Chapter Nine
It was early morning in Whiterun. The sun had yet to rise. Dewy droplets fell from rooves as S’maash traveled to Dragonsreach. Before entering Farengar’s study, he snatched a sweet roll off the large table in the palace’s dining room. The court wizard was already working over the arcane enchanter.
“Made it back in one piece, I see,” he said.
“I recovered your tome.”
“Excellent, let’s have it.”
Frowning, the elf found it odd that he wasn’t able to get a read on the strange wizard. He never allowed for eye contact. Even when he turned his head, his eyes were covered by his black robe’s thick hood.
Farengar placed the book on the enchanter. As S’maash observed him, he saw the wizard sort of rifle through the pages. After only ten or so seconds, he tossed the book aside.
“Did you read this,” he asked.
“No. I ran it here as fast as I could. Did you read it?” S’maash was surprised.
“Sometimes, I forget average people lack the ability to absorb knowledge at a decent rate. Forgive me,” Farengar said. S’maash grumbled. Even his apologies are insults, he thought. “I suppose you expect some kind of payment. There’s a coin purse on the table behind me. It’s yours. You may also want to read the tome when you have the time.”
At first, S’maash remained silent. He took the purse and looked inside. He figured it was close to twenty Septims.
“So, that’s it,” S’maash asked.
“You expected more gold?”
“No, I meant; there isn’t anything else you need?” the elf clarified.
“Not at this moment, no.”
“I’m going to rest for a bit then. Once I wake, I’ll check with Adrianne for results,” S’maash said.
As S’maash turned to leave, he heard Farengar speak. “Don’t be overly optimistic. Our first projects usually yield very little knowledge.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…best of luck.”
He was too tired to care about more, veiled insults, and instead, he shuffled off to sleep in the basement. Mere hours later, he woke up. His mind had been overly preoccupied with obtaining results, so he left for Whiterun. As usual, Adrianne was hard at work outside her shop. Waves of heat wafted off the forge.
“How did it turn out,” S’maash asked.
“Not well, I’m afraid. Your ingot shattered,” she said with both hands on her hips.
“Shattered? I didn’t expect that,” S’maash said to himself.
“Care to buy another, and try again?”
He mulled it over. “No. Thank you.”
Disappointed, he went back to Farengar. A nagging feeling gave him the impression the wizard knew something. Chilly wind blew through his hair during the quick jog.
“Failure, eh,” Farengar asked, still bent over the worktable.
“How did you know?”
“It’s simple, really; like any, enchanted item—be it ring, blade, or ingot—once external forces are applied to a point causing an effect to the item in question, it shatters before changing. Magickal fire—or fires of a forge—affect items similarly. Even a master smith cannot alter an enchanted item’s structural physicality,” Farengar explained.
“How come they can sharpen blades then?!”
Huffing and shaking his head as though the explanation was an ordeal, Farengar returned to his work, yet S’maash demanded an answer. “A sharpened blade is still a blade.”
“Why did you let me carry this experiment out? You could have told me this was all a waste of time!”
“Watch your tone. It was not a waste of time. Think about who you are, and what you’ve told about yourself. How many people have told you, you could not accomplish something? Did you try anyway?”
S’maash sighed before responding, “Yes, I did….”
“There you are, so what will you try next?”
“I was running some tests on chickens back at the College. After a horrible accident, I succeeded in casting fortify carry weight on an egg. I succeeded with a total of six. One hatched. I was able to verify my success by tying a small sack with ten, small stones to its leg. That chick was the only one capable of pulling the sack.”
Farengar stopped what he was doing. He did not turn his head, but was definitely intrigued.
“So…I recovered some spider eggs from Brood Cavern. I was thinking of picking up where I left off…although, there would be giant spiders running about if I commenced here,” S’maash added with a nervous chuckle.
“I once heard of a mage who experimented on frostbite spiders,” Farengar started. “He was able to enchant them with the forces of fire, ice, and lightning. I think the Dragonborn killed him, but I can’t be certain.”
“Truly? So…it can work? There is a way to enchant ourselves? Think of the possibilities,” S’maash rambled.
“Calm yourself,” Farengar huffed. “Yes, I think there is a way, but it only functions when dealing with creatures that hatch from eggs.”
“But why,” S’maash asked, disappointed.
“Because it is not truly alive until it has hatched, though some might argue differently. When dealing with mammals, such as you, or I, or bears, or cats, there is no way to cast the enchantment on their un-birthed young,” Farengar explained.
“I see…even though spells like oak flesh work? I guess it’s a temporary change though…then my next endeavor will be….”
“Your next endeavor will be to locate one of Shalidor’s Insights.”
“What is that?”
“Books left behind by Shalidor. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He was one of the founders of the College of Winterhold and Archmage during the first era. I believe there is one, specific book we require, but you’re going to have to travel somewhere dangerous.
“You can choose to forego this adventure if your mettle is lacking. I am prepared to provide compensation before your journey, if you so choose to embark. I hope you accept. I can assure you, both of us will gain from this knowledge,” Farengar enticed.
“Where am I going, and how dangerous is it?”
“Labyrinthian, and very. You can ask me for just about anything. This is a most dangerous mission.”
Squinting, the elf wracked his brain. With his skill as an enchanter, and Farengar’s supplies, he knew enchanting his equipment in a manner to keep safe was paramount.
“All I need is some filled soul gems and a some standard equipment to enchant.”
“Very well. You have access to my stock then. How will you use them?”
S’maash showed him. He started with a ragged cap. Upon the brown cap, he placed two enchantments, one of fortify destruction and one of fortify restoration. He repeated those same enchantments on a silver ring, silver necklace, and the fur armor he had recovered from his latest expedition. On a pair of fur boots, he placed two enchantments as well, one was muffle, the other, fortify sneak. On a pair of leather bracers, he placed two enchantments, one of fortify sneak and one of fortify one handed. He then took a hide shield. Upon the shield, he casted fortify block and resist magick. Lastly, he took an imperial sword, upon which he casted fiery soul trap and frost damage.
“That is excellent work. I suppose you’ll want to take some empty soul gems with you?”
“If you’re willing,” S’maash replied.
“So, you can handle yourself with blade and shield,” Farengar asked as he handed over some empty soul gems.
“Not particularly, no…but I might as well learn,” the elf chuckled.
Before undertaking the monumental task, Farengar gave S’maash some food, water, potions, and marked his map. “There are different paths into Labyrinthian. It’ll be easier to use the same routes some of the caravaneers use. Once you’ve arrived, you’ll need to follow a particular path into a burial chamber. Unfortunately, even I don’t know which one. Best of luck…try to come back alive.”
S’maash nodded, packed his bel
ongings, sheathed his blade, placed his shield on his back, and made for Labyrinthian. His fortification enchantments allowed him to utilize his destruction and restoration without so much as tapping an ounce of his magicka reserves, so the sword and shield were just for emergency. Delighted to be on a journey for knowledge, he stepped out of Whiterun. Outside the stables, he hired a cart master for a ride to Morthal, going back the way he journeyed when going to Brood Cavern.
“Going to Morthal then,” the nord asked.
“Actually, I need to go to Labyrinthian, so you can drop me off on your way to Morthal,” S’maash clarified.
“Climb on back,” the nord stated.
S’maash hopped on the cart and began a discussion. “The Jarl’s wizard tells me Labyrinthian is dangerous.”
“You mean you don’t know about it?”
“I’ve prepared as best I can. Farengar wants to protect his investment, I’m certain,” S’maash answered.
“Never met that one, the Jarl’s wizard; I heard tale he was half crazy….”
“He’s not so bad, just involved in his work…whatever it is.”
“Aye.”
The bumpy cart ride turned off the paved road and onto a beaten path. Hours passed by during their discussions. As they spoke of Whiterun, the other holds, and Skyrim’s history, the sun set and cold winds blew. A little snow drifted about aimlessly. By early morning, before the sun rose, the nord stopped his cart.
“You’ll want to get off here and follow the mountains. You’ll find the entrance your wizard marked for you. Be careful in there.”
Once the cart was out of sight, S’maash followed the instructions. He came upon some ruined arches and what looked like a cave-in in the side of the base of a cliff. He carefully approached the darkened area and considered the information the nord had given regarding the ancient keep. With a candle light spell, he saw an opening through which he promptly wriggled. That led inside a cave. Several, ancient, stone statues depicting large heads laid broken throughout.
Taking a breath to steady his mind and prepare for danger, S’maash closed his eyes, rolled his shoulders, and then began his new adventure. Slowly, he explored, picked mushrooms, examined statues, and so on. Eventually, he reached a dead end, but a quick inspection of the surroundings, yielded a pull chain hanging from a wall. It was covered in dust and cobwebs. He cleared them and tugged it, but it was rusted stuck, so the elf braced one foot against the stone wall to pull with all his might. The chain came loose. Stone scraped against stone, and a new path was revealed. S’maash entered Labyrinthian.