and dashed out with vampiric speed.

A catastrophe was about to occur.

---

"Mordessa, my apprentice...come away from the ramparts now. This one thinks it does no good for you." Tsajasuna stood, green eyes gazing intently at the desolate Khajiit that was standing on the edge of the balcony, inwardly begging Mordessa to leave the cliff she was now gazing over.

The shriveled Mordessa stood, the landscape around her no longer as welcoming as before him and his touch. The devil who had ripped her asunder, who desecrated her shoulder. The dizzying heights of Hilltop House no longer guarding her from the dangers below, but rather trapping her with the horrors that dripped down from above. Beautiful horrors who wore rings and baubles. Her foolishness and shame made her eyes shine with tears, as she remembered his glacial touch.

"It will happen...again! It can't...it can't!"

"Do not be foolish, little cat. Tsajasuna guards here now, forevermore. Nayan-"

"DON'T! Don't! Please don't...say that name..."

The terrible nightmares, the agony of the bite and the long restoration of her ruined shoulder. Mordessa clasped her arms, quietly shaking. No, she would rather die than see that creature again. The white skin, the ghostly hair, those dead, abyssal eyes - the same eyes from her nightmares.

The black serpent that wanted to devour her in that inky hellscape only Vaermina could have dreamed up. Or perhaps Namira. Linked forever to the abomination. A fate worse than death, to be hunted by it for eternity.

The dreams always ended before she was caught, but there was no waking up from her new reality. Tsajasuna had explained already that Nayan would return someday, to finish what he had started, as he harboured that same obsessive quality of his creator.

He had tasted Mordessa's blood and flesh, he had more than enough to track her down wherever she ran. She thought of sleeping peacefully in her older years, only to wake up to him towering over her with a hungry grin and glowing eyes which betrayed their dark intentions.

The pointed smile.

"No...no! I can't let him...take me...!"

The mist below her swung into view as Mordessa leaned over the rope that was holding her steady, so sure an unseen and painless peace lay at the bottom. She released the the twined restraint, swinging her arms out stiffly as the pads of her feet slipped off the planks. All the weight of fear draining from her head to her sunken heart, as a falling sensation surmounted.

But a cold hand grasped her good shoulder, grounding her to the wretched world once more. She recoiled, eager to push herself over so she could be free from this horror. But the clawed hand pulled her back. Tsajasuna snatched the smaller Khajiit away from her imminent doom, bundling Mordessa into a heavy blanket. Tsajasuna lifted her load easily, used to carrying bodies in sacks by now and dashed back into the hut, Mordessa flailing and kicking in her arms. Begging to let go. The door locked behind her with a fizz as its enchantment came back to life.

Tsajasuna would have to begin locking the door the old-fashioned way, with lock and key.

---

"Tsajasuna does not believe in lying to her apprentice."

"This one does, however, believe in cold steel and holy silver."

Mordessa was wrapped in her tarpaulin, facing the fire Tsajasuna had stoked in the hut. She clutched one of the few special cups Tsajasuna often kept to herself, the old witch refusing to drink from something so base as pewter. Hers were masterfully hewn from a single ore of ebony - a frivolous use of precious metals to be sure, but easier to clean, otherworldly to touch. Expensive, and just as everlasting as herself. The warmth on Mordessa's face and shoulders made her feel better, although the scar Nayan had left her with became more numb in heat. Mordessa hated how it felt, a cold and inky formation that would never leave her. Tainted forever.

Tsajasuna had even brewed a hot flagon of herbal tea - an easier way of getting Mordessa to eat her medicine. The younger Khajiit didn't like it - the herbs made her sleepy, which often led to more dreams - but her wound was not completely healed. She sipped some more of it down, looking up at the ancient witch.

The hut - once a place of dankness and threat - was like home. Even though Tsajasuna's decor was not what Mordessa would call comforting, it was full of life. The orange fire warming her fur drenched the walls in an amber light, the papers and parchments and books creating great black shadowy towers behind them. The smell of ink and fire and paper and dust.

Yet, Mordessa knew nothing pale and dripping skulked in those corners. No white skin or black eyes would appear - the great white witch. Mordessa's great protector and hero had sent the creature skyward, into a white abyss that had opened up and consumed his dazzling form.

Mordessa felt her eyes glisten as she gazed up at Tsajasuna.

"Holy silver?"

In her ebony claws, there was a silver dagger. A short-sword to Mordessa, of exquisite make, with a gleaming blade and dark wooden pommel. It had been wrapped in cloth, stowed wherever Tsajasuna hid all her precious things. Mordessa's eyes opened wide. A silver dagger would be useless against Nayan of course, but something about the blade made her feel slightly at ease. It looked...powerful, but not evil. Unique.

"Ah! Mordessa will finish her medicine first! Then it might be allowed to touch this enchanted Piercing."

"...Piercing?"

Tsajasuna furrowed her brow, causing Mordessa to quickly drink some more of her hot tea and medicine. The old Khajiit continued.

"A silver-steel shortsword, made for this one one hundred years ago by the Redguard, using some of their fascinating Yokudan techniques. It is of very, very high quality. It was made for one purpose."

Tsajasuna placed Piercing onto the bed beside her, her fingers gently stroking it's surface. Mordessa was sure it was humming in the firelight.

"Yes....this is the blade which carved Tsajasuna's runes onto Nayan's shell. Quite an apt name, no?"

Mordessa was quiet, eyes glued to the weapon. How had such a weapon been made? Why had Tsajasuna kept this hidden from her? She had many questions, but one was flung forward so hard it spilled out her mouth. She fell forward on her hands, nearly knocking her tankard over.

"C-can we kill him with this? Are you saying we have a chance?"

Tsajasuna froze, hands still over Piercing. She began to shake, as if she was angry. Mordessa quickly gulped down the rest of her hot mug, placing it on the hearth and went to touch the blade. In a flash, Tsajasuna snapped it up in her claws, and held the weapon close to her bosom. Her eyes were hidden under the long fallen locks of her hair, but Mordessa was sure she was crying. There was silence, only the crackling of the fire could be heard. Mordessa felt the numbness at her shoulder pulse.

"M-mistress?"

"Mordessa...Mordessa must promise Tsajasuna one thing before Piercing is given. A promise Mordessa can never break. A promise Mordessa would give anything to uphold."

"Of course! I would do anything you say, Mistress!" Mordessa consoled, climbing over the bed's many furs to sit by her melancholy mentor. Tsajasuna stopped hugging the weapon, and brought it down to her knees. A strange ripple broke across her jaws, making her fangs flicker. A sniff.

"Mordessa must promise to never kill her cub with this weapon. No, the blade enough will be used to frighten or coerce him. Nayan loathes this blade, perhaps even learning to fear its power. Yet, Tsajasuna cannot bear to hurt her cub, and so this one must ask a most selfish promise..."

"Mordessa must... not kill Nayan with this blade."

Mordessa was silent, as Tsajasuna's words hung heavy in the air.

"Tsajasuna understands if Mordessa refuses, but-"

"Fine."

Tsajasuna almost flinched at the word. Her saddened eyes gleamed down at Mordessa as she lifted her head, pulling aside the fallen waves of raven-hued hair with one hand. Mordessa could see the shock in them, even with their netherwordly glow.

"I promise you, Mistress Tsajasuna -"

"I shall never kill Nayan with this blade, Piercing. Never ever."

---

Mordessa stared at Piercing, the beautiful silver blade humming quietly in her hands. She turned it over, marveling at the quality and build of the weapon. Silver, deadly, made to maim.

Like him.

The girl shuddered, but held the enchanted blade close. The strange coolness of it calmed her, as if it was colder than ice. Mordessa looked up from the bed, watching Tsajasuna busy herself among her many vials and trinkets. The old witch was planning something.

"He's still out there, isn't he?"

The witch slowed her searching, but carried on regardless.

"Khajiit could not bare either of your deaths. But he is far from here, she assures you. Now please, little one, haste must be made-"

Tsajasuna? If Nayan is- what's going to happen to me? To us?

"..."

Tsajasuna halted, and turned to face the younger Khajiit. Mordessa noticed a grave look in her eye, one of steel. A decision had been reached, to the exclusion of Mordessa's opinions and wants. A decision which left a bitter taste as it left the witches black lips.

"Though it seems redundant, khajiit shall elucidate your fate, since you ask, little one. Yours is an inevitable end to be sure, like so many others before you. Yes, it is because he sees something in you, something different, something to offer that outlives your life. Presumed dead or no, he seeks to take it. You are the first one to escape him, to fight back, to live. Whether or not it is infatuation, embarrassment, or something else entirely, Tsajasuna cannot be sure what her cub seeks. Perhaps it is simply revenge upon you, or maybe his mother? But know that you will be hunted for the rest of your life because of that."

The green glow in her eyes grew, as Tsajasuna looked away. She blinked heavily, as she leaned back on the shelves. A sigh escaped her, her countenance seemingly defeated. Mordessa had never seen her mentor in this light of vulnerability.

"You've accepted this, surely. Yet you stand, with greyed light, steeled for further agony with only a murmur of sight. Where the strength you had left within you to best Nayan's venom was inspired, she cannot imagine. This is not all that you are left with, my apprentice. Hope."

"You've suffered so much, but never needlessly. This one knows of your distractions, the times your mind began to wander through her inculcation, absorbing less and less as you grew tired at his fault."

"Of how restless you awoke."

Mordessa scrunched her eyes, unsure of what Tsajasuna was getting at. His fault? Restless? What did she mean?

"...The man named Jo'Sien, you still wish to see him, do you not?"

Shock. Horror. Embarrassment. How did Tsajasuna know of the Catraso boy?

"Mistress, how did y-"

"Tsajasuna expected as much. If he is truly something of your fantasies, then he can offer you so much more than Nayan. Khajiit begs of you, seek him, seek Solitude in the time she's bought. You are no good here as The Great White Witch's Pupil while that man pervades your mind. Seek happiness before the inevitable, in the very least, then return to me."

Mordessa felt her face grow warm as her hands covered it in unease. It was pointless asking Tsajasuna how she had learned of Mordessa's infatuation with the gentle-cat of nobility, she would never divulge that information. Had her want to be with him become obvious? His form had begun to invade her dreams more often, the sight of him in the sewers, his smile, that glint in his eye. He could protect me, a voice deep inside said.

A bulwark against the snake.

Tsajasuna hissed quietly, before turning back to her shelves. Mordessa looked down on the shelves, and saw the witch was gathering Septims. Lots of them. Mordessa moved forward slightly, watching the coins tinkle as they were gathered into a leather coin purse Tsajasuna was holding. None fell to the floor, as haphazard as she was being, they all found their way into the fold, somehow.

"There is little time, little moth. Tsajasuna can promise your safety here no longer, here Nayan always returns first. Bag your things while Khajiit finds the new clothing she bought in secret for you."

"We are going to cross a very cold, and untraceable place, in hopes that this one's cub cannot find his desire so soon. When he comes, Tsajasuna shall tell him nothing, and all that's left for the wicked child to follow is a faint scent in the sky."

Tsajasuna picked up her huge, wide-brimmed hat and rested it atop her black mane. Her furs were already on her back, as she moved towards the entrance of the house. She threw a small pile of clothes at Mordessa, smelling new and crisp. Once again, where the witch had suddenly produced them from was a mystery, although Mordessa noticed Tsajasuna tucking the small coin bag away under her dress. A pocket space, perhaps.

"Prepare for the long journey ahead, frail Mordessa and dress with haste. Nayan has grown, and his mother is unsure how quickly he can recover now."

The two witches hurriedly stepped over the threshold of their hilltop home, only to be immediately greeted by the bitter winds that haunt the higher regions of Skyrim. Tsajasuna held her hat down as she set their transport in place upon the ramparts, as to keep it from blowing away. Mordessa looked on in awe as she watched the broom she'd swept their home with countless times rise all its own, suspended in the air at the height of Tsajasuna's hips, a daunting distance for the little Khajiit.

Her mentor crossed her legs over near the end of its worn wooden handle, patting the bristles behind her with impatient invitation, and with a risky hop up Mordessa joined her. A rare smile curled at the ends of the elder's lips, watching her pupil struggle to stay on and adjust to the thin seat as the broom's fall protection spell whirred into completion.

"Grip Khajiit tightly if Mordessa must, and feel free to rest as you please, she will wake you when we've reached The Pale. Brace for the frigid pilgrimage and slippery slopes that await you."

"It is time you felt the warmth of another again."