Wild Magic
It took me awhile to get control over myself, but I finally stood near Susanna again. She stared at me with cold dead eyes and it was all I could do to stay upright. The wild magic was like a herd of angry mammoths raging across the land, or a sabercat stalking it's prey unseen and unheard until it pounced. It was fire and ice. It was the deepest cold of Frostfall and the bright warmth of Sun's Height. The primordial force still roiled up from the bloodstained stone under my feet. The air began to thicken with anticipation and a chill swept through us. Acrid power gathered and boiled till it pressed against me, so heavy, nearly suffocating.
We searched into the darkness with wide eyes as a phantom cry drifted across an ethereal breeze. Gods, she sounded like she was in so much pain. I could just make out her faint call for help, as insubstantial as the air itself. The ghostly voice was fading away with each moment.
Eventually the remnant of Susanna's torn and broken spirit would be gone, there wasn't enough left of her to form an actual ghost. My magic was still reacting harshly with the forces that raged in the graveyard, a wild power that echoed out from the body and blood of that poor girl.
I had an idea and it was insane. 'The worlds problems can only be solved by power.' The thought came unbidden.
I focused deep and gathered my power, every hope and fear, every joy and rage, everything that gave me the will to live, to fight, to love, and to die, I let it all flow through me and into the wet blood with a force of will. My vision darkened as the magicka rushed from my body, but somehow I stayed standing. The wild magic plus my power would be the catalyst that allowed the sundered piece of Susanna's spirit to move across the world once again that night. Before dawn broke and the magic faded she would bring us straight to whoever killed her.
Frozen leaves from the elder trees began to swirl across the ground as the wind picked up speed. Faint ethereal screams rose again on a sudden gust that washed over us sending a shiver through my spine. I could tell Nelacar and the old priestess were both affected as well. Her knees buckled into a half crouch as she looked from side to side. Nelacar was standing rigid with his eyes shut tight, he felt closed off somehow. I looked around and saw Agavar had even drawn his axe and backed up against a wall with a clank of armor against stone. The gathered crowd showed a measure of intelligence and disappeared fast once things got strange.
The possessed wind took shape as it gathered leaves and debris. The ghostly gale howled across the graveyard and blew past me, my robes billowing out towards Valunstrad as it went.
Just as I rushed to follow, the Priestess of Arkay grasped my arm and held me in place. She looked up at me with solemn eyes, "That was not a good thing you just did. I will be moving her remains into the Hall of the Dead so the rites can be administered. Susanna shall not suffer from further desecration."
It was clear what the old Priestess thought about my spell, but I didn't care. I did the right thing, what I had to do, so Susanna could get her revenge, so a killer could be brought to justice… so I could unravel the mystery, I admitted to myself. I pulled my arm from the old woman's iron grasp and took off running, Nelacar and Agavar followed.
"What was that all about?" Agavar's mustache twitched once in irritation as we rushed towards Valunstrad, the Avenue of Valor, where the manor houses of the richest families stood ending with the legendary Palace of Kings. The guard no longer seemed phased by the phantom wind, which was one good thing at least.
"The forces at play here are dangerous, we must proceed with caution." Nelacar warned.
I gladly answered the guard who had the patience of a saint. "This murder fits in with the Butchers usual characteristics, does it not? She wasn't murdered in the graveyard though. If I'm right, then we are heading to the true scene of the crime." Then I muttered under my breath, 'She will confirm it.' The wind charged on ahead of us.
"Hey now, wait a minute, I can't just let you go breaking into a house. It's time to go talk to the steward… He will know what to do." The guard shouted after us as he suddenly stopped.
"You need some sort of proof to search the house, yes?" I called back while gazing down at the crimson coated cobblestones.
"Yes, but you don't have any…" He gaped as he saw what I had already noticed. There were spatters of blood dotting the stone paved road all the way from the graveyard straight toward our inevitable destination.
"Is that enough proof?" I had to ask.
"Let's go." He said looking mighty pissed as we stalked down the street to the old house.
On the way Agavar quickly told me all he knew of the few past murders and of the three witnesses:
Starting with Calixto Corrium, proprieter of the local museum Calixto's House of Curiosities, who claimed to be out on his early morning stroll when he saw someone running away from the scene. Strange.
Next was Silda Long-Stride, known locally as Silda the Unseen, a homeless veteran of the Markarth Incident. Some say she went mad after succumbing to Reachmagic. Silda claimed that by the time she found Susanna everything was already over. It was her scream that roused attention.
The last was Tova Shatter-Shield, who Agavar informed me was the mother of the first victim, she likewise arrived after the fact demanding answers.
The wind stopped blowing as we halted in front of the abandoned house. The clouds moved across the dark sky. "This is Hjerim," Agavar began in quiet tones, "it belonged to none other than Friga Shatter-Shield. The butchers first known victim in Windhelm." The revelation didn't surprise me, this was about to come full circle then. "Get ready." He said and set himself in front of the door.
With a sudden kick Agavar broke the door off its heavy-set hinges and glanced in with his axe held up defensively, "Alright," he said and moved across the threshold.
I walked in slowly behind him, the place was full of cobwebs and not much else except for some old furniture. It was dark as the cloudy night hid half the moon's shining. I cast a magelight into a nearby lantern and suddenly shadows danced across the walls. Nelacar's shadow trailed upwards growing in height as he made his way towards me from the doorway. My shadow hung low across the ground at a short angle. Agavars shadow stood perfectly still as he walked toward the open archway into the back of the house.
"Agavar!" I called harshly, as the wild forces disrupted the magic of my light. It flickered once, and then all went dark for a moment.
A strangled cry called out through the pitch black and my heart sank. Was he dead? Was I next? I panicked, and my breath came in short gasps. I could hear faint whispers, so many, they started to get louder. Then something brushed across my back and I jumped forward drawing my dagger.
"Calm yourself," Nelacar's voice came up from behind, whether he was talking to himself or us I didn't know.
I gathered my will enough to cast a new light, why was it so dim? It flashed on just in time to see Agavar roll over on the ground with a groan. "Ugh, that hurt, I must have tripped." He said holding his helmet with one hand.
"What in Oblivion was that?" I swore.
"You are the one that called up a spirit, don't ask me." Nelacar replied.
"Gods damnit," I growled and helped Agavar up to his feet. "That wasn't me." Was it?
Every time we dared give a furtive glance around it seemed that our shadows were following our movements as they should. Was that Susanna or some other spirit that haunted this old place? The floorboards creaked as we stepped over old rusted nails and half rotten wood. An old-style standing clock stood lifeless, no one had bothered to wind it up in quite some time. The curtains fluttered as a breeze passed through the room, and then the wind picked up slamming the door shut behind Nelacar, he didn't even flinch.
Nelacar began casting with intricate gestures of both hands. I could feel his magic gather around his will and stretch out, searching. "Detection spells are acting up," He said, only looking frustrated for his effort, "There is something here but it's avoiding my magic. Small, elusive, vague."
As I gazed around the empty room I noticed a dark wooden chest up against a side wall, and there was a dried spatter of blood across it. I grabbed onto the latch and opened the lid to find a leather book with a skull embossed on the cover. It was resting upon a great many copies of Viola's 'Beware the Butcher' pamphlet. 'I guess someone has been stealing them after all.' I thought wryly as I opened the journal and skimmed it quickly in the dim light of my spell, reading aloud as I went.
"The plans are coming together swimmingly. I've found good sources of bone, flesh, and blood, but thus far a good sampling of sinew and marrow have escaped me. No matter. The city is swollen with contemptuous fools who will be missed by nobody. Last night was almost able to corner Susanna as she left Candlehearth. Idiot guard showed up at just the wrong moment and I had to turn about, just out for a stroll, and so forth. There will be other chances, but the time is drawing near. I think back to my time in Winterhold. All the wasted minds up in their towers. They only explore the magic they already know. I am discovering new magic here. Something deeper than the cantripped shenanigans of fire and light. This flesh magic is older than us. Perhaps older than the world itself. I am tugging at the corners of the fabric of the universe, and where it bunches and folds is where I shall create my greatest triumph. One more attempt at the Candlehearth girl. She's proving to be a bit too cautious, but those strong joints of hers should contain the most exquisite tendons. Worth the effort. Tonight." I finished reading and closed the book, sticking it into my pack. The killer was logical and cautious, obviously intelligent. Why had he left such evidence lying around?
"Just out for a stroll…" I considered. "So, you were right about the flesh magic." I said eyeing Nelacar.
"Hmm." Nelacar grunted.
Agavar declared the lower floor to be clear and told us to wait there while he checked upstairs. I took the opportunity to look around a bit more, there had to be something we were missing. The old house creaked and groaned every so often in protest as we searched every inch of the place. There was a large cabinet and a chest of drawers over in the back room of the dusty manor that seemed promising. I was disappointed though to just find some more of those pamphlets on the shelving.
When I went to toss a handful of them away an eight-sided amulet of jade stone on a leather cord fell out of the stack onto the floor. I bent down and picked it up. Holding it close I could see it was worn down and very old. I could barely make out something carved into the dark green stone. Just holding it made me feel cold.
"By the depths…" Nelacar started to say as his eyes took on a glint that I had never seen before. "That's…It can't be…"
I was starting to see my breath come out in thin puffs as it hit the frosty air. My light flickered again. I wish we had brought torches. The shadows seemed to writhe and roam across the walls, growing and shrinking as my light dimmed.
"Do you know something about this?" I asked the old elf while holding the amulet up for him to see. My eyes darted around the room. Something was watching us.
"That is destiny my boy… Quickly, put it on." His voice was deep yet breathless, strained with his passion. I deftly strung the leather cord around my neck and stuffed the stone under my robes. The amulet was cool against my skin. Then Agavar came down saying that upstairs was a waste of time.
The jade stone grew even colder, and a strange feeling began to rise from within me. The breeze began to drift across my skin chilling me again. Odd. Wait.
"Isn't the door closed?" I asked and Agavar confirmed it.
The breeze quickly grew into a strong wind and the pamphlets and other small bits of trash began blowing around. Then the ghostly gale sent its debris straight towards the tall wardrobe by the hallway, air whistled through the crack between the doors. We opened it to reveal…
…Nothing. I'm not sure why I was so angry, but all the blood and death of the last days finally got the better of me. As the rage burned through me I just let it all out. I raised my hand and blasted the open cabinet with a tightly controlled burst of white hot fire. The inside of it flashed bright and then only ash fell away to reveal a false back leading into another room. I gazed through the hidden passage, stunned. I couldn't look away. How much more was there going to be? My vision was trapped by the sight before me. Within the secret room we discovered much more than just poor Susanna's missing lungs and flesh
There was even more than just the missing parts from the handful of reported victims this last year. The sundry body parts of dozens if not hundreds of people could be found littering the ghastly laboratory. The components were organized into many large baskets of skin, sinew, flesh, and bone. They sat all around the small room in a gruesome order.
There were even several corpses strewn about. Some broken skeletons, some bodies were simply skinned and hacked away at, pieces haphazardly left forgotten. Some bodies were skinned, some salted and wrapped tightly with linen cloth in a mockery of Nordic burial. The smell of putrefaction was pungent and overbearing. Calm. Cold. Rational. The smell. Oh Gods. Calm. Cold. Rational.
'Ayem, Bedt, Cess, Doht, Ekem…' I grasped onto my mind with an iron grip by visualizing the Daedric alphabet.
"How has he killed so many?" I wondered aloud while forcing down the rising sensation.
"Perhaps he's been taking people from the roads?" Nelacar remarked while holding up an oiled rag to his nose.
"Aye, travelers do tend to go missing around these parts. It could very well be." Agavar agreed with his northern brogue, muffled slightly with his arm in front of his face. He didn't dare come closer.
As the centerpiece of the horror was an altar against the back wall that sang with wild power the strongest yet. The old stone table felt alive in some twisted sense of the word. It called out. I felt it upon my chest.
I ignored the noise and instead stared at a patchwork woman that was resting upon the altar. She was seemingly stitched together from pieces of uncountable victims. Her eyes were mismatched, one grey and cold, the other a lush green, both shining in the dim light as they stared blankly up at the ceiling. Thick black stitches ran precisely across her throat and around her face along the top of the forehead and down each cheek behind the ears. It looked as if whole her face could be replaced by cutting a few threads. The stitching ran down her neck and across her shoulders and bosom, reaching down below her blouse in four precise rows, two rows picking back up along her bare forearms. Her hands seemed to match at least with twin stitches going around the wrists. They were strong yet soft and well manicured with long slender fingers ending in delicately pointed nails.
"Be careful, that altar is tied to old and dangerous magic, far older than anything the college teaches these days." Nelacar warned as he stared at the mockery of a woman.
Agavar took one glimpse then it was his turn to run off and find a spare bucket.
"Look at this," the old elf grabbed a leather-bound book from the altar, it had the same skull cover design. He opened it to a marked page, "A second journal it seems."
"17 tendons and assorted ligaments 173 fragments of bone for assemblage approx.
4 bucket-fulls of blood (Nord preferred)
6 spoons of marrow (no more than 2 from a thigh)
12 yards of flesh (before cutting)
Star-scrying to the edge of the ice-mind
look to the lights where the souls dance
revealing the time when a spark will revive
when the rotted unites under most skillful hands"
A note was scrawled at the bottom of the page, the macabre grocery list was apparently derived from an old Aldmer text, as interpreted by the Ayleids and first transcribed by an Altmer. Provenance and authority unknown.
"This is more than you expected, isn't it?" I asked Nelacar.
"This is something alright. Now look here," he pointed at the carvings that covered the stone altar, many more were obscured by the patchwork woman, "these are old Nedic glyphs, barely recognizable after all this time, instructions, and here," He pointed to an eight-sided indentation half way along the side of the altar that seemed just big enough for the green pendant, "Altars of this design are over five thousand years old, perhaps older. I only know of one other." That surprised me.
"Where?" I looked up at him in shock.
"Later." He was good at ending conversation.
"Was it worth the detour?" I had to ask.
"For that, yes." He gazed at the point on my chest where my amulet was hidden by cloth then continued, "I believe the list and the poem reveal an ancient formulae, perhaps discovered by the Nedes and thereafter known by the ancient Aldmer." Then his gaze locked onto the patchwork woman. "Except his interpretation is all wrong." He seemed disgusted. "Nothing controllable would have come from this." Nelacar said slowly. "Come, we have to talk alone." He pointedly looked at the guard.
"Wait, we have to talk to the Steward about this, the Jarl has to be informed." Agavar wasn't going to let us get away from his duty. Resigned to talking later we quickly left the cursed house and traveled further up the Avenue of Valor then went through the side passage into the courtyard of the Palace of Kings.
Steward Jorleif was a rustic looking man with an impressive low-cut moustache that fell along his cheeks and down the sides of his chin. He wore simple clothing that one would expect more from a merchant than a city steward. "What is it? It's not even light out and I've already dealt with one crisis." He said as we approached him.
Agavar spoke first, "Sir, this mage has done a fair bit to help with the Butcher case."
"Has he now?" Jorleif asked. "We could use the help. If you want to chase shadows then it's fine by me." We just stared at him. "What's your name?" He said finally to break the silence.
"Atticus Odin, Mage of Winterhold." I proclaimed, feeling no guilt for leaving out the "Apprentice" in my title. Nelacar looked over me and winked. That cheeky bastard.
"Atticus, that's an Imperial name." Jorleif mused, "No matter." I don't think he noticed the slight widening of my eyes. I hadn't considered that before.
"Sir," Agavar spoke again, "We found a trail of blood to Hjerim, inside was…well, you have to see it. I can't believe it myself." The man looked disgusted.
"I see, so you have found the lair of the killer perhaps? And it's the home of the first known victim?" Now Jorleif looked interested. "That is shocking news."
"Yes, a secret room contains what must be dozens if not hundreds of… parts… from all the people he has killed." I couldn't think of a better way to put it.
"By Talos… Who could have done it? We have to find them." Jorlief quickly said and I almost smirked at his change of attitude, but that would have been unprofessional. I was trying to make a good impression.
"I might have an idea, but I need to talk to someone first. Do I have your permission to continue the investigation?" With official power I could solve this and start making a name for Winterhold again.
"You have leave to freely investigate the Butcher, if anyone challenges you then send them to me." The Steward started.
"One more thing, Sir, if I may?" I decided to push my luck. He nodded and I continued, "Seal off Hjerim, let no one in, the scene should not be disturbed, there is powerful magic at work." I had to talk to Nelacar about that room and the wild magic.
When I thought about the primordial force the amulet felt like ice for a moment and the strange feeling grew. It made me feel tense but I had to keep going.
Jorleif considered for a moment then nodded, "A wise precaution. I will consult Wuunferth, the court mage." That brought me up short - a court mage might cause us trouble.
"Guard Agavar," Jorleif was in full steward mode, "spread the word amongst the guards to cooperate with Mage Odin on this matter. For now I must return to my work, keep me informed." With that Jorleif walked off to an adjacent room with a large table covered by a map.
The three of us looked at each other and Agavar spoke up first, "So, what's the plan?"
It was time to move. "You go tell the guards that the killer is about to become desperate. Losing access to his laboratory will stir the hornets nest." The guard actually saluted briefly with a gauntlet over his chest as he strode out of the palace to carry out his orders. That felt pretty damned good actually.
"Come on Nelacar, we need to finish this." We were so close that I could taste it.
"Lead the way then if you know who is responsible." Nelacar challenged me.
With that I walked out of the palace ahead of them and stood in the misty night. Most of the city was probably nearly asleep at this time. It began to rain then, light drizzle turning into heavy drops. As the temperature dropped the rain became lonely flakes of snow that fell around me.
"Well, there is only one way to be sure." I stood there and stared up into the starless sky. It would be morning soon. We had to hurry.
"Susanna," I whispered, and thunder rolled across the heavens as lightning flashed. The wind was swift as it stormed across to the other side of town. A sigh seemed to echo through the night as we ran after the waning spirit, hot on the trail of her killer. We followed her across dozens of streets until the faint light of dawn began to glow in the distance. The wind at last blew a flurry of snow onto the porch of an odd building out of place in the old city.
"He's close..." Faint words passed away as the poor broken spirit used the last of her power and faded into the Aetherius.
Calixto's House of Curiosities was a strange place. It seemed like the owner of the establishment had decorated, painted, and replaced every part of the building until it was a hodgepodge of colors and styles, part Nordic, part Dwemer, and parts of various other Elven architectures.
I knocked on the door and there was no answer, so I knocked again harder. The same Imperial man with oiled back hair and a clean shaven face from the graveyard answered. He was pale with weary eyes and his clothes were ruffled. It looked as though he had been crying. "Calixto Corrium?" I asked.
"Yes, how can I help you?" He said straightening his coat.
"We have come to visit your museum," Nelacar jovially said.
"Ah! I see, it is quite early, I wasn't planning on opening till later in the day. Well…" I didn't say anything and we took a step forward. "Well, do come in." Calixto tried to sound welcoming yet never took his eyes off of me.
We walked in and were greeted by the sight of shelves lining every wall from floor to ceiling filled with objects and instruments, weapons and tools, reagents and ingredients, books and scrolls. There were tables and chests, display cases holding old tomes and mannequins wearing ancient armors. Every inch of the place was stuffed full of strange artifacts. I noticed an assortment of elemental salts and a daedra heart on the closest shelf, those were extremely rare. On the shelf under that sat several sharp looking iron instruments, a short curved blade, a serrated hook, a long twisting spike, and razor sharp cutting shears.
"What are those?" I nodded over to the tools.
"Ah, those were used by the ancient Nordic people to embalm and mummify their dead. My sister and I found them in a ruin not very far from Kynesgrove." He said wistfully. "In fact it was my sister who was the adventurous one, we found every item here. She was so proud of our collection." Calixto turned his back to us and walked over to another shelf.
"This here is a true wonder. The Book of Fate, which legend tells will show the fate of any who read it. No one will read the same thing from this mystical book. A rare few will see nothing written in it… No one is sure what that means." His voice was tight. "Go ahead, take a look."
I didn't want to even touch the book, but Nelacar took a peek. He just cleared his throat and gave a noncommittal, "Very interesting,"
"Do continue." I allowed and Calixto nodded then rubbed his face with a hand.
"This is one of the rarest treasures in my collection. Ysgramor's soup spoon!" He declared as he unveiled a two-pronged fork sitting on a small pillow, it was made from some deep golden metal. "I know what you might be thinking, how could Ysgramor eat soup with a fork? Well, if you have to ask that then you didn't know Ysgramor!" His laugh was hollow and swiftly died in his throat as he sighed and stared at us.
"Well…I also have a diverse collection of rare alchemy ingredients and gemstones. Maybe a haunted amulet or two?" He obviously wanted us to leave.
"Speaking of amulets, have you ever seen this one?" I smirked as I fished the green octagon jade out of my robes. The whole chase had been worth it just to see his eyes grow so wide they nearly popped out of his head. He gulped and tried to smooth his reaction with a deep cough.
"Well, that is interesting. Let me see…" I stepped closer and held it up for his lantern light to catch on the surface.
"Ah, I recognize it now," He glanced around as he spoke, "This is the Wheelstone. Traditionally a symbol of office for the court mage of Windhelm." If I hadn't known it was a lie, well I would have been tempted to consider that angle.
"I see, well, thank you, we shall be leaving now." I turned to leave.
"Wait!" His hand was paused stretched out toward me, "It is worthless to most, I will pay you well for such a specialty object, it would make a fantastic addition to my collection."
"I'll think about it." He seemed to deflate and nod.
"Do come again," His voice died as the door closed behind us.
I walked with purpose toward the Stone Quarter that held the bustling market district. Nelacar followed with long even strides.
"Now what?" He seemed content to let me take the lead.
"Well, I have a feeling he is about to murder someone else." I just had that gut feeling.
"He may try to flee, you've captured his life's work, he has nothing left." Nelacar gave the feasible alternative.
"I don't think so, we didn't actually destroy his work. He will be desperate." I wasn't sure if I was right but I gambled on it.
We loitered in the market as the sun rose and dawn broke upon on the City of Kings. Nelacar was sitting on the low brick wall over by a merchants stall that had an assortment of weapons and armor littered across its worn oak tables. He was talking to the High Elf woman in green that seemed to own it, and I was leaning against one of the poles that held up the roof of the doorway into an apothecary. I could still feel faint residue of the magic in the graveyard along the road behind me. I stood comfortably but I was eager for something to happen.
I looked up at the sun slowly rising higher and stretched, my mouth opened into a gaping yawn. 'It had to be nearly 7 by now.' I groaned and glanced over at the two elves who seemed to be smiling as they leaned toward one another and talked quietly. That's when a sharp pain burst through me. I could hear a grunt right behind me as something seemed to pull away from my back. I fell to the ground. What was going on? I was cold, and the amulet was even colder now. The sensation that had been growing inside me since I put the amulet around my neck seemed to reach its zenith, setting my mind and spirit ablaze, while freezing my soul to the bone.
Two things happened.
Magicka thrummed through me till I felt like I was floating, and I watched Calixto Corrium as he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.
He held a wicked looking spike that was dripping with someone's blood. I vaguely considered that he was running toward the sewer grate, intending to escape down in the undercity. Then a burst of power shook the air and Calixto's head exploded in a shower of fine pink mist. Nelacar came running with orange lights coiled around his arms up to his hands, the lights dimmed as the remnants of his spell faded. Was he screaming my name? Everything seemed to fade into golden light right about then.
After some time, I could feel my heart beating. I could feel the air rushing in and out of my lungs. I was starting to feel warm again. My eyes hurt as they opened, I was still laying on the cold stone ground of the market plaza. I was covered in blood.
"Your blood this time," Nelacar quirked his eyebrow, "you nearly died, again."
"It's a good thing I'm hard to kill." I supposed this was going to keep happening.
"Indeed. The blade barely missed your heart." He looked over at a headless corpse. "Calixto won't be hurting anyone again."
"No, he won't." It was a victory, but I was unsatisfied. I hoped I would be able to capture him alive, I had so many questions.
"Can you stand?" Nelacar asked holding out a hand. I grabbed it and he hefted me up easily.
"Yeah…" I shook myself slightly and felt where the long and twisted spike had punctured through my chest after being plunged into my back. The skin was soft to the touch but totally healed. I had nearly died. It made me think of how Onmund had nearly killed me and I felt another burst of anger that gave me the strength to keep going.
"Careful, you lost a fair bit of blood. It took a lot to patch you up. Come on, we should get you back to Candlehearth, I want to take one last look at the House of Curiosities, and then we have to talk." Nelacar decided to take the lead. I was alright with that, my head was pounding. We made our way back to the inn and I sunk straight into my bed.
Nelacar rushed out saying, "We have no time to spare."
I held the dead Necromancer's jade amulet in my hand and wondered what it was, where it came from.
"Damnit," I growled, "The horses."
