Middas 20th of Last Seed 4E201 Late Evening

Uthgerd

"I still can't believe how... Messy that trap was."

Talao, head still in the journal we lifted from the... Remains of the bandit, looked queasy still. "Can't say I disagree with you on that one." The sight of a man pinned against a wall, impaled by wooden spikes was... Gristly, to say the least.

He sighed, turning a page. "Shame. I did try to warn him there could be more traps, albeit subtly. I suppose I'll have to be more direct in the future."

"You did?"

"When I mentioned the puzzle trap from earlier."

"Ah." Frankly, the coward was asking for it, barreling through a ruin the way he did. Who wouldn't expect something to happen? He might've been able to outrun Draugr, but one dead end and he would have been helpless. Not to mention his obvious attempt at escaping. Served him right. Talao grunted, distracted again by the book in front of him. For some reason, I found myself comparing the two of them, what little I knew at least. They were both small and skinny, obviously, with no talent for fighting, but that was it. The dark elf had run at the first sign of danger, where Talao had stayed, despite his weakness. No to mention how he saved me at the entrance earlier. And the bandit was fool enough to run into a trap despite being warned, whereas Talao...

Hang on. Talao was smart enough to realize there would be traps, and to warn the bandit about them. Was he naive enough to just tell a possible enemy that, and expect him to not take the selfish route of taking the treasure for himself? Or did he do it to give the elf a choice to stay with us, safe, or run off and die? It seemed at odds with the peaceful presence he usually put forth. Seems there's more to this man than first I thought.

"We're here."

My thoughts cut short, I look up at an imposing wall. Nordic designs cover it, and there are large circular plates with pictures on them, as well as an odd dish in the center, with three holes set in it. But most importantly, it was a dead end. "So where's the door? You sure this is it?"

"Yes. The 'Hall of Stories.'" Rather than the wall ahead of us, Talao stares at some of the murals on the side walls. "Fascinating bas-relief sculptures. Very early Nordic, nearly Nedic. I suppose it is a Hall of Stories, after all. I wonder what this one tells of."

"Which one?" I look. "Seems to be about a local Dragon Priest."

"Really? How can you tell?"

Something the 'bard' doesn't know. What a novel experience. "Well, see this figure here is the Dragon Priest. They all were depicted as having some special mask, which supposedly held great power within them, and were part of the source of their own powers. The first panel shows him performing some feat of magic, and the Nords below are cowering in fear. This second one shows them worshiping the Priest, and tithing gifts to him. And this last one," a picture full of the screaming and dying, "shows those same people being destroyed by their supposed deity."

"Huh. I'm impressed."

"Really?" Is he making fun of me?

"Well, the Dragon Cult isn't the most widespread of stories. Few have heard tell of it, or its adherents."

"Maybe not in High Rock, but all of Skyrim was once under their rule," I say, gesturing to the wall. "You bards sometimes seem to forget that all stories have some person's history wrapped up in it."

"I would never..." he stops.

Did I just render him speechless? That'd be a first, and I feel quite a bit of pride for it. For all Talao's bluster, he's human too. "Come on, let's get this door open. Does the journal say anything about it?"

"Um... Ah yes. The bandit, Arvel, writes about 'the power of the ancient Nordic heroes,' as well as the man he stole it from - a Lucan Valerius? Let's see," he ruffles the pages again, as if searching for a specific spot. "Key, Bleak Falls Barrow, Hall of Stories, legend... A test to 'keep the unworthy away." I'd desperately like to know where he heard all this. Ah, here. 'When you hold the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands.'"

I wait a moment, until it's clear no further information is coming from Talao. "Well that's frustratingly vague." And therefore probably accurate. No one would call the Nords a subtle race, but we're as fond of our wordplay as any other. I hold out the claw, talons pointed away from me, inspecting it against the wall. Three nails, three holes. Clearly where the "key" goes, so I try placing it within, and twist it as if it were an actual key. No response. It doesn't budge at all. However, I notice that the gold of the claw isn't completely smooth. "There's a bunch of odd runes on it. Nothing I can understand."

"Let me see. Hm, it seems to be late Nedic. All traits they valued, I suppose. This one says 'pride,' and this is 'valor.' Nothing about a door."

"What about those carvings on the door itself? What do those mean?"

"Odd... These aren't runes at all, but pictographs. Just animal murals with no deeper meaning."

I'm stumped, and so is Talao, if the strange look on his face is anything to go by. What did that bandit know that we don't? "'The solution is in the palm of your hands,'" I mutter.

"The palm... Wait. What if it's meant literally?" Talao exclaims. "We keep holding it like this, with the talons pointed away so we don't stab ourselves. What if the solution is in the palm of the claw, where our own palms have been?"

He turns it over, and we both look. While Talao is translating more of the runes, I notice something out of place. "Look there, in the middle. Three of those pictographs, hidden in the runes."

"By Y'ffre, you're right. The empty space makes out the animals. Good eye, Uthgerd. I see... From top to bottom a bear, a... Butterfly? Maybe a moth? Then an owl."

I look at the wall again. "The pictures up here are out of order, though."

"They probably move or rotate." He's right; the large circular segments run along some kind of rail, grinding smoothly, despite their age. "So... Bear, then moth, then owl." Each one clicks into place. "Now, try the claw."

Again I insert the claw into the central disk, pushing it in. I feel something catch, and it twists to the right. I expect some kind of door, but instead the entire wall begins to slowly descend into the floor. "Amazing."

"Magnificent." It's quite exciting. But, oddly, every inch the wall falls, I feel more... Fearful. As though I'd forgotten something. Something... dangerous.

"Uthgerd." Talao says. "You don't suppose... Might there be a Dragon Priest interred here?"

Now that was a frightening thought.. "The mural."

"Aye. It suddenly occurred to me how simple getting here was. The traps were definitely to deter intruders, but this wall... It seems built more to keep something in rather than out.

"And maybe the 'ancient power' buried here is not some artifact, but a being of power instead."

CLUNK

We both jump, as the wall hits the floor. Beyond is a cavernous chamber, muted moonlight flowing in from holes in the ceiling, illuminating a large, stony structure in the back. The awe-inspiring sight is spoiled by the sudden tension in the air. After a moment's hesitation, I draw my blade, and Talao holds his staff in front of him. We move slowly into the cavern. An underground brook gurgles by. A colony of bats screeches by after we startle them. The structure, a semi-circular wall, stands upon a worn podium. Along with an ornate treasure chest. A table.

And a coffin.

My heart jumps. Something is here. I can feel it. Nothing happens as we mount the stairs. The coffin remains still. Don't plan to let it out of my sight, though.

"Did you hear that? Talao says.

The wind. The stream. A falling rock. "...hear what?"

"I can hear... It's like it's both within and without me at once. Bum... Bum bum. Like drums."

Bum... Bum bum

Faintly, I hear it. Or... Feel it. Everywhere at once like Talao said. I could feel it in my bones, in my lungs.

Bum... Bum bum

Where is it coming from? Every step I take, it builds, louder and louder.

Bum... Bum bum

"The wall," I say. "Look at it." The moonlight falls directly on it, standing like a monolith. But it seems to glow brighter than it should. Magic?

Bum... Bum bum

"These markings..."

They don't look like the ones on the claw," I say. We move closer to the wall, the drums pounding through my body. "Just... Scratches."

BUM... BUM BUM

"No. This isn't a human language at all. Or mer, or beast. It's much older." He looks at me, eyes wide with wonder.

BUM... BUM BUM

"It's dragon."

...

"The drums have stopped." Talao ignores me, set on the wall in front of him, even more than with the journal. We're close enough to touch it, but it feels... Irreverent to do so, somehow. "Dragon, you said?"

"Aye," he responds. His eyes move back and forth in short bursts. "The oldest language recorded. Except for perhaps the Elder Scrolls themselves."

"Can you read it, then?"

"Words here and there. I've never actually seen the language written properly, only glossaries or dictionaries. Dragons never wrote on parchment, after all."

"Why?"

"Why?! He scoffs incredulously. "Do those markings look to be written in ink? No. They were carved into the stone by claw. This... This is a living testament to the existence of dragons. One stood, once, right where we stand now. And it left this. For us."

By Ysmir. I can hardly wrap my mind around the idea. "So... What does it say? Is this the 'Dragonstone'?"

"It'd be rather difficult to return to Farengar if 'twere. But no. I don't see any... Directions or anything related to burials. Except maybe this line. 'Het nok faal vahlok.' Here lies the... Something, but it's not 'dragon.' 'Deinmaar' is keeper, or holder. 'Dovahgolz,' dragon... something. Maybe stone? Yes, it must be 'Dragonstone.' 'Unslaad' I know means 'unending' or 'innumerable.' Rahgol ahrk vulom'... Anger and black? Dark?"

"Well, that's not foreboding at all." Sounds like our treasure is here. But where? And what is "keeping" it? Oh please, please, please don't be a Dragon Priest.

"Hang on, there's another word here... It's like my eyes slipped over it before. Hmm. FUS."

It happens quickly. The gentle breeze becomes a whirlwind, screaming through the cave, blowing me off balance. I see Talao, standing tall within the wind, as though it were focused around him. And then I see the wind, full of energy and colours somehow, stream into his nose and mouth, as he breathes in so much, I fear he may burst from the volume of it all.

And then it ends. The air falls silent once more, and Talao falls to his hands and knees with a mighty gasp. But only air.

"What in the..."

He breathes in.

A loud crash echoes behind me, and I turn to see the lid of the coffin fall aside. A hand reaches out, pulling with it a large Draugr, blue eyes glowing beneath an ornate helm. Well, at least it's not a Dragon Priest, thank Kyne. Small victories.

I can hear Talao breathing raggedly behind me as I size up the enemy. The good thing about Draugr, to me and anyone else, is that they're slow. All I have to do is dodge its swings, and strike while it recovers. They might fight on without legs, but so long as...

"FUS!"

I stumble backwards, barely avoiding catching myself on the wall. Did that thing just... shout at me? And force me back? It staggers toward me much quicker than I anticipated, but its attack is so widely telegraphed, I avoid it with ease. A shower of sparks flies from where his blade meets stone, and I regain my bearing, carving into its left arm. The wound does nothing. It doesn't bleed, or feel pain. Nothing short of cutting body parts off will do anything to stop it.

So, that's what I do. I close distance, keeping it from using its strange magic upon me again, and keep hacking away. Its left arm is first to go, dropping to the floor. Then I sever its legs. I few more swipes and I disarm it as well, then behead it with one fell swoop. The blue glow flickers and dies. Anti-climactic, maybe. But I think I've had enough thrills for the day.

I turn back to Talao. He sits, back against the wall, staff lying by his side. Staring into the distance, and quieter than I'd ever seen him. His breath has gone back to normal. "Talao? Are you alright?"

He looks at me, and I nearly flinch away. I feel... Utterly intimidated. There is a power behind his gaze that wasn't before. "I am. Alright, that is. At least, I think so."

"What happened? I mean... What... happened to you?"

"I'm not sure. I read that last word and then... It was like I was being filled with... I don't know. Like potential... Fus." He stared back into the darkness, his eyes unfocused. I wonder if he's in shock.

"Fus... The Draugr yelled that at me as well. Wonder what it means."

"Force. It means force."

I looks at him oddly. "How do you know?"

"I don't know. I just... Know. Or maybe I always knew, and I remembered it just now."

"Well, is that all you 'remember?'"

He rubs his face, then covers all but his mouth and recites:

Here lies the guardian,
Keeper of the Dragonstone.
A FORCE of unending
Rage and darkness.

"The writing on the wall?" I ask.

"Yes. It's like it's imprinted in my brain. The knowledge. Maybe FUS was like a key that unlocked it."

I stand, running my hand along the word that Talao had touched. It wasn't only because I was feeling uncomfortable keeping eye contact. Fus... It resonates in my toes, sends a shiver down my spine. "Why didn't it happen to me as well, then?" Not that I was terrible interested or jealous in the same thing happening to me.

"Who know? Maybe only the first person who touches it is granted the knowledge. Someone who already knows some of it. Or some other criteria unbeknownst to us. This is beyond my stories."

A moment of silence. Talao stands up and moves to the now empty coffin stepping over the re-deceased corpse "I'll wager our treasure was interred with our dead friend here. A-ha. A bit bigger than I'd imagined." With a heave, he lifts a large five-sided stone tablet from within the coffin, and places it on what I suppose is (or was) an embalming table. "Yes, it's an actual physical map of Skyrim," he says as I lean in beside him. "Not to scale, clearly, but you can see the relation between the burial sites and nearby landmarks. Probably not exact in order to keep it somewhat secret, were it to fall into the wrong hands. Such as ours, most likely."

"Fascinating, I'm sure." It wasn't much to look at. But valuable enough to Farengar; he can have it. I open the chest I'd noticed earlier - I'd killed the guardian of the ruins, so by right of trial by combat, its treasures were now mine - but it was disappointingly sparse of any valuables. A handful of old Nordic gold and silver coins. Not Septims, but they might fetch a decent price from the right person. An old axe, corroded beyond repair, and at the bottom, a horned helm, similar to the one worm by the Draugr. A trophy fit for my victory, if nothing else. Talao had better have been truthful about the Jarl's reward.

"We'd best be going, Uthgerd." Talao scans the back wall. "These ruins usually have a secret exit that leads to the entrance or out the back. With luck, we can make it back to Whiterun, and our reward, within two sundowns."

Well. That sort of zeal is new. But welcome, compared to his usual sober pace. I shoulder my pack, heavier one Dragonstone, and catch him up near the back wall. All in all, our trek seems to have been a resounding success, and I'll be glad to return to Whiterun to tell everyone of the tale.

But...

I glance at Talao again, his eyes shining with confidence. Things have changed by our being here. I wonder if it will be for good or ill. I suppose only time will tell in the long run.

Even considering the accepted idea that the Dragon Claw keys were only meant to keep the Draugr IN their tombs, I always found the puzzles overly simplistic; I sincerely doubt the Dragon Cult or their imprisoners wanted the Lords/Priests released by any Joe Schmoe. So I made them slightly more interesting, at least in my mind. Putting the solution within the negative space created by the runes gives the Claws a bit more substance as a ritualistic or decorative piece, and makes it actually quite easy to overlook.

I will hold off on any commentary regarding the Word Wall for now, but hope you enjoyed the scene; it was one I was very much looking forward to and, as Uthgerd unconsciously notices, marks a significant turning point in Talao's development. Suffice to say, "game mechanics" will be very much different in my fic.