Chapter Three: Bleak Falls Barrow.
They found Farengar Secret-Fire pottering around with some soul gems in a room just off the main hall. There were enchanting and alchemical apparatus scattered across a pair of tables at the rear of the room. The table Farengar was hunched over was piled high with books, various soul gems, jewellery and ingredients for potions. A large cloth map of Skyrim was pinned to a wooden frame with some small tacks hammered into the edge. The mage himself was a skinny Nord, with a mop of brown hair, a pair of braids behind his ears and very prominent mutton-chops lining his jaw.
"Farengar, I think I've found someone to help with your dragon project."
The mage looked up, with a confused look when the Jarl spoke.
"Go ahead and fill her in with all the details." The Jarl told him.
Farengar turned to the guest and was surprised to see the Khajiit woman.
"So, the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" He said, shuffling some papers around on the table. "Oh yes, he must be referring to my research on the dragons." He knocked over an inkpot, swearing softly. He hurriedly mopped it up with a blackened rag. Evidently this was not the first time he'd done that. "Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me." He scrubbed the ink into the woodwork of the table, it was never going to come out now.
"Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin is search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."
"Alright, I'll bite. Where am I going, and what am I fetching?" M'rassi replied, her tone mildly sarcastic.
"Straight to the point eh? No need for tedious hows and whys. I like that. Leave those details to your betters, am I right?"
M'rassi growled a warning, and the Jarl snorted his amusement.
"I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow-"
M'rassi's mind conjured up an unbidden memory of Hadvar pointing out the ruins to her. How they had frightened him when he was a child.
"-a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites." Farengar had not noticed her attention drift. "Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself."
M'rassi very highly doubted that last statement. "So what can you tell me about Bleak Falls Barrow?"
"An ancient tomb, built by the ancient Nords, perhaps dating back to the Dragon War itself."
"How do you know this tablet is there?"
"Well, must preserve some professional secrets, mustn't we? I have my sources... reliable sources."
M'rassi decided she didn't want to know.
"Tell me more about the Dragon War. I've never heard of it." She changed the subject.
"I'm not surprised. Even I used to think it was a myth. But not anymore. The Dragon War was a real event, though only the barest glimmer of the actual events has come down to us. Far back in the Merethic Era, the dragons were worshipped as gods in Skyrim. Many of the monumental ruins that still dot the landscape were, in fact, built as temples to the dragons. The details are lost, but at some point the Nords rebelled. After a long and terrible war, the Nords overthrew their dragon overlords."
"So, were all the dragons killed in the Dragon War?"
"Oh, no. Many were killed of course, but some survived into historical times. Why, this very palace was built by one of Balgruuf's ancestors to hold a captive dragon. Hence it's name - Dragonsreach."
"Have you encountered any dragons?" M'rassi asked.
"Sadly, no. My work affords me few opportunities for such an adventure. Perhaps some hero will bring one to Dragonsreach, like old Olaf One-Eye once did. What a fascinating conversation that would be!" Farengar laughed, ignorant of Balgruuf's uncomfortable expression.
"Well I'd better get going, then."
"This is a priority now. Anything we can use to fight this dragon, or dragons. We need it quickly, before it's too late." The Jarl told her.
"Yes, my Jarl." She strode from the hall.
She had no intention of going straight there. She needed sleep, a lot of sleep. The events of the last few days had taken it's toll. She hadn't slept well the night before in Riverwood. She'd had dreams, nightmares of dragons, and fire, and burning. She'd woken up several times during the night. Even Hadvar had been afflicted, whimpering softly in his sleep. The end result was a weariness that was bone-deep. She was amazed she could even stand. She left the keep and walked back down through the tiers to the inn she passed on the way up. The mid-afternoon sun shone brightly.
A sign named it 'The Bannered Mare' with a carving of a pony. Inside, she ignored the common room, marching straight over to the innkeeper. She paid for a room for the night, stalked upstairs and dropped her gear in a corner of her room. After locking her door, she collapsed onto the bed, falling into a fretful sleep.
A soft knocking woke her.
M'rassi pulled herself off the bed and unlocked the door. A short Redguard woman stood there, hand raised to knock again.
"Will you be needing any food, Khajiit?"
M'rassi realised she was very hungry.
"Yes. Just get me whatever's in the pot."
"Yes, miss."
"What time is it?"
"A little past first bell after-noon."
"Thank you. I'll be in the common."
M'rassi gathered her pack, and headed down to the common room. She thanked the innkeeper and sat with a mug of warm mead by the fireplace. She was listening to the bard recite the tale of Ragnar the Red, when the Redguard woman came back with a bowl of carrot and apple stew. It was surprisingly close to Khajiiti cuisine, only lacking the excessive sweetness of moon sugar. M'rassi hadn't had any since Pale Pass, her meagre supply had been lost, along with the rest of her belongings, during the ambush. Her fingers were starting to show signs of tremors. Moon sugar was a well known, and illegal, drug in the Empire, and for the native Khajiit of Elsweyr it was a daily part of life. M'rassi was no exception, born and raised in the northern kingdom of Anequina, she'd eaten it her entire life. She handed the Redguard some coins, instructing her to find her a winter cloak. She'd need one if she was going to venture up into the mountains The woman soon returned with a patched, deep-green, ankle-length cloak with a hood. M'rassi thanked her, slipped her a few more coins for her trouble, finished her meal and made ready to leave.
It had started raining sometime in the night, the water falling in waves, small rivulets running down the street. M'rassi pulled her new winter cloak tight, pulling the hood over her head. She left Whiterun at a swift walk, noting that the carriage at the stable was gone. Once on the main road she settled into her loping run, and she made her way back up the hill to Riverwood.
She arrived at dusk, and found Alvor working at his forge, heedless of the rain pouring down.
"Ho, M'rassi, we weren't expecting you back so soon. Is everything alright?"
"Yes, I told Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon."
"Thank you. I saw his men arrived late last night."
"Good. Look, I'm heading up to the Barrow tonight. I was wondering if I could sell you some armour I don't really need."
"Sure, I can always patch it up and turn a profit."
She offloaded all the bits of armour she'd collected in Helgen, wondering why she even bothered carting it down to Whiterun and back in the first place.
"Is Hadvar still around?" She asked.
"No, he left this morning. I'm surprised you didn't see him on the road. Why?"
M'rassi just shrugged, she didn't even know herself. She supposed she felt a strange affection for the man who'd freed her. She took her leave and wandered into the trader across the road, to sell off her extra potions that Alvor had no interest in. She walked in on an argument between a pair of Imperials. When they noticed they had a customer, the man bit his tongue, and the woman turned to M'rassi.
"Maybe you can talk some sense into my brother." She said, before stalking off upstairs.
"Problem?" M'rassi asked.
"Yes, we did have a bit of a... break in." He mumbled. "But we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw. They're holed up in Bleak Falls Barrow last I heard." Said the man, who had wide-set eyes and a small mouth. His black hair was cropped short, and he had a thin moustache.
"I'm heading up there anyway, I could see about getting it back if you'd like."
"You could? I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back."
M'rassi sold her spare potions, as well as the few gemstones she'd picked up in Helgen Keep. She left Riverwood as the sun was setting and made her way back across the bridge. Instead of turning north to Whiterun, she went west, the rough track winding up the mountain. She probably shouldn't be doing this at night, but she figured that it wouldn't take long to reach the barrow, then she'd be indoors and it wouldn't matter.
The path grew more and more icy as she climbed, and it became harder to see patches of ice under the snow. After an hour, the road came to a watchtower, perched in the saddle of the mountain. Three of the thieves were huddled around a small campfire, stoically ignoring the light snowfall.
M'rassi settled into a crouch, approaching them like the natural hunter she was. When she was close enough, she loosed a torrent of flame. Two of them were dead before they realised they were under attack, but the third raised his shield deflecting the flames. He leapt at her swinging his sword. M'rassi ducked beneath the blade and brought him down with a bolt of lightning. She stripped the bodies of their coin, lockpicks and anything small and valuable.
The road turned north at the tower, and she followed it around the limb of the mountain, sighting the barrow before her.
The great stone arches loomed forbidding in the dark. She could barely see them through the snow. Up a couple of flights of stairs she found herself on the main concourse. She snuck up on a trio of guards and quickly dispatched them. One of then had been wearing a pair of thick fur boots. She slipped off her own leather shoes, and pulled on the boots, slipping her dagger in as well. With any luck, her toes would thaw out.
As she walked slowly to the Barrow's entrance she studied the ruins. They were remarkably well preserved. If Farengar was right, that made them almost six-thousand years old. Yet the arches still stood. It was amazing. Maybe one day, she'd get to explore one of the Dwemer ruins which dotted the Morrowind border. They were rumoured to be even older, and she'd always been fascinated by the Dwarves.
Inside she heard voices.
She sank to a crouch, sneaking forward. The large chamber was littered with the corpses of skeevers, giant rat-like creatures. As M'rassi got closer she voices became clearer.
"That Dark Elf wants to go ahead, let him. Better than us risking our necks." A mans voice said.
M'rassi charged a bolt of lightning in each hand, and stepped out from the shadows, catching the thieves by surprise. She hit the man in the back as he twisted around, sending him flying down the passage. The woman managed to loose an arrow at her, but it was poorly aimed, and missed completely. She soon joined her fallen comrade in the passage.
M'assi picked the lock on a nearby chest, looting the small amount of gold and gems inside. It had been years since she'd last been dungeon diving. She spied a pot of soup simmering over a fire and she took a sip, the liquid warming her up. The thieves wouldn't be needing it anymore. She did a quick search for moon sugar, with outlaws like these, she might get lucky. Not this time however.
She crept along the corridors slowly and quietly, so she didn't draw the attention of any more of the thieves inside. They'd make short work of the place, stripping the long dead of anything valuable, leaving only ancient strips of desiccated linen and odd shaped embalming tools.
She rounded a corner and surprised a man examining some stone carvings. He was smacked with a bolt of lightning before he even realised he was not alone.
She was in a room with three stone pillars with carvings on them. The door was blocked by a portcullis. There was a stone carving above the door and to either side, with a snake and a whale. Directly above the door the carving had fallen off, crashing to the floor below. The thieves had turned the fallen slab over revealing another snake carving. M'rassi looked from the carvings to the pillars. The puzzle was simple.
She pushed the pillars until the pictures matched the carvings. The pulled the level in the centre of the room and the portcullis dropped into the floor.
Easy.
In the next chamber she found a stack of books, a couple of soul gems and more gold. She slipped the lot into her knapsack.
She crept down a spiral stair case, clearing out a nest of skeevers who decided she might make a good meal. As she pushed through some cobwebs she heard a voice call out.
"Is... Is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?" He sounded like an Elf, his voice almost musical, even in his desperation.
M'rassi rushed down the corridor and the cobwebs got thicker. She burned through them and dashed into a large chamber.
"No! It's coming back! Get it away from me!" Howled a Dunmer caught and bound in a spider web.
Though a large, web encrusted hole in the ceiling climbed a massive spider. It was like the ones beneath Helgen, but much, much bigger.
"Oh, shit!" M'rassi swore, as the mer started shrieking.
"Get it away, get it away!"
"Hey, you!" M'rassi yelled.
The spider whirled around on its eight gigantic legs at the new source of sound. M'rassi doused it in flames, but it charged at her anyway. She back pedalled quickly, retreating into the entranceway. With any luck the giant arachnid would be too large to fit. It reached in with a spiny leg, trying to fish her out.
M'rassi chugged down a magicka potion and continued pouring gouts of flame out of the passage. The spider soon succumbed, reeling back from the doorway, its carapace charred. When M'rassi was certain it was dead she emerged from her hiding spot.
"Get me down! Get me down! If you do, I'll share the treasure!" The Dark Elf pleaded, struggling in his silk bindings.
"All right! Just hold still!" M'rassi told him.
She shot a small jet of flame at the web.
"That's it, I can feel it coming loose!"
The Dunmer dropped to the floor as the silk snapped. He picked himself up, ignoring the cobwebs coating his body. He started laughing, an almost maniacal sound.
"You fool! Why should I share the treasure with anyone!" He dashed deeper into the ruins.
M'rassi gave herself a mental slap, that was the oldest trick in the book. She was losing her touch. She took off after the mer, weaving through several chambers until she heard a loud cuss followed by a crash of metal. She found him, impaled on a wood and metal frame which was swinging back around into a small alcove.
"Unlucky." She smirked as the blood-stained corpse slid off the spikes, collapsing to the floor.
The sound of the trap however seemed to awakened some sort of undead creature. It looked very much like the mummified remains of Khajiit on their burial platforms back in Elsweyr. The corpses were obviously human, wearing various bits and pieces of armour, and their eyes glowed an angry blue. They advanced on the Khajiit, weapons raised.
"So, this is what a Draugr is." M'rassi mused.
She doused the Draugr with streams of flame, and they quickly perished, again. She turned back to the web-coated dark elf, and searched him. She found the trader's golden claw and a small journal. There wasn't much else worth taking.
She carried on into the barrow, she had the claw, now she had to find the mysterious 'Dragonstone' for that absent-minded wizard, Farengar.
For several hours she crept through the dungeon, the corridors twisting and turning. She encountered many traps, most of them worse than the one which claimed the Dunmer's life. There were a great many Draugr. If M'rassi had come down here with a team of scholars this place would have been fascinating. But by this point all she wanted was to find this blasted stone and get out. And if the stone wasn't here, then she was going to have some very, very harsh words with Farengar.
Sometime before sunrise, she guessed by the growling of her stomach, she found a large chamber. It was about fifteen meters long, and at the end was a large door. There was an elaborate lock, which the trader's claw obviously fit into. She tried it but got nothing.
She paced back and forth in front of the door, thinking. She established that the three rings of the lock rotated, and tried a few combinations. It wasn't until she read the dead elf's journal that she worked it out.
She looked at the claw. It was very ornate on the top, with each individual scale lovingly carved. When she turned it over, she saw three symbols. The were the same as the ones on the door.
She pushed the rings until they matched the order of the symbols on the claw, running top to bottom. When she inserted the claw into the sockets and twisted, the door groaned, the rings whirling around, locking into a new combination. Each ring thudded as they settled and the whole door sank into the floor, with a grinding sound of stone on stone.
M'rassi carefully crept forward. This part of the barrow had been sealed since it's construction, anything could be down here. She could see some sort of altar at the far end of the chamber.
She ducked as a flock of bats swooped low over her, their high pitched squeals hurting her ears. She approached the altar with caution. There was a single stone sarcophagus next to a shelf, with more embalming tools. Nearby stood a large chest, locked. At the rear of the chamber was a wall with strange script.
The letters were made of simple slashes and dots, as if they'd been made by claws. She found herself inexplicably drawn to one of the words.
As she approached, the word began to glow, and it shot out silvery threads into her skull. It seared itself into her mind, and though she didn't understand what the word meant, she knew what the word was.
"Fus?" She asked, and the word felt strangely right on her tongue.
"Fus!" Came a muffled Shout, and the lid of the sarcophagus was blown off. A Draugr wearing an iron helmet with large horns pointing upwards was climbing out of its stone coffin, eyes glowing angrily.
M'rassi readied her spells, but the Draugr Shouted again, throwing her back, slamming her against the wall of words. She slid to the floor, stunned, and the Draugr swung its massive battleaxe at her.
The cat-woman rolled away from the blow, but it cut a slash down her leg which immediately started gushing blood. She hissed in pain as she twisted around, kicking out with her good leg, catching the ancient corpse and bringing him down. M'rassi clawed herself to her feet, using the carved letters to hoist herself up. Her cut leg gave out, but she remained upright, pushing against the wall with one hand, and her tail held out to help her balance. With her free hand she shot a jet of flame at the Draugr, which was having difficulty getting up. It's desiccated joints were creaking and cracking.
M'rassi kept up the stream of fire until her magicka ran out, the Draugr howling with rage while its rock hard flesh burned. Limping badly, the Khajiit picked up the Draugr's dropped battle axe and rent its head from it shoulders, with loud clang then the steel hit stone.
"Argh, Merrunz's arse!" She hissed, limping over to the empty sarcophagus. She sat heavily on the lip, and examined her wound.
The cut was deep, through her clothes, skin and biting into her muscle. She felt the bile rising in her throat. Still, at least it had missed the major arteries. She suffered the pain long enough to weave her small amount of remaining magicka into a simple healing spell. The wound began to close, the muscle knitting back together. A spasm of pain forced her concentration to lapse and she couldn't maintain the spell. The magic dissipated, the cut in her skin remained, a great red hole, which stung like a thousand bees. At least it wasn't bleeding anymore.
She had no more magicka potions, and she was unfamiliar with the herbs in the area, so she resigned to wait until her magicka recharged on its own. She looked into the sarcophagus hoping to find that blasted Dragonstone, but it was not there.
She swore softly in Ta'agra as she pushed herself off the stone, limping over the cloven Draugr. She searched the corpse, finding a couple of gemstones. Tucked under the breastplate was a slab of stone. M'rassi pulled it out, hissing as her cut parted once more. Carved into the stone was a crude map of Skyrim. The borders were a little different, but the shape was about the same. There were several dots punched into the surface, and beneath that was a stylised dragon's head, matching a larger version carved above the angular lettering of the wall. This was the Dragonstone. Farengar had been right, after all.
M'rassi managed to wedge it into her knapsack, transferring the gemstones into the small apothecary satchel at her hip. She picked the lock of the chest, and she fished out a few soul gems, a reasonable amount of gold and some small trinkets that might be worth a few drakes.
She mentally plucked on her magicka, and finding she had enough to finish healing her leg, she wove it into the healing spell. The skin knitted together, but it was not perfect, leaving a dark grey scar that could be seen even through her fur. Just another for the collection. For now, there was nothing she could do about the cuts in her clothes.
She left the main chamber through a rear exit, and soon found herself on the side of the mountain, overlooking Lake Ilinalta to the south. She looked around for a safe path down the mountain, but there wasn't one. She settled for using her claws and tail to carefully pick her way down the mountainside.
She walked into the Riverwood Trader just as the Imperial chap unlocked the door.
"Show those thieves not to steal from Lucan Valerius!" He said.
"Done, and done. M'rassi got your claw back." She hefted the heavy claw out of her pack, careful not to scrape it on the Dragonstone.
"You found it? Ha ha ha! There it is! You must've been up there all night! Strange... it seems smaller than I remember. Funny thing, huh?" Lucan examined his prized possession. M'rassi just nodded, grinning like an idiot in her exhaustion.
"I'm gonna put this back where it belongs. I'll never forget this, you've done a great thing for me and my sister." Lucan tossed her a pouch of coin.
M'rassi sold off all the gemstones and trinkets she'd collected, and soon left, heading out of town again. She crossed the bridge and found a nice little niche on the river bank, the stone warm with sunlight. She sat down to rest, but decided on a nap. She had been up all night, and Farengar could go to Oblivion if he wanted the damned stone before she had any sleep.
She napped for an hour, promising her body that she'd make up for it later, and trotted back down the hill to Whiterun, arriving two bells after-noon. She climbed up the hill to Dragonsreach, silently cursing the Jarl's ancestors for building the place on the top of the hill.
As she tramped over to Farengar's corner a small boy ran into her.
"Oh great," He rolled his eyes. "Another great adventurer come to lick my father's boots."
M'rassi bared her teeth menacingly at the boy, sending him running. Smirking, she glanced over at the Jarl, who was debating with Proventus again, but his eyes were on the Khajiit, sparkling with amusement. The boy could stand to learn a bit of fear.
"You see? The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I'm convinced this is a copy of a much earlier text." M'rassi could hear Farengar saying.
She walked over to the door, but hung back when she saw the absent-minded mage had company, and hid behind the doorframe.
A woman was dressed in padded leather armour, with a thick leather hood pulled up, obscuring most of her face. M'rassi could not tell whether she was mannish or merish, only that she was not Khajiit or Argonian. She was leaning over an ancient looking tome on Farengar's workbench. Was this Farengar's source?
"Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, we could use this to cross reference the names with other later texts" Farengar continued, M'rassi hadn't been noticed.
"Good. I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers." The woman spoke, her voice low, but M'rassi could easily hear with one ear swivelled directly at the woman.
"Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research."
"Time is running Farengar, don't forget. This isn't some theoretical question. Dragons have come back." The woman said with her voice hardened.
"Yes, yes. Don't worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found... very intriguing... I think your employers might be interested as well-"
"We have a visitor." The woman cut him off, and M'rassi knew she had been spotted. She stepped into the room, her ears back slightly, tail low, a sheepish posture for her race.
"Hmm?" Farengar turned to see who it was. "Ah, yes, the Jarl's protégé! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems."
M'rassi snorted, flicking her tail indignantly. She handed the mage the Dragonstone without saying anything, letting the results speak for themselves. She dropped her knapsack by her feet.
"Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl send my way."
"So what now?" M'rassi asked, folding her arms and leaning against the map board.
"That is where your job ends, and mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim. My... associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered it's location, by means she has so far declined to share with me."
Well that answered one question but raises another, M'rassi thought.
"So, your information was correct after all. And we have our friend here to thank for recovering it for us." Farengar told the strange woman.
"You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work." She said in an admiring tone. "Just send me a copy when you've deciphered it." She said in an aside to the Nord man, before the three of them heard the sound of boots running across the wooden floor.
