The ship creaked as the winds pushed it over the waves. The dawn was dusty, an orange sky of ash leaden air greeting Gaeolin as he woke. He lay on the deck, staring up at the grey clouds while listening to Gjalund and his crew sing.
“There once was a woman, as fair as an evenin’,
Of springtime in ol’ Stros’ M’Kai,
Her hair shone like gold, her heart gentle beatin’
could be seen in her shining brown eyes,”
The sailors could carry a tune fairly well. The Bosmer closed his eyes as they went on.
“Her lover, t’was said, took to sea to seek fortune,
Her charm hanging proud on his thigh,
But her scarf, badly torn, was all she recovered,
His body long lost as she cried,”
A gust of wind tossed his bangs. He remembered this song. Men at the Fo’c’sle sang it all the time. A tale of warning to those rash in their adventures, reminding them who they left behind on land. Somehow, the shanty seemed oddly appropriate to him in lieu of recent events.
Why had he not summoned Lydia to stay at Lakeview with them? Breezehome would have been safe enough left empty, with how frequently the guards patrolled the plains district. But another part of him wondered if, with six cultists, would one person have made that much of a difference? He let out a sigh, sitting up to take in their surroundings.
Ahead he could see their destination. A large stone wall bordered the city of Raven Rock on the southern side. Gjalund took in the sail expertly, coaxing the ship to turn inward to the docks. Auroth stood, his back cracking as a testament to his uncomfortable seating arrangements. Inigo had to steady himself, a rough wave making him feel more queasy than usual.
“Here it is. Raven Rock…” Gjalund stood next to him, watching his men put out the oars to guide them into the harbor. “Can’t say I’m all that glad to see it again. Good luck in your search,” he offered his hand to help Gaeolin to his feet. “Maybe you’ll be able to figure out what’s going on around here while you search for your kin.” He left to toss some of the mooring bumpers between the ship and the pier. As soon as they lashed to the dock, a Dunmer boarded the ship, bowing to Gjalund.
“Gjalund, my friend! We were expecting you over a week ago. The first councilor and I had feared the worst for you and your men.” He was old. Older than Gaeolin could guess, maybe even holding years over Auroth. His face was lined with wrinkles that told of a lifetime of stress. Gjalund scratched his neck.
“We, uh… We were delayed by bad weather. Before you even ask… Yes, I have the supplies you requested,” the sailor’s face went red, “but…”
The man raised an eyebrow. “But what?”
“This load cost me double what we had agreed on. Nothing I can do about it.”
“Damn it, Gjalund!” The Dark Elf put a hand to his forehead. “You know we don’t have that much coin.”
Gjalund clearly wished he had not brought the issue up. “Look, Adril, the East Empire Company didn’t give me a choice. They’ve raised their prices again, and there is nothing I can do about it.”
Adril drew his hand down to rest on his chin as he thought. “Usstan kampi’un…” [1] He shook his head. “After all these years, they’re gouging us for every last drake we have. Let me talk to Lleril. I’ll see what we can do.”
Gjalund gave a cheerless grin. “All right, Adril. Don’t worry about rushing it. Just pay me when you can.”
“Are you heading to Solitude, Gjalund?” Gaeolin stepped forward. Both the Dunmer and the Captain turned to him.
“Yes, after we settle the matter here. Why do you ask?”
“If you charge the standard price here, I will send you with a letter to Falk Firebeard. I have some influence in Jarl Elisif’s court. I’m sure they would pay you the remainder and allow me to cover it later.”
Adril looked surprised, and partly suspicious. “I don’t recognize you, so I’ll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander. Why would you be so ready to pay the other half for us?”
Gaeolin shrugged. “Because you need it. I don’t need much more reason.” He looked toward the shabby town. “It looks like the settlement isn’t faring well.”
Adril sighed. “You seem to have a gift for understatement.” He bowed, but only a slight gesture. Perhaps he reserved respect due to Gaeolin’s youth. “I am Adril Arano, Second Councilor to Lleril Morvayn. Welcome to Raven Rock.”
Gaeolin bowed in response, taking care to show the most respect possible. “Gaeolin of Woodhearth, at your service.”
“What brings you to Solstheim, sera?”
“I am looking for someone. He would have arrived only a few days ago. He was taken from my home in Skyrim by a group of cultists claiming to follow someone called ‘Miraak’.”
Adril frowned. “Miraak… I… I swear I know the name, but I cannot place it.”
Gaeolin pressed him for more. “Can you tell me anything about him? At the very least, have any Wood Elves arrived recently?”
“I don’t think so. The name has something to do with the Earth Stone, I think. But I’m not sure what.” He shook the thoughts away. “As for other Bosmer, as you said, a group of men arrived just the other night. They had someone with them, though they did not pass through the port. They came along the shore to the west, likely landing along the coast farther up the island. They came in the night to check on the people working on the strange construction there. In the morning, what guards were not entranced to work reported a new man among the enthralled. He may be who you are looking for.” Gaeolin nodded his thanks. He motioned for Auroth and Inigo to follow.
“I want to go to this Earth Stone first. Even if he’s not there, there might be something that can point us in the right direction.” Gaeolin’s face was one of sorrow and concern. “I hope he is okay.”
Inigo tried to cheer him up. “Do not worry, my friend. Faendal is more than capable. I am sure that he is well.”
“I’m sure he is alive.” Auroth added. “However, I would not expect him to be ‘well’. He was taken captive, probably for use as bait to get us here, which we see was successful. I agree that this shrine is likely the best option for us to find him.”
Gaeolin pushed past the Altmer, leading them along the wharf. A light wind stirred the ash on the ground, making him cough. The sunrise stained the horizon, the pale blues and oranges making the sight of the Stone more prominent. As the Councilor had said, there were many people working on the shrine. The arches they built looked like nothing any of them had seen before. Slender, carved in a fashion that inspired thoughts of dark places. Gaeolin had a hand on his sword as the worker’s words met his ears.
“Here in his shrine, that they have forgotten
` Here do we toil, that we might remember
By night we reclaim, what by day was stolen
Far from ourselves, He grows ever near to us”
The words made the hair on his neck prickle. He looked to Auroth, seeing that his friend was also unnerved. He was about to comment when a familiar voice found its way to him. He turned, his face in a wide smile. “Faendal!” He rushed toward the Earth Stone, splashing into the pond to meet the Bosmer.
“Rinne ár súile a dhúileadh uair amháin, a fheiceann muid anois…”[2] Faendal chanted. His eyes were distant, not able to see Gaeolin approaching.
“Faendal, it’s me, Gaeolin…” He even went as far as to take the man by the shoulders, turning him so they were facing each other. Faendal stared, not aware. He turned back to the stone, kneeling in the water to worship at its base.
“Bhí ár lámha aon uair amháin díomhaoin, anois a dhéanann sé trína chéile…”[3] He raised his hands to the sky, but his body began to tremble. Gaeolin looked at his face, seeing the brown eyes locked with his. Something like the light he expected there could be seen, giving away an internal struggle. Despite the threatening tears, he continued the chant. Gaeolin tried to help him stand, but in the process, slipped. He reached out to the stone for support. As soon as he touched it, the world began to blur. A terrible voice filled his head, echoing the words the others spoke.
“And when the world shall listen, and when the world shall see
And when the world remembers, that world will cease to be.”
Gaeolin gasped, the world coming back into focus as he fell into the water. Inigo was at his side instantly, shaking him. “My friend! Are you okay?”
He did not reply, crawling back to Faendal. He had begun the mantra again from the beginning, his face vacant once more. Gaeolin squeezed his arm, his heart frantic. “I will free you. I promise…” He rested his head on his shoulder for a moment, finally backing away. As he made to speak with his friends, a Dunmer ran up to him, scrutinizing him.
“You don’t seem to be in quite the same state as the others. Very interesting. May I ask what it is you are doing here?” He took Gaeolin’s head, moving it so that he could get a better look at his eyes. The Bosmer pushed him away, alarmed by the treatment.
“I’m looking for someone named Miraak. Who are you?”
“Miraak… Miraak… It sounds familiar but I can’t quite place… Oh. Wait. I recall. But that makes very little sense. MIraak’s been dead for thousands of years.” He did not bother identifying himself.
Gaeolin adopted a puzzled expression. “What does that mean? They keep talking about remembering someone. Could they be talking about him?”
The Dark Elf considered the workers. “I’m not sure, but it is fascinating, isn’t it? Perhaps it has some relation to what’s going on here. Quite unexpected.” He turned to face him, looking as though he had far too many thoughts on his mind. “I’m afraid I can’t give you any answers. But there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak’s toward the center of the island. If I were you, I’d look there.” Without another word, he made his way back toward the city, muttering to himself as he went. Auroth followed him with his gaze, an eyebrow cocked.
“Go figure… the Telvanni have always been a headache.”
“Telvanni?” Inigo asked.
“One of the Great Houses of Morrowind. Wizards both genius, and dangerous. I feel like he knows more than he is letting on.” He turned to Gaeolin. “What is the plan? As much as I hate to leave Faendal like this, I think we need to learn more before we can help him.”
Gaeolin nodded. “I agree. So Miraak is dead… could this be someone posing as him? And why would they?” He paced, his nerves thin. “Whoever this is, they are clearly powerful to have so many people ensorcelled. The Dunmer’s advice seems the most sound. We should head for the temple.”
Inigo stepped forward. “Do you not think it would be better to ask around Raven Rock first? The people here have been living with this madman’s schemes for quite a while. We should see if anyone else has information before we leave.”
Auroth leaned on his hammer. “I for one, think this Telvanni Wizard might be of help. He seemed as though he has been studying the effects on the people. Maybe he knows of a way to free Faendal.”
Gaeolin put his hands to his head. “I don’t know!” He sighed, looking to them both. “Listen, we can’t be in all of these places at once. We need to decide where to go first.”
“But we can be,” Auroth slung his hammer onto his back. “I will seek out the wizard. Inigo, you find what there is to know in town, and Gaeolin, you could scout the temple ruins before we moved in on them. We can all meet back here in a few days if we either find what we are looking for, or not.”
Gaeolin had no response. Was it safe for them to split up here? What if more cultists showed up? However, there was no arguing that they could cover more territory if they did. The silence was broken by Inigo.
“Yes! I like the idea. I have no desire to follow that strange man anyway. I will start by asking that Adril fellow if he knows anything more. Surely someone here will know something. If nothing else, I will see about our lodgings. It is very likely we will need to stay here for some time. I would rather not have to camp every night in the ash.”
Gaeolin smirked. “Fine, I suppose this is as good a plan as any.”
Translated Lines:
- I understand.
- Our eyes once were blinded, now through Him do we see…
- Our hands once were idle, now through them does He speak…
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