Chapter Eighty

Darkness crowded them as Gaeolin andAuroth made their way through the ever changing maze of Hermaeus Mora’s library. What light there was bore a strange green tint to it. The Altmer gripped his hammer as if his life depended on it. Gaeolin led the way, His bow was ready, though he left his arrows in their quiver. The walls and ceiling they walked through were made almost exclusively out of books. Most of them were in terrible condition. The Wood Elf couldn’t help but wonder what Mora was thinking, to store his books in such a damp

environment. “For someone who hoards knowledge, I expected something a bit better kept.”

Auroth grunted. “To the Princes, physical condition isn’t very important. I’m certain that what we are seeing here is simply an illusion of books. They likely only exist whenever we choose to touch one. Mora only cares for the information inside these tomes. He can have that without possessing a single volume.”

It seemed as though they had been walking for hours before they emerged into a large courtyard. Rather, that seemed the best thing to call the place. There were high walls, each end of the area displaying massive wrought iron windows. No glass rested between the metal branches. The sky was above them with no ceiling to hinder their view of the putrid, rolling green clouds. There was a closed gate across from them, a large podium beyond which held a massive tome. The pair had just begun to approach it, when the silence was

shattered by an unearthly wail.

A seeker appeared in their path. The writhing tentacles reached toward them

along with the thin, frail arms. Nails like talons emerged from the beasts fingers, and from its chest chattered a hideous, four jawed mouth. From the center of this orifice emerged a sharp beak. It dripped of green gelatinous pus, making the pair stifle their gag reflexes. Auroth moved first, sending a ball of fire across the stones. The creature was hit, the screaming more shrill following the attack. Gaeolin nocked an arrow, sending it to stick where he presumed the creature’s eyes should be. It found the mark, causing the monstrosity to collapse into a pile of leathery skin and noxious vapor.

Auroth approached with caution. It could be some sort of trick. He reached out with the haft of his hammer. He grimaced at the sound the substance made. “Delightful…” The weapon hit something solid among the puddle of goo. Despite his distaste for it, Auroth plurged his hand into the remains to retrieve the object. He pulled out a book. Surprisingly, it was in near mint condition.

“Magic From the Sky, Irlav Jarol. Nice. I’ll hold on to this.” He tucked the book into his bag. “At the very least, this place might prove its worth by filling out the blank places in my collection.”

Gaeolin pulled his arrow out of the muck, trying his best to shake off as much of the substance as he could. “These creatures are the most bizzare things I’ve ever seen.”

The High Elf gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Then you should brace yourself. I’m absolutely sure that we have only seen the bare minimum that this place has to offer.” He hung his hammer on his back, walking to the gate nearby. There was no obvious way to open it. He could see no lock, sense no magical seal on the door itself, nor any conventional levers or buttons that would trigger the mechanism. The only thing of note was a strange, flower like form. It had eight petals. They were the same, sickly green colour as the rest of this cursed place. Out of the center of the blossom rose a single, pulsing yellow stamen. It was as close to an example of beauty that they had seen so far. Auroth reached out tentatively, gently prodding the terdril with a finger. lt retracted into the bloom, the gate swinging open as it disappeared from view.

The pair made their way to stand in front of the book. Gaeolin had never seen anything quite as chaotic as the glyphs that swam below the surface of the pages. He turned to his friend. “Do you recognize any of this?”

The Altmer shook his head. “Not a bit. It’s hard to say what writing this could be. Mora is a Daedric Prince, with access to realms and realities we know nothing about.” As he said this, the ink began to change, winding into new characters. Soon, they formed into something far more familiar. “Wait, this is Daedric runework. Give me a minute.” He scrutinized the text, brow wrinkled in concentration. “I think it says ‘chapter two’. I have no idea what that means though.”

Gaeolin cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe this is how we move forward? Toward the exit?” He reached out, letting his gloved hand rest on the aged parchment of the book. The air crackled with thunder. The ink ran toward the spine, swirling into an ever darkening mass at the exact center of the book. Gaeolin could feel the familiar pull of the strange magic. In an instant, Auroth watched as his friend was absorbed into the pages.

Gaeolin held his breath as he flew. It was as if he were being pulled through a tube, papers and books swirling around him as he passed. He began to slow, feeling the pull of gravity on him getting stronger. He used every muscle he had to spin himself to land on his feet. Before him stood another of the strange flowers. He reached out, brushing his palm against it. 

As the plant shied away, the walls of the tube he stood in folded down to reveal yet another large, open area. With a sound like a strong breeze, Auroth faded into existence beside him. The High Elf also landed on his feet, though with less grace than his woodland friend. He seemed to be fighting the urge to wretch.

“I’ve always hated flying. Never could understand why anyone would want to…” 

The pages floated up toward the sky. ‘They congregated into a swarm, the fluttering sourd they made oddly threatening. A loud, throaty rumble called the adventurers back to the ground. From a wriggling mess of tentacles rose a lurker. The abomination roared when it saw them, slashing with the limbs in a wide arc. Gaeolin was able to roll free in time, but the slimy tendrils caught Auroth on his neck.

The Altmer let loose a cry of agony. His golden skin began to writhe with grotesque black lines. He clenched his free hand, letting out short breaths as he brought his hammer up in his right hand. “You’ll never take my mind, beast!” He brought the weapon down with all of his strength. A burst of pure white light erupted from the contact point. The lurker shrieked in pain as the holy light fought against its very nature. “We will cast your poison back into the murky depths where they belong!” He brought his left hand around, a huge ball of flames dancing between his fingers. He tossed the flames as hard as he could. When the orb struck the beast, it began to wrap around its body. The fire took hold in every crevice. Gaeolin did not wait for the spell to finish, sacrificing a few projectiles to continue the assault.

The lurker was far from finished. It vanished in a sudden burst of murky water, Though they could not see it, the pair could still hear its wicked growls. It merged from hiding, running at Gaeolin with glowing orange eyes. The Bosmer waited until it was nearly upon him. At the last moment, Gaeolin lunged to his right, narrowly avoiding the creature’s attack. As it was turning, he brought his next shot to bear. With the twang of his string, the arrow flew with the conviction of its masters will. It struck the lurker in the side of its skull with a resounding crack. The monstrosity wailed, devolving into a similar puddle to its seeker counterparts. Gaeolin snarled as he watched it fade, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.

“You okay?” Auroth staggered to stand with him. He looked as though he were going to be sick. “We should rest for a moment.”

Gaeolin was in no state to disagree. As he inspected his companion. “What of you? Are you going to be okay? What was it that beast was doing to you?”

Auroth retrieved his pipe from his pack. “Mora’s minions are masters at gathering information. The lurker was trying to take my mind from me. I may not know as much as its master, but there are still Altmeri secrets I’m sure they would love to try and get from me.” He chuckled as he lit the herbs in the bowl. “Mind you, I do not know anything worth taking. However, the acquisition of knowledge is their very reason for being.”

“You will be alright, though?”

The mage chewed on the stem slightly. “In a few moments. For now, I am shaken. I also am having a little trouble channeling my magicka. A rest, smoke, and perhaps a snack will have me back in top form in no time.”

They ate in silence, the sounds of waves hitting the walls and the turning of distant pages making them anxious. After a while, Auroth looked to his friend. “What do you think about all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Making a deal with Hermaeus Mora. Considering your last run in with Daedric magics, I expected more hesitation from you.”

Gaeolin looked up at the sky. It was an almost blindingly bright green now. “I’m not thrilled about it, if that’s what you mean. Of course I wish there was another way. But I don’t think there is.” He pulled his legs in close, embracing them in a frightened way. “You weren’t there when I saw him. He was so powerful. Even in whatever state he is in, he was able to swat away my thu’um as if it were nothing. He has the creatures of this realm on his side. And from what we have learned, I have to think that the dragon he was riding is actually his slave. How can I face someone with power like that?”

“The same way you faced all of your enemies who out classed you. You are crafty, and more importantly you are not alone.”

“What difference do numbers make?” Gaeolin looked at him. Auroth was taken aback by the expression he saw. His friend was frightened to the point of tears. “If he bends you to his will… Any of you… Then I will be alone. I have to have his power. Not because it is bow I will beat him outright. It’s how I will keep you all safe. It is the only way to counteract his hold on people. If it weren’t for that, I would have turned the Woodland Man’s offer away.”

Auroth exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I understand. Just promise me something,” He tapped the spent tobacco out on the sole of his boot, “Don’t let him have more than you agreed to.”

They traveled on through the maze of books for hours. The seekers were everywhere. Every time they fought one, they found more examples of pristine books. By the time they had moved on to the next warp tome, Auroth had to concede that there was no way for him to collect any more of them. They passed through strange, bending halls. One of these ended up looping back on itself in an attempt to trap and confuse them. At long last, the two mer found themselves staring across a precipice. On the other side stood the largest book they had seen yet. With another touch of a flower, the mysterious iron that made up the bridges and walls rolled out to create a path to the podium. Gaeolin walked toward the book slowly. It was massive. Its cover was blistered and had a few eyes hidden amongst the carved tentacles of its panel. They blinked at him as he pried the pages open. A rush of power flared, making Auroth eye the tome with worry. The same strange script swam over the paper as the ink pooled in three places on the page spread.

“Child of the Dragonblood, you have done well to make it this far through my master’s library. You are truly powerful, though you do not yet know the half of your gifts. I can offer to bring you closer to your full potential. Which of the mighty skills would you see elevated?” From one of the inky voids shone an illusion of Gaeolin in the woods of Falkreath. He appeared to be meditating. “With the dragon flames of old, your thu’um will be the very avatar of fire. None could withstand the heat of your rage.” The vision of himself let loose his shout, the entire forest being consumed by the inferno in moments. “Or perhaps you wish to commune with the guardians of frost, much as your foe Iizyolviing? The breath of frost will freeze fast, encasing any before you in an icy tomb that could outlast even the oldest of glaciers.” Another image of the Bosmer formed from the ink. This time, he shouted at a Thalmor Justiciar. The robed elf was immediately frozen solid. The wizard seemed enshrined in the ice, perfectly preserved in death. “Or still yet, I could raise the force of your tongue, giving you the strength to shatter the mountains themselves.” This illusion was facing a large boulder. He took in his breath, unleashing the unrelenting force shout. It blasted against the stone, reducing it to rubble under its power. Gaeolin felt a lump in his throat. He truly did not want any of these powers. They all seemed so terrible.

“I do not want to be a force of destruction…”

The book replied, sounding as if it pitied him. “In the end, your fate can only shape the world through how you use your might. No matter what you do, or where you go, you will destroy,. All has been recorded, and it will be written again. It is through your decisions that you may move the pen of the scribe. Do not deny your roll in the turning of the wheel.”

Gaeolin was pale. What did this all mean? Putting the mystery from his mind, he reached out to touch the aspect of flame. As the green light wound up his arm, he could see the plane of Apocrypha fading around them. After seconds that seemed like hours, He and Auroth found themselves standing once again in Tel Mithryn. The others stared at them, Faendal moving to catch him as he collapsed.