The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part 3 Options

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Yestere had been extremely profitable for me, as I had pretty much spent the day practising various spells, summoning, and combat techniques, not to mention a little alchemy. While there was no chance I was ever going to be partaking of the three greasy and foul-smelling concoctions I’d produced as a result of my experiments ~ the other training had been extremely beneficial albeit tiring. So, it was with more than a little impatience that I responded to the hammering on the front door that awoke me this morning. I was just about to address the young individual with the appropriate venom when he thrust a parchment into my hand, saying, “Muthsera Hleran sends her compliments.”

The note was brief and to the point:

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“The first stage of your stronghold is complete. Please contact me at your convenience to discuss further development.”

Even though I knew that, at this stage, my stronghold wouldn’t be inhabitable, it was excellent news indeed. Dressing quickly, I spoke the words of the translocation spell and found myself in Sadrith Mora. Making my way into the oddly lit cavern, I listened to what Llunela had to say to me.

“I’m glad you came Muthsera Vahl,” she said. “The initial phase of growth is now complete. However, your tower still needs to grow more and it will need to be shaped. Traditionally, a skilled Tekton does this but, regrettably, the current expansion on the mainland means that they are all very busy there. We could leave the tower to grow wild ~ which rarely results in anything useable.

“But, when traditional means are unavailable, we have to make do with something else. It is said that the Dwemer had an artefact that could shape materials using sound. The book I read, by an Imperial named Hevou Thath, said that he’d seen designs for one such artefact in the Dwemer ruins of Mzanchend. I need you to travel there and locate these drawings, if they’re still there.”

Conveniently enough, the ruins I need are quite close to Uvirith’s Grave: so travelling there was my first priority. I followed pretty much the same route as before and soon came to the twisted knot of roots and branches that would form the basis of my tower. They had grown considerably since the last time, now being something like twice the height of a Mer. The environs, unfortunately, hadn’t improved any: the dust still lay thick on the ground and blew up in choking clouds at the slightest breeze. There was one change, however: and not a pleasant one. At the edge of the raised area of land upon which stood the hillock my tower was growing on was a campfire. Advancing cautiously, I made my way towards it.

“Greetings,” the armoured woman standing by the fire said, “what brings you to this gods forsaken plot of land?”

“This land is mine,” I replied somewhat sharply, “as is yonder tower. What brings you to my property?”

“Ahh well,” she said, raising the visor of her steel helm and looking at me. “Firstly, my apologies for any offence Telvanni. I have a tendency to speak jocularly when, maybe, I shouldn’t. As to what I am doing here, it’s complicated.”

“So, uncomplicated it,” I demanded. She grinned wryly.

“At your command. My being here serves a two-fold purpose. The first is that I am a researcher: and what I am researching is the life and times of the Mage Uvirith. Where you aware that this is the very spot his body was discovered in?” I shook my head, although given that the area was named Uvirith’s Grave, I wasn’t overly surprised. “Yes,” she continued, “and a very odd death he seems to have died too. He vanished from the Guild over in Balmora and, eventually, they became concerned enough to mount an expedition to locate him.

“After searching for many days, they found his corpse somewhere around here. It seems that he fell from a great height ~ with the inevitable consequences. Which is strange, because he was an accomplished mage and knew spells of levitation and slow-fall. Even odder was the length of frayed rope tied around his waist ~ what it was tied to at the other end, nobody knows.”

“All very interesting,” I interrupted, “but not really telling me why you are here.”

“Well,” she said, flushing slightly, “his staff was never found, although they scoured the area. It was, and probably still is, a very powerful piece of magical equipment. I had hoped to find some trace of it. The other thing is, recently I came into possession of a book of his that suggests he was looking for something very special ~ and may even have found it.”

“And what would that be?” I asked. She mumbled something quickly and quietly that I didn’t catch.

“A flying Dwemer fortress,” she snapped when I asked her to repeat what she’d said. I laughed until the tears ran down my cheeks while she stood there glowering at me.

“I’m sorry,” I finally managed to splutter. “Are you telling me that you actually believe those children’s’ stories about a big flying castle that swoops down and rewards good children come New Life Eve?”

“Not in the slightest…” she started to say, then stopped and looked at me. “Perhaps,” she amended, “I’ve found that there’s often a grain of truth in even the most fanciful tales. But I’ve spent many years chasing those grains of truth and rarely found anything. Which means that I’ve spent a lot of money and have little to show for it…”

“Which brings you to the second reason you’re here?” I suggested warily.

“I have heard,” she said carefully, “that Telvanni Mage-Lords hire mercenaries and was wondering…”

“Well, I’m no Mage-Lord,” I replied “and have no need of mercenaries at the moment.”

“I’m willing to wait,” she replied. I nodded thoughtfully. I hadn’t really given any thought to the protection of my tower and, given my ambitious plans for my self, I really should. If I rose much higher than my current rank of Spellwright, I could expect the unwelcome attentions of the lower ranking Telvanni who wanted my position. A few mercenaries wouldn’t go amiss.

“I’d be willing to consider you for the position,” I said. “But I need to know that you’re trustworthy. No offence, but you could be here to gain a position with me and use that position to a rival’s advantage. Here’s a couple of hundred Septims as a retainer. Keep your eyes peeled,” I said as I handed over the money, “and when I come back I shall expect a report from you.”

Leaving Kallin Basalius to her assigned task, I followed Llunela’s directions until I found myself at the ruins of Mzanchend. The ruins were only small, much of what had existed was lost behind a massive cave-in, but they did boast a small array of those spider-type animalcules. Having filled a collection pouch with a small number of rubies and diamonds, I finally found what I hoped I was looking for ~ a small sheet of the strange material the Dwemer used for writing and drawing on, covered in bizarre symbols and lines.

There was one other interesting feature in Mzanchend. Opposite the main entrance there was a flight of stairs leading down to a small corridor. At the end was a massive Dwemer door ~ the ornate engraved kind rather than the simple iron doors that you usually find in a ruin. What made this door particularly interesting was the lock that sealed it. It was not a Dwemeric lock; rather it bore the ornate style of local manufacture. Whoever had placed the lock had seriously intended to keep people from whatever was behind the door: no amount of examination or magic seemed to make the slightest difference; it simply would not be opened.

With a resigned shrug, I left the intriguing lock (I admit, its presence there had piqued my interest) and made my way back to Sadrith Mora. There Llunela Hleran had something of a shock for me. She’d been studying the drawing I’d brought back for a while before she spoke to me.

“This device can be made: I have enough knowledge to make it myself. However it can only be used once and it’s going to cost five thousand Septims to produce.”

“Five Thousand!” I exclaimed.

“I’m afraid so,” she replied. “Some of the materials are going to be very difficult to obtain, and there’s a lot of work that needs to be done. It will take me a day, or two, to create this object but once it is done, your tower should be ready fairly quickly.”

It was with a heavy heart that I handed over the money, five thousand Septims represented almost every Drake I had accumulated since arriving here, save the money safely tucked away in the Bank of Vvardenfell. It was with a much lighter purse that I returned to Balmora ~ on the morrow I would have to see what could be done about replenishing my funds.

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I hadn’t forgotten my promise to the Duke and it was one I intended to honour fully ~ as much for my own benefit as for anyone who might settle around my tower. When I’d visited last, I had spotted a couple of likely bandit hideouts and I fully intended to make sure that they weren’t being used for that purpose. Translocating myself to Sadrith Mora, I made my way to Uvirith's Grave. I was surprised, and secretly quite pleased to find Kallin Basalius still camped near my stronghold.

“There is a group of bandits nearby,” she reported, “I tracked them back to their hideout here…” she pointed to the map that was spread out between us. “There’s also something quite odd going on over here…” now she circled another nearby area on the map. “I swear I saw several soldiers marching through there yestere but, when I went to investigate, I could find nothing.”

Nodding approvingly, I gave her the pack of provender I’d brought in the hopes that she’d still be here and another couple of hundred Septims. “I’d like you to stay another few days if you’re determined to serve as a mercenary for me, sort of keep an eye on the place a bit more.”

“I can do that, boss,” she said with a grin. I grinned back: her enthusiasm was certainly infectious. I decided here and then that I trusted her ~ almost trusted her, and would start by investigating the bandits she said she’d seen a little way off to the west. Following the lay of the land, I rounded the large ash-mound that lay near my stronghold and followed the path south to the little canyon Kallin had indicated. As I crouched behind some rocks and stared into the short valley, it occurred to me that the route to Zenerbael was ideal territory for an ambush. This would, as they say, be the conclusive proof of Basalius’ loyalty and veracity.

I called the summoning spell to mind and held it ready (just in case) and made my way down the rock-strewn path towards the weathered door. Arriving there unmolested, I felt a little more relaxed about following Basalius’ advice. The door, unlocked and unwarded, swung open ~ the silence with which it did so belying it’s apparent unused state.

The torches lit the dark rock walls of the downward sloping passageway, revealing a bored looking Dunmeri woman slouched against a rocky outcrop. Her eyes widened but any cry of alarm she intended to make died stillborn in her throat. That might have had something to do with the red-feathered iron arrow that suddenly blocked it and ended her life in a gush of dark blood. I licked my lips nervously, once more a lucky shot had saved my hide but I wasn’t too sure how often I could rely on such luck.

There were two more bandits in the cavern, but sneaking up on them was impossible. The entranceway led to a ledge, from which a wooden walkway descended into a large area, passing over a deep pool as it did so. Anyone standing on the walkway, or even the ledge, was horribly exposed ~ as I quickly found out. Screaming obscenities, the Dunmer who was patrolling the lower chamber drew a short, vicious looking sword and rushed at me. Fortunately, as I was at a greater elevation than him, I had a distinct advantage.

Right up until the moment the third Dunmer heard the clash of steel on steel and came rushing from another chamber to add his blade to the fray. I was hard pressed, I don’t mind admitting, and fought back furiously. Slowly and inexorably I was being driven back up the ramp since they both had room to stand side-by-side and attack me. A glancing blow opened a gash on my arm as I parried a blow. This wasn’t going perfectly. It is just as well, then, that a Telvanni rarely fights alone.

“Brythwch hysbryd, alwa 'ch ata” I chanted. Strange shadows and shapes rippled across the bare rock of the tunnel wall, finally resolving into the form of an Atronach. Between us we made fairly short work of the two Dunmer bandits. A thorough exploration of their hideout revealed that they had not been particularly successful bandits ~ although I did find a Thread and a couple of very nice shard weapons.

There was, as Kallin had said, something odd about the little canyon a way to the south of Zenerbael. A strange feeling of ‘there’s nothing to see here, look away’ permeated the valley. I watched a young Kagouti wander out of the valley and start munching on the prickly thorns of a nearby bush. And then it struck me ~ the valley floor was thick with the ash-dust that blankets this whole region and I had just seen a fairly hefty creature walk out of it. Where, then, were the Kagouti’s footprints?

Standing just inside the two boulders that marked the entrance to the canyon, I extended a hand and visualised the shape of the magic I wanted to cast. When it was complete in my mind, I spoke the words, “Ostendo sum”. There was a rippling in the air and, when it cleared, the little valley stretched in front of me.

Except that there was now a mass of footprints on the dusty ground ~ and many of them were not Kagouti: unless you know many that wear boots. Moreover, what had been a blank rock wall at the end of this canyon now sported a door. Some powerful magic was in place here, I thought as the scene returned to its former tranquillity. Moving carefully, hands outstretched, I walked down the valley until I could feel wood under my fingers. The door wasn’t locked, but did open with a creaking sound that made me freeze in place. When nothing happened, I slid my way inside.

The dark rock walls were lit from a light-source deeper in the cavern but there was nobody about. Carefully drawing my sword so as not to make a sound, I snuck further down the corridor. There was an odd warping in front of my eyes as a patch of thin air suddenly became the shape of a Bonemold armoured knight, the crash of his blade against my arm denting and cracking the chitin armour and throwing me forcefully against the rough stone walls.

I rolled out of the way as the heavy blade struck sparks from the spot where my head had been a few seconds before. Lashing out with my foot, I managed to strike the armoured warrior on the knee: eliciting a grunt of pain and forcing him a step or two back. That gave me just enough time to grab my fallen blade and scramble to my feet. My left arm ached abominably and there was an uncomfortable wetness under the armour that boded ill. We circled each other warily, seeking an opening. Silently, deep beneath the black rock, we fought ~ thrust and parry exchanged at speeds that stretched the limit of my abilities. After moments that stretched like hours, we stood apart panting as we glared at each other. He had scored another good hit on me, once more damaging my left arm so that the blood flowed freely. I had managed to crack his shield, and he was nursing a nasty cut that ran from just below his right eye to the corner of his mouth.

Spitting blood from his mouth, the knight grinned ferally at me, he now had the measure of me and knew he outclassed me. Dropping his shield, he lunged at me and I managed ~ barely ~ to avoid his thrust. Knowing that his greater reach and longer sword were a major threat, I closed the distance between us and threw myself into the fight. We grappled and slashed at each other until, with a leg-sweep, he brought me down. Straddling me, he brought up his blade for the killing blow.