A/N: Mod is Arcwind Point Dungeon. Spoilers.

Chapter 38: Arcwind Point

The door in the sunken barrow was already ajar; the earlier Thalmor party had broken its hinges during their entry. Narrow stairs led down to the first room. Shelves and broken urns lined the wall, and in the center was an altar on which a skeleton lay. The smashed remnants of another scattered all over the floor. A trap skelly, Curtis thought, sitting in a chair, unmoving, by the door until something alive came near it.

"I'm not detecting any undead nearby," said Taliesin. From that room to a south end corridor that wound westward to their first large tomb room. Directly opposite them, down some stairs, was the exit. The gate had already been lifted. On the left and right were open crypts and bodies of four deathlords showing signs of being blasted with fire and ice, a couple with limbs hacked off. They found their first Altmer corpse in a room hidden underneath the one they'd entered in, the entrance underneath the staircase. He lay at the base of the altar, his back broken. Likely scenario was that when he pulled the lock lever in front of a seated deathlord, the creature had then shouted at him, and he'd broken his back on hitting the altar.

The corridor from that room curved north, ending in a T-intersection.

"Left or right?" Farkas asked Severus.

"The right is collapsed," said Severus.

Farkas shook his head. "There's air coming through." He went right, thrusting his torch ahead. "Found a break." He disappeared left, then came back out. "Stairs going up," he announced.

"LaaS," Severus said in that direction. "I see one life sign," he said.

They waited a bit as Taliesin and Curtis explored the other direction and came back in short time. "Another T-intersection," Curtis reported. "Left from there seems to dead-end and the right is another corridor."

"Nothing living or undead," Taliesin added.

They decided to explore the stairs Farkas found. It went up. "Draugr ahead," said Taliesin, meaning he'd cast detection spells for both living and undead, and the energy the shout had lit up was only triggering Taliesin's undead spell.

"Thalmor missed coming this way," said Farkas. "All the dust is undisturbed." He casually pulled his greatsword out as the crypt at the top of the stairs came into view. The rest of them stopped climbing and just held their torches high to give him light. The stone coffin lid predictably fell open, and the draugr stepped out only to be immediately smashed down in two pieces by Farkas.

"There's another undead moving up there," said Taliesin.

"What's a bet that that's the draugr we saw pacing the ledge above the word wall," asked Curtis.

"Of course it is," said Severus. "Question is, is it worth climbing up more stairs just for one draugr? If the Dominion didn't come this way, then leave it. It can patrol an empty ledge 'til the world's end for all I care."

They agreed it would be a useless exercise, so headed back down.

So far, it was going okay. Unlike the Skyrim game, there were no convenient light and heat sources such as fresh torches in the sconces and bowls of hot coals. The dead didn't need light or heat. It was pitch black and chilling. He figured the ambient temperature in these underground ruins was about 35 to 40 Fahrenheit. Taliesin, Ralis, and Severus had their candlelight and magelight spells. Farkas's eyes glowed, and his nostrils flared as he tested the air. Curtis had a modified light wand inside a custom-designed spiked mace. It was more like a heavy-duty watchman's flashlight with a stun-gun attitude. His helmet also had the night-vision goggles attachment. A backup contingency if he had to fight in pitch-black conditions.

Not for the first time did he wondered which of the gods of this crazy world was jerking his chain. He was just supposed to be installing some communication devices. But then Irdal gets an interest in Dragonborn tonalities and teaching a Greybeard vocal control. Then he gets dragged into House Mora politics and public relations. Lady Helsette gets interested in some of the handy-dandy devices he'd developed for exploring underwater and underground, so he had his armor and weapons and all its modifications delivered to Windhelm for her to examine them. Then Brother Salindil gets his vision of a friend in trouble. Now, wasn't that convenient? All geared up and ready to go.

Or, maybe, this unknown Altmer was a favorite of the gods who warranted getting his ass rescued by the Nerevarine and the Harbinger of the Companions. That could be something. He thought about Lady Ardeth, the Altmer royal who'd staked her life to escape her mountain prison to find help for her family, coming all the way to Skyrim to seek the cousins of King Helseth's line. Her story had impressed the hell out of him. And this Altmer they were trying to rescue, he was an officer in the regular Dominion armies, not Thalmor. Was that kind of like the Wehrmacht vs. the Gestapo? Okay, his knowledge of the different divisions in Germany during World War 2 was spotty and about as wildly inaccurate as the TV show Hogan's Heroes. But, to anybody outside of Summerset, it didn't really matter what uniform you wore if you marched under the flag of the Dominion eagle. The thing is, the guy had contacts. Enough contacts to smuggle dissident priests off of Summerset just one step ahead of the Thalmor.

Useful contacts to the Felix who were planning to get a large group of Altmer whose only frail claim on them was through a single marriage to King Helseth's cousin and ex-mistress, who happened to be pregnant with his daughter when she married a Felix.

Curtis also considered this was his first official playthrough as a tomb raider in a Nord tomb. He knew how his gear worked while delving through Falmer-infested Dwemer ruins; it was time to see how it held up against the walking dead. The challenges so far were pretty scarce. The Dominion group had cleaned out all the draugr in the upper levels. They came to a section where over a dozen draugr were scattered with three Dominion soldiers. Well, now things were getting heavy. Curtis gagged at the stench of gutted bodies and the stirred-up dust of old mold on long-rotted meat. He was grateful for the filters in his helmet and armor that kept out the dust and mold spores, but nothing could help the smell. Taliesin, Severus, and Ralis had wrapped their scarves over their faces to filter out dust, and they also had donned Morrowind-style goggles to keep that crap out of their eyes. Farkas was sneezing, and he accepted a wrap from Ralis. Elden had also wrapped his scarf around his face and had his diving goggles on.

What the hell was the Dominion here looking for? Who or what was buried in this tomb? The part of the catacombs they were currently in had niches with cage bars. He wondered what the ones behind those bars had done to warrant the rest of eternity there. Caged even in undeath. Real cold, man, real cold. More Dominion soldiers dead at sites where clusters of draugr had been to tell by the many empty niches.

They came to a feast hall, the main floor, and an open upper level. A lot of old bones and dead meat here too. Now they were finding Thalmor officers in glass armor and a justiciar body. The exit doors were on the upper level. Curtis spotted a semi-hidden door on the main level.

"Wait, something is in there," said Farkas.

"Ten gold it's a draugr," said Curtis, snorting.

"You lose," said Farkas. "It's alive and badly injured. Fresh blood."

The soldier there was unconscious. "This happened days ago," said Taliesin. He looked at the scattered vials that must have contained healing and other types of potions. "Looks like he's managed some self-healing, enough to stretch out his life, but not quite enough to recover on his own. I'd say he'll die in a few more hours without a great deal of intervention. Do we want to stay here the next three or four hours I'll need to heal him?" He looked at Curtis when he asked this.

"I say save him," said Curtis. "We could probably explore ahead after a thu'um check for danger. And it should be safe enough here for you to work."

While Taliesin worked on healing the Altmer, the other five investigated the hall and recovered some food supplies from the dead Altmer. Curtis explored the tunnel a pull-trigger in the back of the draugr coffin opened up. Nothing special, just a tunnel partially filled with water. Elden went into the water to find the rest of the tunnel collapsed, a crushed skeleton, and the small chest it had carried. A small pay chest of gold and silver. They all regathered in the small room. Curtis unsheathed Hopesfire and walked around the room, frequently cleaning the blade with a damp cloth because its charge attracted fine dust and mold spores like crazy.

"Smells like rain," Farkas commented when he came back.

"A little ionization doesn't hurt," said Curtis. "Give it a few moments more for the heavier dirt to fall out of the air, and then we can have lunch."

After lunch, Severus, Farkas, and Ralis explored ahead. Curtis and Elden stayed behind to help Taliesin. Since Taliesin was concentrating on the internal stuff, Curtis figured he could do cleanup and fetched an old pot to boil some water and rags. He then stripped off the armor from the Altmer, and Elden took the armor and underclothes to the tunnel to wash. A carrot-top. Huh. A good sign since Brother Salindil said his Dominion captain friend was a redhead. If he was injured days ago, maybe he was praying while he tried to heal himself. That would seem a perfectly natural action. Old bruises and torn flesh were healing even as Curtis wiped off dried blood and grime. The real work Taliesin was dealing with was a perforated gut, blood and offal where it shouldn't be, and sepsis.

When Elden finished washing the armor and clothes, he scavenged the bodies and previous chambers for valuables. They'd agreed right at the beginning that if they were going to loot the place, they'd put any gold, gems, or like treasures in visible areas and let Thane Selrun Mor of Ivarstead know afterward to collect the valuables for the Geirmund's Honor Orphanage. His people would also do some spirit work and lay any of the undead to rest, and they would reseal the tomb with wards to keep out the casual adventurer or robber bands.

Curtis set another pot aside to boil more water, but for this one, he'd prefiltered the water through a paper and silk cone before boiling the water. Then he added from his personal supply a couple of bullion cubes of dried and powdered meat and vegetables. Blah and medicinal in flavor until he added smoke-dried, oiled, and salted seaweed that the Argonians in Winterhold harvested from the Sea of Ghosts.

Taliesin grimaced as he took a sip while he rested.

"Vitamins and minerals," said Curtis. "Gotta have real food following up a healing potion. And even after you heal his gut, it's not gonna be in any condition to handle bulk supplies. So a liquid diet for now."

"Yes, very sensible. And, really, this isn't too bad once you get over the initial taste."

"Old Dwemer recipe. Doing long distances in the tunnels, gotta carry water, beer, and these cubes. They actually taste better dissolved in cold dark beer. Get some good nutrition — if you can keep it down — and kill your appetite for hours." Taliesin barked a small laugh and got back to work.

Another hour went by. The Altmer opened his eyes, gazed blearily at the two Dunmer over him.

"Hey, goldy, you hear me? Hey, focus." Curtis snapped his fingers in front of the other's face until the hazel eyes focused on him. "Good boy. Thirsty? Look, some broth. Little sips now." He held a cup of warm broth to the Altmer's lips, tilting the cup just enough to let a trickle go in. "No spitting. It's not poison. Just sips. You've been without food or water for days, and you've been bleeding out. You need the liquids." Once a quarter cup was gone, he set the broth aside for later. "Hey, goldy, we're not your enemies unless you want us to be. Despite how I look, I'm from the College of Winterhold."

Severus, Farkas, and Ralis returned. "Just a lot of stairs, tunnels, and empty crypts," reported Severus. "We stopped short of what seemed a large place with ten life signs. I didn't get close enough to work a spell to see they were alive or dead. Didn't want to trip anyone's magic sensing. Moved too much to be draugr patrols, though." He glanced at the sleeping Altmer, who was now covered in one of Curtis's paper-thin silk-and-flax survival blankets.

"Oh, hey, you found more food," said Curtis when Farkas dropped a bundle in front of him.

"Yeah. One of the dead bodies was loaded with food supplies. Seems her friends were too busy fighting to realize their cook was dead. Their loss. High elf rations have gotta be better than what you've got brewed."

"Haha. But I guarantee mine is more nutritious. Besides, I made it for goldy here. Tally fixed his guts, but it's too soon for solid foods, so he gets soup. But help yourself to a cup and use it as a dip for the bread.

"So, is he the one we're looking for," asked Severus.

"I think so; he fits the description," answered Curtis.

"So when he's awake, we can confirm it and get out of here," said Farkas.

"No interest in seeing what's at the bottom, what these guys came all the way here for," asked Curtis.

"None at all. There's only death at the end. There might be a great treasure or rare magical items, but nothing I would consider worth risking my life for," said Farkas.

"But if it's something the Dominion considers worth coming this deep into enemy territory for, it might be something to keep out of their hands," Curtis argued.

The Altmer finally revived enough to sit up and drink a full cup of broth without needing anyone to hold the cup for him.

"Long way out of your territory, goldy. I'm Curtis with the College of Winterhold, and this is Elden, my apprentice. You got a name?

"Since when do college mages wear Dwemer armor," asked the Altmer.

"Since me. I specialize in Dwemer studies. So, I told you who I am. You got a name or you happy with 'Goldy?'"

"Tusair. Tusair Stormwatch of Gryphon Aerie."

Bingo. "That make you a gryphon rider?"

"Former. I lost Pricklewing during —" The Altmer stopped and scowled at Curtis.

"Uh-huh. Well, let me introduce you to the rest of my party. Your healer here is Taliesin. These two Nords are Severus and Farkas, and this is Ralis."

"You're not all Winterhold mages," said Tusair.

"Nope. Taliesin is a consultant and these three are adventurers.

"We got a lead from Salindil, one of our healers at the College, that this place needed investigating." Curtis grinned at him. "He and three of his curates have been helping me with one of my projects at the College."

"With … Dwemer studies. His curates …" The Altmer's eyes lit with astonishment and kindling hope.

"Yes. My girlfriend was a student of theirs in Kvatch. She persuaded them that I was a safe person to work for. I was actually in Windhelm when Brother Salindil asked me to come here. He had a vision, you see, that someone he knew was in trouble."

"And they trust you." Tusair's eyes closed, and he sighed deeply. "Thalmor command has reason to believe that there are incredibly strong weapons in this tomb. An ancient account from Falmer letters described a form of ice magic the Atmorans specialized in. Magic that the Falmer, for all their resistance to ice, could not match. We are to retrieve these weapons for study."

"Hm. Is Skyrim your regular assignment?"

"No. But my unit was requested for this special assignment even though none of us had ever operated outside of Summerset."

"Why? Someone suspect you in helping Brother Salindil get out of Summerset?"

"No, I don't think so. This sorry mess is because of my betrothed. She was Thalmor, a candidate to become a justiciar, and she believed she was doing me a favor by getting me the attention of her superiors."

"Ouch."

Tusair vaguely waved in the direction of the of the hall. "Her ambition is ended. I couldn't defend her. Couldn't defend myself."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

"Don't feel sorry. I don't. Our betrothal was arranged before we were even born, and I never met her until the day I and my unit landed at Solitude. Our relations had never been anything more than two formally dictated letters when we were children. Neither of us felt any attraction."

"Oh. Well, then I'm sorry you had to waste your time and lose your people to a stupid, useless mission."

"Thank you. Now, tell me your intent is to stop Justiciar Ondolemar and not just find me. I heard you, but I do not understand that. We don't know each other. And once I am able to walk, I am going after them. I care nothing for the secrets of this frozen dung pit of Coldharbour, but I cannot abandon those of my flock who may yet still be alive."

"Ondolemar? The Reach Justiciar?"

"He is no longer stationed in the Reach now that the Reach is no longer a part of Skyrim. Ambassador Elenwen charged him with this task to redeem himself after losing control of the Reach and other failures that could get him sent back to Summerset for retraining. He was one of her select team, and his failures reflect badly on her and put her position at risk."

"How are you feeling now? Think you can move? The longer we wait, the more chances your packmates are dying," Farkas asked suddenly. Curtis looked at him in surprise. Why was the man suddenly gung-ho to dive deeper into this dungeon?

Oh, wait. "Packmates," he'd said. And Tusair had referred to his people as his "flock." Some syncing up of sympathies going on here despite different platforms.

X—X—X—X—X—X—X

The long, winding corridor ended in a massive chamber. Near the doors was an altar loaded with bars of purest gold, silver, and ebony. Beyond that, there were two sets of pivoting three-image puzzle pillars. And from there, great bridges that connected to another open chamber. While they had been resting in the feast hall, the Thalmor had figured out the riddle of the turning stones and had lowered the great bridges. That gave them access to that other chamber and then to the narrow ramps that went down.

Tusair inspected the dead soldiers, carefully taking identifying tokens from the ones he knew and giving them to Curtis. They'd told him how Salindil had heard his prayers and asked Curtis to rescue him. He made Curtis swear to save himself at all costs if things went bad and to take all the tokens back to Salindil so that final prayers could be said and their souls guided to rest. The gods had allowed his despairing, delirious prayers to be heard, and he didn't want their mercy to go to waste.

It was a long way down. Curtis, looking through his binoculars and its night-vision filter, saw draugr at each level of descent. One shout could send any of them tumbling off the narrow ledges and bridges. "Man, if I was playing this, I'd use the ethereal shout and just jump to the bottom to bypass all this B.S."

"What's the ethereal shout," asked Severus.

"Um, you turn into a spirit form for a few seconds — attacks pass through you, and you can make jumps like this without dying."

"Ah. Featherfall should do it then," said Severus. "Taliesin, you've got the power to work it for all of us."

"Hell, yeah," said Curtis, as he remembered that Morrowind spell. "Even better than ethereal, which only works for the Dragonborn and not anyone else."

So they all held hands, and both Severus and Taliesin charged up the spell. Curtis figured it was a 15-story drop. At the bottom, a few unmoving draugr and four broken soldiers. Tusair nearly lost it as he removed the necklace and ring from one particular woman. "I'm sorry, cousin. This was too far a place and too stupid a way to die. I pray your husband and your children will one day forgive us."

"We should get going. The fighting has already started," stated Farkas.

They raced to the only exit corridor that curved around to a chamber where they heard shouting. Yup, a half-dozen of the Dominion party left against three times their number of high-level deathlords.

Tusair leaped right in, pulling a gold behind him and shoving him at Curtis, who then moved him into a niche between a wall and a dragon-head statue, which he then positioned himself in front of. Tusair also got to the other two remaining goldies, ordering them to fall back to where Curtis was. Ralis and Elden went between him and the action. Tusair would have stood with them but Curtis pulled him back. "You're still not recovered enough," he told him. "Sit back. They got this."

Severus moved almost lazily, avoiding attacks; his Trueflame left fire trails around him, a ribbon dance of fire. Taliesin's fireballs knocked down the ice lances and ice storms the deathlords tossed out. Farkas simply ignored the cold spells as he sliced 'n diced with his greatsword.

Curtis ordered Elden to stay with Tusair. Curtis was itching for battle, and Hopesfire was the nearest he'd get to a lightsaber. Just one touch and the muscles in the affected area convulsed uncontrollably; sink Hopesfire into a body and the dead danced as nerves overcharged and burned out. A deathlord sent an ice-blast at him. It was foolish to think that holding a sword up to an attack of freezing air and ice crystals would do anything, but the air around him lit as if he were a Tesla coil, burning off the cold. And he found he could control the discharge, returning feathery probes towards the sender, that condensed to a flash bomb of energy as soon as a probe touched the target. Farkas, who was near enough to get singed by the explosion, yelled at him to be more careful. Right, full discharge mode was only for overwhelming odds with no friendlies in the area. Curtis dampened the energy output to contact-only mode.

Ice was the key here. Curtis noticed a circle of ice spikes in front of the altar. The draugr would not step within that circle. Ondolemar must have thought it a protective circle of some sort because he was in there with his two glass-armored officers. He studied the justiciar. So far, he was keeping his attacks on the undead. The officers with the justiciar were resting and watching. They were also magic users, so they were rebuilding their reserves.

When the last of the undead had fallen, now was the tricky part.

Justiciar Ondolemar turned to glare at Tusair. "You still alive? And you've found some friends."

"Winterhold College, sir."

"The Dragonborn's lackeys," the justiciar hissed, his expression and tone hateful. His eyes fastened on Ralis. "And you. Yes, I remember you from Markarth. You're Helsette Faro's dog."

"Justiciar," said Ralis, giving him a small bow. "Got kicked out of your comfy post at Markarth's palace, I see. One would think you'd be happy not living in those dusty and cold stone halls with all those bloody stairs. Riften is a very nice place when you're not mucking around in old tombs. But Riften is Stormcloak Alliance territory. The Dominion has no place here. You're trespassing."

"If you're here, where is your mistress?"

"Oh, attending the Stormcloak's coronation, strengthening alliance ties with Morrowind, celebrating with Master Sadri the birth of his daughter, and planning her continuing battle with the Dragons. I'm here to make sure the Dominion doesn't try a second time to snatch Master Curtis."

The justiciar turned his attention to the figure glowing gold in the shadows and holding a sword of harsh blue-white light. "The Dwemer architect of Winterhold," he said. "What happened to that fool Ancarion?"

"Last I heard, he and his marines were learning how to survive on fish, seaweed, and rock lichen," Curtis answered. "We let a few cheese wheels and barrels of cheap beer float in to add some variety to their diet."

Curtis moved around them. He studied the ice-spike circle again. Something about it troubled him. The glowing door at the other end of the room was possibly the final resting place of whomever this tomb was built for, but Curtis doubted it. He reached the great altar set between the two stairways that came down from doors they'd bypassed when they'd jumped. There was a plaque on the altar; it was in Atmoran, so he had no clue what it was saying. The altar was loaded with bars of gold, silver, ebony along with loose gemstones, necklaces, rings, and tiaras. Lying at the back was a staff. Curtis reached around the obvious treasure to pick up the staff. It was the dragon-head design usually associated with fire staves. He aimed it at the stairs going up and activated it. A roar of energy and the entire stairway was blocked by a solid wall of ice.

Wow. What this thing could do in the middle of a snowstorm; all the possibilities. If powdered soulgems were infused with the ice-generating energy of the staff, could it create stahlrim? He'd learned the rare stuff from Solstheim was something the Atmorans created for their own dead, which is why the magical mineral could only be found growing on Atmoran tombs. It was tentatively attributed to Ahzidal, the greatest enchanter of the time and who was buried on Solstheim, according to Ralis, who knew that legend only too well. He wondered if this unnamed dragon priest buried here was a contemporary to that Ahzidal.

"I'm taking this for the College. You guys can have the rest of the loot for your troubles if you leave the Rift immediately," he told the justiciar.

"Unacceptable." Ondolemar looked towards Tusair and was enraged when Tusair looked away. "You traitor. You three! Are you as cowardly and treasonous as your commander?"

"Give it up," Curtis advised. "You all are in no condition to fight us.

"Hey, Tally, that door, can you magic it open?"

"Not without bringing the entire tomb down on us. Looks like we'll have to take the long way back up," said Taliesin.

Curtis snorted. "Fight an uphill battle against the draugr guarding the ramps? No thanks. Everyone ready to take on a dragon priest?" He pointed to the area where the justiciar stood. "Once's he's dead again, that door should open."

"How shall we wake it up," asked Severus.

"It's an icebox here. I say we warm it up. That should piss him off. Tally?"

The justiciar and his guards dived out of the circle as Taliesin raised his hands and blowtorched the circle. The ground shook, then the dragon priest exploded out of his grave, screaming hoarsely and waving a staff to shoot ice shards. Curtis shifted his stance to stay upright as shards bounced off his armor, and he put up an ice wall to protect Elden, Ralis, and the Dominion soldiers behind them. Tally had an intense flame cloak and shield to deflect and melt the projectiles. Farkas slipped back between two upright stone coffins and used a shield to cover the gap. Severus also threw up a strong energy shield and used Trueflame to knock aside anything that got past.

The dragon priest definitely did not like the pale elves standing on his grave. And since they seemed to be the ones actively attacking it, it concentrated on them.

This wasn't anything good. Standing by until the dragon priest killed the three Thalmor was a shit move, but were their situations reversed, they sure as shit wouldn't have done anything to help them. You didn't get to be part of Elenwen's team if you had any doubts about Altmer superiority. And even if they won against the dragon priest, they still wouldn't be leaving this tomb. Not by any logic Curtis could see, unless Tally or Severus had reason to take the justiciar alive. And there was the unlikely option that the justiciar may surrender and beg protection, but that, too, was a dead end as far as Curtis was concerned.

The dragon priest died and only Ondolemar was left. He looked at them, knowing he was as good as dead anyways. He sneered at them, and they could see him gathering his strength. Self-destruct? Trying to take everybody with him?

Not happening. Severus killed him with a thrown dagger. Curtis saw it was a daedric one.

"That the Black Hands Dagger," he asked, thinking of the Morag Tong job of the Morrowind game to kill a Night Mother of the Dark Brotherhood. That dagger not only drained health from the target, it also blinded the target making them much easier to kill.

"Aye."

"Nice."

Curtis went and picked up the staff the dragon priest had dropped. A little test to see if it was also an ice-wall maker. Yup. Ralis, Elden, and the Dominion soldiers had gone up the stairs and now came down the other that wasn't blocked by an ice wall.

The exit was a ledge on the side of a cliff wall. Below and to the right, Curtis could see a familiar small shack with a fenced garden on one side.

X—X—X—X—X—X—X

"Man, Lord Revyn ain't gonna be pleased by any of this," Curtis said with a rueful smile after their group, without the Dominion soldiers present, spent a long couple of hours debriefing with Thane Selrun Mor of Ivarstead.

"Ah. You don't know," said the thane. "Any of you. Lord Revyn was captured three days ago by parties unknown. His wife has been confined to her bed for her health, and the king has the armies out looking for him."