AN: It's amazing how much writing someone can get done while sitting in an airport for 8 hours without internet access. (I apologize for any typos or errors in this chapter. I wrote tired and edited, twice, tired.)
Many thanks to those of you who are still hanging on to this wild ride. The next few chapters are all mostly written, so updates for now will be relatively quick. Lots of answers. Lots of connections. Lots of death. And undeath. Etc.
I hate narrating game quests, so hopefully this is different/exciting/whatever enough not to bore anyone. If you do get bored, at least read the ending. Trust me. Totally off-script.
Mild slishityslash violence within.
Chapter 37 – Dawnbreaker
As Stenvar, Ingjard, myself and others defended against the incoming attack, Darius cast a spell, calling in a language that sounded similar to the few elvish words I knew. The incantation sent light in all directions, passing through my chest and stretching onward, forming a circle. The black shade warriors crashed into the light as if it were a wall, stopped not an arm's length from where I stood. I felt the chill of death upon my face as the specter of an Imperial soldier shrieked directly at me, banging her steel shield against the forcefield. I stepped back and turned, taking in the sight of Darius. The young man had both arms outstretched downward, and his chin was lifted high. I did not know the spell he had cast, but I knew it was Restoration magic, and that it was a type of all-encompassing ward that barred entry to the undead.
I needed to learn that spell.
The others figured out what had happened just as I had. Stenvar lunged forward with his greatsword, turning two specters into puffs of black smoke, their dark, tangible arms and armor evaporating along with their bodies. Ingjard, Athis, and Njada did the same, while the rest of us hung back, using magic and arrows from a distance.
To my left, J'zargo cast two different spells at once, a red and blue glow respectively. Curious, I waited to witness their effects. Upon being hit by the magic, three shades squealed, and turned from us. One of them began to attack its neighbor, and the other two simply fled. I shot forth lightning magic at the creatures and watched in delight as two of them disappeared.
I spotted Jenassa and Sharash at my right, skirting the scene; they must have intended to attack the undead warriors from behind. Wanting to join them, I tested the first word of a Shout that would speed up my flight.
Wuld. Best translated as 'tornado', or simply 'fast wind'. I only needed to mutter the word and I was at once by Jenassa's side, startling her and Sharash. The movement attracted attention, unfortunately, and the specters spotted us. Feeling foolish, I attempted to correct my mistake.
A Shout I had learned at High Hrothgar but not used on anything was meant to confuse one's enemies, just as J'zargo had done with a spell. I gave myself only a few seconds to meditate upon the words. Faas ru maar. Faas ru maar. Fear, run, terror.
Fitting.
I screamed the dragon words, willing all my energy into the Shout. A red shimmer floated forth, settling upon several shades. Their spectral bodies doubled back, hit by the force of the words, and their attack was paused momentarily before they began to flee. Jenassa and Sharash fell upon the confused creatures, piercing their chests and severing their ghostly heads. The two women did not stop. One specter after another fell to the elf and orc. From my left, more red magic shed upon the shades, and they again halted before attacking one another as well as my companions.
As lightning shot from my palms, vaporizing another creature, I realized that J'zargo's fear spell and my fear Shout did the same thing. I wondered if the spells shared the same origin, and had to ask myself the question: Where does dragon magic come from?
Aetherius. Magnus. Akatosh. Akatosh...
Stepping into a puddle of something viscous dragged me out of my musings. Shades were still forming, and still attacking. Darius had ended his impressive spell, casting instead basic undead-specific fear spells. Fa'nir stood in front of the young Imperial, slashing with his claws at any approaching specter. I saw a flame atronach swirl and cast fireballs at the undead swarm, and knew Brelyna was behind her summoning. Elodie had conjured a ghostly, purple sword, and joined Fa'nir in protecting Darius. Selina stood behind them all, unleashing arrows she would hopefully be lucky enough to easily retrieve, later. Stenvar, Athis and Njada had moved to the left of Darius and the others, hacking away wildly at the shades, while Ingjard had finally caught up with me, covering my back.
As a whole, we surrounded the undead army, careful not to trip over the benches in the middle of the hall. Jenassa and Sharash continued to fight while Ingjard followed me up a short series of steps to the altar. Front and center was the pedestal, and I pressed gently upon its illuminated cut rock. Again, a second beam of light shot upward at an angle, and a door opened. I ran up the steps, Ingjard following, to find another glowing, faceted stone behind the pair of doors.
Dead end. The area had caved in partially, crushing wooden furniture and ceramic pots. I turned back toward the center of the hall just in time to see a specter burst into vapor after coming into contact with the white beam emanating from the stone atop the central pedestal. The mental connection I made between cause and effect was instant: Meridia's Light killed the undead. Or, more accurately, perhaps, pure energy – that was what Darius called Meridia, the Lady of Infinite Energies – was the key to the destruction of the undead. If Meridia's Light was the key to the destruction of the undead, then Malkoran somehow figured out how to harness this power to create the undead. He corrupted pure energy into something sinister. Dark energy. Dark matter. Dark magic.
The corrupted spirits kept forming, and I worried they would not stop until we found and killed Malkoran. If these spectral slaves were harnessed using corrupted energy, and energy could never truly be destroyed, then these shades might never cease attacking.
Jenassa and Sharash, still near me and Ingjard, continued their offensive tactics. I worried for their stamina, and their lives, if the undead army kept reforming. I needed time. I needed time to think, to speak with Ingjard, to form a Plan B.
Several Shouts came to mind, ones that would help for a short while, if only long enough to give my friends a rest. One group of shades to my right were packed tightly. I breathed in deep, exhaled, breathed in again and Shouted the words, "Zun haal viik". Weapon, hand, defeat. Half a dozen specters were relieved of their swords and shields, made instantly vulnerable to Stenvar, Njada, and Athis as well as any mage behind them who decided to take advantage of the moment.
But more shades only reformed a moment later to my left. I needed a different Shout. I needed time.
I did not know the Shout well, only managed to control the first word of the triad, but I knew using it would buy me about half a minute, long enough to give my companions at least a moderate rest. But the effect of the Shout only worked on my immediate surroundings. I had to be near the bulk of our group.
Without warning Ingjard, I grasped her forearms and growled the words, "Feim zii gron," instantly turning us both into ethereal beings. The effect was the same as what Torug had used after killing Ulfric – he had become like a ghost.
"Follow me!" I yelled to Ingjard before running, if intangible feet could actually run, into the midst of the shades and beyond, towards Stenvar and Darius. I turned back to find Ingjard had not moved at all. I motioned her forward, and finally she came. Wasting no more time, at Darius's side I inhaled deeply before shouting a single word: "Tiid." Time. It was the same in Norren, though pronounced slightly different due to having one less vowel.
I watched as the shades outside the area of effect of my Shout moved in slow motion while my companions moved normally. The creatures made horrible, angry faces, slow yet unrelenting in their attempts at vanquishing us. Fearing the effect of my previous Shout would soon diminish, I cast a ward orb around myself those near me.
The shades that had been too close were thrust back through the air, momentarily stunned. The ward magic, in the same family of spells as healing and unread-repulsion, had fended off the specters. A heartbeat later, Ingjard and I were made corporeal again. As I maintained the ward orb, watching my companions fight with increased fervor, I spoke to those around me over the din.
"I don't think these ghosts will stop coming!"
"I think you're right!" answered Ingjard. "Do you have a plan?"
"Find Malkoran," I yelled back.
"Through this!?"
"Yes!"
Ingjard grabbed my armored forearm, turning me to her. "And if everyone here tires!? What then? You just did something – I don't remember seeing that before. You controlled the ghosts!"
"Darius can, too!" I reminded her. "They will not be without aid! The others will follow, and distract the ghosts!"
"And if they do not follow? What if we are attacked by as many ghosts by ourselves!?"
I eyed Ingjard, unsure of what to say. I remained silent and turned back to watch Stenvar begin to move at the same speed as the specters. I breathed in deep, and repeated the Shout that slowed time. Stenvar lowered his weapon, stealing a moment's respite. Behind us and away from my Shouts, Jenassa and Sharash continued their assault.
At this point, still maintaining a magical orb around myself and Ingjard, I had expected to feel tired. I did not. Between Wuunferth's necklace, Yrsarald's ring, my enchanted armor and having, in the end, laying partially exposed to the stars despite not sleeping, my magical stores felt limitless. My magical energy regeneration, too, was definitely increased. I felt invincible. I had to remind myself that I was not.
Ingjard spoke close to my ear. "Are we going to escape this mess the same way we fell in?"
Turning to her, I yelled back, "Just follow this time!"
Becoming like a ghost felt odd. The body tingled after every nerve ending lost sensation, and tingled once more after regaining form. The effect of the Shout initiated immediately upon uttering the third word, and lasted something over a minute.
As Ingjard and I fled to the left, down a new corridor, I shot ahead of us several bursts of Magelight. There were no further disruptions by shades, and I knew by the sound of our companions that they had followed. We found ourselves in another hall, one with raised stone walkways just as Saarthal had. A rotting log ramp to our right led us up. We were met with two angry specters who we did not hesitate to vaporize.
Another dead end – a door that could not be unlocked, and Brelyna was preoccupied. I spotted a second log ramp just ahead, and scrambled down again to the main floor. Up the second ramp we found another locked door.
"Brelyna!" I screamed for my friend, but then turned around and spotted another illuminated stone on a pedestal. I trotted across the archway, pressed the stone-key, and as before a beam of light connected to another key, and I heard a loud click not behind me, but to my left.
"Shit." I ran back the way I came, Ingjard forever trailing, and went up once more on the first log ramp.
"Up on your right!" I called back to my companions who were still fending off dark spirits.
I pushed open the door, and was blinded by the light of day.
. . . . . .
Everyone had made it safely to the outside, and the specters did not follow. The balcony was expansive, fitting us all easily. We took the opportunity to rest.
Well, some of us did.
"What were you thinking!?" Jenassa hollered at me. It was obvious she that was angry about the fact that I ran. Jenassa was a planner, always needing to know what was going to happen as much as possible. She had suffered quite a few scrapes and cuts, not unlike the rest of the group who did not wear heavy armor from head to toe. A wound on her left bicep was particularly worrying.
"You're wounded," I diverted.
"Brelyna will see to that. Why did you run?"
"I did not run, Jenassa. I had to find a way out of that room. I had to find Malkoran. I did not know coming into this temple that the ghosts would keep coming after being killed. We are lucky we have this place – none of them have followed."
"Yes, we are lucky." Jenassa pursed her lips and squinted her dark red eyes. Her jaw muscles tightened and relaxed. "So we move forward, then. Look for the necromancer."
"It is the only way to stop the ghosts, I think."
Jenassa pondered the new plan for a moment, and then nodded and walked over to Brelyna.
Finally left alone, I took the opportunity to gaze around me. The same stylized eagle or hawk statues that we had seen inside were built outside with stones. On them were mounted more illuminated stones, each connected by a beam of white light. The path of light continued beyond a stone bridge, wrapping up and around what had turned out to be a mountainside.
"Give yerselves a few moments," Stenvar bellowed from near the door we had exited from. "Then we move on."
Ingjard and I sat alone, staring off into the distance. All I could see was trees and mountains.
"That Shout you used," she began, "the one where you turned into a ghost, or like a ghost..."
"Yes?"
"Is that not similar to what Torug did after he killed Ulfric?"
I nodded. "I think it is the same. He turned blue and like a ghost. We did the same."
"I never saw you do that before."
"I practiced sometimes in private; you know that."
Ingjard removed her helmet and scratched her scalp. A moment later, she muttered, "I nearly shit myself." She turned to me, smirking, and we laughed.
"Sorry." I only hoped the Shout didn't also deafen her, as it well could have.
My bodyguard shrugged, and stretched and flexed her arms, recuperating.
. . . . . .
"That was a fuckin' terror,"Stenvar spat. The rest of our companions murmured in agreement.
The room we reached after resting on the balcony, a high-vaulted area with caged walkways and a maze of corridors around it, required three stone-keys to be pressed. Each of the stones were located in different places, far away from one another, accessed by different routes. Luckily, mine was not the only hand that could activate the stones, and while most of us distracted the specters, Sharash, Athis, and Jenassa searched for access to the other pedestals. The process took perhaps an hour, as not even the life-revealing Shout I knew helped locate the other stone-keys.
Despite the fresh batch of corrupted spirits distracting us, we now knew what to do, as a group.
Though my life-revealing Shout did not reveal the way to the stone-keys, it did tell me that Malkoran was not far. In fact, he awaited us in the next hall, just down another set of corridors, surrounded by more shades. As planned while on the balcony, Elodie, Ingjard, Stenvar, and myself would attack Malkoran while Darius kept most of the specters at bay. Darius claimed to feel fine, not tired by his extensive use of heavy Restoration magic. I believed him. Even so, Sharash promised to stand by him, magic-regenerating potions at the ready.
When I had sensed my surroundings, noting the proximity of Malkoran, I felt a second presence that I had not noticed before. I could not describe the object or being, but I knew that, like Malkoran, it was a target. My target.
The artifact. It had to be the artifact. The room that awaited us held its own power, I had sensed, a ceremonial chamber of sorts. It was the depths of this ancient temple, a place of great power, long forgotten until Malkoran weaseled his way inside.
I could not know what would happen when I saw the artifact. I did not know if I was meant to take it from Malkoran or destroy it. Meridia never instructed me in this detail. I supposed, as with most things involving this mission, I would figure it out when the moment arrived.
When the time came to hunt down the necromancer, I broke free from the undead mob, letting Darius take my place as controller. Ingjard followed close behind, with Stenvar and Elodie following after. Stenvar tried to take the lead, but I refused, asking him to trust me.
And then I saw it, the large doorway beyond which awaited Malkoran and his slaves. I did not pause for long. As I trotted down the steps, I sent forth a fireball from my lips, followed by the strongest forceful push I could manage. The Shouts, quick in sequence, took more energy than I had predicted, and I faltered. Ingjard caught me, and I found my footing.
"Distract them!" I ordered my companions.
The final hall was illuminated by dozens of candles and lit braziers. We were greeted by no less than ten specters, with Malkoran controlling them from a raised platform. Dozens of bodies littered the temple floor, and the air hung heavy with decay. I gagged, but pressed on.
The shades shrieked and advanced, dissipating quickly as our blades and magic cut through their ethereal bodies. Elodie cast a purple haze of magic – something from Oblivion. She was likely trying to counter Malkoran's hold on the spirits.
I sensed it, the artifact. I sensed her. Meridia's Light shot through an opening in the wall toward another pedestal that stood on an altar behind Malkoran. The necromancer was casting conjuration magic of his own, chanting in what was likely elvish. He was dressed in a black robe, and I could see a bright red, pointy beard poking out from the shadows of his hood.
"Feim zii gron!" My flesh became air, and I walked towards Malkoran. Though his face was concealed, his body language and a pause in his speech told me I had caught him off guard.
"Wuld nah kest!" The Shout sent my body forward, passing straight through Malkoran, landing on my ethereal feet behind him.
Before the necromancer could turn or flee, my nearly-solidified right foot kicked his rear, and the man fell forward from the altar. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Stenvar's sword flash, Elodie's ponytail whip, and Ingjard's shield flutter. The sellsword spat curses as his sword terrified the attacking shades. The conjurer laughed as she spun, sending her spectral sword through the ghostly bodies of corrupted spirits. The bodyguard cried out victorious when a bash of her shield caused yet another specter to vanish into a puff of black smoke.
"Iiz slen nus!"Malkoran was still splayed on the stone floor when a burst of ice formed from my breath, crystallizing upon his flesh and robe. The man wailed in pain, and quickly vanished.
"Fuck," I muttered. "Tiid!"
Time slowed down around me as I waited for Malkoran to reappear. I walked around, not wanting to stay in one place lest he attack me from behind.
"Laas yah nir." Though the whisper distorted the forms around me in a bright shade of red, I knew each and every one of them. I could sense their heartbeats, and their emotions. They were exhilarated. Stenvar, Elodie, and Ingjard were all fine, more than fine, fending off shade after shade, grunting and laughing all the same.
Malkoran. Malkoran. Malkoran.
I could sense the necromancer and the darkness that surrounded us. He was somewhere here, cloaked by strong magic. Undetectable, much more so than Fa'nir's spells accomplished.
"Tiid!" I needed more time. More time. More...
Light. I turned around, fixing my eyes on the artifact Malkoran had been standing in front of. I trotted up to the altar. The pedestal, commanding the focus of anyone in the chamber, was made of a green-gold metal just as all the pedestals in the temple were. At its top, surrounding a glass or crystal orb, was a frill of the same metal. It faced outward and up, absorbing the rays cast down by Meridia's Light from an opening in the rock wall. The stone glowed bright white in response. The frill and orb were reminiscent of a sun. Cupping this stylized sun on each side were two hands, and two more at the front of the pedestal were shown reaching up from below, struggling to grasp at the light. Encasing the entire structure were two feathered wings, an obvious likeness to the gargantuan statue that topped the temple.
Embedded vertically within the structure was a sword, its handle peeking out from above the glowing orb. From behind the structure I could see the sword more clearly. It was made out of the same metal as its pedestal, and above the hilt of the sword was an encased white-translucent gem about the size of a walnut shell. This smaller gem gave off no light of its own.
The entire guard of the sword was also reminiscent of a sun. The gem's round setting looked almost like a coil of overlapped scales – a reptilian eye. Surrounding the setting was a larger, more delicate circle, with thickened supports at its top and bottom. One could easily argue that I had dragons on the brain, and that I also had a thing for snakes, but the outer circle of the handle guard to me looked like an ouroboros. The appearance was likely coincidental, I told myself.
My actions were tentative, entirely unsure if I wanted to touch a timeless, Daedric artifact that had just been used by a necromancer to ensnare and command specters. But Meridia was in my head, telling me to take the sword; the sword was mine, and I was the sword's. It belonged in my hand, an extension of my body, a means to fend off the undead.
Before grasping the handle, I let my fingers graze the surface of the diamond-like crystal. It was randomly cut, but its multiple facets were reminiscent of Meridia's Light, the cut stone that she used to communicate with me, which had guided us through her temple using similar objects. After a moment, the crystal began to emit light on its own. I pulled back quickly, startled, and the light faded. I leaned in again, letting the pads of my right first and second fingers run over the facets. The light returned, no doubt responding to my touch. I smiled at the gentle, tingly warmness.
Stenvar howled at me through grunts of exertion. "Deb, what are you doin'!? Find that rithe n' kill 'im! I don't wanna stay in here any longer. It fuckin'"‒grunt‒"stinks!" He then grumbled something to himself about "skryden". I ignored him.
The pedestal itself was gorgeous, and I almost felt like I should leave the sword in there forever, as a display of sorts. Artifacts belonged on display, after all. But the voice in my head kept whispering, Take it, take the sword; she belongs to you.
I smiled in confidence as my fingers wrapped around the bronze-colored handle and, slowly, pulled.
Sword in hand, I swooned. Metal clinked against stone, and the world turned cold and dark.
. . . . . .
Blackness. I felt it. Like being encased in cold, wet velvet while sitting inside an airtight box, the darkness draped heavily over me. I opened my eyes. No, they were already open, but nothing could be seen. There was no light.
I was laying prostrate, chest, abdomen and thighs chilled by the stone ground. I was naked and shivering in complete darkness, but the thought of "where did my armor go" outweighed any others. Slowly, I registered what I felt with my body. Cold dampness, like a cellar floor. Stone, and some grit. It smelled of earth and wet limestone. A cave. And then, metal. I felt cold metal around my wrists, tight. I moved slightly, and heard the sound of metal scraping against stone, and metal clinking against metal. Heavy metal. I could smell it.
I was in irons.
Panic hit me. Hampered by no other ambient noise, deep thudding pounded in my ears. My heart was attempting to flee from my chest, panicked by the all-too familiar feeling of being lost in the darkness. I blinked. I blinked harder. The muscles surrounding my eyes and perhaps the nerves themselves began to hurt, just as they had before, years ago. The muscles of my forehead strained. I was at once back in that cave with no light to guide my way. Unbroken, but bound. Bound in irons. Naked.
"Hell-lo? M-Meridia?" I called carefully. Quickly, a response came in the form of my own faded, quivering voice.
Thud, thud. Thud, thud. Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. I forced myself to calm my breathing. The air was thick and cold. Hyperventilation was painful. Swallow. Swallow again. Close your eyes. Breathe through your nose.
I tried to lift my arms but I could not. The irons were shackled close to the floor. My feet, however, were free. I pulled my knees toward my chest, shifting to an awkward, stooped kneeling position. Sighing, and with a small groan, I maneuvered my legs in front of me, letting them stretch out. I shifted forward, my backside scraping the cold stone. Finally, my hands were upon the peg that secured my shackles, tugging. It had been embedded into the stone, deep, and was not budging. The chains themselves were only several feet in length, but at least from this position I knew I could swat and kick away whatever had taken me prisoner.
Prisoner. The realization finally hit. Thoughts of my absent armor faded and the reality of being shackled in the dark became the primary issue. I gave the peg another tug.
Magic. The whispering reminder calmed me. When I first crash-landed in Skyrim, I had no control over any magic. But now….
I opened my eyes and looked to where I knew my right hand to be. "Latta," I whispered, willing the ancient elven word to answer my plea and send out a blue-white ball of Magelight. But instead of light emitting from my palm, a shock of electricity shot at my right wrist and traveled up to my shoulder, lasting only a second but nevertheless causing me to cry out from one of the most severe pains I'd ever experienced. I was paralyzed, initially, but the right side of my body shuddered involuntarily for a few moments after the jolt.
Enchanted. The irons had to have an enchantment on them. Not just magic-suppression, like those cages that the vampires at that fortress were held in, but anti-magic.
I was no fool. An experimenter at heart, yes, but no fool. No more magic.
Panic once again threatened heart palpitations. But then, I wondered. Dovahzul. Dragon words. Werethose magic?It was unlikely that they followed the same metaphysical laws. Or, at least that's what I told myself. I had to try. At worst, I would just have been electrocuted again.
Calm, calm yourself. Eyes open yet seeing nothing, I parted my lips to form one simple word. "Laas." The Shout manifested without effort, without a breath, and without retaliation.
Good, good, this is good. But nothing glowed red. Nothing, not even myself. "Laas yah nir," I whispered somewhat louder, giving the innately powerful words even more power. I looked up. Down.
Nothing.
Become Ethereal. That was what the Greybeards called it, the Shout that turned its wielders into a ghost-like being, temporarily. I inhaled and exhaled several times, seeing in my mind's eye my translucent flesh escaping from my bonds. I would be free.
"Feim zii gron!"
I tugged at the irons, and they tugged back.
I gulped. Panic set in again. I was alone. Alone, cold, chained and contained, and no one was here to answer me as to why.
Thud thud. Thud thud. Thud thud. Thud thud.
"Elodie!?" I cried, louder. Again only a sharp echo entered my ears.
I whimpered. My fists clenched.
My magic was unusable. My Shouts did nothing. I sobbed as I whispered "laas" one more time, preying something would be there, something for my eyes to focus on. Nothing. Relinquishing any hope of company, I closed my eyes and let the tears come. My breaths quickened. My chest hurt. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In out, in out, in out. The hyperventilation was happening again. I needed something. I needed someone. I needed help.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. I sobbed my final plea. "Stenvar!"
Rithe – Fucker
Skryden - Critters
Shouts used:
Aura Whisper: Laas Yah Nir, Life Seek Hunt
Unrelenting Force: Fus Ro Dah, Force Balance Push
Become Ethereal: Feim Zii Gron, Fade Spirit Bind
Disarm: Zun Haal Viik, Weapon Hand Defeat
Dismay: Faas Ru Maar, Fear Run Terror
Whirlwind Sprint: Wuld Nah Kest, Whirlwind Fury Tempest
Slow Time: Tiid (Klo Ul), Time Sand Eternity