Click!
Adaria nodded in satisfaction as the last of the two ceremonial weapons slid into the slots on the cairn door, then she pressed her palms against the ornate black surfaces.
"Be ready," she said.
"Right with you," Marcurio answered quietly from behind.
Adaria glanced over her shoulder. The mage seemed to be lost in thought, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. It was odd, really. Usually the man was a lot more focused...and a hell of a lot more talkative. Well, everyone had their off-days, she supposed, and certainly it wasn't a bad thing that he had finally decided to be quiet. Here in Volunruud at least. She just wished Marcurio could have had his off-day when they had been wandering through the forests instead of here in a draugr palace. At least he seemed to be a little more alert since she nearly took his head off when she beheaded that draugr.
Quietly the Dragonborn turned her attention back to the doors and pushed. There was a groaning of hinges, then the black doors swung back, opening up into a dark, winding tunnel. For a moment, Adaria paused, listening intently for any evidence of an enemy presence. She didn't hear any movement, but she did hear something else, and the dragon soul in her lept at the sound. It was a chanting song, at once familiar and foreign to her ears. It was faint still, its source located somewhere deep in the heart of the crypt, but she could hear it none-the-less, and instinctively she followed it.
"Adaria?" Marcurio questioned from behind. "Is something the matter?"
"No," the woman replied, setting off down the corridor, "but keep your wits about you. There is power here."
"I always keep my wit on hand," the mage chuckled in response. "You know your life would be boring without it."
Adaria sighed in response.
"I'm not even going to comment."
"And by virtue of saying that, you just did."
"Shut up."
Just then the pair came around a corner, and Adaria paused as she stared at what she saw in front of her. On the right was a bookshelf, rotted with age and filled mostly with books that looked to be damaged beyond repair. Just to the side of the bookshelf was a fireplace, an unnatural flame still burning in its hearth, and in front of that was the shrivelled, contorted form of a burnt corpse. There were too many scents in this place for Adaria to get a good idea of what might have happened, but the corpse appeared to be quite old.
"I don't like the looks of this," Marcurio said, sidling up next to Adaria and frowning down at the charred form before them. "I wonder what happened to this poor bastard."
"Likely it was the fireplace," the Dragonborn mused, moving around the corpse to inspect it from a different angle. "The fires that burn in the ancient tombs are strange. I would not be surprised if this one accidentally caught himself on fire with it, and if that were the case, he would have had no choice but to give in to the flame. There is no putting it out."
"You don't think it might have been something else? Like a draugr?"
"Not likely," Adaria responded, reaching beneath the burnt corpse and pulling out a scroll. "Draugr prefer ice to fire. Fire tends to be...detrimental to their well-being."
The woman glanced at the scroll briefly before handing it to Marcurio. The mage sighed audibly.
"I suppose you intend to carry off every item of value in these ruins."
"Why not?" Adaria replied, turning back toward the hall. "They don't need it."
"You know, if you keep loading me up like a pack mule, it's going to be rather difficult for me to protect you," Marcurio said.
Adaria could hear him fumbling with his satchel as he trotted along behind her.
"It's not like you've been much help thus far," the Dragonborn responded bluntly.
"Ouch. Your words pain me."
"I think a draugr blade would pain you significantly more."
Adaria didn't doubt that Marcurio might have responded to this when the sound of muffled shuffling caught her ear and she froze, putting one hand out in a "stop" motion. Instantly she could hear the sizzle of a lightning spell being summoned behind her. Slowly the Dragonborn drew her two swords from their sheaths and edged forward, dragonscale boots crunching against dirt and crumbling stone as she moved.
The chanting she had heard earlier was louder now. She was getting closer to what she knew would be a word wall, and her dragon soul fluttered at the sound, a thrill beginning to pump through her veins.
Just then there came an alerted grunt, and Adaria bounded back quickly as a draugr sprung at her from the shadows. Muscles coiled beneath dragon scale as the woman prepared to slice outward at the creature before her, but her fingers barely even managed to twitch before a sizzling hiss caught her ears and the corridor lit up with a violet glow, Marcurio's lightning spell striking the draugr and throwing it hard against the crude stone wall. For a moment, Adaria didn't move as she watched the body crumple to the floor. Then, when it was apparent that all manner of life had left it, she turned to glance over at Marcurio. The mage caught her glance and gave her a wry smile.
"See," he said, looking with proud satisfaction at the violet sparks that danced around his hand. "I'm useful. Besides, draugr are slow and clumsy. Hardly a challenge for a man like me."
Adaria couldn't help but roll her eyes, and quietly she turned back toward the corridor. She only barely managed to turn a corner, however, before another sudden movement caught her ear only a split second before the cold sting of ice struck her skin.
"Adaria!" Marcurio exclaimed, rushing forward.
"Don't mind me," the Dragonborn responded, shaking off the frost as she darted toward the monster before her. "Mind the draugr!"
The sound of clashing steel rent the still, dank crypt air, and Adaria swerved to the side as one of Marcurio's fireballs exploded against the draugr's side, causing the creature to stumble.
"I don't mind anybody very well," Marcurio laughed in reply, striking the draugr with combined lightning and fire.
"So I've noticed," Adaria responded through clenched teeth, darting toward the staggered draugr. She listened as her two swords hissed between ancient ribs simultaneously, and with a grunted growl the draugr slumped to the floor, motionless.
"I wonder how many more of these bastards are wandering around in the shadows," Marcurio mused as he came up next to Adaria.
A chill, unnatural wind coursed down the corridor and the Dragonborn repressed the urge to shiver.
"Too many," she replied, kneeling down and searching the corpse at her feet for anything of value. "But there's something other than draugr nearby."
Marcurio glanced down at her, then crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head at her.
"What are you doing?" he asked in disbelief.
"Searching for treasure. What does it look like?" Adaria responded, pulling a smudged emerald out of the draugr's rotted pocket and holding it up for the mage to see.
"It truly is a wonder nothing has cursed you yet," Marcurio sighed, following after the Dragonborn as she slowly made her way down the corridor.
"That," Adaria replied softly, "is entirely a matter of perspective."
Marcurio paused, and the woman could see a questioning look cross the man's face out of the corner of her eye, but before he could say anything, the pair turned a corner and a familiar, eerie blue light caught Adaria's gaze.
It was the form of a man, clad in strange armor, with a sword in one hand and an ax in the other. The visage was little more than an outline, clear as glass and flickering ominously from its seat on a dark throne.
From where Adaria stood, the chanting of a word wall somewhere nearby nearly roared in her ears, and the woman could feel a wild fluttering in her heart as though the dragon soul trapped inside was fighting with all its might to be free of its mortal frame. She gripped her swords tightly, but she turned her focus back to the spirit before her as it rose suddenly from its throne.
"Who dares enter the halls of the dead?" an echoing voice rumbled through the chamber.
There was no turning back now, not even if Adaria wanted to.
With a snarl, the woman bounded forward, swords glinting in the eerie blue light of the being before her. Bolar's Oathblade struck against the spirit's sword, steel singing and echoing off the chamber walls. Adaria watched as veins of frost hissed across her katana's surface only moments before the force of the being's strike knocked her back a few paces. Eduj and Okin. These were the same weapons that the Dragonborn had placed on the door to the crypt. So this was Kvenel.
Instantly the spirit bore down on Adaria, but a series of fiery and sizzling explosions from Marcurio caused the being to halt momentarily. Almost at the same instant, a dark form rose up from the sarcophagus off to the side of the throne, and Adaria swerved as cold ice struck the left pauldron of her armor. A draugr!
With a roared battlecry, Adaria launched herself at the magic-wielding draugr that bore down on her, swords tearing through ancient flesh like the talons of a dragon. She could sense the foreboding presence of Kvenel behind her, but she didn't have time to move before she felt a cold blade strike her shoulder in a weak spot between dragon scales.
"Son of a bitch!" Marcurio yelled.
His words were quickly followed by more fire and lightning.
Quickly Adaria sliced a gash across the chest of the draugr before her, then crossed her swords on either side of the monster's neck, severing its head from its shoulders. She didn't even pause to admire her handiwork as she rounded on Kvenel.
The spirit's energies were weakening, if the faded glow was any indication, but there was no doubt that this being had once been a man of incredible strength. It had turned its attention away from Adaria and over to Marcurio who was currently summoning a massive amount of lightning between his hands, but before Kvenel could attack the mage, Adaria let out another battlecry and sliced outward at the glowing form. Blue sparks lept along the path that the Oathblade followed, and quickly the spirit turned back to the Dragonborn, bringing Eduj around on her. Instantly Adaria lifted her Blades sword to block the attack, and the force of the impact caused her to slide backwards. Her foot tipped over the edge of the steps leading up to the dais, and Adaria braced herself as she rolled down to the dirt floor beyond. She hadn't even stopped moving before she rolled back up onto her feet.
Adaria brandished her blades, ready to leap toward her opponent again, when a set of familiar words caught her ear.
"Fus ro dah!"
The woman felt a heavy force strike her in the chest, and a split second later a loud crack caught her ear as she felt her back and head strike the stone wall on the far side of the room.
"Adaria!"
Marcurio's voice echoed somewhere in the distance.
Colors and shadows spun in Adaria's vision as she struggled to stand to her feet again. She could feel a moist trickle down the back of her neck and her head throbbed. Dropping her Blades sword to the ground at her feet, the Dragonborn weakly summoned a healing spell, squinting between the pain as she felt the warmth of the spell suffuse her body.
There was a flash of eerie blue in front of her then, and Adaria grasped her sword, preparing to wait until the moment Kvenel drew close before she tried to react to his attack. All of a sudden, however, a shadow moved in the way.
"Stay away from her!" Marcurio growled.
The ground beneath Adaria's feet rumbled with the force of the mage's fire attack. Kvenel stumbled with the impact, the light of the spirit's essence pulsing with weakness, but still it rounded on Marcurio again. Quickly the mage threw up a ward, but even that only did so much, and Adaria could hear the man yelp as Eduj sliced across his shoulder. Marcurio only barely had time to dodge before Okin followed.
Instantly a feral growl rumbled up from Adaria's throat and, ignoring the throbbing in her head, the Dragonborn let the healing spell flicker out, picked up her second sword, and launched herself forward. For a split second in time, a space cleared between herself and Kvenel, and quickly Adaria drew in a deep breath, a rush of power steeling her lungs and filling her with vision that defied even the shadows that gathered in the crypt's hall.
"Zun haal viik!"
The strength of the woman's shout struck Kvenel with the force of a charging mammoth, causing both Eduj and Okin to go flying out of the being's hands. Then, while the spirit was still disoriented, Adaria lunged toward it, sharpened blades slicing back and forth before finishing it off with a spinning attack. The eerie blue light flickered again, then crumbled into a pile of ethereal dust at the Dragonborn's feet.
For a moment, stillness encompassed the hall, the chant of the nearby word wall acting as the only thing to break the deathly silence. Then Adaria turned to Marcurio as the man edged up toward her.
"You all right?" she panted, eyeing his wounded shoulder.
Marcurio laughed at this, his hand pressed over his wound. Even in the darkness Adaria could see trails of crimson trickling between the man's fingers.
"It's nothing. I'll be fine," the mage responded. "Besides, I'm not the one who got slammed against a stone wall. How are you doing?"
Adaria reached around to the back of her head at the question. The blood was already beginning to dry, and though her head was still sore, at least she didn't appear to be bleeding anymore.
"I'm fine," the Dragonborn replied, fishing around in her satchel and pulling out a large healing potion. She held the vial out toward Marcurio who looked at the glass bottle disdainfully before reluctantly accepting it. "I'm assuming you're out of magicka, and that is why you're not healing yourself."
The mage looked sheepish before quickly downing the red liquid in the vial Adaria had handed him.
"Merely preserving my energy for the next enemy," Marcurio replied quickly, puffing out his chest slightly as magic energy began to mend the wound on his shoulder.
Adaria sighed. His ego certainly hadn't been damaged.
Now convinced that the mage was far from being in danger, Adaria turned toward the sound that had been taunting her since the moment she had entered the crypt.
The chanting of the word wall grew louder as Adaria set off toward the stairs leading up to the enchanted surface.
"What is that?" Marcurio inquired, following along behind her.
"A word wall," the Dragonborn responded, her eyes locked straight ahead of her.
Already the environment around her was beginning to change, her vision blurring as one word began to glow in the chaotic haze of color, sound, and emotion.
"A word wall? What is a…?"
Marcurio's question either trailed off or was lost amongst the words of the chant that rang in Adaria's ears as she stepped up in front of the wall. Instantly the air surrounding her began to vibrate as a stream of colored light began to curl toward her, enveloping the Dragonborn in the spirit of the word itself. Images and voices began to churn in Adaria's mind then, the host of dragon memories stored inside her rising to the surface in answer to the chanted word that sought to engrave itself on her own dragon soul. Then, suddenly, the vision of a crimson-specked dragon engulfed all the other images, the dragon's voice echoing in Adaria's mind, repeating the word on the wall and writing itself on her dragon soul. The dark wings that fluttered inside her practically roared in excitement, like a dragon who had been stripped of speech and was now regaining its voice. Then, the word now absorbed, the light faded and the darkness of the crypt caved in on her.
Adaria could feel herself trembling as she placed her palms against the cool surface of the word wall, her fingers tracing the sharp lines that formed the language of dragons on the stone formation. A gentle hand on her shoulder caused the Dragonborn to turn quickly in surprise, and Marcurio backed away slightly, cocking his head as he looked at her curiously.
"Are you all right?" the mage inquired.
Adaria nodded, then stood up straight, willing herself to hide all hint of emotion somewhere far away. The last thing she wanted to do was show weakness.
"We should finish exploring, then return to Whiterun for a time. We can rest there before travelling on," the Dragonborn said, turning away from the wall.
She glanced over at Marcurio briefly. He looked worried and doubtful but followed her silently. He would never know. Marcurio had jokingly said he was surprised she had not yet been cursed in the course of her adventures, but weren't the dragon memories curse enough? No curse could be so excruciating as this. It was the curse of memories, memories of lives she had never lived, of belonging she had never known. It was the longing of a soul that would never be free of its mortal shackles, a soul that longed for a sound it could not hear and the freedom it would never see.