Chapter Twenty A- On Edge
Laure had been through several Dwemer ruins in her life, and she had noticed the correlation of the dwarven cities and the Falmer. This one was no different, except there seemed to be an unusual concentration of them in this frozen wreckage. The corpses of many different Falmer lie in torn heaps behind them, piled next to the remains of the giant insects, the chaurus. When Farkas offered to roast up a bit of the black, chitin-sheathed bug for the Bosmer, she chuckled and pulled a disgusted face.
"Just because I've tried it doesn't mean I liked it. It has a musky, rancid flavor that I didn't care for. You be my guest, though."
"Not a chance," he said in reply, and they finished nosing about in all the dark corners for random chests. Vilkas found another one behind a locked gate, and Laure went to tease the mechanism open, popping the lid and peering in before lifting out a rainbow assortment of gems.
"Shiny!" she exclaimed happily, rolling an emerald under the torch light.
"I think it's cute the way she says that every time we find something good," Farkas observed to his brother, watching her childlike glee with the play of light over the facets of each gem. "She even said it about the book we found that one time. That thing was far from shiny."
"She uses it as an all-purpose statement of approval. Not particularly eloquent, but we catch her meaning, aye?" Vilkas set the Dwemer cog he had been examining back on the table, eyes peering into dark corners.
"Works for me. Hey, you done fondling the loot yet, Laure?"
"I'm not fondling the loot, I'm appraising it," she said as she rose and dusted herself off.
"You seem to find a disproportionate quantity of valuable gems, Laurelin." The Arch-Mage studied the gems as well, admiring the cut on a matched pair of rubies.
"It beats linen wraps and the walking dead, wouldn't you say? It probably helps that I'm pretty sure none of the Falmer know how how to pick a lock, or they don't have the interest. Either way, none of this would be here if they really wanted it." She gestured at the litter of finely turned ceramic bowls and urns, metal scraps, metal dishes, metal furniture. All around was a vast fortune, a testament to the wealth of the previous citizens.
The sad truth was that the Falmer seemed to prefer their primitive armor and weapons, living in crude huts constructed in the shadow of monumental achievements. Piles of useless, valuable artifacts sat in the rubbish heaps, or were turned into pots and containers for various mushrooms. Some of the relics that lingered still bore ominous testimony to the fact that not all of the Dwemer works were benevolent. The chamber they had just cleared still had devices that looked to have been torture or examination racks, complete with newly refurbished leather straps. Apparently the Falmer didn't eschew all of the Dwemer constructs.
Laurelin passed the gems to Vilkas, who tucked them into a belt pouch that was already bulging, and went to examine the lever she had hesitated to pull earlier. "This one looks like a lift mechanism, don't you think?"
The other three made agreeing noises and joined her in the otherwise empty chamber.
"Go ahead, I know how you like to pull mysterious levers and trap yourself," Farkas grinned and teased her.
Vilkas gave his twin a warning glance and then nodded to his mate. Shea'a was scribbling in a journal with a stub of charcoal, squinting and chewing her lip in concentration.
Seeing the Altmer was busy, Laure shrugged and threw the lever. "Here we go, then!" The lift shuddered and began smoothly rising up the stone shaft. Fifteen or so minutes later, the lift settled back down again. "Well, at least we have a quicker way back up; that could be useful. Shall we continue?"
"Yup."
"Lead the way!"
"Hmm? Oh yes, by all means . . ." Shea'a continued her sketching a moment longer, then tucked her little book away, following the already moving Companions.
Farkas gave a low whistle as he looked over the edge of the platform they all stood on. Far below, curving ramps and the tiled roofs of Dwemer towers did little to fill the deep cylindrical chamber. Even farther below, the icy floor of the cavern could be glimpsed through the tangle of ramps and pipes.
Not usually prey to vertigo, Laurelin cast a quick glance over the side and suppressed a shudder that originated in the center of her gut and quickly clawed its way up her spine. Forcefully, she pushed back the lurking fears, none of them could afford to be distracted, for any reason. There was water, but no lake overhead. Just a broken pipe and tons of ice.
Vilkas gave her a curious glance, sensing her uneasiness. His bright eyes asked the unspoken question, to which she simply shook her head and stepped quickly over the short walkway to the next ramp down. Farkas moved up behind them, trailed by the Arch-Mage, who was gazing all about.
They filed carefully down, having spotted several prowling Falmer below. Stealthily—thanks to the enchantments on their boots muffling most of the sound they made-they followed the twisting ramps in and out of the towers and adjoining rooms, occasionally clashing briefly with groups of the blind Falmer.
Eventually they came to an end of the ramps down, and there were no stairs nor lifts that might convey them to the next level below. The rubble-choked entrance to a side chamber might have once provided a way down, but no longer. Still high above the floor of the chamber, the four of them stood at the edge and gazed at the landing below. Laure swung over the edge, dangling a brief moment before dropping a few feet to a pair of brass pipes jutting out from the wall. From there she was able to leap the last ten or so feet to the landing, absorbing as much of the shock with bent knees as possible. The landing was cluttered with a pile of broken rocks, and also the body of one of the other explorers' group, broken and twisted.
She looked up at her mates, and the Arch-Mage and shrugged, "That works; don't know how we'll get back up though."
Farkas followed Laure down, calling out over his shoulder as he dangled, "Not to worry, I'll just toss you up. Or maybe we'll find some rope."
"I can't believe we left without rope," muttered Vilkas irritably. When the way was clear, he followed his brother down, then turned to help catch the less-than-agile mage if she should slip. Unperturbed, Shea'a simply jumped down, landing heavily but in one piece on the stones by Laure. She straightened up and brushed imaginary dust from her long hands.
Their arrival didn't go unnoticed; several Falmer rushed up, hissing in their strange, guttural language. In seconds, a swarm of them were making the platform uncomfortably crowded. Laure was able to partially clear the landing with a devastating Shout, "Fus Ro Dah!" Gangly limbs flailing wildly, several of the twisted creatures tumbled off the edge and plunged from sight. Others were staggered to their knobby knees, making them easy prey for the blades flashing about.
Still, several shamans, females with gnarled staves, were moving up the ramp from below, hurling ice and lightning. Chaurus rattled up alongside them, heavily armored and segmented bodies filling the narrow pathways. Spitting globules of sticky, corrosive poison, they charged the Companions and Arch-Mage.
The three fighters of the group pushed forward to choke up the top of the ramp, cleaving heads and waving bug legs with measured precision. A fall from this height would be lethal, and they all danced carefully on the broken stones. Shea'a positioned herself to one side, giving her a clear view of those approaching from below. Cautiously, she launched a few devastating spears of ice into the horde, knocking several of the chaurus off, and distracting the shamans and archers filing up.
"Yol Toor Shul!" came the Voice of Laurelin as she once again called on her abilities to thin the press in front of her, while scuds of stinking smoke lifted from the smoldering corpses of her foes. A freshly arrived chaurus clambered over the remains of the others and lunged for Laure, grasping her shield in its mandibles, shaking it to and fro. She wrestled with the creature for a moment, but the bug was considerably stronger than she and clung to the shield while trying to puncture her torso with its blade-like forelegs. Vilkas calmly stepped in and used his own shield to block the flailing legs, then ran it through repeatedly, until it released her shield and sank to the floor, quite dead.
Farkas held off the last few Falmer, shouting curses and taunts, laughing off the paltry few blows that slipped past his guard. Lightning crackled from a staff, arcing over the four adventurers, skittering over their armor. Laure felt the ends of her hair lifting in the charged air, but aside from a few muscle twitches, she didn't feel much pain at all. Just enough to annoy her, and it looked as though the twins were experiencing the same reaction. It seemed the enchantments put on their gear were working perfectly.
A rapid succession of the Arch-Mage's icy spears slammed into the remaining Falmer, dropping them were they stood or knocking them off the walkways. Immediately the warriors advanced, finishing those who still burbled or hissed from the slick floor. When all the fallen had been fully dealt with, they re-grouped, checking armor for weak spots or corroded straps.
"This place stinks," Farkas complained with a wrinkled nose.
"At least its quiet for the time being," replied Shea'a, waving away a wisp of malodorous smoke.
"I don't think I've ever seen so many concentrated in one area before," Laure puffed, wiping her face clean with a rag, then her blade.
"Maybe they're protecting a nest or hive. 'Village' doesn't quite seem like the right word," the big Nord offered as he too cleaned up a bit. When he was done, he pulled a long strip of dried venison out and worried off a chunk. "Whatever it is, they seem pretty riled up."
"You might be right, brother," Vilkas commented as he stretched his spine with muffled pops. "It's more likely the other party went through here and agitated them, so when we came in, they responded with maximum force. I don't imagine they like us coming into their territory and nosing about."
"Shall we keep going? I'd like to get off these ramps as soon as possible-too many ways down the short, hard way. If you catch my meaning," Laure said thoughtfully as she examined the shallow notches in her shield where the insects had marked it. The Arch-Mage may not have noticed, but Vilkas and Farkas finally took note of the fact that when not actively fighting, Laure was anxious and didn't seem to be taking in all the details of the place with her normal enthusiasm. Rather, she occupied herself with the tiny details, the edge of her sword, adjusting the straps on her pack, tightening her gauntlet straps. Never once did she glance up to the mist-shrouded ceiling of the deep pit they traversed. Her usual smirk was noticeably absent.
Vilkas pulled her to one side, asking quietly, "What's wrong, love? I can tell something is bothering you."
"It's nothing," she began but clamped her lip closed when she saw the narrowing of his eyes. He lifted his brows in an expression she knew well, and she reluctantly continued, "Well, not nothing. It's something, but not a big thing. Not really. I just-I have this dread hanging over me; this place reminds me too much of other places where bad things happened. I don't want any of that to happen again."
"Care to talk about it?" His thumb brushed her cheek gently as he peered into the chilly blue of her eyes.
"This isn't the time nor place. I'll be okay, really. Just promise me you'll be careful?" A fitful smile danced briefly across her angular face, then disappeared again.
"Promise," he agreed softly, only to have it echoed by his larger twin, who had moved up next to them, still munching. Somewhat mollified, Laure hugged them both tightly and then they moved off, slowly approaching the bottom.
Laure peeked around the corner of the tower door. Some thirty feet below was the snowy ground, a few broken plinths of stone jutting upward from the center. Half a dozen Falmer were creeping in through a side passage down there, helmeted heads waving back and forth, weapons in hand.
She tried to gather an idea of how many more might be lurking about by sniffing quietly, but the stench and smoke of their battle up above still clung to her nose. She could have used a Shout to get a more definite number, but decided to wait. Saving her Thu'um for a more serious encounter, she could only guess how many there really were. For Shea'a's benefit, she flashed six fingers then shrugged, indicating there could be more. Ready to take on such a small number, they moved out and around the curve of the tower.
It wasn't long before the Companions were detected by the twisted elf-like creatures. They ran up the ramp, hoarse cries leading the way. Laure sprang forward, landing inside the swing of the first and ran her blade across the taut muscles of his neck, then leaped back again. Vilkas stepped forward with a loud battle cry, shield covering his front. He and Farkas traded blows with the next two in line, quickly hurling them off the walkway.
Shea'a stood further up, crackling magic glowing in her hands while she waited for an opening. When Farkas stepped back to let his brother and Laurelin in, the Altmer mage stepped out of the protection of the tower, thinking to get a better angle on the archers down below. Just as she lifted her hands to cast her magics down, an unexpected weight crashed into her back, searing pain erupting in her neck and shoulders.
Panic stripped away her calm in an instant. Not knowing what was clinging to her, dragging her down was terrifying, especially in these circumstances. The Arch-Mage stumbled forward, knocked off balance. Her fingers scrabbled against hard chitin, then with a sharp cry, she released the full power of her magic into the creature on her back. The clawed legs digging into her flesh relaxed, but the full weight of a grown chaurus caused her to reel forward, smashing into Farkas as he turned to see what the commotion was about.
He caught a glimpse of some strange nightmare apparition; the tall mer with a look of horror on her face as she tried to fight off long waving black legs that seemed to sprout from her back, before she plowed into him. He was able to push her back from himself after a moment of struggle, and dodged a swipe from one of the clawed legs. "Turn around!" he shouted to the struggling mage, who tried to comply, dragging the heavy thing in a tight circle with her.
Farkas realized he couldn't stab or slash at the Chaurus without endangering Shea'a, so he wrapped his powerful hands around the two forelegs and snapped them off, casting them over the side one by one. The monstrosity chittered volubly and violently thrashed its heavy body about, forcing Shea'a to her knees while she struggled for balance on the narrow ramp.
Farkas grappled with it another moment, vaguely aware of the continuing fight his brother and Laure still fought. The tough shell was made slick by the ichor oozing from its wounds, and he had a hard time getting a solid grip on the flailing monster, but he finally got a secure hold on it and pried it off the terrified mage with a satisfied grunt.
Chaurus in arms, he turned to hurl it over the side, face averted to avoid the snapping mandibles. The insect's hind legs thrashed and sought purchase on anything at all, and found leverage behind the big man's knee. Too near the edge, with a venomous enemy in his arms, Farkas had nothing to grab onto to save himself as his legs were yanked out from underneath him and he tumbled over the side with a hoarse cry.
Shea'a hurled herself to the edge with a matching shout, "Help, Dragonborn!" Too late she arrived at the edge and could only watch him fall, still struggling with the chaurus he had saved her from.
Well, lovely readers today you get two smaller chapters. Thank you as always for taking the time to read, and if you have a moment, please leave me a kind word or two. Cheers!
~Pyreiris