Guide:

Dwemeris

Thoughts

"Speech"

"Dovahzul"

Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4

Chapter Warning(s): Falmer. Anything else will give too much away.

Last time…

"You, back in Falkreath… You were jealous, weren't you?"

"Oh, shut up."

Chapter 55 – Dust and Danger

Fal Zhardum Din takes my breath away. The cavern system is enormous, far bigger than I had anticipated, despite knowing a civil war has been fought in just this one underground area.

The rock itself seems to glow, vibrant blue veins running along the walls and up into the mist, curling and twisting like the patterns of blue azurite, a rare gem only found in areas rich in Malachite, in Valenwood. Giant glowing mushrooms sprout from the ground, swaying gently in non-existent wind, appearing at first glance similar to their alchemy variant, and yet very different in species, I'm sure.

The golden Dwemer metal, used for not only buildings here, but also to pave the roads, is cast in a shade of green I have yet to see on the surface of Skyrim, giving me the feeling of being on a moss-covered lakebed, deep underwater on a bright sunny day.

It smells of dust and fungus, of waters rich in algae, and the air is far more humid –and pleasant - than the awfully stagnant, dry climate of the steam-powered Dwemer Ruins of Alftand we just stepped out of.

Strange sounds, like ethereal music, echo throughout the blue-lit cavern. It's calming, serene, and by the gods, I can't believe this place is even real. It seems to be fully detached from the world outside.

Am I sure we didn't just all wander into an Outer Realm? I wonder in awe.

Specks of glowing dust dance through the still air, caressing me and tickling my nose playfully, giving the entire place an unearthly feel.

Then Lydia sneezes violently.

It breaks the spell that had fallen over all four of us, and I snicker as she doubles over with the force of her sneezing. Erandur coughs politely into his hand to cover up his own amusement. Marcurio is still busy analysing the buildings in the distance, the mushrooms, the air… Everything he can see, really.

Right. He's fascinated by the Dwemer. Now, I must admit, this place fascinates even me and I AM one.

"What are we looking for?" Erandur asks after another few moments spend in awed, stunned silence, the priest visible gathering his focus.

I tear my eyes away from the spectacle in front of me with no little difficulty. "Right." I clear my throat, "We're trying to find the Tower of Mzark. Big thing, probably goes all the way to the ceiling. It holds the Elder Scroll we need. Also, if we come across a dragon down here, do not attack him. Who has the lexicon?"

"How would a dragon even get down here?" Marcurio asks incredulously, eyeing the entrance through which we came even as he passes me the cube. "We're down too far for any openings leading all the way to the surface, nevermind one large enough to be accessed by a dragon!"

I stare as the wizard attempts to use logic, off all things non-magical. Then I snort. "Magic, probably. Or the gods. Take your pick. Stranger things occur."

He hums in agreement, after a lengthy pause in which he merely gives me a mildly annoyed yet amused Look. I have been the recipient of that one more times than I can count, and so I only offer a mischievous grin in reply.

"Do you even know where we are supposed to be headed? You have not been here before, same as all of us, of course, so I suspect you do not know where we are, exactly." Erandur ponders, addressing me though it almost sounds like he's talking to himself.

"I know where the Tower of Mzark is approximately located…" I start off, and before the others can groan, complain, mutter insults under their breath or anything else because they have such great faith in me, I continue:

"Which is all I need. I know where Alftand is, and Mzinchaleft, and Raldbthar. I expect their locations above the ground to at least be close to their entry points into Fal Zhardum Din."

I point straight ahead. "We're at the wrong end. The tower is on the other side of the cavern."

Now I do hear muttering, mostly from Lydia and Marcurio, but hey, at least they're angry at Septimus, and not me. Chuckling, I heft an axe over my shoulder, eyeing the golden green path right ahead. "Let's get this show on the road. This is going to take a while."

Humph. Who am I kidding? This will take us DAYS, especially since it's just the four of us here, and not an entire expedition.

…

I look to my left and I see a Falmer.

Great.

I look to my right and I see two more Falmer.

Fantastic. Note the sarcasm.

I look right ahead and, guess what, I spot even more Falmer sprinting towards us with bows and swords and a lot of general screeching. I swallow thickly, clenching my axes a little tighter as I have to wait for them to get in range so I give Marcurio the chance to pick some of them off.

There are so many of them. I've never seen a group this huge before – not even in Nchuand-Zel, which was crawling with the bastards!

Fuck.

My.

Life.

"Incoming!" Marcurio yells in warning, starting to fling shock spells at the horde of creatures intending to kill us. Erandur merely lets out a string of creative curses that are not befitting of a priest of Mara and charges with his mace – he'd ran out of magica while we took down some Chaurus reapers less than an hour ago.

Lydia is already chopping off limbs and twirling around in a storm created with the blood of her enemies, because she's a goddamn warrior queen and doesn't need us to watch her back. Nor does she need patience.

As her grumbling was what alerted the Falmer in the first place, I somewhat vindictively let her fend for herself for now, trying instead to better assess the shitty situation we've ended up in.

We're standing on top of a high platform, too close to the edge of a deep drop into the waters far below for comfort. We'd decided to climb up on a whim – hoping that a better view of our surroundings might give us a chance at glimpsing the Tower of Mzark we'd been looking for the past three days.

We're low on food rations after we lost a bag to the Chaurus, we're low on water because the amount of spores and algae in the waters around here make it too dangerous to risk drinking it. Erandur's magica won't charge properly and we're out of Cure Disease potions and Lydia's armour is worse for wear and her supplies are waterlogged after she slipped down a ramp and ended up taking an involuntary swim.

We're tired. Worn. Exhausted. And we can't quit or take a break now.

I'm running out of time and I can feel it in every fiber of my being. I don't even know what time I'm running out of, or why. There's just a constant need to push on, and it's not taken kindly by the other members of the group, even though they're sympathetic to my problem.

And there's still no sign of either a dragon or an Elder Scroll anywhere. Just too many Flamer to count. And their slaves, by Sithis, their slaves.

It's horrifying.

I put all thoughts out of my mind and lift my weapons higher, hacking away at the horde that threatens to overwhelm us, pushing my friends further and further towards the edge of the platform.

A horrid screech, like a Hagraven but higher in pitch, comes way to close for comfort, and I pivot with my axe drawn but the Falmer sword is already slipping past my defences and I'm not going to be able to block it and it's going to pierce my neck and –

The Falmer warrior is send flying away, blasted backwards by a lightning bolt before slamming into the far wall with a sickening 'thud', before sinking lifelessly to the stone.

I grin, heartened, glancing over my shoulder with a snarky remark on my lips…

Only for the smile to drop off my face as my eyes meet Marcurio's. One of the mages' hands is still outstretched towards me, the spell flickering and dying as I stare blankly. His expression is frozen in a strange mixture of confusion, disturbance, and agony as white-knuckled fingers clutch desperately at the arrowhead protruding from his chest.

I'm helpless, mindless, to stupefied to move beyond an aborted twitch of my arm, as if trying to grab him even from the large distance between us. Before my eyes, happening as if in slow-motion, he stumbles, backwards, already precariously close to the edge.

My mouth tries to catch up with what I am seeing, with what my mind is trying to comprehend even as my stomach lurches and my heart squeezes…

Then he topples backwards, out of sight.

"MARCURIO!"

The howl that tears itself from my throat burns, like it is build up of shards of glass, cutting into me in despair, in hysteria. I have never made a sound like it before, a Shout, almost of raw, emotional agony.

I see red. My mind is blank.

KILL THEM ALL.

I don't register anything but the red.

Not even aware I have made the decision, my feet are moving, running towards the place where my eyes had last fallen upon the man I love.

Before I can jump after him, and I don't even know what I'll do, how deep I'll fall, where I'll land because Marcurio needs me there, a heavy weight tackles me onto the ground, landing on my back and pinning my arms to my body as I thrash and curse at my assailant, my vision spinning and tunnelling to only see that edge, every time I blink an echo of Marcurio standing there, surprised, blood pouring down his robes.

I can't breathe..! But I can't bring myself to care.

"My T- Fjaldi! Fjaldi, you need to calm down!"

A voice penetrates the full-blown panic attack I'd shot into, breaking through the fog clouding my mind with no little difficulty because it wasn't Marcurio. Where is he? He's hurt, he's hurt, he's hurt..!

Two weathered old hands firmly grasp the sides of my face, slick with blood as they guide me to look into a familiar face set into a worried frown. "Breathe with me now, Fjaldi. Breathe. In… Out…Do as I do… In… Out…"

I struggled, but I followed his orders without question. I couldn't even think clearly for myself.

"That's it boy. Breathe. Just breathe…"

"Erandur." I choke, gasping for air, and then I'm actually choking, spluttering and coughs wrecking my body as I'm brought back to reality – to Fal Zhardum Din, surrounded by Falmer corpses, Lydia, and Erandur.

My Housecarl helps me to sit up, still showing no intention of letting me go. I'm fine with that. For now. I don't think I can already stand.

"…What in Oblivion just happened?" Lydia wheezes perplexedly, wide eyes looking at the scene around us.

Erandur sits down to my left, cross-legged on the floor. His fists are clenched tight, and his gaze is dark, firmly trained on one of the corpses that looks to have partially disintegrated.

"I believe we just witnessed what happens if a dragon panics."

His red eyes turn to me, and I have trouble tearing my own away from the state of the corpses around us, the silence almost deafening, a profound lack of Marcurio's witty comments causing a tense air between us.

"What… did I do..?" It hurts to utter the words, the glass-shard feeling still prominent with every intake of air, and I sit up straighter to rummage around in my knapsack for a healing potion even as Erandur goes back to looking at the bodies.

"One of the archers managed to land a hit on Marcurio, who fell over the edge," the priest of Mara states slowly, warily, as if mentioning it will send me right back into another fit. As it is, I take a shuddering breath and squeeze my eyes shut, tilting my head back briefly in a prayer to Meridia.

"…And?"

"When you saw what happened, you flew into a rage, not dissimilar to an Orc going berserk during combat. Only you needed just a few seconds to end the fight. You… roared… At the Falmer, and released a wave of energy of some sort which caused… that. Then you tried to jump after Marcurio, and Lydia prevented you from doing so. We've spent the last twenty minutes getting you back to yourself. We've… Not heard from Marcurio since he fell."

Twenty minutes? Twenty?

Twenty whole minutes of time wasted, in which Marcurio could have bled out… No. No he's not dead. He isn't. He can't.

I fight to get back onto my feet, waving Lydia away as she reaches out to steady me with a low, unintended growl, subconsciously baring my teeth. I try to ignore the sharp 'pang' of hurt I feel when she flinches away in fear and take another deep breath in an attempt to ground myself.

It doesn't work.

But that doesn't keep me from pushing on regardless. "I want to go find him." I swallow thickly, resisting the urge to bawl my eyes out like a child. Somehow, miraculously, I manage to continue, even though my voice cracks dangerously. "I really do. But we have to get to the tower. We're wasting time."

"You're running out of time…"

I shudder violently, hugging my arms close to my body as I bite my bottom lip until it bleeds. It hurts. It hurts so much. He can't be gone. Not now.

"We have to keep moving."

Erandur nods sharply. "Indeed. He will probably find us." None of us uttered the fear that clung to our hearts like tar. That he wouldn't find us. That we would never see him again.

"Right." Lydia nods, steering me ahead with a hand on my shoulder. "I think I saw the tower right up ahead. Let's go."

Mulishly, I want to protest. But I don't want to go.

My wants, however, don't matter down here, and so I trudge ahead miserably, one hand on my axe and the other clenched in a tight fist.

I will go find him if he doesn't get to us first. Even if I have to traverse all of Fal Zhardum Din to do it.