Inigo left the home with his tail twitching. He had only been on his self appointed mission for a few hours, and already he was growing frustrated. Adril, nor Lleril knew anything about Miraak, aside from the same vague familiarity the rest of the people they had run into claimed. He flicked his ears, trying to expel the invasive ash. He was making his way past the smithy when he overheard an interesting conversation.
“Did you hear that Crescius is trying to go down into the mine again?”
“Crazy old man… Poor Aphia always gets upset when he talks such nonsense. I hope someone can talk some sense into him.”
Some trouble? Inigo wondered what in the mine could be so valuable. From what the Second Councilor had said, the mine had been dry for a long time. Would Gaeolin mind if he took the time to help this man out? Maybe there was something he would learn along the way. He reached down to his belt, retrieving the jar that hung there.
“What do you think, Mr. Dragonfly? Who knows? Maybe there is some clue to this whole Miraak business down there.”
Mr. Dragonfly hovered a bit higher in his jar, his exoskeleton glinting in the afternoon sunlight.
“True, I know it is far fetched.” Inigo looked over to the entrance of the mine. “But I’m running out of leads here. Do you have a better idea?” The insect settled onto the bottom of the jar, his wings fluttering in a muted way. “Very well. Until we find something to work with, we might as well try to earn the trust of the people here.” He tied the jar safely onto his belt, setting off toward the mines with a spring in his step.
As soon as he entered, he began to question whether he wanted to do this. The khajiit walked forward with hesitation toward the arguing couple that waited inside.
“Damn it, woman! I said leave me be!” The man Crescius was getting up in years. His wrinkled features were set in anger. His wife stood behind him, her arms crossed.
“Crescius, the last time you went down into the mine, you nearly fell to your death. I’m not going to spend the rest of my days as a widow!”
“And I’m telling you I’ll do whatever it takes to find my Great-Grandfather’s remains. There down here somewhere, I can feel it!”
“That was almost two centuries ago. There might not be anything left to find.”
“I said, leave me be!” He glared at Inigo when he came into view. “Who in the blazes are you? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Doing what? All I have seen so far is a fair bit of arguing, and not much else of note.” He twitched his whiskers. “You are looking for your ancestor’s remains? After all this time, why now? What makes the search more important than the feelings of your lovely wife?”
“Why should I tell you? I don’t even know who you are?” The old man looked as though he were partially enjoying the confrontation. Inigo grinned, deciding he found the man’s abrasive attitude endearing.
“Because I am a strong, handsome young adventurer, who would like nothing more than to help you find your lost family member.” He put on his most charming smirk. “It would allow you to search for him, without having to risk sleeping in the ash on your return.”
Crescius considered him. “Hmm… Maybe. It’s been difficult trusting people lately. They all say I’ve gone crazy.”
Inigo chuckled. “Do not worry, people have said the same about me. I think people just get jealous of the fact that I see things that they do not.”
The old man smiled. “Then perhaps you could help me. I think I have the missing link. Aphia and I were cleaning out the house, and came across some things of my Great-Grandfather’s, locked away in a chest. It contained an unsent letter to the East Empire Company, and a key.”
“What did the letter say?” Inigo had his ears perked in fascination. “If he felt the need to write, there must have been something interesting down in the mines.”
Crescius’ expression brightened. “It detailed a discovery that the East Empire would have loved to claim. I don’t know the details, but I know he was asked to investigate it. They key is to a deeper part of the mines that I have been unable to reach.”
“I would be happy to explore the mines for you. Honestly, it will be nice to take a break from my fruitless search for Miraak.”
Crescius’ brow furled. “Miraak… It’s so strange. It sounds so familiar, but I have no idea why.”
“It seems a common ailment among the villagers,” Inigo mused. “I have not yet encountered anyone who has not been affected by this oddly specific type of amnesia.”
“That, I can’t say. Be careful down there. I’d hate to be responsible for your death.”
Inigo smiled. “I’ve lived through a lot that I should not have. Do not worry, I am a professional.” He bowed to Crescius and his wife. He turned, heading down into the mines.
The wood smelled old. Unimaginably old… The catwalks groaned in a less than comforting way. His tail swayed to help him balance on some of the rickety platforms. The darkness did little to hinder him, his eyes taking in the sparse light quite expertly. True to Adril’s word, all of the walls had been picked clean of ore. From the scent, the crags had once held rich ebony deposits. He thought for a moment about searching for any stray gems, but a sound below caused him to abandon the idea.
He drew Dawnbreaker, the weapon’s golden light spreading through the narrow tunnel. It lit the lower path, revealing a sight that coaxed a squeal of delight from the Khajiit.
Three spiders scuttled up from the depths. Inigo leapt forward, his sword coming down on the legs of the first arachnid. His teeth shone in delight at the squishing sound. The other two spiders seemed to look at their wounded brother, turning to scuttle back into their hiding places. “Hey! Come back here, so I can squash you!” He ran after them, laughing as he dispatched them with gusto. “Can you believe our luck, Mr. Dragonfly? Hopefully there are more spiders to squash down here.” He kept his sword ready as he went. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad.
It did not take long for this hopefulness to fade. The rough cut mine shafts turned to the carved halls of Nordic Ruins. His steps grew small, his grip on the holy sword tightening. “Keep your voice down,” he whispered to the dragonfly, “let us not wake any of these fellows.” He maintained a crouch, careful to step in dry places. He held his breath as his balance began to play up. He squirmed to avoid an urn. He succeeded, only to land in a puddle of standing water. The splash resonated through the hall, sounding as loud as an army to him. His eyes grew wide as a creaking of bones rose from the alcoves.
A draugr shambled forth from a recess ahead. Inigo shook at the sight of it, the matted hair and desiccated skin making his fur stand on end. The armor it wore was blackened with age. It gripped an axe at it’s hip while an orb of frost rolled in the other hand. Despite being silent, Inigo knew he had been detected. The undead turned to him, an unearthly croaking breaking from it’s throat. “Faaz, Paaz, Dinok!”
“So, you want to dance?” Inigo abandoned stealth, swinging Dawnbreaker in a flurry of golden flames. The light from the cross guard burst out, the unlife nearby wakening the weapon to its purpose. The room brightened, the draugr staggering back. It snarled, casting ice toward Inigo with a growl. Ears back, he lunged forward to drive the blade into his foe.
The creature screeched, its dry body bursting to flames as the blade’s magic took to it. To the left, a few of its brethren emerged to join in the fight. Inigo hissed, tearing the weapon free to strike at them. He danced about, hopping around the first, bringing the sword across the zombie’s throat. The next swung an axe at him. He blocked with the flat of the sword, deflecting the weapon to crash into the stones of the floor. “You will not have to worry about being ugly ever again!” He rolled under the next attack, standing to remove the draugr’s head. The beast he had left behind charged with it’s bony hands outstretched to claw at him.
For the slightest second, Inigo remembered being in this situation before, the scars on his face stinging in his memory. He snarled, jumping with Dawnbreaker held high. He brought the weapon down, blue and gold fire bursting out to render the corpses as dust on the stones. He panted, his arms shaking.
“Well… I guess we handled that pretty well.” He laughed, though it sounded more nervous than before. “I am glad to have you watching my back, Mr. Dragonfly. They had no idea you were here to keep tabs on them when my back was turned.” Shaking his shoulders loose, he continued deeper into the tomb.
The burial chambers seemed to go on forever. Passage after passage was filled with wrapped bodies, though very few of the interred had been preserved well. Most had decomposed to skeletal remains, no longer lying as complete corpses. Inigo felt his heart pounding as he moved through the silence. He could hear the dragonfly bouncing off the sides of his jar, seeming to tell him to go back. “I made a promise. We must go on.” He was stopped by a set of iron doors. He pulled a lockpick from his satchel and set to work. At first, he thought the tumblers were stuck, but after a bit more force they clicked into place.
The next room was circular, a large grate covering some sort of cistern. Some pieces of the dome above had fallen in to litter the floor. Sarcophagi stood all around the rotunda, another door waiting across from him. His ears were pinned to his skull as he entered. Mr. Dragonfly was still now, perhaps feeling it would help his protector avoid attracting any more attention. Inigo tested the grate, finding that it was sturdy enough to walk onto. He was just to the center of the room when the coffins opened.
Not two, nor three, but seven zombies emerged from their tombs. He brought his weapon into a defensive stance. “Why did I agree to this?” He lunged to the side, cutting the arm off of the nearest draugr as she tried to smash him with her mace. He parried blows from two more, spinning in a circle to slash their chests. All that met Dawnbreaker caught fire in moments. As they ran, more bodies seemed to come forth, surrounding Inigo. Among the new foes was a draugr wearing much thicker armor. Its sword was of ebony, his eyes burning with the glow of undeath. Its decayed jaw muttered a chant, pale blue light weaving from its hand.
The grate frosted over, water from below running in defiance of gravity to form a huge construct of ice. The ice flashed as the summoning finished. The atronach lumbered toward him, the ice lighting the rotunda with the glow of magic. Inigo lashed out, the flames of his sword making the frozen terror back away. “It is a little too hot in here for the likes of you, I think!” He swung again, the sword hitting an arm. The hiss of steam was followed by the creature’s groan of pain. The Khajiit took the chance to run around, seeking the summoner.
Their swords clashed in the rotunda exit, the Draugr blocking his attack. Inigo’s blade slid to the right and hit the floor. The wight raised its weapon, aiming for his head. Inigo rolled to the side, knocking over the urns in his path. Dust rose in the air, making him cough. It was hard to see. The dirt stung his eyes. He lost balance, landing on his back. For a moment, all he saw was black.
The dead face leered at him out of the dust, teeth bared in a malicious grin. Inigo cried out, swiping with Dawnbreaker. “Rest forever, you fiend!” He rolled to his feet, throwing the sword at his enemy. The blade stuck in its heart, another explosion ending the remaining zombies. Dawnbreaker clattered to the floor with a pulse of comforting light.
Inigo picked up the sword. He found himself properly frightened now. What could possibly been buried down here that needed so many defenders? He wished now that he had Auroth and Gaeolin with him. “My grandfather found something down there, please go find it… Old man had better have something good for us after all of this.” He grumbled, moving on down the hall. As he turned the next corner, the air grew cold. A soft glow shone from a lone coffin. Sheathing his sword, Inigo could not help but move closer.
It was ice, or so he thought, sealing the sarcophagus where an iron slab would have traditionally. He touched it, wondering how it had not melted. It was bitter cold, making him remove the hand after only a second. It had been as if he had no fur at all! “Is this magic? It does not smell like it,” held Dawnbreaker against it, trying to melt it away. The sword, even with the fire wreathing it, had no effect. Inigo swung hard, hoping to break off a piece. His arms jarred as the sword sang out in protest. The ice did not even chip. “What a strange material we have found, Mr. Dragonfly. Do you think a pick axe would help?” The insect hummed as Inigo looked on the tables nearby. “You are right, but I will make sure to tell the others about it when we meet. I’m sure this cannot be unimportant. Let us go.”
He fought his way passed two more zombies, both formidable in their horned helms. Their weapons were consistently ebony, making Inigo wonder at what he had gotten himself into. Surely, thousands of years ago when this tomb had been made, Ebony had been just as rare a material. He came to a set of stairs that were blocked, the roof having collapsed after centuries of neglect. He would have cursed the luck, had he not seen the hole in the wall. A breeze came from it, not fresh air, but not stagnant as he would have expected from such a depth. He followed the tunnel, a light ahead drawing him into the next chamber. It was massive, large crystals making up the walls. Below ran a small stream, the sound of the water echoing off the cavern. On the far side stood a grand set of steps, leading up to a round door. Water fell from the ceiling as well, feeding the aquifer before him. He shifted to try and see more.
His foot hit a damp surface, sliding out from under him. His scream echoed as he fell. His head hit a few stones on the way, causing lights to swim in his vision. There was an undignified groan as he finally landed in the dirt. He lay still for a moment, his face disgruntled. “Someday, I will learn not to be so careless with cliffside areas…” He checked the jar, glad to find that the dragonfly had suffered nothing during their trip down the wall. He noticed something nearby in the dark. He grabbed for it, finding it was a torch. He drew his weapon enough to light the rag on its blade. As light spread, he jumped in alarm. There was a skeleton nearby, smelling so old he could not tell how long it had been down here. He drew his sword, moving to the stairs with caution.
There was a bedroll there, another skeleton lying amid the furs. There was a journal beside it. In its hands it clutched a mighty greatsword. Inigo skimmed the journal, knowing that this had once been Cresius’ Great Grandfather, Gratian. “Poor fool must have fallen like us,” he looked around the cavern. Indeed, there seemed no obvious way out. “I would very much prefer not to die in a place like this. Maybe we should see about this door he could not open.” He stood, contemplating the sword. “I’m not normally one to use two handed weapons, but it would be a shame to leave this behind.” He grabbed the hilt, the bones falling apart as he lifted the weapon free.
A rumbling made him look up. The door, once dark, now glowed blood red. Lines of light ran along the wall, shining out to him in an ominous way. The blade of the claymore aslo shimmered red, making him stare. He looked from blade to the wall. “Do you… Do you want this?” He offered the sword to the wall, trying to fit the blade into the crack. It fell, the room darkening once more. The Khajiit picked it up, cocking his head in confusion as the lights rose again. “So what am I to do with it?”
He swung it wide, nearly falling over with the weight of the massive blade. An arc of magic sprung from it, seeping into the crevice of the wall. The light faded where it hit, the wall sliding in with a great rumble of stone on stone. A second pillar slid up, locking into place to glow in a new line, running from floor to ceiling. Inigo held out the sword, a smile spreading on his face. “I see! You are like a key!” He raised it high, staggering back with the weight. As he brought it down, another wave of power hit the wall, undoing the next part of the lock. He laughed, finding this strange door more amusing than he should. After a few more swings, all that remained was one last line, splitting the door perfectly in two.
“Hyah!” He swung. The door shook, dust falling from the ceiling as the two halves rolled free, the fires beyond lighting under some magical influence. He grinned, sheathing the sword before slinging it’s scabbard onto his back. “Okay, let us see what all of this zombie guarded, side aching, cliff scrambling nonsense was protecting.” He found even more traps ahead. He dodged the swinging blades, nearly losing his tail on a few near misses. By the time he reached the gate at the end of the hall, he had decided he prefered to leave these sorts of acrobatics to Gaeolin in the future. He held his sword out as he pressed forward into the hidden tomb.
He reached the next chamber, his fur tingling in response to the power he felt in the room. A large pool lay before him, a chest waiting on a platform that jutted into its center. On the other side stood one of the monuments that Gaeolin learned his shouts from. The Word Wall was lit by a pair of enchanted fires. “Again, I find one of these, and no one is here to translate it for me…” He made to wade across to it to take a rubbing. But before he could begin, something stirred in the water.
A body sat up, water streaming from its hooded head. The damp robes were a greenish grey, likely coated in algae from their watery grave. The body rose to hover above the pool, bony hands spreading wide as what remained of the priest’s cloak dripped. His mask was silver, the slits of the eyes dark as night.
“Wo los boziik wah bo het?” The bony hands opened,lightning crackling in its palms. “Hi lost rahgot Zahkriisos.” [1]
Inigo drew his bow, planting an arrow just inside the opening of the mouth. The priest screeched as he flew back. “Your taunts are useless! I cannot understand a word you are saying!” He drew Dawnbreaker from his waist, the light shining across the water in challenge. “Prepare to die!”
Zahkriisos charged, driving Inigo back along the platform with a shower of lightning. The Khajiit jumped over the rubble, leading the priest between a set of pillars. The lich fell for the trap, flying between them just as the holy sword carved through the air. As it met the bones, a new type of power surged through the blade. Inigo almost dropped the weapon, watching as the fire and light wove into the form of a blindingly bright woman. She took hold of Zahkriisos’ throat, coaxing a cry of terror from the lich.
“You have cheated death for far too long, worm! My champion has come, and with his power and mine, you are banished!” Meridia tightened her grip, the fire roaring stronger as she turned to Inigo. “You have spread my light well, and so you shall have my blessing. Inigo the Brave,” she smiled, the light fading as the priest fell to ash, “you are never alone.”
He was silent, staring down at the empty armor and mask in shock. Dust settled around him as he shakily picked up the mask. He tucked it into his bag, with a sigh. “I suppose if any Deadra were to be with me, I’d pick her. Come on, Mr. Dragonfly. I’m tired of this tomb.” The chest had been a dud. He eyed the two coins in disgust, heading to the wall to take the rubbing. As he left the chamber, he noticed that the next room held even more oddities.
There was a podium, holding a large book. Inigo could swear he heard whispering coming from it. He noticed a shimmer to the cover. There was no title or Author. He picked it up, opening it to the first page.
During the reign of Elgryr, I took notice of the various patterns in the thoughts and behaviors of a troubled populace, and undertook a humble plan to comprehend and, in the end, affect them. Being of ordered mind, I began my taxonomy in the lower classes, which divided evenly into those who-
He could not turn the page, as he had been seized by a power he had not noticed. A tentacle sprung from the spine of the book, wrapping around him as he cried out. “Gaeolin! Auroth! Help me!” The room around him faded, his body drawn into the tome before it fell to the floor with a loud thud.
Translated Lines:
1 ) Who is bold enough to tread here? You have angered Zahkriisos.
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