Chapter Thirty-Two
An uneventful return trip to Winterhold ensued after the group said their goodbyes to Falion. Upon their return, they all convened within the Midden to see what was going to happen. Standing before the Oblivion Forge, S’maash looked at the mount whereupon the sigil stone once sat.
“It does not appear as though the greater sigil stone will fit properly,” Brelyna commented after gauging the stone’s design.
It was true. The new gem was closer to being diamond-shaped with rough edges and much larger than the sigil stone. With a subtle shrug, S’maash held the glowing, red jewel over the circular pedestal. To their amazement—as if the forces of magicka themselves took control—the stone hovered eerily above the pedestal. It spun slowly while bobbing up and down.
“Well, that’s something. What will you do next,” Zolara asked.
All eyes were on the dark elf; he took the fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan and placed the obsidian-like jewels inside the offering box along with the daedric heart gem.
“You…might consider taking a step back before I do this,” S’maash suggested.
After heeding him, they observed how he used the lever. For a second, nothing happened. Uneasy glances passed. Then, a subtle hum emanated from the greater sigil stone.
As its glow amplified, the stone spun faster and faster. Rays of red light danced across the group’s faces. A final blast of blinding red ensued. Then, the light and the humming died out. Upon the Oblivion Forge sat the Heart of Lorkhan; it was a crystalline, beating heart of red and black. An unnerving echo left them all silent. It was alive.
“You’ve,” S’maath started speaking, but a violent tremor ensued.
The event demanded everyone’s attention. A purple flash of light came from behind them. When they turned about, their eyes grew wide in horror, their mouths agape in wonder.
A veiny mass of purple tentacles writhed about itself. Many eyes sat upon an oblong and expressionless face. Razor sharp teeth grew every which way from something resembling a mouth. Hermaeus Mora appeared in true form and filled most of the space behind S’maash and friends.
“Excellent,” the daedric prince’s voice was different, a gurgling and guttural groan rather than the breathy echo. “You have completed a portion of your quest, young elf. Now, you will return full circle. Where your own heart lays, and deep beneath the fires, you will travel.
“S’maash, S’maash, you will place the Heart of Lorkhan where it truly belongs, in the chest of the God of Tamriel, in the center of Mundas,” the deardic prince ordered. “Now, a final gift for my servant.”
Hermaeus Mora’s words were incomprehensible. S’maash was about to ask a question when the writhing mass of slithering tentacles vomited the gift of which it spoke, a set of red, crystal gauntlets, not unlike the Heart of Lorkhan.
A second tremor ensued, causing dust and debris to fall from the ceiling. Hermaeus Mora vanished in an eruption of purple light. Still in shock, everyone kept their eyes on where the daedric prince had been, except S’maash, who bent down to take the faceted gauntlets. They were more than beautiful; they were utterly resplendent.
A flash of pain broke through S’maash skull. Ringing assaulted his ears. He dropped the gauntlets and doubled over. A voice erupted inside his head.
“How dare you! Blasphemer, you have caused me once more to lose my hold in Tamriel. Curse you and your kind, dark elf,” Azura blared.
With the pain gone and her link broken, S’maash realized his friends were trying to help him stand. “I’m fine. Azura just cursed me for creating the Heart of Lorkhan,” he huffed.
“What are they,” Zolara asked.
“What,” the wizard asked.
“Those!”
He looked at the gauntlets. “I don’t know….”
“We have something else to worry about, those strange things Hermaeus Mora said. I don’t understand what we’re supposed to do,” Brelyna added.
“We should see Tolfdir. Brother, will you stay,” S’maash asked, adjusting his helmet.
“Aye, this entire ordeal has me rather worried. Besides, there aren’t any outstanding contracts at the Reyda Tong at the moment.”
As usual, they found Tolfdir in the Hall of the Elements giving lessons. J’zargo was with him that afternoon. The class was reviewing the utilities of summoning bound weapons. Tolfdir saw the group enter and the looks on their faces. He nodded to the khajiit then met the group by the barred gate beneath the arch.
“What is it? You all look rather grim,” Tolfdir said.
“We have the Heart of Lorkhan and these strange gauntlets, but the strangest thing was the words Hermaeus Mora left me,” S’maash said as he showed everything to the old nord.
As soon as he produced the findings, Tolfdir grimaced. He made an attempt to shield the class behind him from seeing anything. He then rushed everyone into the Arcaeneum. At the counter, with Urag eyeing everyone quizzically, Tolfdir bid S’maash place everything on the wooden countertop.
“That heart is…well it makes me nervous,” Tolfdir started, “and these gauntlets, the knuckles on these posses the same jewels as Sunder and Keening. They cannot be Wraithguard, yet I wonder. Urag, what do you make of all this?”
“Me? I just take care of books. I’ve tried nothing but stopping all this. Leave me out,” the orc demanded, comically.
“Urag please? A tome? You must have something?” S’maash pleaded.
“I don’t have anything. I fear nothing short of an Elder Scroll can tell you about what you have,” Urag snapped.
Everyone glanced at one another. For a moment, they just nervously shifted their balance in forced silence. They had stumbled upon something for which no one had any solid knowledge.
“We might try Aicantar?” Brelyna suggested.
“Or Falion, for that matter,” Zolara added.
Tolfdir heaved a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms. “Or the Augar of Dunlain,” he added, begrudgingly.
The group turned to S’maash. “Oh no, I’d rather not go through all that again.”
“Even if it is the only way,” S’maath asked.
S’maash looked down at his bonemold boots for a second. “Of course, I’m willing to try, but only as a last resort.”
“I will send for Aicantar,” Brelyna said.
“And I, for Falion,” Zolara added.
It was agreed that between everyone, someone was going to know something. Hours dragged by, so the group of adventurers tried to get some rest in their respective rooms. Echoes of wandering thoughts washed over their minds.
Because of pressing duties, Tolfdir and Brelyna returned to their teaching, which allowed Zolara, S’maash, and S’maath to reconvene. Again, they chose to meet in the Arcaeneum. At a small table, they sat adjacent a curving, stone shelf built into the center of the library. Passing out bits of fruit, Zolara spoke first.
“Hermaeus Mora generally instructs his champions…whatever he said must be taken at face value.”
“But it sounded like metaphors to me,” S’maath said.
“Hm, what was it he said first? You completed your quest. Go in a circle, where you heart lies, and travel under fire….” Zolara mumbled.
S’maash winced. He reclined a little in the chair and held the round edge of the table, tapping two fingers.
“Well, full circle would be where you came from,” S’maath cut in. “Back to Oblivion?”
“There’s definitely fire there,” Zolara commented.
“Maybe. I’m going to study those gauntlets,” S’maash said and left, abruptly.
S’maath watched him go, but stayed speaking to Zolara for a while longer. In his room, he took out the ruby-like gauntlets and placed them on the arcane enchanter. While he had no intentions of attempting a disenchanting ritual, it helped him to focus.
Candlelight danced off the many facets of the gauntlets, off the gems in the knuckles. Of course! S’maash took Sunder and Keening and brought them all toge
ther. Nothing remarkable happened, so he ground his teeth and slid his hands inside the gauntlets.
Still, nothing happened, so he took hold of Keening and Sunder. Everything came alive with a vibratory force. The pulsating power reverberated so subtly, but so rapidly that it created a great difficulty in holding the tonal items. Finally—a slight grunt escaping his lips—S’maash put Kagrenac’s tools down and stared at the gauntlets.
“What are these,” he asked out loud.
There was no answer. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the equipment on the arcane enchanter. After a quick adjustment of his armor, he folded his arms over his chest then laid back to stare at the ceiling. A knock demanded his attention.
“Yes?” he called out.
“Falion has arrived,” S’maath’s voice bled through the door.
“Have I been asleep? Oh well….”
S’maash stood, opened the door then took the tonal tools. “We’re meeting in the Arcaeneum once more?”
His brother nodded. Together, they walked back to the library. Brelyna and Tolfdir joined them there. They all nodded to Falion as a greeting.
“Where is it?” Falion grumbled.
“Where is what,” S’maash asked as he gingerly placed the tonal tools on a table.
“Why, the Heart of Lorkhan, of course!”
“It’s safe for the moment. Hermaeus Mora gave me orders, but I don’t understand them. I also don’t understand what I’m supposed to do with all this,” S’maash explained, pointing at the tools.
“What did the daedric prince tell you?” he barked.
They all took seats after pushing some tables together. Even Urag sat at the far end. S’maash reiterated the instructions. Falion laughed openly for far too long.
“Well? Either tell us the joke, or clear this mess up,” Zolara demanded.
“Of course, my apologies. Where are you from, S’maash,” Falion asked.
“Morrowind…L’Thu Oad by Narsis.”
“So, go full circle. Go home,” Falion replied.
S’maash looked around the room. Everything was so evident.
“By the Nine! Return to Damlzthur and travel under the fires. Remember brother, it was full of lava?” S’maash cheered.
“And do what?” S’maath was incredulous.
“Well, that I don’t know. Kagrenac’s tools must play a role, and the way they vibrate when held with these gauntlets is nothing short of strange,” S’maash said.
It was during the short pause in conversation that one more entered. Aicantar had arrived.
“Greetings, Brelyna, Zolara, S’maash, and everyone. Glad to be here,” the altmer smiled. “What have I missed?”
They caught him up. Aicantar stood and paced about, a habit he picked up from his uncle.
“The final question is; what to do with these tonal tools?” he thought out loud. “I’m sure it’s rather simple. After all, they are tools. Yes. Perhaps?”
“Aicantar!” a few called.
“What? Oh sorry. Yes. I believe I have an answer,” he said, approaching the table. “Kagrenac’s tools are designed to create not destroy.”
S’maash and his brother traded glances. Brelyna winced. Tolfdir stroked his beard. Zolara looked away, and Falion snickered.
“The Nerevarine used them to destroy the Heart of Lorkhan,” S’maash whispered.
“Yes, but a fist may smash into your flesh, thus dealing damage while an open palm might rub the same damage away,” Aicantar rebutted.
“Are you suggesting we rub the Heart of Lorkhan with those tools,” Zolara asked, askew.
“Haha, no, well…not exactly. Listen, if you know where we are going, we should go at once,” Aicantar suggested.
“We,” Brelyna asked.
“Are we not all going into Damlzthur,” Aicantar asked.
“It is quite dangerous, my friend,” Tolfdir said.
“We can’t let S’maash go alone, or even with just his brother,” Brelyna contended.
“I’ll go,” Falion interjected. “Truthfully, the gift of a bound demon was worth quite a bit more than I anticipated. While that Sultar Tuvik finishes his tasks, I have nothing else that requires my attention. I will go.”
“I’m in,” Zolara said with a shrug.
“Master Tolfdir? If I may be excused of my duties one last time,” Brelyna pleaded.
He nodded, yet appeared ambivalent. The old man shook his head a bit, wondering what dangers waited in the unknown.
“So, there,” Aicantar said. “With all these great warriors and mages, I should be rather safe. Furthermore, I am a master illusionist.”
It was agreed. Brelyna, S’maash, his brother, the argonian, Falion, and Aicantar were traveling to Morrowind.