Agent

Chapter 4: Bloodmoon.

Five blocks of ice had been put in a line at what was the center of the new village. Each block was about the size of a man’s head. I walked from one end of the line to the other, tapping the snow with my cane at each step. My wounds had healed for the most part and the cane was no longer necessary but I’d taken a liking to it. The cane I currently used was basically the same piece of firewood grinded down into a smooth shaft with a thicker handle at one end.

“Alright, ice. We all know what it is so I won’t bore you with that.” I spoke, tapping the closest block of ice with my cane. The four Skaal children who stood before me looked on with interest. Two of them looked a bit tired and the other two were nearly jumping with energy. That was because I’d forced the Skaal into a strict work pattern. One third building or keeping watch, one third training and one third resting. So the tired ones had been building the wall for the last four hours and the other two had been resting.

“Now, inside this ice there is a small stone. I want you to get it out of the ice. Any volunteers?” I continued and grinned when the largest kid, Stark Wood-Fist, took the warhammer off his back and walked up to the block of ice with it. It was obvious to him that the only way to retrieve the pebble would be by breaking the ice. I put my cane on his chest to stop him.
“Barehanded.” I told him. Stark looked at me in a confused way, dropped the warhammer and then raised his hand above the block of ice like he would’ve raised his hammer. His hand swung down and hit the ice with a loud thud. Only a small dent and a tiny crack was his result.

I shook my head and shoved him away.
“No no, you’re doing it all wrong. Anyone else?” I looked at the group. None of them seemed interested in taking the challenge. Why should they? Stark was the strongest and biggest among them, matching my height despite being four years younger. He was also twice my weight, all muscle. And he had an ego to match.
“Why don’t you try it yourself, cripple?” He spat, clutching his hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d broken his fingers with that stupid bashing of his. Now who was the cripple here?

I levelled my eyes on him.
“Cripple? I know a few cripples who could take you down without breaking a sweat.” I snickered. I then spun around and thrust two fingers at the ice. From the point of impact, a crack formed horizontally and grew, eventually traversing the entire block, neatly cutting it in half. I picked up the upper half and put it down next to my feet. Pebble in hand, I turned back to him.
“I’m one of them. Now pick a new block and start practicing. You’ll be doing this for four hours each day till you succeed, got it? And no sneaky tricks with a warhammer at night.” I was interrupted by one of the lookouts who stood on the partially finished walkway.
“Chieftain!”

I ascended the ladder to his position. Once up there, I did not need to ask what it was he’d seen. There were two things even a blind person would notice. First was the roaring pillar of fire rising up out of Lake Fjalding. This was something I’d never seen before. More important for me though, was the black cloud that had crawled over a nearby hill. Dagoth Ur’s forces had begun to move again.

“I have no idea what it is, Chieftain.” The watch said. I shrugged and began to descent the ladder.
“I’m going to check it out.” I told as I lowered myself onto the carpet of snow.
“Don’t you need an escort?” The watch shouted after me. I waved him off and went through the gates. With my body back at near peak performance, my rapier at my side and a warm wolfskin around me, I wasn’t worried about my own safety. Dagoth Ur had no interest in a bunch of Nords. His interest was in me. So if that storm had decided that the time was right to finish me off, I’d rather not involve them. Besides, this was a perfect opportunity to investigate lake Fjalding. Trying to find a way into the layers of ancient Stalhrim was sacrilege under normal conditions, but who could blame me if I went to check out a possible threat towards the Skaal? As Chieftain, this was my task.

The ashstorm had picked up speed and even though I jogged all the way to Lake Fjalding, it was merely an arrowshot away by the time I set my first foot on the slippery Stalhrim. Frozen waves, cracked under its own weight with jagged bits sticking out everywhere, Lake Fjalding looked nothing like the lake back in Vvardenfell. I had to find a way in somehow. There had to be a hole in the ice somewhere. I would have to be careful though. One slip and I would find out just how sharp those jagged bits really were. I slided across the surface slowly, approaching the fires that still rose up out of the lake. If there was an opening, it had to be close.

The ashstorm cut off al possible escape routes before drawing in closer. They only left a path towards the fire open which wouldn’t help me. There was no way for me to avoid whatever might happen. My only option was to fight my way through somehow. I stopped my careful sliding across the slippery surface and waited for its next move. My cane fell on the ice and my rapier left its sheath with a reassuring ‘shiiiiish’. Before me, the black clouds parted, opening a seductive path out of the cage I’d been put in. Was Dagoth Ur giving me a chance to simply walk away? Why would he, after all the effort he’d put into killing me? It didn’t make sense. I stayed put.

“Wise choice, returned one.” A man with a horribly stretched face and incredibly long fingernails spoke as he stepped out of the clouds. Another of Dagoth Ur’s minions. I wondered just what caused the Chimer to change like that. Obviously he’d succumbed to the heart but last time I saw him, he was actively trying to stop Kagrenac and destroy the heart.
“Cut the chatter. Just tell me what you’re up to.” I replied as calmly as I could. I could feel my hands turning slippery with the growth of my fear. A few deep breaths and inner resolve was all I could do to turn the tide and remain calm.
“Isn’t this obvious? We’re here to stop you. You are a pawn in the game played by the gods. Azura has prepared your path. She knew you would come to this place in search of Pelinal’s key. And so, she hid the key here, one of three. We are here to prevent you from reaching that key. Look around you, Dumac. There is no escape.”

I gripped Ephraim’s rapier with both hands.
“If there’s no path, I’ll simply have to create one. Legion rule: An army without a leader is no army, only a mob.” I put all of my strength into my leap, clearing twelve metres in a single bound. The creature reacted unnaturally fast. Ice leaped from its hands. The blast hit me in midair and I absorbed it easily, thanks to both my Nordic heritage and my Atronach like talent. Upon landing, I continued to slide forward over the ice. The thing tried again when I got close, this time actually trying to physically strike me.

I dodged its blow and thrust my rapier through its heart. To my horror, the damn monster only laughed at me.
“Is that all you have? I no longer have a heart, I no longer have a mortal weakness you can exploit. The glory of Lord Dagoth is mine, and I’m his hand of justice.” It gloated.
“Heart or no heart, let’s see how well you deal with explosion!” I struck again, with an open palm. The creature was like, most of the Sixth House’s minions, composed off ash. My hand smashed through its face like a ballista through a pile of sand.

“Fool! I told you I have no mortal weakness! You cannot kill me! I am immortal! An Ashvampire cannot be slain!” I backed away from it. The vampire as it called himself simply regenerated a new head to replace the one it lost. I had to find a way to defeat it somehow. Preferably before it got bored and loosed the whole storm on me.
“The storm, that’s the key! Everytime I hit it, the storm rebuilds it. I need to keep it from rebuilding somehow.”

There was only one idea I could come up with. If I’d put the clues together correctly, there was a way to defeat that Ashvampire thing. There was only one drawback to my plan. I had to enter Lake Fjalding first. And the way things were, there was only one entrance left for me to take. I destroyed a leg and ran while it was busy regenerating. The pillar of fire rose up before me, its heat making me sweat like a mountainstream.

“Whenever I get hit by a spell, I absorb it and keep it stored for later use. This had better work.” I stretched my hand in front of me and focussed on the power within me. I thought of cold, freezing cold that would turn the air to snow and water to ice. The coldest cold possible. With each step, I could feel the warmth around me diminish as the air condensed around me in a thick, frozen barrier. The Ashvampire should have known better than use frost on me. I leaped into the flames.

It was a long drop, something which my legs complained about when I finally landed. My shield had collapsed under the intense heat a bit too soon so I rolled over the steel floor to put out the fires. Once my situation wasn’t so ‘hot’ anymore, I went to assessing my situation.
“One, I’m suffering second-degree burnwounds which hurt a lot. Two, my clothes are wrecked and I’m pretty much naked. Three, I’m inside a Dwemer facility, probably the research facility I’ve been looking for. Four, the fire sprouts from a cracked pipe so as long as I don’t turn off the oil-feed, I won’t have to worry about the ashies coming in.”

“It was about time someone dropped in. I kept the heater running, but I’m sure you already noticed.” A dusty voice chuckled.
“And five, there’s a ghost with a sense of humour here.” I thought to myself and looked at the incorporeal Dwemer.
“Mind if I change clothes?” I asked with my own sense of humour. The ghost shrugged.
“Please, be my guest. Also, you can find some healing balm in the medical cabinet to your right. You wouldn’t be the first one who gets burned by a cracked oilpipe.”

I went for the medical cabinet first. Dignity is fine and all, but I’d rather be undignified and healthy than dignified and hurting. The balm he’d suggested was a colourless goo which felt chilling to the touch. In essence though, it was no different than your average healing potion. By accelerating and enhancing the natural healing of the body, any wound would heal within a fraction of the time required normally, even if the wound was lethal.

One of the more controversial side-effects was that rapid aging was also involved. Plenty of soldiers or gladiators had turned into grey-haired, wrinkled old men and women in their early thirties due to too much healing. Too keep up with the physically younger ones, they had to swallow potions of a different kind which in the end only worsened their problem. One of the arguments for an old word of wisdom among warriors.
He who makes the enemy bleed is good. He who keeps the enemy from making him bleed is even better.

Anyway, I was still quite young, actually barely an adult, so the aging effect wouldn’t bother me too much. I might grow a bit of a beard but not much more than that. My skin itched as if a whole swarm of fleas crawled all over me. As the itching faded, I felt new strength come to me. Not just to my skin, but to my entire body. Health had been achieved, now the dignity. I opened my enchanted pouch which had been one of the few fireproof bits of apparel on me. From its depths I procured the Stalhrim armour.
“Nice bag.” The ghost commented.

The first thing I noticed upon putting it on was how comfortable it was. I already knew that it was a perfect fit, but I had no idea it would feel like a second skin. A light, harder-than-steel skin. Definitely fireproof as well, as Stalhrim could not be melted by any flame. And trust me, there have been plenty of attempts at melting Stalhrim. They all failed. The only reason why the fire managed to create a hole in the lake was due to simple overwhelming pressure. The pipe must have cracked years before I was even born, or reborn, whatever. Over the years, the pressure had been building and building till finally, the whole thing popped.

Which brought a new problem to my attention.
“Is there anything left beyond that heavily fortified cabinet?” I asked the ghost. He looked at me in silence and then floated to a dark corridor.
“Not much. There is the frozen corridor in the left wing but everything else has been blown to bits. Everything not locked inside a chest, keg or whatever. The food is spoiled though and everything else is a pile of rust. I’m really sorry about the food, cause unlike me, you’re probably not on an all-exclusive diet. Anything else?” It said with another chuckle. I never knew ghosts could laugh at their own fate. It was rather comforting though. Most adventurers I knew off only got to know the aggressive side of ghosts.

I walked towards the corridor and waved my hand. The corridor definitely felt cooler than the room I was in. The frozen corridor that had been mentioned had to be in that direction. A frozen corridor, another clue that fit with my theory.
“Are there some explosives around? I want to crack the ice.” I explained, leaning against the wall.
“No, but there is a drill Centurion in the vault. Aren’t you tired of hard rock? Can’t lift that pick? Want the gold but not the sweat? Then Nebrighk company’s Drill Centurion MK IV may be something for you! Made from high-quality steel, this baby is designed to drill your tunnels while you sit back and get the cash. Gold, Silver, Glass, Ebony, nothing’s too hard for the Drill Centurion MK IV. Buy one today and get this plushy Netch toy and one can of oil for free! And between you and me, scientific testing has revealed that it’s also a good way to pick up women with.” A ghost with humour indeed.

Half an hour later, I had set up the Drill Centurion. While the ghost’s advertising had lied about the plushy Netch toy, it had been spot on when it boasted about the drill’s quality. Watching an oversized Kwama forager roll forward on a dozen wheels and slowly drill its way through the ice was quite interesting to watch.
“So, what are you doing here anyway?” I asked my host while we waited.

“Well, I’m just hanging around you know. But to tell you the truth, I’d hoped to do something else. I’m Nebrighk the second, and the inventor of that wonderful drill. Know what? You can keep it! It’s not that I have any use for money anyway. I can’t give you the plushy Netch though, the mice got to it first. How did those beasts get in here anyway?” It begun, its laugh fading.
“Gotta stay on topic. I was quite the ambitious lad, so I jumped at the chance to aid the great Kagrenac in a Centurion test! He’d sent me a package with new brains for the Centurions. All I had to do was to put them in the sphere’s and activate them. Only those things went on a rampage and killed everyone except me. I must’ve done something wrong there.”

So that was the secret behind the Dwemer’s utter defeat. Kagrenac telling naïve young Dwemer to help him in his research, in effect telling them to destroy their own kind. It was simple, yet it had been horribly effective. I wished Kagrenac was still alive. Then I could give him a proper punishment for his crimes.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Kagrenac was a lying monster who wiped out everyone.” I spoke with seething anger.
“And how do you know, kid? You’re just a Nord. Kagrenac is the greatest master of our people. His works are amazing! Say, we’ve been talking Dwemer all the time. Where did you pick that up?”

“I’m a reincarnated Dwemer. One of his victims.” I explained and waited for the Dwemer to continue.
“A Dwemer reincarnating as a Nord? Ah, why not? Ok, then Kagrenac played me for a fool. Argh! I’ll tell you the rest of my story if you do me a favour. Wipe that bug out if you run into him. Of course you will, I can see it in your eyes. Good, now I couldn’t leave this place because it’s so damn cold outside and no airships would come. A week after the slaughter though, a Dwemer lass came in. Oh boy, skin like marble, eyes like sapphires. Just thinking of her makes me feel better. She carried a very odd sword with her. For one thing, it looked like a mix between Dwemer work and that Nord Ice stuff you’re wearing right now. For the other thing, it was cold! I swear, the temperature dropped to near zero the moment she brought that thing in. She put it there and when she left, she turned me in a ghost somehow. To atone, she said.”

Dwemer steel, Stalhrim and a potent frost enchantment. Only one blade matched that description. Forgeheart, one of Pelinal’s keys. After a few hours, the Drill had finished its work and stopped. Forgeheart stuck out of the ice, looking brand-new despite the long years it had spent in there. I gripped the hilt with a mixture of new experience and old remembrance. Its power filled the room, coursing through my body, reflecting off the walls.
“Forgeheart, the ice-key. Nebrighk, I give you my word that I’ll right the wrong you’ve suffered. I swear it on this blade, which was once wielded by Dumac himself.” I spoke solemnly and swung it around. Its balance was nothing short of perfect and despite its massive appearance, it was as light as my rapier. The ghost smiled and nodded, gesturing at its heart. I knew what it had asked without words.
“As you wish.” I whispered and plunged Forgeheart into his spiritual body.
“Thank you. I can feel the cold. Finally, I can say leave this world. Farewell, friend.”

It did something to me. The way Nebrighk had been doomed to wandering this forsaken place for eternity, all because of Kagrenac and his plans. The heart of Lorkhan, or whatever it was that granted godlike powers to those who used it, was one evil thing. Last time it had taken the life of my people. Who would pay the price now? We all would, if no one would stop Dagoth Ur. I sat down against the wall with a heavy heart. Forgeheart lay at my feet, in a thick layer of frozen dust.

Just what was the point of it all? Why was I doing this? To prove something? I was Dwemer but what good did that fact do me? Dust, cracked steel and stories, that’s what we’ve become. Stories to keep the children in line.
“Eat your vegetables, or the evil Dwemer will put you in his bag and have you work in his mine.” Dust, cracked steel and stories. Any act on my part would be meaningless to change our reputation. Not that it mattered. I was the last Dwemer alive and even then, I had the body of a Nord. So by all means, the last Dwemer was dead.

And what about Dagoth Ur? Even if he’d gotten his power through treachery, he was still a god. How do you kill a god? You don’t, you just hide in a corner and hope he ignores you. There was no way Dagoth Ur could be killed. Even his minion was pretty much invincible.
“Wipe that bug out if you run into him.” That’s what Nebrighk had said. I promised him I would right the wrongs we’d suffered and what did I do instantly after putting him to rest? I crawl up against a wall and drown myself in self-pity!

I stood up brusquely and snatched Forgeheart from the cold floor. My blood burned with the fury of a berserker. I’d made a promise, and I’d be damned if I was going to break it five seconds after swearing an oath! I’d promised Nebrighk, I’d promised the Duke, Nerevar, Vivec, Almalexia, Sotha Sil, my people and……I promised Voryn Dagoth. I would free anyone who suffered under Lorkhan’s heart. That was my purpose, that was why I came all the way here looking for a sword. I would stop Voryn Dagoth, and free him from the curse he’d unwillingly put on himself. I no longer hated him, I pitied him. He’d tried to destroy the heart but in the end, he just became its slave. I would free him from his shackles, no matter how hard it might be.

But to do that, I had to be prepared. I couldn’t just walk in and do whatever I would do. The Dwemer place I was in was a research facility. It was heavy on paper yet light on weapons. The paper had been lost long ago, but the few weapons it had were still there in the vault where the Drill Centurion had been parked. I went there first. Not for a weapon, for every weapon it contained couldn’t even compete with Forgeheart’s shadow. All I needed was a small, flat box about the size of a small book.

People think that everything we Dwemer made was made out of metal. They’re wrong. Sure, we used a lot of metal, perhaps more than was healthy but we also used our fair share of wood, fabrics and ropes. Only most of these materials have been devoured by rats and time. The box I was holding was made out of metal, with a slit on one side and several attachment points for leather straps at the corners. I had a few spare sheets of leather just in case I lost my belt Like a short while ago. I could cut up a sheet right now and make the box whole again.

I set to work and within a few minutes, I could tie the little box to my back like a backpack. Once it was in place, it was time to practice. I felt around with a hand till I found the concealed button. A press, a swoosh, a light tugging at my back and a shift in balance. I felt behind me and noticed the shape of a full-sized scabbard. It was a bit of a paradox. Even at our peak, all of our living warriors could be counted on both hands yet still we went so far as inventing collapsible scabbards.

A collapsible scabbard is quite an ingenious design. It is commonly known that as a sword grows in length, the potential damage it can do increases. At the same time though, a larger scabbard is needed to hold the blade and large scabbards tend to get in the way of the limbs. As a result, many people are forced to either keep their scabbard under control with one hand or move carefully and slower than they should. On the other end of the spectrum, there are those who simply use no scabbard at all or throw the scabbard away at the onset of battle, therefore keeping maximum mobility and both hands. But storing a sword without a scabbard can be awkward.

Bring in a collapsible scabbard of Dwemer design. As the name suggests, it is capable of folding up into a small volume, perfect for during battle. At the same time, it can unfold and store the sword when out of battle. And it doesn’t end here. Unfolding is done by simply pressing a small button which is located there where it is easy to reach yet won’t be triggered by accident. The folding is fully automatic and triggered by the sword being drawn. Not just that, but a powerful spring literally launches the sword into the waiting hands of its wielder at the same time. The result is maximum comfort, standard storage capacity and one of the quickest draws in Tamriel.

But of course, nothing is perfect. The mechanism was a bit dusty and had to be cleaned before I got the maximum speed out of it. After that, it was back to drawing practice. A sword that draws itself is something else than a sword that has to be forced to leave the scabbard. The first time, I missed completely and had to pull Forgeheart out of the ceiling. The second time, I grabbed to soon and my hands came into painful contact with the pommel. The third time, my thumb got in the way of the hilt. The fourth time, I nailed the timing. Once there, it was a simple matter of practicing till drawing the sword had become as natural as breathing, only a lot more deadly for whoever had the misfortune of standing in the way. After drawing, it was an easy trick to use the push of the spring to power a downward blow, thereby chaining draw and strike together in one really quick motion.

I practiced a bit more just to make sure I’d mastered the trick behind it. Now, I had to wipe the smirk off that Ashvampire’s face. Ok, so he might be immortal, but who said I was going to kill him?

The Ashvampire hadn’t lost its smug expression when I rose up out of the pit from on top of the Wing.
“Well, I must say you’ve managed to impress me. Right now, I thought you were died, turned to ash. Get it? Turned to ash!” He also had a lousy sense of humour. That was not a funny joke. He stopped laughing in the end and got serious.
“So, did you find the key?” He asked, leaving me no doubt that if I wanted to live, I would give it to him. Or at least, that’s what he thought.
“Sure, I found it. Why?” I asked and slowly moved closer.

I already knew why the Sixth House desired the keys. Something struck me as odd, though. Voryn Dagoth had been there when Pelinal was activated for the first time. He knew what the keys were. Three swords, all forged by Kagrenac. Trueflame, Hopesfire and Forgeheart. I couldn’t believe he’d actually neglected to tell his servant what exactly he had to look for. Forgeheart’s pommel was not exactly something you’d ignore. Frankly, a polished, glowing gem of Stalhrim that was partially hidden in the mist of its own power would be the first thing it should notice. I looked closer and saw that he had noticed my sword and did not know what to make from it. I couldn’t believe it, but the Ashvampire had no idea what the keys actually were!

“Good! Give it to me! I’ll let you keep that crummy bit of rust you’ve picked up. I bet you’ve grown attached to it. Isn’t that how you Nords are, all in love with your sword?” Yup, no idea at all. I took one last step closer. I could draw right now but if my plan was to succeed, I had to distract him somehow. But how do you distract an ancient and possibly semi-immortal being?
“You mean the Dark Elf who’s soiling the floor over there? Nothing special. He was going through this dreadfully boring speech about how he was going to kill me for the greater glory of his lord and blablabla, more of that Guardung. I slipped a sword into his heart while he was working his tongue. I’m a busy guy, I don’t have time for speeches.” The Nerevarine’s words suddenly popped up in my head for no good reason. I had no time to ponder his awfully annoying manners, or his cocky attitude. Cocky attitude and bad manners, that was it!

I brought out the biggest and most smug grin in my life.
“Sure we do, nothing like a good sword to warm your bed. If it wasn’t necessary for the survival of our people, everyone would be marrying swords instead of women. Now why don’t you hobble over to good old Voryn and give him a message? Tell him that I believe he’s the most sorriest bit of wet meat I’ve ever met. To actually hang out with losers like you, so disappointing. From a friend of Nerevar, I’d expected better.” I quipped. The Ashvampire flew into a rage, both due to the insults I’d aimed at his master and the insult I’d aimed at him.
“Pathetic left-over of the Dwemer! I’ll take your key, and your life!” He shouted and lunged at me.

I brought an arm up behind me. With a swoosh, Forgeheart flew up into my waiting hand while the scabbard began to fold. I used the momentum of the sword to launch myself forward. Being already in the air, the creature could not avoid my attack. The ancient blade bit deep into his chest, searching for the heart that was no longer there.
“Fool! I already told you, I’m immortal! Is it that hard to get through your thick skull?!” He shrieked when we both landed. Forgeheart was still embedded into its chest. I could see how the ashstorm around us grew a tentacle that reached for the Ashvampire.
“You can have the key, pointy bit first!” I shouted back at it and released Forgeheart’s true power, which I’d been holding back up to this point.

His body turned white as it began to freeze at a rapid pace. The tentacle made contact with his neck, just when the freezing reached it as well. Forgeheart’s influence jumped over onto the tentacle, spreading through it. I waited, not daring to either pull out the sword or try to push it even further. The ice spread all around me, throughout the ashstorm. The sound of ice shattering and boulders falling rumbled in my ears. The frozen ashstorm could no longer support its own weight. Still, I kept my blade in place. Only an hour later did I remove it and return the sword to its scabbard. I was standing inside a circular wall, with one small arc leaping over to a large statue.
“I may not be able to kill you, but I can make sure you won’t stand in my way again. Enjoy your new home.” I chuckled and walked away. I mounted the Wing and abandoned the site.

I dismounted as soon as I cleared the lake. I needed time, time to think. My whole world had been plunged into a hostile chaos. Werewolves here, some mad god back home. Home? Yes, Ebonheart was my home. While my life with the Skaal hadn’t been that bad, I’d never felt like I fit in. To me, Ebonheart was the home I never had.

Two eyes glinted in the growing darkness. Night was about to arrive and with it, the Werewolves. At first the Skaal had been in denial, so had I. Now though, we could no longer ignore the signs, not with half the village and all the capable warriors dead. The Bloodmoon prophecy was about to be fulfilled.

Behold, the Dragon’s breath shall fail in the west, the darkness shall storm the lands in to the south. The moons shall grow red with blood and all men, women, all capable of holding a sword, axe or hammer, shall perish under tooth and fang.

Then, the Hunter shall come and lay claim to this world. Yet, he shall seek the challenge, give us a chance, however small. Four champions shall he seek. The Dragon’s servant, the beast of ice, the Wolf’s champion and the Steel God’s soul. These four will he bring to his castle, far up to the north. There, the greatest hunt of all shall be held with our world as price. Against the invincible enemy shall they fight and fall, in an arena lit by the moons.

Those words were only part of the prophecy yet to me, they were the most important. The Steel God’s soul. If that wasn’t a reference to me, then who else could be meant?
These four will he bring to his castle, far up to the north. I would go to that place, either out of free will or by force.
Against the invincible enemy shall they fight and fall, in an arena lit by the moons. The Bloodmoon prophecy wasn’t very optimistic. The chance that I would die there was great, though a prophecy was never set in stone. I might survive, but it would be one heck of a gamble.

This prophecy was about to be fulfilled, but I had no time for this. Before I was called, I had to free Voryn Dagoth back home. I had to find the last two keys and Pelinal. The last two keys were Trueflame and Hopesfire. I didn’t knew what had happened at Red Mountain after my death, but I could still hazard a guess towards the last two blades’ locations.

Nerevar was dead, so he had probably been buried in a way fitting for a warleader of the Chimer. He would have been brought to a fantastic mausoleum, and buried in full armour. His sword, Trueflame had probably been buried with him. While the idea of raiding a tomb did not appeal to me, I had to admit it was my best chance at finding the sword of fire. Even then, there were complications. The gossip had been quite strict regarding Trueflame. When Nerevar died, Trueflame turned to dust. I found that hard to believe. After all, Forgeheart had survived my death. No, the likely explanation was that Trueflame had been lost somehow, or never recovered. Maybe it was still inside Pelinal? If so, then why hadn’t the Great Centurion revealed itself yet?

Hopesfire was Almalexia’s blade. In this case, I was practically certain of its location. It was where it had always been, at her side. To find her I only had to walk into her temple, somewhere in Mournhold. But the Almalexia I knew was a mortal, the Almalexia who lived was not. She was now a god, and another victim of Lorkhan’s heart. Even if I managed to gain entry without being slaughtered by her guards, even if I managed to reach her, even if I managed to convince her that I was indeed Dumac, she would not give up her sword. She could not afford to revive Pelinal and the power it represented. We were enemies now, and we’d never been friends. Call it childish, but I hated her for the rift she made between Nerevar and I. While those feelings had diminished with my new life, they had not yet entirely faded away.

So I knew where to look for the blades, but I did not know where to start looking for Pelinal itself. And then there was the Bloodmoon. I had to find Pelinal and defeat the Sixth House soon, before I was taken by the Hunter. What should I do?

I returned to the village in silence. Any attempt from the Skaal to converse with me were brushed away by this silence. There were quite a few remarks regarding my new armour and sword which I ignored as well. I entered the rebuilt hut of the shaman. Khorne looked up from a game he was playing with a collection of knucklebones. One side of the knucklebones was marked with a small cross.
“Aye, Chieftain. Care to bet?” He said to me. I shook my head and sat down.
“No, I don’t gamble.”

Khorne rolled his knucklebones out on the carpet. The point of the game was to get five crosses with three throws. Each cross was worth one point. He rolled one. Shaking his head, he picked up the four without the cross and rolled them again, this time achieving three crosses in total. He should now try to roll the last two, thereby keeping the crosses he already had.
“Don’t like to bet the long odds, eh? I can see that you’re worried about something.” He spoke, looking at his knucklebones.
“Yeah, the Bloodmoon.” I replied.

He looked up.
“The Bloodmoon? You’re no fool, Roland. Everyone knows the prophecy yet no one dares to admit it. I believe I know what you’re thinking. You don’t want to hear this, but you’re right. When you were born, I called out a vision of your future. I saw you as you were now, facing the Werewolves in a castle of ice. You will be called by the Hunter. All I can say is, you should prepare for it.” He advised me with a slight frown. I looked at him and tried to decide whether or not I should tell him why I was worried. I decided to tell him.
“There is a battle I have to fight, and it’s not here. I need to find my battlefield before the Hunter comes for me, or I’ll never be able to win it. But I don’t know where to look and even if I did, the chance that I find my battlefield before the Hunter comes is laughable. If I go, I’ll never make it and if I don’t go, I’ll never make it either.” I revealed and threw my hands up into the air.

“Long odds, eh?” Khorne nodded. With one deft swipe, he picked up all five knucklebones and threw them back down. Five crosses.
“Sometimes, you have to bet on the long odds. Go, Chieftain. Find your battle. You have taught us the lesson we had to learn. I’ll continue your work here.” He got up and looked out of the door.
“Leave at midnight, I’ll distract the guards.”

I left at midnight as he’d said, slipping through a crack in the unfinished wall.
“Sometimes, you have to bet on the long odds.” I made up my mind and took the gamble. I gambled that I would find Pelinal in time and that Forgeheart was enough to bring it out of its slumber. Theoretically, only one key was needed. There were three aspects to Pelinal, the offensive, the defensive and the mobile aspect. Forgeheart was the key to its mobile aspect, focussing on Pelinal’s movements. I could fight with one key, but it would be one big gamble. Only if all three keys were used, would Pelinal show off its true power which wasn’t just the sum of its three aspects, but a multiplication of the sum. I would focus on finding Pelinal and use Forgeheart to awaken the Steel God.

This time, I did not take my time. I brought out the Wing as soon as I was out of sight and then raced it all the way back to the Cloudcleaver. I arrived somewhere in the early morning, with an aching back. Long periods of flying can be uncomfortable. With the cold and the occasional gust of wind, I definitely wasn’t going to feel any better.

As such, I was quite happy when I finally caught sight of the airship. It was still in the same place where I’d left it, though what looked like market had grown around it. Odd. Zarador had better not been selling off my Centurions. Well, after I stole his own Centurion from him, he deserved to steal some of mine. Besides, I always had more where the first batch came from. I landed on deck and told the Wing to take up position at the starboard side. I then walked up to the door leading to the huts and banged on it with a fist.

“What? Who is it?” A grumpy old Altmer said as he opened the door.
“Ro-El! It was about time you showed yourself again! Do you have any idea how long you’ve been away?” He spoke loudly once he’d recognized me.
“There were complications.” I replied with a shrug.

I should have recognized that gleam in his eyes. I should have warned him. Unfortunately, I didn’t.
“Complications? It looks more like you’ve been wasting your time by raiding tombs! Say, can I take a look at that sword? It looks somewhat familiar.” He said and reached over my head for the hilt.
“Aieh!” He shrieked and witdrew the hand half a second later. The once golden skin had taken on a pale marble hue. I was as much surprised as he was. Apparently, only I could hold Forgeheart without having my limbs frozen. Whether it was due to me being Dumac or my connection with Pelinal, I didn’t know. It could be both.

“Careful. Its hilt is as dangerous as the blade.” I warned and pulled a rag from the railing and wrapped it around the hand. The rag was half-frozen as well, but it would do once the sorcerer had warmed it up a bit with a fireball.
“So I noticed. Which brings me back to what I was saying. I’ve seen a sword like that before, once before. In Mournhold when I came there to visit. I saw it on…”
“Nevermind that. We’ve got things to do. Like getting back to Morrowind yesterday.” I cut him off. It came as a bit of a surprise that he had seen Hopesfire, but it wasn’t important now.

Zarador shook his head.
“Always on the move. Youngsters these days don’t know how to relax.” He muttered, cast a spell of Telekinesis and lifted a chest over the railing. A small fountain of snow showed where it landed. I went over to the steering wheel and brought us up in the air. Only when we were heading back to Morrowind did I bother to ask.
“So, what was in the chest?” Zarador took the chance to launch into a lengthy explanation regarding the alchemical properties of local plants and animals. In short, he’d made some money by acting as the fort’s alchemist and now he didn’t want to leave without giving them his store of potions. And his homebrew whiskey.

“Which reminds me. Zarador, did you by any chance find out just why that fort is a ruin? The village right next to it looks brand new.” I asked. We had retreated below deck where there was a good fire. Actually it was a small forge but a fire is a fire and if your beard is getting frozen off outside, you’re not going to be picky regarding the source of the fire.
“It is new, and so is the fort. But just two days before we arrived, the place was raided by quote: ‘wolves that walked like men’. They left the whole place in ruin.” Werewolves, dang.
“They lost a few people during the attack, including their healer. The East Empire company has been reluctant to send replacements to this frozen waste. As long as the money and Ebony keeps rolling in, they see no reason to bother with helping out. Now what have you been up to?”

I told Zarador everything that had happened. Including my trip around the island and my encounter with Aevar. Everything, except my meeting with Nebrighk. I believed that now he’d finally found his death, I should not end his peace by bringing up his name or anything like that. I did tell him about Forgeheart, how it was connected to Pelinal, and how I was connected to the steel god as well. I told him a few things about the Bloodmoon prophecy and about the werewolves, but not how I was chosen by the Hunter. By the time I’d finished talking, the sun had sank into the sea and the moons had taken over its throne in the sky.

We bade each other good night and went to our respective cabins. Me, being the arrogant reincarnation of the Dwemer king, had the big and luxurious captain’s cabin. It wasn’t as big as my bedroom at Dren plantation, but it sure came close. There was room enough for combat practice, enough room to try out all the flips and spins that were the trademark of the Floating Butterfly style. Enough room for mayor trouble.

A low growling sound woke me up from my exhausted slumber. Oddly enough, my body felt rejuvenated even though my soul lacked the nourishment only a full night’s sleep could provide. This was not on my mind though. On my mind were the dozen or so werewolves who’d crammed themselves inside the cabin with me. They all gazed upon me, looking hungry yet…..restrained. Restrained or not, I was still scared out of my wits. It was too soon. Too soon.
“Fear not, my son. I am with you.” I looked at the ghostlike ring around my finger. Aevar was right. He was with me and I had nothing to fear.
“Those who know no fear are reckless fools. Those who know fear and overcome it are invincible.”

I had calmed down. As calm as if I was just going for a stroll through Ebonheart’s courtyard, I picked up my armour from under the bed and put it on. I then took Forgeheart and its sheath from the rack. After that, I looked back at the werewolves.
“I’m ready.”

There was a dizzying sense of movement, like tumbling into the depths of a bottomless well. When the blurriness that clouded my sight vanished, I found myself inside a large chamber, surrounded by walls of ice. I shivered and noticed that somehow, I’d become soaked in water.
“Welcome, prey.” The Hunter said to me. He looked like a Nord, only taller and with a Deer’s skull covering his face. In his hands he held a spear that resonated with power. This was it, the Bloodmoon, the greatest hunt ever. The Riestaag among Riestaags.

“Three others have gone before you. You must follow them and find a way into the center of the maze that starts behind me. If you meet them, kill them. Only one of you will make it to the end, one of you will be the ultimate prey. There, if you survive, you will be granted the right to battle me. But to fight me in all my glory would be unfair, so I shall limit the fight to only one of my aspects. If somehow you manage to survive this last ordeal, you will be returned to your proper place. Now go.” He said to me and vanished. There was a gap in the wall at the far end of the room.
He’d given me the rules to the game. There was nothing left to do but to play along. I took a deep breath, drew Forgeheart, readied my shield and entered the maze.

There was to be said something about the architecture. With most mazes, there is the ability to keep track of one’s direction by looking at the sun or the stars. If those are unavailable, like when the maze is underground, there is still the light coming from the entrance. This time though, there was none of it. The only light seemed to come from the ice itself, evenly divided in all directions. The only way to keep track was to pay attention to which turns I took. I began by turning right.

Right away, I came in contact with the first obstacle. A werewolf jumped at me. I tried to dodge but I hadn’t accounted for the extra size my shield represented. Trice my weight in hungry predator slammed against it and made me fall. Its claws hammered at my shield, its fangs tried to chew down on the Steel rim. I stabbed up with Forgeheart and crawled away before the now frozen creature could crush me. That went less than perfect and it told me that I was not suited for the ‘sword and shield’ style. It would be better for me if I got rid of it and used the freed up hand for some good old punching. I stashed the shield in my pouch and ventured further.

For what felt like two hours but could just as well have been two minutes, I met no other werewolves. That changed though when I rounded the umpteenth corner.
“Yah! Die, monster!” A coarse man’s voice echoed through the maze. I stopped walking and pressed my back against the wall in an attempt to blend in with the ice. Someone was out there, trying to get through the maze just like me. Hircine had said that only one of us was to survive this ordeal. But was it right to act like this, every man for himself?
“Stuff it. I’m going to help.”

“For Resdayn! Dwemer, Chimer, unite!” I shouted a battlecry of my own to distract the wolves and rushed further through the maze to meet my fellow prey. Ironically, the first cry I could come up with was the one Dumac had used when the Nords invaded Vvardenfell. A Nord shouting a battlecry once used to rally an army against Nords, how ironic.

I rounded five more corners before I reached an open area. There, an Imperial was fighting against three werewolves simultaneously while two more wolves lie nearby. He was dressed in Templar’s armour and waved around the traditional broadsword. A Legionnaire captain. One of the wolves saw me and decided I was a juicier target. Like all of its kind, it started with a straightforward jump. I stepped around it and drove Forgeheart into its hip as it passed. The beast crashed into the floor, unable to remain standing with one leg frozen. I struck again, cutting into its neck. Before I’d been able to withdraw the ancient sword, it had already frozen the thing’s brain.

I turned to the captain who was still fighting and so far had managed to avoid injury somehow. His armour bore the signs it had been instrumental in preventing injury. There were plenty of dents and scratches in the fine steel that was crafted by only the finest smiths in the legion.
“I’m here to help!” I called out and struck a werewolf that had been about to tear away at the man’s unprotected left side. The creature let out a pained yelp and died when I drove my sword into its skull. Despite being primarily a monk, fighting with the overpowered Forgeheart proved to be more effective than using my traditional hand and footwork. Together, we had little problems dispatching the last one.

The Imperial leaned on his sword and wiped the sweat from his face with one hand.
“I never thought this Hircine would choose someone so young. Still, I owe you, kid. Falx Carius, Knight of the Imperial Dragon, at your service. Say, you are familiar with the rules, are you?” He spoke, drawing a deep breath after each word. So this was the Dragon’s servant. I nodded.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to follow them. We’re stuck on the same boat. It’s sink or swim and frankly, I prefer to swim. Two are stronger than one. By the way, I’m Ro-El Frost, a servant of Duke Dren of Ebonheart.” I answered. Carius smiled.
“Good answer, kid. He may be a god, but he sure isn’t my god. My god tells that a man should stand by the side of his friends. I’m with you, and you’re with me. If he’s got a problem with that, so be it.” He grunted and waved with his Broadsword at the door on the other end of the chamber.

“That door either leads to Hircine, or to another part of this cursed maze. Well then, Ro-El ready to proceed? For a servant you seem to be quite capable in combat, not to mention in possession of a most peculiar suit of armour and an even more peculiar sword. It fits the environment.” He continued. I loosened the muscles in my shoulder and began to walk towards the door. Obviously I had to work on my skills with swords heavier than a rapier. My arm got all tensed up after just a few blows.
“Let’s just say I have fought in a war. A long time ago. The sword is a souvenir.”

The door was heavy, like Ebony. Carius only barely managed to open it. Sink or swim indeed. If I’d decided on every man for himself, I would be left with a door I couldn’t open. As it was now, I slipped through once he’d opened a gap wide enough for me to pass. I circled around the opening on the other side and kept an eye out for trouble. Carius forced the door open completely and then took up position next to me.
“Well, no reindeerskull here.” He muttered, shifting his helmet for a better view. I agreed with him. Hircine wasn’t here.
“But we’re not the first to pass.” I replied.

Dead werewolves littered the corridor we were in. Someone had been here before and done a quite thorough job at killing everything that moved. Carius crouched down at one of the wolves and inspected the body.
“Hmm, judging by the shape of the wounds and the crushing of the bones, the weapon used was some sort of spiked maze. The blood looks frozen at some areas yet remotely liquid at others. Hmm, a freezing enchantment like on your sword seems probable. Less intense though.”

I was still circling around in case not all wolves were dead and smashed beyond recognition.
“Blunt, spikey and freezing? No kidding.” I thought out loud. Carius looked up.
“You are familiar with that instrument?” He asked. He looked rather stern though I knew it was just because he was a bit stressed. Any moment we could be jumped by a dozen hungry creatures each bigger and heavier than we were.
“Yeah, I know who uses such a weapon. Tharsten Heart-Fang. My father you might call him. If he’s still alive, we only have to follow the trail of blood and corpses.”

We both followed. Carius kept pushing up the pace and I kept dragging him back. The old me would probably run ahead, shouting Tharsten’s name. The new me knew that doing so would be asking to get killed and ripped apart very painfully. Carius glanced at me more than he kept his eyes on the lookout for trouble. Obviously he was surprised at my lack of recklessness.

We found him in the end, lying on top of a pile of corpses.
“Tharsten!” I finally shouted the name that had been held back in my throat till now. The former Chieftain looked weakly at the direction of my voice.
“That voice….Roland? Urgh…..so he chose you as well.” He whispered with bloodstained lips. I knelt down beside him.
“Don’t talk, Tharsten. Your Berserking has left you wounded.” I told him. He shook his head with the power he still had left.
“No…I must talk. Listen, the Hunter has a weakness…….his pride….He’ll underestimate you…..Fight like no Skaal….would fight….Surprise him.”

I put my hand on his mouth to keep him from talking.
“Hush, father. I won’t lie to you. You’re dying.” I interrupted him. Perhaps it was harsh, but it was exactly what he would expect of a Skaal. Death is natural. To die a warrior’s death is an honour, if fought for the right cause.
“Roland…You called me…father. Thanks…..See you in Sovngarde.” With those words, the Chieftain of the Skaal passed on. Surrounded by the corpses of his enemies, his hands still clutching the Stalhrim mace.
“Yeah, see you there someday.”

For a while, I was lost to the world around me. Tharsten had passed on. The man who raised me in my earliest years lay dead on the cold ice. Dead, because some god was bored. Dead, just to entertain Hircine. I vaguely felt Carius’ hand on my shoulder.
“My condolences, Ro-El.”

I stood up and pushed his hand away.
“Don’t. Don’t make a mockery of his death with condolences.” I said. The Imperial’s eyes widened.
“What?” He muttered half in shock. I felt a sting of regret for what I’d said. It had sounded too harsh. I’d verbally punished him for meaning well.
“My apologies. Tharsten was a Skaal. He was infected with the curse of the werewolf. I saw it happen. It was only a matter of time before he would become one of them. He died like a Skaal would in such a situation. Fighting his enemies with no regard for his own safety. He was dead already, before we found him. What I’m trying to say is, he died fighting an enemy of the Skaal. To us, that is the greatest honour possible.” I said with a sigh.

Carius stepped away and peered into the distance.
“I understand.” Was all he said. I took the time to close Tharsten’s eyes before I joined my ally.
“Then let’s make that so-called god pay for all he’s done. We’ll leave Tharsten here. Let this place be a palace to sing his glory.” I spoke and together we continued through the maze till we found another door. Carius moved in like before to open it.
“Steel god’s soul, Dragon’s servant, Wolf’s champion.”

Carius stopped what he was doing and turned towards me.
“What are you mumbling?” He asked calmly.
“The beast of ice. We Skaal have a prophecy regarding this. So far, it has been painfully accurate. So I’m going to place my bets and say that it is right all the way. There are four challengers in this game. You….Tharsten and me makes three. Now if I managed to get the pattern in my head, that means that we’ll find the last challenger beyond that door. And the title of the prophecy tells me that he’s not human.” I explained just as calm.

Carius looked at the heavy door that stood in our path.
“A beast of ice? Well I didn’t ask to come here, I didn’t even ask to come to Frostmoth. I hate the cold! It pisses me off. And when I’m pissed off, no beast had better stand in my way! Forward we go!” He roared. I held back a chuckle. He was pumping up both himself and me. But he was right though. We could only go forward. I moved into position while he heaved the door open. Once open far enough, I jumped through.

I had reached the end of the maze. There were no cramped tunnels here, no howling wolves. I stood in a large circular chamber, on a walkway above a huge pit. Stairs led down into the pit to my right. At the other end, there was a large gate. And something was trying to force it open. Something huge, like a bear grown out of proportion. A horned bear. I could hear its muscles crack all the way from here as it pushed against the Ebony bars. Then, the door behind me screeched loudly as Carius forced it open far enough for him to pass. The beast up ahead stopped and turned to gaze upon us.

I looked at its muscles, the claws, its horns like battering rams, its four eyes and its sharp teeth. I preferred not to take my chances with a fight. This had to be the beast of ice, another of Hircine’s potential prey.
“Hail! We’ve been chosen by Hircine as well. Please, let us work together in this hunt! Let’s fight Hircine together!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. The beast roared and swiped through the air with its claws. Then, it charged.
“I take that as a no.” Carius said and readied himself.
“The moment he is about to slam into the wall, we’ll jump!” He shouted over the beast’s roaring. I nodded and brought Forgeheart up to my face in a twohanded grip.
“So in the end, I do end up fighting one of Hircine’s challengers.”

We jumped. I was lighter than Carius and better trained for this, so I managed to jump farther. The Imperial landed on the beast’s back and grabbed its fur while attempting to drive his broadsword into its massive back. The Beast was capable of high speeds but not very agile due to its mass. I took advantage of this and hewed with all my might at its legs while it was still stunned after running into the wall.

It let out a terrifying roar as I struck. But its fur had acted like a pillow, and softened my blow till all I managed was a light scratch. And what was worse, Forgeheart’s ice didn’t harm it. I was shocked, in the short time I’d been in possession of it, nothing had ever resisted its power. Yet the beast of ice did. Of course it did, the title wasn’t there for nothing. I threw Forgeheart away and readied myself for its next move. It’s next move was hurling the legionnaire off its back. Carius managed to land on his feet somehow, but his face showed me that it wasn’t something he wanted to do again. Making a large drop in heavy armour is not healthy for the ankles and the legs. We both jumped aside as our foe tried another charge.

“Damn, that thing is tough. And it sure loves to charge. I think we need a bigger sword.” He said as he tried to find a weak spot. The beast had turned around and roared another challenge at us, blinking with all four of its eyes.
“Speaking about swords, where’s yours?” He added a moment later.
“Forgeheart is of no use here. So it’s back to the basics. I just got an idea. Here I go!” I replied and dashed forward. My plan relied on two factors. My own speed and the beast’s response.

The giant smashed down with its arm, just like it should if it ever hoped to hit someone as short as me. I intentionally slipped on the ice and then flung myself up on top of its hand. It flung its arm back up in an attempt to throw me off which was exactly what I was hoping it would do. Its own movement launched me up to its face where I lashed out with my fingers, striking right at its eyes. The lens cracked and the beast reeled back in pain. I landed back on the floor and created some distance.

“Nice shot, but you didn’t kill it. And there are no eyes left to crack.” Carius dryly commented. I knelt down and took my pouch from my belt.
“I wasn’t going to kill it. I would never be able to penetrate into its brains. Umm, you might want to stand back a bit, this is going to be gross.” I told the Imperial. Carius frowned, glanced at the beast trashing about and then moved away reluctantly. I whispered a small prayer to whatever god might be listening before raising my voice.
“Over here, you big dumb oaf!” I shouted and continued with whatever insults I could come up with, compensating for diversity with several repeats.

The beast waved its head back and forth. After a few seconds of doing this, it had tracked me down by the sound of my voice and it did its favourite trick. It charged. I could feel nervous sweat trickle down my face, getting into my eyes. Yet I did not dare to wipe it away and clear up my vision. The ground shook with each step the behemoth took, each step sounding like approaching thunder. I counted the steps, trying my best to fight down the impulse to flee. One…two….three…four. At the fifth step, I executed my plan. I reached into the pouch and focussed my mind on the object I wanted. The pouch’s mouth began to expand, growing to incredible proportions. I jumped away and shouted the command.
“Charge!”

What followed was one of the bloodiest scenes I’d ever observed. The Drill Centurion rolled out and met the blinded beast head-on. It’s drill dug into the beast’s chest, throwing bone fragments, blood and shredded organs behind it. I slid back even further to avoid the gory fountain. The wails of agony hammer at my ears and I covered them with my hands and frantically closed my eyes. Then, it was all over.

The beast was dead, but the Drill Centurion continued to drill through it, its steel surface now smeared red with blood. With more than a bit of reluctance, I picked up the bloodied pouch and called the Centurion back.
“Wow, now that’s what I call impressive. You’re full of surprises, Ro-El.” Carius said with a big grin. I didn’t share his humour.
“Urk….never again. I think I’m going to puke.”

After relieving myself of last night’s dinner, I retrieved Forgeheart which had fortunately not been caught in the mess. The ebony gate was still closed but that was no problem for us. We were humans and as a result much smaller than the beast of ice. We could slip between the bars easily, though Carius had to hold his breath. We found ourselves in a pitchblack room.
“Welcome, worthy prey.” A dreadful voice spoke to us from the darkness. Suddenly flames lit up along the wall, lighting up the room while at the same time a cloud of smoke obscured its center. From out of the smoke, two red eyes gleamed at us. Then a silhouette became visible as Hircine strode out of the smoke. The hunter, we’d found him. And he sure had a flair for the dramatic.

He spun his spear around in a circle and then stabbed it into the floor.
“I was expecting the giant to come here. It appears that I was wrong. No matter, there is still time. I’ve prepared a meal for you, feel free to use it and regain your strength before the final hurdle.” He spoke and vanished before either of us could respond. Where he’d been standing, a plate with steaming wolfmeat remained.
“Food? I’m not going to reject such a gift. All this fighting has made me hungry.” Carius said and promptly began to consume the warm meat. I sat down and rested, though I did not eat a single bite myself. I would probably end up throwing it all over the floor anyway. All I did was drink the water from a small vial I found in my pouch.

I was thinking. Now that I’d made it all the way here, I had to honour my promise to Aevar. I would set him free, somehow. But how? And at the same time, if I survived, how was I going to continue my search for Pelinal? I had no idea where to look.

It was then that Hircine chose to return.
“Now that you’ve regained your strength, it is time for the hunt to end. The Bloodmoon shall soon sink beneath the horizon. A conclusion must be reached before then. Come on, fight! Decide which among you will be the challenger!” He shouted loudly. Carius and I looked at each other and then shrugged.
“Sir Hircine, with all due respect, we must refuse. It is not in the nature of man to turn against his allies, even if a god would command it.” Carius said softly yet firm. I personally doubted the argument he brought forth. Man, and mer, had often betrayed his allies for a god. But if it worked, I wouldn't complain. Hircine seemed to be surprised from what he heard.
“What do you intend to do? Only one shall have the honour of being my prey, that’s how I’ve planned it! Only one of you will fight one of my aspects!”

“Face it, you’re going to have two people to hunt. Either you’ll take us both, or we simply won’t fight at all. And that would take the excitement out of the game, wouldn’t it?” Carius continued. I had to admit he hit the right spot. Hircine was bored, and itching for excitement. There was no excitement for him in simple slaughter. He would do anything for fun.
“Sometimes, you have to bet on the long odds.” I remembered Khorne’s advice and made up my mind.
“Let’s change the rules a bit.”

Both Hircine and Carius looked at me, obviously a bit confused.
“Carius and I will fight all of your aspects. In exchange, I want several things to be done. One, you will free Aevar Stone-Singer and release him into death. Two, you will tell me where Pelinal is.” I stated my demands and waited for an answer.
“You wish to fight my full power? You have courage, mortal. I like that! Very well then, it is decided! You will face Strength, Speed and Guile! Do whatever is needed to win! Prepare yourself!” With those words, Hircine vanished for the second time.

Carius and I drew our swords and turned our backs to each other. But nothing had entered the room.
“Say, what’s this Pelinal?” The Imperial whispered.
“A really big Centurion I’m searching for. It’s a long story.” I whispered back and tightened my grip on Forgeheart’s hilt. Three puffs of smoke erupted around us. From out of the smoke jumped three personifications of Hircine’s aspects. A bear, a wolf and…..a miniature Hircine? I had to stifle a laugh upon seeing the deer’s mask that adorned the head of all three aspects. On Hircine it worked, but on a bear or a wolf it looked downright ridiculous. Nevertheless, the hunt had begun.

The wolf raced forward. It opened its mouth and prepared to bite. I dodged and stabbed with my blade. As smooth as water, the aspect rolled to the side and avoided the sword. Then something pushed against my back and made me stumble. I spun around to see what had hit me. It was Carius who had his Broadsword wedged between the bear’s teeth and was now trying to keep from being pushed backwards.
“Conclusion. Wolf, speed. Bear, strength. Then Hircine is guile. A spear doesn’t sound like a sign of wit to me.” I noted to myself and engaged the wolf again. Again, we both failed to hit each other. It seriously reminded me of my duel at Dren manor.

Something whistled through the air to my left. I brought up Forgeheart and managed to block Hircine’s spear. At the same time, the wolf attacked for the third time. This time I could not dodge completely. Its teeth gnawed at the Stalhrim covering my leg, which creaked under the pressure. Still locking the spear, I kicked at the wolf with my free foot. The aspect let go and moved away to prepare for its next move. I could only hope that Carius was holding his own against the bear.

“You are skilled. Yet you are also reckless. It is three against two, warrior.” Hircine hissed from behind his mask.
“I am with you.” I pulled away my blade and pressed my hands together.
“Then let’s change the numbers a bit.” I called back at the aspect of guile and crushed the spectral ring around my finger. Instantly, a cold wind blew through the room, colder than the air already present. The wind flowed together, forming into a humanoid shape.
“Hircine! For the second time, I challenge you!” Aevar shouted and stormed forward, swinging a mace that looked suspiciously similar to Tharsten’s.
“Now it is three against three, fair odds.” I said and turned my full attention on the wolf.

“Aevar! How did you get here?!” The aspect of guile shouted behind my back.
“You’re not the only god, remember that! There are powers at work that rival yours!” The rest of the conversation was lost to me as I had bigger problems to worry about. Problems like the aspect of speed trying to have me for diner. It jumped straight at me, like it had done every single time before. I managed to skid to the left and use the hilt of my sword to push that fanged mouth away. The wolf bounded away to make the gap it needed for its next attack. It was a predictable pattern that would have resulted in defeat right at the second try, if it wasn’t so fast. I had lost count when it jumped again.

Again, I dodged and again I tried to counter and again the damn wolf was out of reach before I’d gotten close. I realized my attacks came slow with a sword but using my bare hands on an extremely mobile target would only lead to broken fingers. I had to get it within reach, somehow. Then I knew it. If I couldn’t go to the mountain, the mountain would simply have to come to me. And this mountain was more than willing.

The next time the wolf charged, I remained put. I had to play this in a new way. Instead of relying on my ability to dodge, I would have to invent the ability to take blows. It was trial by fire at its finest. The aspect knocked me down but in doing so it made its fatal mistake. It exposed its soft belly to Forgeheart. A blink of an eye later, I shoved the now dead corpse off of me and got back to my feet. One aspect down, two to go.

I looked around to see what I should do next. To my left, Aevar was hammering away at guile like an avalanche. On the other side, Carius was doing his best to keep from being eaten by the aspect of strength. I made my choice and dashed over to help Carius. Not so surprisingly, things were very lopsided into our favour here. Carius had the strength needed to keep up with the bear, for a while at least. Me, I had the speed and agility to exploit every gap in its defence without difficulties. Also, I had Carius as a distraction.

I waited till the captain fell back from exhaustion. While the bear was still preparing to strike I did three things. One, I stabbed Forgeheart between its ribs and into its heart. Two, I crushed its windpipe with a fast kick. Three, I used a light spell I absorbed some time ago to blind and confuse it. The bear lacked the size and subsequent protection of its organs that the beast of ice enjoyed. It died as well, fairly easy. A bit too easy for the aspect of a god but who was I to complain?

Carius and I turned only to see that Aevar had already beaten his foe into the ground.
“How? How could I be defeated?!” The aspect of guile cried.
“You’ve given me centuries to prepare. I’ve beaten you fair and square. Now give me what I want!” The spirit roared back.
“And so you shall receive it.” All three aspects vanished and the true Hircine returned. Before our eyes, the ghost of Aevar began to dissipate like whisps of smoke rising from a candle. He nodded to us before he was gone completely.
“I’ll speak great tales about you when I arrive in Sovngarde.”

“That was quite an interesting performance. There would have been a greater challenge for you in store yet you took so long in getting here, the moons were about to sink beneath the horizon. When that happens, this palace will crumble. I had to cut short the battle without turning it into a one-sided slaughter.” Hircine chuckled. Now this was one weird god if I’d ever seen one. He’d actually been holding back on us.
“So, what about the deal we made?” I asked warily. He’d changed his part by not giving us his full-power aspects so he reasonably wasn’t bound to give me my answers. On the other hand, he had granted Aevar’s wish. Whether he gave me the answer or not, I had new problems to worry about. A crumbling palace did not sound pretty.

“Of course. The weapon you seek is in possession of Azura. Go to her shrine and she’ll lead you to its exact location. Good hunting.” The Hunter said and looked behind him where a crack had appeared in the wall.
“Ah, it has begun. You may go, hunters. The path beyond that door leads to a ledge. Use it to escape this place’s fall.” Another explosion of smoke, and he was gone. More cracks appeared in the wall and the floor. Was there a tremble beneath our feet?

“Let’s go, Ro-El. There’s no time to waste.” Carius said and ran for the door. I followed.

We ran, we ran as if the world behind us was coming to an end. It actually was. The ground beneath our feet trembled and cracked wherever our we planted our heels. I was frustrated. Was this how it was supposed to end? Behind us was nothing but cracking ice, before us was a drop into the bottomless depths.
“Pray to the Divines, kid! We jump!” Carius shouted over the thunderous noise.
“What?” I shouted back in disbelief.
“Jump!” The Imperial seized me by the arm and hurled himself off the cliff, taking me with him.

Falling through the air, it felt familiar. Like the dream I had when I was infected with Lycantrophy, before Pelinal came up with a brutal but incredibly effective cure. I looked down at my feet and burst out laughing. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous but there it was. The Cloudcleaver, descending at nearly the same velocity we were travelling. My landing on its deck was as soft as if I’d merely stepped off a table rather than jumped from a ledge now hundreds of metres above us. The surface was coming up beneath us though. I jumped for the steering wheel, rudely shoved Zarador out of the way and applied all of the airship’s thrust straight up. The turbines howled, jets of thick steam came out of the steam engine. The chamber whined as its walls were put to their limits from the pressure within.

Slowly we lost speed. Large blocks of ice crashed down all around us, forcing me to divert thrust continuously to avoid the largest fragments. We had not yet come to a stop completely before we ran out of air to fall down. Still, the Cloudcleaver had slowed down far enough to make a reasonably comfortable landing in the cold sea. Water splashed up over the railing and onto the deck, soaking us to the bone. I turned down the Turbines to safer amounts of thrust and got us away from the still crumbling plateau of ice. Ice plunged into the water around the airship turned actual ship.

Only when we were far enough away from any falling fragments did I release my hold on the wheel.
“I don’t believe it. Carius, how did you know the Cloudcleaver was down there?” I asked the captain. The man displayed a crooked grin and shrugged.
“I didn’t but hey, I just felt lucky. I pray to the Divines every day. It was about time I cashed in their favour. Wew, what a ride!” He replied, half-drunk from excitement. I shook my head and turned to Zarador.
“And how did you get here?” I asked him. The Altmer tried a similar crooked grin but interrupted his attempts to catch his hat that was blown off his head by a gust of wind.
“I went to bed and when I woke up, I found that we’d drifted off course. According to the Administrators, we are at the northern coast of Solstheim.” He replied.

“It just happened?” I muttered in disbelief. This was so wrong on too many levels to count.
“Of course it did. It’s a miracle, that’s all. Something you youngsters no longer rely on. Nowadays everything must be explained through logic. Bah, a good old miracle would beat logic every day, if it wasn’t so random.” Zarador complained.
“Alright, it’s a miracle. By the way, meet Falx Carius, captain of Frostmoth. Carius, meet Zarador, a friend of mine and a true Dwemer fanatic.” I chuckled and introduced the two to each other.

“Dwemer fanatic? Those buckets of rust aren’t worth a single septim if you ask me.” Carius laughed.
“You may keep those opinions unspoken. This is a Dwemer airship and our most esteemed captain just happens to be a high-ranking member of house Dwemer.” Zarador replied with a smug expression. Carius looked at me in wonder.
“He’s playing with me, isn’t he? The Dwemer vanished ages ago.” He spoke.

“Not exactly. Sure, most of the Dwemer population has gone but we are not dead by the normal definition. Most of us are now the heart and soul of a Centurion called Pelinal. It is roughly the size of Numidium, though with much greater potential. And another bonus is that it is still hidden somewhere in working condition.” I answered and gave a Spider the order to clean the deck from all the bits of ice scattered about. Two more spiders had already climbed on top of the steam chamber and were looking for cracks in the steel surface. They chattered loudly in a language only a Dwemer would understand, a rapid series of clicks. I nodded to myself and turned off the turbines completely so that the Centurions could repair the damage they’d suffered when I pushed them beyond their safe limits. Now only the waterflow pushed the Cloudcleaver forward. Fortunately the water flowed in the right direction.

“And you’re looking for Pelinal for reasons I’m not going to ask. It’s probably another thing for the Emperor. You two are probably a pair of Blades so I’m just going to shut up and forget about it. And to do that, I’ll go search for some booze on this metal bucket.” Carius grumbled and went below deck. I quickly had a Spider transmit the order that tagged Carius as a friendly. If I didn’t, he would find out that there were a few aggressive Spheres and Macewielders in the cargohold, not to mention a spare Wing. Oversized balls and darts of steel would surely ruin his day.
“Heh, he called us Blades. We’re so much better than that.”

On to the next chapter