(AN: I never said that i don't believe that things in a story should be meaningless. On the contrary, i try to have everything in my stories have some overall meaning and weight to the overall plot [read. Chekhov's gun]. It is my brother who believes that there should be pointless things in stories just for the sake of it because "that's how an RPG is" [no consideration that this is not a game, but a story, that needs to be more streamlined than a game]. That being said, and that i usually am aware of meanings in art and literature from my critical analyses in college courses, i think its reaching to hold to the old "Wizard of Oz is a Federal Reserve allegory" adage.)
(Back to the story, though. While we haven't reached the end of the Second Act, i'm still going to set up for all of the hideous things that will happen in that act.)
The Man Who Cried Wolf
The woman was in great pain, torn apart as if an ax was being dragged slowly down her middle every second. The other knights surrounding her had their shields up and their swords ready, but the golden-masked Aurorans kept advancing. They were too strong and the orb was still outside of their grasp. Just then one of the Aurorans advanced through the lines of the knights, glaring down at her.
"You seek to give birth to an Empire?" the Auroran demanded, but the voice was a different voice. A more...familiar voice. "But your ways are cursed before you begin them! Do not dishonor your Mother! To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis!"
The mask began to peel away, revealing a rotting face with a gaping, lip-less maw and glowing folds of empty eye-sockets. The open mouth showed nothing more but the darkness, the darkness of Oblivion...
Then suddenly, Servius Crixus awoke. It had been so real. He had felt the woman's pain as if it were his own. Dammit, he was the woman and felt the pain himself. It had been a dream, indeed, and yet every inch of it felt real. Especially the face, the face that, just as he had predicted, was coming back to haunt his sleep at night. But he had not slept, or at least had not intended to sleep. It had been a long ride from Volunruud to Solitude, yet sleep finally overcame him when he reached Dragon Bridge. All he had wanted was a bit of food at the Four Shields Tavern. He must have had too much to drink and passed out.
After paying for what he owed the proprietor, a Nord woman named Faida, Crixus walked over to the hitching post outside of the inn and found his horse still there. He remembered tying it up when he came there and was grateful that none of the locals had stolen it. After mounting up, he made off on his way to Solitude. There was still treachery afoot which he had to report to General Tullius.
It was finally midday when Crixus arrived at Solitude. He saddled up his horse out front of The Winking Skeever, then made his way towards Castle Dour. Before he attempted to make amends with the Jarl, he had an urgent call to make on the Imperial Governor. When the gate-guard stopped him, he told him who he was and that the General was expecting him. The guard ran back and reported his presence, after which Crixus was hurriedly shuffled into the keep of Castle Dour, where General Tullius, Legate Rikke and one other person were there waiting for him.
"Legate, I believe," General Tullius greeted as Crixus entered. "You've certainly taken your time. I can't recall the last time you reported in. One might even suspect your motives."
"I was acting behind enemy lines, General," Crixus replied. "Any messages could have been intercepted."
"Is that so?" Tullius asked. "I'm certain a man of your expertise could have found a way to send me a message of your progress, one that would be encrypted enough to evade the discernment of these barbaric rebels."
"My apologies, General..." Crixus began, but was interrupted.
"I don't need your apologies, Legate," said Tullius. "I need results. Now tell me, did you learn anything while afield?"
"Well, you know about the treaty with Madanach," Crixus began.
"Yes, we'll talk about that later," General Tullius nodded.
"There was also an incident or two," Crixus stated. "One in Winterhold with a member of the Thalmor and an et'Adan magical object. The other being more pressing and urgent, involving a plot to assassinate the Emperor."
"A...what?" General Tullius whispered. "Did I hear you rightly?"
"Yes, sir," Crixus nodded. "Someone wants to assassinate Emperor Titus Mede II. I found out about it and thought I should bring it to your attention as soon as possible."
"You were right to do that," Tullius nodded. "Now, by the Eight, tell me you have a name on this would-be assassin."
"Yes," Crixus replied. "The name was Amaund Motierre."
"Motierre?" General Tullius asked. "Did you say Motierre? As in the Motierre family?"
"You know the name?" Crixus asked.
"They're an old Breton house," General Tullius replied. "Well established in Cyrodiil. That one of them would be guilty of assassination would be a terrible blight upon their name if it were true. But it is not beyond the realm of possibility: if you ever come to Cyrodiil, you will find that many wealthy and influential families have gotten dangerous ideas into their heads. So it would not be improbable that a Motierre has delusions of grandeur and enough money to make connections to the Morag Tong or some other independent assassin's guild. I will look into it; it is, after all, in our best interests to ensure the Emperor stands to rule his Empire."
"Good," Crixus nodded.
"What would be even better," General Tullius added. "Is if you had an idea where you met this Amaund Motierre. While I can send a message back to Cyrodiil to investigate the family, it will mean little if the traitor gets away."
"Somewhere in Whiterun, I believe, sir," Crixus stated. "A place called Volunruud."
"I will inform Legate Rikke," Tullius replied. "She will know the place and send soldiers to find him. You've done well. Now, what's this business in Winterhold?"
"Thalmor trouble," Crixus reported. "It seems their infiltration in Skyrim is worse than I believed. They had not only an agent in Winterhold, but soldiers at his command. He took the College hostage with some powerful et'Adan artifact of great power."
"Well, what does that mean to me?" General Tullius asked. "I'm not a battle-mage. You would be better off asking Sybille Stentor about magical artifacts. But a Thalmor presence that deep in rebel territory is disconcerting. It proves what some of us who are wiser have already begun to suspect."
"And that is?" Crixus asked.
General Tullius looked over one shoulder, and then over another, then leaned in closer to Crixus and muttered in a low voice: "At best, that Ulfric is being used by the Thalmor to cause chaos in Skyrim. At the worst, he is a willing agent and that one you met in Winterhold was his contact."
"I'd be inclined to believe the last one," Crixus stated. "If Ulfric wasn't a Nord, that is."
"Time will tell which is true," Tullius replied. "Nevertheless, we still have a war to win. As for this Winterhold incident, I will expect a full report soon. And make sure you speak with Stentor for...specific details on the particular item found. In the meanwhile, I've received the commission of your squire Silenius Petruvius. While that will be helpful, there are other matters that require your attention, especially since you were the one responsible for arranging the matter in the first place."
"And what's that, sir?" Crixus asked.
General Tullius then walked over to Legate Rikke and dismissed her. Once she was gone, he spoke to the other guest who rose up from his seat and approached them. Crixus saw a man hooded and robed with head bowed. When he was brought forward before Crixus, he lifted up his head and removed his hood.
"I believe you know Madanach, the King in Rags," General Tullius stated.
"We've met," Crixus replied.
"Yes, we have," Madanach returned. "And now it is time to make good on the deal you made with me almost two months ago in the Reach."
"General?" Crixus asked.
"I was led to believe," Madanach continued. "That we were promised support in driving the white-Nords out of the Reach as part of our pact of non-aggression. That was what you offered, was it not?"
"What if I did?" Crixus asked. "What is that to you? General, shouldn't he be talking to you instead of me?"
"He has spoken to me, Legate," Tullius replied. "And you need to hear what he is demanding of us."
"And what's that?" Crixus asked again.
"Karthwasten," Madanach began. "A little town in the central Reach, part of my Kingdom. After the Silver-Blood family were culled and driven out of Markarth, they've redoubled their efforts to reclaim their wealth and power. The old phrase is that silver is the life's blood of the Reach, and so it is. It is common knowledge that the Silver-Bloods once owned Cidhna Mine, the largest silver mine in the Reach. Now they do not and there are two other mines in the Reach which have become targets for the white-Nords. One of those is in Karthwasten."
"So what does this have to do with the Empire?" Crixus asked.
"The owner of the mine, Ainethach," Madanach continued. "Is a true man of the Reach, but he is obstinate. He has not sworn his support to our cause, and it is likely that the redoubled efforts of the Silver-Bloods will cause him to yield to their side. It is likely that he can be persuaded to join our cause, but it will require specific care."
"What do you mean 'specific care?'" Crixus asked.
"I have spies in Karthwasten," Madanach continued. "They have given me everything I need to know about the lay of the town. But if the Reachmen continue to make attacks on Karthwasten, it will create an atmosphere of panic. Ainethach will believe that the Silver-Bloods are more worthy of trust and sell his mine to them. We will lose power in the Reach and the white-Nords will gain thereby. We cannot let this happen!"
"Then what do you expect me to do about it?" Crixus asked.
"You're the Empire," Madanach stated. "You can make up a reason for invading a town in this gods-forsaken country out of your asses. I need Karthwasten to be sacked, I need people in that town to die. You swore to help us, therefore you uphold your part."
"The Empire doesn't kill its own people," Crixus returned.
"I've told him that as well," General Tullius added.
Madanach laughed. "You're sending white-Nords off to the Thalmor justicars by the bushel!"
"They are criminals," Crixus stated. "They have defied the White-Gold Concordant, they are outside Imperial jurisdiction."
"Then surely you can say the same about the people of Karthwasten," Madanach continued. "I mean, by the old gods, there's still a g**-****ed statue of Talos, chief murderer of my people and bastard of the white-Nord race, in Markarth! Surely this indicates lawlessness of the white-Nords in the Reach! Do something about it, then!"
"Or what?" Crixus asked. "You brought yourself out of your kingdom, 'your Highness.' You have nothing to bargain with."
"Oh, but I do," Madanach stated. "For I still have men on the borders of Haafingar. And if you betray me, they will wage endless war with you. Now neither of us want Ulfric to win your little war, but if you do not uphold your end of the treaty, I will have no choice but to retaliate."
Crixus was silent for a moment, looking between the stern, calculating eyes of General Tullius and the cold, wild eyes of Madanach. For one brief moment, his old prejudices, which had been recently exercised to his enjoyment, were once again coming to the surface.
"If there are Talos-worshipers in the Reach," he said at last. "Then they are rebels."
"Then let the Thalmor have them," General Tullius stated.
"Sir!" Crixus heard Legate Rikke speak up. All eyes turned towards the Legate, who strode forth from the meeting room, where she had been waiting.
"What is this white-Nord scum doing in my presence?" Madanach asked. "Surely you don't let these pale apes actually serve in your Legions? Do you think so little of our treaty that you openly mock me with this b*tch's presence?"
"Watch your tongue, old man!" Legate returned, her hand reaching to her sword.
"Legate, you will know your place!" General Tullius barked. "Leave, I'll...discuss this matter later."
Pounding her chest, Legate Rikke left the room. General Tullius then turned to Madanach, a look of unease on his face.
"Forgive me," he said. "She only acts as liaison for the Legion in Skyrim."
"They're savages," Madanach stated. "You don't need to have one in your presence to teach you that. Now, as for the treaty, if you are still serious about upholding your end of the bargain, I cannot allow the Thalmor to be involved openly."
"Why not?" General Tullius asked. "They have full permission by the Legion to go wherever they want in Imperial lands, according to the White-Gold Concordant."
"That's precisely the reason it should not happen," Madanach stated. "The Reach, by rights, belongs to me. I will decide if I will treat with the Dominion. But it is not the Dominion that is in question for their allegiance, but the Empire. I need proof that your word is true; sacking Karthwasten will be that proof." He then turned back to Crixus.
"Well?"
"The Empire will consider it," Crixus returned.
"I'm through with your considerations," Madanach stated. "I want results! Either Karthwasten is sacked by the end of the month, or the treaty is nullified and my Forsworn start targeting your Legions."
"Is that a threat?" Crixus asked.
"Yes," Madanach firmly replied.
At this, General Tullius cleared his throat, then added: "I'll send the Haafingar garrison to Rorikstead. They will be ready...to do as you have wished."
Madanach smiled, then picked up his cloak, wrapped himself in it once more, and left the keep. Crixus did not look Tullius in the eyes. To see someone whom he had admired for so many years turned into a simpering coward so easily angered him. Meanwhile, the General returned to the war room, with Crixus in tow, and turned to Legate Rikke.
"Perhaps I've been too lenient with your behavior, Legate," he stated. "I told you to leave. Why did you disobey my orders?"
"General," Rikke retorted, her voice brimming with anger.
"I want an answer!" Tullius demanded.
"I'm not talking to you, sir," she angrily retorted.
"This is no time to be choking on pride!" Tullius continued. "Yes, it is unfortunate that our reality involves the Thalmor running rampant throughout the Empire."
"And your offer of their assistance to Madanach is wrong, sir!" Rikke stated angrily. "If Ulfric hears about it, thousands more will flock to his banner. People will think he's in the right."
"That's why I ordered our legions sent there," the General continued.
"I don't like any of this," Rikke returned. "Either way, it sets up the Empire to take the fall and be blamed."
"Then we'll do something about that!" Tullius stated. "Enlist writers to transcribe 'The Talos Mistake' and 'The Bear of Markarth'. For gods sake, Rikke, you're a Nord! This is your country, you should know how to convince them! In the meanwhile, don't you ever talk to your superior in that manner!"
"Yes sir!" Rikke saluted, extending her right arm outward in front of her. The General then turned to Crixus, who once again would not look him in the eyes.
"I don't like it either," Tullius replied. "Our hands are tied as far as the Thalmor are concerned. We signed the damn treaty that allows them to go wherever they want in the Empire, and we can't do anything about it."
"Aren't they only after the Talos worshipers, though?" Crixus asked.
"Yes, keep telling yourself that," Tullius grumbled sardonically. "The truth, however, is that the Thalmor are only a small part of a bigger plan. The Dominion are not done with the Empire. This war is tearing the Empire apart and the Thalmor are behind it, because a divided empire is easier to destroy."
"But can't we do anything about it?" Crixus asked.
"Yes, we can," General Tullius stated. "We can kill Ulfric and bring this conflict to an end! We'll deal with the Thalmor when it's time. In the meantime..." He sighed angrily. "...we let the Thalmor be."
"But what about what is happening in Winterhold?" Crixus asked.
"All you've given me is your word," Tullius replied. "And while that may be good enough for me, as your superior officer, presenting this to Elenwen won't go over well without evidence. If you can give me eyewitnesses, independent sources, preferably, then we might be able to charge her with violating the White-Gold Concordant." He sighed. "And all that that implies."
"You want eye witnesses?" Crixus asked. "I'll give you eye witnesses. I can promise you two who will gladly share their account of this incident."
"Good," Tullius nodded. "Report back to me as soon as you have word. In the meantime, we will need to deal with Madanach. We can't have him threatening us from the west, as I'm sure you're well aware."
"So you want me to sack Karthwasten," Crixus mused. "On what pretext?"
"We'll come up with something," Tullius grumbled. "We'll say that the local Nords are smuggling silver to the rebels. And I'll have Rikke contact the local Nord families or whatever, see if they can convince the country folk and farmers that we're in the right. But it should be you who does this, though. I'm busy trying to win a war, here!"
"Yes, sir," Crixus saluted.
After delivering his report to General Tullius in Castle Dour, Crixus made his way to the Blue Palace. That he was Thane of Solitude was the only reason he was allowed to bypass the line of people come to present their cases to the Jarl's judgment: that honor had not been taken from him by reason of his impertinence before the Jarl. He had to speak with the Jarl, at least to make amends for that awful day. What happened in Snow Veil Sanctum made him realize just how alone he really was, and it truly stung him to the bone. He had to make amends, he just had to.
But as he was in the antechamber, waiting for his audience, he heard the familiar words of an Imperial complaining about something in Wolfskull Cave. His heart went out to the Jarl as he saw her once again attempt to solve the situation, but then be automatically shut down by her adviser Falk Firebeard. The Emperor would not dare have such petty power-mongers overrule his authority! But seeing Elisif put into such dire straits by her advisers angered him even more, for he saw in that the same manipulative behavior that he had seen in his stepmother while growing up.
It had to come to an end.
He made his way to the throne, when suddenly Falk told the Jarl that he believed it was best that she leave. Like a mewling child, Elisif consented to his wishes and left the throne room without another word. The red-haired man then walked over to the throne and gazed at it longingly for a while before his servant brought forth a smaller wooden stool to sit before it as he heard the grievances of the people.
"Ah, you're the Thane of Haafingar!" Falk greeted. "It's been too long."
"I have not been in the favor of the Jarl," Crixus returned. "I felt it best to keep my distance."
"It is best to show your loyalty, not hide in the face of adversity," Falk advised. "In time, the Jarl will recognize your worth and you will return to her good graces."
"I hope so," Crixus replied. "Now, what's this about Wolfskull Cave? I'm certain this was being discussed months ago, when I was last here at court."
"Oh, you heard that?" grumbled Falk. "But it's like I said before, it's probably just some wild animals. Varnius is just a milk-drinking Heartlander, afraid of anything and everything in Skyrim. But there's nothing to fear of it, and so I've made sure that our resources are kept at more pertinent things."
"You mean," Crixus asked. "There have been rumors of danger in Haafingar and you've intentionally turned a blind eye to them? No, you've advised the Jarl to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to them? Are you working for Ulfric Stormcloak?"
"Never!" Falk exclaimed. "I am as loyal to the Throne of Haafingar and the Crown of the future High Queen as the next man!"
"Yet you want to demean the Jarl's credibility in the eyes of her people and the lords of the court?" Crixus asked.
Falk gestured with three fingers for Crixus to approach his stool. This done, he leaned in and whispered something close to Crixus.
"Elisif's rule is destined to be short-lived," he stated. "The outcome of the moot is a foregone conclusion. Even with four rebel Jarls, the majority favor Elisif as High Queen. All of this is only a transition until we all rise to power. Elisif is a means to our end." He then leaned back.
"So, what trouble's you, citizen?" he asked aloud.
"What's the trouble with Wolfskull Cave?" Crixus asked.
"I told you, there's nothing to worry about," Falk returned. "Just animal cries and old legends."
"Old legends?" Crixus asked.
"It's said that the Wolf Queen used that cave for her necromancy," Falk sighed. "But that was five hundred years ago. Nobody goes there anymore save for animals. Nothing to concern yourself over."
"Maybe I want to be concerned over it?" Crixus asked. "Maybe I want to see what's there?"
"Why are you so concerned with this cave?" Falk demanded. "There's nothing there!"
"Because I want to see Jarl Elisif rise above her station," Crixus returned. "Rise above her court, rise above you, and truly be worthy of the title of High Queen. I will show your court that she still has people who will see her will be done despite their own agendas."
"Be careful, thane," Falk interjected. "It is not wise to make enemies in Solitude. They might make you regret it."
"Are you threatening me?" Crixus asked.
"Informing you of a pertinent truth," Falk stated. "One that you might find very useful if you intend to do any kind of meaningful business in Solitude."
"Like investigating Wolfskull Cave?" Crixus asked in return.
"Dammit, if you're so interested in poking around an animal den," groaned Falk. "I'll give you a hundred septims for your trouble." He then added under his breath. "Just to shut you up, that is."
"Thank you," Crixus grinned, mocking a bow before he turned on his heel and left the Blue Palace.
After leaving the Blue Palace, Crixus made his way over to Proudspire Manor. The last that he knew, it was still his and not revoked. Perhaps, he thought, he could find something in there with which he could sell or pawn for a new set of arrows. His quiver was still empty and there were things to be done. As his hand went up to the lock, his mind came back to the tiny green thing which Mercer Frey used to open the doors in Snow Veil Sanctum. His thoughts returned to Karliah and the Thieves Guild. If, as Falk believed, there was no danger in Wolfskull Cave, he could clear it out, then be on his way to Riften to help Karlaih return to the Guild.
As soon as he opened the door, however, he was reminded of the reason why he spent so little time at Proudspire Manor. The young Nord housecarl Jordis the Sword-Maiden was waiting for him, clad in armor as usual, with a string of keys hanging from her neck like a peasant's necklace, a shield on her back and a sword on her belt.
"My thane," she greeted unenthusiastically. "Your presence brings me joy."
"There's no need to be snide," Crixus stated as he walked into the basement at the bottom of the manor and began his search. "I won't be here long."
"What, nothing to say about my ignorant mongrel race?" she asked. "You usually have such nice things to say about us."
"Gods, can you not?" Crixus demanded. "You're just as bad as Marcurio and the others. If you don't want me to speak my mind, don't act like an arrogant little c..."
"As you wish," she sarcastically returned, closing the door and turning to her thane as he continued his search. "Though, if I were indeed as you say, I would fail to inform you of what Erikur has been trying to do while you were away."
"Yes? And what would that be?"
"He's tried three times to break into the house," Jordis continued. "Not personally, of course, but I've managed to catch his accomplices and force the truth out of them."
Crixus scoffed. "You? How did you manage that?"
"I have a sword," Jordis replied. "And I'm stronger than you think. So, after a little subtle questioning, I found out that they were working for him."
"And why would that preening cock want to break into my manor?" Crixus asked. "If he owns half of Solitude as he so claims, then he should know that I'm never here."
"I don't think he wants to catch you here," Jordis reasoned. "As much as plant something here. Something valuable, something he can tell the guards is missing and tip them off that it might be here."
"And you know this how?" Crixus asked.
"I grew up in the court of Solitude," Jordis returned. "I know what goes on at court. Erikur has pulled this shit before with the businesses in the city: how else do you think he owns them or they owe him money? Do you think he got to be as rich and powerful as he says by preening about the streets like a cock, showing off his tail-feathers?"
"Truly, I thought he was full of himself," Crixus stated.
Jordis chuckled slightly. "That he obviously is. His sister Gilsi tells anyone she meets of how much of an ass he is. But those who think highly of themselves can be a danger, especially if they're as clever as Erikur."
"Hmm," Crixus mused. "I'll try to keep that in mind. In the meantime, we're leaving."
"'We?'"
"I might need an extra body," Crixus added. "Someone to take all the arrow fire."
Jordis grinned. "Always happy to serve. But I think you might need this." She walked over to one barrel, pried open the lid, and pulled out a quiver full of arrows.
"How did you do that?" Crixus asked.
"I'm very observant," Jordis stated. "Last time you were here, I counted how many arrows you had. I figured that you would run out soon and, looking at your quiver, I see that I was right. So I spent some of my money at Beirand's blacksmith and got some arrows. I hope they fit."
Crixus grinned. "You might be more useful than I thought."
Jordis smiled. "What's gotten into you, thane?"
"Maybe I'm seeing things in a proper way?" Crixus suggested. "Maybe I've finally found my place?"
"Well, then, this is a turn," Jordis stated. "A good turn, one that I like. But I would like to point out that, turn or no turn, I'm sure Erikur has his spies on the streets. He'll be dogging your steps."
"Why?" Crixus demanded. "What's so fucking important about me that this arse-hole is tracking me?"
"It's intimidation," Jordis replied. "He knows you're powerful, that you're close to the Jarl. He wants you to know that he's in charge, and he'll make you pay through the nose to prove it."
"I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of playing by his rules!" Crixus snarled.
"Well, then, it's a good thing I'm here," Jordis stated.
"Why's that?"
"Because I know Solitude like the back of my hand," Jordis replied. "I've played hide and seek as a little girl in the marketplace, the docks, the ramparts around Castle Dour, the halls of the Blue Palace. There's another way out of Solitude other than the main gate. There's a small postern gate at the bottom of the Windmill on the southern corner of the city. Only the millers use it, but we might be able to use it to get out of the city unseen."
Crixus grinned again, then reached for the arrows in the barrel which Jordis had opened.
To leave Proudspire Manor without being seen was little task, especially for Crixus, armed as he was now with Jordis. Under cloak and hood, they left through the basement entrance into which he had gone, and kept their heads down until they reached the wind-mill tower. There Crixus departed swiftly, then made his way to the Winking Skeever, retrieved his horse, and brought it up to the wind-mill.
Going down the narrow, winding staircase to the bottom of the wind-mill tower would have been no great chore for the two of them, but with a horse, it took at least twice as long. At least once or twice they would both have them had like to have been thrown off the stairs and go tumbling down by the horse tripping over the small steps. Nevertheless, the two of them did not give up on their passage until they had reached the bottom.
Once they had reached the bottom, they mounted up on the one horse, then made their way westward. Jordis knew where Wolfskull Cave was from local legends and stories, and so directed Crixus on his way. They rode south, down the hill upon which Solitude was built, and came almost even with Dragon Bridge, when Jordis told Crixus to turn north, into the colder, upper mountain regions. It was nearing midsummer, so the ways up into the high mountains were not yet clogged with snow; it was because of this that they passed up through the mountain pass easily. When they reached the top, the air was crisp and cool, and the road deserted. In the distance they could see snow on the higher peaks. But close at hand, they saw the stone face of the mountainside, with an ominous crag that sat nestled in its side.
But as the horse drew near, it reared up on its hind legs, braying and kicking like mad. At the mouth of the cave, acting like guardians, were two skeletons, armed with swords and shields. Jordis was the first one off the horse's back, though whether she fell or jumped of her own accord, she did not say for certain. As soon as she was off, out came the sword and onto her hand the shield, and she engaged the nearest skeleton. Crixus also leaped off the horse and immediately drew forth Gallus' Nightingale Blade, which he used to hack off the legs of one skeleton. It crumbled to his feet, and he then proceeded to take it apart piece by piece. Jordis also had managed to destroy what remained of the second set of walking bones and had sheathed her sword and returned her shield to her back and was trying to calm the horse down.
"So much for just a few animals," Crixus noted.
"Aye," Jordis replied. "And I trow that if we go in there, we'll find necromancers in there."
A few minutes passed as Jordis managed to finally calm the spooked horse. She then led him off the path and tied him to a tree, then began searching the ground around the tree for loose twigs and branches. When Crixus asked what she was doing, she answered: "It's dark in there. We'll need some kindling for a torch."
"No need," Crixus returned. "I have a spell for that."
"With all due respect," Jordis stated. "I'd rather not put my trust in magic."
"Typical," Crixus groaned. "But still, this is how it will be. If you want to carry a torch, by all means. But I will lead the way with some proper light, and we shall see who is better off in the end."
"Lead the way, my thane."
The cave was dark indeed, and in many places they had to turn sideways in order to squeeze through. But Crixus was used to these kinds of spaces by now and Jordis was made of sterner stuff than he had originally intended, else she would have become fearful of the close, tight spaces and gone running towards the nearest exit. But the going was still slow, for they had to examine the ground upon which they walked for fear of pit-falls or holes that might prove dangerous. As far as they discerned, though, the tunnel continued more or less straightly for a long while.
Inside it felt mostly deserted, and they saw no sign of animals having dwelt there at any recent point. But the closer they went in, the more dangerous it became. Though this place was indeed a cave, there were things here that had been brought in from other places, pilfered and looted and resurrected with dark magicks for the purpose of guarding the cave from the curious. They encountered a few draugr here and there, but the combined efforts of both of them proved to be enough to defeat them. It did, however, take a long while, and Crixus realized just how spoiled he had been with Marcurio and Brelyna; they could turn draugr to ash within seconds with their magicks, whereas it took him and Jordis a few good hacks and slashes with the swords to break them down into useless piles of rotting remains.
As they went farther, they began to hear chanting, faint, distant and indiscernible, echoing from deeper within the cave. Here they halted for a moment and took what breath they could in the dank, stale air of the cave.
"Did I not tell you, thane?" Jordis asked.
"Yes, that you did," Crixus nodded. "And it's for that reason that I stopped."
"Why, afraid of a few milk-drinking conjurers?" Jordis chuckled.
"Do you want me to treat you like before?" he asked.
"It was just a joke," she replied.
Crixus rolled his eyes, then continued. "First off, they will likely see my candlelight spell, which is why we're stopping. I need light to shoot and to see, but not bright enough to catch attention. I'll hold the spell aloft while you use my flint and tinder to light up a torch from the sticks you brought in." He removed the flint and tinder from his belt and handed it to his housecarl, who began striking it above a long stick she had brought with her.
"I don't...understand," she said as she was striking. "Why do we...need this? Can't we just run in there...and kill those necromancers before they know it?"
"The Nord way, I see," Crixus chuckled. "Run in blindly, hit anything that moves, and beg the gods that you kill them before they kill you!"
"It works!" she retorted.
"Not against mages," Crixus added. "With the right spell, a mage can make a shield too hot to hold, or send a frost-shard to shatter through the wooden body." He laughed. "Especially considering your Nordic shields are made of wood!"
"They're easier to carry," she added. "Than those...cumbersome Colovian steel kites. And our shields...don't put your arm at risk of being broken...when the enemy strikes."
"No, just your entire person," Crixus returned smugly. "One swing of a battle-ax and that shield is done. And when were will you be?"
"I thought we were fighting wizards," she replied.
"Even worse, they can still fry you with your shield up," Crixus added. "Perhaps next time we're in a town or city, I'll see about enchanting your shield. You want to be of use to me? You'll need something that can resist magicka."
At last, Jordis struck a spark and the end of the torch caught fire. With a little bit of blowing, the flame caught and she now held aloft a little torch. In this light, Crixus sheathed his sword for a time and picked up his bow, fitting an arrow into the string. He found that the arrow was of sufficient length for his bow, for which he reminded himself to buy Jordis a drink at the nearest tavern.
Thus arrayed, they went forward into the gloomy darkness of the cave. The chanting suddenly became louder and more discernible. They were words in the Common Tongue: We summon Potema. Over and over the chorus of voices slowly took up the chant, until the words buzzed in their ears all around them. Onwards they went, foot by foot, until they came to a short tunnel at whose end they could see light. The chanting also was loudest from the tunnel's end, and they could hear another voice, the voice of an elderly woman, speaking words between the chanting.
"Wolf Queen, hear our call and awaken!" the voice commanded. "Long have you slept the dreamless sleep of death, O Potema! No more! Hear us, Wolf Queen! We summon you! We summon Potema!"
"This is even worse than I thought!" Jordis whispered. "We can't let them complete the summoning!"
"Hold!" Crixus hissed.
"What?" she returned, aghast. "Do you even know what will happen if they..."
"Look on the ground," Crixus pointed with his bow. Casting the light of her torch thither, Jordis saw several small, thin lines glistening on the floor in a circular pattern about the size of a shield.
"I saw those in Labyrinthian just a few days ago," Crixus stated. "Guardian runes. A nasty surprise for the one fool enough to step inside those lines."
Carefully they made their way around the trap, taking extra precaution not to step anywhere near the glistening lines. Crixus also told Jordis to make sure that she dropped nothing into the circle, not even burning bits from her torch.
"Anything touches it and it goes off," he whispered. "And we're close enough for that old woman to hear us."
As soon as they had passed beyond the circle, they came upon a large, cavernous room with a domed ceiling. In that ceiling was a hole into which light was shining. Beneath that hole was a large stone altar inscribed with red signs which they could not discern clearly at this distance. Around the altar were many clad in black robes. Some of them were swaying and chanting, others had discarded their clothes as they bowed fervently to the light in the center of the altar. At least nine people were there, with four of them holding hands upward towards the light, the other four flailing and swaying, while the old woman walked about the circle, gazing at the center with delight.
Then, suddenly, a voice spoke out of seemingly nowhere. To anyone it would have sent their nerves on edge, but to Crixus, who had felt the voice of the Night Mother upon his back, he barely suppressed a yelp of fright as the voice spoke. It was thin, raspy and hollow, the voice of a ghost, echoing off every stone in the room. There was a cold malice in the voice.
"Yes," it egged. "Yes! Return me to this realm!"
"Behold the blood, Potema!" the old woman retorted. "The blood of the innocent!"
"Summoned with words. Bound by blood." The devotees now chanted.
"What? What are you doing?" the voice asked, now sounding angry and in disgust. "Fools! You cannot bind me to your will! You insignificant ants have not the power to bind me!"
"As our voices summoned you," the old woman shouted, hands raised to the glowing light that was growing steadily brighter in the center of the altar. "So to, Wolf Queen, does the blood of the innocent bi..."
But at that moment, she had walked within sight of Crixus and his bow. He took aim and sent an arrow straight into her throat, the bloody arrowhead breaking through the skin and coming out of her throat.
"Intruders! Defilers! Kill them!" one shouted.
"Now's your chance," Crixus returned as he pulled out another arrow from his quiver.
Jordis charged across the room, drawing forth sword and shield, and plowed down one of the summoning necromancers before he had a chance to recover himself, driving the edge of her shield onto his neck and breaking it. But no sooner had she advanced when another threw a frost-bolt at her. Jordis, however, was no fool. Near was one of the naked devotees, and she pushed her into the path of the frost-bolt, taking out two foes without even bloodying her blade. But the necromancer conjured another frost-bolt and was about to throw it, when an arrow struck him fast in the heart, sending him down before the spell could be cast.
Crixus was now closing in slowly on those who remained; three devotees and two summoners. Another swift arrow caught a devotee in the knee, sending her sprawling helpless onto the ground. Jordis charged towards the other two who were trying to run while Crixus saw the other two summoners raising their hands over the fallen.
"Not on my watch!" Crixus retorted. Two arrows he drew forth and sent whistling through the air. The one pierced the summoner in his open mouth just as he was uttering the words of reanimation, while the other hit the second one in the hand. By now, however, Jordis' sword was drawn and blooded as she rose from the fallen devotees and charged towards the last summoner.
"What were you doing here?" she shouted. "Have you lost your mind?"
"Foolish peasant!" the wounded summoner gasped. "The ritual has been completed. The Wolf Queen has awakened!"
There was a loud hiss and a rush of wind, then the light in the center of the altar died down and the room was quiet. The chill that had indicated the presence was gone.
"Looks like you failed," Crixus added. He then took out his knife and readied to strike him down.
"No, wait!" Jordis interceded. "Why kill him here?"
"He's wounded," Crixus returned. "It would be merciful to kill him."
"I'm sure he can tell us something useful," Jordis added. "Like why they were here, or why in the name of Shor's frozen balls they would summon Potema..."
But they had no chance of forcing the information out of him. The summoner seized Crixus' dagger and drove it into his throat. Crixus wrenched the dagger from his cold dead hands, then wiped it off before going in search of his arrows. The threat was eliminated and soon they would be back in Solitude, a warm fire on the hearth of the Winking Skeever and cold beers to wash down a good afternoon's adventure.
The trek back through the cave was easier than the trek going through. With no more dangers to face them, Crixus threw a stone at the rune, which exploded into a dozen shards of lethal, bone-chilling icicles. The rest of the way was spent admiring each other's skill in the ordeal and Jordis thanking the Divines for how disaster had been so narrowly avoided. Upon exiting the cave, Jordis looked towards the trees off to the left of the cave mouth and swore loudly. Crixus turned thither and his face also fell in grim disappointment.
The horse was gone.
(AN: I managed to make this chapter shorter than I feared it would turn out, but still get all the pertinent information down. I've pushed Jordis and Crixus into traveling together because, well, now that Crixus is on the road to change, he needs to be able to show that change on a more fundamental level than he can with an Imperial and a Dunmer. Also, some of the comments made during the story between Crixus and Jordis about shields are based on a lot of stereotypes people [including the makers of Deadliest Warriors] have against vikings. Just like the whole adage that folded steel Akaviri katanas are somehow better than a Nordic great-sword. In the end, it is all preference, and my preference is towards...well, you know.)
(Also, i did get rid of the little fort inside the cave. It does not make sense to built a tower inside a cave. Maybe a few accoutrements of a summoning circle or such, but when you're in a cave and you have draugr summoned to defend you, building a fort under the ground seems a bit superfluous. Also it doesn't seem likely that this was an old fort, seeing as how there is so much ground on top of it that it doesn't seem likely to have been an ancient fort that was just covered over with rubble and large mountain boulders over time.)
