An Enchanting Tale

Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty Seven

A cart ride from Winterhold left S'maash on the outskirts of Falkreath. By foot, he proceeded north, looking for Karthspire, the entrance to Sky Haven temple. Falkreath hold was rather ominous.

The scent of death hung heavily on the humid air. Most of the soil underfoot was an awfully dark in color, almost black. Several, dead trees stuck out from the ground. They looked as though it had been agonizing to crack through the soil and into daylight.

Taking a breath of woody air, S'maash gazed overhead at a gray sky with rolling clouds; it was obvious rain was coming. Hours of slow and steady travel persisted. The far off boom and echo of thunder rumbled before it drizzled.

Once in the Reach, S'maash saw structures of wood built over lakes. Behind the structures was a mountain, and atop it was Sky Haven temple, an ancient and magnificent, stone bastion, partially ensconced by the mountain into which it was built.

As he drew closer, he saw the wooden structures were roughly hewn bridges supported by ropes. A great many stone steps led into the Karthspire. Sudden movement drew the elf's attention.

"Bad place for you to get lost, friend," a man yelled.

He peered to his left. A platform had been erected as a makeshift, guard tower, or redoubt. The man wore strange, leather equipment full of bones and feathers; a deer head mask obscured his face. War paint covered his body. In his hands were two, bony swords.

"Forsworn," S'maash muttered.

He casted an ebony flesh spell then switched to wall of ice and drew his blade. As the man came running down the steps of Karthspire, he shouted, thus bringing out many more Forsworn. A flurry of ice spikes and arrows sailed through the sky, so S'maash ground his teeth, summoned a flame atronach, and tried his best to dodge the assault.

His atronach belted out fiery damage, drawing the attention of enemies. The bridge swayed a bit when filthy warriors stormed across. Still, spells and arrows zipped through the rain. A Forsworn lass then shoved her comrade away, spun beyond the atronach, and made to bash S'maash with the haft of her stony axe.

The blow brushed off his collarbone, and protected by his enchanted armor, he took no damage. In reply, the elf held his palm out, freezing her over; more arrows came flying, so he quickly slashed low at her knee, and as she buckled, he brought the blade back towards his body for a cross slash at her head. She went down hard before rolling off into the water below.

With the bridge partially clear, the male Forsworn warrior twirled and brought both his blades at S'maash chest. The dark elf stepped back in time to avoid the brunt of the blow, and while he covered his attacker in frozen spikes of magicka, the atronach continued dancing, firing off another volley of flaming reprisal.

"Time to die, hero," the Forsworn spat.

The nord pressed the attack, thrusting one blade then the other. S'maash parried easily enough, but the man fought hard, pushing forwards. With magicka running a bit low, the dunmer side-stepped into the rope, rolled his belly over it then took his opponent from behind. By reaching over the man's shoulder, he was able to sink the blade deep into his chest.

The short-lived victory gave way when more Forsworn finally reached S'maash's position. The dark elf then ran past the first bridge and hopped onto an adjoining section on his right; he was trying to gain some height. Unfortunately, the position he coveted was home to more enemies with bows and magick. S'maash ducked under a sword swing, spun around to his left, slashed across a man's bare chest then shoved him into another member of the Forsworn.