Chapter 13

Tirdas, the 12th of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys stood in the ruined throne room of the Red Keep. The roof and most of the walls had fallen revealing the desolation she had made of King's Landing. Flakes of ash fell like snowfall from a dull overcast sky the color of smoke. The Iron Throne, her dream, her destiny, was finally hers. It stood behind her as she spoke with Jon Snow. Her lover looked troubled, but so beautiful. His hair was tousled, his beard unkempt, but he had come to her. He had denied her, but now he held her again. One arm wrapped around her as she pressed her body against him. He was so difficult to read. He looked both troubled and resolved, but he was holding her again.

"Be with me," she pleaded. "Build a new world with me. This is our reason. It has been from the beginning since you were a little boy with a bastard's name, and I was a little girl who couldn't count to twenty. We do it together. We break the wheel together."

"You are my queen," his voice full of emotion. "Now and always."

He kissed her hard and passionately. The kind of kiss that she had longed to receive from him again. Since learning his heritage, he had been so distant, turning from her like everyone else… He moved away and she felt a sharp pain in her chest. A kiss not born of passion, but of cold steel, the kiss of death.

Why? He loved her. She loved him. Why had he betrayed her? She tasted blood.

Jon?

His face looked different. Older now as he held her. No, it wasn't Jon holding her. Jon had dropped her, but someone else had caught her. Someone she knew, but who was he? Then she slipped from his arms, through the floor, and kept falling. Down past the ruined floors or the Red Keep. Down into the tunnels below. Down past the black cells where no light shined. Falling, falling, through darkness and stone into the earth. As she fell she grew, larger, stronger, and the earth around her grew heavier and hotter. Surrounded by molten rock and fire she let loose a cry of pain and betrayal. For a moment the world stopped and cried with her as she cast aside her mortal shell.

She grew at an ever-increasing speed as doors in her mind long sealed shut rattled and shook. She floated in a vast empty void, the sun on her scales and the blue and white orb of a world beneath her. The world was round, like a wheel… like a wheel… like a wheel. The world was a wheel. She'd said that. All the nobles with their games were just spokes on a wheel. This one's on top, then that one's on top, and on and on it spins, crushing those on the ground. She had wanted to break the wheel, but it wasn't just Westeros or Essos, or even that world, or any world. It was all a wheel. They were all wheels. On and on they all spun, worlds without end, spinning wheels within wheels. A never-ending cycle of rising and falling…

She woke up. Her head rested in someone's lap. A man's upside-down face loomed over her. Not Jon. She knew him. Eltrys. Her foolish employer from Markarth.

"You're awake!" He sounded so happy about it, like a child.

She sat up. "Yes, I'm awake." Was that such a surprise? She had healed herself. She scooted back a little from him. He was a useful shield from the attentions of other men, but Eltrys was married and she tried to respect that.

"She's awake!" he shouted it this time.

People started coming over. It seemed like many of them had been asleep. The attention felt awkward, especially in contrast to her dream. That dream had been important, one of her dragon dreams, the kind that lingered around, the kind she couldn't forget because they were important, but they were still dreams and half nonsense. Why was everyone reacting so strongly to her being awake? She could understand the Breton gang being concerned. She was one of them, they had heard of the Dragonborn, and she had come close to dying. However, it wasn't just the Bretons. Even many of the Forsworn seemed glad to see her awake.

"I'm fine." She stood up and realized her clothes didn't really fit. She was wearing a man's linen shirt and trousers. She had to grab the trousers to keep them from falling off. She remembered that Verrel had ripped open her dress. It was ruined.

Odvan pushed through the crowd. "Daenerys, good to see you back up!" He hugged her.

She hadn't been expecting an embrace, but she went with it and awkwardly embraced him back with one arm because she couldn't let go of her trousers without them falling off her. "Yes, I'm back up. Was I out long?"

"Just a few hours, but you wouldn't wake. We were all worried." From the relief on Odvan's face, they had all been very worried. "We'll need to plan our next move soon, but that can wait. Why don't you relax and eat something first?"

Daenerys shook her head. "No. I'm not going to relax with this meeting hanging over my head. What is it about?"

"We almost lost you and we did lose three men fighting the dwarven sphere that shot you. Two Bretons and a Forsworn. Madanach wants to look for another path."

Daenerys sighed. "Of course, he does. His people aren't starving, and he doesn't want to share rations with us. Fine. Give me a moment to tie these trousers so they aren't falling off, and we'll go talk to him."

A short while later they again met with Madanach, Borkul, and Eola. They stood a short distance from everyone else. Far enough to not be overheard easily, but close enough that they could hear any shouting in case the Falmer attacked. From the look of the Forsworn party, Madanach was the one that wanted the meeting. Borkul stood to his right, bare-chested, arms crossed, and looking totally unconcerned. Eola waved at her like a child.

She took a position beside Odvan and stared at Madanach. "You called this meeting?"

"Yes." Madanach had a dour look to him. "This plan of yours isn't working. You almost died, and we lost three men. Since we left the mines, we've lost almost half our men."

"And the Bretons have lost more than you," replied Odvan. "What's your point? None of us expected that finding a new path through a Dwemer ruin would be easy. We knew we would lose men. We would have lost many more without Daenerys and Eola."

"I agree," replied Madanach. "That's part of my concern. She almost died to that dwarven sphere. We can't afford to lose either of our healers. We should explore the side corridors and look for another way out."

Daenerys crossed her arms and glared at Madanach. "Are you ready to share rations? We have less food than you do." She was so tired of this crap.

Eola smiled. "We have a good bit of meat we're willing to share. You've never really eaten until you've savored the taste of human flesh."

"No," replied Odvan firmly. "Madnach, keep your dog on a leash. We're not cannibals. The idea of eating human flesh is sickening to us, but we have been overlooking your habits. You're not making it easier for us to cooperate when you taunt us with it or try to force it upon us. You can also cut the crap. Your Forsworn have more than enough food while we're running out. Exploring those side passages could take hours or days, and there is no guarantee that any alternate path won't lead us past someplace even more deadly."

"Which is why I agreed to Daenerys's plan before. However, we lost three men to a sphere. That centurion could be worse. What if the pit trap doesn't stop it? If there are more automatons further up the stairway that we didn't see? Let's spend one day searching the side passageways. If that doesn't work, then we can come back here."

"One day?" asked Odvan. "Perhaps. Daenerys, what do you think?"

She hadn't stopped glaring at Madanach. She uncrossed them, but that didn't settle the anger in her stomach. "I think that I am tired of this so-called alliance. You Forsworn are treating us just as the guards did. You dole out just enough food so we can work for you and dangle the rest over our heads. I want what the rest of us Bretons want – freedom. However, I don't want to trade the Nord boot for a Forsworn boot."

"We are nothing like the Nords!" Madanach's hand was on his weapon and his face was lurid.

"If that's so, stop acting like them!" Daenerys was very tempted to end this with a Shout. With one word, Iiz, she could freeze Madanach in place. With three words she could destroy him.

"She's right," said Odvan. "You're fine with her risking her life. You're fine with us Bretons risking our lives. I lost two good men in that fight. You lost one. You want to go explore the side paths, do it on your own. We don't need your help."

Madanach scowled. "Fine. We will share some rations to fill your whining bellies and then we will spend two days looking for an alternate path."

"How much food?" asked Odvan which started the dickering.

Eventually, they settled on a deal. The Forsworn would provide an additional day of rations to every Breton. They would search the side corridors for a day and a half and try to find an alternate path. The Forsworn tried to revisit butchering the Breton dead for meat, but Odvan wouldn't yield on that.

They set off exploring the side paths and encountered just as many traps and automatons as they had before as they made their way through the Dwemer city. They killed four more dwarven spiders and two more spheres without losses, but they lost one man to a scything blade trap. Daenerys fell into a pit and broke her foot, but that was easily healed. She cast Clairvoyance at every intersection. Twice the spell switched directions, showing an alternate path. The first time it merely led them back to the same set of corridors by a different path. The second time it led them through a Falmer infested section of the corridors.

The Falmer apparently knew they were coming. They waited until they had passed and then attacked from behind. One of the attacking Falmer was a mage and attacked with frost magic. When they turned to attack another group of Falmer attacked from the other end of their column while two more popped out in the middle. They almost lost Eola to one of the hidden skulkers. A Falmer ripped her belly open before others jumped in to defend her. Eola was able to back away and heal herself, but they lost four men in the attack. In the end it was all for nothing as Clairvoyance led them back to the same gate.

Madanach trudged up to them as they made camp back at the pit where they started. "Odvan. Daenerys. We'll try it your way tomorrow. Better the daedra we known, then the one we don't."

Odvan nodded his agreement. "I think that is for the best."

Daenerys saw the defeat carved in every line on Madanach's face. She felt tempted to make a sarcastic remark and rub it in that she'd been right, but there was no victory to crow about. They'd lost five men exploring the side passageways. Men they couldn't afford to lose. They were down to almost half their original number and still had not found their way out. They could all die in the depths of Nchuand-Zel and no one would ever know. She still didn't trust the Forsworn. She certainly didn't like them, but she needed them. "You took a gamble and lost. You weren't wrong. There might have been an easier path. My spell only shows the most direct route, not the safest."

Madanach nodded. "Let us hope your gamble pays off better tomorrow."

The Forsworn behaved better that evening. They still feasted upon human flesh, but they didn't make a spectacle of it. Many of them also listened when she gave another sermon and called people forth to honor their dead. Two of the Forsworn even came forward to speak of their fallen. Eola still put on a show coupling with Madanach, Borkul, and others, but at least she was less vocal about it. Daenerys was also too tired to care. She fell asleep huddling up to Eltrys for warmth.

.oOo.

They altered the plan on their second attempt to draw out the guardians. She would still sneak forward and lure one of the automaton to attack her, but this time the warriors would wait in ambush halfway down the corridor instead of at the pit. That way her eight seconds of invulnerability would not run out before she reached the ambush. The plan ran into a small snag at the start. Sometime while they slept the destroyed automatons had been replaced. The full complement of two spiders, two spheres, and the centurion stood guard again. While it was a little disconcerting how quickly the automatons were replaced, it didn't change the plan very much. Daenerys lured one spider back to the awaiting warriors where it was easily destroyed. Then she lured the other one.

The real test came when she lured the first dwarven sphere. Once again she ran down the corridor after Shouting, "Feim!" She felt the slight brush of bolts hitting her, but this time she reached the ambush site before her eight seconds of invulnerability faded. She turned and faced the dwarven sphere letting it attack her while men surrounded it. It struck her twice with its sword to no avail before she slipped back into phase with the real world.

She smashed at with Molag Bal's mace. "Clear!" Everyone backpedaled giving her room, but that also gave her the dwarven sphere's full attention. She blocked the thing's sword with the mace and then Shouted "Yol-Toor-Shul!"

The sphere went flying back wobbling and spinning, and the ambushing warriors gave chase. They swarmed it, attacked while it was off-balance and didn't let up. The automaton was quickly destroyed. When the thing finally collapsed into a heap there was a brief sound of thunder and a ghostly light flew from the automaton to be absorbed by Molag Bal's mace.

"What was that last bit of magic?" asked Verrel as walked back to join her.

"Soul Trap," she replied automatically. "I've seen it demonstrated when I trained at the College of Winterhold."

"Huh, didn't know you studied there. I thought you were a priestess."

"I am a priestess of Talos now." Or at least aspiring to be one. "However, I studied at the College before I heard the call of Talos." She was surprised that the Soul Trap had activated. The dwarven sphere had been an automaton, a mechanical thing. It shouldn't have had a soul to steal. On the other hand, they had dug through the wreckage of more than one automaton. Some of the men were now using swords pried from the spheres or the talons of the spiders as weapons. They weren't good weapons because they didn't have hilts, but they were sharp and weighed less than Falmer weapons. The men who had dug through the wreckage had also found soul gems. She hadn't thought much about the contraptions having soul gems inside them. It wasn't like she could enchant anything, but was that how the Dwemer machines worked? Was it the soul within the gem that animated them? If so, had she just sent a soul to Molag Bal, something that she had determined never to do. She set the mace down. "Leave the mace be."

"We know," replied Verrel. "You've warned us repeatedly."

Daenerys nodded. "I know, but still. Just leave it."

After healing the men who fought in the vanguard with her, she crept back up to the gate and lured out the other dwarven sphere. It went almost as well as the other sphere, but she did have to dodge back to avoid the sword rather than block with the mace. Borkul got cut up, but she easily healed him. Then it was time to pull the dwarven centurion.

She had told everyone that this would be less dangerous than the sphere. It should be. The plan was simple. Lure the centurion out. Run as fast as she could to the pit and swing across. Then blast it with spells and Shouts from the other side of the pit. It was a simple plan, but she was well aware that it could go badly. The dwarven centurion that she'd fought in the Falmer caves had been damaged, and Faralda had still taken a long time to blast it to bits.

She kept her doubts to herself as she crept carefully up to it step by step. It sat there looking like a carving and did nothing. Was it in fact a carving? Or broken? She took a few more steps.

The automaton came alive with a whoosh of steam and she ran for it sprinting as fast as she could. She could outrun it. Dwarven centurions were slower than dwarven spheres, but she still ran full out, sprinting with everything she had as the centurion chased her. The thing sounded angry. It shook the hallway as it chased her and let out other loud noises, but she was easily losing it. She made it to the pit and paused to watch it approach. She had opened up quite a lead, but the centurion was still following. She swung across the pit and waited. As soon as the centurion reached the other side of the pit, she shouted "Yol-Toor-Shul!" which didn't seem to damage it at all. In return it breathed out hot steam at her.

All around her men screamed in pain, but she stood there unphased. The steam didn't bother her at all, but she hadn't realized it had such a dangerous attack or that it could reach so far. "Eola, heal them. I've got this."

At least she hoped that she had this. What if they couldn't hurt each other? The centurion's steam didn't burn her. It just drenched her in hot water. Her Shout didn't seem to have hurt it much either, but it just stayed there on the other side of the pit occasionally whooshing steam at her. She waited for her magicka to return and Shouted at it again. It still didn't look damaged, but she waited while it tried to scare her away with hot water while her magicka came back. After her third Shout, the centurion started wobbling some. After her fourth Shout it, stopped blowing steam. After her fifth Shout, it fell down and stopped moving.

Odvan and Verrel hoisted her upon their shoulers and paraded her around while everyone cheered. Eventually, the celebrations died down and she was asked to go back down the corridor and see whether there were any more automatons that had to be lured out.

She didn't find any more automatons, but she did find out what they were guarding. They'd found an armory. The room was full of dwarven armor and weapons. Looking around she saw more than enough weapons and armor to outfit everyone Forsworn and Breton in their party three times over. This would greatly increase their chances of escaping Nchuand-Zel. However, this armory was much more. This armory represented wealth and power. She and the Bretons would be able to claim armor and weapons for themselves, but there was no way they could carry the rest out. That meant that Madanach would return with his loyal followers and claim what remained. The mere existence of this armory would aid his cause. Whatever happened outside that had delayed the Forsworn return, the promise of a cache of dwemer metal arms and armor would have men rallying to Madanach's banner. This armory meant life for her and the surviving Bretons, but it meant conquest and death for Markarth.