Chapter 38: Way of the Voice: Part 7
We rode down along the waterfall, following the river, moving around the mountain, and soon we approached a small bridge.
Then, we saw a woman standing next to the road.
Her hair was pale silver, she stood near the base of the dirt-covered steps leading up the foothill next to the road, her back turned to us. She wore a fur-lined shawl draped over her shoulders, snug black leggings, and thick, well-worn boots wrapped in hide and leather. A noble? I wondered.
She didn't turn right away. Her stance was rigid, hands clenched before her, as if wringing them from stress. When the hooves of our horses clattered against the stone path, she finally turned her head slightly, then fully, eyes widening with relief as she saw us approach.
Her face was sharp but worn, the kind that was struggling. Lines of worry creased her brow, and though she looked strong, her pale lips trembled with barely restrained fear.
I slowed the horse and stopped a few paces from her. "Need help?"
She stepped forward, her boots crunching. She tried to hold herself together, even though her eyes betrayed her. "I-I do. My nephew… he went into our family tomb. It's right up this hill." She gestured toward the stone steps under the archway leading up.
"Why?" I asked.
Lydia and Uthgerd's eyes were like sharp daggers, analyzing the woman and the surroundings. An ambush? both of them thought.
"He went in to deal with… a necromancer," she answered, swallowing hard, "To stop him from defiling our ancestors." She finally broke, "He told me to wait here, and I did… but he hasn't come out. It's been hours." A tear fell down her cheek.
Her hands were trembling at her sides, gripping her dress in a tight hold. "Please, he could be hurt… or worse. I-I don't have much on me, but I can pay. I just… I don't want to lose my only family left."
I paused for a moment, thinking, but I had already dismounted before I even came to a conclusion, Sigh! You gotta wait a bit more, old-timers, I got a dame in distress I chuckled internally.
I also needed more experience in fighting going forward. Especially against Wizards and Necromancers, since I could easily overpower any man in close range.
And a bit of gold never hurt anyone.
I looked at the woman. "Alright. Lead the way."
Her shoulders sagged with visible relief, as she wiped at her face with her sleeve, though her eyes weren't welling up with tears now, they still carried the weight of fear and anxiety.
"Thank you… truly. My name is Agna." She bowed slightly before turning to the steps. "Please," she said before hurrying up the broken steps.
I glanced over my shoulder. Lydia and Uthgerd had both dismounted, holding the reins of the horses, silently watching. Uthgerd rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck like she was eager for a fight, like the last night wasn't enough. Lydia gave me a nod, already adjusting the strap of her gauntlet.
I returned the nod and turned back toward the path ahead.
Time to see what kind of horrors and loot waited inside a family's tomb.
***
We passed beneath stone arches, one after another, the stone crumbling with age, at least a few centuries if not more.
And soon the tomb's entrance came into view.
It was a half-sphere of weather-darkened stone, built into the hillside itself. Moss clung to every crevice, and faint carvings of swirling Nordic patterns were half-buried beneath it.
In the center dividing the entrance into two, like a pig's nose, was a solitary pillar, cracked at the base. A bleached deer skull hung from it, its antlers long and sharp. A wreath of dried mountain berries and faded ribbon sat behind the skull like a halo.
I slowed as we approached.
Agna walked ahead of me, her steps more eager now. Behind us, Lydia and Uthgerd brought the horses to a halt near an old tree, their eyes locked on the tomb.
I stepped forward, past the pillar, and reached for the iron door. My hand pressed against it, and I pushed.
It didn't move.
"It's locked," I muttered, stepping back, ready to blast it open with a Shout. I'd already begun drawing breath when Agna stepped up beside me.
"I have a spare key," she said, pulling a rusted key from her belt. She inserted the comically large iron key into the keyhole and gave it a firm twist. The mechanism groaned and then clicked.
The door creaked open with a low growl, releasing a scent of burning wood and ash.
Lydia and Uthgerd followed behind us as we entered the antechamber.
The interior was dim, with slight warmth lingering inside the chamber. In the middle was a recently extinguished fire pit.
Across from the pit stood a stone door, with symbols carved on it, and to either side, old wooden sideboards lined the walls—one had a few scattered offerings, incense, a broken goblet, and a small copper amulet.
I stepped ahead, nudging open the stone door, which dragged on the cobblestone below, grating, revealing another chamber.
A flat stone table in the middle—a broken embalming slab sat on top, stained and dark from years of use. Dried blood crusted the edges, and old tools lay rusting on a nearby tray.
As I stepped inside, my clothes vanished, and the steel armor shimmered on me. Agna flinched, but said nothing, seeing that the other two women were unfazed by it.
We pressed deeper into the barrow. The air grew colder, acrid. The walls here were slick with moisture, and the stone beneath was uneven, covered with thick root tendrils from the trees above.
Then, the first body.
A draugr lay sprawled across the path, its skin pale, its features still preserved. Another slumped against the wall further in, its ribcage caved in. I glanced at Agna—her lips were trembling, but she said nothing.
Her nephew must've fought through these.
We moved carefully down the crumbling stairs, and the deeper we went, the heavier the air became.
We passed dozens of sarcophagi, a few dozen corpses resting in the funerary alcoves at every turn.
We finally reached the larger chamber at the base of the tomb. A large Iron door stood at the left wall, and a much smaller one at the front. Between them, in the center of the room, a body lay facedown in a pool of blood.
Agna froze.
Then ran.
"No, no, Golldir!" she gasped, collapsing beside the body. She turned him gently, cradling his head in her lap.
It was a young man, barely past twenty. His armor was cracked and soaked through. Reminding me of something awful. Varn.
"Talos… why didn't I go with you?" she sobbed. "Why did I let you go alone?"
She broke.
I lowered my eyes, clicking my tongue, with an unpleasant taste in my mouth.
Then, I heard something.
A sound behind the larger door. Faint murmuring, but it was unintelligible. Like someone chanting from far away, or maybe there was another door or a wall after it.
I clicked my tongue again, but louder this time. "Agna," I whispered, holding a finger to my lips.
She stiffened, eyes wide, breath catching in her throat. Her hand moved to her cheek, wiping away her tears. She gave me a shaky nod.
I turned and stepped back to the large door once more, pressing my palm against the cold iron. It only rattled.
"He's barred it," I muttered, turning to the second door.
But before that, I moved toward Agna, crouching beside her. She knelt in a pool of blood, her hand resting on Golldir's motionless chest, quiet sobs escaping her clenched teeth.
"Hey," I spoke, keeping my voice low but firm. "We're gonna need your help. You know this place better than the rest of us. You've probably been here before with him, right?"
She blinked, eyes wet and red, almost bloodshot, half from sadness, and half with the anger brewing inside her.
She nodded slowly. "T-There's a way," she murmured, almost mechanically. Her hands, still slick with blood, moved with delicate care as she laid Golldir's head back down onto the stone.
Then, she reached down to his waist and pulled the dagger from his belt, her grip tightening around it as she stood up, "There's a room below, " she said in a low voice, "where we buried the disgraced members of our family."
"It connects to that burial chamber."
I nodded as I moved toward the smaller door. I could've broken the large door with my Shout, but I don't know what's on the other side, and I couldn't risk letting our presence be known just yet.
The air that rushed out was colder, more acrid. A narrow passage yawned before us, leading down, the walls leaning on their last legs. Part of the ceiling had collapsed ahead, blocking the path.
I led the way, sword drawn. My footsteps were light against the stone, the others following close. Lydia and Uthgerd kept tight in Agna's sides, blades out and eyes sharp. The passage twisted left and then right, bent like a snake.
Then I heard it—the scraping of stone.
I held up a hand and stopped.
From the shadows ahead, faint groaning. Low and dry.
I slipped forward, past a row of funerary alcoves. Draugr. Four of them. Their ancient bodies lay in their niches, eyes still closed, but they won't be for long.
And I didn't want them to.
Before the first even stirred fully, I lunged. My blade slid clean through its throat before its mouth could finish a breath. I touched the limp and cold body, removing the weapons placed in its hands, and storing it in the inventory.
The second shifted, fingers clawing against the edge of its crypt. I brought my heel down on its chest, caving it in, and drove the sword through the eye socket, scrambling what little brain matter he had left.
The third roared as it began to rise, but Lydia silenced it, decapitating it in a single sweep of the blade.
The fourth reached Uthgerd, a big mistake, her greatsword was raised high. She glanced at me before groaning and letting the sword fall on the dead, splitting him in half.
Jesus! I whistled low.
She grinned before exhaling, bringing the sword back on her shoulder, Lydia cleaned her blade on the draugr's rags.
Agan stood there in silence, looking at the three of us.
And we continued forward.
The tunnel narrowed, then widened abruptly into a chamber—only this one was different
The air here felt heavy. Damp. A thick layer of web covered the stone walls like frost clinging to glass. Every surface was laced in it, floor to ceiling. Bones were stuck in clumps of it near the corners. The stench of rot and mold filled our lungs.
Agna drew closer behind me, swallowing hard. "This wasn't here before," she whispered.
I turned to her, "When was the last time you came here?"
"Last year."
Yeah, I shook my head. I wouldn't be surprised if a dragon had taken residence here.
We stepped in, carefully, weapons ready.
But there was nothing, not even a baby spider, we heaved a sigh of relief, and headed down another pair of broken stairs.
We followed the winding tunnel as it coiled left and right deeper through the crypt. The narrow walls were lined with more alcoves, each holding a sleeping draugr—dozens of them, entombed in the stone, their withered faces frozen in death.
Lydia, Uthgerd, and I moved like wind between them, silent and swift. The moment one of the draugr stirred, a gasp of breath or a twitch of a hand, we struck. I slid my blade clean through the neck, slipping the greatsword it was buried with into my inventory.
Lydia and Uthgerd, and even Agna acted fast, killing the dead before they woke up.
I exhaled as the quiet room that felt too loud became serene again.
But the deeper we went, the more quiet was lost, the barrow became restless, with the sound of metal clattering in the distance.
Moments later, we stepped into a wider chamber. The ceiling arched high above us, held above by carved stone pillars. The air turned cold, not on the skin, but in the bones.
The dead here were already awake, roaming aimlessly. I counted at least twelve.
"Take them down," I muttered, already in motion.
I dashed between two in front, before they could even lift their swords, fingers brushing their brittle skin. Their weapons vanished from their grip—stolen into the void of my inventory—and in their confusion, Lydia and Uthgerd moved.
The former was quick and graceful, moving like water, her sword humming as she dispatched one on the right in a single, clean arc. The latter, well, Uthgerd didn't care about stamina or exhaustion. She cracked the skull of the draugr left.
I moved through the chamber like a shadow, rushing through them, leaving them like an unarmed prey for the two predators behind me.
Uthgerd barreled through another pair near the middle of the chamber, her greatsword raised above her shoulder. She laughed, thrilled at the sight, as she cleaved the first in half and headbutted the second straight into the floor. Bones crunched beneath her boots as she moved forward, the edge of her lips reaching her ears.
Lydia remained silent, calm, and collected; there was no sign of joy or pain on her face, and she kept her movements limited and efficient.
Soon, the room fell silent again—just the drip of water from above and the crackle of old torches. The chamber was huge, its stone pillars etched with faces ofGiants? I wondered, their mouths agape, each one holding a carved plaque with a different totem.
I stepped toward them, eyeing each in turn: hawk, fox, wolf, whale, snake, bear, owl, moth, and dragon. Nine in all.
We spread out, scanning the space. No doors. No hidden switches we could see. Just stone, and dead draugrs.
"A little help?" I called over my shoulder to Agna, who was still frozen, shocked at the sight before her, her eyes stuck on the ground, staring at the dead.
She blinked, hearing me, and nodded. She closed her eyes, trying to remember something. Her lips moved silently at first, and then she whispered, just loud enough to be heard.
"The bear will show the way…"
Our eyes turned in unison to the pillar bearing the totem of the bear. I raised a brow at Agna and motioned for her to solve the puzzle. She hesitated for a moment, and then she moved, carefully stepping past the dead on the ground.
Behind the pillar, almost hidden in the stone, was a rusted chain.
She glanced at me. I gave her a nod, and she pulled.
The sound of grinding stone echoed through the chamber as a sarcophagus standing straight on our left groaned open, its lid fell, revealing a passageway, leading deeper inside.
I moved without looking back.
Uthgerd gave Agna a firm pat on the shoulder as she passed, her grin still wide. Lydia moved silently at my side.
We walked together, the narrow tunnel, thick with cobwebs and dust. We trudged for another minute through the crumbling empty passage until we reached an iron door, its design nearly identical to the barred one above.
I turned to them and gave a quiet nod.
Lydia and Uthgerd readied their weapons, one hand tightening over the hilt, the other over the grip. Agan stood behind them, dagger drawn now, but hands trembling.
Slowly, I pushed the door open to a crack and peeked through.
The chamber beyond was vast—a grand, tiered burial hall with three stone platforms rising like steps toward the back wall. Each platform bore sarcophagi, all of them sealed. At the top of the chamber lay a large sarcophagus, wreathed in eerie blue light.
Before it, arms raised, stood a Dunmer—his skin dark, face angular and gaunt, eyes glowing red. Dark blue robes fluttered slightly in an invisible wind as he chanted in a low, steady rhythm, hands glowing as he cast a spell on the coffin.
But he wasn't alone.
On the ceiling, a grotesque monstrosity hung—a zombiefied spider, the size of a wagon, its legs clicking and twitching on the ceiling. Drooling from its melted face.
****
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