Larenia’s inhumanly large eyes widened as she realised who she had stabbed.
“What is wrong with you!?” she shouted.
“I thought it would be funny,” Simon replied, managing to stay on his feet since he could easily ignore both the agony in his stomach and the near certainty of his impending death. Thank you, Hermaeus.
“You are such an idiot,” she all but growled. “Shit. Ok. Fine.”
Just as Simon was about to mention that this room stored potions in the game, Larenia took half a step back and unequipped the sword which wasn’t buried in him. She curled the thumb, pinkie and ring fingers of her now free left hand into her palm and held her index and middle fingers out straight, pressed together. As she frowned and gritted her teeth, a grape sized ball of golden light appeared at the end of her extended fingers.
“Is that magic?” Simon gasped, pain and injury completely forgotten. “You know magic! Can you teach me magic?”
“Shut up.”
“But…”
Larenia glared at him, the ball of light wavering as she took her focus off of it. “Healing real injuries is not easy. I need to concentrate. Shut. Up.”
“Ugh,” Simon rolled his eyes. “Fiiiine.”
She ignored his petulance and focused back on her magic. He watched with interest as she moved her hand, pressing the orb into the wound through both her sword and his armour. Simon felt the pain dull and the blood that was leaking from the hole in his belly slowed considerably.
Larenia eased her sword out from the wound and Simon felt a sensation somewhere between tingling and itching as his skin, flesh and viscera began knitting themselves back together.
Even once the sword was all the way out, she held the ball under his skin for a few more seconds, relaxing her hand sign just as Simon felt the last vestiges of pain vanish. She then moved her hand over his heart with her fingers splayed out and slightly curved.
Golden light spilled from her palm into his chest and he felt the pool of Health that rested above his heart begin to refill. It took only a meagre handful of seconds for his 100 Health to be restored. Larenia stepped back, clenching and unclenching her hand as if to work out a cramp.
“How much Magicka do you have left?” asked Hadvar, who had been waiting quietly at the side.
Larenia scowled and took a deep breath. “Enough,” she said, walking over to place her hand over the Imperial soldier’s heart. It took almost a minute for Hadvar’s Health to be restored. When she was done with him, she sat down on one of the few intact benches left in the room, which seemed to have seemed to have been a mess hall, and began restoring her own Health.
Hadvar strode over to Simon with his shield unequipped and, before he could say anything, punched him hard in the face. It barely dented his Health, but the force of the blow caused him to stumble back into the wall and slump to the floor.
“I had to abandon my friends and comrades to ensure that someone could report what happened here,” the red-haired nord ground out. “I refuse to fail because you decided to fool around in a life and death situation. Is that clear?”
Simon opened his mouth and then closed it again, grimacing. He took his first response and shoved it to the back of his mind. Not being capable of fear was really starting to affect his judgement.
“Crystal,” he finally said.
Hadvar nodded and turned to Larenia. “And, you…”
“What,” she snapped, waving a hand towards Simon, “you gonna lump me in with this idiot.”
“Hey!” Simon said and was completely ignored.
Hadvar sighed. “Look… I don’t know what your secrets are, but they aren’t worth anything if keeping them gets us all killed.”
Larenia scowled. “I wouldn’t just let you die,” she muttered
“Good,” Hadvar said. “If there’s nothing else, we should keep moving.”
“There might be some potions in one of those barrels,” Simon said, gesturing towards a storage area near the room’s other door as he pushed himself up.
“Why would anyone keep potions with cooking supplies?” Larenia asked.
Simon shrugged as Hadvar walked over and took the lids off a few upright barrels. The Imperial soldier let out a grunt as he opened the fourth one. He reached in and pulled out three egg-sized bottles. Two were filled with glowing red liquid, the other glowed blue.
They disappeared into his Pocket for a moment, then the blue bottle and a red one reappeared as he held them out to Larenia. “They’re only Novice, but it’s better than nothing.”
She snorted, vanishing the red one and popping the cork off the other before downing it with a grimace. “This is ridiculous.”
“Stranger things have happened today,” Hadvar said, heading for the door. “Let’s go.”
The door led through to the other side of the collapsed ceiling. They continued forwards as they had been doing, Simon in the back, Hadvar in the front, checking every door as they went past.
A few doors down, the tunnel transitioned into a staircase that seemed a lot less artificial than the preceding section. Steps had been carved into it and it was widened in a few places, but it was still mostly natural. It had just enough space for two people to pass and curved randomly left and right on its way down.
Not long after they began to descend, they heard a scream from below. Hadvar turned to look at Simon. “What’s your Sneak?” he whispered.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“18,” Simon replied, matching his volume.
Hadvar’s eyes widened a little but he stayed focused. The soldier stepped to the side. “Take the lead. Be ready to retreat.”
Simon nodded and moved to the front. The ground was a little rougher than further up, but it was still solid and clean so it was easy to keep his steps silent. He took things slow, placing his feet with care and walking with a wide, slightly uncomfortable gait to avoid his thighs rubbing too much.
As they approached the next room they heard several more screams, all the same male voice. When they rounded a corner and the room’s open doorway became visible, they heard other voices.
“Are… Are you sure we should be doing this, Rolk?” came one.
“Don’t be such a wuss. You see this symbol?” There was another scream. “This guy’s an Imperial inquisitor. He could turn your mind inside out if I didn’t have him nice and distracted.”
The entrance was just a doorless opening into the corner of a small cavern. Simon inched closer to it and poked his left eye round the edge of the entrance, revealing as little of his head as he could.
Two Stormcloaks were stood over another who was crouching on top of an old, robed man. There was a row of half a dozen small cages along the wall opposite the entrance and an opening in the wall of the far corner, presumably the continuation of the tunnel.
“Just kill the prick, Rolk,” said the third Stormcloak.
“Yeah,” added the first, “Ralof said…”
“Forget that milk drinker,” Rolk snarled. “Ulfric is dead. We’re done, the Stormcloaks are finished. We might as well have some fun while we still can.” He pulled a dagger from the old man’s shoulder and drove it back in as if to emphasise his point.
The third Stormcloak let out a noise of disgust but didn’t stop him.
Simon eased himself back out of view and turned without moving his feet. He met Hadvar’s eyes and held up three fingers.
Hadvar nodded and glanced back at Larenia, gesturing forwards. He brought his shield up and charged into the room, the tiny elf hot on his heels.
“Shit, Imperials,” he heard Rolk shout. There was a wet thunk, quickly followed by the sound of clashing blades.
It couldn’t have been more than a dozen seconds before the room went quiet again. Simon didn’t really know what the power difference between the various Stages and Skill levels was, but it was pretty clear that Hadvar and Larenia were a fair bit stronger than the average Stormcloak.
Simon walked into the room to find that the rebel corpses were all intact for once, having been killed by thrusts rather than slashes. The robed man that Rolk had been torturing hadn’t made it. The Stormcloak’s dagger was buried in his face.
“What’s an inquisitor?” Simon asked as he inspected the cages. This room’s equivalent in the game had been an Imperial torture chamber, so he had a few guesses.
“An Illusion mage,” Hadvar said. “It’s a lot easier to get information out of someone if they believe you're their best friend. Damn sight better than torture if nothing else. Now, unless there’s an Adept sword in one of those cages, we should keep moving.”
“Actually,” Simon said, looking over his shoulder, “would it be possible to open these? There might be a spell tome in one of them.” The set-up and contents of the cages bore only a passing resemblance to the game, but would still be worth a look.
Larenia let out a bray of disbelieving laughter. “Oh, come on! Some random cook squirrelling a few Novice potions away is one thing, but a spell tome? Seriously?”
“Well,” Hadvar said, looking thoughtful, “it’s not completely impossible. Mages don’t grow on trees; there’s only 3… 2 inquisitors in all of Skyrim. With what the Empire would be paying him, it’s possible that Master Sergius had a stash of valuables.
“Besides,” Hadvar added, nodding towards Simon, “he hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Larenia shrugged and crouched down to touch the dead Illusion mage. A few seconds later she stood with a chunky, metal key in her hand. Two swirling lines were engraved into it. Similar engravings were also present on the locks themselves.
“What’s with the decorations?” Simon asked.
“It’s Locksmithing,” the elf answered as she opened the first cage and kicked aside the rags that hid the stone floor to which the cages were bolted. “It makes stuff harder to open or break into. Or out of.”
“How does that work?”
“Do you want the long answer or the short answer?” Larenia asked, checking the second cage and finding it empty as well.
“Definitely the long answer,” Simon said, “but I’m guessing that we don’t have time. What’s the short answer?”
“Magic,” Larenia replied, smirking at him as she brushed aside the third cage’s rags to reveal a wooden trap door. It had a palm sized lock engraved with dozens of swirling lines.
The elf sighed and walked back to the corpse of the inquisitor, crouching with her hand on its chest.
“What’s she doing?” Simon asked.
“If you’re good enough at Pocketry, you can make a sort of… fold in your Pocket. It lets you hide stuff from thieves and spies and the like. Sergius was obviously quite paranoid. Though, if he really had a spell tome, it’s understandable.”
“They’re that valuable?”
Hadvar nodded. “I don’t really know the details to be honest. But it takes a high level in a bunch of different Mage Skills to make one. Outside of places like the College of Winterhold, they’re extremely rare.”
“Fair enough,” Simon said. He looked back over at the trapdoor. “You know, I’ve seen you cut a guy clean in half, can’t you just… stab it?”
“It wouldn’t do anything.”
“Really? It’s made of wood.”
Hadvar glanced over at Larenia, who was still crouched over Sergius’ body. He shrugged and reversed his grip on his sword. The nord walked over to the trapdoor and drove his blade down at it fast enough that his arm was just a blur.
As metal met wood, a small cloud of pale green mist burst out from the point of contact with a quiet puff. It faded over the next few seconds to reveal the tip of Hadvar’s sword resting on the completely unharmed trapdoor.
“Wow…” Simon said. “I see your point.”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Larenia said as she stepped around him with an elaborately engraved key in her hand, “you’re amazed the sky is blue.”
Hadvar moved out of the way as she crouched down to open the trapdoor. When she turned the key, the same mist from before filled the engravings on both the lock and the key. There was a click and the mist vanished as Larenia swung the hatch up.
“Gods,” Larenia whispered as she reached into the hidden space and lifted an inch thick book, bound between two heavy metal sheets. On the front, in an almost Latin script which Simon’s blessing translated, were the words Master Tome of Lightning.
She opened the book to a page near the back and the swirling pattern of runes drawn there glowed with pale blue light. Above the paper, the light swirled into the image of a vast thunderstorm with dozens of lightning bolts linking the roiling clouds above to the ground beneath.
The image of a storm hung in the air. It seemed to draw Simon’s attention in. As he took in the folds of the clouds and the jagged, burning lines of the lightning he felt a pressure forming behind his eyes. It writhed and burned and throbbed like an echo of the worst headache imaginable. Just before it crossed the threshold into actual pain, Larenia snapped the book closed.
“What was that?” Simon asked as he scrunched his eyes closed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Annoyingly, his protection from pain didn’t appear to extend to extreme discomfort.
“A third plane spellform,” Larenia answered, staring at the book with amazement. “It really is a Master spell tome.”
“What does that…”
“Questions later,” Hadvar interrupted, “Store the book, we need to keep moving.”
Larenia nodded, putting the book into her Pocket.
They got back into formation and Hadvar led them into the next section of tunnel.