The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Part 3 Options

[OverrideB1]

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.

[OverrideB1]

Dawn greeted me as I left the tower and stood in the dusty vale of Uvirith's Grave. I couldn’t help but notice that there was a small growth at the side of my tower and another conical growth a little way away from it. Raissu was quick to explain that the growth abutting my tower was going to be her abode while the free standing growth (which was actually a modified root-stem from my own tower) was to be Menas’ alchemy store.

“And that is…” I asked, pointing to the deep rectangular pit that had been started off to the south of the tower.

“The mercenary barracks,” she said. “I’ve put Kallin Basalius in charge of arranging that. She’s got some stone mason in from Balmora to build the barracks.” Anticipating my next question, she added, “Kallin is off exploring the area around here for any more bandit hideouts and to scout out the area. Apparently she’s not too happy about the way these hills block the view of the approaches to the tower.”

“Show her this,” I said, quickly sketching the watchtower I’d seen at Bal Isra. “See if she can incorporate something like this into the defences.”

Raissu gave me a quick smile and assured me it would be taken care off. Feeling that the development of Tel Vahl was in good hands, I translocated to Tel Branora to speak to Mistress Therana.

“I don’t want this,” she snapped, glaring at the Ebony bow I’d given her. I’d felt a strange reluctance to hand it over but I reasoned that was why I was there so I’d given it her. “It stinks of Ash Yams. And I hate the smell of Ash Yams.” I winced as the valuable bow clattered into the corner.

“If I give you money,” she said, winking at me slyly, “will you go away?” I assured her that I would, knowing that any discussion of support for my promotion would be worthless given her current mood. She giggled like a little girl and handed me a bag she claimed contained five thousand Septims.

I left Therana’s chambers at speed: whatever else the bag contained it wasn’t money and I certainly wasn’t going to open the bag and give her a chance to realise her mistake. From the bulk and heft of it, it was armour of some kind ~ very, very heavy armour. I was prepared for just about anything other than the grey metal that greeted my eyes when I opened the sack. With trembling fingers I picked out a heavy cuirass made of the same grey/black metal as worn by Divayth Fyr. Strange designs were picked out on the surface in deep reds and crimsons and a heavy leather tabard hung from the bottom, front and back, to protect the legs. A matching pair of greaves was the other item in the sack. And both of them sang with high-grade magic.

Sloughing the Bonemold, I struggled to lift the massive cuirass onto my shoulders. There was no way on Tamriel that I could use this, but I just had to see how it felt to wear it.

“Here, let me help you,” a female guard said, taking the cuirass from me. She was wearing what appeared to be the top half of an animalcule and the head of one too. I’d seen this before, on my visit to the councillors of the Redorans and had learned it was Dwemeric armour. Almost as heavy as the Daedric armour she was helping me into, so she certainly didn’t lack for strength.

As the heavy metal settled around my shoulders I was aware of a very odd sensation. For the briefest of instants I was almost crushed under the descending weight yet, once it was in place, it was as though I was wearing no armour at all. I took several tentative steps, expecting to be on my knees after the first couple, however it was as though the cuirass didn’t exist.

“A feather spell!” I exclaimed delightedly. All modesty forgotten, I quickly unlaced the chitin greaves and threw them down alongside the Bonemold cuirass. It was a struggle to get the heavy armour into place but, to my continued delight, they too were ensorcelled with a constant feather spell. This armour was a work of art, whichever enchanter had created these items had been a master at his craft: exquisitely balancing the spell so that it perfectly counteracted the weight of the armour. As for worth, I couldn’t even begin to guess, the armour alone and without enchantments was worth more money than I could imagine. As it was, I was frightened to even speculate.

Throwing my travel-worn cloak over my shoulders, I spoke the words that would open a passageway to Sadrith Mora. From there, I chartered a vessel that would take me up to Tel Aruhn. When the ‘Elf-Skerring’ dropped me at the docks in Tel Aruhn, my first thought was that I was in the wrong place. The sight of the massive stone door set into the mountainside soon dispelled that thought. Despite the mass, the door swung open easily enough and I stepped into a winding corridor that delivered me to the other side of the mountain. Gothren’s stronghold rose up from the side of the mountain, the top of the tower hidden from the other side of the island by the mountain-peak.

I narrowed my eyes as I walked through the slave-market that thrived near the stone door. While I understood perfectly that slavery was legal in Morrowind Province, such blatant displays made me distinctly uneasy. It was also an indicator of the Arch-Magister’s nature. Of all the Telvanni sites I’d visited, only Neloth and Gothren openly promoted the sale of slaves. Therana had her slaves, but no market selling them, while I hadn’t seen a single slave at Tel Vos, Arvs-Drelen, Tel Fyr, or Tel Mora. Of course, I hadn’t fully explored any of the Tels except Master Aryon’s so I might be making a mistake about that.

“Senise Thindo?” the House guard replied to my question. “She’s a retainer of Gothren’s, you’ll probably find her in the living quarters atop the tower.”

That took me closer to Arch-Magister Gothren than I liked. Perhaps I was being paranoid, but I couldn’t avoid the feeling that people were watching me rather more closely than they normally would. Perhaps it was simply that I was a stranger in a place that strangers rarely visit, and I really hoped that was the case
.
Senise Thindo turned out to be much younger than I expected, barely out of her teens. She greeted me amiably enough, only developing a frown when I told her why I was there. Moving possessively in front of a chest of drawers, she said, “Who are you here on behalf of?”

“Does that really matter?” I asked, maintaining a friendly attitude.

She shook her head. “I suppose not,” she said, “but I’d be willing to wager money that it’s Neloth. That greasy pig has been trying to get his hands on the Robe of The Drake’s Pride since my mother left it to me.” My heart sank; I’d been hoping that the robe would be easy to obtain after my experiences with Othravel and the Ebony bow. To find out it was the final gift of a dying mother was a bitter blow.

Not all was lost though. I had noticed a large number of Soul Stones scattered around and quickly confirmed that Senise was a trainee enchanter. Although it grieved me to do so, I made her an offer. “Look,” I said, “I will make no bones about this; I’m here for the robe and I mean to get it. I’d much rather not have to resort to bloodshed if it can be avoided. So, here’s the deal. You give me the robe and I will give you this ring.”

She looked at the ring critically as I took it off and dropped it in her outstretched hand. Suddenly she stiffened and examined the silvery metal more closely. “Is this real?” she asked tremulously.

“Yes,” I confirmed, “that is the Mentor’s Ring.”

“You’re willing to trade this for my robe? The ring is worth much more than the robe ~ simply for its provenance.” I confirmed that I was willing to trade one for the other. With a nod, she slipped the ring onto her finger, her face flushing as the power it conferred coursed through her. Turning, she slid open the topmost drawer of the chest and fetched out a carefully wrapped package. Cutting the twine, she opened the waxed paper parcel and took out a green robe.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, somewhat crossly.

“I was just trying to imagine Neloth wearing that,” I spluttered.

Senise looked at the green robe, taking in the fine golden chains across the part that would expose the wearer’s midriff; the raised and filigreed collar; the flare of fabric falling in pleats from the waistband of the garment. She started to chuckle. Soon we were both helpless with laughter, drawing several very strange looks from the other occupants of the tower as they passed by about their business.

With the transaction complete and the Robe of The Drake’s Pride safely back in its waxed parcel and tucked away in my pack, I again opened the way to Sadrith Mora. There was one more item I needed to collect.

Why are Bosmeri so difficult to deal with? I sometimes wonder if it’s the lack of greenery in their diet that give the whole race a collective death wish. I’d taken the same approach with Berengeval as I had with Senise Thindo: namely, offering some expensive item in exchange for the specific item I sought. Where it had worked with the young Dunmeri female, the offer seemed to enrage the Bosmer.

To cut a long and sorry tale short, I ended persuading the sawn-off runt to give me the amulet Dratha wanted with the sharp edge of an axe. He was an excellent marksman armed, as Bosmeri so often are, with a crossbow. It didn’t seem to occur to him that his shots were bouncing harmlessly off the armour beneath my robe. Rushing towards him, I closed the distance quickly enough to render his crossbow completely useless and applied a little persuasion.