The Story of Trey- Chapter 11 Options

[treydog]

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Frank Herbert, Dune, "Litany Against Fear", 1965

Chapter 11

As I stared into the slowly moving waters of the Odai, thinking about fathers and sons, and the price we pay to be part of a family, I was reminded of a promise I had made seemingly long ago. When I had gone to Hassour Zainsubani to learn all I could of the customs and culture of the Ashlanders, he had mentioned his son, Hannat. He had asked me, if I saw Hannat, to remind him to send word that he was still well and to remember that his father worried about him. And he had told me that, the last he knew, his son intended to map the cavern complex known as Mamaea, west of Red Mountain. If I could not bring myself to speak with my own “family,” at least I could bring reassurance and comfort to someone else’s And I owed much to Hassour- without his guidance I might have made serious, perhaps fatal, mistakes when I first approached the Urshilaku. Although it had nothing to do with the path of prophecy, this was a debt of honor. If, as I believed, I was going to my death at Red Mountain, I would not leave this task undone. In truth, I should have done so long ago, and it troubled me that I had allowed my self-absorption to make me forgetful. As I packed up my possessions and cast a last pebble into the river, I thought what a wonderful thing it must be to have a father who was concerned for you. And then I thought what a great burden it is to have children, who must be allowed to go out into the world and risk their lives.

Despite their name, the Mamaea caverns were not particularly close to the Foyada Mamaea, which ran past Fort Moonmoth near Balmora. Instead, the caverns were in a hilly area about halfway between Gnisis and Caldera. Almost as soon as I had entered the water-smoothed passages, I was attacked by one of the Sixth House cultists known as a “Dreamer.” If these caverns were being used as a base by the Dagoth-worshippers, I feared greatly for Hannat’s safety. That initial attack had warned me, though, so I was able to make use of my bow and my stealth to wage a single-handed war on the Sixth House minions within the outer caverns. In one side chamber, I came upon a sight which almost caused me to despair- a skeletal corpse, with knife marks on the bones that made it clear that the unfortunate had become a meal for the insane cultists. Still, there was no proof that this was Hannat, and so I forged ahead. Besides the Sixth House madmen, I found little of interest in the outer cavern complex. One unexplained mystery did present itself and I will note what I saw, though I still have no explanation. In one chamber there rose a great stone column, surrounded by a pool of water. This edifice seemed to be entirely natural, without tool marks or inscriptions of any kind. Although I levitated to the top, I could not discern any purpose that it might serve. My only thought was that it had been intended to become a great sculpture of some god or demon, such as those that were still scattered about the island. If that were the case, something had prevented the builders from even beginning their work. Regardless, the solution to such mysteries was not the goal I sought in these dim passages, so I attached a fresh bow-string and moved on.

There is little to say of the remaining hours that I spent in those dark tunnels. I slew the followers of the Sixth House wherever I found them, without mercy and without remorse. They attempted to do the same to me, and I accumulated a number of new scars to go with the old ones. My arrows were running low as I picked the lock on one of the seemingly endless slatted gates that divided the passages and spied a figure moving in the shadows. I had nocked an arrow and drawn the bow when I paused. Although the half-naked Dunmer looked much like the Dreamers, there was something about the way he held himself that stayed my hand. Too, he was not armed, not even with one of the clubs those crazed fanatics seemed to prefer. Easing the tension on the bow-string, I called out to him,

“Step forward into the light, dark elf, and give me a reason that I should not kill you.”

He complied and said in a weary voice,

“Death would be a relief to me after having been captive here for so long. And it would be an end to the terrible dreams I have been having since those madmen grabbed me and stole my gear. But do me one favor- after you kill me, seek my father at the Ald Skar Inn in Ald’ruhn and tell him that Hannat died well.”

With a relieved laugh, I lowered the bow and replied,

“I would rather tell my good friend Hassour that his son lives, if it is all the same to you.”

I then explained that I had come to Mamaea specifically for this purpose, and that I would be glad to take Hannat wherever he wished to go. For his part, the young Dunmer explained that he would be satisfied if I could simply escort him safely from the caves. He could offer me no reward, having been robbed of all he owned, but he promised me that his father would honor the debt. We were soon breathing the fresh air of the West Gash and Hannat thanked me again and reminded me to see Hassour. He shook my hand and said,

“Tell him that I am well, and I will come to him as soon as I can. I have no token you might show him, but tell him that I ‘blossom anew beneath tomorrow’s sun’—he will know who has sent you.”

I suppose I could have left it at that- gone to Ald’ruhn and given Hassour the good news. That had been my intent, after all. But I had not checked every part of this Sixth House outpost and I could not leave without doing so. A part of me has always rebelled at the idea of leaving a job unfinished, even if it is unpleasant. Too, it seemed to me that part of my destiny was to cleanse these foul warrens and drive the minions of Dagoth Ur out from every hole in which they lurked. So it was that I turned back into Mamaea to finish the job. The worst encounter I had was with the “keeper” of the shrine deep inside the cave. Not worst because she was a fierce warrior, but because she was there voluntarily. Unlike the Dreamers and the ash slaves, Zula was a “normal” Dunmer. She was there not because of the Dreams, but because she had made a conscious decision to join the cause of Dagoth Ur. I searched the area of the shrine and found several interesting items, including a Daedric helm inscribed “The Face of Inspiration.” I wasn’t sure what the demonic visage was intended to inspire, other than nightmares, but it was a valuable piece of armor, so I packed it away. There were also some filthy boots that I almost let go; some fortunate impulse made me wipe away the grime- underneath it, they were made of ebony. Finally, there was a dagger which fairly vibrated with magicka. Recalling the seductive song of the sword Fury, I examined the dagger with great care before picking it up. At last, I knew that I would have to take the chance of touching the blade if I were to “read” the magicka. As I closed my fingers around the hilt, the weapon seemed to almost leap into my hand. For a long moment I seemed to be seeing through the eyes of others, who moved through shadows and struck in alleyways and audience chambers, then slipped away. As my vision cleared, I knew what I held. This was the legendary blade of assassins, the Fang of Haynekhtnamet. As I had done with Fury, I wrapped the Fang carefully and put it away securely. A weapon like that was a drug, the more one used it, the more he would want to. I had no desire to lose my soul in that way.

I cast Recall, leaving nothing in Mamaea but the corpses of the Sixth House minions and the sighing of the wind. When I reached Ald’ruhn, I walked with a light step, knowing that I carried good news. I soon found Hassour at his accustomed table in the Ald Skar, where I told him of my encounter with his son. When I quoted the bit of verse, he jumped up from his chair and grasped both my arms. Then he spoke with quiet emotion,

“You have spoken with my son? Indeed? He blossoms 'anew beneath tomorrow's sun'? That is my son. And you have rescued him from a terrible fate, if that is his message. He owes you a debt of gratitude, and I am proud to pay that debt. Who can place a value on life? But please accept these five pieces of raw ebony, rare and valuable. And from me personally, accept this, my own personal blade, and this, the ring from my own finger. May these gifts bless you, as you have blessed my son.”

It was then that I understood far more about what it was to be a father. And I knew that, no matter what might become of me, Athyn Sarethi would never turn his back on me. A true father loved his children, always.

This post has been edited by treydog: Aug 29 2010, 10:32 PM

[treydog]

In truth, I was surprised by the ease with which I defeated Calvario. Vampires were supposed to be fearsome opponents, difficult to overcome. Of course, it was also said that they hunted in packs, making them far more deadly. Perhaps this creature had been an outcast- even Kaushad had mentioned that Calvario was “young.” So it would not do to assume that all vampires would be so easily dispatched. Not that I had any intention of turning vampire-hunter- that struck me as a remarkably foolish occupation. Vampires were frighteningly clever and they communicated with each other. Anyone who declared war on those “princes of the undead” might find himself to be the quarry rather than the hunter. I already had enough enemies- human, elven, and supernatural- who desired my death. At least I had completed the quest for the Zainab ashkhan and could move on to the Erabenimsun. After all that had happened, I should have known that it wouldn’t be that simple.

When I returned to the Zainab camp, I was ready for Kaushad to be skeptical, but nothing could have prepared me for what actually happened. He did not doubt my report in the least. All he said was,

“Dead. Well, then. Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps you should be the Nerevarine.”

Just as I was beginning to feel better though, waiting for him to say the words and perhaps give me a token of my position, Kaushad surprised me. He shuffled his feet a bit, cleared his throat, and looked everywhere but at me. If I had thought it possible for someone with such a bloated ego, I would have believed that the ashkhan was embarrassed. Finally, he spoke,

“Well. So you killed the vampire Calvario? Well. I will be happy to acknowledge you as Zainab Nerevarine. But... it is customary for one seeking an honor from the Ashkhan to offer the Ashkhan a generous gift as a mark of respect. Because you are an outlander, and do not know our customs, I will do you the great favor of naming the gift I wish to receive -- a high-born Telvanni bride -- a pretty one, plump, with big hips to bring me many sons.”

Before I could even start to frame a reply to such an outrageous request, Kaushad pushed on. It seemed that once he had gotten over his hesitation, he couldn’t talk about his idea fast enough. He continued,

“Where will you find a high-born Telvanni bride? That is simple. You should visit high-born Telvanni lords and inform them that Ashkhan Kaushad of the Lordly Zainab would do them the honor of making their daughter his bride. Surely many Telvanni lords would be honored to receive such an offer. Consider carefully the many daughters offered and choose for me the finest. Take counsel with my wise woman, Sonummu Zabamat. She knows my mind well in such matters.”

That I didn’t respond immediately and negatively had far less to do with restraint than with the fact that I was completely stunned. Mumbling something polite, I managed to get myself out of Kaushad’s presence. Standing in the center of the Zainab camp, I tried to think what I could have possibly done to the gods to make them hate me so. Go to the Telvanni lords and ask them to parade their daughters before me like cattle at an auction? Tell them that one of their pampered princesses was going to have the “honor” of becoming the bride of an Ashlander? I could save myself a lot of time, not to mention suffering, if I just fell on my sword right now. The only Telvanni lord I had met was Divayth Fyr, and he was actually fairly reasonable. In a 4000-year-old wizard who created his own wives sort of way. The thought of asking him or any other Telvanni such a thing was more than I could imagine. I envisioned spending the rest of my life as a small frog in a pond full of hungry slaughterfish. As the surprise wore off, the anger started to bubble up. I was aware of the concept of “arranged marriages,” and thought of them as little better than slavery by another name. Besides my feelings about slavery, I was no procurer for vain, jumped-up petty lordlings. This was just too much. I wouldn’t do it. I would tell Kaushad he would have to come up with something else. I would…. As I thought all of those things, I knew that none would avail. I turned unerringly to the place where I knew Red Mountain glowered at the center of Vvardenfell and thought about the true meaning of evil. What Kaushad asked was stupid, selfish, and even arrogant- but it wasn’t evil. If I failed in my quest to be named Nerevarine, the prophecies would also fail. I would live out whatever time was left to me as a Failed Incarnate, hunted by the Temple, shunned by my House, eventually to die and hold vigil as a shade in the Cavern of the Incarnate. All because I refused to try, because I was afraid. I was a clever fellow, with a glib tongue. I had talked my way out of trouble before. Of course, that was different than talking a Telvanni lord out of a daughter…. But I had to try. And then I remembered that the ashkhan had said one intelligent thing- he had advised me to take counsel of Sonummu. The wise woman struck me as someone who might have a plan for handling this foolishness in a way that wouldn’t get me killed or turned into something that hopped and ate flies.

The wise woman had a plan, all right. Unfortunately, the plan presented problems of its own. Sometimes it seemed that I would never get out of the camp of the Zainab. It had been a foolish moment when I believed that craft and cunning would be easier to deal with than treachery. At least treachery was susceptible to a simple solution. The words “Zainab” and “simple” didn’t belong in the same sentence. Sonummu’s answer to my problem was this:

“Kaushad wants a Telvanni bride, eh? No high-born Telvanni would wed an Ashlander. But I have a plan. Go to my friend, Savile Imayn, slavemistress of the Festival Slave Market in Tel Aruhn, and tell her you need a pretty Dunmer slave to pose as a Telvanni lady. Then Savile Imayn will tell you what clothes to buy, and will dress her like a high-born Telvanni. Then escort the pretty slave to Zainab camp and present her to Ashkhan Kaushad as a high-born Telvanni bride. He won't know the difference.”

I didn’t really see how the change from procurer to trader in slaves was an improvement. I didn’t mind lying to Kaushad- gods knew, the arrogant boat deserved it. But I greatly minded having any business with slavers that did not involve my blade and their necks. Still, I thanked Sonummu for her counsel and left her tent. When you don’t have very many strongly-held principles, it is more difficult to bend or break the few you do have. Every part of me cried out against the practice of slavery- how could I face myself if I encouraged it by buying a person as if she were no more than a piece of furniture? As I debated with myself, I seemed to feel a cold pair of hands grasp my shoulders and firmly turn me again in the direction of Red Mountain. The message was clear- if I did not face the greatest evil, there would be no one left to fight the smaller evils.