“Die and stay dead!” The skeletons hadn’t waited long after I’d set their master on fire. A small army of rotting bones was swarming forwards, heedless of the danger posed by a warband of irate Nords in heavy armor. One crushed skull, a pulverized rib cage, a gout of flame, they dropped like flies. The Vampire was still howling and cursing somewhere above us, he’d retreated after getting the better part of his face melted off.
“Angven, stay close to me and be ready to shoot that fucker!” I yelled over the melee. One good shot to the vitals would roast the vampire from the inside out, it was just a matter of angling Angven for the kill. Gromm was to my right, bashing a path up the stone steps to the raised dais.
“Ranger, here!” He spared a moment to wave for me to follow. It nearly cost him his head as a skeleton swung a sword for his neck. Jorn and Lodor were holding the dozen or so skeletons on the other side with their last retainer, they’d be quick to follow us up. Gromm bullied his way through the last two skeletons on the stairs, one was sent on a brief flight over the edge.
Once we’d made it to the top, the vampire was nowhere to be seen. There was a door flung open farther in, but there was also a side passage that looked like it was almost natural. Between the two was a semi-circular wall, with harsh runes carved in the stone. Of more immediate concern, were the six coffins to either side that had decided to open, and the sarcophagus in front of them that was slowly grinding apart. A skeletal hand took hold of the lid, and finished throwing it to the ground. A draugr the size of Hemjar sat up in it, blue eyes turning to stare at me.
[Gronvir, Draugr Scourge Lord]
[Race: Undead Nord]
[Level: 22]
[Health: 240/240, Stamina: 275/275]
[Status: Rising]
“Aav dilon, volaan!”
The draugr rasped something out, reaching down between its legs for what I assumed was a weapon. The fire was already building in my palm, arm extending… world spinning? One moment I’d been about to launch a bolt of sunlight at the draugr before it could get clear of the coffin, the next I was thrown bodily by a rushing wave in the air. I clanged off the stone wall and down a few yards to the hard floor, I could taste copper running over my lips as I picked my self up.
Gromm and his men were fighting for their lives at the top of the stairs now. Angven was at the bottom, fresh cuts and bruises evidenced a tumble. He’d probably gotten caught by whatever the hell it was that hit me. The brothers had finished off the skeletons on the far side of the room, and were running towards the stairs.
“Gromm, give ground! Back down the stairs!” I didn’t have a shot through the men at the top, but if they’d just move a little bit… The giant Gronvir forced them back with the haft of his axe. A rolling mess of chainmail and groaning men nearly crushed Angven as he was finally getting back to his feet. The boy was fast on the uptake, dancing to the side just in time. Gronvir was marching down towards the tangled mob, the lesser corpses following behind. Every part of me hurt after my own flying lesson, but I had to power through it. I thought to the ever present, infinitely annoying status windows and health bars to check my own for the first time.
[Health: 215/275, Stamina: 193/300, Magicka: 118/125]
It seemed about right. At least one of my ribs felt like it was bruised, I was getting tired from the heavy armor, and I’d flung a spell not long ago. Gronvir had taken two more steps down the stairs, hefting his great axe over his head. Magic swirled in my hands, bereft of my mace I didn’t have another option. My aim was off, but it did the job. One sunny spell splashed on the beast’s shoulder, another missed and engulfed a draugr following close behind him. Gronvir stumbled as the magic hit him, fouling his swing on the Icehome man at his feet. Shining steel reflected in the sunlight as a keen blade connected with Gronvir’s over-extended hand.
Jorn had joined the fight, leveraging his sword’s reach to protect the men still trying to scramble up. His strike should have left Gronvir’s hand on the floor, or still gripped to the axe. The corpse was resilient though, and shrugged off the blade with just a deep gouge. The fire burning along his arm was the real killer, the stench of charred flesh billowed off in the smoke. Just like with the lesser draugr, the sun fire seemed to feed on undead flesh, like it was just kindling before a wildfire. Angven was up and moving, but had lost his bow somewhere. That hadn’t slowed him down, a steel dagger dripping gold was held in a reverse grip by his side.
“Cursed bastard! Burn!” Angven shouted, ducking low and slashing the dagger against a bit of exposed flesh on Gronvir’s knee. An inferno erupted in a blink, chasing up the ailing corpse’s side. One of the draugr tried to swing down at Angven from the stairs, missed, and caught a stab in the calf for his trouble. I’d managed to find my mace rolling behind a small urn, and came back around to see Jorn readying a swing for a kneeling Gronvir’s neck.
“Zun!”
Jorn’s arms started the motion to behead the draugr while his sword went flying out of his hands, over his shoulder, and whizzed off into the darkness. The momentary confusion was all the opportunity Gronvir needed, snatching up a dropped draugr blade from the ground. Jorn started moving too late, and caught a plate fisted hook half in the jaw, half on his helmet. Before he could fall, Gronvir had him by the shoulder and jammed a foot of steel between the man’s hard plates and the chainmail skirt protecting his legs. The beleaguered giant wobbled on his feet, still burning, before throwing Jorn to the ground with the sword still stuck in his mail.
“Gah!” Lodor flung himself at the draugr with every bit of fervor he could muster, and planted his axe in Gronvir’s neck. The blade bit through bone and flesh, rendering the draugr nearly headless. The last of the draugr on the stairs were burning piles of rotten flesh, courtesy of Angven’s dagger and my spells.
“Jorn! Jorn you still alive?” I slid to a stop next to the impaled soldier, he tried to say something but only gargled up some blood.
“Angven, Lodor, hold him down, if he squirms it’s going to make this a lot harder!” I got a hand on the sword and straddled his legs, the other men sat on his arms and held him to the floor. The sword was stuck in his abs, the clenching muscle didn’t want to let go. The positive side was that they were holding in most of the blood that should have been spilling out on the floor.
“Jorn, look at me, Jorn. You need to relax, just relax your stomach. I can’t get this damn sword out if you keep holding it in. I’ll fix you, but I need you to help me out here.” The man nodded faintly, and I felt the sword dip just a touch. I stood and pulled, and got enough of the sword out before he could clamp down on it again. It smelled awful in the chamber, smoke, blood, charred, rotting corpses, shit and bile. Jorn managed a half scream as the blade came out, Lodor was babbling to his brother to calm down. It struck me that it was a miracle any of us had survived this far.
Gromm and the Icehome men weren’t career soldiers, just levy trained men that might spar a few times a year. As much as they were supposed to be vikings, Skyrim had been at peace their entire lives. Maybe a few were legion trained, or had served their time in the Jarl’s guard, but it didn’t seem like it. Jorn and his brother were the exception, maybe the retainers they’d brought along. Three of those men had been killed by traps, not the draugr. I pushed that out of my head as my hands found the last health potion I had on my belt.
“Lodor, make sure he drinks that.” A different form of golden light swirled in my hands, snaking its way towards the gruesome wound under Jorn's armor. It was hard to see exactly how bad it was, but the sword was evidence enough. It felt like I was working for minutes when my spell fizzled. That was less of a problem, there was a mana potion on my belt. I came away with a glove covered in sticky blue, the damn thing had shattered. I stuck my hand into Jorn’s split chainmail, feeling for fresh blood, but I found scar tissue. Jorn groaned lightly as he sat up.
“You’re a miracle worker, Ranger.” Lodor calmed down almost at once, seeing his brother was talking. I stood and drew out my mace again. The vampire had five minutes at most in a head start.
“Maybe. Stay in the rear. Angven, where’s your bow?” I looked over to the young hunter, he had his axe and shield ready.
“Smashed when I fell.” He followed along behind me, but keeping a bit more separation this time. Gromm and the other Icehome survivors were hesitant to follow us at first.
“That’s a shame, what about that vial of sunlight? Any left?” My eyes started looking for any sign of which way the blood sucker had gone, and found a bloody hand print on the doorframe.
“Not much.” That was a near tragedy. Jori had only made four vials of his newer concoction. He’d given two to me, kept one, and sent the fourth along with our letter to the Vigilant. If the vampire made it to the surface, Anglin might have gotten a shot on him.
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“Then we’ll do it with steel, I’m not much for magic right now.” I felt drained after trying to heal Jorn, I’d get a few bolts off, but not much more. Deeper down the corridor was a study of sorts, with dissected draugr and foul looking tomes scattered about. Nobody needed to be told about the ‘No Touching!’ rule again. Beyond the study was a stone wall and what would have been a well concealed escape path, had it not been standing open. A spiral staircase was just inside the door frame, our target just beyond…
Trap!
I dug my heels in right before I stepped through the gap in the wall, wondering what had prompted that thought. There was no tripwire, no oddly colored stone, no trigger to be seen. Angven whistled a short call, asking what it was.
“Not sure, maybe I’m just being… Nope. Look at the third step.” I pointed to the stair, there was a very, very subtle glow coming from the underside.
“Damn, you’re getting sharp. Rune trap?” Angven stooped down to get a better look. I reached out with my waning magical ability, it felt like the lightning bolt I’d been hit with.
“Lightning. Lodor, you see that big rock along the wall? Haul it over here. Good, you see that third step? Throw the rock at it.” It was the last bit of magic I’d be able to pull off, but it was worth it. Lodor chucked the stone, dove away, and my ward went up as the stone smashed into the wooden step. The rune went off with a crack and a blinding flash, electric feelers danced across my ward for a split second. Aside from the missing step, the staircase was fine. We had to take it slow just in case, which turned out to be a waste of not so precious time. The damage had already been done by the time we got to the top.
“Halt!” A spear leveled itself at my face as I came around the landing of the stairway. A frightened young man was shaking behind it, the tremors of fear evidenced in the bobbing head. I slowly lifted a hand, and pointed the spear away from my face.
“Easy, we’re friends. Where’d the vampire go?” I tried to speak softly, the boy was just about ready to piss him self.
“Vampire? It went out into the snow… Killed a score of us. The headman’s dead.” The boy slumped with the weight of the words, speaking it had made it true for him. I looked beyond the boy, and saw six shrouded bodies. Most were big, grown men that had been torn apart by claws and magic. One was very slim, short, and an almost dainty hand was peeking from the cover. I pushed my way through the boy, his troubles forgotten, and knelt down to pull the shroud back. The blonde hair, blue eyes, and white vest I’d been expecting weren’t there. It was a girl, but she wasn’t Riga.
It was a needed relief, though I knew immediately that I’d made a mistake. There was an older man, about forty, sitting next to her. He looked about ready to put his sword in my neck for disturbing the body. I pulled the shroud back over her before he made a move.
“Sorry about your daughter.” She’d been a gristly sight. Half her face was missing, and two long gouges had punched through her neck. The girl had been dead before she hit the ground. The man didn’t answer, he just went back to sharpening his sword. The small exit opened into a short, somewhat natural looking ice cave, and then out to the snow. A few men and a pile of sled dogs were gathered around the entrance, spears and swords held ready in case the vampire came back.
“He won’t be back around. Did the sledders chase him?” I startled them from their silent sentry.
“Four sleds, the Ranger’s people, Kalor, a few others.” One of them said without turning. The wind had picked up outside, snow flurries abounded.
“Damned fools. How long ago?” I knew Karliene and Icefoot would outrun all of the sleds, and those two wolves wouldn’t give up the trail.
“Not long. Blood’s barely frozen on old Fenrik’s sword. He gave that bastard a mortal wound.” The man turned to look, and only seemed slightly surprised to see me.
“Thought you were dead Ranger.”
“Not quite. The vampire set the draugr on us when we caught up to him. Big motherfucker of a corpse nearly killed Jorn. We lost three dead inside, more wounded. Are the six inside the only ones you lost up here?” I turned to look back into the cave for a moment.
“Aye, a few are hurt, but they’ll live. You said that thing was a vampire?” The man’s face remained stoic, but his tone twitched at the end.
“A strong one. We’ll need a cure for everyone who’s been hurt, to make sure they don’t turn. We have a few days before they’ll start going bloodthirsty. Nasty creatures.” That was a problem I hadn’t spent much time thinking about. We’d need curative potions by the gallon if vampires were going to be a common threat from here on.
“Aren’t you going to go after them?” One of the other soldiers, another younger man, seemed frustrated.
“In this? Hell no. If I’d made it to the surface before they’d left, I’d have told them not to chase it. That abomination has all the advantages out here. Not to mention the fact that two of the fastest dogs in the hold are chasing it down, I’d never catch up. We’ll have to wait till sunrise before we can move. If that vampire is feeling spiteful, he’d pick us off one by one tonight.” Seeing in the dark with my ring only leveled a narrow piece of the board, I wasn’t dumb or suicidal.
“Wish you’d been around with all your smarts Ranger, maybe we’d have stood a chance! Nobody mentioned there was a damned vampire in the cave!” The younger man snapped. The older was raising a hand, but I waved it off.
“I didn’t know there was a vampire inside, just that there was probably a necromancer. You can be angry, but save it for the cretins that didn’t just fight their way through a barrow.” Enough bruises had been made tonight. The younger man huffed, and stomped back to the barrow exit. The rest of the night was quiet. The men brought a bit of firewood into the cave from their sleds, I lit it up with a spark from my hand. I managed to get a bit of sleep after doing what I could for the other injured.
Our luck was that the non-fatal injuries were mostly minor, bruises and slight cuts. One man had taken an ugly gash across his arm from the vampire, but it healed well with magic. He’d need a potion or magic to purge the disease just in case. The sun had been up for an hour or so when someone kicked my boots.
“Up, up. Oh, Riga. Glad you all made it back. Any luck with the vampire?” I blinked the sleep out of my eyes.
“You tell me boss.” Anglin tossed a sack into my lap, stained red with frozen blood. I opened it, and there was a half scorched head inside. A small smile crept across my lips.
“Nice work. Any losses?”
“None dead, one of Fenrik’s men got bit but he’ll live long enough to get back to Jori.” Anglin took a seat on the cave floor across from me.
“That’s good. Riga, can you check over all the injured? I was pretty much spent by the time I came out of the barrow.” I started to get my bearings back. The fire had burnt down to coals, but there was enough light coming in from the cave mouth even without my ring.
“I’ve seen to them already. We’ve got the sleds loaded up, just waiting for you before we leave.” Riga put a hand out for me, but I thought better of it. If I let her try to pull me up, she’d be the one moving.
“We need to get the bodies from the barrow first.” I stood, drawing a slight scowl from Riga. I went out and spoke with the Seacrest men, their part of the job was done. The healthy ones turned for home with their dead, while the injured ones stayed with us. They’d come back to Winterhold to get checked for any signs of vampirism. That left my merry band to plunge back into the crypt. It was careful work, disarming the traps that we could and avoiding the others. Looting the place was a temptation that was hard to fight, especially after Angven knocked over an urn full of ancient coins.
“Riga, you can sense magic better than I can. Work with Anglin, take what you can, but don’t touch anything you aren’t sure about.” I decided we’d better get something for the families of the dead. Angven and I retraced our steps back through the crypt, checking for loot, and wrapping up the bodies we’d left behind. Lodor tagged along, not wanting to sit around.
“They deserved better than that.” Lodor said after we’d finished wrapping Adis and the other burned man. Angven flinched just a touch at the words, but I don’t think Lodor noticed.
“They did, but life’s a mean bitch. Do you still want to join us for the next part?” I tied off a rope to Adis’ feet.
“What else is there to do? You said there were worse things than this cave. If that’s true, we’ll all need to join up with you. What are those worse things?” Lodor asked. I paused, unsure of which line to tell him at first.
“There’s a gang of necromancers working on something, they’re going to ambush a refugee caravan coming from Morrowind. Hundreds of bodies to use for rituals. Our friend Jori, one of the Vigilants I mentioned, has heard rumors of several vampire covens forming across Skyrim. To the south, a former Vigilant named Isran is rebuilding an old fort, claiming that dark forces are about to overtake Skyrim. I’ve remembered flashes of… well, they’re bad. Really bad.” I decided not to break the news about the full extent of the vampire menace that was coming. That was a conversation to have with Adalvald before he got himself killed in Dimhollow.
“And we’ve been worried about this business with Ulfric and Torygg… Life really is a mean bitch.” Lodor finished tying his rope to the other man’s feet. Angven was scrounging up coins, gems, and anything else worth the weight when he called over to me.
“Ranger! I think I’ve got something for you.” He’d disarmed a trap guarding a chest, and was holding up a sword. The blade pulsed an angry red every so often, accenting the orange-bronze Dwemer metal it was made from.
[Dwarven Short Sword of Rending]
[Description: This sword has been enchanted to cause major wounds to the target, even a minor cut becomes a gruesome slash. Deals additional damage from both the strike and bleeding.]
“Looks like you get to have something nice after all. Keep it, you found it and I’ve already got an enchanted axe.” I gave Angven a thumbs up. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack from the excitement.
“Really? This sort of weapon is worth its weight in gold!” Angven had a note of disbelief in his voice.
“Yes, really. It’s all yours. We’ll have quite a few of them by the end of this. If you’re lucky, we’ll find some armor too.” I pointed to the pouch on my belt that we’d been stuffing soul gems into. We kept up with the looting and recovery for another hour or so, and we did come away with a few more enchanted items. I’d have to sort them out once we’d gotten back to Winterhold, but there was a bit of something for everyone in the core group, even the new brothers that’d be joining. I only had one thing left to do on the way out of the barrow.
“Johannes?” Riga called after me when I started towards the word wall. There was no glow, no chanting, yet.
“Just want to check this over. Riga, you keep a journal don’t you? Write down this inscription.” I came to a stop in the midst of it, willing the runic script to start glowing, for the weird chants to start in my head, but there was nothing. Riga copied down the runes carefully, looking my direction every so often with a curious eye.
“Seems I’m not a dragon born, tough luck.” I gave up when Riga finished her writing.
“Why would you… What is this?” Riga looked at the wall again.
“The language of the dragons. Back when most of these barrows were built, the dragons ruled Skyrim as gods. This is the work of their priests. Jori might be able to translate it. The dragonborn can read it like it's second nature, part of the gift from Akatosh.” Riga stopped for a moment, looking over the inscription again.
“And you thought that maybe you were one?” Riga grinned.
“Hey, I’ve got some sort of divine intervention going on. Feels like it at least.” I thought to the ring with Stendarr’s blessing. It seemed a lot more powerful than the enchanted rings I knew about. If the God of Righteous Might took issue with the bad shit going on, it seemed like he’d named a champion to me.
“That’s a question for the priests. Come on, these bags are getting heavy.” Riga reached out for my arm, and pulled me towards the exit. Looking over the vampire’s study, it seemed like we’d cleaned out everything of note. Riga’s ruck was just about overflowing with tomes for Jori and the Vigilants to have a look at. With a bit of luck, the vampire hadn’t thought to destroy the important things.
We left by the back way, I didn’t want to risk someone finding a trap with their feet. The walk to the beach didn’t take too long, the boat was still sitting just off shore. There’d be plenty to do once we got back to Winterhold.