Telvanni Separatists - 14. Run

*

“I close the book and slot it tightly under my arm.

My paranoid suspicions have been justified. I have to leave.

Turning to return, I hear Firis’ voice from across the chamber.

“Drevas – look what I found.”

Firis is stood by one of the three doors on the right-hand side of the chamber. He looks tired; pale, as if he’d been running about trying to find me.

“Firis – we have to go.”

“Just come and see what I found.”

Firis’ words are clear and emotionless. They lack the witty charm I've become accustomed to in past weeks.

I attempt to reason with him.

“I have what I need. We can’t stay any longer.”

“Just come and see.” He turns to enter the corridor beyond.

I have no choice but to follow - Firis is my only way out of this place.

*

I lose sight of him as he turns each corner.

I debate whether to cautiously keep my distance or just make sure I don’t lose him. In my indecision, I seem to lose him completely.

The cold, dark corridors are laid with a carpet of fog. No bookshelves line their walls.

I feel as if the whispers aren’t just in my head anymore. They echo, getting louder with every step I take.

Firis fails to reveal himself as I turn more corners.

At the end of the next corridor are three routes to take. Each seems equally long - their unlit walls are masked by infinite shadow.

I’ve had enough of this.

“Firis – this is insane. I’m turning back. This place isn’t right.”

I turn – a stone wall. The path I took is gone, as if it were never there. How can that be?

I turn again – the three routes remain. I have no other option.

I take a left, stepping into the darkness.

I begin to see the faint red light of another chamber far along the corridor. I head for it.

*

I walk for what feels like miles, taking my time, trying not to make a sound. I dare not call out to Firis - anything could be lurking in the darkness.

A distant scream amidst the whispers: I turn in panic.

No light. No fog. The walls fall into a dark abyss.

I run.

The light gets brighter.

I keep a tight grip on the book. It’s slowing me down.

I just keep running.

The light flickers. It’s all I see, yet it seems so far away.

Suddenly, I hit a wall.

There’s no chamber: just a little torch against the wall, flickering with a red flame. Carved on the wall is a face - a demonic face: the face of Molag Bal.

I hear a growl from behind.

I can’t turn back.

I look left: nothing; I look right: another corridor. I take it, running faster now.

There’s no light. I could run into another wall at any moment.

My head hammers with every footfall, but now I hear the footfalls of something far faster from behind me.

The thudding of hind legs bounding gets louder, but the ground doesn’t shake.

Snarls: the snarls of an animal.

I trip as I try to run faster. My muscles burn.

The monster is gaining.

I turn: no light.

I panic; trip, turning to stop my fall.

*

I look up. The sudden light is blinding. I shake about, expecting something to pounce on me, but nothing does.

I hear a voice: Firis’.

“Drevas? What is it? What happened?”

My vision returns to me. The whispers have ceased. I’m in another chamber.

I sit up: I’m outside one of the side doors. The corridor beyond is illuminated. A Redoran guard is stood guarding it.

I back away, panicking.

I look around: a guard stands by every door. At one side of the room is a large staircase and an open set of doors. Outside are fungal walls.

I’m in the main chamber again, praise Azura.

Now I realise: where is the book?

I scan the floor. Nothing.

“Where’s the book?”

“What book?” Firis asks. His skin looks normal again.

Was all that a trick? Was that really Firis? And what about the book? Was that not real, either?

I’m torn between turning back and running as far from this place as I can.

“Why is your skin so pale?”

I turn to look in the reflection cast by a metal brazier.

Firis is right: my skin is like marble. My eyelids are wrinkled and pink, and tiny capillaries burrow to their surface like worms. I can’t bear the sight any longer..

My choice is made. With or without the book, I’m leaving.

“We have to go. Now.”

“Agreed.” Firis’ answer brings no end of relief.

We walk to the top of the stairs, about to leave the repository through its doors when the shrieking of blades sends shivers down my spine once again.

We back up.

The two Redoran guards at the door cross their spears over the exit, blocking our escape.

“What did we do?” Firis asks.

The guards stand lifeless and speechless as ever.

I confront them.

“We have to go. It isn’t safe here. Not for us; not for you.”

A few moments pass. The guards lower their spears.

We step forward, expecting to be set free.

The guards raise their spears again.

“What’s your problem?” Firis throws insults at the guards, attempting to make them yield.

The guards make no attempt to threaten Firis. They just stand there.

“Anybody in there?” Firis grabs one of the guards’ helmets by the chin, attempting to wiggle it about; attempting to get some response out of the guard. I try to talk him down; he gets a response anyhow.

The guard, with his spear crossed over his chest, throws both arms forward so suddenly that Firis has no time to react.

The spear crashes against Firis’ chest, knocking him back all the way to the bottom of the stairs. He lands in pain, winded, groaning. He got what was coming to him.

I turn to walk down the stairs, leaving Firis to recuperate from the result of his own stupidity.

“Where’s Irdani?”

Firis, unable to talk or curse, simply points to the huge open door on the opposite side of the room.

“Get up. I’m not going alone this time.”

Firis struggles to his feet and the two of us retrace Irdani’s steps.

*

The corridors behind the doors are identical to the others. I remain uncomfortably close to Firis as we turn each corner, determined not to be tricked into another illusion.

I can’t help but search every corner for another blue light: something that will redirect me to the book. I see nothing.

Eventually, we reach a descending staircase enclosed in stone walls.

Lanterns hang on the walls. Within are deep blue flames that don’t seem to illuminate the steps.

Firis moans in pain as he drops down each step. Behind his irritating wails and complaints, I hear the whispers; and a voice – probably the unmasked mercenary’s.

“What is it?”

I hear another voice: much quieter - maybe Irdani’s.

“How much is it worth?” That’s definitely the mercenary.

I reach the bottom of the stairs, entering a large, round room. At the centre is a glowing blue orb that floats above a podium. Irdani paces around it, seemingly hypnotised by its swirling tendrils of light. The three mercenaries stand side-by-side a little farther away from the orb, and five Redoran guards stand opposite them.

The whispers are louder than ever, echoing in the room.

The whole room is illuminated. Many hundreds of bones carpet the outer half of the floor.

We stand on a raised platform. Written in the stonework are Daedric letters. They read: ‘Father of vampires, your word is ours, and by our hands, all that know you, let them fear you.’

“That orb is pure necromantic energy. It’s the source of all the evil here. We have to destroy it!” Firis limps down the steps, traversing the sea of skeletons. I try to stop him.

Suddenly, a horrid voice echoes across the room. The whispers become shrieks and screams.

“So, you’ve discovered our little secret?”

Firis trips, howling in agony. As blue light swims through the sea of bones, a skeletal arm grabs at his shin – more of them now. He panics as they try to engulf him.

One of the mercenaries runs over, grabbing hold of Firis’ wrist. She pulls at him with all her might.

The mercenary falls back as Firis is freed. Bodiless skeletal arms are scattered about the floor, their fingers still wriggling, attempting to lash out at Firis.

The entire sea of skeletons is now alive with outstretched fingers trying to reach out. Bones fall apart and reassemble as the mess of limbs crash against each other.

Firis struggles to his feet and runs straight for the orb.

A huge blast of energy spreads out from its centre and knocks Firis and the mercenaries back, its shockwave filling the room with a loud crash.

Ghostly tendrils whip around the room. My face is windswept.

I am forced to cower in pain as deafening screeches fill my ears. The tormenting whispers are clearer now.

My senses are sharpened. I become hungry; thirsty. The nightmares are real.

As I try to resist the dark magic, I notice that it has spared only the mercenaries.

“Did you truly think you could steal from a Telvanni? Were you blind enough to remain where others have fled?” The voice: it’s everywhere.

I shake the pain and climb to my feet. From above, I see a horrid figure descending: a wrinkled Dunmer clad in tattered Telvanni robes and a thorny crown. His eyes glow a bright blue.

I hear Irdani’s muffled screams of agony as he curls on the ground. Firis stands with both hands to his head as he attempts to hold back the same tormenting evil from within.

The Redoran guards draw their weapons, but instead of holding their ground, they advance on the mercenaries who stand ready, prepared to fight.

“You ignored the warnings, Irdani. You brought your people to a land that defies you at every turn. Now your precious mortal minds… They belong to me.”

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