It wasn’t there. It wasn’t there! 

Sarel cursed that stupid Imperial with as much time as he had, which wasn’t much. The white stone wall to his right was collapsing in a frightening way. Dozens of undead emerged from the hole in the wall with little regard for the poison darts which pelted them. Sarel had been told of a rumor when he was in Solstheim. Some traveling Imperial merchant asked about his katana and then noted that he’d heard of an ancient Akavir katana in an ayleid temple. What he actually said was something like this:

“What’s that ya got there? Ya, one of those Akveer swords uh? Pretty impressive…. Ya sir, my uncle Darius told me that he saw one of those things in one of those old elf temples. In Cyrodiil. What? Well I couldn’t just give you information like that without… Ah, okay, okay, alright! Ah, oh, N… near Leyawin I think. In the Blackwood.”

Sarel did his own research and cross referenced what little writing he had of the Order and decided it was possible that what this Imperial had said was true. Possible enough to ask for leave by his current employer, Lazerus Mede. The old man got to asking and Sarel wasn’t in the mood to lie to the man; he said he was going to the Blackwood to find an ancient ruin. That was enough to get him going about his middle son in the legion. Uriel was his name, and he was looking for adventure, something to make him a hero. Within a few days Sarel was Uriel’s official babysitter, he was to pick the boy up in Cheydinhal and take him to the ruin. Sarel was sure he could handle whatever was in the ruin by himself, but he wasn’t about to turn down an extra hand. Finding this ruin would be an adventure within itself, getting the artifact would require a great deal of effort. So he agreed to pick the boy up and bring him along. The lad was surprisingly humble, and he seemed genuinely chivalrous. It was a change of pace to the greedy paunch of his father. 

“By Stendarr.” Gasped Uriel. The young Imperial, clad in legion steel back away from the empty pedestal, Sarel, and the emerging undead horde. He watched the Dark Elf as long as he could. The damn Elf just stood there on the dais staring at the empty lit spot before him. Uriel wasn’t even sure if he’d seen the zombies. Suddenly Sarel’s sword whipped from it’s sheath and decapitated an incoming undead. Sarel was quick after that, he jogged down the narrow atrium hall, toward Uriel who was making the first steps back toward the entrance. They ran together through a wider corridor and then down a staircase which led to a much narrower hall. 

“Run” Sarel screamed from behind. Uriel went ahead, dashing toward the other end of the hallway. Another wall came down between him and Sarel and more undead came pouring out. Uriel entered a large room lit by welkynd stones, which rested silently under the dais where the couple had just been. It hummed with the blue aura of the Ayleid temples and the songs of unlife. Sarel slashed and burned his way through the undead horde and into another one which erupted halfway down the hallway, Uriel seemed to miss all the undead action. The fact was, Uriel was getting a bit of undead action of his own. To his right emerged a lich, as tall as a Nord and as skinny as a wood elf. He floated in majestic rancor toward Uriel who readied his shield. The lich summoned scamps and sent them forth, uttering a foul cry which might have resembled a laugh if it weren’t so abhorrent. Uriel was quick to swallow a resist fire potion he had handy, Sarel had slipped it to him before they entered the ruin, purely as a second thought.

“Have at thee, fowl dramora!” He screamed as the scamps rushed forward, and he met them. He stabbed one immediately in the heart, forcing it to fall then evaporate into a cloud of purple dust. Another scamp clawed at Uriel’s shield trying to rip it from his grasp while another still tried to cast a fire ball at him. Sarel was out of the hall by the time the scamps descended. He was able to cast a quick ward spell in front of Uriel, blocking the magic. The Imperial glanced back and might have sighed of relief if his life wasn’t still very much in danger. He ripped his shield from the scamps little hands and hit it on the head, then he sliced at another. Most of the scamps were dead when the Lich summoned two skeletal archers on the dais above. Zombies rushed from more holes in the walls and Sarel could tell what would become of the couple if they stayed and fought. Sarel sent a fire bomb between Uriel and the Lich, sending both flying backward. Uriel landed mostly in Sarel’s hands and they both tumbled on the floor. 

“We must flee, go. I’ll hold him off” said Sarel as he stood, unsheathing his katana. He readied himself in the position he’d learned as position number 5. It was defensive yet imposing. It allowed for dexterious movement yet planted his feet firmly. His sword was held near his face. Uriel stood as quickly as he could and darted off toward a hall which he knew to lead to the exit. 

A skeletal warrior, brandishing a war axe and shield hobbled over to Sarel as two zombies shambled toward him from behind. He dodged an incoming blow, and an arrow, from the skeleton, ending up behind the sack of bones. He quickly sliced at the midsection of the skeleton and it fell to pieces. Sarel jogged toward the incoming zombies, decapitated them and turned toward the Lich, who was incoming. A frost spike whizzed past Sarel’s head as he sheathed his sword. He unleashed a fountain of fire from his hands, his crimson eyes glowing in the firelight. He closed them and allowed the fire to take over. He imbued his own magical essence into the fire which had become a wall of flame. It grew even larger and was finally large enough to split the entire room in half. Zombies who touched it on either side were burned to a crisp. Sarel breathed heavily from exhaustion as he weaved between zombies, heading as quickly as he could to the exit. 

As Uriel rounded one of the polished white corridors he wondered if Sarel was close behind him. A pack of zombies emerged from a wall in the hall ahead. Uriel charged forth, holding his shield out in front of him with his short sword raised high near him. He stabbed and slashed and bashed until most of the zombies were dead. Sarel came from behind and sliced another slacker in two. The couple couldn’t have run faster from the ruin. They breathed heavily as they shut the ruin doors, locked it with the little bulb on the front. Uriel made his way up the stairs while Sarel stood before the door. 

Uriel peered down into the stairwell a few moments later when he realized Sarel was still down there.

“What are you up to, Elf?” Uriel asked.

“Sealing it as best I can.” Sarel replied

The two were mounted on their horses in no time riding at a brisk pace to find the nearest path. 

“Do you know where it is?” Sarel asked absent-mindedly.

“No, sorry. I never traversed these forests by myself.”

Sarel was quiet for a while as he let the horse walk toward a small glade, hoping to catch a glimpse of the road. The horse licked at the pond for a while before perking it’s head up, Uriel’s horse seemed to notice the same thing. Sarel saw the trail of flying insects too late. In less than seconds a full grown spriggin was beside Uriel and his mount. The thing was massive, almost the size of the horse. It ripped Uriel from his horse and tossed him on the ground. He clanked a little as he tried to pry his sword from his side. Sarel cast a fireball at the forest guardian, hoping to catch it off guard. It warded itself from the effects and enchanted Uriel’s horse. The thing nay’d in anger as it rose on its hind legs. It came down on Uriel so hard he was instantly flattened. His armor was caved in and his chest very clearly impaled, the horse did it again, and again. 

Sarel was able to get a fireball through to the Spriggin, weakening it before stabbing at it’s heart. It fell to the ground and the flying insects revolved around it as it tried to heal itself. Sarel relentlessly doused it in flames, burning it's oak to cinders. Uriel’s horse calmed itself and laid next to it’s dead rider, exhausted. It’s hooves were bloody and battered. Sarel knelt next to the young corpse, spoke a quiet prayer. Upon further inspection, the horse had a broken leg, it whimpered. Sarel stood over the kneeling horse with the forest sounds singing a sweet lullaby behind him. He raised his katana over his head and it shone with the brilliant red of the setting sun. He brought it down quickly, frowning solemnly. 

Back at the inn, where the Dunmer already had a tab, Sarel was a mess. He scored some moon sugar from one of the the Khajiit he was able to flag down with some coin, and asked the bartender to mix it into his boiling mead. The bartender agreed without batting an eye, didn’t hurt that Sarel slipped him a few septims as a tip. Sarel was brooding with his brew at a table relatively close to the door, it was slightly behind a pillar so he was hardly ever looked at. He drank, and sank, more into the jug of mead.