Chapter Thirty-Six
“More endless walking…and more, more, endlesser walking,” Zolara remarked.
“Stop complaining,” Brelyna fired back.
Zolara gave a shrug of exasperation. Several minutes of traversing the dwemer corridor revealed nothing aside from smooth walls and green flames lining the ceiling. Several twists and turns persisted for a great while. Tired from travel, the group broke once more.
“Goodness, but the argonian was right,” Aicantar heaved.
“Aye. My old bones are beginning to creak,” Falion complained as he unfurled his bedroll.
“Where do you think this will lead,” S’maath asked.
“Hopefully, the center of Tamriel,” S’maash answered.
“But what do we do then,” Zolara pried.
“I don’t know…I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Look how far we’ve come. We may very well be the only people to have traveled here in thousands of years. I see no remains, and only that dwarven spider did we come across,” S’maash replied.
“I didn’t expect this journey to be so…devoid of adversity,” S’maath said with a wince. Brelyna looked at him with an accusatory raising of the brow. “Oh, but I’m very glad to have joined you all,” he then added.
S’maash smirked. After eating, laughing, and a few swigs of nord mead, they pressed on. Hours went by when a heat crept into the corridor, heat and the smell of molten stone.
“We are coming close to something. The air is different here,” Zolara said.
It was only a short while before the corridor spat them into a cave of sorts. The greatest point of interest was a magnificent, dwemer, puzzle box a hundred or so paces away. Like the door, it too, had the odd circles and bluish baubles. A path of stone, like obsidian, lay before the crew; a step down onto the natural stone gave them a new perspective.
Lava bubbled around them. They had adequate room to navigate without danger, but the cave was very hot. Several, other corridors either led to or from the cavern, but to sights unseen.
“I would wager, there are many paths here leading to other cities,” Falion said.
“Excellent. Whatever it is we must do should be indicated by what is in that puzzle box,” S’maash said.
They eagerly walked towards it. None of them had bothered to look at the ceiling, where rows of shiny, blue, colored statues were fastened in an upsidedown, squatting position. Surreptitiously, The Men of Aetherius—guardians of the Centers of the Worlds—eyed the intruders. Upon coming close to the puzzle box, one of them snapped to life. It dropped down between S’maash and the box; on one knee and one fist, the Man of Aetherius smashed into the stone floor.
The crew halted, wide eyed. The athletically designed golem raised its smooth, round head, which was fashioned to look like a full helmet. Instead of eyes, it had only a menacing slit, from which darkness exuded. With subtle gasps of awe and wonder, the group looked at the machine come to a full stand. Its body was made to look like elven armor, only very smooth and more round in its shoulders, hips, and thighs. The Man of Aetherius drew two, aetherial, short swords and charged like a flash of lightning at the group.
“By the Nine!” Zolara managed to say as he dove to the side.
He had been close to S’maash, and the machine bore down on the dark elf. While the group started the rituals of summoning atronachs and such, S’maash planted his feet in anticipation, and grasped his sword in both hands.
The opponent deftly stopped just feet from S’maash and vaulted itself up and forwards while moving its head backwards. The jump placed it in an upsidedown, vertical position directly over S’maash. Before the elf reacted to the maneuver, the machine was falling towards him with both swords aimed directly down. S’maash’s mouth drooped a little. A potent blow from his rear caused him to stumble forwards and the Man of Aetherius missed. Quickly, it recovered its swords as S’maath laid into its back.
“I’ll crush you like a bug,” he yelled.
The overhead slash had little effect; chaos ensued as atronachs and seven more Men of Aetherius joined the fray. All of the machines carried different weapons. Some had hammers or axes, others held swords and shield, and all of them were fast as lightning.
Magicka of all kinds swirled and blew about; fire balls exploded, sparks from chain lightning zipped and crackled, misty frost covered the ground. The clash of blades pounded against the cave walls.
“Brelyna, take the center and keep us healed,” S’maash called out.
He clashed blades with a machine holding a war axe. The creature spun away to its left then butted S’maash with the haft of its weapon, shuffled forwards, and with a squaring of the hips, it raised the blunt end of the axe head into S’maash’s chin.
“I’m trying,” Brelyna called back.
With a quick recovery, the wizard grabbed the shoulder plate with his left hand and smashed his pommel repeatedly into the helmet of his opponent. “Zolara, take to sneaking and fire from your bound bow,” he ordered between strikes.
“Dealing with my own trouble, here,” he replied.
Zolara ran behind the puzzle box, crouched then deftly hopped on top of it. The creature chasing him had not noticed the flattened lizard on top of the box. Once no longer detected, Zolara followed his orders.
From his vantage point, he was able to let loose numerous, bound arrows into the backs of the Men of Aetherius. He was also privy to watching the whirlwind of malachite, S’maath, who spun one way and brought his glistening blade with his body, stopped short, crashed his blade down onto another enemy, placed a hand on its back and vaulted himself over before finally charging off to another.
The Men of Aetherius were doing quite well at working as a team, though. An oddity was their proclivity for attacking the atronachs and the warriors, but not the mages.
“Flee to safety, and fire your spells from whatever cover you can find,” S’maash called out as he ducked beneath a swinging axe.
“There isn’t any!” Falion retorted.
More magicka crashed through the battle. Many of the enemies fought tirelessly, icy spears protruding from their bodies. Still, others fought with an entire quiver of bound arrows in their backsides. They leapt high and ran low. They chopped low and swung high. They bashed with their shields and smashed with their hammers. They were relentless
A Man of Aetherius landed before Brelyna. She recoiled at first then held palms poised for a dual casting of wall of ice. As the magickal shards poured out, the Man of Aetherius half turned away, drew back its hammer, and butted her in the stomach with the head. The blow sent her to the ground, lungs emptied of air. It then stepped up to her, gauging her through the slit in its helmet. Zolara clenched his teeth and fired an arrow at the base of the skull. It struck proper and the machine turned, but saw nothing. Brelyna then scrambled away and summoned a frost atronach, which engaged the enemy.
During her scuffle, S’maash and S’maath fought back to back against multiple golems. When one came in, another retreated, and when one took a blow, another counter attacked. A great sweep from an aetherial, great sword brought both elves to the ground. In an attempt to recover, they held weapons overhead and blocked potent strikes. Finally, S’maath spotted an opening.
From a knee he thrust his blade clean into a Man of Aetherius. The blade penetrated to the hilt, and S’maath lifted him off the ground; a powerful war cry echoed behind the blade. He then smashed the enemy into the ground. Shockingly, a red substance poured from the wound. The man grasped at his midsection as he writhed; they were not machines.
The other Men of Aetherius heard the cries of pain, let off their opponents, and shielded their wounded brethren from more injury. S’maash and friends observed in disbelief. Before they reacted, the injured warrior was healed by another then a strange resonation occurred. A musical tone echoed throughout the cave. The Men of Aetherius stood in a semi-circle and prevented anyone to come beyond them, though Zolara was behind them, his bound bow had expired.
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“Attack!” S’maash called out.
Another note, different in tone, hummed across the lava filled cave. One-by-one, each man produced a note until the octave was completed. A field of energy, barely visible, kept them safe. Suddenly, their armors slid into and out of place, they scrambled and climbed over one another like a group of jesters. Then it happened; they joined as one, massive, machine-man.
“A dwemer of eight can create a golem, but an eight of dwemer can become one,” Aicantar whispered from safety.
S’maash was beyond astonished. The eight dwemer had become a monstrous, aetherium juggernaut. A note rang out from the beast and it charged. Again, S’maath knocked his brother out of the way and took the brunt of the kick given by the enemy. With great force, it sent him nearly to the edge of the stone floor by the lava.
S’maath looked at the bubbling pool. “No thank you,” he said and recovered.
On charging back in, he saw the rest running about, casting spells and summoning atronachs as usual. “Holding strong,” S’maash called out.
“Aye,” S’maath whimpered.
Once the brothers reached striking distance, they made an attempt to maneuver around the aetherium golem, but it spun at the waist to face then. With a powerful and enormous, blue hand, it smashed the ground. Both of the brothers were missed by little more than a skeever’s whisker. S’maath took off once more. He started climbing the golem’s fist when the other hand reached out. The warrior managed a solid stab into the wrist of the arm he climbed before being snatched away, swordless.
“Brother,” S’maash yelled to him.
For a quick second, S’maath was crushed then immediately dropped. He sounded like a sack of Septims when he hit the ground. Brelyna ran over to him, horrified.
“Oof. That really hurt,” S’maath whispered.
“S’wit,” she said as she he healed him.
The juggernaut let out another gong at a higher pitch than the first. S’maash and friends were momentarily stunned by the impact of the sound. Once they recovered, they saw the golem coming for them. This time, the enemy focused on the atronachs. It took a frost atronach in one hand and a storm atronach in the other. With powerful fists, it squeezed them until an orange and a purple burst of magicka was expelled.
“Damn you, dwemer,” Zolara whispered.
He was still kneeling on the puzzle box. After conjuring a new bow, he watched the dunmer brothers charge and slash, dive and hack, and spin with the fury of dragons. They were effective, but were not dealing much damage, so he drew an arrow, aimed, and slowly exhaled. Once the magickal bowstring reached its apex, the demonic arrows found their target, for the most part.
Aicantar and Falion were growing rather weary of running to safety, summoning, firing a few spells, and running back to safety. Neither of them were particularly young. To his shame, Aicantar decided to flee the battle. He reached the entrance to the corridor and his heart sank. A gate had been raised to bar the way back. He sat for a second.
“My, I do wish I could do more, but I’m a scholar not a warrior, or even a traveler, really….”
During Aicantar’s dilemma, S’maash grunted and yelled as he hacked at the golem’s knees. In response, the creature stopped to snatch him off the ground, but received a hand full of S’maath’s sword instead. A third gong rang and again the fighting came to a halt.
“What is it doing,” Brelyna gasped.
No one answered. Before any thoughts were formulated, the golem released thick waves of frost bite from its hands. The reflective shards of frozen magicka did not have a great effect on the group, who resisted as much, but the frozen ground and obscured vision were problems. They turned their faces as the golem effortlessly stepped up to them, blasted them with open palms, and easily moved its arms, all the while, spinning at the waist.
Aicantar, having had enough rest and the gall to return to the fray, summoned a storm atronach. Zolara summoned yet another bow and kept firing arrows. Falion held a steady wall of storm on the enemy, and Brelyna kept them in fighting shape with healing spells. S’maath tried to plant his feet, but when he jumped to strike, his left foot slipped a little on the ice, losing height. He struck at the golem’s thigh with little effect.
S’maash spun his sword overhead and brought the tip down, intending to pin the golem’s foot as they did the keeper. His blade did not sink quite so far, but he did call the attention of the juggernaut, who pulled its foot back. S’maash held tightly to his blade. The speed with which the foot moved caused his body to go horizontal. Then, the following kick forced him the other way; the eight of dwemer sent him sailing. He slammed into the puzzle box and for the first time since the battle began, Zolara was spotted. A fourth gong rang.
The argonian swallowed hard, realizing the implication. “Perhaps it is time for a new strategy,” he said as the enraged golem moved for him.
He hopped down and ran over to the others, meeting Brelyna half way as she was coming to S’maash’s aid. “Hold,” S’maash called out. “We should alternate running in one direction then another. All the while–”
The dark elf tried to reach her, but she was thrown at S’maath, who was chasing the golem. They crashed into each other and fell over. S’maash tapped Zolara and motioned to follow. The two ran around, crossing paths and flinging fire bolts to confuse the enemy.
Its momentary faltering provided Falion a chance to rest and S’maath a chance to catch the golem unawares. Then, the fifth gong rang, the highest note yet. After the stunning effect of the note wore off, S’maath dove headlong at the enemy, plunged his blade into its hip, landed softly before the other foot, and snatched his brother’s sword. A sudden rising of that foot brought him up hard. Having held firmly to the sword, he was able to pull himself up to a sitting position. As he tried to stand, the foot came down, and he fell off to the ground, sword in hand.
The rest of the group continued magickal attacks. Sparks arced, fires exploded, and shards of ice covered the battlefield. A great many atronachs thundered, ambled, and skated about as well, but S’maath was the only one to deal any real damage. Then, the golem got away from him.
It ran with more speed than he thought possible, and with a shard of malachite in its hip, to boot. When it reached the mages, it threw several fists. One struck Zolara square, and he bounced off the puzzle box. Many more strikes about the ground caused shards of obsidian to pelt the area. A few hammer fists came down squarely on the atronachs, and they popped or sizzled in defeat.
Recovered, Zolara capitalized on the situation and hid behind the puzzle box until all eyes were off him. S’maath jumped high and plunged the other sword into the other hip, thus knocking the creation to the ground. The golem tried to stand, but wasn’t able to maneuver. It rolled over forwards instead. S’maath wore a big grin.
“Yes,” Brelyna cheered.
S’maash summoned two, bound swords and went in for an attack, but a sixth gong rang, and he was momentarily waylaid. The golem used that time to draw the swords from its joints. It tried to crush the blades, but failed. It dropped them instead then stood once more, which gave the brothers an opportunity; they caught each other’s glance and scooped up their respective weapons. The mages, with depleted magicka, did little more than rest or drink potions, and Zolara was back to firing arrows while sneaking.
“S’maash, can we,” S’maath had started.
A blue fist came down towards him, and as it did, he used his blade to block and hopped off the ground, so the attack pushed him rather than crushed. The resulting blow left him on his seat, but unharmed. S’maash charged in from the side and plunged his blade into the knee joint when a sudden jolt ran through his body; he had been slapped by the golem and pinned to the side of the leg. Brelyna rushed over to heal.
A seventh gong rang. S’maash stood his ground. He held his blade in his right hand and let the tip rest on the ground. With his left he casted ebony flesh, and the glow covered his body. He then let loose a
great, many, ice storms. Finally, the golem turned to him. It ran to overtake him, but he rolled onto his right shoulder then spun right and carried his blade across his body. It crashed with a solid impact upon the enemy’s leg.
Magicka and arrows continued flying all about the swealtering cave, but S’maash was the only one in the thick of battle. The eight of dwemer tried desperately to crush him underfoot or pick him up. Something had changed and its attacks no longer appeared timely or planned. It was simply trying to kill. S’maath noticed as well and saw the opportunity; he took off at a full run, past the healers.
“Wait,” Brelyna howled in mid heal.
The golem knelt to grab S’maash, who sliced at the open hand. It then crawled, trying to snatch again. S’maath ran in from the side. His brother saw the ploy, so he baited the golem, providing him not only the chance to arrive, but also to secure his blade; since the creature was on hands and knees, it was easy.
S’maath drew the sword from blue steel, but the goliath jolted from the surprise maneuver. It then attempted to turn around when S’maash relentlessly hopped onto its wrist, and from there, he hopped again to drive his blade into its chest.
As his enchanted blade slid in, S’maath ran up to the hip joint, climbed with one hand and pushed off with his toes. At the same time, the aetherium menace came up to a kneeling position and tried to remove S’maash’s sword. In reply, S’maath grabbed a hold of its waist then climbed the protruding bound arrows all the way to the beast’s shoulder. With sword overhead, it was finally time for the deathblow. The eighth gong rang.