55: Storm Shrine

Something clicked in my brain, and the Dark One supported the connection. “Winds don’t pick up this fast, not naturally.” His words slipped into my mind like a cliff racer taking to the sky. “Should we tell Kael?” I thought, gripping the smooth metal of the staff uneasily. “No,” the Dark One said, “Let him watch over Darkasha and the wounded. I rather think it should be this way.” I nodded and returned to Darkasha’s side to determine his status.

He was still sleeping fitfully. I healed him lightly before proceeding to the unboarded doorway. I thanked the Nine that I did not see Kael as I made for the exit. A guard would not let me out at first. “Too dangerous!” He said, barring my way “You’ll get lost, or suffocate in the ash.”

I briefly explained my case to him, telling him of my ability to handle myself quite nicely. After he would not budge, I tried some of the Dark One’s suggestions. After he had been sufficiently intimidated (he began to look rather pale after I explained how I would kill him, per the Dark One’s imagination), he allowed me to push past him and out into the howling winds.

The world was gray. I took one step away from the hastily shut doorway and was nearly knocked to the ground by the force of the wind. The staff was all that kept me standing, and even it was shaking in my hands. The storm blocked the sun, and visibility dropped to just a few inches. I proceeded through the shattered portcullises that guarded the entrance to Red Mountain. I stumbled into the gray mist, and Ghostgate was soon lost behind me.

“This is madness!” I thought. “Why did I come out here? I’m going to get lost… never mind, I AM lost!” The staff glowed, but I could hardly see it through the ash that flowed through the air. It had begun to settle in my robes, and I shook myself briefly to dislodge it, but it was soon replaced by even more ash. “Why did I do this?” I thought again.

“You know as well as I do.” said the Dark One. “This storm isn’t natural, and the only being powerful enough to conjure winds this strong is the Nerevarine.” I grunted, though the noise was lost in the roar of the wind. It was true; the storm had very magical elements about it. Indeed, I could see the occasional spark of energy discharge around me. I trudged on through the storm, my robes heavy with ash.

The flares of energy became more and more frequent as I continued. They flashed around me malevolently, some even forming into angry spirits before dissipating. Soon my way was illuminated by the energy, and the ash storm had begun to die down. I was soon blinded by the light of the energy, and I closed and shielded my eyes from the maelstrom. Being blind, I soon ran into a short pillar and felt the wind knocked out of me. I fell and coughed, dislodging the ash from my lungs and nose. After a fit of coughing, I realized that the world had gone silent. I cautiously opened my eyes and looked around.

The bolts of energy had stopped flashing, though they hovered in the air nearby, as if waiting. The ash storm raged around me, though not in my immediate vicinity. I was sitting in a bubble of calm, and the energy bolts were floating patiently at the very edge of this bubble, with ash flying around beyond. I looked briefly at the pillar that had knocked me down. It was ashen grey and not different from the rest of the bleak landscape.

But then, it was different. Other volcanic spires were irregular and bulbous, whereas this one was angular and symmetric. I brushed at it carefully, and ash fell off of it in chunks. Beneath the layer of gray powder was a dull orange and tan wooden pillar. It took me a moment to recognize it as a shrine to the Tribunal. I brushed even more of the ash off and sat staring at it. It pulsed very faintly with magic, and I knew it would bestow a blessing on me if I said a prayer to the Tribunal.

“Sad, isn’t it.” said an unfamiliar voice. It seemed to resonate from the very ash at my feet, and the flares of energy around the bubble pulsed with the voice. “Three usurpers cut down by their own ambition.”

I squinted out into the ash storm, trying to see where the voice was coming from. The energy around the dome drained down into the ground, though the ash storm raged on. I turned back to the shrine and found the source of the voice. He was sitting cross-legged on the top of the shrine and staring directly at me. He was covered in a thick layer of ash, and even his hair was covered by a skullcap of ash. He smiled faintly, his hands supporting his chin. His right hand was clad in a thick gauntlet, and on his left index finger a very distinctive ring shimmered even in the darkness.

I gasped with realization, “Nerevar!”

54: Blood Donor

Darkasha was in no shape to continue, and Kael and I were exhausted from the battle. Nighttime was approaching anyway, so we decided to rest awhile at Ghostgate. The guards had set about extinguishing the fires that the Daedra had set and cleaning up the dead and wounded.

I tended to Darkasha as best as I could, but his wounds were grievous. Besides the broken bones he had sustained when the Xivilai had thrown him into the wall, he had sustained several deep gashes that I had been unable to see until I examined him closely. He bled very little, no doubt due to his state of undeath, which made finding all of his wounds next to impossible. The blood I had taken from his pouch had kept him alive (or rather, undead), but it was not enough to sustain him for long. Ghostgate is very isolated from any civilization or even animal life, and it was not as if Darkasha could go hunting. A gruesome idea occurred to me, and at first I was apprehensive to carry it through. Eventually though, I knew that it was the only solution.

I approached the priest who was tending to the fatally wounded. “How are they doing?” I asked carefully.

He looked at me sadly, “I have stabilized as many as I can, but several of them will die within the hour, I am sure.” He hung his head. “Nerevar protect us.”

I shifted my weight nervously, uneasy about what I was about to ask. “Sir,” I finally said, “If a dying man could donate a part of himself that would save the life of another, would you think it right of him to do so?”

He looked at me quizzically. “An interesting moral dilemma.” He thought for a moment. “I have every ounce of respect for the dead, and I would never damage their remains. But those who are dying are a different matter.” He sighed and said, “I suppose it would depend on what part of the dying man would have to be donated.”

“How about, say, his blood?” I said, gently probing.

“What are…” Realization dawned on him. “You don’t mean, a transfusion of blood? That almost always kills the recipient, especially if they are different species!”

“Not a transfusion, as such.” I said, pulling the empty blood vials from behind my back. “Might I see the doomed?”

The priest hesitated momentarily. Then he rubbed his brow and said “Very well, if it will save another life.” I decided not to mention that Darkasha wasn’t exactly alive. He led me to a man who was writhing in agony and struggling to breathe, his chest had been collapsed and his legs broken. I knelt down beside the man and made a small cut in the vein of his arm with a knife the priest provided me. It began to bleed immediately, but the man did not seem to notice it over the pain of his death throes. I used a telekinesis spell to suck the blood out of the man and into several vials, both the small ones that belonged to Darkasha as well as several of my own. I filled the vials shortly before the man died, and the priest began to administer the traditional service to him while I stepped away to Darkasha. I emptied several of the large vials down Darkasha’s throat and could see him healing before my eyes. I cast some healing spells to speed the process, and hid the remaining flasks of blood under the pile of sheets that Darkasha was lying on. I had done all I could for now, and Darkasha slept fitfully.

I searched for Kael, finding him conversing with the captain of the guard. He was trying to get information about the Nerevarine. I listened in carefully.

“He passed through here several weeks ago on his annual pilgrimage to Red Mountain,” said the captain. “He normally stays for several days, so initially we were not worried about him. After a week, we began to search for him.”

“Could he have left some other way?” asked Kael, “Perhaps he could have left towards Gnisis without passing through Ghostgate.”

“True, the Ghost fence has been deactivated, but we still monitor traffic in and out of the mountain. Anything that crosses the fence is logged. The Nerevarine has not left Red Mountain.” The captain spoke wearily. “We sent out several search parties, but ash storms blew up every time we went out. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that He doesn’t want to be found, or at very least something doesn’t want him found. I wish I could tell you more, but that’s all I know. I could probably get you an annotated map of Red Mountain if that would help.”

“It would help immeasurably, thank you.” Kael said, though he was soon lost in thought. I left him and tried to walk off some of the soreness I felt from the battle. I stepped outside into the night and felt a warm breeze brush across my face. Cliff Racers cried in the distance, and guards were dragging the Daedric dead to a pile to be burned. The wind began to pick up, and ash blew about my feet. A mumbled something that sounded like “Not another one.” I wondered what he was talking about, but just let the wind cool me off a bit. The wind was continued to increase, and soon my robes were whipping about in my face. I wrapped them tighter about me and went inside. The guards had stopped moving the bodies, and were instead hastily boarding up the smashed entrance to the tower. They seemed uneasy, and several were grumbling about “the pile getting covered up before it got burned.” I asked them what they were so uneasy about.

“It’s the wind,” said a gruff voice. “Ash Storms are coming.”

53: Ghostgate

Ash shifted under my feet as I strode towards the shattered frame of the door. It was dark inside, so I cast a spell to illuminate the interior of the building. Kael stepped into the pale green mist that glowed in the corridor. He drew the massive claymore from his back and proceeded cautiously through the eerie green mist. I stepped in behind him, calling a spell to heal him to the front of my mind. I would not be able to safely fire any sort of spell around him, so I continued to light our way through the darkened corridor. In a short time we came to a dimly lit room that had obviously been the site of a recent battle. The bodies of Daedra and Dunmer littered the floor, and it had become slippery with blood. A small fire in a corner of the room provided enough flickering yellow light to make everything seem sinister.

I once again illuminated the room to make searching easier and to ensure we wouldn’t be surprised by anyone trying to sneak up on us in the dark. As soon as I had cast the spell, there came a cry from a man slumped over a chair. I immediately ran over to him and removed the frightening mask made of volcanic glass that he was wearing. A trickle of blood dripped from his nostril, but he was still alive. I began healing him as best as I could, but he was still immobile when I finished. Nevertheless, he was awake and in minimal pain. Hopefully he could shed some light on the situation.

“What happened here?” I asked him while Kael and Darkasha continued to search the room.

“What does it look like?” The Dunmer growled and then clutched his chest in pain. “We got attacked, ya great s’wit! They just started pouring in from Red Mountain; we held them outside the gates for as long as possible, but they broke through pretty quick.” He coughed and I cast a healing spell into his chest. “We pushed them back into the other tower just a bit ago, but they could break through the remaining guards any minute.” A crash came from beyond a door near Kael. “What’re you waiting for, fool? Go help them!” The Dunmer coughed and pushed me away.

I jogged over to the door and pushed through just behind Kael. We entered a high ceilinged room where a battle still raged. Kael jumped in to hack at the snarling Daedra, and I began healing and supporting the remaining guards. Darkasha soon joined the fray, jumping into the midst of several large Daedra. With our help, the guards began to push the Daedra back into the other tower. A collective battle cry rose from the guards as we turned the tide of Daedra.

It was answered by the deafening roar of a massive, blue-skinned Xivilai who crashed into the line of guards and sent them reeling. The morale of the guards suddenly broke, and they began retreating. Several completely turned tail and ran out of the room in terror. Darkasha jumped on the back of the huge Xivilai and stabbed him in the throat. I almost cheered until the creature threw Darkasha off his back and into the wall behind me. It then turned towards me and began to swing its twin claymores as it advanced towards me. I stumbled backwards away from it and nearly tripped over Darkasha’s limp body. I began firing spells at the Xivilai, hopelessly trying to slow its steady advance. It cut down several guards before one of my spells caught it directly in the face and it faltered. I saw Kael orchestrating a tactical retreat from the room and tried to drag Darkasha out of the room while continuing to fire spells at the Xivilai. Soon I was the only one left in the room, just a few feet from the door into the next room, but the Daedra were advancing towards me rather more quickly than I would have liked.

“This isn’t going well,” said the cool voice of the Dark One. I was too focused to do anything but ignore him. “Let me help.” I continued to ignore him, but soon I felt his mind flowing into mine and giving me a hand. He began channeling his energy into me, and the staff glowed more strongly than ever before. I could feel the amazing amounts of pure energy flowing into me, and time appeared to slow down. Sparks crackled around the staff as I leveled it towards the group of Daedra. The tip of the staff hummed gently and then, without any warning, exploded.

The Daedra were consumed by the expanding burst of crackling energy in an instant. Their screams of surprised pain were muffled by the deafening buzz of the explosion. I felt the energy leave me and time returned to its usual pace. I watched the energy bouncing off the high ceiling and funneling into the tower where the Daedra had been attacking from. It continued to bounce around in the far tower, and I could hear the occasional scream of pain echoing in the foreign tongue of the Daedra. I dropped the staff onto the floor, watching as bouts of steam billowed out of the still humming metal.

“You’re welcome,” the Dark One’s voice said as it fell out of my mind just as the staff fell to the floor. I shuddered and turned to Darkasha, who was still unconscious. I was drained of magic, and I knew my healing spells wouldn’t be as effective as the small vials of blood that Darkasha kept tucked away on his person. I dug around in his pockets for a few moments before I found the pouch that contained the vials. Many of the vials had broken from the impact with the wall, but I pulled the corks out of the intact ones and poured the viscous red liquid down Darkasha’s throat. I saw his wounds close and heard the cracking of his ribs as they realigned from the effects of the blood.

The guards had returned to the room and gone into the far tower to search for any survivors. I knew they wouldn’t find any. Kael crouched down next to me and looked at me suspiciously. Then he smiled.

“I’m damn glad you’re on our side, Will.” Kael chuckled and then went to help the other guards loot what remained of the Daedras’ bodies. I stepped over to the staff, which had stopped steaming and had returned to glowing faintly. I bent down and picked it up, feeling the Dark One’s mind returning to mine. I leaned on the staff gratefully.

“Thank you,” I told the Dark One, “Thank you, my friend.”