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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“D’ye think ye can take me, Dark Elf?” Honthjolf snapped, descending the steps to stand on the opposite end of the wooden pier that jutted out over the underground lake. “I eat fetchers like you for breakfast, always have, always will. Well, Dark Elf, got anything to say, or are ye so scared that the Khajiit’s got yer tongue?”

“Let’s dance Honthjolf,” I replied with a grim smile, advancing down the deck towards him. He frowned and then, with a yell, drew his sword and rushed to meet me. Our blades clashed, striking sparks that glittered in the semi-darkness of the cavern. Again and again we struck at each other: blocking and circling, each seeking an opening. Locking blades for the third, or fourth, time, Honthjolf hissed, “you’re good Elf, but not as good as I am.”

With a scything kick, he swept my feet from under me, causing me to crash down on the wooden pier. In retaliation, I hammered the heel of my steel boot into his exposed knee, making him cry out. As he took a step back, I kicked him again, this time aiming a good deal higher than his knee. Honthjolf’s eyes crossed and he wheezed as he sank to his knees. A third kick knocked him onto his back.

I was quicker to my feet and the Nord’s eyes widened as he saw the heavy Ebony blade hissing down towards his head. With a grunt, he rolled to the side. Which is never a good idea when you’re on a narrow wooden platform over a body of water and, this is the important bit, the platform has only got rope to stop you from falling in. Bigger and heavier than the Dunmer that had lived here with him, the rope slowed him not in the slightest and, with a curse he disappeared. The splash as he hit the water was quite impressive.

I knelt on the platform, looking down into the florid face of the splashing Nord less than a foot below me. Wordlessly, I extended my hand down towards him. “Akatosh’s Balls,” he said, reaching up towards my hand “that’s bloody decent of you.”

“Bob beichia blygedig a blygedig ail,” I said commandingly. His eyes widened as he realised what I’d done.

“You bloody bit….” The rest of his comment was literally drowned out by the water rushing into his mouth as the magically burdened armour dragged him under. I sat, watching dispassionately, until the surface of the underground lake was smooth and still, and no more bubbles of air broke its dark, glassy plane. Far, far below I could faintly make out the spread-eagled form of the traitor sinking deeper in to the stygian darkness that dominated the depths of the lake.

Packing away the few meagre treasures I’d found in Aharnabi ~ which, admittedly, included two apprentice scrolls (the spell ‘Shockbane’ and a spell to summon a bound longbow) ~ I returned to Tel Vahl. There I was informed that the Black Writ on Rolis Garvon had been issued in the name of Great House Telvanni. Nodding, I retired to my chambers high atop the tower.

I brooded as I leafed through the ‘Daedric Shrines of Importance’. I had been contacted by three of the Princes and each had asked me to do something for them. My innate suspicion, bolstered by a healthy dose of Telvanni paranoia, warred with the ideas and concepts I’d picked up here on Vvardenfell in the last months. Still mulling over what I should do, I fell into a deep sleep…

With a gasp, I jerked upright in bed ~ my brow clammy with sweat and my heart hammering. My dream had been extremely disconcerting even though I could only recall part of it.

[b]A tall figure with a golden face (perhaps a mask of some sort) led me by the hand between two columns of finely dressed Mer. As we progressed, I came to the horrified realisation that, even though I could hear them talking, they were all dead. The masked figure spoke to many of the dead, laughing and jesting with them as though they were alive, even though they made no reply.

In my dream the tall figure had turned and addressed me, even though his words made no sense. The horrifying realisation that I, too, was numbered among the dead gathered there jerked me awake with a thin cry of terror.

It was many hours later when the disturbing images faded from my mind and I was, finally, able to fall into a fitful sleep.