Chapter Fifteen
“Markarth was built upon the dwemer city of Nchuand-Zel,” Brelyna stated.
“I am unfamiliar with a great deal of Skyrim, including Markarth,” S’maash admitted.
“It has a very colorful history. From the Forsworn attacks to the Silver-Bloods taking over after Ulfric’s uprising, this city seems to be under perpetual change. Yet, inside the walls of stone, the people remain unchanged. A most perplexing place….” she commented.
“With Cidhna mine, to boot,” Zolara added.
“The mine,” S’maash asked.
“It’s where they send prisoners to mine silver. They mine to serve out their sentence,” Brelyna answered.
“It is hard to imagine the nords built a long standing society over dwemer ruins,” S’maash mused.
“The nords are a surprisingly resilient people,” Brelyna countered.
“They have to be to survive these frozen lands,” Zolara remarked.
The dark elves detected a negative connotation, but held their tongues as they looked upon Zolara. He shrugged in reply.
“So, how do we get into Nchuand-Zel,” the wizard asked.
“Follow me,” Brelyna said and took the lead.
As they entered the city, S’maash was awestruck by the stonework. All the buildings were clearly of dwemer of design. He assumed the city itself was Nchuand-Zel. For a second, he stood, lost in amazement.
Brelyna walked around the Silver-Blood Inn to the backside of Markarth. S’maash followed her, but kept gaping at the phenomenal design. Then, he noticed the beautiful cascade of water; the city was built around a waterfall, which poured from the mountains.
The sound of smithing prevailed. Steel smashing steel rang against the stone city, tying into the chatter of citizens. While Brelyna proceeded up the steps, towards Understone Keep, the young elf strained to listen to merchants, patrons, and warriors.
Since the sun was setting, casting an orange radiance overhead, the light reflected off the dwemer doors adorning all the buildings. The scintillating luminescence was mesmerizing. Seeing so many people milling about a dwemer city was an odd sight to behold, and for a moment, S’maash felt as though transported back to a time when the dwarves yet lived.
Then, Brelyna approached a guard standing watch. He wore the same fur-lined, quilted armor as most of Skyrim’s guard, his face masked by the full helmet. Their conversation drew him back to reality.
“I used to be an adventurer like you. Then, I took an arrow in the knee,” the guard said.
“Sorry to hear that…we’re just seeking entry to Understone Keep,” Brelyna said.
“Sure, sure, go right in, but be mindful in front of the Jarl.”
The three travelers entered the ancient bastion. A familiar sound pulsated, dwemer, steam machinery. S’maash gazed at the statues of dwarven spheres, recalling his trip through Damlzthur. There was another automaton, too, something enormous with sword and hammer, which he did not recognize.
Brelyna had moved off to the left of the keep, towards some rubble. He followed behind her, still in a daze. She stopped inside a large chamber where a mer was conducting some experiments with dwemer automatons.
“Greetings, Aicantar,” Brelyna said.
The mer turned with a smile, revealing he was an altmer in purple robes. “Ah Brelyna, you’ve brought guests,” he asked, wiping his hands.
“So to speak…we need access to Nchuand-Zel.”
Aicantar furrowed his brow as he looked over S’maash and Zolara. “You’re researching the dwemer, too?”
“No. We’re here for the Heart of Lorkhan,” S’maash interjected.
Aicantar laughed as though it was the funniest joke he’d heard in years. Slowly, his laughter gave way. S’maash maintained an inquisitive gaze.
“You’re serious, aren’t you? Well that’s preposterous. Lorkhan’s Heart isn’t here. It, it, it isn’t anywhere,” the altmer replied in disbelief.
“Hermaeus Mora sent us,” Brelyna said, gravely.
“Truly?” the altmer was astonished.
“He said something about it being beyond a hall,” S’maash added.
“Hmm. I don’t know what that means. You’re certain he said it was in Nchuand-Zel?”
“Hard to confuse that name with any other, don’t you think?” Zolara snipped.
“Well…look, it’s dangerous in there. Automatons still roam the halls. Then, there’s those blasted falmer. I can’t figure out where they’re coming from,” Aicantar said as he paced.
He had obviously forgotten he was in the company of others, a feature his uncle also possessed before his passing. “Aicantar,” S’maash called.
“What? Oh yes.”
“If you don’t know where the falmer are coming from, you have not explored every area of Nchuand-Zel, so it is logical the Heart of Lorkhan is in there, somewhere,” S’maash surmised.
“I suppose that’s a valid point,” Aicantar said, making eye contact with everyone. “Listen, if you get hurt in there, it’ll be on my head.”
“Aicantar,” Brelyna pleaded.
“Fine, here’s the key to enter, but please, be extra careful.”
“Of course. Thank you,” she answered, touching his elbow.
“Oh, before I forget, the Dragonborn came through here many years ago. He helped my uncle reactivate the automated defenses so…just be cautious,” Aicantar added.
“Understood. Thank you,” S’maash replied.
They proceeded through Aicantar’s chamber to what looked like a fresh excavation site, except for the cobwebs. It was obvious that once the entrance had been located, no one cared enough to clean up after themselves. The brown, rocky tunnel led into a well preserved dwemer ruin, Nchuand-Zel.
“Alright,” S’maash said, taking the key from Brelyna.
He unlocked the doors, revealing more excavation and more, spiders’ webs.
“Hmm, I hear something in the distance,” Zolara commented.
“Frostbite spiders,” Brelyna answered.
S’maash shuddered at the thought. He heard it as well; the scurrying sound of hairy legs crawling about. After moving through some narrow tunnels, they came across egg sacs and their guardians. The three travelers easily dispatched a handful of spiders with various destruction spells. A few gleaming swirls of frost storm, purple flashes of chain lightning, and the orange blazes of fire bolts were sufficient.
Zolara stood over one, charred carcass. “Maybe I’ll summon a little help.”
The dark elves eyed him as he conjured a flame atronach. Once summoned, the fiery demon skated about the group. They continued to walk down some shoddy, wooden bridges to another entrance. Upon opening the door, a malevolent-looking, gray creature hissed.
“Falmer!” Brelyna cried out.
The wiry creature’s skin was tightly stretched across knotted muscles. Milky eyes, sharp teeth, and a lack of nose made the thing downright horrific. It wielded a chitinous sword and shield, to boot.
The flame atronach took point, blasting at the falmer with repeated fire balls. S’maash and friends threw up their iron flesh spells in defense as they observed the wiry creature battle Zolara’s summoned beast. The falmer swung wildly. A dance of blaze unfolded; while the falmer was an agile warrior, it was no match for the atronach. Fire balls exploded over the creature, and it went tumbling over the edge of the platform upon which they all stood.
“Those were elves,” S’maash was incredulous.
“Well,” Brelyna shrugged. “They may only be a twisted rendition of a once prestigious people, snow elves. Now blind, after years of subterranean living, they seek only the destruction of surface dwellers.”
Zolara peeked precariously over the edge. He waved goodbye to the fallen snow elf. Then, he addressed the others.
“It’s a long way down. All I see is shingled rooves and misty water beneath. Where exactly are we going?”
“Forwards,” S’maash replied.
?
??Good to know,” Zolara replied, sarcastically.
They walked across the platform, a stone bridge of sorts. It was difficult to comprehend how the dwemer had built pathways to the individual pavilions. Carefully, the group approached the first structure built into the framework of Nchuand-Zel. As they pressed on, they noted many of the same structures ran throughout the massive ruin. There was no reasonable way to determine the proper path, so they simply continued walking from platform to pavilion roof and so on.
Stale air hung in the chamber. The scent of death wafted around. Soon, they came to the last pavilion. There were dwemer benches, and a fence protected some pipes and gears, which ran throughout. Two paths stood before them.
“The door or the walkway down,” Brelyna asked.
S’maash took a deep breath in an attempt to reason out a decision. “We might as well take the door. If I know dwemer ruins, we’ll have to proceed through various areas, slowly working our way down.”
“Been through many, have we,” Zolara asked.
“Well…just Damlzthur,” he admitted.
Beyond the large doors, they moved into the war quarters, where deceased falmer and chitinous weapons were scattered all over the ground. As they meandered about the hallways and many steps, they saw rubble, machinery, gates, and numerous pieces of broken automatons. A great battle had taken place at some point. The whistling sound of steam prevailed.
“Look at all these gears churning in the ground. I can hardly believe these contraptions still function,” Zolara commented.
Periodically, the machinery whirred and clanked. Many, twisting corridors led up stairs, then down stairs, then around corners. S’maash began blinking a bit erratically as he tried to keep a mental note of where they were going. Large, brass barrels jutted from the walls as steam billowed out.
“What is this,” Brelyna asked.
Amidst a series of fences built as partitions was a strange tree. It sat in ancient soil. The three gazed at it for a moment. It was an unremarkable, brown tree, but the only tree any of them had seen inside a dwemer ruin.
“It’s just a tree,” Zolara said, breaking the silence.
S’maash nodded. They moved around the fences to a hallway with numerous rooms. All of them were adorned with stone beds, gas lamps, desks, and dwarven metal chairs. Then, the familiar sound of automatons moving through the walls roared.
“Here we go. Brace yourselves,” S’maash announced.
The steel clinked and clamored.
“What is it?” Brelyna was alarmed.
“The defenses, I presume.”
As they engaged their own magickal defenses, a dwarven spider entered the room, its little, crab arms flailing. The agility with which the heavy chunk of metal moved was overwhelming. It was at that precise moment that Zolara’s summoned atronach crashed; the conjuration period had expired, and it returned to Oblivion.
“Blast,” the argonian said, flatly.
The spider smashed into Brelyna, who staggered back from the impact of brass-like legs. As she cried out, she blasted it with sparks from both hands. Zolara, deciding physical damage was more appropriate, summoned a bound sword. Since the argonian hacked away with a blade of wavering, purple, magicka, and Brelyna sprayed magickal lightning, S’maash fired ice spikes.
The mechanical beast hopped in the air again, that time bashing into Zolara’s chin. He fell to the ground with the automaton on his chest. It was motionless, broken, and covered with frost.
“A little assistance, please,” the conjuror asked. The enemy’s weight kept him pinned, so the dark elves worked quickly to pull it off their friend. He stood and brushed himself off. “Well….”
S’maash turned back towards the direction of the hallway. The others followed behind him as he proceeded. The circular fashion with which the war quarters were built became disorienting. The dark elf opted to constantly stay to the right in an effort to keep a straight course. Soon after, they reached a set of doors.
“Ah,” S’maash said in triumph.
He pushed them open, revealing a ledge and an empty, dwemer chest. Below was the same view they had seen when they fought the falmer- rooves and water.
“Excellent. The quickest way down,” Zolara said.
“You’re not helping,” Brelyna chastised him.
“I’m not trying to. I’m entertaining.”
“You’re awful,” S’maash added.
With no option apart from a suicide dive, they turned back, passing by more rooms with beds, chairs, and desks. After walking over rubble and bits of scrap metal, they finally came back to the strange tree. Zolara opened his mouth, but quickly shut it after a dirty look from S’maash. Brelyna snickered.
“Perhaps, we should go back and take that stone bridge down,” she suggested.
S’maash nodded. They returned to the initial chamber, and backtracked to the closest pavilion. There, they took the winding, stone bridge to a lower level, crossed another platform, passed more, brass-like fences, and finally stood before the misty water. Old debris was visible beneath the water. S’maash wondered how deep Nchuand-Zel went.
“There’s a door across the way,” Brelyna said, pointing.
“Aye,” Zolara said.
The argonian wasted no time. He took off all his clothes and put them in his travel pack. Then, he looked back at the other two. They had a look of disbelief painted across their faces.
“What?” Zolara shrugged.
“Nothing,” S’maash replied.
He stripped down as well, but kept his subregalia around his waist. To everyone’s surprise, S’maash was rather well built. Brelyna followed suit; her trim figure glistened from light of gas lamps above. S’maash and Zolara exchanged glances then looked back to Brelyna.
“Grow up,” she snapped.
Truthfully, she had not minded being momentarily ogled. It was a small boost of confidence.
“Well, I’ll go first,” Zolara announced.
He hopped head first into the water, travel pack still upon his shoulders. He swam faster than either of the elves imagined. He even managed to keep his pack dry.
“Hey, Zolara! Come back and grab our packs, too. We can’t swim like that, they’ll get wet,” S’maash called out.
“Certainly!”
Two more times, Zolara made the trip. On the third, the others joined him. Once everyone was by the new entrance, they spent a moment donning their gear. Then, they pushed the dwemer doors open, and went into the armory.
As with the previous section, machinery jutted from every corner, floor, and abutment; the scent of dwarven oil was thick in the air. While the immense, stone hallways lacked separate rooms, there were numerous alcoves with emptied chests. Every time they spotted one, Zolara ran over to it then shook his head in dismay.
“I can’t believe it’s been picked completely clean. All I’ve seen thus far is dwemer metal and ruined books,” S’maash commented.
“It’s that damn Dragonborn. He must’ve taken it all,” Zolara crowed.
“Or, more likely, the falmer,” Brelyna replied.
They proceeded around another bend. It revealed a set of stairs leading down. Next, they reached a wall. To the right were steps leading back up. Ultimately, they found themselves at a fork, but the path ended before them with a series of dwarven metal bars spanning a long ways to the left and right.
A way around was visible from either side. S’maash shrugged and went to the right, turned left at a corner, then heard a racket coming from down the hall. They all stopped.
The hissing of falmer resonated, followed by the empty, flat clamor of dwemer machinery. The group glanced at one another. Once more, they prepared for the fight by casting protection spells. Zolara summoned a flame atronach and a bound sword. S’maash brought a frozen mist to both hands. Brelyna brought sparks to one and a healing spell to the other. They trudged cautiously.
The closer they came to the battle, the more machinery was heard clunking about. Less and
less falmer hissing bled through the walls. Upon rounding the last corner to their right, they saw why. A dwarven centurian master, a creature similar to the one within Understone Keep, had crushed several falmer. Prominently, it stood guard before a set of doors.
The magnificent, dwemer automaton was a sight to behold. Built from dwarven metal, it glimmered, falmer blood dripping from its mechanical arms. The centurion master wielded a sword-like arm and a maul-like arm; the heavy, metal structure looked indestructible.
The group stared at it. S’maash narrowed his eyes. The spinning gears built into the machine’s joints.
Suddenly, the flame atronach rushed the enemy, unleashing magickal fires. The centurion met the atronach with hammer and blade. Zolara looked at his bound sword and decided constant summoning of atronachs was safer. Brelyna looked to S’maash, who was undaunted.
Gnashing his teeth, he flung a series of ice spikes around the atronach. Though its movement was graceful, it was also erratic, and some of the spells impacted against the summoned creature. Then, an overhead smash from the centurion’s mighty hammer destroyed it. While Zolara summoned once again, the centurion came closer; metal boots stomped down the hallway.
“Zolara, Brelyna, listen to me,” S’maash ordered. “We have to fight as one. I need you to be brave; summon your bound sword and get behind it. Brelyna and I will do our best to keep it slowed with frostbite. Worse comes to worse, we can all keep a healing spell equipped. Let’s go!”
Zolara looked to Brelyna and shrugged. They followed their orders. It was difficult at first, seeing as the automaton was so large, but since the atronach kept it busy, the argonian capitalized by sliding beneath the machine’s legs. Once he was safely on its backside, the dark elves stood on opposite sides of the atronach—palms outwards—expelling frozen magick upon the machine’s front.
It took mere seconds for the centurion’s gears to freeze over. That alone was enough to keep it slowed, but it released an immense burst of steam. The surprise attack caught Zolara in mid swing, killed the second atronach, and broke the concentration of the others.
“It’s too powerful!” Zolara complained.
“Just hold strong!” S’maash commanded.
They readopted the three-pronged attack. Again, the centurion broke their strategy by knocking S’maash against the wall with its sword arm and Brelyna against the other wall with its hammer arm. Zolara witnessed both elves flying like rag dolls and considered running, but he summoned another atronach, ran a few steps back, summoned a bound bow, and fired purple arrows at the mechanical menace.
“This ends now,” Zolara yelled.
The brutish automaton exhibited difficulty maneuvering in the tight hallway, but it did manage to slowly turn and face the conjurer. As it approached, the machine beat its weaponized arms against the walls. Zolara faltered for a moment. In that time, the elves had healed. With dual dual ice spikes, both dunmer froze it over once more.
In response, the centurion ground some gears, let off some steam, and charged with swinging arms at the atronach. With it destroyed, only Zolara stood before it.
“Help?” he peeped.
He had backpeddled as far as the area allowed. His tail was at the double doors.
“Just open the doors,” Brelyna yelled.
As the elves maintained their cold fury, the argonian did open the doors. On the other side were two, dwarven spheres, crossbows and swords at the ready.
“Oh! Yes! Open the doooooors,” Zolara yelled.
He no longer cared about the situation and took off to areas unseen. The centurion, slow and relentless, let off more steam as it turned to face the elves. A monotonous drone echoed when it swung sideways at Brelyna, who ducked in the knick of time. S’maash switched to a bound sword in his right hand while switching to icy spear with the other. He fired one spear into the automaton’s hip gears then ran in low to slide beneath it. There, he jammed the bound sword into the area just under the machine’s back. As it flailed its arms, Brelyna held firm with her ice spikes. Seconds later, the gears sparked and jammed, causing the centurion to wobble.
It smashed against the wall then started to slide towards S’maash He backpeddled, leaving the bound sword—which vanished—in an effort to keep from being pinned by the tilting menace. To end the fight, he readied snow storm. Three blasts of icy tornadoes was sufficient.
“Where did he go,” she asked.
S’maash just shook his head. Where ever Zolara had gone, the spheres had followed, so the elves entered the control room, a place even more riddled with gears and levers. Before taking full stock of the room, they heard Zolara scream. He ran across a hallway further in, and he was on fire. It was the evident result of a trap, not an automaton attack. Though, directly behind him, spheres gave chase.
S’maash and Brelyna ran to the hall, took their right, and followed the automatons. A couple of snow storms, sparks, and a flame atronach made short work of the enemies. Zolara stood before the wreckage. He kicked a large, dwemer plate then hopped about as he had hurt his own foot.
“I can’t believe you just left us,” Brelyna yelled, incredulous.
“I didn’t, I didn’t just leave you…I…uh, led the enemy away, so we wouldn’t be overwhelmed,” he countered. “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t believe you,” she replied.
“Well, just be glad that, thanks to me, you’re alive enough to be able to not believe me,” he retorted.
“Maybe, we should just take a break,” S’maash huffed.