The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Every Day a Walk In The Park... Options

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The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part Seven

Darius, according to Master Demnevanni, ran his office out of the Madach Tradehouse in Gnisis. So, after translocating there after breaking my fast, I made my way into the lower half of the “shell” that comprised the Tradehouse. Darius was short, stocky, and clad in gorgeous armour – all gilded metal with a flowing red cape. He looked up at me and said, “So, you want to join the Legion do you Citizen Vahl? Well, it’s true that we have a shortage of Manpower ~ and Merpower for that matter. You look capable enough. Tell me, are you capable of following orders?”

“Excellent,” he said when I assured him I was. “It’s a Mer’s life in the Legion. Every day a walk in the park, every meal is a banquet, every pay check a fortune. It’ll make a Ma... Mer of you. Right, Recruit Vahl, here is your regulation-issue chain cuirass. You will wear it when you address a superior officer, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes… sir,” I replied.

Darius shook his head. “The first and last word I want to hear out of your mouth when you address me is ‘Sir’. Now sound out like you got a pair. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I said in a clear voice, desperately trying to ignore the sniggering Orc in the corner of the room.

“Outstanding,” he said. “Now get that cuirass on and I’ll give you your orders.

“You might be wondering,” he said once I’d got the chain cuirass in place, “why I am billeted in the Tradehouse? Well, it’s because we have no room to expand. The widow Vabdas has a parcel of land the Legion needs to expand. I want you to come back to me with the deeds as quickly as possible. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” I replied, turning to march out of the room. As I went up the stairs, I heard General Darius addressing the Orcish Trooper, “gro-Khazor, what is your major malfunction?”

Vabdas had a house just west of town, out past Arvs-Drelen, so it wasn’t difficult to get to. Her reaction, when I spoke to her about the land-deed was to slap me across the face ~ hard. I suppressed the spells that roared into my mind and, speaking carefully, said, “you would be wise not to do that again.”

“Why?” she snapped, and now I could see the tears in her eyes. “Because you’ll kill me like you did Mansilamat?”

“I assure you ma’am,” I told her, “I had no part in the death of Mansilamat. Tell me what happened…” Bit by patient bit, I dragged the story from her. It seems that her husband, the aforementioned Mansilamat, had gone to the Egg-Mine at Gnisis to get some eggs. There, according to the widow, the Legion had killed her husband.

As I walked back towards Gnisis, I reflected that whatever power controls my life has an infinite capacity for capriciousness. What should have been the simple acquisition of a deed to some land had now become a murder investigation. Of course, that was how General Darius saw it and he told me to obtain proof that the Legion had been involved. Fortunately, the guard at the door of the Egg-Mine proved amenable to my charming behaviour and, after checking that there was nobody watching, he gave me the key to the door.

There was a familiar stink about the mine, one that I remembered from the Mudan-Mul Mine. Drawing my sword, I advanced with some care. Fortunately, whatever was blighting the mine was confined to the lower quarters and the Scribs in the upper chambers were not aggressive. I wish the same could be said of Trooper gro-Ogdum. The Orc gave me a three count to get the Oblivion out of the area he was guarding. As quickly as I could, I chose one of the passages and headed off down it. From up ahead I could hear the drip-drip of water and a strange noise ~ like wind. As I rounded the corner, I came upon the source of the sound. There, in the middle of the passage, was an Ancestral Spirit.

“Hear me Mortal,” it moaned, as I made ready to swing my sword, “Stay your hand ~ I am Mansilamat Vabdas, I was murdered, most foully, by the Orc Lugrub gro-Ogdum. I beg you, avenge me…” The last syllable was drawn out as the spectre faded from view. I knew that the word of an apparition would carry no weight with General Darius: I needed more proof. I found it in the depth of the pool nearby ~ the corpse of Mansilamat and a notched Imperial axe.

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There were smiling faces at Fort Buckmoth when I returned this morning, Joncis Dalomax had made his way back to the garrison there and reported my (rather self-evident) success. However, Imsin wasn’t going to let me rest on my laurels, she already had a new task for me. “One of the Buoyant Armigers, and please don’t ask which one, is being blackmailed by Varona Nelas. This Armiger gave Nelas an embroidered glove as a token of affection and, needless to say, should this become common knowledge the scandal would be a bitter blow to the Armigers. We… I would appreciate it if you could speak to Varona Nelas and recover the glove.

“We believe,” Imsin continued, the blush on her cheeks very evident given her pale complexion, “that Nelas is in Assumanu: a small system of caverns located southeast of Ald Redaynia.” I assured Imsin that I would be at my most persuasive and, wondering what could make Imsin feel so uncomfortable, I cast the spell that would open a passageway to Dagon Fel.

As I made my way westwards, the Septim suddenly dropped: an embroidered glove. It was hardly the sort of thing that a big, burly male Armiger would give to his paramour. I chuckled uneasily: my upbringing in the more liberal West warring with the more puritanical attitude I had picked up from the Dunmer in the months I’d been here. Well, it really wasn’t any of my concern…

Several hours later I discovered the Sargon caves which was the home of a number of bandits. They were neither good at banditry or fighting. The caves made an excellent place for me to rest and take a meal-break but they yielded little by way of treasure other than an ancient hammer that screamed powerful chords when I took it from the cold, dead hand of the Redguard bandit.

Assumanu: if the conical pile of skulls just inside the cave’s entrance wasn’t a clue to the necromantic nature of the occupants, then their habit of summoning Bone-Walkers was. There were two necromancers ~ surprisingly, both were Dunmeri females ~ inside the cave who decided that the best way to deal with the intrusion was to summon up a Bone-Walker each and sit back and watch the spectacle that would follow. Unfortunately for them, I have found that I am quite proficient as a Summoner and even a pair of Bone-Walkers are no match for a Storm Atronach.

Having cleared those two obstacles, I ventured deeper into the cavern. “Do you have an appointment?” the Bosmer said, stepping out from between two rocks as I approached the wooden bridge that spanned the underground river.

“A what?” I exclaimed, nonplussed.

“I assume you’re here to speak with Mistress Nelas,” the Bosmer said. “If she has asked to speak to you, then you will have an appointment to see her. Regrettably, that means that I would have been informed.”

“Why is it regrettable that you would have been told about an appointment?”

“Ahh, I’m sorry, “ the Bosmer said, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking pained. “Perhaps I should have been clearer. The poor fortune is yours rather than mine. Y’see, I would have been informed if you had an appointment: since I wasn’t, you haven’t. And, therefore, you can’t.”

“Run that past me one more time,” I said slowly.

“-Sigh- I wasn’t informed that we were expecting a visitor this day. Therefore my Mistress isn’t expecting you. Therefore you haven’t an appointment. Ergo, you can’t get in to see her.”

“I’m here on important business,” I snapped.

“That’s what they all say,” the Bosmer retorted drawing his short sword. Dwemer metal clashed on Imperial steel as I blocked his blow with the Wish, bringing the blade back in a blow that split the air with a deadly hum. “Whoa!” the Bosmer gasped, leaping backwards agilely.

The blade crashed against my armour as he lunged forward, my retaliatory blow tore a chunk of metal from the bottom of his cuirass. Again and again our blades crashed together, my greater reach and strength finally proving superior. Twisting to avoid a vindictive stab of the short sword, I brought the humming blade of the Wish down on the back of the Bosmer’s head, crushing the back of his skull and putting his lantern out immediately. As he slumped forward, I took several deep breaths to steady myself.

“Who are you, and how did you get past Allimer?” the tall, well-dressed Dunmer female asked as I clambered up the short flight of steps to the raised platform. “You haven’t an appointment, so that means…. DIE FETCHER!”

“Eep!” I yelped, diving to the side to avoid the sudden explosive conclusion to her unspoken spell. I grabbed the nearest upright wooden pole, using it as a pivot. Spinning around, I waited until the last moment and then thrust outwards with my feet. This had been a useful manoeuvre when I was a child, often ending a fight with one or other of the village bullies. Of course, back then I’d been wearing cheap felt shoes instead of solid Imperial Steel Boots. There was a sickening crunching noise as the soles of the aforementioned boots impacted, cutting short the spell Nelas had been intoning. I didn’t see quite what happened next ~ I was far too busy discovering a little known fact about feather-enchanted armour.

Clinging desperately to the wooden pole to prevent myself from being thrown into the main body of the cave by my momentum, I was dimly aware of a heavy thump somewhere behind me. When I’d got myself back under control, I was able to see that I’d dealt a lethal blow to Varona Nelas. When I’d finished frantically wiping the boots on a nearby rug, I explored the small platform.

I recovered the embroidered glove, a number of utility scrolls (hearth heal and the like) and an apprentice scroll that taught the spell Golnara’s Eye-Maze. Feeling unaccountably weary, I sank down onto the hammock and closed my eyes.

When I woke, about an hour later, I felt full of fizz. I felt fitter than I had in ages and I seemed to have tapped into potential strengths I didn’t know I had. With a broad grin at the way I felt, I left Assumanu and headed back towards Dagon Fel. On my way here I’d passed a Daedric shrine ~ Assurdirapal by name ~ and the name had been nagging at me ever since I’d seen it. My little nap seemed to have jogged the memory loose: the ruins had been mentioned in the book ‘Daedric Shrines of Importance’. I wanted to know why this shrine was so important.

Shrieking, I left the shrine at Assurdirapal, shaken to my core. I’d ventured inside the deserted ruins and explored the various chambers and levels without finding anything of value ~ coming, at last, to the vast central chamber. Dominated by a bronze statue of Malacath, the large open area had yielded nothing by way of treasures or artefacts of power. Standing there, hands on my hips, I had wondered why this was noted as a shrine of importance.

"[size=14]Perhaps, mortal, ‘tis because I reside here,”

Dumbly I nodded, the tales of the Elven hero reached far beyond the borders of Morrowind. "[size=14]Know thee, then, that such tales be false!”

“Kill him?” I managed to murmur.

"[size=14]Aye,”

With a grating noise, the statue turned its head and fell silent. That was the moment I fled the shrine in terror. Daedric Princes speaking out of statues to me ~ not just once, but twice now: no that just wasn’t right. Having composed myself somewhat, I returned to Tel Vahl at all speed.