Chapter 10
Following the main road south from Granite Hills, the road split at the north end of Lake Ilinalta. The western road followed along the lake, eventually leading to Falkreath. The eastern path went down to the plains of Whiterun. Prefect Viggo at Fort Sungard had provided a detailed Legion map of Falkreath and summaries of Legion information of the area both as a payment for the aid Tariq had given them and as a courtesy to a Thane of Markarth.
The Legion map showed more trails along the western edge of Falkreath, into the Dragontail Mountains. One such old trade road went through the mountains and into the Craglorn province of Hammerfell, eventually coming to the ancient city of Elinhir, once known as the City of Mages until the Second Era when the Blackcaster mages went mad and destroyed most of the ancient Nede city.
Not that he was interested in revisiting that city. In the Fifth Century of the Third Era, Elinhir had been the center of High Prophet Ayaan-si's rebellion of "true Crowns" against King Lhotun. Tariq's own ancestors had been Crown supporters of King Lhotun's policies. The Oblivion Crisis two hundred years ago essentially "broke" the rebellion with more immediate concerns of hordes of invading daedra. The underlying issues were unresolved and resentment still festered. The Crown politics in Elinhir gave him a headache. Try to talk politics with the some of the old hardliners only gets you into fights while being called "pretentious liberal scum" and a class traitor. Gah. Sep take 'em.
Cracked Tusk Keep used to be the Imperial fort guarding that road, but it had long gone to ruins, and last scout reports said Orcs had taken up residence. Possibly they were attempting to create a stronghold, but with no real resources or women, it was a failed effort. They subsisted by hunting and robbery. There was another similar attempt at another old fort/mine of Bilegulch, west and slightly south of Sungard, a good source of oricalcum, but last reports was that they also failed to attract women. The men there were predictably aggressive and subsisted on hunting and trading ores.
Still, both failed strongholds avoided ties to either the large robber band at Knifepoint Ridge or the smaller one at Bannermist Tower. In fact, the demand for "back taxes" from Granite Hills had been delivered by the Knifepoint group. It was suspected both groups paid a large cut of their taking to the Jarl of Falkreath, however, no solid evidence. Every Legion investigator was dead. Legate Skulnar in Falkreath appeared to have given up investigating and cut his losses. Obviously, he just couldn't keep sacrificing soldiers to a suicide mission.
The entire Hold was veined with small, writhing paths and roads scarring its landscape, a testimony to its long history as a key territory and doorway to empires, either by battle or by trade. "The largest graveyard in Skyrim" was not a good boast. It was a sad reflection upon what had once been among the most powerful of kingdoms. Lawless, broken, a tribute to the careless hunger of nature and a feast for worms.
Rather than follow the main road around the western edge of Lake Ilinalta, Tariq decided he wanted to take the high path that skirted the foothills of the Dragontail Mountains, perhaps find that Craglorn gate. That meant backtracking a bit along a westerly road into the Reach to find a path that climbed sharply upwards.
"Road" was being too generous a word. Animal trails barely visible through encroaching grass.
And the number of necromancers wandering the woods was more than the wolves. Tariq was appalled and took to wearing his silver Ash'abah sword instead of his usual scimitar.
"I hope Falkreath has a decent forge and magic shop when we finally get there," said Tariq after they'd skirted around the cave mouth of Sunderstone Gorge. According to the Legion map, that place was a cave system that currently had one of the largest necromancer groups in the region. Tariq would have liked have in there to investigate, but Argis wasn't properly protected yet. "You need a good silvered blade, or knife at least, if I can get enough silver, and then you need a protective charm against any soul-stealing spells."
"You know spells to prevent that?"
"No. Just spells that can only lessen the power. Like for cast spells, those have a time limit once cast. If you can avoid dying by the time the spell fades, the spell caster will have to waste more power to re-cast the spell. A charm causes the spell to degrade faster than the spell caster is aware. There is a similar time effect for a weapon enchanted with the soul-taking spell. If the wound is not immediately fatal, you may be able to outlast it's effect if you can stay alive long enough. Of course, if it's an immediately fatal wound, then no charm can prevent your soul from being taken. A charm is like loading in as many anti-venom potions as you can stomach before going into a fight in a snake pit ― that was fun ― or healing potions when going into battle. If you can avoid immediate death, you may be able to outlast your opponent."
"Oh. So you want to come back later and hunt these necromancers then," said Argis flatly. "Wonderful."
"Don't worry. I'm not on any crusade, but I just feel a little trimming of the herd can't hurt. Necromancers and daedra worshipers should be discouraged with extreme prejudice."
"Stay back! I'm warning you!"
Tariq followed the voice up, and further up. They'd passed a path somewhere that would have led to the ledge above, distastefully decorated with animal bones, human skulls, and glowing root balls he'd come to associate with spriggans. Oh, he'd been contemplating so much the infestation of necromancers and wondering if some were also coming in from the hidden Worm sects in Craglorn that he hadn't properly been paying attention.
A woman in black robes. Stupid wench. If she'd just shut up they'd have passed her unawares. But, by her excited smile and the flames kindling on her staff, she'd obviously been bored mindless with guard duty and looking for excitement.
"And who are you that we should back off?" he challenged. "Tell me why two strong men should be afraid of some ragged hag with her soil-digging stick?"
"Fool! You face a witch of the Glenmoril Coven! But you two do look strong and healthy. You'll make perfect sacrifices. Sufficient, I should think, for the four elder sisters' glorification. That fact that you are empty-headed braggarts will make this a pleasure!"
A fireball. Yawn. It flared ineffectively against his Dwemer shield. Dwemer metal was great against elemental and acid attacks. It was also heavy, and his armor was actually packed on Nimat's back, so what he wore now was a padded leather vest and limb guards over sturdy cloth pants and shirt. But he'd chosen to keep his shield.
While Tariq's shield was taking the flame attack, Argis returned fire. He'd had his bow out and ready since he'd been looking for rabbits for tonight's supper. For a one-eyed man, his aim was pretty good, and she only a little over 10 yards away and a much larger target than a rabbit.
"Watch the horses. I'm going to take peek inside."
Tariq backtracked and found the narrow path up. The fire staff was substandard, only good for about three shots. Maybe five if the user had more power to kick it up a couple more rounds. He discharged the remaining shots into the sky before stomping on and breaking the staff.
Long, narrow passage entering into a large cavern. He smelled and saw giant spiders. As guardian animals, that made sense. But the cavern lacked the over-abundance of webbing a true spider's nest would have. Likely, the witches thought just the sight of a spider would discourage most explorers.
At the moment, he only saw two witches around a firepit in the center of the gloom. If there were other witches, then there must be other rooms in this cave system. He was able to confirm this by carefully venturing around the edges of the cavern and finding the entrances of tunnels. Easy enough to do as his hide boots were enchanted with muffle and stamina spells.
"What did you find, sir?"
"Big cave and a lot of tunnels. The witches in there are using spiders and trolls as guards. I'm not sure if the skeevers are controlled guards. In any case, they are practicing dark magics and some daedra worship. Definitely need to come back here some time in the future."
"Do you have some kind of crusade against necromancers, my thane?"
"They're scum," answered Tariq. "Necromancers and Daedra worshipers. They should all just die. Necromancers violate the boundaries of life and death and the journey of the soul. And Daedra worshipers ― there are enough scum among Men and Mer that we don't need people who willingly give demons help to make our lives miserable."
"You identify with the Vigilants of Stendarr, then?"
"The vigilance of who? What do they watch or guard against?"
"A religious warrior group who worship Stendarr. They started after the Oblivion Crisis. They're also against all necromancers and conjurers and Daedra worshipers. They see it as their mission to cleanse the world. Spread the mercy of Stendarr."
"They call themselves the watchfulness, the eyes of a god? Are they priests? I don't know that god. Well, I've heard the name, but I am not yet familiar with his aspect. Who is Stendarr and what is his 'mercy?'"
"Depends on who you ask. Stendarr is the Imperial god. The god I know is Stuhn, shield-thane of Shor, and the brother of Tsun. He is a warrior god and his mercy is to take prisoners during war instead of just killing them outright. Taking prisoners, showing mercy, possibly get benefits. Ransom, for one. Possibly allies for the second.
"The Alessians turned him into a god of righteous might and mercy. Something like that."
"So these are temple warriors?"
"Uh, I don't think so. I think that's an order calling themselves the Crusaders. The Vigilants started on their own. I don't think they are officially sanctioned by the large temples of the Empire."
"So, the Vigilantes of Stendarr?"
"Uh, yes. I guess. Don't know too much about them myself. I think they wander around the other Holds more than they do the Reach. I mean, I've only seen them when I've made trips to Hjaalmarch to visit cousins in Dragon's Bridge."
While supper was roasting, Tariq marked the Glenmoril cave on his map. Then he decided he might as well do some studying of the area. He extracted from the packs one of the five books he'd bought in Markarth on Bard Ogmund's recommendation, Varieties of Faith: The Nords, published by the Imperial College. The others he'd only glanced through were Nords of Skyrim by Hrothmund Wolf-Heart, a starry-eyed propaganda piece; Walking the World, : Solitude, a rapturous review of Skyrim's capitol city; Watcher of Stones, which seemed to be legends about magical stones; and The Arcturian Heresy, a confusing historical fantasy piece he needed more references to understand.
He decided to reread the one on Nord faith, their pantheon before it got blended with Alessian ideals as taught by the Imperial Cult.
Interesting. The Nord's chief of gods, Shor, sounded much like Sep the Serpent, Tall Papa's disobedient servant who went and tricked the lesser spirits to create the world, and was punished to roam the void with never-satiated hunger. Alduin was a distorted reflection of Satakal, the Worldskin, the coiling of life that alternately created and destroyed itself in fire. Worship of Shor did not seem to be a thing, but worship of Talos seemed to be substituted, placing Talos as the chief god. That "mantling" concept introduced in that Arcturian Heresy book? Did that make this Ysmir king or spirit something like HoonDing, who granted mortals his power in times of great need? This "mantling" would seem so, but HoonDing had never been a mortal whereas this Ysmir, this Ashking, had been mortal and had the mortal burdens of ego and obsessive hatred of the Daedra worshipers of Morrowind.
He could only shake his head, foreseeing many teachers he'd have to find before he understood this Nord religion. Asking Argis wouldn't do. Like most people, he knew the simplified gods he'd been taught as a child and had no interest in seeking any further understanding. Tariq, latest son of a long line of priests of HoonDing, alchemy and enchantment student of a priest of Tall Papa, was in the habit of asking questions.
Argis woke him shortly after midnight at seeing a flash of light that lit most of the sky.
The next morning they started off in the direction of the light. The smell of fire and burnt meat led them to their destination, and they found the smoldering remains of a wagon, two dead horses, and a charred body. Uphill, they could see the ruins of several structures in the morning mist. They didn't look to be Nord or Dwemer. Tariq could see that the roof structures were more the swooping, tiled design akin to eastern make like he'd seen in Akavir-styled buildings.
A dew-soddened note under the cart explained that this was an expedition to study a hidden palace retreat for the Snake Potentate Savirien-Chorrak, the son of the original Potentate Versidue-Shaie who had seized power after the assassination of the last Reman Emperor. According to the note, the expedition had been going well until something triggered the resurrection of undead guardians. Suddenly, Blade guardians were tearing out the ground. The note ended with the expedition leader mourning that all his notes had been lost in the ruins as he'd fled.
And some of the dead must be magicians since the archaeologist couldn't get the horses harnessed to the wagon in time before being hit with a massive fireball, which explained last night's light display.
They led the horses further away to a shelter of trees, then geared up to full armor. Tariq loaned Argis some of his charms against magic and poisons. If they were fighting Akaviri snakes, expected poisoned weapons.
As they got to the ruins and the guardians emerged from hiding, it was obvious these weren't snake men, but they all wore the ancient Blades armor and carried Blades katanas. Human Blade servants of the snake men.
When the Versidue-Shaie, in effect, became the Emperor, all standing armies, all personal armies throughout the Empire were outlawed. (But not the Companions of Skyrim, Bard Ogmund had emphasized. Since they had no formal command structure, they were classed as a loose association of freelancers who just happened to congregate at a particular mead hall in Whiterun.) But it soon became apparent that there were not enough snake-men armies to enforce law and so they began taking in Man and Mer into their Blades, and also allowed the formation of the Fighters Guild.
Tariq wondered by whose authority all these dead Blades were bound to unlife and guardianship. There had to be something powerful still in these ruins.
"Time for you to continue your journey to the Far Shores!" Tariq repeatedly snarled as his silver Ash'abah sword took heads of the fleshy draugrs. He found it strange that these undead also shouted since they served not dragon priests but snakes. But then, the undead of the Namira Cult also shouted, so he wondered if this was peculiar only to Skyrim Nord undead. Nords were, after all, known for their Shouting, a racial trait. So, even dead Nords were bloody loud.
Did Nords go to the Far Shores? Well, any shore that wasn't here would do, that's for sure. They were certainly free to take his blessings and go. He insisted.
They worked their way carefully through each building, picking up some treasure, multiple small bottles of old poison, and some choice pieces of Blade armor and weapons that weren't too rusted.
They found some of the research notes that had been scattered. Tariq saved them for later reading. They looked interesting.
The primary luxury villa was on a high bluff. Whatever roused the dead was in there, and probably the when the doors were breached. Certainly the strongest of the undead were guarding this place.
"Stay on the steps," he told Argis. "I don't want anything to come up behind me."
"Are you sure, sir? Those have the heaviest armor."
"I need to use certain magics and you don't have the proper protections. I don't want to accidentally kill you. If nothing else comes up those steps and you do decide to follow after me, keep a good distance."
"Aye."
Tariq took a moment before entering the inner courtyard of the villa to center his power and to mutter a blessing upon his opponents. "Peace to You. Peace of the running wave to you. Peace of the flowing air to you. Peace of the quiet earth to you. Peace of the shining stars to you. I release you, who have left this plane. Return to your journey to the Far Shores."
His spirit sword flared, an faint shimmer, only the pale essence of a blade, without substance, but it shaped itself around his silver scimitar and enhanced its purpose. The silver blade may be softer than a steel blade, but it combined best with spirit magic.
A full-armored undead Blade snarled as it entered the courtyard and summoned a frost atronach. He dodged around the summons to attack the Blade. It wielded a long two-handed dai-katana and it struck Tariq's shield with enough force to numb his arm. Tariq's sword swung around, the spirit blade flaring out, disrupting for a moment the unnatural life energy that moved the undead, paralyzing it, to be immediately followed by the edge and weight of the silver blade that cleaved muscle from bone. "Peace be upon you!" Tariq growled as he charged the Blade a second time, knocking it off its feet, then taking its head. The atronach behind him shattered.
Two more appeared, an archer and another sword fighter.
…
They used a rusted dai-katana to pry open the doors to the villa. Upon entering they heard flowing water in a cavernous room. The steam and temperature of heated pools. A lot of mossy vegetation. Magic lanterns were still functioning, giving dim, colorful lighting.
It would have been a lovely place back in its day. Graceful columns, tastefully decorated marble tiles, lanterns hanging from the limbs of carefully shaped trees. There was a door leading deeper in and off to the left stairs leading to a second level. Tariq had a feeling that it was not safe to head directly in and chose to go up the stairs.
The came into a long room with an alchemy station and an enchantment table. That level opened to balconies that overlooked the final chamber. Tiled pools below them with benches set under the heated water. Twin spirit orbs circled agitatedly around a massive troll that snarled that tried to grab them. Tariq and Argis crouched behind a stone table to avoid attracting the troll's attention.
"That's the biggest damn troll I've ever seen. It's at least a half size bigger than a biggest frost troll," said Argis.
"I've never fought a troll. I see four arms, and I'm assuming incredible strength. Anything else? Speed?" asked Tariq.
"Health. They're too damn healthy. They heal too damn fast. Fire magic's the most effective if you can keep the flames going long and hot enough. Hacking at it and hoping it'll weaken from blood loss is a fool's game with them. If you get within arm's reach, you'd better be able to strike a killing blow before those arms crush you and it bites your head off."
"I see. And poison, does that slow it down?" Tariq held up one of the bottles of Akaviri poison they'd collected from around the ruins.
"I honestly don't know."
"Let's give it a try then." Tariq had his flyssa blade on a back harness and decided it would be more useful than his scimitar. He carefully coated the long, slender blade with a layer, let it dry, and repeated the coating until all the bottle was gone, about five coats. They then coated all of Argis's remaining arrowheads with multiple layers of poison.
"You stay up here, Argis. I'm going to charge it, let it grab my shield, and then stab it as many times as I can. When I disengage, you put as many poisoned arrows into it as you can."
"Aye, thane."
It took a while and Tariq got thrown a couple times against a tree and against a pillar. His armor got dented a bit, but the beast finally succumbed to all the poison being injected into it. The spirit orbs, harmless things, danced circuits around the chamber. Tariq sensed nothing evil about them and relegated them to oversized lightning bugs. The final building had three chambers. The central one was the prize.
A bedchamber. Upon the central dais was the skeleton of a serpent man, a true Akaviri. The upper half of its body was human-like and sized tall. Below the hips was a strong, thick coil of spine at least 10 feet in length. "Standing" if it could be called that, the Akaviri's head would have loomed at least 8 feet off the ground.
Lying useless under one hand was a dai-katana that had the phosphorous green glow of magic. Tariq picked it up. The weapon was in perfect shape. In his hands it was a two-handed weapon; for the Akavir, one-handed.
"Found another paper, thane," said Argis, emerging from a side room and handing it to him.
So, if this paper was right, this was Savirien-Chorrok. What was the Snake Emperor doing here in Falkreath? Had he been assassinated? The Researcher had made a lot of connection between the Dunmer Morag Tong and the Akaviri, making much of the theories of shadow governments. Had the Morag Tong tired of the snakes and followed him to this vacation villa in Falkreath and killed him? Were the slaughter of the Blades outside the work of the Morag Tong?
"Are we done here, thane? I'd rather not stay longer than necessary, even if a good, long soak in the heated pools looks good right now. I'd rather take my chances in the forest."
"Agreed. But I want to test this blade on the enchantment table, see what exactly this has."
Argis checked around for treasure while Tariq tested the blade. He was impressed. Paralysis and poison. "Quite the Serpent's Fang, aren't you?" he mused aloud. "Perfect for a running battle. No need to bother with making every blow a killing blow; just a cut, and your enchantments would do the rest."
They left the villa. Something east drew Tariq's attention. Now that he wasn't looking for dead Blades, he could now sense something else that promised evil. Somewhere east. He went to the eastern edge of the bluff and looked down. A road there with pavement that was actually in fair condition. Odd. Further was a picturesque waterfall. And in the side of the wall of that mountain were large black doors. The area around the door was devoid of vegetation. Unnaturally so.
There. That was the evil he felt. A powerful Daedra presence. Tomb doors?
No, he'd has his fill of battle today. And even after a rest, he wasn't prepared to battle Daedra. He'd just mark it on his map and make inquiries around Falkreath for any local legends.
They headed northeast towards Lake Ilinalta. Tariq figured he'd look for the Craglorn Pass another day. They climbed some steep land and came to a cabin. The two hunters there said the cabin wasn't really owned by anyone; it was just a shared, general use place. An area that offered basic shelter, a place to butcher kills and stretch out skins, and share talk with any other hunter who stopped by.
Tariq asked them if they knew two hunters by the names of Ari and Niels. The names were known and they were in the area. Hunting bears nearby, somewhere north of this camp. Did they know about the ruins southwest of here, and the great tomb in the side of the mountain? Yes, but nobody with any sense hunted in those areas. If all the game animals avoided the area, that should be warning enough to anyone.
Although, they had heard a foolish party from Cyrodiil had set up camp and were scrabbling around the ruins. Tariq informed them that that party had, indeed, come to a bad end. "Death by draugr," said Argis. That was explanation enough for the hunters, who had no desire to learn more.
Tariq asked them if they knew anything about Thalmor activities. He knew they came through Pale Pass and traveled through Falkreath to go to Markarth or to Solitude. They did, answered the hunters, but they mostly stuck to the main roads, avoiding the bandits and the necromancers that were about. Or, rather, bandits and necromancers avoided trouble by leaving Thalmor troops alone. They were to be feared more than Legion patrols. You could go up to a Thalmor patrol and tell them where the bandits or necromancers were, and the Thalmor would sneer that that was the jarl's problem. All they wanted to know was where were the Talos worshipers and shrines? Knife-eared bastards.
They switched the subject back to hunting and Hold gossip. Talking about Thalmor was predictably a depressing subject. Ah, well, they'd search tomorrow for Ari and Niels.