Nemesis Options

[Jacki Dice]

This is a little something I've been toying with for awhile. I've decided to bring it out to the forums here. This story will include the original version of Kalila Blackstone, from Madness Helps me Save Myself. This version of her has absolutely no ties to the one borrowed in the story.

Speaking of, Madness Helps me Save Myself will continue as planned. Sometimes working on something separate for a while soothes my writer's block.

~~~~~♦~~~~~

1

“That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.�
--Friedrich Nietzsche

In a perfect world, it would have been an assassin. Or maybe a bandit. It would be someone who was out to hurt her, who justifiably deserved to die. However, as Tara Karminova clutched her dagger to her chest, she knew it would be no such person. The world was too imperfect.

She looked around the dark alleys of the Imperial City Market District for someone no one would miss. Guilt weighed in her heart for even thinking that. Did someone’s life have less value just because they had no one to miss them? Of course not. But, she needed someone whose death wouldn’t prompt a thorough investigation. Maybe a skooma addict.

Oh, dear gods, what am I doing? She leaned against the wall of one of the shops. Her heart was no longer fluttering and her stomach no longer churned. Instead, she seemed to simply accept it. That was what scared her. “It’s for Clarissa,� she reminded herself. “It’s for her.� She clenched the grip of her dagger tightly and continued lurking through the alleys.

At first she thought she had blended in quite well with the street urchins in the Imperial City. She simply threw on an old, dirty robe that had torn a little on the bottom. Her brown hair was unbrushed and thrown back in a messy bun. Once she saw the beggars in person, however, she realized how far off she was. Their clothes weren’t just dirty, they were barely intact enough to keep them out of prison for indecent exposure. None of them wore the soft cotton that she was in. They appeared to be stitched together from odd pieces of fabric and sackcloth. Tara was also far too healthy looking. Her cheeks were somewhat plump and the robe hugged her frame tightly, revealing that she didn’t often go hungry. The beggars were nothing but skin and bones. The biggest difference was their eyes. Tara could easily tell who had lived on the street by the hardness or loss of hope in their eyes. There was no way for her to imitate them in that way.

She turned behind the Copious Coinpurse into a small garden. It was empty save for a young woman sleeping on the ground. Tara crept toward her, running her finger over the black soul gem stashed in her pocket. It would have been much easier to cast some sort of spell on her, but Tara thought a stabbing would look far more ordinary than magic.

The girl stirred slightly as Tara approached. Tara straddled her and turned her on her back. She was pretty. She had quite a young face. She was probably no more than nineteen. Tara hesitated for a moment before raising her hand. A violet flash erupted from her fist and washed over the girl. Once that was done she took out the dagger and plunged it into the girl.

The girl opened her eyes wide as blood oozed onto Tara. A scream rose from her throat and Tara quickly covered the girl’s mouth with her free hand, stabbing again and again until the girl stopped moving. She wished she had known where to plunge for a more painless and instant death. That part of her research had been overlooked. Tara took out the soul gem and was satisfied with the glow of the girl’s soul.

She got up and panted, staring at the girl’s body. Did she have parents? A sister? Probably not, since she had been sleeping there alone. Still, Tara was overcome with mixed emotions.

“It’s for Clarissa,� she said to herself.



Tara had to hold in her disgust as she stared upon Clarissa’s corpse.

Three years had passed since Clarissa Blackstone’s murder and time had not been kind. Clarissa’s skin was gone for the most part, only remaining in small patches. On the pieces of skin around her temples, sat dry tufts of her once luxurious black hair, though the slightest brush would turn it to dust. Her bones were not white, like the models shown at the Arcane University. Instead they were a filthy brown. The sockets that once held beautiful grey eyes were now empty and covered by a paper thin layer of skin. The gown she had been buried in had long since been eaten away. Though she went out and bought a new robe, Tara did not look forward to redressing her. Logically that shouldn’t have bothered her any more than digging Clarissa up or even setting her body on the kitchen table.

Tara wanted to pass the time doing something other than staring at Clarissa, but she was unable to take her eyes off of her. She was repulsed but fascinated at the same time. When she finally tore her eyes away, she decided to head into the basement to distract herself.

Just yesterday, the basement was full of alchemical equipment. The shelves had been lined with empty bottles and crates full of filled ones ready to be sent off to the different Mages Guild halls. Jars of ingredients sat along the windows. Now it was empty. The windows were boarded. A metal collar attached to a long chain sat in the center of the room. Tara picked it up and tugged it with all her strength. It held fast to the wall. She sighed deeply and dusted off her hands. Hopefully it would withstand the added strength of the undead.

She took a broom from a corner and started sweeping. Clarissa still deserves cleanliness, she thought. But the basement was usually kept neat and there was nothing much to sweep. She finished in seconds. She looked at the Mages Guild banners still hanging on the walls. Her eyes welled up with tears. How could she still keep those up knowing what she was going to do? How could she ever look at Arch-Mage Traven in the eye again?

With a trembling hand, she took the banners down. She tried telling herself that it was to keep them from getting ruined, but deep down she knew it was because she felt unworthy.

When she returned upstairs she was pleased to see that the hourglass was nearly empty. It was time.

For something so complex, it was strange that it was so simple to accomplish. She had imagined an elaborate ritual involving candles and conjuring. Strangely, the hardest part had been obtaining the soul gem. That and getting the soul. She closed her eyes, forcing away the image of the girl she had killed. She couldn’t afford to think about it. All spells, complex or not, required confidence and concentration.

Her home along the Lake Rumare was close enough to hear the temple bell from the Imperial City. As it rang twelve times, Tara placed the soul gem directly over where Clarissa’s heart had been. She focused on the soul inside, transferring it the way she would to an item.

The soul was stubborn. Even in death, it resisted Tara’s demand, almost as if it knew that it would cease to exist as itself. Tara trembled violently. Her heart pounded hard and she broke into a sweat. The soul would cooperate. It had no choice.

Tara grunted hard when the soul finally entered Clarissa. She panted heavily as the gem crumbled into dust, falling into Clarissa’s bare rib cage.

Clarissa’s eyelids fluttered. She sat up, turning her face toward Tara. Though the sockets were empty, she could feel the intense stare going straight through her. Tara backed up instantly. Would Clarissa remember? Or would she react with hostility? Clarissa opened her mouth, though the only sound that escaped was a dry crackle. Her body wouldn’t return to a normal living being until she received more souls.

“Clarissa,� Tara whispered. “Do you remember me?� She took a step forward. “I’m your sister.�

Clarissa tilted her head back and forth. A chunk of skin plopped on the floor causing a surge of bile to rise in Tara’s throat. She swallowed it back down and forced herself to ignore it.

“Everything is okay now,� she said. “You’re back home now.�

She held out her hand. Clarissa ignored it, seeming to be more confused than anything.

“She’s just in shock,� Tara said to herself. She glanced at the robe. She decided to put it on her when she had more skin as there was nothing really to cover.

She led Clarissa into the basement and locked the collar around her neck. “This is just to keep you safe. When you’re back to normal you can have your old room back. I’ll even get you into the Arcane University like you always wanted.� She sighed, not knowing why she said that. That wouldn’t be possible. Everyone knew that Clarissa had been dead a long time.

Clarissa crackled again, though Tara doubted that she understood anything she had been saying anyway. No need to feel like a liar, right? she wondered. “I’m going to go clean upstairs and then I’ll have to fix up your grave outside. I can’t have it looking like it’s been recently disturbed. I’ll be back soon.�

Once she was back in the living room, she locked the basement door and then placed a plank of wood in front of it. She couldn’t chance Clarissa getting out into the open. She would be killed on sight. Tara couldn’t have that. She refused to lose her twice.

She immediately set out sweeping up the living room and kitchen. There was so much dirt. Too much. Should any guild mates come for a visit, she felt it would cause immediate suspicion. Maybe it was just paranoia, but at the same time, her sudden insistence to work from her home instead of the guild halls already seemed strange. Sure, months had passed since then, the nagging feeling remained stuck in her mind.

Though it had to be done, she couldn’t keep her mind on her task. She felt drained. She sank to her knees staring at the basement door. She could hear Clarissa shuffling faintly, the chain jingling with her every movement. She glanced at the turquoise banner on the wall bearing the Mages Guild symbol. Her life as she knew it was over. She wept.



This post has been edited by Jacki Dice: Dec 23 2019, 07:08 AM

[Jacki Dice]

mALX~ Oh thanks so much! I'm glad to know that the countless horror movie/book marathons have paid off

Grits~ Bleh! The spider daedra are pretty horrible. I think if I were Kalila, even with all the great destructive powers, a spider daedra would turn me into a baby hiding in the closet!

SubRosa~ That's pretty much what I was going for with that chapter and a few more to come

Colonel Mustard~ Ahhh... well, he has gotten creepy and well.... it's only just begun as far as Traven goes

McBadgere~ Isn't that always how it goes whenever you try and hide something big, it's just one teensy step away from getting found out?

Tallius~ Awesome! I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in ages. It's been a pretty busy couple months

~~~~~♦~~~~~

Tara

Kalila

Clarissa, presently

Chapter Five: Decisions

Tara tried not to cry as the carriage for Kalila drew up the path Sundas night. She pressed her lips together, trying to hold back as much as she could.

She couldn’t tell how Kalila was feeling. She sat on her trunk, playing with the end of her braid.

“Do you have everything?” Tara asked, forcing her voice to keep from cracking. She cleared her throat. “All your new clothes and books and stuff?”

Kalila nodded.

As the galloping drew closer, Kalila stood up and opened the door. The horseman came in and took Kalila’s trunk. Tara walked slowly with Kalila. Several other people were in the carriage. Some must have known Kalila, because they waved happily.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Tara said, looking at the ground. “You’ll be great.”

Kalila nodded.

“Just be careful. And please write to me if you need anything. Or if you don’t need anything. Just…” She sighed. “I’ll come visit you when I can, I promise.”

Kalila smiled at Tara and gave her a tight hug. Tara gasped for a moment, before burying her face in Kalila’s braid. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she said.

“I’ll miss you too,” Kalila said softly. “Once I’m better at healing, I’ll be back in the Imperial City for battlemage training. I don’t think it’ll take too long.”

Kalila released Tara, holding her hand for a moment before stepping into the carriage. Tara stood and watched it set off until she could no longer see it.

Once Kalila was out of sight, she allowed the flood to come. She ran to the couch, holding one of the cushions tightly as she cried. She wasn’t even sure why she was reacting so emotionally. She knew it was coming and it wasn’t as if Kalila was off to the Summerset Isles or Morrowind. It was just to Anvil.

She sniffed hard, trying to regain composure. She wiped her tears away and stared blankly out the window. “No reason to cry,” she said to herself. Still, she felt a dull pain in her chest. Her eyes weren’t producing any tears, but she felt like she might start bawling in a moment.

She stood up and looked around the house. There was nothing to clean. She frowned. She remembered years ago, whenever there was a mess she was more than happy to clean it. It gave her time to stop working, but keep thinking.

Tara went upstairs and sat on her bed, holding her head in her hands. She sighed deeply, her eyes trailing to the blade left on her nightstand by that Dark Brotherhood assassin. Her first instinct was disgust. She wanted to bury it in the backyard and pretend the assassin, Lucien, was just a bad dream. But she knew better.

Even worse, he knew what she did. He might even know more. Who knew if he had wandered the house, looking for blackmail. Tara bit her lip. And Clarissa did need more souls. A lot more. She laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. What she would give just to have someone to advise her on what to do.

Her leg.

Tara sat back up, only just remembering Clarissa’s detached leg and the trouble she had walking. She would have to fix that. She ran downstairs to the kitchen and pulled out a ball of twine and a pair of scissors. She hesitated before grabbing some wire as well.

She opened the basement door. Clarissa was sitting on the floor. As soon as Tara crossed the thresh hold, Clarissa began to crackle for a moment. Tara narrowed her eyes a little. That had to be how she tracked movement. Tara glanced back up the stairs. This was something she just had to record!

“Clarissa, I need to see your leg.”

Clarissa remained still. Tara sighed. She couldn’t wait until Clarissa would have the capacity to understand her.

She sat next to Clarissa and reached for her leg. Just a week ago the very thought would have made her sick to her stomach. Now it seemed no different than wiping a child’s skinned knee.

She loosened the leather strap and Clarissa’s leg fell right off. She didn’t even seem to notice. Tara sighed. “And just how did this happen, anyway?” She tsked. Tara took wire and looped it through the bones in her leg. “Now,” she said, taking Clarissa’s hands and having her stand up. “Walk with me for a second.”

She guided Clarissa, noticing that while she still had a bit of trouble, it was nowhere near as bad as it was with the leather. “Good,” Tara said. “Now, just to reinforce it…” She knelt down and tied the twine around her leg and knee. “I guess we’ll have to leave it like that until you can heal proper.” She said, brushing her hands on her skirt. She hesitated for a moment. “In fact, while I’m here…”

Tara lifted the steel collar around Clarissa’s neck, looking at the wire that held her neck in place with her spine. The sight of the broken bones caused a lump to rise in her throat.

Tara couldn’t tell if Clarissa was already dead. She could barely tell if she herself was even alive. All she saw was that man, that monster, that coward strangling the poor girl with a noose. Once it was firm around Clarissa’s neck, he threw the other end of the rope over the stair case. With an audible snap! the rope went taut and Clarissa’s body swung. Tara wanted to scream. She felt it build up inside her, but she didn’t have the strength. Though she held her stomach tight, she still gushed blood. Everything was going black.

Tara shook her head. “But we won,” she whispered. “You’re alive now.”

With that image melting from her thoughts, she made up her mind. “I’m going to be leaving in a few days,” she said. “I need to go to the Inn of Ill Omen and find a man named Rufio.”