Applying Exotic Metaphysics (Changes 20.2)

I could feel the thrumming magicka, the feel of the energy in the air. Dwemer spiders ambled around, little clay pots built into the mounts where soulgems once sat- and living nirnroot hummed as the spiders followed the sun shining in through the tower’s tall windows. Notes and papers were spread across the walls, a haphazard, disorderly mess that’s much worse than anything I’d seen from Emylee’s dorm. I could feel the anima of the place- Emylee had done something to it, something to bring it to life. It wasn’t the same as the Telvanni towers, because it wasn’t physically a living creature… but it had a soul.

“How did you get your hands on this place?”

“When I became the Hero of Kvatch, some people got in contact with me. You know Taris Rendil?”

“Not by name, but by reputation.” I responded. “He used to be Archmage in the Mage’s Guild, right?”

“His granddaughter lives in Kvatch.” She says. “She’s not a mage, but she inherited the tower, and thought that, uh, this place would be safer for my experiments.”

“It’s beautiful. It’s very… you.” I said.

“Thanks.” She beamed, looking over the ritual circle. “This looks redundant enough, doesn’t it?”

“It looks, uh…” I looked down at her circle. She’d overpowered it, that was for sure. There was so many soul gems and power sources for the shield spells and various binding enchantments that even a swing from Dagon might not have punched through it. “Overpowered.”

“Better safe than sorry. Especially considering what I’m contracting.”

“... Uh. Emylee? Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. “I mean. It sounds like this is going to be risky.”

“Hence the overpowered shield spell. Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to summon a Prince or anything.”

“... Right. Just be careful, okay?”

“I’ll be as careful as I always am.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Emylee just grinned.

I noticed, in that moment, that the Apprentice I’d seen grow up, the one I’d trained and met over the years… She was confident. Brash, arrogant, but she wasn’t just a kid anymore. She wasn’t a fool or an idiot.

She was the Hero of Kvatch. She knew her gift, the Sign of the Apprentice. She knew how to wield it, and I wasn’t going to help by babying her.

“Need anything?”

“I’ll be fine.” She says. “But if you’re here, It’ll definitely mess up the negotiation.”

“Then I’ll stay out of it.” I winked.

===

It wasn’t long until we were out of the tower. Sessalan in the form of a horse, but I could tell that Emylee’s conjuration wasn’t whatever daedra she’d bonded with. Instead it was a vermai. The essence of a few of them, I could feel, combined into a horse. She was controlling it with illusion magic, imprinting thoughts onto the mindless daedra making up her creature.

“Not conjuring your new daedra?”

“I picked mine for a specific purpose. Riding along the countryside… is not it.” She says.

“Combat, then?”

“Combat.” She says. “Oh, before I forget. Hold still.”

I drew Sessalan to a stop, and turned to Emylee. She leaned close- and then flicked me, hard, on the arm just below my sleeve.

“Ow! What was that?” I asked.

She grinned. “Contractual obligations.”

“Should I even ask?”

“Probably not.” Emylee responded, and pulsed magic through her mount’s ride. It started to bolt, and I urged Sessalan to keep up.

We weren’t exactly taking the roads. While proper Colovian warmbloods would have been able to deal with the hilly, mountainous terrain, they would get tired eventually, and we probably wouldn’t be able to take them back with us.

The cold wind blew through us, as we made our way through the pass.

“From Falkreath, to Markarth.” Emylee said. “Then we have to make a decision.”

“Yeah? What kind?”

“There’s the safe route. A ship from Solitude. It’ll be cold and take longer, but we won’t have to deal with the goblins or falmer,” She says. “But then there’s the other route. It’s less safe, but it’s a lot faster. I mean, not as fast as just levitating over the Druanach Mountains, but that’d be… yeah.”

“There’s a pass near Markarth?”

“Darkfall cave.” She says. “It leads down, into a fissure. And through the fissure… It leads to an old elven dungeon. If we take the right route, we’ll end up on the other side.”

“Is that how you got to Cyrodiil in the first place?”

“It is. Don’t worry, it’s not as long a path as you’re thinking. The Forsworn use it all the time.”

===

“I mean, they used to use it. I guess this is why we couldn’t find any lit torches.” Emylee whispers.

Falmer crept past, sniffing at the air. Sharpened blades made of chitin glinted in the dark as they turned their heads this way and that. They couldn’t even see the magelight hovering over my shoulder, much less smell us with the chameleon illusion we’d put on ourselves. Emylee shrugged at me.

“Why are we just sneaking around?” She whispered, despite the illusion keeping the falmer as deaf to us as they were blind and ‘unscenting’.

“I don’t want to be doing too much magic,” I whispered back. “Trying to keep from being too obvious.”

“That’s fair.” She says, thinking for a moment. “Is it fine if I do some stuff?”

The two of us glanced at the cavern. The path Emylee had taken through the cave used to be through here, but the falmer have decided to build their camp here. I could see shamans with their staves, Chorus creatures. Dozens of Falmer with their blades and knives. They could tell there was something going on- we’d effectively set off the alarm on our way into the cave- but they couldn’t find us, not yet.

“If you do anything too strong, it’ll break the chameleon spell.” I respond.

“But a single spell should be fine, right?” She asks. “Just toss it back on me as soon as I’m done conjuring.”

“Alright, I can do that.” I said. 

Emylee stood to her full height (which wasn’t much), and drew out the golden bangle around her wrist.

“Henoth,” She hissed.

First, metal- daedric, crafted metal, a heavy pile of it, clanked into place. The same size and shape as Emylee’s offering had been. Then from the inside outward, it began to swell. And swell. And swell.

A titanic, bulky figure slowly stood in place. The Falmer straightened their shoulders. Some of them began to babble and hiss. The shamans backed away, warily.

I could feel the deadlands. I could feel Mehrunes Dagon’s energy flooding the cavern. A daedra built of pure muscle, stood tall, wearing a full suit of the heaviest armor I’ve ever seen.

“Summoner.” It bellowed. “I can sense our pact. You have kept your word, harmed the mortal who defeated my Master. How?”

“Trickery.” Emylee responded.

“Bah. Pathetic.”

“If I had might, I wouldn’t need you.” She responded. Then she pointed behind her, to the Falmer. “Destroy the obstacle, and slay as many of the falmer and their pets as you desire. LEave me and my companion unharmed.”

“As you will.” It says. It glances at me for a moment, eyes dancing past- and then a warhammer the size of a horse shimmers into its hand.

Like a freight train, the daedra slowly speeds up. And keeps speeding up. And then, again like a train- it bowls over everything in its way.

I quickly threw the chameleon spell onto Emylee again.

“What the fuck was that?”

“One of Mehrunes Dagon’s lieutenants- one of the few that aren’t part of the Dremora clan. He’s an Ogrim.”

I stared at her, while the falmer shrieked, and chitin reinforcements are physically obliterated under the summon’s sheer might.

“What? Dagon wasn’t using him, not while he recoalesces or whatever.” Emylee beams.

I could hear Henoth beginning to laugh, huge belly cackles as it spun the warhammer around. The cavern shook with every impact.

“Wait. That thing’s an Ogrim?”

“Yeah, why?”

I glance at the solid golden ring on her wrist- the medium she’d used to link the contract to, a gift from her summon.

“... Nevermind.”

I decided she didn’t need to know where the ring had probably come from.