Chapter 39
SLEN TIID VO!
They'd stopped in Kynesgrove south of Windhelm to look at the dragon mound there. It was on the hilltop above Kynesgrove's Steamscorch malachite mine, as indicated on the parchment copy of the stone dragon burial map he'd gotten from Bleakfalls Barrow near Riverwood town. He thought he'd check the Kynesgrove burial site to see if the dragon mound was still intact.
It had been when they'd climbed the hill.
Then that accursed black dragon of Helgen showed up and shouted at the mound.
"TIID." So, the shout was something about time.
The ground shook. A pile of dragon bones pushed up. Stones and dirt splitting before the sharp ridges of backbone, falling down and through an empty ribcage, through empty eye sockets like tears.
It let out an impossible roar. The power of its spirit and reviving soul pushing and shaking the air. The air around the bones vibrated, distorting light, seeming to glow as it rushed inward, and organs and muscles began forming in and around the bones.
Tariq drew his silver sword and nudged Cairo into a charge position. Valdimar, Idgrod, and Lydia dismounted from their horses. Rodina led all the horses away from the battleground except for Cairo. None of the horses besides Cairo and Nimat were battle-tempered.
He waved Valdimar to go left and Lydia and Idgrod to circle right. He heard the village folk screaming to flee. He noticed some intrepid and foolhardy town guards climbing up to join the battle. Valdimar automatically took control of them — his Legion experience as combat unit leader rearing up — roaring orders at what they will do to fight. Tariq nodded, satisfied, and nudged his mount.
Cairo didn't waver in its charge for the chest of the great beast before it in a familiar maneuver. Dragon, rampaging elephant, giant goblin — it made no difference to Cairo. It did not waver as its rider's weight shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. It knew its training and adjusted its stride to brace for the sudden push.
Sep's spit, he swore as he realized he hadn't practiced this in Dwemer armor. He worried that the extra weight would be too much for his saddle straps and that the cushion between the saddle and Cairo's back was insufficient. But if there was pain, Cairo never wavered, so he had to do his best to complete this foolhardy maneuver of leaping from horseback.
"Break!" he roared, and Cairo pivoted sharply, throwing extra power into Tariq's leap.
"FEIM!" Tariq's body and weapon went to spirit form.
The dragon's body pulled on its final layer of scaled flesh.
Before it all hardened, Tariq and his sword also left the spirit realm. The silver sword was deep into nerves, arteries, and muscle, cutting under the drag of weight and motion.
The dragon's neck twisted in agony, locking onto the blade. Tariq lost his grip on his sword and fell heavily to the ground as the dragon reared up in panic.
Valdimar sent bolts of ice to rip through the dragon's wing membranes and shatter against scales. Guards rushed in with swords and spears as Valdimar had instructed to poke at the dragon's feet, keeping it off balance. Idgrod's arrows went for eyes and mouth. Lydia shielded her, taking the impact of attacks with her shield and Serpent's Fang; the blade's spine braced against the shield to slice and numb dragon flesh that struck against it.
Above them, the black dragon snarled a sound of disgust and flew off, leaving its minion to its battle for life. If it was too weak to survive the ants besieging its hatching, it was of no further use and had been a waste of breath.
The dragon came down as Tariq regained his footing and charged in again with his flyssa. Hard scales now covered the dragon's neck; the long and straight flyssa was better for sliding underneath the scales and stabbing deep. He attacked the base of the neck, plunging the flyssa deep just above the notch of the furcula. The dragon's head drooped. Tariq leaped and grabbed the hilt of his silver scimitar, pulling it free and releasing a gush of blood by doing so.
The dragon made a sound that was a combination of a whimper and a groan. Threads of light reappeared beneath the scales, unbinding — a reversal of its re-birthing. Its head crashed to the earth, its mouth filled with arrows. Ice-shredded wings convulsed, beating vainly against the ground, then stilled. Tariq brought his swords together, jabbing them into the ground, and braced himself against the onslaught of the dragon's soul and power rushing into him.
"Saloknir" was the creature's name. The Phantom Sky Hunt, whose hope for resurrection was now a banished ghost.
Tariq used its soul's power to understand the word taken from Gathrik's tomb, Ironbind Barrow ― "ZII." So, ZII meant "Spirit." It was a word of the Become Ethereal shout.He grinned, pleased. He felt the strengthening of his understanding of the spirit connection to his Ansei.
Valdimar handled the exultant guards, keeping them from bothering his thane. He sent them off with the dragon's bones and scales. They could bring the items to Windhelm to prove their tale and present them to the jarl, maybe get a good reward for their bravery in defending Kynesgrove and assisting the Dragonborn.
… … …
The folk of Kynesgrove held a grand feast, and Tariq met a hunter whose camp was in the area of Bonestrewn Crest mountain. The mountain got its name from all the ancient mammoth bones scattered along its slopes and its peak. Since mammoths don't normally climb mountains, something incredibly strong had to have carried the carcasses up there.
The hunter swore he and his partners — two other hunters back at the campsite — saw a dragon carrying a mammoth up there. The giants living near the base of the mountain were not happy about missing one of the precious pets and were roaming outside their normal territory aggressively killing bears and sabre cats.
Then, again, it was the calving season for the mammoths, so extra caution around them and the giants was only sensible.
From the miners Tariq gleaned the gossip about the abandoned Northwind Summit mine. The mine was abandoned despite the rich ebony deposits there. Bad luck and walking undead were there. Rumor had it that it was the fault of greedy owners who pushed their workers beyond what was reasonable or safe. Too many died, and workers eventually walked out after killing the mine owners. But that was at least three generations ago, so what really happened was unknown.
There were also cautionary warnings about witches and necromancers that wandered out in the wasteland. They knew the patrols rarely left the roads, so they felt free to practice their unholy craft.
Tariq then remembered a quest he had yet to complete. It wasn't a paid job, but he had promised Priestess Danica of Temple of Kynareth in Whiterun to help her with the problem of the dead sacred tree that was the heart of the city.
He asked the hunter if he knew the location of the sacred grove of the Eldergleam.
Southwest of Bonestrewn Crest and east of Fort Amol. It looked like just another small hill of stone and dirt with the entrance on the south side. The hunter also mentioned the only reason witches and necromancers hadn't tried to take that cave for their own was because Kyne's guardians, the spriggans, killed anything with wicked intent. According to the Kyne worshipers who camped inside, as long as visitors were peaceful and treated the sanctuary respectfully, the spriggans stayed hidden and would not attack.
This gave Tariq pause as he contemplated the ugly black gardening knife he'd taken from the hagraven in Falkreath. He'd seen the bodies of spriggans there, their root-ball hearts cut out by that knife. The spriggans guarding the Eldergleam would probably consider that an act of aggression.
He pulled Idgrod aside and told her about the Gildergreen problem in Whiterun and Priestess Danica's request that he fetch a magical item called the Nettlebane. Her immediate expression of revulsion when he brought out the knife was enough for him to know that it would be a problem if he brought it into the sacred grove of the Eldergleam.
"That is an essence-destroying knife for nature spirits," she told him. "Priestess Danica misunderstands the process. It isn't just borrowing sap from the mother tree; this is stealing its heart's blood while destroying its life to revive a corpse! All Whiterun would get is something that looks like the Gildergreen. There would be nothing sacred about it. I wouldn't be surprised if Kyne struck that abomination down with a lightning strike — and the temple along with it." Her expression twisted again. "I know the stories the priestess must be thinking about of how the Eldergleam's sap can revive dead fields. And I've also heard the legends that ordinary weapons cannot harm the Eldergleam. But that knife — that thing can only poison the sap. The hagravens meant that thing to drain and destroy the natural power it touched."
"Yes, yes. I understand. Peace, Idgrod. I see I must disappoint Priestess Danica. I still want to see this Eldergleam. But I will not bring the knife there. Perhaps there may be a sapling or sprouting twig that can be harvested and brought back."
"That would be best. It couldn't hurt to ask," said Idgrod.
"Ask?" Tariq laughed. "Ask the tree? Is this Eldergleam intelligent like the walking trees of Valenwood or the Hist of the lizard men?"
Idgrod shrugged. "It's a tree that's supposed to be as old as the world. It was there long before Bosmer taught the trees of Valenwood to walk. Its roots were in Nirn even longer before the Hist seeds flew over from Oblivion and cultivated the Argonians. It's part of the riddle of life and nature and being. What is the difference between intelligence and animal cunning? What is instinct against cunning? What is life? Plants, we know, can also be defined as dead or alive. And spriggans, we know, can fill a soul gem. What should we think from that?"
"I would rather not think about that," Tariq muttered.
The next day, they followed the hunters back to their camp near the giants' camp called Steamcrag Camp. Along the way, the hunters pointed out Witchmist Grove, a heavily wooded place popular with witches and hagravens. Higher up on the mountain above Kynesgrove was the tall wooden wall of the Orsimer stronghold of Narzulbur that mined ebony. The eastern mountains on this side of the Velothi mountain range had numerous bandit caves and tunnels left over from the mining of past Dwemer settlements, some said to have once tunneled all the way to Morrowind. Other caves were forgotten Nord tombs from the heroic age of Nord conquest of Skyrim.
The hunters helped Tariq make a detailed map of the area. He truly appreciated it. This part of Eastmarch, an ancient caldera surrounded by mountains east and west and the rising plateau south that was Riften Hold, had many deep secrets. He could see it would be favored by the Dwemer. The land may seem dry, but the hunters had pointed out heated shallow lakes that bespoke a deep volcanic source.
Tariq could see from any map of Skyrim that the three great lakes of Ilinalta, Yorgrim, and Honrich had mighty rivers that became one by the time they got to Windhelm and finally drained into the sea. Yet that penultimate river was not very big despite having three great sources feeding it along with the spring snow melts from the Velothi and Jerall mountain ranges. He would make any bet that the missing volume of water fed underground rivers and lakes deep below this area of Eastmarch.
Dwemer would like that. Calcelmo of Markarth had shared the theory that the Dwemer initially seeded and grew under the Velothi before spreading out to the rest of the continent. That discussion had been sparked by the Dwemer armor Tariq wore. Tariq had taken the armor from a bandit leader in Dwemer ruins in far Hammerfell. Royal Rourken armor, the elf had called it. Rourken clan from Morrowind, made of metal and with embellishments that could only be found in armor forged in Morrowind.
He asked if they knew where the Dwemer ruin of Mzulft was. He knew it from the tales the three Winterhold College apprentices told him of their exploration. They had been chasing after the Cyrodiil wizards association, the Synod, because the wizard apprentice Brelyna had needed information about the Eye of Magnus. A Dwemer ruin with machines still functional had to have a volcanic power source and a lot of water for its continued operation.
The itch to explore functioning Dwemer ruins was strong. And from all he'd heard, Dwemer ruins in Skyrim were untouched compared to the ones in Hammerfell, which were regularly plundered. The Nords didn't like the old Dwemer places. The Children of the Sky had no curiosity about the machines and disliked the sunless, windless cities. They were willing to go with the Septim decree that all Dwemer ruins were the property of the Imperial Throne.
The Septims, of course, just wanted to ensure that any other Dwemer-created Numidium-like metal monsters were never uncovered and used against them.
Well, he could understand the Nord aversion to the underground cities. For short trips, Tariq could enjoy the challenge and complexity of the Dwemer cities. It was a reflection of their minds, after all. But after a while, he, too, would start feeling stifled and unsettled at the loss of the natural cycle of day and night, the chillness that no amount of steam could substitute for the warmth of the sun. The noises a Dwemer city made could not take the place of the sounds of nature.
In a Dwemer city, one is quickly reminded by sight, sounds, and smells that it is a foreign place. The ever-present whisper of steam could trick one's mind into hearing the sibilant conversations of angry Dwemer ghosts just out of sight in the shadows between the harsh, artificial light of gas lanterns.
And then there were the Falmer. The Dwemer ruins in Hammerfell did not have these warped, malignant mer goblins. Locals said Falmer did not roam beyond the snowline in this part of the country, nor did chaurus.
Tariq and his party followed the friendly hunter back to his camp near Bonestrewn Crest. The hunter and his partners had a view of the Steamcrag giants' camp and beyond to Bonestrewn Crest. The hunters graciously allowed them to stay at their camp while Tariq and his companions explored the area.
Three days later, Tariq saw three young Companions standing just outside the territory stones of the giants. He hesitantly went out to meet them, unsure what the Circle said of him to the non-werewolf pups.
He only did it because he recognized Ria and Kimmel, the beautiful Ohms-Raht Khajiit. The other two young Companions he recognized but couldn't recall their names. He looked around reflexively for any of the Circle. Then he recalled Ria had passed her trial and was considered a full member of the Companions, not a trainee pup, so she was the senior Companion in charge of this group of trainees.
"Tariq! So wonderful to see you!" exclaimed Ria, smiling widely. She abruptly pouted. "But leaving without saying goodbye was just rude!"
Tariq chuckled as he swept a low bow to her. "I humbly beg your forgiveness, dear Ria. "There was a business that couldn't be put off.
"Dragon business, I know," she said, smiling again. She looked up and pointed to the dragon circling lazily overhead. "So that's why you're here," she pronounced with satisfaction.
"Indeed. May I ask what brings your group here?"
"There's a bounty on one of the giants," said Ria. "Giants are still protected by Imperial law, though the ones in the Pale are being hunted by Jarl Skald. Jarl Ulfric, however, still honors that protection. But a giant going out of its way to attack travelers on the road forfeits its protection or course, so his court has ordered that rogue giant to be killed. So far, all the ones who took the bounty were killed or scared off by the giants. The Companions were finally hired to do the job. Vilkas talked with one bounty hunter who failed the job, and that one said that getting the target alone was difficult. Its buddies and its mammoths were always nearby. The 250 gold bounty Windhelm offered wasn't worth fighting a camp of giants and mammoths.
"I got the job because Vilkas thought my ability to use the Voice of Peace might help with the job."
Tariq looked skeptical. "I've seen it work with draugr, but those were humans in the first place. Giants and mammoth, though?"
Ria shrugged. "I know. It's a gamble. Multiple targets are hard enough. But I haven't had any success with animals or anyone who can't speak the same language, like Falmer. I went back to Falkreath to talk with the boys who you had teach me the trick, and they say I have to work on sounding more authoritative. They said I'm too cheerful, and it leaks. They said it's hard to take me seriously."
"Did not Aela say you successfully used your voice during your testing?"
"Well, yes. But I was seriously angry at those robbers. I saw the bodies of the children they'd captured and raped and the parents they'd beaten to death. I was all for cutting off their balls and pinning them to trees to be eaten by animals and insects. Aela did most of the actual execution after I was done breaking them."
"Ah. I see. Yes, tone of voice is often more important than words. Though I daresay insane fury would bring you closer to the Nord's Voice of War than of Peace."
Tariq brought the Companions back to the hunters' camp and introduced the groups. He knew the hunters knew which giant was the rogue, saving the Companions days of observation to identify their target.
He also introduced Ria to Rodina. More to a purpose, he suggested Rodina give Ria quick lessons in voice acting and projection and whatever tricks that bards and actors used to set their minds properly for their roles. He took the other three pups out to observe the giants and quiz them on how the giants responded to dangers like the dragon overhead or the sabre cats and bears that got too close to their camp.
The battle plan they needed was to isolate the rogue from his companions and mammoths. It was too dangerous to face more than one, and it would not do to give the other giants further cause to fear and hate outsiders.
Tariq would not be helping them in their task, though his group would watch and help them escape if their attack failed and caught the attention of the other giants and mammoths.
They watched at a safe distance as the Companions lured the rogue out and killed him, cut off an ear as proof, and then scampered away as the other giants came looking, for their missing companion, hearing its distressed cries. Ria used her Nedic/Imperial gift, ordering them to see only their fallen companion. Did the giants understand her words? Maybe not, but they understood the tone. It seemed to blunt their anger.
They found their dead one and carried him back to their camp. They buried him and planted a carved menhir atop the grave.
… … …
Getting the soul of the dragon of Bonestrewn Crest was unexpectedly easy.
Dragons and giants don't get along. The dragon tried to snatch a young mammoth from Steamcrag camp, and the adult mammoths and giants objected. The calf struggled, throwing the dragon off its lifting and forcing the lizard to land. The mammoths rammed it, stomping on its tail and wings. The giants charged in, swinging massive clubs of bone with heads of heavy granite. Tariq waited until mammoths and giants wandered away, then sneaked close enough for the dragon's soul to come to him.
A trek up to the wall on Bonestrewn Crest yielded KRAH. Rodina copied the writing for later translation.
Crumbling ruins of ancient tombs and temples dotted this relatively barren landscape. In all other holds, the bones of the past were quickly overcome by forests. But here, they lay exposed to the air and the sun. On a plateau of a nearby mountainside, the chipped, tilting pillars of a shrine to Akatosh were guarded by skeletons. Fresh remains of human sacrifice desecrated the altar. They knocked apart the sentries, piled them on the altar, and purified the lot with fire. They killed necromancers experimenting with the resurrection of ancient corpses spilling out of a ruined, sunken Atmoran tomb. They chased away a faint-hearted necromancer novice who'd dared set up an altar on the hilltop above the Eldergleam's sacred underground grove.
Tariq and Rodina entered the tunnel into the grove while everyone waited outside with the horses. Tariq observed the long, downward passage, judging it wide enough for horses to travel through in single file. That was good. If the worshipers already in the grove didn't object, he would like to bring the horses in.
He was not surprised that the sanctum was a grand cavern that could swallow the hillside and surrounding area on the surface. Two glorious waterfalls fell through those holes that could not be found anywhere topside to feed this lush wonderland of alchemy treasures. Steam from volcanic vents added heat and humidity. The thunder of rushing water filled the sanctum, and there was additional thunder of a heavy rainstorm somewhere outside the cavern.
A grand storm was happening somewhere that wasn't in the area they'd just descended from. More proof that the world was created from the crumpled skins of the Great Serpent's shed skin of past realities, these little pocket places that defied logic.
The most wonderful of treasures, of course, was the Eldergleam. The massive roots inexplicably reminded Tariq of the muscular tentacles of an octopus. He would not be surprised if they could move like that as well. Golden fruit could be seen at the very top of the canopy. Legend said those rare fruits could cure any ill.
Tariq let Rodina do most of the talking with the worshipers. She first introduced herself as the court bard of Whiterun and then began to discuss the dead Gildergreen. The four pilgrims here were aware of the tragedy.
Tariq then explained his dilemma. The priestess had proposed a solution, but he had been told after fetching the knife that it was an evil thing and should not be used. Furthermore, now that he was here, he could feel the intelligent spirit of the tree filling this place. And a member of his party, herself a person gifted with spiritual sensitivity, had suggested asking the tree for a solution.
He wasn't sure if the tree would listen to him, but perhaps it would if its worshipers added their prayers to his?
It didn't take much for them to agree to a group prayer. The pilgrims had come from many points in Skyrim, and each had stopped in Whiterun during their pilgrimages to see the Gildergreen. Yes, it was disrespectful to the great Kyne to let that dead tree stand there.
A dead tree. Unlike Danica, they did not believe that bleeding the Eldergleam would restore life to what was long gone. The Gildergreen had been a sprout given to someone long ago. It had been a young tree by the time Captain Jeek and his crew had come into view, hauling their ship on the way to the great lake in the west that was later to be named Lake Ilinalta. By some great wisdom, and possibly because of the wonderful, healing fruit growing on the young tree, Jeek and his crew knew not to cut down that tree. They realized this tree was a gift of Lady Hawk, Great Kyne of the winds.
So, if they prayed and convinced the Eldergleam that Whiterun was still in need of its totem tree and still worthy of nurturing, perhaps the Eldergleam would grant a new sprout for hope.
But all that could wait until after tomorrow's breakfast. The rest of Tariq's party should come down — horses included — and spend the rest of the day relaxing and sleeping in the Eldergleam's presence. Become more familiar with the wonders of this sanctuary and let the tree come to know them.
Later that evening, when Tariq meditated while leaning against one of the great roots, he felt an alien presence of great power. The air seemed to smell sharper. As he breathed in through his mouth, he could taste the blessed freshness of the water, the tingling sweetness of distant fruit mixed with the taste and color of grass and other green things and healthy woods. At one point, he was inspired to stand and slowly sword dance — flowing gently and gracefully through the stances and motions of sword-wielding that were to synchronize physical and spiritual energies.
He fancied the roots of the Eldergleam sprang up beneath his feet, forcing him to move in a new pattern, correcting his use of spiritual power, and showing him other gathering and concentration points in his body to refine energy. These things were not in the Book of Circles or any other companion pieces he'd ever studied. It was all because the writers were human, not an intelligent plant that was the oldest of all old things upon Nirn.
He should've felt suspicious. But he was filled with an ecstasy of insight.
Rodina was familiar with this fit of creativity and most accommodating in taking dictation of Tariq's almost incoherent stream of consciousness. She knew how important it was to document impressions to be studied later, mined, and shaped for wisdom.
When he fell asleep, still in that spell of discovery, it was to fall into strange dreams of battles against dragons, demons, gods, and mages. Rodina and Idgrod were laughing at him when he woke up the morning after. They presented him with a thick roll of notes.
"When you finally can consciously manifest your shehai," said Idgrod, "it will be a magnificent weapon. Probably not the most artistically beautiful, but no one who sees it will doubt your power. Yes, you did manifest it," she answered his unspoken question. "It was the weapon of a destroyer. Nothing inherently evil in that," she assured him. "I can find nothing evil about the one who is destined to destroy Alduin's delusion of supremacy over life."
Rodina, he could see, was still scribbling. Her eyes had the sunken, burning look of one still in the sleepless grip of creation. "After writing all your revelations," whispered Idgrod, "she had her own. But I can't help her because I don't know how to notate music."
"Have you gained any new insights, Idgrod?"
"Maybe tonight, I hope. I was too busy helping Rodina write out yours to sleep. And I didn't do any meditation because I was outside with Lydia and Valdimar, hunting and roasting meats outside the cave. I'll catch up on sleep while you, Lydia, and Valdimar do the thoughts and prayers with the Kyne worshipers. I'll make sure Rodina gets some rest, too."
By the morning of the day after, Tariq and Valdimar dug up the sapling they had all watched miraculously grow during the day-long prayers. Packhorse Bramble would carry the sapling and the waterbags. Valdimar, on his own horse, would escort it to Whiterun and explain everything to Priestess Danica. When that was done, he would ride directly for Shor's Stone, the small mining village near Northwind Summit, to wait for them there, if they weren't already there ahead of him.
Likely not because of a delay of an unexpected quest.
A few hours later, after Valdimar had left, Rodina and Idgrod were visiting a nearby group of hunters who had made camp in the middle of a large heated pool. Rodina and Idgrod were soaking in the pool and chatting with the hunters when a woman stumbled into camp seeking help. She babbled a tale about robbers in an old fort capturing people and holding them for ransom. She'd desperately made her escape because she knew her family could not afford to pay the ransom, and she had no desire to be sold to necromancers.
Rodina and Idgrod took the woman to the Eldergleam Sanctum to have her tell her tale to Tariq.
"It sounds like a matter worth looking into," he mused. "What do we know about this Mistwatch Keep?" he asked Rodina.
"Hm. It was a military fort in the previous era and a monastic temple before that. Not to the Dragon Cult, like so many of the ruins in this area, it was a monastery of the Ternion Cult of Atmora that worshiped the three totem gods of the Bear, the Fox, and the Wolf. That would be Tsun, Shor, and Mara. Tsun and Shor are the Dead Gods, and Mara is a Hearth God. The Cult ended shortly after the Second Era. They were known to be clever-crafters. Magicians. And, like all clever-crafters, suffered unpopularity in the growing militant, anti-mage culture of the Atmorans. And they weren't known to be preaching self-promoting types, so they attracted no young ones who heard of them and came to join.
"One of their last great works was when the Ebonheart Pact came to them to save King Jorunn, who'd been fed Daedric poison. The monks helped save King Jorunn by invoking the powers of the three totems to open the door to send in an unnamed hero to battle the nightmares that would plague the king unto his death if not stopped."
So it had been a temple. That explained the idiotic placement against a mountainside. As a military fort, allowing a roadway up the mountain that so easily overlooked the fort was inconceivable. Tariq had a full view of the fort's layout below. Now, as it had been originally a temple held by a cult of magicians, he could imagine that they would have protected the place with their spells. Indeed, Rodina had recalled legends that such was the case. One could only enter the place if one could teleport in, a lost spell outlawed by Imperial Law. Anyone else had to wait outside the physical and magical walls until the monks judged them worthy to enter.
The robbers were idiots, too. He'd been here most of a day and had not found a sentry nor seen any patrols on this road.
In two days, Idgrod and Rodina will be up here. Idgrod's arrows will take down the useless sentries in the bailey and on the walls. He, Lydia, and two stormcloak volunteers from Darkwater will enter the fort, executing robbers and freeing captives. Other volunteer soldiers and hunters will wait outside the walls to capture or kill any escaping robbers. Any robbers thinking of escape by going up the hatches to the upper, outer levels will be shot down by Idgrod or chased to a falling death by Rodina's fire wolf summons.
Cleaning out a den of useless leeches was a worthwhile exercise of his sword.
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