Chapter 36
TIID KLO UL, that was the "slow time" shout he'd gathered from Hag's End in Haafingar, Korvanjund in Whiterun, and Labyrinthian in Hjaalmarch. So far, he'd unlocked the power of TIID.
Tolfdir, master of Alterations, had noted Tariq's use of the slow time shout and had convinced him to demonstrate it again for study. When his curiosity was satisfied, Tolfdir further speculated that one innocuous skill that adepts of Alterations could learn was "stability," the art of extending the effects of artificial or temporary reality. If Tariq learned the skill of Alterations, he could lengthen the time his shouts affected reality — think extending the usage of Slow Time, Battle Fury, or Ethereal Spirit.
Unfortunately, he didn't have time or any real interest to live in Winterhold and study at the college.
Tolfdir then offered a correspondence course, a unique service rarely offered. He would provide books and customized lesson plans. The college would also cover the cost of couriers. Additional tutoring and testing would be arranged with Winterhold graduates and practicing wizards around Skyrim.
"You are offering to go to a great deal of trouble to educate me," commented Tariq. "And I have yet to even inquire about the possibility of enrollment. This cannot be just an exercise in gratitude or repayment for services voluntarily rendered."
"Yes, yes; you are quite right," said Tolfdir, smiling wryly. "It isn't just gratitude for your help in recovering the staff of Magnus and defeating Ancano. We wish to take the opportunity to deepen relations with the Dragonborn of legend and bask in the reflected glory of your future fame. The reputation of our college has been poor for decades, and this recent debacle has been food for further slander. Weakness and cowardice under a dark elf, and now, after allowing Thalmor entry and nearly destroying what is left of Winterhold, we have elected an Altmer as the new arch-mage. To say the Dragonborn is one of our students or associates would grant us a thin cloak of respectability."
"I understand this scheme," said Tariq, nodding thoughtfully. "However, you cannot be sure all Nords will regard me as the promised hero of legend. I am, after all, not a Nord. My loyalty is not to Skyrim. I am killing dragons for the challenge of battle and the powers I can add to my skills. The gods of the Nords matter little to me or their prophecies. I must walk my own path as my gods decree each soul must. Can you be sure I will be the hero of your prophecies? I might be the villain whose selfish goals destroy your lands."
"Perhaps," said Tolfdir agreeably. "But at the moment, I am only concerned with the future of this college and its neutrality. I daresay our school has produced its share of heroes and villains during its long history. But do think over our offer."
… … …
Tariq decided to save the dragon-guarded word wall for last. Lydia and Valdimar had departed earlier this morning to a cave where bandits had taken the jarl's stolen helmet. Rodina and Idgrod continued their exploration of the college's library.
Tariq had decided to first visit the small isle where the tomb of Ysgramor, the Nord Hero and creator of the Companions, was buried. It was surprisingly small and empty except for a statue atop a dais in the center of the room. Around the statue's feet were offerings of furs, plants, and a few coins. Examining the walls showed recesses that were likely doors.
"Huh," said Onmund, "he's missing his weapon." He was staring at Ysgramor's empty hands. The curled fingers and the position of hands and arms made it clear there should have been a spear or a long-handled ax or mace.
The ebony ax, Tariq realized. What was it called again? Woof— No. Wuuthrad.
Walking down to the shore, they could see the word wall atop the peak above the barrow. Brelyna and J'zargo were investigating a nearby altar with cages and supply barrels on its lower platform. There had also been a body there. Tariq, Onmund, and Winterhold thanes Erikson and Roland scaled the sides of the peak, eventually reaching a dirt path starting from a door. Behind that door was a corridor that went back down to the statue room and ended in a blocked doorway.
They followed the path upward to the word wall. Tariq painstakingly copied the dragon-clawed writing for Rodina to translate later. The mystery word that stuck in his mind was RAAN.
Erikson noted a thick vein of gold behind the word wall. Tariq knew the two thanes would likely come back later with pickaxes.
The body Brelyna and J'zargo had found was that of a senior student. She'd been experimenting on skeevers, but something had gone wrong. They weren't sure what killed her; her body was too torn up and eaten. It could have been out-of-control skeevers or the wolves that could be seen running around in the distance. The apprentices burned the body and swept the ashes and bones into a sack. The college would return the remains to her family in Black Marsh.
They trekked back inland to the ruins of Saarthal. Brelyna retold the story of her last venture down there for the benefit of the thanes. The masters have since gone through the new sections and sealed the draugr from rising again.
The "fast route" to the bottom of the tomb was sealed and warded, but Tolfdir had arrived ahead of them and was waiting to take down the ward and seal. The two thanes, however, were interested in seeing the tomb. It was their first time inside of such a grand structure. They'd never been in anything other than simple family barrows. Because they were Nords, Brelyna got Onmund to tell the story of Saarthal from the Nord point of view. So they all took the long way down. In various rooms, Onmund and J'zargo described the battles with draugr. The many traps had been disabled but left in place, and the thanes were interested in examining them.
Tariq and Tolfdir trailed slowly behind them. Tariq had no interest in Saarthal's architecture, history, or battles. Instead, he and Tolfdir discussed Alterations magic. Tariq had seen many mages of Destruction, Restoration, and Conjuration but not dedicated practitioners of Alterations. He knew very little about the Alterations field. From Brelyna's stories, he knew the old mage was a capable Destruction mage and practiced the shielding aspect of Restoration. The most known practice of Alteration was the body-strengthening spells of stoneflesh, ironflesh, and ebonyflesh. Tolfdir laughingly confessed that he'd lately been chasing down the elusive level of dragonflesh. Tariq would be interested if ever the old mage worked out that spell. The other well-known minor spells of Alterations were candlelight, magelight, and waterbreathing. Tariq hadn't known that. He'd learned a long-lasting version of the candlelight from his mother. She called it firelight, a gentler, yellowish cast light, a spell known for generations in her family, "utility" magic.
Advanced Alterations, Tolfdir told him, was transformative magic, the alteration of reality. But Alterations, in most cases, was not a permanent state. The flesh spells could be as strong as armor, but so much depended on timing during battle for it to be effective. Waterbreathing was also only usable for emergencies and quick underwater work. Many of Tariq's dragon shouts were allegedly duplicated in Alterations, but this discipline's effectiveness and range had been severely limited by past dragon breaks and world disruptions. The art of Mysticism had it worse, but Alterations had not been too far behind. It was a discipline that, like Mysticism, challenged the domain of gods — daring to change what the gods had made and set.
Tariq asked what spell masters of Alterations could do that defined their art? Tolfdir didn't immediately answer. As they walked, he snatched up a crude iron candle holder. Then came a surge of power that silenced the story-telling apprentices ahead of them.
Tolfdir handed Tariq a candle holder now made of gold.
"Remelt it, pour it into coin molds, and spend it. That is a permanent alteration," said Tolfdir. He sighed deeply. "It's a flashy skill and takes a great deal of power."
"Can you turn any metal into another?"
"No. Iron seems to be the only base metal than can be changed into different steels in the hands of skilled blacksmiths and alchemists, and silver and gold in Alterations. I cannot change it into moonstone or ebony."
"Can you change coal into diamonds? I have heard ancient tales from Yokuda of masters who did that."
"That would take more magic than I have in me right now. When I was in my prime, one of ten attempts may turn a pinch of coal dust into diamond dust, but no more. Even a failed attempt would leave me with a week of headaches and exhaustion. I stopped after two successes. For what I was getting, the effort wasn't worth it. I believe I still have a small locket of diamond dust somewhere in my room. Where did I put it?" he mused aloud.
They arrived at the bottom of Saarthal. Tariq noted the unfamiliar letterforms on the platform that once held the artifact. They were nothing he recognized from his studies of ancient Yokudan writings. It didn't look like dragon scratchings. And if it was Atmoran, the Winterhold mages should have been able to manage. Although, considering the recent heavy influence of Dunmer, perhaps not. Perhaps that knowledge had been lost. And if Atmorans had built Saarthal, why would they have installed such an unknown device here? Why had the mer — the Falmer — the previous owners of the land never discovered and used the device? Had it been buried in the ground and only rediscovered when the Atmorans began digging the foundations for their city? Had the device really been the tool of Magnus, the so-called "architect of Nirn?" Magnus was not recognized in the Redguard pantheon. Although he did recall there used to be a tribe in Second and Third Eras that lived in the Iliac Bay region that worshiped the sun on the hottest day of the year, and Magnus was associated with the sun.
Brelyna showed him to the dragon wall chamber. The mages already had a copy of the wall in the Arcanaeum, and the translation was, "Here lies (the) body of Iglif Ice-Blood who met his end not in glorious combat, but at (the) cruel touch of (the) withering sickness." The word that came to Tariq was "IIZ." Tolfdir told him it was the dragon's word for "ice," another elemental attack. He would have to listen closely the next time he encountered an ice-breathing dragon.
Tolfdir unsealed the fast exit route. Even though the Eye was no longer in Winterhold, this area of Saarthal still had other things the Atmorans stored down here away from the Falmer, and that they wanted to prevent students from blundering into.
… … …
Lydia and Valdimar had not yet returned to Winterhold with the jarl's stolen helmet. This troubled Tariq. Both were excellent warriors, and Valdimar was an experienced spellsword with battlemage training. Common bandits should not have troubled them unless the numbers were more than anticipated or there were mages among them.
Halfway to the cave, they met Lydia, Valdimar, and a strange woman. Valdimar was also carrying a cloak-wrapped body of another woman.
Bandits and necromancers. The desecrated body Valdimar was carrying was found near the entrance. The other woman was in a cage near an unholy altar. Black soul gems on the altar left no mystery what it was about. The storage chest in the area had yielded only a flute the woman claimed belonged to her (she was a traveling bard), a few coins, and weapons not worth taking. This bunch of necromancers seemed to take security seriously. Still, they were careless. Valdimar and Lydia had bypassed the many sentries by climbing up the rocky wall to the altar chamber.
That chamber being attached to the exit/entry chamber was an incredibly stupid and obvious flaw in security. And it was all for the sake of easy body disposal — dump the used corpses into the carts below for later delivery to the local wildlife. Expectant wildlife. Hordes of wolves and bears lingered nearby.
Rodina shocked them by slapping the other bard hard across the face. "What are you doing with Lady Pantea's flute? You let her criticism get under your skin, didn't you. So you stole her flute?"
"That bitch—" Rodina slapped her again. The other bard lunged at her. Tariq and Valdimar wrestled them apart.
"I don't like her either," Rodina snapped. "And she does over-promote her own talents. However, you can't say she hasn't earned her boasting rights. I know you have the talent, but that just means you have a headstart on those of us working to reach your starting point. You still need to put in the work to hone it, just like the rest of us. Doing something stupid like this means the Bards College is done with you. That doesn't mean you can't be a bard. I've met plenty of bards on the road who never attended the college — more than half aren't as good as you — but they get by."
The case of the other woman was more somber. The guards recognized her as a local. The letter scrap Lydia recovered from the pocket of the ripped rags of her clothes was for her pledged husband-to-be. The guards told her to look for Ranmir, one of the hardcore drunks at the Frozen Hearth, and the brother of town merchant Birna.
Once that duty was done, Tariq, his thanks, the apprentice wizards, and the two Winterhold thanes set out for the cave.
"Why aren't you leading the mission, sir?" asked Thane Roland. Tariq, Roland, and the apprentice wizards waited outside the cave. Lydia, Valdimar, and Thane Erikson were inside.
"Because this was a job Lydia accepted from your jarl," answered Tariq. "She and Valdimar should be sufficient. Lydia has proven steadfast in battles against the undead and dragons. Valdimar has received battle-mage training in the Legion. They should be able to handle the necromancers. Now, you tell me, can Thane Erikson keep his head and take orders in battle? I let him go in so that your jarl can get a report from a source he trusts."
Roland nodded. "Aye. Erikson has hunted many bandits and enemies of Winterhold. He usually works alone but works very well in a team. His speech is straightforward, and he is not one to steal another's glory."
A few low-level wizards and necromancers tried to escape and were cut down. Lydia's backpack was full. Valdimar balanced a small chest on one shoulder. Erikson had pelts draped over his left arm. The strike team's right to claim choice spoils.
The pelts, however, were hardly choice goods. Khajiit pelts. "So that's why they never came back. A great pity," said Roland with genuine regret.
"A Dunmer peddler and his two Khajiit partners," Roland explained to Tariq. "His former slaves, really, but he freed them when he came to Skyrim, and they stayed together to start trading. Not many good trade caravans come to Winterhold. We have to travel to Windhelm or Dawnstar for anything we can't get locally."
"His wagons are still inside. The contents are scattered throughout the rooms," said Erikson. "I found the bows and swords of missing soldiers and hunters. And Bruggan's — the tax collector's wagon and this quarter's missing taxes.
"You should make haste and report to the jarl," he instructed Roland. "Bring back soldiers and wagons. I'll stay here, keep scavengers out, and make sure anything that's dead stays dead."
"No signs of vampires," reported Lydia to Tariq. "Just necromancers. I'd say this started as a typical robbers' den, and then necromancers came in and took over. Part of the latest wave of necromancers fleeing Cyrodiil and coming north, thinking Skyrim's too busy with the civil war to notice them. The usual vultures."
Lydia's bag was stuffed with some nice daggers, silk pieces from Summerset and Elsewyr, and the old, battered helmet she'd promised to find for the Winterhold jarl.
Valdimar's loot choices were spellbooks from Summerset. Most he would sell to the college, the high-level and a few lower-level ones that didn't interest him. He did offer Tariq the chance to look over the rest. Tariq liked the Alterations spell enabling the triple condition of night vision-invisibility-waterbreathing. The duration was not long, but he could see it as a useful escape spell. Valdimar chose a Conjuration spell of an ice bear that lengthened its own summons time with each kill it made and increased the summoner's resistance to cold, and a low-level life-drain spell that worked on physical contact — perfect for him because of his grappling style of close combat — and a Destruction spell of explosive contact combining lightning and fire. Valdimar also kept two spellbooks back, although he didn't have the majicka reserve or skill level to use them — expert- to master-class. Those were a paralysis rune spell and an ice storm cloak spell.
Valdimar had also collected grand and black soul gems to sell to the college. Tariq asked him to reserve the grand ones; he wanted to enchant a few items for his thanes.
The grumpy Enchantments master, Sergius Turrianus, an Imperial, came across Tariq studying the Enchantments advanced instruction tomb in the Arcanaeum. They conversed a bit, and the master generously taught him a masterclass-level trick that allowed Tariq to instill triple enchantments. Then he showed the master the split-rings enchantment technique, something the master hadn't seen before.
Tariq concentrated on multiple elemental protection and recovery buffs for Lydia. For Valdimar, he created an extra majicka reserve and increased mana recovery to minimize the costs of Destruction and Restoration. Those should allow him to use the new spells he'd gotten from the necromancers.
… … …
Mount Anthor was the site of a dragon wall and a dragon. This dragon's shout caused a debilitation that drained one's life and majicka. Using Thane Roland's gift of weather forecasting, the chosen attack day was clear, with little wind in the mountains during the day and without danger of a storm during the evening, which would be ideal for tired combatants camping at the site afterward.
Tariq employed the tactic used against the dragon at Dragonstooth Crater near Karthwasten. Thane Erikson and his kinfolk, a family of archer-hunters, found perches along the mountain walls. Winterhold wizards shielded them while the apprentices provided extra firepower. Tariq would engage the dragon in a shouting match until the combined firepower brought it down. The tactic worked well then and worked well again here. The dragon crashed, and Tariq put his sword through its skull and drank in its soul.
The translation from Anthor was, "Noble Nords remember these words of the hoar father: Even best steel may bend and break, but flesh of true men is unyielding," and the word was SLEN, or "flesh."
The translation of the wall above Ysgramor's tomb was, "(This) stone commemorates (the) horse Sarvirra, (the) most courageous animalever to charge (the) snowy battlefields, and give his life for his lord." The word Tariq sensed was RAAN, or "animal."
He chose to use the Anthor dragon's soul to comprehend KLO, the second word of the slow-time shout, extending is effect.
… … …
One last thing to be done was the request from Master Urag, the loremaster of the Arcanaeum, to deliver supplies to a lone researcher on an islet amid the ice floes. Valdimar did that job as Tariq was too busy learning Alterations basics from Master Tolfdir.
Tariq and Masters Tolfdir and Urag were discussing the lost art of Mysticism and how its practices had been divided amongst the remaining arts when Valdimar returned from his task.
Septimus was a madman. He'd uncovered something he called a Dwemer lockbox that was sure to hold some great secret. From his ramblings, Valdimar knew him to be a worshiper of Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric prince of dark knowledge. Hermaeus Mora had led the scholar to that desolate spot in return for some horrible acts. Valdimar knew if his thane had been the one delivering supplies, he was sure his thane would have murdered him.
Tariq agreed. That Daedric prince did no favors without requiring some horrific deeds in exchange.
"He did ask our help," added Valdimar.
"I am not interested in furthering the goals of a daedric demon," said Tariq sternly as his hand reflexively made a cutting motion.
"Yes, my thane. Then I shall leave these with the wizards." Valdimar took out a globe and a cube from his backpack. Tariq recognized the globe as a Dwemer gate key, and the square was one of their strange knowledge cubes.
"According to Scholar Septimus, the knowledge he needs to open this lockbox is in some Dwemer tower called 'Mzark' in the Dwemer kingdom of 'Blackreach.' It has an Elder Scroll and a machine that can extract the knowledge he needs from it and inscribe it on the cube. Or so he claims," Valdimar added dryly. "Imagine an Elder Scroll sitting in a Dwemer ruin and not in the Moth Priest archive in the basement of the White Tower."
"Are you serious?" bellowed Urag. "There's an unclaimed Elder Scroll at our very doorstep? We need to secure that. And a machine that can read an Elder Scroll? Tolfdir—"
"Calm down, Urag. I understand," said Tolfdir. He sighed and covered his eyes with his fingers to gently massage them. "Do remember we've been discouraging any in-depth exploration of Alftand because it's dangerous." He sighed again. "How and where Septimus found that key to Blackreach is not something I want to contemplate. Of course, it's an incredible find — Blackreach, or 'Fal'Zhardum Din'in the Dwemer tongue, 'the Kingdom of the Blackest Reach.' If rumors are correct, it undermines the Holds of Eastmarch, Winterhold, and The Pale. Valie believed Alftand was one of the main entry points into this underground kingdom."
"It's too bad Valie quit the college," said Urag. "She'd be on a rampage again about needing to assemble an exploration team immediately. Valie," Urag explained to Tariq, "was a Dwemer scholar who constantly petitioned Arch-mage Aren for an exploration team. But there was never the budget to afford one, especially on pure speculation of rumors of a massive underground kingdom. She had no proof beyond a letter from an old family friend who hinted that he was coming north into Skyrim looking for a rare plant that only grew in an underground Dwemer city. He was an alchemist. Had a reputation in Cyrodiil as an expert on nirnroots. Seemed to believe there was a rare variety growing somewhere in Skyrim."
"Many strange mushrooms do grow in Dwemer ruins," said Tariq, nodding. "And there are many strange things that only flourish in the darkness."
"That's a given," grunted Urag. "But alchemy is not studied by any except Restorations, and even if Colette was interested in studying plants from this Blackreach, she doesn't have the budget or the influence to get in on the yearly budget reviews. And even if she were the greatest negotiator, there just isn't enough gold coming in."
Tariq glanced at Tolfdir, who was studying a patch of carpet somewhere to his right.
"Furthermore, you can't just hire any random merc that shows up for the job," continued Urag. "You'd need a small army. In the past, we've always worked with the Legion."
"A make-shift combat team of independent mercs may go rogue once a certain loss level is reached," said Tariq. "They will likely plunder at will, destroying artifacts as they battle the machines."
"Any exploration will have to wait until the current conflict is resolved," said Tolfdir. "We certainly cannot request Legion backup in Stormcloak territory. As for the Stormcloaks, I doubt they will be willing to expend personnel to exploring a Dwemer ruin."
"They would be even more unreliable than mercs," growled Urag. "Stormcloaks would be looking for weapons and anything else they could exploit against the Empire. Research and our people's safety would be discarded once they determined our people have no useful information or desire to further the Stormcloak cause."
"Aside from Valie, the only associate I know with valid experience in exploring Dwemer ruins is Calcelmo of Markarth," said Tolfdir. "I have no doubt he would be interested, but whether it's safe or convenient for him to take up this project is another matter."
"It would not," answered Tariq. "Calcelmo has Dominion problems in Markarth, and keeping them and other opportunistic explorers out of his ruins is an unending endeavor."
"You know him?" asked Urag.
"Yes. I came into Skyrim through The Reach. I helped him with some problems, and he returned the favors with invaluable information about the Dwemer ruins in Skyrim and Falmer." Tolfdir and Urag exchanged glances, and Tariq knew they would soon contact Calcelmo for more information.
"Do you have an interest in Dwemer ruins?" asked Tolfdir. Tariq laughed.
"I've explored a number of them in Hammerfell. They are fascinating. But I've other priorities at the moment. Word walls, you understand. Now that I've found the obvious ones in Winterhold, and being tired of the cold, I plan to look for words in your warmer southern holds. Would you know the locations of such?"
"I only have information on three obvious ones on mountains," answered Urag. "Bonecrest in southern Eastmarch, the abandoned Northwind mine in northern Rift, and the dragon cult ruins of Fort Forelhost on a mountain in the southern Rift. I'm sure others are hidden in other old dragon cult ruins, but I don't have any information on those locations. It's likely only the Greybeards can tell you where to look."
"It would seem so," said Tariq, sighing. "But I should go to the obvious ones first before asking them about the not-so-obvious ones. This is supposed to be an educational pilgrimage for me, else they could have taught me many more words while I was at their monastery." Well, no, not truly, he silently acknowledged. Words without souls had no meaning, and the old men up there could not afford — nor should they be asked — to destroy their souls to teach him. They gave him the basics. They way of the dragon was the individual's life-or-death battle for mastery.
"Ah, the joys of the 'journeyman' status," commented Tolfdir with a smile.
"Indeed. I am a very busy man on the journey to further knowledge and hone my skills." Tariq stretched and continued staring upwards at the tall shelves of books and scrolls in the Arcanaeum. Wisdom of lifetimes. More knowledge he suspected he could never live enough lives to truly appreciate. In fact, he rather doubted any of these tomes held any information about sword skills: "Basics of Spellswording — Learning to Think and Fight at the same time," or "Spellswords — Exercises to dual improve your stamina and mana." No such tomes existed.
Perhaps he should write them? His father had made sure he knew more than the basics of reading and writing. And for reviewers for comprehension and experience, he had Rodina and Valdimar handily available.
Ah, such ego. Many, many swordmasters of the past have written volumes to stand beside the Book of Circles. Still, he could not recall any works definitively combining magicka with sword skills. Well, works that were not part of religious texts, as he thought of the tomes used by the Leki Sect. And while ancient works described the Ansei as combining magicka with their swords, there were no surviving instructional works of that time.
He recalled Legate Fasendil's skills in that area. But he would sooner do favors for Daedra than ask an Altmer for lessons.
Hypocrite, he accused himself acidly. He'd accepted sword, shield, and armor suggestions from the Altmer during a series of mock battles. Perhaps seeing that Altmer in Legion armor had been enough to temporarily pacify his anti-elf sentiments. For some reason, he balked at asking for magicka instruction. Valdimar was Legion trained but did not know that trick of extending his magicka into his weapon, so it might be an elf thing. Did Dunmer know that trick? He couldn't recall seeing Athis of the Companions using magicka. So maybe it was an Altmer technique.
But then, again, the Companions disdained magicka and enchanted weapons and armor, so if Athis knew this, he wouldn't use it. Next time he was in Whiterun, maybe he'd ask Irileth, the jarl's housecarl. He was comfortable speaking with her.
"Ah, your pardon, you were saying…" Tariq abruptly became aware that Urag had been speaking to him.
"I was asking that when you were finished exploring in Riften, you would consider returning here to help with searching for the Elder Scroll," repeated Urag. "By then, we should have gathered more information from Septimus and others about Alftand, and we should have a trustworthy team assembled."
"We're not asking you to do it for free, of course," added Tolfdir. "We can start with the standard Companion fee of 500 and negotiate upward from there."
"I am no longer with the Companions. But 500 as a starting fee is fine. How much I may eventually demand will depend on what information you can gain beforehand. And that cube, that will not be returned to that daedra worshiper. Whatever knowledge in that Dwemer lockbox Hermaeus Mora desires will stay locked away. Do we agree?"
"Whatever it is, it can't compare to an Elder Scroll. Agreed," said Urag.
"Agreed," said Tolfdir.