Chapter 42
From the ramparts of Forelhost, they could see Long Tongue Overlook, where they killed a dragon, and then Stendarr's Beacon.
Per Isran's instructions, go down from the Beacon to the road. Look for fallen logs and a rusty lamp pole that marks the entrance into the mountainside. Dismount and walk into the cave. It's a short tunnel that exits into a wooded valley. Follow the dirt path to Fort Dawnguard.
Fort Dawnguard's story, per Isran, was it had been the prison of some noble heir infected by vampires. The small army tasked with guarding him was called the "Dawnguard." Tariq wondered what ended that order. Being expected to dedicate the rest of their lives to guarding a vampire was unreasonable, impractical, and incredibly stupid. Put the boy down and be done with it. He was already dead. And what were his guards expected to feed him? The blood of animals? Maybe an irritating bandit? This was a nice valley but boring in the long run. Elite guards didn't get their ranks by sitting on their backsides and only doing practice yard bouts. No, ambition and the hunger for battle were needed, not guarding a starving vampire.
The fort was impressive. But it reinforced his belief that there was more to the story of an imprisoned vampire. One did not need such a grand fortress to guard one vampire, nor would any lord spend that kind of gold to house prison guards. And to build this fortress in a protected pocket of the Worldskin with only one easily defended connection to the outer world, one could gather and maintain quite an army like the Forsworn do in their pocket homes.
"The Dawnguard." It sounded like a noble name and purpose. Was it merely a golden patina over blood-corroded pig iron?
The path took them near a large pond where ice floated. Valdimar inspected the fishing nets hanging from poles. He waded knee-deep into the pond and shaded his eyes as he peered into the water. "Isran must go to the expense to stock this pond," he said. "Salmon should not be here. There is no stream or river they can travel through to be here. The other fish I've glimpsed do not come through underground waterways if such feeds this pond besides snow melt."
"Another wrinkled, misplaced patch of the Worldskin." Tariq sighed. "How deep is the world beneath this pretty exterior?"
Valdimar chuckled. "Round as an apple, deep as a cup…" he pronounced.
"What?" said Tariq, puzzled.
"A child's riddle. The answer is a 'well.'"
"The 'round as an apple' I can understand, but a well is deeper than a cup."
"A cup or a bucket or a ladle — as long as you can fill it from the well, it is enough," answered Valdimar, shrugging. "The rest of the riddle is 'and all the king's horses cannot pull it up.' So, 'cup' is the rhyme of 'up.'"
They continued to the fortress. The wooden defense walls were only partially built. The Dawnguard, if he recalled from his conversations with Durak, were still small in number, less than a dozen men and women, and scattered around Skyrim hunting vampires, trying to recruit new members, or trying to drum up support and funds from various nobility. They had precious little time to come together to work on repairing the fort and reconstructing the outer defenses.
Considering defense, Tariq wondered why bother with a massive barricade around the castle when the mountain tunnel was the obvious choke point to control. Building a fence here was foolish — it invited an enemy to flood in and fill the outer valley before storming the fortress.
They came to a man struggling to haul a tree trunk towards the outer wall. "The name's Celann. You two part of Rodina's group?"
"Yes," answered Tariq. "You work long with Isran?"
They helped him drag the trunk to where Celann wanted it and lash it into place.
"I have. There was a time, years ago, when we were both members of the Vigilants and both equally dissatisfied with them. Their hearts are in the right place, of course. But Isran and I were never comfortable. We left together, but that partnership didn't last very long. I didn't agree with some of his methods."
"Oh?" Tariq prodded, hoping for more details.
The Breton only grinned. "Isran always expects the worst, so he hits first and hard even if the circumstances don't justify it. He isn't one much for talking."
Valdimar grunted disapprovingly. "So he will just walk up to you and stab you in the gut without warning if you look dangerous to him? Battlefield actions are not respectable actions outside the war zone."
"Isran will tell you that any place and any time is a battlefield when it comes to vampires and the undead," said Celann. "But he's not quite that bad. He will try to discern first if you are a vampire, then he'll gut you."
"I see. 'Pray for the mercy of Stendarr, because the Vigilants have none,'" quoted Valdimar, rolling his eyes. Celann laughed.
"He really should go home to the Alik'r Desert and spend time with the Ash'abah," commented Tariq. "He thinks like them, and they should be able to teach him better discretion."
Valdimar chucked. Tariq frowned at him, trying to find the humor.
They went inside. Isran was guiding a young man practicing with a wood and steel crossbow. Idgrod and Lydia were also nearby practicing their shooting. Rodina, with a wood and steel crossbow, and Lydia, with a larger and heavier ebony crossbow.
"So you finally made it here," said Isran, seeing them. "Welcome to Fort Dawnguard."
The entry room was a large chamber with a fancy iron grille on the floor over a shimmering pool of water that somehow reminded Tariq of the majicka pool in the Hall of Elements in the College of Winterhold. The high, towering ceiling, again like in Winterhold, reinforced this impression. But there was a second open level in this hall. Through other archways, he could see stairs that wound upward to the second level.
"It is impressive, and the outside is quite a beautiful, self-contained paradise. Are there no dryads protecting this pocket of the Worldskin?"
"Dryads?" said Isran, puzzled. "I've never seen any here."
"No? Interesting. I wonder what maintains this place? The only other place I know that needed no dryads was that strange cavern in Falkreath. A ruined shrine to Talos was the pinning that kept that place alive after all the dryads were slain. Is there something within this fort that holds this pocket in place?"
Ah, now that he thought further upon it, perhaps Fort Dawnguard itself was the pinning. The Forsworn places all had Dragon Cult ruins, which had the lingering powers of their dragon overlords. This place did not appear to be such a relic. Perhaps it was built atop one?
Was there possibly a Dwemer city beneath? The Deep Elves were experts at taking advantage of the deep pockets within the Mundus. And this place being within the Velothi Mountains, the Dwemer couldn't have missed this spot.
"No, we checked. No Dwemer," said Idgrod when he mentioned the idea to her. "There's a drop to the caverns below in one of the unfinished chambers. Lydia and I explored it. We found an elaborate skills-testing arena for shooting and puzzle solving, a corundum mine, a collection of rude books, and barrels of booze. Oh, and some interesting crossbow bolts that inflict elemental damage. It's also where Lydia picked up her ebony crossbow."
"Are you not interested in the weapon?" asked Tariq.
"No. I'm perfectly fine with my hunting bow. It's faster to draw, and my arrows are unlimited so long as I have majicka."
"Did you receive any visions while down there?"
"There was a vampire master a long time ago," she confirmed with a long sigh. "And his Dawnguard thralls were ruthless raiders. A scourge here and in Morrowind in the First Era. Their destroyer came over the mountains from Morrowind. I saw the face of Vivec. He spitted them on Muatra, his spear, and flung them over the tops of the mountains, scattering their bodies to the winds. He had no reason to destroy this castle, so he left it. He sealed the entrance with rubble, but the earthquakes of the Second Era caused the entrance to be revealed. Isran found the suspicious entrance and worked to remove the rubble."
"Does Isran confirm this?"
"Only the part about finding the entrance. I did not mention my visions. He would not believe them without proof, which I cannot provide."
"This Vivec…"
"A god whose right half is Chimer and left half is Dunmer is unmistakable."
"Of course. Then, about Isran. Have you any insights about him?"
"There's a decent man, but walled in by anger, regrets, and hatred. A dremora doesn't have Isran's blackness of heart. He is very unforgiving of himself."
Tariq nodded. "He really should go to the Ash'abah. There is a peculiar spirit sickness warriors like him may suffer for surviving battles his friends did not, especially against the undead. To prevent fallen comrades from joining the forces of the undead, one must perform desecration instead of final honors upon the body. The Ash'abah know this sickness well and have many ceremonies and meditations to confront these inner demons of guilt and self-loathing."
Idgrod nodded. "You'd have a long argument to convince him he needs help. And even if you manage that, he will not take such a pilgrimage while he believes it would mean neglecting the duty he's taken upon himself. Duty before personal redemption, which he believes he doesn't deserve."
Tariq's lips puffed out slightly as he exhaled in exasperation. While he didn't think he would ever consider Isran a friend, it did pain him to see someone neglecting their soul because of harmful thinking. "You'll never get to the Far Shores if you can't clear such obstacles," he grumbled.
"He is dedicated to Stendarr. The Far Shores may not mean much to him."
"True," Tariq conceded. Much as he disliked the Imperial Cult, they had succeeded in spreading Stendarr's worship to popular levels in Hammerfell. The provinces closest to the Iliac Bay had the highest number of conversions. Even to Sentinel. Much as he would like to ignore it, he couldn't. He and his father served the HoonDing, the spirit of "Nobody really cares." The Make Way god. HoonDing and Tall Papa were gods uninterested in hand-holding their worshipers and did not involve themselves in their daily lives. Tariq could see that these two primary gods would seem indifferent and hardhearted compared to the Cyrod Stendarr or the Nord Stuhn, thus the appeal of these foreign gods.
"But you are right about the soul healing. Perhaps we should ask for him — see if Stendarr's mercy will find him, or HoonDing may throw a rock to wake him up," Idgrod suggested.
Tariq shrugged. "I can spare a prayer."
Idgrod smiled. "Tell me, I'm curious, will it make a difference if you pray as Tariq, the wandering sword saint, or Tariq, priest of HoonDing?"
Tariq grinned and chuckled. "It will be years before I take up the priesthood, if ever."
… … …
"Isran, Carcette is dead. The Hall of Vigilants… everyone… they're all dead. You were right; we were wrong. Isn't that enough for you?" "
Tariq and Lydia, returning to the fort after a day of exploring the valley and fishing the icy lake, paused to listen.
"Yes, well… I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you… I am sorry, you know."
So the weary Vigilant's name was Tolan. A middle-aged, balding Nord who appeared to favor the warhammer like Isran.
Rodina and Durak were watching from another doorway. Tariq and Lydia walked along the room's perimeter towards them. Tariq looked at Durak and gestured silently to Isran and Tolan. Durak sighed. "The Hall of the Vigilants in The Pale was attacked a week ago by vampires. Everyone there was slaughtered except for one. Tolan came here for help."
Tolan had sharp ears. He turned towards them. "Yes, that's it. Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artifact of some kind. We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran. He was at the Hall when it was attacked. They took him…"
"That's good enough for me," said Isran. Addressing Tariq, he ordered, "Go see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there."
Tariq's eyebrows arched in displeasure. Before he could challenge Isran's impertinence in issuing him orders, Tolan said, "I'll meet you at Dimhollow. It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen comrades."
"Tolan, I don't think that's a good idea," growled Isran. "You Vigilants were never trained for…"
Tolan spat, "I know what you think of us. You think we're soft, that we're cowards. You think our deaths proved our weakness. Stendarr grant that you do not have to face the same test and be found wanting."
His eyes, glaring from his anger towards Isran, now focused on Tariq. "I'll meet you in Dimhollow Crypt. I owe these vampires a debt of vengeance."
He owed them nothing. If it were not for his personal goal to challenge and improve his skills by hunting daedra and other Oblivion creatures, he would walk out of here now.
"I can't meet you at a place I do not know," Tariq stated calmly. "And I will not go with someone who will be a danger to himself and the mission. I am experienced in hunting vampires. Do not show vampires a weakness they can exploit. Stay here for a day or two," he ordered. "Take time to compose yourself. Say what prayers you need to your god to strengthen your soul. Sleep well and regain your strength." He loomed over the Nord, holding eyes with Tolan until the man looked away, subdued. "I mean this, friend. I will help you avenge your compatriots. I can clearly see you are determined to die for this. If you must, you must. But make your death count. In your current state, you could probably take down two or three on your own. That's not enough. The remaining vampires will probably raise your corpse to serve them."
"That's enough," Isran said harshly.
Tariq nodded and gestured for Lydia to come forward. "Get his wounds treated, see that he eats well, and rests. Have his armor cleaned, and then bring it to me. Tomorrow morning, escort him to Stendarr's Beacon and stay with him while he communes with his god."
"I can see to my own armor," Tolan grumbled.
"This place has an enchantment table, and I intend to use it," Tariq told him. "You will need more than faith to go against a vampire attack unit. Think of it as Stendarr's Mercy that he has brought you to my attention." His eyes raked over Tolan's apprentice-level Restorations robe and the steel plate gauntlets and boots. "Wear Dawnguard armor. That would be better suited to heavy combat. We are not going there to heal or save souls that have long been lost to the vampire god."
"I, I will consider it."
"Isran, get him properly armored. Lydia, Valdimar, make sure he wears it."
"You can't just—" Tolan protested, outraged.
"You want me to make sure you get your revenge. Isran wants to make sure whatever is in Dimhollow isn't a threat. Accept the consequences of getting me involved."
… … …
"What can you tell me about Dimhollow Crypt?"
"Brother Adalvald had been there not long ago. Said he found something of great importance. It must have been important to the vampires as well for them to risk an open attack on the Vigilants. I suspect now it was Brother Adalvald's journals they were after. He was obsessed with ancient vampire artifacts and burial sites."
They were camped for the night at the burned-out Hall of the Vigilants. People from Morthal, sent by Jarl Idgrod after one of her visions, had finished burying the Vigilants and burning the vampires and their death hounds. They had been leaving just as Tariq and his group arrived. Mage Falion had been with that group to dispel any curses the vampires may have left behind.
He was still studying the journals from the Redwater vampire den. The cup, he informed them, was only an ugly copy made from the sketches in the journals. Fortunately, there was nothing special about it. If it had been the real one, the cup that enhanced a vampire's ability to drain stamina and power from their victims, none of them would have come out of there alive because Vulpin would have been too strong.
Perhaps Vulpin would have attempted to conquer the world. He would have failed, of course. No matter how strong a vampire he was to have slain the Dragonborn, he would never have a chance of winning against Alduin. A grim blessing of a clean death by dragon fire instead of drained by a vampire's hunger.
Having shared that amusing grim speculation, Falion also told Tariq Jarl Idgrod had entrusted him with a message for Tariq, whom she knew would be vising the Hall of the Vigilants.
"She says, 'The poison that kills can also cure. Whether or not to crush the head of the serpent, choose wisely.'"
Tariq scowled. Riddles. Idgrod the Younger frowned at him and poked his arm with her finger. Tariq sighed and smiled faintly back to show that he wasn't angry at her mother. She was always so prickly about any ignorant rumors about her family. True mouths of the gods, such as Jarl Idgrod, couldn't help but speak in riddles; they could only repeat the words given them — vague words simplified from the unlimited knowledge of the Worldskin for infinitely lesser minds to digest.
"You may convey my thanks to the Jarl, Falion. I am ever grateful for the guidance she continues to provide."
"I'll tell her. I would also like to ask a favor. From you actually, my lady," Falion said, looking at Idgrod. "I'm running low on black soul gems for my work. If you're going to be killing vampires, would you consider collecting their soul essences for me? I can tell your skill in Conjurations has risen enough from constant use that I can now teach you the spell for soul snatching that you can add to your Oblivion arrows."
"Killing vampires to redeem vampires. Sounds nice," Idgrod said, looking sideways at Tariq to see if he would object.
"Do as you like," said Tariq.
"Idgrod, such an unholy spell—" Tolan protested, but Tariq nudged him into silence.
… … …
They arrived at the small cave entrance of Dimhollow Crypt. Tariq was unsurprised that it was only an hour's trot away from Mehrunes Dagon's shrine.
He went in first. Valdimar, as ordered, stayed beside Tolan to prevent him from doing anything reckless. Those two were close on his heels. Lydia and Idgrod brought up the rear. Rodina stayed outside with the horses. But she wasn't alone. Durak had volunteered to guard the entrance of the crypt.
A short corridor opened into a large cavern. There were torches along the far distant wall, enough for them to see a closed iron gate on the left and a tower-like structure on the right.
LAAS YAH NIR.
"Six vampires or thralls, three hounds. Tolan, Valdimar, go right. Lydia, with me on the left. Idgrod, stay here and count to forty, then draw their attention. First ten aloud so we know your speed." Once they had the pace of her counting, they began their stalking.
Forty. Idgrod's first arrow was to the vampire leaning against a stone column, just under a torch. It screamed as its undead heart was pierced and its soul's essence was drained from its cold flesh.
From the vampires' perspectives, the hounds bolted along the right wall and were cut down by Tariq's and Lydia's swords. The vampires and thralls followed after the hounds. Tariq and Lydia met them in the front. Valdimar and Tolen attacked their rear. The vampires had no chance.
"Volkihar," pronounced Tariq, kicking the vampire bodies onto their backs to confirm the armor style and badges. "So, the lord of Skyrim's largest vampire clan has a personal interest in this place."
"You know these vampires?" asked Tolan.
"Do you not? Falion, the mage of Morthal, knows of this clan and has told me they are ancients from the First Era. How has your order overlooked them? Is it not only sensible to know the names of your enemies? This clan has been making trouble all over Skyrim. I have… acquaintances who tell me the Volkihar are attempting to unify vampires under them."
"I wish we had paid more attention to them. It was Isran's obsession… and why he left us. We should have… It's too late now. I'll make sure the others take it more seriously if I survive. Once we regroup and build a new Hall…"
Tariq's attention turned away from the Vigilant's under-breath ramblings for the future. While he and Tolan watched the now-opened gate, the others explored side dead-end passages. Aside from one draugr, the passages contained some weapons and funerary items.
They continued deeper into the tomb. There were less draugr. The vampires had already eliminated them, so it was just low-level vampires, vampire-controlled skeletons, death hounds, and spiders. Nothing too bothersome for their group. For a while, it was a maze of narrow halls filled with tiny niches crammed with bodies and small rooms, gradually leading to a small cavern where water flowed around stone coffins.
Finally, they came to the entry room of a grand structure. The floor, walls, and columns were of marble. The doorway opposite them gave them a glimpse of a grand platform built in the center of an underground lake. Two bridges over the lake connected the platform to this side, and to the impenetrable darkness beyond. Graceful columns encircled the platform of a concentric floor pattern. Grooves radiated from the center, and in those grooves were short stone pillars topped with bowls seemingly filled with black rocks.
"Four targets," said Tariq. "Two Volkihars, two thralls. Idgrod?"
"I can take the vampire leaning on that column. If the thrall nearby sees it drop and comes out a bit more, I can take it out, too."
Tariq nodded. Idgrod quickly took her targets down. The other vampire and thug ran towards the bridge that would take them to where Tariq's group was.
They descended from their observation room. A set of stairs to an intermediate platform. A torn-up corpse lay curled against a brazier of coals. Tolan cried out and dropped to his knees beside what remained of Brother Adalvald. Tariq and Lydia slew the vampire and thrall and then crossed the other bridge to explore the darkness on the other side of the cavern. Idgrod studied the strange short obelisk in the center of the island. Only Valdimar remained with Tolan until the Vigilant was ready to move on.
They regrouped in the center of the island.
"Another anteroom to a great hall," said Tariq. The door to the great hall is gated, of course, but I could see many signs of sentries and hear the power of a dragon wall."
"The vampires never went that way," added Lydia. "Even they were avoiding the trouble in there."
"Which we will shortly be heading into," grumbled Valdimar to the ceiling. He looked at Idgrod, "Find anything interesting with that pillar, my lady?"
"It's a key," she pronounced.
Tariq looked at it. A waist-high marble column pillar with a round top of polished red stone on top. It was almost flawless except for the faintest outline of a circle in the center.
"Does a key fit in there? Is it a button to be pushed down?"
"It's a button. A spike comes out of the center," said Idgrod. She demonstrated, pushing her fingertips to push down on the button while keeping her hands clear of the center from which a spike shot up. "They tried having the thralls push on it — you can see the wound on their hands — but it obviously didn't work for them. The vampires may have tried it themselves. Too bad you didn't leave any alive to test on this thing. I suspect the spike is a soul siphon. Tariq, Valdimar, can you see the faint lines of power that stretch out from here to all those bowls? I don't know how many souls are needed to light all those bowls."
Tariq looked. It was as she said. He looked at Valdimar. The warrior sorcerer nodded. "It looks as if there was a partial success," he commented, pointing to where the faintest trace of violet light extended from the center to one of the bowls. The light had crept up the short pedestal but stopped short of the bowl.
"Brother Adalvald's journal… I don't know if he…" Tolan flipped through the leatherbound booklet he'd found near his friend's body. "No, nothing about these bowls, this floor puzzle," he sighed, disappointed.
"I noticed Skyborn has a new dragon," said Tariq impulsively. They all looked at him.
"A dragon's soul would be powerful enough," said Idgrod. She shuddered, no doubt recalling the ordeal she'd gone through in killing the last Skyborn dragon. "But this is just my speculation, Tariq. This device might be satisfied with souls or require a copious amount of blood along with those souls. I don't know."
"Hm, well, I'll leave you to study it more. Right now, I'm more interested in that word wall."
"Ready when you are, my thane," stated Valdimar.
"I'm fit for more fighting," asserted Lydia.
"What?" asked Tolan, looking lost.
"You stay here with Iddy," instructed Tariq. "Keep watch in case something we missed crawls out of the shadows."
"Tolan, you said the vampires took all of Brother Adalvald's journals?" said Idgrod, taking his arm. "Let's look around and see if we can find the others. Hopefully, they'll be scattered around this chamber, and we won't have to backtrack through the crypts." She looked around the chamber and grimaced. "I hope those idiot vampires didn't throw them in the water. Just because I grew up in a swamp, it doesn't mean I'm any good at swimming and diving."
Tariq, Lydia, and Valdimar went to the room with standing crypts. Four crypts, four draugr. The bonewalkers roaming the lower half of that room he and Lydia had already smashed apart. He knew that the lever to open the gate would cause the draugr to come out.
Lydia pushed the lever. Tariq and Valdimar immediately cut down two draugr as their crypts opened. Lydia rushed to the nearest and impaled it with Serpent's Fang, paralyzing it. She leisurely beheaded it while Tariq sliced apart the last one as it tried to attack her.
Now for the audience chamber. FEIM ZII. Tariq went to spirit form and ran past the seated draugr to the throne of the dragon priest. It hoarsely screamed as it stood and floated upward, brandishing its staff. But its attention was on the two warriors near the entrance fighting back to back against the lesser draugr and skeletons converging upon them. It never noticed Tariq until too late.
He kicked aside the priest's rotted armor and vestments and went to help Valdimar and Lydia. Not that they needed it. They were doing fine, but Tariq wanted more exercise as the dragon priest had provided none.
GAAN was the word from the wall. Tariq sensed it was a battle word. He copied down the dragon scratchings for Rodina to translate.
The exit was not too far from a rough trail. Following the trail westward soon revealed the crypt's exit was, unsurprisingly, near Molag Bal's shrine. He backtracked to where Lydia and Valdimar waited and sent Lydia to fetch Rodina and Durak to this end of the crypt.
"The draugr are all dead," he announced to Idgrod and Tolan. "Lydia is fetching Durak and Rodina to the exit. Any new information?" he asked Idgrod.
"We've recovered two more journals. This was a crypt for dragon worshipers. Brother Adalvald discovered from talking to local descendants of the dragon cultists of Bromjunaar/Labyrinthian that there were many small villages of cultists hereabouts in the First Era. Vampires came in and herded them together to make them build the shrine to Molag Bal and make changes to the largest family burial crypt. They knew it was finished when family members never returned from the job. Brother Adalvald speculated all their souls were used to seal the vampire's treasure."
"Fine. I'll just go kill the dragon at Skyborn, collect its soul, and feed it to this device," said Tariq testily. "Relax, Iddy. I'll make Durak or Tolan take the rear shot."
"Durak is more familiar with crossbow shooting," said Idgrod. "And he would better appreciate a dragon bone crossbow and dragon scale plates for his Dawnguard armor if you can persuade Grey-Mane to make those for him."
"An excellent suggestion. Grey-Mane will take the commission. I know he relishes the challenge and reputation of being the chosen dragon bone crafter in ages."
And so another Skyborn dragon was brought down, and its soul collected.
"So, I just push down on this button and allow myself to be impaled on the spike?"
"Yes, Tariq. It's a very fast spiking. The blade withdraws almost immediately, as you saw before."
"Yes," Tariq agreed and determinedly slammed his left hand on the button. The spike pierced his palm between the bones. It lingered for less than a breath. He saw and felt soul energy being sucked from his body. The dragon's soul energy. Violet energy, like flames, flooded out of this sacrifice column, spreading outwards in the grooves to the surrounding pillars and bowls.
Those pillars moved now that they had power. Idgrod directed the others to move those pillars until the bowls lit with soul fire. Idgrod quickly smeared healing salve on his hand and bandaged it while the other moved the bowls forward and back in their grooves until violet fires lit the bows.
When all the bowls were lit, the entire platform shook, causing the waves in the lake that lapped high against the chamber walls. All the pillar bowls, of their own accord, shifted outwards in their tracks. The center of the platform sunk as a sarcophagus rose up. A panel of the sarcophagus slid down to reveal the sleeping face of a woman. Black hair, flawless white skin, well-crafted Volkihar leather armor over clothes of the finest linen.
Beautiful. A pity she's a vampire. Tariq automatically drew his silver sword.
Now that the sarcophagus no longer fully enclosed her, the vampire collapsed to the floor, revealing the long leather-wrapped scroll the size of a claymore strapped to the back of her body.
Tolan and Durak looked to him to see if he would execute the vampire.
"Wait," Tariq commanded. He knelt beside the vampire, sword in hand, and lifted her head.
She sighed as she inhaled the scent of his blood wafting up from his bandages. Her eyelids fluttered open. Eyes the color of burnished walnut focused on him. She instinctively reared back in self-preservation, reaching for the knife at her belt. She saw his sword and forced herself to her feet, ready to fight.
Tariq faintly smiled as he got to his feet and towered over her. It inexplicably pleased him at how ready for battle this vampire princess was so soon after being released from confinement.
"Who are you?" she demanded. Although her voice was hoarse from long disuse, it was a pleasant alto. Her accent resembled the northeastern folk in Winterhold and Windhelm, whose speech could be considered closest to their Atmoran ancestors. She glanced around again, taking in the surroundings and people, their weapons, and the visibly hostile expressions of Tolan and Durak. "Uhh… where is… who sent you here?"
"We came with this one—" Tariq gestured to Tolan, "— to avenge his brethren slaughtered by you vampires."
"You—" Tolan began, but Idgrod elbowed him sharply and ordered him to shut up.
The vampire blinked at this interplay. She refocused on Tariq. "Not fond of vampires, are we? Well, look. Kill me; you've killed one vampire. But if vampires are after me, there is something bigger going on. I can help you find out what that is."
"Mm," Tariq answered. He made a show of examining her sarcophagus. "Why were you locked away like this?"
"That's… complicated. And I'm not totally sure if I can trust you. But if you want to know the whole story, help me get to my family's home."
"Where do you need to go?" he asked.
"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do. By the way… my name is Serana. Good to meet you."
"Likewise. I am Tariq ibn Ziyad al-Zarixa," he replied, bowing slightly, and quickly introduced the others.
"Let's save any more questions until we're outside," he announced.
Rodina had a rough camp set up outside. Tolan and Durak lingered in the tomb to wrap up Adalvald's remains for later burial with the rest of those at the Vigilant's Hall.
"Is that an Elder Scroll?" asked Rodina.
"Yes, it is, and it's mine."
"Yours until it decides it's not," retorted Rodina, unoffended by Serana's curt tone. "The Scrolls themselves decide who holds them and where they rest. Not even the gods can say different. And nobody—" she sternly eyed Durak and Tolan, "—can take it from you." Serana seemed nonplussed and just nodded.
"Now, how long were you in there?"
"Good question. Hard to say. I… I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time. Who is Skyrim's High King?"
"Depends who you ask."
"Oh, wonderful. A war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders?"
"Let me ask you first, who was the High King you remember?"
"Vrage had just been crowned."
"Ysgramor's line?"
"Yes, obviously."
"Mm. Well, Ysgramor's line is long dead. Tariq, here, had the pleasure of putting the draugr of the last of Ysgramor's line down to reclaim the Jagged Crown for the Imperial-backed contender for the High King's throne. The other contender is the jarl currently sitting on Windhelm's throne."
"Imperial… Besides Skyrim, what empire?"
"The one in Cyrodiil."
"Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire? That jungle swamp? I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned. What happened to the Ayleids?"
"The Cyrod slaves, aided by the Nords, rebelled. The Ayleids have long been considered dead… like the Dwemer. The Falmer have been reduced to twisted mockeries of mer, and the Chimer were changed by their Daedric Princes into the Dunmer. This is the 202nd year of the Fourth Era. That's roughly, oh, five thousand years gone ... might be six. There were some strange happenings at the end of the Second Era — some meddling with time, scholars think — and people just forgot those centuries."
The vampire couldn't get any paler. She turned her back to them and curled into a protective ball, refusing to speak for the rest of the evening.