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   Chapter 11 No.11

An Enchanting Tale By AaronDennis Characters: 8997

Updated: 2018-01-10 12:02

Upon reentering the burial chamber, S'maash heard once more the distinct sound of a casket lid coming apart. At the center of the chamber, a bony hand emerged from the black coffin. A crowned figure rose. It was garbed in lilac robes with golden plates covering bony arms. The dragon priest, little more than a glowing skeleton, floated from its former place of resting. Long, matted hair stuck to remnants of skin.

S'maash's quick thinking led him to believe dual casting a lightning spell was in his best interest. He fired several rounds of thunder bolt in the hopes of draining the priest's magicka. Violent streaks of purple electricity collided with the dessicated being. The dragon priest, however, had risen with his staff in hand- a twisted emblem of dragon worship.

The figure slowly listed towards S'maash, floating inches from the ground. By pointing its dragon-headed staff, it hurled repeated snow storms. The spell casters meandered about the room, trading magickal blows. Dust from the ancient floor raised in small clouds. Rubble was sent sailing from powerful blasts of ice and lightning.

Wracked by pain and drained of health, S'maash switched tactics, utilizing fast healing with his left hand as he took his blade in his right. He charged at the enemy, and closing the distance, he swung, but the enemy easily swayed backwards, free from impact.

With a modicum of magicka returned, the priest conjured a flame atronach. The newly summoned fiery harlot skated around; she swayed in a dance-like fashion as her curvaceous, flaming body pulsated with raw power. Fire ball after fire ball went hurtling towards the dunmer. With no alternative, he silently prayed to his ancestors while continuing his advancement towards the ever-fleeing dragon priest.

Wavering fires enveloped the wizard's body. His ancestor's wrath was with him. Feeling the burning desire for victory consume his form, S'maash redoubled his efforts; he lunged with blade, flung mighty spells, and relentlessly chased the fleeing priests in circles, and all the while trying to avoid the flaming castigation coming in from his rear.

Finally, he managed to corner his enemy. It was evident spells had little effect, but his sword dealt enough damage, so he swung overhead from one side then the other. Sword strike after sword strike landed upon the bony figure. Then, the blade swung through air, hitting nothing.

In the heat of battle—and with all the magick crackling—S'maash had lost sight of his opponent. Altogether too many fire balls crashed over his body. Screaming elven curses, he spun circles, searching for the priest, yet the atronach was closer.

Grunting, he smashed his blad

st knowledge, or the food and drink in his belly, but he was happy, happier than he remembered ever being in L'Thu Oad. His only wish was that his brother had fought alongside him. I'll have to write S'maath a letter regarding this journey.


The following morning, he saw Dragonsreach in the distance. Fog had crept in during the cold night, and the sun had not yet vanquished it. In fact, there were still sparkling stars overhead. There were no moons, though. An hour later, he reached Whiterun's gates and entered the town.

Normally, guards stood by, making certain the entrance was well protected. S'maash found it strangely deserted instead. He continued down the paved road into the center of town. There, he saw most of the guard. Their backs were to him.

"Excuse me, " he said.

One guard turned to face him with a snarkey remark, "Let me guess, someone stole your sweet roll."

"No…what's happened here?"

"That wizard, the Jarl's…he just killed a caitiff, " another guard replied.

"Where did that demon come from, anyway, " a third guard asked.

Suddenly, they went wild with chatter. S'maash pushed through. A dead caitiff was sprawled out in the street, chest torn asunder. The demon was red and black, his skin stretched over a disfigured face; the dremora were awful creatures.

A trail of blood led from the beast, and S'maash followed it back to Dragonsreach. He spotted Farengar's black silhouette climbing the steps to the palace, so he gave chase. Once he caught up to the wizard, he asked a barrage of questions.

"Calm yourself. I will answer once we are inside. Did you find it, Shalidor's Insights, " Farengar asked.

S'maash was going to answer until he saw the still beating daedra heart in Farengar's grip. The two entered Dragonsreach.

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