Dale felt much better, having rested. Rest made the tasks before him seem much less monumental.
I need to report to Agryn. I need to check in at the Sanctuary and see whether there’s work for me. And I suppose I need to keep looking for whatever Dalaran was up to, as the Sovrena asked, since Agryn directed me to work with her. I just don’t know which thing to do next. I feel as though I should…
He never finished his thought, for the stone doors he hadn’t been able to open earlier caught his attention. He had two keys in his pocket. One he’d just gotten from the Sovrena and the other he’d taken from Dalaran’s body down in the sewers. Grinning, he tried both of them. Dalaran’s key was the one that turned easily in the lock, producing an audible click.
So let’s see what you were up to here, my fine fellow.
He stepped through the door and gasped.
“What is this, then?”
He was in a huge, domed room with maps and charts mounted on every available wall and an oddly-patterned floor. Dale moved slowly around the perimeter, examining the charts. The first was covered in what looked to be Dwemeris text but had three ovals superimposed on it, with red glyphs connected to each other by lines. Beneath the chart was a table loaded with soul gems.
Maybe it’s some kind of harmonic map. I hear the Dwemer used tonality as a mainstay of their magic.
Other maps showed Tamriel as a whole, Solstheim, Hammerfell and High Rock, and local maps of cities in Skyrim. One of the maps was of Solitude – a very old map, showing a much more extensive docks area than currently existed, as well as a district with the notation “Wolf’s End” near the mountain, behind Castle Dour. Apparently he’d been more or less right imagining where he was while in Potema’s catacombs.
But why is this map on the wall here, and now, in a city that’s relatively new? What is going on?
On a table beneath the map of Coldhaven, Dale found an intriguing journal, written in a hand he recognized as Dalaran’s. He started scanning it and his eyes grew wide. Dalaran and Galain, while they were still both alive, had been searching for other enclaves of vampires, hoping to recruit more residents for Coldhaven.
“Our floor map is marvelous, but the portal crystals embedded within have been one of my greatest creations. Galain has personally buried reception crystals in vampire caves, fortresses, and dens across the land,” Dalaran wrote.
Dale turned to stare at the floor. Map? Portals?
He returned the journal to the table and looked down at the floor. From his position it was difficult to tell that it was a map, but as he peered at it he began to recognize the shapes of bodies of water and the spiraling, heavily-shadowed spot that had to be the great mountain with its Seven Thousand Steps. But he was from Cyrodiil, and while he’d learned a great deal about Skyrim his knowledge was primarily of the areas around Solitude, Dawnstar, Riften and the lakefront where the forgotten cellar lay.
This isn’t useful. I need height. Wings, perhaps?
A moment later the huge wings of his vampire lord form lifted him high enough off the floor to afford a good view of the whole map. For a map it most definitely was, as Dalaran had written. Studying it carefully, he noticed a pattern to the placement of the soul gems: they were all in places where vampires had been known to congregate. Bloodlet Throne. Shriekwind Bastion. Broken Fang Cave.
These allowed for one-way travel to the places in question, according to the journal. Apparently Galain and Dalaran had differed about whether there should be return-travel crystals; Dalaran, being the person with the crystals and the expertise to make more, had decided it wasn’t safe.
Wise choice. Enemies might quietly gather in this room, undetected, if there was two-way travel. It could be a disaster.
He floated across the room toward the area representing the Sea of Ghosts, looked down, and chuckled. There was a stone near Morthal. He reverted form and studied the map again for a moment.
How much quicker it would be to get to Dawnstar if I could simply transport myself to Morthal! And from there, I can take care of the rest of my business and will have saved most of a day. Time for a test. If it fails, well… I’m technically dead already. I may as well try it.
He reached down and touched the stone. Once more, as it had when he’d tried on Dalaran’s ring, the world went dark. Once more he fought down his distress. This time he’d been expecting it; still, disappearing into the void was uncomfortable.
When the darkness faded, he found himself at the top of a wooden staircase leading down into what may have been a mine shaft. Several large frostbite spiders patrolled the area before a doorway. It was likely a vampire’s den, based on everything he’d learned in the portal room.
Tempting. Very tempting. But I really think I should check in with Agryn before I make contact with anyone else. Besides, I need to get to Dawnstar.
He turned back, creeping silently to avoid alerting the spiders, and emerged into the bitter air. It was a fine night, cold and clear, perfect conditions for him to stretch his legs. He took a moment to get his bearings and then began running.
By the time he reached Dawnstar the sun had risen far enough above the Velothis for its angled light to reveal gathering clouds. That suited him, though; foggy days and cloudy days were the best for vampires – and besides, he was going to disappear around the headlands and behind the enchanted door of the Sanctuary.
Both the Listener and Cicero were there before the Night Mother’s coffin. She knelt, whether in prayer or contemplation Dale couldn’t tell. Cicero stood directly before the Night Mother’s ancient corpse, as he always did. He turned his head to glance at Dale, and from Dale’s perspective it was almost as though the Night Mother was preparing to feed from Cicero’s willing neck. Dale tried not to grin.
The Night Mother as a vampire. What a thought.
“Hello, Just Dale! Hello!” Cicero called out gleefully, following up with a giggle.
“Greetings, Cicero,” Dale replied. “I hope you’re well.”
“Cicero is hungry,” the old jester replied with an exaggerated pout. “He needs a sweet roll. Or a carrot.”
Dale chuckled. “I’ve come to speak to the Listener. If you’re willing, ma’am,” he added, turning to the dark-draped figure kneeling on the floor.
“Of course,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet. “And you have excellent timing. I’ve just had our Mother tell me of another job to be done. Come with me.”
He followed her back into the Sanctuary, past Babette’s garden and across the wooden bridge suspended in the tower itself. She led him down the stairs toward her private quarters, but stopped at a small study area with a well-lit table covered by a map of Skyrim and piles of books. A cupboard slanted across the corner held more of the same. She sank down onto the chair with a heavy sigh.
“I’m so tired,” she said, almost as though she didn’t realize she was speaking aloud. “So very tired. It’s been too long and I just want to go home.”
“Listener?” Dale asked, not quite sure how he should act or whether she’d been addressing him.
She looked up at him, then, studying his face before nodding, slightly, and giving him a tiny smile.
“You look so much like your father. And yet you’re completely different.”
Dale hadn’t expected that. He snorted. “So completely different apart from the fact that we look alike and both were in the Brotherhood, you mean?”
The Listener smiled. “Yes, apart from all that. You’re much more…” She trailed off a moment before shrugging. “Serious, I think. Earnest. Your father was a jokester. Oh, he certainly took his job seriously but he was always looking to make other people laugh if he could. It’s no wonder Cicero liked him so much. It’s one of the things I missed when he was gone.”
“Well, you’ll forgive me but I don’t find it especially amusing of him to have left my mother alone with a child,” Dale grumbled before he had a chance to think better of it. “The poor woman had to handle me, alone, and provide for both of us completely on her own.”
To his relief, she chuckled. “I suspect he didn’t know you existed, Dale,” she said quietly. “Certainly none of the rest of us elders knew that, and he – well, let’s just say he didn’t leave the impression of a man who would knowingly father a child.”
“Undoubtedly. I’ve heard stories.”
She smiled. “Let me assure you that you’re every bit as valued here as he was. At any rate, our Mother has given us a task. There is a barbarian woman in Ivarstead who needs to be removed. She’s not one of the locals but word has arrived that she’s staying there for the short term. Can you handle it?”
Ivarstead? How convenient. I’ll send word for Agryn to meet me there and I’ll take care of the job while I wait.
“Of course.”
“I thought you’d be willing. I won’t be here when you return. I need to visit my home and mend a few fences. Feel free to contact Nazir when you’re finished.”
“I shall. Thank you, Listener.” He bowed slightly and stepped back before turning to leave. Behind him, he heard another heavy sigh.
Now that is a woman who has too much on her shoulders. I wonder what it is.
Dale stepped through the door of the Vilemyr Inn to scan the room for people he’d not met before. There was a random merchant, but male, and he was looking for a woman. Aside from him and a priest of one or another of Skyrim’s gods most everyone else was a local. He was just about to leave when the innkeeper’s voice caught his ear.
“I heard Temba yelling at you yesterday. Why do you let her treat you like that?”
The answering chuckle came from Gwilin, the Bosmer who had nearly run over Qaralana the day they met. “If you’ll pardon the expression, she’s far more bark than bite.”
“Perhaps. But abuse is abuse. I don’t think I could stand it.”
“There’s much more to worry about in life than a bit of a temper.”
Dale turned toward the door again, deep in thought. There was something about Wilhelm’s remark that was important, and he didn’t know what. Abuse is abuse. Odd. I don’t know why it matters right now, but I’m certain it does.
It had become another very dark night, so dark that he nearly tripped on the woman seated at the bench on the inn’s porch. She was fully armored in furs and plate, leaning against the building, sighing, and looked like just moving would be a huge effort.
Here’s my barbarian. A tired barbarian, but a barbarian nonetheless.
“Oh! Pardon me, miss,” he said. “That was clumsy of me.”
She looked up at him wearily and nodded. “It’s fine. I’m dying for a rest. I swear I could just lie down and sleep forever.”
A chill ran up Dale’s already-cold back. It was so reminiscent of what the Listener had said to him. “I’m so tired. I just want to go home.” Strange. But I need to focus. I believe I can accommodate this woman’s wishes.
“I’m certain you’ll get your rest soon, miss,” he said, smiling. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll attempt to leave without colliding with you this time.”
The woman nodded wearily and sighed once more. As soon as he was around the corner of the inn Dale drew the shadows in around himself and returned to her, leaning forward and sinking his fangs into her neck. He drained the woman and laid her back on the bench, smiling.
Rest well, my dear.
He slid around the corner and behind the inn, so as to approach it from the other side once his shadows dissipated. He would wait in the inn for Agryn’s arrival, behaving as though nothing at all had happened; and if he should encounter someone else near the woman’s body he would, of course, be just as startled and distressed as they.
I wonder if the Listener will get some rest, too.
Near the top of the steps up to Lamae’s Rest, Dale turned back to smile down at Agryn Gernic. “Here we are. I hope you’ll be pleased.”
Agryn gave him a crooked grin. “Oh, I’m already pleased, Ondale. Let’s go inside, though, before we speak further.”
“Of course.” Dale unlocked the home and ushered Agryn inside.
After meeting him in Ivarstead Agryn had followed Dale down the long circular staircase and past the gate into the city, asking questions as they walked along the streets of Coldhaven and trying not to reveal his excitement. Dale had felt it, though. This vampire, so very much more ancient and experienced than he, had been looking for something like this city ever since his sire Edwyn Wickham had gotten the first rumors of it from Lord Harkon of the Volkihar. Edwyn and Agryn had spent eons, first in High Rock and then in Cyrodiil, quietly tracking down every wisp of a clue. Part of that, Agryn explained, had been tangled up with Harkon’s obsessive search for Auriel’s Bow, a weapon of legend that could kill a vampire – or blot out the light of the sun.
This wasn’t the city Harkon had sought, Agryn told him. It was far too recent a creation to have been rumored about hundreds of years before. But it was a vampire city, close held in the ancient heart of the mountains – beneath the shoulders of the greatest mountain on Tamriel, in fact – its secrets so old that not even the shapers of the city knew where they began or where they ended.
So it was that when they stepped into Lamae’s Rest Dale was not surprised to hear Agryn’s sharp intake of breath. He wasn’t surprised that his sire said little as they toured the basement with its smithing and enchanting facilities, or that he made only the slightest sound of surprise when Dale pushed the button to raise the thrall in her cage; but he could feel Agryn’s excitement nonetheless. Finally, they mounted the steps to the upper level and Agryn, after looking around, shook his head.
“You don’t like it?” Dale asked, worried.
“Oh, it’s not that. Not at all.” Agryn grinned at him. “It’s perfect. That’s why I’m shaking my head. Call it envy, I suppose.”
Dale frowned. “Envy? Why do you say that?”
“Because you’ve earned yourself a perfect home in a perfect city. Why else?” Agryn asked.
It was Dale’s turn to grin. “But it’s for you, sir. You and Vyctyna. I thought perhaps you would both like to live here, so that you can keep an eye out on things. Your home near Riften is wonderful but this is so much more central to… well, everything.”
Agryn stared at him for a moment and nodded. Then he smiled. “You’re right, and if you’re sure about it I believe that the two of us would be more than happy to accept. Once we’re done here I’ll travel back to Riften and fetch Tyna. She’ll love it here.” He looked around again, clearly pleased. “She asks so little of me and yet does so much. It will be good to give her something like this.”
Dale led Agryn back outside and pointed out Dalaran’s tower, the former Sovrena’s cabin and Madi’s home. Agryn took it in, his gaze snapping from one thing to another, and Dale could almost see his thought processes as he analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of the city.
“What’s that tower?” Agryn asked, pointing back toward the city’s entrance.
Dale peered through the murk. Behind some of the shops there was indeed a tower that he’d never noticed before. “Interesting. I don’t know. I guess that’s something else I should investigate.”
“Good idea,” Agryn agreed before frowning slightly. “Only one way in or out of the city?”
“That is what you might think,” Dale said. “I was really concerned about that, personally. I think maybe that’s one of the reasons the current Sovrena is so intent on weapons and defense.”
“Indeed. If enemies were to take the entrance above, the city would be trapped.”
“Except for one thing,” Dale said, grinning. “When I found Dalaran in the sewers I also found a key. Let me show you what it opens.”
He led the way to the portal room and ushered Agryn inside, then explained what he’d learned about how the place worked. He pointed out the gem that he’d used to travel to Morthal.
“I know that one works, though I haven’t tried the others. I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t, though.”
“It’s an escape route, isn’t it?” Agryn agreed. “This mitigates some of the danger of having only one entrance. What a find! And you say that the Sovrena doesn’t know about it?”
Dale stared at him. “I … honestly don’t know. I almost doubt it, though. She asked me to find out what Dalaran had been researching. I found the key on his body, and the notes and journals discussing what it does here, in this room.”
“Hmm. It certainly bears some thought, doesn’t it?”
Dale nodded. “I wish I had some words of wisdom for you about Tamara, or Sicara, the former Sovrena. This is a perfect place to settle and consolidate power but I don’t know that I trust either of them. Especially not Tamara.”
“Tell me,” Agryn said, and Dale did just that. He laid out everything he now knew about the noble houses, how the place had been developed, Tamara’s obsession with the enhanced weapons she was so proud of, and the very odd coincidences between that, Galain’s death, and Dalaran’s disappearance. He particularly stressed Tamara’s strange reactions to learning of Dalaran’s death and the fact that he’d been researching a supposed set of experiments being done on vampires.
“I got the feeling that she already knew all about what I reported to her – all except for the actual proof of Dalaran’s death. I don’t know, Agryn. It sets me on edge. I don’t know how easy it will be for you and Vyctyna to gain any sort of influence here unless somehow you bring Serana into it…”
“No,” Agryn said, firmly, shaking his head. “I don’t trust Serana, either. I never have. I didn’t like the influence she had over Edwyn, either, even at a great distance of both physical location and time. I know that Tyna likes her, but that doesn’t mean we need to bring her into this. That’s part of the reason I was looking for a well-hidden base rather than moving into Castle Volkihar.”
“So I should continue looking into Dalaran’s research? There’s one more area he was searching for that I haven’t explored yet and I think this key is … well, the key.” He held the old dwarven key out for Agryn to examine.
The older vampire nodded. “Yes. See if you can learn more about what the Sovrena intends. I’m going to take advantage of this portal. Redwater Den isn’t that far from here but it will give me a chance to see how it works. I’ll gather up Vyctyna and meet you back here in a few days.” He clapped Dale on the shoulder. “Good work, Ondale. But please, be very careful. We’ll know where to search for you if the worst happens but I’d prefer that not be the case.”
Dale grinned. “Me too.”
He stood and watched as Agryn touched the portal stone leading to Redwater Den and disappeared. Even though he knew it worked, a shudder ran up his spine. There was just something about portals that unsettled him. Then he turned back to the door.
So, he thought, taking another look around the portal room. Investigate the Sovrena. How should I go about doing that?
I can’t just walk up to her and ask questions. “Pardon me, my lady, but did you have something to do with Dalaran’s death? Did you know what he was looking for? Were you just waiting for some well-meaning fool like me to do the dirty work for you?” No, that won’t do. So if not that, then what?
He pictured the Sovrena’s tower in his mind. There was the entry, and the audience chamber, and then the hallway beyond it that served not only as the entrance to the vault and the Sovrena’s chambers, but also as a resting spot, library, and crafting area. And both entrances to the audience chamber were closed off by draperies.
If I time it well and go in while the place is full of Nobles – now, for instance – I might be able to get into the Sovrena’s chamber. There were a great deal more books and notes there than I had the chance to look at before.
It was worth a try. If he had any trouble he could use Dalaran’s ring to return to the house, and then dart down the stairs back here to the portals, to escape. They’d never know where he had gone – and he had the only key to this space. Grinning, he left the portal room, making certain to lock the door behind him, and trotted down the stairs to the Sovrena’s tower.
The place was full of dignitaries trying to one-up each other and to ingratiate themselves with the Sovrena. He saw her gaze move to him and inclined his head, smiling at her. She’d effectively made him a Noble himself by giving him the house, after all, so it didn’t feel out of place to him that he would be there mingling with Coldhaven society. He didn’t say much to anyone, but listened to their boasts, chuckling at appropriate moments while slowly working his way toward the far curtains. Then he watched, and waited. Finally, when the Sovrena leaned over to whisper something in Nasaris’ ear and was facing away from him, he slipped through the curtains and cloaked himself in shadows to pass the lone guard.
As expected, there was nobody in the Sovrena’s private quarters. Dale immediately made for the Sovrena’s desk at the far side of the room. On both of his other visits to this space Tamara had been between him and it, keeping him unable even to see what was there beneath the stained glass panel, much less rummage through it. He took a quick inventory of her belongings, and snorted.
You certainly don’t skimp on your own décor, do you my dear? Send me to the sewers while you sip from a jeweled goblet?
A lone candle flickered from within a beautifully-worked candlestick, its base covered in intricate knots and swirls. Next to that was the goblet, also of impressively ornate make with two rows of jewels inset beneath its rim. Piles of books and several familiar maps covered the rest of the desk; but of far more interest to Dale were a number of parchment notes and journals. He flipped open the topmost parchment and was surprised to find that it had been written by the former Sovrena shortly after Galain died and Dalaran had disappeared. She’d written that the city was still at peace, and safe, but that rumors of discontent had begun amongst the Nobles.
Dalaran hasn’t been dead that long. That means that it also hasn’t been long at all since Tamara ousted Sicara. Interesting. I wonder where the rumors of discontent started, hmm, my dear Sovrena?
Placed at the front center of the desk as though it had been written in just recently was a journal, its cover unstained by time. This, he was certain, was what he needed to see. He lowered himself onto the Sovrena’s chair and began reading.
Tamara, it seemed, had originally been working out of a lab in the southwest mountains. She’d developed what she called a “repellant field” for silver weapons, working alongside someone named Theseus.
That’s a very useful thing to have developed, I’ll give her that. But why has nobody mentioned this Theseus before? Where is he now?
And then Tamara answered his question. Theseus had been experimenting on vampires, using his own kind to further his research, whatever it might have been. She declared that she’d been disgusted by what he was doing and had been “forced to destroy him.”
Dale frowned. That must be the life-transfer research Dalaran wrote about. She knew about that research. But she says that she killed Theseus because she didn’t agree with it? Something about this is all wrong.
Dale turned the page and grimaced in disgust. Tamara despised Theseus’ research but had taken it, regardless, and had used it to create Bloodglass weapons – the ones she later taught her smith, Kharsh, to make and for which he was so highly regarded. When she’d returned to Coldhaven and learned that Galain was dead she had flown into a rage and begun working to turn the Council against Sicara, convincing them that they were not nearly as safe as they thought.
She has a point. Agryn saw the city’s vulnerability, too. But to use research based on experiments with vampires, even if you are disgusted by it? That’s as bad as Sild forcing souls from their rest to do his bidding! Interesting that she was conveniently “forced” to kill Theseus, leaving her to bestow the fruits of his labor on a grateful public and take credit for herself.
The rest of the journal was full of self-congratulation about how kindly she’d treated Sicara and how the Nobles had bowed to her superior wisdom. She also confirmed what Dale had suspected – she had spies keeping an eye on Sicara, as well as watching for signs of unrest from anyone else. She missed Galain and his ability to disagree with her.
Yes, and there’s been nobody to disagree with you since, except for Sicara, eh? It doesn’t matter, though. Spying is common enough. But using your own people in experiments? What was it that Wilhelm told Gwilin? Abuse is abuse.
I need to find out what this key she gave me unlocks. And I need to share it with Agryn and Tyna. Time for the sewers, again. I’m so looking forward to this.
He closed the journal, gathered the shadows about him once again, and left the Sovrena’s private quarters. A few minutes later he was lowering himself back down into the nasty water. He made his way down the corridors, grimacing as he came across a mass of floating dead skeevers.
The smell hasn’t improved with age, has it?
It took him a minute or two to wade through to the hanging bridge over the waterfall which, he found, hurtled down an ancient staircase, not just a stone tunnel. He jumped down from the edge and fought his way to the wall, keeping one hand on it for support as he climbed the steps. The stairway ended next to the hole from which the water poured; a ladder led from there up though an open hatch to another set of stairs.
Halfway up was the carcass of a frostbite spider. Dale frowned.
Alright, what lives here that took out that spider?
A sudden great clanking and the hissing of steam above him announced that there was a Dwarven centurion stationed there. And it had detected him.
As the centurion swiveled to face him – thankfully, to his mind, they took awhile to change direction – he fired a couple of quick arrows at it. He heard them clunking off its metallic surface, but neither of them did much damage. Dale leapt backwards as the construct blew a cloud of scalding hot steam at him. He reacted almost out of instinct by casting a gargoyle.
“Go, my friend! Take point and distract him!”
Then Dale drew his blades and gathered in the shadows. If he could attack unseen from behind while the gargoyle fought in front, he could dispatch the centurion. For one tense moment he thought disaster would strike: the centurion took two steps backward just as Dale crossed behind him. In spite of that, though, he had enough space to strike; it didn’t take long until the creature crashed to the floor in a shriek of metallic dismay. Dale walked back up the steps to find a locked door and a second, downed construct. As he’d hoped, the old Dwarven key Tamara had given him opened the door – and there was a lift.
Ugh. I hate lifts. There are always unpleasant surprises on one end or another of them. At least this one looks solid enough. I suppose I don’t have another choice.
He stepped reluctantly onto its surface and threw the lever.
The lift door opened, uneventfully, to a downward-sloping staircase. At the bottom two dwarven spheres rested quietly, steaming but apparently unaware of his presence.
And I’m going to keep it that way, if I can.
Dale drew his swords and crept downward, pressed as tightly to the wall as he could and pausing beside each of the support columns. He reached the bottom of the stairs unseen, but as he rolled forward to try surprising the nearer of the two spheres, both of them sprang up to an active position. He still managed to take out the first of them with a well-placed dagger into its mechanisms; the second swiveled around in apparent confusion, giving him another opening. As they both clattered to the floor Dale stood and loosened his shoulders.
Didn’t realize how tense I was! Well then. Let’s see what we’ve got.