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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Feeling much refreshed, I made my preparations for the day. If all goes well, I should be able to complete my pilgrimage today. To that end, I cast Void-Walk and travelled up to Gnisis. Making my way into the Temple, I was escorted upstairs and shown a mask set on a beautifully embroidered velvet cushion. Ah, I thought, another test.

“Where is the real Ash Mask?” I asked the Temple’s Curate. He smiled and led me up a ramp to a tall three-sided column that supported the bronze roof. There were three panels on the column, but only one of them was decorated with religious symbols ~ in this case a design depicting Saint Veloth leading the Chimer to Vvardenfell. Touching the panel made it slide upwards, revealing another mask hidden inside the hollow pillar. Above it was a plaque bearing the Grace of Justice.

Grace of Justice: "Thank you for your justice, Lord Vivec. I shall be neither cruel nor arbitrary, for fair dealing earns the love, trust, and respect of our people."

Pausing only to purchase the greasy block of Dreugh Wax I’d need at the Koal Cave Shrine, I left the Temple and headed towards the river.

“Erm, excuse me,” a quavering voice drifted up from below as I crested the high bank, “but could you, erm, look away?”

I stifled a giggle; there in the river below was an old Dunmer, pulling down his rough shirt to cover his… fundamentals. His skinny legs showed signs that he’d been standing there quite some times. Suppressing my mirth, I called out to him, “What appears to be the problem Muthsera?”

It turned out that Hentus Yansurnummu had been performing his morning ablutions in the river when Hainab Lasamsi had stolen his trousers. “I’d like them back. Very much,” Hentus bleated in quavering voice. One of the Legionnaires directed me towards Hainab Lasamsi, adding that the young man was an inveterate practical joker. It was the work of but a few moments to convince the youth to hand over the ragged trousers and I carried them back to the riverbank and set them down ~ all the while shielding my eyes so that the Ashlander wouldn’t be any more embarrassed.

“Thank you Ser,” he said, sitting beside me on a rock now that he’d… recovered his modesty. “I’m a poor Nomad and have very few belongings, but I’d be honoured if you’d partake of some of my Hackle-Lo Leaf.”

I demurred but it soon became obvious that the older Mer would be offended if I continued to refuse. So, taking the three broad green leaves he handed me, I tucked two into my pack and copied him ~ folding the leaf and putting it in my mouth. Chewing the leaf released a wonderful flavour, something like the wild mint I used to chew when I was a child but with a hint of something spicy and exotic. I also felt greatly invigorated. Hentus explained that chewing the Hackle-Lo was an Ashlander habit, and that it could keep you refreshed and hydrated on a long journey across the ash-wastes. Making a note to myself that I should get a stock of these in at Tel Vahl (both for myself and my guards), I thanked the old Mer and continued on my way.

Crossing the river, I found myself in some hilly, but pleasant, countryside. Various paths would their way around the bases of the green hills, shaded by the large trees that grew in profusion in this region. There were many intriguing plants growing here, and I stopped quite frequently to pick samples. After about three hours of walking, I could hear the crashing of waves on rock and the countryside started to change subtly. The hills were becoming lower and the rocky outcroppings more common.

With a suddenness that was surprising, I found myself at the lip of a high cliff overlooking a wide bay. Huge rocky ‘teeth’ of stone thrust up from under the water, worn into fantastic shapes by the passing years. A rocky path, bordered by a rope barrier, led down towards a beach. There, nestled at the back of the cove, I found the Koal Caves.

The shrine was just inside the cave entrance, and I placed the Dreugh Wax in the small bowl provided and read the Grace of Valour.

Grace of Valour: "Thank you for your valour, Lord Vivec. I shall not quail, nor turn away, but face my enemies and my fear."

There was more to the Koal Caves, a steep tunnel sloped away from the shrine but, since it was completed flooded and I had neither a spell nor potion that would allow me to breath water, I had to leave it. Sitting on a small nub of rock down by the beach, I took my midday meal in those pleasant surroundings before speaking the words that would send me halfway across the island to Ald’ruhn, “Ex hic absum, ut Ald’ruhn”.

I knew the way from Ald’ruhn to the Ghostgate and, wrapping the cloth I’d purchased back in Maar Gan around my face and chewing on one of my remaining Hackle-Lo leaves, I set off up the steep slopes towards the Temple. Apart from the inevitable Cliff Racer attacks ~ there seem to be more of them on the approaches to the Ghostfence than anywhere else on the island for some reason ~ there is little to report. As I approached the Temple, I did notice that a small Ashlander camp seemed to have sprung up on a nearby ridge since my last visit.

Gripping the shaft of the Last Wish tightly, I reached out and touched the softly glowing triangle set into the plinth before the gate. The rattle of heavy chains followed the soft click as the massive barred iron gate lifted slowly into the air. The dozen or so paces it took me to get to the second plinth seemed much longer. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached out and touched the second switch. With a rumble, the gate behind me descended and, as it thumped into place, the gate in front of me started to rise.

Ducking under the gate as soon as it had risen high enough for me to do so, I stepped out into the region known as The Red Mountain. The sky was oddly coloured, a reddish tinge seeming to suffuse the very air itself. The slopes of the mountain were formed of ancient basalt, slippery and dangerous under foot. Walking carefully to ensure I didn’t fall, and trying to look in three hundred and sixty different directions at once, I edged my way up the slope.

There was an oppressiveness to the region, once that seemed to grow with every faltering step up the mountainside that I took. I found my pace quickening, despite the severity of the slope and the dangerous footing. The flattened plateau to my right was a welcome sight and scrambling up the short path that led there, I came to the Ghostgate Shrine. I’d fetched one of my very limited supply of Soul Stones out of my pack even before I reached the weathered stone plinth. As I drew close, the stone in my hand flared and crumbled to dust. Quickly, breathlessly ~ for the sense of malignant observation was increasing ~ I knelt and read the inscription on the Shrine’s plaque.

Grace of Pride: "Thank you for your pride, Lord Vivec. I shall not doubt myself, or my people, or my gods, and shall insist upon them, and my ancient rights.”

I didn’t plan on lingering inside the Ghostfence for a second longer than I had to so I quickly spoke the cantrip that would translocate me to Balmora.
Feldrelo Sadri welcomed me back to the Temple and congratulated me on completing the Pilgrimage of the Seven Graces. “It is important that you understand the lessons that the Lord Vehk imparts through the pilgrimage,” Sadri said. “For these are the tenants by which the Temple operates. Take them to heart Layman Vahl, for they are important.

“Now, I don’t know if you wish to pursue your devotion to the Temple,” he said after I’d thanked him for the promotion. “If you do, I suggest you speak to the Proctors at Molag Mar or Ald’ruhn for further duties.”

Thanking him, I made my way to Dura gra-Bol’s house and sat there thinking about what Sadri had said. I could understand, now, why there was friction between House and Temple: the ‘rules’ set down by the Lord Vehk were diametrically opposed to the way we Telvanni do things. Still, I was fairly certain that pursuing promotion within the Temple would be a good thing. Firstly it would bring House and Temple closer together and, given the power of the latter, that could only be good for us. Secondly, the priests of the Temple had a great deal of personal power and influence ~ and power and influence was always interesting to a Telvanni.

Unrolling the apprentice scroll I’d picked up during one of my sojourns into a local tomb, I studied it carefully. The spell, ‘Black Scorn’, was a powerful and unpleasant spell designed to maze and confuse an opponent. After several hours of study, I finally understood how to construct and control the spell. Sighing, I retired to bed for the night.