Those Whom the Gods Forsake - Chapter 13

• Posted by Accursed October 10, 2015 - 982 views

  Chapter 13: Prophecies Fulfilling

  Life is a strange thing. I couldn't help but contemplate life as I knelt before the Bosmer. We had been friends, of a sort, yet I never had known his name.

  What is my claim to the right of living centuries if I allow myself while Valund would live only another thirty or forty years?

  “Valund, how old are you?” It was a simple question, but it allowed the nervous tension to pass with a quick conversation.

  “I'm thirty-three. Why?”

  “I was just curious. Thirty-three, you say? I took you for much younger.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Seventy-six years of age.”

  “Seventy-six? You don't have a single gray hair on your head!”

  I chuckled.

  “Some days I wish I did. Black hair is an odd trait for Altmer. Father continuously insists we are pure of blood, but I doubt him.”

  When I turned around, I found that time had frozen as it did within Saarthal. A Psijic stood beside Valund.

  “Hail, Son of Magnus. Within these caverns you shall find what you seek; it is here you will unlock your destiny. This is a set path; the Psijic Order has foretold it.”

  “Son of Magnus? What do you mean?”

  Instead of answering my question, the Psijic simply vanished. Time returned to normal, and Valund acted unsettled, but unworried.We decided to continue through the ruin after laying the Bosmer within a coffin so we could bury him later.We were met with little resistance until we heard a voice speaking the same language as the Dragon.

  “Wo meyz wa dii vul junaar.”

  Valund and I looked at each other and furrowed our brows. As the voice spoke I felt the magical energies both within me and in the background fade away, only to begin surging back when the voice stopped.

  "What is that?"

  "I don't know... it is powerful, though."

  After a few more rooms and about a dozen more dead Draugr, the disembodied voice rang out once more.

  "Nivahriin muz fen siiv nid aaz het."

  "I wish I knew what the thing was saying."

  "As do I, friend. come, let us press onward."

  After continuing down a precariously balanced pillar and fighting more undead, the voice spoke again, this time in modern Tamrielic.

  “You have yet to answer. Must I speak in your native tongue, Aren? I thought a mage such as yourself would at least be able to speak my master’s language.”

  Valund was becoming concerned, believing this to be the work of some Daedra. I patted his shoulder to reassure him and walked forward. We pushed a door opened and entered another room in the ruin.

  “Hm. You are not Savos. Has he sent you to complete that which he could not?”

  Valund now was quite determined to slay whatever foul being was speaking to us, as was I. We did not know what to expect, though from his face I could tell he was mustering all of his resolve.

  The voice chuckled in its deep tone.

  “Did he tell you that your power would be your demise? That it would only come to serve me?”

  Together, we threw open a set of double doors and entered the main chamber of the ruin.

  Two undead skeletons stood atop pillars high above us. Their Magicka was being sucked from them and entered a whirlwind of energy surrounding a Draugr-like creature. The creature was imprisoned within the ring of Magicka, though it appeared that it might break free of its bonds soon. Valund and I pressed ourselves against the base of the large stone platform it was on to keep out of its sight. I motioned to him to keep still and silent as I picked up a rock. I walked out from the wall until I could clearly see the energy wall and threw the rock at it. The stone merely dissolved against the magical field.

  “We need to kill those two beings that are powering the field.”

  “Ya sure we want to fight that thing?”

  “Yes. I know that this is what Aren meant.”

  Valund knew a basic fireball spell, as did I, and we cast simultaneously at the two men that Savos left behind those many decades ago. The flames hit them aside the skull and they died quickly.

  The Draugr creature swung a staff from it's back and turned to us. It pointed said staff directly at us and from it came a large blast of magical energy. From the smell I believed it to be electrical, but I did not waste time looking. Instead, we dove separate directions behind rubble to avoid being hit.

  It laughed at us, taking pleasure in its freedom and the prospect of combat. After assessing it, I determined that it was not in possession of a melee weapon; it was reliant on keeping us away using the staff. I motioned to my partner towards a wall on the other side of the platform we stood on and indicated running with my hand. Then I pointed to myself and then the stairs. He understood my plan; he would distract the being while I snuck up behind it with my sword.

  He got its attention and began zig-zagging to avoid blasts, keeping it occupied whilst I sprinted up the stone steps to the same level as it. As I crossed a small bridge like structure to the side where it stood, it realized our ploy and turned to me, chuckling at my predicament.

  I was trapped. If I went backwards, it would simply fire at me. If I went forwards, the same outcome. Going to my sides would kill me, or break a bone at the very least.

  It raised the staff.

  “Auri-El save me.” I muttered more to myself than to Him.

  Nothing happened. The thing was clearly attempting to fire a blast of energy, but the staff refused. For a moment, I remained frozen. Then my senses returned and I raised my own sword and ran to the undead creature, still baffled by the staff’s disobedience.

  I drove the tip of the sword directly through its stomach, cutting out through the side and letting the guts spill. From it I picked up the staff. It was rather grand-looking with strange runes upon the staff itself and an odd gem that rested upon the top.

  Time froze for the second time that day. It was truly becoming inconvenient.

  “Praise be unto you, Son of Magnus, for His Staff has chosen you as it's master. With it, you shall perform the mortal plane a great service, and it will unlock for you a power not seen since the end of the last Era. May Magnus bring you happiness.”

  With a bow, the hooded monk disappeared.

  Looking down, I noticed the creatures mask. It covered it's face, with holes for the eyes and mouth, though it glowed with a strange energy that I did not recognize. I picked it up and turned it about. The back was a simple cloth, but the face had been painstakingly crafted at an ancient forge.

  I slipped it upon my head and felt the Magicka available to me increase drastically, as well as a feeling of increased regeneration of my magical energy. It bent my nose ever so slightly to the right and the cloth pushed my ears against my head, though those minor issues could be easily remedied by even a novice blacksmith.

  I pointed the staff at the ground and willed it to cast. It did. By this time Valund had joined me.

  “Why did the staff not kill me?”

  “To Oblivion if I know. Let's just bury that Wood Elf and get back to Winterhold.”

  I smiled a bit.

  “What now, Elf?”

  “The way you speak. It is Winterhold. You pronounce it Vinterhold.”

  “Why in Oblivion are you thinkin’ ‘bout that stuff?”

  I looked at him through the holes of the mask.

  “Because, friend, these are dark times. Take pleasure in the little things now, for you may not have them for much longer.”

  He shrugged and we went back through the ruins to where we placed the Bosmer’s body. We carried his corpse to the courtyard outside and found a patch of dirt. We used some abandoned mining equipment we found in a camp long since forgotten and used the flat edge of the pick axes to dig a gravesite for our friend.

  We covered the hole after placing him in and covered the mound with stones with one large stone acting as a headstone.

  The ride to Winterhold was grueling due to the mystery of it all. What had happened whilst we were away? This question kept me awake in the night and tense when Magnus rose upon Tamriel.

  When we arrived, the city was in chaos. A group of College mages were fighting orbs of magical energy while the others seemed to have fortified the Inn. We dismounted our horses and ran over to the group and began to help neutralize the anomalies. The staff proved to be extremely effective against them.

  After that was dealt with, the mages led me back to the Inn. Barricades had been set up around it and the walls appeared to have had furniture pushed up against them. The door itself had received stronger hinges and also appeared to be blocked on the inside. After knocking and providing a password, the mages, Valund, and I were allowed in.

  The food and drink that normally lines the tables had been taken someplace else, replaced with piles of books and maps. Two tables had been pushed together to form a space for plans to be drawn out. I noticed you and Almenar placed on a table in the corner surrounded by bottles of what appeared to be goat’s milk. Safe and sound.

  “What in Oblivion happened here?”

  Tolfdir turned around from his desk seemed relieved.

  “Caranthir! You're back. What did you find?”

  I held up the staff.

  “A staff? Let me check the records of any staves that look this way. I suppose I can answer your question now, as well. Another large force of Thalmor soldiers arrived and threw us out, though they were quite rough about it. Eventually they began to attack the city, hence our fortification of the Frozen Hearth Inn. Ancano also seemed to be growing in power. This, as you know, is quite troubling.” He scratched his worn cheek. “Aha! This is the section. Oh, here it is.” He pointed to a drawing. “According to this reference, the staff is… by the Eight! This is the Staff of Magnus!”

  We looked at the staff, our eyes wide.

  “Magnus, you say? That’s very strange. Remember under Saarthal, when time froze and I told you that a Psijic visited me? The same happened in Labyrinthian, though he called me the “Son of Magnus”. Do you know why that is?”

  He looked around hurriedly.

  “Let's see. Legends are on this table… Here we are. Altmeri Legends and Their Origins.”

  He began flipping through the book, muttering what he read as he did so. I couldn't help but smile. Something about elderly Men was quite endearing. I was quite possibly as old as him, though he still seemed to find himself wiser, more weathered.

  “Son of Magnus… hm. It's a prophecy in the form of a poem;

  Those who wish to devour men’s souls,

  Shall return again with breath like coals,

  And after a battle with his own kind,

  The Staff shall answer him alone;

  He shall be a hero to another race

  Yet a traitor to his own;

  He shall spend his days in another land,

  Ever wondering of his home,

  Though upon his death he shall find himself

  'Neath Sovengarde's great dome..."