Chasing Aetherius: Chapter 1 - Tremors

  •  

     

    Dedicated to Katria,

    my Friend and Colleague

     

    “The end, when it came, was swift. In the span of three short years, the great Dwarven cities of Skyrim, from Markarth to the Velothi Mountains, fell before the armies of the High King. Cities that had held fast against the Nords for over a hundred years crumbled abruptly and without warning.”

     

    5th of Evening Star, 4E 202

     

    Three figures were slowly moving down the tall, but claustrophobically narrow hall of an old Dwemer ruin, the scent of old metal and moss in the air, its presence stifling and thick with the heat of still-functioning gears and steam vents. Their eyes scanned their surroundings, looking for traps or any other nasty things hidden within its deceptively smooth walls.

     

    Like those tuskin' automatons, thought one figure with a Dwemer crossbow in hand, clad in a well-worn suit of grey leather armor, a bandolier secured over his shoulder. A hood hid most of his face, just exposing part of his jaw and a mouth, permanently locked in an Orcish sneer, with a pair of tusks protruding from it. Compared to the other two men, he looked small, especially for one of his race.

     

    One of the men was a big Nord, with a youthful face and long copper hair, wearing a sleeveless leather armor that featured an iron pauldron on one shoulder, a leather pauldron on the other, and a black fur cloak over his back. The second was an even bigger Imperial, old and grizzled from many battles, his head bald, his goatee hairs grey, and his face covered with strange tattoos. He was in full steel armor, the make betraying a former legionnaire’s uniform modified for post-legion use. Though the steel had weight, the figure moved very fluidly, almost like a dancer; the armor like a second skin.

     

    “You're sure this is the place, Grulmar?” Asked the Nord, tensely adjusting the grip of his Skyforge steel greatsword. His accent was heavy, very Nordic, and Grulmar looked at him.

     

    “Ya doubt me, Ginger?” The Orc snapped back.

     

    The third man snorted at Grulmar’s words and the Orc turned to face him. “Somethin' funny, Uncle?”

     

    The man in steel armor scowled. “You know I hate it when you call me that, lad. My name is Decimus, try to remember that. Every time you call me ‘uncle’, I have to think about that real uncle of yours and my last encounter with him.” He turned his bald head to the side and pointed at a scarred hole in his head where an ear would normally be. “It cost me my favourite ear.” He spit on the ground. “So trust me when I say I don't want to have anything in common with your family.”

     

    “Aye, aye,” nodded Ginger.

     

    Grulmar glared at them, baring his teeth. “Stop whinin', ya two. It's the right place, I'm sure. Big treasure awaits us, I promise ya. Erik, take the lead. If anythin' shows up, show'em who's the Slayer.”

     

    “Slayer my arse,” coughed Decimus under his breath.

     

    “I heard you, old man,” barked Erik over his shoulder.

     

    Decimus again spit on the floor and raised his own steel crossbow. “Old? I'm just pushing fifty. That means I might be your father, you brat.”

     

    “Shut up, ya two,” silenced Grulmar. Tuskin' humans. Ya really know how to pick yer partners, Greenskin. “Ya know the drill. Nice and quiet, and if anythin' goes wrong, kill it.”

     

    “Really? I wouldn't know what to do if you didn’t tell me,” murmured Erik.

     

    There was light ahead and the sounds of rushing water. The end of the hall was partially collapsed, and in the rubble lay something that could have been a Dwemer Sphere before it was all crushed under the weight of a toppled pillar.

     

    Decimus kicked the remains of the automation, following the scattering of metal bits across the stone, and then looked around the broken ruins, his brow furrowing. “I don't know about you, lads, but I remember Dwarven ruins being more...stable.”

     

    “Dwemer,” corrected Erik with a grin, which made Decimus rub his nose between two fingers.

     

    “I'm just saying-”

     

    “Turn back!”

     

    Grulmar jumped and accidently fired his crossbow when the unfamiliar voice sounded. Female. The bolt struck the wall, deflected, and flew over Erik's head, making the Nord yelp in surprise. Decimus frowned at him and the Orc scratched his head. “Sorry. Just tell me I'm not the only one who heard that.”

     

    “I heard it too,” grumbled Decimus, scanning their surroundings for any clue to the voice’s origins. “I hope you two brought your brown underwear today, lads.”

     

    Erik was trembling a little and that was making Grulmar uneasy. From that last experience with ghosts in that damn abandoned house, the Nord didn't like them. He was scared. Shit. That's precisely what we need now. Superstitious Nord. Shit. The Orc shook his head to clear his thoughts, grunting softly. Pull yer shit together, runt. We're good.

     

    “Just keep movin'. We're good,” he growled and reloaded his crossbow. It took him a few seconds, certainly longer than Decimus though. The Imperial was much stronger than Grulmar, able to pull the lever just with one hand. Grulmar had to put the crossbow down, step into the leather strap, grab the lever with both hands and pull. With diligence, he got the action trimmed to only seconds, viable for combat. Yeah, I'm not as fast as ya, Uncle, but I'm still pretty fast. Practice, ya know. In that moment, he could hear his father's—no, not his father. Yamarz’s, just Yamarz’s - words in his head. “If you don't try to be better, you won't be. You will be just another weakling.”

     

    Well, guess what, ya ass. I'm weak and I'm still good enough. But never good enough for ya.

     

    Someone grabbed his shoulder and he blinked. For a second, he forgot where they were. Bloody mistake. He looked at the hand on his shoulder and then into the eyes of a young Nord with a worried expression, his eyebrows raised in concern. “You're alright, Gru?” Asked Erik. The Nord seemed to forget his own fear when he was worried about other people. Dumbarse.

     

    Grulmar shook the hand off his shoulder and growled: “Stop carin'. I don't need a mother.” He headed towards the end of the hall, ignoring Decimus' stare and Erik's hurt expression. He instead focused on a collapsed pillar which was making a makeshift bridge over a small, rocky stream. It looked like the ruin caved in on itself, baring its bones and foundations in the form of a natural cavern.

     

    He crossed to the other side, with his companions close behind him. His hold on his crossbow was relaxed, his finger off the trigger mechanism, but still close. He would need just one second to get it there, to let the bolt loose. One valuable second to consider what he would shoot at. They exited the hallway and Grulmar heard his companions gasp. Even he couldn’t prevent one from escaping his lips.

     

    “Buy me a dress and call me an Orc princess,” he muttered in awe. The ruin was...a ruin. The ceiling and most of the walls were now heaps of rubble, revealing the natural cave veined with unnatural Dwemer piping, their steam draining from their cracked and bent wreckage, hissing upwards to a gaping hole in the ceiling. There was too much light and it was because the sun itself streamed through the hall.

     

    “Now that's something you don't see every—“ murmured Decimus, but was cut short by a tremor, vibrating under their feet, making several rocks larger than houses plunge from the ceiling. They disappeared from sight, somewhere down, the loud splashing noises letting them know that they stopped their fall. The water wasn’t deep, though, and stone crushed against stone in a violent, rock-shattering thud.

     

    When the trembling stopped, all three looked at each other.

     

    “Didn't know Skyrim was known for earthquakes,” said Decimus, and Erik just shook his head, pale as marble. The Imperial spit on the ground, but his piercing eyes bore into his surroundings, wary, unsure. “I think we're slowly running out of luck.”

     

    “We’re always out of luck,” muttered Erik under his breath, again adjusting his grip on his weapon. “I'm sorry, but is it really wise to continue? I can fight undead and Dwemer constructs, but I really can't fight earthquakes, can I?”

     

    Grulmar scowled at him, but that didn't mean he didn't disagree with Erik. The look on Decimus’ face told him that he was thinking the same thing. No treasure is worth dyin' for. Unless it's treasure so big ya could buy the whole Hold with it. Ah, tusk it! No one's gonna die here today. “Yeah, unless ya are a Dragonborn. Where's Shiny when ya need him, right? Save us all and shit like that. Certainly not here, so stop bein' such a baby,” he growled in Erik's direction. “We pissed in Daedric Princes' eyes, we can deal with some mountain's rumbling, we don't need a stinkin' Dragonborn!”

     

    “You have a death wish, lad?” asked Decimus. “I thought you're too young to go looking for Good Death. Would that please Malacath?”

     

    Grulmar pointed at him and growled: “Tusk ya! Don't talk to me about that piece of shit, or any other stupid customs of those idiotic Orcs. I'm not like them, ya understand? I'm not stupid like them.”

     

    Decimus shrugged. “You’re certainly acting stupid right now.”

     

    The Orc angrily spread his arms. “Argh! Tusk ya, Old Man.” He pointed his crossbow towards the chasm. “Let's go, Ginger!” He walked to the edge of the ruin floor, looking down into the chasm. When he didn't hear footsteps behind him, he turned and saw Erik still standing next to Decimus, the indecisive expression on his face betraying his feelings. “Fine. I'll go alone. That way I won't have to split with ya two!” he yelled at them.

     

    Small islands, jutting upwards like stalagmites, dotted the chasm, with a path leading to one of the Dwemer pipes. He angrily walked towards the path leading to one of the islands. Cowards! Idiots! Ya get that stupid Nord out of that hole he calls home, make a good merc out of him and this is what ya get in return? He looked over his shoulder one last time and saw those two talking with each other. Tusk them. Ya don't need them.

     

    He saw...a body on one of those islands. Looked like a woman in steel armor. I would expect twisted Falmer or Dwemer constructs. Maybe some adventurer-wannabe?

     

    “I said turn back!”

     

    A voice, in front of him and then a blurry spectral form appeared. He released the bolt from his crossbow and watched as it flew right through the form without causing any harm. “Turn back!” it shouted again and Grulmar rolled backwards. He heard Erik and Decimus screaming something, but he didn't really hear what it was, not over the pounding in his head.

     

    The ghost kept coming at him, and he kept retreating. Erik then ran past him, swinging his greatsword, screaming “I hate ghosts!”, but the sword passed through the spectre as if it wasn’t there.

     

    “Turn back!” it yelled again, swinging its spectral sword at Erik, who dodged the weapon. He very well knows what those spectral weapons can do. Then Decimus obscured Grulmar's sight—the only thing he could see was his bloody, broad back. With its now-empty weapon sheath.

     

    “Stand back, ghost,” growled Decimus and Grulmar looked over his shoulder, along the extended arm with the silver sword pointing at the spectre. “I'l give you just one chance.”

     

    “Turn back!” repeated the spectre, walking towards Decimus with its own sword raised over its head. When the ghost's chest touched the tip of Decimus’ sword, it screamed and lurched backwards.

     

    “Mora's testicles! Shit! Plague take you and your horse! This hurts as Oblivion’s Fire! Shit!” the ghost screamed, now with a very feminine voice. The three men looked at each other, puzzled. The spectre stopped being blurry, taking on the quite clear form of a Nord woman. Only...ethereal. “I'm trying to save your life, you idiots!” she proclaimed.

     

    “Ya could have done that without tryin' to kill us,” scowled Grulmar. He glanced at Erik and noticed his pale face. “And ya scared the shit out of him,” he pointed at the Nord. “If ya haven't noticed from his screamin', he hates ghosts.”

     

    “Shut up, Grulmar,” barked Erik angrily.

     

    I was just jokin', ya stupid Nord. He wanted to say sorry, but shook his head instead. He doesn't need sorry. He has to learn to brace himself against the cruel world and its words that cut deeper than any sword.

     

    Decimus ignored them and cut right to the chase. “Who in the Oblivion are you?”

     

    "The name's Katria. I am-” began the ghost, only to hesitate for a second. “I WAS an adventurer. Raided ruins like this for nigh on twenty years. I was on the trail of something big. It led me here, and... I didn't make it."

     

    Katria. Katria. I heard that name before. Somewhere. Where was it, damn it? The book. “Aetherium Wars?” asked Grulmar and both Erik and Decimus looked at him, surprised. He shrugged. “What? I can read ya know.”

     

    “Yes!” she exclaimed. “You read it then. That was my theory, you know. My research. My life's work. All of it, lost! Stolen by my own damn apprentice! That's how I ended up here. I can't rest. Not until I find the Forge, not until I can prove that it was my discovery. Mine, not Taron Dreth's!”

     

    Decimus sheathed his silver sword and looked at Grulmar, his eyes narrowing. “Who did you say hired us?”

     

    “Shut up, Uncle!” hissed the Orc. “It's not important. Uhm...so how did ya die, Katria? Did ya see a white light at the end of the tunnel?”

     

    She looked at him with spite, shaking her head in disbelief. She then pointed to one of the islands, the one with the woman’s body lying on it. “Earthquake hit the ruins. I...fell. From there,” she pointed to a waterfall, falling from the tunnel near the ceiling.

     

    Erik looked at the body and gulped. “That was the earthquake we felt when we were nearing the ruin…” His expression grew sorrowful when he realized who he was now speaking to. “That was you. You died just several minutes ago. I am...sorry.”

     

    Grulmar snorted. “Better her than us.”

     

    The Imperial shot him a dangerous look. “I swear on the Dragonborn's balls if you let loose just one more word from your fat mouth, lad, I'll beat you senseless.”

     

    Grulmar opened his mouth and Decimus raised his hand in warning, which made the Orc shut it again. He snorted instead and crossed arms over his chest.

     

    The Imperial returned his attention to Katria. “I'm sorry you ended up like that, lass. But what caused the earthquake? Will there be another?”

     

    She shook her head. “No, there won't be another. Maybe a few small aftershocks, but not anything like that.”

     

    Well, now that this is settled, we can continue. Grulmar took a step forward. “See? I tol-” he began but a massive hand in a steel gauntlet covered his mouth and he looked into Decimus's very serious blue eyes.

     

    “Last warning,” the Imperial snarled and shifted his attention to Erik. “While I hate to admit it, lad, if Katria can guarantee there won't be another earthquake, we're good to continue.”

     

    The Nord reluctantly nodded, gripping his weapon tighter. “Yes, you are right.”

     

    “So I can’t persuade you to turn back, can I?” sighed Katria. “Alright. I can at least guide you. Though you might have to do all the fighting. Staying ‘solid’ for too long makes me—I really don't have the right word for it—tired, I guess?”

     

    Grulmar saw how Erik clenched the pommel of his greatsword and tensed his jaw. “What's ahead of us?” asked the Nord.

     

    “Well, there's the Falmer to start with. Deadly rapids. Massive chasms. Unstable ground. Lethal falls. And then you get to the real danger. We can discuss that when the time comes. If it comes.”

     

    “Sounds lovely,” murmured Grulmar and Decimus shot him a look, though he didn't hit him. I guess that means I can speak again, huh? “So which way then?”

     

    Katria pointed beyond the island where her corpse lay to a ripped open Dwemer pipe. Something was hanging over the edge of the pipe. Something grey. Grulmar studied the path leading to the pipe, a natural bridge connecting the chasm to the other side. I really hate heights. He walked towards it and looked at his companions. “Are ya comin' or no?”

     

    Decimus exchanged looks with Erik, who shrugged.

     

    Grulmar gulped and took a deep breath. I fuckin' hate heights. He took a first step, trying not to look down, placing one foot carefully in front of the other, keeping his balance, trying not to fall to his death.

     

    “Eh. Grulmar?” asked Erik.

     

    “Shut up, I'm concentratin',” he barked over his shoulder, the motion causing him to accidently look down. Grulmar felt his head spin and he had to take another deep breath to calm his beating heart.

     

    He heard Decimus clearing his throat. “You know that the bridge is wide enough for three people, right?”

     

    “Tusk ya! I hate heights!”

     

    “Maybe you should turn back after all,” proclaimed Katria, deep in thought. “You don't seem to be up for the job.”

     

    Grulmar turned and bared his tusks at her but it was Decimus who replied. “Just because the Orc just shitted his pants doesn't mean we're not good enough. Trust me, we're better than we look.”

     

    Grulmar reached the first island, on which Katria's body lay and he crouched next to it.

     

    “Mhm,” murmured Katria, clearly not convinced. “I hope you are. For your own good. I can't die a second time after all.”

     

    The Orc looked at her. “Thanks for yer confidence,” he growled. He began searching through the body’s pockets, finding a few Septims and taking a silver necklace, stuffing it into his pocket.

     

    “Is that really necessary, Grulmar?” asked Erik, and Katria sighed when she saw that.

     

    “You should take my journal too,” she said, “now that you've robbed my corpse of every valuable thing. I guess I should be glad I still have my dignity.”

     

    “I can strip ya, if ya want. I mean, yer corpse,” murmured Grulmar, taking the journal. He thumbed through the pages, his bright red eyes, narrowing. “Does this have some value?”

     

    Katria's ghost suddenly changed color, from ethereal blue to a fiery crimson, her voice becoming deeper, resonating through the air. “You would like to sell it, wouldn’t you? After I died for it? All my research is in it and that just might keep you alive!”

     

    Decimus’ hand found the hilt of his silver sword. “Calm down, lass!”

     

    She looked at him with eyes like fire and for a second it seemed that she would leap at him. But then she collapsed, her form reverting to its ethereal blue. “I'm… sorry. I don't know what got into me.”

     

    “You're dead,” said Decimus calmly. “Your emotions can take control over you. If you don't control them, you might turn into a vengeful spirit.”

     

    Vengeful spirit. Yeah, nasty thing. Grulmar looked at Erik. Another reason why he hates ghosts. We shouldn't have taken that job in Solitude. Haunted houses are always nasty stuff to deal with. And that was true. They barely got out, but they really needed the money. It was more of a job for a Vigilant. Or a Goldpact Knight, Grulmar thought, glancing at Decimus who still had his hand ready to reach for the hilt over his left shoulder. Damn killin' machine.

     

    Or a job for Shiny… Grulmar scowled. Tusk Shiny.

     

    “I think we should keep moving. I doubt we have all day,” Erik interrupted the silence.

     

    Grulmar started and rose from his position, turning to the ripped pipe just a few feet away from them. The grey thing hanging over the edge was a Falmer. The Orc wasn't really surprised to see Falmer here. And a dead Falmer meant that there was something else here too, something that was killing them. So this ruin must have its defenses still active. Automatons.

     

    He pointed at the dead Falmer. “Uncle, look. Isn't that yer cousin?”

     

    Decimus snorted. “Hardly. I'm the ugliest in the family.” His answer was rewarded by Grulmar's laughter. “But I know what you mean. Dwemer devices are still active here.”

     

    The Orc nodded. “Do ya have enchanted bolts?”

     

    “Aye, a few. We should save them for the bigger ones. Because we'll certainly encounter the bigger ones. There are always bigger ones,” murmured the Imperial solemnly.

     

    “Yeah,” grinned Grulmar. “Where would be the fun without them?” He pointed with his crossbow in the direction where the pipe was leading. “Shall we then?”

     

    Both Imperial and Nord readied their weapons in response. Erik took the lead with his greatsword, Decimus went second, basket hilt sword in his left hand and crossbow, with its leather strap over his chest, in his right hand.

     

    Grulmar went last, watching Decimus' broad back and checking his own quiver of bolts. If he counted right, he had thirty of them. Each had a different colour, and he had to be careful which one he would be taking. Blue had a frost enchantment, red fire, purple shock. Others were either green, yellow or without colour. Green and yellow were coated in poison; the former with an agonizing and lethal poison, the latter with a paralysis poison. The ones without colour were normal ones. He counted ten of those. That's plenty. He checked his holsters in the bandolier and counted six throwing knives. And then his trustworthy orichalcum dagger, which he mostly never used. So I don't have to sharpen it.

     

    As they traversed the pipe, he was trying to listen for something out of place, but the problem with every Dwemer ruin was that there was too much noise. Steam coming out of pipes, strange valves still moving, gears turning, the creaking of metal. It never ended. It helped to keep one hidden, especially with Falmer around.

     

    “Have you ever wondered why these ruins are so full of Falmer?” asked Katria.

     

    “No,” giggled Grulmar and that made Decimus turn his head with raised eyebrows. “What?” asked the Orc. “We know why they are here. They went to the Dwemer because they offered sanctuary, and then the Dwarves unleashed some gas on them, turnin' them into these creatures. At least, that's what I've heard from Shiny, among other bullshit he lets out of his big mouth.”

     

    “I’m pretty sure that’s not how Shiny worded it,” griped Decimus.

     

    “Yeah, I tuskin' condensed it. Otherwise, we’d be here for a week the way Shiny talks. This is this and that is that, bullshit. Four thousand tuskin’ years of history when ya only want to know one tuskin’ thing…”

     

    “Who's Shiny?” wondered Katria with a puzzled voice.

     

    Erik turned around to look at them and then continued walking. “Dragonborn,” he murmured under his breath with respect.

     

    Katria stopped. “Wait. You know the Dragonborn? You know-”

     

    Her question was cut short by the rattling of metal and all three men warily crouched. Two decorative circles on the wall suddenly slid open in a spiraling motion, revealing a pair of Dwemer constructs, their eight legs twitching and scuttling rapidly as they jumped out of their respective holes. One in front of Decimus and a second right behind him, in front of Grulmar.

     

    The Orc jumped backwards—right through Katria—and aimed his crossbow at the Dwemer spider behind Decimus. His eyes went for the bolt loaded in the crossbow and saw the blue colour, frowning. Old Blade’s too close.

     

    “Behind you!” he shouted and Decimus whirled, his eyes noticing the spider charging the Dynamo Core on its back, preparing itself to release energy in the form of lighting. Decimus carelessly swung with his sword, shattering the crystal of the Core and then kicking the suddenly dead hunk of metal.

     

    The Imperial winked at Grulmar and both turned to find Erik, only to see that the Nord had already done a fine job destroying the second.

     

    The Orc looked smugly at Katria. “See? We aren't total bunglers.”

     

    She scowled. “I see. But I would appreciate it if you wouldn't go right through me. It's not...pleasant.”

     

    Grulmar grinned. “Trust me, I’d rather be inside ya when ya were alive. So yeah, the feeling is mutual. It's not pleasant for me either.”

     

    “Prick,” coughed Decimus after exchanging another look with Erik. “Let's keep moving.”

     

    Prick. Yeah, that's everythin' I am. I can't help myself. Once ya go through the same shit as me, Uncle, then we can talk. After all, ya aren't the ugly green monster that everyone spits on.

    Decimus' eyes were scanning the room ahead of them, his ears focusing on any unusual sounds. But his mind was still set on Grulmar.

     

    He's been acting really weird lately. More than usual. His snarky remarks are almost unbearable. With all that dragons and vampire stuff going on, he wasn't so surprised. But still, he had to wonder. He knew how rough Grulmar's life had been. Heck, even I wouldn't be really happy if I had to live with that bunch of grumpy tuskers that was his tribe. Yes, Decimus learned to respect Yamarz, but...there were lot of things that bastard had to answer for. Who would have thrown a twelve year old kid out of his home? To make him beg for scraps in Riften?

     

    It made him sour. So no, he wasn't surprised Grulmar was acting the way he was acting. He was just wondering what was eating him right now, because there certainly had to be something. He and Erik were inseparable, with the young Nord hanging on Grulmar's every word, but not recently. Erik the Slayer was slowly becoming independent; he joined the Companions and had the chance to train with the Dragonborn himself. Though I surely wouldn't want to train with that old fart. Always teaching and preaching. Decimus paused and shook his head. That isn’t fair. He’s not once shoved that faith of his down your throat, Old Blade, not once. Old Fart’s earned the right to pass on what he’s learned. Pass on what’s kept him alive, kept him going for so many years. I guess I would be doing that too if I made it to my bloody third century. But that's not going to happen, you old blade. You're getting slower and in this line of work, it will kill you one day.

     

    They neared a flooded room and Katria pointed to a pipe, about as wide as barrel of mead that lead to the other side of the room, over the barred gate.

     

    “So we're supposed to crawl on that?” Grulmar asked. “Lovely, just lovely.”

     

    Decimus sighed and went first. He hugged the pipe with both hands and legs and slowly started pulling himself up like a caterpillar crawls up a branch, until he was at the top, lying on his chest, with all of his armor and weapons pressing against his body. Feeling the pinch. Not really comfortable. Especially not with my arse in the air, but at least I don’t wear mail.

     

    He reached the other side and jumped down, on solid ground again. Erik followed him in a second and then Grulmar, who was balancing on his feet on the pipe, crouched and waiting for Erik to finally jump down.

     

    Show-off. Damn Orc with grace of an Elf. Just like the fucking Old Fart.

     

    Katria just emerged from the water, as if it wasn’t an obstacle for her. I guess being a ghost must have its bright sides, the Imperial thought.

     

    They arrived at another room, with a closed gate, barring access to a strange mechanism. The mechanism—or was it a machine—had what looked to Decimus like four shovels, with glowing blue heads no less. Decimus rolled his eyes. Shovels, eh? Bet they had better names for those than shovels, but the Dwemer can go fu—he stopped himself when they suddenly whirled and the gate opened, making him start.

     

    "See that thing? The Dwarves called them 'Kinetic Resonators'. Don't see them very often, least not among the clans in Skyrim. Just hit them, and they'll... do whatever it is they're supposed to do,” Katria said, pointing at the second Resonator.

     

    Grulmar looked at it with mistrust. “How can we be sure that once I hit it won't drop the ceiling on us?”

     

    She shook her head in a negative response. “That's not how these things work. Most of the time at least.”

     

    The Orc scowled and Decimus understood him. Damn Dwemer and their clever machines. You never know what can happen when you toy with them. He nodded at Grulmar who then struck the Resonator with the butt of his crossbow.

     

    The Resonator spun and the gate leading to a set of stone stairs opened. Decimus raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. Erik went through the gate first, running up the stairs only to crouch. The stairs continued to his left, around a corner, but Erik remained crouched, pointing upward towards the stairs. The Nord turned to them, displayed two fingers and then put a finger to his lips in a gesture of quiet.

     

    That way. Two hostiles. Quiet. If the lad was saying they should be quiet, it meant there were Falmer ahead. Blind as shit but with perfect hearing. They probably see in similar ways as bats.

     

    Decimus was thinking about approach and then looked at Grulmar—who already wasn't standing next to the Resonator, moving past Erik, giving him his crossbow and then disappearing around the corner.

     

    The Imperial slowly and quietly walked to Erik and peered around the corner. Grulmar was stealthily ascending the stairs; nearing two Falmer perched at the top. They each had their crude insect weapons and one had that chitin armor with a helmet and everything. Shit. He knows they have perfect hearing! Stupid Orc!

     

    But still, they hadn’t detected him yet and he was now almost in front of them. There was some distance between them, which meant that it would be really hard to kill both of them at the same time.

     

    The Falmer in armor turned directly towards Grulmar and hissed. And that was everything, because Grulmar's orichalcum dagger—in his right hand—buried its blade under the Falmer's chin, going straight up through the mouth and into the brain. That caught the second Falmer's attention, but the Orc's left hand moved to his bandolier and in one fluid movement, he pulled out one of his throwing knives and threw it, burying it deep into where Falmer would normally have an eye.

     

    Damn, he's really good at being quie-

     

    “Hey! Ya blind tuskers!” shouted Grulmar. “Come and get me!” He ran down the stairs, grabbed his crossbow from Erik, and took a step behind the Nord.

     

    “What in the Oblivion are you doing!?” growled Decimus while Erik raised his greatsword, preparing himself for what was to come.

     

    The Orc grinned at the large Imperial. “Five, one of them’s a mage. Now aim that crossbow of yours and kill them.”

     

    Decimus turned back to the stairs and saw the first Falmer head appear. He took a shot, hitting it straight in the middle of the forehead with a loud snap as the bolt went through the skull. The impact broke the Falmer's neck in the process. The other two Falmer appeared, hissing and raising their weapons. It was Grulmar’s turn to fire, while Decimus backed away to reload. The Falmer reached the first step leading down when the Orc released his shot. His bolt hit the one on the left, causing the bolt to explode in a wind of cold, creating shards of ice that flew in every direction. Several shards of ice nearly cut the second Falmer into pieces. Both collapsed dead on the steps and slowly rolled down.

     

    Both Grulmar and Decimus were in the process of reloading when two more Falmer came skulking, hissing and chattering to each other. One charged an ice spell, while the other drew a bow in their direction. “Shit,” cursed Decimus while he jumped behind the corner, avoiding an ice spear. Grulmar had dropped to the floor, avoiding the arrow that was now heading for Erik. The Nord jumped to the other side of Decimus.

     

    Erik didn't wait for long, taking advantage of the tiny window. With a war cry on his lips, he charged up the stairs, swinging his greatsword in a wide arc, cutting off the archer’s legs. As the creature was falling, Erik, with a second swing - vertical - decapitated it. The Falmer mage summoned a Bound Sword to his hands and swung at Erik, who blocked the blow at the last second, stepping towards the blind creature, hitting its head with the pommel of his weapon, followed by his fist. Both hits made the Falmer gasp for breath and take a few steps back, which gave Erik enough room to swing his massive weapon, opening the Falmer's belly. Innards spilled out and the Falmer dropped to his knees, his hands moving to his abdomen, instinctively trying to stuff his organs back into his body. In vain, because Erik then swung vertically, burying his sword deep into the Falmer's collarbone, shattering it and several ribs, tearing the Falmer's heart asunder. Damn, Vilkas' rubbing off on the lad, though the fist was pure Old Fart. Just like you, Old Blade. Fight smart. Live another day.

     

    With a splash of blood that covered his face, Erik tore the sword free of the Falmer's body. He looked around, before he nodded at Grulmar and Decimus. “That's all of them.”

     

    Grulmar rose to his feet and dusted off his hands. “Well, easy-peasy.”

     

    Katria reluctantly bowed her head. “I'm impressed.”

     

    “Well, you should be. It was quite good work without a plan,” Decimus shook his head and set his eyes on Grulmar. “Maybe a little warning next time?”

     

    The Orc rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Just five Falmer, we were completely safe.”

     

    You're normally more careful, lad. What's going on with you?

     

    “Let's just get movin'. We don't have all day,” said Grulmar, reloading his crossbow and setting it on his shoulder.

     

    “Hang on for a second,” Decimus stopped him and looked at Katria with narrowed eyes, pointing his sword towards the corpses of the Falmer. “You said you got up there, which means you had to pass these uglies. So why are they still here?”

     

    “I killed a few. But they are Falmer, they're like vermin. When you crush one, two more appear. This isn't the only cave system here either, so they must have come from those other caves. Perhaps the damage from the earthquake is driving them here?”

     

    “Which means that more can show up soon,” rumbled Erik.

     

    This is getting better and better. Why are you even here, Decimus? You haven't struck Goldpact with anyone, you don't have to be here. Dying for some treasure no one hired you to recover? What a bullshit. He paused and looked at Grulmar searching the Falmer, watching him cut off their ears. For the alchemy. Stupid questions, Old Blade. You know why you're here. You're here because of that Orc.

     

    Decimus never had kids—well, at least any I know about, he thought with a wry chuckle, did a fair bit of crazy banging in Cyrodiil, before he wizened up as to how babies were made—but Grulmar was the closest thing to that. He knew him since he was a little runt and was there when Yamarz did all those shitty things to him. Yet, he wasn't there for Grulmar all the time. Being a Goldpact Knight meant that he traveled around Skyrim a lot. He visited Largashbur only for a few days every two months. And he regretted not being there for Grulmar when he was exiled. Just twelve years old, damn it.

     

    Lad lived in the wilds for months, until he made it to Riften. Where things didn't get any easier for him. And then all that shit with Lorbulg, Grulmar's true uncle. Funny, I really hated that bastard but he never harmed Grulmar - he mostly cared for him. I think we can all thank that old tusker for Grulmar being such an asshole…

    Grulmar yanked his bolt from the hard chitin of the Chaurus Hunter, making sure the green ichor didn’t touch his skin. No matter how many Falmer Katria killed before, they had to clear a few more caves of Falmer and Chaurus to move forward.

     

    “Bugs,” spat Decimus. “I would like you to tell me that there is something uglier and more disgusting than bugs, please.”

     

    “Orcs,” scowled Grulmar and Decimus shot him a look. What? I can't hate my own race for what they really are?

     

    He counted his bolts. He had two unenchanted and they were without poison. His own poison supplies were running low, so he had to stoop to inspecting the poison vials from the fallen Falmer. Their poison was worth nothing, weak, but in times of need, it could at least make his enemies uncomfortable. Being unfocused in a fight means y'are dead very soon.

     

    Grulmar took the lead and moved through an earthen tunnel, stopping from time to time to harvest the glowing mushrooms that grew freely along the tunnel’s walls and place them in his sack. They emerged from the tunnel into a cave with an open ceiling, lined with trees and a gaping hole in the ground. A tuskin’ big hole.

     

    “This is where I...fell. It was quite a fall,” said Katria sadly, Her eyes then widened and she quickly ran towards the hole, stopping just short of its edge. “Look! That's my bow! I was wondering where it ended up.” She pointed at a large conifer tree that had fallen over the edge, barely hanging over the precipice by its tangled roots. There it was, her bow, its string caught on one of the branches. Over the hole, the big hole that was a long, tusking way down.

     

    “Is that bow worth somethin'?” asked Grulmar with a doubtful look on his face. “I'm certainly not goin' to crawl on that twig over that hole. Look how ya ended up.”

     

    She stepped closer to him, her aura shifting towards the red spectrum. “Trust me when I say that the bow is special.”

     

    “Alright, alright. Just calm down,” Grulmar scratched his nose. “Erik, go fetch the bow.”

     

    “What?” exclaimed the Nord in disbelief. “You took a hit to your head or something? Look at that tree. I'm too heavy, it will either break or overbalance, and I don't want to be on top of it once it falls down.”

     

    Decimus placed a hand on Grulmar's shoulder. “He's right, lad. If you want that bow, you'll have to get it yourself. You're the only one who's light enough to do that.”

     

    “Shit,” cursed Grulmar and his eyes went to the bow. Is it really worth it? One damn bow in comparison to that big treasure at the end of this ruin? That was the question. Grulmar's thoughts were spinning in his head like bats in a collapsed cave. Big treasure plus the bow? More money. He sighed. “I hate heights. Alright.”

     

    “As you wish,” nodded Decimus and pulled a rope from his sack. He tied it around the Orc's waist. “Just in case. Me and Erik will make sure you don't fall.”

     

    “Lovely,” mumbled the Orc while he stepped tentatively onto the fallen tree. He looked at the hole in the ground and deeply inhaled. Ya can do this. It's just a few steps, grab the bow and back again. Easy-peasy.

     

    Easier said than done.

     

    Taking the first step took him several seconds and even then he nearly slipped. His balance was perfect normally, but...heights made his head spin. I hate heights. He didn't want to look down, but he had to look where he was placing his feet. He got about halfway when he had to go around a wide branch blocking his path. He grabbed onto the branch for stability, one foot moving around it, and then he swung, getting his second foot on the other side too. Just two more steps and the bow would be within reach. He slowly took them, bended forward to grab it and his eyes took in the jagged rocks and water down below, just begging for his body to be crushed upon them from a fall. His vision blurred, his head spun. The rocks below so jagged. The water churning.

     

    Then he slipped.

    Decimus saw Grulmar slip. It was almost like time stopped and the only thought that filled Decimus' head was: Shitshitshitshit!

     

    The Orc slipped, one of his legs falling off the tree. He tried to keep his balance, so he kicked with his second leg in the opposite direction, landing right on his crotch. Decimus couldn't help but twist his own face in sympathetic pain, feeling his balls twitch in response. That had to have hurt.

     

    Then the tree creaked, buckling from the Orc’s unexpected movements. It teetered closer to the chasm. Leaning precariously. “Ah shit,” whimpered the Imperial. “Hold it tight!” he ordered Erik and braced himself, wrapping the rope more securely around his wrist.

     

    The tree fell, with Grulmar on it. And for a few terrifying seconds, the rope was falling without resistance, and then it became taut, both men grunting from the effort to pull. They heard the crack of breaking wood as the tree crashed to the bottom, splitting into several pieces, and then silence.

     

    “What are ya waitin' for?” screamed Grulmar from below and both men breathed out gasps of relief. “Pull me up!”

     

    They pulled him, his green hand grabbing Erik's forearm and he just lay on the ground, his face contorted in pain. Bastard had the bow too, though the way he grabbed at his crotch, his balls clearly took precedence.

     

    “And here I thought you had balls of steel,” chuckled Decimus. Ha! You’d grab at your balls too, Old Blade.

     

    “Tusk ya!” growled Grulmar. One of his hands found his belt, searching through several broken vials before a cracked piece of glass sliced a shallow cut over his finger. He hissed when he felt the cut, the blood beginning to drip from his finger. “Shit.” He finally found one that was whole, filled with a thick, red liquid. He chugged it down quickly and then just lay still, breathing deeply.

     

    “You're alright, Gru?” asked Erik.

     

    The Orc forced his eyes open. “Are ya tuskin' kiddin' me? Of course I'm not alright. I just got my nuts shoved into my stomach and a few broken ribs as a bonus. Plus I dropped my crossbow for that tuskin' bow. So what do ya think, ya idiot?”

     

    Decimus scowled, but didn't say anything. Not out loud. It's not my business what problems you two are having, but if you keep acting like this, lad, the Nord will drop you at the nearest prison. He’s covered for you so many times and you act like this? But...none of my business.

     

    “I'm sorry that I care!” yelled Erik at Grulmar and stomped away towards the next cave.

     

    “Can you walk?” asked Decimus. “We can't let him go there alone.”

     

    “Can't we? I hope something eats his empty head and then spits it out,” growled the Orc.

     

    “Stop acting like the fucking Greenskin,” rumbled Decimus. “You might have a ‘reputation’ to uphold, but not here, not with Erik who's your friend—“

     

    “Shut up, Uncle. Can't ya see? I am the Greenskin. There's no difference between Grulmar and the Greenskin. Deal with it.”

     

    Decimus got on his feet and spit. “As you wish.” He then walked away to catch up with Erik. If you want to die alone, lad, continue with what you're doing.

    Idiots! If they really thought they could continue without him and claim that treasure for themselves, they had another thing coming. He noticed Katria standing close to the hole, looking down. His vision was somewhat blurry—that healing potion he drank was numbing his senses and more importantly numbing the pain. When the tree fell, it was the rope that saved his life, but it also made him strike the wall with considerable force, hearing something break inside him. Ribs, most likely.

     

    “I bet ya won't help me get up, right?” he chuckled sarcastically.

     

    Katria scowled. “Why should I? You're a prick. I hope my bow finds better hands.” With that she followed Erik and Decimus.

     

    Grulmar spit and released another chuckle out of spite. “Tusk ya all,” he groaned. When he rose to his feet, everything in him screamed in pain, but he managed to stand. After a few tries. When he was on his feet, he checked his inventory. Most of his potions were destroyed when he slammed into the wall, but the poisons were thankfully alright. Not that he had many of them on himself anyway. Just two or three vials. Most of his arsenal was already coated with poison.

     

    He managed to salvage another vial with a healing mixture and downed it in one big gulp. He immediately felt the pain wash away, but also his whole body grow numb—uncooperative. With unsteady steps, he slowly hobbled to catch up with the others. He entered a massive cavern, a grotto, its roof open to the sky, sending mottled sunlight to the pines and mosses struggling towards the feeble light it provided. At the far end of the cavern stood a large Dwemer building. Imposing with its gold-tiled roof and white stone walls. There was a path in the rock leading downwards to it and he followed it. Decimus, Erik, and Katria were already standing in front of the building, looking at...fuck...five Resonators in the exterior wall of the building.

     

    He hobbled to them and Decimus smirked. “Decided to join us?”

     

    “I'm here, alright? So cut the bullshit. How do we get inside?” he answered impatiently.

     

    Katria pointed at those Resonators. “See them? It's a lock. A tonal Lock. Simple, and very, very deadly. Strike them in the right order, and the doors should open. Get it wrong, and... well. You saw what happened when I tried it.”

     

    Erik gasped. “You mean... the earthquake?”

     

    She reluctantly nodded. “Yeah. I thought I was prepared for anything. How can you prepare for a damned earthquake? And that was just one trap. Look around.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows what else this thing is capable of?”

     

    “That's just so tuskin' lovely. No pressure, yeah. We can just start another earthquake,” murmured Grulmar. “So any advice?”

     

    "Hmm... well, you can pick up where I left off. My notes should still be in my journal, if you can read it. Beyond that... well, maybe one of our predecessors still has a clue."

     

    Grulmar opened the journal, skipping some of the babbling and turning right to a picture of the five Resonators. Decimus searched one of the long-dead adventurers and found a piece of paper, which he handed to Grulmar. He scanned them a second and then raised his head. “Well, we know the order up to three. I guess we'll be going with a fifty-fifty chance to die.”

     

    The Imperial didn't look very happy with that. “There's no way to say for sure which is fourth?”

     

    Grulmar shook his head. “No. But maybe there's a pattern. Alright, Erik, grab the bow and shoot those Resonators. Lower left first, skip the middle, and then lower right. Follow that with the upper left. And then, well…” He chuckled.

     

    Erik took the bow from Grulmar and Decimus gave him a quiver of arrows which belonged to a dead adventurer. He drew the bow and paused.

     

    “What? What’s wrong?” Frowned Decimus.

     

    “Oh nothing. Bow just feels different. It...it's almost like drawing nothing. It doesn't have any resistance.”

     

    Katria nodded. “It's a very special bow. I call it Zephyr.”

     

    “Fitting. I draw almost as fast as he does now.” The Nord grinned with pride. “Wonder what he’d do with it? Bet he could draw it even faster…”

     

    Grulmar frowned. Can’t stop mentionin' him, eh? Why don’t ya bang him while ya are at it? “Go on and shoot,” he interrupted.

     

    Erik nodded and then shot the first Resonator, making it whirl. A booming tone echoed through the cavern, very much like a bell. He continued with the other two and then looked at Grulmar, waiting. “Which one’s next then?”

     

    “Upper right. The pattern seems to indicate that,” answered the Orc with as much confidence as he could muster. But he wasn't confident. It was just a guess, nothing more. “Then the middle lower one and we're good to go.”

     

    “You're sure?” asked Decimus.

     

    “Yes, I'm sure!” barked Grulmar angrily. “Now shoot that damn Resonator!”

     

    “Alright,” sighed Erik. “Here we go.” He drew the bow, released the arrow and the fourth Resonator spun. Another bell sounded in the cavern, and that was it. Nothing else happened.

     

    Grulmar realised he was holding his breath, so he finally released it. “Now the last one.”

     

    Katria gasped when the last Resonator spun, opening the golden gates. “You did it!” She ran towards the gate on the left and inside the building.

     

    Decimus clapped the Orc’s shoulder, making him wince in pain. A little softer, Old Blade, broken ribs, ya know? “Good job. Now let's see what we’ve found. Here, I'll help you.”

     

    The Imperial took Grulmar's arm and wrapped it around his neck, and the Orc immediately felt better when he didn't have to carry all his weight. “See? Isn't it nice to have someone who can support you?”

     

    “Please, tell me y'are not goin' to propose,” moaned Grulmar and Decimus laughed heartily in response. The building had two gates—both open now—and a hall leading into an armory.

     

    “I'll wait outside,” said Erik, not even looking at Grulmar. So now ya don't even care about me, huh? Ya are learnin', Slayer. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt though.

     

    They entered the armory, with Dwemer weapons mounted on shelves, ingots of Dwemer metal, Centurion Cores and...something blue and bright on a pedestal. Something completely out of place, and Grulmar's attention was set on that blue glowing thing.

     

    “So it is real,” gasped Katria, running to the pedestal. “Let me see it. Huh… Look, on the edge here. This has been cut, precisely cut. If you had another piece, about the same size, it would… snap right in. I saw a drawing of this once. This shard...it's... it's part of a key! A key made of pure Aetherium. The Key to the Forge!”

     

    Grulmar shook his head. “Wait, wait. Are ya tryin' to say the Forge is real? And this will unlock what? The gate?”

     

    “Yes! We have to find the other pieces, of course. There should be, hmm… three more. One for each of the four cities that worked on the Forge—“

     

    The sound of a bell interrupted her, and they heard the sounds of metal striking metal.

     

    “What the hell?” wondered Decimus, running towards the gate, with Grulmar slowly following him. They heard the sounds of battle, the clang of steel, and the screams of men and women. By the time Decimus reached the gate—the now closed gate—it stopped.

     

    And then there was clapping. “My, my. Call me impressed.”

     

    Shit, cursed Grulmar. He hid behind the corner near the gate.

     

    “And you are?” asked the voice.

     

    “Pissed off,” growled Decimus. “But who in the Oblivion are you?”

     

    “Me?” chuckled the voice. “I'm the one who hired you. Taron Dreth, at your service. Pleasure to meet you, Pissed Off.”

     

    Grulmar noticed how Katria's aura turned red when she heard the name and he raised an open palm and lowered it a few times. Stay calm, he indicated with his lips, without saying a word.

     

    “Aren't you a funny Dunmer,” murmured Decimus. “If you hired us, then why did you lock us here? And why does our friend have a knife at his neck?”

     

    Grulmar's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he heard those words, almost revealing himself. Almost.

     

    “That's nothing. Just a bargaining chip. I want what you found. I want the shard. And I want poor Katria's journal. We stumbled upon her corpse on our way here, but no journal. It either ended up in the water or you have it. I really hope you have it, because I was rather infuriated when I didn't find it. So infuriated that I had to let out some steam on Katria's body. And I think you don't want the same to happen to Slayer here. Now that makes me wonder, where's Greenskin?”

     

    Grulmar leaned closer to Katria and whispered in her ear. He opened the journal and gestured to Decimus to keep talking.

     

    “I really don't know who you’re talking about, friend,” Decimus raised his voice, giving Grulmar the opportunity to do what he wanted to do. “Some Argonian maybe? Or did your mother have green skin? I think I once banged someone who had a face as ugly as yours, but with green skin.”

     

    “Haha,” laughed Taron Dreth. “And here I thought the Orc was the funny one. Come on, Greenskin, show up. I know you're there.”

     

    Grulmar appeared and met the Dunmer’s gaze—Taron Dreth—through the bars of the gate. He was standing a few feet away from the building, with at least ten men and women—mercenaries—surrounding him. Grulmar quickly scanned their equipment with his eyes. Two in steel armor, three in iron, the remaining five in leather, scaled, and fur. One crossbow, three bows, two axes, one shield, two greatswords, one mace, one longsword.

     

    And Erik, on his knees, with a bruise on his face and knife to his neck. One of Dreth's men—the one with the longsword—was standing behind him, holding the blade and Grulmar could see that he certainly wasn't holding back. There were already a few drops of blood on Erik's throat.

     

    “I'll be damned,” laughed Dreth. “You look much worse than usual. Look at you, you're barely standing. The infamous Greenskin, recommended by Skyrim's underworld itself, barely alive in a ruin that I could have cleared myself.” He glanced around the space nonchalantly. “If I knew that this was so empty, I would have done so.”

     

    “Then why hire us, Posh Mouth?” grimaced Grulmar, only for his ribs to remind him that he wasn’t really alright. Potions are wearing off.

     

    “Because you were supposed to be good. And expendable,” Dreth shrugged. “Now hand over the journal and the shard so your friend might live.”

     

    The Orc chuckled, noting how Decimus glared at him, but he didn't mind that. “Friend? Be my guest, kill him. He's just a merc and he certainly doesn't deserve his wage, on account of lettin' himself get captured.”

     

    Dreth raised his eyebrows and Grulmar felt Decimus's spiteful stare on his back. “Is that so? You really are one cold-hearted bastard, you know that?”

     

    “What are you doing?” whispered Decimus angrily.

     

    “Shut up, Uncle,” Grulmar muttered quickly under his breath. He then raised his voice. “So what? Are ya goin' to kill him or not?”

     

    Dreth seemed to be deep in thought and then smiled. “I don't know. If I kill him, I might have to wait until you starve to death. Or I'll open the gates and let my men kill you. It's ten to one—yes, one. Sorry, but you're really not able to fight, Greenskin.” He spread his arms. “Look, I'm just trying to give you a chance to save your lives and walk out of here. Give me what I need and I'll just leave, leaving your friend here to get you out. No one has to die.”

     

    “Ha, ya aren't really expectin' I'm goin' to believe that, right?” spat Grulmar.

     

    Dreth grimaced in disgust. “Alright, have it your way.” He turned to the man with the knife to Erik. “You can kill him.” He prepared to slice.

     

    “Wait!” Decimus shouted. “I'm not going to stand idle! Give me that,” he growled and took the journal and shard from Grulmar's hands, tossing them through the gate. “Now let him go.”

     

    “Hehehe, seems like your mercenary doesn't really follow your orders, Greenskin,” Dreth laughed, stooping to retrieve the journal and shard. “I think I have what I need. You can kill them, boys and girls. Have fun.” With that, he turned to leave.

     

    “Bastard!” Decimus yelled, his shoulder meeting the gate, attempting to knock it down with his sheer bulk.

     

    “What did ya really expect, ya stupid Imperial?” Grulmar growled with his eyes set on Dreth. Then he noticed a blue aura appearing from the ground. “Now, Katria!” he barked.

     

    Dreth turned around and gasped in surprise when he saw the ghost of the woman he was an apprentice to. She drew her bow, but she wasn't aiming at him. She let the ghostly arrow loose, hitting the man holding Erik in the back of the head, sending him forward over the kneeling Nord. She immediately knocked another arrow and let it fly, this time aiming high. She struck one of the Resonators, and Grulmar heard the screeching of metal behind the gate. Dwemer constructs dropped from pipes and holes in the building’s walls, Spiders and Spheres, attacking anything that moved.

     

    “Kill them all!” ordered Dreth, running away. Grulmar saw that Erik had rolled towards his greatsword, trying to get as far away from the Dwemer constructs as possible. Katria released another arrow, this time hitting the right Resonator, starting the sequence to open the gates. The automations were completely ignoring her—probably because she wasn't really solid and alive—but one of Dreth's man attacked, only for his sword to pass right through her, not stopping her from releasing another arrow.

     

    The gate opened and Grulmar stumbled out, only to notice that one of Dreth's men was aiming at him with his crossbow. He heard the click of the trigger and jumped to the side. The bolt only grazed his thigh, but his dodge made him hit the wall next to him with his head, immediately plunging everything into darkness.

    Decimus saw Grulmar fall to the ground, but he didn't have time to check if he was alive or not. Asshole was willing to sacrifice his only friend. I really hope he's dead or I'll kill him myself. His eyes counted four Spheres and six Spiders, plus Dreth's men, whose numbers were slowly decreasing. He saw Erik out of the corner of his eye cut down one of the men and block an attack from one of the Spheres.

     

    But that was all he could watch. His crossbow was loaded, so he took aim while moving and pulled the trigger. One of the archers dropped to the ground screaming, a bolt in his stomach. Decimus let the crossbow fall and pulled out his basket hilt sword, charging the two other archers and the crossbowman. His left hand went to his bandolier, throwing a knife at the archer, but only scratching his arm. Damn it!

     

    A Spider got in his way and he nimbly jumped over it, swinging his sword back to shatter the crystal at the top of Spider's back. He landed, but at that moment he felt his knee give, collapsing with his weight. Rather than fall, he rolled and ended up in a crouch just in front of the crossbowman aiming at him. It was a young Imperial, he noticed, and at that moment, he was both cursing his age and poorly healed injuries. It isn't fair, but what is?

     

    Then the crossbowman's eyes went to something behind Decimus and he looked over his shoulder to see a Dwemer Sphere charging at him. He rolled out of its way and the blade meant to cut his head off instead went through the crossbowman's chest. The Sphere continued its charge towards the two archers, turning them into slashed pieces of meat within seconds. He was its next target.

     

    Decimus tried to stand, but his leg wouldn't support his weight. He pulled a large dagger from a sheath on his back and grabbed it by its blade. Now's the time to prove you're not that old yet. He tossed the blade, striking the Sphere in the face, making it reel backwards from the impact. But the dagger didn't pierce through the metal. Shitshitshit. It recovered and made another charge, this time Decimus went right under its cut, and before it turned around, he stabbed with his sword, hitting the back of Sphere's head, piercing the thinner plating to destroy the Core.

     

    Pausing to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his eyes, his knee still throbbing mercilessly, Decimus surveyed the battle. He saw Erik standing over the corpses of two of Dreth's men, one Sphere and two Spiders. The rest of the battlefield looked very similar, corpses and pieces of metal everywhere. There was just one Sphere left and one of Dreth's men—an Orc wielding a heavy orichalcum mace and a shield—who was quickly turning the Sphere into a piece of scrap. His last hit turned the Sphere's head into a mess, shattering the soul gem Core inside.

     

    Erik came to Decimus and the Imperial regarded him. Lad was covered in blood and some of it was even his, he smirked. Erik helped him to his feet and they faced the leftover Orc. Decimus looked around, searching for Katria, but she seemed to have disappeared.

     

    “It's over, Orc,” said Erik, his greatsword still ready. “There's no reason to fight anymore.”

     

    The Orc shook his head in disagreement. “If I bring your heads to the boss he'll reward me. And because there is no one to share with, I'll be quite rich and—“

     

    A glowing blade erupted from his chest, turning the rest of his words into gurgling. The blade disappeared and the Orc dropped to the ground, dead, with Katria standing over him. “Dreth escaped!” she growled, a red mist emanating around her. “With both shards and the journal! Damn that Dunmer!”

     

    “At least we're alive,” Decimus reminded her. “Well, we are. Thanks to you, Katria. So thank you.”

     

    “It was Grulmar's plan,” she said. “You think he's alive?”

     

    Grulmar's plan? Damn the Orc! He was bluffing. Clever bastard, trying to give Katria more time. He hobbled to Grulmar and turned him onto his back. It seemed that the bolt missed him, he just hit his head. “Yeah, he's alive.” His eyes narrowed when he noticed that Grulmar was holding something in his hand. A piece of paper. He took it from the unconscious Orc and studied it. It was, Decimus furrowed his brow...a map of sorts.

     

    “That's a page from my journal!” gasped Katria in surprise. “At least half of it.”

     

    “I'll be damned,” murmured Decimus. “Clever Orc.”

     

    Erik scowled. “Yeah, he always has something up his sleeve, even when he doesn't have a sleeve.”

     

    “I bet.” Decimus smirked again, giving the Orc a shove to the shoulder. Bloody bastard. “Help me with him, I can't really stand. Damn knee.”

     

    Erik grabbed Grulmar's hand and leg and with a tough pull heaved him up on his back. “What's wrong with your knee?”

     

    “I'm old. And I took an arrow in it,” said Decimus with a solemn expression. Their eyes met, staring at each other, and then they both burst out laughing. “Haha. But seriously, no.” Decimus’ expression grew thoughtful. “A reminder I'm not as fast as I used to be.”

     

    “Right,” nodded Erik, drying tears from his eyes. “Now let's get out of here.”

    16th of Evening Star 4E 202

     

    When they emerged from the ruin, they found half a dozen horses outside and they took all of them. Horses were coin and Skulvar over at Whiterun wouldn’t mind. They rode for half a day to reach Old Hroldan, where they stayed for more than a week licking their wounds, arguing about what to do next while Katria, who seemed to be following them now on occasion, sometimes appearing, sometimes not, had a nice chat with another ghost.

     

    Then they set out for Whiterun, riding for three days, with Grulmar constantly complaining about the damn horses, about his ribs, about his head, and about his favourite crossbow. I thought I'll kill him myself if he wouldn't shut up.

     

    And now they were at Whiterun. It was so late when they arrived, they had to wake up Skulvar to stable all six of their horses. The Nord sleepily agreed only to for his eyes to widen when he fully realized the amount of extra work he had, calling gruffly to his stableboy to wake up. Then they headed up to the city, passing by guards carrying torches, some of them staring at them and Decimus could understand why. They probably looked like shit. When they neared the Bannered Mare, Grulmar stopped—yet again—and clutched his ribs. “Just tell me again why we need him?”

     

    Decimus sighed, stopping just short of the steps leading to the warmth of the tavern, his eyes on the burning brazier. He'll just complain all over again. “We've been through this. This is way bigger than we thought. We'll need his help. And he's a scholar of sorts, besides everything bloody else that he is. He might actually know about it more than we do.”

     

    “But I don't want to split with Shiny. It should be our treasure. I don't want him on this,” growled Grulmar, sounding like the runt Decimus knew back at Largashbur. Whining.

     

    Decimus poked his finger into Grulmar's chest, making him stumble backwards and grimace in pain. “But it's not your call, is it? You've already screwed up with Dreth, and with that bastard now breathing down our necks, I certainly won't go into this with just you and Erik. He’s the only other one I can trust on this. Who won’t double-cross us.”

     

    “So it's all my fault now? Fine, if ya don't need me I won't bother ya. Go convince Shiny to join ya,” Grulmar growled in frustration and headed towards the tavern.

     

    “Gru! Come on,” Erik called back. “Nobody's saying we don't need you.”

     

    “Tusk ya. Go get yer scholar and leave me alone,” he hollered back and entered the Bannered Mare, slamming the door hard.

     

    Erik wanted to follow Grulmar inside, but Decimus stopped him and shook his head. “Leave him. He'll come around. Come on, we have someone to wake up. He'll probably be sleeping on his precious books again. Old Fart.”

     

    The Nord chuckled. “Aye, sounds like him.”

     

    They headed up the stone steps to the Cloud District, passing the growing Gildergreen sapling, turning right towards Jorrvaskr, the eagle of Skyforge looming proudly above it. When they got to the door, Decimus grinned at Erik. “Ready?” Erik grinned in response. “Let’s wake him up!”

     

    Decimus kicked the door open and thundered: “Where's the Old Fart?! Where's old Ronnie!?”

     

    They were greeted by the welcome smells of mead and Tilma’s cooking, the roaring hearth blazing at the building’s center. Jorrvaskr was full of people, sitting at the table or by the fire, chatting or sharpening their weapons—some were even cleaning up. At least they did before he entered. Faces turned to him—all the familiar faces, save Farkas. The lazy dog spent more time in the ‘stead now than at Jorrvaskr and Decimus saw Erik deflate a bit at the Nord not being there. No, instead, Vilkas, like a wary wolf, met their gaze first, his impossibly light grey eyes narrowing at the intrusion. Athis was playing cards with Torvar, Stonearm behind Torvar, letting the Nord know what cards the Dunmer had. Cheating bastard, Dunmer would win anyway. Don’t go pissing off a member of the Circle. Or a mage on winter recess.

     

    Ria was helping Tilma serve mead. Must been her day to help the old woman. Familiar faces were mixed with new ones. Maven’s Maul, of all people, sharpening his blade, Uthgerd, Amren, Sinding, and even the Old Fart’s housecarl, Lydia. And finally, Aela, sitting at the edge of the table, her arms crossed over her chest, the fire of the hearth highlighting her auburn hair. Still every bit the wolf. And Decimus briefly remembered that day when she loomed over Brother Theodard, snarling, fur bristling, and then the Harbinger callled her name, calling her back. And she did as he said. Never seen a werewolf do that. She scowled, not appreciating his humor. She's probably not very happy to see me. Frankly, she's not happy to see anyone since Skjor died.

     

    But then she grinned broadly. Ha, bluffing me, eh lass? Fell for it that time too.

     

    “Really, you stupid Imperial?” growled Aela, puffing up. Puffing up too! No wonder you make the Old Fart laugh. Same humor. “You show up just like that and shout as if you owned the place?”

     

    Decimus shrugged nonchalantly, making Erik smirk. Already, Erik’s Shield-Brothers were flocking towards him in greeting. They are like a fucking pack of wolves. Decimus scanned the room quickly, narrowing his eyes. Now where’s your alpha? Where’s that old, silver wolf? Well, not one anymore. What he went through for you bastards... Still blew Decimus’ mind away whenever he thought about it. “Yeah, why not?” he answered Aela.

     

    “Can’t come in here, Old Blade...” 

     

    Decimus looked down at the voice and saw that wrinkled face framed by frizzy grey hair peer up at him, holding a tankard of mead, just for him and another for Erik. “Not without hugging me, you’re not.” She then beamed, her face scrunching up, and Decimus couldn’t resist. You always have to hug Tilma. He took a sip of mead, Lucky Moons, and cleared his throat. “Now where's Äelberon?”

     

    Silence overtook the Mead Hall once more and he could see Vilkas bristle as he sipped his mead. Aela looked at him with a strange expression that killed his lighthearted mood. “She's come back.”

     

    Decimus raised his eyebrows. “Well, fuck me.”

     

     

    Table of Contents

    Chapter 2

Comments

57 Comments   |   Molicha and 4 others like this.
  • Ebonslayer
    Ebonslayer   ·  March 21, 2018
    The Greenskin... I remember that build. A thief and a warrior. Nice.


    Also, "she"? I'm so confused, did they have a falling out? I'd guess so due to Decimus's reaction.
  • Caladran
    Caladran   ·  August 6, 2017
    Finally got to read this! :) Where to start, umm... I really like the characters, and I must say my favorite one is... Grulmar! Interesting dynamics they have, too.  This was fun to read, a lot.
  • Molicha
    Molicha   ·  December 12, 2016
    One if my favorit quest  !  I like the story and the way you've implemanted Dreth, I'm loocking forward to see how I'll be overthrown. Funny characters and interesting relations between them. The humor is good too. Good work  : )
    • The Long-Chapper
      The Long-Chapper
      Molicha
      Molicha
      Molicha
      One if my favorit quest  !  I like the story and the way you've implemanted Dreth, I'm loocking forward to see how I'll be overthrown. Funny characters and interesting relations between them. The humor is good too. Good work  : )
        ·  December 12, 2016
      Thanks for reading Molicha. This was a great deal of fun to put together with Karver. 
    • Karver the Lorc
      Karver the Lorc
      Molicha
      Molicha
      Molicha
      One if my favorit quest  !  I like the story and the way you've implemanted Dreth, I'm loocking forward to see how I'll be overthrown. Funny characters and interesting relations between them. The humor is good too. Good work  : )
        ·  December 12, 2016
      New reader! Thank you very much for your words, Molicha. I hope you´re going enjoy it just as much as me and Lis enjoyed writing it. We had plenty of fun turning this one quest into a whole book.

      If you´ll be confused about something, don´t ...  more
      • Molicha
        Molicha
        Karver the Lorc
        Karver the Lorc
        Karver the Lorc
        New reader! Thank you very much for your words, Molicha. I hope you´re going enjoy it just as much as me and Lis enjoyed writing it. We had plenty of fun turning this one quest into a whole book.

        If you´ll be confused about something, don´t be afraid to...  more
          ·  December 12, 2016
        Yeah, It might be interesting to read the "Old Fart" 's story too xD
        • Karver the Lorc
          Karver the Lorc
          Molicha
          Molicha
          Molicha
          Yeah, It might be interesting to read the "Old Fart" 's story too xD
            ·  December 12, 2016
          Haha. Yes, Old Fart's story is definitely interesting and worth it. :)
  • Meli
    Meli   ·  June 19, 2016
    The sarcasm is strong in these three, as is the resentment that is brewing. Glad I dropped by a second time :-)
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  June 14, 2016
    Haha, just read your comment, Exuro. 
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  June 12, 2016
    Thank you very much, Exuro! I think you just nailed it. He has vampire chicken up his arse! 
    Chapter 3 is on its way, so stay tuned. 
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  June 11, 2016
    Grulmar is beeing a tusking prick, but it doesn't hurt the story, especially with Decimus there to call him on it. I feel like he knows something the others don't that's getting under his skin and he's lashing out on those closest, either that or there's ...  more
  • Gnewna
    Gnewna   ·  June 11, 2016
    Heh, yes - for some value of 'get along', of course ;) Grumpy gits ftw!
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  June 10, 2016
    Yay! So great you managed it, Gnewna!
    And yeah, Grulmar and Nerussa kind of get along...at least what I gathered from Lis. 
  • Gnewna
    Gnewna   ·  June 10, 2016
    Hurray, I finally managed to start reading! And hurray, it is awesome! I think Nerussa would get on with Grulmar. (She's going to meet Erik soon, although not for a fair while here on TV... so behind with posting...)