Yikes! Appears I got behind on updating this one, so here's the next two chapters!
Chapter Twelve: I'm Doing the Fishstick (Part One)
Brand
"I thought he was joking."
"Apparently not."
I'm standing in the streets of Solitude holding an honest to Divines hip bone in my hands. And not just a piece of one, either, but some poor soul's entire pelvis. Recently handed to me by a madman named Dervenin, who claimed that I needed it in order to speak to his Master. He wants me to convince said Master to end his vacation early and take his humble servant back into his service.
Dervenin, naturally, disappears as soon as he hands me the bone.
I guess there are some days it's good to be the Dragonborn. Especially on the days that the Solitude guards give me weird looks for holding a pelvis in the street. None of them seem to be grossed out or bold enough to challenge me.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" I hold it out toward Borgakh. She doesn't lift a hand to take it.
She shrugs. "What he said, I guess. Take it to the Pelagius wing."
I turn the hip bone around a few times. "Do you think this really belonged to Pelagius?"
"Maybe."
"How do you imagine they got it out of him? Do you think they waited until he decomposed or do you think it was fresh?"
"Brand, that's disgusting."
"What? It's an honest question when you've just been handed some dead guy's pelvis."
"Would it make a difference either way?"
"Probably not. How do you suppose this thing works, anyway?"
Borgakh crosses her arms, but there's an amused twist to her mouth. "You think there's a door in the Blue Palace with a pelvis-shaped lock?"
I laugh. "Not that I've noticed. And trust me, I've done a pretty thorough investigation of the Palace."
"Oh, yes, including breaking Elisif's vase? The one her husband gave her. On their wedding night."
I suddenly find the roadside grass very interesting. "Well, that wasn't exactly a planned part of the investigation."
"You know I'm surprised she even still lets you in the palace, honestly."
I glare at Borgakh. "Look, it was an accident, alright?"
Borgakh nods mock seriously. "I will be on my guard for any vases we might encounter in the palace."
I glare at Borgakh.
She grins.
I sigh. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"
"Probably not."
"I'm never telling you another secret again," I grumble.
Borgakh gives me a knowing smile, but she doesn't rise to the bait. "To the palace?" she asks instead.
I stare down at the hip bone then look back up at Borgakh. "To the palace."
As it turns out, the Pelagius wing is locked. And requires a very normal key. Which neither Borgakh nor I have.
"So then what's the hip for?" I ask. It's currently tucked under my left arm.
"Maybe something inside the wing?"
"But that crazy guy said we'd need this to talk to his Master."
"Well, he is crazy."
I roll my eyes. Borgakh has a point. Maybe the hip bone is just a joke. Well, I suppose it'll make an interesting conversation piece back in Breezehome if nothing else.
"So, how do we get in?" Borgakh asks.
"Falk, probably."
"Excuse me, can I help you, Dragonborn?" a voice interrupts. Borgakh and I turn around to find one of the Palace maids standing behind us with a broom in her hand. She stares at the bone tucked under my arm, but she doesn't mention it. Sometimes I wish people would just say what they're thinking. It's hard to know if she's being quiet because I'm the Dragonborn, or because she's trying to follow social protocol, or because she's not sure what to say about a hip bone in the first place.
"Uh, yes, actually. Can you let us into this locked door here?" I jerk a thumb over my shoulder at the door.
Her eyes go wide and she grips the broom in both hands. "Th-the Pelagius wing, sir?"
"Yes."
"We don't go in there. It's been locked as long as I can remember."
"There must be a key for it somewhere."
The maid nods nervously. "There is, sir, but I'm not allowed to unlock the door."
"So you do have a key!"
Her eyes dart to the side and she swallows hard, but she nods again.
"But you said no one goes in there." Borgakh puts her hands on her hips.
"Well, we go in sometimes. To clean up a little. But only right inside the door." She shivers. "That place gives me the creeps."
"How about we clean it up for you then?" I suggest. "Just give me the key, we'll pop in, do some dusting, and pop out, no harm done."
She looks like she might protest.
"Falk said it's fine." I give her a charming grin.
Borgakh opens her mouth as if to point out that Falk has not, in fact, said it's fine. I elbow her in the side. She pushes me back, but she doesn't say anything. I stagger just a little.
The maid watches the exchange uncertainly. "Well...if you're sure."
"Sure I'm sure."
She reaches into her pocket. "Ok. But only if you promise to give this back as soon as you're done."
"Promise." I reach out, but Borgakh takes the key instead.
The maid scurries away with her broom.
I glance back at the door. "You think it's that bad in there?"
"Only one way to find out." Borgakh puts the key in the lock and gives it a turn.
As it turns out, the Pelagius wing is…dusty.
"She said they cleaned in here, didn't she?" I swipe a spiderweb out of the air in front of my face and cough. The air is thick with dust. There's only a small clear spot on the floor where the door swings back. Tables and chairs are stacked against the walls in haphazard piles. Vases, plates, and bowls are scattered across the floor.
"Not very often, I am guessing." Borgakh crouches and runs a finger through at least an inch of dust on the floor. "Are we sure this Master lives here?"
"Nope. Not sure of anything about this mission at this point."
Borgakh gives me an "I told you so" smile.
I stick my tongue out at her and start walking down the dust and spider-webbed hallway. "C'mon, let's see what we find. Looks like this wing goes pretty deep. Maybe the master just keeps spiders as pets or…" I trail off.
"Brand?" Borgakh comes up behind me.
"I feel...funny," I say. The world blurs in front of me and it feels like something is crawling up and down my spine. Goosebumps rise up on my arms and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I feel sort of nauseous, like I'm standing at the top of a very, very tall tower looking down.
"Brand?"
I hear Borgakh's voice as if she's incredibly far away or maybe underwater, but I can't answer. My tongue is thick like cotton and I can't seem to make my body do what I want.
My legs go out from under me and I tumble to the floor.
Or, at least, I think I do.
Because I don't feel myself hit anything.
I wake up on dirt. My cheek is pressed against rich earth and I'm lying on my stomach outside. It's a little chilly, but not cold, and I feel a strangely warm breeze across my face. I lie still for a moment, doing a quick inventory. Two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes, head still attached to shoulders. Everything checks out. So where am I?
Slowly, I push myself up and realize that I'm not wearing my own clothes. My leather armor is gone and someone has put me in a hideous brown quilted coat with a pair of knee-high boots laced with matching brown ribbon. There's even a ridiculous fur-lined cap on my head. I pull it off and stuff it in my pocket, half expecting to see Taarie when I look around. But I don't and we're nowhere near Radiant Raiment.
Borgakh lies on the ground a few feet away, blinking and sitting up. She too is wearing a quilted coat and boots, but hers are blue. I run over and kneel beside her.
"Hey, are you ok?"
"Fine," she mumbles. "But what happened? And what are you wearing?" She looks up at me with a laugh.
"Shut up," I grumble.
"Brown is not your color."
"Psh. Well, it's not like I got to choose my outfit. At least yours looks decent."
Borgakh looks down and seems to notice for the first time that she's not wearing her armor. "What is this?" she runs a finger over her quilted sleeve. "And where is my armor?"
I stand up and offer her a hand. She takes it and I pull her to her feet.
"Honestly?" I put my hands on my hips. "I have no clue. I don't know where we are or what's going on."
"By Malacath, our weapons are gone too!"
I feel myself down and turn my pockets inside out. Nothing but the fur cap. None of our weapons, gold, or other possessions survived the trip to...wherever this is. The lack of possessions would lead me to believe we've been kidnapped. After all, Borgakh and I have our fair share of enemies, some of them mutual. But we're not tied up or restrained in any manner and we're both dressed nicely. Kidnappers don't take the time to dress you in nice outfits.
"I'm starting to think that there might be something daedric going on," I say.
"Daedric or not, someone owes me some answers." Borgakh pounds one fist into the other. "And my warhammer."
"Alright, let's go see if we can find this someone then, yeah?"
Borgakh nods.
I don't envy the someone. There's a dark look in Borgakh's eyes. I don't blame her. This entire thing is disorienting and, at the very least, rude. Plucking us out of the Pelagius wing like that and transporting us to...here.
"The hip bone's gone!" I suddenly realize.
Borgakh raises an eyebrow. "Hmph. Guess it worked then. Seems like we've found the Master."
"Or his realm, at the very least."
Borgakh nods and starts walking. I follow her. We're in a long clearing between tall trees, which makes it easy to pick a direction to start our search. After all, there's only one way we can go. After a short walk through the trees, we emerge in a larger clearing with a table in the center. Other paths branch off this clearing, but they are quickly obscured by trees and stone arches, so it's impossible to tell where they go. A thick fog rises up at the edge of the clearing making everything outside the immediate lantern-lit circle blurry and indistinct. The whole scene feels like a dream.
Seated at the table, surrounded by mountains of gloriously rich food, are two men. One of them is an older fellow with shaggy white hair and a matching close-cut beard, draped casually over a nearly throne-like chair. Across the table is a clean-shaven blond man with the distinct build of a Nord. He looks rather miserable and is nibbling half-heartedly at a baked potato. He looks...familiar for some reason.
"Why do I know that fellow?" I ask Borgakh as we linger near the edge of the clearing.
"That's Pelagius," she says.
"You mean, THE Pelagius. Pelagius the Mad? Pelagius, son of Potema the Wolf Queen, Pelagius? That Pelagius?"
"Yeah. If the illustrations in those old Nordic history books are accurate, that's him."
"Great Divines," I mutter. "Then who is-"
"Ah, the Dragonborn and his escort! Welcome!" The white-haired man notices us just then and interrupts my next question. "Come, come. Join us for dinner. I daresay there's enough room for all of us. Don't be shy!"
I glance at Borgakh. She shrugs. We both walk over to the table and pause at the edge.
"C'mon, c'mon. Don't keep us waiting!" The white-haired fellow gestures at several empty seats. Borgakh and I share another glance and then we pull out chairs next to each other and sit down on maybe-Pelagius' left.
"Excellent! Now all our guests are here, just as I was telling you, Pelagius."
"Told you," Borgakh whispers.
I stare with my mouth open as Pelagius turns and gives us a forlorn look. He doesn't look like he's enjoying this dinner party one bit. I look at all the food on the table. There's everything here from whole cheese wheels to sweet rolls to mammoth tusks. It looks delicious. It smells delicious. And yet…
"Feel free to eat, friends," the stranger continues. "Try some of the cheese, it's divine."
I share a look with Borgakh.
She nods.
I look back at the stranger. "I, um, no offense, mister, but we don't exactly know where we are. Or who you are. Or what we're doing here. So, uh, before we eat your cheese, maybe you wouldn't mind telling us?"
The stranger looks at me for a long moment, strangely gold eyes staring at me like he can see straight into my soul. Then he opens his mouth and laughs, long and loud, full-belly laughs. Pelagius doesn't seem very thrilled about this, but he doesn't say anything. Borgakh looks even more miffed. I just look confused. Because I am. Very confused.
The stranger finally gets control of himself and takes a deep breath, wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh, lad, you mean to tell me you don't know Sheogorath, Prince of Madness, when you see him?"
"I, uh, no," I say. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting yet."
Sheogorath winks at me and spreads his arms, doing a pretty good impression of a courtly bow without rising from his throne. "Sanguine told me you were a fun one! Welcome, Dragonborn, to the Realm of Madness. Otherwise known as the mind of Pelagius."
"Sanguine!"
"Oh, yes, you've met, I believe. He and I work rather closely sometimes. The Realm of Madness and the Realm of Debauchery do so often cross." Sheogorath steeples his fingers under his chin.
I eye the wine suspiciously.
Sheogorath notices. "Oh, tut, tut. If you think I'm about to pull something so uncouth as to get you drunk and sling you half-way across Skyrim for my enjoyment then you're absolutely stark-raving mad!" Sheorgaorth smiles, showing strangely pointed teeth and eyes bright-lit like a wolf's.
Beside me, I swear I hear Borgakh growl under her breath.
"No, no, no, nothing so vulgar as that. I'm just here having tea with my good friend, Pelagius." Sheogorath gestures at the former emperor. "You'll find him seated two chairs down. But don't worry, nothing in this realm can harm you." He waggles his eyebrows. "Unless I tell it to. And I haven't given your food any instructions, so you can eat without consequence!" He gestures to the food again.
Neither Borgakh nor I reach out to take any of it.
"Suit yourself," Sheogorath says, popping a hunk of cheese into his mouth. "But you're only missing out, I assure you."
"No to be rude, but why are we here?" Borgakh asks.
She's not cutting corners today.
Sheogorath looks around. "Is it not obvious?"
"Not so much, no."
"We're here on vacation!" He laughs.
"You vacation inside of dead guy's heads?" I ask.
Sheogorath looks at me suddenly wide-eyed and intense. "Shh!" He leans forward confidentially, one hand cupped around his mouth to shield Pelagius from his words. "You can't inform him he's dead. He doesn't know!"
I am pretty certain that Pelagius can hear everything that was just said, but he doesn't react and Sheogorath acts like nothing is amiss, so I just shrug. After all, what am I supposed to say to that?
"After all, when you run around in the minds of the living all the time, trust me, the minds of the dead can be just what you need to refresh yourself!" Sheogorath grins again.
"Afraid I can't relate, sir," I say.
"Ah well, perhaps one day the powers of the Dragonborn will include the ability to muck about in people's minds. Fascinating things, no?"
I shudder. "I sincerely hope that there isn't a Shout for that. I'd rather stay out of everyone's mind, thank you very much."
"Oh, but you just got here! It's really quite nice. But you've got to spend a little time here for it to really sink in. A few hundred years ought to be enough." Sheogorath puts a hand to his chin thoughtfully.
Borgakh slams a fist into the table. "See here, Sheogorath, we don't have a few hundred years to hang about in your realm!"
"Oh? You are both mer. You have reasonably long lifespans, do you not?"
"Maybe we do and maybe we do not," Borgakh says. "But I, for one, and not about to spend my lifetime inside the mind of this madman with you!"
"Uh, Borgakh," I raise a finger. She shoots me a glare that shuts me up.
Sheogorath stares at Borgakh for a while, then he chuckles. "I should have known better than to bring the orc. Your kind have surprisingly sane minds, you know?"
Borgakh scowls.
"The elves I find much more...tractable."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" I interject.
"Much more prone to madness, elves. But the most prone to madness of all are men."
"Men men or human men?" I ask.
"Both." Sheogorath giggles. "All of the above. The answer is C."
"Uh."
"So, as I was saying, why don't you two eat some food, enjoy the vacation, and join Pelagius and I in a lively discussion of what makes our little emperor most afraid?"
Pelagius groans and stuffs some bread into his mouth. "I thought we'd already been over this, Sheogorath!" The words come out a little muffled.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Pelagius!"
Pelagius chews and swallows his bread moodily.
"Uh, much as we'd love to sit here and join you on vacation, Sheogorath, there's actually something else we're here for," I say.
"Oh? And what's that?"
"Well, do you know a guy named Dervenin?"
Sheogorath taps a finger against the table thoughtfully. "Dervenin? Dervenin?" He looks up at the sky, as if it might give him answers. Then he tilts his head and looks under his plate. He slides his wine glass to the side. "Dervenin?" He peers under the table. He looks back up at me and starts to shake his head. Then he snaps his fingers. "Funny guy? In Solitude? Little scruffy? Wandering the streets outside the Blue Palace, begging people to help him find me?"
"Um, yes, exactly. That guy."
"I remember. What does he want now?"
"He wants you to come back from vacation." Borgakh crosses her arms, clearly not about to humor Sheogorath.
"Wants me to come back? Now? When I've just started doing the fishstick?" Sheogorath looks offended. "I can't possibly-"
"Then give me back my warhammer and let us out of here," Borgakh snarls.
Sheogorath shakes his head. "Such bad table manners, wouldn't you agree, Pelagius?"
Pelagius shrugs.
Borgakh glares at Sheogorath.
He looks at me.
I shrug too.
Sheogorath looks back at Borgakh. He sighs loudly. "Fine. Fine! I remember now why I never invite the Orsimer to my parties."
Borgakh chooses to ignore the dig.
"But I guess since you came all this way, I'll cut my vacation short, just for Dervenin."
"Thank y-" Borgakh begins.
"On one condition!" Sheorgorath interrupts, holding up one finger.
"Of all the -"
It's my turn to elbow Borgakh in the ribcage and cut her off for once. She turns her scowl on me and I pretend I don't have an angry orc staring me down.
"What's the condition?" I ask.
"First, you cure Pelagius of his fears and madness!"
Borgakh and I both stare at Pelagius. He ignores us.
"And then, I'll see about cutting my vacation short and picking up poor Dervenin again. What do you say?"
"Cure him of his fears? How do we do that?"
"Don't worry, I'll all but spoonfeed you the answers. And it won't hurt. Much. There's only one catch."
"What's that?" Borgakh growls.
"You can't use any of your usual weapons and tricks!" Sheogorath declares like he's just handed us both a magnificent gift. "As you probably noticed when you got here, your pockets are as empty as an orphan's belly after a long day of begging outside the frozen walls of Windhelm!"
"That's an oddly specific metaphor," I mumble.
"Well, you get my point. You can't be using all your axes and swords and magic daggers and spells."
"And that's an oddly specific list of weapons," Borgakh grunts.
"Well, girlie, it's not like I invited you into my realm uninvestigated." Those bright, pointy teeth flash again. "In fact, I think our friend Brand here will find that he can't even Shout!" Sheogorath claps his hands with glee.
I hadn't noticed it before with everything else going on, but there's a distant ache in my chest, like a cold hand squeezing something inside me. Not painful, per se, but uncomfortable. I put a hand to my chest and make a little noise of surprise.
"Brand!" Borgakh is on her feet in a second, upsetting her chair in the process. "If you've hurt him, I swear, I'll -"
"Borgakh! I'm fine!" I grab her arm. "I'm fine."
She yanks her arm free, but she stops and looks down at me.
"Really."
She gives me an unsure look. I put a hand on her arm again and squeeze it. Reassuringly, I hope. She pauses again and then she picks up her chair, but she doesn't sit back down.
"If I wanted to hurt you, Orc, I'd have done it already," Sheogorath says. "You're lucky I'm one of the more magnanimous Princes. Otherwise, I'd have had your head at the beginning of this little chat and been done with it." His tone is still friendly when he says this, but something about his demeanor changes and for a second he's not a half-senile old man with a funny accent, but something god-like and powerful and there's just the tiniest spark of fear in the back of my mind. After all, if he can remove my Shouts, I'm not very flashy anymore.
Borgakh sits. She doesn't say anything, but there's a new light in her eyes. Something bordering...respect? That same sort of healthy respect an orc might give a mammoth or a dragon. That mutual light of "I'm dangerous, you're dangerous, let's agree to be dangerous in our respective corners of the world and be done with it."
And for the first time in a very long time, I feel underpowered as the Dragonborn.
"Now," Sheogorath smiles and his otherworldly presence is gone and he seems much more man-like again. "You may be wondering, after that list of restrictions I gave you, what it is you can use to help Pelagius?"
"Not really, but go on," Borgakh says.
"Actually, I kind of was…" I say.
"Good, good," Sheogorath ignores Borgakh. "Well, you can use -" He waves his hands grandly and a carved wooden staff appears floating in the air between us, over the table. It's made of a dark greyish-blue wood and has three faces carved on the top - anger, sadness, and happiness, all with wide, gaping mouths that form a hole at the top of the staff. "The Wabbajack!" He announces.
Borgakh and I both stare at it.
"The Wabbajack?" I ask.
"Yep!"
"But, um, what does it do?"
"Everything! Anything! Nothing at all!" Sheogorath declares, like it's the best invention Mundus has ever seen. "Take it, Dragonborn. Take it and pick a path." Sheogorath gestures to three paths that lead out of the clearing. "Defeat the fear at the end of each path and help Pelagius take control of his mind. Then, I'll let you and your friend out of here."
The staff floats over the table, the three faces carved into the end seeming to stare at me, their open mouths asking questions I can't answer.
"What say you, Dragonoborn?" Sheogorath asks.
"I…" I reach out, "...say yes." I grip the staff. It stops floating and has weight in my hand and I almost drop it on the table.
Sheogorath laughs. "Very good, Dragonborn. Very good indeed. Let the games begin!"
