Chapter 136: Gods' end

"Blood Vampire." Dagoth Ur's voice - smooth and deep - was in my head, rather than sounding as if it came from the masked figure before us. "It is kind of you to come bearing Kagrenac's Tools. I have... desired Wraithguard for such a long time. I shall relieve you of their burden shortly - so it is only right to thank you for coming all this way to deliver them."

Dagoth Ur gave a smooth bow, his odd muscles rippling, and a trickle of ash falling from the three 'chimneys' atop his mask as his head tilted forward. I felt almost as I had in the presence of Vivec: as if drawn to the man (being?) by an irresistible tide. The feeling this time was even more sinister: like the inexorable current that ensnared me dwelt within a body of rancid oil - rather than seawater.

"I might have offered you immortality in exchange;" he said; "change your blood for ash. But you are a vampire - you will already last forever; and you already have a power rising within your bones. It is a gift you do not need. So: your gift of the Tools to me will have to be a selfless one."

"I will ask you nothing," Dagoth Ur went on; "as you mean nothing to me. However, should you flee from here, I would have my intentions known to the world. You may ask me questions."

I kept my shield and blade up before me, my whole body tense. My skin felt as if it was about to crawl - or jump - off my flesh; my every sense screamed "danger!" at me.

"I will not surrender the Tools, fiend;" I managed to force the words out - "and I do not need to ask you your intentions. You would corrupt all the land to bring it under your rule."

"Corruption?" The heartwight asked. He had not yet moved from his station near the shrine. "I use the Heart to spread the divine power on the blight winds: to touch each and every soul in Vvardenfell - and one day the rest of Morrowind... and perhaps all Tamriel. I would have every mortal in Tamriel feel the touch of the divine. I will make everyone gods."

Even as my instincts urged me otherwise, I took a step closer to the masked, ashen figure.

"A touch of the divine?" I remarked. "You would call the deformations and misery of Corprus divine?"

Dagoth Ur's voice became cold, its tone seeming to change in my head; making it ache.

"You speak of things outside your ability to comprehend." He said shortly. "A guar trying to understand the will of its owner. I will say this, though you have shown that you are unlikely to understand: Those who cannot reach the divine dream-world will still know the touch of the divine. Those too weak or unworthy for even that will be purged."

He was obviously quite insane... or telling a truth I would never know. In either case, the outcome was the same for me. I gathered myself for the attack, biting out the words:

"There is nothing else to say."

I lashed out with my 'Blizzard' spell, but Dagoth Ur was gone before it reached him. I span wildly about, trying to find where he had gone, but Sirilonwe muttered:

"An illusion!"

Sure enough, there was no-one to be seen in the chamber but us. We cast about feverishly, looking for a possible ambush, but nothing moved there - save for a Dwemer door set into the stone wall; swinging slowly open to reveal a glimpse of a cavernous space behind. Dagoth Ur was there; standing at a distance, waiting for us.


We charged through the door, and into the Heart Chamber. It was truly massive: I have never seen a larger space. We - and Dagoth Ur - stood upon a platform of Dwemeri metal that projected out over a spectacular drop; down to a lake of molten rock. This lava gave the chamber much of its light; a lurid red glow. Standing ankle-deep in the molten rock was what appeared to be a statue in the shape of a man or mer: only it was as tall as three or more of the district cantons in the holy city of Vivec, if they were stacked atop one another. It reminded me of the statues of Dwemer people I had seen around certain Dwemer ruins - only in parts it appeared more angular and machine-like, and in other ways it looked like a grotesque imitation of a decaying body, with hunks of flesh torn from the bone.

It was Akulakhan - the 'Second Numidium'; the god-construct built by the Dwemer Craftlord Kagrenac, and intended to be powered by the Heart of the dead god, Lorkhan. Dagoth Ur stood - framed by the massive, fan-like 'head-dress' of Akulakhan behind him - near the edge of the metal platform. This turned out to be a mistake on his part.

Sirilonwe and I rushed the heartwight; he swiped at us with his gnarled, taloned hands - but by virtue of our combined attacks, we drove him back to the very edge of the platform. I gave Dagoth Ur one almighty shove with my shield - and he was off the edge; plummeting down into the molten lava far below, without a word.

I did not believe for one moment that he was dead: he was supposed to be completely indestructible, after all... at least while his link to Lorkhan's Heart remained. Looking down after the heartwight, I could see a hewn stone path leading from the metal platform and winding around the cavern wall, going down and down until it terminated at around the height of Akulakhan's belly. A wood and rope bridge was slung across from the stone path to the gargantuan construct, and I could see that the thing's belly was open and hollow. A red, throbbing object at the end of a mess of pipes jutting from Akulakhan's exposed 'spine' sat near the base of the hollow: it had to be the Heart of Lorkhan.


The rope bridge was almost directly below us - and quite a long way down. There was no time to lose: I leapt down onto it, Sirilonwe following just behind me. The bridge bucked from the impact, but we were vampires: supernatural agility was ours. I could see the Heart: a vivid red, glistening thing around twice the size of my head, with a faint nimbus of magical light around it. I rushed over, hurriedly pushing my Daedric katana into its sheath, and gingerly pulling out the hammer Sunder.


A single, pure (and very loud) tone rang out as I struck the Heart with the hammer; actually, it sounded as if it was all tones at once - from the deepest to the highest - at least, that is the only way I can describe it. A voice cried out from behind me: it was Dagoth Ur, and this time the voice definitely came from behind the golden mask, and not inside my own head:

"Stop!" He sounded desperate now. "You will undo eons of toil and history! You will ruin it all!"

The heartwight had appeared on the wood and rope bridge, surrounded by a shimmering red fire-shield. Bright molten lava sloughed off the protective magical barrier and onto the thick wooden slats of the bridge, setting them alight.

He ran forward to stop me, and Sirilonwe rushed to meet him on the bridge, shouting:

"Finish it quickly, Edward!"

I turned away from Sirilonwe - her blade wreathed in magical fire and flashing back and forth as she held Dagoth Ur back - to draw the blade Keening and strike the Heart. At the first blow, the pure tone that had been resonating through the chamber splintered into a dissonant, screeching noise - and it only got louder and more painful on the ears as I struck the Heart again and again with the crystalline blade.

With one final strike, the Heart was hewn from the mess of pipes, flopping onto the base of Akulakhan's stomach-hollow. The nimbus of light around it vanished, and a single, very deep pulse swept through the chamber. I had to swallow to release the sudden pressure in my ears. Was it the sound of a god's end? Dagoth Ur began to curse and scream terribly:

"NO! You and your families be DAMNED! Would-be saviours, the genocide of a race of GODS is on your heads!" The heartwight swayed on the wooden bridge, flames licking at his feet. Several gashes on his body - that had previously only dribbled a minute trace of ash - now spewed the grey dust everywhere.

"I will smear you across the WALLS!" He bellowed.

Dagoth Ur rose his hand to strike at Sirilonwe, but I shot across and swept my blade through his chest, casting his finally lifeless body down into the pit of fire below.

The chamber began to shake and tremor violently, as if in an earthquake, and I sped across the protesting wood-and-rope bridge, Sirilonwe behind me. I reached the hewn stone path at the edge of the chamber and span around; to see the bridge snap in two and collapse - with Sirilonwe still on it. She jumped; and I - my heart lurching painfully - darted forward, catching her by the arm and hauling her up, just in time.

It was only then that I realised she had been badly wounded by Dagoth Ur: the armour over her stomach had been torn open and to the side, and she was bleeding heavily.

"It hurts..." she gasped, barely audible over the roar of the quaking cavern.

I caught her up and threw her over my shoulder, then sprinted up and around the carved stone path, as the convulsing chamber grew dark with smoke and dust. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the monstrous figure of Akulakhan collapsing in on itself; sliding down into a bed of molten rock.


In the chamber with the shrine, where I had spoken with Dagoth Ur, I set Sirilonwe down and drew the Dwemer door to the Heart Chamber closed, locking it magically against whatever destruction was happening on the other side. Sirilonwe's eyes were closed, and her face was horribly pale. She needed blood desperately if the wound to her stomach was to be mended: more than could be had from a single glass vial.

I bit open my wrist and held the wound to her mouth. She - thankfully - began to drink; weakly at first, and then with more insistence. I began to feel faint as Sirilonwe drank away my blood - my head was swimming... the world grew darker, and darker...


I was on my knees, and a female figure appeared before me; luminous in my darkened eyes. She appeared as a Dunmer woman, in an azure dress, but somehow I felt that she was not a Dunmer - not really... she was not even mortal.


She spoke, and I recognised her voice; from her great shrine on the south-east coast. Azura: the Daedra goddess who had given me an artefact of legend: 'Azura's Star'.

"Edward Frost... Moon-and-Star. You carry my star with you, and you wear a crescent-moon mark upon you. You have acted as the blessed Nerevarine, even if none have called you such; and even if you do not yourself believe. You should be proud: the Heart is freed, the Blight is gone, and the devil, Dagoth Ur, is dead. Few will know or acknowledge what you have done for this world tonight... but you have my thanks - and my blessing."

A strange feeling flooded through me: a sense of certainty and assurance. I knew suddenly that Dagoth Ur had fallen for good, and that the Sixth House would soon follow. For once there was no doubt in my mind. Azura smiled as she faded from my sight, and I realised that Sirilonwe was shaking my arm: apparently somewhat recovered from her wounds.

"Are you alright?" She asked. "What are you staring at?"

"A truth I will never know." I replied.

Chapter 135: At the top of the mountain

We returned to Red Mountain the following evening; appearing at our teleportation Marks in the abandoned mine near Odrosal. There was a path leading out from the mine, carved into the south-western side of Red Mountain. Sirilonwe and I followed it around to the north-west, bound for Gate Citadel Vemynal - and hopefully the hammer Sunder. I had thought the path might be sheltered from the Blight storms somewhat - being in the lee of the mountain - but it was not to be. The winds were just as bad as on our ascent of the southern slope the previous night - and the fighting was just as heavy, too.

The south-western slopes of the great volcano seemed to have been abandoned to the undead. They were everywhere: animated skeletons caked with ash; zombies and bonewalkers; fast, flitting spirits - all of them oblivious to the violent Blight storm, and listlessly wandering the ashen wasteland as if they had been there forever.


During the journey, we passed underneath a Dwemer citadel, perched high above us on a rocky bluff. It looked quite large - from our vantage point - but curiously, it was not marked on the map the Buoyant Armiger gave me. In any case, we decided to leave it alone - there was no point stirring up more trouble: we had quite enough of it already. I could hear something through the storm that I had hoped to never hear again: the great, booming pulse of a dragon beating its wings. The sound was coming from off to the east, somewhere above us - near where I estimated the top of the mountain to be.

I had, of course, told Sirilonwe about my previous encounter with (or perhaps I should say 'flight from') a dragon; and we exchanged concerned glances whenever the faint roar of the dragon filtered through the howling wind. Still, the poor visibility brought about by the ever-present Blight storm would hopefully keep us safe. We continued on, and the path eventually twisted around to lead us down the mountainside a short way, to approach a jumble of haphazard Dwemer towers from above: Gate Citadel Vemynal.

The interior of Vemynal was much smaller than that of Odrosal: but the defenders were waiting for us, this time. We hacked and burned (or froze) our way through the ashen and eyeless followers of House Dagoth, and found Sunder in the deepest chamber of the ruin: in the hand of an Ash Vampire.

I cursed - and ducked out of the way - as the beast swung the deceptively small-looking hammer at my head. The weapon struck the wall of the cramped chamber; letting out a deafening, dissonant tone, and leaving a dent in the thick, heavy metal. Sirilonwe was behind him, and raked her Daedric wakizashi down his back. When the Ash Vampire jerked around to fend her off, I sent my paralysing spell into his side - and thankfully, it held.

Before the thing could regain its mobility, I hacked off the hand that held Sunder, and awkwardly pried open the taloned fingers from around the handle (again, trying not to touch the artefact with anything but the Wraithguard) as we began our flight from the citadel. I discarded the grotesque hand as soon as the hammer was free: there was no telling what the appendage might have done once the paralysation spell wore off.

Once outside again, we rushed back to a dark tunnel we had found nearby, and placed our teleportation Marks inside. The sun was nearly up, and we were faced with another frantic dash back to the castle. This time we were more fortunate, however, and made it with a little more time to spare. Our nerves were already on edge: nearly being burned by the sunlight would not have been a welcome addition to our worries.


It was done: all three of Kagrenac's Tools were in my possession - and very impressive they were, too. Wraithguard, as I have mentioned, had become a permanent part of my armour. I considered making Keening my main weapon, as it was a superlative blade; but I could not abide the constant worry that I - or Sirilonwe, perhaps - might accidentally touch it without the Wraithguard. Vivec had told us that this would result in 'a mortal wound'; to use his words.

Studying the hammer was a little difficult for Sirilonwe and I, since I was the only one who could hold it; and even then, only with the hand protected by Wraithguard - but we determined that the enchantment on it augmented the physical strength of the wielder by a tremendous amount. It was a pity that I was hopeless at using hammers as weapons; Sunder seemed capable of delivering blows of devastating power.


After studying the hammer, we spent the daylight hours attending to Mages Guild business, trying not to think too much about what we would be doing that evening. And it had to be that evening. Word of both Sunder and Keening's loss would have no doubt already reached Dagoth Ur. The time lost while we were trapped inside by the sun was bad enough: who knew what awaited us in Dagoth Ur's citadel, with the time he had had to prepare for our arrival.


We again departed for the Red Mountain region just after sunset, and struck out to the south-east - to Dagoth Ur. It was another long slog up the mountain, with heavy resistance along the way - but things became much worse when we finally reached the top, and peered down into Red Mountain's massive crater.

A tremendous, stinking gale of foul, blighted air spewed from the crater. This was the source of all the Blight on Morrowind. The heat from the lake of molten rock somewhere beneath the choking cloud of ash was nearly unbearable. A number of Dwemer buildings and towers were perched around the inside of the crater; the forest of spiked tips atop the structures arrayed so far below us making me realise just how perilously deep the crater was.

Worst of all, though, was the large, pot-bellied dragon squatting on one of the Dwemer buildings down in the crater. We had no chance to avoid it; it was as if the thing was waiting for us - or perhaps it could just smell us. The dragon launched itself into the air - its great wings fanning the clouds of ash over the lake of molten rock into a flat, plate-like shape for a moment - and came screaming up at us. I cannot imagine a more terrible foe for a vampire than fire-breathing dragon.


"Find a way in!" I shouted to Sirilonwe, and leapt from the lip of the volcano. My 'Touch the clouds' spell took me far across the crater, and up to one of the Dwemer towers built near the top of the steep caldera.

Sirilonwe cried out to me in dismay, but it was too late to take back what I had done. As I soared through the air, I sent my 'Blizzard' spell streaking out to the dragon, to keep its attention on me, rather than Sirilonwe. It worked; and as I caught hold of the needle-like pole atop the tower to arrest my movement, the scaly beast inhaled with the sound of a gale shrieking through a narrow space, and spat a gout of fire at me. I kept my grip on the pole, and swung around it to avoid the flames - and to build up enough momentum to leap out onto the dragon's back.

This may sound extremely foolhardy, but really, I just wanted to be somewhere where I could remain behind the fire-breathing dragon's head. I wrapped my arm around a sharp, curved spine (shaped like a trama-vine's thorn), and held on tight to avoid sliding off the smooth, scaly back. I think the dragon was actually not sure where I had gone. It soared in a wide circle above the crater, twisting its head this way and that; looking for me. The beast did not realise I was perched on its back until I awkwardly pried one of its scales off with my Daedric katana.

The dragon bucked once, trying to throw me off - but it was too late for the beast. I had already discharged my powerful 'Holding Field' spell into the exposed flesh under the scale; paralysed, the dragon plummeted down into Red Mountain's noisome crater. I leapt off and sailed down to a ledge halfway up the caldera, where I could see Sirilonwe waiting for me. I landed gracefully next to her, as she gave me a look of mingled relief, pride, and amusement. A shocking -crash- sounded deep in the crater, as (I assume) the dragon struck the lake of molten rock.

I have never once regretted spending so much money to have my enchanted 'Infallible' belt made. I doubt I would have survived that fall, otherwise.


During my potentially (alright; almost definitely) foolish act of heroism, Sirilonwe had indeed found an entrance to Dagoth Ur's citadel. In contrast to the spectacular environment outside, the interior of the citadel was just like virtually any other Dwemer ruin I had seen. It was eerily deserted, too: like Odrosal before I took Keening. I could not shake off the feeling that we were being watched, though... or perhaps not watched, inasmuch as 'felt'. I felt just like I did growing up; on the occasions that I tried to pick someone's pocket, and they felt the intrusion before I could grab what I was after.

Perhaps that pot-bellied dragon outside used the crater of Red Mountain as its home, and was (or had been) effective at discouraging intruders. Perhaps Dagoth Ur had become so powerful that he did not fear anything anymore; and was capable of killing anything that came through the door.

My nerves were raw, and my senses were screaming at me. I was afraid; deathly afraid.

"You don't have to come with me, Siri." I said, risking a glance at her. I did not like to speak to - or look at - her when we were about to go into battle. The thought that one of us might lose the other in the near future was always hard to bear.

"We are safer together. Both of us. Wherever we may be." Was all she said. I noticed she was not looking at me, either.

The Dwemer tunnels plunged deep into the ground, and eventually led into chambers carved from the rock. We followed them from one cavern to the next, and came to a chamber lit with red candles, and filled with the otherworldly whispering of a Sixth House shrine. Dagoth Ur was there - standing before the shrine, and not moving.


He looked like an Ash Vampire - with ashen skin, ropy muscles in strange places, and taloned hands - only he wore a golden, circular mask with three eye-holes, and three tubes arrayed along the top. Ash floated out from them as if from a trio of small chimneys. I knew the mask: I had seen it before.

Months ago, he had invaded my sleep: it was the masked face from my dreams.

Chapter 134: The great climb

After leaving Vivec to concentrate on maintaining the Ghostfence, Sirilonwe and I spent the next day and night preparing for a journey into the Red Mountain region. Upon gifting me with the gauntlet Wraithguard - which accounted for one out of three of Kagrenac's Tools - Vivec told us where we might find the other two. To the best of the living god's knowledge, the hammer 'Sunder' and the blade 'Keening' had - unsurprisingly - been taken to separate Sixth House strongholds (or 'Gate Citadels') inside the Ghostfence, and were likely guarded by Ash Vampires.

The plan as laid out by Vivec went like this: first we should enter the Red Mountain region via the Ghostgate, so that we could ask the Buoyant Armigers (a small military force that answered to Vivec) garrisoned there for the latest reports on conditions inside the Ghostfence, and directions to the Gate Citadels where Sunder and Keening were probably being held. Second, we had to recover both Sunder and Keening. Third, we had to find the Heart Chamber underneath Dagoth Ur's Citadel - and finally, we had to destroy the enchantments upon the Heart of Lorkhan using the full set of Kagrenac's Tools.

This was to be done by striking the Heart once with the hammer Sunder (while wearing Wraithguard, as neither Sunder or Keening could be safely handled otherwise) to 'produce a pure tone', and then striking it many times with the blade Keening; until the enchantment was broken. Vivec unfortunately had no idea how I would actually know when this had occurred; but maintained that severing the ties to divinity of several god-like beings would produce some kind of noticeable result.


"A quest for ancient, magical weapons that made an entire race vanish from Tamriel all at once." Sirilonwe remarked, as we handed our armour and weapons over to my smith, Ulfred. "Does it make you feel like a figure out of legend?"

Events that may be considered to be of great significance to others can seem, by turns, both profoundly affecting and quite mundane to those directly involved. I did not really know how to answer Sirilonwe. Still, I thought as I gave her a vague smile; the enormity of the task before us was not lost on me. We were playing in the shadows of gods; and a mistake could easily mean a swift death.

Though with a clear path before me - a method to follow to achieve Dagoth Ur's end - I was not afraid. I trusted Vivec; at least, I trusted him to tell me how to kill Dagoth Ur - his sworn enemy. I believed that shame and a reluctance to lose their godly powers (and by extension, their lives) had caused the Tribunal's failure in their war against the Sixth House. I believed that the desperate situation the Tribunal found themselves in led Vivec to trust someone like me with the tools and the knowledge to do what they could not.


Sirilonwe was still concerned about the Blight and Corprus that was said to saturate the Red Mountain region, so I took her (for the first time) to Ashmelech, so that she herself could ask our 'mother' Dhaunayne Aundae all she liked about what it was to be a vampire. Dhaunayne was not in a pleasant mood.

"We are both Altmer, whelp." She told Sirilonwe coldly. "You should know full well that our pure blood makes us hardy against disease. In addition, my refined blood in your veins leaves you absolutely impervious to sickness. If your sire here is not simply spinning tales about his apparent case of Corprus, then - as he said - he was only infected because he clumsily irritated a Dagoth. I do not like repeating myself - to either of you. Vampires are immune to disease. We are not, however, immune to curses."

Dhaunayne's casual mention of the powers of a Dagoth surprised me a little, and for an instant I considered asking her if she might allow any of her 'children' from Ashmelech to aid me in the assault on the Sixth House citadels on Red Mountain. I thought better of it, though: neither the vampires there, nor their mother, would ever do anything I asked of them. At that moment, too, Dhaunayne seemed especially cross with me; perhaps because I had passed her vampiric blood on to Sirilonwe without asking her permission.


Before we left Ashmelech, I bought a number of those glass vials (the ones enchanted to keep human blood fresh) from the trader there, and gave them to Sirilonwe, as none of the vampires there would even speak to her. We spent the remainder of the night laboriously filling the glass vials with (a furious) Hunter's blood, and were then faced with a long, restless day before the sun set and we could finally be on our way. We had a long way to go.

With newly repaired armour, sharpened weapons, and enough bottled blood to (hopefully) see us through any battle, we teleported across to Ald'ruhn and set out for Ghostgate from there.


The Buoyant Armigers on duty in the Ghostgate recognised Wraithguard on my hand - as Vivec had said they would - and an impressively armoured Dunmer there gave me an old map of Red Mountain showing the locations of the ancient Dwemer citadels the Ash Vampires had taken as their homes. This was all the intelligence he had for us, really; as no-one had ventured far inside the Ghostfence for years.

Vivec had told us that Sunder had been taken to Gate Citadel 'Vemynal', and Keening had been taken to Gate Citadel 'Odrosal'. According to the map the Buoyant Armiger gave me, Dagoth Ur's citadel was located in the centre of Red Mountain, over the Heart Chamber. Odrosal was south-east of this citadel (and closest to the Ghostgate), and Vemynal was to the north-west. We would try Odrosal first then, since it was closest.


Inside the Ghostfence was just as I remembered it. The sky was a lurid red, the wind howled, the air was choked with flying ash and dirt, and the ground underfoot was a shifting mass of grit and fine black ash. The Netch-leather scarf attached to my helmet was not as useful as it might have been; had I still needed to breathe - but it at least kept the blowing ash of the constant Blight storms from entering my nose and mouth. I wished I had a helmet like Sirilonwe's - which incorporated eyepieces of green volcanic glass. I had to squint against the stinging ash, but she could see perfectly.

Climbing the mountain was desperately hard. A steep, smooth path of shifting ash was the only remotely easy way up the southern slopes of Red Mountain, and we were fighting nearly every step of the way: Ascended Sleepers, Ash-ghouls, Corprus beasts; even poisonous scorpions that scuttled around in the ash, near-invisible - all attacked us relentlessly. Our invisibility spells were not working, either: it seemed as if the constant barrage of sand, soil and ash whipped up by the Blight storm disrupted them. There was nothing we could do but fight.


We had both drunk our fill from Hunter before leaving the castle, and with so much fresh blood in our bodies, any wounds we sustained during the ascent closed over in moments. Eventually, Sirilonwe spotted the distinctive bulbous towers of a Dwemer installation - high up on a cliff above us. It was the only structure we had yet seen; it had to be Gate Citadel Odrosal. The steep path we were following branched off to the right, and snaked its way up the bluff to the citadel entrance. After dispatching the Ash-ghouls outside, we finally made it into Odrosal. It had taken most of the night.

It was just like any other Dwemer ruin inside Odrosal; dark and noisy - though perhaps kept in better condition than most. It was also eerily void of any Sixth House defenders - at least at first.

We found Keening in a tower near the entrance; identifying it by Vivec's description. It was unmistakable: a longsword with a handle of Dwemer metal, and a brightly glowing blade of some strange, almost crystalline, material. I had made the gauntlet Wraithguard a permanent part of my armour (replacing the right-handed Shadow Lord gauntlet), as it was far superior to any other armour piece I had seen; by virtue of both its workmanship and the powerful protective enchantments placed on it. Careful to touch it with only the Wraithguard, I drew the blade Keening from the pit of black ash in which it was stuck; feeling immediately as if my limbs had been relieved of a great burden. The wondrously light blade was enchanted to bolster the wielder's limbs with amazing speed and grace.


A low thrum passed through the stronghold as I took up the blade; and it meant exactly what I feared. Wherever they had been during our ingress, the monstrous defenders of Odrosal came out in force to prevent our escape. Of course we could have simply teleported away home, but then we would have lost an awful lot of hard-earned ground in our foray into the Red Mountain region. No: we needed to find a safe location to place our teleportation Marks (as the rapidly approaching dawn necessitated a return to the castle) - and Odrosal was definitely not safe.

Almost a score of ashen-skinned ghouls and zombies sought to stop us as we dashed for the exit, and the fell figure of an Ash Vampire loomed behind the throng. There was a deafening -bang- as Sirilonwe set our attackers ablaze with a devastating fire spell. The wall of writhing, burning (but disturbingly close-mouthed) bodies prevented the Ash Vampire from advancing any further, and secured our escape. Sirilonwe and I burst out into the red night, and disappeared into the swirling storm.


There was less than an hour until the sun came up by then, and we ducked into a nearby abandoned mine we had passed on our climb up the mountain, to hurriedly place our magical Marks in a secluded spot. I still had the Wolfen ring, of course; so I could teleport home any time I chose - but Sirilonwe's only method of quickly returning to the castle was a Recall spell. With her Mark now in a cave halfway up Red Mountain, we needed another way home.

With only twenty or so minutes left until dawn, we cast Almsivi Intervention to return to the Temple in Ald'ruhn, sprinted to the Mages Guild to be teleported back to the Vivec guild hall, and then cast Divine Intervention to teleport to the Imperial Chapel in Ebonheart. Finally, we cast our water-walking spells and tore across the swells of the bay to Wolfen castle. The door to the great hall slammed shut behind us just as the sun rose above the sea.

It had certainly not been easy, but we had recovered Keening from the place where it had been held for hundreds of years. We had done what three livings gods could not.