Chapter Two: Stros M’Kai (Part One)

As I made my way through the lower deck of the ship, an Argonian sailor caught my attention.
“The withered stalk flowers again.” She greeted me, and I wondered if I had drowned before being found in the ocean yet had somehow begun breathing again once retrieved. “It is good to see you, alive and well.”
“How did I get here?” I asked her.
“We found you floating in the water.” She replied. “I’d seen corpses with more life in them, but Captain Kaleen dove in and fished you out anyway.”
“So she rescued me herself…. Who is she?” I queried.
“The captain of this vessel.” I was informed. “She’s currently ashore, recruiting for our latest contract. You might want to pay your respects, seeing as she saved your life.”
“I’ll go do that.” I agreed. “Where am I, exactly?”
“You’re on the Spearhead, Captain Kaleen’s ship.” Not quite the information I was seeking, but I supposed it made no difference at this point which port we were docked in when I had no memory of Tamriel’s geography.
“Who are you?” I asked instead.
“I am one of Captain Kaleen’s few remaining loyal crewmembers.” She stated proudly, but again not giving me the answer I had intended to request. “The rest…. well, the less said of those bloody-minded mutineers, the better.” That might explain why the captain was ashore recruiting, I mused, and bidding the Argonian farewell, I made my way on deck.
How do you describe the sun, Magnus‘s blazing tear in the fabric between Mundus and Aetherius, to someone who has experienced only darkness, and the far dimmer fires of torches or blue burning souls? There had also been Akatosh’s blinding light, but it had not emitted any heat. I assumed I must have seen sunlight before, somewhere in my lost past, as I could recall the lore once given the cue, recognised the slightly darker skin on my arms and hands as being tanned from time spent under its rays. But as I stood there, eyes closed against the sudden glare to absorb its welcome warmth, I had nothing to compare the feeling to.
Eventually I became aware of sounds around me, picking out the creaking of the ship, screaming gulls, the bustle of a port city full of sailors on shore leave. I opened my eyes to take in a rocky harbour and sandy bay dotted with palms, arched walls and minarets gleaming golden in the sun’s light. Making my way down the boarding ramp, I followed the wooden boardwalk, scanning the people I passed for any sign of recognition as I passed them.
“I’m sick of this island, Kaleen.” I heard a woman saying and turned to follow the voice to its source. “I should be in Betnikh, visiting my people.” She continued. Approaching, I saw the speaker to be an Orc, standing with her arms crossed in front of a Redguard woman who sat on a settee beneath an awning, cradling a tankard.
“Think, Lambur!” She replied sarcastically, “How will we get there without a crew?”
As I drew closer, I saw her take a long draught from her drink. This was her idea of recruiting? Sitting around drinking under an awning on the docks, while bickering with one of her crew?
“Look at that Lambur!” She exclaimed, noticing my approach. “Our half-drowned friend is up and about.”
I glanced at Lambur, but she merely pointed me back to Kaleen. “Speak to the Captain.” She instructed me. “She’s the one who likes to talk.” I returned my attention to the Redguard on the settee, amused.
“We weren’t sure you’d make it.” Kaleen congratulated me.
“You saved me?” I asked her in reply.
“Really, I just fished you out of the water.” She demurred. “Master Kasan got you breathing again. The important thing is you’re alive.” So, I did drown, I thought wryly. Glad no-one noticed my lack of a pulse. “But if you’re feeling grateful…. I could use some help.” The captain finished.
“Help with what?” I asked curiously.
“A job.” Was the brief response, before she continued. “Anyone who helps is going to get rich. Right now I need a fresh face, someone this island’s butcher-in-charge, Headman Bhosek, doesn’t know and won’t stop. Basically, you recruit the folks I need, you get a cut of the take. Interested?”
“Alright.” I agreed, wondering if this was what the Prophet had had in mind, but feeling an obligation to assist her regardless. “I’ll help you.” Someone needs to, since you don’t seem inclined to do it yourself.
“The three folks I need are Crafty Lerisa, Jakarn and Neramo.” Kaleen listed. “Any or all of them would do.”
“I’d like to hear more about Neramo.” I asked, wondering where to start.
“Neramo’s nice enough for an Altmer, if you get past his Dwemer fixation.” She began. “Thing is, the relics he finds in Dwemer ruins sometimes come in very handy. He just might have a device we can use for our heist.”
“Tell me more about Crafty Lerissa.” Her name was intriguing, at least.
“She’s an old friend.” Kaleen explained. “Captain of the Maiden’s breath. She’s also a master of disguise. We can use that. The Sea Drakes used their lighthouse tricks to run her ship aground near Saintsport. Rescue her, and she might join us.”
“What about Jakarn?” I asked last.
“He’s a thief, but he’s the best there is. He’d be a big help in the heist I have planned. Problem is, he robbed Bhosek. Nobody robs Bhosek. He’s been tossed into the grave, under Bhosek’s palace.”
“I’ll look for Jakarn.” I promised. And the others. “How do I get to him?”
“There’s an entrance off the river, under the palace. Watch out for traps and the other prisoners. They’re all murderers down there, the worst scum on the island.” She cautioned me. “That’s the Grave. You can leave any time you want, if you can get out alive.”
“Who runs Stros M’Kai?” I asked, surprised the name came to mind. Had I overheard it? Or had some other place Kaleen mentioned jostled those hidden memories of mine?
“Bloody Bhosek, or Headman Bhosek, as he calls himself now.” Kaleen waived her tankard in emphasis. “Killed the old ruler and took his place.”
“Doesn’t anyone stand up to him?” It didn’t sound as if he was beloved by the people here.
“Captain Helane, but she’s worse than Bhosek.” No potential ally there, more’s the pity. “Her Sea Drakes run Saintsport south of here. Biggest band of murderers on the seas. Bhosek and Helane tolerate each other. Neither’s ready for a war, yet.”
“Where’s the rest of your crew?” Best to get this over with now, rather than later. I decided.
“Deserted, the traitors.” She grimaced. “See, there’s a fortune to be made from Breton galleons. Thing is, King Fahara’jad called for an end to it, now that we’re all part of the Daggerfall Covenant. Of course, as a loyal Redguard, I obeyed.” And your crew didn’t have enough faith in you to stay.
“Who is King Fahara’jad?” I could guess but thought it prudent to confirm as much as I could, when given the chance to rebuild my knowledge.
“Ruler of the Redguard people, now king among equals in the Daggerfall Covenant. King Fahara’jad would have us raid the ships of our enemies, not our allies. There is wisdom in that.”
“Did your crew disagree?” Not hard to see where this is leading, I thought, given what her Argonian crewmember told me.
“If by ‘disagreed’ you mean ‘tried to kill us’ then yes.” She snarled. “Bunch of bloody mutineers. Lambur, myself, and a few others ran them off the ship, but word spread. No one here wants to sail with a captain who won’t raid Bretons.” That can’t be the only reason, I thought, I wonder what else they’re saying?
“Where can I get a drink around here?” I asked, ignoring the bottle beside Kaleen. It was probably empty by now, or close to it, given how free she was being with information.
“The Screaming Mermaid’s just up the road, and they’ve always got good rum.” She recommended. “Just keep a grip on your coin purse, or you’ll be a beggar by day’s end.”
“Anyone I should watch out for?” I checked.
“Bhosek’s thugs, the Bloody Fists.” Yep, bet that bottle’s empty by now, and her tankard, too. I hadn’t noticed her drink from it since my arrival, or spill a drop, despite waving it around as she spoke. “Cross one, you cross them all, and Bhosek will have your head on a pike faster than you can say, ‘Please don’t put my head on a pike!’ Also, the Sea Drakes will gut you if you enter Saintsport.”
Taking my leave, I decided Lambur was right, Kaleen really did love to talk. And drink, apparently. If this is how she solves her problems, I decided, confused, it’s a wonder she made captain at all!
I headed for the Grave first. Partly because it was closer than Saintsport, but also because I wasn’t sure where to find Neramo yet. Should have asked that! I scolded myself as I used the palace as a landmark, veering towards it at the next intersection.
Sand spilled over the pavers of the road, almost obscuring them, and I could hear the calls of vendors at a market nearby. The quick swim to the entrance of the Grave was refreshing, but I was surprised when I reached the doors to find an Altmer girl holding a torch waiting outside them. I must have glanced at her too long, as she took it as an invitation to unload her woes on me.
“My poor Jakarn!” She cried, and I was careful not to react to the name. “I don’t want to think about what they’re doing to him down there. He’s a Prince! He doesn’t belong in the Grave.”
“You said Jakarn is a Prince?” I asked, not sure I’d heard her correctly.
“Yes, from Westtry.” She confirmed, stars in her eyes, and I struggled to suppress a snort of laughter. “How I long to travel there with him. He described it as bright, beautiful, and full of life.”
“Why do they call it the Grave?” I asked the distressed Elf. For all her talking, Kaleen had given me more words than useful information.
“It’s beneath the palace and anyone thrown in dies there.” She replied, as though stating the obvious to a simpleton. “Jakarn said the guards are brutal and the other prisoners are worse.” Sounds like he might have expected to end up in there?
“Can’t he escape?” Surely any decent thief would have back up plans if he’d done enough research about the place to mention the dangers to his…. Mistress? Or mark?
“Traps, guards, and other prisoners prevent that.” She protested. “Jakarn said there are rows and rows of traps. And everyone down there, except for Jakarn, is a vicious murderer. No one’s ever gotten out. My poor Jakarn!” She wailed.
“Aren’t you worried about ruining your dress?” Okay, maybe that’s a bit harsh, I decided at her expression of outrage.
“What kind of a question is that?” She demanded. “My true love has been cast into a dark pit to die. If I thought I could get past the traps, I would go in after him. I can always buy another dress.”
Raising my hands and shrugging in what I hoped was a conciliatory gesture, I backed away towards the door. When the High Elf didn’t scold me further, I turned and let myself through, wondering why she hadn’t asked for my help. Probably too possessive of her precious ‘Prince’, I decided, she might prefer he stays in this pit rather than be rescued by another woman? Still, she showed some gumption when I teased her, so maybe she just didn’t think I’d agree?
I stopped thinking about it to concentrate on my surroundings. Ahead, mechanical spike traps thrust upwards before retracting, and beyond that, flames blocked and archway, each controlled by some sort of timing device. Counting silently to myself as each reset, I quickly made my way past them.
Here I had the option of dropping through a hole in the floor to the level below or taking a path through more of the same traps. I opted for the known danger over chancing the drop and made my way along the passage and down a flight of stairs, picking off the occasional guard who decided to attack me. Passing beneath the opening in the floor above, I rounded the corner to find a Breton man in a cell, staring at me through the bars of his locked door with the shrewd expression of a practised grifter. So much for being able to leave any time, I scoffed, or did he lock himself in for safety? Deciding not to take anything he said at face value, I approached his cell.
“Hey.” He said, his expression morphing into one of helpless entreaty. “You’re not a guard. You have to help me!”
“Captain Kaleen sent me.” I replied, deciding to make it clear I was here to release him. “She needs your help with a heist.” There, that should show him I know what he is.
“Well, that’s perfect!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands wide. “Get me out of here and I’m at your service. You’ll find me a man of many talents.” Innuendo dripped from the last few words, and I almost rolled my eyes. Nope, I thought. Not in your wildest dreams. “If I found a handsome guy locked in a cell, I’d free him.” He continued suggestively.
“Did you really steal a gem from Headman Bhosek?” I asked, keeping my distance.
“Is that really important right now?” He dismissed my question, but must have seen the distrust in my eyes, as he straightened and assumed a more direct expression. “Sure, I took the gem, but he took it from some poor merchant. Tossed him in here to die. Can’t steal from a thief, can you?”
I think I’ll remind you of those words, someday. I decided. “All right. I’ll get you out.” I agreed, unlocking his cell door.
“I owe you for this.” Jakarn said as he strolled through the door. “Thanks. Now, let’s get out of here!”
I followed him back the way I had come, until he abruptly threw a smoke bomb and vanished from sight. “You first.” His voice floated back to me. Coward. I thought, disgustedly, and made my way back up through the traps towards the entrance I had used. I can’t wait to see your expression when you’re greeted by your adoring ‘true love’ outside. And I really don’t want to know where you were keeping that smoke bomb….
Sure enough, when I reached the door, Jakarn was standing just inside, a look of unease in his eyes.
“We can’t go that way.” He whispered urgently.
“Why not?” I asked innocently, careful to hide my amusement.
“Irien’s out there.” My glee must have shown at these words because he straightened slightly, and when he continued, his voice had returned to its regular baritone. “Oh, and guards. I saw many, many guards. Look. Let’s slip out a side exit. That way, we can both keep our heads.”
I doubted there were guards waiting outside, and furthermore, that even if there were, I would be in any trouble, but Kaleen was expecting me to return with this idiot, so it was probably best to humour him a little longer.
With a nod, I gestured for Jakarn to precede me, and followed him to a storeroom off to one side before the first trap, where a ladder was positioned beneath a hatch in the ceiling. Wondering whether it was worse to give him a head start, and a chance to run off, or a view of my backside, I decided I was better equipped to deal with any unwanted advances than a thief with a vanishing trick, and lead the way up the ladder.
“Thanks for breaking me out back there.” Jakarn said once the hatch was closed behind us. “Listen, while you’re in a heroic mood, want to help me get something I left with the goblins?”
“You gave something to the Goblins?” I repeated, incredulous. Kaleen, do we really need this guy?
“I figure, if you want something kept safe, give it to the Goblins.” Jakarn insisted. “They’ll watch it for free, they’re too stupid to trade it, and they’ll kill anyone who tries to take it.”
“Won’t they kill you if you try to take it?” I pointed out the flaw in his logic.
“Here’s the thing.” The con artist decided to level with me. “You went through a lot of trouble to free me, right? There’s no way you’ll let me get eaten by Goblins. So you, my good friend, will follow me to their mine. Yeah?”
You manipulative ***. He was right, and he knew it. And what was worse, he could probably see the realisation in my eyes, too. If Kaleen didn’t want you for her heist, I would kill you right now. I made sure he could see that, and had the satisfaction of watching him swallow, slightly less sure of himself, while I fought the impulse to turn and stalk off. Taking my continued silence as agreement, Jakarn nodded and stepped back.
“This way.” He indicated, and I followed as he crossed the bridge, heading north. When the road on the other side began to curve west, he pulled his disappearing act again. “I’ll meet you at the door.” His voice drifted back to me, and I slowed to a halt. I would help him, but I didn’t have to scurry after him like Irien would have. Let him wait a little, while I looked for Lerisa first, and with any luck, Neramo too.
Glancing around, I was surprised to see a body down the bank, almost at the edge of the water. Approaching slowly, I found a woman, clearly dead, probably killed by wild animals if the marks on her body were any indication. Rolling her over to check, I spied a folded piece of paper tucked under her belt. Although stained with dried blood, I could still make out the writing as I examined it: Intrigued, I pocketed the note and the strange metal gear which had been under the body and returned to the road. Not five paces further I found an injured Nord man sitting beneath a torch, muttering to himself.
“Damn murdering Goblins!” He groaned, and I made my way over to him. “Goblins. They’re going to kill us all!” He told me as I approached.
“What happened?” I asked, kneeling to get a better look at him.
“They killed everyone – my brothers and our five guards.” He recounted, his expression haunted. “They speared me good, left me for dead. I crawled here after they left. Their new king’s got them all riled up, ready to attack Port Hunding and wipe out the town!”
“What can I do about it?” I offered, taking pity on him.
“Kill their king!” He entreated me. “They won’t attack the town without him to lead them. Bring me his crown so I know the ***’s dead. I’ll try to make it to town, unless the Goblins kill me first.”
“I’ll do it.” I vowed. Jakarn owes you a favour, my friend. I thought as I stood. You’ve just saved him a bit of a wait.
“I just need to gather my strength and hobble back to town.” The injured Nord insisted. “Get that Goblin king and bring me his crown, if you can!”
“How’d you run into the Goblins?” I wondered aloud.
“We actually went looking for them, if you can believe that.” He admitted ruefully. “We’d heard they had a new king and that he was stirring up trouble. We figured we could handle them, but there were too many for us.”
“Why don’t we just warn the town?” I asked.
“No good.” He shook his head. “Bhosek’ll never believe it. He’s a suspicious *** and will think we’re trying to trick him somehow. He’d have our heads on pikes. I’m too fond of my head to risk it.”
And for all I know, mine will reanimate and then I’ll be in real trouble! I shuddered at the thought.
“What’ll you do if I go after the king?” I checked again, concerned by his pallor.
“I’ll try to make it to town. I’m too injured to be any good to you, and if the Goblins catch me out here, I’m dead.” He repeated, resignedly. Bidding him farewell, I continued up the road towards the mine, any hopes of delaying my reunion with Jakarn dashed by the urgency of the situation.
There were several Goblins patrolling the road, and others camped in the ruins overlooking it, but they were no trouble to pick off one by one. Moving from sentry to sentry, I eliminated each until I found myself at a fence of sharpened stakes, protecting a tent of domed hide, an animal skull affixed to the front. The bodies of several Nords and Redguards were strewn about the enclosure, and I surmised they were the rest of the party who had been slain.
Seeing my approach, a Goblin wielding a Lightning Staff came rushing out to confront me, but his attacks were slower than my arrows, and I was able to evade them while maintaining a steady rate of fire. Moving in closer as he desperately charged up a heavier strike, I staggered him with a forearm bash followed by a kick to his head before finishing him with a dagger. A quick search turned up his crown, and a pouch of coins to add to my meagre supply, and I made my way back towards the mine entrance.
I had spotted Jakarn there on my way past earlier, but pretended not to see him as I eliminated the sentries. Strolling up to him now, I was pleased to see the thief fidgeting with impatience.
“I unlocked the door.” He informed me. “Now we can retrieve my gem. I’ll see you inside.”
“What does the gem look like?” I asked, delaying him just a little longer.
“It’s as pretty as a thing can be.” Jakarn reminisced, rubbing his hands together in avarice. “And as big as my two fists.”
I smirked a little at that. Looks like I’ve discovered your one true love, Jakarn. You shouldn’t have let me see that. Opening the door, I entered the mine ahead of him.
“They store everything on the upper level.” He whispered, staying well back as I engaged the Goblin ahead. Not much for fighting, are you? I added this to his list of failings.
But again, the Goblins were spaced out well enough that I could pick them off one at a time, and we made steady progress through the mine. That didn’t stop Jakarn from nipping ahead while invisible so that he could mock me, though.
“Try to keep up!” His disembodied voice called back to me as I fought another goblin. Gritting my teeth as I finished it off, I ran up the tunnel to a door leading onto a wooden walkway wrapping along the cliff-face. How about you try to kill something? I griped to myself, taking out a goblin he had slipped past.
Rounding the bend towards the upper level of the mine, I levelled my bow at the next goblin just as Jakarn popped back into existence behind another, further back.
“Hope you’re not keeping score!” He called to me as he slit its throat, and I was tempted, oh, so tempted, to alter my aim just a fraction.
But at least he had made himself useful, if only briefly before disappearing yet again. I fought my way through the tunnel to where he waited next to another door.
“This is the part where I trust you.” He smirked at me.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, instantly suspicious.
“I’ll kill the Goblins in the scaffolding in the next room.” He offered, and I made a mental note to control my expressions better in the future. Never give a grifter any insights. “You grab the gem.” He continued. “It’s in a chest on the floor. There’s a passage on the far side. Take that and meet me outside. If something goes wrong, regroup at the inn in town.”
So this is how you figure out whether you can still turn me into a mark or not, I realised, but you know I need to bring you back to Kaleen, so you’re pretty sure I’ll play along for now.
Nodding my agreement, I eased my way through the door, making my way around the edge of the cavern in a crouch, to the opposite wall where a campfire illuminated a chest, and several racks of meat…. Swallowing my sudden nausea, eyes fixed on what I was sure were human remains, I almost didn’t see the Durzog in time. Thrusting a dagger sideways into the gaping forest of fangs to keep it from biting me, I stabbed deep into its neck with my other, again and again until it fell limp.
Looking ahead, and scanning my surroundings with better attention, I could see one Goblin next to the chest, but nothing else in my path. Firing a few arrows as I approached, I switched to my daggers again as I spun past him, stabbing down into his chest from behind, and finishing him off with a slice across the back of his neck.
I knelt before the chest and opened it. Sure enough, there was Jakarn’s gem, bright red and expertly faceted, if a little smaller than he’d claimed. I stuffed it into a pocket and paused a moment, listening to the grunts and clashes of weapons above, before shrugging to myself and making my way towards the exit tunnel. Spotting the Durzog pacing before it with plenty of space to spare, I dropped it with a few arrows, and made my way outside.
I was on a sandy ledge, high above what looked to be safely deep water, so with a wide grin on my face, I took a running leap into the open air before plunging into its refreshing depths. Surfacing, I began swimming for the closest sandy shore among the stacked rocky outcrops, rather surprised to see an Orc waiting near the water’s edge.
“Over here,” she called to me as I swam closer, “I have a question for you.”
Wondering who she was, and what she wanted, I took my time wading out of the shallows and onto dry land, water streaming off me as I approached her.
“What were you doing in the mine?” She demanded once I stopped a blade’s reach away. “And did you see a scummy Breton up there?” Bristling slightly at the oblivious insult to my race, I decided to play dumb for now. Although “scummy” does sum Jakarn up pretty well…..
“What’s his name?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“Jakarn.” She spat angrily, crossing her arms. “He stole a gem from Headman Bhosek. Now, if the gem came back, Bhosek might let him live. Can you help me, or not?”
Oh, this was tempting. So, so tempting. But would Jakarn believe me if I told him I’d had no choice but to hand over his precious gem, to save his life? Probably not worth the trouble. I decided. Besides, I don’t want word getting around that I’m associated with him, any more than I want a reputation for being unreliable to work with….
“Sorry.” I lied, relaxing my posture slightly while maintaining eye contact. “Haven’t seen him.”
“Now that’s just too bad.” She growled in frustration. “If you do run into him again, tell him that if we catch him, he’s dead.” As she spoke, she drew a thumb across her own throat in an unmistakeable gesture, and I chuckled internally. That’s a big ‘if’, given how slippery he is.
Suspecting that by this point, Jakarn was probably watching us from the ledge above, I nodded to her and moved on up the path, hoping to get my bearing on higher ground. A dull gleam through the sparse grass caught my eye, and I climbed the slope to find another of the Dwemer cogs lying on the sand. And in the distance, almost straight ahead, was Bhosek’s palace. Smiling again, I broke into a jog and made my way into town.
I found the wounded Nord standing by the well in the Screaming Mermaid Inn’s courtyard.
“Did you do it?” He asked me as I slowed to a walk, then a halt next to him. “Did you kill the Goblin king?” He still looked terribly pale, but that could have just been his natural Nordic complexion.
“Yes. Here’s the crown.” I presented it to him.
“By Kyne, you did it!” He exclaimed, taking it from me. “I’ve been expecting them to attack the town any minute. Bhosek tossed me out when I tried to warn him, said he’d have my head if I didn’t shut up. He’ll never know you saved his town for him.”
If I had my way, Bhosek would never even know I existed, but this man didn’t need to know that.
“If it’s not Goblins, it’ll be something else tomorrow. I swear this town is cursed.” He confided as he passed me a pouch of gold.
“Why aren’t you in the tavern?” I asked, slipping the pouch into a pocket.
“They kicked me out.” He admitted. “They heard Bhosek threatened me and they don’t want to risk his Fists storming in to arrest me.” One more reason to dislike Bhosek, as if I need any more.
Bidding him farewell and sparing a hope that he might survive this place long enough to escape it, I left him and crossed the courtyard to the Screaming Mermaid’s front door.
Before I could reach the steps, a familiar Altmer lady burst out the door and stomped down towards me in a fury. “That ***!” Irien fumed, and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Looks like she’s finally had Jakarn’s lies exposed.
“If you’re looking for that *** Jakarn,” She fumed, crossing her arms and stamping one foot as she spoke, “he’s at the tavern with a Redguard girl.”
“What happened?” I asked her, not entirely unsympathetic. She may have been fooled by his act, but she did have backbone, and I found myself respecting her more than I had initially.
“I overheard him telling a Redguard girl that he’d whisk her off to Sentinel.” Irien explained, angrily, and my respect for her increased as she continued without any hint of tears. “That he was a ship captain. She swooned like a fool. Like I did. I’d tell the Headman where he’s hiding if I didn’t hate the Headman more. I need off this island.”
Offering her my commiserations, I made my way up the steps and inside to see Jakarn leaning against the far wall, watching the door as the promised Redguard girl vied with a Bosmer and a blond Nord man for his attention. Firming my stride and glaring as I made my way over, I made it clear by my expression that I wasn’t here for social reasons.
My progress was impeded when Jakarn’s fan club began singing his praises to me, and I gave serious consideration to flinging the gem at his head and fleeing, in case their delusions were contagious.
"Jakarn's gorgeous.” The Redguard girl started. “He could rob me any time."
"I don't really believe he's a captain.” The Bosmer admitted in a whisper. “He looks so good I don't care."
"I don't believe a word Jakarn says, but there's just something about him.” The blond Nord confided in me. “He's fascinating."
“Hey there, glad to see you made it out.” The thief himself addressed me, flipping a coin in the air and affecting a casual disinterest. Nope, I thought, playing hard to get is not going to work on me, buddy, and neither is anything these poor sots have to say about you.
“Here’s the gem you stole.” I announced, not making any effort to lower my voice or hide his prize as I handed it over.
“Hey, now. The headman stole it first.” He tried to rationalise. “And you brought it back to me, didn’t you? Thanks, good-looking.”
I rolled my eyes at his blatant flirting, making my disinterest clear. So, you were watching. Wonder if you only had me tag along because you knew she’d be there and needed a distraction to make your exit? “You owe me for freeing you, and Captain Kaleen needs your help.” I reminded him instead.
“Seeing as it’s you asking, sure.” He tried again, and I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “If she’s planning a job, I’m in. All I ask is a trip off this rock after it’s over.”
Knowing Kaleen’s lack of crew, I was sure that could be arranged. Jakarn would probably be happy to haul ropes rather than risk Bhosek finding him, especially as he’d probably be the number one suspect once we pulled off whatever heist the captain had planned. And I wasn’t about to refuse the blade and pouch of coins he offered me, either. Payment was payment, and I had more than earned it.
“You! Hey, you there!” A breathless voice behind me called out, and I turned to see a Breton girl approaching. About to step aside so she could accost Jakarn unimpeded, I realised she was looking at me, not him, her expression friendly instead of outraged. “Need any help?” She asked me brightly. I couldn’t help but smile back, her friendliness was so infectious. “Ha! I didn’t think I’d ever find you.” She exclaimed, catching her breath. “You move around.”
“Can I help you?” I asked, bemused.
“I’m Nicolene!” She introduced herself, earning another mark in my good graces. So few people actually tell me their names! “I work for Captain Kaleen. She sent me to find you, see if you’d had any luck recruiting for our heist. Looks like you’re already making new friends.”
I was torn between laughter and a furious denial at this. “You could say that.” I spluttered. But I definitely wouldn’t.
“Then listen,” she whispered, leaning closer, “just so you know. We’re set up in a hideout near the docks. Come find us when you finish recruiting. Look for Lambur outside the door.”
“I’ll find you when I’m ready to leave.” I agreed.
“There’s three folks Captain Kaleen wants to help with her heist – Crafty Lerisa, Jakarn, and Neramo.” Nicolene reminded me. “She told me about ‘em. Who do you want to know about?”
“Tell me about Neramo.” I chose, hoping she could direct me where to find him. I already knew to look for Lerisa in Saintsport, and I didn’t feel I needed to ask about Jakarn when I'd already gained his support, not to mention he was well within earshot.
“He’s a brilliant Dwemer sage.” She enthused, before correcting herself. “Not that he is a Dwemer himself, but he studies them. He’s out at Bthzark, digging in the ruins there.”
Thanking her, I scanned the main floor of the Inn, checking for anyone taking too much interest in our conversation. Or worse, yet, attempting to hide their interest. The only patron who stood out to me was a robed and hooded Breton, crossing his arms and shuffling side to side with indecision, but he looked desperate and uncertain, not shifty, and I made my way over to him, curious.
With a sigh of visible relief, he inclined his head to me. “I bring an urgent message from Rhea Opacarius,” he announced formally, “chief oracle of the Twilight Queen, Azura.” Daedric cultist. I realised with a start, but Azura was…. I couldn’t quite remember, but for some reason I wasn’t inclined to reject his message.
“What does this oracle of Azura want?” I asked cautiously instead.
“Best to discuss that with Rhea.” He replied, scanning the room. “Too many eyes and ears here. She awaits you in the Cloudy Dregs Inn in Wayrest.”
“Fair enough.” I accepted, privately wondering if any Inn would be completely free of eavesdroppers. “I’ll meet Rhea in Wayrest.” But I hope she’s not in any great hurry, I don’t feel like it’s nearby.
Bidding the young cultist farewell, I left the Screaming Mermaid and made my way east out of town.
I need to find a horse, soon. I resolved, mentally tallying my gold. Once I can afford one, anyway.

Chapter Two: Stros M'Kai (Part Three)

Lambur was standing outside a building at the far end of the docks. With her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, she was a living, breathing, ‘Do Not Enter’ sign, but she greeted me as I approached with what probably passed as friendliness for her.
“Good to see you back in one piece.” She nodded as I made my way to the steps leading up to the door but stopped me before I could pass her. “Hey! The captain’s looking for you.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, wondering how long my little treasure-hunting excursion might have kept everyone waiting.
“Thanks to your work, we can go ahead with the heist.” She began, and I relaxed. “We’ve even got a few extra sailors clamouring to join our crew. You should talk to the captain upstairs.”
Inside I found Nicolene first. With her arms braced as support behind her, she was reclining on the floor next to a backpack.
“You’re back!” She exclaimed, as bubbly as ever. “Found anyone else to help us with this heist?”
“We’re moving along.” I announced, not sure if she had been expecting me to pull a few strangers off the streets as extra hands or not.
“Ha!” She replied confidently, throwing me a jingling pouch. “I knew you’d get it done! Who needs the old crew – those traitors! – when we’ve got you helping us?”
Smiling my thanks as I tucked the gold away, I headed upstairs to find Kaleen, Neramo, Lerisa and Jakarn.
“We’ve got a crew to rival the legends!” Kaleen saluted me with her tankard as I drew near. “Time to make some money, don’t you think?”
“I agree. What now?” I asked, coming to a halt in front of her.
“Now we’re ready for the real challenge – the heist.” She announced. “The target’s Bhosek. That slimy ***’s finally gonna get what’s coming to him. We’re going to steal his sailing logs.”
“His sailing logs? Really?” I repeated, wondering if I’d misheard. Was she slurring? Had she been drinking this whole time? Or was the tankard just a prop to distract people?
“His sailing logs are the key to our fortune, friend. They’re the records of every ship that’s docked here, every stolen cargo they’ve unloaded, and every illicit payment made to Bhosek.”
“How does that make us rich?” I asked, wondering what her next steps would be. Because there had to be more to this.
“Those records are worth a fortune to King Fahara’jad.” Kaleen revealed. “They’re written proof that Bhosek has violated the King’s order to stop raiding Breton shipping. With those papers in hand, the King can threaten to destroy Bhosek if he doesn’t stop.”
Or use them as cause to replace him with someone better able to lead this island…. I mused, but instead asked “The king’s agreed to pay you for them?” I wanted to be sure there was actually going to be some form of payment at the end of all this.
“Absolutely.” She assured me. “His envoy is on the dock now, waiting. As soon as we turn over the sailing logs, he gives us a fortune in gold. The trick will be getting into Bhosek’s palace, stealing the logs, and getting out with them. That’s your job.”
Wait, what? Then why did I have to go looking for everyone else first? I wondered, But I suppose Bhosek is already familiar with Jakarn, and probably knows of Lerisa’s reputation, so he’s unlikely to leave them unsupervised…. And this really isn’t in Neramo’s skillset. They’re probably needed as consultants more than anything else.
“How do I do it?” I asked, resigned to my continued role in this.
“First, you need a servant’s disguise to get into the palace.” She listed. “The papers are in a lockbox on the top floor. Bhosek has the only key. Slip this powder into his drink, then grab the key.”
“And then?” It couldn’t be that easy, surely.
“The lockbox is always guarded.” She warned me. “The guard’s not bright, but he’ll raise the alarm if anyone tries to open the box. Deal with him quietly – no stabbing. Lambur and I will have the ship ready to sail when you return with the papers.”
“I’ll be back soon.” I promised. I hope…. But let’s see what advise the others have to offer.
I turned to Neramo first, unsurprised to see him completely absorbed by whatever he was reading.
“Oh.” He exclaimed, startled at my interruption. “Yes, hello. This is fascinating. Did you know the Dwemer had devices to rapidly mince fruit?”
“Neramo, can you help me get to Bhosek’s lockbox?” I asked, deciding this would be the best area his expertise in strange contraptions could be applied.
“I can offer help with the guard, perhaps.” He pondered. “You wish to deal with him quietly, correct?”
“What’s your idea?” So, he was listening, after all…. Best to remember staring at a page can be a useful camouflage when eavesdropping in future!
“I removed this device from Clanker.”” He offered. “When pressed, it produces quite the incapacitating shock. If you would test it for me, preferably on a living subject, I would be grateful.”
“I’ll take it.” I said, accepting the device gingerly. “Thanks, Neramo.”
“Let me know if there are any lingering effects.” He added. “Twitching, mainly. I’m quite curious about the twitching.” And…. that’s not disturbing. Not at all. I decided, looking around to where Jakarn and Lerisa stood on Kaleen’s other side.
Jakarn was slouched against a crate, flipping that coin again as I walked closer, but upon seeing my approach perked up. “It’s a wonderful day for a sailing trip, isn’t it, friend?” Friend? That might be pushing it. But it’s better than him trying to flirt with me. “Especially if it gets me off this rock before Bhosek chops off my head.” He added in a more serious tone.
“Can you help me get to Bhosek’s lockbox?” I asked the thief. Just because he’d been caught, didn’t mean he wouldn’t have some useful information.
“Bhosek keeps the key around his neck.” He told me. “A cinch to steal. I’ll get the key off Bhosek. Meet me out back.” And have you beheaded as soon as someone recognises you? You’re not that annoying.
“No need.” I dissuaded him. “I’ll steal it myself.” His information on the key’s location was assistance enough, and I wasn’t about to risk my neck to rescue him again. Besides, once Bhosek is knocked out by this powder, even an amateur should be able to take the key off him.
"I like your confidence.” He replied. “Let's see what you can do."
Lastly I turned to Crafty Lerisa. It was her opinion on strategy I valued most, so I had wanted her to hear everyone else before I asked for her advice and assistance.
“Quite the motley crew, aren’t we?” She observed.
“What do you think of Captain Kaleen’s plan?” I asked her.
“She’s right. You’ll need a disguise to get anywhere near Bhosek.” And disguises were Lerisa’s speciality, I recalled. “Fortunately, you have me. Just say the word and I can have servant clothes waiting for you at the palace.”
“Thanks, Lerisa.” She hadn’t disappointed. “I’d love your help.”
“My pleasure.” She replied sincerely. “Meet me outside the palace. I’ll pick out something special for you.” Okay, that kinda sounded a bit alarming….
Giving my farewells to everyone else, I left the building, Lerisa fading from notice almost immediately, while I took a more relaxed, leisurely stroll towards the palace. Partly to give Lerisa time, but mostly to avoid drawing attention to myself.
I’m just a girl wondering what sort of horse to buy…. I thought to myself. Nothing to pay any attention to happening here. It was a brief walk to Bhosek’s palace, and I found it rather pleasant not to be in a hurry for once, taking in the views as I crossed the bridge separating it, alone on an island, from the rest of town. Lerisa was in servant garb, sweeping the courtyard below the steps to the main entrance.
“Well, look who came to pay a visit!” She remarked brightly as I drew near.
“Did you find a disguise for me?” I didn’t whisper, but spoke just softly enough, my back to anyone else nearby, that I should go unheard.
“Oh, yes.” She replied in a similar tone to mine. “Try these on. I’m sure they’ll fit you just right. In the meantime, I’ll just continue my sweep of the palace.” I grinned at her choice of words and moved off to a secluded corner to change clothes unseen before slipping into the palace. To my relief, the outfit was identical to the one Lerisa had been wearing.
Making my way towards the stairs, I scanned the room for Bhosek, but didn’t see him. Rather than conduct a search, I caught the attention of a woman sweeping his bedchamber.
“Onsi’s bones, what is it now?” She groaned, and I realised that anyone sounding this exhausted was probably given enough tasks to have a good idea of what was happening here.
“Have you seen Headman Bhosek?” I asked her timidly.
“Shouted at you too, did her?” She sympathised. “He just went outside to carouse with the latest slatterns from the mainland. Best hurry up and refill his drink. You don’t want him running out of drink.”
Perfect! I thought, instead dipping my head to her quickly, and scurrying off like the abused and frightened serving girl I was impersonating. I let myself out the back door, crossing the courtyard, and found Bhosek in the garden, reclining on a carpet strewn with cushions. ‘Keeping him company’ were two girls in Bosmer garb, an Altmer and an Orc.
"'Bout time, you lazy rat.” Bhosek growled in my direction, and I kept my face averted from him. “I'm near empty. Fill me up before I have you whipped!"
Scurrying over to where several bottles waited on a small table, I slipped Kaleen’s powder into a cup and filled it with wine, swirling the liquid as the powder dissolved, before placing it on a tray for Bhosek.
"Ladies, entertain yourselves. I'll be right back." The Headman ordered before taking a swig. A moment passed. Bhosek muttered, stumbled, and passed out, falling to the ground where he lay sprawled on his back on a carpet. Good enough.
"He's asleep?” The Orc girl exclaimed, surprised. “Already?"
"They don't usually nod off 'til after." The Altmer commented, confused.
I kept my back to them as I bent over Bhosek, slipping the key from his neck. And maybe taking a few trinkets from his pockets in the process.
"Did they just pick Bhosek's pockets?" The Altmer wondered aloud.
"I won't tell if you won't." The Orc stated, basking in the sun’s light as she lay on her back. "Oh, I could lounge out here forever. So nice."
Hurrying back inside with my prize, I made my way upstairs to find the lockbox and its guard. Ever-so-carefully removing Neramo’s device from my belt, I stopped a short distance from the guard, extended the device towards him, and pressed the button, while fervently hoping I had it pointed the right way. Thankfully a burst of lightning wrapped around him, and with a low cry he crumpled to the floor, where he lay unconscious but breathing. And twitching, I noted with amusement for Neramo’s sake. Focusing on the lockbox, I quickly opened it, stashed the contents under the back of my shirt, and made my escape.
Stopping only to change back into my own apparel, I secured the logs in a pocket, slipped Neramo’s device into my pack with renewed caution, and abandoned the servant’s garb in a nearby urn before strolling unhurriedly back to the docks.
Kaleen waited at the base of the Spearhead’s boarding ramp, two armoured guards and King Fahara’jad’s envoy beside her. Seeing me approach she stepped forward.
“My friend!” She greeted me. “Welcome back. Do you have some good news?”
“Here’s the shipping logs, Captain.” I replied with a smile, handing them over.
Checking them quickly as she turned to the envoy, Kaleen offered him the bundle of papers.
“Here you are, Tharwab.” She proclaimed. “The shipping logs that show Bhosek’s defiance of the King’s decrees.” With this she stepped aside and ascended the boarding ramp, waving me on to follow her. “Come on.” She encouraged me when I hesitated, wondering where this fortune in gold she had promised us was. “It’s time to go.” With a shrug I followed after her. “On your feet!” She called to the crew. “Man your stations, prepare to sail!” Then, taking the stairs up to the aft deck, Captain Kaleen took her place at the helm of the Spearhead.
“Home to Betnikh!” I heard Lambur rejoice. “I’ve missed my clan….”
Kaleen turned to me, and I looked at her, expectantly.
“Before we leave for Betnikh, talk to the crew.” She advised me. “Get familiar with them. It’ll be a long trip.” And what, you’ll dismiss anyone I can’t get along with? I wondered, but she held my gaze until I responded.
“All right, I’ll get to know the crew.” I agreed.
“If there’s one thing Master Kasan taught me, it’s that knowing your ship and crew keeps you alive. Seems like you’d make a fine captain, some day. But you’ll have to find your own ship!”
Checking who else was on the aft deck with us, I saw Lambur standing portside of the wheel, impatient to be under way. “Captain Kaleen took her time getting off this damned island.” She grumbled. “Doesn’t surprise me. Orc problems aren’t her problems. But we’d be stuck here if not for your help. I won’t forget that.” I smiled at her promise.
“What do you want?” Irien demanded when I turned to her next.
“You’re sailing with us?” I asked her, wondering why she’d subject herself to time trapped aboard with Jakarn, until I remembered how desperately she’d wanted to leave Stros M’Kai.
“Of course.” She replied vehemently. “I’ll pull my weight, unlike Jakarn. He’s not getting near another woman until I’m too old to stop him, and we Altmer live a very long time.” I almost laughed at her plan and turned to Jakarn with a raised eyebrow. He was only a few feet away, leaning against the aft mast.
“Stros M’Kai is a depressing place.” He drawled. “Too many Redguards waving their damn swords around. At least on the Spearhead, no one wants to kill me except Irien. She’ll come around. She’s crazy about me.” I left him to his delusions, and the Altmer glaring daggers at him.
Neramo had Clanker following him around the rear of the deck. “When active, Dwemer spiders have an extraordinary capacity for learning.” He informed me. “Now I have to stop Andrilion from teaching Clanker to bring him drinks.”
I found Andrilion nearby, moping. “Wonderful.” He complained. “Now I’ve been ordered to follow Neramo on another fool’s errand. At least the drinks are free.” Ordered by who? I wondered. Bhosek should be passed out still, did Neramo conscript you? It wouldn’t surprise me, but I decided not to ask.
On the main deck, the blond Nord from the Screaming Mermaid was stowing cargo. “I’m looking forward to seeing Jakarn in action.” He told me excitedly. “I hear he’s an incredible sailor. Lots of…. stamina.”
“What made you want to join us?” I asked him, hoping he had other reasons to be aboard.
“Following Jakarn, of course.” He replied, staring at me blankly. “Why else would I be along? I’m looking forward to working alongside him, sweating shirtless in the hot sun. You wouldn’t understand.” Well, he had that part right, at least, so with a shrug I left him to his work.
Standing gossiping next to a rack of casks were the two other members of Jakarn’s little fan club, and I made the mistake of meeting the Redguard’s gaze before I could avoid them.
“Blade’s edge, we’re setting sail with the famous Jakarn!” She celebrated. “Elethian and I have a bet on who’s going to bed him first.” Well, neither of you, if Irien has her way….
“I can’t wait to see Jakarn’s battle scars.” The rather tipsy sounding Bosmer chimed in. “I’m sure he’s got them everywhere.” I backed away in horror, making my escape through the rear cabin in the hopes of finding a way onto the for’castle.
“The Spearhead’s a good ship but she’s no Maiden’s Breath.” Mekag greeted me when I emerged. “At least she’ll get us away from Stros M’Kai. Looking forward to getting to know Lambur better. I like an Orc with a quick blade and a quicker tongue.” I silently wished him luck.
There was a Breton girl standing nearby I didn’t recognise. “This should be an interesting voyage.” She remarked to me. “Quite a crew Kaleen has thrown together!”
“Who are you?” I asked her, confused.
“Vimy Lacroix.” Was the quick reply. “I’m a collector of sorts, one who travels to places others dare not go. I hoped to join Neramo’s expedition to Bthzark. When I heard he had completed it and was sailing on, I just had to come along.”
“What do you do, exactly?” Her description had sounded suspiciously vague.
“You’re inquisitive.” She noted. “What I do, I do well. You’ll be glad to have me on this voyage if we encounter slavers. And I make a wicked sliced ale.” So…. thief, assassin, tomb-raider for hire?
Master Kasan was in the prow, meditating. “Again, sailors flock to the Spearhead.” He said after rising at my approach. “For this, Kasan is thankful.”
“What can you tell me about the captain?” I asked him, deciding he would give me better insights than the others would.
“Some call her the Duneripper’s Daughter. Others the Forebear Witch. We, her loyal crew, call her Captain Kaleen. She is a master sailor, though Kasan now wonders where her allegiance lies.”
“What do you mean?” I queried.
“There is a Forebear King in Sentinel now. Fahara’jad.” I nodded for the old Khajiit to continue. “He has allied himself with the Bretons and Orcs in this ‘Daggerfall Covenant’. Kasan fears his apprentice thinks much of Fahara’jad. Too much. A true sea-rover has no such loyalties.”
“Captain Kaleen is your apprentice?” This was…. not unexpected, now that I thought about it.
“Kasan taught Kaleen much, though she is her own woman, strong and proud. Kasan is grateful to help her find her way. She is a worthy successor. All that was once Kasan’s is now hers.”
This explained a bit. Kaleen was young for a captain and didn’t have Lerisa’s charisma or smarts to inspire a crew the way she did. There was an air of naivete to her in some ways, a lack of attention to detail, an aversion to getting her own hands dirty. She’d had me running around recruiting for her, then had her “crew” mainly act as consultants while I went in and did ‘her’ heist. And now that it was over, she still hadn’t paid me…. Master Kasan had given me a lot to think about.
I shimmied over the railing back down onto the main deck, using the kegs as cover from Jakarn’s would-be seductresses. Deregor was near the boarding ramp, staring off at the docks, probably keeping an eye out for pursuit. “Wherever Captain Lerisa goes, I go.” He declared proudly, then continued, quieter. “Even on this tub. Can’t wait until we get our own ship again.” I smiled at him in understanding and took the main hatch belowdecks.
“Ah! Don’t sneak up on me.” The Altmer shuddered, and I recognised him as the escapee from Lerisa’s crew I had met outside Saintsport. Twitchy fellow, not a fighter.
“What did you do on the Maiden’s Breath?” I asked him, rather than teasing him for going back on his vow to never board a ship again.
“I was quartermaster.” He said, some pride coming back into his voice and posture as he reminisced. “I made sure we had the supplies and equipment to do whatever Lerisa wanted.”
“Do you miss it?” Well, obviously!
“For now.” He admitted. “But Captain Lerisa is hoping to get her own ship again. We’ll see how things go in Betnikh.”
Haerdun sat at the nearby table. “Can’t hold a sword yet, but I can hold a book.” He chuckled. “Perhaps I should find a book that will teach me how to fight with my left hand!”
In the galley the same Argonian who had greeted me when I first awoke on this ship was staring at the maps once more. “The crew of the Spearhead grows again.” She said, sounding pleased. “I did not think to see it so soon. The sun shines on us.”
The Breton, Crenard, was glued to the counter where Kaleen’s Altmer cook was wielding a cleaver. “Really, how do they eat this stuff?” He whispered to me. “I’m going to teach Fenlil a thing or two about cooking.”
“So you’re a cook?” It would explain his ‘portliness’, as Lerisa had described him to me.
“One of the finest, my good friend!” The Breton boasted. “I used to own my very own café in Wayrest, before that thug Ugurz closed me down. I hope to open another one, once I collect enough coin. Maybe in Daggerfall. Hmm….” I left him to his planning, making my way back above board and into the Captains quarters.
Nicolene was bustling about, in her usual high spirits. “I knew Captain Kaleen would get another crew together!” She beamed at me. “When she wants something, she gets it!” Well, it seemed more likely that a lot of things in Kaleen’s life had been given to her, as the only one Kaleen had actively recruited was me.
“What can you tell me about this ship?” I asked her, hoping to ease into questions about the captain next.
“The spearhead’s the fastest galleon on the seas!” The bubbly girl exclaimed. “Master Kasan gave her to Captain Kaleen when he retired. He taught her all she knows about the sea. Once the Captain gets a new crew, we’ll be off again.” It was understandable that Lerisa and her people wouldn’t want to stay long, I could already see them chafing to get back to their own roles again once they obtained a new ship.
“What can you tell me about the Captain?” I asked casually.
“She’s amazing!” Nicolene enthused. “She’s smart, tough, and a real fighter. She’s incredible with a sword, even for a Redguard who grow up using them. I’ve never met anyone like her.”
“How did you meet her?” Hopefully there would be a few insights amongst the chatter.
“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.” The Breton girl hedged. “But funny! I was living on the Wayrest docks, picking a few pockets here and there to get by. Then Kaleen came walking by, with a huge bag of gold swinging from her belt.”
“And you tried to steal it?” I guessed, dumbstruck by Kaleen's naivety.
“I did steal it!” Nicolene insisted. “She didn’t even notice it was gone until I was halfway down the street, but boy, did she get after me. She can run! When she caught me, I thought I was dead, but she offered me a job. She was impressed.” And relieved, I bet!
“So you joined her crew?” Theoretically, taking someone in at their lowest, giving them employment with a sense of dignity, ensuring they were fed, clothed, and had a purpose, would inspire incredible loyalty, and explained a lot about how Nicolene viewed Kaleen.
“She said it was a good lift – taking her purse I mean – and offered me an apprenticeship.” Nicolene confirmed. “Sailing the seas, drinking and fighting, finding treasure – I love it. Captain Kaleen’s an incredible mentor.”
Crafty Lerisa was perched on the aft deck’s rail above the stairs to the main deck, Howler next to her. "The Spearhead's no Maiden's Breath, but at least she doesn't have a giant hole in her side.” She informed me shrewdly as I climbed back up to the helm. “I'd be happy if we never saw land again." I nodded my understanding as I passed her. Crewing under another captain, even temporarily, would be uncomfortable, especially while knowing it also chafed at your crew, and would require a great deal of tact. Fortunately, Lerisa would be capable of managing the balance well.
I nodded to Kaleen as I approached her, indicating I had introduced myself to the crew, and was ready to leave Stros M’Kai behind. Preferably before Bhosek woke up and discovered he’d been robbed….
“Then we leave for Betnikh,” Kaleen proclaimed, “an Orc island that hasn’t yet joined the Covenant. I hope to change that. Lambur’s happy to go home. She may try to thank you with ale. My advice? Make it to six mugs. You’ll have a friend for life.”
I laughed at this, catching Lambur’s slight nod as she moved off to attend to her duties. I rather liked Kaleen’s blunt First Mate, and although I found ale too bitter for my preference, I resolved to make the attempt. It'll be an interesting voyage, but at least I shouldn’t have need of a horse for the duration.

Chapter Three: Betnikh (Part One)

She was hovering over the sand beside a ruined crypt; it had tilted backwards and was partly covered, as if sinking into the shoreline.
“The Bloodthorn’s perversion of my people is ended.” She thanked me as I drew near. “The honoured dead are at rest once again.”
“Is the threat ended?” I asked her.
“The cult focused all their power into their abominations. Now these are dust and ash. The threat to us is ended, but the threat to you remains.” Nice to get a clear answer from someone for once, I decided, even if it isn’t great news. “King Renwic wishes to repay our debt to you. Speak to him. Learn your true peril.”
Another spirit materialised behind her, floating in the open doorway of the half-buried crypt. I turned to face him and moved closer.
“You have returned my people to their rest.” He greeted me. “I wish to repay you, but I have only information to give.”
“What can you tell me?” I asked him.
“The Seamount Orcs attacked generations ago. They took our island. Under their rule, what we once called Betony became Betnikh. My failure to defend my people was unforgivable, but how I attempted to defeat the Orcs was worse.”
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I attempted necromancy.” He admitted. “An ancient Ayleid relic is buried on this island. The Bloodthorn seek its power. Enter the portal beside me. You will see my last day through the eyes of my enemies. Learn what you can.”
With a nod, I turned to the portal, unable to speak. I could only imagine the horrors a necromantic cult would unleash if they had possession of an Ayleid relic designed for such a purpose, and the earliest memories my imagination had access to were of being sacrificed, and of Coldharbour, so it was a bleak picture indeed. But my entire purpose now is to prevent such horrors from coming to pass. I reminded myself and stepped into the portal.
I found myself in an Ayleid ruin, the sounds of battle in the distance, several Orcs, my fellow warriors, ahead. I ran towards them.
“Targoth!” The Hunt-Wife greeted me, rising from where she had been bending over Breton corpses. “The Breton King has sealed himself deeper in the ruin. He is preparing some foul spell!”
“What spell is this?” I found myself asking in a gruff voice.
“I know only that the magic he summons will slaughter our army.” She shook her head, her words urgent and rapid. “Unless we stop him, every Orc here will die.”
“How do we stop King Renwic?” I…. he…. asked.
“We must learn how to reach their cowardly king and the nature of his foul magic.” She urged. “Make these prisoners talk! We have confiscated their belongings. They may hold clues to what they know.”
“How far should I go in my interrogations?” I felt the words as they were spoken, and shuddered inwardly. This isn’t me! I wailed in my own mind, locked within the will of another. But I need to know what they saw, what they did, how I can stop this in my own time…. Firming my resolve, I ceased my internal struggles against the actions of my host and continued to watch.
“The Code of Malacath is clear.” The Hunt-Wife said firmly. “So long as these Bretons aid their king in his foul magic, they remain our enemies. If you can coerce them through words alone, do so. If not….”
“If not?” My host prompted her.
“They must pay the blood price.” She drew a thumb across her throat as she spoke. “I took this charm off a Reachwitch. Hold it tight and order any guard to execute his prisoner. The charm will chain their soul and compel them to answer you. You will have one question Targoth. Ask wisely.”
I felt ill, and this unease must have been shared by my host, or had I influenced him somehow?
“Is there honour in killing unarmed prisoners?” He asked her.
“They aid their king in his foul plan to kill us all!” She exploded furiously. “Unless they tell us how to stop him, his magic will wipe us out. We are at war, Targoth. Do what you must.” There was something she’d mentioned….. I thought desperately ….some sort of code?
“Remind me about the Code of Mauloch.” My host said, and I silently rejoiced. Maybe I’m not just a passenger in here!
“Don’t steal.” She recited, irritated. “Don’t attack without reason. Fight with honour. Protect your tribe. These Bretons claim to have surrendered, but if they refuse to answer truthfully, they remain our mortal enemies.”
Nodding, my host made his way further around the bend in the passage, to where Orc warriors guarded their prisoners. I recognised the Priestess of Arkay as the spirit I had assisted, and somehow knew the others to be the queen, princess and a knight, probably a trusted bodyguard. I was becoming more attuned to my host, a strange melding of wills, based on our agreement of what was right, just, and honourable, and what was distasteful.
“You!” The queen spat in derision upon seeing us. “How much more blood do you want?”
“Answer me truthfully, and you live. Lie to me, and you die.” We replied.
“You’ve invaded my home. You’ve slaughtered my people. Why would I help you, Orc?” She accused bitterly. “You’ll kill us all anyway.”
I pushed at my host’s attention, reminding him to tailor his questions based on the captives’ possessions, and spotted a note on the floor near the queen. I focused on it intently until he picked it up and read;



“Tell me how to open the door that hides Renwic, or I will kill your daughter.” We threatened her.
"Visanne?” She exclaimed in horror. “No. She's just a child! You cannot kill our child!"
“If you want to save her life, tell me how to reach Renwic.” We remained outwardly implacable.
"Oh, Renwic, forgive me.” The queen sobbed. “There are crystals in braziers by the door. Turn them to lower the wards. Now please, spare our daughter."
"I have nothing else to say to you." We stated, turning away.
"You have proven your barbaric nature.” The queen spat bitterly. “Be gone."
Looking over the remaining prisoners we ignored the princess and courtiers, and instead walked towards the knight. Pausing, we first read a note the guard had removed from him;



"Orc! You will pay for this." Drago fumed at us.
“Answer me truthfully, and you live. Lie to me, and you die.” We calmly repeated the instructions we had given the queen.
"Ha! You dictate terms, pig child?” Drago mocked. “Give me back my sword and I'll give you a clean end. Ask your questions. Amuse me."
“Tell me what magic your king plans, or I will hurt you.” We instructed, still calm, hoping to madden him into indiscretion. He’s shown himself volatile enough to be prone to emotional outbursts and taunting.
"Terrified, are you?” Drago was working himself up just nicely. “Ha! You should be. Our king is a mighty sorcerer. Even now, he summons an undead army from the depths of these ruins. Flee while you can, Orc! Leave our island!"
We gave him a slight smile, saying nothing. He’d told us exactly what we wanted to know, and didn’t even realise it. Gesturing to the guards to stand watch, we turned away.
"Kill me if you must, Orc.” Drago continued shouting at our back. “I swear, I will rise from the very grave to make an end of you."
Ignoring him we ran down the passageway, passing frightened Bretons and Orc warriors until we found War Chief Yzzgol outside the door to the inner chamber.
"Targoth! Our victory is near!" He greeted us.
“I know how to open the door.” We told him, gesturing to the two crystals.
"By Mauloch's right hand!” He exulted. “My Warcaller triumphs again. We will end this assault and the efforts of this cowardly king."
“What will we do with King Renwic?” We asked, although I was fairly certain how this ended for him.
"There's no honour in the slaughter of a broken people and defeated knights.” Yzzgol acknowledged. “If King Renwic surrenders, he will join his people in exile. Let them spread word of our ferocity across the seas!"
“What if he doesn't surrender?” Because I know he doesn’t….
"Then I will cut him down. Stay your blade beyond this door, Targoth. Leave King Renwic to me."
Adjusting the alignment of each of the bracketed crystals, my host and I unsealed the door and made our way inside the chamber, followed by Yzzgol. Ahead of us was a circular garden, with a tiered well in the centre, another crystal mounted within its rim. King Renwic stood facing it, and with his back to us, hadn’t noticed our entrance.
"What's this?” He seemed to be speaking to the relic. “Yes, I feel your power. But how do you work?"
"Renwic!” War Chief Yzzgol called out, passing us as we stopped to watch this play out. “Surrender now, and I'll spare your worthless life."
"Stay back!” Renwic bluffed, turning. “I hold destruction in my hands!" He held a blue flame, nothing more, dancing in his fingers.
"Magic cannot save you.” Yzzgol replied. “Surrender or die!"
"Leave, now, or I'll use this relic to obliterate you!" Renwic tried again desperately.
"You will not harm my people.” The War Chief decried. “Draw steel!"
"Help me! Help me, damn you all!" Renwic cried out, but the translucent golden spirits beside the well made no move to assist him, and as he lifted his hands, the blue flames still burning, Yzzgol cut him down, not realising the lack of threat.
"Targoth!” Yzzgol turned to me. “Bury this elf-loving fool. Those who remain will accept exile or die." As he walked off, a portal opened over the Ayleid crystal, and I slipped through, back to my own time.
Both spirits were still hovering in place when I emerged, thankful to be back in my own body again.
"Even my death failed my people." Renwic mourned.
“You tried to use the relic, and Yzzgol killed you.” I reminded him.
"Yes.” He agreed. “Once I summoned the relic's power, I realized what it demanded of me. Souls. It craves souls. I would not pay that price, but the Bloodthorn will. They will raise this undead army and slaughter you all."
“How can I stop them?” I asked him.
"The Ayleid relic is the key, but my memories have faded with time.” He admitted. “I no longer remember its location. I know only that you must find it before the Bloodthorn. I offer this knowledge as payment for the souls you saved today."
With this, both the King and the Priestess of Arkay vanished, and I turned my thoughts to the last of the three sites Lambur had asked me to investigate, Moriseli.
Another of Chief Tazgol’s guards stopped me as I approached.
“The souls of the dead are restless.” She told me. “Ancient warriors who died in battle against the Bretons now rise. Who calls to them, and why?”
“Is there anything I can do?” I offered.
“You are one of the newcomers.” She pondered me. “Another of your group, the mage Neramo, went to see what he could uncover. Find him and learn what he has seen.”
“Neramo?” I repeated. “Where can I find him?”
“His magic enabled him to pass the spirits undetected.” She told me. “I suspect he looks to reach the inner ruins. Seek him near the doorway, beyond the fields where the dead roam.”
“I’ll go and see if I can aid him.” I agreed.
“Be careful.” She warned me. “Foul magic taints the air. Perhaps your learned friend can shed some light on this dark mystery and help you bring an end to its source.”
“You know these ruins well.” I remarked.
“The Ayleids – Wild Elves as some call them – have always fascinated me.” She elaborated happily. “They are long gone but their ruins remain on Betnikh. From these we glean how they lived and died, so many years ago.”
“Isn’t research a strange occupation for an Orc?” I asked, then blushed furiously as I realised just how presumptive and rude that sounded.
“We are not all warriors, and we are far from the savages outsiders assume.” She rebuked me gently. “Some of us wield a quill as skilfully as others wield warhammers.”
Nodding my apologies, I made my way into the outer ruins, staying crouched and skirting the restless spirits as I made my way around the perimeter first. Finding the third of the vision alters, I paused. There didn’t seem to be any spirits nearby, so with a shrug I fished out the pouch of herbs, and tossed the last of them into the brazier.
The orange flames flared up, the glowing mote darting out to explode withing the great stone archway, and two familiar figures appeared. I leaned forward, excited and apprehensive at the same time.
“Strange that such a small thing can cause such terror.” Lambur was saying. “It must be destroyed!”
“Hold on.” Kaleen replied. “Let’s think about this.”
“What’s to think about?” Lambur pressed her. “It killed hundreds of Orcs!”
“The cultists did that.” Kaleen allowed. “In the right hands, this could defend the Covenant against invaders.”
“I’m not giving that thing to the people who levelled Orsinium!” Lambur insisted, and they vanished.
I blew out a breath, thinking furiously. If this was the Ayleid relic they were discussing, and I couldn’t imagine it being anything else given the matching details and circumstances, then I agreed with Lambur. The price this thing extracted in harvested souls, the potential horror of armies of undead, surely Kaleen, as a Redguard, couldn’t condone such measures? And the risk of it falling into enemy hands, or of it corrupting allies and fracturing alliances…. I had to find it, and I had to destroy it. And I had to do everything I could to make sure the cultists didn’t have time to find it first and kill anyone with it. No more distractions, no more interruptions. I decided. And no more creeping quietly unless it’s going to save time. I need to find Neramo right now.
With that I turned and sprinted towards the centre of the ruins, skirting groups of the restless spirits where I could, or ploughing straight into them when I had no option. I alternated between my bow and daggers as required and left a trail of ectoplasm in my wake until I found Neramo, standing near the steps to a door. Realising I was probably better off attempting to act normal, I slowed my approach, pasting a smile on my face.
“Ahh, my old friend!” Neramo greeted me. “Couldn’t resist another exploration? Be mindful, this one may be a touch more dangerous. Foul necromancy is at work here.”
“I heard you were here.” I answered brightly, trusting Neramo’s obsessive and easily distracted nature to help me pull this off. “What’s going on?”
“The mysteries of Nirn span beyond the Dwemer.” He explained. “The Ayleids fascinate me in equal measure. I had to see this place for myself. The more vexing mystery at present, however, lies with these Orc spirits.”
“The spirits?” I repeated, as if I hadn’t just been mowing my way through them to reach him.
“Even you must have noticed the ghostly figures in the field.” He chided, and I glanced down at a large smear of ectoplasm on my left bracer, before meeting his gaze again, one brow raised in irony. I meant 'what about the spirits', not 'what spirits'!He didn’t notice. “This is no ordinary haunting. Something brough them back and binds them here. I suspect the answer is inside the catacombs.”
“Perhaps we should investigate.” I suggested, trying for perky to mask the sarcasm in my tone.
“Indeed you should.” He replied, and I recalled his aversion to danger. “The ruin is sealed magically, but it is a minor challenge. I shall unseal the door for you and await your return. My research is best done in safety.”
“I’m ready.” I stated, bouncing a little on my toes in impatience. At least I wouldn’t have to conceal anything from him inside if he was going to obligingly remain out here. I’d be able to move much faster alone, anyway.
“Just like old times, isn’t it?” Neramo reminisced, walking towards the door. “I do like to have such a useful too- uh, ally with me.” I rolled my eyes behind his back, as he braced himself, casting at the crystals to either side of the doorway. “A proper application of magic to these stones…. And the way is open!”
Nodding my thanks in passing, I ran lightly up the steps and opened Moriseli’s door. Inside a flight of stone stairs angled steeply downwards, and at their base I found a door with a stylised tree carved into it ahead, a passage to my right, looking a little worse for its age, and a small chamber to my left with the spirit of an Orc sitting in a glowing circle. I had the odd feeling I should know him, so I approached, halting outside the glowing barrier surrounding him.
“You…. You are not one of them.” He decided, looking at me. “You have not the taint. Help us. Free us from this torment!”
“Who are you?” I asked him. “What’s happening here?”
“I am Targoth, Warcaller of the Stonewolves.” He replied, and I almost stumbled in shock. I knew him – I had been him, briefly, he had been my host in the vision of the past King Renwic had sent me into. “Cultists have violated my tomb and those of my warriors. The vile priestess Drusilla leads the cult, dragging our spirits back to this realm.”
“How?” I asked, thinking, Drusilla, that must be the cultist I saw back when the totem showed me those visions of the past, the theft of the scroll.
“In life, I wielded a magical war horn. My soldiers obeyed it, hearing its call across all barriers. Drusilla now uses it to call my warriors from beyond the grave, binding them to her will.”
“How can Drusilla be stopped?” I demanded, straight to the point.
“She is in the lower chambers.” He replied approvingly. “Kill her before she can send my soldiers against our descendants. That will free me from her bonds. Then the horn can return my warband to its honoured rest.
“I’ll find her.” I promised. And I’ll kill her. The door with the carved tree on it was unlocked and opened into what seemed to be a library of sorts, with several cultists scanning the shelves and books, still perfectly preserved, on them.
Deciding I’d rather not leave anyone able to sneak up behind me, I spun through the room, taking each out as I came upon them, before racing down the stairs, barely pausing to despatch a cultist lounging against the wall on the lower level. Slowing as I entered a large room, I made my way slowly towards the far end, drifting back and forth in my deadly bladed dance as several cultists noticed me and tried to attack. I barely noticed that one was Drusilla before I had slain her, too.
At the far end of the room was an altar, Targoth’s war horn set upon it in some sort of ritual. He appeared as I approached it.
“You have freed me!” He said in thanks. “But my warriors still cry out for an end to their torment.”
“What did the cultists want with your warband?” I asked him.
“I overheard them mention the ruin of Carzog’s Demise.” He informed me. “Whatever they are planning, it is to take place there. But that is not my concern. Now that you have the horn, free my warriors.”
“How?” I asked.
“Return my horn to its rightful place atop my tomb in the next chamber.” He instructed. “Then my warriors will rest once more.”
“What if I keep the horn?” The further delay chafed at my sense of urgency; despite the knowledge it was the right thing to do.
“Then you condemn my warriors to further degradation!” He scolded. “Surely you have more honour than that. We no longer belong in this realm. Our battle is over. Let us have peace.”
“I understand.” I replied, ashamed of my impatience, and carried Targoth’s horn to his tomb, where I laid it carefully beside his skeleton.
“Your efforts honour us, champion.” The Warcaller thanked me. “I feel the spirits of my warriors return to rest. And so I shall follow.” I nodded my thanks for his assistance. “Be bold, warrior. The cultists still plague this island. You will meet them again, to their sorrow.”
When I emerged from the catacombs, the studious Orc I had met when approaching Moriseli was standing where Neramo had been, but there was no sign of the mage.
“The spirits have vanished!” She called to me as I approached her. “Their valiant souls rest once again. Quickly tell me what you found below; we have much to discuss.”
“I released the spirits,” I told her briefly, “but Carzog’s Demise is the Cult’s target.”
“Cultists have indeed been spotted at Carzog’s Demise.” She confirmed, troubled. “Their intent is unknown. I will pray for the honoured dead then return to speak with the chief. I fear all will be needed to end the Bloodthorn plot.”
“Ha! Found you!” I heard as I nodded my farewells, and turned to see Nicolene running towards me, as cheerful as ever. “Glad I found you! I’ve got news.” She announced, coming to a halt before me. “We need you back at the fortress. Right now!”
“What’s happening?” I asked, torn between my two tasks.
“Orc scouts sighted Bloodthorn Cultists in Carzog’s Demise.” She explained, and I was relieved that at least following her would mean I was still working to prevent the larger disaster. “Tazgol’s mobilising the army to go kill them all, but Lambur’s worried. She thinks it might be a trap. Did you find out anything?”
“The cultists seek an Ayleid relic that can raise an invincible army.” I replied, deadpan. What do you think I’ve been doing this long, picking flowers?
“That’s awful!” Nicolene exclaimed. “I’ll go find the captain. Get back to the fortress and let Lambur know. Maybe it’s not too late!”
But as I ran towards the fortress, I had the sinking feeling I had said the wrong thing to her, that the promise of an ‘unstoppable army’ may have been what had convinced Captain Kaleen that the relic was a prize to be won for the Daggerfall Covenant, and not a threat to the world. Deciding I needed some clarification on the visions I had seen, I made a brief stop to speak to the shaman, Magula.
“You’ve returned.” She stated. “You have questions.”
“How true were those visions?” I asked her breathlessly.
“You saw possible futures.” She replied serenely. “No path is set. Your actions will influence what is to come.”
Nodding my thanks, I left her longhouse and made my way inside the fortress, to find Lambur just inside the northern gate.
“You’re back. Good.” She greeted me. “Do you know what this cult is planning?”
“The cult seeks a powerful relic beneath Carzog’s Demise.” I told her, more careful now of how I chose to describe it.
“Bloodthorn Cultists were sighted at those ruins.” Lambur told me. “Chieftain Tazgol has already taken the army to deal with them. They’re walking into a trap!” She paced nervously a few moments, thinking things over, then turned to me again. “Chief Tazgol is leading the Orcs towards Carzog’s. He’s determined to wipe the Bloodthorn Cult off Betnikh.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked her. “You sound worried.”
“Chief Tazgol doesn’t see the danger.” Lambur explained. “The Bloodthorns are after an ancient Ayleid weapon that we know nothing about. We must catch up to Tazgol and stop him from rushing in!”
“Let’s get going.” I agreed.
“Quickly!” Lambur instructed a nearby soldier. “To Carzog’s, to deal with this threat!”
“Yes, sir!” He saluted, and ran from the fortress, Lambur and I following him north.
When we reached the ruins, the soldier dropped to sit and catch his breath, while Lambur and I approached an officer nearby.
“Commander Kharsh, what’s wrong?” Lambur addressed him.
“The Bloodthorns have raised a spectral army from the depths of the ruins.” The commander replied, visibly shaken. “We can’t defeat them!”
“Get the wounded back to the fortress.” Lambur ordered him. “We’ll put an end to this!”
As she spoke, I noticed Neramo running down the stairs from the arched edifice nearby.
“The cultists have somehow sealed the doors with the welkynd stones.” He panted.
“Find a way into the ruins.” Lambur instructed Kharsh before turning to Neramo and myself. “I need to find Kaleen!”
“The Orcs are being routed by a spirit army.” Neramo turned to me as Lambur ran off. “The Bloodthorns have tapped into a power I’ve never seen before.”
“Neramo, how do I get inside?” I asked the mage.
“The crystals around the door are activated by three Welkynd stones in the ruins.” He described. “I think I can handle one of them, but you’ll need to deal with the other two.”
“I’ll do my part.” I said to him, wondering why he thought I could handle twice what he, the mage, could. Unless…. Probably too many spirits near these ones, and he’s chosen the safer one! I realised.
Following Neramo back up the stairs, we crossed a bridge, the oncoming Orcs, injured retreating from the battle, made our progress like that of salmon fighting against a current, and I lost track of Neramo in the press of bodies. Looks like I’m on my own for this, I realised, chances are he’s going to decide this part’s too dangerous for him.
There were a lot of Ayleid spirits floating around, and far too many dead Orcs, as I made my way to the closest of the three welkynd stones Neramo had mentioned. After adjusting it, I noticed the world turn…. Darker, less colourful, as though a dark blue strip of silk, gossamer fine, had been tied over my eyes. Hopefully that means I did something right with the stone! I didn’t want to consider the alternative just yet. Turning to continue, I was stopped by an Ayleid spirit in my path. But instead of immediately attacking me, this one spoke.
“This is no place for the living.” It warned me, in a hissing, rasping voice. “Begone!”
“I need to pass the doorway.” I insisted.
“Others entered before you.” It countered. “They have released an ancient evil in the depths of our sanctuary. No more shall pass!”
“I plan to end this evil.” I vowed.
“On that promise, I will help you to enter our catacombs.” It relented. “Precede me to the door.”
I fled, desperate to complete this as I felt time slipping away, and upon reaching the door, the spirit activated one of the three locking crystals, and disappeared as the world turned bright and full of colour once more. Oh, I realised, it’s carrying the stone’s power that puts me into the spirit realm and makes everything look like that. And sure enough, when I activated the next welkynd stone, everything went dark again, revealing more spirits.
“Living and yet without a soul.” A spirit near me observed. “How can this be?”
“My soul was stolen.” I replied bitterly. “I will get it back.”
“Are you one of those who violated our sanctuary?” It asked me.
“No, I want to stop them.” I told it.
“Deep within our sanctuary, others have unleashed a force beyond their control.” The spirit warned me. “Lead me to the door, if you dare to enter.”
“Let’s go.” I agreed, and ran back to the door and it’s locking stones. Once more the world around me became that of the living, and the only shades I could see were those summoned by the relic below. I fought my way through them to the final welkynd stone, and re-entered the spirit realm.
“Violation!” A spirit behind me hissed. “The living desecrate our sanctuary. Death to all!”
“Wait!” I cried. “I’m here to stop them.”
“A terror unseen for millennia has been unleashed.” It told me. “Death and eternal torment await all in this land. What hope do you have of stopping forces you cannot understand?”
“Let me inside and I’ll try.” I bargained, realising how completely his words summed up my existence in general now, and not just on this mission.
“You lack a soul.” It realised. “That loss may serve you in good stead inside. Lead the way to the door and I will help open it.”
“This way.” I nodded in thanks, and ran back to the door for the third time where I watched the spirit unlock the last of the crystals, and return me to the colours of the living realm, to find Lambur and Kaleen waiting in front of the door.
Running past them to the door, which swirled in the deep blues of the spirit realm, I braced myself against it, feeling a pulse of energy as the light flared and dimmed slightly.
“It’s opening!” Kaleen called out. “Get ready everyone!”
A second pulse, another flare of light before it dimmed further, less than half strength now.
“Best move quietly.” Master Kasan cautioned, and I realised with a twist in my gut that Kaleen had brought her crew. “The enemy is within.”
A final pulse, the remaining light flared before dying completely, and I pushed open the door.
Making my way down the stairs and along a few corridors, I was equal parts startled, relieved, and irritated to see Crafty Lerisa examining a wide basin full of glowing crystals.
“These look valuable, don’t they?” She smirked at me. “Never been in ruins this old before. Bet there’s some good stuff just lying around, free for the taking.”
“What have you found out?” I asked her, wondering if Jakarn was already somewhere ahead stripping the place of whatever he could lay his hands on. Lerisa would be disappointed if he was.
“I overheard cultists talking about a portal.” She informed me. “The relic that’s causing all the trouble is in there. I lifted a uniform off a cultist who no longer needed it; it’s waiting in the bag. Might help you get past some of the ones I left alive.”
“Thanks!” I snatched up the backpack and pulled out the disguise.
“Get into that uniform and act natural.” Lerisa advised me. “Should fool some of them at least.” With this she vanished in a puff of smoke.
I pulled the garments on over my armour, gave a few tugs to settle everything, and made my way deeper into the ruin. There were cultists everywhere; digging in the piles of rubble, performing some strange rituals while surrounded in the greenish-blue lights that spoke of necromancy, or patrolling with torch in hand. I kept away from those ones, they looked far to alert, and eventually found myself outside another door carved with a glowing tree. There were a few dead cultists, and Master Kasan waiting for me. I didn’t bother wondering how he’d got past the cultists ahead of me, although I hadn’t taken long speaking with Lerisa. I was more concerned about where Lambur and Kaleen might have got to….
“The others have gone on ahead.” He said, seemingly reading my mind. “I delayed here to discourage pursuit.”
“Are the others far?” I asked, worried.
“Only a little ways ahead.” He assured me. “We will be waiting for you.”
“Best of luck, Kasan!” I bid him and slipped through the large door.
“Oh, look, more gloom and death.” Jakarn’s sardonic observation greeted me on the other side, and I hurried over to him. “Follow me, I know a shortcut.” He offered, and I followed him wordlessly to another of the carved doors. “One moment, and I’ll open this door for you.” He promised, and moments later we were through. “Let’s go!” He called, breaking into a run.
The passage was filled with rock, as though it had grown through the walls and ceiling, and still clung there, although plenty of stones also littered the ground, making for rough footing. I was relieved when we rounded a bend into slightly better-preserved section, until I saw a jet of flame emerge from the wall ahead.
“I’m off, don’t get murdered.” Jakarn announced and vanished in his own puff of smoke.
I sighed and started counting off the timing on the fire traps, moving fast as I passed each nozzle, until I had cleared them. There were a few Bloodthorn Cultists trying to lob their own fireballs at me next, but I dealt with them quickly, moving in close with my daggers to make it more difficult for them to hit me with their spells. Eventually I reached the door to the inner sanctum of the ruins. It was just as I recalled from my vision of the past in Warcaller Targoth’s time, with the crystal suspended over the Ayleid well in the centre of a garden. Neramo, Lambur, Jakarn and Kaleen were inside, and I made my way to the mage, who knelt beside a body.
“I suspect that Vardan died when the portal closed.” He told me. “The body cannot survive without the soul.”
Ummm…. Hello? I thought but decided not to point out the obvious exception to his point. I had died, and was now an anomaly, after all. “What can you tell me, Neramo?”
“The Bloodthorns created a portal to the spirit realm with this Welkynd stone. Vardan is on the other side, commanding the spirits slaying the Orcs. He’s trapped over there since we closed the portal.”
“How can we stop him?” I pressed impatiently.
“Without the Breton ritual Vardan used, only one without a soul can cross the portal.” Neramo explained. “That means you.” So nice of you to remember…. “You must activate the Welkynd stone, enter the spirit realm, and kill Vardan.”
“I’m ready.” I agreed, all too aware that every moment’s delay could mean the loss of more lives.
The world turned dark blue around me with a flash of pain, and I cried out involuntarily, gripping my head. When the pain cleared, I looked around to find the chamber now empty, except for Vardan at the far door.
“You’re too late!” He rejoiced as I approached him, unsheathing my daggers. “My army feeds!”
Darting in close, where it would be harder for him to target me with his spells, I carved into his spirit, spinning and twisting to dodge his counter attacks. Without the advantage of distance to improve his aim, and unable to block my strikes, he soon fell, and I returned to the well in the centre of the room. Above the faintly glowing stone was a small orb, swirling with dark blue. I reached out to take it, and everything went dark around me.
“Strange that such a small thing can cause such terror.” Lambur was saying as I emerged into the world of the living once more, the relic now floating above the crystal in this realm. “It must be destroyed!”
“Hold on. Let’s think about this.” Captain Kaleen was saying, just as she had in my vision of this future event. Have I changed nothing? I wondered sadly as I walked over to find the two facing off, Lerisa and Nicolene behind the captain, while Master Kasan, Neramo and Jakarn stood with Lambur.
“What’s to think about?” Lambur hissed at her. “It killed hundreds of Orcs!”
“The cultists did that.” Kaleen responded. “In the right hands, this could defend the Covenant against invaders.” Or be used to invade other lands. I thought with a shiver, knowing there was no safe way to use this thing, even with the best intentions, without the temptation to use it for evil. You had to be willing to justify feeding it souls, for starters, and I for one was vehemently opposed to anything requiring that.
“I’m not giving that thing to the people who levelled Orsinium!” Lambur declared, and I stepped between them before anything further could be said, or they came to blows over it.
“The relic, ours at last!” Kaleen greeted me, hoping to sway my opinion with patriotism. “For the Covenant!”
I don’t remember anything about living in your Covenant. I thought, turning to reply to her. “So you’re sure we should keep it?” I asked her mildly.
“Yes.” She declared. “Keep it and use it! A discovery like this could tip the war in our favour. Think of all the lives we could save!”
“How would it save lives?” I asked, thinking instead of all the lives it would cost.
“With this relic, our enemies would not dare invade the Covenant.” Kaleen exclaimed, and I wondered what sort of reward she hoped to claim for this ‘discovery’, and whether she had any intention to share it with the people outside who had bled for it, but she was still rambling on, caught up in her fantasy. “No more Pact raids out of Skyrim. No Dominion fleets in our waters! Think of the whole ocean here, not just the waves. It’s what we must do to protect our people. All our people.”
“I have to think about this.” I told her, turning away towards Lambur, who gazed at me with worried eyes. I offered her a small smile and a wink, hoping she’d understand my meaning.
“Destroy the relic, now!” She demanded, playing along like the smart girl I knew her to be, and I hid my sigh of relief. “Didn’t you hear the screams, as those things consumed the souls of my people?”
“This is a hard decision.” I replied, hoping her arguments would show Kaleen why we couldn’t entrust anyone with the relic.
“It should be an easy one.” Lambur replied, acting frustrated. “You must destroy it. Do not hand it to the ones who levelled Orsinium and tried to exterminate all my kind!”
“Orsinium?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Orsinium used to be the Orc homeland.” Lambur told me, but I hoped everyone else was listening to her, too. “Breton and Redguard kings have a nasty habit of burning it to the ground. Now the Covenant will solve all our problems? You give them the relic, they’ll use it to keep Orcs in line. If not now, then one day.”
“How likely is that?” I asked, smiling slightly to let her know this was the right tactic. I didn’t dare try nod my head.
“This object is a curse, a danger to all.” She said, quieter but no less intently. “It can be turned against anyone as easily as Vardan turned it against the Orcs. Unless you want me as an enemy, destroy that thing!”
Damnit, she made it too personal! I cursed inwardly. “Thanks for your advice, Lambur.” I said aloud, hoping that some of what she’d said had made it through Kaleen’s daydreams of triumphantly presenting King Fahara’jad with the ultimate weapon with which to turn the tide of this war. But a quick glance her way showed an expression of earnest entreaty, not a single concern in her eyes for the likely devastation such a future would hold.
Without a further word to anyone I turned and approached the relic to examine it. It spun in place, pulsing with the energy of thousands of stolen souls, and I felt sickened by its mere presence. If I could have destroyed it, I would have, but I couldn’t see how…. Unless? Knowing that it would be impossible for any of them to retrieve it, I banished it back into the spirit realm, hoping they would believe it destroyed.
Hearing a pained sigh behind me, I turned to see Kaleen and Lerisa comforting a crumpled Nicolene. The others had left. Unsure what could have made the perpetually bubbly girl so unhappy about my decision, and doubtful that anything I might say now could be of help, I left the room through the door on the other side of the well, hoping to avoid everyone for a few minutes.
I should probably go and introduce myself to Chief Tarzog, anyway, I decided. I had been on his island for a while now, running around and fixing his problems, although he’d probably view it as interfering since several of my actions were against orders he’d given his people.
When I arrived at the fortress, I found him waiting for me, still in full armour.
“What did you decide to do with the relic?” He asked immediately, and I hid a smile at his bluntness.
“I destroyed it.” It was a simpler reply than the truth, I decided, adding more honestly. “No one will ever use it again.”
“The only correct choice.” He agreed, hanging his head briefly in relief. “War should be honourable. There is no honour in the use of such a device. You have saved my tribe and my island. For this, I owe you a great debt.”
I allowed myself to smile at this, a solution forming in my mind. A consolation prize of sorts for Kaleen, but it was all she’d intended to achieve when she arrived here, so she should view it as a win. Of sorts. Eventually….
The axe Chief Tazgol handed me looked valuable, and there was a pouch of gold, too, so I was feeling rather happy when the Chief straightened and crossed his arms, regarding me more seriously.
“One less Ayleid relic to plague our world. Good.” He said, looking thoughtful as though considering something.
“What’s next?” I asked him, growing slightly worried.
“Your actions have revealed a vulnerability.” He replied gravely. “I thought my tribe safe on our island. This Bloodthorn attack proved me wrong. Only you and your friends on the Spearhead, united, were able to save this island.”
Maybe not quite so united anymore, I admitted to myself, but decided he didn’t need to hear that right now. Not if he was thinking what I hoped he was.
“What are you asking me to do?” I asked instead.
“Months ago, Sir Lanis offered membership in the Daggerfall Covenant.” He revealed. “I refused. You showed me I was wrong. We need allies. I would ask you to travel to Glenumbra and give Sir Lanis my petition to join. I have ordered Captain Kaleen to sail you there.”
I hid a wince at his words, instead agreeing. “I’ll forward your petition to join the Daggerfall Covenant.” Ooh, Kaleen is not going to forgive me for this…. I realised sadly. First, I destroy her chance of glory at presenting the relic, and now she’s being ordered to carry me to deliver news of an achievement she hoped to make herself!
It was with heavy steps that I made my way to the dock, and aboard the Spearhead. Kaleen was waiting at the top of the boarding ramp, her arms crossed in disapproval as I stepped aboard.
“I swore never to sail with you again.” She told me bitterly. “But Chief Tazgol has asked me to sail you to Glenumbra, which I will do.”
“Chief Tazgol is ready to join the Daggerfall Covenant.” I replied, hoping an edited version of the truth might soften her a little. “He asked you to take me to Daggerfall.”
“Only out of respect for the chief and the good of the alliance, not for you.” She replied stiffly. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, let’s go.” I agreed, not wanting to add to her resentment by keeping her waiting on me, although I would have enjoyed exploring more of the island. I’ll just have to come back, some day. I decided, making my way to my bunk to unload. It was going to be a long and uncomfortable voyage, if Kaleen’s reception of me was anything to go by, and I decided to avoid Nicolene as well, if I could.
I learned during the voyage that Nicolene had brothers who were in the Covenant army, and she was distraught at the lost chance to protect them. I felt for her, truly, but what about other people’s brothers, sisters, children, lovers? What happened to whichever army was used as a first ‘example’ to deter others from invading Covenant lands? And what happened when someone, inevitably, coveted the relic for less-than-honourable purposes?
I was still wrestling with how to explain these thoughts to her when we made the final approach to Daggerfall, and I made my way on deck to disembark. Kaleen didn’t want me on her ship, so I was anxious to be off as soon as possible, away from people who had once called me friend, but now glared at me with resentment.
“We’ve arrived.” Captain Kaleen announced to everyone. “Welcome to Daggerfall.”
Throughout the brief voyage, Jakarn had remained friendly, but part of that may have been his wishful thinking that I might rescue him from his current predicament. As I stepped out from below deck, I saw him leaning against the rack of kegs, tankard in hand and Irien, Elethien and Nasmat surrounding him.
“We’ve all agreed” The Bosmer explained. “He’s going to choose one way or the other. Or we’re throwing him off the boat.”
“The irony is delicious.” The Redguard smirked at me. “You could cut it with a knife. Or anything else, for that matter.”
“This is actually quite fun.” Irien smiled at me, clapping her hands in glee. “Look at him squirm.”
I raised an eyebrow at Jakarn in amusement.
“I could get used to travelling around with you.” He said to me, clearly hoping I would invite him to join me, giving him an escape. “It’s never dull, I’ll give you that.”
I shook my head in disbelief, and turned towards the rest of the crew. Majoll was working near the mid’ mast, no so subtly listening to the drama play out.
“Ha!” He exclaimed as I neared him. “Those ladies are such fools! Jakarn and I have already agreed. We’re going to run off together and have grand adventures!”
I bit my lip to hold in my laughter and moved on to Deregor.
“Well now, a familiar face. How good to see you.” He exclaimed loudly, and I smiled at his antics before he continued, quieter. “Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if I’m on the wrong ship.”
“Well. That was an awful lot of drama, wasn’t it?” Lerisa greeted me on the aft deck. “I think I’m about done here. It’s time to sail on my own boat. Stay safe. We’ll meet again.”
Despite initially siding with Kaleen, Lerisa had quickly gotten over her anger. I hoped she understood my reasons, but I hadn't wanted to discuss the situation with her. Perhaps the cooler heads among her own crew had influenced her change of opinion, I wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case. I turned to make my way back down to the main deck, only to find Nicolene standing at the top of the stairs. It was the first time we’d come face-to-face since leaving Betnikh, and I hesitated.
"When the elves attack our shores and hundreds of our soldiers die, I want you to remember the choice you made.” She told me bitterly. “If you had kept that relic, we could have saved those soldiers. You made the wrong choice."
Deciding there was nothing I could say at this point to assuage her resentment, I turned away, only to see Kaleen at the helm.
“We’re here, in Daggerfall.” She stated icily. “Now get off my boat.”
I turned away to the other staircase without speaking, my heart heavy as I descended. Neramo was reading a book nearby as Clanker scuttled around him.
“I wish I could have retrieved that Ayleid relic for study, but you were wise to destroy it rather than place it in Breton hands.” The Altmer mage consoled me. “I realise Kaleen disagrees with your decision, but never doubt it was the right one.”
I gave him a wry smile in thanks, and approached Lambur, who was standing near the boarding ramp, lost in thought. She turned to me when I paused beside her.
“I know going against Kaleen was a hard thing.” The Orc admitted. “It was for me as well. We have more history together than you can imagine. Even so, it’s time to start my own crew, sail my own ship. You, my friend, would be welcome with us anytime.”
With a fond smile to her, I left the Spearhead and made my way through the docks towards Glenumbra. I had spent time sitting with Master Kasan as he meditated during the voyage, and I knew Kaleen’s departure from what he viewed as the true path pained him. He had seen her wish to keep the relic as a desire to hold power over her enemies, betraying her dreams of patriotism and hunger for recognition. I agreed with him, but knew that it would take time, and some hard lessons for Kaleen to open her eyes.
The city rose before me, crenelated walls and towers of dark stone, with smaller buildings of timber frames and plaster walls, and…. wait, was that a stable ahead? There were stalls of horses, and a stylised horsehead on a sign above, and I picked up my pace, delighted. But just as I drew close, I looked ahead and saw a knight at the foot of a staircase, matching the description I had been given of Sir Lanis Shaldon, the very man I was here to see. I couldn’t stop to buy a horse just yet, not if there was a chance he might recognise me when I approached him. It wouldn’t be a good display of priorities or a sense of duty, and I didn’t want to give a bad impression.
“The proud city of Daggerfall greets you.” He pronounced as I stopped before him. “Can I help you with something?”
“I bring a petition.” I replied. “Chief Tazgol wishes to join the Daggerfall Covenant.”
“The Seamount Warchief?” He clarified, crossing his armoured arms. “Impressive. I don’t know what you did to convince him, friend, but you have my gratitude. Well done! I will take this petition to High King Emeric immediately. Enjoy your stay in Daggerfall.”
With this he passed me a heavy pouch, and ran up the stairs into the city. Elated, I turned back to the stables, a spring in my step. At last, I wouldn’t have to run everywhere anymore, I’d have a horse!

Chapter Five: Daggerfall

Standing outside the local Inn, Sweetroll’s reins in one hand and a note in the other, I reread the message for what might have been the fifth time; The Inn was called the Rosy Lion, and although it didn’t provide stabling, there was a stable only a few buildings away which I could make use of. The Inn itself was a sprawling, multi-storeyed stone building with a large common room on the ground floor. Felande wasn't difficult to find, and seemed happy to speak with me.
"Who wouldn't want such a cozy little home?" She asked, eyeing me appraisingly. "You have a look about you. Some sort of quality that's rare to find. And trust me, I'm never wrong about these sort of things. Can I interest you in a room at the local inn? Actually, wait. That came out wrong."
“A room at the local inn?” I repeated, wondering what the catch was.
"Look, empty rooms are just bad for business.” She confessed. “The upkeep alone costs me more than the place is worth. But I think we can come to a sort of arrangement. And not the sort of arrangement that involves a few drinks, let me be clear about that."
“What sort of arrangement?” I asked, relieved.
"I need someone to improve the reputation of my properties. A hero type who people look up to. And I have a feeling about you. You've done something great, and are probably on the way to do something greater. Seems like we can help each other here."
"I'm interested." I admitted. "What are the details?
"Yeah, all right, details." She repeated. "I can see how this might be a bit sketchy, but don't worry. The inn room is well-kept, conveniently located. I know you adventuring types, wanting a home in every town. This would be a nice addition to your holdings."
"There has to be a catch." I voiced my concern. "What is it?"
"No catch.” She assured me. “I just need someone to freshen up my image, and my gut tells me you're the one to do that. As long as you're not planning on turning it into a skooma den or an outlaw's refuge, the room is all yours."
"So, within legal reason, I can do whatever I want with the place?" I asked, disbelievingly.
"Oh, sure!" Felande insisted. "You can set up some crafting stations, house your pets, display any treasures or trophies you've come upon in your adventures. Hey, you can even set up a target dummy to practice combat. Just don't demolish the place and we're good."
I craned my head around the door, scanning the empty space. Plenty of room for a bed, some storage, and a few knickknacks I’d been lugging about, unwilling to sell for various reasons. It would do nicely, and the offer was unbelievably convenient, especially considering I was probably going to visit the city frequently to see the Prophet. I turned back to Felande, closing the door behind me.
“All right, I accept your offer.” I decided.
"Excellent! You won't regret this decision, I swear. Here's the deed and key to the room. Took me a while, but I finally was able to take them back from the last tenant. Required more time in the sewers than I had hoped for, but hey, that's business."
“Anything else I should keep in mind?” A bit late now, but better I know than not.
"Nope, just make yourself at home. Spruce things up a bit! Honestly, I can't wait to see how you arrange the place. Hopefully you'll end up with a few less Daedric shrines than another former tenant of mine. Like zero. Zero's a good number."
“Of course!” I promised. “I don't even worship Daedra.”
"Oh, what a relief.” She sighed happily. “I can't tell you how hard it is to wash blood stains off of cobble floors. But that's not even the worst of it! I've had tenants cram their rooms with the wildest things. Mounts, foliage, assistants - I mean, it's an inn room!"
“Do you own the place?” I asked, wondering how anyone would manage to coax a mount inside and up the stairs, no matter how much they wanted to save on stabling.
"I own this and several other properties throughout Tamriel.” Felande stated proudly. “It pays to diversify. Of course, that means I've got to look out for a variety of troubles too. But hey, no one ever said the real estate business was easy."
Bidding her farewell, I left the Inn and headed to the Tradesman’s Square I had passed through on my way to the Rosy Lion earlier. Hopefully someone there will have a bed and some other furniture I can purchase. I thought, glancing at a hound who had decided to follow me. It looks too well cared for to be a stray…. I wonder what it wants? Deciding the dog wasn’t being a nuisance, I ignored it in favour of checking the market stalls. There was a grocer, a florist, an armourer, a tailor, a leatherworker and several weaponsmiths, but no-one selling furniture. I tried the Crafting Halls next, but again was met with a selection limited to weaponry. There were a few other buildings nearby including a Bank, an Enchanter’s Supplies store with a Jewellery workbench, and a Clothier’s, but perplexingly, nowhere had a bed for sale. The Clothier did, however, have several plans available for reasonable prices, and I recalled a woman offering to certify people in Crafting, although that had seemed aimed more at increasing the number of hands available to churn out weapons and armour for the war, if the notice boards covered in order requests were anything to go by. Still, how much harder could a bed be, once I had learned the basics? I bought instructions on a basic bedroll to get started with, returned to the Crafting Halls, and approached the redhaired Bosmer.
"You here for crafting certification?” She asked brightly. “Don't worry, there's no cost involved—your alliance covers all my fees. Once you're certified, they'll let you fulfil the crafting writs. Everyone wins!"
“Yes, I saw a notice.” I confirmed, deciding that at least fulfilling a few writs would earn me some coin as well as provide some practice. “How do the crafting writs work?”
"They're daily requests for crafted goods, but they're only available to certified crafters.” She explained. “If you can show me you know your craft, I'll get you certified."'
“All right.” I agreed. “Tell me how this works.”
"I can train and certify blacksmiths, clothiers, and woodworkers.” She listed. “If that sounds like something you'd want, we can get started."
“Tell me more about the crafts you certify.” I asked, wondering which would be most useful.
"Of course.” She beamed. “What do you want to know?"
“What can a blacksmith make?”
"Anything with metal in it—and I don't mean horseshoes and callipers. The crafting writs are for weapons and heavy armour, so that's what I teach."
“What does a woodworker make?” This would probably be most useful for furniture, eventually.
"Bows, shields, and magical staves. Staffs? No, it's staves. I always forget how to say that."
“What do clothiers make?” Hopefully some bedding and soft furnishings!
"Cloth and leather goods. The crafting writs want pieces of light cloth armour or medium leather armour, so that's what I certify."
“All right, I've got it.” I told her, mulling over my options. I should probably learn everything I can, since it’s free, I decided, and the more of these writs I complete, the more I can earn while I practice!
"Have you spoken with Danel Telleno?” The Bosmer asked me. “He handles certification and training for provisioning, enchanting, and alchemy. He's a bit stuffy, but he knows what he's doing."
“No, I'd prefer you certify me.” I replied. I can always go and see him next, but these sound more useful right now.
"Excellent! We can get started whenever you're ready."
With this Millenith gave me a list of supplies to go forage for, and when I returned with my raw materials she walked me through refining them, constructing a basic item for each discipline, and then deconstructing the items to learn how to salvage materials. By the end of it I was dirty, sweaty and tired, but rather proud of myself, and I was certified to complete writs for Blacksmithing, Woodworking and Clothing.
Best of all, I’d made myself a bedroll! I dropped it off in my room before going to find Danel for further training, and an hour later I had added Provisioning, Enchanting and Alchemy certifications to my achievements, and had a small collection of useful potions and some fresh meals in my supplies. No more scavenging from enemy campfires! I celebrated to myself as I stowed my provisions and headed back out towards the market, wondering what recipes I might be able to purchase there. Happily distracted, I almost tripped over something on my way out if the Inn.
"Woof!"
I looked closer at the hound, and he whined anxiously.
“What's wrong?”
The dog looked down the road and then back at me, as if it wanted me to follow.
“All right.” I sighed, the poor thing had been following me around for a few hours now. “Let's go.”
I followed the dog through town, to the fountain near the East Gate where he abruptly turned and, sniffing constantly, retraced his way back down towards the market square before turning a few yards before the bridge and headed down the short slope to the reservoir between the forge and the mill. On a small knoll in the shallows, too far from the bridge to be easily noticed, lay a man facedown, clearly dead. As I circled his body I noticed a scrap of paper, but as I bent to reach for it, movement behind a nearby boulder caught my attention.
“Your interference will not be tolerated.” The man stated coldly as he approached, daggers drawn. Wondering what the dog had gotten me into, I drew my own blades and stepped up onto the firmer ground near the body, letting my awareness spread as he rushed me. I deflected his first blow, sliding in behind him as he overstepped to regain his balance, slashing at his arms and kidneys as I jumped lightly to avoid a few rocks. He spun to face me, a flicker of uncertainty or maybe fear on his face as I waited for his next attack. It was a lunging, desperate stab and I defected it upwards, opening his guard wide and burying my own dagger in his heart before his second could come forward. I freed my blade with a twist, allowing his body to fall backwards with a splash, and bent to examine the note.

Deciding that since the tailor’s shop was only a few yards away if I climbed the bank behind the Forge, rather than visiting the market then doubling back, I folded the note and tucked it away, then checked the assassin, taking a small pouch of gold and his daggers.
Winvale's Winsome Loom was where I’d purchased the instructions for my bedroll, and the tailor gave me a nod of recognition as I entered.
"Interested in a set of new clothes?” He asked me. “Something in silk, perhaps? No one ever leaves my shop empty handed."
“I'm looking for a cloak with a crescent emblem.” I replied cautiously, uncertain how to address the situation.
"I'm afraid those aren't for sale.” He advised me. “The crescent moon is the heraldry of the Casimir family, the rulers of Daggerfall."
“Why would a dead man write that on a note?” I asked, deciding to be blunt.
"Dead?” He repeated. “Rugged fellow, had a dog? That's Roy. Well, that was Roy. I'm sorry he's dead, but I'm not surprised. If you figure out what Roy knew and who killed him, I'm sure someone will reward you. It's also a good way to get yourself killed."
“Were you and Roy good friends?” I asked him, deciding to get as much information as I could.
"I guess.” He pondered. “I liked Roy. He watched out for the merchants around here. And, in exchange, we helped Roy. I listened and let Roy know what people were saying. If we ever told him something important, Roy made sure the right people were informed."
“Tell me more about Roy.” I invited him.
"Roy was a good man.” The tailor sighed. “Loyal to Daggerfall. People trusted him. Even that old dog loved him." I nodded my thanks and turned to leave. “It’s a shame what happened to Roy. May Tall Papa guide him.” The Redguard murmured behind me.
As I wandered into the market square, the florist gained my attention first.
"Flowers for sale! A posy to gain a sweetheart's favor, perhaps?" She suggested.
“Not today.” I dismissed her offer. “I found a body in the water near the mill wheel. He carried this list.”
"Oh. That's … that's a pity.” She sighed sadly. “Well, now this is a mess."
“What do you mean?” I asked.
"I'm taking a chance here.” She told me frankly. “Sometimes I hear strange things. Like what's on that note: black roses with thorns. I've heard whispers of dark nature magic. That's just the kind of thing Roy—your dead man—would be interested in."
“How did Roy become involved in all this?”
"With the note?” She asked. “I don't know. That's just what Roy did. He would find out things. Daggerfall has many eyes and ears. After all, information is cheaper than war." I nodded my thanks, turning towards the grocer’s stall. "I'll set aside some lilies for Roy." She promised as I left.
“Welcome, friend.” The grocer greeted me. “You can’t get better fruit of vegetables anywhere in Daggerfall. I guarantee it.”
“I found this list.” I told him. “Do you have three blood oranges?”
"Look, I don't want any trouble.” He replied anxiously. “That's a phrase used by the King's intelligence network. It means someone's going to get killed. I don't want to know anything more. Just leave me out of this."
“The King's intelligence network?” I pressed.
"You know, the eyes and ears of Daggerfall?” He replied nervously. “That's how King Casimir keeps track of what's going on in the city. But you didn't hear about it from me."
“I have a few other phrases to ask about.” I told him, frustrated by his caginess.
"I said leave me alone!” He burst out. “Take your questions and go. I'm not involved in this. This sounds like something that Roy would want to know about."
“Who's Roy?” I hoped asking would get him to open up a bit.
"Damned persistent, aren't you?” He grumbled resentfully. “Roy's a friend. I trust him. People I don't know, I don't trust. And I don't know you."
“Tell me more about what you do.” I coaxed, deciding that telling him of Roy’s death would have him clamming up for good.
"I sell the best fruits and vegetables in Daggerfall.” He stated. “Lots of people come by. I talk and I listen. Then I talk to my friends, like Roy. As for other people? Maybe they should decide what they're going to do, now that they know so much."
“I discovered the meaning of all the items on the list.” I mused, more thinking aloud than speaking to the nervous grocer, then turned my attention back to him. “Where should I report this?”
"Well, not to me. Talk to someone official, like Captain Aresin. He's over at the bottom of the castle steps. I don't know what else is on that list, but this feels like treacherous business."
I hurried up the stairs near the Mages’ Guild building, scanning the walkways along the wall as I ran, and found the captain standing and looking between the crenelations towards the market below.
“Welcome to Daggerfall.” He greeted me distractedly. “Move along.”
“I have information from Roy.” I announced, rather than introducing myself. What name would I give? The Prophet’s appellation, while accurate, wasn’t really something I felt I could offer to most people.
"Roy? Where is he?” The captain demanded. “Why did he send a stranger in his place?"
Before I could answer another assassin charged at us with a wordless yell, and I spun a kick at his head as I drew my daggers. I took the chance to show off a little, dodging strikes and toying with my opponent before despatching him and turning back towards Captain Aresin.
“Roy's dead.” I eventually answered the captain, sheathing my daggers. “I found this note on his body.”
"Dead? Mara's Hands! Let me look at that note.” I handed the page over and he scanned it quickly. “It's our code, all right. Someone who uses dark nature magic is planning to assassinate King Casimir! But who's behind this? I need to know more."
“I can get more information.” I offered, dismayed to have my own translation of the code confirmed.
"Just don't try to play me for a fool." The captain warned me. "But with Roy dead, I don't seem to have much of a choice. Talk to Grenna gra-Kush at the Rosy Lion Inn. If Roy was onto something, she'll know what to do. Betray us and … well, she'll still know what to do."
“I'll talk to Grenna.” I agreed and jogged down the stairs towards the Inn.
Grenna was near the hearth in the Common Room on the main floor, tankard in hand.
"I'm busy.” The Orsimer girl barked at me when I approached. “Can't you see I'm drinking here?"
“Captain Aresin sent me.” I told her.
"And? Why are we talking?" She demanded.
“Roy uncovered an assassination plot.” I explained.
"By Malacath!” She exclaimed, suddenly far more focused. “Roy stepped on a nest of snakes this time. One of the vipers is upstairs. He might know something. I'd confront him, but he knows me. Maybe a stranger like you can get him to talk."
“I can do that.” I agreed.
"Eager. Reminds me of Roy.” She sniffed. “Go upstairs. Find Leveque and rattle his teeth, but don't kill him. We may need him later. Just don't mention me. I'm not an agent of the crown. I'm just an Orc enjoying her ale."
I left her with a grin, and took the stairs two at a time, but there must have been something in my expression as I scanned the open area, as before I could determine who Leveque might be, he was fleeing in panic.
"Oh, no! Help me! I've been discovered!” He cried, running off as yet another assassin appeared from one of the nearby rooms. “Don't let them get me!"
Irritated, I made quick work of Leveque’s minder and climbed the next flight of stairs to find him cowering next to a stack of crates.
"You don't think I had anything to do with that, do you?" He tried to bluster.
“I'm willing to overlook all this in exchange for some information.” I replied, leaving a hand on the hit of one of my daggers after sheathing them, slowly, to make my point.
"Agreed. I'll tell you everything I know.” Leveque agreed hurriedly. “Martine Lerineaux hired me. He lives next door to the inn. In the large manor house. I'm a mason, you see. Martine wanted me to make him a map of the tunnels beneath Daggerfall."
“What tunnels?” I demanded.
"The secret ones that lead to the castle.” Leveque admitted. “But I don't know what he's planning. I swear! I just needed the gold. I've got my own troubles back in Wayrest."
“Stay here.” I ordered him, brushing the hilt of a dagger with my fingers to reinforce the message.
"I told you everything I know.” He babbled as I turned to go. “Talk to Martine."
"You're back.” Grenna greeted me. “What happened?"
“Leveque had some protection.” I informed her.
"I thought I heard some noise upstairs.” She noted. “But you don't look any worse for the wear. Did you let that snake Leveque live?"
“He's alive.” I confirmed. “He gave Martine Lerineaux information about secret tunnels to the castle.”
"Martine the merchant? We need to know everything!” Grenna exclaimed. “Get inside Lerineaux's manor. Look for anything that can shed light on what they're planning. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Leveque, so take anything you find straight to Captain Aresin."
“Very well.” I agreed.
"Lerineaux's manor is a short walk from here." Grenna told me.
As it turned out, the manor was directly next door to the Inn, and the front door was unlocked. Suspicious, I snuck inside silently and explored. There were a couple of cultists being exceptionally unobservant in the main room who I picked off quickly and quietly with my bow, and another in a side room who I used my daggers on, before I made my way cautiously towards the stairs.
Apparently, I hadn’t been quiet enough as Martine Lerineaux came charging down the stairs towards me, maul raised, before I reached them. It was laughably easy to skip backwards as he swung the large weapon at me, then dart back in to slice at him, circling and dodging as he lumbered in heavy armour with the more unwieldy weapon, until I stepped in and finished him before he could recover his balance after a missed attack.
I cleared the upstairs of a few more bandits while searching for information, and was fortunate enough to find a note with exactly the details I needed;

So there’s a back up assassin hidden somewhere in the city, but meanwhile we have a chance to foil the main attack, and hope that this Verrick will assume we are unaware of his intentions. I thought. It will be easier to take him off-guard if he assumed the King would have relaxed his own guard.
I hurried back to Captain Aresin, who was still on the wall above the market square.
"Most of the royal family is safe, but his lordship is brave … and stubborn.” He informed me when I arrived. “He refuses to leave the throne room. I need more information to convince him of the danger he's in."
“King Casimir is the target.” I told him. “Assassins are hiding in cargo crates on the docks.”
"His Lordship?” He exclaimed in horror. “Keep this quiet or we'll never find the assassins in time. Divines help us if the King is killed. It could destroy the alliance!" He dropped his head and muttered, "Both King and Covenant are at risk today." Then looked back at me and said, louder, "I've taken every precaution to protect the royal family, but the King refuses to lay low. We need to find those assassins!"
“I'll search the harbor.” I offered.
"Good.” The Captain agreed. “Talk to Sasana at-Abbas. She oversees the docks. Tell her what you discovered and she'll help in any way she can. Now hurry. The King's life is in danger."
“I'll talk to Sasana.” I agreed and turned to leave.
"Sasana is in one of the warehouses on the hill overlooking the docks.” Aresin called after me. “You can trust her."
The harbour wasn’t far, and Sasana was fairly easy to spot.
"Unless this is about cargo, I can't talk right now.” She said when I ran up to her. “I'm extremely busy."
“Captain Aresin sent me.” I told her. “The King is in danger.”
"The assassins are in my port?” She guessed, indignant at the idea. “Find these snakes and kill them, but do it quietly. I don't want to start a panic." I nodded briefly and moved toward the nearest crates to begin my search. "I'll alert the guards.” Sasana advised me. “If any of these conspirators get past you, we'll cut them down."
The crates already in the warehouses all appeared in order, and although there was one sitting suspiciously out of the way on the upper dock, it only held supplies. I made my way down to where two ships were docked, and boarded the Hotspur. Sure enough, a crate on the main deck held an assassin, who was so disoriented at her hiding place disintegrating around her that I was able to take her out swiftly with only a few strikes.
Spotting another likely crate on the for’castle I entered the captain’s cabin to find a way up there, discovering a bonus crate with a second assassin on my way. This one was slightly more prepared, but having been crammed into an enclosed space for long hours was a little slow, and easy to take down. The third crate did indeed hold its own smuggled assassin, and after finishing her off I dropped to the main deck, ran down the boarding ramp, then sprinted my way up the many stone steps to the castle above the town.
This place is too damn steep! I grumbled silently to myself. Just as soon as I finally get a horse, I’m having to race around ships and a city, and there’s no real point in having Sweetroll carry me such short distances!
Captain Aresin was missing from his usual place, and the flight of steps up to the castle itself was the longest yet. I found Aresin in the throne room when I entered the castle, and he seemed to be arguing with King Casimir as I approached.
"My Lord, you must go now!" He begged his monarch.
"I will not!” The king insisted. “The dragon does not flee its lair!"
I thought Nords used dragon symbolism, don’t Bretons have a lion as the national totem? I pondered distractedly as I reached them.
"They're coming for you!” Aresin all but wailed in frustration. “Wait. What was that?"
"Death to the King!" A hooded figure declared in a sinisterly low voice, as several more assassins followed him into the room. The guards immediately stepped forward to engage them as Aresin hastened Casimir towards the stairs.
"Get the King out of here!” He ordered. “Go!"
I ran after Casimir, following him up the stairs and through an antechamber to the gallery above the throne room, where he stopped abruptly. I lunged past the frozen monarch to intercept the assassin who had been waiting, blocking his strike and spinning around him to slice and stab in a quick flurry of blows.
“You stand in Angof’s way.” He snarled, and I realised this must be Verrik. I redoubled my efforts, ducking under his blows to knock him off balance, never ceasing my own strikes until he staggered back and crumpled, dead.
“Good riddance.” The king muttered as he strode past the corpse to turn and face the way we’d come. I made a quick check of the body to remove anything useful, and stood to face Casimir as Aresin arrived.
"Captain, this isn't easy for me to say, but I want to apologize for ignoring your warnings." King Casimir said haltingly.
"It was nothing, my King.” Aresin assured him before he knelt in a deep bow. “I apologize if I was impertinent in my duty."
"Not at all, Aresin.” His king forgave him. “Rise, please. In service to Daggerfall, our friend here is to have any support the watch or the knights can provide."
"Of course.” The captain agreed. “We'll do whatever we can to help find Angof and determine his motives. All of Daggerfall stands behind our hero."
At this the king turned to face me, and I realised with a start that I, who didn’t even know my own name, was about to converse with royalty. I really should just give myself a new name, I decided, that way I’ll at least have something to offer people. It’s just rude not to introduce myself to anyone.
“It would seem that the Captain’s concern for me was well founded.” King Casimir admitted to me. “You saved me from this assassin’s blade, as well as from my own foolishness this day.”
“I did what I could.” I demurred, embarrassed by the situation.
“Indeed.” Casimir rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The body on my floor proves that. Who was this man who came to kill me? What did he want?”
“The assassin was Verrik, but he worked for someone named Angof.” I explained.
“Angof?” The king repeated. “I’ve heard this name whispered by my agents. The royal spymaster reports of unrest across my kingdom stirred into a froth by this Angof, but that’s all we know.”
“They wanted to create chaos by assassinating you.” I elaborated, recalling Verrik’s note to Martine.
“Creating chaos is a method, not a goal.” King Casimir mused, crossing his arms. “It’s a means, not an ends. There’s more going on here than chaos for its own sake. We must get to the bottom of this.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I offered, happy to make myself useful while waiting for the Prophet’s next summons.
“Oh yes, my friend.” King Casimir assured me. “I hereby grant you special dispensation to investigate the villain Angof in my name. But you must keep this quiet, for we don’t want to tip our hand. I shall never forget your service this day, however.”
With this he handed me an ornate broadsword, and a plump pouch which made me far happier than the heavy weapon did, and I nodded my thanks in a clumsy half-bow, before backing up a little, and leaving the king with the captain as I made my way back downstairs to find both Grenna and Sasana had arrived.
"Good thing you showed up.” Grenna congratulated me. “Now I've got a good story to tell back in Orsinium."
"Assassins in my port?” Sasana didn’t seem to have forgiven the insult yet. “Thank Tall Papa you were here."
I accepted their appreciation awkwardly and escaped back outside into the city. Now, to offload my loot somewhere, and come up with a name for myself. I decided as I walked down the stairs, feeling far more relaxed than I had as I ran up them only minutes earlier.
An armourer in the market was happy to pay well for the fancier pieces, and I chose to dismantle the more functional items so that I could salvage components from them. There were a few items that seemed to have special attributes which I took apart to study, in the hopes I could learn the techniques involved and utilise them myself in the future when making my own gear.
And then I went and took Sweetroll out for a ride, so that I could discuss my naming with her, since I felt more foolish talking in public to myself than to a horse, and I wanted to try saying my options aloud to hear how they sounded.
“What do you think, Sweetroll?” I asked my mount as we walked the trail towards the Prophet’s Harborage. “I’m obviously Breton, so my name should be, too…. And if I’m being descriptive, then Chastain as a surname, because it means chestnut, and my hair’s a sort of chestnut red. And the only other thing I know about myself, other than I’m pretty good at killing, is that the Prophet told me I have a part to play, for some purpose of the gods, and that the Scrolls say it’s important. And I’m dead, but my body has been restored by a skyshard. But I want a pretty name…. Angelique? I think it means divine messenger…. Angelique Chastain…. The chestnut-haired messenger of the Divines. How does that sound, Sweetroll?”
The docile mare bobbed her head as if nodding, and I smiled in relief. I had a name! And I’d arrived at the Harborage, I realised, pulling Sweetroll to a halt. Buoyed by the creation of my new identity, I decided to see if the Prophet was ready to send me after Lyris yet.

Chapter Seven: The Wyrd (Part One)

To travel north, I decided the best route was to leave Daggerfall by its East Gate, follow the road to Delyn’s Mill, and depending on what news I picked up along the way, take one of the trade roads northeast or northwest.
The trees were beginning to show touches of autumn colours, especially the birches, and patches of golden hyacinth-shaped flowers spread thickly in the lush grass, and it was a beautiful day. I was keeping Sweetroll to an easy canter and enjoying the scenery, the walls and towers behind me not yet fully hidden by the trees, when I noticed two people on the riverbank ahead and a man standing just off the road before the bridge, all looking anxious. Slowing Sweetroll to a walk, I halted her alongside the man to speak with him.
“Stranger, this forest is cursed.” He greeted me. "A caution, my friend. If you're following this road, know that Deleyn's Mill is lost!"
“What happened at Deleyn's Mill?” I asked him.
"The land's turned against us!” He cried, distraught. “Spriggans and imps have overrun the mill. My family and I escaped, but the rest of the villagers weren't so lucky."
“What can I do to help?” I offered, glancing past him to the man and woman on the river bank, who were still staring back the way they’d come as though searching for other survivors.
"I don't know.” He wrung his hands in distress. “There might be a way to help the other villagers. A group of women showed up as we fled. Threw spells around and called themselves the Wyrd Sisters. They helped us escape. Maybe they know what's going on out there."
“I'll talk to these Wyrd Sisters.” I agreed.
"I'm taking my family to Daggerfall.” The man replied. “We'll be safer there."
“You mentioned other villagers.” I prompted him, swaying easily in the saddle as Sweetroll sidestepped a little, picking up on his anxiety.
"Our friends and neighbors.” He mourned. “They were trapped by the imps. There was nothing we could do but run for our lives."
“I'll do what I can to help them.” I promised the grieving man.
"Thank you, my friend.” He nodded deeply in gratitude. “You're certainly braver than I am, I'm sad to admit."
“Do you know why the village was attacked?” I asked, patting Sweetroll’s shoulder to sooth her.
"Sheor curse me, but I have no idea.” He admitted. “Deleyn's Mill has always focused on our work. We don't get involved in politics or feud with our neighbors. Of course, chopping down trees could make a spriggan angry, I suppose."
“Have the spriggans ever done anything like this before?” I wondered.
"Not since I've lived in Deleyn's Mill.” He shrugged. “Come to think of it, those strange vines that recently sprung up are new. I couldn't cut them even with my finest axe."
“What strange vines?” I asked, suspicious of the timing.
"You'll see them soon enough.” He assured me. “They're especially thick up north. You can't miss them. They're all twisted and diseased-looking. I'd suggest staying far away from those awful vines. They're nothing but trouble, of that I'm sure."
I decided to leave Sweetroll grazing safely near the bridge rather than risk her being injured, although I was a little anxious about leaving her unattended. Realising that situations such as this were bound to happen frequently given my mission to help people, and I had best test her patience and loyalty now rather than later when I could be much further from civilisation, I secured her reins so she wouldn’t tangle them and left her to enjoy the lush grass.
From the top of the arched stone bridge, I could see the village, and the imps hovering thickly everywhere. Avoiding them as best I could, and making quick work of those I couldn’t, I made my way closer. As I approached the millhouse itself, I noticed a woman on a small islet in the river, and changed course to approach her.
"The spirit of the Wyrd weeps, for something drives her children mad.” She told me as I approached. “I fear for the innocents in this village."
“What's going on here?” I asked her, hoping for more information than the fleeing villager had given me.
"The forest is enraged.” She replied. “Filled with hatred. We tried to calm it as we always have before, but our magic falters. Never have the elemental spirits refused to answer our calls. The grass, the trees, the very earth itself—they're dying."
“What can we do?” I wondered.
"For now, our purpose is to defend the villagers from these creatures.” She advised me. “I can construct a simple ward to protect the mill, but we are far from the Wyrd Tree. I shall require a focus."
“I'll help.” I promised. “What do you need of me?”
"Take this creature, born and bound to the essence of Aetherius, and let it guide you to what I need.” The Wyress instructed, passing me a torchbug. “Hopefully, it will find enough to establish the ward."
“What's the Wyrd?” I asked her, cursing my missing memories yet again.
"The Wyrd Tree, the spirit that gives life to this land. My sisters and I are Beldama Wyrd. We serve the Wyrd Tree. We came here to discover why anger infests this part of the forest."
“Have you discovered anything?” I asked.
"No, and that worries me.” She admitted. “The forest no longer speaks to us. We sensed that something was wrong and that's why we came here. But beyond that, we are at a loss as to how to make things right."
“What should I do with this creature?” Other than hope it isn’t an imp’s favourite snack…..
"Let this torchbug fly where it will.” She instructed me. “Let it guide you to the essence of Aetherius. It will find the soil that is most pure and draw out what I need for my focus. A focus is required for the ritual to work. This torchbug, born from the soil and sap of the Wyrd Tree, will seek out untainted earth. Let's hope the corruption hasn't spoiled the entire area."
Nodding in agreement, if not with complete understanding, I carried the torchbug across the stream and past the buildings, guessing that if the idea was to find “pure” soil, it was more likely to a be a little way out of the village. Sure enough, once released the glowing insect lead me up the slope to where trees had been recently felled, and hovered in place beside a pair of spriggans. Grimacing at the necessity, I despatched them with my bow before approaching the torchbug and accepting the essence it had located. The next location was to the north, near stacks of felled logs, and thankfully free of the enraged nature spirits, although I did wonder if I was imagining the woman on top of one stack until I climbed up to check on her.
“I thought I was the only one left out here.” The Nord greeted me. “Well, get up here and fight beside me. Today is a glorious day to die!”
“How many of the creatures have you killed?” I asked.
“Every last one of the damned things that got too close.” She stated proudly. “A Nord never gives up. And a Nord never backs down from a fight. I’ll keep fighting and swinging my axe until my arm falls off. And then I’ll find a way to fight some more!”
“The surviving villagers are gathering in the mill.” I advised her. “You should join them.”
“I’m not afraid to die, stranger.” She vowed. “But I might as well do it while defending the village. Thanks for the help. I look forward to fighting at your side back at the mill.”
It took forever for the little torchbug to find another pure spot, I’d made my way back around the perimeter of the forest to where the Wyress waited for me on the tiny islet before it darted towards the end of the stream where falls tumbled down the rocks towards the shore, thankfully detouring to a more navigable way down, although I wasn’t entirely sure if that was for my sake. I avoided a few imps, followed the glowing mote, and accepted the third Aetheric essence from it before picking my way back up the steep slope.
"I mourn the creatures you were forced to kill.” The Wyress consoled me when I returned to her. “They usually aren't so aggressive."
“I've gathered what you need.” I replied, trying not to dwell on the cost.
"May the essence of Aetherius protect us all.” She replied. “Now, please, stand back. I must perform the ritual of warding."
“I'll just get out of the way.” I said, giving her space.
"Oh, I hope this works!" She replied, hands glowing and casting a glowing circle that covered the islet, runes outlining the edge, before all the light condensed into an orb hovering in front of her. "There, I think that's done it. Come with me." I trailed behind as she led the way to the mill, the glowing orb following her closely until it sped for the open doorway and filled it with a shimmering green glow, and a few strands of ivy leaves. "Good! It worked! That's a perfectly fine ward, if I do say so myself." She stated, and walked through into the mill as I followed. "That ward will buy us some time. Now we have to figure out what to do next."
“The villagers can't hide in the mill forever.” I pointed out.
"Agreed.” She nodded. “The mill is safe for now, but we need to get the villagers out of here. My sister Jehanne has a plan to help the villagers, but we need your assistance. If you're willing to help us, please talk to her."
“Who are you to nonchalantly walk through flames and forest?” Wyress Jehanne demanded of me when I approached, definitely not as friendly as her sister. “You smell of the city of stone. Have you come to cleave our forest? Rip up our soil? Haven’t the spirits already been enraged enough by your kind?”
“I’m only here to help.” I tried to placate her.
“So you say” She retorted. “My sisters and I serve the Beldama Wyrd. We have a duty to uphold. You? I don’t know your true intentions. Still, we could use the help of someone who isn’t as attached to the forest as we are. You might prove useful, after all.”
“What do you need me to do?” I offered.
“My sister Olyna is still out there, probably trapped somewhere between the fires and the enraged forest creatures.” She explained. “The fires burn, our sister is missing, and the villagers are dying. Something needs to be done.” And it’s all a bit too stressful for you, hence the attitude….
“I’ll deal with the fires and save anyone who’s still alive.” I promised.
“Get everyone back here and we can keep them safe.” She agreed. “For a while. In the meantime, we’ll work on what to do next. And make sure you put those fires out. This building won’t provide much protection if it burns to the ground.”
“Do you know why the forest has become so hostile?” I asked her.
“Isn’t it obvious?” She fumed. “The people of the city of stone caused this. They have no regard for the natural world. Nature only beds so far before it begins to suffer. Then it reasserts itself. Nature always prevails. That’s why the vines appeared.”
“What vines?” Probably the same ones that refugee at the bridge mentioned…. But I wonder if Jehanne knows anything about them?
“The vines!” She exclaimed in frustration. “They started appearing weeks ago, bursting through the soil and spreading throughout Glenumbra. We’ve never seen such vines before, and even the Wyrd tree was engulfed by the strange growths. Whatever’s happening, no one is safe.”
“Who are you and why are you here?” I asked, curious about her motives, since she seemed so conflicted about the fate of the people here.
“We are the witches of the Wyrd.” She explained. “We serve the Wyrd Tree and the forest is our home. If this was Breton against Breton, we would not get involved. But something unnatural caused this. The forest has been wounded and that concerns the Beldama Wyrd.”
“You still came to help.” I pointed out.
“We stand apart, but we aren’t heartless.” She insisted. “No one deserves to die for something they haven’t done.”
Nodding in understanding, I left the mill and was relieved to find a well, and a bucket, only a few yards away. Arming myself with a full bucket of water, I ran for the nearest mostly intact building, and doused the flames licking at the door.
Inside was an enraged Khajiit, stomping on the corpse of an imp.
“No more!” She vowed, giving a few final stomps. “Mura will not stand for it! You won’t hurt any more of Mura’s friends!” Noticing me, she turned towards me and gave a rather growling explanation. “These creatures show up in the night, try to take everything from Mura. This one has worked hard to make friends, find people who would accept her. Mura will not allow these beasts to kill her friends.”
“There are survivors.” I soothed her. “They’re at the mill.”
“Do you speak the truth?” She asked me anxiously. “Mura thought everyone was dead. Now you tell me good news, and hope fills this one’s heart.”
“The Wyrd sisters are protecting your friends.” I promised, hoping whoever she was especially close to was safe.
“Mura has heard tales of the witches who roam the west. Some good, some bad. This one will not turn down help, though, yes? Mura will find her way back to the mill. Just let one of those creatures get in this one’s way!”
I bid her goodbye with a smile, and left the cabin. The next fire I extinguished was near the warehouse by the docks, and huddled at the water’s edge below was a terrified villager.
“I don’t want to die out here!” He babbled when I dropped off the edge of the dock to check on him. “You’ve got to help me!”
“Are you injured?” I asked him.
“Injured? Injured?” He repeated incredulously. “What does that matter? Everyone’s dead! I think…. I think I’m the only one left.”
“You’re not the only survivor.” I informed him gently. “Head to the mill. The villagers are gathering there.”
“Survivors?” He breathed hopefully. “I’m not all alone? Oh, thank the Eight! I have to get to the mill and see who else is still alive.”
Scanning the docks again, I could see a huddled form trying to hide behind some crates at the end of a pier, with an imp drifting nearer. I sprinted across the sand and back onto the docks, feet slapping loudly on the planks, and stabbed into the imp before it could fully turn to face me, slicing deeply to end it as quickly as possible.
The Orc who stepped out from behind the crates looked rather sheepish, but made an effort to put on more bravado than he obviously felt.
“It’s, uh, good you got here when you did.” He stumbled as a greeting. “You were much more, eh, merciful than I was about to be to those creatures.”
“Are you alright?” I asked sceptically.
“Ha! Better than those imps after I get through with them!” He boasted, then seemed to have second thoughts. “Um, assuming you didn’t kill them all already. You did? Kill them all, I mean. Didn’t you?”
“The way is clear to the mill.” I replied, struggling not to roll my eyes. “You’ll find safety there.”
“The mill. Of course.” He replied, relieved, then made one last attempt to sound tough. “Well, if I do run into any hostile creatures along the way, they’ll regret the day they decided to invade our village!”
Nodding goodbye, I left him to gather his courage and ran back up the pier, then made my way past the other buildings. I almost didn’t check the last building along the beach, as it appeared in ruins with collapsed walls and multiple fires, until I heard an anguished cry coming from it.
“No, my daughter! She can’t be gone!” A woman wailed in grief.
“She’s…. gone. I’m, I’m sorry.” A calmer voice answered gently, and then I was firing arrows at the fireball-throwing imps as I raced forward, switching to daggers to cut down the last few once I was too close to use my bow. I flung bucket after bucket of water at the flames, and ran into the ruined dwelling to find a villager and the missing Wyrd sister.
“My darling daughter. No. She…. She can’t be dead. No, no, no.” The villager mourned, and I averted my eyes from the limp figure in a corner I had recently extinguished.
“Did my sisters send you to aid us?” Wyress Olyna asked me, and I turned to her in gratitude at the change of subject.
“Yes. You need to head back to the mill.” I told her.
“May the Mother Spirits guide us!” She prayed. “I tried so hard, but I wasn’t able to save more than this single villager. I’ll make sure we both get back to the mill.”
“No! My beautiful daughter, please say something!” The villager wailed, kneeling beside her daughter’s body. “You have to be alright, you have to be!”
“We have to go.” The Wyress told her gently. “We can’t stay here any longer. Your daughter’s gone.”
“We can’t just leave her here like this!” The village woman insisted, as Olyna began casting, and green light the colour of new growth circled her feet. “I have to say goodbye! Wait, what are you doing? What’s happening?”
And with a quick burst of golden light they vanished, teleported to safety, and I gratefully turned to run back to the mill, flinging water at every fire I could find along the way.
“Perhaps I was too quick to pass judgement on you.” Wyress Jehanne greeted me, far more friendly than when I had first met her. “These people, including my sister Olyna, owe you their lives.”
“I did what I could.” I replied, wishing I had arrived sooner. Maybe if I had I would have been able to do more, perhaps even save that poor woman’s daughter....
“The remaining fires should burn out soon.” She went on, as though seeing the regrets in my eyes. “You did what you could, but the forest’s rage has ravaged this village. It’s terrible, for sure, but a small part of me is thankful that these saws won’t operate again.” I shrugged, understanding her perspective, but still mourning the lost lives, both human and other. “My sisters and I should be able to open a path to safety, but we’ll need your help again to make this work.”
“What do I need to do?” I asked her.
“We can travel along the roots of the Wyrd tree.” She told me. “That’s how we were able to get here so quickly. But there’s some kind of corruption in the soil, and now that path is blocked to us. The roots need to be nourished with pure energy.”
“Where do I get pure energy?” I asked, wondering if this would mean following the torchbug again.
“Nothing is more pure than life itself.” Jehanne replied. “We can use the lifeforce of the creatures to nourish the roots of the Wyrd Tree. Kill one of the creatures near each root. Their life essence should provide the power we need to get the villagers out of here.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I promised, silently weighing the lives of the villagers against the lives of the maddened, bloodthirsty spirits, and the Wyrd Sisters’ devotion to their Tree.
“Look for the roots of the Wyrd around the mill. Remember that those creatures must give up their lives near the roots or the roots won’t absorb their life essences. Any creature you kill away from a root is a life extinguished for no reason.”
Deciding that asking anything else wasn’t as urgent as getting the task done, I left the mill to begin searching for the Wyrd Tree’s roots. I figured that they would probably be near the places of pure soil the torchbug had led me to when gathering the essence of Aetherius, so I retraced my steps to the waterfall first. Sure enough, there was a tiny, sparsely-leaved shoot breaking out of the earth, which once I shot down the spriggan standing guard next to it, began to glow. Okay, so I know what to look for, and I have a good idea of where to look. I decided, and ran back across the stream and up the hill to where the torchbug had first led me, making sure to avoid attracting the attention of any of the spriggans or imps as I went.
Locating the root, I sniped the closest spriggan, then once its life force had been absorbed I dropped flat to hide myself from an imp looking around as if searching for me, and inched my way backwards until I was able to stand and run north to the final area of my search. I picked off a spriggan from a distance, made sure the root was glowing, and ran back to the mill while the way was still open.
Jehanne and Helene stood alone inside the mill, and seemed genuinely happy to see me again.
“We were able to get all the villagers through the portal.” Jehanne celebrated. “They’re safe in our camp for now.”
“Anything else you need from me?” I wondered, gazing around the empty building.
“I should return to our camp and help protect the villagers.” She replied. “My sisters will continue to look into the madness that occurred here. Perhaps you could help them, if you have an interest. You have earned my respect, stone-dweller. Thank you. Speak to Helene. There are still questions that require answers.”
With this she stepped through a portal, leaving me with the Wyress who had first sent me following the torchbug, Helene.
“I didn’t want to say anything with all these poor people around.” She told me. “They’ve already gone through so much. But after studying the situation, I think I know what’s going on in the forest.”
“What did you discover?” I asked.
“The terrible magic that infects these creatures.” She started. “I’ve heard stories, but I’ve never seen it used. Reach magic. I don’t know how this happened. Even the guardians of the Wyrd are silent. This is much worse than I originally imagined.”
“Who are the guardians?” I asked. I thought that was your job, you and your sisters?
“Elemental spirits connected to the Wyrd Tree.” She explained. “They guide us in protecting the land. But if we cannot reach them, they cannot aid us. I must ask for your continued help in this. All of Glenumbra may be at risk if this blight continues to spread."
“What do you need me to do?” I’m saying that to a lot of people…..
"You must meet with Wyress Ileana.” Helene insisted. “She was the first to sense the disturbance and may know more about Reach magic. We have to find a way to stop this or the very earth around us will perish. Please, find my sister on the road north of this mill."
I nodded my goodbyes and slipped from the mill. Before heading north, I backtracked towards the bridge until I was clear of any imps or spriggans, then whistled for Sweetroll. To my delight she appeared immediately, snorting happily to see me, and I swung myself into her saddle, loosening the reins again before turning her to skirt the destroyed village and pick up the northbound road a safe distance away.

Chapter Seven: The Wyrd (Part Three)

Wyress Gwen remained crouched over the dead wolf. "Have a look around, if you must, but we need to act soon.” She told me, her gaze remaining on the slain creature.
“What can I do to help?” I offered.
“The Bloodthorn cultists stole our portal stones!” She exclaimed angrily. “I swore off violence when I left the guard, but killing cultists might be the only way to recover our portal stones.”
“I can take care of the cultists for you.” I assured her, my eyes narrowing slightly at the prospect of slaying a few of Molag Bal’s minions. Hopefully more than just a few.
“We need those stones to get into our enclave without being seen.” Wyress Gwen continued. “Recover the stones and activate them inside the huts so my sisters can join you. I have my stone. Here. Set it by the entrance to the Wyrd Tree and I’ll step through to meet you.”
“I’ll take care of it.” I promised her, , stowing the stone in a pocket and making my way down into the valley holding the Wyrd Tree. Having noticed the Wyresses’ close ties with animals, and especially Gwen’s concern for the dead wolf, I took care to avoid the wolves roaming the area, keeping a distance so as not to provoke them into attacking me. It was a small thing, and would show the Wyrd I respected their ways even if I didn’t follow them.
I paused to get my bearings before I reached the base of the valley. The Wyrd Tree towered over everything, so much larger than any of the ships in Daggerfall's harbour that two or three might have been laid end-to-end between its spreading roots, and easily four times taller than the tallest mast. Nestled under several of the wide-spread roots were a few small stone huts, spaced far apart as they circled it. Wolves and lurkers roamed about, but I didn’t see any cultists yet, so I veered slightly left towards the nearest hut, and slipped inside.
The place didn’t look completely ransacked, but an apple basket had been tipped over, and I doubted the Wyrd’s idea of interior design included dead chickens lying on the floor. I glanced at the bedrolls under a window in the northern section of wall, then noticed a letter on the floor. Curious, I picked it up to read;

I left the letter on the floor where I had found it. Well, at least now I know exactly where to find the portal stones, I thought, and it explains the wolves’ behaviour too…. I lifted the trapdoor below the south window and slipped through. Down a sturdy rope ladder was a surprisingly spacious cavern. The blue-flowering vines climbing the walls reminded me somewhat of the Prophet’s Harborage, and I felt a pang of guilt at my extended absence. Once I’m done with this, I promised myself, I’ll go back and check on him.
I followed the curve of the cavern, and paused when I caught sight of two cultists and a wolf ahead. Deciding to kill the cultists first to see if the wolf could be spared, I pulled out my bow and let fly several arrows in quick succession. The first never knew what hit her, and the second fell before being able to bring their staff around to attack me, but the wolf crouched, growling, before charging me. Sighing in disappointment, I switched to my daggers, sidestepped the poor beast, and plunged one blade into the back of its head, the other deep into its chest as it passed me, twisting my wrists to release my blades before walking over to wipe them on a cultist’s clothing and sheathing them once more.
The cavern curved further, large roots piercing the ceiling and more of those sweet-scented blue flowered vines growing on the walls, and ahead was a standing stone. Feeling slightly foolish, and rather glad no-one was watching, I cast a few gestures towards the stone and was almost surprised to see a portal form and several Wyresses emerge. Waving off their thanks, I ran back along the cavern, climbed the ladder into the hut, and peered out the door. Still no cultists to be seen, so I circled the great tree, ever cautious to avoid the wolves, and entered the next hut.
Inside I found nothing of interest, but at least there was no wolf in the cavern below. There were, however, a pair necromancers, and I allowed my fury to fuel my attack, wielding daggers rather than my bow as I wove and spun between the two cultists….. I probably took longer than I needed to kill them, so let’s just leave it at that. I activated the portal stone, greeted the Wyresses who emerged, and left quickly. I focused on my breathing as I crept towards the next hut, deep inhales and slow exhales, coaxing myself to gradually calm back down to my usual equilibrium. I was feeling much more myself when I arrived at the third hut, the northernmost one, until I made my way inside and found the body of a wyress on the floor.
It was strange, I could almost see a lever in my mind trembling between blinding hot rage and a cold, calm viciousness….. I nudged it and felt myself settle into a calculating awareness where everything was crystal clear, almost emotionless but hyper vigilant.
A small smile curved my lips as I slipped through the trapdoor and stalked along the cavern, keeping to the shadows. Ahead were two cultists and a wolf. A few quick arrows felled the wolf before the cultists knew what had happened, but I was gone before they had turned to look for me. I slunk along the wall silently, daggers in hand. One of the cultists looked to be another necromancer, the other wielded daggers, and I tilted my head as I considered my options. Moving both daggers to my left hand for a few moments, I flung a throwing dagger at the necromancer and followed it, slicing at the dagger wielder’s face and arms as I passed, switching hands to throw another blade at the necromancer again before she could recover, blocking a strike from the dagger wielder as I spun away from her second blade and dropped to stab deeply below her ribs, into her kidney. She collapsed in agony, and I flicked a last throwing dagger at the necromancer as I straightened before stalking towards her. She must have recognised something in my expression because she turned to flee but it was too late. I stabbed and sliced until she fell, then turned back to finish the other one off with a stab to her Molag Bal worshipping heart. I wiped my daggers clean on her shirt and sheathed them, then picked hers up for a closer look. The blades were a matched set, several degrees better than the mismatched pair I’d scavenged in my travels although in need of sharpening, and I swiped the sheaths for them off her belt, stowing the bundle for later. I almost forgot to open the portal before heading back to the rope ladder, sparing the wyresses little more than a nod of acknowledgement as I left.
Once back in the hut I knelt beside the slain wyress briefly, checking her eyes were closed and brushing a few dead leaves from her hair. With a bitter sigh I stood and walked out of the hut.
The last hut was spaced further around the great tree, past a waterfall. I skirted the trunk of the Wyrd Tree closely to avoid the shallow water, encountering neither wolves nor lurkers, and was relieved to see nothing out of place when I entered the eastern hut. In the cavern beneath were two wolves and a fire mage, and I debated whether I should just use my bow to kill the cultist before taking an invisibility potion to pass the wolves….. but it wouldn’t fool their noses, and what if they injured one of the wyresses before they recovered from the Bloodthorn’s taint?
I dropped the wolves with arrows, firing quickly from out of the cultist’s sight, then stepping sideways to bring him into range had time to fire a few more arrows his way before he could raise his staff. I leapt out of the way of his fireball, rolling as I landed and popping upright to fire again. He staggered back and I loosed arrow after arrow into him until he fell. At last I opened the fourth portal, spared the emerging wyresses a smile in greeting, and reemerged into the light.
There was a door set into the Wyrd Tree on its southern face, and I set Gwen’s portal stone between the torches flanking it, stepping back as she immediately emerged.
“You placed my stone well.” She thanked me. “I should be protected this close to the tree.”
“What should I do next?” I asked her.
“We need to summon the guardians.” She replied. “With their power, we can cleanse this place of Angof’s foul influence.”
“How do I summon the guardians?” I hoped I wouldn’t need lurker limbs again, there were plenty to be had, but fighting lurkers would gain the wolves attention, and I was loathe to kill them needlessly if they had a chance to recover.
“Angof’s cursed vines prevent the guardians from getting anywhere near the Wyrd Tree.” Gwen explained. “Find the vines that grow within the circles of Wyrd blossoms and destroy them. That should allow the guardians to appear before you.”
I nodded to show I understood and headed towards a patch of blue flowers I had noticed below the waterfall in my travels around the tree. In the centre was a twisted, thorned vine a little over waist-height against me with a deer’s skull fused to the top. I hacked it to pieces.
“This pollution is almost too much for me to bear.” The Guardian of the Water lamented as it emerged from the shallows. “Help us to restore balance to the Wyrd Tree.”
“What should I do?” I asked.
“Destroy the corrupted spirit and then we can cleanse this place.” The Guardian replied. “Listen to my words. I shall offer what aid I can.” I nodded, readying my daggers. “Stay close and let my power flow over you.”
“These stones belong to Angof now!” A sibilant voice muttered behind me, and I turned to see a tattered, wraithlike apparition drift forward from the waterfall, pale blue glowing from its eyes, mouth and the opening of its long, belled sleeves. I darted forward and slashed at it, circling around to evade the talons as it swiped at me, and a dark miasma formed around its clawed hands.
“The tide of battle turns!” The Guardian of the Water called to me. “To my side, now!” But I had circled so that the Corruption now floated between us, and my desperate lunge towards the Guardian fell short of its golden barrier of protection as a blast of choking foulness swept over me. I wheezed, struggling to my feet as I heard the wraithlike form cackling behind me, and felt a sharp pain in my back as the Corruption of Water struck me with its talons.
Stupid girl. I thought bitterly. You were warned, but did you listen? I choked, watching blood stain the water before me, and realised it had come from my mouth as the world darkened, wavered, and slid out from under me.
The next moment I felt weightless, suspended in a clean blue glow. There were brighter points around me, some close, some much farther away, and nearest of all, the sense of myself, of my body, with a cluster of those brighter blue lights. Curious, I reached towards myself, that cluster of lights, and one blazed for a brief instant before disappearing, and I felt my lungs expand in a huge, tearing breath. The next moment I could see the world around me, real once more, but I was somehow transparent, and glowing blue. I shuffled towards the Guardian of Water, feeling uncoordinated and slow, until after a few seconds the blue pulsed and disappeared, leaving me healed and whole.
I shook my head, blinking, and almost dropped the daggers I still gripped. Okay, think about that later, once you’ve taken care of this thing! I scolded myself, spinning to block the Corruption’s claws as it swiped at me once again. This time I took care to remain closer to the Guardian, and stood safely behind its golden barrier when the Corruption next attempted to blast me, switching to my bow and firing rapidly until the wraith collapsed.
“It is defeated.” The Guardian of the Water rejoiced, and I smiled at it, then secured my bow and waded through the shallows to the far bank and onto dry land. I continued back around the great tree at a distance, still avoiding the wolves, until eventually finding the next skull-topped vine to the southwest, near the second hut.
As soon as I had demolished the vine, the Guardian of the Earth appeared.
“The Earth weakens.” It mourned. “Angof’s poison corrupts it. Together we will crush this vile manifestation.”
“I’m ready.” I promised.
“Good.” The Guardian replied. “I cannot harm this corruption of the earth, but I can protect you from its attacks. Listen to my warnings and you will prevail.” Oh, believe me, I thought, I’ll be listening very closely to whatever you say! I readied my bow as the Guardian continued. “I shall tell you when to return to my side. If you are close, I can shield you from the spirit’s attacks.” Should have come here first…. I forgot just how informative this guardian can be!
“These stones belong to Angof now!” The Corruption of Earth rasped, and I began firing arrow after arrow at its floating form.
“The spirit casts a spell that shall shake the very ground beneath you!” The Guardian of the Earth called out. “To my side, now!” I sidled closer, ensuring I was safely within the golden barrier as a blast of dirt and stones exploded in all directions.
Draw, sight, release, new arrow, draw, sight release….. I continued firing. Eventually the Corruption sagged, then fell.
“It is defeated.” The Guardian of the Earth confirmed, and I replaced my half-drawn arrow back in my quiver and secured my bow.
The last circle of Wyrd blossoms was up a short track, overlooking the rest of the valley. As I destroyed the skull-topped vine, the Guardian of Air appeared.
“When I call, come to me.” I was instructed as I readied my bow. “My power shall protect you.”
“These stones belong to Angof now!” Hissed the Corruption of Air as it materialised. Wiser now, I kept close to the Guardian and fired my arrows at the Corruption, making sure I didn’t stray too far from safety.
“The winds of battle turn against you!” The Guardian warned. “Come here and I shall protect you!”
I sidestepped closer, maintaining my barrage of arrows until the Corruption was destroyed.
“It is defeated.” The Guardian of Air confirmed. Relieved, I nodded farewell and picked my way back downhill, returning to Wyress Gwen at the door set into the Wyrd Tree.
“I can feel the oppressive weight of Angof’s corruption lifting.” She bowed towards me in thanks. “I sense the gratitude of the guardians, but I also sense….. fear. Angof’s vermin are afraid.”
“All of the spirits of corruption have been destroyed.” I replied. And anything left is right to fear me….. I died. Again. And somehow I came back again, too. What am I now?
“You did well and I’m happy to stand at your side.” Gwen smiled, passing me a pair of gauntlets and a pouch of coins. “Now we finally have a chance against Angof and putting an end to his unholy corruption. There’s one more challenge we have to face, though. Angof’s last wraith nests within the tree. It won’t be banished very easily, but the guardians promise to help you. When you’re ready, enter the tree and expel the foul spirit.”
“I’ll put an end to this right now.” I vowed, and entered the Wyrd Tree. Within was a shallow pool of water, and trailing clusters of blue flowers, and I could sense the echo of the peace that must usually permeate the space. But those thorned vines thrust through the water’s surface in places, and a Corruption drifted in the centre of the pool. I made my way to the Guardian of the Water.
“Destroy this foulness!” The Guardian greeted me. “Set the Wyrd Tree free!”
“Ah, the witch’s puppet has come!” The Corruption of the Tree hissed in response. “Time to end your interference once and for all!”
I drew my bow and began firing, slowly moving sideways to put myself as equally distant to each Guardian as I could, uncertain who I would need to run to first.
“The winds of battle turn against you!” The Guardian of the Air called to me. “Come here and I shall protect you!”
I turned and surged through the shin-deep water, reaching safety just in time for the golden barrier to shield me from the Corruption’s blast of foulness, then spun back and resumed firing as I repositioned myself.
“The tide of battle turns!” Warned the Guardian of the Water. “To my side, now!”
I was closer, and in a few quick steps was safely protected, my steady stream of arrows never ceasing. The Corruption faltered, dipped briefly, and before it could recover I closed the distance and sliced into it with my daggers, the blades ripping through its insubstantial form until the Corruption of the Tree collapsed.
“Fool!” An oddly accented voice shouted, and I turned to see a projection of a masked and hooded man. Angof. I realised, studying his appearance intently. “You may have destroyed one of my slaves, but I have so many more.” He growled before vanishing. I stood there, stunned. Did he…. Did he really have vines growing out of his shoulders? I wondered, deeply disturbed.
The Guardians seemed to be lost in communion with the Wyrd Tree, so I left them alone and returned to Wyress Gwen once more.
“It’s so beautiful!” She exclaimed upon seeing me. “Do you see? Things have already changed. The Wyrd Tree has been restored.”
“I’m just glad I was able to help.” I replied. Especially since part of that help was killing cultists who happened to be Molag Bal’s allies…..
“Thank the guardians that you did!” She agreed. “We were losing this battle, but now things are different. And you, a stranger! It’s a wonder you risked your life for us. There’s no end to the surprises this world has to offer!”
And with this she presented me with a staff, carved from a fallen branch of the Wyrd Tree itself. I turned the smooth wood in my hands, marvelling at the significance of it. This, I would treasure. I would have to leave it in my room at the Rosy Lion when I travelled back to visit the prophet.
“I served in the Lion Guard before coming to the Wyrd, so I know more about the world.” Gwen confided in me. “I think it’s time my sisters stopped hiding. We could benefit from more outside contact.”
“Will the Wyrd Tree recover?” I asked her.
“If there are no more attacks, the tree will be fine.” She assured me. “A hunter, Gloria Fausta, came looking for help while you were inside the tree. I’m ashamed to say we turned her away. We couldn’t divert our attention when the outcome of your battle was still unclear.”
“Where did she go?” I asked, wondering what sort of assistance this hunter needed.
“Aldcroft.” Wyress Gwen replied. “She said werewolves captured Camlorn and the Duke had fled. We weren’t able to aid her, but perhaps you can. Chamberlain Weller in Aldcroft would know more.”
“I’ll head to Aldcroft.” I agreed. If I set out now, Sweetroll should have me in Daggerfall within a few hours. Depending on what the Prophet needs, I could be back here tomorrow evening, and in Aldcroft the following morning?
As I walked out of the valley, I was happy to notice that the wolves seemed to have recovered; their posture and expressions were calm and relaxed, and they passed within mere feet of me with no aggression whatsoever. A part of me longed to take a few minutes to sit with them and enjoy the renewed peace in the valley, but I had places to be, and too little time. So I whistled for Sweetroll, gave her a pat and a treat in greeting, and once mounted I turned her back the way we had come, urging her into a steady, ground-covering canter she could maintain for hours comfortably, heading south towards Daggerfall.

Chapter Nine: Werewolves of Glenumbra (Part One)

Dawn was a mere smudge of pink on the horizon as I manoeuvred Sweetroll into the Wayshrine behind the Rosy Lion, coaxing her as close alongside the pillar as I could. She flicked her ears in curiosity as I leaned over in her saddle to touch the pillar, and I patted her neck soothingly with my other hand, which gripped her reins loosely.
Well, let’s see if this works. I thought, focusing on the Wayshrine outside the Wyrd Tree’s valley. Sweetroll snorted at the sudden change in location, shaking her head. She turned to look back at me, as if to ask if that was all, then walked calmly down the steps and onto the path when I tightened my legs against her, as calmly as if she did this every day. I released a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding and laughed aloud, delighted. Yes, this will definitely save me a lot of time!
We took the path eastward down the hill and joined the road, turning east again towards Aldcroft. I had studied my vision map carefully before coaxing Sweetroll into the Wayshrine that morning, and made a few notes and updates on my old, far less accurate, oilskin map. The forest thinned out as we travelled, the trees losing their leaves and the grasslands becoming marshy. Fog drifted in patches, chilling the damp air, and in the distance lightning flickered, followed by the rumble of thunder. Arched stone bridges curved over the streams to allow small boats to pass below, and eventually lamp posts appeared alongside the road. From the top of the next bridge I could see the tops of tall masts through the swirling fog, and the occasional glimpse of a roofline. I had reached Aldcroft.
A well-dressed man who I assumed to be Chamberlain Weller stood outside a stone house a short way into town. Hands clasped behind his back, he rocked forward and back on his feet, lost in thought, and looking like a man with too few good options to choose from. I continued on to the stables where I spoke with the Orc stablemaster, who seemed exasperated with the newly arrived soldiers’ requests for a discount, and left Sweetroll to be cared for, before walking back to speak with the chamberlain.
“What is it?” He asked me. “I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of an emergency at the moment.”
“I’m searching for a hunter named Gloria Fausta.” I answered him.
“I don’t know anyone who goes by that name, I’m afraid.” He replied. “Our Duke was kidnapped. Perhaps she was taken along with him. I certainly wouldn’t put it past those Bloodthorn ***.” Bloodthorns again. I thought to myself. Maybe I can find a way to thin their ranks here a little? “We have a bit of a…. situation…. with Duke Sebastian of Camlorn.” Chamberlain Weller continued. “Perhaps you’d be willing to help extract the Duke from a rather precarious situation?”
“What happened?” I asked him.
“Our bumbling town watch allowed the Duke to get kidnapped, that’s what happened.” He sighed in exasperation. “Please, you look like you can handle yourself. Surely someone with your talents can help us.”
“Who kidnapped the Duke?” I asked.
“The damned Bloodthorn cult!” He growled through clenched teeth. “With Camlorn in chaos and the Duke out of action, who knows what the cult intends? At least the Lion Guard finally arrived. Speak to Lieutenant Harim if you want to help. Last I heard he was near the lighthouse.”
“I’ll talk to Lieutenant Harim.” I promised. And then I’ll go ‘talk’ with some cultists….
“Lieutenant Harim was scouting near the lighthouse.” The chamberlain repeated, probably more to reassure himself than to tell me. “Maybe he’s figured out where the Bloodthorns are holding the Duke by now.”
A quick scan of my surroundings showed the lighthouse across the bay, but not feeling like a swim in such damp and chilly weather, I decided to follow the shoreline, hoping to pick off a few stray cultists along the way. But I saw no one until I found the Lieutenant crouched beside a large tree near a bridge, using the trunk to spy on the lighthouse ahead.
“Watch yourself.” He cautioned me as I took cover next to him. “This place is thick with Bloodthorn cultists.”
“I’m here to help rescue the Duke.” I replied quietly.
“I could use a seasoned warrior.” He replied. “There’s no point relying on the local watch. They’re simply not up to the job. The Duke’s in the lighthouse, guarded by some Bloodthorns. I was waiting for reinforcements to arrive before making a move.”
“I’ll rescue the Duke.” I offered, my eyes on the cultists. Two stood outside the lighthouse, and several more were roaming around, sweeping the area.
“You’re a bold one.” He sounded surprised, and I hid a smile. “Very well, when the reinforcements arrive, we’ll make sure none of the cultists slip away. And if your plan doesn’t work, we’ll drink a toast to your memory later in the tavern.”
“Why is the Lion Guard here?” I asked, turning to face him.
“We were sent to provide more security for the Duke and to keep something like this from happening. It’s too bad we didn’t arrive sooner. The local watch just wasn’t prepared to deal with the Bloodthorns.”
No one’s ever prepared for cultists the first time…. I thought as I nodded to him and silently slipped from behind the tree and towards the bridge. I’m just fortunate enough to have the chance to make up for my own first encounter. I downed the two cultists at the bridge with arrows, then switched to my daggers as I crept across and closer to the buildings. The two by the lighthouse stood close to the road, and I turned to circle behind them, using a low wall as cover, and coming in close before popping up between them, blades already flickering as I sliced quickly, not giving them time to recover or get away.
Inside the lighthouse was a large office and a small bedroom for the keeper, and up the stairs and through the hatch I found Duke Sebastian of Camlorn, sitting on the stone floor with his hands bound behind him. He was encased in a pale ward, and on either side of the lighthouse’s great mirror were large, dark crystals, similar to soul gems, hovering in a dark blue glow. I knelt next to the Duke.
“You don’t look like a Bloodthorn cultist.” He said to me. “I assume this is a rescue attempt?”
“Yes, I’m here to rescue you.” I agreed, relieved he had his wits about him.
“Divines be praised.” He said thankfully. “The cultists trapped me with these focus crystals. I’m a bit of a mage myself, but I’m powerless inside this ward.”
“I’ll destroy the crystals.” I told him, and rose to smash each with the butt of a dagger’s hilt. As the second one fractured and fell apart, the duke rose, his bindings dissolving with the shards of the broken crystals.
“I’m free.” He confirmed. “Now to get out of here. But there’s one more thing….”
Isn’t there always? I thought to myself as I raised an eyebrow towards the Duke, inviting him to continue.
“Thanks, friend.” He acknowledged. “But I’m not the cult’s only prisoner.”
“Who else did they kidnap?” I asked him, fairly certain it would be the missing hunter, Gloria.
“I overheard the cultists talking.” The Duke revealed. “They have a prisoner who’s a threat to the werewolf leader, Faolchu. They plan to execute her. If she really is a threat, then it seems crucial that we rescue her.” We? I thought. Oh, no, you’re getting to safety, your grace.
“I’ll find her and set her free.” I replied, putting just enough emphasis on the first word to make my point, and holding his gaze until he relented.
“Very good. I’ll return to Aldcroft.” He agreed. “Meet me there after you rescue this mysterious woman.”
I nodded and stepped back as the Duke opened a portal and disappeared, before slipping through the hatch and making my way downstairs again. Sounds like it must be Gloria Fausta they took. I decided as I crept from the lighthouse to the next building, checking for cultists. Since she was coming to Aldcroft, but doesn’t seem to have had a chance to make herself known to the chamberlain. If she’s a hunter, she may know of something that can harm Faolchu, so that fits, too. I peered through a window as I circled the house, found it empty and moved on to the next one. Seeing a dark haired woman sitting bound on the floor, I let myself in.
“My executioner?” She guessed, raising her head at my entrance. “You couldn’t lift the axe, let alone deal with all the blood.”
“Save your insults for the Bloodthorn.” I retorted, glancing at a corpse on the narrow bed. “I’m here to free you.”
“Splendid.” She replied. “Cut me loose. We’ll kill these Bloodthorn dogs and then go after Faolchu and his werewolves.”
“Duke Sebastian will want to talk to you first.” I told her, more irritated by her assumptions than I had been by her insults.
“Sebastian?” Her voice rose in frustration. “We don’t have time for…. Oh, very well. We’ll talk to the Duke. Let’s go, then. No time to waste.”
“Hold still and I’ll cut you loose.” I told her, slicing her bindings with a dagger.
“My thanks, friend.” She said, rising to her feet. “That was too close for comfort. I’ll meet you in Aldcroft.” And with that she left the house.
I took a quick look around, pocketing a couple of lockpicks and a copy of “Great Harbingers of the Companions” which was on the Mages’ Guild’s list of books, then let myself out. There was no sign of Gloria, but I did see a stray cultist by the water’s edge, and ghosting up behind them to slit their throat definitely made me feel a little better as I retraced my steps along the shore and into town.
I entered the stone house the chamberlain had stood in front of earlier, and found the Duke and his Duchess in the main room.
“Here I am, safe and sound back in Aldcroft.” He greeted me. “I have you to thank for that.”
“Have you spoken to Gloria?” I asked him, seeing her standing at the back of the room near a staircase.
“Yes, and I share her concerns about both Camlorn and Aldcroft.” The Duke replied. “We must deal with these werewolves once and for all. In fact, I hope to involve you in that.” Not exactly a surprise. I thought as he paused briefly. Nothing incurs extra work the way delivering a result does. “Gloria suspects Faolchu’s agents are here among us, even now.”
“Werewolves?” I clarified. “Here in Aldcroft?” Hardly news, given how neatly you were both captured.
“Indeed.” Duke Sebastian replied wearily. “They hide in human form. It’s exactly what they did in Camlorn before they struck. We need to find and destroy them before Aldcroft suffers the same fate as poor Camlorn.”
“How can I spot the hidden werewolves?” I asked him. I doubt it would be a simple as waving a haunch of fresh venison around and seeing who’s nose twitches.
“Gloria says this amulet can be used to spot the hidden werewolves.” The Duke told me. “I’m sure she can tell you more about it.”
“If there are werewolves here, I’ll find them.” I promised, before moving forward to speak with the hunter.
“I know why you’re here,” Gloria started, crossing her arms defensively as she turned to face me, “but where I got that amulet is a discussion for another time. Just be careful. The werewolves won’t appreciate having their secrets revealed.”
“How does this Amulet work?” I asked her, deciding to ignore the fact I was being sent out to do what was, apparently, her job. She’s probably more shaken than she’s letting on…. Or far less experienced.
“I’m no expert, but Hircine is the Daedric Prince of manbeasts.” Gloria answered. “The amulet bears the Call of Hircine. Werewolves can’t resist its call – it forces them to reveal their true nature. Pretty useful, right?”
“The Call of Hircine?” I repeated, raising a brow sceptically.
“Don’t you know anything?” Gloria replied impatiently. “Hircine! The creator and guardian of all were-creatures? Hircine’s Call…. well, it calls to their true nature. Reveals them for the beasts they really are.”
“You seem to know a lot about werewolves.” I replied, allowing my eyes to narrow and my voice to lower a fraction. Not that my amnesia is any of your business, I thought, but with your attitude, I think I might begin to dislike you if we have to work together too long.
“What of it?” She demanded defensively, recrossing her arms. “Don’t you have some werewolves to go find?”
“I’m interested in your story.” I replied sweetly. “I did save your life.”
“Fair enough.” She admitted, inhaling and bracing her fists on her hips. “All right, here’s the dark truth. I’m related to Faolchu. He’s my ancestor. Every day, my family and I live with the shame of the horrors he inflicted on the world. And now he’s back. So I hunt werewolves – and I kill them.”
I offered her a slight nod in response and left before I could no longer stop myself from asking how many she’d killed. It wasn’t really my business, and the sooner I completed whatever needed my attention here, the sooner she’d no longer be my problem.
Aldcroft was filled with both soldiers and refugees from Camlorn, with many of the latter waiting around the docks, presumably for a ship bound somewhere they could start over. These seemed like an easier ruse for any werewolves hoping to be overlooked, so I wandered along the timber jetties, amulet in hand. As I passed a young women, she leapt to her feet, crying out as if in agony.
“The pain! It hurts! It hurts!” She cried, writhing in transformation. “Aldcroft must fall! For claw and fang!”
You poor thing. I thought as I stepped inside her strike and sliced deeply into her chest and throat, ducking under her clumsy lunge and swiping claws as she passed me to stab her liver and heart, putting her out of her misery. I wonder if you chose this, or if it was forced on you, like that man in one of the visions I had on Betnikh…. Oh. I realised, pausing a moment as the thought struck me. This situation must be what that vision I had of the werewolves foresaw. But how can I use that knowledge?
Surprisingly, no one had reacted to the brief fight, other than a dockworker who cowered away covering his head with his arms. No soldiers came running, no other werewolves broke cover to aid her.
Saddened, but resolute, I continued with my task. By the time I had completed my search, four more werewolves had been unmasked and slain, and the slaughter of such obviously unskilled fighters left me heartsick and weary as I returned to the Duke.
“Are they here?” He asked me as I entered the building. “Are Faolchu’s cursed offspring here in Aldcroft?” Cursed is right. I though sadly. That’s exactly what Faolchu has done to them.
“I’m afraid so, your grace.” I replied soberly.
“So Gloria was right.” He sighed. “I suppose I should have known. At least we’ll be better prepared this time. And it seems I’m once again in your debt. At least now we know what we’re facing. Meanwhile, Gloria has discovered something important about how Faolchu came to power.”
“What did Gloria discover?” I asked him, curious. And how? Has she even moved from that spot?
“Gloria says that Faolchu was summoned back from the dead.” The Duke told me. “If that could happen once, how can we hope to stop this villain? Anyway, to learn more, Gloria needs a live werewolf. Can you capture one for her?”
This hunter is sounding more like a con artist every minute. I decided. She already knew he’d died, it’s part of her family history. Obviously Faolchu has been resurrected by a necromancer, and given what else is happening around here, I have a pretty good idea of who it was….
“How can I capture a werewolf?” I asked, carefully not putting any emphasis on the ‘I’, and just as carefully keeping my gaze on the Duke’s face, and not Gloria standing by the stairs behind him.
“Talk to Sergeant Armoil.” Duke Sebastian advised me. “His soldiers faced werewolves in Camlorn and they captured one of the beasts. He can advise you. Then meet Gloria in the cave to the east, across the bay. That’s where she’ll perform the rite to learn how to defeat Faolchu.”
“I’ll speak to Sergeant Armoil.” I agreed. But first, I need to chat with our ‘hunter’. Gloria saw me approaching, and started speaking before I reached her.
“As soon as you catch a werewolf, meet me in the cave across the bay.” She told me. “I hate to miss the fun of the hunt, but I have to prepare the cave for our reluctant guest.” Well now, look who thinks they can give me orders. I thought, amused.
“Tell me about the ritual you’re going to perform.” I replied.
“Faolchu died a long, long time ago.” Gloria said. “He was summoned back from the dead. I want to find out who to blame for that. You can read the history of a werewolf’s sire from the blood of his offspring. That’s why we need to capture a werewolf.”
“Aren’t you Faolchu’s offspring?” I asked her innocently. I could tell you who to blame, but I’d rather you didn’t tag along.
“If that was a joke, I don’t think it was very funny.” Gloria fumed. “Go capture me a werewolf. I’ve got things to do.”
I raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze a moment before turning away and leaving the building. The sooner I’m done here…. I promised myself silently as I made my way north to the area the soldiers were using for their exercises. Overseeing some recruits practising on dummies was a man in Sergeants’ armour, standing with his back to me, and I made my steps more audible as I approached him.
“I’m tired of defending this backwater.” He griped when I halted beside him. “There’s work to be done in Camlorn and….” His voice trailed off in dismay as he turned and saw me. “….oh, sorry. I thought you were one of my soldiers.” And that would still be appallingly unprofessional of you, I thought, complaining to your subordinates.
“The Duke said you could help me.” I stated blandly, ignoring his blunder. “I need to capture a werewolf.”
“Ah, right.” The Sergeant scratched the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. “That’s not what I expected to hear. We did capture a werewolf at Camlorn. For a little while, anyway. My battlemage, Lexi, did it. She should be able to help you. Lexi!” He shouted past me. “Front and center, if you please!”
And with that he turned away, likely hoping to forget the past few minutes. I turned as light footsteps approached, to see a girl who barely looked any older than I did approach.
“Right, so here’s how we capture a werewolf.” She enthused. “You fight the beast and keep it busy, meanwhile I cast the spell that entraps it. Just do your part and leave the magic to me. I’m an expert.”
I shrugged and headed for the gates, leaving her to follow me. Was I ever that naïvely arrogant? I wondered. I’m almost afraid to remember my past, in case I was.
Beyond the palisade was one of the steeply arched bridges, and from its vantage point I could see a scattering of werewolves roaming the foggy marshlands. Turning east, I spotted a likely target and loped down the span towards it, dancing around the clumsy beast with my daggers. The trick, I think, will be in not damaging it too badly before Lexi can bespell it. I decided. No point in having the poor beast expire before Gloria can do her part.
Lexi braced herself a short distance away, a violet beam of light streaming from her hand to the snarling werewolf as I blocked and dodged its swiping claws.
“Er, I think that time I overdid it.” She admitted as the werewolf collapsed, barely a scratch from my blades on it. “Let’s find another one.”
Lucky for you, we have plenty to choose from. I thought, heading further east. I could hear snuffling beyond a nearby boulder, and moments later a howl greeted us before a werewolf lunged out of hiding. I stepped forward to meet it, sliding past its attack and swiping with a dagger to nick it shallowly, just enough to draw its attention and keep it focused on me, not Lexi, as she positioned herself for another attempt. Her magic shot out to envelope the growling beast, and I kept out of its path.
“Got him!” She exclaimed in delight, before whining in dejection; “No, no I haven’t. Mudcrabs. Now we need another werewolf.”
Well, it’s not very quick, but this is certainly one way to clear the area. I thought, already moving towards the next werewolf. I quickly snared its attention, turning so that it faced away from Lexi, and waited for her to try again. Her violet magic hit the werewolf and flared white.
“It worked!” She exclaimed happily. “By Julianos, it worked. Well, that should hold the ugly cur. Take the werewolf to the cave. I’ll tell Sergeant Armoil it worked.” And with that Lexi opened a portal and disappeared, while I headed east, the werewolf docilely lumbering along behind me.
I had to detour north slightly to avoid a narrow channel from the harbour, not because I wanted to avoid a swim and the resulting wet leathers, but in case the shock of cold saltwater broke the werewolf following me out of the docile stupor Lexi had put him into. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.
I was rather surprised when I came across the first dead werewolf, I honestly had started to believe Gloria was all show and no substance. After passing several more at the mouth of the cave, and then another couple in the tunnel, I paused to examine one. Silver crossbow bolts pierced the slain beast’s chest, mostly in its back. Well, that tracks with what I’ve learned. I decided. It would be easy enough to pick them off from a distance, especially if the first few shots were landed before it even started charging.
I eyed the faint drag marks in the dirt as I descended into a cavern where several more dead werewolves were grouped in the centre. Makes for an interesting looking “final showdown” I suppose, I smiled at her attempts to stage a more impressive display, but I doubt you spent much time swinging that hammer strapped to your back. No crush wounds on any of these, just more glints of silver.
“You caught one. Good.” Gloria announced, stepping forward. “Let’s get him into the circle.”
I inclined my head, and the werewolf lumbered past me to where I’d indicated, and crouched, panting.
“All right.” I turned back to Gloria. “What do we do?”
“I’ll create a link between the three of us.” She explained. “We’ll be able to see into the werewolf’s past. And, hopefully, into Faolchu’s past as well. The connection between offspring and sire is strong.”
I stepped aside, giving her space to work but keeping a clear view of everything. A pale glow suffused the werewolf as it crouched on all fours, struggling not to collapse, and a cloud of violet swirled around my head. But not yours, Gloria…. I noticed. Is this a true vision, or are you projecting a fabrication stitched together from pieces you haven’t shared? Not that I’ve been entirely forthcoming, either, I suppose.
But the translucent figure of Angof appearing behind the struggling werewolf certainly matched the one I’d seen in the Wyrd Tree, right down to the oddly accented voice.
“Now the legendary werewolf lord shall fulfil Molag Bal’s true purpose.” He proclaimed. “Arise, minion. Arise from the dead!”
“I serve no one, Reachman!” Faolchu growled, as his own shadow emerged from the ground, glowing silver. Not the same colour? Is she pulling the image of Angof from my memories? I wondered, then admonished myself. I must really dislike her if I’m being so suspicious.
“Serve or suffer, cur.” Angof’s echo was saying. “I’ve bound you to my will. Glenumbra’s destruction is your only goal.”
“Today I submit to you, Angof.” Faolchu snarled. “But one day soon I will rip out your heart and eat it whole.”
“Empty boasts from Molag Bal’s newest slave.” The Gravesinger scoffed. “Come, Faolchu. We have business to attend to.”
Their images faded away, followed by the violet mist around my head, and I turned to face Gloria once more.
“So it was Angof.” She declared, crossing her arms. “I thought I smelled the stench of true evil.”
“Faolchu and Angof working together?” I replied. “What do you think it all means?”
“You saw what I saw.” She retorted. “In order to stop Faolchu for good, we need to put an end to Angof. A tall order, but it’s not impossible. Wait…. The werewolf apparently has something to say.”
I turned to face the struggling creature, who managed to stagger to his feet, although he swayed weakly. “Fools!” he growled. “Your Duke has been blessed with Hircine’s Curse! He will destroy everything he loves. You have failed! Angof has sealed your fate.” The last of his strength spent, the werewolf collapsed, dead. Whether from Lexi’s spell or Gloria’s, it was hard to tell, but I was betting on it being an aftereffect of Lexi’s enchantment, after what had happened to the earlier targets.
“The Duke was infected?” Gloria repeated, scratching the back of her neck in concern. “I was afraid of that, but I hoped I was wrong. I’ve been keeping an eye on him in case…. The change came over him.”
And yet you told no one, I thought, furious, and who’s keeping an eye on him now? His wife? Foolish, irresponsible, arrogant….
“We have to do something.” I told her, allowing none of my frustration to show.
“Faolchu has been ahead of me every step of the way.” Gloria fumed. “This failure falls on my head. But we can resolve this here and now. I need to die and you need to take my blood.”
“What?” I asked her flatly.
“We’re wasting time!” She shouted at me. “I need to die so you can take my blood. If administered in time, the blood of the master can cure his spawn. You know I’m Faolchu’s descendent. If the Duke drinks my blood, he’ll be cured of the curse.”
I looked at Gloria for a long moment, weighing my options. As annoying as you are, I’m not petty enough to take this opportunity to be rid of you. And besides, there’s no guarantee that all of your ancestors kept to their own beds over the years…. Or that there’s still time left for drinking your blood to guarantee the Duke’s recovery. Besides, I think you need to learn to live with the consequences of your actions, and not go out in a glorious blaze of heroic self-sacrifice….
“No, not this way.” I replied calmly, allowing some of the weight from my deaths, my resurrections and visits to Coldharbour, and the countless lives I had already taken, to fill my voice. Just a touch, but enough to have her look at me differently, and offered her a small, cold smile. You have lessons to learn, Gloria. And I really hope I don’t regret this. “We need you alive. I’ll handle the Duke.”
“Damn it!” She cursed, her head falling backwards in frustration. “I hope your noble attitude doesn’t get everyone else killed!” Not if you don’t screw up, it won’t. “All right. I guess I’ll stay alive long enough to see this through. Let’s go before it’s too late. I’ll meet you in Aldcroft.”
With this Gloria turned and sprinted from the cave, and I followed her at a less frantic pace. It was her mistake not to warn anyone of her concerns regarding the Duke. I reasoned as I loped along the shoreline back to town. She can damn well exert herself for once to fix it. When I arrived in town, I found Gloria in the street outside the Duke’s temporary residence, arms crossed and facing Duke Sebastian, who was clutching his stomach, half bent in agony. At my approach he looked up, tying to stand straighter and offering me a weak smile.
“I’m sorry, I should have told you.” He apologised to me. “I thought I could fight it off. I was wrong.”
“Your grace, we know you have the curse.” I replied gently.
“Yes, I quite understand.” He replied, obviously expecting to being executed, and resigned to that fate. “I ask but one favor. Let me say farewell to my wife and daughter. They’re just inside. It will only take a moment. Then you can do what you must.”
I examined the strain on his pale, sweating face, the tremor in his hands, and realised I had made the right decision in the cave. It looked too late for Gloria’s blood to have cured him, but perhaps there might be another solution, given time.
“No. I can’t risk it.” I told the Duke calmly. “But I won’t kill you. Gloria, capture him!” I commanded her coldly, allowing more of my past to show in the look I shot her.
“Why, you heartless…. I’ll never see my family again!” The Duke choked, devastated.
“We’ll continue to look for a way to cure you.” I promised him, as Gloria shot a burst of the same violet magic Lexi had been using, calming the Duke as it bound his hands behind him.
“That was unexpected.” Gloria said to me. “Why did you change your mind?”
“We can’t kill the Duke.” I explained. “Camlorn needs him.” And I didn’t change my mind. I thought, frustrated with her anew. I told you I would handle him, not kill him. Why would I play straight into Faolchu’s plans by removing this region’s leader?
“You really are an old softy.” Gloria scoffed. “Well, I’ve got him. I think. Normally I’d never keep a werewolf as a pet. But in this case, perhaps you’re right. If we can cure the Duke, that would certainly be better than killing him.” Oh, how I wish I could shake some sense into your arrogant head. I thought. You’re guarding the Duke, not keeping him as a pet. Have some respect. And perspective. This is supposed to teach you the consequences of keeping secrets and using them to manipulate people into believing you’re more capable than you really are. “I’m sure Faolchu would call mercy a weakness.” Gloria continued. “But I think it shows strength of character. We’re going to need such strength in the days ahead.”
“Is there anything else we can do for Camlorn?” I asked, ignoring her attempts at flattery.
“Faolchu’s already been brought back to life once.” Gloria reflected. “We need to make sure that can’t happen again.”
“How do we prevent that?” I asked her. We’ve been over this already, get to the point.
“The Duke had Mages Guild researchers working on that problem. They’re trying to find out how Faolchu originally died.” Surely you’d know that, it being part of your family history? “If you want to help, they’re at Glenumbra Moors. The battle site where Faolchu died the first time.”
“I’m on my way.” I told her and left. Another moment and I might have checked to see whether her blood was an effective cure after all. I grumbled to myself. There was a Wayshrine at the northern end of town I wanted to take a quick look at, then Sweetroll to collect, and if I was lucky, there would be a merchant somewhere I could offload some loot to. With all the soldiers currently encamped in town, there's bound to be some enterprising sort who's set up shop by now.

Chapter Nine: Werewolves of Glenumbra (Part Three)

Rolling to my feet as I cleared the spiked base of the portcullis, I peered through the flames engulfing the crates which concealed my entrance to the city. Beyond them, Camlorn burned. Werewolves and cultists roamed about, while the bodies of slain townsfolk lay where they’d fallen, the unluckier ones being mauled and eaten by the werewolves.
I raised my bow and let fly at the closest of these, waiting until the last moment of its charge before pulling a dagger and driving the blade deeply into the back of the beast’s neck as I evaded its attack. The werewolf collapsed, dead, and I carefully collected a vial of blood before cleaning and resheathing my dagger.
I continued to pick off lone wolves as I ventured deeper into the overrun city. Few of the buildings remained untouched, many had collapsed walls, evidence of fire damage, or both. Some were little more than ruins. I used them for cover, unwilling to draw too much attention to myself until I had assessed the situation properly. In this manner I had killed a dozen wolves and cultists as I made my way to the cathedral, deciding that the stout construction made it defensible enough that any survivors had probably decided to hole up within its sanctuary. To my surprise, the door opened freely, unbarred from the inside, and I stepped inside to be met by drawn swords.
“Lower your blades, friends.” A voice commanded. “This one doesn't look like a werewolf to me.” The soldiers lowered their weapons, stepping back, and a dark-haired knight approached. “What brings you to our pleasant little city?” He enquired. “The war? The blood? The thrice-damned werewolves?”
“The Lion Guard holds the courtyard.” I replied, appraising his armor. “Your father sent me to find you.”
“That's the first good news I've heard today.” He exclaimed. “But if you're here to take me to my father, you can get that thought right out of your head. There are beautiful women in Camlorn that still need to be rescued.” I felt my thoughts tangle, trip and fall flat in disbelief at this. Wait…. What? He didn’t just…. If I’m stuck dealing with another Jakarn, I’ll…. Oh, he’s joking. I realised, relieved. Wow, that is some act....
“General Gautier sent me to retrieve your master key.” I replied drily, fighting to keep my answering smirk hidden, and putting as much emphasis on the last two words as I could.
“In all seriousness, I'm not doing anything before we find a safe refuge for the civilians hiding in the surrounding buildings.” Darien replied in a far more direct tone. “The inn nearby should be defensible enough and it's full of supplies. There's just one catch.” He hesitated, watching my expression.
“What's the catch?” I asked, playing along.
“The inn's locked up tight and the innkeeper was killed trying to reach us.” Darien admitted. “Get the key from the body and enter the inn, then shine a signal light. I'll rally the civilians and get them to safety. We'll talk about my key after that.”
“I noticed Bloodthorn cultists in the city.” I mentioned, curious as to what his reaction would be.
“When the werewolves attacked, the damn Bloodthorns appeared inside the city.” He cursed. “It was as if they'd been here all along. I think they even opened the gates for the werewolves. They had a plan and they executed it perfectly.”
“You think Faolchu and the Bloodthorns are working together?” I asked him. I mean, I know they are, but it’s interesting that you’ve picked up on it. I thought to myself with amusement. A fool you are most certainly not. I wonder what gave Gloria that impression? Probably your womanising act….
“If they didn't start out that way, that's certainly the case now.” The Guard Captain declared. “A marriage made in Oblivion, to be sure, but effective nevertheless.”
I held Darien’s gaze for a moment before giving him a slight nod and moving past him, deeper into the cathedral. There were wounded clustered around the alter, and I had an alchemist to find. I wonder what General Mandin meant by ‘difficult’…. I mused as I drew nearer.
“How…. How bad does it look?” A very young-sounded guard was asking a tunic-clad man fearfully, but at my approach the other man turned to glare at me, displaying the bushiest pair of mutton chops I had ever seen, and I stared, speechless for just a moment too long.
“Are you injured?” Alinon demanded of me. “No? Then stop bothering me.”
“I have the ingredients for your werewolf cure.” I told him as he started to turn away, and he instantly swung back to me, reaching out for the supplies. I hastily handed over the package from General Mandin before the alchemist could begin searching me for it, then passed him the vials of werewolf blood more carefully.
“Now, don’t ask me to guarantee that this antidote will work.” Alinon warned me. “Faolchu’s spawn are unusually resilient.”
“But can you make a cure?” I asked him, thinking of the Duke.
“In a church? Certainly not.” Alinon dismissed the possibility. “But I could do it at the inn. That’s Darien’s plan. To get us to the inn. Then we’ll see about crafting an antidote to this terrible affliction.”
Looks like I’m going out to rummage through the pockets of corpses. I thought to myself morbidly as I retraced my steps back down the aisle towards Darien, and the door beyond him. And I thought running into Gloria again was the high point of my day.
“I prayed to the Eight for a miracle. Instead they sent you.” Darien mentioned as I drew within earshot, staring at me with surprising intensity for a few moments, before realising I was aware of his scrutiny. “Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm joking. Mostly. Now go get that key.”
I walked past without any further word to him, pulling the church door securely shut behind me. The Inn was downhill and to the east, past several damaged buildings, one little more than a charred shell. Abandoning stealth in my rage, I attacked the nearest cultist, amused to realise that every single one I had encountered so far was some sort of fire mage. Looks like Angof finds it necessary to remind Faolchu who’s in charge. I chuckled to myself as I twisted my dagger to release the suction, allowing her corpse to fall away. I spun out of the way of a werewolf’s attack, then continued the spin to slash at his back and stab deeply into his kidneys, before slicing his throat from behind as he dropped to his knees. Although, if most of these wolves are townsfolk who can be cured, maybe I should try to avoid them. I realised, slinking towards a wall for cover. It won’t do for Alinon to perfect his potion, only for me to already have killed off all his test subjects and neighbours.
I found the innkeeper’s corpse, badly mauled, slumped against the side of the burned out house I had noticed from the cathedral's steps, and was relieved to locate the key in one of his pockets. Didn’t make it very far, did you? I realised with pity, looking across at the next building to see it was the Inn. I approached the building, searching for a door, and finding one without any nearby werewolves or cultists, I unlocked it with the Innkeeper’s key and slipped inside. Upstairs, I decided, climbing the nearby stairs, and north, that should be visible from the cathedral. I was relieved to find a candelabra on a small table below a window that seemed to be facing the right direction, and lit the candles, hoping someone was watching for the signal.
“Get the injured inside.” I heard Darien’s voice float up from below soon after. “Anyone who can still stand, guard the doors.” He ordered. How did they get here so quickly? I wondered, heading back to the stairs. Alinon was behind the bar, rummaging for something or other, and I headed straight for him to see if he needed anything else for his cure.
“Darien talks of nothing but wine and women, but behind his bluster he’s a better tactician than his father.” The alchemist confided in me, and I blinked in confusion. “Though that’s not saying much.” He added with a shrug. Okay, not sure how that’s relevant to anything….
“Is the cure ready?” I asked instead, ignoring his comments.
“What do you think I’ve been doing here?” Alinon demanded in disbelief. “Making soup? Here it is. Go beat up on some werewolves until they’re weakened, then douse them with this. If the cure works, they’ll revert to human form. Then send them back here.”
I took the vials he passed me with a nod of thanks, and turned to see that Darien was standing guard near the main door.
“And here we are, at the inn, all safe and sound.” The Captain announced as I walked towards him. “More or less. We saw the light and followed you inside.”
“Now about your master key.…?” I began, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah, ah, ah. Not quite yet.” He replied in a sing-song manner, shaking his head at me. “We need weapons and armor to help protect these civilians. There are caches of Camlorn Guard supplies hidden around the city. Gather some and we can arm more people.”
“I'll find the caches of weapons and armor.” I agreed, turning towards the door once more.
“We'll need all the armor and weapons you can find.” Darien called after me, waggling his eyebrows when I glanced back at him “Just think how grateful some of these sweet young citizens will be.”
I laughed aloud as I let myself out of the Inn. How did Gloria not realise most of his smarmy act is just for show? I wondered, then smiled as it occurred to me that was probably what Alinon had been attempting to tell me. Well, I can’t speak for his drinking habits or his fighting abilities. I thought as I slipped around a building, stopping to search a chest stored behind it and finding it filled with weapons and pieces of armor. But his foolishness seems to be an act. Why though? What’s he trying to hide?
I allowed these thoughts to amuse me while most of my awareness focused on locating chests of supplies and avoiding the groups of cultists and werewolves, but when I spotted a werewolf by itself, I crept towards it, wondering how much damage I needed to cause to weaken it sufficiently for Alinon’s cure to take effect, while also trying to decide how to inflict that damage without it leading to lasting injuries. Well, hopefully Alinon put a healing potion into this mix. I decided. Because I can’t exactly bludgeon anything into submission. I’m all about speed and stabbing, when it comes down to it. So, non-lethal wounds to bleed it out a bit, but nothing to any vital organs or arteries…. I stepped forward, slashing at the werewolf’s back and shoulders, ducking as it spun to face me, and striking shallowly at its chest while dodging, waiting for an indication I might have weakened it. When it sagged briefly, growling, I flung the contents of a vial into its face and stepped back. In an instant, a man in torn clothing appeared in place of the werewolf, a look of terror on his face.
“Thank you so much!” He rasped, as I pointed him towards the Inn. “Thank you! Thank you!”
I waved him off and continued my search for lone wolves and chests of supplies in and around the ruined buildings. By the time I ran out of potions, I had cured four townsfolk and found three caches of weapons and armor, and I had reached the last building before the city gates, right across from the Inn. There was a werewolf on the steps of the house, and as little as I wished to have to kill someone who might otherwise have been cured, I could see a chest inside through the missing walls. It’s a wonder this building hasn’t collapsed yet. I noted, looking at the extent of the damage. The roof’s fallen in, the stairs to the upper floor are gone, and the walls have more openings than wall left…. But that’s the last cache, I’m sure of it. I circled the building, hoping one of those gaping holes in the wall were low enough to the ground that I could use one to sneak in.
I was in luck, not only could I scramble through the wall where a huge chunk of the plaster was missing between the timber framing, but a large pile of still-flaming debris hid me from the werewolf at the front of the house. I lifted the lid of the cache chest and realised my true dilemma. Slowly, carefully, I lifted each blade, every piece of armor, from the tangled pile inside, stowing them carefully in my pack, until I had wrapped and packed each one, without a sound to betray my presence. I grasped the lid of the chest and carefully pulled it forward, but as the lid lowered its balance changed, and the heavy lid slipped from my fingers, slamming shut.
I froze, peering from the corner of my eye towards the werewolf, who had raised its muzzle to sniff the air, and was turning towards me. I backed away from the chest, hoping to keep the pile of debris between us enough to hide behind, but with a roar the werewolf lunged towards me, and I rolled beneath its strike, drawing my daggers as I rose, and stabbing deeply into the creature’s neck. I danced backwards, evading its swiping claws, and ducked another lunge, plunging my blades into its kidneys before knocking the poor creature out with a blow to the head. I hope you survive this. I thought, backing away from its slumped form before turning towards the gap which used to hold the front door.
Wait, what’s this? I stopped, as on the edge of my vision I caught sight of a book, partly buried in the pile of rubble, surprisingly untouched by the flames. I pulled it loose, and opened it to the first page, hoping this might be one of the books from the Mages’ Guild’s list. The Journal of Darien Gautier was written in a bold hand, with scattered entries covering several pages. I snapped it shut, then paused, holding the closed book in front of me. I should really return this to him. I told myself. And I definitely shouldn’t read it. I stowed the journal safely in my pack and made my way back to the Inn. But as I set foot on the first stair below the main door, the impulse to take a peek at Darien’s journal became overwhelming, and I swung around the staircase, crouching in the cover it provided. I pulled the book from my pack and opened it, careful not to mark the pages with my blood-and-soot stained fingers.


I crouched there, stunned, staring blankly at the pages for several minutes, heedless of my surroundings. Coldharbour. He was dreaming of Coldharbour. I realised. Having nightmares about it, and other things, evidently. But why? And more importantly, how? I turned back to the beginning, skimming over the entries, searching for a better understanding of what I had read.
Here he just talks about Alinon suggesting he start this journal to record his nightmares…. he also assumes it’s a prank, but he’s amused by that, not resentful. That’s rather sweet…. And although he made several entries to remind himself to meet various women for drinks, it looks like forgetting to show up happens more often than not. Are they asking him, or is he asking them? No, not important…. I turned to the next page. Here’s where it gets interesting. What is that light, I wonder? He doesn’t mention a colour, only that it’s blindingly bright. But this fanged creature, the thing that bursts into flames after biting him, what can that be? And why does drinking his blood seem to kill it? That doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever encountered. The floating rocks in a cold, blue land is definitely Coldharbour, though. And he dreamed of the Dark Anchors before they began falling into our realm?
I closed the journal, slipping it into a side pocket for now. Well, this explains any ‘excessive’ drinking the good Captain may be indulging in. And spending that much time in a tavern would account for a lot of the rest of his reputation…. But this situation stinks of Daedric influence, and I can’t tell which one. I should keep an eye on him, see how tied into all this he might really be.
I emerged from my hiding place, and once more climbed the stairs, entering the Inn.
“Ah, the lovely clank of armor.” Darien greeted me. “Well done. When we get out of here, the first drink's on me. Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”
“Of course you do.” I replied, thinking; So do I…. I found your journal, but I’m not going to give it back to you.
“The good news is I do indeed have the master key to the city gates.” Darien was saying. “The bad news is your thrilling exploits have attracted Faolchu's attention.”
I nodded distractedly at him, but raised a hand in a ‘wait a moment’ gesture, and headed for Alinon.
“The cure—did it work?” The alchemist demanded in a hoarse whisper, crouched behind the bar.
“Yes, the cure worked perfectly.” I assured him, wondering what he was doing down there.
“The real pity is I can't make more doses until we're out of here.” He sighed. “Still, you were able to rescue a few of our citizens. Thanks.”
I climbed onto the bar and sat there cross-legged, wondering how to ask about curing the Duke. Alinon looked up at me, blinking owlishly from his spot on the floor, as I opened and closed my mouth a few times, debating what to say, before he came to a decision.
“I've known Darien a long time.” He told me. “Don't judge what he'll do by the way he talks. He's a better man than he pretends to be.” Oh, I’m aware of that, my friend. I thought wryly, but I offered Alinon a smile before sliding off the bar and heading back towards the door, and the enigma which stood guard there. Surely Alinon will cure the Duke, if he survives this. So I need to make sure he does.
“You certainly know how to make an impression.” Darien told me as I rejoined him. “You were too successful, my friend, and now Faolchu is—pardon the pun—howling mad.”
“Never mind that.” I told him, still distracted by the puzzle he represented. “We need to unlock the gates for the Lion Guard.”
“A bold plan, especially for my father.” He noted. “If we time it right, it should work. But that doesn't change the fact that Faolchu is hunting for us.”
“What do you suggest?” I asked, curiously. I’m no tactician, but apparently you're supposed to be....
“Take one of these newly armed townsfolk with you.” Darien outlined his plan. “Have the civilian light the fires in the towers to signal my father. I'll take the rest of the civilians and my guards and unlock the gates.”
“You just want me to protect a civilian?” I replied, confused.
“Oh no, you have something much more important to do.” Darien assured me. “Once the fires are lit, you confront Faolchu. Keep him busy long enough for our troops to take the city. I'll send aid as soon as I can.”
“You expect me to take on Faolchu by myself?” I laughed, amused by his confidence. Not that it’s misplaced…. but how does he know that? Was he watching me out there?
“Now, don't be modest.” Darien cajoled me. “You've more than proven yourself. Destiny beckons and you must answer its call. Say, that sounded rather good. I should write this stuff down.”
I hid a laugh in a cough. You’ll need a new journal first. I thought but said only; “I need fire to defeat Faolchu.”
“Oh, we can give you fire.” Darien promised me. “At least we can once the Lion Guard archers arrive. Keep Faolchu busy long enough, and you'll get all the fire you need.”
I nodded in agreement and was checking my gear while I waited for a volunteer to be assigned to me, when a howl echoed outside the Inn.
"Who dares trespass in my city?” A familiar voice roared. Why, Faolchu, there you are. “Find them. Kill them. Bring me their bones!"
I was equal parts surprised and not to see that the volunteer I was to protect was a girl who looked barely any older than I did, with stars in her eyes every time they strayed towards the Guard Captain, until I nudged her towards the door.
“Just make sure you protect that civilian.” Darien reminded me. “Volunteers don't grow on trees around here, you know.” But your admirers sure seem to. I thought cheekily as I followed the volunteer out the door, closing it firmly behind myself. The girl looked up at me with her huge eyes, the helmet almost too large for her, and feeling a twinge of concern, I glanced at the sword she carried, relieved to see it seemed to be in good order.
“I'm not much good with a sword,” She told me, following my gaze, “but I'll do whatever Captain Darien asks of me.” I sighed, resigned to what was essentially going to be a babysitting errand, and led the way to the closest tower, the one beside the main gate. Once I had the door unlocked, my charge slipped inside. "Keep watch.” She told me as she entered. “I won't be long."
As soon as the door had closed behind her a wave of werewolves and cultists assaulted the tower, and I was kept busy dealing with them until her return.
"I lit the signal fire.” She told me, staring at the bodies strewn about with surprise. “Let's move on."
I took the lead, moving uphill through the damaged city to the where the other towers were positioned either side of the Keep, and had her first enter the eastern one, and then the west. She gave me a smile and a wave before blithely making her way back through the town towards the gates alone, and I shrugged. Should have advised her to take shelter and hide for a while. I mused as I passed the burned shell of the stables and turned towards the steps to the Keep. I opened the door slowly, just far enough to slip through, then closed it softly behind myself.
As I crept through the entryway and towards the great hall, I heard Faolchu’s growling voice echoing off the stone walls of the chamber ahead.
"Begone, Angof.” He snarled. “I did your bidding. This city is mine now."
"You are still my creature, slave.” Angof replied, and I froze in place. “I made you." Angof? I wondered, slowly creeping closer to the doorway to gain a view of them. Truly here? Or is this another projection?
"I devoured Camlorn.” The werewolf boasted. “All of Glenumbra will be mine!"
"Vain creature.” Angof dismissed his claims. “The Lion Guard stands at your door. You have failed."
"They are weak and I will crush them.” Faolchu insisted. “Camlorn is mine!" I reached the doorway to the great hall, crouching to peer around the frame as close to the ground as I could, hoping to be less noticeable.
"You will see, beast.” Angof’s image replied. “You will see." With this his projection disappeared, and I eased back before standing, slowly exhaling a sigh of relief. I don’t think I could have taken them both. I thought. Not alone. Not without using soul gems. Faolchu, however? I unsheathed my daggers, needing this fight to be close, personal. Faolchu I know I can kill again.
"You dare challenge me?” Faolchu snarled at me when I stalked into the room. “Prepare to feel my wrath!" I ignored his posturing, glancing up at the flaming ceiling, the burning windows, the gaping hole in the roof above the dais. Plenty of fire to work with for now, but I hope those archers you promised me arrive, Darien. I feinted left, and when Faolchu leapt to intercept, I swept under his strike, stabbing deeply beneath his ribs before lunging into a roll for clearance. I popped to my feet and turned to face Faolchu again, sidestepping to keep him in the centre of the room.
“Archers!” I heard the General’s call through the damaged walls and roof. “There's your target. Ignite, draw back, and release!" The volley of arrows brought part of the ceiling down onto Faolchu, and he writhed beneath it.
"The fire shall not destroy me again!" Faolchu howled, breaking free of the flaming debris and lunging towards me once more. I spun out of his reach, then dove forward to catch him off balance, slashing at his face and claws, driving him into a rage.
“Set fire to the entire building.” I heard through the roar of the flames. “For Camlorn!” Wait, I’m still in here! I thought indignantly, manoeuvring Faolchu beneath a sagging part of the ceiling just as it gave way, showering him in more burning timbers. I darted out of the way, flinging throwing blades at his face and neck, and the monstrous paws as he struggled to push himself upright, waiting for my chance. When Faolchu slipped, losing traction with his slippery, bleeding paws, I stepped in close to slash at his neck. One last blow, driving a dagger deeply into the base of his skull, and the resurrected werewolf collapsed, dead once more.
I staggered back, choking in the heat and smoke, before regaining my bearings and fleeing the burning building. Outside, smoke hung heavily, but a fine, misting rain was beginning to fall, and I tilted my face up to meet it, enjoying the coolness. Cheering soldiers hailed me, and I smiled as I realised the city had been retaken. I made my way down the steps to where General Gautier stood waiting for me.
"You did it.” He said to me, almost disbelievingly. “You killed Faolchu."
“It was a group effort.” I demurred, uncomfortable with the praise.
"Yes, my friend, but you turned the tide.” The General insisted. “We had all but lost the war before you came and showed us the way to victory."
“Why were they so interested in Camlorn?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
"My son may know more than me on that matter.” General Gautier replied. “My only guess is that they sought to break the Lion Guard. Divide our forces and destroy us. If not for your intervention, they very well may have succeeded."
“There's trouble in other places?” I asked. More than what I’ve already found?
"Yes, throughout Glenumbra.” The General confirmed. “The Lion Guard is spread thin, and without King Casimir's full support I'm not sure if we'll be able to deal with it all. Of course, if I had a few more like you, we might just have a chance."
“What happens to Camlorn now?” I asked, ignoring his veiled request.
"We rebuild.” He replied simply. “Of course, we still need to deal with Faolchu's master, but tomorrow is another day and we should relish this victory. Well, don't let me keep you. We both have things to do, and you should speak with my son."
I looked past the General to where Darien stood speaking with some of the townsfolk, between the Inn and the damaged fountain in the centre of the square, then noticed Gloria leaning against the fountain’s outer basin, several feet behind him. Oh, joy. I thought, but with a nod to the General, I made my way over to her.
"Ha! Now you're just showing off.” She greeted me. “But I'm glad to see you alive and well. Darien, too. Tamriel would be a poorer place without the two of you in it."
“Where do you think Angof is hiding?” I asked her, ignoring both her griping and her admiration of the Captain.
"That's a problem for another day.” She waved off my question. “Let's enjoy this victory. You won here. Savor that while you can." I raised an eyebrow at this. Jealous, Gloria? Maybe you need to put more effort into fighting, and less into trying to manipulate people. I turned away without further response, and walked towards Darien.
“My condolences to your families for the hardship you've had to face.” He was saying to the survivors. “My soldiers and I failed to protect you as we were sent to do. I will ensure that I find who is responsible for this, and avenge our people.”
Noticing my presence, he turned to face me and caught sight of Gloria, still leaning against the fountain.
“I didn't know Gloria was involved in all this.” He said, turning back to me. “She does make wading through werewolves look pretty good, though, don't you think? Maybe she and I can get together later. Share a bottle of wine. Find a quiet corner where we can...compare notes.”
“Save it for your entourage, Captain.” I replied dismissively. I’m sure she’d be delighted, but I’m not going to do her the favour of telling you that! “Your father sent me to speak to you.”
“I wanted to thank you.” Darien straightened, and his voice lost the suggestive tone. “Personally. We might have been able to retake Camlorn eventually, but it wouldn't have been quick and it certainly wouldn't have been pretty. You saved lives, and that's not something I'll soon forget.”
“What will you do now?” I asked him, even more uncomfortable with his thanks than I had been with his father's.
“I'm resigning from the Camlorn Guard.” Darien admitted. “They need builders now, not soldiers. Besides, that Angof thing is still out there. Someone has to go deal with that. Unless, of course, you'd care to tempt me with a drink before I start my heroic journey?”
“Maybe later, when this is all over.” I told him after a moment’s consideration. I do need to figure out what you are, after all. I can’t lose track of you just yet.
“Well, then!” He exclaimed eagerly. “All the more reason for me to get out there and deal with this Angof fellow once and for all! The werewolves slipped in on my watch. I need to make amends for that. I need to make sure that Camlorn isn't threatened again.”
“It's time for me to move on.” I replied.
“First one to reach Angof buys the first bottle of wine!” Darien challenged me. “But in all sincerity, thanks for helping us. You really are an inspiration. And I should know, seeing as I'm pretty inspirational myself.”
I laughed at this, more comfortable with his smarmy act than I was with his earlier sincerity, although I did roll my eyes slightly.
“Still hanging around, eh?” Darien continued when I didn’t immediately walk off. “Don't suppose you’re reconsidering that drink? Ah, never mind. We both have things we need to do.”
“Speaking of Angof, do you have any idea where he is?” I asked.
“I had a drink with him earlier today.” Darien replied airily. “Discussed our favorite foods, our love lives, his plans for world domination, that sort of thing. No, I have no idea where Angof is.” This was snapped out, his frustration showing. “I will find him though. That much I promise.”
“So where are you going to start looking?” I pressed, hoping for a destination, or at least a direction to head in.
“A squad of Lion Guard soldiers headed north to track him down.” Darien told me. “There's been no word from them, but who knows what was lost in all this werewolf nonsense. That's as good a place as any to start. Maybe they found something.”
“I'll look for them.” I promised, and with that I walked past Darien and out of Camlorn.

Chapter Eleven: Angof the Gravesinger (Part One)

“My horses are beauties!” Blandine proclaimed as we finalised our arrangements. “Look how they hold their heads up high. I treat my horses well, whether they belong to me or if they just happen to rent a stall in my stables.”
Reassured by the Redguard woman’s obvious love for her charges, I untacked and groomed Sweetroll, settling her into a spacious stall with her feed – and the promised treats – then made my way into the Rosy Lion and my small but increasingly cosy room.
In addition to my bedroll I had a small table and stool where I could eat my meals when I didn’t want to mingle in the common room, a locked chest for storing my possessions, a set of shelves, storage containers for my supplies and a couple of lamps. I dropped my pack, kicked off my boots, and wrinkled my nose. Time to do some laundry and take a bath. I decided, removing my armor to wipe it clean and changing into a fresh set of clothes to wear while I took care of those errands. Then I’ll eat something and get a good night’s rest.
The next morning I checked my clumsily updated map, and decided that with everything around the Redoubt being such short distances apart, the risk of something happening to Sweetroll outweighed the convenience of having her with me. Besides, I reasoned, I can always come back through the Wayshrines if I do need to collect her.
On my arrival at the Lion Guard’s Redoubt I was directed to talk with Commander Marone Ales, who I found in a tent on the upper terrace of the fortifications.
“Ah, a new recruit!” He exclaimed when I approached him. “If you're here to help, we could certainly make use of you.”
“I'm looking for Angof.” I replied, shaking my head to indicate I was not there as a recruit.
“Aren't we all, my friend.” He sighed resignedly, probably assuming I was yet another glory-hunter. “Aren't we all. We might be able to assist each other, but we have some other business to take care of first. We're dealing with a literal undead uprising! Our patrols sweep the wilds while our primary wizard, Gabrielle Benele, searches for a magical relic that will help. But I'm concerned. Some of our patrols haven't returned.”
“Do you want me to find the missing patrols?” I offered.
“The Lion Guard doesn't usually seek help outside its ranks,” The Commander hesitated, scratching the back of his neck, “but these are desperate times. Do what you can to help any patrols you encounter. And if you run into Mage Benele, maybe you can help her out, as well.”
“I'll look for the missing patrols and the mage.” I promised.
“Stendarr bless you.” He thanked me, bowing his head briefly in prayer as he raised one hand, the other pressed to his heart in supplication to his patron Divine.
“I have a few questions.” I said when he raised his head again.
“I'll tell you what I can.” Commander Ales agreed.
“Where should I check for your patrols?” I asked him.
“In hindsight, I may have spread the patrols too thin.” He sounded worried. “I sent them to patrol the grounds around the redoubt, to protect the Gaudet Farm, and to guard the western ruins at Merovec's Folly.”
“Tell me more about Gabrielle Benele.” I requested next.
“Wizard Benele is here on behalf of the Mages Guild.” The Commander seemed less than confident in this appointment. “She claims there's a relic in the ruins that will help us defeat Angof, but magic is so unpredictable. And, truth be told, Wizard Benele can be easily distracted.”
“Why don't you go after Angof?” I wondered aloud. Surely that’s the most urgent priority?
“I'd love to, but there's some kind of barrier protecting the crypts at Cath Bedraud.” Commander Ales appeared to be resisting a strong urge to curse. “Unless Wizard Benele can get us through that barrier, we can't get to Angof. And the undead will just keep coming.” As I turned to leave, he muttered under his breath. “Blast that mage! She's put us all at risk. That bauble had better be worth the effort.”
Don’t think I was supposed to hear that! I smiled to myself, heading out the closest gate. I began my search for the missing patrols on the slopes south of the Redoubt, finding the remaining members of a patrol battling desperately against a group of zombies. I spun through the mêlée, slashing and ducking, allowing the exhausted soldiers to retreat while I finished off the undead. From there I ran west to the farm I had ridden past when I first came to locate the redoubt, rescued several more survivors, and continued north past the Wayshrine to Merovec's Folly. From within the maze of the ruined fort came the ringing of clashing steel and the growls of the vine-sprouting zombies, and I vaulted the low remnants of a wall to intercept one of the horrors at it lurched towards a wounded Lion Guard. I sliced into it, dodging the putrid green spray of its vomit as I spun between two of them, striking and slashing, working to draw them away from the exhausted soldiers until I could finish them. Once I was done, another Lion Guard member came running up to me.
“We have something important to discuss, but not here.” He told me urgently. “It's not safe. Meet me at the Wayshrine near the Lion Guard Redoubt. It's safer there!” With this he turned and left, leading the last patrol’s survivors back towards the Redoubt. I shrugged to myself, checked for any lingering undead, and followed after them, wondering what could have the man so agitated.
“Thank Kynareth I found you!” The soldier exclaimed when I joined him. “You don't know how many people I met who had been torn apart by these cultists and their creatures.”
“Slow down.” I replied calmly, leaning against the dark stone wall surrounding the rotunda, hoping my casual posture would encourage the agitated man to take a breath and focus. “Tell me what's going on.”
“I was with Wizard Benele at the nearby Merovec's Folly, looking for an important relic.” He began. “When the undead attacked us, we were forced to retreat. But the mage swore she was close to finding something. She did some magic thing and vanished.”
“She just vanished?” I repeated. What, she abandoned her patrol? Surely I’d misheard him. Not while they were under attack?
“She said that a nearby crypt contained a relic we needed to defeat Angof.” He recalled. “I would have remained by her side, but she just disappeared! I told Commander Ales what happened and he said I should find you and let you know.”
“Any idea where the crypt she talked about might be?” I asked, concerned. Any mage flighty enough to just take off without their escort like that could get themselves into serious trouble.
“The crypt's got to be somewhere near the ruins of Merovec's Folly.” He decided. “She kept a journal that she was constantly writing in. I'm sure it contains the location of the crypt. Our camp is west of the Redoubt. Her journal is probably still there.”
“What can you tell me about Wizard Benele?” I asked, wondering if I was jumping to conclusions regarding the mage’s reliability, or potential lack thereof.
“Wizard Benele is nice enough, but she's not very sensible.” The knight admitted. “She barely looked up from her books and scrolls, even when the fighting got intense. Oh, she'd pause long enough to zap a zombie that wandered too close, but otherwise she was oblivious.”
“I'll check the campsite and find Wizard Benele.” I promised him, and taking my leave headed west. There were zombies staggering around the slopes, and far too many fallen soldiers. I spared what time I could to hunt down the hordes before the urgency of the situation had me merely disposing of the ones directly in my path as I ran, searching for signs of the camp.
“Stranger. Aid me.” A voice called from behind a large, neatly trimmed log, and I skirted it to find a member of the Lion Guard, a knight judging by his armor, sitting between the sprawled corpses of a few zombies and the neatly placed bodies of his fallen comrades.
“Blood of the Forebears!” He exclaimed as I approached. “Angof's minions are relentless.”
“What happened here?” I asked the injured knight.
“We were working with the wizard Benele.” He said, confirming I had the right location. “I lost track of her when the zombies attacked. Now I'm the only one left. These cultists are desecrating our dead! It's an affront to Tu'whacca. But my wounds slow my sword.”
“I can aid you.” I assured him. “What needs to be done?”
“Bloodthorns desecrate the Lion Guard soldiers killed in the ruins.” He told me. “They raise them as zombies! If you use my sacred emblem, you can sanctify the corpses. That will prevent them from being raised as undead.”
“I'll do as you request.” I agreed, taking the emblem from him.
“Kill these monstrous creatures and avenge my fallen brethren.” He entreated, slumping back again.
On the log nearby rested a small book. I picked it up, hoping this was the wizard’s journal the knight had mentioned, but stowed it into my bag to read later, once I had sanctified the dead. Because the last thing we need is more of these things. I thought to myself as I beheaded a zombie in passing. It’s not just an excuse to kill more cultists…. Well, not entirely.
I might have allowed myself to get a little carried away as I retraced my steps back up to Merovec’s Folly and through its labyrinth of ruined towers and low, broken walls, but something about the sight of a necromancer standing over a dead soldier had that effect on me, for reasons I didn’t feel ready to examine too closely just then. Once I’d cleared the area, using the knight’s sacred emblem to consecrate around half a dozen fallen soldiers, I perched myself on one of the dark stone walls and wiped my face, taking a moment to drain a waterskin and inhale a few of the mudcrab and corn fritters I’d packed. As I ate, I pulled out the journal I’d found and read it, glancing up to check for zombies every few moments.



Well, she forgot to order the knights to return to the redoubt. I frowned, tapping my fingers on the edge of the journal before stowing it away. But why?
Deciding I needed to find this flighty mage and see what was so special about this talisman, I made my way down the steep hill towards the shore while searching for the crypt mentioned in her journal. It didn’t take long to find the entrance, a huge stone archway against the cliff face with several of the stone blocks which once closed it now fallen to provide entrance, and inside was a blonde Breton in mage robes, favouring a wounded arm.
“I hate meeting new people when I'm not at my best.” She fretted nervously. “Is my hair all right? Are my robes on straight?” Only a mage could be more concerned with their wardrobe than their wounds….
“Commander Ales sent me to help you.” I told her, hiding my amusement. She’s so young! It explains a lot of her flightiness, this is probably one of her first postings and she’s inexperienced in military protocols.
“Commander Ales?” Wizard Benele repeated as if dazed. “A good man and a good soldier. But how did you find me?”
“You left your journal at the camp.” I confessed, handing the slim volume over.
“I did?” The mage replied, automatically taking it from me. “I knew I left my journal somewhere. But I haven't told you the most exciting news!” She continued. “I found the Midnight Talisman. With it, we can punch a hole in Angof's barrier at Cath Bedraud. We just need to recharge the beautiful little relic.”
“What's the Midnight Talisman?” I asked. Her journal didn’t explain much about it.
“Do you like the name?” Gabrielle asked me. “I thought it up myself. Sounds simply ominous, doesn't it? Anyhow, it's a Daedric relic used to manipulate Oblivion portals. If you know how you can use the talisman to get past arcane barriers. And I know how.”
“So this talisman is the key to defeating Angof?” I stated, wanting to be certain I was interpreting her ramblings correctly.
“The talisman would be the key to defeating Angof—if its power wasn't depleted.” Wizard Benele sighed. “We need to recharge the talisman. Then we'll finally get our chance to deal with Angof and take the battle to him! Will you help me recharge the Midnight Talisman?”
“Of course.” I agreed. Since I’m going to need it to reach Angof, I don’t really have much choice. And I think you need a keeper, as well as some lessons on how to work with the military. “What do I need to do?”
“I have a ritual that can recharge the talisman and restore its power.” Gabrielle told me. “There's an ancient Wyrd site on the beach near here. We can use that as the focus for the ritual.”
“You're injured.” I noted. “Can you travel?”
“I just need to rest for a bit.” She replied, sounding painfully young and fragile. “Then I can get myself there and still have enough power for the ritual. Here, take the talisman and head on down. I'll meet you there.”
“I'll meet you at the ritual site.” I agreed, taking the talisman from her fingers. They trembled, and I wondered just how injured she was. Too proud to show it? Or too inexperienced to realise that she should be more open with an ally, so that all resources can be best utilised? It’s not really my place to say anything, but I do need to be able to work with her….
“Take the path down to the beach.” She cut through my thoughts before I could decide whether to broach the subject or not. “I'm too weak to walk, so I'll use my magic and meet you there.”
Sure enough, a path wound down the cliff to a calm shoreline of golden sand, and on a grassy islet grew a tree, its base suspended above the ground by the branching roots to form a sheltered area beneath, the Wyrd’s blue flowered vines twining between them in a perfumed canopy.
“You made it.” Gabrielle sounded relieved. “No zombie bites or anything.”
“Can you explain what we're about to do?” I asked her. Probably best to use a softly-softly approach and hope she picks up on how to interact with others? I decided. She’s not unintelligent, just a bit naïve, and experience should help that.
“I found an inscription in the crypt.” Wizard Benele told me. “It described the relic in remarkable detail. Apparently, the talisman can draw energy from the land itself. Ancient magic saturates this site. It's the perfect place to perform the ritual of recharging!”
“So what happens next?” I prompted her.
“I perform the ritual.” She stated. “You stand there and look heroic. Simple? Are you ready?”
“I'm ready.” Look heroic, huh? I suppressed a snicker.
“Here goes nothing.” Gabrielle muttered, then with a cry bright green light the colour of new leaves emanated from her hands as she gripped her staff with one and reached the other towards me, a beam of the green light extending from her to surround the talisman as I held it, connecting us for several moments before she slumped to one knee with a soft gasp.
“It's done!” She announced, staff flat on the ground beneath one hand. “But something's not right….” Her voice trailed off as she gasped for breath, head bowed and shoulders heaving with exhaustion. “That didn't seem right.” The young mage repeated in an alarmed tone.
“What happened?” Specifics, please! I thought in frustration. “Are you all right?”
“The ritual worked, but something….” Gabrielle sounded painfully young and fragile. “Well, something awful looked at me while I was channelling energy into the relic. I think there's something trapped inside the talisman.”
“There's something inside the talisman?” I repeated, concerned for her.
“Whatever's inside the relic, it's certainly not friendly.” She gasped. “We can try to dispel it using the Wyrd revelation stone in the circle just up the beach. Put the talisman on the stone and kill whatever emerges. That will do the trick.”
“I'll kill it.” I assured her. That’s definitely a task for me. “What about you?”
“Just getting down here tired me out more than it should have.” Gabrielle admitted. “I know you can handle whatever's inside the talisman. I'm pretty sure it's just a banekin or a lesser scamp.”
“Put the talisman on the stone and kill what comes out.” I repeated. “Got it.”
“The circle is just northeast of here, up the trail along the beach.” The shaken mage directed me. “Place the talisman in the revelation pool. That should force whatever's inside to come out.”
With a last concerned glance at Gabrielle where she knelt, slumped beneath the Wyrd’s tree, I followed the shoreline further north to a distant stone henge marking the ritual circle. As I drew closer and the path led directly through the primitive square archway, I saw the revelation stone with a shallow depression carved into its flattened top, just deep enough to hold the talisman submerged within the water pooled there.
“I see you, little mortal.” A sibilant voice taunted me as I stepped back from the stone, and I drew my daggers, watching a glowing blue mist begin to emanate from the Wyrd blooms ringing the stone in a wide circle. “I’ve guarded this talisman for untold centuries.” It continued, an edge of anger replacing the sing-song cadence. “And you hope to purge me from it? Never! I will personally send you back to Molag Bal.” How did it know? I wondered, disturbed.
A portal appeared, glowing pink, and from withing resolved the form of a black armored Kynreeve, hands gripping the shaft of a maul. The heavy weapon swung slower than my strike as I darted beneath its swing, stabbing through the joins in the dremora’s armor, and dancing away before he could counter. I spun, slashing at the back of his unprotected neck, skipping backwards to avoid the weapon's lightning enchantment strike. Oh, I needed this. I realised, ducking another slow strike and stabbing as I spun behind my opponent, noting Gabrielle’s horrified expression as she arrived and saw me battling the Kynereeve. I twisted, slashing and stepping away, too quick for the large weapon and heavy armour the dremora wore. Just pure, uncomplicated combat, knowing whichever of us loses will simply reform…. Now there’s a thought. The realisation jolted me, but my last strike had dropped my opponent to his knees, and as I stabbed deep into the base of his skull his weapon fell from his grasp, landing in the soft grass moments before his body.
“You did it!” Gabrielle congratulated me, face pale as I approached her. “Wings of Akatosh, what was that thing?” She stared past me at the slain Kynreeve, and I paused, unsure whether her fear was directed at it, or at me. “Julianos! I was wrong about how powerful the thing in the talisman was. My apologies.” She continued, and I felt my sudden tension dissipate at her words.
“It was a dremora.” I shrugged, not overly concerned by that so much as her failure to correctly identify the creature. “Is the talisman all right?”
“Dremora?” The mage repeated. “Oh, those are bad. Sorry. At least it's gone and we can use the talisman now. I have enough energy to open a portal for both of us to use. Are you ready to return to the redoubt?”
“I'm ready.” I agreed.
With a quick gesture Gabrielle summoned a portal, and I followed her through it to the upper tier of the redoubt’s encampment. Gabrielle was already standing beside a campfire when I emerged, where the knight to whom I had given Chief Tazgol's petition to join the Daggerfall Covenant, flanked by guards, waited with crossed arms and a concerned expression on his face. I wonder why I always seem to take longer than anyone else to pass through portals. I mused as I moved to join them. One more thing I’ll have to wait and think about when I have the time to do so, whenever that will happen. I was surprised to see Gloria Fausta also in attendance, and between her and Sir Lanis was the dog who had got me mixed up in preventing King Casimir’s assassination back when I had first arrived in Daggerfall.
“This is it.” Gabrielle announced when I reached her, keeping myself turned slightly away from the others for now. “All our work has led to this.”
“What's the next step?” I asked her.
“We're ready to confront Angof and destroy him.” The young mage sounded eager. “Thanks to you, he won't be able to hide from us now. I told Sir Lanis what happened out there. You should introduce yourself when you get a chance.”
“Over here! We have much to discuss.” Sir Lanis hailed me, and I turned to face him as he crossed one arm over his chest, fist clenched in a salute of greeting. “The great King Casimir sent us to stop Angof. With the combined might of the Dragons, the Lion Guard, and you, Angof will surely fall.”
“I'll help in any way I can.” I promised, carefully not looking at Gloria although she stood directly across the flames from me, sword in hand. Why is she holding that unsheathed here? No wonder Sir Lanis’s guards are eyeing her.
“Well said!” Sir Lanis exclaimed in appreciation. “But we can't just rush after the villain. First off, Angof's toxic mist protects the approach to Cath Bedraud. It rises from his vines and sickens anyone who breathes it in. The wizard Benele believes you might be immune to its effects.”
“I have this talisman, but I don't know if it will protect me.” I replied cautiously. Although I’d probably survive – or revive – even without it. I thought privately.
“We have to chance it.” The knight decided. “We don't have any other options. A squad of Dragons succumbed to the mist before they could retreat. Then that idiot Darien led a few Camlorn soldiers on an ill-conceived rescue mission and they were overcome as well.” Overcome as in incapacitated, or…? I shifted uneasily, unwilling to consider the possibility one of the few people I knew – however passingly – might be dead.
“If the mist doesn't incapacitate me, I'll save the soldiers.” I offered, hoping there would be survivors.
“I hope the soldiers still live.” Sir Lanis scratched the back of his head, his expression grave. “That mist is deadly. And that fool from Camlorn—what was he thinking? He charged right into the mist after them.”
“Where should I look for your soldiers?” And Darien was probably reacting more than thinking, I concluded, he seemed incapable of not trying to save people.
“They couldn't have gotten too far into the graveyard.” Sir Lanis reasoned. “The poison mist acts fast. Hopefully, they stayed together. Once you get them out of there, we can plan our attack against Angof.”
“You mentioned troops from Camlorn?” I prompted. Several times, too, so I can’t avoid asking about them now, but I can feel you staring at me, Gloria….
“With the city liberated from Faolchu, some of the Camlorn Guard came up this way looking for a fight.” The knight elaborated. “A noble named Darien was acting as their leader. He seemed very angry with Angof—something about werewolves.” And I’m relieved you haven’t connected me to that yet.
“Why is G…. Giblets here?” I asked, both grateful for the save the hound's presence provided my slip, and surprised to see him so far from home.
“Arkay blind me if I know.” Sir Lanis admitted. “When the King mentioned your name, the dog perked up and stuck with us all the way from Daggerfall. Looks like he's happy to see you.” Yes, but why did my name come up, and what was Casimir saying about me? I wondered in confusion, turning to say goodbye to Gabrielle.
“Angof the Gravesinger is as good as dead.” The mage declared, then her expression turned quizzical briefly as a thought occurred to her. “Or is he already dead? Or undead? Anyway, this is almost over.” She concluded breezily, smiling at me with total confidence.
"Saving the day again, eh?” Gloria interrupted, and I blinked at her. “Can't say I'm surprised. But I'm not about to let you have all the glory. There ought to be enough here for both of us." I spared her a nod as I left the campfire, unsurprised when she didn’t follow me. Let me? I’d like to see you try stop me. I felt my irritation with her build anew as I crossed the redoubt to take the northern road towards the vast graveyard. But I’m not focused on glory, I’m hoping those knights and soldiers are still alive, not that I see you risking yourself to help them. Does Darien mean so little to you after all?
My internal fuming had me stomping and muttering by the time I arrived at Cath Bedraud’s outer wall, and I came to my senses with a jolt to find my daggers clenched tightly in my hands. I drew a deep breath and checked my surroundings, exhaling slowly as I released the frustration encountering Gloria always seemed to invoke. The Redoubt was only a few hundred yards behind me, and despite the thorned vines thrusting from the ground in ever-thickening numbers, no zombies had crossed my path. More’s the pity, I realised, I could really do with a good fight right now….
The tall arch of the entrance had crumbled with time, now only lopsided columns hinting at their former glory, but the wrought iron fence to either side was intact, and just inside I could see the fallen bodies of two soldiers and a cultist. I crouched and crept forward, glancing to either side along the lowest of the paths encircling the hill where the vast cemetery slumbered. Vines and greenish mist met my gaze between the gravestones and mausoleums, and I climbed the path which led towards the centre like the spoke of some great wheel. I could see robed cultists and walking skeletons scattered between the dark stonework, but focused on finding the soldiers rather than indulging myself in hunting Angof's minions.
At the next intersection a noise from my left, the barely perceptible clink of armor, had me staring through the haze towards a tall wall bisecting the path. The mists were too thick for me to discern what lay beyond the archway cut into it, but I moved closer, breaking into a run as I recognised the armored figure standing guard over the crumpled forms of the soldiers behind him.
“Well, look who's here!” Darien drawled, sheathing his blade when he realised it was me. “I should've known you'd be making Angof's life miserable. Camlorn wasn't enough for you, eh? Say, these mists are poisonous. Why aren't you affected?”
“I think it has something to do with this talisman.” I hedged, not sure how to explain my death, much less my lack of a soul. “Why aren't you affected?”
“I wish I knew.” Darien shrugged. “I didn't think. I just rushed in to help the Dragon Knights. My guards started gasping and falling to the ground, just like the knights. But not me. These are the only survivors, but I don't think they'll last much longer.”
“Can we escort them out of here?” I asked him.
“The mist is thicker toward the gate.” He shook his head. “They won't survive passing through it again. But the mist doesn't seem to affect the necromancers. Those amulets must protect them. Kill a few, take their amulets, and give them to the knights.”
“I'll get one for each of the surviving knights.” I agreed, idly twirling a dagger between my fingers.
“Better grab a couple of extras, just in case anyone shows up while you're gone.” Darien advised, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I'll stay here and defend the knights from any wandering undead.”
Always the tactician. I nodded in agreement, allowing my gaze to drift across the stricken knights while I took a moment to think. He knows these men and feels a need to protect them. And he understands that my talents are in combat rather than reassuring the wounded, so it’s best I be the one running around killing things because that utilises my strengths better than guard duty.
“Don't worry about these fellows.” Darien interrupted me, misinterpreting my hesitation. “Nothing will get to them while I'm here.”
I nodded and ran deeper into the graveyard, spinning my daggers to resettle them in my hands as I allowed myself free reign to hunt down the cultists and their skeletal slaves. The mist had no effect on me as I circled Cath Bedraud’s paths, stalking my prey and collecting the necromancers’ amulets, until I realised that not only were my hands stained red, but my face was streaked with blood too. Returning to my senses, I checked I had enough amulets and hurried back to where I’d left Darien with the stricken soldiers, using a length of fabric torn from a necromancer’s robe and one of my waterskins to clean myself and my daggers on the way. There may be something wrong with me…. I admitted to myself as I stared at the blood-soaked cloth before discarding it. But for now, it’s useful so long as I can keep it under control. And hidden from those who might fear me for it. I added as I noticed Gabrielle had joined the small group, relieved I had made the effort to tidy myself.
“This beautiful woman from the Mages Guild just arrived.” Darien exclaimed on my return, his flirtatious knight act in full effect. “Says she knows you! You can introduce me later. I was right about the amulets, though, wasn't I?”
I nodded, suppressing a smile at his antics, which had helped smooth away the last traces of my rage, and turned to Gabrielle who crouched within a shimmering bubble of a ward.
“These soldiers won't last much longer and I don't have enough magic to extend my ward to protect them.” Gabrielle told me worriedly. “Darien told me about the amulets. Did you get them? With any luck, they'll work like the talisman you're carrying.”
“Here are the amulets I acquired.” I replied, handing them to her.
“Perfect.” Gabrielle took them gratefully. “Thank you. I'll put them on the wounded knights and Darien can lead them to safety. Do you have any more? I might be able to use them to clear the mist.”
“Yes, I collected a few extra amulets.” I confirmed, grateful that Darien’s forethought could assist Gabrielle.
“If I merge them and cast an amplification spell I can increase the size of my protection ward.” Gabrielle explained. “If I can get to a central point and hold the spell long enough, our troops will be able to get in. You just need to defend me while I do it.”
“Consider yourself defended.” I promised.
“Good. Meet me at the center of the graveyard.” Gabrielle instructed me. “When Angof notices what I'm doing, he's bound to send someone to stop me. If they interrupt me while I'm casting, the spell will fail. And that won't be good.”
“Count on me to get the knights out of here.” Darien promised. “You just protect Gabrielle. If this mad plan actually works, I'll see you inside the crypt.”
I headed uphill to the center of Cath Bedraud, where a paved area was encircled by archways in front of a large, ornate crypt with a dark blue ward covering its door. Gabrielle, having used a portal, stood waiting in the circle.
“Quickly now, before Angof knows we're here.” She greeted me, and I turned to face the pathways stretching out into the graveyard, scanning for cultists, zombies or skeletons.
“Are you ready to begin?” The mage asked, holding her staff aloft. “Remember that I can't defend myself while I'm performing the ritual. You have to protect me.”
“Let's begin.” I agreed, adjusting my grip on my daggers as I kept my gaze sweeping for any approaching threat.
“Stay close.” Gabrielle cautioned me, visibly nervous. “You need them off me until I finish.”
I nodded silently, my eyes already fixed on a skeleton as it ran towards us. I stepped forward to meet it, tearing into the desiccated tendons and rotted clothing with my daggers as I spun behind it and slashed the back of its neck. The vertebrae parted with a dry crack, and I sidestepped to meet the next, my dance spinning me in a wide arc around Gabrielle, keeping the reanimated corpses away from her as I twisted between their barren, grasping fingers, felling each before they could reach the young mage, until the last skeleton fell and the blue barrier began to dissolve moments later.
“We did it!” Gabriele celebrated. “Come one. Let's get inside before anything else tries to stop us!” She ran forward and after a glance around I followed her through the last traces of Angof’s ward in the doorway and down the stairs into the crypt below.
“That takes care of the mist, but who knows for how long?” She said when I reached where she stood beside a portal. “Let's not waste this opportunity. The time to strike at Angof has arrived.”
“What's next?” I prompted her, sheathing my blades after examining them for damage.
“This next bit is critical.” Gabrielle hesitated, her voice softening with uncertainty as she tried to gauge my reaction. “I've seen what you can do, so I know you're up to it. Besides, we'd never have made it this far if not for you.” I shook my head and smirked at her rather obvious attempt at flattery, and she waved off my response, her tone becoming brisker as she continued. “You won't be able to just walk into Angof's parlor and challenge him to a duel. He has minions. His kind always has minions. But don't let that stop you. We've come too far not to try to finish this.”
“Aren't you coming with me?” I raised a brow. She seemed so anxious to get inside a moment ago!
“I'll follow you as soon as the soldiers get here.” Gabrielle assured me. “Oh! Even better! Take this binding stone. Find a secure location inside the catacombs and use it to call me to you. I'll even bring some of the soldiers with me!”
“How will I know if a location is secure?” I prompted the young mage. You’ll learn to communicate better eventually….
“Some of the dead were protected by wards designed to prevent desecration.” She elaborated. “Look for a tomb with these wards and use the stone there. That should be safe enough for my purposes.”
“I'll summon you once I locate one of the wards.” I agreed, hoping Gabrielle knew what she was doing this time. ‘Should’ isn’t the most reassuring word when you’re the one saying it, young lady.