Chapter 14: Where Spirits Have Eviction Notices
Velwyn and Nim sat in the Counts Arms once more, quietly sipping their respective drinks and listening to the soft melody of the lute player as they waited for the rest of their company to show. Although Nim trusted that both she and Carahil could handle whatever lay ahead of them, she wanted absolutely zero doubt to remain that her home had been cleansed of its haunting if she were to ever feel comfortable living there. Thus, she sought out another mage to join them as they lifted the curse. Afterall, Carahil had mentioned that it took a team of mages to slay Lorgren and he still managed to survive to this day in some non-corporeal existence.
Nim's first thoughts jumped to Raminus. Surely, he'd want to help her if he knew she was in danger. And it's not like this task was strictly personal. Lorgren and his death was associated with the Anvil chapter and Carahil would be there to prevent them from saying anything they wouldn't want overheard by another guild member.
But over the past week, Raminus had been acting strangely towards her, shifting away whenever she approached, freezing in her presence, and every time she left the room, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Nim couldn't for the life of her pin it down to why. So many things could have tickled him the wrong way that night of their mission at the Dark Fissure. Was it her oversharing? The handholding? The dismemberment?
Deciding not to introduce anymore discomfort into Raminus' life, Nim had written to Fathis regarding the haunting at Benirus Manor. During their conversation, the Dunmer made it very clear that although he was painfully unaware of the rise of necromancy within Cyrodiil, he was well versed in the subject as a whole due to his many years as a Telvanni wizard. Perhaps a first-hand observation might set him right and remind him of the lurking dangers the Mages Guild faced. Fathis was all too eager to join her cause, replying swiftly by mail with only a few sentences.
Of course. I knew you missed me.
It wasn't untrue.
Everyone had decided on a 6:00 PM meeting time. Fathis arrived only a few minutes after Carahil. The dunmer Court Wizard greeted Nim with a tight embrace as though it had been years rather than weeks since their first and last meeting. He was dressed in dwarven armor minus gauntlets and helm and carried a staff strapped to his back. Nim hoped the heavy armor was overkill rather than necessity given her state of underdress. She shrugged the worry aside, remembering his penchant for dramatic flair.
"Fathis Aren, it's been a while," Carahil greeted him with a firm handshake. "The last time I saw you must have been… Vivec City four decades ago? You were still with the Telvanni then weren't you? Planning out the construction of your own Tel, if I remember correctly."
"Yes," he replied with a nod and welcoming smile that did not acknowledge the hint of judgement in Carahil's voice. "Though much has changed in the interim, I assure you. You, however, haven't aged a day."
"How I've heard."
Nim noted Carahil's cool demeanor and wary expression. If they were acquaintances all those years ago when Fathis was still in Morrowind, she didn't get the impression they were very close.
"And how do you and Nim know each other?" Carahil asked. Her tone was inquisitive. Her eyes, locked onto Fathis, were scrutinizing.
Fathis and Nim gave different answers at the same time.
"Conjuration lessons," said Nim.
"Ayleid research," said Fathis.
"Curious," Carahil replied staring unblinkingly at the dunmer.
"Well," Nim began, hoping to draw attention away from their staring contest. "This is Velwyn Benirus, grandson of Lorgren Benirus. He is the one who sold me the manor, and he will be helping us lift its curse." Velwyn gave a weak wave to the surrounding mages. The imperial rocked forward on his chair looking ready to vomit at any minute.
"We're all introduced. Let us waste no more time," Carahil motioned toward the door. "Nim, lead the way."
The four of them walked briskly and silently down the road and into Benirus Manor. None of the diffuse light from the twilight sky outside entered the windows, leaving the inside of the home shrouded in an unnatural gray. A broken cupboard lay across the floor of the foyer following a brief fight with ghosts that materialized when Carahil and Nim went investigating the first time. Nim stopped in front of a shattered urn to show Velwyn and Fathis the skeletal hand that she had found along with the page of Lorgren's diary. Upon picking up the bony limb, a crash sounded from upstairs.
Nim turned toward the entrance to the stairwell, watching as Fathis and a glowing orange fire atronach disappeared around the corner into the bedroom to investigate the source. Nim silently prayed that she would still have a standing house after tonight and not simply a pile of soot. Velwyn's cries drew her attention back toward the foyer, but before she had time to locate the cause of his shrieks, a frost spell struck her in the shoulder and sent her forcefully crashing into the cupboard behind her. Her skin burned from the blistering cold as she rose to her knees. The ghost that had attacked her was now moving closer with a low groan as it entered from the basement doorway. Nim let a reflect spell wash over her and sent a blast of flame into the specter. The magical fire engulfed its ethereal form and sent it screeching back into the afterlife.
With new-found adrenaline, Nim charged into the foyer to find two more ghosts cornering Carahil and Velwyn. With one hand, the altmer mage was shielding Velwyn with her ward as he cowered behind her. With her other hand, she sent streams of shock magic into the attacking specters.
Nim approached from the rear, lobbing fireballs into the ghosts without realizing she had begun to drain her magical reserves dry. When she failed to call upon more flame, she reached for her elven short-sword only to be struck by the realization that her steel blade was useless against the undead phantom.
Nim heard Carahil shouting to her above the sizzles and snaps of the shock spells, calling for the bosmer's aid. Nim spied a silver plate and assorted cutlery amidst the rubble of the collapsed cupboard beside her. Arming herself with a plate and fork, Nim approached the ghosts. She stabbed and slammed her silverware against them as forcefully as she could possibly attack something without a physical body. The coldness of their forms left her hands numb and blue, but the pained shrieks of the ghosts slowly faded as their life force fled them, leaving only a pile of ectoplasm where their apparitions once hovered.
"Sloppy work," Carahil shook her head at Nim once the threat was eliminated. The Altmer turned her attention to Velwyn who was still crouched down and shaking in the corner.
Fathis walked up to Nim and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Innovative," he said with a raised brow. "You're lucky Lorgren had fine taste and that wasn't pewter."
The party descended down into the basement without any interference from the manor's ghosts. Nim swore she could hear Velwyn's breathing from eight feet away. The heaviness and rapid pace of his breath only increased as the red runes of the portal became visible. Though Nim couldn't decipher her sigil's meaning, she felt It emanate pure malevolence. The wickedness of its magic pulsated against her skin as she approached it.
"Wh-what am I supposed to do?" Velwyn asked as they gathered around the wall.
"Maybe we need some of his blood," Nim suggested holding up her silver fork and readying herself to plunge. Carahil shook her head.
"Approach. Make contact. Try to visualize an open door. Lorgren left no incantation behind. Your presence should be enough. Go on, place your hands on the sigil."
Velwyn did as was told, tracing the lines and curves of the sigil with his hands. Slowly, the bricks of the wall began to quiver and fold backward. The wall collapsed in on itself to reveal a tomb hidden behind the basement wall. Velwyn, laying his eyes on the skeleton of his dead grandfather surrounded by more runes and scattered bones, wasted no time in escaping. He had opened the portal. His part of the deal was met.
The remaining elves entered the cold tomb. The same sigil that marked the portal entrance was engraved on the stone pillars surrounding them. The crypt was littered with disturbed coffins and dismantled skeletons from Lorgrens experiements. Nim's heart heaved for the poor souls who's slumber and peace had been stolen by the necromancer's self-serving plots. A dusty tome sat on the desk near the entrance of the crypt. Nim took a step toward and reached to place her hand on its spine, pausing only when she met Carahil's shocked expression.
"Do not trust anything you find here, Nimileth," the altmer warned as she eyed the skeleton resting on the altar in the center of the room. The remains of Lorgren Benirus were cloaked in a faded cloth covered in stitched patterns of arcane runes. Carahil's face twisted into a scowl upon stepping closer. She had entered the circle of a large symbol on the ground in front of the altar when a low, hushed voice broke the silence.
"I desire the chance to atone for my sins." The spectral voice filled the empty space around them, sending vibrations from the ground up through their limbs. "The things I've done to the people of Anvil, the horrible, unspeakable acts I've committed demand repentance."
"Lorgren," Carahil hissed under her breath. Fathis' eyes scanned the room as he brought his staff into his palms.
"Carahil, you were justified in your actions. Slaying me was the only way to stop the madness. I have accepted that fate. Now, so I may make my final peace with the Nine, please rejoin my hand to my body. Only then, when I am complete, will this eternal nightmare end."
Carahil pointed to the skeleton's left arm. It ended at a wrist. Nim set her pack down and retrieved the skeletal hand, which held together suspiciously well despite the absence of flesh and ligaments. Nim approached the altar and placed the bony hand beside the rest of its body. The voice of Lorgren returned with a throaty cackle.
"It never fails to amuse me how easy mortal man is to manipulate. You've assisted me in completing the very thing Carahil and her cabal sought to prevent all those years ago... my ascension to immortality."
"And you're arrogance remains even in the after life!" Carahil shouted above the maniacal laughter.
Although she heard the voice continue his monologue, Nim focused her attention on the growing orb of orange light that arose from the ribcage of the skeleton on the altar. She drew her sword and swiped it across the face of the stone, scattering the bones across the floor for no other reason than being skeeved out by its glowing presence. A clear blue mist began to materialize just behind the altar in the shape of a man. Carahil raised her hands, readying her shock spells with both palms, and Fathis directed his staff at the floating apparition. Within seconds, withered gray skin formed across its spectral body and spread across the bone like a web, returning the spirit of Lorgren Benirus to flesh.
Nim leapt up onto the table and shot her fireball into the Lich, its dry flesh crackling at the heat. Both Fathis and Carahil's stream of shock magic followed moments later, filling the air with the buzz of electricity. The magical heat caused a cloud of steam to fill the air directly surrounding the lich as it cried out with an inhuman shriek. Nim raised her blade over her right shoulder, preparing to swing down upon Lorgren with a heavy below. She felt her blade connect with flesh and slice clean through the necrified tissue. As the steam cleared, Nim saw the lich, now fully dead at her feet. It's bodied was charred by the shock and flame. Fathis kicked its head over to Nim who recoiled as it hit the back of her boots.
"Well," she said with a shrug. "That was slightly anticlimactic. I thought he might be a bit more passionate after being dead for so long."
"This is not to be taken lightly, Nimileth," Carahil tutted as she crushed the a bone of Lorgen's scattered remains beneath her foot. The left-overs of his skeleton were aflame on the stone tile. "I suppose there's no way to know who these remains belong to now that they've been moved from their resting place."
"They won't ever be disturbed again," Nim promised. "I'll speak with Primate Dumania Jirich to ensure they receive a proper burial on the cathedral grounds." It was the least she could do for the poor souls. She wondered if any of their spirits had been forced to attack her minutes ago. Wherever they were, she hoped they found their way to Aetherius with no further interruption.
Carahil nodded in agreement and turned towards Fathis. The Dunmer was sifting through the pages of the Tome of Unlife on Lorgren's desk squinting at the intricate symbols and daedric text.
"This could fetch you a fair price in the right markets," he stated matter-of-factly as he continued to leaf through the text.
"Don't you dare, Aren," Carahil growled and ripped the tome from his grasps. She tucked the book under her arm and scowled at the dunmer. "How did they even let you in to the guild, I wonder?"
"This," she said, tapping the spine of the book with her free hand. "is going straight to the University archives under lock and key. I won't have any more deaths and liches on my conscious, no thank you. Now let's leave this place. I sense that our work is done, but remaining here any longer is going to give me a headache."
Carahil took her leave of the other two elves once they reached the open air of Anvil, but not before taking Nim aside. Nim felt worry grow in her stomach, positive that she had just showed Carahil how incompetent of a mage she truly was and that the Altmer mage would not want anything more to do with her.
"Thank you for letting my join you in lifting this curse, Nimileth," Carahil whispered. Nim felt the tension leave her body in a long exhale. "I set out to destroy Lorgren long ago and failed to complete my task until tonight. His unholy craft will no longer threaten the citizens of Anvil. Well done."
She left for the mages guild, offering a small wave and approving nod to Fathis as she departed. Nim slumped against him, tired, hungry, and defeated. His clunky dwarven armor was not comfortable in the slightest against her cheek, but she couldn't bear to support her own weight in the moment.
"Thanks for coming," she mumbled. "Hope you got to stretch your legs a bit."
"I can't decide if you're one of the luckiest women alive or one of the unluckiest."
"I think they kind of… cancel each other out and at the end of the day I'm just neutral."
"A fair assessment. Come," he said, offering her his arm. "Let's go see if we can find this Velwyn fellow. I'm sure he's probably pissed himself in fear. The least we could do is offer him a drink."
"The least we could do! This is entirely his fault!" Nim looked up in shock to find Fathis grinning smugly at her. "I think you should me buy me a drink for even implying such a thing."
And Fathis did. Several in fact. They met up with Velwyn at the Count's Arms and after plowing him with several beers, convinced him to join them as they took their party down to the docks where the miscreants and sailors spent their late evenings. Shaking loose the aura of vile curses and fear, the group made their way to the Flowing Bowl, where Nimileth and Fathis managed to start a bar-fight with the entire crew of The Serpents Wake. Who would even choose to start a fight with a man clad in dwemer armor? The very thought astounded Nim yet she threw punches with the lot of them.
As dawn broke, she found herself slumped against the shore listening to the call of the early seabirds with the taste of iron lingering on her lips. Velwyn and Fathis were snoozing in the sand beside her, painted all shades of bruise from the blue of Fathis' normal dunmeri complexion to the purple of the darkest star-free night. A blurred recollection of kissing Fathis sometime during the night flashed across her eyes. Or was it Velwyn? Or was it that Velwyn had kissed Fathis? Her head pulsated at the thought, hoping neither she nor her companions would remember come daylight.
Nim rolled over to watch the receding shore through her spinning vision and smiled. For a house-warming party, this wasn't half bad.