The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Vehk's Path Options

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When I awoke this morning, I was certainly feeling the effects of my fight with Gothren and the Clan Berne. Every single bone in my body seemed to ache and the fatigue I felt screamed in every fibre of my being. Wearily, I opened a portal to Sadrith Mora and translocated to the market square. Llunela took possession of the book eagerly, summoning one of her seemingly inexhaustible supply of messengers to take it to Baladas Demnevanni immediately. “If you’ll pardon me for saying so Sed Vahl,” she said, after examining me for a moment, “but you don’t seem to be very well.”

“It’s been a hard few days,” I responded. “The fight with Gothren wasn’t easy and somebody neglected to mention that Galom Daeus was crawling with vampires.”

She bit her lip and bowed her head, “I beg your forgiveness Arch-Magister,” she said contritely and formally, “I was unaware that vampires had made Galom Daeus their lair.”

“It’s of no consequence Llunela,” I told her firmly, “what is done is done, and there’s no need to make a fuss about it.”

“Thank you Sudhendra,” she said, relief coming off her like steam. “Have you used a large number of healing spells and potions recently?” she suddenly asked. When I confirmed that this was so, she nodded as if in understanding. “I thought as much. Scrolls, potions and spells can only repair so much damage and they consume a lot of the body’s resources to do so. Perhaps a visit to the Imperial Cult shrine up at Wolverine Hall is in order. Or, if you wish to avoid the Imperials, there are a number of very effective healers in Temple.”

“The Temple?” I asked, remembering the large structures in Balmora and Gnisis. “Do you really think that they can help?”

“I’m sure of it Sed Vahl,” she replied. She promised to keep me apprised of the progress on my stronghold while I made preparations to visit the Temple in Balmora.

It was with fairly mixed feelings that I mounted the sweeping stairs that led to the enclosed Balmoran Temple. On the whole, I tended to avoid religious organisations: mostly because the beating that my foster-father administered were so often given in the name of Stendarr, or Mara, to hammer the sin out of me. Don’t get me wrong, the Imperial Cults have done some sterling work but I was leery of them nonetheless. And this… foreign cult that seemed to dominate so much of Vvardenfell? I knew very little of it other than it controlled the Ordinators and wielded a great deal of power.

“Greetings traveller,” the soft voice of a robed and hooded priest sounded strangely harsh in the austere surrounding of the Temple building. Everybody knew about alien religions: the bizarre graven images, the strange behaviour, the wild chanting to unspeakable gods. Aside from a few wall-hangings and a strange circular pit set into the floor, the building was bereft of the trappings I’d expected. Indeed, the Temple was more austere than any Cult building I’d been in: the only oddity a triangular obelisk with engraved images on the front that stood in one corner. “How may we help you?” the priest continued.

I explained my situation in broad terms, leaving out my position as head of Great House Telvanni since I wasn’t certain what frictions might, or might not, exist between House and Temple. I really shouldn’t have bothered ~ I’d forgotten how gossipy the natives of this small island were, and just how quickly news can travel. “Of course we can help Sed Vahl,” the priest responded.

He led me over to the plinth I’d noticed earlier, asking me for a small donation to maintain the Temple. I handed over twenty-five Septims and, following his instructions, placed my hands on the cool stone and repeated his words, “May the blessings of ALMSIVI wash over me. May the strength of their power cleanse and heal me. May the light of their wisdom guide me now and in all things. The ending of the words is ALMSIVI.”

I gasped as a great power flooded into me, almost blinded by the brilliant sparks that swirled around me. I felt the bone-weariness fall away and the ache I’d woken with dissipate and vanish. Dropping my contact with the stone, I looked at the priest and smiled, “That was amazing.”

“Indeed,” the priest said. Then, in that soft accusative tone that priests seem to specialise in when speaking to their wayward flock, he added, “It has been many years since a member of Great House Telvanni saw fit to grace the Temple with their presence.” Pushing back the cowl of his robe to reveal a strong and handsome face, he added, “Their absence has often been noted by Temple hierarchy and commented upon. The poor grace with which missionaries are greeted in Telvanni lands, and the dearth of established Temples are also well known to us.”

Feeling as though I’d just stepped onto a very dangerous ledge, I said, “While I have the authority, I don’t have the power to compel my fellow Mage-Lords to do things they don’t wish to.”

“This is well known to us Sed Vahl,” he said softly, “we may be insular, but we are aware of Telvanni ways ~ even here in Balmora. That you are a stranger in a strange land and don’t know of our ways is also known to us. That Telvanni mores keep you doubly ignorant grieves us bitterly.”

“So, what would you suggest?” I asked.

“That you join the Temple,” he said simply, “openly and freely.”

“Um, what would that entail?” I asked, visions of being ordered to relinquish my hard-won position in Great House Telvanni floating through my mind.

“Nothing as drastic as giving up your current position Arch-Magister,” the priest said, causing me to shoot him a dark look. “A guess at your thoughts only,” he quickly assured me, reading my look as plainly as a book. “The duties would not be onerous,” he continued, “save that you would be required to undertake some pilgrimages to demonstrate your devotion, and some small tasks to demonstrate your piety. Such things, done without any surety of reward, would make a powerful statement from one in your position.”

And that is how I came to join the local Temple, guided by the subtle hand of that Power which had taken such interest in my dealings of late. Although that fact was not revealed to me until much, much later.

Feldrelo Sadri gave me a book entitled “The Pilgrim’s Path”. “It is the duty of all novices to complete the Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces,” he informed me, the capitals dropping almost audibly into place. “By following in the steps of the Lord Vehk, they demonstrate their devotion to the Temple and to the grace of ALMSIVI. When you have completed the pilgrimage, I will assess you and give you further tasks. Or, if you wish, you can visit Temples elsewhere on Vvardenfell and undertake duties for them.”

Bowing low, Feldrelo Sadri went deeper into the recess of the Temple, leaving me with a book and a pilgrimage to undertake. The book contained details of each of the seven shrines a novitiate needed to visit, along with details of what was required at each of the locations. Some, such as the shrine at the Fields of Kummu, had long and detailed descriptions ~ others, such as something called the Puzzle Shrine, had only the vaguest of instructions for getting to them and no detail at all about what was expected. One, called the Shrine of Red Mountain, was wreathed around with dire warnings about what dangers could be expected there.

Feeling that there was no time like the present, and being only a short distance from the first shrine detailed in the book, I caught the silt-strider to Suran: spending the time reading and re-reading the Pilgrim’s Path. One thing I knew for certain, the cowled, woollen robe I’d been given would take some getting used to after so long wearing fine clothing. Fortunately, the robe was big enough to fit over my armour, although Feldrelo Sadri had disapproved of me keeping it on. Which just went to show how little he really knew of Telvanni ways: the armour and the envenomed blade beneath my pillow were the only things between me and an ‘unfortunate, accidental stab in the dark.’ I’d also insisted on keeping the blade and axe with me, preferring to rely on them rather than the stout wooden staff I’d been given along with the robe.

As I crossed the bridge over the Nabia on my way towards the Fields of Kummu, I realised that the stout staff made an excellent walking aid. The road wended its way through the pleasant Ascadian countryside, the air redolent with the smell of late blooming flowers and the crisp tang of winter’s onset. It wasn’t too long before I’d arrived at the small triangular plinth that marked the shrine. Having had the foresight to purchase a small packet of Muck from the alchemist in Suran, I placed the glutinous substance in the bowl provided and read the stanza engraved on the shrine.

Grace of Humility: "Thank you for your humility, Lord Vivec. I shall neither strut nor preen in vanity, but shall know and give thanks for my place in the greater world."

According to the Pilgrim’s Path, the next nearest shrines (three of them) are to be found in Vivec City. Accordingly, I shall make those my next priority. I returned to Balmora and sought shelter in the Temple, figuring that if the Camonna Tong wished to wreak bloody vengeance on me, the fact I was on hallowed ground might give them pause.

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Deciding that, since I had three shrines to visit, I didn’t want to waste time taking the silt-strider down to Vivec City I’d make use of the Guild-Guide service at the Mages Guild to get there instead.

“What do you mean,” I roared in frustration at the sneering mage in front of me, ”you won’t send me to Vivec City?”

“We don’t like your kind Telvanni,” she hissed. “And you can’t compel me to transport you anywhere if I don’t want to.”

“Listen to me,” I said. “If you don’t transport me to Vivec City this very instant I’ll make you rue the day your mother whelped you.”

“Huh,” she said, tossing her braided hair insolently. “You stand in the heart of a Guildhouse and think you can threaten me? Think again Telvanni, my fellow Mages would cut you down before you could form the first syllable of a spell.”

Knowing that to be true, I had to find an alternate method of ‘persuading’ her. In the end it cost me two hundred Septims to persuade her to send me to Vivec City, and that was in addition to the cost of actually using the Guild-Guide service. For which I’m sure I was over-charged. Vowing dire retribution on all members of the Mages Guild, I stormed through the chambers and passageways of the Vivec City Guildhouse, pushing people out of my way. If it takes a thousand years, I thought slamming open the main door and stepping into the Foreign Quarter plaza, I will make those bloody Mages grovel.

I wove through the crowds, barely noticing how they parted before me: so black was my mood. Perhaps it was the scowl on my face, or my religious attire, that made them move out of my way. Whichever, I was still fuming and really didn’t care. Hailing a passing gondola, I instructed the gondolier to take me to the Temple. The journey soothed me somewhat, the gentle splashing of the long pole as it entered the water and the gentle rocking of the flat-bottomed boat combining to lift the black cloud that hovered metaphorically over my head. By the time we arrived at the long wooden stairs that led up to the Temple Canton, I was quite my normal self. Not that I had any less desire to rain death and destruction on the stiff-necked Mages ~ but I had a very long time to plan my revenge.

Ornately carved frescos extended around the raised platform in front of me, repeating patterns of the letters “A”, “S”, and “V” raised up from a dark green band. This pattern was repeated on the doorways and bridges at the main part of the Canton, as well as up the sides of the broad stairs that led to the Temple’s main buildings. The vaulting arches of the main building rose above me, carved and crenulated in fantastic patterns. A broad tunnel led from the front of the building through to the back, giving a fantastic vista of the huge building rising up behind the Temple. Ordinators strutted back and forth in their gilded armour, plumes and capes flapping in the stiff breeze that came from the south. Throngs of pilgrims gathered around vendors selling all manner of religious paraphernalia ~ from ‘genuine pieces of Indoril Nerevar’s robes” to “the Sermons of the Lord Vehk, personally blessed by the Arch-Cannon”.

According to the Pilgrim’s Path, I need to donate a single rising force potion at the Shrine of Daring. Cutting through the crowds, I found a Dunmeri female selling a variety of potions ~ she was doing a fairly brisk business in cheap levitation potions for the Shrine. Purchasing one, I waited in line and approached the flower-strewn block of stone. As soon as the pilgrim in front of me had made his libation to the site, read the inscription and moved away, I stepped forwards. Uncorking the cheap earthenware flask, I poured the contents onto the stone plinth, kneeling to read the inscription.

Grace of Daring: "Thank you for your daring, Lord Vivec. I shall not shun risk, nor hide behind the mask of cautious counsel, for fortune favours the bold."

I rose to my feet and walked away from the shrine, stopping when I heard a gasp from the crowd. I suddenly seemed to be the focus of a good deal of attention and it took me a moment to realise why. I was standing there, in the same cowled robe that many of the pilgrims who’d donated to the shrine were wearing, as were many of those waiting to donate to the shrine. None of them, however, was hovering a foot above the inlaid marble floor of the plaza. Glad that the deep hood of the robe hid my embarrassment, I made a determined effort to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground and lost myself in the crowd.

Once I was in the relative seclusion of the tunnel that joined the front of the plaza to the back, I found a scroll of dispel and cast it on myself. Leaping upwards, I found myself hovering a few inches below the arched roof. With gritted teeth, I made my way back down to floor level and planted myself firmly on the ground.

“If you’re waiting for it to wear off Novice,” an amused voice said, “it could take a while.”

It was the potion-seller, taking a break from selling her wares. Danso Indules introduced herself to me and explained. “That’s the blessing of the Shrine of Daring: a personal indication of favour from the Lord Vehk. Only those who are here on the Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces receive such a blessing.”

“How long,” I asked desperately, “does the blessing last?”

“It varies according to the Lord’s whim,” she said. “It may last four or five hours, it may last an entire day.”

I groaned into my hood, a whole day having to concentrate so that I didn’t float off into the wide blue yonder. I hoped the Lord Vehk had woken this morning feeling out of sorts, perhaps then this ‘blessing’ would be mercifully short.

We spoke for a while, Danso Indules and I, and she gave me some insight into the workings of the Temple as well as some background information on Ayem, Soth, and Vehk ~ better known as Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec, the three gods of the Tribunal. She also gave me a warning. “Be wary around the city pilgrim,” she commented. “Two Ordinators and five Outlanders have had their throats cut in the last ten days. I hear that the Office of the Watch is looking into it but, until whoever is responsible is caught, take care if you’re travelling in the more secluded parts of the citadel.”

Thanking her, I made my slow and careful way down the tunnel and so caught my first proper sight of the multi-tiered edifice of The Palace of Vivec. Five great bastions of engraved and worked stone rose up in front of me, each tier smaller than the one below it. The final tier was shaped like a smaller version of the main Temple building, only made of a stone that glowed softly in the sunlight. Around each tier ran a water channel and vast plumes of water thundered down from each tier in an artful design that gave the whole building the appearance of something that had just risen from the depths of the ocean. From the plaza level a short flight of stairs led down to the lower level of the Temple Canton ~ a huge flight of steps rose up the face of the Palace right up to the doors at the top.

Have you ever attempted to climb stairs while trying not to float off into the sky? Let me assure you, it is not the easiest of things to do. By the time I reached the top, I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream in frustration. Finally deciding that neither was wholly appropriate for a holy site, I turned to one of the two identical Shrines and made an offering of two hundred Septims.

Grace of Generosity: "Thank you for your generosity, Lord Vivec. I shall neither hoard nor steal, nor encumber myself with profitless treasures, but shall share freely among house and hearth."