Chapter 36 – The Ruins of Kilkreath
"Kilkreath," I repeated after Darius. "Sounds like Falkreath."
Darius nodded. "Yep, it was the same ancient peoples who named those places. Karth River: Markarth, Karthwasten…. Morthal too, I think."
"All towns that sound different from the others," I noticed. "Vend-Hjalm. Hvit-Lap. Riften. These are all… Nord-like names."
"The Reachmen named the not-Nord places," was all the young man said.
After ogling the light display that happened once I dropped Meridia's Light into place, Darius and Sharash walked me toward a stone wall uphill just behind the temple. A word wall. A qethsegol. Paarthurnax either did not know or would not tell me why the stones were called such. I did know that rocks in general were considered the bones of the earth at least poetically by people in my world, but these were rocks with eulogies and memorials on them. I settled on the assumption that 'qethsegol' was merely the word ancient Nords, and possibly dragons themselves, used to mean 'tombstone' or 'memorial'. After all, nothing weathered time like stone, especially archaeologically. Memories made permanent, etched in stone on the bones of the earth.
Standing in front of the word wall, I ran my fingertips over the lengthy message, reading aloud slowly, practicing my Dovahzul.
"Qethsegol vahrukiv paaz kulaas yrsa wo ensosin pa do taazokaan voth ek dun arkh brii."
Unfortunately, I didn't understand much of the message, but nevertheless wrote down the words in my journal. Though I doubted the word meant the same in the dragon tongue, 'yrsa' stood out to me. I followed the etchings with my fingertips over and over, wishing the vertical lines and dots were Yrsarald's warm flesh, not shade-chilled stone.
"Their language was rough," Sharash remarked, turning to me. "Do you understand these words?"
"Some. 'Tomb-stone', 'remembers', 'who', 'all of Tamriel with', 'and beauty'. I think one of the words is the name of a woman."
"You learned to read 'dragon' in only three months?" Darius asked, unbelieving.
I turned to him and lifted my shoulders briefly in a shallow shrug. "Only some words, Darius. And I would not doubt that Kyne is helping me, again." I returned my gaze to the stone. "And, anyway, some of the words are similar. Wo: Hvan. Arhk brii – exactly the same."
Following the sentence, I stopped at the word for 'who' and considered the possible sentence structure. Dovahzul wasn't dissimilar to Norren, which wasn't dissimilar to English. That which. Someone who.
"Yrsa," I breathed, voice breaking. "I think the woman's name was Yrsa." My face stiffened and my hand fell to my side. I fondled the ring my partner had given me, managing a smile when I recalled the engraving inside. The moment ended quickly when determination set in.
"Let us finish this," I muttered, and turned back to camp.
At dusk, Jenassa and Brelyna returned from Solitude with supplies of bandages, potions, and various basic supplies such as travel food and flasks of water. Brelyna and I greeted one another with an enduring hug. As we embraced, I whispered to her, "You know too much, friend, but thank you."
The woman giggled, and shushed me. I saw Jenassa try to hide a smirk.
Njada and Athis brought to camp two wild goats and began roasting and smoking the meat immediately. Once dinner was ready, mead, provided by Stenvar, was passed around liberally. I soon learned that the goat roasts had been basted in the liquid as well.
As everyone dined and relaxed, Stenvar serenaded us with songs of varying heroic acts, thankfully excluding songs about any Dragonborn. Fa'nir and J'zargo sat apart from the rest of us, but still listened to the goings-on. Selina and Jenassa counted arrow inventory and coated the tips with poison. Sharash used the same substance on her mace. Ingjard, Njada, and Athis sharpened their swords with a portable whetstone. Elodie was absent, in her tent, enchanting items with the soulgems Stenvar had brought her. Darius kept to himself, meditating near the statue of Meridia.
Later, as everyone settled in for the night, I was uneasy about sleeping outside the temple with a maleficent necromancer just within, but my friends promised me that the hillside had remained peaceful since they had been camped there. Jenassa recommended that I and the other mages sleep under the stars, outside of our tents, in order to absorb as much starlight as possible and in that sense 'recharge' our magical stores, but Elodie said this was not necessary. I was relieved.
Despite it all, even with friends patrolling the camp in shifts throughout the night, I did not sleep. I lay on my back, head near the open tent flap, gazing up at the night sky, letting the steady rumble of Ingjard's snores drown out my thoughts of Yrsarald.
. . . . . .
The very moment the temple door was pushed open, the odor of rot and foulness hit my nose, and I wretched. I wasn't alone. The summoning dream Meridia had sent me did not lie. I knew what awaited us in this temple, and I was not happy about it.
I heard Stenvar grumble. Nevertheless he pushed forward, wanting to be at the lead. My bodyguard was beside me, slightly in front, and the rest of our group trailed, closely packed. Unlike the fortress we visited previously, we made no plan to be silent. Hand signals were used, but there were too many of us not to communicate with speech.
The temple was dark. At least at the entrance and just beyond, nothing could be seen, and no occupation was evident. None of us carried torches, though, as Brelyna kept the way lit with a generous amount of Magelight. Each of us mages knew the simple spell, and would cast it as necessary.
Accompanying the fetidness was a blanket of black, smog-like clouds, hovering a small distance above the stone temple floor. The substance dispersed when interrupted as any smoke or gas would, but I half-expected it to attack us. I sighed out of relief when it didn't.
Adjusted to the smell, Stenvar, Ingjard, and I crept forward. Elodie, Brelyna, the Companions, and Sharash were all seemingly unaffected by the stench of the entranceway to the temple. J'zargo and Fa'nir suffered the most, no doubt having a keener sense of smell than the rest of us. They hung back a moment as the rest of us advanced, slowly.
The mages were interspersed amongst the warriors with Selina and Jenassa in the center of our mob. Each of us had a role, and a partner to protect or be protected by. Elodie was in charge of the mages, and Stenvar was in charge of the warriors. Elodie had spent the evening re-enchanting their weapons with various spells, but mainly those that harm the undead.
Us mages discussed the night before our varying talents and what spells we knew best. Elodie concentrated on Conjuration, particularly with controlling the dead and undead; her element was frost. Brelyna concentrated on Alteration magic but knew the basics of many different spells; her element was fire. Darius concentrated fully on Restoration magic, which included wards against the undead; he chose to heal rather than destroy. J'zargo was what they called an elemental mage, able to cast spells of fire, lighting, and frost; he claimed to know a spell that could cause chaos amongst our enemies. Fa'nir concentrated on Illusion spells, and claimed the ability to make any of us nearly undetectable; his element was fire, but he rarely casted destructive spells.
Most mages knew detection spells, but it was up to me to tell the others what to expect further inside the temple. With my new 'dragon sense', as I liked to think of it, the utterance of one phrase could tell me everything about beings around me – how many, what they were, and if they were hostile. More importantly, using this Shout, unlike using magic, did not tire me at all. I was now the group's scout.
Like the mages, the warriors knew their roles, too. Stenvar was our only two-handed warrior, but was as good as any tank; he was our first line of offense as well as defense. He still wielded the sword given to him by the Jarl of Winterhold. Though Ingjard would have loved to join him and wallop enemies with her warhammer she kept tied to her horse, her duty was to remain at my side, and she was glad to be there.
Jenassa and Selina both carried their bows, but Jenassa, for now, opted to wield two elven-style short swords. Each of them was enchanted, one of them with fire, and the other with magic used to frighten the undead, the same spell as Stenvar's sword held. Athis too was an archer, but left his bow behind, joining Njada and Ingjard in carrying a sword and shield. The two Companions took it upon themselves to protect Darius above all, but would defend anyone else if the need arose. Their shields had already been enchanted with magic-suppression, a reminder to me that, for whatever reason, the Companions did not care for magic, nor mages. Thankfully, they cared for necromancers even less.
Finally, Sharash was our battlemage, wielding her mace in her left hand and casting various simple spells from her right. She did not use any ward spells, she had mentioned, but rather preferred to compliment smashing things with lighting them on fire.
I had no idea what we would be met with in the temple. At least one necromancer, sure, but beyond that my 'dragon sense' told me nothing, and detection magic showed nothing. The night before, I lay awake scanning the area, testing myself in naming the location and identity of each person around me, and trying to feel for Malkoran within the underground temple. I felt the presence of my party members, and small animals and insects around us, but nothing emanated from the temple. This worried me.
Once inside, I breathed the three words that revealed life and so much more. Instead of information, all I felt was death. Not un-death, or the presence of the undead, just a heavy, oppressive sense of doom. I decided to test the Shout and detection magic intermittently.
We moved through the stone tunnel with caution, using our best judgment on where to proceed. I was surprised that Stenvar left alone the varying funerary urns I spotted, but I figured he'd just loot them later on our way back out.
Our way back out. We will come back out.
Unexpectedly, and ending as quickly as it had happened, Elodie grasped my right hand.
And then I stepped on something crunchy, and large. I yelped, not in pain but in fright, and took a step back. I cast a strong Candlelight spell above us, and forced myself to look down. Just like stepping on a spider, I lied to myself. A really big spider.
The sound of disgust that I made was matched by that of several others. Ingjard grasped at my elbow, whether in support given or needed I wasn't sure. Darius mumbled what sounded like a prayer. Everyone there knew what to expect inside, what I had seen in my visions and dream, but knowing that one might see dead bodies was not the same as stepping on one.
The whithered body of a Stormcloak soldier lay strewn across the path. The cloth aspect of her armor was in tatters. Her hair was matted. Her skin was rotted and dried. She had begun to decay, somewhat, but the coolness of the cave-like temple slowed the process, perhaps stalling it indefinitely, preserving what remained.
Stenvar muttered some curses under his breath before inhaling and puffing out his cheeks. He bent down, clutched the corpse by the underarms, and half-carried, half dragged the fallen soldier to the side of the corridor.
"We'll give ya a funeral fire on our way back, sweetheart," I heard him say. "All of you."
We passed by several more dead and rotted soldiers, Imperials and Stormcloaks alike. I saw a dead dog, pushed to the side, and knew it to be the dog I had learned of in my visions when I first touched Meridia's Light. Its master was one of these Imperial men.
Not much further down, Stenvar pushed on a wood, iron-reinforced door that did not move. "It's locked," he muttered before stepping back and nodding to Brelyna.
My elven friend nodded back at the sellsword. She reached out her right hand to the door's lock. A green light flashed between palm and lock, and she stepped back. Stenvar pushed with a tentative hand, and the door creaked open.
Brilliant.
"I am very glad we're not smashing doors open," I admitted aloud.
Stenvar turned to me, a calmness about him. He gave one look to Jenassa, who nodded in some unspoken understanding. She began to walk about the corridor, searching for something. Brelyna shadowed her, casting Magelight in various places.
I whispered to Ingjard. "Do you know what she searches for?"
"Traps, I think." Ingjard stood on her toes and peered ahead of Stenvar. "There is a spak in that room; I guess there is some sort of trap or... I don't know. I'm not an expert on these types of places."
"Stenvar is," I recalled. "Jenassa too, I think." The pair of them had been exploring ruins together for at least ten years.
With a flick to the side of Jenassa's head, Stenvar wasted no more time, and pushed the lever. I could hear a mechanism somewhere nearby move and click into place, and I supposed something, perhaps a passageway, was unlocked.
"Here," I heard J'zargo whisper. He sent a burst of Magelight down the newly-opened corridor. "A chest," he announced, but held back.
Jenassa pushed to the front of us again, examining the place for more traps. She returned, and stared beyond us, slightly to her right.
"What?" Stenvar asked.
Jenassa carried herself in a manner that indicated clear annoyance; her near-perpetual state, actually. She pointed toward the direction she was looking, and explained, "The corridor continues here." She walked passed Stenvar and stood in the shadow of what we had all previously thought was a wall. Brelyna sent another ball of Magelight down the way, illuminating nothing but more stone that curved to the right.
Only then did I see the pile of five bodies to our right, near a decrepit, ancient bench and shelf. The smell was strong, here, and I gagged yet again.
Casting a stronger Magelight spell over the area, Brelyna examined the corpses. "They look... crushed. And their armor is somewhat blackened."
"Burnt?" Darius asked.
"Mmaybe..." Brelyna wasn't sure, and neither was I. Yes, the metal of the Imperial's armor looked charred, but the rest of the body, armor, and cloth was not burnt at all. Brelyna continued. "I would say a fireball or similar magic could do this, but the cloth is undamaged. The armor is crushed here in the middle. No. It was not fire that did this; I don't know what spell could."
"Dark magic," Darius proposed, looking toward Elodie for some reason.
Ahead, the path split to the left and right, both sides leading to the same cavernous hall. Several people went each way, carefully, after Jenassa and Stenvar scanned both for traps. At the center of the hall stood a tarnished metal pedestal. Settled within it was a rock, illuminated by a beam of white light shot down at an angle from above.
"Wow," I breathed, slipping into English.
The light was no doubt generated by Meridia's magic and originated from the pedestal in front of her statue outside. I approached the pedestal, cautious, and examined its setting. The contraption was obviously the focus of the hall, which boasted wide, round stone columns and other similar, ancient-Nord features like I had seen in Saarthal.
The rock before me was glowing, sunken into the top of the pedestal center, and was faceted just like the rock I had carried for months.
Touch it, my own voice spoke to me.
Looking to my right to Ingjard, I gulped, but did not wait for encouragement. I turned back to the pedestal, reached out my hand, and touched the rock.
Nothing happened.
"Hmm." Again, I reached out, this time my hand hovering. I slowly lowered my palm until my flesh was cooled by the angled stone surface. The weight of my hand pushed down more than I had intended, and something inside the pedestal clicked.
A pair of molded hands, pushed up from the center of the pedestal, cupped the glowing rock and held it out like an offering. A beam of the same white light shot out from this cut rock, aimed diagonally upwards at a right angle to the first beam. The receiver of this new signal was yet another faceted stone of the same size, this time embedded in the mouth of a large stylized hawk motif, one of the common features of these types of ruins, I realized. Mechanisms around us whirred, rattled, popped, and snapped into place, and ahead of us a door opened.
What had Meridia said to me? Align the stones. I understood, now. Passage through her temple was only possible by someone, perhaps only Meridia's Champion, activating these stones, letting her light pass through the temple as a sort of key. Malkoran had apparently been able to open the way himself, using dark magic, closing the path behind him.
"Come on," I said to everyone, marching forth toward an opened doorway underneath the third lit stone.
More bodies, at least ten, some decayed earlier than others judging by the amount of exposed bones, impeded easy passage to the door. We stepped gingerly, avoiding stepping on the poor souls. Tip-toe, tip-toe. Long-step. Find a path. Toe, heel. Toe... heel.
I froze, straddled over the overturned body of an Imperial, when realization hit me – this was my dream. I looked up, looked ahead, looked behind, because I knew...
"Be ready," I ordered calmly. I didn't want to yell in this cavern, not when I knew something, something was waiting for us just beyond, but the warning needed to happen.
I hissed the words "laas yah nir" and finished my way across the bodies, falling to my knees after tripping over a Nord's blue cloak. Ingjard was quick to my side, futilely attempting to help me stand.
Paralyzed by sensation, I knelt there, knowing. The same sense of foreboding, of doom personified, had grown stronger. Palpable. I could smell it. The rot and decay scattered across this stone-slab, mossy floor was nothing compared to the pure wickedness that awaited us. I could not count how many creatures were beyond that doorway because that which awaited us was numberless. One evil, unified by magic, controlled by one man and a goddess's artifact, knew of our presence.
It was an ambush.
"It knows we're here," I managed to say, finally standing.
"It? What 'it'?" Fa'nir asked.
I forgot their word for evil. I forgot their words for wicked, corrupted, dangerous. As a precaution, and as a signal to others, I cast a simple ward spell in front of me, and advanced.
Stenvar trotted up ahead of me, soon joined by Ingjard and her shield. I wanted to tell them that this was a mistake, that they should let me tread first, but I knew they would protest. Stenvar could take a blow, even a magical one, and he knew how to recognize traps. Ingjard would simply refuse on all grounds.
Vines and cobwebs greeted us. A set of steps led us further down into the earth. Mushrooms, ferns and grasses all managed to grow within this place along with the moss, a bright contrast to the death that awaited us behind another opened doorway.
I sensed them before they revealed themselves. Their eyes were what I saw first, red embers set deep into char-black, smoky skulls. I sent a large orb of Magelight ahead of us.
One, two, many. They manifested from the black smoke that had greeted us from moment one. They wielded metal weapons. They were armored. They bashed sword to shield, waiting. They hovered above the stone, legless. They were shades, specters, ghosts, the spirits of these fallen soldiers corrupted by Malkoran to do his bidding.
Terror gripped at my throat. I felt the urge to grip a sword, but had none. Instead, I readied lightning magic in my right hand, and continued to maintain a ward with my left.
"Ready!" Elodie shouted, and echoes of metallic swooshing and magical sounds bounced across the stone.
More specters formed, each of them armed, each of them growling. Another pedestal, illuminated by Meridia's beam, stood in contrast behind the dark specters. The Magelight illuminated hints of the surrounding features: carved stone columns, benches, an altar. This was an assembly hall. A shiver ran up my spine.
The stone beneath us shuddered before the sound reached my ears. A roaring shriek, its volume multiplied exponentially by the many creatures before us, signaled the undead army's attack.
AN: Sorry I had to end with a cliffhanger, the chapter was simply getting too lengthy. Hopefully the next bit won't take too long to finish since it was half-written ages ago and I just have to, oh you know, write the action part now. Simple... cough.
Vend-Hjalm. Hvit-Lap. Rif-Ten. - Wind-Helm. White-Run. Rib-Town.
Hvan - who
Spak - lever
. . .
qethsegol – word wall
Dovahzul – dragon speak
"Qethsegol vahrukiv paaz kulaas yrsa wo ensosin pa do taazokaan voth ek dun arkh brii." - (This) stone commemorates (the) fair Princess Yrsa who bewitched all of Tamriel with her grace and beauty.