By: The Orange Mask
Erandur, Bjorn and I walked out of the Jarl’s longhouse soon after sunrise. You could hear the Jarl laughing even after we’d shut the door.
“I told you he wouldn’t listen…” I grumbled, still groggy.
“Well, I’m sorry for trying! Do you have any better ideas?” Erandur asked, somewhat irate.
“I say we go charging into Mzinchaleft right now!” Bjorn cried out. He had a Nord’s fury in his heart, that’s for sure.
“Bjorn, for the last time, we’re not ready yet! We need some more help!”
“Now calm down, you guys,” I said, half expecting the dark elf to explode out of frustration. “is there anyone else in town who might be willing to help us?”
“We could ask the caravan.” Bjorn said, somewhat softly, as if not wanting Erandur to hear.
“That’s- actually not a bad idea…” Erandur admitted.
“See? Bjorn’s good for something after all.” I said, trying to calm tensions. We walked in silence the rest of the way to the outskirts of town where the Khajiit were set up. They were one of the few Khajiiti caravans still roaming Skyrim; most had packed up and left because of the civil war, or just because it was too damn cold. From what I remember of maps I had studied, this caravan was run by a Khajiit named Ma’dran. We approached the caravan just as sunlight hit their camp. They were, of course already up.
The first of the Khajiit to approach us was clad in heavy steel armor, quite a different choice from most Khajiit I’d seen.
“Welcome, all of you. My name is Kharjo.” He said, looking at Bjorn. Suddenly recognition spread across Kharjo’s face. “Ah! It is good to see you alive, friend.” Erandur and I looked at Bjorn, confused.
“This is the caravan I saved yesterday. Kharjo here was stuck behind a fallen tree, and the rest of the caravan hadn’t seen the Frostbite spider yet. I ran in and saved them.” Bjorn said.
“He didn’t do so well, though,” Kharjo said, chuckling. “He even tripped over the spider’s legs once. But he did eventually kill the beast, and for this I am thankful. If you ever need anything, you need only ask.” Kharjo bowed, and I immediately knew what to ask.
“Kharjo, we are just about to set out into a Dwarven ruin. The place is filled with danger, and we would very much appreciate it if you would join us.” I said, trying not to elaborate on the dangers in the ruin.
“Hmm, what you ask is difficult, stranger. Even life-threatening. But your friend here risked his life for me, so I will do the same. I cannot say the same about my caravan, though.”
“We’ll take what we can get,” Erandur said, “but please ask your caravan, and meet us at Mzinchaleft in a few hours.”
“I will do what I can. I will see you then.” Kharjo then began to walk back toward the tents as we finally headed out toward Mzinchaleft.
“Where in Oblivion are they?” Bjorn said, pacing back and forth in front of the entrance. He seemed eager to prove his worth in battle.
“Patience, Bjorn. We’ve only been here a few minutes ourselves.” Erandur said. I agreed with him, but remained silent. “Try praying, Bjorn. It may help calm your nerves.”
Bjorn plopped down rather quickly, making a lot of sound in his armor. He sat quietly for perhaps a minute before starting to twitch and fidget. He groaned in frustration and got up again.
I said, “Why don’t you go practice your sword swing on something? Just make sure it’s not stone; that’ll dull your blade to no end.” Bjorn jogged off rather quickly, and we could hear his grunts and swings nearby.
Erandur and I sat in silence for a few minutes, before spotting Kharjo and his caravan approaching. Bjorn joined them as they passed where he was practicing. They were soon waiting with us at the entrance.
“We meet again, stranger,” Kharjo said. “My caravan is prepared to delve into the depths of these ruins with you. We await only your command.” I hated being in charge. Making the correct decision was difficult, and more often than not a screw-up would cost more lives. I felt that we’d have safety in numbers, though. I stepped toward the door.
Kharjo spoke up. “Excuse me, but what exactly are we looking for?” He looked at me with a greedy curiosity.
“I- I’m not exactly sure, Kharjo. It’s something of immense magical power, though.”
“Then what of the other treasures? May we take them?” I figured that question would pop up.
I sighed. “Yes, but only at your own peril. These ruins are filled with machines and Falmer that are both as deadly as the stories say.”
“Understood.” Kharjo said.
With a nod, I stepped forward and opened the doors into Mzinchaleft. Gods, the place was noisy. Machinery was constantly moving, steam escaping centuries-old vents and pipes. It was quite amazing though. While the lamps of the Dwemer were still lit, I cast a candlelight spell, just in case. I preferred to rely on my own abilities rather than my surroundings.
The rest of the group soon followed me inside, and we silently trekked on, mostly out of awe.
“Quite a sight, indeed…” Erandur said, breaking the silence.
“There are most likely quite a few treasures in here, as well…” one of the Khajiit said.
“Be careful, everyone. Take what you like, but beware of the danger you put yourself in.” I was worried that someone would try to take something and end up with a spike through their gullet. I led the group for a few minutes, always looking around every corner for even a hint of danger.
Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a gate opening behind us, and a muffled shout. I turned to look behind us to see the tail of one of the Khajiit being pulled into a pipe. I immediately leaped toward the quickly disappearing tail, grabbing the end of it and pulling as hard as I could. I felt others latching onto me, helping me drag the Khajiit back out of the pipe. With one swift pull, we yanked her out of the pipe, as well as her kidnapper: a dwarven spider construct.
I wasn’t able to do anything for a moment, only observe the confused automaton’s motions.
“Aww, it’s so cute!” One of the female Khajiit said.
“That thing just tried to kill me, and you say it’s cute?” The other Khajiit was furious.
“Keep on your guard. Who knows what it might do.” Erandur said, trying to keep the group calm.
The spider just sat there and looked at us for a moment, with what I thought were its eyes. It was an incredible piece of craftsmanship; a perfect blend of machinery and enchantments, combined into one being. Then the spider leapt at me. I didn’t have time to react, my axe still in its sheath. Suddenly, the spider was smashed out of the air by a mace. I looked to see Erandur, who had most likely just saved my life. He didn’t return the look, as he was busy fending off the spider, which had started to attack him. I immediately started to cast firebolts at the creature, which seemed to shrug them off as if they were nothing. Ice seemed to have the same effect. Lightning seemed to do the trick, though. It disoriented the spider, and Erandur smashed its head in, denting metal and breaking the gyroscopic stabilizer that kept the spider upright. The spider stopped moving, and everyone started to relax.
“I thought I told you to keep on your guard.” Erandur said, smiling a bit. I then looked at the rest of the group, who hadn’t even drawn their weapons, save for Kharjo. They stared at the lifeless automaton for a while, before responding.
“That is what we’re up against? How are we to fight off something that can attack from places we can’t go?” The caravan leader, Ma’dran, seemed worried.
“And you say that these are the small ones? How are we to fight off invincible giants?” There was a look of fear in the eyes of most of the Khajiit.
“Come now, we can’t be scared off by some little spiders! Think about all the treasure in the depths of this place!” Bjorn tried to urge on the caravan. They all looked at each other, then we silently started to move deeper once again.
I wasn’t so sure about this expedition anymore. Is the death of many really worth whatever my vision was trying to warn me about? Is the world really in danger from this threat? Does it even exist? Gods, what had I done?
To be continued…
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