The Story of Trey- Chapter 13 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 13

As I made the slow trek to the Urshilaku camp, I thought about trust. Nothing in my youth had made me believe in the honor or the honesty of others. Mostly, they seemed to be interested in what they could get from you. And, with that philosophy, I had become a thief. But then, I was accepted by House Redoran and made a member of a family. Even though they expected me to perform services for them, they repaid me with loyalty and honor. And then, despite all my worries about their reactions to my role as the Nerevarine, they had continued to support me. The fact was, they trusted me- knew that I shared their code of honor. So much so that they had even sided with me against their Archmaster. And that meant that I should have trusted them to be honorable and fair, as well. Though I didn’t realize it, my musings on trust would be tested much sooner than I had anticipated.

The camp was as I had remembered it- a small cluster of tents in the Ashlands, huddled on the coast of the Sea of Ghosts. These were the people to whom I owed the most, the people whose lives had been made harsh and savage by the constant scheming of the Empire, Dagoth Ur, the Temple, even the Great Houses. If I were to see the path of prophecy to its bitter end, it would be for the Ashlanders that I did so. After greeting the Urshilaku working among the tents, I approached Nibani Maesa’s tent and asked permission to enter. The wise woman smiled to see me, overcoming her usual reserve just a bit. When she asked me, “What news, outlander,” I showed her the tokens of the Great Houses that proved that I had fulfilled the Fourth Prophecy. Then I told her of the attempt by the Temple to lure me to Vivec City, where they no doubt planned to imprison or do away with me. A strange look passed over her face at that, and then she said,

“I have thought long upon the Sixth Trial, Trey. I was blind, but Azura's star has guided me through my dreams. Vivec's high priest, Saryoni, has asked to see you when you are Hortator and Nerevarine. Go to him, and demand to speak with the false god Vivec. Vivec has tried to keep Kagrenac's Tools secret, but you will need these tools when you stand before Dagoth Ur. Get Kagrenac's Tools from Vivec. They are the keys to the riddle of the Sixth and Seventh Trials.”

Completely stunned, I could only stare at her in amazement. How could Nibani, of all people, send me to the very stronghold of our enemies? When I caught my breath, I asked her what Kagrenac’s Tools had to do with anything. She quoted a verse from the Lost Prophecy that I had brought from the Dissident Priests,

“ ‘Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade.' Gilvas Barelo has told you of Kagrenac's Tools, the enchanted devices the Tribunal use to steal power from Lorkhan's heart. One of these tools is the blade Keening. Your star-blessed hand must wield Keening. If Vivec has this blade, it is your fate to take this blade from him.”

So quickly was my new understanding of trust to be tested- one of my closest advisers counseled me to rely on the honor of one of my greatest opponents. Though my mind rebelled, my heart knew that she was right. If all Azura had wanted was my death, she would have no need to go to so much trouble. Nibani was my guide, appointed to help me find my destiny. I had no choice but to follow her guidance.
Knowing that the ultimate struggle against Dagoth Ur was growing near, I decided to scout the approaches to Red Mountain before I went to Vivec. And, in truth, I was delaying the meeting with Saryoni, for I feared imprisonment and torture above all things. Although I knew that I must go to Vivec, must suffer whatever consequences were to come, still I put it off, with the excuse that I needed to know more about Red Mountain. What I discovered was the presence of evil, but I don’t think it stemmed from Dagoth Ur, at least, not directly. Near the foyada Bani-Dad, I came upon a Velothi dome, which seemed a good place to shelter from the ash-storm which had plagued me almost from the moment I left the Urshilaku. The runes on the entrance marked the ancient dwelling as “Shishi,” a peculiar name that I wish I had never heard. As I emerged into the entry, I nearly stripped over the body of a Dunmer sprawled across the floor. A quick examination revealed her to be a Telvanni servitor, and that she had been cut down by swords. Worse yet, she was unarmed, and the wounds showed that she had been running away from her killer. As I ventured deeper into the dwelling, I found more Telvanni cut down in their tracks. Then in the lower part of the dome, I found the greatest horror of all.

A person dressed in the bonemold armor of House Redoran, my House, stood with bared sword, surveying the carnage and searching the room. When I asked what passed, she turned with a snarl and attacked me. I blocked as best I could, while shouting,

“Cease this madness, Redoran! Do you not recognize one of your own House Fathers?”

My identification of myself as a ranking member of the House only seemed to redouble her fury, and it became clear that I was going to have to do more than block. Since her actions had shown her to be an outlaw, her execution was no more than simple justice. Even so, it went hard for me to be the purveyor of that justice. I heard a voice calling from above, asking,

“Anise? What are you playing at down there? Did you find another Telvanni?”

So there were others involved in this murderous rampage- perhaps they would be more reasonable about explaining their actions. When I reached the top of the stairs, that proved to be a vain hope, as two more Redoran guards set upon me. An icy rage overwhelmed me and I showed those rogues no more pity than they had shown the unarmed Telvanni retainers they had butchered. On the body of the leader, I found a partial explanation, a report that had been written in great haste. The document read,

CODE

As instructed, a party of five entered the Velothi tower of Shishi. Five Telvanni sorcerers fell and the tower is now ours, but we have suffered heavy losses. We will hold Shishi as long as we can and await your orders.



Brerama Selas

So, in addition to the crimes of murder and attacking a senior member of his House, this Selas added the venal sin of lying. Only three Redorans had been present, all hale and hearty. And the “five Telvanni sorcerers”? No more than simple unarmed servants, slaughtered when they were trying to escape. Unfortunately, the report was not addressed to anyone, but I vowed that I would find out who had ordered this atrocity. Whether the Telvanni had a legitimate claim to Shishi, I neither knew nor cared. Whatever the case, there was no excuse for this mindless brutality.

Sometimes, trust has to be paid for in blood. Although it horrified me that someone in my House could do such a thing, I was satisfied that I had been the instrument of justice. For good or ill, House Redoran would take care of its own.

[treydog]

At last I stood before Dagoth Ur, my sword in hand. This was the confrontation that had been fated long before I had ever heard of Vvardenfell, before I had even been born. And in that moment, my certainty deserted me. I knew that he was my enemy; that he was an insane, corrupting influence for all of Morrowind; but I was unsure what to do now that I faced him. Perhaps an Armiger or Ordinator would have attacked on sight, secure in their faith and belief in the Tribunal. But I couldn’t do that. Whether it was my peculiar sense of honor or my poor, stunted conscience, I don’t know- but something prevented me from simply striking without warning. Or perhaps it was the fact that Dagoth Ur had been there at the beginning of the events that led to this moment; that our fates were intertwined. I felt that I should speak to him, if for no other reason than to hear what he had to say about all this. Perilous though the conversation might be, it seemed only right. After all, I had heard Vivec’s story and those told by the Dissident Priests and the Ashlanders. Now I could hear from someone else who had been there. So I cleared my throat and asked,

“What happens now?”

Dagoth Ur turned his impassive mask to regard me and said,

“It began here. It will end here. Have you any parting words? Or would you prefer to skip the speeches, and get to our business? You are the challenger here, after all. So to you goes the courtesy of the first blow.”

I had always preferred trying to talk my way out of trouble- this time was no exception. So I responded,

“Why must they be ‘parting words’? After all, I just got here.”

It was impossible to tell what expression the face behind the mask wore, but his words and tone were regretful.

“Now that you have come to me here, there can be but one result. Many times I have considered offering to share this place with you. I considered offering to accept your oath of service. You might try to buy my trust by giving me Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. I thought we might once again be friends... comrades... brothers in arms.”

Then he shook his head and added,

“But I have won this place and power by right of conquest. By right of daring and enterprise. I will not risk it to cunning and deceit. I offer you no deals. If you are my enemy, I cannot trust you. And even if you are not my enemy, I cannot let you live. It will all be decided here. I believe I will prevail. But I cannot be sure, and I am vain enough that, should I fall, I would wish to be remembered in my own words. So, if you have final questions you would ask, ask them now. I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer.”

That seemed fair; besides, if we were talking, we wouldn’t be trying to kill each other. Therefore I said,

“I will answer your questions, if I can.”

Dagoth Ur squared his shoulders and asked,

“My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?”

That was an interesting question, one that I had pondered quite often. Nothing I had experienced had convinced me that I was, in truth, Nerevar. Considering how many other voices had taken up residence in my head from time to time, the Chimer general had been a remarkably quiet guest, if he was there at all. Because it seemed to me that there had been deceit enough from the beginning of this affair, I would not add more lies to those already told, so I spoke as truthfully as I could,

“I am my own man, beholden to neither gods nor Emperor. I am an adventurer who would decide his own fate.”

That answer seemed to please him, although his response was not terribly comforting,

“You are bold. I honor your independence. You are one to teach the gods their limits. I hope the bards will praise the glory of your death in song.”

He then said,

“My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Or will you complete Akulakhan, and dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?”

Here was dangerous ground. I could tell him what he probably expected to hear- that I would make myself into a god, or that I would challenge the Empire. But I still refused to lie, saying instead,

“I have my own, secret plan for the Heart.” That was true, yet did not reveal that my plan was to destroy the malign source of his power. Even better, that answer satisfied him, for he said,

“Well. Perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet. Or perhaps you obscure your plans on principle. Or perhaps you are an instinctive bluffer. No matter. My final question is: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?”

This time, the truth was easy- “No, I would never join you.” Surprisingly, he remained gracious,

“Thank you for your forthright response. And now, if you have any questions, ask them. Otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow.”

Wishing to delay the inevitable and also to find out more, I questioned him regarding his intentions for the Heart, the Dunmer, and Akulakhan. His answers proved not only his madness, but also the necessity of stopping him. He believed that corprus was the “touch of divinity,” and planned to spread it across all of Tamriel. With the transformed Dunmer and the animated giant called Akulakhan, he would carry conquest and disease throughout the world. Hoping to awaken some spark of the person he had once been, I asked him how he could justify the crimes he had committed in his pursuit of power. His answer boiled down to “the ends justify the means”- he was right; therefore whatever happened was not only necessary but just. In that moment I silently thanked whatever power or chance it was that had given me the ability to doubt myself. In Dagoth Ur, I faced the opposite, and his absolute certainty was the most frightening thing about him.

Unable to delay any longer, I admitted that I had no more questions, and he again offered me the opportunity to strike first. Yet even as I readied my sword, he proved himself to be a liar and a cheat. He sent forth a spell that instantly damaged my health as well as most of my abilities. As the fiery magical energy blossomed around me, my muscles weakened and my reflexes slowed. Furious at this latest example of his treachery, I thrust straight for his chest, for the place where he would have kept his heart if he had one. Making no attempt to dodge or block, Dagoth Ur countered with a backhanded blow that sent me to my knees. I gathered my wits and slashed furiously at his throat and unprotected chest, feeling the blade bite deep with every blow. A part of me thought, “This is too easy- surely he should be defending himself.” Then, between one sword-thrust and the next, he simply…vanished. I spun through a circle, expecting that he would appear behind me, but the chamber was empty. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed movement and realized that the Dwemer doors to one side of the cavern were now open. As I made my cautious way toward them, a glittering object on the threshold caught my eye. It was a ring, with an inscription that named it the Heart Ring. Highly magical, it would provide the wearer resistance to a number of forms of magical damage, or even dispel malicious magical effects. While it was a fabulous artifact, I had it in mind to use a somewhat more mundane item that I had been saving. Before opening the door, I unwrapped Sunder and Keening, knowing that I would need them ready to hand. So long as Lorkhan’s Heart survived, Dagoth Ur could not be defeated. Reminding myself that I must concentrate on the Heart, I pushed through the door into the chamber where Dagoth Ur waited.

When he saw me, his voice had become cold and sneering as he dropped all pretense of reason.

“What a fool you are! I am a god! How can you kill a god? What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naïve? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention spell will work in this place. Come. Lay down your weapons. It is not too late for my mercy.”

But now I knew the quality of his mercy, knew that it was a sham and a lie. Behind him loomed Akulakhan, the great Dwemer construct that he wished to turn into a god, a vessel to spread disease throughout Tamriel. It was huge beyond imagining, standing a hundred feet tall or more. And I could feel the presence of the Heart, feel the pulsing of its corrupting power. Sunder and Keening began to vibrate in resonance to the call of the Heart. True to his nature, even as he called on me to surrender, Dagoth Ur hurled his damaging spells at me. Through the pain, through the anger, through the fear, I held firm to my purpose- destroy the Heart. I knew I could not fight Dagoth Ur and attack the Heart at the same time, so I would need some help. With that in mind, I had readied the scroll that Dratha had given me so long ago, the scroll that would allow me to summon a Golden Saint to fight for me. While I had no hope that she would prevail, the Daedric creature would at least occupy my enemy while I attended to the Heart. I intoned the words and was gratified to see the creature materialize in front of me. Drawn by the Heart as if it were a lodestone, I rushed to the lip of the fiery pit that contained Akulakhan. Some forty feet below, I could see the Heart, held by a metal framework inside the construct itself. A wooden footbridge stretching from the lower ledge gave access to the Heart. I eyed the drop and said a prayer to any powers that might be listening, then launched myself from the ledge, hoping to land on the bridge.

Though I seemed to be rushing toward the lava at an incredible speed, I still had time to call myself several kinds of a fool on the way down. Then the bridge knocked the wind from my lungs and the thoughts from my head. One thing I hadn’t counted on- the wooden slats of the bridge were suspended by ropes- ropes that had some elasticity to them. The result of my dive was that, when I hit the bridge, I bounced. A desperate grab secured a hold on the edge of a board and I heaved myself back onto the deck. In the time it took to regain my breath, I paused to be grateful that I had never taken to wearing heavy armor- a set of Imperial plate probably would have punched me right through the wood. Nothing important seemed to be broken; better still, the grunts and blows from above meant that my summoning was still occupying Dagoth Ur. Gasping for breath, I limped across to the Heart of Lorkhan. Once there, I did not wait to examine the object that had been the cause of so much suffering. Instead, I grasped Sunder in both hands and smashed it down onto the glittering red stone. When the hammer struck home, Dagoth Ur grunted in pain. But I ignored him as I dropped Sunder and grasped Keening. With the first blow of the sword, Dagoth Ur shouted,

“What are you doing?”

Upon the second, he leaped down to confront me, screaming, “You fool! No!”

Still I ignored him and kept swinging. At the fifth blow, the Heart of Lorkhan crumbled to dust and vanished.

Dagoth Ur flailed at me in a horrified frenzy. Though his blows lacked coordination, they were still powerful. Throwing Keening to the ground, I drew my own ebony blade and began to drive the mad creature back. His spells seemed to have deserted him, and I blocked his clawing swings with my shield. Gone was his laughter, his taunting, his air of invincibility. At every cut of my sword, he seemed to grow smaller, weaker, more pathetic. But I had no mercy, not for him. At last, he took one backward step too many and teetered on the edge of the pit, arms wind-milling for balance. I didn’t push him, but I didn’t reach out to help him either. Silent at last, he fell into the Oblivion of his own creation.

As I turned to gather up Sunder and Keening, a tremor shook the cavern, and several rocks rained down. Apparently the destruction of the Heart had caused greater repercussions than I had realized. Bruised and battered, I raced across the swaying bridge, dodging falling stones. When I reached the other side, I turned to watch as Akulakhan began to tremble and crack. Slowly, majestically, pieces of the giant construct began to shatter and fall into the molten rock below. When the last piece had settled, I took a long look at Kagrenac’s Tools, the instruments that had tempted mortals to become gods. Although I believed the Heart was destroyed, I could not be sure. But I could put the Tools out of reach. One by one, I dropped Sunder, Keening, and Wraithguard into the pit. The churning lava reached up to embrace each one, then with a flare of brimstone and magicka, they were gone. I stared into the heart of the fire for a very long time, wondering if my soul would ever again feel clean. It is no small thing to kill a god, even a mad one. It is a burden that no mortal man should have to bear. But then, I wasn’t a mortal man any longer. I would have forever to live with the memories of my deeds. Step by step, I climbed back up out of the cavern, at last entering the room where I had first confronted Dagoth Ur. When I reached the passage leading back into the citadel, a figure materialized in front of me. In the shape of a woman, wearing a gown as blue as the sky, Azura held out her arms in welcome. She told me that I was free of the burden of prophecy, that the blight was ended, but that the people of Morrowind still faced other dangers, other enemies. As she began to fade, she intoned,

“Accept this gift from the hands of the gods.”

Where she had stood, a ring appeared, floating several feet above the ground. Taking the ring, I threaded it onto the same chain as the Emperor’s “little gift.” Together, they would serve as a constant reminder that gifts from the powerful always come with a price- usually one that you cannot afford to pay.