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Chapter 38 - Attack on Faal Mungrohiik

Anvil, 01-02 Heartfire

While Yssha was in her Oblivion realm of Sanctuary learning to control her dragon body well enough to land on anything, anywhere, Andreius and his party made a quick side trip on dragon-neck to Anvil. Before they started their tour of Cyrodiil after Grams' funeral, he wanted a quiet visit to his sister's grave on the cliffs north of the city, and Sorcalin wanted to visit Garlas Agea, an Ayleid ruin that tended to attract necromancers.

But before either of them could take on their personal expeditions, Andreius had to provide alternate security for Imiril and Arenim. As General Hargan, he could have ordered a Legion or Penitus Oculatus bodyguard, but since they were trying to remain incognito, he decided against that.

So, after renting rooms at the Count's Arms Inn, he visited the Fighters Guild. Everyone he'd known here had died long ago, but at least the physical layout was the same, so he had no problem finding the Master of the Anvil Fighters Guild branch. He introduced himself as Andreius of Skyhold, which got a grin.

"Skyhold - that's one of the counties up in Skyrim, right? Belongs to the Dragonborn?"

"Close enough," Andreius replied with a grin. "Anyway, I'm here on a personal pilgrimage, but I have a couple of young Altmer along, and I'd like to hire a combination of guide and bodyguard to show them around the city and make sure they don't get into any trouble."

"How young?" the Master asked dubiously. "My people don't babysit."

Andreius laughed. "Not that young - they're both mid-twenties, and a married couple. They can protect themselves, but they don't know Cyrodiil customs or courtesies."

"We can do that. I'm Corinus, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you, Corinus. It looks like the Guild's doing well. So - how much is this going to cost me?"

The Master thought for a bit. "Sounds more like guide service than bodyguard, since you say they can defend themselves, so ... you want one, or two?"

"One should be adequate, I think."

"Twenty-five septims, then. Where should they meet up, and is there anything you want your your young tourists shown?

"At the Count's Arms, first thing in the morning, and I think a tour of where the Champion of Cyrodiil visited would be appropriate, since we'll be attending her funeral."

That got him an odd look from the Master, but no comments. "Very well. Mission accepted."

Andreius handed over the agreed price. "Thank you." Then the four headed for the Count's Arms to spend the evening. Once they were well settled over supper, and had their plans settled for the following day, Andreius smiled at the two young Altmer. "It's not commonly known, but I met Grams just outside Anvil."

"Really?" Imiril asked. "Tell us, please!"

"It started when Count Umbranox called me in and told me the Hero of Kvatch had arrived, and would like some soldiers to go into our Oblivion Gate with her, both to show them how to close others themselves, and to cover her back. So he asked me to pick half a dozen of the steadiest and best fighters and lead them in with her.

"The first part was easy, since I knew the men, and we came here to meet her. She stood when we approached, and I must admit I was taken aback. It was common knowledge, of course, that the Hero of Kvatch was a female Khajiit, so that part wasn't surprising, but from the stories I'd heard of her, I suppose I was unconsciously expecting a Cathay-Raht, maybe one as physically imposing as a Nord."

He laughed. "You've met the Dragonborn, so you know what I got; they're close enough in looks to be mistaken for each other. I was not expecting a Suthay, second-smallest of the Khajiit types! And it must've shown in my face as we made introductions, because she cat-grinned at me."

"'What gave me away, the Kvatch armor?' she asked, and I swear she'd have laughed if Khajiit had been capable of it.

"That, and the fact you're a female Khajiit, Lady Ysshaya." I didn't mention my surprise at her size. "I understand you want us for backup and to show us how to close these Gates."

"'Correct, Sir Knight,' she said, sobering. 'You could learn how on your own - others have - but I'm trying to teach at least the City Guards how to do it, so they have fewer losses in the learning.'"

"I appreciate that," I told her, and I did. "Would you brief us on what to expect, then?"

"She did. I don't remember more than an outline, but it was very thorough, and even without the practical exercise as soon as she was done, it would've saved a lot of lives."

Andreius grimaced. "I pray I never see the Deadlands again. I understand some realms of Oblivion can be pleasant, like Azura's Moonshadow, but the Deadlands are the sort of frightening, dangerous, and ... let's just say unpleasant ... place most people mean when they use it as a curse word."

"He sighed. "I don't remember too many of the details, thank the Divines - the 'fog of war' is far worse in the Deadlands than in Tamriel. She pointed out how to identify the target tower, and I do remember having to go through tunnels to reach it, fighting all the way. Then we fought our way up to the top of that tower, and she had me grab the Sigil Stone that powered the Gate. When I did, it vanished in a flash, and we were back on the outskirts of Anvil, fortunately with no fatalities, though most of us needed healing."

Nearby, Hrolf Sharp-Ear was paying close attention while doing his best to look only semi-conscious from drink. He'd gotten a slight scent of wet dog from the older Altmer, which made him extremely interested in their plans for the following day. It looked like the werewolf would not only be alone and out of the city most of the day, he'd likely be passing close to the Fort Strand hideout of the Silver Hand band Hrolf belonged to.

Eventually the four strangers said good night and headed to their rooms. As soon as they were gone, Hrolf made his way to the barman and settled his tab, then headed for Fort Strand to report.

"Got a werewolf at the Count's Arms," he said, as soon as he got to the Great Dome where the rest of the band was gathered. "He's an Altmer mage, traveling with an Imperial who looks like a spellsword and a married Altmer and Odmer couple. He's planning to go to Carlas Agea tomorrow, alone, and maybe stop at the Wayshrine of Akatosh on the way."

Quintius, the band's leader, frowned. "An Altmer mage, and traveling with an Imperial spellsword? I'm not sure we ought to tackle that one without more men."

"Why?" one of the others asked. "We've got two mages of our own, and we've taken out over a dozen of the beasts already. What's one more, especially if we catch him in his mer form?"

"Because from Hrolf''s description," Quintius said, "that could be Faal Mungrohiik. If it is, and he's able to change before we kill him, I don't give us good odds at all."

"So we set up an ambush in the rocks just outside the ruins and hit him with arrows and spells as he's entering. We don't give him time to change."

"Ummm." Quintius frowned. "That might actually work," he said thoughtfully. "It'd mean traveling tonight to be in position by morning, but ... all right, we'll give it a try. Taking out Faal Mungrohiik would be a real achievement, true enough."

Hrolf chuckled. "Not that we'd be able to tell anyone but other Silver Hands about it, given he's been named Friend of the Empire."

"True as well, but you know it'll eventually get out." Quintius shrugged. "Well, get ready, and we'll move out. The moons'll be bright enough to see where we're going, if not to make final arrangements."

The Silver Hands were in position by midnight, and after setting first-shift sentries, they took turns getting some sleep. All were awake at first light for a cold breakfast, speaking in no more than murmurs. No one expected the werewolf to even leave Anvil until dawn at the earliest, but why take chances?

They took up position and settled in before full light. Given the terrain, the only reasonable approach - unless he suspected something, which no one thought likely - was from the southwest. So one archer and both mages were hidden in the rocks that covered that approach, the other two archers and all the melee fighters in the rocks and woods by Carlas Agea's first archway.

Sorcalin had seen his companions off to their own activities after a leisurely breakfast before he set out on his own investigation of Carlas Agea, otherwise known as the Cavern of Secrets. He didn't expect to find treasure, but those who explored ruins often overlooked something more important, namely knowledge in the form of carvings, or - rarely - metal-paged books, usually engraved in characters too tiny to read without magical or optical enlargement. If he were extremely lucky, he might find one of those, even though it was too much to really hope for.

It was too nice a day to hurry, so he took his time, enjoying the mild weather - especially in comparison to Skyrim's! - the smells, the birdsong, occasionally pausing for a bit of cloud-watching.

But when he neared the rock formation just south of Carlas Agea's first arch, he sensed a movement in the magical field that meant someone was charging spells. Over two centuries as a Master let him determine they were Expert-level Destruction spells, and it didn't take a genius to deduce they'd be aimed at him.

He and his wolf agreed that a bit of action before exploring an Ayleid ruin would probably be fun, so he shifted, then wolf-grinned as his enchanted armor dissipated the spells being thrown against him. He loped toward the rock formation, sniffing out the foes. The first he encountered was a mage with another spell almost ready to cast, so he wasted no time, crushing her head with his powerful jaws. The next he could take a bit more time with, so he stabbed this one in the gut with his claws, his wolf savoring the mage's look of horror as Sorcalin raised him above his head, then tossed him to one side.

The archer tried to run, but had no chance against Faal Mungrohiik's strength or speed. Ripping the man's arms off was inelegant but effective, and he took a few seconds to devour one of them before following the sound of people in armor trying to escape.

He enjoyed himself. Silver Hands were always fun to kill, even if not much of a challenge except when they were trying mass attacks rather than fleeing. Once he was satisfied he'd caught all of them, and had a satisfying meal, he shifted back and returned to his original purpose of exploring Carlas Agea.

He found nothing but a couple of carvings he'd not seen records of, which he sketched, then returned to Anvil. It was late afternoon when he arrived at the main gate, and spoke to the guard on duty. "I need to speak to your Captain. Could you tell me where he is?"

Normally the guard would have asked why, but he wasn't about to interfere in a Master Mage's business. "This time of day, he'll be doing paperwork in his office at the Castle Barracks, sir."

"Thank you." Sorcalin made his way to the Castle Barracks, where he was directed to the Captain's office. When he was admitted, the Gaptain looked tired. "Yes? What can I do for you, Master Mage - ?"

Sorcalin sighed. He'd really prefer not to reveal his identity, but he doubted the Captain would let him get away with that. "I'm traveling incognito, for reasons of Imperial security. I need to report a number of dead Silver Hands near Carlas Agea,"

"What? What happened?" the Captain exclaimed

"They attacked me, and I defended myself," Sorcalin replied "I'm afraid I made a meal from a couple of them, but their armor and equipment are still there. The Anvil Guard can have that."

The Captain looked puzzled. "You're admitting you're a werewolf, and pointing me to your victims? But ... " His puzzlement turned to a grin. "There's only one who'd admit that to a Guard Captain. Don't worry, Master Mage; I'll keep your secret. It's a pleasure to meet you, though, sir."

Sorcalin returned the grin, and nodded. "Very astute of you, but this is under Imperial Top Security, understood? At least until several days after we leave."

The Captain nodded. "Of course, my Lord. You were never here, for at least a month."

"Thank you for your understanding." Sorcalin gave the Captain an honest smile, and left.