“By Shor. I expected them to have cleaned this up! It’s been weeks!”
Harald looked down at the stiffened corpse in Imperial armor and wondered why the body hadn’t disintegrated into dust or been gnawed down to the bone by skeevers. He’d discovered the corpse after killing Nimhe, the gigantic spider blocking access to the Nchuand-Zel excavation. Since that day Harald had been from one end of Skyrim to another several times.
He grimaced. For in Markarth he had also discovered that he was capable of a level of violence he’d never imagined, while jailed for the crime of helping – simply by asking questions – a man who just wanted answers about his father.
Just as I did. I didn’t get the answers to my questions, and neither did Eltrys.
I promised Calcelmo I’d do this, and I will. But you’d think he might at least have sent the city guard in here to retrieve the body. Typical academic, so wrapped up in his research that he forgets everything else.
He stepped carefully around the body and hacked his way through the thick wall of spider webs just beyond, onto a stone ramp leading downward. Even though some areas had partially collapsed, leaving piles of rubble, Harald marveled at how many of the original features still functioned after thousands of years. He walked down the corridor, engrossed, unconcerned about masking his passage until remembering that he was likely not alone here in the ruins. He dropped into a crouch and crept carefully around the first turn.
It was a struggle not to gasp aloud. The corridor opened to an enormous, open cavern. This was no solitary ruin like the one he’d explored with the Nerevarine. This was a true Dwemer city, sprawling and huge and likely once inhabited by hundreds, even thousands, of Dwemer. He couldn’t see how deep it was, or what other structures might be in it, but he could see the faint glow of phosphorescent rock embedded in the cavern’s roof, and a mist-enshrouded, narrow bridge stretching across the gap through a series of piers capped with ornate, open-sided stone pavilions.
And slinking along that bridge toward him was a Falmer.
Harald grimaced. He’d encountered Falmer before, in caves and the like, but he knew that they preferred to nest in the abandoned cities of the Deep Folk where humans seldom ventured. There were likely a great many Falmer here, and they’d probably been alerted by Harald’s armor clanking and thudding as he’d walked downhill. He froze for a moment, hoping the creature would lose interest, but that was not to be. It moved faster the closer it got to him. Even worse, motion from one of the pavilions ahead revealed another Falmer, this one an archer. Harald sighed, raised his sword and shield, and rose to meet the oncoming creature.
It wasn’t a long battle, but it was precariously close to the edge of the bridge and Harald could see that there would be no surviving a fall from it. He also discovered that the Falmer poisoned their weapons. One scratch from the creature’s sword had him feeling sick. Moments later, an arrow from the Falmer across the way penetrated his armor just enough to nick him and that, he found, would be lethal if he didn’t get under cover and heal himself. He summoned up enough energy to swat the nearer Falmer off the bridge and then scampered backward to cover. Arrows clattered to the floor around him as he ran, casting healing; any one of them would have finished him off.
Once he was intact again Harald sprinted across the narrow bridge, trying to dodge the incoming arrows. The Falmer was uncannily accurate, though, orienting to the sound of Harald’s movements and landing at least one solid hit. Harald grimaced as the stinging poison once again invaded his system, and rushed ahead to smash at the Falmer with his shield’s deadly spikes. The beast countered by drawing a sword, but Harald was angry and, with a sweeping power attack, opened the Falmer’s torso and sent it tumbling off the platform into the depths below.
He waited, collecting his breath and his wits and trying to calm down. It was, as he’d expected, an incredibly deep cavern. He saw at least three different levels of Dwemer-metal doors. The actual city, then, had to be inside the rocks. A good choice, he thought, looking up at the ceiling and down to the water collected in the bottom of the cavern. An open place like this always runs the risk of collapse but inside the actual mountain is much safer.
But as exciting to Harald as it was to finally be in the bowels of an actual Dwemer city, he needed to force his attention back to the far end of the bridge. There were two more Falmer there. One crouched by a doorway; another crept slowly up the ramp from below and to the right.
Pay attention. Gawk at the Dwemer things later.
The first of them was a simple swordsman and not a very good one, either. It did land a blow on Harald, but didn’t do enough damage to slow him down much. What was problematic was the second Falmer, a spellcaster who attacked from behind just as the first creature went down. Harald turned and forced his way forward through the frost spell, fighting his own groaning muscles before finally catching the Falmer across the neck with his sword.
Too bad I’m not better with Shouting. I only know one word of Unrelenting Force and I’m not especially strong with it, either. I’ll bet Qara could have sent those Falmer flying.
He was frowning as he neared the first door to see what was beyond. He didn’t like the fact that he’d parted with Qara on a sour note.
Don’t know why she was so upset that I didn’t gush over her new armor. I just didn’t know what to say. What I was thinking right then would have made me sound like a lowlife.
Motion below him interrupted his thoughts. He stepped as close to the edge of the platform as he dared and looked down to see an archer, inching forward to find whatever foe had killed his fellow. Harald drew the bow he’d gotten from the Nerevarine and took aim, striking the Falmer but not doing much apparent damage. He stepped back, placing the stones between him and the Falmer’s returned arrows; peering over the opposite side he saw that the archer was creeping up the ramp toward him.
Target practice.
It seemed to him that the bow had some magic to it. The Falmer struggled to locate him when he drew it, and he had only to dodge one poisoned arrow from below before it was dead.
Just beyond the doors was a hallway leading to staircases, at the foot of which were several Falmer corpses. Once again the sound from his heavy armor betrayed him; three living Falmer rushed down the stairs to attack. The first two went down fairly easily, his bashes serving to tear great rents in their skin. By the time the third reached him, though, his arms had tired and he missed blocking a strike from the creature’s poisoned blade. It was the poison, moreso than the actual fighting, that nearly ended him. As the last Falmer fell Harald ran back toward the entrance, casting every bit of healing magic he had. Fortunately, nothing followed him.
Once he’d worked his way back through the mass of bodies at the foot of the stairs he trotted up them. Someone had placed a fire rune on the landing, which he saw just a moment before it exploded in his face. He returned to the bottom of the stairs, swearing under his breath as he cast healing again. Then he climbed the stairs, bypassing the corridor that branched left in favor of the rooms just in front of him.
There on the landing was a large planter holding a dead tree – an odd thing to have underground, which may have been why it died, he thought. Near it on the floor, though, and also dead, was a mage lying next to an equally-dead Falmer.
Oh dear. Here’s one of Calcelmo’s scholars.
A journal on the man’s body identified him as Stromm, who had stayed behind the rest of the expedition with a single guard, to research what he called a Dwemer living area here by the tree. Stromm had been in the middle of working out a theory about the area when, he wrote, Falmer had begun to creep back in.
Harald tucked the journal into his bag and continued exploring. The area did, in fact, look like a living space. One area contained a large stone table and chairs, perhaps for dining. Passing through that room to the spaces beyond, Harald was horrified to find that the guard and two more Falmer had perished in front of a torture chamber.
He fought well, though. I’m sure Stromm couldn’t have killed these Falmer and the three below by himself.
But I wasn’t expecting to see torture implements this close to the dining room.
He turned to go back the way he’d come and grimaced as a female Falmer, a spellsword, emerged from the unexplored area and attacked. Fortunately, the minutes spent exploring had rested his arms. He blocked the Falmer’s first blow and then ended her with a single blow to her neck.
Beyond the Falmer was more evidence that Stromm had been on the right track. There was a much larger dining area and a bedchamber. Harald hadn’t intended to take much out of this ruin but on the shelf behind the bed was a Dwemer shield. He stopped, his mouth opening in awe, and pulled the shield to him. It was very heavy – too heavy for him to use in combat against the agile Falmer.
I have to have this, though. Maybe I can fight with it when I’m stronger. I can’t wait to show this to…
He stopped himself in mid-thought and tsk’d. Qaralana wouldn’t likely be impressed by a shield; especially not after the lukewarm reaction he’d given her new armor.
I’m a fool.
He wandered back through the living quarters. He hadn’t remembered seeing a stairwell leading upward, but there it was, and around the corner from its landing was a Falmer with a fire staff. He sprinted into her, knocking her off-balance, and was feeling fairly confident until growls and snarls caught his attention and at least three more Falmer surged up the stairwell.
Harald tried not to panic. He swung at the first in line but realized that they were about to surround him, swinging poisoned weapons, the still-living female just behind them with her flames. He blocked one more attack but missed another. He landed a solid blow on one of them, then turned and fled back along the corridors and out to the cavern. The poison sickness worsened by the moment as he dashed back toward the exit to Markarth, casting healing as he went. To his left was a dirt ramp, just about shoulder height, and he jumped for it fully expecting to fall short and join the other expeditionary members as a missing corpse. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the fear, or the thought that he would never see Qara or Chip again, but his jump reached the very lip of the ramp; he hauled himself up onto it, his heart threatening to burst. After taking a moment to revive he turned and methodically picked off the leading Falmer with his bow.
Only a fool lets himself get surrounded!
That was far too close. Now then – it looks like the others have disappeared. I should be safe to continue.
He was wrong. Hopping down onto the stone bridge made enough noise to alert the Falmer that had gathered near the door; they came skittering back toward him, single file, growling and snarling. The first wasn’t too difficult to take down but the second, close on its heels, once again nicked him with a poisoned weapon and the third reached Harald just as the poison was taking full effect. He roared in anger and began slashing with both sword and shield as fast as he could until at last the bridge was littered with corpses, none of them his.
I’m going to need something for poison if I’m going to be a Dwemer ruins explorer. Lots of potions, or an enchantment, or something.
He took a few minutes to return to the space he’d just visited, checking carefully to make sure there were no more of the exploration party there. In one room he found a pair of drinking cups. Taking the Dwemer shield had been a slightly dubious choice because of its weight. He desperately wanted a souvenir, though, and the matched set of drinkware was a perfect choice. One for him and the other for a guest. He could just picture himself sitting near the fire with Qara, sharing drinks out of these Dwemer cups, and…
He tsk’d and shook his head. I need to focus. Thinking about Qara is definitely not focusing.
Back in the main cavern, he descended the ramp that curled down toward its flooded lower reaches. He needed to focus because there were simply so many places a Falmer – or something worse – might hide. Somehow, most of the odd Dwemer lights near doors still worked, and that would help. That didn’t make the cavern a safe place, though. It was an absolute warren of ramps and alcoves and stone supports twice as wide as a grown man. About halfway down, another landing supported two ramps in different directions; he took the one on his left. A few paces beyond was a Falmer’s body.
This must be the one I tossed. I don’t know whether it was dead when it fell, but it surely is now.
The ramp descended to water level, where another Falmer corpse floated face down. Harald stopped and looked around and then up, and in confusion realized that he simply couldn’t tell where he’d been when he killed this Falmer. What he could see, though, was that all of the places he might go from here were either partially submerged or just barely above the water line.
He was not at all happy with the idea of swimming in heavy armor, but there was no help for it. He slipped into the icy water and across to the base of the nearest pillar, grabbing onto its supporting stone and soil and working sideways until he found a spot to clamber up onto the platform and plan his next moves. A bridge led to a closed gate and the bottom of another curved ramp. Across another stretch of water was a set of metal doors. Harald stared up, trying to see the path taken by the ramp.
I think that just leads back to where I was. I’m not sure. But I’m sure I haven’t been through these lower doors yet. I guess it’s more swimming for me.
Fortunately, a collapsed section of bridge just in front of the doors allowed him to get out of the water easily. He stood on the landing for a few minutes, shivering. His boots were full of water; he emptied them and put them back on with great distaste. He would squelch when he moved, but at least he wouldn’t be swimming in his footwear. Still, he was wet and cold and unhappy about it.
The first Falmer on the other side of the doors must have heard them closing, even as carefully as Harald had eased them shut. He had just enough time to gain an impression of a grand staircase leading up and a lighted corridor beside them before an arrow buried itself in the soggy padding covering his arm. The Falmer above eased sideways toward the stairs, aiming at him. He rushed up, only to find that while there wasn’t a swarm of Falmer waiting for him, there were two archers. Poison-fired nausea began to wash over him, but he still managed to kill both of them and then heal himself, taking stock of the area. At one end of the platform was a locked gate; but to the right of the staircase was an open corridor to another half-stair leading up. That was where he headed, slowly, taking advantage of every nook and cranny where he might pause, hidden, to listen for movements.
I’m not terribly quiet but maybe I can buy myself a bit of surprise.
At the top was a large, mostly-empty space. Before he could inspect it, though, a blue flash of magic emanated from across the way. Another female Falmer was moving toward him, this one with a summoned weapon in one hand and an armor spell gathering in the other. As she cast it, a skeever ran out from behind her to attack Harald, who swatted it away with his sword and then charged the mage with his shield up. She staggered backward, bleeding from the spike wounds; Harald growled and followed up with a brutal, horizontal slash that took her down.
Behind him was a ramp leading downward, the Dwemer structures luring Harald forward, when his foot scrubbed against something and he barely avoided stepping fully onto a pressure plate. He gasped and threw himself to the side.
I don’t know what sort of trap that triggers but I do know Dwemer traps can be deadly.
He followed the ramp down and around several corners to where it emptied into a lofty, open hallway. Harald couldn’t suppress a gasp of wonder this time. It was almost an exhibit hall, with stone bases holding pairs of Dwemer constructs, flanking an elegant staircase down. Nearest the stairs were spiders, and behind them spheres in their open, deadly configuration. Behind all of them, on a pedestal tucked into a niche, was a Centurion.
None of the constructs moved, or hissed with steam, or did anything hinting that they were remotely active. Harald moved cautiously toward them, noting the dead Falmer crumpled awkwardly between the spheres. There was also a corpse in mage’s robes, sprawled before the Centurion’s feet as if he’d been trying to climb its platform for some tiny bit of cover. He hadn’t made it.
Harald picked up and read the journal lying next to the corpse, and snorted in disgust. Like him, this person – Erj – had been searching for Dwemer artifacts. Unlike him, the man had intended to become rich selling them to private buyers.
“That didn’t work out too well for you, did it?”
Harald turned left, intending to explore whatever was behind the several closed gates that lined the space, but then discovered that the area was not completely inert, and that he’d been heard. As he neared one of the apertures along the wall, the iris opened and a sphere dropped out, clanking to the floor and then extending itself upright. Another sphere, farther down the landing, followed suit.
“Damn!”
At least they’re not poisoned, he thought as he engaged the nearer of the spheres. It was a simple brawl; he beat on the machines with sword and shield until they fell apart. He ended up bruised and sore, but he was intact and the spheres were not.
I suppose I will have to be more careful about speaking aloud, won’t I? I might have gotten out of here unscathed if not for my own stupid noise.
The staircase ended in a locked gate that, disappointingly, only gave access to the main entry; Harald shrugged and returned to the soggy landing outside the metal doors. There were places he hadn’t been in this city, including an open area directly over the center of the cavern and midway up it. He wandered back and forth around the areas he could get to without swimming, looking for whatever path might work.
I have to get up. One of these ramps has to lead to something that will get me to one of those doors, but I have no idea which one.
He traced all the ramps and bridges with his gaze, over and over, and finally decided that he needed to go back where he’d come from.
I must have missed something in there when I got distracted by all the shiny Dwemer things. I was just too excited to check everything else.
Back into the city and on the uppermost level, beyond where he’d fought the last Falmer spellcaster, was a set of doors he had simply missed before. He drew his blade and prepared his shield, and pushed them open gently, wincing at the grim sight beyond them.
He was indeed on the very platform he’d wanted to reach, but there were blood splatters everywhere and a corpse face-down on a bedroll. This, his journal said, was Krag, the third member of the party Calcelmo had been looking for and apparently the most adventurous of the group, having found the first areas of the city boring. Harald leafed through the journal and snorted. It was apparently Krag who had laid down the fire rune he’d stepped on earlier.
Thanks a lot, Krag. Nearly killed me. I suspect your last moments weren’t boring at all, were they?
Not far from Krag, up the next ramp, was a dead guard. Apparently even a professional soldier hadn’t been able to hold off whichever threat they’d had – mechanical or Falmer.
Harald got to the top and looked back into the cavern. Behind him, now, was another set of metal doors. A rubble-strewn, precarious-looking ramp led up the side of the cavern wall toward a bridge strewn with Falmer corpses; as he peered at it, he realized that this ramp had to be the one he’d leaped onto from the other side. He was seriously tempted to head that way now, leave, and hand the research journals over to Calcelmo.
But I don’t know what’s behind this door and it will make me crazy if I don’t know.
The ruins behind the door were in rough repair. They were also full of Falmer. Around the dogleg corridor beyond, and up at the top of a ramp, Harald spotted an archer just moments before the arrow flew. He batted it away with his shield, pleased with himself that he’d done it, and then sprinted up the ramp to end the Falmer.
He also stepped on a pressure plate on the way up. As his blade bit into the Falmer’s neck, killing her, a cloud of darts flew around – and into – him. He grumbled and pulled them out, then cast healing on himself.
Shor’s bones, I have got to learn to watch where my feet are! Qara would be laughing at me.
He frowned at himself. It was just going to weigh on his mind, the way they’d parted.
It was my fault, too.
Around the next corner Harald spotted two Falmer at the far end of a very long hallway. They were far enough off that taking one down with an arrow would be a huge advantage, and the Nerevarine’s bow might just give him the surprise he needed to do it. He poisoned the bow, took aim on one of the Falmer and shot. He wasn’t a strong enough archer to kill the creature outright, but a quick second arrow finished it off leaving him enough time to raise his blade and shield against the spellcaster waddling toward him. One solid bash and a powerful downward stab from his sword ended her before she could cast anything more than a ward spell.
He moved forward, past the first Falmer he’d seen, and turned left into the next hall. In the center of it, lying flat on his face, was a mage whose diary identified him as Staubin.
That sounds familiar. Didn’t Calcelmo tell me it was Staubin leading the other scholars?
He leafed through the diary, frowning. Staubin had been as impressed with the city being built inside the cavern walls as he was, but he’d purposefully left his students behind to distract the Falmer when they attacked, while he continued on his way. Harald felt himself growing angrier and more disgusted as he read, but then came to a sentence or two that had him stunned.
“The spiders gave us much trouble but who could have foreseen they’ve been the only thing keeping Markarth safe?”
“Safe… from the Falmer?” Harald murmured.
If they were to come swarming out of this place Nimhe would look like a cuddly pet.
He suddenly envisioned the layout of Understone Keep, beyond the excavation. The Keep seemed nearly impregnable from the outside world but if a swarm of death came from within…
They’d all be trapped – the Jarl and all of his retainers, pinned in a room with no exits! It would be bloody slaughter, with the people outside completely in the dark.
Staubin had been trying to reactivate the dormant constructs in order to prevent such a catastrophe when the creatures had gotten to him. “Couldn’t hit switch,” he wrote in a shaky, unsteady hand on the last page.
So he was actually trying to protect Markarth, not just use his students as bait. Well, then, it’s my duty to find that switch and throw it. I can’t leave Markarth open to a Falmer attack, either. The constructs are formidable enough to keep them at bay. At least I hope they are.
Beyond Staubin’s remains was a tall rectangular chamber with stairs hugging its walls. He ran up; but at the first landing four mechanical spiders erupted from those walls and attacked. Harald whirled from one to the next, swatting at them with his shield and sword.
“I thought you were dormant!” he yelped, as though they could actually understand. It was a frantic few minutes until they were reduced to piles of steaming metal bits. At the next landing, a pair of spheres emerged to block his passage. These were much tougher, and having already tired his arms fighting the spiders Harald started to feel panic rising up in his gut. But he was strong, his sword was solid and his uncle hadn’t had him train his shield-work for nothing. He simply beat on the spheres, circling and bashing as needed, until his muscles were screaming – and at last they both lay in pieces on the floor.
Finally, at the top of the very last staircase, a lone spellcasting Falmer attacked. This one had ice spikes; when one of them pierced his shoulder, Harald cried out in pain.
This can’t be where I fall. I can’t leave everyone to face unexpected death…
Incongruously, even as he pushed his shrieking body forward through the deathly cold of the ice his mind served up a memory. Qaralana and Dale Perdeti stood near the bridge in Riften. Dale leaned forward and…
Harald’s mind exploded in the red heat of anger.
No. I can’t die, I have to get back and keep her away from him!
Without conscious design he lifted his shield up behind the Falmer’s head, trapping it in front of him. Then, with a guttural roar, he swept his sword arm forward and back, one fluid and deadly motion that left the Falmer’s neck open, nearly sliced from its body.
The anger had been released with that blow; it drained away from him, leaving him weak. He was bleeding, and his muscles still refused to obey properly, but Harald threw the Falmer to the floor and forced himself into the space the creature had been – the space where a lever sat atop moving, clanking gears and hissing steam. He leaned against the lever, using the weight of his exhausted body to push it forward.
“There, Staubin. I’ve finished it.”
He stood for several minutes, staring down at the dead Falmer in exhausted disbelief, wondering how he’d done such a thing. He’d been in pain, barely able to move, and somehow this creature lay before him, dead. He shuddered, remembering the pile of corpses he’d left outside Cidhna Mine’s secret exit. It was the same thing. He’d killed without truly knowing what he was doing.
It took Harald several minutes of tired plodding to get back to the doorway out into Nchuand-Zel’s cavern. When he stepped through the door he saw, to his surprise, that there were spheres, spiders, and even a Centurion actively engaged in Falmer extermination.
“So many constructs. At least they’ll keep the Falmer at bay for now.”
For the briefest of moments Harald contemplated leaping into the battle, helping the Dwemer machines with the Falmer. But the constructs couldn’t tell whether Harald was friend or foe and it would be certain death for him to get near any of them as tired as he was. Instead, he crept up the rough dirt ramp, dropped down off its end and scurried out of the dwarven city back toward Markarth.
Calcelmo was saddened, but unsurprised, to learn what had happened to Staubin. He gave Harald the funds that had been set aside to pay the scholars, and thanked him.
“Tragic,” he said. “I told him he was leading those people on a fool’s errand. Unfortunately, sometimes the stone of scholarship is built on the foundation of death.”
“Just make sure to let the Jarl know. There’s an entire city of Falmer down there and they’ll kill all of you if they can.”
Harald headed back into the city. He needed food, a hot bath, and a warm bed. He didn’t even care whether it was a bed of stone.
He wanted to understand where the anger came from. The anger that could propel him to acts of incredible violence.