Clavicus Vile's Summoning Day

Oh boy, another one! Can you feel it?

Yup.

Ooh, ooh! I wonder where it'll be?

Well, there's only one way to find out.

No, not yet! I want to hold off a little longer. It always makes it feel so much better. Let's make bets?

You always win those. You're a cheater and you know it!

Not listening. I say... hmm... Somewhere weird and wacky. Thras! No! Tatterdemalion!

Has that even been founded yet?

Uh... I can't remember.

I reckon it'll be somewhere in Summurset.

Are you mad? Those elves hate us!

I know, I know. But-

Shh! I can't hold it any more! We're being summoned!

Ouch! I hate this part!

...

Iraele squeezed her husband's hand reassuringly. Niarnen looked up at her, with darkened eyes. He furrowed his brow, and spoke. "We shouldn't be here," he said, "this is wrong."

"What other choice have we?" replied Iraele.

Niarnen sighed and looked down. He weighed his coinpurse in his hand, knelt down, and placed it at the foot of the carved granite obelisk that loomed above the two of them. Iraele heard him mutter a quick prayer to Phynaster under his breath. She shook her head. The Aedra wouldn't help them here, in the grove of Clavicus Vile. Without warning, a sound like two galleons colliding made her whip round. She heard Niarnen gasp. At the foot of the obelisk, a swirling vortex the size of a house had appeared, sending bright purple waves of energy deep into the surrounding forest. Niarnen cursed. Iraele vaguely heard him fretting about the possibility of being seen, but she was too absorbed in the arcane display unfolding in front of her to pay much heed. She walked forward, transfixed.

...

By Lorkhan's legs, you're right! This is our old shrine on Alinor!

What a nice surprise!

Fine, you win the bet. What do you want?

Three thousand souls.

Done.

Sweet! Everything's coming up Barbas!

How did you know where we are?

I, uh, peeked. But that's not important! They're starting to speak!

...

"Vile? Can you hear us? Do you accept our offering?" Iraele yelled into the abyss.

She turned around, and saw Niarnen lingering behind her. Iraele shot him an angry glance, and he stepped forward. The rift died down, until it was the size of a doorway, and out stepped two creatures; a short, impish man clad in nobles' robes, and at his heels, a shaggy dog. He spun round, and inspected the shrine. Bending down, the man picked up the coinpurse. He weighed it for a second, and slid it into a pocket.

"Oh, coins. How... interesting. How original.""

Niarnen frowned.

"That is the traditional offering for summoning you, Vile! We are risking enough as it is!" he exclaimed.

The dog shuffled forward.

"I think what the boss means is we see a lot of coins. Drakes, crowns, you name it. It's become a little boring. Especially on his summoning day! We've been counting down the days for months, and we were hoping for something a little more... special!"

Niarnen's mouth hung open.

"Did your hound just speak?" he asked.

"Anything!" Iraele cried, her eyes welling up, "We will give anything for this boon, Lord Vile!"

"Well now, that's more like it."

...

Oh, I can sense where this is going, Wonderful, Barbas, simply wonderful!

D'you wanna take care of it then, boss? I've got my paws full dealing with a kid in Hammerfell.

Right you are, boy! We're awfully busy this year, aren't we?

Yup, we're manifesting in fourteen different places at once, if I've counted right!

Oh, I've missed the start of her speech. She looks upset. This'll be fun...

...

"We've tried so many times, we have consulted healers," continued Iraele, "and yet we still cannot conceive! It's been twenty years! What would you have us do, O Lord Vile?"

"Oh, what a predicament you're in! Lucky for you, I see the problem. It's easily fixed."

Iraele nearly choked with relief. Niarnen stepped forward, a bitter look on his angular face.

"So what is the price? Are we to go on a quest?" he asked.

"I ask only one thing. A soul. Whichever of you two outlives the other must join me in my realm. It is a gentle place, and you will have eternal life in my endless fields of serenity. A small price to pay for the ability to bring forth new life, is it not?"

Silence. The two mer looked at each other. Just as Niarnen was about to speak, Iraele closed her eyes, and moved her lips. A single word left them.

"Yes!" she breathed, and knelt down. Niarnen gasped.

"Are you a fool, my wife? To be trapped in the realm of a Prince for eternity? You have condemned one of us to suffer forever!" he yelled. Iraele looked up, sobbing.

"We will lead a long and happy life first, my husband. We will raise a family! And as one of us is on our deathbed, I will offer myself up to Vile," she wept, "you need not worry, Niarnen!"

"Well, about that..."

The elves looked up.

"You see, I promised to fix the problem. That was our bargain. And the problem, dear Niarnen, is you."

Niarnen shook his head.

"What are you talking about, demon?" he asked, as a tremor ran down his spine.

"You're infertile. Always have been. There is no family for you."

Nianen screamed. Iraele looked at him in horror, only to see his body lit with purple fire, burning away into the night sky. A matter of seconds later, all that remained of her husband was a small pile of ash.

"And look at that. You've outlived your husband!"

The Prince smiled, as the vortex began to grow again. Iraele tried to shout for help, but no sound came out. She tried to stand, but her legs remained stationary. A curious tugging sensation came from within her chest. The vortex was nearly upon her, now. She blinked through the tears, and saw the man and his dog retreating into the portal. His voice echoed through the grove in the last moments before the swirling energy engulfed her.

"Pleasure doing business with you."