After a few more narrow hallways, luckily without further attacks, she had made her way through a doorway and found herself in a large room. The room was further evidence of the structure's old age. Destroyed bookshelves and tables were scattered everywhere. Ruthalia found herself wondering about who had lived here once, what purpose the building had before it turned into a tomb. Her interest in history getting the best of her.
Was it a place where noble people would meet together? The traps and such all part of it to keep uninvited intruders from entering?
Not likely, it was too simple for the higher ranks.
Or was it more likely something for assassins? A secret cult perhaps, now doomed to forever guard these halls?
She shook her head to clear her interested mind and focused on her goal, a caged door straight ahead, where she noticed two levers. Just as she was about to activate both of them she noticed two more, right next to the first two.
Letting her hand drop back down she sighed, annoyed as she inspected the rest of the room, trying to find any kind of hint as to which levers to pull and which not to.
After wasting what felt like an eternity without any further progress, she decided to simply go for luck and pulled the two that were closest to her.
After activating them, she dodged out of the way in order to avoid any traps that might have been triggered and closed her eyes tightly for a second or two.
Not hearing anything but a loud snap and rattling, she guessed that she had done the right thing and opened her eyes again to face the caged door. It was open.
Smiling slightly over her own reaction, she hurried through to the next passageway, her torch still held tightly in one hand and redrew her sword with the other.
After a dozen traps and more living-undead Draugr later she found herself having to make a decision where to go.
There was a doorway to her right, which seemed to lead to another, larger, closed door. On the left, straight ahead, lay another open doorway. Narrowing her eyes, she went for the second choice. She saw a fireplace in the distance, which seemed odd in a place as dead as this. Ruthalia suddenly felt watched and her muscles braced in response.
The room was very small. The fireplace and heavy stone table, along with a chair were all the furnishings it had. It was that chair that claimed Ruthalia's entire attention, for on it sat a ghost. An apparition of an elf, a dark elf as far as she could tell from the build and the hair.
Aha, that's the haunted fiend!
Still staring, she did not react fast enough as it turned around and leaped forward. No matter how transparent its appearance, its weapon surely hit hard and cut through flesh as well as any weapon, leaving a deep gash in her arm. With a hiss Ruthalia jumped aside, raising her sword in order to block yet another attack. She managed to stagger the opponent and used the chance to destroy him with two lightning fast strikes.
With a ghostly sigh the spirit vanished, leaving nothing but the empty body it had inhabited. Wrinkling her forehead Ruthalia bent down, trying to ignore the wound on her arm to investigate the corpse.
As she had thought before, it was a dark elf; a Dunmer. His clothes were old and torn and almost completely blended in with his dark, purple skin color. She found some coins in his pocket and claimed them without a second thought, along with a journal and a phial.
The phial was relatively large and contained a pure, white liquid. Its substance was like water and it followed the glass's movement as Ruthalia cocked it a little to the left and right. Her curiosity took over and caused her to open the phial.
Holding the top under her nose she sniffed it, finding it had no fragrance at all. A shrug and a little smile was all the thought she gave it before taking a sip. The liquid ran down her throat as clear as the cleanest water, leaving no taste whatsoever on her tongue.
Expectantly, she waited for something to happen. After she didn't feel any different for several minutes, she shrugged and stood up. She sat down on the chair the ghost of the dark elf had occupied and was about to open the journal when she started and dropped it.
Ruthalia could only make out the vague shapes of her arms and hands, the effects of the phial's liquid now apparent.
Stretching them out in front of her, she turned them, spreading her fingers.
"This could be rather useful," she mumbled, a mischievous smile spreading over her face.
In order to find out more about the phial and the effect, now that she had witnessed it on herself, she picked up the dropped journal and began reading it; like she should have in the first place, she imagined her master' chiding.
The journal spoke of a dragon claw, ghosts and the people of the village. The latter had supposedly abandoned him and his beliefs about the supernatural. That was why he had decided to go to the barrow himself - to find out what was there and teach them a lesson. He had used the potion Ruthalia had just discovered to terrify the people that came down, making them pay for their narrow minds.
So, not a ghost at all, she thought. She did not read it very intensely, but just flew over the pages, shaking her head lightly over this entire episode. Ruthalia was not very impressed with such behavior, for she believed that if people did not approve of you in the first place, they did not deserve to be enlightened with your knowledge.
She decided to take the journal with her and show it to the innkeeper, but would keep the potion to herself. You could never tell when such a treasure might come in handy.
Gathering the little she had collected, she headed back out the way she came. The other locked door she had seen from the distance caught her eye, and she stopped … That must be it, she thought. The door he needed that dragon claw for. Maybe that's where all the really good treasures are stored.
Without wasting another thought on it however, she was soon breathing fresh air again, making it back out in one piece and with no further misadventures. Smiling over simply being under a blue sky and the warm sun again Ruthalia headed straight for the inn.
"I found this down in the barrow," she said, handing the man the journal.
He looked at it for several minutes, reading through the pages, his face darkening further with every sentence he readWhen he was finished he shook his head, his face an expression of disbelief and sadness.
"He wouldn't listen. We told him not to go down that damned barrow but he had to prove he could and then, just to get even with us, he made himself appear as a ghost. Pah! Humbug! He had it coming, got what he deserved." He shook his head for a moment, then looked up. "But, here. This is for all your troubles, traveler. I found it in his house, after we all declared him gone for good. I have no use for it, but you might be able to sell It for a good prize. Take care and thank you again," he finished, obviously satisfied with the result of having this mystery solved. He set down the claw described in the journal in front of Ruthalia – her reward …
Ruthalia took it carefully and put it away, finding it wise not to examine it in front of everybody else. She gave the man a nod and a smile before she disappeared into her room, pulling the curtain across the doorway behind her.
Even though her curiosity was burning wildly like a flame within her - begging her to take a closer look at the strange artifact - she chose to lay down instead. After all this hassle she needed some rest before she would dare another dive into the barrow.
The second time through was much faster and easier. Pretty soon she found herself in front of familiar door and finally got a chance to look at the dragon claw more closely. It was fine work. The heavy, black stone was shaped almost perfectly like a dragon's paw, the claws made out of sapphire, shining softly even in the dim light of her torch, which she had fastened to the wall.
She turned it around and gasped silently. There were three round symbols, each was a different animal. A moth, an owl and a wolf.
She looked up from the artifact, finding the same symbols on the big door in front of her. The elf wrinkled her forehead and tried to see if she could move something, and indeed she could. There were three heavy stone plates, one at the very top, one in the middle and one furthest down at the bottom. She began with the top, turning the plate from picture to picture, working her way through the various animals carved on the plate until it showed the symbol of the moth. Then she did the same with the second until it showed the owl, and finally turning the third to the symbol of a howling wolf's head.
With a nod she stepped back, the dragon claw still in her firm grip. In the middle of the door was the slight form of a paw scraped into it, along with three holes. Looking down one more time at the tool in her hand, she smiled confidently and put it right on mark. It fit perfectly.
After a second of eager tension it began to turn by itself, soon followed by the plates she had rearranged. She heard a weird clicking noise accompanied by rumbling and finally the door went down into the floor, slowly and sluggishly.
She found herself in a large room, lit by several torches, the flickering flames throwing dancing shadows on the dark, old walls. Dust was flying slowly and peacefully through this forgotten place; through its thick, heavy air.
Ruthalia swallowed hard and placed her hand on her Daedric sword.
She was surrounded by coffins and had no doubt that they were not as empty nor as dead as they appeared. Suddenly, as if something had read her mind, there was a crack right behind her. Startled she jerked around, her weapon sliding out of its sheath at once. The noise drowning in the continuing cracking of the coffins.
"Not more of you," she mumbled, frustrated, but had no time for further cussing. Two Draugr, had emerged, the first one already coming at her, ax swinging over its head.
With a quick sidestep she managed to escape the deadly blow. The other Draugr, waiting till she was near, managed to hit her at the waist. With a moan Ruthalia went down on one knee, - but, with her quick reflexes, built by a lifetime of training, - built on a lifetime of becoming the master, she thought sadly, wishing he was here right now - enabled her to get her left arm up quick enough to prevent another wound, blocking just enough of the force so that her light armor could protect her. Her throat was as dry as her enemies' bodies, the fear of these creatures still heavy as a stone in her stomach. A grunt escaped her mouth as they kept pounding on her when she tried to get up. With a shout of frustration she cut one of the Draugrs' heads off, the skull thumping loudly on the floor.
With a quick swirl she managed to duck away under the other Draugr's attack and cut through its stomach, breaking it with her sharp sword into two pieces. Looking down at the now really and finally dead bodies, she tried to catch her breath and calm her heavily beating heart. But she was not granted much of a break, for the next coffins broke with a loud crack!
After another oath, she mumbled some words in an ancient language, concentrating on the powers within – powers given to her through her parents genes. They'd been mages, a secret that had been kept from her for many years.
A purple, misty air-ball appeared in her left palm, which she clenched her fist around, then Ruthalia threw it right between the two newly appeared Undead. The ball burst with a strange sound, like opening a portal to another world, and revealed the ghostly shape of a wolf. Her familiar.
She still remembered how the master had taught her.
"Concentrate on that strange stirring in your stomach, Ruth. Like that," he nodded his approval as she stood there in the middle of the forest, her eyes closed softly, her body relaxed. She still remembered how shocked she was when all of a sudden, the apparition of a wolf had sat in front of her, its transparent tongue hanging out its opened mouth, panting friendly. "A wolf, huh? That suits you," the master had smiled.
A growl ripped Ruthalia out of her memories. She watched the wolf leap at the first enemy in its way, having no problem at all tearing the weak body apart. The other, however, still had Ruthalia as its goal and came straight towards her, walking on scrawny, bony legs, each step making a nasty crunching sound. Ruthalia pulled a face, disgusted by the noise, drawing back her sword to let it come straight down on the Draugr, smashing its skull in two, the pieces joining the cut off head of the other Undead on the floor, soon followed by its lifeless body.
Ruthalia sighed, relieved, thinking the fighting was over. But the ghostly wolf jumped on another Draugr that had appeared behind the her. The undead creatures were no challenge for the familiar, so she decided to try to make her way deeper into the huge room to find what she came here for. Treasures.
Just as she had climbed several steps to a higher level of the room, she was faced with yet another large coffin, bigger than the others.
Ruthalia felt her heart tighten in her chest, still hearing her familiar fight with more awakening Draugrs. Only due to her good hearing, and yet again her trained reflexes, she heard a strange buzzing noise, which quickly seemed to increase in intensity.
Taking a step backwards she suddenly saw an arrow shatter against the hard wall behind her where she had stood not a minute ago. Jerking her head the direction it came from, she looked into the glowing blue eyes of a skeleton aiming at her with another arrow. Ducking down she managed to avoid the next one as well, before she switched the energies inside her, this time calling out to heat, concentrating for just a moment, before she shot a beam of intense flames out of the palm of her left hand; turning the walking pile of bones into a pile of ashes.
Not daring to relax, she got herself ready to face whatever was just about to make its way out of the closed coffin. A hand broke through it first, with the same bleached, wrinkled skin as those of the Draugr, followed by a head wearing an ancient Nord helmet with sharp horns sticking out of it. The horrifying creature made its way all the way through its resting place and stood up, looking straight at its target.
Ruthalia, shivering lightly, did not dare to give it a chance to attack first, and instead swung her spiked sword, cutting through old, undead skin and muscle, that proved to still be strong and flexible. It took a grip of her left hand that still sparked with bits of magical fire dancing around it. She was now only a few inches away from the horror's face, looking deep into the blue, soulless eyes. She felt like she was being swallowed alive, her very being slowly getting sucked into these bottomless pits. Never had she felt greater fear before. Never had she felt such an urge to rip herself away from this monster and run away, as far as she could. There was not much Ruthalia feared, but that thing was to haunt her dreams forever, she knew that for a fact.
The howl of her vanishing familiar finally pulled Ruthalia out of her numbness, and enabled her to gather herself back together.
But the creature's grip was firm, like iron, and it prepared for something as it opened its mouth and sucked in air. Had she not done it herself before, she would have had no idea what was about to come next. But she too had done it, she too had 'shouted.'
With all her strength she pulled her hand free and ducked, not a second too soon, for a blast of air shot right over her head, its force ruffling her red hair.
Using the short confusion of her enemy not seeing its opponent flying across the room, she smashed her sword clear through the beast's legs, cutting them off and causing it to fall down onto the hard floor.
Ruthalia leaped on top of it before it could regain its balance, trying not to think of the fact that she was sitting on dead, rotten flesh, and jammed her blade's spiky side all the way down the Draugr's forehead, causing the blue, shimmering light in its dead eyes to fade out.
With a heavy sigh she rolled herself off the now lifeless thing and let herself lie on the floor, despite its coldness.
"This better be worth it," she mumbled before she got back on her feet again to examine the rest of this damned ruin.