Chapter 10:
Arkinstar sat on his bed, gritting his teeth and looking at a pamphlet in his hand. 'Beware!' it said. 'No one is safe! People have gone missing off the streets, without a trace! You could be next, so always be alert and report any signs of suspicious behavior!'
Sighing, the necromancer lay down and shut his eyes. He was going to have to relocate again. Of course he knew it was only a matter of time before the disappearances were noticed, but it was always a pain to pack up his materials.
Striding lightly across the damp stone floor, he pulled a rolled up map of Tamriel off of a bookshelf. He spread it across a table, knocking some embalming tools to the ground in the process, and looked down at it. On many of the cities that dotted the continent were black 'X's. The towns that had already noticed deaths.
Most of High Rock was covered in them, and regardless it was best to move long distances so no link between the killings were made, so he would have to move to another province. Black Marsh and Elsweyr were out of the question: The anatomy of the beastfolk weren't optimal for necromancy.
The powerful elven mages of the Summerset Isles would notice traces of necromancy, and anyway he had been caught there several decades ago and banished. It was far too risky. Hammerfell and Skyrim felt too close, and surely one could easily track his path if he went to either of those provinces.
That left Cyrodiil and Morrowind. Morrowind would be fine, but Cyrodiil just seemed so much more opportune. With the war between the Dominion and the Empire, there would be so many corpses he wouldn't even have to murder to get the bones he needed.
Skingrad. That's where he would go. The dense buildings and alleys made for perfect hiding, and it was near enough to the war zones near Bravil and Anvil that he could easily scavenge materials from the dead.
Arkinstar rolled up the map and put it back on the shelf. Then he walked over to an old chest, and pulled out what looked like a crimson soul gem. Holding it in one hand, he began casting a spell that emitted red light of the same hue. A ball of the light flew out of his hand and hit the books and the shelf. They began glowing brighter and brighter red, until suddenly they vanished. Then he put the soul gem into a pouch at his side.
Several years previously, he had mastered a spell of his own invention. He had modified a number of soul gems and developed a soul trap spell to capture the physical form of an object, rather than its spiritual body. This allowed him to transport lots of books and materials for his experiments with ease. When he wanted to bring what he trapped back, he simply shattered the gem.
He continued packing up all his materials: His enchanting and alchemy labs, his vault of soul gems, and the rest of his books and notes. By the end, he had eight or so gems in his pouch. Now he had to dispose of any evidence that he was ever there.
Arkinstar breathed in heavily as flames began to leap between his fingers. A swirling pattern of fire formed around him, growing taller until it reached his shoulders. Then he quickly spread out his arms, and the flames engulfed the room. When they died down, not even ashes remained.
Smiling, he admired his work. Only a genius could so perfectly cover up all traces of his existence so perfectly. It was only a matter of time before he could confidently say he was the most powerful mage who ever lived.
However, there was one magic that eluded even him, one that drove him mad with fury. The time altering magic of the Psijic Monks. He had encountered one of their order once, and it was a moment that left him in shame every time he thought of it.
Naturally, when seeing the mage he had underestimated her. Using a simple illusion spell, he was able to analyze her. It showed that her magical prowess was nothing compared to his. She had not mastered a single school of magic, and her skills were limited. However, the spell wasn't able to account for how powerful time magic was.
Before he could even strike, she began moving faster than lightning, striking him with a barrage of basic spells that would not have been a problem, had they not been sent at him in such magnitude. He was utterly defenseless. It took weeks to recover from his near fatal injuries.
One day, he told himself, I will take that power for my own, and when I do I will be unstoppable.
Arkinstar had but one more thing to do before he left Wayrest for good. He walked through the sewers, admiring his temporary home. He would miss the slippery walls, the cool damp air. Turning through complex passageways, he eventually came to a tattered old door. He pushed it open and basked in the glory of his work.
Filling a massive opening were hundreds of skeletons, their glowing blue eyes reflected across the water coating the walls. Dotted here and there were zombies of men and women in different styles of gear. Arkinstar had never liked using zombies, but these were more of trophies than weapons. Great heroes and enemies of his that he had vanquished in the past.
His head turned to the side, Arkinstar looked out at his army. He wondered how long until he could use it in its full power. He so longed to conquer land. Just one province would be enough for him. Maybe even a small one, like High Rock. He had grown used to the climate, and taking it for himself and the dead would give him plenty of space to practice spells that put the gods to shame.
Before he left, he needed to test a new spell that would make his travel far more easy. Pointing a finger at one of his skeletons, Arkinstar zapped it with a blast of purple light. It vanished immediately. With his second hand, he snapped his fingers, and in a flash of the same light, the skeleton reappeared by his side.
He breathed in, satisfied with his work, and began zapping all his minions. It took time, and lots of magicka, but eventually all of them were stored safely away in the aether. With a swish of his cloak, he left the room and made his way to a secret exit. It was this very exit that he had first entered the sewers.
It was night time out, but that was to Arkinstar's preference. The stars gleamed brightly in the sky, taunting his mortality. He would show them some day, when all of Mundus feared his name.
He looked around, a memory of a stable nearby entering his mind. A horse would be useful in traveling long distances for sure, and besides, he was meaning to try out his skeletal mount spell.
He found the stable, a few hundred feet to the left of the exit. It was a small hovel, the roof caving in and clear signs of wood rot in the foundations. Arkinstar smiled, seeing a horse that would be perfect.
He walked over to it and cast a basic calming spell on it. It didn't even react as the necromancer stoked its shoulders, feeling out its skeleton.
"What do you think you're doing!?"
Arkinstar looked up and saw a wretched old man wearing filthy, ragged clothing. His teeth were falling out, and the few that remained were yellow. The elf wrinkled up his nose in disgust at the savagery of humanity.
"Step away from my horse!" the man shouted, but in a second he was running for his life, a fear spell having been cast upon him.
Stripping the horse of its bones was easy. Laying them out across the ground, Arkinstar laid a soul gem where the heart would belong and cast a spell across them. The rose and took shape, forming a perfect ride for a necromancy.
Smiling, he leaped onto its back and rode off, into the east.
