Chapter Twenty-One
After a tale for the ages in the New Gnisis Corner Club, the dunmer brothers hired a cart ride back to the College of Winterhold. The sun overhead shone brightly in the College’s courtyard upon their arrival. S’maash stood by the well before the statue of Shalidor.
“Good bye, dear brother. Safe travels to you,” S’maash said, embracing his kin.
S’maath patted his brother’s back for a moment then took his shoulders. “Aye. I am proud of you as are our ancestors. May your continued success bring you happiness.”
The warrior walked away, sun glinting off malachite. S’maash watched him disappear over the bridge. He wanted to run after him, ask him to stay a little longer. No. That is selfish, and I have much work to do.
Inside the Hall of the Elements, Tolfdir was lecturing a new set of students. S’maash had never seen them before. It was amazing to see how quickly the people of Skyrim progressed. He stood behind the class, waiting patiently.
“So, there you have it, class. You are not truly invisible; you have only fooled others to your presence,” Tolfdir proclaimed before approaching S’maash. “Glad to know you and your brother returned unharmed.”
“Indeed. I enjoyed your explanation on invisibility….”
Tolfdir looked away, modestly, but smiled. “I assume you came to me for more than a simple lesson.”
“Yes. We managed to trap KrifAhrkDir’s soul within the fragments of Lorkhan’s Heart, but after reviewing Farengar’s notes, I am at a loss. I do not know how to bring the pieces together, nor understand their link to the daedric heart gem” S’maash said, perplexed. Tolfdir shifted his stance as he took a deep breath. “You know something?” The old man was hesitant. “I understand your concern, but I have come too far to dawdle now,” S’maash added.
“Of course. Forgive me. I do not have the answers you are looking for, but I know what might,” Tolfdir sighed.
“Please, tell me.”
“You must speak with the Augar of Dunlain. It will probably have the knowledge you seek, though I recommend this as a last resort,” Tolfdir replied.
“What is this Augar, and why is it a last resort?”
The students had emptied out of the Hall of the Elements, leaving S’maash and Tolfdir alone. Their voices had echoed amidst the immense chamber, so they grew quiet and still. Seconds passed as the two looked upon one another. Finally, Tolfdir broke the silence.
“It is difficult to explain what the Augar is. Suffice it to say, it was a student once…. As for it being a last resort, the Augar of Dunlain can create a rift in the mental stability of one who approaches. This is not something it does intentionally. Its power, knowledge, they are vast and as dangerous as trying to read an Elder Scroll,” the old man look concerned, almost fearful.
“It was a student, you say?”
Tolfdir grew uneasy again and shifted his balance. “Yes. Like yourself, he wanted, sought, knowledge. I am unsure of what exactly took place, but an accident occurred. He did not only receive knowledge on the topic he was studying, but received a general knowledge. He knows that, which should not be known. In his presence, you will feel that unknowable truth swirl about you,” Tolfdir maintained his grave tone. He then took S’maash’s shoulder. “Promise me you’ll be cautious,” Tolfdir said then began to leave.
“Wait! Where is the Augar?”
“In the Midden…beneath the College,” Tolfdir answered without losing step.
He was out the door, leaving S’maash alone in the tower. Tolfdir’s words, and odd behavior, left him with an unsettling fear in the pit of his stomach. Then, I am off to the Midden. S’maash thought it was wise to speak to others about the Midden before entering, though, and went to the Arcaeneum.
Urag was wiping dust from books carefully with a linen wrap. Smash frowned. He knew the old orc didn’t like being disturbed while cleaning his prized possessions.
“Urag, a moment please?”
“I heard you went to fight a dragon. Did you fight well or flee,” he asked with a smile.
“My brother and I bested the dragon. That brings me here. I need to know something and Tolfdir suggested I look in the Midden,” S’maash chose his words carefully.
Urag was taken aback. “What could you be searching for in the Midden? That place is dangerous. I wish Tolfdir had barred entry….”
“Why,” S’maash inquired as he sat by a small desk.
It was overloaded with dusty tomes. The wizard fingered at the binding of a book while Urag gathered his thoughts. They looked at one another before the orc sighed and sat at the table.
“Look, other than undead and ice wraiths there are…there were rituals performed. Many students died in the Midden. While I’m certain the place itself is relatively safe, the altars and diagrams down there are not.”
“Altars and diagrams?”
“Shalidor, himself, spent a great deal of time in the Midden. Most of his knowledge, or insights, if you prefer, came from Oblivion. He was a great conjurer, maybe the best, but he knew when to stop. He knew it was best to leave the College in order to continue his studies. Impetuous students are not so bright.
“A small group attempted one of his old, conjuration rituals, something with a bound dremora. It did not end well for them. I think the Dragonborn may have smoothed over some of the damage, but I don’t recommend going down there,” Urag explained.
“So, none of the dangers have to do with the Augar of Dunlain,” S’maash asked.
“By Ysmir’s beard. Tolfdir told you about the Augar? You might as well try to read an Elder Scroll,” Urag grumbled.
S’maash chuckled at Urag’s state. He had grown surly and uncomfortable in his seat.
“Tolfdir said the same thing. Is there anyway to prepare for a meeting with the Augar?”
“I doubt you’ll even get to see it. It locked itself away, and you can’t go into its room unless it deems you worthy of its time. Go if you want, but don’t expect much,” Urag replied.
He then stood, nodded, and returned to cleaning. S’maash was satisfied, so he left to find an entrance to the Midden. After some searching, he found a trap door in the courtyard. The ladder took him into an icy, cave-like structure. Various bits of stone lined the walls; it was reminiscent of a wine cellar.
S’maash meandered beyond brick hallways. The odd, skeletal remains strewn about in unrecognized patterns drew his attention. Built into one wall was a skull surrounded by bony hands. He prodded the skull with a finger. Real enough I’m sure, he thought. Down more flights of stone steps he heard the familiar creaking of skeletons. Bringing flames to his hands, he rounded a corner to see the noisemaker.
A lone skeleton turned to him, a steel, great sword in hand. It charged awkwardly into S’maash’s flame spell. Less than two seconds and the skeleton fell to pieces, bones scattered amidst an icy floor. S’maash gave a nod of disapproval.
The Midden’s design was fairly simple and easy to traverse. Some steel rods held aloft magick light. S’maash eventually found himself in a room with a table. Old, blood spots stained the stonework beneath his feet. At the center of the room was a closed gauntlet. Four rings sat upon the fingers.
He knelt in front of the oddity, taking a closer look. Wincing, he dared not touch it. Beyond the fist was another room. S’maash stood, approached the doorway, and peeked inside. There, he saw an altar. Almost the entire room was taken up by the round, stone base.
The construct was composed of circular levels. Upon the smallest was a single rune, Oblivion. At the forefront of the construct was a pedestal with a sigil stone. Dark energy reverberated from within the bauble. Adjacent the sigil stone was a pull handle. S’maash shrugged at it. Now, I’m getting curious. What more in the fields of the arcane do I know nothing of? There was little time to waste.
After leaving the strange altar, S’maash finally reached a ladder leading deeper below. The lower level was similar to the previous, only a little darker, stranger. The
lack of light gave the Midden Dark an ominous air. He kept his eyes peeled for more enemies, but there were none. Before he knew it, he came upon a large, wooden door atop stone steps. He reached for the handle. It did not budge.
“Is this it? Augar of Dunlain?” S’maash called out as he looked around with wonder.
A moment of silence prevailed before a whispering voice echoed. “You may enter.”
S’maash was shocked. The sound of the voice was much more impersonal than he had anticipated. He was shocked even more so when the door opened of its own accord. An immense light of soft blue shone. A feeling of uneasiness crept into his soul.
“You’re the Augar of Dunlain?”
“That is how they refer to me, but you have not come all this way for such petty questions,” the Augar replied.
The stilted way it spoke was the scariest facet of its existence. S’maash was able to handle the fact it was only a light, and dealt well enough with the effervescent energy creeping about the tight room, but the halting way of speaking was almost too much. With wide eyes, S’maash doubled his effort to remain focused.
“True. Hermaeus Mora has tasked me with capturing a dragon soul. I have succeeded. It is contained in these fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan. Now, I am unsure of what needs doing. How am I to forge the Heart of Lorkhan?”
“You have set yourself upon a path, a path your heart does not follow. Once, you sought enlightenment. Now, you seek the dark,” the Augar replied. S’maash was confused. He set his jaw as he thought about the nonsensical reply. “One cannot follow orders of two. Azura has chosen you as her champion. Hermaeus Mora has tasked you with a quest. Should you follow this task, you will fall from Azura’s grace.”
“What do you mean? How do you know these things about me,” S’maash choked.
“Knowledge does not lay in words. It is around us,” a gust of wind assaulted S’maash momentarily as the Augar spoke. “You restored the power of Azura on your quest for enlightenment. You will dissolve your bond, should you continue upon the path of darkness.”
“What are these paths of which you speak?”
As the exchange progressed, S’maash felt more than uneasy, he felt ill, tired.
“To be clear, you sought the truth of one’s capabilities in the art of enchanting. With Azura, you pushed beyond current limitations. Now, you seek that which changed the chimer for eternity. The Heart of Lorkhan is not designed for knowledge of this realm. It is designed for knowledge of all realms. Like the dwemer, you seek that of which you are not a part. Like the Elder Scrolls, the Heart of Lorkhan is from many worlds,” the Augar explained.
S’maash wiped cold sweat from his face. His thoughts meandered a bit. He was not sure he understood. Straining against reason, he opened his mouth to ask a question. While seeking clarification, he suddenly lost his train of thought. After shaking his head and taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind.
“Are you saying forging the Heart of Lorkhan will break my bond as Azura’s champion? How can that be? The task from Hermaeus Mora is unrelated,” S’maash argued.
The longer their exchange, the more noise, like swirling winds, emanated from the unseen. S’maash had to yell over the sounds. Furthermore, every time the Augar spoke, its voice grew louder, physically thundering inside S’maash’s skull.
“Incorrect. The paths before you cross, but it is you, who must decide which to traverse for eternity. Should you forge the Heart of Lorkhan, you must erase the daedric heart gem from reality. Should you choose to leave behind the path of darkness, you will never learn that which is hidden from you,” the Augar said.
S’maash took a seat before the small well, where upon the Augar of Dunlain floated. It took every fiber of the elf’s being to remain focused. He was on the verge of vomiting. A throbbing headache gripped him, like the beating of too much blood in his veins.
“How do I forge the Heart of Lorkhan?”
“During your journey to this place, you passed the Oblivion Forge. Mistakenly, it has been referred to as the Atronach Forge. Placing all the pieces inside its container will fuse the energies of the daedric heart gem and the fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan.
“Chaos and order, all possesses these forces, albeit unequally. The dragon soul has been filtered into both fragments, though its chaos is much more prevalent. The daedric heart gem contains the hatred of the nords, whom you slaughtered. It must be purged and replaced by a soul of order,” the Augar’s instructions roared all over.
S’maash was reeling. His head spun. His stomach convulsed. Finally, he bent over to vomit. Behind closed eyes, images swirled; concepts beyond his reach. His drive for knowledge consumed him. He had one final question.
“Where do I find a soul of order?”
“In nature,” the Augar replied.
There was nothing left to ask. S’maash crawled on hands and knees out of the room. The door shut behind him, and he collapsed.