Chapter 6: Shield of Resdayn.
I, Zarador, shall take up the quill at this point. The reason is that Ro-El does not remember the following events. Therefore, it is my task to fill up the vacuum that would otherwise occur. As known, we were standing on a ledge, looking right at Pelinal, the second Numidium and the true god of steel. This was the machine that challenged the supposedly invincible Numidium and came out victorious. It was truly a god of the Dwemer. No, it was more than a god. This great giant was House Dwemer itself.
I immediately noticed its resemblance with the type 2 Centurion, albeit on a massive scale. Yet looking closer, it was soon revealed that the similarity was a superficial one. There were infinite differences in the details. The largest difference I could make out by such a short observation were the unexpectedly bulky shoulders. They were like giant pauldrons of a very uncomfortable design. Yet the Dwemer never built things without a reason. Somewhere, these shoulders gave it an advantage in battle.
Battle, it still carried the wounds of its last fight. Many cuts and dents marred its surface, a large rent had torn apart the skin of its chest. The right side of its face had crumpled, as if struck by a mace of titanic proportions. Just the knowledge that the cause of these wounds was Numidium, made my heart skip a beat. Pelinal was just as powerful as that first Centurion, if not even more. The destruction these behemoths could cause if angered was beyond my feeble imagination.
Ro-El was silent. I did not dare to interrupt his thoughts. Two men were inside there. Dumac and Ro-El, two aspects of the same soul. Two personalities, two memories, two lives. It was up to him to bring order to the chaos that whirled inside him. Any interference on my part would only endanger the process.
Something reached out to me. A call, a strong one. A call of Magicka. I surrounded us with a shield just in time, for a fireball soon exploded across the protective bubble.
“I am impressed, old man. Your reflexes are better than you would make them appear to be.” A voice I did not recognize spoke. I looked down the ledge in the direction from where the spell had come. A man stood there, a man whose skin was like grey ash. With a sense of dread, I realized that the skin truly was made of ash.
“You! I thought I turned you into a snowman back there! It was at least twenty degrees below zero!” Ro-El shouted at my side. I could feel the cold coming from the exposed Forgeheart. It bit through my skin and seeped into my bones.
“Returned one, I told you before. I am immortal! Being encased in ice is nothing. This is your last chance! Surrender the key and I’ll let you live. You and your friend.” The man called back. I shook my head resolutely. This was no time for nonsense. It was obvious that he would never let us live.
“Ro-El, move on.” I whispered to my companion.
“Move on. Once Pelinal is awake, there is nothing he can do. I’ll buy you time.”
The shield dissipated. Ro-El dashed ahead, leaping off the ledge, flying across the vast depths. I had to admit I was quite impressed. It takes a great deal of courage to attempt such a jump without any method to slow the fall in case you miss the landing. Nevertheless, this was not the time to admire one’s acrobatics. The ashcreature had set himself into motion to intercept my friend. I fired a spell of my own at him which tore through his shoulder and separated the arm.
“If you desire the key, then come for me! I hold it, I am the keyholder the prophecy has spoken off!” I shouted.
It was all a lie, of course. The keyholder was Ro-El, no one else. Yet it made the creature hesitate, it brought him into an unknown situation. Even as it contemplated which choice to make, I could see its severed arm turn to dust and reattach itself to the shoulder. I could not let it regenerate.
“I challenge you! I am your doom!” I shouted again to keep its attention fixed on me. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that Ro-El had made his jump and was now climbing that massive rent on Pelinal’s chest.
He had made up his mind. I summoned my shield again to thwart the incoming barrage and retaliated with a barrage of my own. The dark chamber was lit up by the fury of our spells. My shield wavered and fell, forcing me to take cover. But not before I’d broken my foe into countless pieces. I knew I had not managed to kill it, but I hoped it would give Ro-El the time he needed. I lied against the cold rock, most of my magicka spent and out of ideas. All I could do now was hope.
“You’re quite good, old man! But not good enough!” Moments after these words had echoed through the chamber, the ledge under my feet turned to dust. I fell, and had to use what precious little magicka I had remaining to slow my fall. I landed at Pelinal’s feet, just a step or two away from that monster. I had only little power remaining. Enough to escape, or to go down in a blaze of glory.
“Do you hear me, old man? You are not good enough! I shall bury you, together with this machine! My storm shall do this! You will never see the daylight again!” The man of ash told me, then turned into a cloud of ash that rose up and vanished through the tiny cracks in the ceiling. A heartbeat later, a loud rumble entered my ears and those cracks became bigger, growing each passing moment. Small pebbles began to fall, soon followed by bigger fragments. I leaned on my staff, unable to move. All I had to do to escape was to cast the spell that would return me to the Cloudcleaver’s deck. Yet I couldn’t. I couldn’t abandon Ro-El to his fate. His fate would be my fate. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.
The sound of rock hitting ancient steel was deafening. Why had Pelinal not moved yet? Was it too late? I did not know, and didn’t dare think about it. I just stood there, with an odd calmth that didn’t fit the situation. For each moment I lingered, my death would become more certain. So far, I had not been hit by the falling debris yet my luck would not last forever. But I didn’t care. After all, what did my life mean now?
“Here lies the champion of Tamriel. His courage was like a shining beacon to our souls and a scorging light to Tamriel’s foes. May his soul rest in peace. May we follow the example he’s set. May we never falter when all hope seems lost. May we raise our arm in defiance till our last breath. For as long as the stars shine in the sky, may heroes defend the land from evil.” The words came to me without warning. I remembered where I’d read them.
It was in Cyrodiil, some time ago. For an Altmer like me, it was like yesterday. For a human, it was many years. They were enscribed into a small, unasuming tombstone, situated within a grand mausoleum. Flowers graced the grave and countless candles cast their light on the faces of the worshippers. It was the grave of the unnamed champion, the one who had vanquished Tharn. Or so they say.
I whispered the words and turned them over and over within my mouth.
“Why am I standing here? It is foolish! Pelinal is dead, Ro-El cannot be saved! But I will continue the fight in his name! I must leave!” I raised my hand to cast the spell when my luck finally ran out. A heavy rock hit me right above my left ear, knocking me down. Warm blood flowed down my cracked skull.
“Heh, I suppose this is it. Such an embarassing end.” I thought with grim humour. My hands dug through the dust, clawing for my staff. I was hit by a constant stream of pebbles, the sign of a large fragment being ripped out of the ceiling. There was a sudden rush of air. Was it the air displaced by the falling boulder? The world rang, louder than ever.
“Go.” Who had spoken? What was that voice? So calm and so devoid of any emotion. Who was there? I had to see. I forced myself to lift my head. The ceiling had gone, replaced by a dull gold. Gold, why was the ceiling made of gold? And why was it so close?
“Go.” The voice spoke again. Now I knew what I was looking at. A hand, a giant hand of dented steel that was wrapped around me like a protective dome. Pelinal had moved.
“Ro-El, you little show-off! You did it!” I cackled. My hands found my staff and I took hold of it. Its powers flowed into me and I cast the spell of recall.
The taste of the salty air of Azura’s coast nipped at my tongue as my body was transported through a temporal rip in the fabric of Mundus. I let myself sink to the deck of the airship and waited as the last of my powers slowly left me. I wouldn’t die, not without any further injury. We Altmer are of a superior physique compared to the other races. No, I would survive, like always.
Cushioned footsteps moved across the deck.
“Still alive, old man?” The mocking voice of the ash man said.
“Can you smell it, that fresh air? How your lungs struggle to take those breaths. You are defeated. Your shell is wounded, your goal has been crushed by countless tonnes of rock. Yes, not even the Daedric prince could prevent the destruction of her beloved shrine as it went down with the rest of the island. You are defeated old man.” He continued. I laughed weakly.
“No, you are the one who is defeated.” I whispered back. My words were lost on the wind.
The Sixth House member bent down to my face.
“What did you say?” He hissed.
“It takes more than your feeble tricks to destroy a god.”
He bolted upright.
“What?! Surely, that wound must have damaged your mind! I shattered an island! I threw tonnes upon tonnes of rock upon it! And yet you still believe it has survived?!” He shouted enraged.
“I am certain of it.” I no longer had the power to speak, so I kept those words within my mind. I was loosing consciousness, slowly but surely. The last thing I heard was the sound of countless tonnes upon tonnes of rock shifting, being cast aside. The last thing I saw was the Centurion rising from the pile, shrugging off the heavy stone like mere raindrops. Then, I gave in to the darkness.
Ok, back to me then, I suppose. As Zarador said when he began to write, I have no idea what happened while I was inside Pelinal. Actually I wasn’t just inside Pelinal, I was a part of Pelinal. Pelinal only functions when its soul is whole. I am like a detachable piece of the soul, a key to its soul just like how the three swords are keys to its aspects.
I woke up far from where I entered my temporary sleep. I was in a tent, a dome of wood and animal hides. There was a fire burning at the center, and a short man kept watch. I knew that short man. It was Fargoth.
“Hey there, keep calm. You’re still confused.” The Bosmer said and pushed me back onto the bed. I silently thanked him for as soon as I got up, I felt dizzy and would have fallen headfirst into the fire if it wasn’t for his help.
“I know what you’re wondering. How did you get here and what have I been up to since I left Ebonheart.”
The agent made himself comfortable on the floor and poked up the fire with a long bone.
“The second question is easy to tell. After leaving, I went straight for Red Mountain and have been holding a war of stealth with the Sixth House. Each morning I would go out and stalk the edge of the Ghostfence for any creep unlucky enough to stray within range of my bow. During the night, I would rest at the Ghostgate. During the last two weeks, an army like no other had been assembling. Two days ago, the army scaled Red Mountain. The Nerevarine was there as well and defeated Dagoth Ur. It wasn’t hard to know when. The whole top of the mountain blew off. Of course I was one of the first to investigate Dagoth Ur’s citadel after the Sixth House’s defeat.”
My head reeled from the new information. The Sixth House defeated? That was great news.
“There wasn’t much to see to be honest. I went back out and followed the Nerevarine for a bit. He was going west, I don’t know why. Anyway, now for why you are here. Just a few hours after the great hero left, this big machine came stomping and entered the mountain. I followed as usual and found it standing in the middle of a large pool of lava. It didn’t move and the back of its head was open so I took a look. I saw you sitting there, sleeping. Anyway, I brought you here to this Ashlander tent and have been waiting ever since.”
I thought about everything he’d said.
“So it’s all over? Good, I could use a vacation.” I muttered to no one in particular.
“But it is not over. For an agent, there is always work to do. Just hope that your next job won’t require so much brute force and a bit more subtlety.”
On to the next chapter
I, Zarador, shall take up the quill at this point. The reason is that Ro-El does not remember the following events. Therefore, it is my task to fill up the vacuum that would otherwise occur. As known, we were standing on a ledge, looking right at Pelinal, the second Numidium and the true god of steel. This was the machine that challenged the supposedly invincible Numidium and came out victorious. It was truly a god of the Dwemer. No, it was more than a god. This great giant was House Dwemer itself.
I immediately noticed its resemblance with the type 2 Centurion, albeit on a massive scale. Yet looking closer, it was soon revealed that the similarity was a superficial one. There were infinite differences in the details. The largest difference I could make out by such a short observation were the unexpectedly bulky shoulders. They were like giant pauldrons of a very uncomfortable design. Yet the Dwemer never built things without a reason. Somewhere, these shoulders gave it an advantage in battle.
Battle, it still carried the wounds of its last fight. Many cuts and dents marred its surface, a large rent had torn apart the skin of its chest. The right side of its face had crumpled, as if struck by a mace of titanic proportions. Just the knowledge that the cause of these wounds was Numidium, made my heart skip a beat. Pelinal was just as powerful as that first Centurion, if not even more. The destruction these behemoths could cause if angered was beyond my feeble imagination.
Ro-El was silent. I did not dare to interrupt his thoughts. Two men were inside there. Dumac and Ro-El, two aspects of the same soul. Two personalities, two memories, two lives. It was up to him to bring order to the chaos that whirled inside him. Any interference on my part would only endanger the process.
Something reached out to me. A call, a strong one. A call of Magicka. I surrounded us with a shield just in time, for a fireball soon exploded across the protective bubble.
“I am impressed, old man. Your reflexes are better than you would make them appear to be.” A voice I did not recognize spoke. I looked down the ledge in the direction from where the spell had come. A man stood there, a man whose skin was like grey ash. With a sense of dread, I realized that the skin truly was made of ash.
“You! I thought I turned you into a snowman back there! It was at least twenty degrees below zero!” Ro-El shouted at my side. I could feel the cold coming from the exposed Forgeheart. It bit through my skin and seeped into my bones.
“Returned one, I told you before. I am immortal! Being encased in ice is nothing. This is your last chance! Surrender the key and I’ll let you live. You and your friend.” The man called back. I shook my head resolutely. This was no time for nonsense. It was obvious that he would never let us live.
“Ro-El, move on.” I whispered to my companion.
“Move on. Once Pelinal is awake, there is nothing he can do. I’ll buy you time.”
The shield dissipated. Ro-El dashed ahead, leaping off the ledge, flying across the vast depths. I had to admit I was quite impressed. It takes a great deal of courage to attempt such a jump without any method to slow the fall in case you miss the landing. Nevertheless, this was not the time to admire one’s acrobatics. The ashcreature had set himself into motion to intercept my friend. I fired a spell of my own at him which tore through his shoulder and separated the arm.
“If you desire the key, then come for me! I hold it, I am the keyholder the prophecy has spoken off!” I shouted.
It was all a lie, of course. The keyholder was Ro-El, no one else. Yet it made the creature hesitate, it brought him into an unknown situation. Even as it contemplated which choice to make, I could see its severed arm turn to dust and reattach itself to the shoulder. I could not let it regenerate.
“I challenge you! I am your doom!” I shouted again to keep its attention fixed on me. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that Ro-El had made his jump and was now climbing that massive rent on Pelinal’s chest.
He had made up his mind. I summoned my shield again to thwart the incoming barrage and retaliated with a barrage of my own. The dark chamber was lit up by the fury of our spells. My shield wavered and fell, forcing me to take cover. But not before I’d broken my foe into countless pieces. I knew I had not managed to kill it, but I hoped it would give Ro-El the time he needed. I lied against the cold rock, most of my magicka spent and out of ideas. All I could do now was hope.
“You’re quite good, old man! But not good enough!” Moments after these words had echoed through the chamber, the ledge under my feet turned to dust. I fell, and had to use what precious little magicka I had remaining to slow my fall. I landed at Pelinal’s feet, just a step or two away from that monster. I had only little power remaining. Enough to escape, or to go down in a blaze of glory.
“Do you hear me, old man? You are not good enough! I shall bury you, together with this machine! My storm shall do this! You will never see the daylight again!” The man of ash told me, then turned into a cloud of ash that rose up and vanished through the tiny cracks in the ceiling. A heartbeat later, a loud rumble entered my ears and those cracks became bigger, growing each passing moment. Small pebbles began to fall, soon followed by bigger fragments. I leaned on my staff, unable to move. All I had to do to escape was to cast the spell that would return me to the Cloudcleaver’s deck. Yet I couldn’t. I couldn’t abandon Ro-El to his fate. His fate would be my fate. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable.
The sound of rock hitting ancient steel was deafening. Why had Pelinal not moved yet? Was it too late? I did not know, and didn’t dare think about it. I just stood there, with an odd calmth that didn’t fit the situation. For each moment I lingered, my death would become more certain. So far, I had not been hit by the falling debris yet my luck would not last forever. But I didn’t care. After all, what did my life mean now?
“Here lies the champion of Tamriel. His courage was like a shining beacon to our souls and a scorging light to Tamriel’s foes. May his soul rest in peace. May we follow the example he’s set. May we never falter when all hope seems lost. May we raise our arm in defiance till our last breath. For as long as the stars shine in the sky, may heroes defend the land from evil.” The words came to me without warning. I remembered where I’d read them.
It was in Cyrodiil, some time ago. For an Altmer like me, it was like yesterday. For a human, it was many years. They were enscribed into a small, unasuming tombstone, situated within a grand mausoleum. Flowers graced the grave and countless candles cast their light on the faces of the worshippers. It was the grave of the unnamed champion, the one who had vanquished Tharn. Or so they say.
I whispered the words and turned them over and over within my mouth.
“Why am I standing here? It is foolish! Pelinal is dead, Ro-El cannot be saved! But I will continue the fight in his name! I must leave!” I raised my hand to cast the spell when my luck finally ran out. A heavy rock hit me right above my left ear, knocking me down. Warm blood flowed down my cracked skull.
“Heh, I suppose this is it. Such an embarassing end.” I thought with grim humour. My hands dug through the dust, clawing for my staff. I was hit by a constant stream of pebbles, the sign of a large fragment being ripped out of the ceiling. There was a sudden rush of air. Was it the air displaced by the falling boulder? The world rang, louder than ever.
“Go.” Who had spoken? What was that voice? So calm and so devoid of any emotion. Who was there? I had to see. I forced myself to lift my head. The ceiling had gone, replaced by a dull gold. Gold, why was the ceiling made of gold? And why was it so close?
“Go.” The voice spoke again. Now I knew what I was looking at. A hand, a giant hand of dented steel that was wrapped around me like a protective dome. Pelinal had moved.
“Ro-El, you little show-off! You did it!” I cackled. My hands found my staff and I took hold of it. Its powers flowed into me and I cast the spell of recall.
The taste of the salty air of Azura’s coast nipped at my tongue as my body was transported through a temporal rip in the fabric of Mundus. I let myself sink to the deck of the airship and waited as the last of my powers slowly left me. I wouldn’t die, not without any further injury. We Altmer are of a superior physique compared to the other races. No, I would survive, like always.
Cushioned footsteps moved across the deck.
“Still alive, old man?” The mocking voice of the ash man said.
“Can you smell it, that fresh air? How your lungs struggle to take those breaths. You are defeated. Your shell is wounded, your goal has been crushed by countless tonnes of rock. Yes, not even the Daedric prince could prevent the destruction of her beloved shrine as it went down with the rest of the island. You are defeated old man.” He continued. I laughed weakly.
“No, you are the one who is defeated.” I whispered back. My words were lost on the wind.
The Sixth House member bent down to my face.
“What did you say?” He hissed.
“It takes more than your feeble tricks to destroy a god.”
He bolted upright.
“What?! Surely, that wound must have damaged your mind! I shattered an island! I threw tonnes upon tonnes of rock upon it! And yet you still believe it has survived?!” He shouted enraged.
“I am certain of it.” I no longer had the power to speak, so I kept those words within my mind. I was loosing consciousness, slowly but surely. The last thing I heard was the sound of countless tonnes upon tonnes of rock shifting, being cast aside. The last thing I saw was the Centurion rising from the pile, shrugging off the heavy stone like mere raindrops. Then, I gave in to the darkness.
Ok, back to me then, I suppose. As Zarador said when he began to write, I have no idea what happened while I was inside Pelinal. Actually I wasn’t just inside Pelinal, I was a part of Pelinal. Pelinal only functions when its soul is whole. I am like a detachable piece of the soul, a key to its soul just like how the three swords are keys to its aspects.
I woke up far from where I entered my temporary sleep. I was in a tent, a dome of wood and animal hides. There was a fire burning at the center, and a short man kept watch. I knew that short man. It was Fargoth.
“Hey there, keep calm. You’re still confused.” The Bosmer said and pushed me back onto the bed. I silently thanked him for as soon as I got up, I felt dizzy and would have fallen headfirst into the fire if it wasn’t for his help.
“I know what you’re wondering. How did you get here and what have I been up to since I left Ebonheart.”
The agent made himself comfortable on the floor and poked up the fire with a long bone.
“The second question is easy to tell. After leaving, I went straight for Red Mountain and have been holding a war of stealth with the Sixth House. Each morning I would go out and stalk the edge of the Ghostfence for any creep unlucky enough to stray within range of my bow. During the night, I would rest at the Ghostgate. During the last two weeks, an army like no other had been assembling. Two days ago, the army scaled Red Mountain. The Nerevarine was there as well and defeated Dagoth Ur. It wasn’t hard to know when. The whole top of the mountain blew off. Of course I was one of the first to investigate Dagoth Ur’s citadel after the Sixth House’s defeat.”
My head reeled from the new information. The Sixth House defeated? That was great news.
“There wasn’t much to see to be honest. I went back out and followed the Nerevarine for a bit. He was going west, I don’t know why. Anyway, now for why you are here. Just a few hours after the great hero left, this big machine came stomping and entered the mountain. I followed as usual and found it standing in the middle of a large pool of lava. It didn’t move and the back of its head was open so I took a look. I saw you sitting there, sleeping. Anyway, I brought you here to this Ashlander tent and have been waiting ever since.”
I thought about everything he’d said.
“So it’s all over? Good, I could use a vacation.” I muttered to no one in particular.
“But it is not over. For an agent, there is always work to do. Just hope that your next job won’t require so much brute force and a bit more subtlety.”
On to the next chapter