Role Playing Fan Fiction ❯ Conjure It At Your Own Risk ❯ Blade Shenanigans ( Chapter 8 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

EIGHT

 

The swamp stank. It stinks. A trail around the south edge led from town to a hole with clear signs of vampires inside. I shot a nice big homing fireball in the hole and waited. Five times the fireball demanded mana to recharge, indicating it had burnt up a vampire or a thrall. Four more times and it finally finished its job. There is probably treasure in there, but I doubt it is worth much compared to the effort of going into a hole where vampires lived when I have better things to do. We moved on. I spotted the ruins shortly after. We had to cross some disgusting salt marsh water, kill a crab and I nailed a necromancer with a lightning bolt, then lit him on fire. His thralls dropped dead when he did. The thralls here are in bad shape. Whatever spell they use to take control rips their soul out, leaving a husk that’s breathing but otherwise soulless. Nasty.

The ruins were circular, with a staircase down one side, some dead guys, supplies for bandits, and a door. I crouched and activated my veil and entered. Inside I found a couple necromancers, some thralls trying to fight one of them, and I put an ice spike into one while the other was occupied. He tried to raise his ally from the dead, but I put a spike in him next and the thralls dropped dead too. I said a prayer for their souls. What a horrible way to die, even if they are bandits who probably did worse to those unlucky enough to get kidnapped by them.

Deeper in found more necromancers fighting zombies. I let them fight, then cast my flame atronach and let it light zombies on fire. There were side rooms with treasure and health potions and some magical amulets for the local gods. I passed one for Akatosh to Sofia who put it on and I stared as some wounds that she had closed up before my eyes. The local gods were real.

We continued into the ruins. Some stones fell and I heard the cough of awakening zombies. I lit them on fire with a sticky fireball spell. We continued up, across an overhead walkway, then over and down, snagging a few more health potions and some old armor I ignored.

Through a more serious door and I spotted the zombie. I used my shout on him, blowing him off the overlook and down…down… down… splat to the ground a good 200 feet below. I spotted the telltale necromantic glow of skeletons and zombies in the large cavern revealed, and a flame trap spewing fire onto a fallen and immobile zombie. Expect more of those. Down past an outcrop of iron ore and my first flame trap. I turned on my fire resistance and moved across the left side, which did not set off the trap, thankfully. Sofia followed. A sharp left found a dead zombie and some moving ones. I lit them on fire, then crossed the walkway and down the stairs, across some sort of burial feast with spoiled food that had been there for centuries, then across, up a staircase, then another raised walkway. Down the far side the glow of necromancy from two sarcophagi positioned me to fireball them both on approach. I noted the door release and pulled it, then went to the gates, finding one up and another release. Pulled that and I was in a small room with an enchanting table, a tide treasure chest, and some soul stones and an orcish dagger. They called this green metal orihalcum, but I can’t see why they use it. It isn’t any better than good steel, it is hard to work, according to the blacksmiths I’ve talked to, and thus isn’t worth much as treasure either. I left it. Through a passage, up a short staircase and found a bottle of poison. Hmm. Probably worth money… but I don’t need it. Leave it behind with the troll skull. Down and into the main chamber. Here I found skeletons. And it was a shooting gallery with my ice spikes and fireballs. A few skeletons walked onto the firetrap atop the stairs and burned into debris, all by themselves. When all the movement stopped I put a spike into the skeleton resting on a throne, then climbed the stairs and across the trap… without setting it off. A treasure chest, some gemstones, drop down, snag a couple potions, and then down the edge of the chamber to a word wall calling out to me. I stared at it. Ethereal, eh? I’ll want to meditate on that later. I noticed a treasure chest and found some septims and potions and gems. Back up to the main level and across a bridge to some weystones. A skeleton drew a bow at me so I shot him with fire. He fell apart, predictably.

“I think this might be the place for the sprint shout,” Sofia suggested. She was right. I jogged at the first two stones which lit and two gates lifted, shouted the Sprint and the final gate rose right before I passed through and the first gate closed behind me. All the gates rose.

“Yay,” Sofia cheered with mild enthusiasm. More fire traps. All the floors were fire traps. And there were webs above a loft to the right. I threw some fireballs back there and listened to the hiss of dying spiders. There are probably more of those here.

I upped the power on my fire shield and ran across the traps, triggering flame. I healed my wounds, then healed Sofia, who opted to stand in the fire like an idiot. I ran across the next bit in a crouch, healing myself then her. She stood out of the fire finally, waiting like an idiot. Ahead were giant spiders. I shot one with an ice spike and the other approached, walking onto the fire traps and burning alive. Wow these things are dumb. There was an ominous hole in the ceiling lined with webbing which just screamed monster to me. I primed a fireball and released it up there. The screams of the spider cooking alive as steam escaped through its carapace was music to my ears. Okay, it was creepy, but giant spiders! It eventually fell to the ground, dead. I used my spells to cross the flaming traps and found the slightly raised platform free of them. I burnt away some webbing and found a door in the back. Opened, went through, Sofia following. The passage opened up to reveal some kind of burial chamber, and a couple cast bronze hands holding a… piece of parchment. It was a note. The erecting dragon statues and pools of water draining away and dismantled zombies paled in comparison to the note telling me to meet someone at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood. I feel annoyed.

“I am annoyed,” I announced.

“There’s treasure, boss,” Sofia reminded, pointing. There was treasure. Around half of it. Spilled septims, a few of those weird tiaras that turn up in tombs, some armor I can’t wear, but Sofia upgraded to the better pieces happily. Nothing useful to me. I moved on, taking the hidden passage out of the treasure chamber back to the side room I’d visited near the start of this ridiculous old tomb. I suspect many of these places are going to have an exit from the treasure chamber, because convenience, right?

Two days later, because that’s how long it takes on foot, we were back in Riverwood, staring at the Sleeping Giant Inn. I stared at the mysterious note one more time. Yep. This is the place. We entered and I asked the lady innkeeper about the attic room.

“Attic room eh? Well, we don’t have an attic room, but you can take the one on the left,” and she took my 10 septims without a further word. Irritated I entered the room I’d just paid for and shut the door, then laid down to sleep for a few hours. I was tired. Sue me. Hours later I was awakened by someone knocking on the door, and then opened it with a key. Annoying! I barely held off using Spark. It was the innkeeper.

“So you’re the one they’re all talking about? I think you were looking for this,” she said, handing me the Horn I’d been sent to retrieve by the Greybeards. I could tell. It was magical. At my level you can tell by touch or even just looking at it. A war horn. “Come on. We should talk,” she insisted. I pulled on my robes and shoes and followed this woman through her personal chambers and down through a false door in a wardrobe into the basement, which was well fitted with enchanting table, various rare alchemy ingredients, and some weapons on a rack. I am amused to see one of those ridiculous orc swords that helped them lose wars by being stuck in their victims. Single use weapons are for archers.

There were also a couple Katanas, which is ridiculous. They aren’t even that good. I’ve put some time into this during my teen years, and learned a lot from the Einherjar who explained their function and limitation. Fast to draw, but mostly because of extensive use of talcum powder on a VERY clean blade. Get that wet with water or blood and its not so fast. Might even stay stuck rather than draw. Also, around two thirds of all the moves you can do with a straight English longsword or French Rapier is can’t be done with a Katana. The curve is a limitation, and the small cheat of two hands well separated? Not so useful most of the time. So seeing these katana on the wall just felt so incredibly posed, like nerds with leather riding jackets but not motorcycle. Entirely image. Keeping this in mind, the speech that followed from the aging barmaid about secret underground dragonslayer societies… well, I didn’t laugh out loud, because help fighting dragons might be useful. However, I still have to be present to eat its soul or no amount of damage will do more than delay it killing everyone. It really comes down to my god-slaying bloodline. Papa would be so proud.

“So now we need to go to Kynesgrove and kill a dragon,” finished the barmaid.

“Yeah. Sure. Fine. Let’s do that. Just as soon as I finish returning this horn to the top of this great huge mountain, because I just love climbing that mountain. Yep,” I reminded, the dullness of the effort reminding me that at least there won’t be any trolls to incinerate, and probably fewer wolves. “We’ll meet you in Kynesgrove in a few days.”

And then I went back to bed. The room was paid for, remember?

Two days of climbing later we arrived at the doors of the fortress and pushed them open. I quickly found Arngeir after first approaching literally ALL the other monks. They are old grey men and I had a headache from using my Sight too much lately.

“Ah, the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. It is time for your final trial. Come with me,” he said and walked to the central chamber. The other old guys were lined up around that diamond shape, although it was really just a square. One cast the final word of unrelenting force, DAH, upon the ground in runes, which I can read. I went and stared at it, and the shout was now complete in my soul, and I felt its rightness, like a completed spell. But this is soul magic, so even more right. Then the monks started chanting at me and it was like being in one of those vibrating chairs, or riding in a wagon on one of those washboard roads that have come to replace the ones that used to be paved, before all that nonsense with the Titan. I wonder if I’ll be strong enough to kill a titan after I get back from Skyrim. I think… yes. This Force spell would knock one from its feet. Yes. I wonder if other shouts will have similar spell effects on gods? Something to consider. They eventually stopped speaking dragon at me.

“You have withstood our combined voices. You are welcome here, Dragonborn.” And then that menu thing popped up and I put a couple points into speech, so I could use this type of spell more easily, and noted I was given a key to the Library. Interesting. So I went there next and found a book with a bunch of combined shouts that make new shouts. Interesting. Soul Magic for starborn is really interesting stuff. I snagged the notebook for later study and meditated for a couple minutes before Kyne, one of the local gods, revealed some of her knowledge to me, mostly of how to use soul magic more effectively. Very interesting.

I stood up and Sofia looked incredibly bored.

“So, wanna rest or head for that Kynesgrove place now?” I asked her.

“We should just go. You carried their dinners here, and dried fish and jerky are not appealing to me right now,” she admitted. So we left. Hours later of descending the mountain and skinning a few more frisky wolves I had a nice new white furred knapsack and some lined leggings, sleeves for my cloak, and managed to enchant them for improved magical draw, stamina, and healing using the ambient magic. Because Papa taught me how to do this kind of enchanting. For him it was way more painful, but with all the magic here it just works, a phrase that suddenly made me feel really angry. I don’t know why. I just wanted to punch some short guy over it.

We spent the night in the inn and recovered our strength, ate a big breakfast of venison stew, and descended the nearby trail, where I incinerated a troll, found a skill book I couldn’t use, Unrelenting Forced an oversized cat over a waterfall at 100 mph and felt the vicious creature splat to death two hundred feet below.

“That’s what you get for trying to eat me, cat!” and on our way. Eventually we reached the bottom of the path and found a large volcanic field, with bubbling hot springs, fumaroles, and geysers. There were animals living in that, including those mammoths and a giant. Some necromancers and wolves tried to become acquainted as we passed near a broken down castle keep, so I ignited them instantly. A couple more necromancers objected, so I ignited them too, then sent my atronach to burn any it could find. I rested outside the walls while it spent twelve minutes killing dark wizards and ending their threat to passerby. I was getting quick at this. The stench of burning wolf fur and necromancer was annoying, but I descended the road and blasted a waiting highwayman with daggers, then an assassin with hilariously red and black garb. How they thought this was stealthy, I have no idea, but a lightning bolt ended their attack abruptly. So much mana here. Sofia complained about a lack of action for her, so I let her kill some wolves after we passed a lumber will and a suspiciously empty bunkhouse. There was a bear, another giant cat, and some more wolves before we finally reached the end of the volcanic field. Of course, ending the field also ended the ambient heat, so it was back into the furs I’d stripped off and killed a couple more wolves, noted a big occupied fortress of Windhelm, and cross a bridge passing its stable, then up the hill a short distance to Kynesgrove. And wouldn’t you know, some local came to warn me of the dragon.

“A dragon is attacking,” she shouted, waving her arms around in panic. I looked around. Kynesgrove was undamaged. No bodies lay in the streets. There were no splatters of blood or burn marks.

“Riiiight. So where is this dragon?” I clarified sarcastically. This was ignored.

“I don’t know. Up on the old dragon mound?” she said, pointing. Up the hill some distance was a dark form circling and my sight revealed rising magical currents, of the Soul variety.

I figure emerged from the mist and snow. It was that barmaid again. I’d lost my bet with myself that she’d die on the way here and the issue would end. No such luck.

“Come on. It’s up here,” she rushed past me. I followed. We climbed up a path past a mine entrance, then around a steep bend and closer to the roaring dragon. It was that black one from my first day here. It shouted at the interior of a smoothed off mound: “SLEM!”

The mound burst open and a dragon skeleton emerged and the surrounding magic started to form its flesh and scales while we watched. It was fast. Well, not sense waiting. I built up a full power fireball and released it onto the dragon, which began to scream and scream as the fire incinerated it. Eventually my fire overwhelmed the magic that was trying to reanimate it and it fell back into a pile of bones and its soul Yeeted over to me in a stream of blue fire and memories. Strength, wickedness, fierce and unyielding violence. I looked up at the black dragon and fired another ball at it, with homing mode engaged. It screamed and flew and crashed into the ground and screamed more… but its soul did not yeet to me. It regained itself and flew away.

“Yeah, fly away, coward. I eat monsters like you for breakfast!” I called at it. I heard it howl in rage and frustration, so I fired an Unrelenting Force at it, which managed to clip its right wing just before it crested the mountains and vanished.

“Dick.”

“Seriously!” agreed Sofia. “You’ve gotten kinda strong with that fire magic,” she commented, changing the subject. “I hardly got my sword out before it was burning to a crisp. I bet you could be the next archmage of the college at Winterhold.”

“Probably. I notice they can’t craft spells here, and their enchanting is really limited,” I remarked. The barmaid was shifting uneasily, trying to regain control of her pitch, but seeing me smite two dragons, normally considered demi-gods, and laughing at them as one fled howling, yeah, normals aren’t really cut out to deal with a full wizard.

“So, I sense you have something to say?” I asked.

“Yeah… um. I’m with the Blades. We used to be the bodyguards for the prior Emperor, and were the assistants and guards for the prior Dragonborn. The first Septim Emperor was a Dragonborn, you see,” she explained. “I wanted to offer our services to you. We’ve got information and facilities where you can plan your attacks and slay dragons,” she offered. I raised my eyebrow, then gestured to the still-smoking skeleton.

“I think I have that covered.”

“And I have a lead. I was going to have you meet up back at my secret basement, but we seem to be alone here, so I wanted to help you sneak into the Thalmor Embassy and find documents that could lead to determining whether the Thalmor are behind these dragon attacks,” she started to explain. I raised a hand, stopping her.

“I was at Helgen. The Thalmor and General Tullius were both there, and that dragon attacked EVERYONE. Rather than assume its on someone’s side, try and remember that your books here say that dragons are on the side of dragons. And having absorbed the souls of two dragons I can confirm they are hungry dominant monsters who only follow monsters stronger than themselves. The Thalmor would barely make crunchy snacks. So this idea of yours is wrong. What else?” I asked her. She faltered. Delphine, that was her name, the barmaid had lost her edge.

“Are you sure you want to hunt dragons and not just stick to serving drinks? I can see how this is exciting to you, but anyone who gets between my powering up spell or my shouts is likely to be burnt to ashes on the skin of a dragon I’ve just killed. I don’t really need the help, more than Sofia anyway. And she’s a demi-goddess, so she’s immortal. You aren’t.”

“I’m what?” Sofia said in shock.

“Immortal. I can tell. Remember what god you said you’d worship?” I reminded her.

“Oh.” She did the math.

“Yeah. You can call him Daddy.”

“Right,” Sofia said in a soft voice.

“So anyway, I noticed that that dragon just now was the same one at Helgen, who started this whole thing. One of the books I read called the eldest dragon Alduin the World Eater. He’s supposed to kill and eat everyone and burn up civilization, but the Dragonborn book said that I could kill it and save the world. As it happens, I fit that particular prophecy, so I’m going to do that. I suspect I need to climb that big mountain again and see if the Greybeards have any information for me,” I finished.

“Uh. Yeah. I’ll be back in Riverwood, maintaining my cover if you need me,” she offered. I left the field of battle, her blade unblooded, and presumably returned to her boring life serving drinks and cleaning rooms for the next traveler.

Two days of climbing later, from just above sea level to the top of the highest mountain on Nirn, this silly planet of primitive screw-heads, and I was pushing open the doors of the Greybeard’s fortress. I found Arngeir using a combination of my sight and Clairvoyance, the local variety of Thaumaturgy combined with Illusion. It made a literal trail to the thing you are searching for. Handy, provided others did not see the trail. Telling someone a wizard was approaching is the opposite of sneaky.

“Arngeir. I need a way to destroy Alduin. I hit him with my best fireball and he screamed and thrashed around, but he didn’t die,” I explained. He looked disturbed at this. I’m stronger than any wizard I’d heard of in this place, including the legendary ones from books. And my mana capacity kept expanding every time that weird menu showed up.

“There is a forbidden Shout, I dare not mention. I think it may be time for you to speak to Parthurnax, on the peak of the mountain. Let me teach you the shout you need to reach that place,” he offered, gesturing me to follow. Sofia was nibbling on something and had finally cracked open that Nord Mead bottle she’d carried from the inn. Up three thousand feet, just to get a cold beer… er mead. Okay, I can see it. She is her father’s daughter, after all. Sanguine is probably proud as can be.

We went into the rear training ground, where that gate was, and headed towards a shouting tower thing, and then towards that white hurricane of snow and probably Jet-stream of high altitude wind that touched the mountain top starting here. Arngeir shouted at the ground quietly three times, leaving runes in each place. I read them. Then gave me a bit of dragon soul to activate them. I then knew, in my own soul, how to change the weather to clear, called Clear Skies in English. Or norse. It was whatever we spoke here.

“Use this shout to reach the peak and speak to Parthurnax. He will judge if you will be allowed to know the forbidden shout or not.”

So I shouted up the path and the wind stopped. I could tell it wouldn’t stop for long, so I hurried along, and Sofia dawdled after. She got more excited killing an ice wraith, which isn’t undead so much as an ice elemental. Its remains are both alchemical ingredients in potions and enchanting. I shouted and hiked, climbing up another two thousand feet to the peak of the tallest mountain and found a yellow dragon resting there. He introduced himself, taught me YOL, which breathes fire, and had me use it on him. I suspect he was just cold, rather than this nonsense about “greeting each other as equals.” We talked. He didn’t know the Dragonrend shout, the one used to help defeat Alduin last time. It isn’t perfect, but it cripples a dragon’s power and grounds them temporarily, by removing part of their magic and introducing the idea of mortality to a demigod’s mind. It shocks them so much it is valuable in combat. Interesting thought, right? I wonder if it works on other demigods? Maybe on Outsiders? Greater Demons? Probably.

“Bring the Elder Scroll here, read it, and watch the ancient warriors use the shout against Alduin,” explained the dragon. I could see the time wound.

“Or I could stand right here and use magic to see that event. Just a moment,” I explained, standing close to the time rend. It was very similar to a hole into the Nevernever, so actually pretty simple to focus Clairvoyance into seeing ancient times. I sped through a lot of the same day and nigh sequence until I found a bunch of fresh bodies and dead dragons. A conversation between ancient Nords cheerfully fighting to free the world of dragon gods, and then they used the Shout and I learned it just like that. As I cleared my head of the newly learned soul magic, Alduin appeared overhead, making threats in Nord and draconic. I shouted Dragonrend at it and it grounded in agony. Then I took it a step further and chanted Mortality over and over again and nailed it with the superfireball, grabbing Sofia’s hand to stop her charging into the fire. Immortal she might be, but in this fire? Not a good idea. It burned and screamed. I feel like I might have avoided a deep dive into the hollow planet for some ancient heavy scroll thing, and negotiating with the participants of the civil war making them my own enemies while changing very little for the population, and dealing with some kind of Cthulumonster I’d be morally obligated to kill using my Starborn powers and causing all kinds of problems for some island off the northeast coast, and finally having to visit some ruin full of mummies with pointless fighting and eventually emerge to battle some evil mummy priest to activate a portal to the local heaven, and finally fight this same dragon until the gods force it to go home to the stars. I was skipping all of that by hurting this thing so much it begged the gods to rescue it from flesh to escape me. And losing its ability to trouble mortals in the bargain. So this was one of those few times where extreme torture is actually justified and the best option, morally. Go figure. Papa will have an aneurism when I explain this to him someday. I eventually hurt the monster so badly that the gods took it away from the mortal plane and it exploded and its bones evaporated into magical ashes.

“Holy hell,” said Parthurnax. “Remind me not to make you angry.”

“Oh, I wasn’t angry. That was calm. I get sarcastic when I’m angry. It runs in the family.”

The dragon just stared. “UH, do you want any training while you’re here?” Parthurnax asked. I learned how to make Soul magic stronger. Interesting. Three ways to make it stronger. I stared at the time rift. Wondering.