Skyrim Audio-Adventure

Chapter 12

"The dead forest"

'Necromancer', what a devastating word. Few things in the world are more constant than death, that constancy can sound like a threat to some and comfort to others, but to a select few ambitious and unscrupulous mages it sounds like a challenge. They are the ones who turn away from the natural laws, twisting the very concept of life and death to meet their ends, no matter the transgressions, no matter the cruelty, no matter the cost. For most with a fundamental understanding of history, the archetypal necromancers were Potema the wolf queen of Solitude and Manamarco the king of worms. Blood-thirsty, power-hungry and dreadful; at their peaks they commanded legions upon legions of undead. They had only been stopped by the interventions of legendary heroes and stalwart commanders. As such the hunter couldn't help but wonder, what in all oblivion the two raggedy bowmen were still doing there.

Once they had squeezed a few more details out of Anise and asked her to get word back to Riverwood the pair had continued on towards the falls. Tucked into a dense cluster of trees they now camped on the unfamiliar shore of a familiar lake. They could hear Lake Illinalta rolling away beyond the light of their modest fire. The stars slowly wheeled over head, the moons danced somewhere beyond the mountains tonight. If the moons light had graced the lake on this night, they would not see a well-trodden bank with easy access to a main road; this was the western shore, the only paths out here were left by critters, hermits, and intrepid hunters like themselves.

The hunter lay out the bedroll he'd bought with money from the boar, it was a welcome luxury. Since he'd lost his camp he'd been crawling inside his backpack like bear trying to fit down a gopher hole, this was a marked improvement. He bit into some dried pork and caught a the pear that Bracknel tossed to him.

"Something wrong with you're hand?" Bracknel asked casually. "You seemed pretty eager to get that thing off tonight."

The hunter examined the stump closely and rubbed it with the tip of the middle finger on the same hand. He resisted the urge to stick it in his mouth and gnaw on it, "Yeah, ever since we talked to Anise, its burning and stinging like you wouldn't believe."

"Sounds like an infection or at least a blister, the night air will do it some good. Just stop picking at it for Kyne's sake."

"Yeah, yeah." the hunter gave an exaggerated nod that did little hide his agitation, he could feel the hypertension pull at the back of his head. "So what's the plan? Snatch a couple Slaughterfish for the road and head back?"

Bracknel froze while preparing some wildflower tea in small kettle and fixed him with a steely blue eye. "There's no running from this boy."

"I disagree. I think that this the perfect time to run from this. We haven't committed to anything, we haven't gotten its attention. We could turn back right now."

"And then what?"

"I don't know run to the garrison or the Whiterun guard."

"Oh and tell that a petty sorcerer is gathering power in the Bleak Falls Mountains. As if they'd got the time for that. The war is moving, there's word that the Stormcloaks are going to attack the fort at Bloodlet Throne."

"How on Nirn can you know that?"

"Because I keep my ears open you git."

"That insane. Why would they do that? Even if they took the fort they'd be stuck between the garrison at Helgen and the border guard at the pale pass."

"You speak with imperial rationality. You fail to acknowledge the Nordic taste for glory, intimidation and symbolic victories. The could take the fort and abandon it the next day and they're ends would have been met."

"Fine if we can't get the garrison to move then we go to the guard."

"Who are already spread thin."

"Gods be damned! At least they signed up for this kind of thing. I didn't."

"Listen," the old Nord leaned forward the contours in his wizened face flashing in the flickering firelight like the stony visage of a mountain god in a lightning storm. "Necromancers, soul benders, commanders of corpses, however you wish to say it... they are a sickness on the land; and like every sickness they start out small. What you need to ask yourself is how many of creatures, critters and good honest folk will need to be hurt or killed or worse before the powers that be are affected enough to do anything about this?

The hunter glared back at his friend, he knew there was only one real answer, "Too many..." he said.

"How long before the Jarl puts an underwhelming bounty on this fellows head?"

The hunter scowled and took a bite of pear. "Too long."

Bracknels face softened, "It is not an easy thing knowing. You can try to forget but you often won't and the knowledge you could have stop something terrible cuts deeper than any blade. That why you must act, even if you didn't ask to know even if you're scared. You can't guarantee that anyone else will do something, you can only count on yourself."

The hunter stared pensively into the fire. He finished his pear and buried the seeds. "Do you think Anise will actually get back to Riverwood?"

"She seemed earnest enough."

"She also seemed pretty sedentary."

"So am I till something moves me and yet here I am."

"Nothing about that whole conversation seemed strange to you?"

"Not particularly. Should it?"

"I don't know." the hunter pulled off his boots and stuffed his legs into his bedroll. "I've got history with mysterious women living out it the woods."

"I know you do."

The hunter snatched some charcoal from the fire and crushed it in his hands "Have you ever tangled with a mage before?"

Bracknel began to settle himself in for the night as well, "I've spent a lot of time with mages, back in the legion we had this special group called battle-mages. Those people were a force of nature, just one of them on your side could sway the tide of battle."

"Yeah but besides drinking tea and sharing camp with them did you ever have to actually fight against them?"

Bracknel poured himself some tea and then passed some to the hunter. "I've survived a few run-ins with little wizards and witches, apprentices too green to quick with anything practical. I've also have moments where I could do nothing even if I wanted to."

The hunter chewed some charcoal then washed his mouth out. "When was that."

The elder hunters eyes grew far away. "A word of advice, if you ever meet a Thalmor calling themselves a justiciar... Pray, that's the most you can do."

The light an ember popped into the air and drifted off towards the lake, the hunter watched it as it went. "How in oblivion are we supposed to match wills with a necromancer, I've never even understood magic let alone cast a spell."

"Ah yes" Bracknel said sipping his tea. "Well magic comes from the stars, being windows to aetherius and all."

"I... I'm sorry what was that?"

"Magic comes from the stars."

The hunter thought back to a discussion they'd had in The Bannered Mare. "How do you know about magic? I thought you hated mages."

"When did I say that?"

"When Aela tried to get you to take that ice sword to the court wizard."

"That's not a matter of like or dislike, that's a matter of trust. Mages are notorious for pissing about with shit they shouldn't, you remember the Great Collapse of Winterhold?"

"I heard something about it yeah, back when I was a kid."

"Well half of the bloody city is in the sea of ghosts because of the mages at that college and the people never even got an explanation. Homes lost, trade in shambles, loved ones dead; not a word from the college. So no, I don't trust them, but it doesn't mean I hate them and it certainly doesn't mean I know nothing about magic or aetherius."

The hunter took a deep breath and sipped his own tea "Ok where should we begin?"

Bracknel wiped some sweat off his neck and sighed "Do know about the wheel?"

The hunter shrugged. "I know about wheels but I don't think that's what you're talking about."

"Here I'll say it as best as I remember, it's an old 'church of the nine divines' thing." The old Nord pulled an arrow from his quiver and used the point to draw in the dirt between them. He drew a circle with in a circle connected buy eight lines. It wasn't hard for the hunter to spot the aforementioned wheel complete with spokes. "Here we have Mundas, or creation as we know it." said Bracknel gesturing to the center of the circle with the fletching, "And out here this is Aetherius." he pointed to the outer circle "The realm of magic and the creator gods. Magnus, Shor and others I can't recall."

"What of the spokes?"

"The spokes are the Aedra that bind our world to the realm of Aetherius. We represent them both as the divines and the other planets."

"Wait," the hunter choked on some tea "The gods are planets?"

The old Nord waved away the question, "The moons are a gods corpse and the gods are planets, trust me that isn't the half of it. Now gimme a moment, I need to remember their names." he screwed up his face in visible effort. "Let's see, 'By the intersession of saint Elessia you may be so filled with grace and strength and wisdom that comes from grace that through these teachings you may come to the true meaning of the nine divines and their glories. To convey...' and that's where I lose it, hang on. 'All the seas... and skies... are the parchment...' I'll skip a bit, basically Akatosh gave us 10 commands." he continued to strain as he counted on his fingers "Ummmm... 'There is Stendarr who says "be kind and generous to the people of Tamriel, protect the weak, heal the sick and give to the needy." Second is Arkay who says "Honor the earth its creatures and the spirits living and dead. Guard and tend the bounties of the mortal word and do not profane the spirits of the dead." Then we have mother mara and she says "Live soberly and peacefully, honor your parents and preserve the peace and security of home and family." Fourth comes Zenathar who says "work hard and you will be rewarded, spend wisely and you will be comfortable, never steal or you will be punished." Next comes Talos, man turned god, as worthy as all the rest. He says "be strong for war, be bold against enemies and evil, and defend the peoples of Tamriel." Kynereth, riding the evening breeze, says, "Use nature's gifts wisely, respect her power and fear her fury. Then there's Debella who says "open your heart to the noble secrets of art and love, treasure the gifts of friendship, seek joy and inspiration in the mysteries of love." Pan-ultimately we have Julianous who says "Know the truth, observe the law. When in doubt seek wisdom from the wise." And finally Akatosh, he says serve and obey your emperor, study the covenants, worship the nine, do your duty and head the commands of the saints and priests." The tenth command, delivered to mortal ears and hearts from the heavens, comes from the nine altogether. They say "Above all else be good to each-other."'" The old Nord finished and looked to the hunter with a bright smile.

"Wow." said the hunter, genuinely impressed "How did you remember all that."

"Ah you get that drilled into you when you're a wain in the church."

"I can't hope to live up to half of that, and I'll probably forget most of it by morning."

"Well that's the great thing about ideals and aspirations, even if you fail to live up to them there's nothing to stop you from aspiring again."

"Ha that's nice." the hunter remarked "We're living up to an ideal right now I suppose."

"That we are."

"Hm heres a question." the hunter leaned forward and pointed to the circle "There are nine divines, yet there are 8 spokes, why is that?"

"There are 8 other planets each one represents a divine." Bracknel pointed to each of the spokes in turn "Stendarr, Arkay, Mara, Zenathar, Kynereth, Debella, Julianous and the chief Akatosh."

"So where's Talos."

"Talos came later. Tiber Septim ascended to godhood and became Talos. There Talos represents us." he pointed to the center circle "Nirn. He is our representative amongst the nine and we are his representative among the planets."

"By the mountains..." the hunter swore softly. "So where does that leave Oblivian and the Deadra. What about Aela's friend?"

Bracknel took a long loud sip of his tea and sighed "Well the Daedra are everything the Aedra are not, malicious, vengeful and sadistic. But to their credit, they are certainly more 'present' and a heck of a lot more willing to intervene with mortals. I've never met one myself but from what I've heard in stories some Daedra are more harmless than others. Hircine's always seemed more on the tame side."

"Turn people into werewolves is on the tame side."

"One of Malog Bal's pseudonyms is 'the lord of rape'. So yes, werewolves are pretty damn tame."

The hunter threw up a hand as a sign of contrition and downed the rest of his tea in one gulp. "Ok ok, so on this wheel though where's oblivion?"

"On the wheel Oblivion is the space between the spokes but like I said that's a simplification and this all goes much deeper, too deep to get into here. Lets try to get back on track. We were talking about magic right?"

"Right." the hunter shook himself back the reality that they had a mage to reckon with. "So you said the stars are portals to Aetherius soooo... the magic is being syphoned through the stars from the god realm."

"Sort of."

"What do you mean sort of?"

"Remember what I said about this not translating well. You're going to need to get used to the idea that I'm just representing this as best I can."

"So get I just need to used to contradiction?"

"Welcome to religion." Bracknel chuckled, "When you say magic is 'syphoned' it makes it sound like mages are just wandering down to the magic creek and collecting some magic energy for their daily magic baths. Each of our soul's is a piece of the energy of Aetherius and they carry a connection to Aetherius itself, those with the ability to strengthen that connection and use the energy of Aetherius within, and around themselves as it leeks into our world are called mages."

"Can you do any magic."

"Me? No not a jot."

The hunter just about threw his cup into the fire, "then how am I supposed to listen to you talk about the foundational principals of magic. You can't even cast a spell. You're just as clueless as I am."

"I'm not clueless." Bracknel said sounding genuinely offended "You knew almost none of what we've discussed. I've spent plenty of time learning this I've just never had the aptitude. I had a battle-mage friend and she was hellbent on teaching me how to create sparks of flame with a snap of my fingers. It was the most rudimentary of all fire spells and its pretty practical to boot. But did I ever create so much as an ember?"

"I wanna say no."

"Not one, and I went above and beyond, induced many a hallucination trying to find that deeper connection between my soul and Aetherius but none of it did any good." he tipped his cup back and finished his own tea. "Had a hell of a time though."

"I'm sure you did," the hunter sighed pinching his brow, "How does any of this help us for tomorrow. We're going against a necromancer, how do we do that if we're both magically blind."

"Well I think the key is this. The necromancer is using his magic to puppet corpses; now I'm not sure that if he's subjugating the souls or using his own magic to simulate souls but in either case I think we can remove the bulk of the problem by removing the necromancer."

"I see, the necromancer is the puppet master, if we cut the strings, the marionettes aren't an issue."

"And if we're going die trying then it's in our best interest to take the bastard with us."

"Yeah... I suppose there's that."

"Either way the necromancer should be the focus."

"Right," The hunter ran his hands down his face and reached for his short-sword, he pulled partly from it sheath and saw the dying embers of their campfire play off shine of the steal blade. "Did you bring anything incase they get close?"

"Aye, this time I did." Bracknel reached over to his pack and held up a sizable single sided steal axe. "This and change, I knew what I might be walking into. The question is do you?"

"I think I've got some idea now."

"Not what I mean." the hunter met Bracknels intense gaze once more "Stranger you're probably going to have to kill someone." he said gravely. "Are you ready for that?"

The hunter didn't say anything at first. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say. He turned away and tucked himself into his bed roll. He heard Bracknel do the same. The fire had gone dark and the pair lay in star speckled blackness by the time he finally found the right words. "I've got your back if you've got mine."

They didn't bother rising early the next day. Not that their wasn't a reason to, perhaps they both were trying to buy more time, whether to prepare or just in general. They rose slowly, breakfasted hardily and packed silently. Once they had filled their water skins at the lake and no more quiet excuses could be made, they began the long hike up the mountain.

The first order of business was to find the inlet that fed lake Illanalta and start following it uphill. When they found the inlet the hunter wasn't sure whether to classify this as a modest-river or an overzealous creek. Whatever it was it led them winding up mossy hillsides, over huge protruding roots and between stoical boulders. At one point the hunter looked back to see the scintillating water of the lake beneath the ancient sun. It had taken them less then half a day to match the hight of Helgen, he thought he could see the mighty stone walls distinct against the mountainside in the distance. Then he turned back to the assent, gulping some much needed breaths as he did, where they were going the air would be getting thinner.

The woods grew dark, not in shadow but in bark. Black trees, brown leaves, still growing and sprouting against all natural logic. He had seen more trees in his time in this forest then could ever be counted. He knew deep down, in the mote of his reason, what a tree should look like, he may not have had the botanical education to articulate it, but he knew. The trees he saw here were wrong. They were green where they should have been brown, brown where they should have been green, thin where they should have been overgrown and vice versa. Their was black ooze leaking from wounds that gaped and roiled like infected flesh. Mistletoe and witches brooms permeated not only the canopy but the ground and roots over which they stepped. The hunter felt a clawing rot reaching for his breath, but he shook it off and press on up the mountain, breath shallow panting breaths.

The first words of the day were said when the pair rounded a grove of ceder and found themselves in a damp glenn housing what was less of a waterfall and more of a particularly steep incline with a rush running down to a pool.

"Is this it?" the hunter asked.

"Aye this is it." panted Bracknel leaning on a tree trunk.

"I was expecting more falling water for a waterfall. This is kind of pathetic to name a whole mountain range after."

"Well its not called 'Great Falls' or 'Grand Falls' or 'Clearly-Distinct-From-A-Rapid Falls', its called Bleak Falls."

"I see that, but I must say I was expecting a bit more than this. Look at it. Just a trickle of incontinent piss wondering down the leg of the world."

"Shor's bones you are in a mood aren't you."

"Yeah i'm trying to get it out of my system before I die."

"Blast, keep that shite to yourself, I don't need it on my shoulders."

As the pair bickered a most curious thing happened. A wondering cloud chose that moment to dip low over the glenn. The hunter tasted the moisture in the air before he noticed the fog tightening around them like a noose.

"Hang on." he said, holding up a hand, interrupting their discussion as to whether it had been a river or a creek. The only thing they had decided to that point was that it was definitely not a brook, a brook was out of the question. "What's going on?"

Bracknel looked around unimpressed "Just a cloud bank, it'll pass."

"No," the hunter stared around at his disappearing surroundings with growing agitation, "it won't. Do you feel wind? Cause I don't."

Bracknel rolled his tongue around his teeth as he too took in the strange phenomenon. "Perhaps you have a point there."

The fog thickened to an opaque wall, and just stopped, holding resolute neither waxing nor waining, not moving nor lifting. Many laymen would have hardly noticed the difference, but to the hunter... he could think of little else then when they had visited Dragonsreach and those giant doors had slammed shut behind him. "Anise said it was near the falls, so we should be close."

"That's true, we can't just go walking up the falls so that means we can either go left or go right."

"Did you get a good look in either direction?"

"No, you were blathering on about the bloody falls."

"Yeah so which way do we go?"

"Do you have a coin?"

"A coin? No I don't. Money makes noise, I left it with Delphine."

"Ah just means you don't know how to store it." The old Nord reached to a spot behind is own ear and pulled out a single silver coin. "Heads we go right, tails we go left."

"Where did you have that?" the hunter asked quirking his head.

Without answering the Nord tossed the coin with a flick of his thumb, caught it and flipped it. "Heads... again. Okay, right it is."

The hunter looked at the coin and then to the right of the falls, "Huh."

Bracknel followed his gaze, "What? You see something?"

"No it's just that I never see nordic silver coins these days."

"Ah well it's my lucky coin."

"I hope you're right." the hunter sighed and readied his bow, notching an arrow and holding it between his middle and ring fingers on his augmented hand. The pair stepped of carefully, reentering the bizarre labyrinth of trees.

The hunter didn't know why but some part of him had expected the shadow to somehow help with the fog. As if it was the comparative brightness of the glenn that made the pale mist so impenetrable. Alas he was wrong, this gloom proved just as bewildering. Every tree was indistinguishable from the last, at some point the hunter just started counting every soft tentative step. He knew that it was probably fruitless but it was the closest to navigation he could manage. At the about the 232nd step by his count he dropped to one knee for a breath. Bracknel did the same just off his hip.

He looked at the old Nord with wide eyes "This is insanity, we could be right in the middle of their camp right now and not know it."

"Sounds like a damn docile necromancer then. Trust me we would know it."

"This is like we're just waiting to step in a bear trap."

"Maybe or not." Bracknel's eyes had wandered past the hunter. He placed hand on his shoulder and pointed "Look there. Do you see that light?"

Strangely enough the hunter did see a light. It was a unnatural blue flicker so pale it was barely distinguishable in the fog. It looked maybe thirty feet away from them but it was hard to tell, given that the ground became obscured at ten feet.

"It's like a little candle."

"Aye, a blue one."

"No way that's natural."

"Aye, but the unnatural is precisely what we're looking for. Come on."

The hunter would have protested but the old Nord was already moving and if he got to far away he'd lose the coot in the fog. So he swallowed some curses and followed.

They had only gone a few yards when the hunter realized that the light wasn't getting any closer. Then when the hunter reached out to stop Bracknel the light simply vanished.

"Blast where's it gone." Bracknel peered about. Something tripped the hunters alarm, that innate sense we have when someone is standing near us. He whipped his head about and saw nothing but motionless mist.

"This isn't good old hound." he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"No it's fine, I can see it, it's over there now."

"Bracknel." the hunter pleaded but away his friend went once more and he had to follow.

His ears, nose and skin. A hundred alarms were screaming in his head. The low branches of the trees looked like wicked fingers and the fog seemed to be rising up beneath them now. Each step causing ripples in the miasma like they stepped through water. Movement suddenly flashed before the hunters faces and he locked onto it with a start. It was an iridescent blue butterfly. He watched in silent amazement as it orbited his head twice before alighting on his chest.

"Dammit its gone again. Gimme a moment."

"No, no, no." the hunter breathed as he looked down at the butterfly. "We need to go." He started to scan their surroundings, the ripples they were making in the fog were no longer alone. Like two tides meeting on the sea, he could see dozens of other waves rolling towards them from out beyond the fog. Suddenly a new wisp of light flared up ahead of him.

"Ah there it is." Bracknel growled and started moving away to the left. With a lightening quick motion the hunter reached out and snagged the old man's collar rudely yanking him back. Bracknel choked and spat as he was brought face to face with the hunter. "What in Oblivion are you playing at?!"

"Just stop for a moment you daft fucking git."

"Alright, alright whats got your nickers in a twist?"

"Do you see that light right there?" the hunter pointed ahead of him to the new light.

Bracknel followed his gaze. "What? No the lights over there he said motioning left."

"Well I'm seeing it right there, we're being separated. What's more we're already surrounded. They're all around us."

Bracknel looked around again "No one's here."

The hunter gritted his teeth and hissed "Stop looking with your eyes."

The elder hunter's brow furrowed at his companion's tone but he listened. The hunter saw his eyes unfocus for a moment tuning into his other senses, then watched as all the hairs on his neck stood on end. When Bracknel's gaze refocused all he had to say was a bashful "Oh..."

The hunter's relief was short lived. As stale stationary air filled his lungs he felt a windless chill caress his neck. The forest had been deathly silent just a moment ago, but now a gentle rattle caused his ear to twitch, it was a soft vibration just below a sound, like walking past a dark house and knowing its not empty. Something shifted just below the surface of his senses. He looked out to the periphery of their visual space the ripples in the fog were coming stronger.

The hunter felt his adrenaline reaching a fevered pitch, his mind threatened to slip away as his body was piloted by instincts. Werewolves weren't the only ones with beast sleeping in their bones, everyone dances a waltz with their animal selves; and his animal self was scared. Head down, tail between his knees, terrified. Halfway to shitting himself just so he'd be carrying less wait when the time came to bolt. He'd been scared all day, he'd been scared since they'd set out on this venture. Only now did he really admit it. Legs driven by fear he backed up into a tree, the a mouse seeking shelter from a hawk. As he rested his back against it, it gave way as empty space. His feet slipped out from under him and his surprised yelp echoed weirdly off the other trees as he fell down, tumbling ass over ears down, down into the dark.

He came to a stop mercifully quickly, though it wouldn't help the grey hairs he was sure were on the way. He might have been even more frightened if he hadn't spent the last 10 years living in a forest, but he was able to comprehend his situation pretty quickly. The faint smell of charcoal and must, only confirmed it. He had tripped down into the hollow of a burned out tree. It was lucky that his bow had been in his had otherwise it may have snapped. As he took several calming breaths Bracknel slid down to him feet-first.

"Are you hurt?"

"Nowhere that matters."

"Good good. Come on lets get you up." the hunter felt the gnarled hand grip his arm and pull him upright. He saw the pale mist of the outside world, a dim forest made bright by contrast with the shadow he now sat in. Once on his feet did a quick assessment, nothing lost, nothing broken, just a few superficial scrapes.

Wordlessly the pair climbed the sort slop of the hollow back into the forest. As his head crested the entrance the hunter registered a change. The faint sense built had into a distant tapestry of whispers. Voices too quiet to be audible but too numerous to be missed. He found his friend's eyes and saw that he was listening too. He gripped the Nord's shoulder. "We're turning around, back the way we came."

"Aye." Bracknel muttered "I think you're right."

"You have nowhere to go." The hunter's skin set on edge. A voice stood out in sharp contrast to the building cacophony. "The hollow ones wait for you. Death waits for you."

"Are you hearing this?" The hunter asked in a hushed tone.

"I am," said Bracknel scanning around "Sounds like we've got ourselves a damned rude host."

The hunter looked for the butterfly on his chest hoping he hadn't crushed it when he fell. It was gone and he looked around for it for moment until with an azure twinkle it alighted on his right shoulder. When his eye rested on it something moved beyond and he froze like the skittish animal he felt he was. Floating in the mist some unknowable distance away, was a face. The pale melancholic visage of a woman. He tapped Bracknel and pointed. The old Nord followed his gaze and suppressed a gasp. The longer they looked they began to make out her form standing next to a distant tree. Hood pulled back so wisps of ghostly hair waved around an angular face. Robes hanging it tatters that blew in some unfelt wind. The hunter felt assaulted, as if struck in the chest with a deep profound sense of loneliness.

"You must stay, you will be safe in the mist. No one will find you."

"Oh no way we're staying." the hunter muttered.

Bracknel smacked his shoulder, "Best not respond to it."

"Right right, its about 380 paces back that way, then we can listen for the falls."

"I counted more like 400," Bracknel said as they scrambled out of the hollow and began to backtrack.

"Good to know."

"Come back," came the voice, a clear whisper and soft breath on the back of his neck. "You will be safe... with us."

He didn't respond this time, he didn't even think of a response. Everything looked different walking this way, but the hunter was sure that his years in the woods would not fail him.. His mind was focused. They needed to leave, and so, stumbling over tree roots as they went, they left.

The hunter checked his person for the butterfly again when they got back to the falls, he didn't see it. The dainty apparition it seemed was gone for the moment. The fog was still as heavy and immovable as always but in comparison to what it had been in the forest of wisps it was clear as drinking water. Speaking of which, the first thing the pair did was sit down on large stones by the pool and take several long pulls from their water-skins. They drank nearly half their water supply right there; stress and uncertainly making them parched men. The clear glacial ripples of the falls lapped gently against the modest bank, the pair looked to it, then at their depleted water-skins, then to each other.

"Nah," Bracknel shook his head "best not with a necromancer around. Who knows what that water would do to you."

"My thoughts exactly." agreed the hunter and took another drink.

"Listen Stranger," Bracknel scratched his mane of hair bashfully "I'd appreciate it you could not mention any of that to Aela. It wasn't my finest showing."

The hunter shook his head dismissively "Don't worry about it. Worry about that." he said pointing across that way.

The old Nord turned with him, "What?"

"There's only one way to go now."

"I'm surprised that you don't want to just head back."

"Well as I see it... If we can see it and touch it we can kill it. Back there?" the hunter jabbed over his shoulder with his thumb "That wasn't even fair. If we see the same thing going this way we can rethink this whole approach."

"Works for me, Steward of the Mountain."

"Don't get me wrong I just don't like walking a long way for nothing."

"Sure sure. Who does?" Bracknel waved his hand to hide a small smile.

"Did any part of that make sense to you?"

"Back there?" the elder hunter scratched his thinning shock of hair "Well I never thought I'd ever run into anything like that but the old stories of wispmothers or the pale ladies spring to mind don't you think?"

"Wispmothers maybe but that didn't line up with any of the accounts I've heard. You felt how many there were, and you heard her voice."

"Aye, the hollow ones wait for us."

"Was that a threat, you think?"

"Sounds more like a warning to me. Means we're on the write track."

"How do you figure?"

"Well think about it. 'Hollow ones'; what better way to describe the undead progeny of a necromancer?"

The hunter wobbled his head from from side to side in a motion that was neither a nod nor a shake. "I suppose... like marionettes..." he shrugged off his pack and pulled out his boar tusk to continue carving. "Do necromancers see through the eyes of their creations or are they autonimous?"

Bracknel scratched his neck "Couldn't tell you. I wouldn't be surprised by either scenario."

"But you're sure killing the necromancer will fell his minions, even the automatons."

"He's animated dead flesh and shaped it to his will. Once that will is gone the bodies should go back to being dead."

"And until then we will attempt to kill the dead."

"Aye that about sums it up." The elder hunter pulled a carrot from his pack and tried to bite into it. He failed, frowned and started rubbing the vegetable between his hands. The hunter quirked an eyebrow at this but didn't comment. Instead he looked back to his carving turning it slowly and mused.

"How did I get here? I remember it all but it's like it doesn't tie together correctly. We went fishing, I got attacked by vampires, I met warriors of legend, I talked with a werewolf, now i'm hunting a necromancer... Where is my camp? Where are my books? Where's Velod and Ingrid and young Hamming?"

"You're world is expanding, nothing is ever going to make complete sense."

"It's not just that, it's this. Wolves run like mice, elk live in fear of fire, birds drop from the sky as the forest grows sick, some unknowable eldrich putrefaction like a decay turned predatory... and me walking into it... or away from it?" He screwed his eyes shut as his mind pulled at some tangled thread. "What about the fish? How do the salmon factor into this?"

Bracknel continued to massage the carrot and cast his eyes around the glenn as if the answer was carved into the black bark of the trees. "Necromancers have been known to use a large array of toxic alchemical agents in their work."

"So that got into the water supply and killed the salmon?"

"It could have."

The hunter spoke slowly as if trying to convince himself of something, "So this flow here is where that toxin is leaking in? So the water we got from the lake is just as toxic?"

"Well look around you, I'd say this is the source. And the lake water is pretty diluted."

"That makes sense?" the hunter said but his voice betrayed that it was more of a question than a statement.

Bracknels bushy eyebrows were getting lower and lower "Yes it does... doesn't it."

"So the salmon are in the bays and oceans and come up river to the lake, and the histcarp breed in the lake and get carried down river but never make it past all the salmon. We should be fine because the water is heavily diluted and we're bigger than the salmon anyway. But the histcarp are smaller and they seem to be fine, and so are the slaughter-fish which are bigger than the salmon and live mostly in the lake. Size isn't the determining factor here."

The old Nord blinked, "We're missing something aren't we."

"We must be... we must be and-by the Jarls warty bum, what is wrong with my hand?!" the hunter suddenly cursed loudly and shaking his right arm out emphatically. He pulled his false finger off and stuck the stump in his mouth.

"Quiet down you must have given yourself leather burn."

The half-breed hunter held the now moist nub up for examination. "Look at it, no rash, no blister, no nothing."

"A phantom pain..." Bracknel commented somberly "I've known solders who've lost limbs and experienced the same thing." he took a successful bite of his carrot and waved the remaining length around for emphasis. "Do your best to relax the hand."

"Yeah sure, relax my sword hand on my way to murder someone."

"Just do your best; all this other stuff we can sort out later, none of it will matter once the necromancer is dead."

"Fine fine," the hunter said allowing himself a few more curses as he strapped the finger back on. "Lets get this over with."

The pair stowed their snacks and accessories and got underway once more. The hunter tried to take a few deep calming breaths, but no relief could be found in this close sickly air. He buried his face in his hands and tried to rub the cobwebs off of is mind. He felt Bracknels hand on his shoulder, "Are you sure you don't want to go back"

The hunter looked brought his hands away from his tired eyes "How can I, after seeing all this?" He spotted a trail of conveniently placed stones leading across the water, but he couldn't see the opposite bank "You think we could make it across here?"

"I think so assuming they go all the way and the damn things don't move. They seem steady enough." The hunter went stock still, the old Nord looked at him again really starting to worry now. "Um... Stranger?"

"Stream!" the hunter spun around with the brightest smile he'd worn in days virtually hopping with sudden joy.

Bracknel blinked "What?"

"It's not a creek, its not a river, it's absolutely not a brook, because its a stream."

"Kyne's breath, you're right!" Bracknel slapped his forehead. "It's a bloody stream."

"Cracked it!" the hunter leapt on the first stone with child-like gusto, "At least we cracked one mystery. The day's looking up Bracknel!" he called as he skipped across.

"Too right." the Nord chuckled to himself as he followed.

Luckily for the pair, the path of stones did indeed span the with of the stream and soon they were back on dry land and winding up into the trees to the left of the falls. The fog persisted here, strange and unmoving as ever. The hunter thought he could hear birds fluttering by overhead but he could not see them. He didn't know if they were flying to or from something, and frankly he wasn't sure which to hope for. He pressed forward. The black mold bleeding from the trees smelled like rotting eggs. He pressed forward. What he took for a dried out fern ahead of him jumped up and skittered away on spindly legs. He pressed forward.

They had gotten just about as far as they had gone the other way, when the hunter spotted a familiar blue glow dancing in the gloom. "Oh come on." he sighed in exasperation. "Bracknel you seeing that wisp too?"

"That I am."

The hunter stroked his chin "Hypothetically if do turn back how would we change our approach."

"I think it's getting closer."

"Would you consider asking a mage for help?"

"Stranger look out!"

A lesser man would have turned around slowly and dumbly to watch as death took him. The hunter didn't need to look, he simply took his friend at his word and dove away to the side. He heard the swoosh and thud of a swinging weapon being buried in the ground where he'd stood but moments before. He spun on a knee and saw two blue glowing orbs looming towards him as they sat inside a hollow skinless human skull. A skeleton, picked nearly clean, rotted sinew between the joints and ribs, wisps of hair still clinging to blackened patches of scalp. No muscles bid it motion, no organs bit it life, only the blue lights burning from those lidless sockets told that this was anything other than a long decayed cadaver. Its boney features were enigmatic but the massive great-sword held its segmented hands made its intentions quite clear.

As it hauled the sword up over its head for another strike the hunter, realizing the sword was too long for him to get out of range instead scooted forward, bridging off his hands stomping the aberration's kneecap. As his boot made contact he felt it pass though an unseen layer of something, as if the he was stepping into mud. However it only held for a moment, next thing the patella was crashing out the back of the joint as the whole leg shattered. He barely had time to be pleased with the effectiveness of his attack before he noticed the sword falling towards him as gravity brought the whole horrid thing down on him.

Dropping onto his back he intercepted the things arms and guided the sword away from him. When the skeleton landed on him, he half-expected it to be as heavy as a man but fortunately not. With a swift shift of his hips he rolled the thing over and drew his dagger. Then he froze, looking at the hollow ribcage he saw nothing to stab. In his moment of hesitation the aberration grabbed onto his wrist, he winced, it had no mass but didn't lack for cold unnatural strength. It raise its sword in one hand and tried to cleave him in two. Remembering his numerous wrestling matches with Aela (sanctioned and otherwise) he took advantage of the things hold on him and rolled sideways flipping it face down and lining his hips up to its elbow. He lean back on the armbar, feeling that musky miasma pushy back for a moment but soon he heard the cracking and popping and felt the arm come free. He tossed it to the side and raised his dagger, not to stab, but to smash. He drove the hilt into the things bare skull again and again, as it cracked he saw the lights in the eyes flicker. The jaw dropped open in a silent approximation of a scream. He fitted the point of his blade into a crack and pressed until it caved like an eggshell. The bone split apart, the dagger sunk into the dirt, the lights fizzled out and the skeleton went still.

As the hunter stood wiping sweat off his brow, he scanned around the fog. Nothing else seemed to be coming. Bracknel stepped over to him and patted his shoulder. "You handled that pretty well it'd say."

"There is no way they are all going to be that easy." the hunter stood still scanning.

"Certainly not, I was expecting there to be more of them."

"What if the others are fresher? What if they're stronger?"

"Aye, strength is one thing, but remember anything that can carry a blade is dangerous. We need to keep our heads on a swivel."

"What if it has multiple swords? Then it's extra dangerous."

"Multiple swords? I suppose that wound be a hazard."

"Divines save us if we run into an undead octopus with swords."

"An octopus?"

"Yeah, with eights swords."

"Are you trying to make a joke?" The hunter might have had an answer ready but instead he just bent over and wretched a slurry of water, apple and jerky onto the forest floor. "Oh." Bracknel said sheepishly and rubbed the younger man's back as he heaved again. "I figured this might happen, but really? Over a skeleton?"

"It felt wrong," the hunter said hoarsely, pausing to spray snot and spittle from his nostrils. "Killing it, just touching it, it felt wrong."

"Well... yes." Was all Bracknel could manage at first. "Uh... well... try to look on the bright side."

The hunter spat and glanced up, "That being?"

"At least we know we're going the right way."