Chapter Ten
S’maash scrutinized the ancient, nord carvings. He wondered why Shalidor’s Insights were located in such an ominous place. The ruins appeared much older than Shalidor, meaning either the former Archmage had settled in Labyrinthian, or his works were moved to their current location for further study, yet it was irrelevant; he was there to retrieve the insights.
S’maash did his best to skulk about. With his enchanted equipment, he made no sounds as he stepped over rubble. Slowly, he descended the depths of Labyrinthian. After rounding a corner, he saw his first obstacle, a lone skeleton with an ancient, nord, great sword in hand; the wicked blade was rusted over. The creaking of bones was unnerving. S’maash watched it for a second. Blasted undead.
Knowing skeletons were generally weak, the dark elf held hands poised for an overcharged fire bolt spell. He let it fly across the room. The orange ball of magickal fire lit up the area before crashing into his adversary. The skeleton was blown to little bony bites. S’maash dusted his hands on his armor and bobbed his head a bit in a jaunty manner. Simple enough.
He creapt over to the smoldering bones and pushed them around with his boot. With plenty of time, and no more enemies, he was free to gaze about the massive room. A steel grate sat at the center. The walls were lined with black tombs. Rotted shelving lined the far wall. There wasn’t much else to see, but there was certainly more to trek.
The elf pressed on, skulking. Moments of silence eased by before he entered a new area, a roughly hewn corridor. It was very tall and carved from the native, brown stone. In both sides were nooks; housings for the dead. S’maash cautiously observed one of the mummified corpses. It appeared desiccated. Otherwise, it was fairly intact.
The ancient nord wore rotted, leather equipment with bits of rusted steel protecting vitals. Suddenly, it shifted as it let out a groan. S’maash jumped in the air from surprise. The draugr came to stand with an ebony, war axe in hand; magicka radiated from cold, blue, undead eyes.
“Back to Oblivion, creature,” S’maash yelled and fired another, overcharged, fire bolt.
The draugr was staggered upon impact, but quickly recovered, charged forwards, and swung wildly. The burning of magickal fires obscured the draugr’s sight, though, making it easy for S’maash to duck from blows. Still, the dunmer received a slash unto the shield on his back. The impact sent him straight to the ground. He scrambled away to the other wall and let loose a fire bolt from each hand. The draugr burst into flames then fell to a knee. It died…again.
The clamor of battle had drawn the attention of other draugr in the long hallway, and they came barreling in, brandishing their ancient weapons. With little time to spare, the elf casted iron flesh with one hand and flame cloak with the other. Soon as he did, spurts of magickal flame danced around his being. The draugr did their best to deal damage, but S’maash back peddled as he poured out gouts of flames from his fists. Two draugr fell, but one kept the pressure coming.
It held an ancient, nord sword in one hand while firing ice bolts from the other. The bald, bearded, brute then yelled at the top of its lungs.
“Fus Roh Da,” echoed in a breathy shout.
The beast’s voice was so potent it rocked S’maash, causing him not only to stumble, but to lose concentration, effectively breaking his spell. By the time he recovered, the draugr white was on him, slashing away. His weapon had a slight hook at the tip of the blade, resulting in moderate damage every time he swung.
The elf took a severe bruising from the potent draugr. After a slash cut the hair from his head, S’maash drew his sword. Fear gripped his heart, but rage gripped his fists.
He swung madly at first. The swings nearly took all his breath, but the assailant was brought to a knee, which provided the wizard an opportunity to snatch his shield. He brought it across his enemy’s jaw from his left, edgewise. With a swing back from his right, he brought the broad side of the shield across the monster’s face. With a final, overhead blow from his sword, S’maash killed his opponent, who glowed purple for just a second; the soul trap spell had taken effect, filling one, black soul gem.
The elf sat to catch his breath. He had never struggled physically so much in his life. In a way, he understood why his brother and his friends loved being a part of the Reyda Tong, yet the battle had been no joking matter. He shook his head, put his weapons away, and held his hands up to dual cast healing. Seconds later, his wounds were numb then gone. He pressed forwards.
The long trip through the enormous burial hall yielded little, though S’maash did manage a few Septims and potions from the burial jars and urns. Eventually, the tiring trip forced him to break before a large, wooden door. Most of the rich browns of the wood had faded over the years to a dusty gray. Minutes passed wherein S’maash ate, drank, and relieved himself. Refreshed, he pushed the doors open. A set of spiraling, wooden steps led the way down. Cautiously, he followed them into unknown depths.
The staircase led into another cave-like area similar to the entrance. Stone heads were carved into the high walls. Several, ancient posts held the hewn rock in position. Braziers burned brightly. S’maash looked upon them; they had the look of being freshly lit. Slowly, he skulked onwards. The new area proved to be disorienting. Many twists, turns, and burial chambers caused him some confusion.
He spotted a draugr white in an alcove, and watched how it awkwardly stepped down and opened its eyes. The blue glow of unlife honed in on the elf. S’maash huffed in exasperation.
With his hands at the ready, the dark elf fired several ice spikes. They did well enough to slow his opponent’s momentum; the draugr white had yards yet to cover before reaching the wizard, but it yelled.
“Fus Roh Da!”
S’maash was staggered by its incomprehensible effect. Freshly thawed, the monster charged with a steel, great sword in hand. With no shortage of magicka, the wizard overcharged ice storm and sent the frozen mass swirling towards his assailant. The tornado-like spell froze the ground along its path, struck the white, and crashed into the wall behind. The fight was over.
“They don’t stop coming, do they?” S’maash heaved. “This stupid book better be worth it…oh, what am I saying; this is for knowledge….”
A thorough inspection of the area ensued. S’maash found some treasures; soul gems, Septims, some reagents, and some rather fine-looking weapons. He took what he needed from adjacent alcoves. The weapons, he left behind; there was no need for them. He pressed on, deeper into Labyrinthian.
Over an hour of skulking went by with relative ease and silence before he came upon a small, circular room. At its center was a pedestal with three levers. Beyond the pedestal was a series of portcullises. They blocked passage to stairs leading upwards. The elf was curious.
He raised an eyebrow as he scrutinized the levers. Simple enough, he thought. He pulled one lever and the furthest portcullis rose. He pulled another lever, but that caused the far portcullis to lower and nothing else. He stopped for a second. He pulled the first lever again. The closest portcullis rose.
“What?”
Shaking his head, he reset the levers to their former position, resulting in all gates being lowered. He pulled the first lever. The first portcullis rose. He pulled the third lever. The farthest one rose. He pulled the center lever, resulting in the center portcullis rising, but the other two lowered, so he pulled the first one again. The corresponding portcullis lifted. Next, he pulled the final lever, and all the gates were raised. S’maash walked up the stone steps to find another, wooden door, which pushed open.
Beyond it was an empty hall. Unfortunately, he had not paid attention to the ground. Only after activating a pressure plate did he look down. As he removed his foot, he feared the worst and then received it; a heavy, wooden post came swinging right at him. The subsequent impact knocked him all the way back down the steps. Breathless, he curled up, only able to groan. The imbibing of a potion solved his problem, and he went back up the stairs to find the post reset i
nto the ceiling. That time, he stepped over the round, bronze plate.
A short stroll led to one, more puzzle. At the far end of a rectangular room was a set of wooden doors. Before the doors, there stood a lone lever on a pedestal. Surrounding the lever were stone carvings. Each carving depicted the same, three icons; a snake, a whale, and an eagle. S’maash wondered how to solve it.
He carefully inspected his surroundings. First, he approached one of the totems. Gently touching the carving, he realized it was made to spin, so that any of the three icons faced the center of the room. But which one is the right icon? He stood and continued his search for a clue.
There was nothing. He paused for a moment, looking at the doors. Well…maybe it’s already open. They were firmly held in place, but the handles, they depicted similar icons. The left handle showed an eagle, the right a snake.
S’maash returned to the totems. He spun the two on the left, pointing the eagle to the center of the room, and the two on the right, he spun to show the snake. He tried the lever. The doors’ mechanisms released, forcing them into a wide-open position. From his vantage point, he saw an expansive, burial chamber. At the far end was a concave, stone wall with strange script. Before the wall was another, black casket. As S’maash approached, he saw several caskets lining the walls on either side. His heart skipped a beat; he knew he was in for a fight.
His first action was overcharging iron flesh. Then, he slowly entered the chamber. Upon stepping in, the sound of bursting caskets drew his attention. Two, restless draugr—axes in hand—grumbled as they made their way for the interloper. S’maash backed up to the entry way. Maybe I can force them together, thus hindering their movement. Both of his hands were poised for an ice storm spell.
As the leathery undead approached him, he let loose an icy fury. The first flash freeze had little effect, but the second slowed the enemy’s approach. Feeling confident, he sent one back to death with a third blast. The second draugr closed the distance, though.
It swung its blade powerfully from side-to-side. S’maash was jolted by the impacts, but his protection spell held firm. Switching to frost breath, he held both palms out and froze everything over. The draugr slowed, took a knee then fell over, giving S’maash a second to catch his breath.
In that second, more caskets exploded, revealing draugr whites. The wizard shook his head in desperation, and the whites charged, glowing blue eyes aflame. Having few alternatives, S’maash ran back through the puzzle room all the way to the stairs.
He deftly hopped over the pressure plate, reaching the bottom of the stairs, where he waited. The distinct sound of the trap activating rang throughout Labyrinthian. Both whites came tumbling down the steps to his feet. He blasted them repeatedly with ice storm.
While the monsters required time to recover, they seemed unhindered by the damaging effects of destruction magick, so the elf drew his sword and shield. Holding the shield in front of his face as one of the whites swung a blade proved only slightly effective. To make matters worse, the other white fired dozens of ice spikes. S’maash grunted in pain. The freezing effect drew his breath away.
He managed to shield bash, staggering the nearest enemy. He then brought his sword onto the top of a rotting head. The white glowed purple while burning from the fiery, soul trap enchantment. In an attempt to keep one enemy between himself and the other, he managed to avoid more magickal attacks. Subsequently, it was his opponent who received magickal castigation. With one, final blow, S’maash defeated the draugr, but he still had to deal with a flurry of freezing magick; the crystals stuck into his flesh with unwavering, cold pain.
Cursing, he dropped to one knee before vaulting himself, sword thrusting, into the final undead. When the draugr glowed purple, S’maash shield bashed, staggering the assailant. Rather than continuing with a physical assault, the wizard relinquished his blade for sparks, a lightning spell, which also drained the enemy’s magicka reserves.
Then, the draugr reached down and grabbed S’maash. Frightened, the dunmer let go his shield, took the draugr’s leathery face in his hands, and blasted it with more sparks. The monster’s head exploded from the spell.
Gravely injured, S’maash rolled his travel pack off his shoulders. With great pain in his midsection, he moved slowly to retrieve healing potions. With a belly full of the red liquid, he was restored to fighting condition, so he gathered his gear, and dusted himself off, but found his shield had been destroyed in the melee. He sighed, casted iron flesh, and went back up the stairs.
A final enemy stood at the center of the burial chamber. It wore black armor, a helmet with horns, and carried a malevolent-looking, ebony, war hammer. Blue eyes brought unto the elf a sense of dread. The draugr death lord opened its foul mouth to release a powerful shout.
“Fus…Roh Da,” it yelled in a breathy voice.
A vocal blast nailed S’maash squarely in the chest. The thu’um sent him reeling. His back smashed against the lever pedestal in the puzzle room. Luckily, his travel pack absorbed some of the impact. As he recovered, the death lord brought his hammer down. Fierce pain accosted the elf’s shoulder, and fear gripped his heart.
Terrified of dying, he held a firm gaze upon his enemy, wrapped his hand around the flat of his blade, and with both hands on his weapon, he pushed back against the death lord’s hammer; they struggled a moment. S’maash kept the enemy’s weapon from doing more damage, and he kicked at the monster, but the draugr overpowered him, sending him to the ground. In the mix, he cut his left hand on his own sword.
Suddenly, S’maash found himself rolling all over the dusty floor, trying to evade numerous, relentless, hammer blows. In an attempt to keep distance between himself and the Draugr, S’maash ran around the lever pedestal, playing a game of sabre cat and skeever; the death lord chased him, and S’maash ran around the pedestal. Then, the draugr moved the other way, and again, S’maash ran around the pedestal.
He knew it was ineffective, but he was horrified. His only option was to continuously run in circles; all the while, he peppered the undead beast with frost breath. It took minutes, but the enemy slowed. Finally, its legs froze over and for a moment; it was unable to move. S’maash capitalized. He recoverd his sword, and by keeping the pedestal between them, he was able to take swipes with his blade and freeze the monster with his other hand.
The draugr struck him again, but the slowed swings weren’t effective. Finally, the enemy took a knee. S’maash ran to him, grabbed his blade with both hands, and hacked the draugr to pieces. He didn’t stop until the undead warrior was dismembered.
Completely exhausted, the wizard plunked to the ground, his face beaten and bloody. With heavy breaths, he dropped his sword to dual cast healing. Refreshed, if achey, he stood and reentered the burial chamber, thinking the fight was over. It was not.