Chapter 25: Scroll Hunt
Sithia double checked her map before leaving the inn after breakfast. Their route took them along the coast, but not by sea. For whatever reason the enchantment advised against going by boat.
"Looks like we won't be hiring Harlaug's boat again," Sithia said.
"I wonder why. Maybe it knows you can't afford him this time?" Serana suggested.
Sithia sighed. "I do need to save my gold for an extra housecarl. Come on. No time like the present to make a start on the walk to Winterhold."
They almost walked into a courier the moment they stepped outside the Windpeak Inn.
"There you are! You're a hard woman to find, even for a professional." The courier handed over a letter and hurried off on his way.
Sithia tore the letter open, scowling. "What now?" She read it quickly. Her frown cleared. "Convenient. There's a dragon soul to claim in Winterhold. One keeps coming back to life there. That said, it might not be entirely straightforward, the Jarl of Winterhold isn't clear whether he means the Hold or the city. If it can still be called a city."
"Never mind the location of this dragon, it might mean running into Alduin again before you're ready," Serana cautioned.
"Hopefully not. Big black bastard does like taking a snap or Shouting at me whenever we meet. It'll be my turn once I have Dragonrend…"
They walked alongside Dawnstar's harbour and straight past Harlaug's boat. They also passed an argument outside the last house on the east side of Dawnstar. Something about a man named Silus's ancestors not wanting something. Serana paid it no mind. She wondered what the banners outside the house signified, fluttering in the chilly wind. They depicted either a rising or setting sun, Serana couldn't tell which. Sithia gave them a very dark look.
"What's wrong with the banners?" Serana asked once they were out of earshot of the arguing pair.
"They belong to a cult that should be left in the past. The Mythic Dawn. They brought about the Oblivion Crisis."
"…I see." What else could she say? Assassinating the last Septims was a little strange for a former Dark Brotherhood assassin to disapprove of, but it made sense to Serana; the Mythic Dawn had done far more to endanger Tamriel than just have an emperor and his heirs killed. That and there might be some professional grudge at work: surely the Dark Brotherhood didn't get along with other organisations stealing what should be their contracts.
They rounded the first bend along the coast, leaving Dawnstar behind them, when Serana caught sight of a door set into the cliff. A dark slab of stone carved with a human skull far larger than life, missing the lower jaw. A bloody handprint of an outstretched hand marked the forehead of the skull. Serana stared at it. She'd never seen it before. Why did it look familiar? Then she had it: the branding on Sithia's back. Carved below the skull was a lifesize skeleton sitting slumped with a pile of five small skulls beside it, one with a dagger embedded in it. No, not just smaller; the pile of skulls were those of children. Serana shuddered.
Sithia saw the door as well, she could hardly miss it. She hesitated, but continued walking. As they drew nearer to the door, Serana heard something like breathing or wind emanating from it. By the time she was close enough to touch it, there was more on the edge of her hearing: a deep, slow heartbeat, and the chiming of a deep bell. She almost didn't notice the nightshade dotted around by the door, looking out of place on the bleak coastline, but not nearly as odd as the door.
"Isn't that…" Serana reached up to touch the bloody handprint on the carved skull.
"Don't touch it—" Sithia's warning came too late.
Serana heard a cold piercing whisper:
"What is life's greatest illusion?"
She staggered back. "What was that?"
Sithia sighed and touched the door herself. "A magical door that you can only enter with the right passphrase."
Serana shivered. "That voice was the creepiest thing I've ever heard."
Sithia took Serana's hand and tugged at it. "We shouldn't linger here. As you've probably guessed, this must be the entrance to one of the Dark Brotherhood's Sanctuaries. A Black Door. I've not seen one before, but I heard about them from Rasha."
"Couldn't you guess the passphrase? We could see to it that anyone in there doesn't kill another innocent."
"I could try, but I have a better idea. Laas Yah Nir…" Sithia looked in all directions. "Nobody home."
"Does that Shout-Whisper thing really penetrate deep enough to be sure?" Serana asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I think so." Sithia tugged at her hand again. "Come on, let's get out of here. I feel like we're being watched, despite knowing from Aura Whisper that we're not."
Serana reluctantly walked on with her. Their path took them along the rocky coast, past snow a little further on shore and eventually beyond glaciers and mountains. Stopping for the night brought more nightmares for Sithia, but again nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe Vaermina was biding her time, maybe Mara was shielding Sithia.
A day out from Dawnstar they came across a charred body curled up in the centre of scorched ground, patches still burning around it. Serana wondered what had caused the conflagration. Perhaps a spell gone wrong? There was a reason she'd never tried to learn fire magic; it could be dangerous to the caster, more so than ice or lightning. Sithia looked away from the sorry remains, instead gazing towards an island with a Nordic ruin perched atop it, distinctive pillars and arches topped by stylised hawk heads.
"Come on." Sithia turned away from the island. "Let's hope that the wind doesn't carry the stench of that poor burned body with us. I could do without more nightmares triggered by that sickly sweet smell." Sithia hurried on, and Serana followed her.
The rest of the day was uneventful. Apart from a couple of snow bears showing far too much interest in Dragonborn for dinner. Not that either of them came close to Sithia; Serana's bursts of lightning dealt with them before Sithia could even draw Dragonbane.
"You could've left one to me," Sithia grumbled.
"I could've," Serana agreed. "I'll bear that in mind next time."
They walked on until they had to rest weary legs; Serana's especially so in the sunlight. Sithia had a bite to eat and pushed a blood potion into Serana's hands. Serana took a sip and looked back at where they'd come from. They'd made good time so far. She sighed with relief when clouds covered the sun.
"Void take it!" Sithia cursed.
"What is it?"
"Those clouds are heavy with snow. Look at them. They're bringing a snowstorm. I knew it was too much to hope for fine weather all the way to Winterhold."
Snow began to fall even as Sithia spoke. It fell heavier and heavier until they could barely see each other, let alone the way ahead. Worse, the wind picked up and blew it into their faces, stinging snow almost blinding.
Serana grabbed Sithia's shoulder and leant close to make herself heard. "What about that Shout? The one you used to reach Paarthurnax." It cleared away dangerous misty winds, so why not a snowstorm?
Sithia inhaled deeply. Serana felt more than saw it, and covered her ears.
"LOK VAH KOOR!"
The snowstorm died away, the clouds above clearing. Serana hissed as sunlight prickled her skin.
"It won't last long, but it should give time to look for shelter. Quickly, we don't know who heard that Shout apart from at least half of Skyrim." Sithia got her map out to check the route again, perhaps hoping it would lead them to shelter.
Clouds gradually blocked the sun again. Snow began to fall again by the time they found shelter overlooked by a statue of Talos. It was an old campsite, still with firewood and a wooden lean-to, floorboards raising it up off the frigid ground. A bedroll still lay on it, although the firewood was cold. Sithia stepped closer to the bedroll and recoiled.
Serana darted closer, ready to defend her Dragonborn. Yet Sithia made no move for her sword. Serana frowned at the bedroll.
"Oh." Serana let her spells die away. Just a disarticulated skeleton, not one that might be undead. Still a creepy find for where Sithia hoped to sleep.
She helped Sithia roll the bedroll up around the bones and set it to rest under the statue of Talos. That done, Sithia laid out her own bedroll. She seemed glad of her shelter even with the ill omen that the previous inhabitant hadn't survived. Hopefully a snowstorm hadn't finished him or her off.
Winterhold was briefly visible in the distance before the snowstorm returned with a vengeance. Winterhold and something else. A great statue set atop a mountain, close to Winterhold. It hadn't been there when Serana was last at the College.
"Void take it." Sithia glared at the frozen firewood of the campfire. Magical flames weren't setting it alight. She eventually resorted to a blast of Fire Breath. Serana carefully kept her distance while Sithia played with fire, so wasn't too spooked, muted as the fire was by the snowstorm still raging around them.
It was at least easier to talk within the shelter, the wooden structure shielding them from the wind.
"What's the statue near Winterhold?" Serana asked, hoping Sithia knew something about it.
"I'm impressed you could make it out at this distance, although I suppose that was before the snowstorm set in again. It's the statue of Azura. I heard it was built by Dunmer fleeing the eruption of Red Mountain at the start of the Fourth Era," Sithia explained.
"It looked like it was holding something, but I couldn't make it out."
"On a statue of Azura? That'll be a sickle moon and a pointed star. Moon and star, symbols of Azura. Lady of twilight or something. Or was it dusk and dawn? I forget."
Serana wondered if she'd get a better look as they drew nearer to Winterhold. Probably not if it kept snowing, and they'd have to move closer to begin with. "Is it worth trying Clear Skies again?" She eyed the snow swirling around their shelter.
Sithia shook her head. "Not unless absolutely necessary. It's almost as loud as Storm Call, but doesn't have the benefit of frying my enemies."
"It could let us get further. We wouldn't be stuck here," Serana suggested.
"I don't like the delay either, but using Clear Skies that much would be dangerous. Your father's cronies are presumably still out there looking for us, and it'd be a challenge to any dragon within earshot."
Sithia had a point. The Shout could well draw unwanted attention and even allow hostile ears to locate them. Serana just hoped Sithia was wrong; they might already be in for trouble from the first use of the Shout.
"Besides," Sithia continued, "I'd have to stop to sleep and we might not find any shelter by then. There's no pine trees for miles around, those would otherwise help with making shelter."
"Really? How?" Serana asked. If she'd ever known such survival techniques in her mortal days, she couldn't remember them.
"I suppose it's useful knowledge to share, in the event we ever need to find shelter again where there are such trees."
Much as Serana loved reading books, she loved hearing things from Sithia even more. She listened intently, trying not to show her eagerness. Not that she thought Sithia would mock her for it; she just found it a little embarrassing.
Sithia told her some ways pine trees could be used, gesturing with her hands as if they were what she was talking about. Branches were good for insulation, especially on the ground. Being on the ground was bad because it leeched away heat faster than anything except a frozen vampire. Serana could only wish that wasn't so accurate or she could touch Sithia. Unfortunately that wasn't an option; she was as cold as the snowstorm.
"Good to know, in case you ever get too cold to see to your own shelter." Serana frowned as a worrying thought occurred to her, looking at the fire Sithia had made. "What if that happens and you're too cold to light a fire?"
"Then I guess I rely on you to light one to warm me up."
"I can't cast fire spells," Serana stated. "Not that they seemed to work just now, anyway."
"This is presuming the wood isn't quite so badly frozen. You could use a tinderbox if I show you how. Although we really should get you a spell tome of the basic flames spell." Sithia held her hands closer to the fire.
"I don't know. I think I'd really struggle to use it. It's like a mental block. I fear fire," Serana confessed.
"Fire called by yourself cannot hurt you, not while it's in your hands. It's only after it leaves you that you have to be careful." Sithia's tone was sympathetic.
"I think only a life or death situation for you would be enough incentive for me to get over the fear. Which I realise is the whole point of getting me that spell tome." Serana sighed heavily. "All right. Maybe there's one in Winterhold."
"I'd hope so, it exists to teach—" Sithia cut herself off. A large shadow swooped overhead, almost invisible in the snowfall.
Sithia went for Dragonbane, but there was no challenging roar, just a slight increase in the sound of the wind as the dragon circled. Strangely, he didn't attack from the air or try to land. Instead he flew away. There were a tense few minutes as they waited in silence to see if he'd return. But no. It seemed he didn't fancy fighting in a snowstorm any more than they did. Maybe dragons relied more on sight than Serana realised. But if so, why didn't he just use Clear Skies? Did the ability to speak Dovahzul not automatically grant the usage of the words in Shouts? Serana resigned herself to never finding out why; it wasn't as if she could ask the dragon. Although maybe she could try asking Paarthurnax the next time she saw him…
The snowstorm delayed them for a few days before it died away, leaving their path blanketed in snow. Sithia waved to the Talos statue in farewell when they left it. Maybe she thought it had watched over them and kept the snowstorm from lasting any longer. Serana stayed quiet; she didn't feel like inviting an argument over an Aedra. Least of all one Sithia must have some fondness for in memory of her late husband. Even if Sithia wouldn't have argued about the powers of the Ninth Divine, it didn't feel tactful and possibly disrespectful of Tiber's memory.
The next day they ran into two vampires. While both had been turned by Harkon, there weren't nearly enough of them to have a chance against them, and neither transformed into their monstrous forms until it was too late.
They also encountered some more horkers, although at least these were on land and easily dealt with, Sithia demonstrating her knack for dancing circles around them. She took the opportunity to replenish some of her supplies with horker meat, although it did need eating while fresh enough.
Every step brought them closer to Winterhold, until they finally wound their way up a steep path to what had once been a thriving city. Serana froze in horror at her first sight of Winterhold up close: the change in the coastline, lots of cliff lost, collapsed, taking with it most of the city. All that was left of the Winterhold she'd known and loved was the College, and even that had suffered damage. The bridge to it hung in the abyss, the supporting columns and their foundations gone. At least the bridge itself was still there, an unbroken horizontal line. Wait… No, part of the bridge's walls had crumbled away. They'd have to be careful crossing it.
She stood there staring until Sithia put a hand on her shoulder.
"Serana? You all right?"
Serana could only shake her head. She couldn't express how lost and out of place she felt. She didn't have the words for it. Lots of things she'd seen had been different to what she remembered, but she'd largely been able to pretend it was because she'd never been to those places before. This, though… She'd been here. She'd lived here, all those centuries ago. Sithia's words about the storm and the book she'd read back in Dawnstar's inn had prepared her a little, but seeing what it had referred to was…
Serana shuddered.
"Serana?"
She was still lost for words. But she had to say something. Sithia sounded worried.
"This used to be a city," Serana finally said. "What happened here? Was this really all caused by a storm? It wasn't so… crumbly the last time I was here."
"A storm is what I heard. I don't know much. Let's hope we can find someone willing to talk. Come on."
They passed under the bridge to the College and arrived in the city, if it could still be called that. Perhaps just Hold capital now. Even here, away from the ragged cliff, were mostly abandoned and ruined buildings remaining. As they got closer still, they found a few intact: what looked to be an inn, a general store, and the Jarl's hall.
Sithia eyed the inn but shook her head. "We need to go to the College anyway. We might as well see if they have a bed for the night and food to offer us rather than go to the inn."
Before they got any closer to the College and its mages, Serana used her illusion magic to hide her telltale eyes. It wasn't that unusual for the vain to use it to make themselves look prettier, hiding any perceived flaws. And it had worked with Elenwen, so why not the College mages too?
"That looks so weird," Sithia murmured, staring at Serana's temporarily mortal hued eyes. "They're pretty, don't get me wrong, but I'm just used to seeing you with glowing orange eyes. That and I can tell something's not right."
"Hopefully they'll just think I'm vain rather than trying to hide vampiric eyes."
They turned away from the leftovers of Winterhold and headed up to the College bridge's gatehouse. An Altmer woman stood there, barring their way, clad in ornate robes. Her eyes narrowed when she saw them. She raised her hands into a casting pose, sparks flickering in her hands.
"Cross the bridge at your own peril!" warned the Altmer. "The way is dangerous, and the gate will not open. You shall not gain entry!"
Sithia pulled her mask down, presumably trying to reassure the mage that they weren't hostile. Serana didn't know how she was sure this Altmer wasn't Thalmor, but the College had a reputation for being independent from politics even when Serana had last been there.
"Friendly, aren't you," Sithia drawled. "Having trouble with the locals?"
The Altmer relaxed a little, and the lightning faded from her hands. "I am Faralda, and I am here to assist those seeking the wisdom of the College. And if, in the process, my presence helps to deter those who might seek to do harm, so be it. Things are a little tense with the locals, yes. But the more important question is: why are you here?"
"May we enter the college?" Serana asked.
"Perhaps. But what is it you expect to find within?"
Sithia exchanged a look with Serana and shrugged. It seemed she'd decided honesty was the best policy: "We seek an Elder Scroll. Dragonborn business."
"Do you? It is true there are some here who have spent years studying the accumulated knowledge of the Scrolls. But what you seek does not come easily, and can destroy those without a strong will." Faralda lowered her hands. "It would seem that the College has what you seek. Not an Elder Scroll, but you may find out what those within know of them. The question now is what you can offer the College. Not just anyone is allowed inside. Those wishing to enter must show some degree of skill with magic. A small test, if you will. But then… You're the Dragonborn, aren't you? Do you really have the Voice? I would be most impressed to see that."
Serana intervened, knowing that it wouldn't end well if she didn't. "Don't. She really hates it when people do that, and she'd demonstrate one on you. Let us pass. You can feel perfectly well that we're fellow mages. Or are you a mere novice sent out on guard duty?"
"Now, there's no need for that," huffed Faralda. "For your information, I am the Destruction Master. Most mere races of men can't feel that kinship between mages, but then each of you has an impressive well of magicka. You especially, Nord." She nodded stiffly. "Very well. You may cross the bridge. Go to the Arcanaeum for the answers you seek. Do I need to accompany you, or can you light the beacons yourself?"
Sithia sighed. "Will a Magelight work?"
"Yes. Will that be all?"
"Is the Arcanaeum still located below the Arch-Mage's rooms?" Serana asked.
Faralda blinked and frowned at Serana. "It is, and has been since the College was founded as far as I know. Did someone put you up to this? Nirya?"
Serana kicked herself for showing more knowledge than she should've had. Now she had to deflect suspicion. "No, considering we've never even met this Nirya. Friend of yours?"
One of Faralda's eyes twitched. "Rival. I'd avoid her if I were you. She'll only stab you in the back and steal your research."
"Thanks for the advice. I had one last question: why hasn't the bridge been repaired?" Serana pointed in the direction of the damage.
"It's still standing, isn't it? We've only lost one student so far to mead and ice. Or maybe two, it's difficult to account for everyone when magic may be involved in disappearances." Faralda sounded supremely unconcerned for someone who had to cross that bridge whenever she guarded the gate.
Sithia raised a hand. "I have a question. Can you sell us a destruction spell tome or can otherwise teach a spell? Basic flame magic specifically."
"Ice and lightning are where my talents lie but the cold this far north… It's as well to be able to create fire," Serana admitted.
"I have just the thing for you." Faralda presented Serana with a spell tome. "I would teach it to you myself, but I must guard the bridge."
"What do we owe you?" Sithia asked.
"Consider it a gift. And correcting an oversight by whoever taught you magic. Fire, frost and lightning are all equally important in destruction magic, and don't let anyone tell you differently."
"Thank you." Serana opened the spell tome and absorbed the knowledge of the spell. She reluctantly satisfied the eagerly watching Destruction Master by calling on her newly gained skill and let flames dance over her palms. It was a warm tickle, not remotely harmful. Serana quickly let the fire die away before it could become dangerous.
Faralda slapped her own forehead. "Oh, the flames reminded me… Dragonborn, there's the body of a dead dragon in the courtyard, across the bridge. If you could take care of it before another bigger dragon Shouts it back into life again, I'm sure we'd all appreciate it. We've been killing that dragon what seems like every other day, and it takes all of our powers combined."
They left Faralda behind and hurried across the bridge as fast as was safe on slippery icy stone. Serana wished the mages would rebuild the walls. She'd feel a lot happier with Sithia crossing this bridge if they did. Sithia was clearly eager to get her dragon soul, but still had to pause to light the beacons on the narrow walkway across the bridge. As the last Magelight lit up the final beacon, the gates to the College swung open, allowing them into the courtyard.
Sithia hurried over to the bulk of the dead dragon sprawled in the middle of the courtyard, right next to the statue of Magnus, still standing after all this time. The body of the dragon burned up, the light of the soul streaming into Sithia. She muttered something in Dovahzul, roughly translated as: 'No threat to my sword this time.'
To Serana's relief, there was no sign of Alduin swooping in, too late to return his underling to life. They weren't ready to face him again, not yet. If they could find the last Scroll though… It surely must be the one Sithia needed to read at the Time Wound atop the Throat of the World.
Serana looked around the courtyard. It looked the same as when she'd last been there… Mostly. The beacons were new, presumably a security measure necessary ever since the College had issues with the locals.
What was different was the feel of the College. More magic emanated from the buildings than when she was last there, the power deepened with the years, now ancient and stronger. It felt like the beating of a heart, if pumping magic rather than blood. It was also linked to the beacons, both powering them and strengthened further by them.
A Dunmer man in distinctive hooded robes approached them. "You are both new here, are you not? We have not spoken."
Serana shook her head. "No, we haven't. Those robes… Are you the Arch-Mage?"
"Indeed I am. Savos Aren." He bowed slightly to both of them, slightly deeper to Sithia. "You must be the Dragonborn," he said to Sithia. "I saw you take the dragon's soul. That saves us the trouble of finding you. If there's anything I can do to assist you, let me know."
Serana saw an opportunity in his words. Hopefully Sithia wouldn't get too impatient, but then this concerned history she didn't already know, so it should be fine. "I'd like to know more about the College's history, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," Savos Aren said, seeming all too happy to talk about his College. "I've seen documents dating back to the late Second Era. Beyond that, it's hard to say. Events in the last several hundred years resulted in a significant loss of our history, I'm afraid."
'Oh dear.' That meant Serana knew more than the current College mages about their own early history. Tragic, especially as she couldn't exactly safely reveal it when they might object violently to a vampire. Maybe she could write the Arch-Mage an anonymous letter someday and have a courier deliver it.
"What happened?" Sithia asked, showing the interest Serana hoped she would.
"The Great Collapse, as it has come to be known. An unfortunate natural disaster that ravaged the area almost a century ago. The College fared far better than the city of Winterhold, but it was not left untouched. The Sea of Ghosts practically came alive. No one was expecting it. Monstrous waves battered the shore for weeks on end. Winterhold was ancient and weathered, but it couldn't withstand the sea's fury. Entire districts of the city were lost overnight. The waves receded in time, but the damage was irreversible. Most residents of Winterhold abandoned what was left of the city. The College survived, and so here we remain."
It took a moment for Serana to find her voice. "What caused it?"
Savos Aren shrugged. "No one is sure of the cause. Some believed the eruption of Red Mountain had far reaching consequences that were only felt years later. The Great Collapse happened over a century after the Red Year, after all. I know there are some who have blamed the College, said that we were responsible. I assure you this is not the case."
The Great Collapse might explain why mages weren't popular in most of Skyrim now. It might have happened before many Nords were even born, but they would have heard about it from the parents or grandparents. Nord families had long memories and carried longer grudges.
Serana bowed her head in gratitude. "Thank you. I'm sure you're a busy man, we won't keep you any longer."
"It was my pleasure, ladies. Do see Mirabelle Ervine if you need any assistance, she's the Master Wizard." The Arch-Mage bowed again and headed inside his domain.
Serana sighed and looked around the College sadly. This had been home once. It wasn't any more. Her gaze stopped on Sithia. Well, maybe home wasn't a place now. She smiled.
"What is it? Do I have something on my face?" Sithia hadn't pulled her mask back up.
"No. It's just nice to see such beauty not hidden away."
Sithia rolled her eyes. "I still say you must've hit your head very hard to think me beautiful. Come on, lead the way to this Arcanaeum or library or whatever they call it."
The previous librarian centuries ago had been a timid Altmer afraid of her own shadow. The current librarian was a stern and frankly quite intimidating Orc. He crossed his arms and scowled up at them, somehow looming despite remaining seated behind his desk.
"You are now in the Arcanaeum, of which I am in charge. It might as well be my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Now, do you require assistance?"
Serana suspected not many students dared approach him for fear of being deemed disruptive and those Atronachs being summoned. Knowing her luck he specialised in Fire Atronachs.
"Maybe we should ask someone else?" Serana whispered to Sithia.
"Who? He's the one who should know." Sithia turned to the librarian and raised her voice to something he could hear. "I'm looking for an Elder Scroll."
"And what do you plan to do with it? Do you even know what you're asking about, or are you just someone's errand girl?"
Sithia stalked over and planted her hands on his desk. "Errand girl?" she snarled, "I'm the damn Dragonborn. Of course I know."
The Orc blinked. "Really? You're the one the Greybeards called?" He looked almost intimidated, eyeing Sithia warily. Perhaps he could feel the rage of her inner dragon that close. "I'll bring everything we have on them, but it's not much. So don't get your hopes up. It's mostly lies, leavened with rumour and conjecture."
Sithia looked up from a book the librarian had retrieved from his incomprehensible shelving system. "This might as well be written in an unfamiliar language. For all that it's in Tamrielic, I can't understand it."
"Aye, that's the work of Septimus Signus. He's the world's master of the nature of Elder Scrolls—"
"That explains a lot," Sithia muttered under her breath. Serana had been reading over her shoulder. It did look like it'd been written by someone who'd read too many Scrolls and gone insane rather than blind. Unless he was both and had dictated it?
"—but… Well. He's been gone for a long while. Too long." The Orc sighed.
"Where did he go?" Sithia demanded.
"Somewhere up north, in the ice fields. Said he found some old Dwemer artefact, but that was years ago. Haven't heard from him since." He looked troubled.
"Great. So we need to find a possibly frozen mad mage." Sithia's head dropped onto the book with an audible thunk.
"Be careful with that!" the librarian snapped. Fire leapt into his hands.
Serana flinched back. "I knew it," she muttered.
Sithia got up, fingering the hilt of her sword. She glanced at Serana and sighed, folding her arms. "Sorry. We'll be going." She took Serana's hand and beat a retreat from the glaring librarian.
They didn't leave immediately to find Septimus. Instead Sithia took the chance to rest in a safe place, taking a guest room in the hall housing students. It was upstairs and secluded enough for them to indulge in some more intimacy. Very quietly.
It helped Serana feel a little less lost and out of place: she belonged with Sithia and nothing made it more obvious than pleasuring her. This time she proved to herself that she could be trusted to use her mouth on Sithia. Not to feed while Sithia got her off though, she'd never trust herself to do that again. But she could use her mouth to bring Sithia to completion and then feed from her favourite spot on Sithia's neck once her blood was at its best.
Sithia of course returned the favour, not that Serana required it. But she wasn't about to refuse either; she enjoyed it far too much for that. Especially as they couldn't indulge in this mutual ecstasy just anywhere. They certainly wouldn't be able to out on the ice in the days ahead, or however long it took them to find Septimus.
"This is madness." Sithia looked out over the ice fields, gesturing at the constantly shifting ice floes. "We can't take the sledge over that. We can't take a boat either, it'd be smashed to driftwood - or maybe even splinters."
They'd thought ahead and bought the sledge from Winterhold's general store. Serana could usually manage Sithia's enchanted pack, but on the ice that would put too much weight on her feet and she'd probably fall through it. Worse, she might take Sithia with her. That wasn't something they could risk. Hence the sledge to spread the weight of the pack. It needed thicker ice though, and not broken into separate floes. Still, it wasn't as bad as Sithia thought; Serana had a solution.
"It'll take longer, but I have a trick up my sleeves." Serana crouched down and put a hand onto the ice, palm down. Thicker ice spread from her touch into a path ahead of them, slowly linking the ice floes together with her mastery over ice as a Volkihar. She created a path to their north. Sithia's map was of limited help, as they didn't know exactly where this crazy mage was. They'd have to be more careful because they couldn't be sure their route was safe. Not that anything about this was safe, not for a mortal out on the ice without a Nord's resistance to cold. If Sithia fell into the Sea of Ghosts she'd be done for in minutes. They'd have no means to warm her up afterwards. She'd have to stick close to Sithia and be ready to catch her if she slipped.
They started walking over the path Serana had frozen, taking it slow and steady. Serana had to keep freezing patches that weren't quite thick enough. She had a Volkihar's intuition for how thick the ice was, which helped her identify patches of rotten ice in time to make them solid. Sithia waited impatiently by her side; Serana had to insist that she stopped too. She couldn't let Sithia get out of arm's reach on this dangerous icy walk.
Serana's caution was proven all too necessary when Sithia slipped and almost fell into the bitter cold sea. Serana barely caught her in time to drag her back onto the ice. They took it even slower after that scare, both holding onto the sledge. Serana worriedly eyed the setting sun. Were they in for a night out on the ice? Could Sithia safely sleep on the sledge or would that add too much weight, even with Serana making the ice thicker?
The moons were rising by the time they came across an iceberg. If they could get on top of it, that would provide far thicker and safer ice than Serana could, so long as the iceberg didn't drift too far and strand them in the middle of the Sea of Ghosts. Of course she could freeze a path back to land, but it would take ages.
"Look!" Sithia pointed.
Serana looked, wondering what she'd missed. It was a boat, moored outside the bulk of the iceberg. Serana wandered over to it, wondering how it was in one piece. The wood was enchanted, presumably to resist being crushed by ice. If only they'd been able to find such a boat in Winterhold, but it no longer had a harbour. All supplies came to it by land now.
"Over here," Sithia called. She'd stepped a little further onto the iceberg, beside a makeshift wooden door.
Serana made sure the sledge was secure before joining Sithia at the door. Serana effortlessly lifted it up, exposing a hole in the iceberg with a ladder leading down it. Sithia cast a Magelight into it, the magical light cold and blue from the sheer amount of ice surrounding it. They climbed down inside and through a short tunnel into a chamber hollowed out within the iceberg. There they found the Dwemer artefact the librarian mentioned, and an unkempt bearded old Imperial man clad in hooded dark blue robes that had seen better days. Presumably Septimus.
The Dwemer artefact was a strange bronze cube easily twice Serana's height, if not more. The sloping floor of the chamber within the iceberg made it hard to judge its size. A pattern of interlocking circles was on the side facing them, with three large blue circular gems in the central circle. The cube radiated heat, which somehow didn't melt the ice, but explained how Septimus hadn't frozen.
The old man paced restlessly in front of the cube. He didn't even seem to notice them at first, talking nonsense to himself. "Dig, Dwemer, in the beyond. I'll know your lost unknown and rise to your depths."
Sithia stepped in front of him. He almost walked into her, eyes blinking slowly and then finally focusing on her in a rather bleary way.
"You're Septimus Signus?" Sithia asked.
Septimus nodded.
"I read your book about Elder Scrolls," Sithia said. "Can you tell me more?"
Septimus nodded again, this time eagerly. "Elder Scrolls. Indeed. The Empire. They absconded with them. Or so they think. The ones they saw. The ones they thought they saw. I know of one. Forgotten. Sequestered. But I cannot go to it, not poor Septimus, for I have arisen beyond its grasp."
It really was Septimus. And he really did sound crazy, poor man. Despite the odds they'd found him, and without meeting some disaster on the ice. Some greater power must have been guiding them. Serana could only hope it was a benevolent one.
"Where is the Scroll?" Sithia's voice was a little strained, perhaps struggling against her impatience.
"Here."
Serana and Sithia exchanged a puzzled glance. Surely if a Scroll were in here, they'd be able to feel its presence? Or was it inside the Dwemer artefact and shielded somehow?
Septimus must have noticed their reaction because he clarified: "Well, here as in this plane. Mundus. Tamriel. Nearby, relatively speaking. On the cosmological scale, it's all nearby."
Sithia's breath hissed through her teeth in an exasperated sigh. "Can you help me get the Scroll or not?"
Septimus smiled. "One block lifts the other. Septimus will give what you want, but you must bring him something in return."
Sithia sighed harder. "Typical. What do you want?"
"You see this masterwork of the Dwemer." He patted the cube affectionately. "Deep inside their greatest knowings. Septimus is clever among men, but he is but an idiot child compared to the dullest of the Dwemer. Lucky then they left behind their own way of reading the Elder Scrolls. In the depths of Blackreach one yet lies. Have you heard of Blackreach? 'Cast upon where Dwemer cities slept, the yearning spire hidden learnings kept.' "
Serana stepped closer to her Dragonborn. She suspected she might need to hold her back soon. She couldn't be far off from throttling poor Septimus, judging by the way her hands kept clenching and unclenching. "Where is this Blackreach?"
"Under deep. Below the dark. The hidden keep. Tower Mzark. Alftand, the point of puncture, of first entry, of the tapping. Delve to its limits, and Blackreach lies just beyond. But not all can enter there. Only Septimus knows the hidden key to loose the lock to jump beneath the deathly rock."
"How do I get in?" Sithia bit out, reaching for him. Serana gently pulled her back and out of range of Septimus.
"Two things I have for you. Two shapes. One edged, one round."
Septimus fished out a sphere and a cube from his robes, each palm sized. He stepped closer and handed them to Sithia.
"The round one, for tuning. Dwemer music is soft and subtle, and needed to open their cleverest gates. The edged lexicon, for inscribing. To us, a hunk of metal. To the Dwemer, a full library of knowings. But… Empty. Find Mzark and its sky-dome. The machinations there will read the Scroll and lay the lore upon the cube. Trust Septimus. He knows you can know."
"What do I do with this sphere?" Sithia eyed it as if she were tempted to throw it at Septimus.
"The deepest doors of Dwemer listen for singing. It plays the attitude of notes proper for opening. Can you not hear it? Too low for hearings?"
Even Serana couldn't. She wondered how Septimus could.
"And this cube?" Sithia tossed it up and caught it.
"To glimpse the world inside an Elder Scroll can damage the eyes. Or the mind, as it has to Septimus."
So that explained why Septimus was the way he was, poor man.
"The Dwemer found a loophole, as they always do. To focus the knowledge away and inside without harm. Place the lexicon into their contraption and focus the knowings into it. When it brims with glow, bring it back and Septimus can read once more."
Sithia handed the cube and sphere to Serana to tuck away in her pockets. The sphere vibrated. Perhaps it really was constantly singing to itself, too low for anyone to hear. Apart from a madman.
"We might as well stay here for the night." Sithia turned to Septimus. "Presuming you don't object?"
Septimus shrugged, his attention back on the huge cube.
"Let's get the things you need to camp here." Serana would have volunteered to get them by herself, but she didn't think it was a good idea to leave Sithia alone with Septimus.
Bedroll and supplies retrieved from the sledge, Sithia set up her little camp as far away from Septimus as possible. Neither of them trusted him or his incredibly dubious sanity, even if Serana at least pitied him as well. Sithia stayed in her armour, a mark of her wariness. Serana kept watch. She observed that Septimus barely slept and always touched his Dwemer artefact, even when he did sleep.
In the morning before they left, Sithia approached Septimus, frowning. "What do you want with the Elder Scroll? I know you want the lexicon cube thing after the Dwemer contraption reads it, but what are you going to do after that?"
"Oooh, an observant one. How clever to ask of Septimus."
Serana put her arms around Sithia, gently pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn't throw anything.
"Spoilsport," Sithia hissed.
Septimus gestured to the huge Dwemer artefact. "This Dwemer lockbox. Look upon it and wonder. Inside is the heart. The heart of a god! The heart of you. And me. But it was hidden away. Not by the Dwarves, you see. They were already gone."
Serana stared at him. "…Are you talking about the Heart of Lorkhan?"
Septimus ignored her. "Someone else. Unseen. Unknown. Found the heart, and with a flair for the ironical, used Dwarven trickery to lock it away. The Scroll will give the deep vision needed to open it. For not even the strongest machinations of the Dwemer can hold off the all sight given by an Elder Scroll."
Septimus turned to the massive Dwemer cube, stroking it with both arms until he was pressed against it. "You look to your left, you see one way. You look to your right, you see another." He looked each way as he spoke. "But neither is any harder than the opposite. But the Elder Scrolls… They look left and right in the stream of time. The future and past are as one. Sometimes they even look up. What do they see then? What if they dive in? Then the madness begins."
"Why are you so eager to open the box?" Serana eyed the cube. Messing with the Heart of Lorkhan, if it really was in there, sounded like a terrible idea.
"I told you. The box contains the heart. The essence of a god. I have devoted my life to the Elder Scrolls, but their knowledge is a passing awareness when compared to the encompassing mind of divinity. The Dwemer were the last to touch it. It was thought to have been destroyed by the Nerevarine, but my lord told me otherwise."
"Who is your lord?" Sithia demanded.
"The Daedric Prince of the unknown. Hermaeus Mora. I thought there were no secrets left to know. Until I first spoke to Him. He asks a price to work His will. A few murders, some dissent spread, a plague or two. For the secrets I can endure. In time, He brought me here. To the box. But He won't reveal how to open it. Maddening."
Of course Daedra were involved. And one of the most perilous Daedric Princes at that. "Let's go." She almost dragged Sithia out of there. She wanted to keep her Dragonborn far away from trouble with Daedra with her attitude towards them.
They paused outside while Sithia poked her map and inspected the resulting route on it.
"We don't need to go back in so he can tell us where Alftand is?" Serana asked.
"No. I know," Sithia said darkly, frowning thunderously.
"What's wrong? He wasn't that bad for a mad follower of the Demon of Knowledge." Not that Serana trusted him at all.
"We need to go into a Dwemer ruin. That's what Alftand is. I never wanted to do that again." Sithia poked her map, scowled at it, and shoved it back into Serana's hands. "Come on. Back to the College."
Serana blinked, and double checked their route marked in Sithia's blood. "The College? But the map says—"
"I know!" Sithia snapped. "We need to ignore it this once because we need to get your boots enchanted with Muffle. We don't want to be going into a place like Alftand making any more noise than we can avoid."
"We managed fine in Castle Volkihar, and there were vampires around!" Serana protested.
"We were far enough away from those vampires. But we should've got this done sooner. Come on. Boots. Enchanted. Besides, I need to stock up on potions, and a night in the cosy College will be nice before a chilly trip to the horrors in a Dwemer city."
They bumped into another Altmer when leaving the enchanter, Serana's boots freshly enchanted, her footsteps as silent as Sithia's. This Altmer man wore the distinctive robes of a Thalmor. Worse, Sithia had her masked cowl off again. She clearly hadn't been expecting to meet any Thalmor or their spies in the famously independent College.
His eyes narrowed at the sight of Sithia. He launched a sickly green spell at her before she could do more than draw her dagger. She stiffened and wobbled on the spot, frozen. Paralysed.
He turned to Serana, a flicker of recognition in his golden eyes before her Ice Spike plunged into his heart.
"You," he choked, before his eyes rolled back in his head. His last breath rattled out.
Serana grabbed his body before it could hit the ground. She glanced around, confirming what her ears told her: no one else with a beating heart out in the open. Except for whoever was guarding the gate, but they were out of sight. She carried the body over to the bridge and let it fall where the barrier was gone.
They still had to forget about staying overnight in the College. If that Thalmor's body was found, he'd clearly been murdered, and guests would probably be the first suspects. Serana wondered if she should get down there and raise his body, let it collapse into ash. But no. There might be more Thalmor around, they couldn't risk lingering. He'd recognised Serana. They must be hunting for her too now, after what she did to Elenwen. Hunting for a vampire with her face.
Serana picked up Sithia's rigid form and ran for it, straight past a rather confused Faralda. She didn't stop running until the paralysis had worn off, getting a good bit of distance between them and the College. She set Sithia down, holding her trembling body close. Sithia clung to her, coughing, gasping and wheezing. The paralysis must have left her barely able to breathe.
Finally Sithia recovered enough to speak: "I. Hate. That. Spell." Her voice trembled as much as the rest of her, despite coming between clenched teeth. Her breathing was a little too fast until she centred herself with a Shout. Well, a whisper. "Laas." Her eyes roved around. After she saw nothing, she sighed, shoulders sagging. "They captured me using that spell. It's how I ended up in Elenwen's clutches. I almost escaped, was halfway out the window of the Second Emissary's Imperial City bedroom when one of his bodyguards used that spell."
"Don't worry, I don't even know that spell, and even if I did, I'd never use it on you."
Sithia smiled tightly. "I know." She pulled her mask up. "You need to be careful too. That Thalmor recognised you. They must know who killed Elenwen. They'll be looking for you. Maybe you should get a mask to go with your hood."
"I could use illusion magic instead," Serana suggested, although a nasty thought occurred to her as soon as she said it. "Damn it, it's too late by now to hide it. People will have seen my face by now anyway and know I'm your companion. We'll just have to deal with any Thalmor patrols and spies like I dealt with that one back there."
"I don't like it. But you have a point. Come on, let's get out of here before they find his body."
"What about supplies you need? The potions you wanted to stock up on?"
Sithia shook her head. "Food supplies are all right. I stocked up yesterday from the College. It didn't take as long as I feared to find Septimus. As for potions, I'll have to make do with what I have. It's not ideal, but we can't risk going back."
Sithia had a particularly bad nightmare that night, her body rigid instead of thrashing in her sleep. Serana didn't think she could blame Vaermina for this one; it was clearly triggered by the Thalmor's paralysis attack. As usual she made sure Sithia's dagger wasn't within reach, and gently shook her awake. She wished she could hold Sithia through the aftermath. It was far too cold out in the wilderness on the way to Alftand. All she could do was murmur comforting things:
"He's dead. So's Elenwen. And I promise you I'll deal with anyone who casts that spell on you."
"I know," Sithia gasped out. "Thank you." She took Serana's cold hand and kissed the back of it.
The next day was a fine one, not a flake of snow falling. A dragon seemed to think it was a perfect day for a flight. Serana wondered if it was the same one that circled above them during the snowstorm. If so, this time he showed far more interest in them, and the usual hostility at that.
The dragon soared over them, loosing his Frost Breath. Sithia met it with a burst of her own Fire Breath. The opposing Shouts met with a hiss of steam, Sithia's fire melting his frost.
The dragon roared in frustration and anger, with what Serana thought was a note of fear too. He landed, knowing his Shouts couldn't overcome Sithia's. Perhaps he hoped his teeth and claws might succeed where his Thu'um failed.
His next roar was agonised as Dragonbane cut into him. The sword definitely hurt dragons more than other swords with its enchantment inimical to them. His voice died with him, his body burning away to burnt bone, his soul soaring into Sithia.
Sithia inspected Dragonbane, murmuring her pleasure that the sword had survived another dragon slaying, her words of course in Dovahzul until it released her.
They reached Alftand early on the day after the dragon attack. Travelling there on the glacier brought a harsh reminder that the path of Sithia's map wasn't entirely safe, just safer compared to not using it or ignoring it.
Serana's icy powers gave her a split second warning that the ice wasn't thick enough. That flicker of warning gave her just time enough to grab Sithia, but not enough to make the ice thicker.
Sithia bit back a scream as the crevasse yawned open under her feet. Serana hauled them both back onto safe, thick ice. They both eyed the precipice ahead of them nervously and edged around it, careful not to come too close to the long drop into unfathomable darkness. Serana dragged the sledge behind them; they'd brought it with them from Winterhold, thinking it would come in useful as Sithia was well aware they'd have to travel on a glacier. She was familiar enough with Alftand to know not just its location but also that it was buried in ice. Hopefully someone else had tunnelled down into it since then, or Serana would have to put her ice shaping skills to a true test: tunnelling down through the glacier into the buried Dwarven city.
Fortunately when they arrived they found evidence of a camp partly buried by a snowstorm, and wooden walkways and footbridges down to a tunnel into Alftand. It would be the first Dwarven ruin Serana had seen. The first Dwarven anything, come to that, besides Septimus's tools and lockbox.
They left the sledge up in the ruins of the camp. Serana would have to take Sithia's pack with her and just hope she'd be able to make any fragile ice thick enough to bear her.
Sithia led the way inside, stepping carefully on the ice underfoot. Serana realised she wasn't just taking care not to slip; she was trying to be as quiet as possible. Serana followed her lead, made easier by her newly enchanted boots.
"We'll need to be quiet inside. Keep any talking to a minimum and no louder than this," Sithia murmured.
They walked further into the icy tunnel, past an exposed column of carved stone with intricate decoration. They rounded a corner and stopped at the sight of another empty camp, this one covered in what looked to be day-old bloodstains. There were no other signs of people. No bodies. Not even any footprints. Just dry dead blood. Wait… There was a body of sorts. A partial skeleton, mostly picked clean of flesh. Presumably a victim of cannibalism.
Serana sniffed, trying to get a better idea of exactly how long the bones had been bloodied. She gagged and staggered back.
'By. The. Blood.'
Sithia made sure her mask was secure. "Smell something? That's why we need to be quiet."
"Ugh! What is that?" The stench was atrocious, worse than could be explained by the bloodstained camp and sorry remains. Even worse than the cistern in the undercroft of her father's castle, although somewhat reminiscent. Decomposing things and something sickly sweet like rotting flesh, but somehow… different.
"You'll see soon enough," Sithia muttered grimly.
Serana didn't try to get her to explain. Instead she stopped breathing just so she wouldn't smell more of the reek. It meant she had to stop talking, but so be it. They had to stay quiet anyway, even if Serana didn't know why. Whatever it was smelled worse than trolls.
They walked past the scene of carnage and continued down the tunnel, past more exposed stone, including roof tiles. They followed the tunnel down a slope and found more bloodstains on a wooden platform. It looked like someone else had died there, but no sign of a body this time.
The tunnel continued. They followed it to find stone finally replaced ice underfoot. At least there was less risk of making noise by slipping now. A few more steps and the tunnel fully emerged into the city, stone replacing icicles overhead and walls around them too. There were more columns carved with the same intricate decoration. A broken pipe overhead leaked water, a steady trickle into a puddle.
Serana was fascinated by the remains of machinery they passed, like nothing she'd seen before. All were made of the same metal, probably bronze. Grates hissing with steam. More pipes, also hissing. The remains of some sort of contraption with gears and spider-like legs and pincers. Serana thought about joking that the spidery automatons were what Sithia was so afraid of in Dwemer ruins. But that would mean speaking, which might mean breathing in more of that horrible stench. And the cause of that stench seemed to be why Sithia was so on edge.
Serana paused, head turning as she heard a voice in the distance, hissing a bit on the sibilants. Maybe one of the beast men?
"Where is it? I know you were trying to keep it for yourself, J'zhar… You always try to keep it for yourself!"
"Sounds like a Khajiit," Sithia muttered.
"No! There's got to be more skooma… Shut up! Shut up! Don't lie to me, J'zhar! You hid it! You always try to steal it from me!"
"Make that a skooma addicted Khajiit," Sithia said quietly. "We'll have to be wary. He might not be in his right mind."
Serana nodded her agreement, not sure she wanted to take the risk of breathing to talk.
They followed the corridor deeper, one wall formed of the encroaching glacier. They emerged into a chamber, one end blocked with bars, too many to be worth the time to force apart. Besides, another corridor led out of the other end. The only thing of note in the chamber was a stone table with a couple of books and two more broken contraptions.
Sithia picked one of the books up and flicked through it. She handed it to Serana afterwards. It was someone's research notes about the contraptions. And about a glimpse of something beyond the bars. Still not worth forcing their way through, unless Sithia thought differently. She didn't, instead turning to the corridor Serana wanted to follow. Maybe she didn't like the bloodstains on the floor in front of the bars either. Whoever wrote those notes had probably come to a sticky end.
"There's not enough dust," Sithia murmured. "There must be some working Dwemer automatons. As that researcher noted, they tend to be hostile. Another reason to be quiet."
Serana took the risk of breathing. The air here wasn't so bad, presumably ventilated by the ancient Dwemer machinery. Still, she'd be better off holding her breath when she could, just in case. But right now she had to breathe because she wanted to ask something:
"Got it. Are they all made of bronze? The Dwarves must have loved the stuff to use so much of it."
"It's not bronze. Steel doesn't scratch it, whatever it is." Which it would if it was bronze, Serana knew that much.
"You tried to scratch a bunch of pipes and cogs?"
Sithia snorted. "That's one way to put it. Those automatons I mentioned? They're not friendly. The steel sword I had when I was last in Dwemer ruins ended up notched. I had to switch to my dagger. Ebony can get through Dwemer metal, luckily for me."
Their corridor sloped upwards, and on the ceiling a Dwarven light still blazed after so long since the city was abandoned. It was a greenish lamp lit with a flickering blue flame. Serana wondered what powered it after all this time.
The stone corridor ran into a tunnel in the glacier again. They followed it down, almost slipping on the smooth icy slope. It emerged into an icy chamber with some Dwemer stone structure in the middle… and more bloodstains on the floor. In the midst of them stood the Khajiit they'd heard talking from afar.
He caught sight of them. "What? Who are they, Brother? More of the smooth skins looking for food? But these ones weren't trapped with us… No… No! You must be the ones who took my skooma!"
He attacked them, axe held high. They killed him. They had no choice; skooma addicts couldn't be rendered unconscious easily. All they could do was put him out of his misery. They laid him to rest beside his brother, another Khajiit already dead. Had the crazed one killed him? They found a journal beside the dead Khajiit. It mentioned the disappearance of one of the expedition and suspicions by the others that the addict, J'darr, was behind it. It also mentioned J'darr had hallucinated about creatures coming out of the ice and ruins.
"Do you think J'darr was responsible? Or these creatures that might not have been hallucinated?" Serana regretted speaking; the stench was terrible again.
"No, I don't think it was him. It was Falmer," Sithia said the word as if it were dirty. "We can smell them. I can't imagine how bad it is for you with your sensitive nose, and if we meet any, it's going to get worse the closer we get."
"Snow Elves?" Serana coughed and held her breath again. How could elves smell this bad?
"They're not elves, not anymore, not after the Dwemer enslaved them and twisted them into what they are now. They have white souls now."
Serana barely resisted speaking again. How was that possible? How could a sentient being with a black soul become a mere creature with a white soul? If Sithia knew, she'd surely tell Serana, even unprompted.
They left the dead Khajiit brothers behind them and continued through another icy tunnel to a Dwemer room, echoing with the workings of some machinery. Another stone table held a journal by another of the ill fated expedition. It mentioned more disappearances and the paranoia of one of the party thinking those that had disappeared were trying to keep a discovery to themselves, ignoring the bloodstains. It also mentioned that the room they were in was likely where the Dwarves made their automatons. Interesting.
Another everlasting Dwemer light shone in the middle of the chamber. It looked like the sounds were created by circular posts of not-bronze pumping up with hisses of steam. They followed the path through to another chamber, this one with an anteroom closed off behind a gate. Two not-bronze containers were visible through it. Sithia tried the gate; it was locked. Before Serana could offer to break it open, Sithia crouched in front of it and got out a lockpick. Serana waited to see if her assistance was necessary. It seemed Sithia wasn't bad at lockpicking; she was soon through the gate and picking the strange chests open too.
"Could you teach me how to do that?" Serana asked. As she'd hoped, the air was better in this Dwarven ventilated chamber.
"Remind me when I'm somewhere I can more freely talk. It's a strain to explain when I have to remember to keep my voice down." Sithia stashed her finds in her pack: some jewellery.
Sithia led the way up some stairs to a corridor where gears moved on the walls and pipes moved back and forth overhead. On the floor was another Dwarven spidery contraption, but this one was still in one piece… and moving. Serana stared. Sithia crept up on it and hacked it apart with her dagger.
Their corridor took them up more stairs to an upper level in the chamber with the pumping things, but this time the cylinders were coming out of the walls and out across the walkway. They'd have to tread carefully to avoid being knocked off. Or do what Sithia did and vault across each cylinder when it emerged.
Not-bronze doors blocked their path after that, but weren't locked and swung open easily enough. Serana spotted a trail of oil on the floor. They'd have to be careful not to set off any sparks or it might go up in flames.
Sithia paused at the foot of a slope with patches on it that looked like they might set off a trap, presumably whatever came out of a slit going up the middle of the slope.
"Don't touch those," Sithia warned, pointing at the patches. Serana very carefully stepped around them, following in Sithia's footsteps exactly.
At the top of the slope were three piles of what looked like eggs. Serana wondered what they were and why Sithia wasn't collecting any for her alchemy. Maybe she already had in her previous journey into a Dwarven ruin. Or were these spider eggs? Either would explain it. The air flow didn't feel so good here; Serana wasn't about to take the risk of breathing to ask.
Bars blocked their path, but a lever on the wall beyond them was just within reach. Serana reached through when Sithia pointed at it and motioned upwards. She pushed it up and the bars dropped. What a strange and not terribly secure arrangement. Not that she was about to complain to the long-gone Dwemer when it meant they could get through easily.
A winding stone walkway lay over a precipitous drop in a stone shaft. There were no barriers, so they kept to the middle of the path. It ended on a platform with a broken section on another stone platform below. They peered down. Atop the rubble was the body of a female Orc clad in leather armour with the bodies of pale… things… around her.
Sithia looked around and sighed. She sat on the edge of the platform and dropped down, rolling to her feet amid the rubble. Serana followed. She hoped Sithia knew what she was doing.
The Orc was presumably Yag, mentioned in one of the journals they'd found. As for the other bodies, they had pointed ears and very pale skin. Almost sickly in its pallor. Serana leaned closer. Surely she'd been seeing things… But no. The eye sockets really were covered with flesh, with no eyelids. Completely blind.
"Falmer," Sithia whispered.
Were these things really Falmer? They looked so ugly, so different from the tales she'd heard of Snow Elves. Besides the covered blind eyes, there was no nose, just the nostrils flat against the face, and sharp teeth in the gaping mouth.
"Be quieter than ever," Sithia breathed. "They may be blind, but their other senses are stronger. Especially hearing."
They cautiously headed for another walkway leading down into the depths of the ruin. There they met living Falmer. Serana stared at the twisted monstrosities the Snow Elves had become, hunched over, moving in more of a crouch than a walk, so different to graceful Bosmer or Altmer or Dunmer. Different too to the strong stride of Orsimer.
Serana thought it was safe to look at them from a distance. That they didn't know she and Sithia were there. She was wrong. It was like they could hear Sithia's mere breathing. They raised bows and nocked arrows glistening with some sort of—
The first arrow loosed before Serana expected it, and more accurately than she dreamed possible for blind archers. She tried to grab it from the air, the fletching brushing against her hand even as it closed. Too late.
AN: Thanks to Gaunty for alpha reading and for providing useful information on survival techniques.
There's rather more exact dialogue in this chapter than I'd ideally like, but it's tricky to get the College of Winterhold mages sounding like themselves without it, and trickier still with Septimus.