There was a man in a white fur cloak standing in the road between Chip and Whiterun. Chip frowned. It was fully dark, and while the moons hadn’t changed him this night, he sensed the wolf’s intense desire for another hunt. He fought down the urges, though. He was already a full day late in getting back to Skjor with news about Riften’s former prisoner. He moved to the right, intending to pass the man. The figure in white, however, stepped squarely into his path and smirked.
“Stop right there,” the man said, his voice dripping with threat. “You have quite a bounty in Whiterun. Pay me and I’ll have your name cleared.”
Chip was wholly confused. “Me? Nah. You must have the wrong guy.” How could I have a bounty?
“Oh there’s no mistake. Half-breed kid, black armor, red hair? There aren’t that many of you running around. Now pay up. Or you’ll be worth more to me dead.”
The wolf was yammering at him from within: Let me out. Let me out. Mine. Chip was trying to ignore him, but the whining got louder and louder until the truth dawned on him with horrible clarity. If someone had seen him transform, or consume some poor mis-adventurer… yes, that could explain a bounty. And Chip didn’t trust this random bounty hunter not to kill him while he was trying to count out the coin, much less to actually clear his name if he handed it over.
Screw it.
Without knowing exactly how he did it, Chip turned control over to the wolf to settle the matter. The bounty hunter obviously didn’t know how the bounty had come about. He was utterly panic-stricken when a huge, snarling, red-furred werewolf appeared in the road where the unremarkable boy had been a moment before. The wolf swatted at him three or four times; he screamed first in terror and then in pain. Then he was still; and a few moments later not much of anything remained in the tall grasses to mark where he’d been. The common wolves slunk down the hillside from their den, sniffing the air; and the werewolf backed away, leaving the remainder to them to clean up.
Stronger.
The werewolf’s mental self-congratulations would have seemed almost arrogant to Chip except for the fact that he’d felt it happen. They had become stronger in that moment of consuming the man than they had been the moment before. Chip had been aware of this happening several times now. Each time, he felt closer to something just out of reach.
Ok, wolf. We have to be human, now, to go into town. Go back to sleep. And, uh, well done.
The wolf grinned, panting with its mouth open and tongue hanging out, before the transformation took them both into its grasp once again.
Chip headed for the footbridge near Honingbrew Meadery, breathing deeply of the crisp night air. He wasn’t sure he would ever be truly used to the transformation, or at peace with the notion of being a lycanthrope, but it was getting easier. He felt as though he and his wolf-self were slowly getting more attuned to each other, both aware all of the time.
Skjor was resting on his bed when Chip reached the Jorrvaskr living quarters. It didn’t seem as though he was fully asleep – not surprising given that he, too, was werewolf – so Chip didn’t hesitate to tap him gently on the shoulder.
“I’ve taken care of that problem in Riften,” he said quietly.
Skjor stood and give Chip the closest thing to an actual smile that he’d seen yet. “Excellent. Bit by bit, we bring honor to this land.”
If you say so. Didn’t strike me as an overly honorable job.
“And you brought honor to the Companions,” Skjor continued. “More importantly, some gold.”
He handed Chip a small coin purse. Chip stared at it ruefully.
“So it’s money before honor?” The words slipped out before he could stop himself, and he glanced up at Skjor, hoping he hadn’t overstepped.
“It might seem that way, the way I put it. But we do the jobs others won’t, and we need funds to keep Jorrvaskr up. You rid the world of a pest. That’s what really matters.” He ran a hand over his mostly-bald head. “You’re just in time, though. Another job. I was afraid I was going to have to do this one myself.”
“Oh?”
“You remember that steel war axe you brought back? It seems the second son decided it was his turn to lose it in a cave. He barely made it out with his skin, much less the axe. Of course it would be with a group of wizards, and who knows what kind. It’s in a place called Southfringe Sanctum, right down on the border. I’m trusting you on this one.”
Chip chuckled. “I think I’m glad I don’t know which family this is.”
“Right. I expect the sons have both been flayed – verbally, anyway. Off you go.”
The wind was howling and the falling snow made it much darker than he’d have expected. Chip was half-Nord, of course, and so had some resistance to cold; but even so he was shivering by the time he approached the crackling brazier that marked Southfringe Sanctum. The man in mage robes, deep at work at an alchemy table just beside the entrance, didn’t seem to notice him; perhaps the wind covered his passage. Chip waited there for a moment; then the cold and wind drove him into the cave.
Once inside he shook off some snow and looked around. He was in a passage that had probably been carved by water at some point deep in the past; the ceilings were high and the walls had the twisting, curving shapes that said they’d been formed by long, eternally-patient forces. Now, though, lanterns placed along the path spoke of human occupation. So did the quite unexpected appearance of a mage who crossed in front of Chip and disappeared down a tunnel as Chip froze, his heart pounding.
He had to force himself to take a breath.
By the Eight that startled me! He obviously didn’t hear me. Maybe Delvin taught me to sneak better than I thought!
He dropped into a crouch and followed the man until he stopped in front of a closed gate. When the mage turned around, the motion of his cape drew Chip’s attention to a rune on the gate itself. He frowned. He was going to have to deal with the mage and then muster up what small amount of magicka he could to detonate the rune from a safe distance.
I’m not a flipping mage. But it’s that or explode going through the door.
Once again, oddly, the mage didn’t seem to notice him. He started walking slowly in Chip’s direction, and even when Chip drew his bow didn’t react. Chip backed up, slowly, and then loosed the arrow. The mage fell dead.
“What an idiot,” Chip murmured, poking the body with a toe. “Don’t get so lost in your own thoughts that you can’t see danger right in front of you.” He sighed. “Now then…”
In theory, he knew how to cast the ice spike spell. The spike would be very weak and its range unfortunately short, but as long as he aimed well it should be enough to trip the rune. He readied the spell in his left hand and cast it; and his jaw dropped open for a moment at the magnitude of the icy explosion that followed.
Whoever placed that rune is an advanced mage. I’d better be careful.
He pushed the gate open and peered around the large, multi-level cavern on its other side. A path led up a ramp and out of eyeshot to the right. He followed it slowly, surprised that he was on old cobble roadway. When a small, black fox ran across the road and out onto one of the terraces, he turned to follow it.
“Never should have come here!” a woman yelled from his right, near the top of the space. Chip readied his bow, but before he could swivel to locate the woman who had taunted him, a second spellsword dashed out from behind a huge tree, casting an armor spell on himself.
Chip loosed the arrow he had nocked, but the man was moving too quickly and it flew harmlessly into the undergrowth. He grabbed his blades instead, followed the mage down off the ledge and onto the roadway, and stepped forward to deliver a single heavy blow with Grabber; a blow that sliced through the flimsy robe and dropped the mage.
A shock spell struck him from his left. Chip yelped in pain and ran back up onto the terrace, while the mage cackled that she would enjoy killing him. It took him a few moments, ducking and dodging the barrage of spells from above and trying not to trip over the black fox at his feet, before he found a way up to where she was. Finally, the woman stepped out from behind the largest of the trees and tried to take him down not with a spell, but with a sword. She took a huge swing at him and missed horribly.
Ran out of magicka, did you? What a shame.
Chip rolled forward under the sword’s reach, and came up with daggers flying. The mage’s power was returning – he could see sparks gathering in her left hand – but he didn’t give her enough time to develop a complete spell. He delivered two flurries of strikes and the woman finally dropped to the ground.
He took time to catch his breath before pushing forward. He hopped down from the ledge onto the roadway, and moved slowly along it with his bow at the ready. As he was getting a good look at the area a voice whispered “Did you hear that?” from his left. Tucked away between two outcroppings was an alchemy table; the woman who had been using it straightened, cast an armor spell, and called out “you can’t hide from me!” before slipping down the road with a crackling spell in one hand and a staff in the other.
She walked right past him.
Perplexed though he was, Chip still wasn’t going to give her the option of sneaking up behind him. He swiveled, aiming as she moved, and when he loosed his arrow it struck her cleanly and ended her.
Either I blend in perfectly or these people have gone blind.
The road passed the alchemy table and led to another tall, locked gate. It was a very standard lock, only a minor deterrent to entry, and Chip picked it open easily. He swung the gates apart and eased forward. The path, still paved, dropped down and curved back to the right, emptying into a tall cavern littered with stone debris. Chip spotted an enchanting table across the way. Standing before it was a bulky male, perhaps Orc judging by the size and shape of him. Chip watched for a moment, and then fired an arrow at the figure.
For a split second there was no reaction, and Chip was afraid he’d missed. He readied another arrow and loosed it just as the man yelped and turned to face him. It was an Orc, a big one, and he was not happy at being peppered with dwarven arrows.
“No!” he cried, casting a healing spell and then raising a ward spell in front of him; but wards couldn’t deflect arrows, and Chip fired another one, staggering the Orc. A fourth arrow struck the Orc in the head; he crumpled over backwards, soundlessly.
Chip knelt and examined the body, relieving it of several jeweled necklaces and a magical staff that he was confident could be sold. Then he investigated the area. Tucked behind a rock and mostly hidden by a bush was a chest; and, as expected, the steel war axe was among the things in it.
He took the axe and shook his head. “Maybe these fools will display the axe and keep it out of occupied caves now. I’m getting tired of fetching it for them,” he muttered.
The light from a brazier tucked into a gap in the cavern walls drew him away. There was another exit from the cavern, this one a simple tunnel hacked out from the stone.
Might as well see what else is in here while I’m here. I’m not likely to come back any time soon.
The passage wound through the rock and emptied onto a steep ramp overlooking another path, on which stood a mage with his back to Chip. Chip quietly drew an arrow, and dropped the mage. He wanted to feel bad about killing the man, especially from behind; but he knew with a certainty that he’d have been under attack if the mage had seen him first. He passed through the narrow opening beneath a fallen piece of stonework, and was startled to find another gate, with another mage guarding it. Like the others, this woman didn’t seem to notice his approach at all, and like the others she fell to a single arrow.
Wooden steps led from the cavern floor to the top of the gate wall, and he decided to go up them before opening the gate. There had to be a reason they were there. The tiny platform at the top of the steps had several large, spiked logs blocking anyone from falling off. They also served another purpose, Chip decided as a glob of frostbite venom collided with one of the spikes instead of hitting him. He dispatched the spider that had spat at him, but frowned. There was nothing else in the circular chamber beyond the gate but ramps, leading both up and down. One frostbite spider was definitely not reason enough to erect a stockade fence blocking the exit.
What else is down here?
He opened the gate and headed for the ramp leading upward, but as he neared it, movement just below caught his eye. There was another spider there; Chip shot quickly but wildly, the arrow clattering down somewhere below them. He growled and took a more careful aim, killing the spider with his second shot. He crept past the carcass and into an opening, almost a hallway, and looked to his left. Up a small rise and tucked into an alcove was a figure, trapped by spider webs and dangling just in front of a huge egg sac. She turned to look at him, as best she could.
“Please cut me down!” she cried, with a tinge of desperation in her voice.
“Y-yeah, sure. Of course! Give me a second,” he said, drawing one of his blades and hoping he could sever the webs without cutting her. “Try not to move. I don’t want to slice you by mistake.”
It took only two swipes of Grabber before the Dunmer woman fell to her knees, free of the webs. She stood and shook herself off.
“Thanks for getting me out of that. Bashnag’s coven chased me out and left me for dead down here. Nobody lasts too long with the spiders. Please, will you help me get out of here? If the coast is clear I’ll make a break for it.”
Chip nodded, slowly. “Sure. No problem. But… a coven, you say? What kind of coven is it? Or was it, I guess; they’re all dead now. I think.”
“Bashnag’s circle of mages,” she said. “We – well, they – live here. This is a dangerous bunch. Bashnag has the skill of a magister and the mind of a warlord. They’re good company if you want to study necromancy in peace, though.” She heaved a heavy sigh, and shrugged. “They made it pretty clear that I’m no longer welcome. I left for a few days in Riften. When I came back, Bashnag accused me of trying to sell him out to the Thalmor. I was cursed and chased off.”
Chip snorted. “The Thalmor? In Riften? Nah. I’m from Riften. I don’t think there’s been a Thalmor seen in Riften since I was just a kid.”
She sighed. “My daughter was sent to the orphanage there when I was accused of illegal necromancy. I had no choice. Run, or die. I joined with Bashnag then, but I thought of Savela every day. So, I snuck away hoping to find and steal away with her. Only she was gone – shipped away to another orphanage, or adopted, or…” She shrugged her shoulders with an air of resignation. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I came back hoping nobody noticed I’d left.”
Chip couldn’t help but feel bad for her. Honorhall wasn’t a nice place and rumors said it had been horrific back in the old days. “Obviously they noticed. I’m sorry. How are you holding up?”
She flexed her hands a few times, as if preparing to cast a spell, and frowned. “I won’t be myself for some time. I just need to get out of here and recover.”
“OK.” Chip stroked his chin for a moment, trying to decide how to say what he needed to. She’s a necromancer, not some wilting flower type. Just say it. “I’m assuming Bashnag was the only Orc in here?”
She nodded.
“Well, he’s dead now. I think I cleaned the whole place out on my way in. My condolences, I guess?”
“He is?” She drew in a breath, and when she spoke again her voice quavered. “I’m, uh, not sure how to feel about that. Perhaps it’s for the better.” She shook her head again. “I’m… too weak right now. Bashnag cursed me. I can’t cast a spell to save my life. I’ll have to wait until the way out is safe.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure the coven’s not an issue anymore,” Chip told her, “and I killed a couple of big spiders on the way to finding you. But I’ll go check and make sure it’s all clear. Hang tight.” When he saw the look on her face, Chip laughed. “Well, not hang, exactly. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He took the few steps back down to the passage and glanced left, and sighed. There was an opening at the end of the tunnel, and the wriggling movements beyond it spoke of at least two more frostbite spiders, possibly more. He crept a bit closer to the tunnel’s end, just far enough to get a good line of sight on the first spider, and shot. It dropped immediately, and the movements that followed showed him two more spiders.
At least two more.
He caught one off-guard as it scuttled past the doorway, and killed it. When he pushed closer, to see where the other had gone, he was dismayed to see both it and another of the same size rushing up from the ramp beyond. Worse yet, a very large spider, probably the matron, descended from the ceiling to join them.
The next few minutes were a blur – literally as well as figuratively, as twice he was caught square in the face by venom delivered by the smaller spiders. He kept firing and backing, side-stepping and firing again, not daring to stop and switch weapons or do anything aside from try to squash these beasts as quickly as possible. He finally heard the huge spider fall with a resounding splat. He headed across the chamber to check the descending ramp and was unpleasantly surprised by one more glob of venom in the face, and one last smaller-sized spider joining the fray from below. This time he drew his blades, and took grim satisfaction in burying the smaller blade into its brain.
“Yuck,” he muttered, spitting to clear any venom from his mouth and then wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. “Disgusting.” And I’d better check to make sure that was really the last of them. That was a lot of spiders, and I already killed a couple on the way in. I’d hate to be surprised, what with her being wounded.
He made a full circuit of the complex, double-checking that he’d been in all the nooks and crannies, before returning to the mage.
“It’s safe now,” he told her. “Good thing you warned me about the spiders, because it sure wasn’t safe before. I’m pretty sure you can make it now, though. I’ll stick close behind you just in case. Or, well, not stick, precisely. You know what I mean.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I just want you to get out of here in one piece.”
She nodded. “Thank you. When I find my daughter, it will be thanks to you.”
She didn’t smile, and Chip really couldn’t blame her. Her companions were dead, and had died thinking she was a traitor. She hadn’t been able to prove herself to them, and she was still without her daughter. And she couldn’t cast. Chip didn’t particularly like necromancers, but he couldn’t hold her profession against her, especially under the circumstances. At least she was free, now. He followed her as she dashed through the mounds of dead spiders and up the ramps, out into the very cold fresh air. Then he stood quietly for a moment, thinking. He’d come to rescue an axe and had rescued a person, as well.
“Sometimes, that is the business, eh Da?” He smiled and started down the cold trail back to Whiterun.
Skjor was sitting in a corner in Jorrvaskr’s living area when Chip approached him and held out the family heirloom. He grinned.
“Home again,” he said.
Skjor took the axe and nodded. “And it looks undamaged. They’ll be pleased, I’m sure.” He handed Chip another small sack of coin. “And we’re pleased with their money.”
“I’ll be more pleased if I never have to go searching for that thing again,” Chip smirked. He cast his glance past Skjor, through the doorway, and saw Vilkas and Kodlak sitting at the small table in the corner. More importantly, to his mind, he saw Farkas standing closer to him. “Thanks, Skjor,” he said, and approached Farkas.
I’d like to think that if Da had been a werewolf, he’d be like Farkas. But he’d probably have been bitter, like Vilkas.
“Hey, Farkas,” he said, smiling at the welcoming grin on Farkas’ face. “Got any work for a whelp?”
Farkas nodded. “Oh there’s always trouble out in the Reach, but a local warlord has raised the stakes. We have to handle the situation.”
“I haven’t been out there since…” Chip trailed off. Since the first time I turned. “Anyway, what have you got?”
“Rogue wizards,” Farkas grimaced. “I’ve never trusted magic types. The College is bad enough. Destroy them.”
Chip sighed. More killing. That is the job, though, so I’m going to assume it’s a good choice. Farkas wouldn’t mislead me.
“Will do,” he said. “After a quick nap.”
“Good,” Farkas told him. “Do not spare them your blade.”
Chip had spent a fair amount of time in the Reach but had never before seen the ruin called Harmugstahl. It looked like an old Imperial fortification tucked into the side of the mountains, well out of the way of anything else.
A perfect place for a rogue anything to hide, really.
The wooden door opened to a narrow dirt tunnel. Maybe this had been some kind of grand entrance once, but it had long since been filled in by collapsing mountainside, and then partially excavated. Chip crouched and worked his way down the tunnel, and then paused at the sound of battle. He stepped out into the open just in time to see an Imperial take down a common frostbite spider.
Spiders again? Great.
The man sheathed his weapon, and stepped toward Chip. “Whew, that was a close one,” he said.
“Spiders?”
“I don’t know what’s going on here but this place is full of them. Every one I’ve encountered has been enchanted, or the like. Look, I’m getting out of here. Normally, spiders make my skin crawl, but enchanted spiders?” The man shuddered visibly. “Ugh!”
“Thanks for the warning,” Chip said as the man dashed for the doorway. Then he turned to examine the spider. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it; in fact, it wasn’t even particularly large.
I wonder what he was talking about.
There was a second dead spider nearby. Chip knelt to examine it and to pull out the arrow still lodged in its body. As he did, the carcass burst into flames; Chip had to scramble back out of the way and nearly ended up on his backside.
“Flaming spiders? What the… No wonder that guy was nervous!” He watched the body burning and thought about Farkas’ giving him this job. “Yeah,” he murmured just under his breath. “Nobody needs flaming spiders.”
The crumbling room he was in had only one usable exit besides the one to the outside world, although Chip could see others blocked by fallen debris. He went through the one usable opening into dingy corridors that wound back and forth, deeper into the complex. There was another good-sized room, full of enough soil and moisture that ferns grew in its center. One well-lit corner of the space housed a worktable, with potions and a dead spider resting on top. He stared at the spider, wondering about it, and then harvested one of its venom sacs.
It burst into flame. He stepped back and stared as the body – but, thankfully, nothing around it – was consumed.
On the opposite side of the room, the corridor downward was blocked by bars. There was a lever, though, mounted prominently on the wall just beside the door. Chip pulled the lever and stepped back in case it was a trap, but the bars dropped harmlessly into slots in the floor.
Odd that the lever is just right there. Maybe they’re meant to keep something on the lower level in, not to keep people like me out.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what might need keeping in.
Below the bars was a cavern. It might have been part of the fortress, at some point far in the past; but the ground was soil, not pavers, plants grew throughout the space, and there were rough-hewn stone walls hugged by roots. What did look like old Imperial construction was a platform before another doorway. At least three ranks of bars, all set at different angles, blocked the passage.
The platform held four levers, all pointing forward. Chip looked at them, and looked at the bars, and sighed. There would be no simple one-lever opening of this passage.
As he had expected, each lever either lowered or raised different sets of bars, but there was no partial positioning that would let him squeeze through. He would have to get them all down. He spent what felt like a lifetime fiddling with the four levers in different combinations. At some point he had them all pointing forward again, and his temper was fraying.
“Gods damn it all. If not for Farkas I’d just walk away from this mess.” He angrily grabbed at levers at random, back and forth. Finally swatting at the two center levers and pushing them forward, he was ready to give up when he heard an odd, metallic noise. He looked up in amazement as two of the nearest vertical bars slowly retracted, followed by the whooshing movement of all the rest.
I have no idea what I did, but I don’t care. I’m going before it changes its mind.
Beyond the bars was a succession of medium-sized rooms. One of them had an alchemy station, on which was a journal revealing that its owner had been experimenting on the spiders by injecting a “serum.” Smaller spiders died; bigger ones did not. Chip shuddered. They might be pests, but they didn’t deserve having their very bodies changed against their wills.
No more than I do.
He continued on through a broken wall to another space filled with soil, plants – and spiders. He killed three of them before clearing webs from the passage and continuing up two levels, to a balcony overlooking a very large chamber with several floor-to-ceiling cages and a mage peering into them.
“Let’s see if this works. Perhaps some more glow dust in the next batch of potion. That should increase their resistance,” the mage said. Chip sneered, and moved as silently as he could to pull a potion of his own from a pouch.
Finally. Let’s see now, perhaps a little potion of lingering health damage on my arrow. That should decrease your resistance.
It took only three very closely-spaced arrows to rid the world of the mage. A key on his body let Chip into his private rooms, but also opened a larger door that Chip assumed must be the way out.
It was; but in the room beyond the door were two of the largest spiders Chip had ever seen. The first of them had an aura of frost about it; he stood well away from the door, grateful for his archery skills, and unloaded arrows into it until it dropped. The second spider glowed with an electrical charge. Again, he wanted nothing to do with getting close to that creature. Fortunately, it took him only two arrows to kill.
He edged into their chamber slowly and carefully, looking up at the ceiling just in case there was something else waiting for him. There wasn’t, though; and he dashed up the stairs and out into the night gleefully. As the door closed behind him, he thought of Farkas and laughed.
No wonder he was so glad to give this job to me.