For the rest of the night we slept in our lodgings, retiring shortly after our conversations and questions to Baurus. He knew little more than what we did but the map was very specific. North east of Cheydinhal within an easy day’s march of the city lay the waters of Lake Arrius, and our path led directly to this remote place. The lake itself was in fact two lakes separated by a sheer rise where the ground split and cracked as it rose from the Niben into the towering height of the Jeral Mountains. A waterfall continuously cascaded down the sheer drop all year round, its waters fed by the hundreds of minor streams and tributaries and several underground springs. Melting snow in the spring and the yearly storms of the mountains flowed into this region. Despite its relative proximity to Cheydinhal and the location of a series of ancient aqueducts leading from the higher portion of the lake to the city, it was rarely visited and few people had cause to travel so far into the depths. A handful of roads lead to the lake and the waterfall to ease the passage for maintenance parties inspecting the long aqueducts but otherwise it was dangerous and rarely travelled.
The map that had been provided as part of the clues to the cult showed that their lair was somewhere near the waterfall and where the two levels of the Lake met. While far from accurate it provided enough clues that Viconia and I had decided that whatever the cult’s base was, it was likely to be underground and hidden in such a way that only those seeking it would be able to find it.
As we rose in the morning and prepared for the journey Baurus found us and simply handed us a message that had travelled from Cloud Ruler during the night. Such was the speed and efficiency of the Imperial Message System that his message to Jauffre had arrived within hours of leaving the Imperial City the morning previously and Jauffre’s response had made it back before the following morning had even begun. A journey of over two hundred kilometres had been made in less than half a day, and allowed us to know that a dozen Blades had been tasked to join us at the joining of the lakes. They would be waiting for us there, and would be fully prepared to burn out the cult and retrieve the Amulet of Kings.
Dressed and ready in our armour, with travelling supplies and equipment packed we said farewell to Baurus and made our way along the road to Cheydinhal. Returning on the same barge and retrieving our horses we started along the road towards our destination, with every step feeling strangely more and more familiar as the Niben merged with the eastern Jerals and the Northern Valus Mountains. This was the gateway to Morrowind and the home of the Dunmer. The forests of the highlands here were a different, darker variety compared to the lush greenery of the Great Forest of County Chorrol. There was no heightened ceiling of towering redwoods here, just the increasingly thick, dense forests that turned into impassable jungles the further you travelled south. This was where the tundra of Skyrim met the fungal plains of Morrowind, and the impenetrable depths of Blackmarsh encroached against all before it. In such a place the peoples mixed in similar ways, the solid stonework of the Nords being shaped in familiar constructions that would not have looked out of place on Vvardenfell itself.
During the three-day journey we camped alongside the road, making idle conversation and passing the time in a more pleasant manner compared to the silent marches of the previous weeks. Travelling by road and on horseback we made our way through the dozens of farmsteads and past the recently barren fields where wheat had been harvested and their winter crops of other cereals were being prepared. Cheydinhal was one of the breadbaskets of Cyrodiil, and between the enormous quantities of grains and crops grown here and the herds of cows, pigs and oxen bred for their meats there was few places that could match the quantity or the quality of its products. With winter approaching most of the locals were preparing for the snows that would gently blanket the rolling hills and freeze the streams and rivers solid as they cut through the jagged cliffs and steep rises. While nothing like the snows of the North it was still enough that preparations had to be made and care taken that herds and crops were not devastated by the sharp frosts that were known to strike on occasion.
Viconia was now by far a more amicable travelling companion, her appetite whetted she now sought to learn and understand more of the surface. Questions were asked every few kilometres, and I began to teach her as much as I could of the ways of surviving in the wild. From the best ways to track game, the construction of simple snares all the way to identifying useful herbs, plants, mushrooms and other flora for the use in potions, poultices, and poisons. She listened intently, learning all that she could and regaling me with her own knowledge and descriptions of similar such ingredients from the depths of her birthplace. The journey was otherwise uneventful, making good progress at a steady pace and after two nights sleeping alongside the road we found ourselves outside the walls of Cheydinhal.
With the distance between the city and Lake Arrius we decided that it would be best if we left our horses at one of the several stables outside the city. By making the rest of our way on foot it would draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. Sore and weary from even the light travel in the saddle, the decision to make our way the rest of the journey on foot was an easy one, especially after staying a third night within the Coaching Inn where we had stabled our horses. With evening approaching it would not have provided us any benefit trying to make the journey on foot, especially how the increasing chances of a fight was becoming ever more likely with every step we took.
Four days since leaving the Imperial City we once again rose, exchanging saddles and saddlebags for boots and packs and making our way along the rarely travelled path to the north. Little more than a track hewn through the gradually increasing forestry there were no cobblestones underfoot or milestones to border it, but the packed soil ensured that we made good progress nonetheless.
The Lake itself was an impressive sight, cutting through the rising slopes and jagged cliffs of the lower Jerals and as long as the Imperial City was wide. The twin lakes cascaded over the slopes, the roar of the waterfall heard over the gentle birdsong from the forest as it encroached on the sand and gravel shoreline. Towering above us, the ancient moss clad aqueducts ran from the top of the cliff and the channels carved into the stone, connecting together into a thicker raised waterway four stories tall, and wide enough for a wagon to roll along the edges with little fear of slipping off. Being fed with little more than gravity the aqueducts travelled the dozens of kilometres to the South East and fed into the well and fountain system that helped supply Cheydinhal with water. During the summer months these aqueducts ensured that the city did not want for water and Viconia and I gazed up at the towering stone arches, looking over the canal’s that sat on top as we followed the path carved into the side of the cliff.
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“I thought that the Blades were supposed to meet us here.” Viconia said as we made our way to the top of the carved staircase. The uppermost section of the cliff was where the dozens of metre wide channels flowed water into the minor conduits that connected to the wider aqueduct.
“They were.” There was something about the area that had me on edge in such a way that I couldn’t believe was just down to the fact that we were close to the Cult’s lair. “I doubt that we managed to arrive before they have.”
Somehow my bow found its way into my hands as some sense of danger pricked at the back of my mind. Used to hunting the wilds alone and surrounded by potential danger it was a familiar feeling that was almost comforting. Carefully I strung my bow, feeling the fletching of an arrow between my fingers at its notched end rested on the string and looking about the area trying to pinpoint the source of my unease.
The upper level of the cliff was sharp and flat, the ancient stone worn smooth by countless years of flowing water before Imperial Engineers redirected a significant portion of the flow. Where the waterfall had once poured over an area several dozen metres wide, it now was contained to a smaller outlet, ten metres wide and easily over a metre deep. A sheer drop to our left was blocked only by a series of moisture-softened pegs with frayed and continuously damp ropes suspended at thigh height. Between the cliff to our left and the lapping waters to our right there was barely enough space for a trio of people to walk side by side. The entire lake tapered to this point, the wide body of water hundreds of metres across compressing into a space of grey slate and slowly decaying wood less than forty metres wide.
Forests of dense pines crowded the life bearing waters of the lake, their roots digging into the rocks of the mountains and breaking it into dense soil that was covered by a thick layer of needles. Winter was approaching these mountains but these evergreens would ensure that even under the heaviest snowfall there would be spaces of colour.
A growl rose unbidden from my throat as my steps echoed from my marching feet on the numerous boardwalks, the sense of unease growing stronger despite nothing untoward being visible. There was nothing in sight that seemed to warrant the sense of danger growing in my mind except for the fact itself that there was nothing in sight. No animals, no birdlife and especially no sight of any of the Blades that we were expecting to meet in the area.
“Kaius.”
Viconia’s voice snapped me out my narrowing gaze and intense scrutiny of the surround area and hearing her call me by my name sent shock and a strange tingle of excitement up my spine. My strange feeling of contentment was extremely short lived as she held up both her hands, one with her palm facing me and the other holding up what could only be a katana. The sword was still locked away in its scabbard, filled with water from where she had plucked it out of one of the water channels where it had been stuck just below the surface. Her other hand though was covered in a slightly damp but quickly drying and flaking red-brown substance that I could instantly identify and smell as blood.
I took a single pace towards her, the distance between us being little more than half a dozen metres as we both realised what it meant. There were no Blades waiting for us as there were no longer any Blades left in the area. The smell of blood slowly began to make itself known to my mind as the deepening sense of wrongness increased dramatically. We had found ourselves not only at the site of a short lived battle but also the obvious, if uneconomical location of a trap.
Before either of us could react I suddenly heard a click-thump of a crossbow’s mechanism and the near-instant snap of taut sinew releasing tension. There was no time to react, or dodge or move away from the thin walkway that we were standing upon before the first bolts began to fly. I had barely even begun to move in the direction of our ambushers as I watched with a sickening horror as a bolt punched right into Viconia’s chest, followed by another that imbedded itself in her stomach.
Time slowed, her eyes widening at the intrusion of the bolts as they ripped through her armour and into the flesh underneath. Both bolts had been shot with the significant force afforded to them by the weapon’s design, tearing through metal, chain-link and leather with ease before coming to rest with several inches of metal and wood stuck inside her body. She made no sound, grimacing at the pain and growing pale with the shock of the sudden impact of the bolts even as she folded over in agony. There was no time to react, no time to do anything but watch as she simply fell face first, dropping the dead Blade’s Katana with a clatter as my instincts took over.
My bow was drawn back to the ear even as I turned with all the brutal strength of the vampire. There were still little traces of our enemies but my enhanced senses picked out the wrongness in the forest’s edge no less than thirty metres in front of us. Using enchantments or spells of invisibility the small number of attackers had been lying in wait almost in plain sight, waiting for us to make it halfway across the bridge before launching their surprise assault. As they moved their shimmering forms were suddenly clear to my eyes but I knew within seconds that this was not going to be a winning fight. Over a dozen forms of our foes moved in amongst the pine needles and burst into existence as their glamour’s fell away.
Roaring with anger and frustration I loosed my first and only arrow of the fight, watching as one of the red-robed cultists bursting from the trees in their distinctive armour was thrown back with a scream of pain. I didn’t even have time to reach back and draw another arrow from its quiver as his companions levelled a collection of crossbows at me and fired a volley of bolts that I had no hope of evading.
The first stuck me through the left shoulder, the steel-tipped head punching out my back and leaving the bolt imbedded to the fletching in muscle and meat. The second scraped past my cheek, tearing a gash and getting caught in my chainmail coif. The third and fourth hit me square in the chest, denting my breastplate, staggering me with their sheer force but robbed of their power enough by the steel that the points merely scratched at my flesh. The impacts alone however were enough to throw me backwards, my feet scrabbling for purchase on the moss-covered, slippery wood and stone. For what seemed to be minutes but was little more than heartbeats I teetered precariously on unsteady legs, before tripping on the ropes and falling over the edge of the cliff.
