(( Thanks again for all the awesome reviews, guys! Hope you enjoy the penultimate chapter. ))
Several miles west from where Nedhelfin and S'shani were laying comatose in the sand, in the port town of Dawnstar, there was a faint splash off the side of one of the smaller trading vessels. Several more followed after it. Though no one was nearby to notice or care, if they had chosen to make an inspection, they would've found several people that had recently become corpses thanks to perfectly surgical slits across their throats.
Rigging was hauled and sails were erected; it wasn't an ideal ship for one person, but Velehk Sain was no mere mortal. In time, he'd get a crew and a bigger ship, but after decades of imprisonment, one had to start somewhere.
He looked over the horizon, the setting sun glinting off of his perfectly black eyes. He didn't often feel emotions, but the cold breeze and drops of salt water brushing past his ashen face caused him to grin, ever so slightly. He was back in business.
The Pirate King of the Abecean always seemed to have supernaturally good luck when it came to weather and winds, and he was soon making good progress further west, the desolate no-man's-land of Skyrim steadily fading from view. He had spent his journey so far above deck, where it was becoming increasingly frigid as the sun disappeared beneath the edge of the sea, and was about to make his way downstairs when he heard a noise. It sounded an awful lot as if someone else was moving about on his ship, and he had felt fairly confident that he had emptied it of all previous occupants before leaving the port. Had a pesky sailor stowed away, hoping to surprise him when his guard was down? Oh, the poor fool.
He pushed open the creaking wooden door that led to the galley below, and drew both of his scimitars. He would toy with this one; see if he was worthy of being broken into the first member of his new crew. If not, he would provide some entertainment on the trip, at the very least.
As he crept through the bowels of the ship, the entire vessel creaking and groaning around him with every sloshing wave, he suddenly felt himself frozen in place. Rage overwhelmed him; he knew this sensation all too well. Somebody was casting a binding spell on him! He struggled to move, to swing his arms wildly in hopes of hitting his target, but he could not. All he could do was let out a loud string of curses and threats.
"Now, now, Mr. Sain," came a voice from ahead, and a robed Imperial walked towards him, holding a spell scroll before him. "No need for such language. I have no intention of keeping you here - I just needed to make sure you didn't lop my head off before I was able to propose a business partnership."
"What makes you think I would work for the likes of you?" Velehk snarled. He would dismember this one until he was unrecognizable the moment he was freed.
"Well, there are a few reasons," the mage said, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the frozen pirate. "The first being that I could leave you banished here, and then burn the ship to the ground. You would be doomed to spend another eternity inside this wreckage, unlikely ever to be found. But, I have learned that fear is often not the best motivator - and besides, I wouldn't be specifically trying to hire you if I didn't believe you capable of escaping such a scenario, hunting me down, and exacting revenge.
"The second reason is because I know you. You're a figure from the history books, Mr. Sain, a figure always accompanied by gruesome death and unspeakable fear. I know what you like: death, destruction, and power. I can offer you the ability to reap death, harvest destruction, and possess power that no entity has held in centuries. All you have to do is not kill me. Does that seem fair?"
Velehk couldn't help but recognize a confidence in the man's words. He could've been mad, but he certainly believed what he was saying. And the offer intrigued Velehk, to say the least.
"I believe I could be convinced to not kill you," he said. "Explain yourself."
The Imperial lowered his hood, revealing a pleasant if somewhat condescending smile, a neatly trimmed beard, and a deep series of scars running down his left cheek. "To start, you must kill one particular person. Then, you may kill more. Velehk Sain, I release you."
And now we move even further away - dozens upon dozens of miles, and years into the past, though not many. A young Khajiit, in his middle teen years, was laying on a cold stone slab. He was afraid. People kept telling him not to be afraid, but the fact that they kept having to bring it up just made him even more afraid.
He had not been taken away from his family, because he had no family to be taken away from. He was not even necessarily here against his will - he knew he could leave at any time, and yet he did not. He wanted to believe he was doing something good by being here, that he was helping a cause that he did not understand.
There was a grating noise, as the large stone door to his holding cell - or 'bedroom,' if you were feeling generous - was opened, and light poured in to the otherwise pitch black room.
"S'shani?" a male voice said, trying to sound friendly and approachable. "It's time."
S'shani pushed himself off the slab, and stood up, shivering slightly as his bare feet hit the cold stone floor, which was always slightly damp for some reason. He walked out of the room, clothed in nothing but a very plain and tattered brown robe. The man beckoning him was much more elaborately dressed, his gold and black robes making him look powerful and mysterious. His hood was down, and he smiled.
"Are you feeling lucky today, S'shani?" he asked. The Khajiit simply shrugged, not making direct eye contact. The man scowled, but waved it off. He began to walk down the musky corridor, and S'shani followed, his head down.
At the end of the corridor, the underground complex opened up into a vast chamber. The sight would be an amazing one to behold for someone first laying eyes upon it; for S'shani, it made a hollow feeling in his stomach.
The entire room, and perhaps the entire underground area, appeared to be built around a massive bronze sphere in the center of the chamber. It appeared to be made out of several different rotating parts, all wrapping around each other. At the top were three glass lenses, perfectly equidistant from each other. An arch, resembling a large handle, extended above that, with another jumble of lenses hooked up to convoluted rotating device sitting in the center. Various ramps and staircases wound around the entirety of the device, allowing it to be intimately inspected from every angle.
Another man, dressed in the same gold and black robes as the first, was in a far corner, intently poring over several open books laid out on a table before him. His hood was up, but S'shani instantly recognized him as the man who always made him feel especially nervous. He gulped, and continued following the first man over to him.
"Decimius," he said, and the hooded man jerked upright, spinning around to face them.
"He knows the procedure by now, Plinius, he doesn't need my help," Decimius growled, staring down at S'shani with barely veiled contempt.
"Did you find anything useful in Anvil?" Plinius asked, trying to ignore this outburst.
"Of course not," Decimius shot back. "Bunch of slack-jawed fools. If they had any ancient tomes on the matter, they'd probably be using it as a drink coaster, too dumb to read it." He paused for a moment, and chuckled. "There was one ugly Bosmer child staring at us as if he'd never seen anything so grand in his life. Sad, really."
He turned to S'shani, and fixed the child with a cold glare. "I did pick up something, however, that might help our friend here get motivated, if he is still unable to get the results we desire."
Plinius looked a bit concerned by this, placing a hand on S'shani's shoulder. "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Decimius. Will it, S'shani?"
Now both were looking at him intently. Still keeping his gaze down, he shook his head.
"Right. Well, by all means, don't keep us waiting," Decimius said with a scowl, and turned back to his books. S'shani could tell the man had no confidence in his abilities. He was not particularly confident himself - he had tried every day for weeks, to no avail. Yet he knew he could do it if he just tried hard enough. Then the men would be happy and he could continue living his life.
He slowly began to ascend one of the curling staircases, until he was at the highest point in the room, looking down upon the massive bronze sphere. He cleared his throat, and spoke the words that reverberated effortlessly through his memory.
"Aak hin bonaar aar wah fin rot," he said, his voice cracking from lack of use. "Qolaas fin daal do dov."
He looked down at the device, which continued to do absolutely nothing. He sighed, and looked back towards the two adults. Plinius tried to give him a polite smile, though the disappointment was obvious in his eyes.
Decimius slammed one of the books shut, and began to walk up the stairs towards S'shani.
"I hear you speaking the words," he said slowly, in a tone that made the young Khajiit back up nervously. "Enunciated perfectly, with great clarity and ease. Yet you lack the fire in your heart. Anyone can hear sounds and mimic them back, but that does not mean they speak anything but utter gibberish! You must feel the words! You must not simply speak them; they must speak back!"
"I am trying," S'shani whimpered, before Decimius grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and flung him down the stairs. Plinius ran forward to help him, but Decimius held up a hand, causing him to halt nervously in his tracks. Slowly, Decimius descended after S'shani, who was laying in a heap on the dusty floor.
S'shani tensed, expecting a kick while he was down, but Decimius walked right past him towards another closed door on the other side of the cavern. He opened it, and ushered in three more men wearing the same black and gold robes - each one tightly holding onto a person wearing plain civilian clothing, hands bound behind their backs, and mouths gagged. One man and one woman in their middle years, and one boy a little younger than S'shani. They all had an intense fear in their eyes.
Decimius muttered a few words, and a conjured dagger appeared in his hand. He held it up to the man's neck, who began to struggle futilely.
"Say the words," Decimius said, his tone of voice the same as before. "Say them."
S'shani, still on the ground, began to whimper, but spoke the words as best he could. "Aak hin b-bonaar, aar w-w-" his fear was causing his whole body to shake, and in turn creating a slight stutter.
Decimius sighed, and slit the man's throat. His lifeless body fell to the ground, aided by the agent holding him. Decimius took one step over, and placed the blade at the neck of the woman. "SAY THE WORDS."
"Aak hin bonaar aar wah f-f-fin rot!" S'shani screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Cholas, no, Qolaas..."
With another jerk of his arm, the woman fell down beside the man, their corpses slumped against each other. Decimius stepped over once more and knelt down so as to better hold the blade against the child's throat.
Pure, white rage boiled up inside S'shani. He wanted to shout, to shout correctly, but it would not happen. The words would not come. Perhaps everyone had been wrong; he was not special, he was just a stupid vagrant child incapable of saving these people.
No.
He leapt up, and charged at Decimius. The man scowled, but before he could bring the knife around, S'shani gripped his arm and bit into it, sinking his powerful teeth through the robes and into flesh. Decimius screamed and dropped the dagger; S'shani grabbed it, and slashed madly several times, seeing blood spray forth from beneath Decimius' hood, as the man fell backwards, clutching at his wounds. S'shani looked over to see Plinius charging towards him, a spell at the ready. S'shani panicked, dropped the dagger, and ran.
His head was a blur. He had no idea what was going to happen to him; would they kill him, or simply torture him as they continued to try and force the Dragon shouts out of him? He could still feel something uncontrollable boiling beneath the surface of his flesh. Those people had died, and it was his fault. His fault!
He had not been carted here against his will, and thankfully he recalled the way to the surface from the main cavern. Soon he could see daylight. He ran towards it as fast as he could, his body running on pure adrenaline. Cold gravel beneath his bare feet gave way to soft grass. The entrance to the complex was in the side of a hill, and a small town was below.
He heard shouts from behind him; several of the men had given chase. He slid down the hill towards the town, hoping to find somewhere he could seek shelter at least temporarily. He heard something whizzing behind him, however, and soon felt a scalding hot fire spell blast into the back of his head, sending him spiraling forward, tumbling over himself. He saw buildings whoosh past him as he collapsed into the town, and lost consciousness.
Nedhelfin stared out to sea, contemplating all he had heard. By the end of his tale, S'shani's voice was soft and weak, clearly pained by recalling these events. He wasn't sure what to say - sorry? There, there? Cheer up, li'l buddy?
"Wow," is what he ended up saying. Deciding this was a bit sparse, he added, "I feel like a huge ass now."
S'shani chuckled softly, though it sounded humourless. "That is not necessary. I understand your suspicion of me. I have been wary to speak of these events, for fear of agents of the Synod, who I know to still be searching for me. I was...lucky to have escaped them that day. It is clear to me now that they meant nothing but harm to the world, in a mad quest for personal power. I fear myself a dangerous weapon, were I to fall into their hands again."
"The Synod..." Ned mumbled, scratching his chin. "Somehow they're at the center of all this. They're in Skyrim, and they're after the Eye of Magnus. But why?"
"It cannot be for anything good, of this I am certain," S'shani said, standing up. "I have been selfish, and a fool, for keeping this information from you all. We must head back up to the College and inform them of what I know."
"Right," Ned said, standing up as well. He turned once more to look at the Khajiit, his brow furrowed. This was the big moment. To trust him, or not to trust him?
Ned held out his hand. S'shani took it, and they shook.
"No more lies," Ned said.
"No more lies," S'shani repeated.
Perhaps the soothing rhythm of the ocean at sunset was making him sappy, but in that moment Ned couldn't help but feel a genuine bond of brotherhood between himself and the Khajiit.
The trip back up the mountain towards Winterhold was steep and arduous, especially as Ned attempted to keep up with S'shani, who was in far better shape than him. As they neared the top, his lungs felt as if they were about to throw in the towel, and his calves were drafting up a formal declaration of secession. S'shani placed an arm around him, helping him keep his balance as they hobbled through the home stretch, running down the center of the town towards the entrance to the College.
Once again, Faralda was the mage on guard duty. The Altmer was inspecting her fingernails, while muttering to herself about constantly getting stuck on night watch. She glanced up as the two approached, and quirked an eyebrow.
"Nedhelfin? And...uh, new guy?" she asked, straightening herself as she faced them. "When did you leave?"
"We took the back exit," S'shani said, as Ned collapsed against a stone pillar, wheezing and gasping for breath.
"We have a back exit?" Faralda asked, but S'shani cut her off.
"Brelyna Maryon and J'zargo," he said, while Ned slumped onto the floor, coughing up a lung. "The arch-mage was going to send them to investigate a group of Synod that is in Skyrim. Have they left yet?"
"They left not twenty minutes ago," Faralda answered, looking between the two of them with growing concern. "Why, is something the matter?"
"Do you know where the Synod are located?" S'shani asked, even more sternly. "It is crucial that we catch up with them, before...seriously, Nedhelfin?"
"Sorry," Ned mumbled, pushing himself up off the ground where he had been rolling back and forth making horrible wheezing noises.
"...Before something horrible happens," S'shani concluded, the wind somewhat let out from beneath his sails.
"Ah...it was a Dwarven ruin," Faralda said, placing a hand to her forehead as she thought. "They all have such weird names. It was, like, Mixotl or something."
"Are you sure?" S'shani asked.
"Well, something like that...or was it Zoloft? I think it had a z in it."
"Mzulft?" Ned chimed in, as he dusted himself off. Both Faralda and S'shani turned to look at him, obviously taken aback. "What?" he said defensively. "I pay attention in SOME of my classes. Dwarven ruins are cool."
"You know where it is?" S'shani asked, hurrying over to him. Ned scrunched up his face in concentration.
"Well...generally. It's south-ish. But, I mean, it's not like many people come and go from Winterhold. If we get going now we should be able to follow their tracks," Ned said, brightly.
"Oh, that reminds me," Faralda added, "they took the horses you two brought back from Fellglow Keep."
Ned deflated. "Crap."
"Are there any stables in town we could purchase our own steeds from?" S'shani asked. Ned sighed and turned out his robe pockets, revealing nothing but lint, a few dried leaves, and J'zargo's defective flame scroll.
"Do YOU have any gold?" he asked. S'shani frowned, and shook his head.
This did not seem to deter the Khajiit, however, who began to move swiftly away from the College, grabbing Ned's arm to drag him along as he did so.
"So, what, we're going to follow after two galloping horses with a brisk jog?" Ned asked. "You may not have noticed earlier, but I'm not exactly in the physical condition necessary for a marathon, here."
"Yes," S'shani said, still dragging Ned towards the edge of the town.
"Wait, yes what? Yes we're doing it, or yes it's a stupid idea?"
"Both," S'shani said, as he finally slowed down, released Ned, and knelt into the snow. "Get on."
Ned opened his mouth slightly, taking a moment to formulate his response, which ended up being, "What?"
"Get on! We're swiftly failing to close distance with them!" S'shani snapped.
Ned realized that his life was already completely insane at this point, so he swallowed his pride and climbed onto the back of the Khajiit like a small child.
"So, what, you're just going to carry-" he began.
"WULD NAH KEST!"
It was faster than any horse he had ever been on. The world moved past in a blur; snow whipped against him, stinging his eyes, and he felt a hard thump against his forehead, which he figured was a now flattened bug. He clung onto S'shani for dear life, his legs wrapped around the Dragonborn's chest, arms folded underneath his shoulders.
Soon they were blasting out of the snowy climate, once more entering the somewhat more mellow county of Eastmarch. Ned couldn't even be sure if S'shani knew where he was heading; whether there were hoof-prints in the snow that the Khajiit was focusing on, or if he was simply heading 'generally south-ish,' it was all a blur to Ned. The city of Windhelm began to rise into view over the mountains, and S'shani slowed down as they finally connected with a stone road running west towards it.
"Is it possible they would've stopped for the night?" S'shani asked.
"If you're not going to be doing crazy Dragonborn speeds, mind putting me down? People are staring," Ned mumbled, as a passing trade caravan full of curious onlookers meandered by. S'shani slowed to a halt, and knelt down, allowing Ned to carefully step back onto the ground. "And how should I know?"
"When you and Brelyna traveled to Fellglow Keep, what was the protocol?" S'shani asked, as the two made their way towards Windhelm side-by-side.
"Well, A, we were on foot rather than horses, and B, I start to get really whiney if I haven't eaten in a few hours, so yeah, we stopped in Windhelm for the night. But she and J'zargo have horses, J'zargo is completely insane when it comes to doing things fast and recklessly, and I assume 'stop the evil mages from destroying the world' spurs one on a bit more urgently than 'go pick up some books for me.'"
"Then we must continue heading towards the ruins," S'shani said.
Ned's stomach growled. "Aww..."
They continued to follow the road until it forked south, away from Windhelm. Ned coughed awkwardly in the hopes of capturing S'shani's attention - which it did.
"Yes?" the Khajiit asked.
"I feel I should reiterate that I'm not entirely positive where this place is," the Bosmer explained. "Except that it probably isn't in the middle of the road with nice big signs pointing to it."
"Were you not trained in the art of wilderness tracking back in Valenwood?" S'shani asked. "Perhaps we could pick up the horses trails again."
"I've never even been to Valenwood, you racist," Ned groaned. "My dad was a sailor, and before you ask, no I can't map the damn stars or whatever nautical garbage they do to get around." He paused, and sniffed the air. "Wait a minute."
"What?" S'shani asked, looking at him hopefully.
Ned wandered off the main trail, S'shani following closely behind. About 100 paces east, in the tall grass, was a fresh pile of horse manure. Ned turned to S'shani, grinned, and tapped the side of his nose.
"Okay, maybe some tracking stuff comes naturally," he said, feeling a rare moment of pride for his heritage. "Here's hoping this was made by the right horse. Come on!"
They ran through the grass for several minutes, until they crested a hill that allowed them to survey a considerable distance. Ned squinted, night having fallen too thickly for him to be of much use, but S'shani pointed further southeast.
"There," he said. "Another old road, looks to be in disrepair. Perhaps it is connected to the ruin."
"I'll feel confident when we find more crap," Ned said, "but it's a start."
They leapt off the hill, sliding down to the plain below. S'shani was soon out-pacing Ned once more, but he did his best to keep up. Horrifying thoughts were starting to enter his head. What if the Synod had been openly hostile? What if they had captured, hurt or...killed them?
The last time he had seen Brelyna, he snapped at her, and stormed off angrily. He had been the biggest ass imaginable; if he never got a chance to apologize, to make things right...
"Nedhelfin!" S'shani hissed from several yards ahead. "I think we are at the right place."
Around the side of a mountain that had been blocking it from view, the sprawling ruins of Mzulft now lay before them. Crumbling archways and the remains of buildings dotted the tumultuous landscape, with ancient yet still functioning stairs winding upwards to the large bronze doors that led into the main complex. Ned and S'shani slowly made their way up, both glancing around at all angles in case of an ambush.
"I don't see anyone," Ned whispered. "You think they're inside?"
"It is our duty to find out," S'shani responded, as they stopped before the massive and imposing entryway. They turned to glance at each other one more time - each knowing this would be the perfect spot for a trap - and moved in unison to push the doors open.
Nothing happened; the area continued to be eerily quiet and lifeless. Letting out a sigh of relief, Ned followed S'shani down the first wide hallway, which sloped downwards towards another pair of bronze doors. If he hadn't been so nervous, he would've been amazed with the architecture; shining bronze pipes wound across the walls, pumping steam throughout the complex, no doubt powering ancient clockwork mechanisms. Very few people today seemed able to replicate the technology left behind by the Dwemer, though attempts to study and harvest it were common. Personally, Ned fantasized about a world where such technology enabled one to go to the bathroom indoors without having to constantly clean out a bucket.
They made their way past the second set of doors, but this time S'shani halted and held up a hand to stop Ned when they reached the other side. Ned strained his senses, and soon he too heard a faint shuffling sound from nearby.
"Someone is in here," S'shani mouthed. Ned nodded, and began to visualize a spell. If any Synod jerks tried to give him trouble, he'd show them a thing or two about magic, oh yes.
The two crept silently through the ill-lit ruin. The sound grew closer and closer, and was soon accompanied with a light humming. They were soon able to see around a corner, into an alcove that had been recently transformed into a living quarter. A few cots were set up, as well as several work-benches, where various bronze gears and tubing were in various states of dissection. At the far wall, with his back turned to them, was someone garbed in the black and gold robes that were all too familiar to both Ned and S'shani.
"Freeze!" Ned shouted. He hadn't actually prepared a spell, but he couldn't resist breaking the silence any longer. S'shani quickly followed his lead, and charged towards the mage, who was in the process of turning around. As soon as he was facing them, S'shani wrapped a hand around his neck, and thrust him backwards into the wall, rattling the shelves and knocking over several gadgets.
"A Dunmer woman and a Khajiit came through here earlier tonight!" S'shani snarled. "What have you done with them?"
For a moment, the Synod simply spluttered incoherently in shock, before finally he gasped, "S'shani?"
S'shani relaxed his grip, lowering the man back down to the floor. "Plinius?"
"Uh, whoa," Ned chimed in, stepping forwards. "You know this guy?"
S'shani did not completely release the Imperial, and kept a watchful eye on him. "He is one of the men who was studying me back in my youth," he explained. "I would recognize his face anywhere."
"And I, yours," Plinius responded, letting out a hacking cough. "If you wouldn't mind releasing my trachea, I'd be glad to explain what's going on."
"I will not hesitate to kill you if you give me any reason to," S'shani warned. He moved his arm back to his side.
"Oh, believe me," Plinius said, massaging his neck. "I know. The other Khajiit and his Dunmer lady-friend are safe. They're further inside the ruins with Decimius and the rest."
S'shani's eyes went wide, and the colour drained from his cheeks. He seemed physically stunned, as if he had just been punched in the side of the head. For a moment, Ned worried that he would pass out, but the Khajiit steeled himself, and leaned in closer to Plinius.
"Decimius is here?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"We uncovered another oculory here," Plinius explained. "We've been in the process of moving over all of our research from the old one. We believe that this one may be an 'alpha' model to the one in Cyrodiil's 'beta,' being closer to the heart of-"
S'shani cut him off, slamming his fist into the solid rock wall beside Plinius' head. Ned was taken aback by this; S'shani had always struck him as calm and in control. To see him so rattled and prone to losing his temper was deeply unsettling.
"I don't care about your gods-damned oculory," S'shani shouted, his voice now echoing throughout the ruins. "We are here for our friends. You will not stop us from going to them."
"Of course not," Plinius said, raising his hands up defensively. "Why would I stop you? Just follow the path down that way, there'll be more of our researchers along the way."
S'shani stepped away from Plinius, giving him one last suspicious glare for good measure, and stormed off towards where the mage had indicated. Ned watched Plinius as well, but he seemed more interested in simply turning back to inspecting the Dwemer devices. Feeling a bit awkward, Ned hustled after S'shani.
Could things really be this straight-forward? Were the Synod just pursuing research, and Brelyna and J'zargo had been politely invited to observe? This didn't seem to mesh with the story S'shani had told earlier - he had expected to find the Synod brutally tearing up the place, attacking anyone who approached. He hated to say it, but Plinius kind of seemed like a decent enough fellow.
They soon came across a greater concentration of Synod researchers; the gold sequencing on their robes gleamed in the dull torch-light, meshing well with how bronze everything was. Ned had to resist the urge to stuff his robe pockets with whatever he could get his hands on; bronze was a relatively sought-after metal, probably because the Dwemer had caked everything they could get their hands on with it.
S'shani was still rushing ahead, fists clenched at his side. Ned wondered if he should say something to him; he worried that the Khajiit was about to reach a boiling point, especially at the prospect of running into this Decimius bloke, who sounded like a nasty piece of work indeed. If things between the Synod and College had been amiable so far, all that could've been about to change.
When they came to a forking of pathways, S'shani turned to a trio of Synod researchers who were gathered around a large cylinder that was coming out of the ground, which curved at the top around a wide, circular opening.
"We are looking for Decimius, and the two members of our College who went with them," S'shani announced. It was clearly an order rather than a question. The researchers each jumped slightly, startled by the sudden intrusion on their intense investigation.
"Uh, Decimius is down that way, at the oculory," one of them said, giving the Khajiit and Bosmer a rather confused look. S'shani had already begun to head in that direction, when the mage added, "only had one other person with him though. Dunmer lady."
"I thought she was kinda cute," one of the others chimed in.
"Oi, you would, you weird-o," the first one retorted. "At least the other Elves don't look like corpses."
"Listen, I happen to find the deep blue to be a very exotic-"
"We're still here," Ned announced, waving a hand in the air.
"Oh, sorry," the first mage said, turning back to them and elbowing his companion in the ribs. "Not sure where your other friend went."
"I think I saw a Khajiit going with Bienne, something about wanting to see the deactivated Centurion," the third one piped up, scratching his ear with a quill. "That's down there a ways," he said, indicating a sloped path heading away from the oculory.
Ned moved towards S'shani for a group conference. He couldn't help but think that these Synod didn't seem particularly elite or even very bright - yet they were all Imperial. Funny, that.
"They separated Brelyna and J'zargo," Ned whispered. "That give you a bad feeling, too?"
"Indeed," S'shani said. "I believe it may be best if we split up as well. Both could need our assistance urgently, and by going after one, we may be condemning the other to death."
Ned gulped. He had been thinking the same thing, though he didn't like it. He slowly nodded, and said, "I'm going after Brelyna."
"No," S'shani said. "You do not know what Decimius is capable of! It is too dangerous."
"Then come save both our asses after you've got J'zargo," Ned snapped. "But I have to do this. Okay?"
S'shani looked as if he wanted to argue some more, but did not. He nodded, and clasped Ned on the shoulders.
"Please, Nedhelfin...be careful," he said.
Ned began to respond with something equally heartfelt and poignant, but was interrupted by a muffled yell as one of the Synod had apparently stuck his head into the tube opening, and needed to be yanked out by his comrades. Ned sighed, and turned to run towards the oculory. He could hear S'shani sprinting in the other direction.
He was on his own, no mythical dragon-blooded immensely strong versatile healer to back him up. He was about to charge into a complex filled with who knows how many Synod led by a deranged, power-hungry killer. To his own surprise, these thoughts didn't slow him down; instead, he thought of Brelyna, and his pace quickened. Even if he couldn't actually help in any efficient capacity, he had to try, right? That was the entire point.
Soon he saw artificial light reflecting from the end of the tunnel. Before he could see anything else, he could see the massive bronze sphere sitting in the center of a cavern, elegant stairways winding around it, smoothly carved out of granite. There was no way the Synod could've constructed these, especially not in such a short amount of time; whatever this thing was, it had been of great importance to the Dwemer.
He kept his mind focused on a spell, but was so nervous and anxious that he didn't even concoct a pun to go with it. He burst into the cavern, and looked around frantically. It appeared to be almost completely empty.
Then he heard a gush of flames from above him, and looked up; he could see a Synod, casting a flame spell! He could also see the edge of a frost spell being cast next to him, which must've been Brelyna fighting back! Ned let out a scream, and charged up the nearest flight of stairs, until he was on the top level with the other two.
Decimius and Brelyna turned to look at him; both appeared quite taken aback, and neither appeared to have suffered any combat damage. Ned's battle-cry faded into a confused whimper.
"Ned?" Brelyna asked.
"Uh," Ned said. "I'm here to...save...you?"
Decimius chuckled. "Friend of yours, Miss Maryon?"
"Colleague," Brelyna replied, averting her eyes from Ned.
Ned puffed out his chest, determined to press on with this. "I, uh, demand to know what's going on," he said, though he could tell he had lost the element of dashing heroism he had been going for.
"Ned," Brelyna groaned, letting out an annoyed sigh. "The Synod don't care about the Eye. They're here to help us with a bigger problem!"
Ned looked around, and glanced at Decimius, who was standing with his arms folded, offering a polite smile. Several deep scars ran across his left cheek.
"I wasn't aware we had any other problems?" Ned muttered. He felt he was supposed to have been the one with the element of surprise - how had the tables turned on him so quickly?
"Neither were we, which is why we needed the help," she said. She waved an arm towards the oculory. "Dragons are coming back to Skyrim, Ned. There've been reports of an attack just the other day; the town of Helgen, on the southern border, was entirely destroyed."
Ned felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. Dragons? But...that couldn't mean...
"Luckily, I've lead a team dedicated to researching just such a possibility for some time," Decimius explained, stepping closer to Ned. "The Dwemer maintained several sites dedicated to these devices. We uncovered one several years ago in Cyrodiil, and believed that, if properly attuned, it would display a map of dragon graves. Innately magical creatures, dragons don't die in a conventional sense, you see."
"Unless the soul is separated from the body," Ned muttered, his features going slack. "By another entity with dragon blood."
"Ah, a scholar after my own heart," Decimius said warmly, as Brelyna gave Ned a curious look. "Miss Maryon and I were attuning the device in an attempt to discern the dragon graves and reach them before any more rise again. Even a single dragon would be a weapon of unbelievable destruction." And here the corners of his mouth seemed to fold up in the slightest hint of a smile.
Ned shook his head. Everything had made so much sense a few minutes ago. But now, suddenly, dragons were a reality for the first time in centuries; that meant S'shani...
"Brelyna, we have to go," Ned said, and without thinking, added, "S'shani went after J'zargo, we'll meet up with them and-"
The reaction was nearly inhuman. Decimius' eyes widened, and he sprung towards Ned, grasping him by the shoulders and looming over him.
"S'shani?" he hissed. "S'shani is HERE?"
"Yes!" Ned shouted, throwing the man off of him. "Brelyna, let's go-"
"I suppose he told you about our history with each other?" Decimius asked, folding his arms once more. "And that would be why you're so quick to paint me as the villain here?"
"Pretty much," Ned said, becoming increasingly concerned with why Brelyna was still staring at him, standing by Decimius' side.
"I get the feeling that he may have left out some rather crucial details," Decimius said with a sigh. "Details that may put our relationship into an entirely new light."
Ned turned back to him, quirking his eyebrows in genuine curiosity. "What do you mean?"
After S'shani had slid down the hill and collapsed unconscious into the center of town all those years ago, he had not remained out for long. Moments later he felt strong hands jostling him awake, and looked up to see two members of the Synod that had caught up with him. Several curious onlookers had stopped nearby.
"What are you doing with that child?" a woman asked, as she was shoved away by one of the agents.
"Official Synod business, miss," he said. "None of your concern."
"Come on, you little runt," the other grunted, shoving S'shani ahead of him. "Decimius is going to have quite a few stern words for you..."
And then it happened. The tipping point was reached; S'shani could not go back. He would not go back. The primal emotions that had been steadily swelling within him this whole time could not be contained any longer; he felt bile rise into his throat, but he did not vomit, he screamed.
Thy Synod agents were not only knocked backwards - they were torn to shreds. Concrete on a nearby building began to crack, and slowly the roof collapsed in on itself, sliding sideways. Still the scream continued, and S'shani felt a furious burning as the world around him erupted in fire. He saw the woman who had been concerned for him engulfed in flames, her skin bubbling and sliding off of her. People came rushing out of their homes, terrified by what could possibly be going on. An inferno consumed them, potently magical frost beginning to mingle with the fire, both elements snuffing out dozens of innocent people almost instantaneously.
The words of power gushed forth from S'shani, one after another, and he couldn't stop. His vision turned white, but still he heard himself screaming. Finally he stopped, simply because his voice had run itself mute.
The town was in ruins. Barely recognizable corpses littered the scarred wasteland. Men, women and children, huddled together, dying without knowing what was going on.
"We kept it relatively covered up, explained it as a goblin invasion," Decimius said softly. "We tracked S'shani west, to Hammerfell, but lost him soon after." He turned to look at Ned and Brelyna, both clearly shocked, though for quite different reasons. "Don't you understand?" he continued more forcefully. "We were trying to do something good! To create safeguards against the dragons, because we knew, some day, they'd be back! And our ace in the hole, S'shani, has proven himself willing to stop at nothing to escape the responsibility that flows through his veins."
Ned stumbled slightly, and had to grab the wall to steady himself. He had trusted S'shani. This couldn't be right.
"He's willing to go to great lengths to sabotage us, to manipulate you, and to kill any innocents who stand in his way," Decimius continued.
Suddenly Ned jolted upright, his eyes widening with realization.
"J'zargo!" he gasped.
Without waiting for a reaction, he bolted back down the steps. He ran away from the oculory, though could hear Brelyna and Decimius following after him. He ran as fast as he could, ran without thinking, ran fueled by pure fear and passion alone. He jolted past the three Synod researchers, one of which had a small mechanical bronze spider pinching his cheek as the other two tried to pry it off of him. He ran towards where S'shani had last been heading.
How could S'shani have continued lying to him? Had he really been manipulating him this whole time? He cracked his knuckles as he saw the tunnel lead into another chamber ahead. That damn Dragonborn would have some serious explaining to do...
Ned ground to a halt inside the next room. Brelyna and Decimius rushed in behind him.
S'shani was not in the room.
In front of them was a steadily expanding pool of blood, and in the middle of it, J'zargo.