30: Blood-soaked Fog

Jauffre wasn’t surprised that I was departing from Bruma. In fact, he had a pack of provisions awaiting me upon my arrival at Cloud Ruler. He said he could see it in my face that I wasn’t really much of a mountain man. I bid him and Martin farewell, and as I rode off through the thick gates I felt satisfied that the Blades trusted me. It reinforced my spirits, and I set my sights on Cheydinhal.

I decided that the main road would take too long, and set off on a shortcut of my own creation. Along the way, I passed by a massive rune stone. The glowing-blue etchings on the surface were of particular interest to conjurers, and as such my memory was sparked. I interpreted the stone to be a Hestra stone, and as I broke down the magical barrier around it I could feel conjuration magic coalescing around my hands and forearms. I broke through and felt the warm crack of the spell on my arms. I looked down and saw that my hands had been covered in gauntlets of daedric design. I felt (or rather, did not feel) the weightlessness of the gauntlets, and swished my hands about in the air. I turned away from the stone, knowing that it had nothing further to offer me at the time, and rode off towards Cheydinhal once more.

My shortcut brought me back up into the Jerall Mountains, and a heavy fog descended upon me as I ascended the mountain. I could barely see five feet in front of me, and as such I nearly ran into the rotting wooden door of some cave. I decided that the cave would make as good a refuge as any, and dismounted to enter. I tied my horse up to the door, knowing that if it got into any trouble it could probably just rip the door off its hinges.

I opened the door and stepped in, where I was immediately hit by the stink of goblins. I was eager to try out the gauntlets that floated around my hands, but I could tell that the spell was weakening. I crept through the cave and found myself looking at a cavern that was crawling with goblins. I readied one of my more explosive spells and waited for an opening in the crowd of goblins. I wanted to hit the center of the group, so as to spread out the damage and hopefully cause confusion as to which direction the attack came from. My plan worked, and the spell not only killed a fourth of them, but left half of the remaining ones hurt and confused. The other half came after me though, and I did not hesitate to burn and freeze them. I didn’t have much time before they overtook me, so I concentrated on my Breton heritage and activated the shield that I had learned as a child. It shimmered into effect and I continued my barrage of the goblins. I had cut down most of them, but a fourth of the original group managed to survive my assault and come face to face with me. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I drew my axe, which I noticed had been turned into a daedric mace! The Hestra rune stone had conjured up not only gauntlets, but also a mace of deadly efficiency! I laughed and smashed into the goblins bringing the mace around again and again with extreme speed. The weightlessness of the weapon brought a huge advantage to me, and because it was combined with my ancestral shield I did not receive even a scratch from the blunt goblin weapons. I slouched down and laughed at my victory! The bodies of at least two dozen goblins littered the floor, yet I collapsed upon them and just laughed and laughed. The gauntlets and mace disappeared, yet I continued to laugh. The battle lasted probably two minutes, yet I laughed for at least ten. When I stopped laughing, I started becoming worried. I frowned at the carnage I had created and shuffled back outside.

My horse was still there, and the door was still attached, so I assumed nothing bad had happened to my friend while I had been in the cave. The fog was still heavy in the air, and I had to feel my way through with the limited magical sense I had. I found a way to position myself on the map I had by using distinctive magical areas as reference. It wasn’t particularly accurate, but it was the best I could do. I proceeded in this way for some time, and I also used the slope of the mountains to tell me which way I shouldn’t go. Around dusk I sensed a huge, nearby increase in magical activity, and I decided to check it out.

It turned out to be the shrine of a Daedric prince. I nearly jumped when I saw it, but then realized I was looking at a statue of Azura. I breathed out a sigh of relief. Not only was Azura one of the few “good” Daedra, but I also knew exactly where the shrine was in relation to Cheydinal! All I had to do was find out which way was approximately south and I would find my way to Cheydinhal. I approached the shrine carefully, as I knew that dusk was a time of worship for the followers of Azura. They seemed to be performing some ritual, which explained the increase in magical activity. When they had finished, I asked one of them which way south was, and received a warm smile and a set of detailed, but simple, directions to Cheydinhal.

I followed them to the letter and soon came upon the city gates. I smiled, and put my horse in the stables outside the city. The fog was still quite dense, but I found my way to the guild hall and into a warm bed. I fell asleep almost instantly, my weary eyes shutting thankfully.