62: Shadow Mind

The world was stolen from me nearly instantaneously. I was plunged into a shadowy, empty void. I still held the staff here, but it was empty; lifeless. I illuminated the area with a spell, but it only strengthened the harshness of the shadows that swam around me. A familiar voice echoed around me suddenly.

“I thought it was ready,” said the voice. “I thought it was time.”

I lifted my feet and moved forward in the void, though my movements were strange and uncoordinated. I seemed to be swimming, but on dry land. The voice returned after a moment’s silence.

“Was I too hasty?” it said.

I felt I was closing in on the source of the voice, though it was hard to tell from the echoing all around me. I lurched onward.

“How could this happen? Could it be that I will never be restored?” It was chilling how familiar the voice was, though I had no inkling as to where I had heard it before.

I tried to call out to whatever was producing the voice, but I could not force out any noise. Not even my breathing was audible, though I was growing weary from the awkward lurching I was doing.

“Am I to remain this way?”

I slowly found myself gaining on a form bundled up on what might be called the ground. It was dark and featureless, though I could see it shifting and undulating slowly. The voice spoke again, and I was certain it was coming from the shape on the ground.

“Is this to be my prison forever?!” the voice suddenly grew frantic, demanding an answer of me.

The form curled up below me slowly began to unfold. It was bizarre. I seemed to be able to see it from all angles and yet each one had its own dimensions. It unfolded into an impossible number of arms and legs, rising rapidly above me as it grew. It was like a spider with an infinite number of legs, and suddenly it looked at me.

“ANSWER ME!!” The voice screamed. The creature towered above me and rattled with the earthquake instilled by the voice. It reared up and smashed down around me, crushing where I was and where I could have been.

Yet somehow I was unscathed. Even as the limbs continued to descend and crush the life out of me, I stood watching as it clearly missed me again and again. I stood at a distance, curiously alarmed but uninvolved, like a man watching a rodent ripped to shreds by a hawk. Finally, I decided some action was necessary, and I crushed down on the creature with the lifeless staff. For some reason I was towering above it, it was now no bigger than a spider.

But it was also as big as a silt strider, crushing legs dancing around me as I struck out with the staff. Each blow I scored destroyed a limb or part of the creature, and each blow also brought back some life into the staff. It began to glow faintly as I beat back the creature, and as the number of limbs slowly decreased, it grew brighter and brighter. Finally, I was standing above a quivering black blob. Robbed of its limbs, it was decidedly less frightening. I spun the blindingly white staff and brought it down upon the blob.

“Am I better off this way?” The voice said as I was pulled back into reality.

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I stood atop the gateway arch, gripping the faintly glowing staff in my hand. The fog had receded into the staff, and I saw that Artan and the Nerevarine were dusting themselves off, though they still looked markedly confused. I was also pleased to see that the massive oblivion gate was dormant, its stone pillars were as black as obsidian and the portal was closed. I cast a spell of slowfall and jumped down to the Nerevarine.

“Nerevar!” I called as I descended, “I have the Staff, now what would you have me do?”

“What?” he said dazedly. “Oh! Of course!” He strode off towards the oblivion gate and drew both of his scimitars. I ran after him after I landed.

I caught up with him just as he reached the base of the oblivion gate. “Aha!” he said, “It’s as I suspected. Whatever your friend did is interfering with the gates, but it hasn’t closed them. We need to destroy the pillars before the gates reopen.”

“But that would take the strength of a silt strider to bring down!” I looked behind me sadly at the fallen carcass of the silt strider, entangled in the broken metal of the Daedric Spider. The Nerevarine yelled and then struck the two pillars with his scimitars. Nothing happened.

But then, magic began crackling up the stone from where the blades had made contact, and soon the whole gate was crumbling down around us. I moved back to a safe distance. I stood mouth agape as the Nerevarine sheathed his blades and turned to me. “Get Artan inside and wait for my instructions. I must deal with the other gates now, before they return to full functionality.” With that he sprinted off towards the other battle sites.

61: Grotesque

I achingly rolled onto my back and stared at the night sky. It was choked with smoke and the smell of death, and I coughed and held my sides. Blood was trickling out of several open wounds I had received from the blast, but they were nothing critical. The air was eerily quiet. What’s more, there was something greasy and unusual about it. I looked around stiffly, and saw that I was surrounded by the corpses of dozens of Daedra and Redoran soldiers. I pulled myself to my knees and looked around for the staff. It was nowhere to be found. I even looked under several bodies, but it was gone. I tried to cast a spell to light my way as I searched, but it would not cast for some reason. Whatever it was that was in the air, it was keeping me from casting spells.

I heard weak coughing nearby, and I managed to stand and navigate through the smoky, greasy air to the form making the noise. Artan, the mage who I had been speaking to shortly before the battle, was getting to his feet nearby. I stumbled over and helped him up.

“What the hell was that?” He managed to say between coughs. “You… Exploded!”

“It’s a long story. Have you seen my staff?” I was still searching desperately for it. Perhaps it had been blown from my grasp by the explosion.

“Why can’t I cast spells?” Artan asked, still slightly dazed. “It’s like there’s something in the air.” He felt it too, so I knew something had happened to stop all of our spells. As I searched through the corpses littering the ground, I noticed a blackish fog hovering limply very close to the ground. It seemed to be everywhere, though just a few inches from the ground. I continued to search for my staff, and Artan began to check if any of the soldiers might still be alive. I soon found myself standing by the gates to the city. They were blackened and had holes in several places, apparently from the energy of the blast. I pushed on one weakly and felt it give. I walked a few steps before a shape plummeted to the ground in front of me and stood slowly. I was relieved to see the Nerevarine’s twin scimitars burning brightly before me. “What happened?” He asked urgently.

“It’s very difficult to explain…” I began, but I was cut off by the Nerevarine.

“Where is your friend?” he asked.

“Artan is just outside the gates.” I said, slightly confused.

“No, not him. The staff! Where is the Staff? It is critical we find him!”

I was taken aback. How did the Nerevarine know about the Dark One? I was certain I had never mentioned him to anyone, and I knew the staff’s glowing colors were not visible to anyone but myself. “How do you know…” I began again.

“It’s very difficult to explain,” said the Nerevarine. “There isn’t time now. The battle is quiet here, but elsewhere it still rages. Now, where is the Staff?”

I was about to say something when I noticed the black fog creeping up around my ankles. Once again I felt the greasiness in the air and I knew I would not be able to cast any spells. The Nerevarine noticed the fog as well, and knelt down to examine it. I was shocked to see the flames that engulfed his swords sputter and being to die as they came close to the fog. Clearly, so was the Nerevarine, because he backed away suddenly. He shook his head slightly, then extinguished and sheathed his swords with a flick of his fingers. He motioned for me to follow him and he ran back out through the gates.

The fog was thickening as each second passed. Already, Artan was knee deep in the stuff, and he looked very confused, as if he had lost his way. He was staring into space, and I knew that the fog must be toxic somehow. The Nerevarine began to wade into the stuff, and I watched in horror as his shimmering armor was coated in a film of oily fog, which condensed into liquid droplets on the powerful plate mail. Whatever was doing this, it was deeply attracted to power and magic. The Nerevarine’s pace slowed until he stopped, and his face took on a glazed expression similar to that of Artan’s. The fog was nearly waist deep, and I was beginning to feel slightly stupefied. I shook my head to clear it, and then backed out of the fog towards the gates. I noticed that both Artan and the Nervarine’s dull gazes were focused on a point high above me. I turned and ran to the pathway that took me to the top of the natural archway above the gates.

As I reached the top, I looked around for… what exactly, I didn’t know. I squinted into the darkness around me and could just barely make out a form a short distance away. I only saw it because it was glowing dimly and rings of deep red light pulsed down its surface. It was the Staff, hanging firmly in the air a few feet off the ground. Each pulse of horrifying red light released a puff of the oily fog, which flowed down into the battleground where Artan and the Nerevarine were standing stupidly. I walked up closer to the staff.

It had changed drastically. Where it was once smooth black metal, it was now scarred and gnarled. The dim light it emitted was refracted and twisted by the scars into a sickening display, and I stood transfixed with horror. Yet, I knew I had to do something to stop whatever was happening. I did all that I could do.

I reached out and grabbed the twisted thing.

60: The Storm

I spent the next week doing as the Nerevarine wished. I had the most experience with the Daedra of anyone in the city, so my duties mostly consisted of telling soldiers and mages of my experiences and how I felt the Daedra could be best combated. Other than that, I would tend to the minor aches and pains that some soldiers would sustain from constructing defenses. I was very impressed with the amount of work that had been done over the course of the week. The massive, natural stone archway that acted as an entrance to the city had been closed off with massive wooden gates, and much of the river that passed through the center of the city had been reinforced. Three silt striders patrolled the exterior of the city walls, and a fourth was stationed within the city itself. Overall, I felt the city was as well defended as it possibly could be, but I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had never been within a city during the course of a siege, so I kept my mind alert and trained each day for the coming battle.

Still, there was no sign of the Daedra. Scouts had seen several small gates opening in the nearby country, but the few Daedra that came out showed no signs of assaulting the city. Tension mounted steadily, and many began to grumble about the incessant waiting. The little relief I had from the tension came in the form of Darkasha’s reports. He would return every few days with tales of the nord camp and how they still didn’t know about his existence. He had been wreaking havoc in their ranks by biting and infecting several of their soldiers in the night. The nords were in no danger of becoming vampires, as they would be treated in the morning, but it still caused panic and suspicion in the invading force. Darkasha also saw to it that their plans and dispatches were either misplaced or stolen, and kept the Nerevarine apprised of the nord movements. The Nerevarine was confident that the threat of being attacked by the nords was neutralized, though he kept Darakasha in the field.

I found myself restless, however, we had had no further contact with Ald’Ruhn and Kael was still missing. To relax, I would often take walks on the walls that had been constructed, or on top of the rock archway. I would often chat with the archers or mages stationed there, just to pass the time. Often I would end up answering questions about the Daedra, which began to become tiresome, but I answered in good faith.

“Honestly, I don’t know what to expect.” I said on the last day of the week. “The Daedra have many tricks that no one knows about, like those metal constructs I’ve told you about.” The man I was talking to was a fellow mage, Artan, and we were standing on top of the stone arch way looking out over the field beyond.

“I hope they don’t have too many more tricks.” He said, squinting his eyes into the sun as it faded in the west. “Those monstrosities sound bad enough as it is.” He breathed in the salty breeze coming inland off the sea, “it is a glorious night, is it not, my friend?” I gazed out over the landscape, catching a red glimpse in the corner of my eye.

“It’s about to get a lot worse.” I said. “Look over there!” I pointed out across the fields, where a cluster of oblivion gates had begun to open. There was no doubt about it this time. The gates had begun to open, and the Daedra were marching through. The battle was about to begin.

I burst into action, lighting the nearby signal fire and launching a magical flare into the sky to warn the soldiers. As I did so, I noticed that the other sides of the city were lighting their own flares and signal fires. We were being surrounded by Daedra. The soldiers down in the city were beginning to armor up and psych themselves up for battle. I wondered if the Nerevarine had heard yet that the Daedra were approaching.

He had, and he burst from the command post in full battle armor, wielding the fiery twin blades Hopesfire and Trueflame. He was clad in a suit of armor I had never seen before, but it glowed with magic in the dim light of the dying sun. It was truly a sight to behold, and many of the soldiers gasped as he passed them. He leaped to the top of a wagon that stood in the street and began to speak. The soldiers turned and listened to him, drinking in every explosive word. I was disappointed that I was too far away to hear him, though I could feel the energy that he was granting to the troops. His speech crescendoed just as a great Oblivion gate ground its way out of the earth just a few hundred feet away from the archway where I stood. It reached its peak just about equal with the top of the arch I was standing on, and Artan gasped.

“May the nine help us all…” The guards below us at the base of the gates braced themselves as a swarm of Daedra poured out of the oblivion gate towards them. The archers around us on the arch began firing, but the Daedra were well out of my range. Instead, I turned to watch the soldiers within the city running to their respective posts around the walls. The Nerevarine sprinted faster than any of them to the gates on the other side of the city from me. I turned back to the battle and began launching spells at the horde down below. The troops below clashed with the Daedra. It was mostly scamps and clannfear, an advance force that the soldiers could handle, but I was worried about their numbers. The advance force was huge, and the dremora and Xivilai that would follow would be of a comparable size. I wondered if we could hold against the tide.

Just then a huge, tree-trunk of a leg landed nearby me, and then several more followed. The strider from inside the city was climbing the wall to reach the battle. It towered above me, and I cheered as it crashed down onto the unsuspecting Daedra below. Its anger inhibitor removed, it tore through the ranks of Daedra, kicking them high into the air and smashing them with its massive legs. I had personally instructed the striders’ captains to destroy the gates first and then mop up the remaining Daedra, and I could see that this captain was doing just that. It kicked through the Daedra on the ground and made its way towards the gate, preparing to bring its massive claws down on the huge stone pillars. However, I saw one of the metal constructs emerge from the fiery portal and crash into the strider, spewing fire up the side of the creature’s skin. It squealed in pain and nearly lost its balance, but brought its claws down onto the side of the machine. The two giants locked in battle, and I could only hope for the strider’s success. I cast a spell of slow fall and jumped down to aid the troops guarding the gate, which had been reinforced by troops from the interior. I threw blasts of frost and lightning down on the swarming horde of Dremora and Clannfear (most of the scamps had been taken out by this time) as I fell, and I landed safely near the gates. I did what I could to aid the wounded and extract them from battle, but most of the soldiers were in dire shape, and it was all I could do to keep them alive.

“Let me help,” said the Dark One. “You are not enough to do this alone.” His presence was like a pressure in the back of my mind, waiting to explode. “Let me help!” I complied, letting the Dark One directly guide many of my actions. I took the chance to rest my mind, receding slightly from the combat which seemed to be dragging on for hours. After a few minutes, I felt surprisingly refreshed, and I retook much of the control of my body. The strider and Daedric construct wrestled on, rolling over many of the Daedric reinforcements that charged through the oblivion gates.

“Will,” the Dark One said again, “We have a problem.” His voice was grave and somewhat panicked. I immediately began to panic as well, though I waited hesitantly for his explanation. “It’s the wound in your foot. It’s built up too much energy. We need to release it now!” I wasn’t sure what to do. The energy leaking from my wound had been under control for so long now that I had forgotten about it. “Will, I can’t focus it! It’s going to explode from you!” My skin was beginning to feel strangely prickly, and I could see a faint glow around my hands. “I’m going to try and release it as controlled as possible, but it will explode to an extent! Get away from the Redoran soldiers!” I pushed through the line of soldiers and into the swarm of Daedra. They began clawing at me, but I was wearing some light armor and I pushed through into the center of them just as the staff began burning and spewing pure magical energy. It coalesced in strange and beautiful patterns as it ripped through the nearby Daedra. It began steaming off of my skin in little wisps of smoke, and my hands began flaming with magic. It didn’t hurt, though it was increasingly warm, and suddenly I felt like I had been punched in the side. I looked down and saw a stream of energy bursting from a bloody whole in my side. The strange thing was, the magic began healing my wound even as it created it. I felt the final wave of energy rippling up through my skin, and I collapsed just before it burst out and ripped through everything around me.