Finally, I'm getting back into the swing of things. Usually, this is where I'd thank people for their reviews, but, alas, I have none to refer to. So, with that thought in mind, enjoy chapter six :)
Chapter 6
The echoes of the opening door continue deep into the mouth of the ruin, eerily retreating until they fade into nothingness. A strangely warm draft flows from the dark depths, and the members of the battalion shiver. It feels...alive.
I look around, and see my hidden unease reflected on the faces of those around me. They stare into the pitch-black hole before us, waiting for someone to give the order to enter. Just as I'm about to step forward, Camilla surprises me by stepping forward briskly.
"Well come on, then." She prompts. She flicks her right wrist, and a handful of flame pops into existence in her palm. "I'll light the way." Her soft voice is deceptive; I hear an undercurrent of steel in her words. Abruptly, I'm reminded of Astrid. I move to stand next to her, and she gives me a small smile. I look away, back at the rest of the regiment. "It's just a crypt." She says, turning away from me, and addressing the soldiers. They murmur amongst themselves, and Hadvar and Kastus step up to join us.
"Come on, you milk drinkers." The nord growls. "We have a job to do. Remember that before you run home with your tails between your legs, at the sight of some old bones." The soldiers shift uneasily, but begin to approach the entrance.
Disgust wells up inside me at their cowardice, and I whip around, and stalk into the ruin, cloak flapping. Camilla follows close behind, lighting the way as best she can. After a few yards, I notice a sconce on the wall, and remove it's torch. Wordlessly, I hold it out to the Imperial mage, who promptly lights it with the flame from her palm.
"Pick up any torches you find." I state quietly. The soldiers nod in assent. I look around for Hadvar, and notice him behind Camilla. The burly man looks uneasy in the tomb, and seems content to follow my lead. The muscles in my jaw clench in frustration, but I don't say anything. As I scan the troops behind me, a thought occurs to me.
"Where is Daenlin?" I ask Camilla quietly.
She responds in turn, meeting my gaze unwaveringly. A small part of me is impressed. "He's outside. He and his arrows are at a disadvantage in these close quarters." She gestures vaguely around the tunnel. "He's there to make sure that we're not hemmed in by any enemy troops from behind."
I nod, and turn around, continuing through the crypt. I keep my face impassive, but internally, my interest is piqued. The way she reacted to my...well, my slaughtering of the Stormcloaks outside was unique. She was neither horrified, nor did she pity me. She took what had occurred in stride. I realize that, against my better judgement, I admire the woman.
Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. Something that Amaril had said. Quietly, I tilt my head toward's Camilla's.
"Who did I replace?" I ask, simply.
She doesn't answer for a moment. I'm tempted to look back, but I force myself to keep my gaze fixed on the corpses lining the small alcoves within the walls of the crypt, should one wake from it's catatonic state. After a minute, the woman responds.
"My brother, Rallus." She whispers, voice tight with emotion. "We lost him in an ambush, two weeks ago." She stops for a moment, and I hear her deep intake of breath, and then a long, slow exhalation. When she speaks again, her voice is calmer. "He was a brawler, like you. He carried a sword, and a mace, though, rather than two blades."
"I'm a brawler, then?" I ask. The words feel strange, foreign in my mouth. They roll awkwardly off my tongue, and I realize how long it's been since I've had a real conversation.
Again, a moment passes before the woman responds, and this time, I do look back. Her dark eyes are fixed on me, burning, yet thoughtful. I almost shiver. It's the same look Amaril gives me; as if he's staring directly past my outer facade, deep into the innermost parts of my being. In retrospect, it's not something that should surprise me about the elf. He's a part of my consciousness; it's not overly strange that he sees through me. But this woman...she blows past my defenses as if they're nothing.
"I'm not sure what you are." She murmurs. I barely hear her. I'm not sure whether she herself is aware that she's spoken. I look away, uncomfortable, and continue scanning for potential attackers.
Suddenly, Kastus lets out a loud curse. I turn, to see him struggling, as a rotten, skeletal hand wraps itself around his arm. A gurgled hiss echoes through the narrow tunnel, and two bright, icy blue pinpricks of light appear in the darkness of the alcove. Before the draugr has a chance to crawl out, however, I lash out with my right hand, severing it's wrist. The creature growls in fury, but is quickly silenced as Kastus releases a stream of fire from his left hand into it's face. The smell of burning, decomposed flesh fills the air. One of the soldiers gags, while some mutter prayers to the Divines.
"By the Gods..." One murmurs. "I didn't sign up for this." He looks around at the members of the core, then at his fellows, daring someone to challenge him. No one takes notice, however, and he slumps in defeat, lacking the courage to desert.
"That was a draugr." Hadvar states. His voice is calm, to his benefit, but I can see that he is shaken. "Nothing more than old bones and flesh." Without any further explanation, he turns around, and gestures for Camilla and I to lead the way further into the ruin.
I glance back at the imperial woman, curious of her reaction to the undead denizen. She seems no worse for wear, as if used to the creatures. My brow furrows, and I look away quickly, hoping she didn't see me, so I wouldn't have to explain my glance.
No such luck.
"What is it?" She murmurs. The light from our respective flames flickers off the rough stone walls, making the situation seem even more eery.
"You weren't afraid." I reply, after a moment.
"Neither were you." She shoots back. I almost laugh. After pause, she relents however, and continues. "I was a member of the Synod, in Cyrodiil, before I joined the Legion. Our purpose is to collect magical artifacts from all corners of Tamriel." She pauses for a moment, and I can almost hear the shrug in her voice. "So, I'm used to dungeons, and their inhabitants. The draugr are just blue-eyed zombies, as far as I'm concerned."
I say nothing, and we continue walking.
After a few tense, stressful minutes, the narrow tunnel opens up into a far larger room. The ceiling is roughly twenty feet high, and there is a old, unsteady-looking wooden ramp leading up to a small room built into the upper section of the wall. The walls are lined with sarcophagi. At the far end of the room is a continuation of the tunnel, blocked off by a sturdy metal gate. Hadvar steps up to it, and heaves with all his might. The muscles in his shoulders and neck bulge visibly, as he exerts himself, but the heavy metal structure doesn't budge.
He steps back, panting slightly. "Alright. Daanik, find some way to open this gate. The rest of you, make sure that nothing's lurking in those coffins along the walls."
Some of the soldiers grumble in displeasure, but I don't stick around long enough to listen. Quickly, I stride to the foot of the wooden ramp, and ascend, cloak flapping. I reach the small room at the top, and look around. The space is empty, except for a small chest in the right hand corner, and a pedestal in the center, holding a small, iron dagger. I rummage through the chest, and retrieve two health potions, mostly out of habit. It's unlikely that I'd need them, at this point. Pocketing the vials, I walk over to the waist-high stone pillar, containing the dagger, and examine it. The surface is so clearly a pressure plate, it's almost comical.
The ancient nords were a simple race. I think, dryly, as I remove the knife from it's resting place. The surface of the pedestal rises slightly, and with a grinding sound, the gate below opens. A few of the soldiers jerk in surprise at the unexpected sound, readying their weapons. One even lets out some sort of sound, something halfway between a yelp and a battle cry. Kastus sniggers, and Hadvar chuckles, as the man's face reddens. Even Camilla smiles.
I rejoin the rest of the battalion, and Hadvar addresses me. "Well done." He rumbles. I nod curtly.
"Right, then." He continues, looking away, seeming slightly put off by my overall attitude. "Let's go."
He walks through the opening, motioning for the soldiers to accompany him. They do, and I follow suit, trailing behind the group this time. Kastus notices, and joins me, to my frustration.
"How've you been?" He asks vaguely, as we walk. His tone is hushed, for fear of waking the draugr.
"Fine." I reply, not looking at the Breton. I sheathe my blades, and straighten up, sick of sneaking through the dank ruin. Kastus quickly follows suit, and continues his inquisition.
"Good." He pauses. Then, "How is lady Gabriella?"
"Dead."
He stops short, and I shoot a glance at his face. His expression is taken aback, and full of pity. He doesn't know quite what to make of me. I grit my teeth in anger, and look away.
"I'm sorry." He murmurs, resting his hand on my shoulder. I stiffen, and he notices, dropping his arm back to his side with a lost look written across his features.
A moment passes. "We'll talk later." He mutters. I nod, with absolutely no intention of having a conversation with the Breton, and he heads back to the front of the group, joining Hadvar and Camilla.
The rest of our journey continues in relative silence, with only three interruptions; two from Stormcloak soldiers, and one from a group of draugr that one of the soldiers woke by stepping on a pressure plate. The man had been crushed by a swinging wall of spikes, and the tremendous crash had alerted the undead to our presence. We'd lost three soldiers so far, including the man who'd blundered into the trap. The fear that had pervaded the regiment had quickly been replaced by a bitter resolve, a "let's just do this and get out" mindset that, thankfully, discouraged any form of conversation.
After half an hour of tense, irritable sneaking, exacerbated by the unpleasantness of the dank cave, we come to a long, oval-shaped hallway. The members of the core enter to investigate, while the backup soldiers remain outside until given further instructions.
"This must be the Hall of Stories!" Camilla gasps, her soft voice filled with awe. She pads over to the wall, and trails her fingers lightly across the intricate carvings etched into it's stony surface. "Imagine, the amount of knowledge that could be recorded here."
Kastus snorts derisively, walking up next to her. "Yes, because a culture that saw a hidden lever as the height of trickery in a puzzle door must have such wisdom to offer."
The imperial woman glares at him, and smacks the back of his head sharply. He yelps, and Hadvar snickers. She gives them both a dirty look, before going back to examining the wall. Bored, the Breton wanders off to dig in a chest near the end of the tunnel.
"It says...the portal can be opened with a...a fingernail." Her brow furrows, and Hadvar snorts in amusement. "That makes no sense." She muses, frustration evident in her tone.
"You think?" Kastus mutters, pocketing whatever he'd found in the chest, and continuing on to plunder a wide burial urn.
Camilla ignores him. She continues to study the wall, and suddenly, her expression clears. "Ohhh."
Hadvar walks up behind her. "Find something?" He rumbles, squinting unnecessarily at the carvings.
"No." The woman mutters under her breath. "I said 'ohhh', because I'm just as confused as before."
I smirk.
"Say again?" Hadvar asks, oblivious to her comment. Camilla sighs.
"Nothing, ice-brain. Yes, I found something." She lifts her hand, her finger trailing along a specific part of the wall. "It says, 'the claw will unlock the gate'." She turns to me, her expression questioning. "Have you ever come across something like this before?"
I nod. "There's got to be a statue of dragon claw somewhere around here." I murmur, glancing around the hall. "It'll be made of a precious stone, or metal."
Kastus's voice echoes from the other end of the tunnel. "Something like this, eh?" He asks, holding aloft a heavy-looking black, spiky object.
I nod, again. "That'll be the ebony claw."
"Right, then." He exclaims, striding over to the circular lock at the end of the hall. He holds up the claw, and studies it for a moment, before inserting it's tips into the keyholes. Before I can stop him, he pulls the lever at the base of the door.
"Duck!" I yell, as I hear the whirring of mechanics above my head. The ground rumbles with my voice, and Kastus's copper eyes widen. He drops flat on the ground without a moment's pause, barely avoiding the heavy battering ram that slams into the wall directly where his head had been a split second earlier. Slowly, the heavy beam retracts back into the ceiling with a loud creak. The mechanism clicks as it settles back into place, leaving the room deadly silent.
I glance over at the Breton. His face is deathly pale, but he looks otherwise unharmed. "Thanks for that." He croaks, dusting off the front of his ebony armor, attempting to appear at ease.
I nod. "The three symbols above the keyhole have to be in the correct order before the door will open." I state, quietly walking up to him, and taking the claw from his outstretched hand. I study the inky-black object for a moment, then turn to the lock. With a grinding sound, I turn the gears, until it clicks into it's correct position.
Fox, moth, dragon.
I insert the claw, and turn it clockwise. The mechanics within the ancient door shift, and then slowly, with a deep, harsh grinding, the heavy slab of stone gradually descends into the ground, leaving the path before us open.
Hadvar steps forward. "This is it, then." He murmurs to himself. He turns around, and calls out to the rest of the battalion. "Come on men, we're almost to the end!" A couple of the soldiers cheer, as they file into the tunnel, and then into the room beyond. Kastus and Hadvar lead them, while Camilla and I follow behind.
The imperial woman pauses, as if waiting, and I motion for her to enter first. She opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, and turns away awkwardly, before walking quickly through the door. I sigh, as I follow her. Instinctually, I know that she's going to try and speak to me, and ultimately get to know me. My lips curl into a scowl, as I assess her personality. She's most likely one of the types, that thinks she can change men. Fix them. The thought infuriates me, and I ball my hands into fists.
What are you suddenly so angry about? Amaril asks snidely, making his presence know.
Fuck off. I hiss back internally. This is not the time, nor the place.
I'm part of your mind, Daanik. He spits back. There are no other options for either time or place.
I ignore his voice, focusing instead on the movement of Camilla and the soldiers in front of me. Suddenly, I increase my pace, pushing past the imperial mage, and the rest of the battalion, until I'm at the front with Kastus and Hadvar. They look back at my arrival, and just as they do, we reach our final destination. The burly nord parts his lips to speak, but thankfully, Kastus clamps his hand across the man's mouth before he can. He mouths the word "quiet", before pointing to the center of the large room before us. The space is dominated by a huge throne, on which sits an equally monstrous draugr lord. His head is tiled to the side, and his eyes are dull; however, I know from experience that the slightest disturbance can, and would, wake the creature.
Hadvar looks confused for a moment, but then nods in comprehension. "Is that it?" He whispers, pointing to the almost tribal looking headdress atop the draugr's emaciated skull.
Kastus shrugs. "Must be."
I move to engage the undead denizen, but Hadvar stops me, shaking his head. "No, Dragonborn."
"What? Why?" I growl, annoyance rising in my chest.
"Because I can't very well report back to Legate Rikke, saying that my entire regiment sat back while you did our job for us." He replies, not sensing my anger. He grins. "The rest of us need some action too, you know." He claps me on the shoulder, and it's all I can do to keep from removing myself from his reach.
"Fine." I reply, curtly. I lean against the wall, as Hadvar addresses the soldiers in quick, hushed tones.
"Alright, men. All we need to do is finish off this last milk drinker." He motions to the draugr behind him. "Now, he's the guardian of the crown, so I expect he'll be somehow superior to the rest of the undead we've faced, so be on your guard." A chorus of assenting sounds rises from the soldiers, and Hadvar nods. "Good. For the Legion!"
And, with a wild cry, he charges forward, followed by the rest of the troops.
Then, multiple things happen at once. The draugr lord awakes, and lets loose a bone-chilling howl at the oncoming soldiers. They falter, and in that moment, six coffins on either side of the room, twelve in all, burst open. A horde of hissing, straining, growling undead lurch into combat, hemming in the stunned battalion. In the blink of an eye, four fall under the draugrs' dulled, ancient blades. I curse, violently, and leap into the fray just in time to catch a heavy battle axe intended for Hadvar's back. I turn around, and just as I do, one of the last three remaining soldiers sinks to the ground, clutching at a gash in his throat.
In that moment, ferocity takes over. My blades flash without any conscious decision on my part, weaving a web of metal that parries, stabs, and slashes without missing a beat. One, then two, then four, then six, then eight undead fall before Bahlok and Nax. But just as I lash out at the chest of the ninth creature, I see a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. I dimly recognize that I don't have time to move, as the draugr lord's ebony blade slices horizontally across my right wrist, removing the leather, skin, and muscle from the bone. Unconsciously, I drop Nax, and clutch my wounded hand to my body, slashing wildly with my remaining arm. The draugr lord's head hits the ground with a dull thump, and I whirl around, just in time to see Kastus yanking his sword out of one of the creatures, while the last two raise their twin war axes in preparation to strike me down.
My mind is a blur of pain. The events around me seem slow, sluggish, and strangely bright. I look down, and in dimly amazed at the concept of watching my own bones move beneath my skin. The white of the bones sears my eyes, however, and I look up again, as the two axes descend towards my neck and chest. In desperation, I do the last thing available to me, the only action I have time for: I scream.
I open my mouth, and let out a wild roar. As soon as the sound reaches my ears, a deafening thunderclap blasts through the air, and the draugr hurled backward. The entire cavern shakes, and the two undead slam against the wall, their brittle bodies shattering on impact. The room continues to shake, however, and debris fills the air as I sink to the ground, clutching my wound.
I'm not sure how long it takes, but after a while, the dust settles. I continue to stare at the ground, my mind numb from the shock. I haven't been wounded in years. I think, sluggishly. Somewhere in my mind, Amaril sneers at me, but I feel no response towards him.
Suddenly, I feel a soft hand on my shoulder, and I flinch violently. The place where she touched me burns, and I leap into the air, recoiling back. I press myself against the wall with a hunted expression on my face, eyes wild. I turn to glare at whoever dared to touch me, and my animalistic gaze meets Camilla's deep, brown one. For a second, she looks hurt at my reaction, but then she straightens up, and her expression clears.
"Calm down, Daanik." I whip my head around as Kastus addresses me from the right. He steps forward, hands raised in a placating gesture, and I snarl at his movement. "It's alright, mate." He continues, his words soft and slow, as if trying to calm a wild animal. "Camilla just wants to heal your wounds. She's not gonna hurt you." He takes another step forward, and I shrink back. Over his shoulder, I see Hadvar standing at the exit to the rest of the ruin with the remaining soldiers. The expressions on their faces are all the same; pitying, and frightened.
My eyes flash back to the Breton, and my lip curls. Somehow, I find my voice. "I'm fine." I spit, yanking a healing potion out of my pocket with my good hand. Viciously, I wrench the cork out with my teeth, and down the entire vial of liquid in one go. I look down at my torn up wrist, as my skin slowly knits itself back together. As the amount of visual bone recedes, so does the pain, and the haze around my mind. After a minute, all that remains of the hideous laceration is a relatively minor gash. Slowly, I straighten up, and look around again, taking in the scene with an open gaze. The ground of the room is littered with chunks of stone varying in size from pebbles to boulders, knocked free by my unbridled voice. Spidering cracks stretch along the walls, from the floor to the ceiling, and everything is covered in a layer of dust. I notice the draugr lord's decapitated head laying a few feet to my left, and I move to pick it up. Camilla backs away from me as I advance, moving towards Kastus, and An unexpected pang lances through my stomach. I ignore the feeling, however, and pick up the skull, wrenching the crown free from it's stinking remains.
"Sorry." I murmur, handing the headdress to Kastus, refusing to meet his gaze. After a moment's pause, he accepts it, and I stride out of the room, past Hadvar, without giving anyone a chance to speak.
I tread quietly through the darkened camp. The night is silent, except for the crackling of the fire. I sit down, and lean forward, letting the blaze warm my skin. I shiver, despite of the heat. I lean my head in my hands, and squeeze my eyes shut. Memories of the day's earlier events well up in my consciousness, and I clench the muscles in my jaw, trying to force down the unpleasant stream of thought. Amaril's voice whispers in my skull. His tone is cold, malicious, but I can't make out any individual words.
Suddenly, I hear a muted a voice from the command tent, about five yards to my right. I straighten up, and my ears prick, as I listen intently, trying to pick up what's being said. I hear Hadvar's rough voice over the whispering of the flames.
"Did you see how he took out the archers?" He asks, his voice tinted with incredulity. "And what he did to the soldiers on the surface?" He pauses for a minute, then continues. "I've never seen someone fight like that."
Daenlin's smooth voice raises in response. "No one has, Hadvar." He says, softly. "No one else can shout like that. Can you imagine what could have happened if he'd used that inside the ruin?"
A pause follows his words, and I can imagine Hadvar shifting uncomfortably.
"He didn't..." Daenlin hisses. "What was he thinking? He could have killed all of you, as well as himself."
Camilla cuts in, softly. Her voice is thoughtful. "I don't think he did it on purpose." She muses. Then, "Did either of you actually hear him use any words of power?"
Silence follows her inquiry, and I assume both Kastus and Hadvar are shaking their heads.
"I don't think so." The nord adds, in his rough Skyrim accent.
"Then he's even more dangerous than before." Daenlin shoots back, the aggression clear in his voice.
"Slow down, mate." Kastus interjects. His tone is mild, but I sense steel beneath his words. "I've known Daanik since he was a young boy. I inducted him into the Companions myself. He is many things, but he's not dangerous. Deadly, without a doubt. But not dangerous." After a second, he amends his statement. "Not to us, anyway."
A minute passes, in which no one challenges the Breton's words. Finally, the wood elf replies, curtly.
"We'll see."
I hear a rustling sound, and remain completely motionless, as he and Hadvar exit the command tent, and enter their smaller, respective dwellings. Once I'm sure that they've settled in for the night, I straighten up again, listening to the two remaining members of the core speak. Neither says anything for a long time, and I begin to wonder if I should give up. Then, Kastus's voice breaks the silence.
"And what of you, Cam? Do you think he's a danger to us?"
A few seconds pass, without a response from Camilla. I wait, imagining the dark-haired woman chewing ponderously on her lip. Finally, she replies.
"I think he's hurt." She says, softly.
"Mmm."
Her words strike me harder than they should, and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. My mind is reeling. I have no idea what to think of the day's events. I stand up, and pad quietly around the still-smoldering embers of the fire. I head towards my own tent, as the faint sounds of Kastus's last words reach my ears.
"We will see."
I hope you enjoyed chapter six. Leave me a review, whether you did or not ;) I'll try and get chapter seven up by tomorrow evening :)