Onmund gave a long whistle. “Dwemer built.” He gazed up at the city of Markarth. Sunlight reflected off the perfectly chiseled rocks, though the sunshine could not erase the shadows created in the architecture. Warm juniper berries scented the air. He looked at Elara, who shivered, squared her shoulders and strode up the stairs to the main gate of the city. He knew this was hard for her, as she had not been back to Markarth since the episode with Cidnha Mine. Onmund also knew that facing the fear was the only way to conquer it.
“Are you ready to meet Calcemo?” Elara inquired, standing at the top of the steps, waiting for him to snap out of his reverie.
Onmund took them two at a time, and for the first time, entered Markarth.
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“Onmund!” Elara shrieked. They had entered the excavation site of Nchuand-Zel to rid it of the terror of spiders. However, Onmund was now immobilized, his left leg caught by a huge Dwemer spike from the ceiling. Elara ran around it, but Onmund ran right through it as they were being chased by a couple of Falmer. Elara quickly dispatched them with her fire spell, while Onmund writhed in pain. The spike would not release and she dreaded what she had to do next. Onmund nodded tersely that he understood while his face contorted to keep the pain at bay. Elara bent down, placed her arms under Onmund’s, and reactivated the spike. It dug deeper into Onmund’s calf before it released. Elara cringed at the piercing shout which Onmund released, but pulled him quickly out of the spike’s path so that he would not be caught again.
Blood poured out all over the stone floor. Elara moved quickly to the mass of flesh and muscle that was his lower leg. She pulled her robes out of her pack and carefully wrapped his leg to staunch the blood flow. “You are good to have around in an emergency,” Onmund rasped, trying to catch his breath and better deal with the pain. He is too pale, she thought frantically. She quickly pulled out a healing potion that Onmund downed quickly. She calmed her thoughts, her hands trembling over the wound. A sound around the corner stopped her in mid spell. Onmund pushed himself to a sitting position and blasted the Falmer that came around the corner, but not before a poisoned arrow struck him in the neck. Elara pulled it out and searched for a cure poison potion, but came up empty.
“You have to reactivate the defenses, just like the note said,” Onmund’s voice was at a whisper and Elara had to lean in close to hear him.
She shook her head vehemently and said through clenched teeth, “I am not leaving you.”
“You have to. It will be our only way out. Besides, did you see me take out that snow elf?” he smiled wanly.
She hated that he was right, but they would not make it out of there with Akatosh knows how many other Falmer. She gave him her apothecary satchel.
“This should keep you with enough magicka to maintain a steady ward or any other spell you might need,” she said, trying not to look at the blood seeping through her robe. If she did not leave now, they would be trapped and die here. She avoided his eyes and ran around the corner. She tore up the ramp, looking ahead for the lever to reactivate the ruin’s defenses.
Two Dwarven spiders shot bolts of electricity at her, but she pulled out her sword and hacked them both in two. She did not have the time or patience to wear them down with magic and the physical activity of swinging the sword helped to steady her nerves. She dashed up the steps and reached the lever. This could get messy, she thought, but it is our only hope. She pulled it, and hastened back to Onmund.
“I hear something outside,” he whispered. Elara was relieved to see that no other Falmer had attacked while she was gone, but she saw all of her potions were drained. Onmund had worked on his leg a bit, but it still could not bear any weight. She thought about the poison working inside Onmund and knew that it was now a race against time.
“Upsy daisy,” she said softly as she stood up, her arm supporting him around the waist while his arm was draped over her shoulder. The horrid left leg just dragged behind him. She wished it had been her instead of him. She was stupid not to have warned him about these twisted Dwemer traps. As they exited the control room, the sight before their eyes drew them up short.
Falmer seemed to have crawled out of the stonework. They were everywhere, battling various Dwarven mechanical constructs. Elara’s heart sank. The plan had been to dodge the Falmer while they were occupied with the Dwemer creatures, but could they do it quickly enough?
“Can you crawl?” Elara asked quickly. Onmund had sized up the situation as well and nodded his head. “Stay close to me, and I will make sure no one touches you.” She squared her shoulders. Onmund’s eyes were bright. The pain and adrenalin sharpened all his senses.
A Falmer gloomlurker sidled up the ramp, wielding a club spiked with chaurus fangs. Elara opened up with a double blitz of fire, but took a bite from the club on her lower right arm before charring the Falmer completely. She lifted Onmund again, and ran for the center of the bridge. He quickly stifled a grimace and then said, “On your right.”
Elara dropped Onmund and spun around, her sword slicing off the head of the Falmer that threatened them. While she battled the flow of Falmer, Onmund raised his eyes to see a Dwarven centurion bearing down upon the bridge. No wonder these Falmer are running into Elara’s blade, they are running for their lives.
He pushed off the floor to stand on his good leg. He fought nausea and focused all of his magical intelligence to seeking out as much magicka as he could pull from everything around him.
Elara gasped, thinking an arrow had penetrated her armor and struck her in the center of her chest. Onmund was pulling magic from her, she realized as he shot an apologetic glance in her direction. The Falmer realized the direction in which their magicka was draining and tried to attack Onmund. Elara redoubled her efforts with the sword and kept him safe from interference.
Onmund was sweating with the strain of filtering and focusing so much magicka, but he was operating on instinct now. The Centurion thundered down the bridge, sweeping fleeing Falmer into the murky water below. With what felt like every ounce of strength remaining in his body, Onmund raised his arms and felt everything he had draining out with the lightning that dove into the neck of the centurion, causing it to explode.
Elara saw Onmund crumpled in a heap, but she fought the few remaining Falmer before she scooped him up by his waist again. He was lighter than before, but she still was not strong enough to take him all the way back to the entrance of the excavation site where she knew Markarth guards would be able to help. She limped across the bridge, relieved to hear Onmund’s shallow breathing.
“Please,” her voice said softly, in hopes that one of the Divines would hear her. It was her only hope at this point, as she knew the remaining fighting behind them would eventually follow them. And Onmund had used his reserves to save them from the Centurion. The rest was up to her.
“I think it is this way!” a familiar voice echoed in the cavern ahead. She was going delirious, she thought, but then the tall elegant figure of Calcemo and his nephew Aicantar burst through the opening ahead with a small contingent of Markarth guards hard on their heels.
The guards grabbed Onmund from Elara and ushered them all out of the cavern. Calcemo sealed the doorway with magic. “There, let them fight it out and then we will come in later and clean up their mess.” He smiled slightly, but frowned at the sight of Elara tending to Onmund.
“Guards”, he commanded,” take this man to Vlindrel Hall immediately, if that is the wish of the thane.” Elara nodded, afraid now to speak or all the horror of Nchuand-Zel would spill out in her tears.
“Thank you,” she managed, but Calcemo shook his head.
“Thank my nephew. He thought you two had been gone too long for a spider killing expedition.”
Elara smiled gratefully at Aicantar and gave him a huge hug. The young Altmer was momentarily stunned by the physical contact, but then quickly muttered, “The least I could do.”
Elara took off after the retreating party of guards, weaving healing magic all the way to Vlindrel Hall.
Comments
I assume it just scraped him?