An Enchanting Tale

Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty Three

Intense preparations were made for the final journey. The group was certain that whatever awaited them beneath Damlzthur was going to provide a most compromising situation. For a full week after the agreement, the group traveled all across Skyrim, making sure every end was covered, every loose end tied.

They started with a journey towards Markarth. Along the way, they made a stop by the Lord's Stone to receive its blessing, one of protection against physical and magickal forces. Next, they stopped in Morthal where Falion gathered everything he deemed necessary including scrolls, potions, filled soul gems, and the like. While standing in his shack, and resting before continuing to Markarth, S'maash spoke.

"Master Falion?"

"Hm?" Falion replied while sifting through reagents at his alchemy table.

"I have heard you have spoken with the dwemer, but it sounds unbelievable. Is it true?"

The rest of the group, while cramped for the moment, perked up to listen. "It is. You understand, the dwemer no longer reside in Tamriel. Like traveling to Moonshadow, one can move from plane to plane in a dream-like state. I call it astral projection.

"So you see, I have never physically carried on a conversation, but I have seen them and their world. It can be difficult to ground oneself in dreams, but if accomplished, many things can be discovered," Falion explained.

"Curious. Anything that can help with our current quest," Zolara asked.

"Not particularly, no," Falion began as he stuffed food and drink in his pack. "But observing them through the mist of dreams has given me an understanding of their reality."

"I can scarcely believe this. Uncle Calcelmo would have given anything to meet the dwemer. Now, I may do this for him," Aicantar commented.

"I'm ready. We can continue to Markarth," Falion said.

The group traveled back to the cart and back onto the road. Along the way, Falion provided a bit of conjuration training to everyone, S'maath included, though he did not truly pay attention. Zolara was absolutely jubilant when he mastered the summon flame thrall spell, an incantation allowing the conjuring of a flame atronach, yet bypassing the natural pull of Oblivion. In short, the atronach stayed until it was defeated or banished from Tamriel by spell.

It was night when they reached Left Hand Mine, just outside the walls of the city of stone. S'maash saw Colville standing guard. He was no longer wearing his blue, steel, Blades armor. They nodded to one another, but no words were spoken. S'maash felt a small pang of guilt and wondered if Colville knew what had taken place. But it was needed, friend.

Inside Markarth, Aicantar rushed to Understone Keep. The group split, and the dunmer brothers stayed at the Silver-Blood Inn for a few hours while the mages followed Aicantar. The inn was alive with music, food, and good spirits.

"Two mugs of ale, please?" S'maath called. The brothers sat at the counter and joked about the trip to Damlzthur. "Now, remember, alits can be very dangerous," he added, snickering.

"You're an alit," S'maash rebutted.

With merriment passed, and forgetting their worries, the brothers were met by the remaining group. "We're all set," Brelyna said.

"Good," S'maash replied.

Their next stop took them by Whiterun. S'maash explained that as court wizard, he owed allegiance to Thorald and needed to speak to him. Everyone cherished his loyalty and sense of duty.

The sun was high, and it warmed their skin when they arrived. S'maash left the group and made for Dragonsreach. Inside, he approached the Jarl and provided a recounting of his quest.