An Enchanting Tale

The incessant whining of spinning blades, and the clamor of daedric gears, drowned out the fury of bubbling lava. Deadlands was rife with heat, danger, and the war machine’s ceaseless advance. Cautiously, S’maash and his group searched for a way inside. Locating a hatch at the rear’s top portion, they made for it when it suddenly sprung open. A valkynaz covered in daedric armor hopped out.

  “Death to intruders!” he grumbled.

  The demon leapt off the machine and engaged the group in battle. As was custom, Zolara and Brelyna started a magickal flurry from the distance. S’maash and S’maath traded glances.

  “Would you like me to go first,” S’maath asked.

  “Fine by me, but don’t kill him. I’m going to bind this one for Falion,” S’maash replied.

  S’maath nodded, and not a second too soon; the valkynaz had closed the distance.

  “Come, demon! Show me what you have,” S’maath challenged.

  The creature only grumbled and swung a daedric, war axe, a malevolent, crescent blade of black and red steel that pulsated with raw power. S’maath, in a wide stance, parried the blow with the tip of his sword. The elf licked his bottom lip as he tried to stare into the eyes of his opponent, who was wearing a full helmet.

  The demon pulled with both hands causing the crescent blade of his axe to tug at the sword, but the dark elf shuffled forwards for balance. In reply, the demon thrust his axe into S’maath’s chest. The sharp spike at the axe’s head penetrated armor only slightly, yet enough for a little blood and pain. The valkynaz laughed.

  Frost and lightning slowed the demon, but his brute force was cause for concern. S’maash, in his death-like, bonemold armor, stood with arms crossed, watching the battle. If need be, he was ready to cast healing hands, but for the time, he simply enjoyed watching and learning from his brother’s movements, and the valkynaz’s attacks.

  “Bow before me, weakling,” the demon called out.

  “You’re nothing, scum!”

  Mer and demon continued to battle for seconds longer. It was apparent that S’maath was not only holding back for fun, but that the magickal onslaught from the support team was having a large effect. Finally, the demon took a knee. He looked up at S’maath, who raised his sword over his head.

  “No,” S’maash yelled.

  He jumped in before his brother vanquished the opposition. With Falion’s scroll in hand, he quickly read from the parchment. Upon completion, the scroll caught flame and was reduced to ash. A blue glow enveloped the valkynaz. He keeled over stiff, twitched once, then stood to dust off his armor. He looked down upon the elves.

  “How may I serve you,” he asked, begrudgingly.

  “For now, you can take me to the greater sigil stone,” S’maash replied.

  “Very well.”

  “Demon, what is your name,” S’maash asked when the valkynaz started to walk off.

  “Sultar Tuvik.”

  “Excellent. To the stone then.”

  Sultar led the group up several spikes protruding from the rear side of the war machine. While the points were sharp, the spikes were smooth at their base and functioned as a ladder up to the hatch from which Sultar Tuvik had sprung. After he dropped inside, the others followed suit.

  The interior was not vastly dissimilar from the spires, but hard-looking steel and an orange glow obscured their path. Too many noisy gears churned away. The valkynaz continued to a narrow hallway that ultimately led to five doors; two on either side and one at the front of the enormous, inner carriage. He turned to face his master.

  “Stand aside,” S’maash ordered.

  The demon obeyed. Zolara took S’maash shoulder.

  “Grabbing this stone is supposed to break the spell that sent us here, right,” the argonian asked.

  “So Falion said.”

  “Then, before you take it, let me have a look around,” Zolara stated. “Brelyna, come to me.”

  “What is it?” While she was glad to have come on the journey, she was just as glad to be done with it.

  “Help me search these rooms for something,” Zolara begged.

  “I’ll help,” S’maath added. “Brother, be ready to take the stone.”

  S’maash nodded as the others took a moment to search. Less than seconds later, a battle erupted. There had been denizens lurking behind closed doors. The trio made quick work of a spider daedra, a flame atronach, scamps, and a caitiff. The low ceiling made it difficult for S’maath to fight properly, but the enemies were not altogether powerful.

  “Are we all set, then,” S’maash asked once they reconvened.

  “Yes,” Brelyna answered.

  “Anything good,” S’maash pried.

  “Nothing overly special, but any treasure is good treasure,” S’maath smiled.

  Zolara winked at the comment. S’maash sighed then turned to the final door. It was locked. He slowly looked up in exasperation then he turned to the demon.

  “Sultar, open this door,” S’maash demanded.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The demon obeyed by producing the key. Once the door was open, S’maash and the band of adventurers moved inside. The room was little more than an altar; the greater sigil stone was floating precariously in the air. Beneath the garnet-colored, pulsating gem were uneven, squared levels of rough, red steel. They were something like concentric platforms, which sunk into one another. Several daedradi symbols covered the entirety of the room, and from the ceiling, red stalactites hung low.

  S’maash did not dawdle. He reached out for the stone, but received only blackness instead. There was nothing. He was unconscious; they all were, but only briefly. With a deep inhalation, they all came to.

  “What in Oblivion,” Brelyna asked.

  All of them felt their stomachs churn.

  “We’ve stopped moving,” S’maath choked.

  An unseen force had floored them. It took them some time to stand up.

  “Yes,” S’maash answered.

  He shrugged and carefully reached for the stone again. That time, he was able to take it. Everyone looked around, expecting to be transported out of the war machine. S’maash turned to Sultar Tuvik, but he noticed everything had gone eerily quiet. Before he uttered a word, a familiar voice was heard screaming insults from the exterior.

  “Falion,” Brelyna asked.

  They all staggered back to the hatch. Upon opening it, they found themselves inside Dartwing Cave.

  “Well, well, I didn’t really expect you to make it out of there,” Falion greeted.

  “Falion, this is Sultar Tuvik,” S’maash said, pointing at the demon.

  “Excellent. Transfer control over to me,” Falion ordered.

  “How uh…how do I do that?”

  Zolara laughed, openly.

  “Tell him to serve me,” Falion said, incredulously.

  “Of course. Sultar Tuvik, you are to serve your new master, Falion.”

  “As you will,” the demon grumbled.

  “Alright, well, when you came crashing through, several of the sigil stones powering the weaponry fell about the ground,” Falion started. “You can take them if you like; being an enchanter, I’ve no doubt you can find a use for them. I have much work to do now, but please, send for me when you have completed your quest to restore the Heart of Lorkhan. I would very much like to see it.”

  “Of course. Master Falion,” S’maash asked.

  “Yes?”

  “No…nothing. Apologies,” S’maash said.

  “Back to Winterhold for a drink then,” S’maath asked, looking everyone over.

  “Aye, will you be staying this time,” Brelyna asked.

  “Perhaps…I must say I’m interested in seeing this ordeal come to a conclusion.”

  The brothers looked at one another. “Feel free to stay as long as you like,” S’maash smiled.

  They left Falion to his own devices for drinks and merriment.