I might have known.
The Hag Rock Benchmark, which marks the Triple Point of the borders between High Rock, Hammerfell and Skyrim, is located at the top of the Dead Crone Rock. According to Pub 43, this point is accessed via an ancient and abandoned network of tunnels and ruined towers built into the native rock. As we rounded the corner on the main road, we saw that it was far from abandoned. It’s been thoroughly reoccupied by Reachmen.
If it isn’t one thing, it’s another: Reachmen, mountains, bandits, historical re-enactors posing as bandits (or were they…? Suddenly I feel foolish.) Anyway, I haven’t been able to locate a single benchmark since Falkreath. It’s acceptable to let one or two secondary benchmarks slip by, but if I can’t verify the position of Hag Rock Benchmark, I might as well call this mission off and head home. We’re going to have to assault this point.
One fortunate thing about being a surveyor—I rarely walk on the roads, so I am quite adept at slopes. I diverted south and then approached the Redoubt from above, while Ghorbash refused to follow me and took the more direct route up the road. While the Reachmen attacked the obvious enemy coming at them from below, I sent Rusty in to back Ghorbash up and sniped at them from the slopes overhead. Even with this three-pronged attack, it was a long fight, and I was struck glancing blows from arrows twice. We proceeded to clean up the area, Ghorbash and Rusty engaging a frostbite spider and two Reachman stragglers.
Proceeding into the ruins, we hacked and slashed our way past the various defenders, including another of those undead Reachmen. I have to hand it to them: the Native’s necromancy is very advanced. These warriors come back to life with their personality, intelligence and bodies in tact. If I had not seen one of them raised from the dead with my own eyes, I would not recognize these “briarhearts” for what they are.
Finally, after deactivating various traps and unlocking various doors, we found ourselves looking up a rickety staircase at a circle of blue sky above us. By that time we had ascended some thousand feet, and I felt sure we were close. We charged up the stairs, and were greeted with a view of a Native altar, complete with various dead animal parts rearranged into monstrous anatomies and backed by an ancient wall.
The sight of the wall filled me with an overwhelming sense of destiny, but having learned caution, I noticed the burnt corpse and recognized the fire trap set in front of the altar. I scooted around to the side to try to remove the soul gems from their mountings, and was surprised when a blast of flame struck me, and a hagraven jumped out from behind the altar, slashing at me with her filthy talons. Were it not for Ghorbash, I’d be dead. Even so, it took both of us, plus Rusty, to take her down. As the hagraven fell, the three of us met each other’s eyes and shared a moment of mutual respect. Then Rusty winked out, and the moment shattered.
“It’s here, Ghorbash. This is it!” I scooted around the altar and walked up to the foot of the wall, my sense of destiny reaching a crescendo until all at once I saw it: Hag Rock Benchmark, set into the stone floor at the very focal point of the ancient wall. We were at the Triple Point. I knelt down and touched it, reverently.
“What does this say?” Ghorbash asked, behind me.
“It says ‘Reach 023’. That’s its official designation in the Imperial Records, but everyone just calls it…”
“Not the benchmark, you idiot, the word wall! What language is that?” Ghorbash snapped.
Looking up in surprise, I noticed the inscription on the wall.
“It’s draconic,” I told him. “As far as what it says, ah… I only ever took a single term… something about ‘fear and dismay.’” I looked at Ghorbash. ‘Fear and dismay’ was a decent description of his expression. “Why? What does it mean to you?” I asked.
When he spoke, his voice was distracted, far away. “I’ve seen this writing before,” he began, “A friend of mine used to… use it to… leave notes for her friends. But she didn’t know what it was. Said she’d made it up herself.”
I chuckled. “I think your friend was a bit of a con artist.”
He scowled and changed the subject. “Well, looks like there’s some valuables to be had here. What do you suppose this is worth?” He held up a bright red jewel, which hovered uncannily over its display case.
I shrugged. “We could have it appraised in Markarth if you like. Tell you what—that can be your payment for this benchmark.”
He had moved on to the body of the hag. “Got an interesting piece here—the pommel of a dagger. Looks daedric in origin.”
“Let me see that,” I said. I examined its markings. “This theme here matches the shards of a blade that I found in Cracked Tusk Keep on a pedestal, displayed and yet protected, as though it had some importance to the owner.”
“Well you’re welcome to that one,” Ghorbash said. “Deadric and enchanted artifacts are nothing but trouble.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed. “You ready to head out? Our next benchmark promises warm beds, good mead and stimulating conversation. We’re headed for civilization, my friend.”
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