Chapter Thirty-Four
A long corridor spanned before S’maash and friends. Several, small, gas lamps lit the way quite well; the tiny, green flames did not flicker.
“So much for candle light,” Brelyna remarked.
Zolara narrowed his eyes as he began sniffing at the air. The master conjurer eyed him curiously.
“What are you doing,” Falion asked with a hint of condescension.
“You don’t smell that,” Zolara asked.
The group traded glances. “What do you smell,” S’maath asked.
“Sulfur? Perhaps, something else as well; it’s faint, but present,” Zolara answered.
“I don’t smell anything,” Aicantar added.
“Let’s press on. Zolara, let us know if something changes,” S’maash ordered.
“Aye.”
They proceeded through the corridor. The walls differed from the rest of Damlzthur. Instead of hard-looking, gray stone, the walls around them were a soft beige and slightly grainy in appearance. Falion ran his hands across them for only a second as they walked.
There was no end in sight, only persistent darkness very far away. Their boots echoed ever so slightly as they continued their journey. An hour passed. Then, two hours passed. Finally, they had enough.
“Alright, let’s take a moment here,” Aicantar said, nearly pleading.
They all agreed. While eating, they began to ponder what might be at the end of the eternal hall.
“Has there ever been any indication as to where the center of Mundas is or how to get there,” Brelyna pried.
“I’ve never read anything about it,” Falion said.
“I honestly don’t have a clue. If the stories are accurate, Kagrenac had not placed the Heart of Lorkhan at the center of Mundas and neither had Dagoth Ur,” Aicantar added.
“When the Nerevarine defeated Dagoth Ur, it was beneath Red Mountain,” S’maash said.
“Yes, and Red Mountain is where the Heart of Lorkhan landed after falling from the Heavens,” Falion interjected.
They grew silent again. The sound of eating prevailed.
“Well…Hermaeus Mora sent us here,” S’maash said. No one had anything to say, so they rested in silence for moments. “Right,” S’maash stood and gathered his possessions. “Let us move.”
With a look of determination, he walked onwards, the group fumbled to follow suit. Painstaking hours of walking ensued; the corridor seemed to have an end in sight. Upon finding what they thought was the end, they saw it was just a turn; the corridor curved off to the left and at a slight decline.
“At least this is something,” Zolara snipped.
They all gave a nod or headshake of accordance, stress, or exhaustion. Once an inordinate time passed, Brelyna, who was at the forefront then, spotted something golden in the distance. She stopped abruptly before looking at the others behind her.
“What,” Aicantar asked.
“Something ahead,” she said.
S’maash and S’maath took the lead. “Careful,” S’maash said.
“Why,” S’maath sounded arrogant.
“Just be careful,” S’maash snipped.
They chuckled and moved on. Further in, the obstruction in the corridor became obvious, though there was no way to see what lay beyond until after the battle. A burst of steam blew from the brass-like piping, which held the dwarven centurion keeper in place; the golden obstruction.
The mechanical gears let out a heavy groan. Like the other centurions, it possessed a sword arm and hammer arm. Unlike the others, none of its joints or gears were exposed. Thick, scale-like plating made of dwarven metal covered the machine’s movable parts. It stepped forwards portentously.
As a first course of action, S’maash overcharged ebony flesh, and the soft glow overtook his armor. He then drew his great sword; the green flames of Damlzthur gave it a glistening aura. The brothers charged to meet the machine.
Falion and Zolara summoned bound bows to assist while Brelyna and Aicantar were very careful to aim their icy spears over the heads of the brothers. It was not an overly difficult task as the keeper was well over twelve feet tall.
Purple arrows, shiny, blue crystals of frozen magicka, and the clash of steel resounded. S’maath had been the first to reach the keeper. He shuffled his left foot forwards and slashed at a downwards angle. His great sword cut a deep furrow into the plated shin of the keeper. He tried to bring the sword back across his body for a second slash, but the machine’s hammer arm came down hard. S’maath blocked the blow with the long handle of his sword, yet the force of the blow knocked him back onto his seat.
S’maash had already reached the enemy during his brother’s attack. A purple arrow whizzed over his head as he spun around to his right. He brought his sword along with the momentum of his spin and hacked into the keeper’s thigh plating. It, too, had little effect, so he quickly let go of the sword with his left hand. A flurry of purple bolts came from his palm as he unleashed a wall of storm spell. It was cut short by a surprise knee lift delivered by the keeper. S’maash flew back and skidded along the ground, his blade still anchored inside the mechanical menace’s leg.
“By the Nine!” he said as he came to his feet.
The keeper kept a steady pressure by stepping, slashing with its sword one way then the next. It followed up by stepping again and thrusting the heavy hammer into the warriors while pushing them back. Several, icy spears and bound arrows pelted the menace, but it did not slow.
The brothers incurred some bruising and loss of wind, but anytime they took a real injury, they were healed by one of the mages. The battle raged on for minutes, steel clamor echoing off the stone walls. After S’maash lost his sword in the keeper, he had attempted using bound swords, but they were dismal at best. He finally took a chance to wrest the blade from the enemy; it was not altogether difficult.
As the extraordinarily sharp blade slid out, the keeper raised both arms so high they touched the ceiling. From grooves below its armpits, billows of flame poured forth. The resist magicka enchantments came in handy, but the brightness of the flames blurred the warriors’ vision long enough for the menace to capitalize with a painful, jarring of their respective heads; the keeper had struck them each with a weaponized arm.
“Enough! Get back here. We’ll summon atronachs!” Falion called out.
The brothers did not mind the suggestion and scrambled away from heavy, metal feet. All of them, save S’maath, summoned one atronach or another. Falion and Zolara, talented in conjuration as they were, each summoned two, storm thralls. The remaining, three mages summoned frost atronachs in the hopes of freezing the metal galoot over.
Again, the keeper let loose billowing flame and steam filled corridor, a result of frozen magicka colliding with dwemer fires. The storm thralls pounded their fists against the armored plating, causing the automaton to stagger backwards. All the while, bound arrows and icy spears kept flying. The swinging of sword and hammer crashed through one thrall then a frost atronach. As the battle raged on, more of the atronachs were defeated.
“Such power,” Aicantar whispered in awe.
Growing irritated, S’maash’s and S’maath traded a glance before charging back into battle. While the corridor was wide enough to battle efficiently, it was not wide enough for them to get behind the keeper with all the atronachs in the way.
“Follow my lead,” S’maath called out.
He ran up to the metal beast and spun his sword over his head. Once the pommel faced the ceiling, he brought the blade down with all his might, piercing the keeper’s foot and securing it to the stone floor. S’maash watched him carefully and repeated the same maneuver. With both feet nailed to the ground, the automaton fell backwards from the atronachs’ charge.
A steady rush of magickal attacks persisted upon the floored creature. S’maash froze the enemy over with wall of ice, Brelyna and Zolara fired a great deal of fire balls, and Aicantar and Falion followed suit with wall of storm. The au
tomaton thrashed and beat its weapons against the surrounding stone, but to no avail. With a final, metallic groan, it fell to pieces. The group of adventurers let out sighs of exhaustion.
“By the Gods, it is over,” Zolara remarked.
“Aye, and not a moment to soon,” Brelyna added.
The brothers reclaimed their swords. “Well, well, lollygaggers, time to see what lies beyond,” S’maath chuckled.
A quick search of the beast revealed a grand soul gem, dwemer gears, cogs, and a centurion, dynamo core. The spinning orb of power was of interest to Aicantar, and he placed it inside his travel pack.
Beyond the fallen machine was the metal stand in which it was formerly mounted, and behind it was a round gate. Vertical, dwarven metal bars blocked the group from a small room. They tried to open the gate.
“Here,” Falion said.
He pulled a lever. They had overlooked it as it was obscured by the automaton’s stand. Upon pulling the lever, the gate opened towards them. A round room was behind the gate, a lever at its center. A set of four gears were built into the ground.
“A lift,” Aicantar said as he looked at the ceiling.
“I assume this takes us down,” S’maash said.
“We will see,” Falion said, motioning to Aicantar.
He pulled the lever, and the ground felt as though it fell away from them. The lift was taking them down at a phenomenal rate. A rush of wind from below accosted the group. For minutes, the sound of churning gears and sliding stone hissed.
The lower the lift took them the darker the small shaft grew. Soon, it was pitch-black, and Brelyna casted candle light. The wavering orb of light struggled to stay overhead. Finally, the lift slowed before a second, round gate; a lever built into the stone was next to it. S’maash pulled it and the gate came open. Before them was only blackness.