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:

CODE

“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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Baladas certainly gave me a lot to think about today when I delivered his ring to him. He insisted on rewarding me for fetching the ring, despite the fact that I hadn't gone with the intention of gaining any rewards. The first part of his reward was a ring, enchanted with a powerful spell that would call down lightning on my enemies; the second part of my reward was an ancient volume entitled 'The Use of Ioun Stones: A Practical Treatise'. This, he assured me, was the definitive work on these ancient and powerful charms, detailing as it did the use of Ioun Stones, how to create certain of the rarer and more powerful stones, and a brief description of the powers and abilities of some of those powerful stones. But, even this largess wasn't enough for Master Baladas.

"Outside, you will find something I have been working on for a while." Indicating the Type II animalcule that was currently rolling around the end of the chamber he said, "I have had a chance to repair and improve that. And, while I was at it, I had a chance to repair another Blade-Sphere. That repaired and improved Blade-Sphere will be waiting for you outside Arvs-Drelen when you leave. It has limited intelligence I'm afraid ~ just enough to follow simple orders like 'FOLLOW', 'STAY', or 'GO'. I took the liberty of giving it the location of your tower so it will return there if told to leave you.

Ignoring my profuse thanks, he turned serious, "Now we have a matter of great moment to discuss. Master Aryon seeks to elevate you to the rank of Master in the belief that he will gain a valuable ally on the Council. Some time ago, you intimated to me that such blind loyalty could not be guaranteed. Is that still the case Sudhendra Vahl?"

"Good," he said when I told him I had serious doubts about Aryon's plans to integrate Great House Telvanni with the Empire. "There is a rank other than Master you can aspire to. When you are asked if you are willing to accept a promotion, ask to be promoted to the rank of Magister."

"Magister?" I asked.

"Yes, it's a rank that hasn't been used for some fifteen hundred years but it cannot be refused to any Telvanni that seeks it," he explained. "There is only one duty that goes with the rank: duel and kill the current Arch-Magister and take his place."

I felt my knees come unhinged, and I sat suddenly. Baladas grinned, obviously understanding the depth of my response. “I know the whole concept comes as a shock,” he said, “but I’d like you to think about it. Gothren is, I’m afraid, not the right Mer to lead the House for much longer. Because of the rules that govern the House, none of the existing Masters can take the title of Magister and challenge Gothren. There are others, within the House, who might be persuaded to take the title but you are, I’m convinced, the right person for the job. I won’t pressure you, you must make up your own mind ~ but it’s something I’d like you to consider.”

As I made my slow way down the corridor of Arvs-Drelen, my mind was awhirl. What Master Demnevanni was offering was nothing less than complete and total control of Great House Telvanni ~ and not just the Telvanni here on Vvardenfell, oh no. Total, complete, absolute control of all Telvanni-held territory here on Vvardenfell and in the surrounding Province. I had entertained ambitions to rise to a high rank in the Great House but Baladas’ ambition for me was far greater than I had dared envisage.

My musings were interrupted by a rumbling sound, and I realised that the ‘Shock Centurion’ (as Master Baladas called his latest creation) had approached me. What was it he’d said to me? Oh yes.

“Go Home,” I instructed the thing. There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the animalcule extended what appeared to be a dish made of fine wire from its head. This dish turned as though seeking something before folding up and sinking back into the artfully hidden recess. Rotating on its base, the Shock-Centurion folded itself down into a ball and trundled off. As it started to accelerate, I was treated to the entertaining sight of a huge Orcish legionnaire being forced to dive out of the way of the sphere as it thundered past him with no intention of slowing down or altering its course. I couldn’t help smiling as I considered the impact it would have along the route back to Tel Vahl.

That was to be the last happy moment on this particular day. I was buried deep in thought throughout the whole ‘strider journey to Ald’ruhn: contemplating what Master Demnevanni had told me about the rank of Magister. I had begged him not to mention the possibility to anyone else, once I had an understanding of the rules governing the position, while I considered his offer. Even after the shock of his suggestion, he’d been able to surprise me further by presenting me with news that another Master of the House was willing to provide me with support and backing if I took on the rank of Magister.

My thoughts were all a-jumble when I arrived in Ald’ruhn, and the walk up the steep path towards Ghostgate didn’t help to sort them out. However, the physical presence of the mystically powered barrier soon made itself felt. At first, you noticed a deep silence fall over the area ~ unless they are diseased, no creature will approach the Ghostfence. Then, as you advanced further along the path, you begin to notice the dust dancing in strange whorls and patterns: at the same time you become aware of the deep basso rumble of the Fence itself.

Tall, was my first thought on espying the Ghostfence itself. Huge pylons of stone rose from the bare rock, towering high overhead. From the top of each pylon extended massive copper rods: it was from these that the swirling mist of the Ghostfence itself was extruded. The Fence itself almost defies description looking, as it does, no more substantial than a spring mist. However, as you draw closer and the sheer power of it settles into your bones and makes your teeth vibrate, you begin to discern flickering patterns sweeping across the vast expanses between the pylons. Actually touching the Fence is impossible, eldritch forces buffet and hammer the very air within a few feet of the Fence itself ~ anyone foolish enough to make physical contact would be thrown away like so many leaves in a winter’s storm.

Head down, drowning in the throbbing hum of the Ghostfence; I trudged along the path that runs beside it for a way. Rational thought, indeed any thought, is almost impossible that close to this edifice to power. None too soon, the path turned away from the side of the Fence, descending steeply away until the hammer of sound became a faint but disconcerting bone-rattling hum again. At the foot of the path, a broad canyon swept up the mountainside back towards the Ghostfence. At the top stood the twin towers of Ghostgate itself.

Cupolas of weathered bronze capped the simple round towers, the spikes at their peaks sparking and crackling with the power of the Fence which rose magnificently on either side of the canyon ~ pylons of enormous size denoting where the Fence ended. Between the towers stood a simple gate, albeit of gargantuan size. A stone plinth stood before this awe-inspiring iron gate and, set upon it was a simple switch. This, I immediately understood, would open the outer gate and allow one to enter the dark tunnel that stretched between the towers. Partway down the tunnel was another plinth adorned with another switch. This would obviously open the gate that capped the other end of the tunnel.

Pressing my face between the bars, I peered along the tunnel and caught the tiniest glimpse of the Red Mountain region beyond. Black and glassy the steep slope looked, rising up sharply to block out any sight of the mountain beyond. There was something about that simple slope, something that made me shiver and turn away.

Inside the fortress-shrine, I was directed to Ralyn Othravel: although I’d known he was an Ordinator from my questions downstairs, it was still a shock to see that golden armour wrapped around the huge Mer. He indicated a willingness to speak with me, so I launched into the conversation. “I am given to understand that you have an ebony bow,” I said. “I have some valuable treasures here and wondered if you’d be willing to trade…”

“No,” he said flatly. I was surprised, surprised enough not to read the warning signs on his face