Dinner was a strange affair. Alrek and Camille had stolen time from Onmund and his friends during meals before, but on this occasion they approached the three with rather feline grins.
"So," Camille began, setting his plate of food down. "I take it my dearest twin has told you about our discovery?"
"Not all of it." Onmund poked at the sausages on his plate thoughtfully. "Just that you two found something that'll help with our trip to Saarthal."
"Exactly right." Camille smiled wide. "This college has so many secrets, it'd take several lifetimes to find them all."
"Could you imagine? An entire cavern underneath us," Alrek added, awe and wonder lacing his words. "I think it goes far enough that it extends out to the sea."
Brelyna, however, was not so easily impressed. "How did you even find something like that?"
"An accident," the Allards said in unison.
She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "With the way you two find things out? A likely story."
"This one thinks it might be worth investigating," J'zargo said after a spoonful of soup. "After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained."
"Onmund," Brelyna said, turning to the lone Nord at the table, "you don't think this is a good idea, do you?"
"I don't see the harm in it."
Brelyna sighed. "Really?"
"Oh come now, Brelyna." Alrek was ever the charmer, tilting his head just so and batting his long lashes. "You're always so careful."
"Indeed!" Camille said. "The math adds up. With you along, there'll be five of us, and since Onmund and J'zargo have their heads screwed on correctly, we can put everything to a vote."
"I just don't see how any good could come of going to a place called The Midden."
"Any bad ideas would be promptly put down." Alrek clasped his hands together for emphasis, scanning their faces earnestly. "It'd be three to two."
"This one is quite interested to see what the rest of this college has to offer," J'zargo chimed in. "There is much we have yet to explore. Such poor mages we would make if we did not indulge in our…curiosities."
Brelyna shot Onmund a pleading look.
He shook his head. "I'm with J'zargo on this one. It sounds like it could be fun."
She sighed again, finally relenting. "Fine. But if it looks like we might get into trouble, we're getting out of there, understand?"
Alrek and Camille crossed their hearts in perfect synchronization. "Promise."
Onmund wasn't sure what a place called 'The Midden' would look like. He'd envisioned some arcane door, a magical seal, or a portal… but the Allards continued to surprise.
"Here we are, the Midden," Camille proudly exclaimed.
The rest of the group, sans Alrek, didn't share his enthusiasm. The disappointment hung as heavy as the dust in the air. This was the mysterious secret? A custodian's closet?
"Uh…" Onmund looked around, seeing nothing but dusty boxes and packs of soap blocks. "I don't…see anything?"
"Kind of like Saarthal, isn't it?" Camille smirked. "When the researchers uncovered the site it was nothing but a mound in the snow." He made his way to the edge of a frayed rug.
"Funny how mundane things hide wonderful discoveries." He bent down, peeling a corner of the rug away to reveal a trap door sitting perfectly flush against the dark stone of the floor. It appeared entirely ordinary at first, until Onmund noticed Daedric runes inscribed in circles over the lock.
Yet before he could ask, Camille cast a spell against the runes, which hummed in tandem with his magic. He and Alrek pulled at the handle of the door, revealing an ancient stone staircase yawning into the darkness.
"Ladies first." Alrek gestured downwards, and Brelyna huffed.
The group made their way carefully down the stairs, which led into a large, icy cavern. From first glance, it was far too big and ancient to simply be an underground storage area for the college. Onmund, Brelyna and J'zargo collectively gaped at the sight before them as they made their way through what seemed to be a hallway. Moss and old plants clung to life in between the stone and brick of the walls, thriving in damp corners and crevices.
They exited into a tall antechamber with arched ceilings. Tattered banners stirred even in the still, dead air, and chains that once held impressive chandeliers squealed like curious ghosts. Onmund wasn't sure what it was— as though there was a presence, but who or what it was, he couldn't say for sure.
In the surreality of the moment, he failed to notice a gentle buzzing along his skin, along with the warmth of magic. He brushed his hands along his neck, and his fingers met with something warm-yet-cold to the touch. It was a small blue wisp, who had been taking a nap in his hood.
"Fond of you, hmm?" J'zargo gestured to the wisp, who began to nuzzle against Onmund's hair.
Onmund shrugged. "More the merrier, right?"
The group travelled in a single file down the corridors. Camille and Brelyna took the lead with spheres of condensed light floating above their heads; Alrek, meanwhile, guarded the rear with a cautious air.
Harried writing in chalk marred the length of a hallway, entirely in Daedric script. Brelyna shuddered, hugging her arms around herself. "I don't think we're supposed to be here." Her voice bounced off the arches, distorting and ricocheting back into their ears.
"Nonsense," Camille said, waving dismissively. "I haven't seen or even felt anything, for that matter. We're fine."
"Easy for you to say." Brelyna practically pressed herself against Camille. "You'd just send yourself to Oblivion and wait out the trouble."
"Don't go telling everyone my plans now."
Onmund had a terrible feeling about it all. Something felt wrong. Too much pulled at him, though he couldn't place his finger on why or how.
He followed the group absentmindedly, trying to pinpoint the feeling. It was as though energies pulled at him, trying to convince him to break away from the group, to go down hallways and explore alcoves. He had stopped before the entrance of a narrow corridor, barely concealed by rotting debris and plant life. He considered what sort of discoveries he may find, whispering tendrils coiling in his mind to seek out the truth. His mind flashed visions of power, wealth, to strike down the very people who had hurt and humiliated him. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, unwilling to see his magic as some means to hurt or overpower others. He gathered his wits once more, rejoining the group down the path they travelled.
As they walked through the iced hallways and weathered stones, the creeping dread never dissipated. In fact, as they continued, that fear gripped him tighter in the gut, refusing to be released.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw skeletal remains wearing similar apprentice robes to his own lying in piles. The decaying bones of creatures who had wrongfully sought shelter beneath the college littered the ground beneath them, a warning to be heeded. Yet most frightening of all were the marks of Daedric runes and numbers, etched with impossible precision into the very walls.
Soon the group came upon a large chamber, with a few different corridors leading down into some dark, horrifying mystery. They all shared a look between each other.
"Well, there we go," Brelya said smugly. "All we've got are a few bones, some mold and not much else."
Alrek only shrugged, indifferent. "I was right; Saarthal's not going to be much different."
Camille remarked, "Save for the draugr, of course."
"Draugr don't bother anyone if you ask for permission first," Onmund said defensively. "Just good manners when you go into someone's home, you know?"
Brelyna huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I haven't seen anything here that'd call for all this secrecy. It's called the midden for a reason."
"This one will have to agree." J'zargo looked around, tail twitching anxiously. "It is better to return the way we came from, before we get lost."
Alrek and Camille looked to Onmund, who felt so small with everyone's gaze upon him. "What about you? Shall we head back?" Alrek asked.
He truly had no idea what to do. No, that wasn't true, he knew he wanted to turn back. He knew he wanted to end the whole thing entirely. But then, he felt something deep and primal in Onmund's heart called for him to continue deeper into the forgotten halls; a thread of power tugging at his soul. He was surprised he even thought to consider the notion at all.
"I—"
Come to me, storm-singer. Come to me.
He stumbled back, fumbling at the strings of his hood and loosening them, shaking his head sluggishly. The wisp, disturbed from its rest, hissed.
"I—I think we should head back soon. It's late." Onmund decided.
Brelyna nodded, then made her way to Onmund and put a hand to his arm. "See? Everyone agrees, we should head back."
Alrek and Camille shrugged. "Very well," Alrek said. "We promised to leave if you three felt uncomfortable. No sense in dragging everyone along."
Camille hummed, unhappy but not protesting. "Quite a shame, I was so hoping for something interesting to happen."Brelyna, however, looked pleased.
"We ought to listen to the Telvanni more often," Alrek started, and Onmund caught a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "She's certainly got the dour attitude. She'll be a magister in no time."
"Oh I don't know about magister," Camille smirked, following right along. "Dour, certainly, but no sense of adventure in sight."
This clearly struck a nerve with Brelyna, who stamped her foot. "Don't start; I do too have a sense of adventure! There's just nothing in these caves worth exploring."
Alrek turned to Camille, who returned his sly look. "Are we very sure of that?"
Brelyna crossed her arms. "Ugh, I'll bet there's nothing down these hallways, just more bones and mold."
"Prove it," Camille shot back.
"Fine, but we're leaving right after."
"Of course."
She turned on her heel, marching ahead with a determined gait, and soon her lithe form was swallowed into the darkness of the hall.
The group waited behind in silence. "Should we not go after her?" J'zargo asked.
"I'll give her a minute." Alrek smirked.
Truthfully, Onmund hadn't been so sure about the excursion. Or any of this. For a moment, he mentally kicked himself for allowing Alrek to sweet talk him into this whole mess. But Brelyna was a Telvanni, and he had heard her regale stories about the very many families and ancestors she had. What they were capable of.
Surely, if anyone could brave a little darkness… it'd be Brelyna.
But it didn't stop him from curling his fingers into his palms, staring after her, praying in his heart, Oh Talos, please let her come back. Please let us walk away from all this in one piece. Please.
It was one minute too long.
The Allards cautiously peered along the hallway Brelyna had marched down. "Maryon!" Camille called out. "You haven't fallen down a hole have you? Swallowed up by Azura?"
Relief washed over Onmund when he heard Brelyna's voice called back. "There's nothing here!"
"See? Nothing to worry about. Fellows at the College must have simply forgotten about this place," Alrek said reassuringly.
But just as Camille began making his way down to Brelyna, Onmund heard a shriek, accompanied by panicked, hurried footfalls.
"Run! Run! Run!" she begged, pulling her friends back the way they had come from. Onmund held her still and she cowered into his form.
"What is it?" Alrek said, palms pooling with a dark aura. Conjuration magic, Onmund realized. He tried to prepare a spell of his own. A ward, a ball of light, anything… but something was wrong. In his mind's eye, instead of a ball of light or a shot of power, he was met with silence. Something down here did not want him to use his powers.
He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, looking ahead to where the Allards stood. He hoped that Camille and Alrek's powers wouldn't fail too.
"Brelyna, what did you see?" Camille mirrored his brother's stance, peering down the hallway she had come from with an intense, focused glare.
"Sk-Skeletons!"
J'zargo's ears were pinned flat against his head, and his now puffed tail swished low between his ankles. "T-This one a-agrees with Brelyna, w-we should leave!"
Onmund could only stare in horror as Alrek walked down the hall. He reached out, pulling at his wrist. "Don't go down there! C'mon, let's head out!"
His heart leapt into his throat when Alrek confidently said, "I'm not afraid."
Camille's held a steady gaze to Onmund. "We'll keep you safe. Swear it on Phynaster's pinkie toe."
Before Onmund could try and convince him any further, they heard a rattle of bones: clattering this way and that, a terrifying melody echoing through the halls. Even the wisp that had stowed away in Onmund's hood seemed to quiver in fear under his hair.
A glow passed through the fingers of the Allards, and in their hands appeared a pair of fine rapiers, summoned from Oblivion. Camille's blade was slender and refined, while Alrek's was more imposing, and shaped like a menacing wave.
They approached the hallway carefully, their steps sure and practiced, their stances poised and ready.
Onmund tried to follow, but was held back by his two friends. "Don't," Brelyna begged. "Please, don't."
The Allards disappeared into the darkness. With bated breath and a racing heart Onmund waited for the sound of battle. Screams, even.
But to his surprise, he heard... laughter?
The bastards were laughing.
"Come! Come see!" he heard from Alrek.
"Brelyna?" Onmund looked at her nervously. "S-Should we?"
She shook her head. "I saw those things! Th-Those can't be safe!"
But then Camille came running back, wearing a huge grin. "Come! It's not all bad! It's actually quite funny!"
Onmund looked to J'zargo. And then there was that tug. That nagging feeling. Come to me storm-singer, come to me.
He couldn't help his curiosity. He wasn't sure if it had actually been Camille to stand there and invite them to look, he was hearing voices in his head after all. But still he wanted to find out. It was the same macabre pull that made him stare into the darkness of the river near his village, perhaps hoping to brave whatever stared back. To prove he was unafraid. Maybe even powerful. And so ignoring the incessant warnings from his friends, Onmund followed Camille down that cursed hallway.
At its far end it opened onto what looked like a landing, with stairs spiralling down on either side into the centre of the room. Looking around, Onmund thought it was fashioned like a living quarter of some sort. A bed had been neatly made, the obvious care and attention contrasting strangely with the rotting sheets and torn blankets. The clothes too, now reduced to dirty rags, were still lovingly being washed, hung and stored, as though their owner were still around. Books and shelves were free of dust, trinkets kept away, and even old paintings were adjusted to hang straight.
Onmund had to blink twice to believe what he was seeing. The skeletons were there, but instead of brandishing weapons, they instead wielded mops and brooms.
"Brelyna! J'zargo!" Onmund called, sagging with relief. "It's alright!"
The sight was certainly a curious one. Even the Allards wore puzzled looks. Onmund had heard stories of necromancers bringing the dead to life to fight their enemies or scare off villages. But to do... chores? That, he'd certainly never heard of.
And a small, macabre part of him even found it humorous.
Brelyna and J'zargo both hid behind Onmund, cautiously peeking around his large frame.
"Huh," Camille said, "I suppose that's where they went."
"Why would they end up here?" Alrek put a finger to his chin thoughtfully.
At the Allards' words, realization seemed to wash over Brelyna, and she narrowed her eyes.
"What do you mean, 'that's where they went'?" She slunk around Onmund and gave the Allards a glare that shot daggers.
"Well…" Camille began.
Brelyna sharply cut him off. "You knew about this?" She examined the scene, eyes still narrowed. "And why do they have brooms?"
"Funny story, that," Alrek began, but under Brelyna's furious gaze his usual proud and confident aura evaporated, and he practically hid behind his long mane of hair.
"Alrek," she began. "Camille."
The other Allard seemed to shrink too, rubbing his neck awkwardly.
"Explain. Now."
"We uh… we may have, uh… gotten some…" Camille waved his hands as though to conjure the words before him. "We may have summoned some… help."
"For chores." Alrek added.
Brelyna wielded her gaze as well as any disappointed mother. Even Onmund couldn't help but silently admit to being a little terrified at the display.
"Summoned, or reanimated?" Brelyna demanded.
Her words made Onmund feel faint. Brelyna had told him of the Allards and their flirtations with the occult, but surely they wouldn't raise the dead? For chores?
"They're… not people, are they?" Onmund's dinner churned uneasily in his gut at the mere thought. The dead were supposed to be laid to rest. Not… this.
"No!" Camille quickly insisted "No, of course not; they were summoned. They're from Oblivion. These aren't from here; these were brought from the planes."
Brelyna pressed on, clearly intent on wringing the truth from them then and there. "Why are they here and not back where they belong?"
Camille looked at the skeletons once more, eyes glowing, using some type of power Onmund didn't quite understand. "Fine, fine, I'll send them back," he muttered, and held a hand out.
Then, a confused puzzled expression graced Camille's features. "Wait… something's wrong," Camille said. "They can't be sent back; something's holding them here."
Suddenly Onmund felt the call again, stronger this time. Storm-singer, come to me, and I will make you a king that would shatter the skies.
He shook his head sharply. What was coming over him?
"Camille, you have to fix this." The urgency in Brelyna's voice was palpable. "Does Muthsera Phinis know?"
"Well… not technically?" Camille gave a sheepish grin. "He knew I was taking summons from Oblivion, but they should have been sent back by now. I'd never leave them here, honest—"
"Do something!" Brelyna closed the distance between them and shook Camille by his shoulders, her hands trembling. "You're not in Solstheim or High Rock here, the masters are going to kill us!"
But Brelyna in her panic had unknowingly knocked over a loose brick from the landing they stood on. Onmund watched in horror as it crashed into the tub of laundry, splashing water and soap all over, and knocking the clean rags onto the soiled floor.
The skeletons turned to the source of the noise, staring at the mess silently.
Then their hollow gazes snapped up to the mages on the landing above.
They dropped their brooms, their mops and their irons. Then, to Onmund's dismay, manifested blades and maces and chains in their hands.
Alrek and Camille pushed the three apprentices behind them as the skeletons moved up the stairs faster than Onmund would have believed possible. With his still-summoned blade Alrek cut down the first to reach the landing; as soon as its skull parted from its neck the bones clattered to the floor, and disintegrated just as quickly into dust.
Camille mirrored Alrek on the other side of the landing. The two brothers fought the oncoming skeletons with a silent fury, all while retreating into the safety of the previous chamber.
Onmund stood immobile, unable to do anything but watch. There was something unnerving in the way the bones creaked and clicked. Something wrong and unnatural. Something deep and frightening in Onmund begged him to use his powers. Unleash it. Show them the power of Skyrim's skies. Show them your power.
His hands shook, static dancing from his fingertips. He fought back every instinct to loose a spell, quieted every silent voice and intuition that willed him to let his storm magic fly. As much as the temptation tugged at him, Onmund stayed his hands. Releasing a spell, especially storm magic, in such close quarters could hurt someone.
Besides, he reasoned to himself, Alrek and Camille were making quick work of the skeletons with their summoned blades alone.
One fell, then another. The twins' blades cleaved gracefully through the air, punctuated only by the occasional shot of fire and ice magic. The apprentices' confidence grew as they returned down to the corridors leading to the Midden's entrance.
Silence. Sweet, safe silence. Onmund leaned against the ancient walls, finding it much easier to breathe as he did. The group said nothing to each other, eyes darting between one another, as though waiting for some sort of confirmation that they were truly out of harm's way.
Click. Clack. Click.
They were not alone after all.
Onmund wondered if the commotion had drawn the attention of other horrors bound to the Midden. That was when they saw a too-large skeleton ambling out of the shadows. Taxidermied squirrels walked on two legs, their movements stiff and frightening, pushing themselves off of old forgotten alcoves. Every abomination known to Onmund's imagination crept out of the darkness, all moaning and clamouring for death, a fitting punishment for their disturbed rest.
Even the Allards knew when to retreat.
Alrek grabbed Onmund's wrist, while Camille grabbed Brelyna and J'zargo's. The five made a mad dash further back, through the icy hallways they had walked through in silence just minutes before.
Onmund had never run so fast in his life. His large frame stumbled through the icy halls so fast that even the poor wisp couldn't catch up; he carried the wisp clasped in his hands as they dashed through the mouldering corridors of the Midden. The creatures stomped and clicked and cried behind them. With every step they sounded closer.
But the mages were faster, turning corners and skipping steps to make their way back into the safety of the College.
"Go! Go! Go!" Alrek and Camille hung behind to make sure the apprentices got out first, their blades still summoned in their hands as they vanquished the quicker creatures that had caught up to them.
One skeleton managed to reach past the brothers and caught J'zargo by his tail, causing him to yelp in fear. But Camille was quick, and slashed the creature until it fell and turned to dust like all the others.
The apprentices hurried up the narrow stairs and past the trap door. Onmund and J'zargo pulled Camille out first; Alrek stayed back, still parrying oncoming blows from a particularly determined pair of skeletons. Once they were downed, Onmund pulled him into the safety of his form, while Camille and J'zargo shifted heavy boxes over the trap door.
Brelyna threw herself onto the boxes, and was hastily joined by Camille. The door slammed with terrifying thuds. Once, twice — but the thuds soon came to a sobering halt. J'zargo put his ears against the floor, and whispered loudly, "This one thinks they're leaving!"
Sure enough, Camille's eyes glowed with that dark, unnerving aura once again. "They are! They're leaving!"
A long moment of silence passed between the five of them. Then Camille began to laugh. Then Alrek. Then J'zargo, and even Onmund too. It exploded from quiet, anxious giggles to roaring, nervous laughter.
Gods above, what happened? Even the wisp buzzed curiously against Onmund.
"What's so funny?" Brelyna had lost all of her composure.
"They were doing chores!" Alrek exclaimed, still in the throes of nervous amusement. "Chores!"
"Gods above and below!" Camille managed through his laughter. "Did you see the way you ran, J'zargo?"
"This one heard the way you screamed, little Allard!"
It was only then that Onmund realized he was still holding Alrek in his arms, flush against his form. And Alrek… had his arms around him too.
"Oh gods, that was fun! We should do this again." Alrek rested his head against Onmund's soft chest.
Onmund wanted to pet that long silky mane of blood red hair. And for a moment, his hand hovered above the Breton in his arms… until Brelyna looked at the two brothers with a glare so deadly, even Onmund wanted to excuse himself.
"Tell Muthsera Phinis now."
"He's probably asleep." Camille began to sober up, his laughter had died down and his tone had been coolly dismissive. "We'll tell him in the morning."
Her gaze didn't relent, and in fact, she had somehow made it more menacing.
"Alright, fine. We'll tell him now."
Brelyna smiled.
The mages began dusting themselves off, straightening their robes and brushing back their hair. As they made their way to the Hall of Countenance across the courtyard, Brelyna said through a smile, "You know, that was pretty fun."