By: The Orange Mask
I had a splitting headache when I came to, and I didn’t know how long I’d been out. I didn’t feel like I was on the ground. In fact, I didn’t feel like I was even close to it. I opened my eyes to figure out where I was, only to look at Kharjo, carrying one end of a makeshift stretcher made from a tent tarp and sticks. I looked behind me to see who was carrying the other end of the stretcher only to groan in pain as blood stained the bandage on my shoulder. I didn’t bother looking at the wound; I knew it must’ve been bad. I caught a glimpse of yellow robes, and immediately knew that Erandur was carrying the other end of the rope.
“Ah, it is good you are finally up. This one’s arms are starting to tire.” Kharjo seemed relieved I was alright, even if he didn’t sound like he was.
“Come on now, he’s in no condition to get up. We’ll carry him a bit longer.” Erandur seemed adamant in his decision, and Kharjo didn’t question it. He just grunted and kept on walking.
During the few minutes of silence, I tried to locate the magicka trail of the being. Between the spasms of pain, I managed to mentally make my way through the corridors and guide the caravan in the correct direction. They grudgingly obliged, most of them not feeling the magicka being given off by the being. Erandur, however, said that he’d begun to feel the magicka stream after a short while. Within a few hours, we were quite close to the main chamber.
“Let me up,” I said. “I refuse to miss seeing this up close.”
“But you’re hurt! If there’s something dangerous in that chamber-“ Erandur was truthfully worried about me.
“I don’t care. This… thing, whatever it is, contacted me. I think I deserve to see it with my own two eyes.”
I started to get up from the stretcher before Kharjo and Erandur even put it down (rolling to my left, thankfully), and stumbled to my feet. Erandur, Kharjo and the group behind them stopped as I made my way around the corner, and was quickly blinded by the light being emitted from the being. After my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked upon the being. It was awe-inspiring, just as it was in my dream. Then, I noticed that it was trapped in some sort of magical cage.
Hearing no violence or bloodshed, the rest of the group cautiously trickled into the chamber, looking upon the being in awe, then fear. I tried to control my emotions as I approached its cage.
“Welcome, mage. I thank you for heeding my summons.” The being spoke with an accent, one difficult to place.
“Hello.” I must’ve sounded like an idiot. “Now that we’re all here, would you mind telling me what this is all about? And what exactly are you, anyway?”
“My name is unpronounceable in your tongue, but you may call me Vodahmin. I was created by the Dwemer, an experiment to attempt to understand the gods. Since their absence, however, I’ve been locked away in this cage; sealed off from the outside world, save for the spiders that come to repair the vents. It took nearly all of my energy to send you my message, and I apologize for any misunderstandings in my message; I am not fluent in your tongue, nor have I practiced in many years.” Great, now we’ve got a living magical entity in our world.
“Okay, then. How do I release you?”
One of the Khajiit was furiously yelling at me. “Are you mad? How could you think even for a moment that that… thing isn’t going to turn on us!?” The Khajiit were certainly upset about my immediate trust of Vodahmin, but that didn’t stop me.
“The switch to release the cage is at the control panel.” Vodahmin ‘pointed’ at the control panel, stretching his form to do so.
I made my way over to the control panel and slowly pulled down the lever with my left hand. The metal had corroded slightly, and stuck several times before finally moving fully over. Suddenly, the cage jerked off the ground, and hung precariously from a metal chain, swinging back and forth. Vodahmin stepped out from under the cage.
“Thank you once again, mage. You have left me in your debt. However, there is one more…” Vodahmin said something unpronounceable. “My apologies, there is one problem.”
“And what would that be, Vodahmin?” I tried to ignore the nervous chatter of the rest of the group.
“During my years here, I have learned to sense the substance you call ‘magicka.’ Some beings have more than others, but all have some. I cannot sense something as small as a human so far from the surface, but I have noticed… other happenings in recent years.”
“Bromjunaar, the place you call Labyrinthian, is the nexus of magic in this part of the world. Beneath it lie several…” once again, something unpronounceable. “what you would call ‘leylines,’ powerful conduits for magicka. These provide more magicka than what could be acquired through the air alone. All mages tap into this power without their knowledge.” I had heard about leylines, but had never really looked into them. I suppose that magicka has a tendency to condense and collect when given something to absorb into, so it made sense.
“However, there is a mage at Laybrinthian attempting to unlock vast amounts of magicka from the leylines, He wants to draw the energy into himself, to use it selfishly. However, to do so would create a magical… void.” I realized in horror what such a thing would do.
“Vodahmin, are you saying that this imbalance could cause nearly all the magicka in Tamriel to coalesce into this mage!?”
Perhaps I should explain: if this mage were to suck the power from the nearby leylines, more magicka would be drawn from all connected leylines into those surrounding Labyrinthian. This magicka would also be drawn into the mage, and the cycle would repeat again and again, until all magicka was drawn from all leylines.
What Vodahmin was saying was pure madness, but nonetheless I couldn’t ignore it. If what he was saying was true, then this mage could destroy all of Tamirel, the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion with the lift of a finger, leaving us helpless to stop him.
Vodahmin added, “I understand it was not the easiest task to arrive here and rescue me, but I must ask of you: will you stop this mage?”
I turned to look at the rest of the group. Erandur had a grim expression on his face, distraught. Kharjo and the Khajiit seemed to share Erandur’s mood, but their faces didn’t show the story. Bjorn just looked confused.
“Well, what do you say? Are you all with me?” I asked cautiously, expecting most of them to say no. They’d already gotten more than they’d bargained for.
Bjorn stepped forward. “I didn’t think the priest thing was working out, anyway.” I half-smiled.
Kharjo stepped forward next. “Wherever he goes, I go. That is, of course, until I pay back my debt.”
The rest of the group shuffled around awkwardly. “We have gotten the treasures we came for,” Ma’dran said. “We will accompany you as far as the gates of Labyrinthian, but no further.” I nodded, understanding entirely the danger they’d put themselves in.
“I’ve got to take care of the temple, and perform my duties as a priest of Mara.” Erandur looked at Bjorn with a mix of disappointment and pride.
“Thank you all for going this far with me…” I said to the group, then turned to face Vodahmin.
“…And yes, I will do my best to stop this mage.”
To be continued…
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