“Sea Crest off the bow!” One of the sailors called it as we came around a particularly nasty point. The water was a lot deeper around the point than the rest of the littoral zone, with jagged rocks just below the surface. Jorn had steered us as close to the ice sheet as he could manage, trying to avoid the worst of the rough water and rocks. On the cliff edge there was a stone structure sticking out. The aged fortification looked like a keep and bailey castle, though the bailey wall was only stone foundation, with large timbers making up the majority. The place must have been razed ages before, maybe even eras. Skyrim was an old land after all.
“We’ll take the ship around to Ghost Watch, and put in on the beach there. Lodor, you have the ship.” Jorn let his brother take over the rudder and motioned towards me.
“So what do you think of the cave, now you’ve seen it in the day?” There was a hint of fear, or maybe anxiety in his voice.
“An assault by night is still the best choice we have. Those rocks around the mouth are going to be a pain in the ass to fight over. You’re sure we couldn’t sail the ship right in?” I’d already asked Jorn that twice, and he was just as firm this time.
“Not without knowing if the rocks continue below the water. They’d rip our keel right out from under us. That’d be a real pain in the ship’s ass. I think that your idea for finding a second exit is best for us. Anyone fleeing out from the front would make poor time over the beach, and if it turns out a ship really could sail in and out, we can leave a few men aboard to chase them down. Did you have any luck puzzling it out last night?” Jorn kept to his line. I did have a new plan, but it was dependent on getting men from Sea Crest.
There had been plenty of volunteers at Frozen Wharf, but there were other considerations. If things went sideways and a bunch of us ended up dead, it would cripple the town to lose eight or ten men in their prime years. Spreading out the risk among several different towns would make it unlikely for any one of them to lose more than two or three sons. Avoiding the situation that had happened to the Pals was just as important as getting rid of the necromancers for the future of the hold.
“I have something in the works, but let’s talk with the headman at Sea Crest first. We’ll need his help to pull it off.” The coast was brutal around the point, and we had to put in a mile off from the town where a small stone jetty had been constructed. There were a few men guarding it, but they let us pass once they saw the pendant I’d been given by the Jarl. The hike up the beach was short, but the terrain was difficult. If the locals knew that someone was coming from the water, they could rain arrows and stones down on the attacker for hours.
The town itself was centered around the old keep, it didn’t look like the old Nordic construction I’d seen in Winterhold. The castle was probably an Imperial fortification from a past era, or something even older. The outskirts of town was littered with farmsteads, or at least I thought they were. I wasn’t sure if Winterhold ever really thawed out enough for farming, especially out on the coast. The seperation between the houses only made sense if they were farming plots between them, otherwise it would have been safer to cluster up with everyone else around the castle. The locals were friendly when we walked into town, some of them recognized Jorn and Lodor.
“Up there is the headman’s house.” Jorn pointed to a slightly larger hall, with a wooden palisade around it.
“He doesn’t live in the castle?” That seemed odd.
“No, that’s an Imperial garrison. I heard they turned tail and ran west after Jarl Ulfric’s soldiers ambushed the imperials in Eastmarch. I think the place is empty.” Jorn shrugged as we made our way up the muddy street. That had been a major blunder on part of the Imperials if it was true. They should have reinforced it, and started patrolling aggressively if they wanted to hold onto eastern Skyrim.
“Jorn! My, you’ve grown since I last saw you, when was that? Four, five summers?” An older man interrupted his guest as we approached. He wasn’t as old as Jorn’s father, probably early fifties, and he still had some fight in his bones it looked like.
“Nine, I think. I was eighteen when we hunted that bear.” Jorn smiled as he strode up to the man.
“Ah, age hasn’t been kind to my memories, one too many hits to the head I think. Who’s this you’ve brought along?” The man gestured to the rest of us.
“Johannes, the Jarl’s First Ranger. He’s come to solve the problem along the coast. These are his men, and a woman.” Jorn looked to Riga, who had been about to open her mouth.
“Well, that’s a pleasant surprise. I was just talking with Kalor here that we’d probably need to handle it ourselves. Johannes, good to have you. I’m Fenrik, Thegn and Headman of Sea Crest. Come inside, we’ll talk over a drink.” Fenrik rose and said something to Kalor before beckoning us into his house. Unlike most of the other well off families, Fenrik’s home was plain. The furniture was sturdy, but not decorated. The stonework and carpentry of the house was solid, but there were no carvings or adornments.
“Sit, sit. So how can Sea Crest help the Jarl’s Ranger?” Fenrik’s house did have one thing going for it, four tables around a large hearth, and a wall taken up by kegs of mead.
“We’ve had a look at the cave where the skeletons are coming from, and destroyed fifty of the abominations along the beach. We were hoping that Sea Crest could send some men to help us clear the cave proper. The mouth is overhung by ice and rocks, with skeleton archers standing guard. We have fourteen fighters to storm the cave with, but that doesn’t leave any to spare for clearing off the rocks.” I outlined the basic problem.
“So you want to attack from two angles then? You men take the front entrance, while I take a force over the ice to clear the cliffs and make sure the bastards don’t have an escape. That’s a good plan.” Fenrik caught on quickly at least.
“I’d be sending along two of mine, four if you count the dogs. A healer and an archer.” I pointed to Karliene and Icefoot, who had curled up in front of the hearth. Fenrik nodded, and leaned down to give Icefoot a scratch. It still boggled my mind that the same dog I’d seen break a man’s neck and tear the throat of another was wiggling excitedly for a belly rub.
“Good boy, that’s a good wolf aren’t ya? So who will be joining us then?” There wasn’t a question about if he was coming, just who I wanted to send.
“Riga is a healer, she’s very talented, and she can help if you run into any mages squirting out the backside of the cave. She’ll have Karliene. Anglin is the archer, this one, he’ll be bringing Icefoot.” I pointed at the right twin. I could really only tell by their weapons. The wolf cocked an ear at hearing his name, but otherwise content with the belly rubs.
“Good, that will round our number out to ten. When do we leave?” Fenrik seemed eager for a fight.
“Well, I’d thought there might be more to it than this… If you’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice, then we’ll head out tonight. If you have dog sleds, it shouldn’t take more than two hours to reach the cave.” It was a blessing, I didn’t want to let the necromancers have a single second more than necessary to prepare.
“We have sleds. Kalor is going to round up fighting men now. We’ve been training men ever since the first attack by the skeletons, at full strength we could bring thirty armed and armored if you think it’s needed.” I’d found my extra soldiers for the refugees too, if they were willing.
“I don’t think we’ll need quite that many tonight. What’s our number, twenty two now? If you have sleds for more, I won’t stop you from bringing them, but our boat is getting a bit crowded.” I also didn’t want something awful to happen and plunge two dozen of us into the water, or fall for the same trap. The cave would probably be tight confines, a huge mob of soldiers wouldn’t do us much good beyond replacements for the wounded.
“We’ll bring a few more then, enough to deal with the rocks and a few on sleds to hunt down any that might come out a back way.” Fenrik settled his own plan just as two girls brought a round of tankards out. A drink or two wouldn’t hurt before sun down, it might be the last one for some of the men gathered around. I nodded to Fenrik before I stood.
“Drink what you will, but if any of you men are too drunk to fight tonight, I’ll tie you to the prow of the ship for a week! Get some rest before we set out, we’ll hit them at midnight.” I took up one of the tankards, and chugged as much of it as I could. There was a chorus of cheers from the men as they joined in. I turned back to Fenrik before I got any farther into the drink.
“I heard a rumor about a man that lived here, his name was Mad Moth, or something like it, an adventurer.” Having someone with firsthand experience wouldn’t hurt. Fenrik grimaced.
“He caught a fever before the new year, old fool thought he would be fine. By the time he asked for help he was dying. Didn’t make it through the night. He had some old books, I took them, he didn’t have any family left. They’re yours if you like, I don’t care much for writings. Just don’t tell anyone that it’s because I can’t read.” Fenrik smiled at the hushed words. So much for a guide.
Fenrik was a good host, with mead, meat, and beds for the lot of us. Only two men had to be wrangled back from a drinking contest thankfully. The mead wasn’t exactly strong either, most of them would be sober by the time we hit the beach. Jorn and Lodor had taken over policing the group, so I found a quiet corner with a comfortable chair to nap in.
Poke.
Poke!
POKE!
“Huh?” I was roused from my dreaming by Riga.
“Sleepy? Jorn’s heading for the boat. Fenrik’s men are about to leave.” I must have been asleep for longer than it felt like. The men were checking over their armor and weapons, a few were praying.
“Just a bit. Have you got everything you need?” I rose from the chair, regretting my choice to keep my armor on. Everything was a bit stiff.
“I have the potions you gave me, my bow, my axe, two days of food, it’s all there, just like we packed it.” Riga nodded. She’d learned how to pack a field bag and her belt with both eyes closed.
“Good, go find Anglin, make sure that you’re on a sled with him. Angven, Gromm!” I called over the building noise in the longhouse. The pair of them came around, followed by the other men from Icehome
“Finally awake?” Angven grinned.
“That’s ‘Finally awake, Boss?’ to you. Has everyone eaten and gotten their gear together?” I checked over my own belt, my bag was still on the ship.
“Except for you, there’s a plate waiting by the hearth, should still be warm. Boss.” Gromm tacked the word on as an after thought, drawing a snort from Angven.
“Great. Where’s Fenrik?” I made my way over to the mentioned plate and started shoveling food into my mouth.
“Outside with the dog teams. He’s got half the village riding with him. Do Anglin and Riga really need to go with them?” Angven asked. The twins hadn’t been separated before.
“Riga does, because they don’t have a mage. I don’t know any of those men, so Anglin needs to go to keep Riga safe. Icefoot is going with them to help track down any runners.” I left out the part that I didn’t want both brothers in the same group, just in case one of us got wiped out. Seeing the destruction that a few amateur ice runes had been capable of, I didn’t want to know how nasty other forms of magic could get.
“Alright. Are we heading back to the boat now?” Angven didn’t sound entirely happy with the arrangement, but that was the last thing I was worried about.
“In a moment. I need to talk to Fenrik about coordination. Gromm, we’re going to be the spear tip going into the cave, so make sure everyone’s ready for a real fight, meet us outside after you do one last check. Angven, come with me. Jorn! Are your guys ready?” I called over to the eager warrior. He was tightening down his brother’s straps.
“We’re ready Ranger.” That accounted for my section.
“Come on, there’s a few things we need to straighten out with Fenrik about coordination before we head for the boat. The conversation didn’t take long, and I made sure that his best archers were solid on the plan. They’d each been given a small jar of radiant gold jelly, a little bit of sunlight to hold on to. Before an hour had passed, we’d pushed the boat back out, and the oarsmen were taking us around the point in the fading light of the day.
The mood on the boat was eager, not fearful or brooding. Our exploits the night before had instilled a sense of superiority in the small band of warriors. They were boasting of how many skeletons they’d kill, and how many fair maidens they’d be telling their glories to. Some of the smarter ones were quiet, knowing that what faced us tonight was a completely different beast than a few disorganized skeletons on the beach. Those were the ones I spent the time to talk with.
“Adis, if you sharpen that axe much more you’ll run out of blade. What’s on your mind?” I sat by the man. He put his whetstone away and sat the axe back in its ring on his belt.
“The cave. We’ve seen the outside, but we have no idea what might be inside of it. How many skeletons did we destroy on the beach? Forty?” At least he didn’t try to save face.
“Aye, that’s a good count I think. There were more around the cave mouth. So you’re worried that we might be horribly outnumbered?” I kept my voice down so that only Adis could hear.
“That, and some of the stories of what lies deep in Skyrim’s caves. Many of the ancestors were not so fortunate in the journey from Atmora, the coast is littered with barrows and tomb sites. We may find more than we bargained for inside.” Adis tried to keep his face stony.
“Too late to turn around now. A dozen of us will have to be enough. Just worry about keeping your shield up and axe ready, I’ll worry about what’s deeper in the cave. If it’s any reassurance, I’ve been training with a Vigilant of Stendarr, and this ring is blessed by the divine to destroy evil things. You saw some of the skeletons explode into flames last night?” I asked him. Adis smiled and nodded.
“That was partly this ring’s doing. The skeletons won’t stand a chance before us, and neither will any of the other foul things in there. Just keep your head, and watch out for the people around you.” I wasn’t much for motivation, but magic trinkets and super soldiers had a way of raising morale, even if it was mostly smoke and mirrors. We settled off the coast an hour after nightfall, and waited. Then we waited longer.
“They should have been here by now. Do you think they got lost?” Lodor asked his older brother.
“No, Fenrik knows this land very well, so do his hunters. They’ve probably run into a delay of some… What was that?” Jorn pointed up to the cliff overlooking the cave. A blue flash had lit up the edge. We were too far away to hear anything, but a golden ember struck out next. Some might have thought it missed its intended target, and plonked into the water a few hundred yards short of us. It had landed exactly where it was meant to.
“To the oars! Take us in!” Jorn yelled across the deck. Part of Anglin’s job was to get a gold coated arrow into the water as our start signal. Angven was stringing his bow to respond in kind. More arrows started flying over the lip of the cliffs, some obvious misses, others were more carefully aimed for skeletons down on the beach. A half dozen or so archers were pouring the fire on to the helpless skeletons, caught by surprise from the unexpected angle.
We’d lit lanterns and made ourselves obvious on the boat, to distract from our friends coming by land. It seemed the trick had worked, because by the time the ship hit the beach, hardly any skeletons were left to oppose us. We still had to march the last two hundred yards to the cave, but that was the easy part.
“Jorn, I want you and the other two handers in the middle. If we hit a line, we’ll try the same trick as last night to break through them. Lodor, I want you at the tail with three men, all shield carriers. That way if we do get surrounded, we can hold the line. Gromm, fall in behind me.” We’d already spoken about our formation twice, but reinforcing it one last time wouldn’t hurt. I took my spot at the head of our column.
Rotten bones littered the trail, evidence of ones that had fallen from the rocks above. The moons were still in the middle of of their cycle, but there was enough light to make it even if I hadn’t had my ring. A bird call sang down to us as we approached the cave mouth. Anglin and Riga were peering down the cliff.
“How’s it down there?” The twin called.
“We’re heading inside! Keep it tight, and keep watchers along the beach!” I answered back. Angven whistled a hawk screech up to him, it was their ‘be careful’ call. A seabird answered, re-group quickly.
The cave was mostly dark, but I could see the flickers of torches burning deeper inside. Angven lit a torch of his own as we passed into the cave, white salt build ups gave way to faintly blue ice decorating the rock, and finally covering it once we’d put the sea behind us. Jorn had been right about bringing the ship in, sharp stones hid just beneath the water of the cave, and it didn’t look natural.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Watch for traps, stones raised too high in the floor, trip wires, things that might swing down from the roof or out from the walls.” I warned the men around me. There was evidence that skeletons had been through recently, probably retreating when the attack started. Freshly slushed snow and muck ran along like a path, the torches in sconces still had plenty of life left to them.
The cave had been wide at the mouth, but it was steadily tightening up, the ice covered stones forming a long, gradual choke towards the end. The shape of it could have been natural, but what I knew about that didn’t matter for the same reasons my knowledge of the moons didn’t matter. Magic really made a mess of things that way. I was less worried about the mechanisms behind Skyrim’s cave creation, and more worried about how quiet everything was. We could still hear the sea lapping at the rocks near the cave mouth, chainmail clinked, boots crunched on ice and loose rock, but there was no sound suggesting the enemy was near.
“Lodor, Jorn, hold your men here, it’s going to narrow down to a one man choke. I bet you that the point where it opens up is going to be crawling with archers. Gromm, keep with me, but I’m going to stop you in the tunnel once I can see the end.” There was no point to going in blind when I could use a ward to cover my self for a brief look.
“Johannes, you’re the Jarl’s First Ra－” I held up a hand to silence Angven.
“That’s exactly why I’m going in first. It’s my dumb plan, and I’m going to be the one that pays for it if this turns out to be a terrible idea. Give me a torch, don’t light it.” I held my hand out for the stick. Adis handed one over. My axe was back on the boat, the tight confines of the cave lent themselves better to the mace. I already had the weapon in my right hand, ready to pulverize any undead we came across.
Just as I suspected, the ice tunnel shrunk down to the point that only one man could fit comfortably, turned sharply twice, and then immediately opened out into a large room. It was pitch black in the tunnel, even with my ring I could barely see a thing, but the room was lit by torches. Four pillars stretched to hold up the ceiling, they were coated in ice, but the positioning was intelligent design. Something shifted in one of the corners, it was just a miniscule clinking noise.
I reached over with my mace hand, and snapped my fingers together to make a small spark under the torch. It lit up easily, and burned brightly, a meteor coming down to land in the middle of the room. The clinking became a stamping of feet as a dozen skeletons rushed out from their places. With the tripwire sprung, there was nothing to do but give ground.
“Gromm back up! Back out!” I shouted down the tunnel. The skeletons were all too willing to oblige my plan. The first to dash into the tunnel caught a glowing ball of sunlight in the ribs, the magic seemed to bypass the rusty chainmail it wore. The skeleton burned with holy fire, the health bar over it’s head dipped from thirty to zero in just a few seconds. A second skeleton dashed over the still burning remains of the first, blind to any concern but introducing its blade to living flesh. The abomination swung lazily for my neck, my plated arm rose to block while my mace raced up for its chin. The skeleton’s skull popped free, trailing golden embers.
[Righteous Strikes Activated]
The skeletons didn’t stand a chance, not when they were being forced to fight me one on one. My armor was more than a match for their weapons, and they were just too slow. Half a dozen smoldering skeletons littered the tunnel by the time I’d made it back to Gromm and Jorn’s men. They made short work of the remainder, the skeletons were too stupid to avoid running straight into an ambush.
“If it keeps like this…” Jorn had a smile on his face, hidden behind the steel helmet he’d donned. I shook my head.
“It turns into a barrow, don’t jinx us. Keep your eyes out for traps.” I didn’t wait for an answer before pushing back into the tunnel. The torch I’d thrown was still burning, and lit the place well enough to get a good look at the walls. A semi-familiar feeling washed over me as I saw the puzzles along the wall. Ravens, whales, moths, bears, all on rotating stands. Above them were icons to the matching animal. An iron gate blocked the way forwards.
“What are these?” Angven asked as he looked over one of them.
“It’s a puzzle door. Don’t let the simplicity fool you, they aren’t meant to keep us out, they’re meant to keep the dead inside. Look around for murder holes. If we get the puzzle wrong there will be arrows, or fire, or something else nasty.” I spotted one as I spoke, aimed at the lever to open the gate.
“I’ve heard of these before. There should be…” Lodor trailed off as he found what he was looking for, a small stone button. As he pressed it, a grinding noise shook the floor, and a puzzle piece turned. It matched the icon above now, Lodor seemed happy with himself.
“Lodor, match up all the symbols. The rest of you, don’t fucking touch anything in here, and don’t wander.” A case of nervous excitement started to creep into the back of my mind. The traps in places like this were man stoppers, easily capable of killing a careless intruder. Fire was my biggest concern. The men that had come along were well armored, but flames would burn through the gaps and make a lot of wounded.
“Johannes, they’re ready.” Lodor was standing near the lever.
“Jorn, keep your party here, keep our exit open. Gromm, with me. Hit it Lodor.” I nodded to the second son. He muttered a quick prayer, yanked the lever down, and jumped away. Nothing happened at first, and then the noise of a clanking chain echoed out from the iron gate. It rose slowly, and very, very loudly. Anyone waiting for us deeper inside would know the score now.
Gromm and the rest seemed reluctant when the gate finished opening, I couldn’t blame them. Beyond the gate was a frost encrusted corridor, dark and still as a grave. The only noise to be heard was my boots crinkling on the thin layer of ice that had formed over the floor. Then another set of boots, and another, as Gromm’s men worked up the courage to follow me. One of them lit a torch, holding it high to cast some light ahead. I threw a mage light out with my free hand, the ghostly blue-white sphere stuck itself to a door, twenty or so yards distant.
“Hold!” I put up my hand after seeing how long the corridor was. Great stone sarcophagi lined it, some broken open, some still closed. The dead were one concern, the floor was another.
“What is it Ranger?” Gromm asked. I let out a puff of flames from my hand, melting the ice in front of us. A circular stone was laid in the middle of the floor, decorated with old runes. Memories stirred again, of poison darts, fire, logs swinging down, axe blades, claw arms in the walls.
“Floor triggers. Like I said, they aren’t meant for us, they’re meant to cut down the dead that might rise. Take it slow and steady.” I made sure they could see the stone I meant, and melted a path around it for the rest to follow. Four more trap triggers were in the floor between us and the door at the end. The door wasn’t locked, and as best I could tell, there wasn’t a trap strung to it on our side. I opened it carefully, just enough to fit a hand through, and borrowed a sword from one of Gromm’s men to feel around the edges for a tripwire.
“Step back, get on the left side.” I started to open the door wider, when a hail of loud thuds smashed into it. Our good luck seemed to have run out as the arrows kept pouring on. It sounded like four shooters at the least, maybe six for how slow the skeletons were. I tried to push the door back shut when a stone slab pounded itself into the ground behind us.
Just fucking great, Draugr too.
“Mind the triggers! Fight against the walls!” I shouted a warning as pale, desiccated hands reached into the gap between the door and the wall, trying to push it open. The first Draugr had come out of his tomb now, sword in hand. The men faltered for a moment. A bolt of sunlight took that Draugr in the mouth, setting his whole head on fire.
“Fight god damn you! Don’t just fucking look at them!” That was all the encouragement the men needed. Gromm charged the burning Draugr, catching its sword on his shield. A second man swung low for the thing’s knee, toppling it. One of Gromm’s men slammed into the door with his shoulder, helping me to keep the Draugr on the other side from spilling in. Heavy foot falls were running down the corridor for us, Jorn and Lodor’s party were following the trail I’d melted in the ice.
“Jorn! The coffins! Break open the coffins and kill the sorry bastards inside!” I tried to keep the fight from descending into complete chaos. If any of those trap triggers got kicked, we’d be in for a world of hurt. Jorn heard me, and set his men to the task. Right about then, a glint of steel in the corner of my eye caught my attention. One of the Draugr was trying to stab me from the other side of the door. The tip of the blade drew a line across my cheek, a sting and the warm drip of blood.
“Gah! Cocksucker!” I stuck my hand around the door frame, and willed a jet of flame out of my hand. Raspy shrieks roared out from the other side as the draugr were set alight. The weight against the door sagged until we were able to push it shut.
“Grab that urn! Yeah, drag it here, there we go.” I helped pull a jar the size of a man into place before the door, it was heavy enough to keep the draugr busy for a while.
“You’re bleeding.” The man that had helped me with the door pointed out.
“Hadn’t noticed, now don’t just stand there!” I spurred the man back to action. Gromm and the rest of his men were fighting a quartet of draugr, slowly pushing them back to a mob that Jorn’s lot was fighting. There was a pained cry towards the entrance, and then an angry shout. One of Jorn’s band, a man with a warhammer, smashed a draugr clean off its feet. The body flew up, then back a few feet, and landed squarely on one of the trap triggers. I was too far to do anything but watch, no words of warning could have been understood.
The man was dashing forwards to put the draugr down for good when a cluster of spikes shot out of the ceiling, wickedly sharp spearheads fit for a bear punched into the man’s back and came out the front, nailing him to the draugr. His chainmail hadn’t stood a chance. The man hung limply, gargling out his last.
“Watch out for the damn traps!” I shouted to Gromm, he’d seen what had happened to the man and managed to stop his troop from advancing any farther. The draugr were still blindly backpedaling, one of them hit the next trigger. A blade like a scythe swung out from the wall, chopping two of the corpses in half. The third was skewered on the point of the blade, and slammed into the stone wall. Jorn’s mob seemed to have caught on to the danger, because they were fighting in place, unwilling to risk hitting another trigger.
The draugr were either too stupid, or too apathetic to worry, because they hit both of the remaining triggers. Darts and fire finished the last set of them to come out of the coffins, while we just stood and watched. The banging on the door had died down too, it seemed that the ones on the other side had gotten bored.
“Jorn, anyone injured on your side?” I called over to them once the last of the corpses were dealt with.
“Just Fendil, he’s dead.” Jorn pointed to the man that was still impaled on the spikes.
“We can’t help him now. Take a few moments, get your men ready, there’s a whole lot more of those bastards on the other side of this door. We’re just going to have to fight our way through them.” I looked to the door we’d blocked off. Hopefully the barrow wasn’t too deep.
“Jorn, your lot is going in first this time. Gromm, keep your men back and counter any move the corpses make. Angven, keep that bow handy, I’m pretty sure the next room will have two levels.” It was a guess, but my mind told me it was correct.
Gromm and I hauled the urn out of the way once Jorn’s group was lined up for the door. They hauled it open, and dashed forwards. The draugr were nowhere to be seen at first, not hiding in alcoves or creeping behind dusty pillars. Something creaked from above us, a cut out in the stone wall that overlooked the door. For what it’s worth, I did shoot first. The glowing ball of sunlight took the archer in the chest a moment after he loosed his own shot.
The arrow wasn’t aimed for us, but the clay lantern pot hanging above us. The bottom of the pot broke out, dropping a wick and a bucket’s worth of lantern oil. I’d been fatefully slow coming through the door, and avoided the incendiary payload. Adis and another man weren’t so lucky, they’d stopped directly underneath it and were bathed in the oil.
Woosh!
The two men became their own funeral pyres, thick white smoke pouring off them as they ran forwards in a panic. To make a confused situation worse, more arrows started to rain down from the second level. The floor was on fire between the door and where Jorn had ended up, I could see the man fighting a draugr through the smoke. Lodor was trying to protect his brother from the archers.
Fucking necromancers…
I pushed Gromm back enough to get a running start, and leapt over the flames. It was no easy feat for a man in heavy armor, but I cleared it with a few inches to spare. A few scorched draugr were sprinting out of a corridor we hadn’t been able to see from the door, ancient weapons ready for fresh blood. I fired off a pair of spells, igniting the leading draugr in vengeance for Adis. My mace caught it across the jaw, a puff of dust and bone splinters followed the weapon’s arc.
Tink!
The other Draugr roared when they set their glowing eyes on me, like my mere presence enraged them. One drew its axe high, while the other tried to circle around my right. Black iron met blued steel, a shower of sparks sprayed my feet as the axe blade narrowly missed my shoulder. The flanker caught an elbow to the face while my left hand tried to snatch it by the sword arm. There was a crash somewhere behind me, and the clanking of two swords sliding across each other.
“Ranger! Duck!” Gromm’s voice shouted over the chaos. I was tangled up with the draugr, but I had the mass and pulled us both down to the floor. A golden tracer shot through the space my chest had been in before, and flung itself into the axe wielding draugr. The corpse burned from the inside out, radiant death flickering beneath the rotten skin. It stuttered for a step, and then a second arrow hit it in the nose. I had my draugr in a headlock, with my other hand wrestling the sword away. It was a few seconds more before I managed to get a satisfying crunch from the thing’s neck.
“Shoot the archers!” I tried to give Angven an order, but he was two steps ahead of me. Two bodies, more accurately. I felt my ring burning brightly on my finger as I got back into the fight.
You better be enjoying this Stendarr.
Jorn and Lodor had managed to beat back their rivals, severed limbs and broken bodies littered the floor around the brothers. Where the twins had learned hunting and stalking, the pseudo-nobles had learned warfare. It really wasn’t even a contest once they’d found their rhythm. Draugr would rush forward, only to lose an important piece of anatomy to Jorn’s greatsword or Lodor’s axe. My eyes tracked towards the walls, looking for any more doors, or stairs. It didn’t seem like there was a direct route up to the second floor.
“Don’t get bogged down here! With me!” I shouted to the survivors of our group. The Draugr were coming out of the corridor I’d tried to block off, but they were thinning out. Angven, Gromm, and a few of the Icehome men joined me at the front, carving a path through the fodder. The corridor we were following was lined with empty cut outs, graves the draugr had stood out of. It made a long turn to the left, ramping up to the second level that the archers had shot at us from. There was a T-junction at the top, but the right side had caved in.
“Hey, Johannes.” Lodor called from the rear of the line.
“What is it?” I didn’t want to stop and lose our momentum.
“There’s a chest stuck in the rubble here…” I turned to see the junior brother reaching out to it.
“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH IT!” I yelled back to him. His hand was hovering an inch from the chest, reason and realization crossing his eyes.
“Right, sorry.” He turned to start forwards. I kept up, when a thunder crack and a pained cry rang out from the rear. I spun, expecting to see Lodor sprawled out, but it was one of Jorn’s men. His hand was stiff armed out to the ceiling, smoke wafting off his palm. There was the imprint of seared flesh on the chest where the man had touched it.
“Do you think I was just trying to be an asshole? This place was designed to be a death trap before the fucking necromancer moved in. Everything is trying to kill you in here! Don’t touch a fucking thing!” They’d learn the hard way if they didn’t want to listen the first, second, or third time. The man was being helped back to his feet by Lodor, he was lucky not to be dead.
The doorway to the second floor was open, the doors having been pulled off at some point in the past. One of the archers that Angven had nailed was sprawled out, charred to the bone from the waist to the neck. It was a testament to Jori’s studies, and an excellent field test. The other draugr archers weren’t much better off, they’d been reduced to cinders and messy piles of ash. The one that I’d hit with a spell was just a bare set of boney legs and half a skull.
“Remind me to thank our friendly Vigilant next time we see him.” I nodded to Angven. The younger man smiled, kicking one of the dead draugr with his boot.
“You should have asked the College if they had any more of those fancy soul gem things. Could have gotten my self something nice with all this shooting here.” Angven looked over his handiwork. There was something stirring with that, but I wasn’t sure of it. Draugr had been human once, I wasn’t sure if they still had souls to trap or not.
“Next hunt. Come on.” I started towards the only door I had found, a big metal banded thing that looked like it was ready to fall off the hinges. It opened with a groan, resistant to any kind of movement. There weren’t any tripwires or traps around it that I could see, and there didn’t seem to be any magic coming off the frame. I pulled it the rest of the way open, slowly, but there was nothing but a long hall that sloped back downwards. There were traps in the floor, but we were far enough from the frosty hell outside that ice wasn’t a problem.
The torches on the wall were all freshly lit, brightening the space up. The corridor turned twice before leveling out into a straight hall, with a round stone door at the end. The door was broken into a few segments, more pictograms decorated it. The walls were covered in carven histories of warriors, priests, dragons, burning towns and runic sigils. I would have taken the time to really get a close look at them, if it weren’t for the pedestal standing before the puzzle door.
“Fuckers… They’re waiting for us on the other side.” Lodor put my own thoughts to words as his eyes fell on the claw resting on the pedestal, and the note next to it. I raised a hand to keep the rest of them back, and slowly came forward, a ward primed in my left hand. Caution invaded my limbs, eyes scouring the floor, walls, and ceiling for anything, even the slightest sign of a more recent addition to the deadly traps. I couldn’t find one, and took the last few steps forward. I snatched the note and brought the ward to full strength as I leapt away. The anticipated explosion never materialized, so I dropped the ward before it ate away too much of my magical strength. My eyes turned to the note, it was written in blood.
Speak of All and Nothing. The First and The Ultimate, The Creator and The Dread of The World, and you will find what you seek! Death, the death of the world!
“What the hell is this shit?” I read over the note twice, hoping for some spark or stirring in my head. Not even a little buzz, not even the barest hint of a house fly was forthcoming. I turned over to Lodor, who was probably the best educated of us, and handed the note to him.
“Figure out what this means, but don’t say it if you think you know the answer, tell me first so we can be ready.” I turned back to the claw, it was a bronze shaded orange, that did bring something to mind.
[Smithing Mastery Activated!]
[Corundum Claw]
[Description: The key to an ancient Nord barrow, made of once fine Corundum, now worn and weathered.]
It wasn’t as useful as I’d hoped, I knew what the thing was and how to use it. Extending my frail magical sense towards the pedestal again showed just as much as it had before. Nothing.
If this thing stabs, burns, or blows me up, I’m going to be pissed…
I took up the claw, jumped back, and brought up the ward again, but nothing happened. Turning the claw over showed a bird, bear, and moth from claw to palm. I wasn’t exactly satisfied that my entire world wouldn’t become a blazing inferno or a pin cushion for poison darts, but it seemed like the necromancer’s game was a different one. The door dials were easy enough to figure out, just press them in, and they spun. I got it situated the right way before turning back to Lodor.
“Any luck?”
“No. No idea what it could mean. What about the door?” Lodor offered the note back to me. It tucked it into a pouch on my belt, and lifted the claw.
“The dials are in the right position, just need to use the claw to open it. Everyone ready?” My eyes roved over the band. We’d started with twelve, now there were nine, and two were walking wounded.
“Ready as we’ll be. Open it.” Jorn had done the same. It was bad luck that all three of the dead were his. Adis and the other man hadn’t survived long after being scorched, though nobody had commented on the arrows that hit them from a level angle. It was a mercy, but I knew I’d need to talk to Angven about it. Those thoughts had no use for me right now, it was just the claw, the dead, and killing that damned necromancer on the other side.
The claw sunk into position, there was a muffled clunk from the mechanism. The grating stone wheels spun to unlock themselves, it was a horrible noise, but the stench from the other side was worse. Behind the rows of skeletons was a dark robed man, standing on a raised dais. There was a Nord woman strapped to a slab in front of him, struggling with her bindings.
“Ah! Company has finally arrived. Be quiet girl, servants are seen, not heard!” The man raised a dagger, and plunged it into her chest. One great thing about the scholarly, arrogant types, was that they assumed a grand display like that would buy them time for a monologue.
“I’m afraid I only have a meal for my self, human bod－ AGH! AHH! AHHHHHH!” The bastard had been looking at the poor woman he’d murdered, and caught the bolt of sun fire directly to the face. It was a reflexive action on my part, I didn’t expect the bolt to be quite so effective against a normal man. It was once the fire spread across him and scorched his skin black that I realized how pale he was. Wonder was answered by a status bar a short moment later.
[Blooded Vampire]
[Race: Undead Breton]
[Level: 35]
[Health: 233/290, Magicka: 220/225, Stamina: 150/150]
[Status: Burning in Righteous Fire]
Great.