Chapter Twelve
Farengar walked to his study with no regard for the little droplets of blood in his wake. S’maash made attempts to circumvent them as he followed. In the study, the wizard placed the daedra heart on the arcane enchanter. One of the maids was heard grumbling.
“You were saying,” Farengar asked.
“Hermaeus Mora contacted me in Labyrinthian, and here’s your book.”
“Ah, excellent. So, I suppose Hermaeus Mora told you to ask me what we’re doing,” Farengar started. S’maash nodded, accordingly. “It’s simple, really. After I retrieved the blood and scales of Odahviing, I conducted experiments on the nature of dragons. I found their scales to be quite resilient, both physically and magickally. Furthermore, I discovered it is their blood, which grants them a seemingly endless life span. On occasion, they may go into a sort of hibernation–”
“Wait a minute! I want to talk about Hermaeus Mora, and what you’re doing with that heart,” S’maash interjected.
“Patience. Do not interrupt me again. Now, my studies led me to believe it was possible to extend the lives of man and mer, heal their wounds, cure their ailments, and so forth. I delved as deep as I could into dragon lore. After speaking with the Dragonborn, I went in search of the Blades. They were unwilling to cooperate.”
S’maash was familiar with the Blades as they had a prominent position in Morrowind during the Third Era. So far as he knew, though, they were mainly protectors of Cyrodiil’s emperors; it was unbeknownst to the dark elf that the Blades originated as a clan of dragon slayers. He continued to listen to Farengar’s explanation.
“After extensive research and careful experimentation, I stumbled onto a mixture requiring powdered dragon scales. A bit of refined dragon blood was needed as well. By the time I came close to the progeny of my research, I hit a wall; I wasn’t able to find the proper reagent to finalize my potion.
“With only a small sample of the dragon’s elements, there was no way to attempt a use of all the reagents at my disposal. Seeking knowledge, I discovered a way to summon Hermaeus Mora. After an extended conversation, we came to an agreement.
“I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, I completed my task. In return, Hermaeus Mora gave me the ability to see what I needed. I mean that most literally,” Farengar said.
Upon ending his account, he drew back his hood. S’maash was shocked to see his eyes. They were not human. Farengar’s irises had vanished. His eyes were white with huge, black veins.
“What is that?!” S’maash gasped.
“I see magicka as it flows in the universe. The mysteries and natures of all things magickal are revealed to me almost immediately. Due to that fact, and as you’ve witnessed, I can surmise knowledge from any book within seconds. Where you see nonsensical scribblings of a mad mage, I see Shalidor’s Insights as he saw them, as he experienced them. We needed this particular book…Hermaeus Mora he…he was not finished with me,” Farengar explained.
His voice had grown despondent as he neared the end of his speech. The following silence made the elf uncomfortable.
“How does this involve me?”
“Simple, your desire for truth and knowledge exceeds time, no? You seek the old school of enchanting, one that even the daedra no longer practice due to its inherent danger,” Farengar replied.
“I’m afraid you’re not making sense,” the elf said and turned; he was no longer able to bear those strange eyes.
“I’m making perfect sense. How do you think the daedric princes came to be so powerful? The Gods themselves enchanted their very essence.”
S’maash had not realized the gravity of his theories on enchanting creatures until that moment. He was playing as one of the Gods.
“So, my machinations attracted Hermaeus Mora?” S’maash was stunned.
“Naturally. He is lord of fate as well as knowledge. If you can undertake his tasks without faltering, you will learn everything you desire, though you may no longer be the mer you are today. Truly, I am no more Farengar Secret-Fire than you are…that man is gone, but it is easier to hold on to familiar customs, is it not?”
S’maash nodded, less from understanding than mere astonishment. He thought for a moment. He did desire knowledge, though he assumed it was derived from research and experimentation. Farengar’s, and by extension Hermaeus Mora’s, proposal seemed outlandish. Or is it? It was too enticing.
“So, what are we doing?”
“I had you figured for a mer of action. This is my final experiment. I have left you all the instructions in my desk. Once this is over, you are to reside here. Thorald is aware of these changes. Now, you’re no doubt familiar with the Black Star,” Farengar said.
“I have heard it mentioned. I know more about the Star of Azura,” S’maash said, reluctantly.
“Of course. The principles are the same. With no connection to Azura, the Black Star now only filters black souls. As you well know, there is an emptiness in the void, so to speak; we will craft a new vessel.
“I mentioned earlier, dragon’s blood brings long life, but it is their souls, which makes them immortal. Until the Dragonborn’s arrival, they could be defeated, but not killed. His ability to steal their souls brought them to their demise.
“After the death of Alduin, the Dragonborn changed…much as I have. He became less a man and more…well, more dragon. Unfortunately, there was no way to capture a dragon’s soul, they resist soul trap, and no vessel can hold a soul so potent, no inanimate vessel, that is, until now,” Farengar spoke, dramatically.
The court wizard had expounded upon a great many things. S’maash’s head spun, forcing him to take a seat. He glanced about the room in an effort to regain his composure. All the soul gems gleamed from the fires around the study. The elf rubbed the desk’s thick mahogany to bring himself back to reality.
“What will we do with dragon souls,” he finally asked.
“We,” Farengar asked in return. “Nothing. I am leaving this plane to live forever in a manner indescribable. Hermaeus Mora explained the ramifications, and I accepted his proposal. Even if I were doubtful, now there is no turning back for me. I will explain what you will do.”
“I’m listening.” Though he was listening, he was also trying to come to grips with what it was the nord was implying.
“We will begin by fusing a daedra heart with a black soul gem. Shalidor’s Insights contains a passage with diagrams and incantations,” he said as he took the book from the desk. “The fusion can only be done by a willing participant. Hold both of these in your left hand.”
S’maash stood with open hands, grudgingly accepting the heart and gem. He looked at Farengar questioningly. The peculiarity of the still beating heart drew his attention, though.
“Now, you will cast soul trap on my person,” Farengar instructed.
“What?”
“Be quiet, and follow your instructions. There is no room for error,” Farengar chastised.
S’maash faltered for a second as he looked into the man’s strange eyes. He raised his hand, charged the spell, and cast it upon Farengar. A purple glow took hold of the nord’s body.
“Excellent. I can feel it. Goodbye, S’maash. It was truly a pleasure to spend my last moments as a man in good company,” he said.
S’maash grew teary-eyed. He was unsure of what was happening before him. Suddenly, Farengar made concentric circles with both hands. They turned bright red with a glow from Oblivion itself. Then, the light radiated from Farengar’s entire body. He slowly lifted off the ground. A flash of red light blinded the elf. The painful glare forced him to yell, and a powerful gust knocked him to the floor. Unwittingly, he dropped the objects from his left hand.
Frightened, he opened his eyes, searching frantically for the heart and gem. Instead, he found a strange object, the daedric heart gem, a glowing, black and red, soul gem in the shape of a daedric heart, only smaller, and more malevolent-looking. Nearby, there sat a glowing pile of red
and black cinders; Farengar had departed from the world.
“No,” S’maash said, choking back tears.
He took the daedric heart gem and placed it upon the arcane enchanter. For a second, he felt Farengar’s presence; it yet radiated from the artifact. After wiping away tears, he noticed the entire room was in disarray. One of the servants, an old woman peeked in.
“He’s gone…Farengar’s gone,” S’maash said.
Whatever had transpired, she wanted no part of it and quickly left. The elf sat at the desk. Then, he remembered Farengar had mentioned leaving a note. S’maash opened the desk to find more than a note, there was an entire journal. He took the leather-bound notebook. After a deep inhalation, he read its contents.
I have completed herein my own research as well as that of my student, S’maash. First and foremost, I recommend you reinstate his place at your College of Winterhold as I can attest to his stature. He is not a necromage, nor was he ever one.
S’maash was almost brought to tears once more by the statements within the journal. After the introduction, there was a catalogue of the experiments conducted by Farengar. After those, were the experiments conducted by S’maash. Finally, there was a catalogue of the experiments they had been conducting together up to and including the creation of the daedric heart gem.
While this gem does not hold the ability to filter dragon souls, it does slightly amplify the souls of men, mer, and demon. That alone is a step towards greatness, but it is incomplete. In its current state, it will, as all soul gems, shatter after only one use. To remedy that, it must be brought before Azura.
Should she accept the vessel in her honor, and I have no doubt she will, she may bestow upon it the Breath of Everlasting. This incantation may only be applied in her very own realm, one of many realms of Oblivion. Once the gem is offered, she may provide more information.
As for me, Farengar Secret-Fire, I have filtered my own soul willingly into the vessel. Please do not use me for enchanting purposes. Once the Breath of Everlasting has been bestowed upon the vessel, I will have a small window of opportunity. I will escape to join Hermaeus Mora in his plane of Oblivion.
S’maash, I personally thank you for your efforts. Show this to the old man, Tolfdir. The rune at the bottom of the page will certainly force him to reconsider your acceptance into the College of Winterhold.
At the bottom of the page was in fact an odd marking, one S’maash had never seen. The last pages of the journal indicated the following steps S’maash needed to undertake in order to accomplish Farengar’s final project. Under the journal was another note. S’maash quickly read it as well. It was signed by Thorald, who accepted S’maash as the new court wizard of Dragonsreach. Exhausted from his travels and the recent events, he placed his head on the desk. I guess it is time to return to the College….
Before making a long trip to Winterhold, S’maash met with Thorald in Dragonsreach’s throne room. The Jarl was a large nord with thick, graying hair. His fine clothes consisted of heavy cloths comprised of bright colors. The golden hues and bright reds gave him a regal bearing few nords possessed. The braziers burned brightly, casting ominous shadows inside the palace.
Thorald appeared a brute, but spoke with a surprisingly kind demeanor. “The crazy wizard has passed on then?”
“Yes, but I fear I don’t know how to be a court wizard,” S’maash complained.
“No worries. We’re currently experiencing some peace in Skyrim. Besides, I never understood a damn word that arrogant wizard ever said to me. You look more my type, I see the spirit of travel and adventure in your eyes,” Thorald praised.
After a short discussion, explaining his rather lax duties, S’maash was granted a leave of absence to return to The College of Winterhold. He took a cart ride to the northeast once more.