The absolute terror in Atmah’s voice snapped Aithne back to her surroundings, a transition so quick her head spun a little. Or perhaps the dizziness was from the residual energy wafting through the closed door. Something was in there. Something…

 

“What is that?” The words slipped from her before she realized she had spoken. Atmah turned to her, all traces of anything but fear wiped from her face.

 

“That is Morokei, one of The Eight.” At their blank looks, she added, “He was a High Dragon Priest.” She frowned as that still seemed to have no meaning to her audience. “Centuries ago, when the dragons were still alive and ruled the world, they had human and mer priests to help keep the mortal masses in line. They were led by a council of high priests made of the strongest wizards in the land, The Eight. After the dragons’ defeat, the priests were killed and sealed away in various places. This one was sealed in this chamber. Until we unleashed it.” She waved a hand and the familiar specters blinked into view.

 

Act 3 – Step Through to Your Deaths

INT. LABYRINTHIAN HALLWAY

 

ATMAH, SAVOS, and HAFNAR stare at a set of heavy double doors with fear, despair, and resignation.

 

HAFNAR: "This is it, you know. Through this door. Can you feel it?"

ATMAH: "We're not going to make it, are we?"

HAFNAR: "We stay together, no matter what. Agreed?"

ATMAH: "I'll be right with you."

SAVOS: "Agreed. We all stay together."

 

 

A moment of silence as she stared at the apparitions, then Atmah shook her head and waved the illusion away.

 

“Morokei was…powerful. Much too powerful. We didn’t stand a chance, but Savos came up with a plan. He told Hafnar and I he had a secret spell he had been working on but he needed time to cast it. Asked us to hold Morokei in place while he did what he had to do.”

 

She shrugged as a tear slipped down her cheek, though her face retained its fervent fury.

 

“What choice did we have? We put everything we had into binding spells and, between the two of us, we were able to hold him for a few precious seconds. It took everything we had left.” A pause, then her voice took on a harsh tone. “Savos had a spell, all right. But it was not to destroy the priest.”

 

She motioned toward the door and Trendil pulled it open. Then they all stepped inside and followed Atmah’s gaze toward three unmoving figures. Beams of light shot from the two outer figures toward the one in the middle, encasing it in a bubble of power, but the outer figures were, themselves, encased in bubbles of their own. For a moment, all they could do was stare, but then Atmah, followed by Trendil and Sloan, stepped toward the closest figure. Aithne followed more slowly – something about the power in this room felt familiar in some way. As she cast about trying to figure out why, Atmah stopped and spoke again, her eyes gazing into those of the figure.

 

“And here am I, trapped forever in a binding just like the one we cast on Morokei. This was Savos’ plan – while we had the Priest bound, he bound us. Then he left, leaving us sealed in here with this monster for eternity.” A harsh laugh. “Or until someone finally stumbled upon us.” A sigh. “I suppose I should be thankful – it was only 108 years, not the millennia I had feared. But now…”

 

Atmah smiled and turned to them. “Now we can be released. I know not what brought you to this place but I am grateful you have come. We had no hope of defeating this monster and had I not seen what I saw from you, I would even now be entreating you to touch nothing and leave, for I would rather spend eternity in this state than allow this creature to roam freely upon the world. But you, my friends – and I hope you do consider me your forever grateful friend – you, I believe, have the power to rid the world of this creature once and for all. And, in so doing, allow Hafnar and I the peace I feared we never would find.”

 

“Of course.” From Sloan.

 

“Absolutely.” From Trendil.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” From Aithne, and the rest turned toward her.

 

Atmah raised her eyebrows. “I apologize if I did not make clear what I ask of you. I’d like you to…”

 

“Kill the priest and free you, yes. I understand that.” Aithne continued to look around as she spoke. “How did Savos manage to bind you?”

 

“You are a mage of the College. Surely you know Doren’s Greater Binding.”

 

“Yes, although it has been superseded by Tshet’s Rings of Binding. I understand the spell. What I don’t understand is how it has managed to remain intact for over a century. What is the power source? I can sense it, I think, but I can’t…”

 

“Oh! I see. It is the Staff of Magnus. It draws power from…somewhere, I never learned where. An unquenchable pool of magic, as far as I can tell. I…borrowed it from the Archmage Deneth’s office. Savos asked to use it for his ‘secret’ spell and I, infinite fool that I was, handed the keys to my freedom over to him without question. It is supplying the power for these bindings.”

 

“Truly?” It was hard to imagine a mere staff capable of holding that much energy. “Where is the staff?”

 

Atmah pointed. “On the altar. Fitting enough, since we were sacrificed.”

 

Aithne nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral while darkness flooded her. “I understand. I know what it is like to have your life destroyed by someone else’s hand.”

 

The anger in Atmah’s eyes faded for a moment as her eyes flicked to Aithne’s empty socket. “So I see.” A sigh. “Well, it appears you have been freed from your oppressor. Please free me from mine.”

 

Aithne forced herself to nod and walk with calm steps to the altar, but Atmah’s “appears” sent a dark shot through her. Yes, it “appeared” she was free from her oppressor. But, even though she literally was free, it was clear she was still not free of HIM.

 

As promised, she found a long staff with delicate carvings and a glowing blue-white ball of some glass-like material embedded on one end. It was with both a shock and, somehow, no surprise at all to discover the ball was a double-fist-sized exact replica of the Saarthal orb. A quick study confirmed beyond any doubt that this was what she was looking for – the same rune from Saarthal and the orb was etched into the staff near the head. She nodded and turned toward the others, then fought to keep her voice steady.

 

“I’m going to lower the bindings on Atmah and Hafnar. The priest will be free soon, if not immediately after. Is everyone ready?”

 

Trendil and Sloan already had their weapons out and were crouched near the priest. They gave her nods, so Aithne turned to Atmah. “I…don’t know if your body will still be alive.”

 

“I don’t know either. I guess we’ll find out! Or you certainly will – I might just fade into nothing. But that is fine – you have brought us the freedom we have longed for for over a century. Wherever I end up, know that I’ll always be grateful. Perhaps, if we meet in another life, I’ll be able to return the favor.”

 

“I look forward to it. Okay, here we go.”

 

Aithne concentrated on the staff and received an instant jolt of energy so strong, she nearly dropped the damn thing. Such power! How could this tiny thing contain so much?

 

The answer to that came in a flash of insight - the staff was connected to the orb. The orb collected energy which was channeled by the staff. The staff didn’t have to contain energy by itself – it merely drew from the well that was the orb. A fascinating design. She had never heard or read about…

 

“Aithne!” Aithne jumped as Sloan continued, “Did you get stuck too? Maybe we need to destroy the staff.”

 

“No! I’m fine! Sorry, I was just…I’ve never seen anything like this.” She cleared her throat and focused. “Okay, truly this time.”

 

Her companions tossed her amused expressions as she lifted the staff and uttered the words to release the bindings.

 

The effect was as immediate as a snap – the bodies of Atmah and Hafnar crumpled lifeless to the ground, the priest hissed some sibilant phrase that made the room shake, and the room plunged into bedlam like a child tossed into the middle of a lake.

 

Trendil and Sloan sprang into action at once, diving and weaving and slicing at the undead monster, but it was their match in terms of quickness and carried a bevy of offensive spells. Some of them Aithne recognized but others she did not. And then there were the shouts in some strange language that somehow resembled a dragon’s roar and produced its own array of attacks.

 

Much like with the skeletal dragon, however, Trendil was somehow able to slice the shouts aside, moving in after each to throw in a series of slashes with her swords before dancing back as the priest wove another spell. Sloan, in the meantime, kept moving to keep behind the thing, lunging forward and striking at its exposed back when openings showed themselves.

 

Between the two of them, they had scored several hits on the thing but it seemed no weaker than when they had begun and Aithne started to grow concerned. Even as skilled as the two were, they were bound to make a mistake at some point. But the thing moved too fast for her to cast spells at it – the one firebolt she tried nearly hit Trendil instead. She tried another bind, thinking perhaps she could make it sit still so they could strike it more easily, but it had apparently learned its lesson on that regard and countered it then sent it back with a barbed twist that forced Aithne to cut off her attempt before the return reached her.

 

The staff thrummed in her hand, reminding her of its presence, and her discovery of its abilities came back to mind. It was not unlike her own Funneling technique, she realized. The thought gave her an idea and she moved closer to the melee then cast Quckstep on herself. The next time the draugr cast a spell, she accelerated to a spot between it and its target (Sloan’s head, in this case) and intercepted the blast, Funneling it into herself but, instead of letting it release around her, she tried pushing it into the staff.

 

To her surprised delight, the staff hummed, the orb gave a brief flash, and the energy was whisked away.

 

So it worked both ways! This was something that would require a lot of study but for now, she finally had a way to help. With Trendil countering the shouts and Aithne absorbing the spells (well, most of them. She was slammed into a wall from a telekinetic shove she never saw coming), the priest was limited only to physical attacks, and in that it was no match for Sloan, who latched onto it back and tore into its head, neck, and shoulders with her daggers until it finally shuddered and collapsed in a heap.

 

A deep silence followed, broken at last by a sigh from Sloan.

 

“That was a little harder than expected. Are you two all right?”

 

Trendil shrugged. “A few abrasions, maybe a touch of frostbite from that last breath attack. Nothing serious.”

 

“I can heal you.” Before either could protest, Aithne cast Colette’s favorite Major Restoration spell. The pain from hitting the wall evaporated in a relieving instant and she took a deep breath as she watched the cuts and scrapes on the others fade away.

 

It made her smile – restoration had been difficult to master but using it always reminded her of Colette and always brought a smile to her face. If it hadn’t been for Colette, where would Aithne be now? Still a slave, for certain. Probably not to the pilgrims she had been travelling with – they had rid themselves of her the moment they could. She shuddered to think where she…

 

“What next?” Trendil pointed at the staff as a startled Aithne blinked away her thoughts. “Is that the thing you came for?”

 

“Um. Yes.”

 

“Good. Mission accomplished.”

 

“Her mission.” Sloan stood and stretched. “We kind of hurried through here, so we didn’t look around much. A place like this bound to have treasure of some sort. Maybe not something so dramatic as a room full of gold, but the people who used to live here had to have coins and jewelry and…I don’t know, fancy knickknacks. I’m going to explore a bit.”

 

Aithne blinked. “Alone?”

 

Sloan shrugged. “I’m guessing this guy was the strongest thing here. I can handle a few slow moving draugr. Still, if you two want to join me, I wouldn’t say no – you never know what you might run into in a place like this.”

 

Trendil nodded. “I’ll continue with you, at least for a time. I, too, would like to see what treasures lie within.” She laughed. “I have not been able to save up much for retirement!”

 

Aithne joined their laughter but clutched the staff and said, “I would love to continue this journey with you but I’m afraid I’m already very late. I was supposed to be back last night, and I don’t want Mas…” She bit her tongue on the word Master as the darkness stirred once again. “Um. My family to worry.” It’s not like I would be of much help anyway, she didn't add. Out loud. She sighed to herself as Sloan and Trendil smiled and said their goodbyes and strode off together, leaving Aithne alone with the staff and the three bodies.

 

She went to Atmah first. The Redguard had aged in an instant once the Binding had dropped and was now a withered husk of the woman she had been. Aithne knelt beside the body and cast tiny prayers to whatever gods might care for the woman she had come to think of as a friend in the very short time she had travelled with the woman’s illusionary self.

 

Next she did the same for Hafnar, who was likewise aged beyond recognition. His axe lay rusted at his side and Aithne moved his hand with care so it covered the axe’s handle.

 

Last, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else, she stooped over the priest and was taken aback at what seemed a smooth face. With growing wonder, she tugged at the face and it…detached. She lifted it away, revealing the more familiar empty sockets of a draugr, which is when she realized what she held was not its face but was, in fact, a mask made of bone or smooth wood. It had intricate carvings scrolled across its surface and seemed as solid as if it was newly made. She studied it for a moment before stowing it in her pack and standing.

 

It had been a very revealing trip. She wondered, as she began to cast the spell that would teleport her back to the college, what would have happened had she not run into her duplicates. Could she have defeated the priest by herself? What about the skeletal dragon? She shook her head as the feelings of inadequacy redoubled. She had come her by herself and it seemed likely she would have died had she remained that way. She had learned nothing from Saarthal after all. And there was still the open wound left from...

 

No. She couldn't do it. Even though she knew she had to face that pit, the thought of going back there made the last of her courage shrivel into nothing. She shuddered and focused on safety. On home. 

 

As the darkness of the ruin faded, replaced by the familiar sight of the floor of the Arcaneum, she could only conclude one thing – she was not strong enough. It didn’t occur to her to wonder what she wasn’t strong enough to do – she just realized in that instant that she needed to be stronger, to match what her duplicates could do, surpass them, if possible, although after watching them in action, she wasn’t sure that would ever happen. She took a deep breath and vowed to herself – she would redouble her efforts. She would study harder, practice more, be…

 

“Aithne! You’re home!”

 

Urag’s joyous shout erased her thoughts in a second and she found herself beaming as she leaped into his arms, wrapped her legs around him, and clung like a child. After a moment, she discovered she was shaking and she made no attempt to clear away her tears as he teased her about smelling like a crypt and carried her toward their suite for a bath. She had been gone for not even two days yet it felt like a homecoming from a long journey.

 

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