Lord of Souls: An Elder Scrolls Novel Read Free

of your companion,” he said. “What should I do with you now?”
    “Release us,” Sul said.
    “To do what?”
    “Destroy Umbriel.”
    “You tried. You failed.”
    “Because we did not have the sword,” Attrebus managed to gasp through the cloying dust.
    “What sword?” The air seemed to thicken, and all the hairs on Attrebus’s arms stood out like quills.
    “There is a sword named Umbra—” Attrebus began.
    “I know it,” Malacath said. “A tool of Prince Clavicus Vile, a stealer of souls.”
    “More than that,” Attrebus replied. “The sword was prison to a creature that also calls itself Umbra. This creature escaped the blade and stole much power from Clavicus Vile, and it is that power that motivates Umbriel, the city Sul and I seek to destroy. We believe that if we can find the sword, we can use it to reimprison this creature and defeat Umbriel.”
    Malacath just stared at him for a moment, and then the great head leaned toward one vast shoulder a bit. There was something oddly childlike about the motion.
    “I have heard that Vile is weak, and that he searches for something. I have no love for him. Or any of the others.” He glanced back at Sul, his vast brows caving into a frown. “How I laughed when you betrayed them, turned your homeland into no less an ash pit than my realm. The proud issue of the Velothi, humbled at last. By one of their own. And still there is the curse you made, unfulfilled.”
    “You can help him fulfill it,” Attrebus blurted. He was shaking uncontrollably, but he tried to keep his voice steady.
    “You knew who Sul was the minute you saw him,” he went on. “You remember his curse after all these years. You healed us and interviewed me. In disguise. To see what we’re up to. To assure yourself that the curse Sul made all those years ago is still walking with him. That he still craves vengeance.”
    Malacath’s head shifted again, and behind him vines collapsed and formed into a cloud of black moths that swarmed about them.
    “There are a few things I have a sort of love for,” the daedra said. “What Sul carries with him is one of those things. So yes, I will help you further. The sword, Umbra—do you know where it is?”
    Sul’s mouth set in reluctant lines.
    “How else will you go there if I do not send you?”
    “Somewhere in Solstheim, I believe,” Sul finally replied. “In the hands of someone who wears a signet ring with a draugr upon it.”
    Malacath nodded; to Attrebus it seemed a mountain was falling toward him.
    “I can take you to Solstheim,” the prince said. “Do not disappoint me.”
    Then both gigantic eyes focused on Attrebus. “And you—if I ever have use for you, you will know it.”
    “Yes, Prince,” Attrebus replied.
    The god grinned a mouthful of sharp teeth. Then he slapped his palms together.

    “It’s real,” Mazgar gra Yagash breathed, staring, fighting the urge to draw her sword.
    It wasn’t often you saw a mountain fly.
    She doffed her helmet for a better look. As it passed beyond the tallest birches, she saw how it hung in the sky—an inverted mountain, with the peak stabbing toward the land below.
    Next, her gaze picked out the strange spires and glistening structures atop the thing, structures that could only have been made by some sort of hands. A forest clung to the upper rim as well, its boughs and branches dropping out and away from it.
    “Why would you doubt it?” Brennus asked, his hands working fast with pen and paper, sketching the thing. “It’s what we came to see.”
    “Because it’s ridiculous,” she said.
    “I’ve never heard an orc use that word,” he murmured. “I guess I thought you people believed in everything.”
    “I don’t believe your nose would stand up to my fist,” she replied.
    “Fair enough,” he said. “I don’t believe that either. But since I outrank you, I also don’t think you’ll hit me.” He pushed rusty bangs from his face and looked off at the thing.