“Johannes, you’re a sight. I hope that means there are less bandits to deal with along the western road.” The Jarl chuckled happily. He wouldn’t be smiling for much longer. I handed off the bag of nineteen hands to Jorman.
“Less bandits, more problems. We know where Merkin’s headquarters is for sure now, we know his next major move, and we’ve wiped out two more gangs of bandits, including one that confirmed my suspicions. The bandits are working for the necromancers.” That led to a mixed expression.
“Also, a village, Icehome, was raided by one of the bandit gangs. We got there an hour after the bandits, and managed to kill them all. Only one man of the village died, your thegn Hrolfin. He tried to fight the bandits and was shot dead before they hung him from his own tavern. I gave over some of the treasure from the gang to his daughter, Girda. The bandits… tried to have her, but it didn’t get that far before we’d arrived. The men of the village are few in number, but they’ve offered to support my efforts as best they can.” Jarl Korir’s expression simmered into rage.
“Damn these bandits to Oblivion! Hrolfin was a good man. These hands, they include all of those who killed him?” The Jarl gestured at the bag Jorman was still counting.
“All of them that I know of. We executed two of them at their camp, and caught seven more in the village. There should be nineteen hands total.” That soothed the Jarl’s temper. He pushed the last remnants of his food around on his plate.
“What of Merkin?” The Jarl asked.
“He’s planning to ambush a group of refugees as they cross the border into Skyrim. There’s some sort of tower or ruined fortification over the White River where they expect the refugees to rest. It’ll include a large portion of Merkin’s muscle, maybe all of them. I’d guess fifty to a hundred armed men. They’re going to move the bodies of the refugees by wagon to an old nord barrow, a Yngdaril or something, the bandit I questioned didn’t sound sure of the name. It could be hundreds of corpses, enough to overwhelm every village between here and the river. Not to mention what they’ve already taken.” It was everything I knew.
“The tower will be Ashwatch, the old fort there has fallen into ruin. It’s a common stop for the refugees as they head down to Windhelm. As for the barrow, there are dozens, maybe even hundreds of old tombs through the mountains. We couldn’t be sure which they mean without the proper name. Your friend at the College, Jori, he may be able to help.” Jorman scratched at his chin as he spoke.
“And you say that fifty, to a hundred of these bandits will be participating in the attack?” Jarl Korir looked worried. If he armed every able bodied man in Winterhold, he might have even numbers with them. If he called up every man from the nearby villages, that would give him a hundred at the most.
“I only had one source on that number Jarl, and he was a crazed daedra worshipper. I believe that the attack on the refugees is real, but the numbers involved are the pertinent question. I can try to disrupt them while they march, to hit them hard with raids, but that’s a dangerous game when there’s only four of us. I’ve only got so many tricks to use. The bandits we fought weren’t expecting the law to come after them, they will be by the time they head off for the refugees.” I pointed out. Jarl Korir gritted his teeth.
“We’ll need help. Let me worry about finding more soldiers Johannes, you’ve done well, better than I could have ever asked for. Get yourselves something to eat, and rest. Are you planning to head back out in the morning?”
“Not immediately, I need to speak with Jori at the College about some of the specifics I’ve discovered. I think there’s more to what the necromancers are doing, but its not worth speculation until I can talk to someone who knows how these filth operate. I’m also going to ask for him to send a letter to the Vigilants. They’ll send at least some men to help fight if it means stopping a horde of undead from rampaging across Skyrim. Thank you Jarl.” I bowed.
“I should be the one thanking you. I have to admit, the Vigilants seem like they are the best option for matching the necromancers. Find out what you can about the enemy’s plan, I trust you to make good use of the time we have.” The Jarl sent me off with my marching orders.
Sleep came quickly, despite the miasma of swirling thoughts that plagued me. The black soul gems didn’t bode well, I doubted it was a one off find. Whether they meant to make enchanted weapons and armor, or they had some other purpose was beyond me. Soul gems had to have some use beyond making magic items, and it couldn’t be a good one. The confirmation that the bandits were working with the Necromancers only exacerbated that.
Plenty of Necromancers ended up getting themselves eaten by the Ideal Masters and the Soul Cairn in their pursuit of ever more powerful undead creations. The Masters only dealt in one currency, sentient souls, and the only way for mortals to handle that currency was in black soul gems. Merkin was probably planning to cut a deal with the Masters, or maybe he was just sourcing the souls for someone who was. Neither were good for us.
It was just after dawn when I walked up to the College’s gate, Faralda wasn’t at her place yet, so I sat on the steps until I heard her approach. She was less than amused to see me there. Before she could speak, I held up my left hand, and pulled the black soul gem out of my bag.
“I found this in a bandit camp, I know what it is, I know what it does. I need to speak to Jori about it now. If these necromancers are making deals with the Masters, it’s very quickly going to become your problem too.” That stunned her into silence for a moment.
“Hand it over, I’ll take it to him.” She put her hand out.
“Not happening. I’m the Jarl’s Ranger, and I know a bit of magic now. Let me in unless you want to suddenly find that no one is willing to sell food, parchment, ink, or anything else to the College.” I put the black soul gem back in my bag. Faralda’s eyes smoldered. She was on the verge of saying something exceptionally rude when a voice came from behind me.
“Ranger Johannes, I don’t think that even the Jarl has the courage to threaten the College directly. What’s your need for getting inside?” I turned to see Mirabelle walking towards us, a heavy sack over her shoulder.
“This. I need to speak with the Vigilant, Jori.” I showed her the soul gem. Her eyes widened slightly.
“That is a reasonable excuse. You have my permission to visit the College as you please, so long as you cause no trouble. Shall we?” Mirabelle gestured to the bridge.
“Master Mirabelle! I must protest this—” Faralda was silenced by a hand from Mirabelle. Her mouth was still moving, there was just no sound coming out.
“First Ranger Johannes has proven himself a friend to mages in Winterhold, and his cause is a noble one. The lapse of our own vigilance is partly to blame for the dangers facing Winterhold now, it is the least we can do to right that wrong. I will not hear any more on it. Mind your post Faralda. Come now Johannes.” Mirabelle waved me forwards. The bridge was in a poor state to say the least, I worried that it’d give out with a strong gust of wind. The College itself was supported on a great pillar of ice, left to stand alone where the rest of the great city had once gathered around it.
“Incredible place.” I commented as we approached the gate.
“It has stood for thousands of years, through one crisis or another. Forgive Faralda, she is very protective of the College and the body within. Too many men in armor like yours have looked down on her for what she is.” Mirabelle walked into the central courtyard, the stone structures surrounding it were massive. For all that it was called a college, it was more aptly described as a fortress.
“An Altmer battlemage in Skyrim won’t find many friends these days, Thalmor or not. She should open her eyes to that fact and cut those men as much leniency as they cut her.” I answered. Mirabelle grimaced, but did let out a slight chuckle.
“Be careful what you have to say about the Thalmor. There is one here by the name of Ancano. Suffice to say, we probably share similar views towards them. He’s here as a liason to the Arch Mage, you are smart enough to figure that out.” Mirabelle shook her head. Something buzzed again, a great blue and gold orb, glowing with magical energy.
“You should, er. It’s best I don’t voice that particular thought.” I’d been about to say that they should kill the knife ear before he had the chance to kill them. Mirabelle grinned.
“I’ve thought it my self. Come now, Jori is usually into his studies before dawn. I will allow you access to the Arcanaeum, on the condition that you can behave properly.” Mirabelle led me towards the largest of the three structures.
“I understand Master Mirabelle. Thank you for this, I know that it is a rare privilege for an outsider.” We entered the Hall of Elements, the name having been plucked from the lost pieces of my memory.
“You may not have been a mage with the College, or a known noble in Skyrim, but you are an educated man Johannes. I believe that there is far more to you than can be readily seen. The divines work in mysterious ways, it is no coincidence for you to have arrived when you did.” Mirabelle turned right, towards the library. I didn’t exactly know what to say after something like that, so I kept silent. The mages weren’t just skilled with their spells, many of them would have come from educated backgrounds. It wouldn’t do any good for Mirabelle to run circles around me in a conversation, I was at least smart enough to see her words for what they were.
“We’ll just have to see what the nine have in store for me then.” Mirabelle bristled slightly, her head snapping to the right. A high, haughty voice rang out.
“Which nine would those be? Nine local girls in the tavern? Nine dogs in the alley? Or eight divine beings and one nord delusion?” Ancano was sitting at a table as we entered the library proper. Ancano the Thalmor agent, sent to keep a close watch on the college.
“I was thinking the nine men sharing your mother in the stable out back, knife ear.” It was the wrong thing to say, but oh my it was worth it.
“You insolent nord scum!” Ancano got to his feet, hand flickering with one spell or another. My hand was on the soul trapping dagger. He’d get a spell off before I closed the distance, but I’d probably live long enough to open his throat in two places.
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“Oh, sorry, I forgot that she prefers the horses.” I pushed him just a little farther. The elf took one step forwards, only to run into a strong ward.
“Enough! You are both guests of the College, and I will not tolerate any fighting. You aren’t meant to be in the Arcaneum without approval Ancano, and I don’t remember giving it. Off with you. Now.” Mirabelle pulled me to stand behind her, and manipulated her ward to force the Altmer back down the hall and out of the library. She turned to look at me once he was gone.
“Johannes, have you lost your mind? Ancano is a Thalmor agent, he could send a letter to the Justiciars and have you arrested by his word alone.” Mirabelle was whispering, but her tone was a shout.
“Let them come. I have bigger problems to worry about than a bunch of golden armored elves trying to sneak up on me in white snow. I won’t anger him anymore, and I apologize. I let my words get ahead of my mind.” I dialed back, realizing that needling the elf made problems for Mirabelle.
“You’d better not. He’ll be fuming about that little joke for weeks.” Through her scowl, I could see the barest edges of a smirk.
“Johannes?” A quiet voice called over, Jori was looking surprised to see me. Mirabelle nodded her goodbyes as the man approached.
“Master Mirabelle has allowed me to visit you here at the college. I’ve found some things that you should know about. Is there a private place we could talk?” I looked around. There were various doors here and there.
“I’ve been working in a small study. It’s cramped, but it’ll do.” Jori led me back to the mentioned room. It was piled with books, scrolls, and an alchemy set crammed into the very back. There was barely space for the two of us to stand, until he moved several piles of books.
“So, what is it? Another journal or note?” Jori asked. His eyes widened as he saw the soul gem. When it pulsed, he went white.
“That’s a loaded black soul gem! Where’d you get such a thing?” He reached for it. I drew it back slightly.
“Easy, I found it in a bandit camp, they called themselves the Wraiths. One of their number was a worshipper of Molag Bal. By the looks of these books, you’re also doing some researching on him.” I noted at least two tomes with the name Coldharbour in the title. He looked a bit embarrassed, but nodded.
“A friend reached out to me, a Vigilant. He’s been following the trail of an ancient vampire. He asked me to help him devise a weapon to fight them.” Jori pointed to two potion vials, holding a bright golden liquid.
“Liquid sun light?” I asked, half joking. Jori looked taken aback.
“How did you know?” He asked excitedly.
“That was a wild guess. It’s glowing, golden, and you said it was a weapon against vampires. Does it work against other undead too?” I had my own uses for such a thing.
“I haven’t been able to test it in the field, but the college had a sample of vampire blood. When the potion touched it, it burst into flames but there wasn’t any heat. It didn’t burn me when I put my finger into it.” That was useful. It didn’t ring any bells in my head though.
“That was your breakthrough then? Getting a working formula?” It was certainly a major bonus to have.
“It was. The only problem is that the ingredients are very hard to source. It cost me three hundred septims in the ingredients just to make those two bottles. I don’t suppose you have a source of frost salts the measures in the tens or hundreds of pounds?” Jori frowned.
“No, I can’t say I do. What would frost salts have to do with liquid sun light?” That seemed a bit counter-intuitive to me.
“It is a tertiary ingredient. Frost salts bestow a weakness to fire on the victim. In my tests, the version that did not use frost salts was a third as effective. It is cheaper to produce, but—” I held up my hand.
“Then damn the frost salts. You don’t need a poison that is lethal on its own, you need a weapon coating that can be produced in bulk, and issued out to every single Vigilant. How effective do you think that would be if it was delivered by the point of a sword or the head of an arrow into the guts of a vampire? It’d burn them from the inside out. If you could come up with a way to change it into a gas, you could flood their crypts with it during the day, they’d have no escape.” Jori wasn’t a soldier, he was a mage and a scholar. He took my words in stride.
“That… That would be more helpful than my line of thinking. You must be from the southern knightly orders. They are more militant than the Vigilants are.” Jori grinned.
“Maybe. I still don’t know much of my past. My own history is frustratingly thin. I do know about this thing though. The bandits are working with the Necromancers, and I think that they’re planning to make a deal with the Masters of the Soul Cairn.” That shocked Jori more than anything I could have said.
“What do you know of them? The Vigilants have been trying to scrounge up every scrap of information we possibly can on their motives.” Jori reached for a journal and a quill.
“Not much. Just that they have powerful necromancy, and they only deal in sentient souls. They’re probably not corporeal entities anymore either, the stories of the Soul Cairn go back to the first era, possibly farther. Most people who go to them end up as harvested souls themselves. It’d be an effort in futility to try to kill them or lock them away somehow. They aren’t the problem, the problem is that our necromancer pals have black soul gems, and a massive group of refugees is coming from Morrowind that they plan to attack. I wanted to ask you what soul gems can be used for, besides making magical equipment.” I set the gem down on the table. Jori finished jotting down what I’d said, it wasn’t much to go on. Jori turned his eyes back to the gem.
“A gem like this can be used in place of a sacrifice. With the right knowledge, powerful dark rituals could be performed without the need to hold several hundred living captives. If what you say is true, it sounds like the necromancers want to knock out two problems at once. The soul would be fed into the ritual to power it, while the bodies of the dead could be the subject. The College keeps a vault of tomes locked away deep beneath the ice, they are the evil, the dark, the profane. There was…” Jori’s eyes slid away from mine.
“Some of these necromancers were thrown out of the College a few months ago. I’ve pieced that much together. What happened to provoke that?” I had a feeling I knew.
“One of the adepts here, his name was Milek, asked for access to the vaults to confirm his suspicions about the nature of the Draugr. The Arch Mage declined, and told him that such studies were forbidden to students. Milek didn’t like that answer. A few weeks later, there was a loud rumbling below. I don’t know exactly how he did it, but Milek and half a dozen others had broken into the vaults, and stolen the tomes. The Arch Mage and several others tried to stop them, but they escaped somehow.” Jori kept his voice low.
“Milek, he wasn’t by chance a Dunmer, was he?” I had a real name now.
“He was, do you think… Oh we’ve been fools. Merkin. Mer Kin. All of the students that joined him were elves. It isn’t a name of a person, it’s their damned leadership!” Jori made the same realization I had.
“A council of elf necromancers preying on nords. Like there wasn’t enough trouble already. They have to be dealt with, but when I do, there’s going to be consequences for the Hold.” My thoughts turned to Jarl Korir’s opinion of the Stormcloaks. He seemed to be sympathetic to Ulfric’s cause already. If it turned out that a bunch of elves had been victimizing his people, it’d draw a firm line in the snow here. The refugees from Morrowind were already straining the tolerance of nords all across eastern Skyrim.
“Filthy politics. I joined the Vigilants because we rose above that sort of thing. For the good of all civilized people.” Jori huffed.
“A noble aim, we can worry about that later. What sort of ritual do you think they’d be trying to accomplish with a load of black soul gems and a pile of dunmer bodies?” That brought Jori back to the point
“I couldn’t say, not without knowledge of the tomes they stole. They could be raising a band of powerful undead, they could be trying any number of life extending rites, or trying to open a portal, or barter for elder knowledge with the daedra. They could be trying to make powerful magical items to further their own abilities, and keeping the bodies around for foot soldiers. You’d need to capture one of the higher ups to be sure.” That was about what I’d thought he would say. When the only evidence you had was fuel, it was just about impossible to say what sort of machine someone would put it in.
“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Capturing one of the leadership won’t be easy. Our best chance will be to ambush them just before the attack on the refugees starts. Can you send for the Vigilants? Short handed or not, we need their help to stop this before it spirals out of control. The Jarl should have sent his soldiers after the necromancers the second they stole those tomes. The College should have policed their own.” The trailing end was a bit angrier than I’d meant to be, but Jori was nodding.
“The College tried to pretend it didn’t happen. What was just one more band of villains in the wilderness after all. I’ll write to Adalvald, he’s the one I’ve been brewing this for.” Jori motioned to the bottled sunlight.
“Do it, and send it by a fast horse. The Jarl promised to find some extra fighting men for us, but we need mages. There’s something else. The necromancers are working out of an old barrow to the east. I think it’s on the ice plains overlooking the sea, maybe the mountains, but I couldn’t be sure. The name is something like Yngdaril. Do you think you could look through the books here for me?” It wasn’t much to ask, hopefully.
“Yngdaril… You said it’s to the east? Could it be… Hidja’s rest?” Jori turned to dig through a small pile of tomes behind himself. The name struck my mind, I’d heard of a Hidja before.
“I’ve heard of Hidja, that’s one of Riga’s ancestors. How’d you know that one?” It was fortunate, but it probably meant it was tied to his other research. If vampires were involved…
“The Jarl sent a discrete request to the college several years ago, when I’d first arrived here. I have it here in my journals… Here! Yngdaril is likely to be the resting place of the Helm of Winterhold, several of the old heroes were buried there. There’s a few other barrows on the list, but this one… Bastard!” Jori spat the word with such venom that I rocked back, the noise had startled me.
“Milek that devious little shit heel! We were both novices at the time, and the job to research the helm was given to me. He was studying the barrows too, so we helped each other. He’d have known about Yngdaril, and the powerful Draugr said to be inside.” Jori looked like he was about to start pulling his hair out.
“Easy Jori, that’s great information. Do you have it on a map?” I asked him. The Vigilant nodded, and slid his journal over. A rough map from Winterhold was drawn on one page, it looked like a journey of several days. It really wasn’t that far from where Jurger’s cave had been.
“Well, with that part handled, what about a barrow south of the mountains? Somewhere in the Pale. Part of the Merkin, maybe Melik himself are supposedly working out of a barrow in that direction.” Jori threw up his hands.
“I can’t help you there. I don’t remember the names, but I remember at least a dozen large ones are rumored to be scattered about the mountains. If you had to search every single one to find them, it’d take months. Some are small, clan or family barrows. The ones for nobles and warrior kings are larger, but Skyrim’s an old land. We’ve lost more to time than we have today. If you have a name, or even some random details, I could narrow it down.” It seemed my next goal was set. I stood, and started to reach for the black soul gem, but thought about it.
“Can you do anything with this?” I pointed to the gem. Jori grimaced.
“I can, but that’s evil magic. Spending the soul of some unfortunate for a magical blade…” Jori felt the same way that I did about it.
“I can assure you, the soul trapped in that gem deserved it. Remember the daedra worshipper I mentioned?” Jori’s eyes widened, and then he looked slightly disturbed.
“You did that? You filled that gem?” He seemed taken aback.
“There were bones in that camp Jori, small ones too.” I hadn’t looked too especially hard at the skeletons before we’d burned the camp, but I knew what I’d seen. Jori looked like he was rolling marbles in his mouth, trying to think of something to say.
“That’s an awful thing. I still don’t like these gems… but I can make an exception, if you’d leave your axe.” Jori nodded, his mind decided. I pulled it from the leather loop I’d added, and handed it over.
“What can you do with it?”
“I’m not a great enchanter, but I know a few. I’ve learned the enchantment for lightning, fire, and turning the undead. Other mages here would do a better job, with more variety, but it would cost you a hefty sum.” Jori looked over the axe blade as he spoke. I reached down to my belt, and found a pouch of septims. It wasn’t a fortune, but I’d brought a few hundred pieces for greasing wheels.
“Take this, make an axe that can light things on fire. Call it a thank you for the help, and an investment in more of that liquid sunlight you’ve been working on.” I sat the heavy bag of coins on the table. Jori smiled, and put his hand out.
“I’ll put the coin to good use. I’ll have the axe done by the morning.” I took his hand, shook on the deal, and made my way back out of the college. I passed by Ancano in the courtyard, it was a good thing that looks couldn’t kill. For a moment it seemed like he would follow along, but the elf was a patient killer. He’d wait until there was an opportunity that didn’t involve striking me down in the middle of Winterhold. More likely, it’d come in the form of a Justiciar death squad.