Part II: Wolfslayer
Arronax opened his eyes and was greeted by inky darkness. He felt a soft bed beneath him and a warm blanket covering him, there were no candles lit and he had a hard time focusing on anything but the wood and stone ceiling barely visible above him. He resolved to just let his eyes explore the darkness before finally settling on slightly flickering light streaming in through an open door. Silhouetted in the doorway was a woman figure with long curly hair and a small but athletic frame. Walking into the room, she lit a candle next to the bed bathing the room in soft light.
Arronax recognized her, it was Wenxue, the attractive Redguard healer of the Imperial Legion, and that meant that he was back in Fort Monmooth. Wenxue had fiery red hair that hung past her shoulders to the middle of her back and copper skin a lighter shade than most Redguards due to the Breton heritage from her father. She held a light blue pear shaped glass bottle in her hand. Uncorking the bottle with a pop, she put it to Arronax's lips.
"Drink this, it's a healing potion to get rid of any lingering ill effects," she said, tipping it into his mouth. He had no choice but to gulp it down as fast as she poured it. A warm soothing sensation crawled over him, starting in his stomach and working its way to his hands and feet. His eyes focused and he realized for the first time since waking that he wasn't wearing his armor, or a shirt. Then the memories hit him, the Dwemer armor, Halldin, crashing through a wall, trying to stand, then blacking out.
Wenxue saw the confused look in his eyes and lightly touched his arm. "You've been asleep for over 12 hours," she said softly "Renwick and Radont were on their way to check out the armor for themselves when they saw the gathering crowd. You were unconscious so they brought you here. I cast healing spells on you then all we could do was wait. Nalik wanted to talk to you as soon as you were awake, are you up for it?" She asked genuinely concerned.
"I guess so," was the half-hearted reply.
Gently squeezing his arm, Wenxue turned and walked out the door. Arronax heard a muffled conversation outside and a minute later Nalik walked in. He pulled up a wooden chair next to Arronax and sat in silence thinking about the best way to phrase the question before deciding to just come out with it.
"What happened?" he ventured.
Shifting uneasily in the bed, Arronax spoke quietly. "He put the helm on and hit the floor screaming, holding his head. Then he just jumped up grabbed me and threw me through a solid brick wall."
Nalik was confused "He didn't say anything?"
Arronax dropped his gaze to where his feet were under the blanket; inhaling deeply and slowly letting it out he replied, "Ballgore, he said his name was Ballgore."
Nalik's shoulders slumped as if a heavy weight had been hung on them and a long sigh escaped his lips.
"Then you know what needs to be done and what lies ahead".
Arronax nodded. The thought that he may have to kill his best friend sickened him. No, he thought, he is alive and I will help him come back. He couldn't give this burden to anyone else, it was his bloodline that defended Vvardenfell and he was the only one that could wield Stradyn, the blade he was cursed to carry anytime evil reared its grotesque head. The sword was strange in the fact that once the evil was destroyed it would vanish and reappear when needed, usually in the possession of a powerful being in order to test whoever might seek to claim it. Arronax was hoping he would never have to pick up the blade; he did not relish the thought of being the one person to save all of Vvardenfell.
"Do you know where Stradyn is?" He asked Nalik; if anyone knew where the sword was it would be the old archeologist.
"Two days ago Imperial mages detected a powerful enchantment coming from Crul, that would be the first place I'd look."
Crul was an abandoned city on a small island north of Vvardenfell in the Sea of Ghosts, anyone that dared go to the decaying city either came back mad, babbling incoherently about some kind of undead sorcery, or they never returned at all.
Arronax smiled weakly, "I thought maybe the curse wasn't real, that maybe it was a story made up by some old man wanting to feel better about an empty life. I am no leader, I'm just a soldier doing what I'm told."
Nalik tried his best to improve the disheartened soldiers morale, "You're not going alone, Radont and Renwick would follow you to the very heart of Red Mountain, and they will look to you for leadership now."
Shrugging, Arronax replied, "I'd rather they didn't, there is much to do, I should be getting ready." Tossing the blanket aside, he slid out of bed moving his arms and legs around to make sure everything worked. Picking his shirt up from the floor he pulled it over his head and walked through the door. Radont and Renwick were waiting for him and stood when he entered the room.
"How are you feeling, boss?" Renwick asked. Arronax didn't like the idea of being called 'boss' but let it go for the time being. "I've felt better," was his reply. "Have you slept yet?"
Renwick shook his head, "Not a wink, Radont and I stayed awake waiting for new orders from you, being the new leader of the Ghosts and all." He said with a proud smile. Radont nodded agreement.
"Look, right now I'm not the leader of the Ghosts, we are all equal, no one better than the other." His unflinching face meant he was serious.
Renwick raised his eyebrows in surprise; he figured Arronax would enjoy the chance to lead the Ghosts into battle. Probably just some after effects of what happened he said to himself, he'll lead us eventually. "OK... what do we do now?"
Shrugging, Arronax replied with indifference, "You can do whatever you want, I am going to find Stradyn and Halldin."
"Who is Stradyn?" Renwick asked quickly.
Arronax gave him the quick version, "Stradyn is a sword I have to find in order to help Halldin."
Radont finally spoke up, "We're going with you, leader or not." He said, crossing his arms. Renwick mimicked Radont's posture and waited for the reply from the Imperial.
"I had a feeling you'd say that, get some rest -- you'll need it Renwick and Radont made their way to the barracks and quickly fell into a deep peaceful sleep. Having already slept for the last 12 hours, Arronax decided to look over some maps of Vvardenfell to see what would be the best route to take on their journey. After 15 minutes of staring at a map and letting his mind wander he decided to just go to Balmora and have a look around.
The morning sun was just peeking over the horizon, scattering its warming rays over the land, when he entered the city. It was always busy here because of the Great Houses and the mage and fighters guilds. Arronax wanted something that would take his mind of the events of the past day and he found it in the booksellers building. He entered and waved to the well-dressed orcish merchant standing behind a wooden counter. Arronax enjoyed reading about the history of Tamriel so he picked up a copy of "Brief History of the Empire", found a table, and began reading.
Four books and five hours later two more patrons entered the building. Arronax looked up from his book and saw Renwick and Radont.
"We're ready when you are" said Renwick.
Arronax returned the book to its place on the shelf and said "We need to look over some maps and choose the best route to Crul, then we just need to gather our gear and we'll head out."
"What's in Crul that we need?" Asked Renwick, he had heard the stories and would have rather avoided the town if possible.
"That's where Stradyn is-I hope," was the reply.
With that, the 3 soldiers returned to Fort Monmooth and spread out a map on a wooden table.
"We could head straight north from here through the West Gash region," Renwick said, tracing his finger over the map, "then go east along the coast until we came to the Grazelands, from there we can find a boat and sail to Crul." He stepped back as Radont and Arronax studied the map.
Arronax gave his opinion, "The ash storms will be pretty bad this time of year up through the West Gash, plus we would have to cross through the Ashlander camps to get to the Grazelands and they won't let us walk through unchallenged."
He pointed to Balmora and traced the map northeast; "If Halldin were still leading us he would go this way, straight to the Grazelands. It would take us close to the Ghostgate but if we take some potions to cure blight disease we should be ok. We can avoid the southern Ashlander camps easier in the rocky terrain. Once we get to the Grazelands it will be an easy journey straight north to the Sea of Ghosts."
Renwick nodded, "Sounds good to me."
Arronax looked across the table at Radont who looked up and said simply, "That'll work."
Rolling up the map, Arronax said "OK then, lets get our gear and we can head out, Nalik said he would have our stuff ready in the armory."
Walking through the solid steel door to the armory, the soldiers were stunned to see three complete sets of ebony armor waiting for them. Only the highest-ranking officers of the Imperial Legion or the richest nobles in Tamriel were able to afford the coveted armor. The helms were perfectly shaped out of the hard material and had a horizontal slit about an inch wide to see out of. There was a vertical slit the same width running down the middle exposing the nose and mouth of the wearer making it easier to breath when combat got intense. Gold bordered the slits and contrasted with the deep blue, almost black, of the rest of the helm. Gold was also inlaid in a royal pattern on the breastplate; the pauldrons, greaves and boots were all one dark blue color.
The wood elf and two Imperials walked around their armor with wide-eyed admiration, running their fingers over the smooth metal. Renwick found an ebony bow and short sword with his while Radont get an ebony katana. Arronax had only a longsword and shield made from the ebony waiting for him, but knew that he would soon wield a weapon more powerful than any in all of Tamriel. The shield was 5 feet tall and 3 feet wide, big enough to cover a grown Imperial if he ducked behind it yet it was lighter than a small steel buckler. Picking up the shield, Arronax immediately felt energy pulsing through his arm.
"This shield is enchanted," he said, surprised.
Nalik nodded, "Yes, it has a constant feather effect on it, that's why it feels so light. It will also deflect any magic that hits it, I thought it would come in handy on this mission." His voice dropped to just above a whisper as if an unseen enemy was nearby, "You will have to walk there, we don't know if the Sixth House will be looking for you at the silt strider ports."
The three soldiers eagerly donned their newly acquired armor, noticing how comfortable it was for being such a heavy material. Each one had a pack to carry with food, water, and various potions that they may need along the way. They hoped they wouldn't have to use any, but it would be foolish not to take them on a journey that led them close to the Ghostgate.
Leaving Fort Monmooth, the soldiers headed northeast through the rocky, barren terrain of the Ashlands. The noon sun was high in the sky when they left and by the time they stopped for the night the twin moons of Tamriel had replaced it. It was an uneventful day of walking over rocky crags and around smoldering lava pits that dotted the dark land like red eyes staring unblinkingly at the sky. They saw a few rats and the occasional scaly green and brown cliff racer, but nothing worth fighting or trying to sneak around. They were about 3 quarters of the way through the Ashlands when they set up camp, each one carried a simple bedroll and wolf skins and arranged them around the fire they had built to keep warm. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the crack of the fire and enjoying the warmth on their faces.
Finally Renwick spoke up, "Tell us more about this sword of yours, Arronax."
Arronax had heard the legend countless times and easily recalled it for his two traveling partners, "It all started a long time ago when the Dwemer still existed here on Vvardenfell. They were master craftsmen, using steam to power their metal army, the remnants of which still run rampant through almost all the Dwemer ruins on the island. They created a blade that would allow the wielder to have a limitless supply of magicka, making them the most powerful mage in existence. They named it after one of their greatest warriors and it was to be used strictly for the good of Tamriel. They made it so powerful that to keep it out of the wrong hands the sword disappears when the evil is gone. Unfortunately, the blade was severely unstable and whenever anyone tried to use it they would be destroyed by the overwhelming amount of magicka coursing through their bodies. They needed something that would channel the energy and hold it until it was needed, that's when they made the armor that Halldin put on. The armor is just ordinary Dwemer armor without Stradyn to power it, well, everything but the helm."
"There was a powerful Dwemer mage helping to create the armor, he was consumed by his lust for power and secretly cast a special soul trap spell on the helm so that when he died his soul would be trapped in it. He would then be able to control anyone unfortunate enough to put on the helm. That person would then be able to control the undead so don't be alarmed when the deceased start popping up in strange places. He can control the undead as easily as he controls his own arms-they are part of his consciousness now. Halldin is probably looking for Stradyn right now."
Arronax's voice trailed off and he stared at the rocky ground.
"And how do you fit into all of this?" Renwick asked.
Arronax took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then replied, "I am a 'Channeler', I can use Stradyn without wearing the armor." He said it like it was common knowledge. "There are other, lesser channelers that can use a fraction of the power-most of them are part of the sixth house cult. That's enough talking for one night, I'm tired and we have a lot of walking ahead of us." Arronax said laying back on his bedroll and pulling the wolf skins over him.
Renwick did the same but Radont stood, picking up his sheathed katana and strapping it to his side, he suggested, "We should take turns keeping watch, you never know when an ashlander tribe will come wandering over."
Arronax and Renwick nodded sleepily. It was an uneventful night and after an hour of standing and guarding, Radont sat and stared at nothing in particular. After rousing Arronax an hour later it was his turn to crawl under the wolf skins. The ebony armor was comfortable enough to leave on while sleeping, meaning the sleeping ghosts would be battle ready as soon as they could stand and grab their weapons. Renwick took the last 2-hour shift and woke everyone just as the first sign of sunlight broke over the rocky landscape signaling the last uneventful day of their journey.
Three hours later they were standing at the edge of the Grazelands. Gently rolling grass covered hills stretched out before them like waves from the sea frozen in time. Solitary trees standing proudly like guardians of the hills dotted the landscape. The soft ground made walking easier and the three soldiers were over half way through the fertile green region before they stopped for the night.
Renwick took the first uneventful watch this time followed by Arronax. When it was time for Radont's patrol, he resolved not to sit and wait this time. He headed off into the night carrying Arronax's shield with him. He could use the katana with one hand if he had to, and this was one of the only times he thought he would get to carry an enchanted item. The stars in the clear night sky shone down on the young Imperial as he made his rounds. Looking up into the sky he noticed that both moons were full, when he returned his gaze to the hills his heart almost stopped beating.
Arronax fell asleep quickly for the second night in a row but didn't sleep long. Snapping his eyes open, Arronax thought he heard something in the stillness of the night. All he heard was silence. He heard it again a few seconds later, the sound that roused him from his slumber. It was Radont yelling something to him but the Imperial couldn't make out what it was. Arronax sat up to hear better but it was silent.
Radont yelled again and this time Arronax heard it. Jumping to his feet he glanced over at Renwick, he was awake now with a confused look on his face-he hadn't heard.
"Werewolves." Arronax said, picking up his sword.
Renwick quickly stood, notching an arrow and scanning the hills. He saw Radont pop over the crest of an adjacent hill, sprinting as fast as the ebony armor would let him. When he saw the werewolves tearing after Radont, Arronax froze, fear crept up his spine in icy spasms as he dropped his weapon, looking with dread at the four yellow-eyed beasts sprinting to his location.
Radont was at the bottom of the hill when he turned, shield up, to face the oncoming atrocities. He saw that Arronax was frozen with fear and decided to try and fight the wolves himself with the help of Renwick's bow. The lead wolf jumped at him, stretching its clawed hands out in front to tackle its prey. The brown haired beast struck Radont's shield, knocking him over backwards, but Radont was prepared for it. He let go of the shield kicking it, and the wolf, into the air. The wolf's arms flailed about for a second as it tried to steady itself, it was a useless effort as the first of Renwicks arrows struck just behind the pointed ears of the beast killing it instantly.
Renwick quickly notched another arrow and let it fly straight between the eyes of the closest wolf charging up the hill. It yelped as it crashed into the soft earth, rolling from the momentum it was carrying and finally coming to a stop at the feet of Arronax.
The Imperial solder blinked and shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind of the gripping fear. It worked; he picked up his blade just as the third wolf lunged at him. Rolling to the side he came up swinging but the wolf was unnaturally quick easily dodging the ebony longsword with a roll of its own. Arronax tried again and missed for a second time, the wolf, baring its large fangs and growling swung at his face. Jerking his head back, the large claw narrowly missed Arronax's unhelmed head; he lost his footing and fell backwards crashing to the ground. The wolf saw its opportunity and leaped onto his chest, claw up ready to strike. The third arrow from Renwicks bow earned him his third kill of the night as the wolf toppled backwards landing with a thud. Arronax took a second to gather his breath and stop shaking before standing.
Radont was having an equally hard time disbatching the last of the werewolves. Every swing from his katana either cut into air or earth, but never the flesh of the beast. His arms were burning from fatigue and his armor weighed heavily on his shoulders. One more swing yielded the same results, the wolf dodged to the side swinging with his claw at the same time. This time the feral claw gave Radont three deep lacerations from his temple down to his jaw line. He staggered and fell as the lycanthropy infected former human jumped towards him, claws ready. Another arrow smashed its way through the last wolfs skull in mid-jump, turning it sideways and landing next to Radont.
The katana wielding soldier stood breathing heavily from the adrenaline fueled battle. Picking up the shield, he walked up the hill noting the three wolves lying slain with three arrows protruding from their heads. He was impressed and was about to say so when he saw the fourth wolf/arrow combination at the top of the hill and nearly dropped his sword.
"Four wolves with four arrows?" He said with new respect for the small wood elf. Renwick shrugged.
Radont went on, "That's something you only hear about in legends, Renwick Wolfslayer."
"The name has a nice ring to it." He replied, smiling.
Radont washed the blood off and quaffed two healing potions before taking on a more serious expression as he turned to face Arronax, slamming his katana back into its sheath. "What happened to you?" He said icily.
The big Imperial was surprised, Radont didn't talk much and when he did it was usually in a more reserved tone, especially when addressing a fellow ghost.
"I don't like your tone soldier." He said, crossing his arms.
Radont brushed the comment aside and continued his attack.
I don't really care if you like my tone or not, a good leader doesn't freeze when a battle is at hand no matter what or who the enemy is."
Arronax got defensive, "I already told you, I am not a leader and if Halldin heard you talk like this..."
Radont cut him off mid-sentence, "Halldin is dead," he snapped.
Arronax opened his mouth to reply but couldn't find the words. The young, usually quiet, Imperial was right, Halldin wouldn't be coming back, and he would die by his hand.
"You're right, Radont." He said apologetically.
Radont's face became less intense before he continued, "I've never heard of werewolves running around the grazelands, where do you think they came from?"
Arronax surveyed the green land before replying, "There's got to be a cave or two around here somewhere, they probably came out to feed on any wild animals they could catch but thought we would make better meals."
As he said it, Renwick noticed the ground moving as if something was burrowing just below the surface. A boney, skinless hand holding a steel longsword emerged from the soft ground followed by another. The second hand was holding a small round buckler, this it put on the ground and pushed against it. An ever-grinning skull came from the hole next, it's eyeless sockets seemingly fixed on the three confused soldiers. The skeleton hoisted itself from it's former home leaving a gaping hole in the ground.
Ballgore, Arronax thought.
"I'll take care of this," said Radont, unsheathing his katana. However strange it's method of travel was, it was just one skeleton. He took a step towards it and another skeleton pushed its way up from the ground, followed by two more immediately after. Radont stopped and looked over the grass filled landscape, skeletons were popping up everywhere and converging on their location.
"I think we should try to outrun them," Renwick said, putting his bow on his back.
Arronax nodded, picking up his shield. Radont, sheathing his sword, turned and started running. At first it seemed they would outrun the undead horde easily, but as they ran they noticed more grinning skeletons pushing their way up from the ground next to them, then in front of them. The ghosts stood back to back, weapons drawn, surrounded by a slowly tightening noose of undead. They could see them clearly now, some skeletons were just bones, others had wisps of grey or white hair hanging loosely from their skulls. Some had rotting flesh still clinging stubbornly to their dirty bones and a few seemed to have died recently, their clothes tattered but intact.
"I hope you're up for a fight," Arronax said nervously.
Radont wasn't, he was still fatigued from the last one. Four figures standing atop one of the larger hills caught his attention. The bright sun was directly behind them silhouetting their forms and casting long shadows that stretched down the hill. They seemed to be wearing robes-Radont hoped they were mages. He got his answer three seconds later when all four figures stretched out their hands towards the gathering of undead. Fire leapt from their hands crackling towards the wall of skeletons and zombies.
The first blast hit with enough force to send any unlucky body flipping through the air. Three more fire blasts struck near the previous one scorching the ground and creating a quickly closing path through the undead legions. Seeing their chance for escape, the three soldiers sprinted down the newly burned path just out of reach of the any zombies not charred black by the fiery inferno coming relentlessly from the hands of the unidentified figures.
Sprinting up the hill, the Ghosts could hear the cries of the monstrosities behind them as they were engulfed in flames. Reaching the top they saw that the four figures were all dark blue, almost gray, skinned Dark Elves. The three soldiers turned to see the handiwork of the powerful mages. Nothing moved in the blackened area of the Grazelands except for ashes blown carelessly around by an early morning breeze. They were impressed, and grateful, until they turned their attention back to the mages. They were donned in dark brown robes with expressions on their thin faces that bordered on maliciousness. The grateful smiles quickly evaporated from the faces of Arronax, Renwick, and Radont.
The mage standing slightly in front of the other three spoke slowly.
"I am Dronos, member of the Sixth House. I know who you are and what you're looking for, we didn't save you out of charity, we saved you so you could lead us to Stradyn."
His tone indicated that this was a non-negotiable matter but Arronax felt it was his responsibility to speak up anyways.
"I will never..."
Dronos raised a hand, silencing the Imperial.
"Teleport them," he ordered. Each of the three mages standing back raised their hands, chanting in an unidentified language.
Arronax found himself suddenly in the middle of a small poorly lit cell. It didn't feel or look like any Imperial cell he had ever seen, it was more organic than the cold stone cells he was used to seeing. The floor of his cell seemed to be packed down dirt, the walls were made of sharp jagged rocks as if the cell had been carved out of the side of a mountain. In front of him was a wooden door with a small barred window cut into it. Peering through, he saw that his cell was in an equally poorly lit hallway made out of the same jagged rocks that encased him. He could see more cells lining the hall stretching beyond his site in both directions. There didn't seem to be any guards around so he ventured a yell.
"Radont? Renwick?"
Their detached replies came from somewhere to his left, one or two cells down. He was about to ask how they were when he heard footsteps stomping down the hallway. A stern faced guard dressed in steel armor stared at him through the window with emotionless eyes and an expression of contempt etched on his face.
He spoke with authority; "You will remove your armor and weapons, place them next to the door and move to the back of the cell."
The Imperial wasn't in much of a position to argue so he did as the guard commanded. Standing in the back of his wearing only brown pants and a shirt, Arronax watched as the guard unlocked the door and grabbed the armor, sword, and shield from the ground while keeping a wary eye on the captive. Handing the armor to a guard standing out of site, he closed and locked the door then went down the hallway confiscating the armor and weapons of the other two soldiers.
Finding a relatively smooth part of he wall, Arronax sat leaning against it with his hands behind his head.
This is quite a mess you've gotten yourself into, he said to himself. So what's the plan Arronax, oh great and mighty leader of The Ghosts? He chuckled at himself out loud. His thoughts drifted to what Radont had said after the wolf attack. He called you a leader, start acting like one. He made up his mind in time to hear more footsteps coming down the hall. He hoped the guards were armed.
The footsteps stopped outside his cell as he stood to his feet. Opening the door, the same stern faced guard as before came in with a sword sheathed at his side and a mage behind him. Moving with lightning speed Arronax chopped at the guards exposed neck with his hand flat and palm down. It had the effect of instantly killing the guard. Stepping forward, he unsheathed the guard's sword before the body hit the ground. The mage was surprised but reacted quickly, moving his hands to cast a spell. The words for the spell never left the mages mouth as Arronax stabbed him straight through the neck.
Stumbling back, the mage grabbed the pommel of the blade in a desperate attempt to unsheathe the sword from his neck. He made gurgling sounds as blood poured from his mouth and neck onto his robe and spattered on the floor. Lurching back, the mage finally fell into a lifeless heap on the dirty ground. Arronax bent over pulling the blade from the corpse and also procured the short sword the mage had strapped to his side. Turning his attention back to the dead guard, he thanked him for the keys and walked out of his cell. Turning left he walked a couple paces and peered into the next cell. He saw Radont sitting with his back to one of the side walls staring at nothing in particular. Even when the lock rattled he didn't look up. Only when the door swung briskly open did he notice his fellow Imperial standing triumphantly in the doorway holding two weapons. Radont raised his brown eyebrows, waiting for Arronax to speak expecting thunder to come from his mouth.
"We're leaving," he said with an air of authority, holding out the mages short blade for Radont.
Radont stood.
"Yes sir!" He said, grinning as he took the blade from his leader.
(c)2005 Sir Radont
On to the next part