The Story of Trey- Chapter 9 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 9

My resistance to the Nerevarine prophecies may seem incomprehensible to some, but they should try to remember my background. First, I had never been terribly religious. The gods were these vague figures of power to whom priests and crazy people talked. The best hope for someone like me was to avoid their notice- the gods, but also the priests and crazy people. Then, too, it always seemed to me that whenever someone started talking about what the "great god or goddess" wanted, it was just coincidentally something the speaker wanted, as well. So obviously I had my doubts about religion and prophecy in general. And then there was me. The circumstances of my conception and birth, I have already described- there was nothing auspicious or special about it. Throughout the years of my childhood, until the night I left High Rock, my worth was defined only by how much work my "guardians" could get out of me. Every drink I took, every scrap of food I ate, the very space in which I slept- all was given grudgingly and, like as not, with a blow and a curse. Therefore, to be told that I was "important to the Empire" and possibly the reincarnation of some long-dead Dunmer hero, struck me as a particularly weak joke. Heroes were born in manor houses and castles, trained in philosophy and the arts, raised as an integral part of society. The only philosophy I had ever known was "don't get caught." And my “place in society” was in a stable at the end of a shovel. So ever since Caius had revealed the contents the package I had delivered, I had done my best to ridicule, deny, and ignore the implications. Added to my incredulity that anyone could mistake me for a dead dark elf was my innate resistance to anything that the Empire wanted. Finally, I despised feeling as though I was being manipulated- whether by guilds, governments, or gods. What I desired most strongly was to be my own man, neither owned by nor owing anyone. At the moment, that goal seemed as attainable as one of the moons.

As for the prophecies, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the events that seemed to swirl around me like the sparks from a fire. Too much had happened that could not be easily explained away. First, whatever I might wish, I could not really believe that the Emperor was simply delusional. His reasons might be incomprehensible to me, but he certainly believed in this strongly enough to devote considerable effort to it. Then there was the voice that had spoken to me in my fever-dream on the ship and again in Tel Fyr. And the dreams of the gold-masked figure who seemed to be trying to persuade me and yet filled me with dread. And what of Caius? Skooma addict he might be, but he wouldn't spend so much time on cobwebs and moonbeams, even if the Emperor told him to. Caius believed, and that was a very disturbing thought. He was perhaps the smartest man I had ever met. Not in the same way that Divayth Fyr or the other Telvanni wizards were smart, with their encyclopedic knowledge of magic and other arcana. Caius' intelligence was of a sort that I understood and respected even more- the intelligence of a man who had spent many years surviving on his wits, his courage, and his ability to separate fact from nonsense. When you live by your wits, almost every test is a final exam and the price of failure is death. That Caius was still alive was all the proof I needed of his intellect. But it still might be possible for me to reason with him, to find some way to convince him that everyone was mistaken. With that in mind, I read over the material I had gathered regarding the Nerevarine prophecies. As much as I was seeking greater understanding I was also seeking a flaw, a way out, an exception that would set me free.

What I found was that my notes on the prophecies were as murky as ever. It seemed to me that anyone could use the words to prove or disprove just about anything. And that was the problem with prophecy. My only option now was to go back to Caius and give him the happy news that I wasn't dead yet. No doubt he would have some new plan for me to go and stick my head in a dragon's mouth. Well, I had always wanted to see a dragon, anyway, so it wouldn't be a total loss. As I approached Caius' small house in Balmora, I believed that I was completely prepared for whatever insanely dangerous task he would set before me. I was sure that nothing he said could surprise me. Which goes to show just how little I knew. When I knocked and entered, I found the house in even greater disarray than usual. Chests and drawers had been flung open, and clothing was piled even more deeply on the floor and bed than before. In the midst of the chaos stood the spymaster, and, for the first time in my experience, he looked shaken. Attempting to lighten the mood, I asked him if a whirlwind had been through his place. With a shrug he explained that he had been packing and then looked closely at me. When he saw that there was no trace of disease to be found, he smiled a weary smile and said, "Trey, I'm very happy you've been cured. Unfortunately, I've had a bit of bad news. I've been recalled to the Imperial City. You'll be promoted to Operative and will head the Blades here in Vvardenfell until I return. I only waited to give you your final orders before I go."

My usual ready wit failed me- Caius gone? Recalled to the Imperial City? And what was this about me being the head of the Blades in Vvardenfell? So many questions clamored for answers at once that none of them could get out. I just stood silently and looked at the man who had seen me through so much. My mind could not encompass the idea that he wouldn't be there to give me directions, even if they usually were accompanied by a verbal kick in the rear. As I gaped like a fish out of water, he continued to sort through his possessions and to talk as if I was capable of understanding,

"...you'll have some expenses. Here's some gold. And you can use the house until I return. And I won't be needing these blacks or the ring in the Imperial City."

He punctuated this commentary by handing me 750 drakes, a set of enchanted clothing, and an enchanted ring. Somehow, his actions struck me as being those of a man making the final disposition of his estate. Whatever he might say, Caius did not believe that he was coming back.

Trying to get to the truth without just blurting it out, I asked about the recall order. The spymaster confirmed the rumors that the Emperor was dying and that the succession was in a mess. Various factions were struggling for power and he was too important a resource to be left out of reach. He tried to shrug it off as "internal politics... a result of my sugar problem," but even he knew it didn't ring true. Finally, he admitted that he had considered ignoring the order, but couldn't because "they" had members of his family in the capital. For me, to whom a family had until recently been just a distant dream, that was the hardest blow of all. To use a man's family as a lever- that showed me once again that my hatred of the Empire was not misplaced, at all. Caius remained thoroughly professional though, and asked me if I was ready to receive my orders. When I nodded, he told me to continue to pursue the prophecies. The next step would be to enlist the aid of Mehra Milo in Vivec and find the lost prophecies. Once I had those, I needed to go back to the Urshilaku wise woman and follow her guidance. His final advice was that I should "forget the Imperial City," and concentrate on the local issues of the Great House wars and Dagoth Ur. He clasped my hand, looked hard into my eyes, and was gone.

[treydog]

Following Sul-Matuul's directions, I made my way southeast into the Ashlands. A fierce ash storm blew the choking gray dust into my face the whole way, but the madness of desperation was upon me, and I cared nothing for discomfort. Eventually, the oblong, flat-topped structure of a stronghold loomed out of the swirling ash, and I thought that my journey was at an end. However, when I climbed the steps, I saw inscriptions that showed me this was Falasmaryon, rather than Kogoruhn. It seemed that I would have to go a little further before I met my doom.

I continued southeast and soon found the ancient stronghold of House Dagoth. It was nearly drifted over with blown ash, as if the very hand of nature sought to erase every sign of the disgraced House. When I was attacked by a dreamer, I knew that I had come to the appointed place. As I circled the structure, swatting cliff racers, I came upon a curious sight- a dead Ordinator, dressed in full Indoril armor, lay in the ash. I dispatched the rat that had been paying its respects and looked at the body. Anything that could kill an Ordinator must be a powerful foe, indeed. And I wondered what brought this fellow here to die all alone. Knowing the Temple, it had probably been some insane quest to single-handedly root out the great evil that inhabited lost Kogoruhn. Rather like the folly that had brought me hence. No doubt the Ordinator had been filled with righteous faith and certainty that his cause was just. I, on the other hand, only had anger, desperation, and a burning desire to live long enough to tell Azura just what I thought of her and her plans.

Among the many lessons I learned all those years ago was this- don't poke your nose into dangerous places when you are angry. Particularly not when you are angry with a god. Being scared in a dangerous place is good- it can keep you alive. Being angry is a distraction and can get you killed. I discovered the truth of that when I slammed through the door to the Dome of Urso atop Kogoruhn. Although Sul-Matuul had warned me that the former House Dagoth stronghold was a dangerous place, I had assumed that the danger would lurk deep inside. Assumptions, like anger, can get you killed. The only reason I was checking the upper domes was because I dislike leaving unexplored doors behind me. I have a fear of the things that might be hiding behind those closed doors- and that was the one intelligent thought I had that day.

In my defense, the ...thing... that confronted me inside the Dome was stunning in and of itself. As I pushed through the door, I sensed a movement in the dancing shadows to my right. As my eyes adjusted, the movement resolved itself into a rounded, hulking figure out of a nightmare. The creature stood more or less upright, like a man or mer, and the robe concealed all of the terribly distorted body except for the head. Black eye sockets showed above a multi-tentacled snout and a gaping hole where the mouth should have been. The "face" was a dead gray color- identical to the ash that blew from Red Mountain. For long moments, I simply stared, wondering what this monstrosity could be.

Unfortunately, the creature was neither surprised nor stunned by my sudden entrance and it gestured rapidly with flipper-like hands and cast spell after spell at me. The waves of flame, frost, poison, and electrical damage shook me out of my near fatal stupor and I raced to close with the beast. Though I say it myself, running toward that creature instead of away may have been the bravest act of my short life. But I had already suffered tremendous damage and feared to turn my back on the monster long enough to attempt an escape. As was so often the case, the only way I knew to go was forward. It was not all desperation, though, for I made use of a couple of my homemade Restore Health potions as well as a couple of Resist potions that I had been saving "just in case." My reasoning was simple- they would do me no good when my enemies took them from my dead body, so best to use them now. Even with the Restoratives I believe I was perilously close to death. Besides its seemingly inexhaustible supply of spells, the creature was physically strong and difficult to hurt. Though it made no defense against my sword thrusts, they seemed to have little effect on the tough hide that was concealed by those robes. At last, a wild swing, fueled by fear as much as by skill, clove through where a normal being's neck would have been. And then, I was treated to another surprise, for the creature vanished in a cloud of foul vapor, leaving behind only a misshapen skull and an amulet.

The amulet was of great interest- it carried the symbol of the Sixth House- a stylized shalk or beetle. In addition, this amulet was inscribed with the name "Dagoth Reler." Apparently, this was a more completely devolved creature of Dagoth Ur. I had thought Dagoth Gares was fearsome, but this Dagoth Reler had been many times worse. Perhaps this form was the ultimate outcome of corprus disease. After recovering from my wounds with the aid of a couple of potions, I searched the chamber. It had been "decorated" as a Sixth House shrine, and there were also strange words and symbols drawn on the floor, including the phrase, "The Sleeper is awake." With a great deal more care and caution, I proceeded to the entrance of the next structure, the door of which proclaimed it to be the Dome of Pollock's Eye. My stealth was well-rewarded, inside this chamber was one of the "lesser Dagoths," one that resembled the unlamented Dagoth Gares. In this case, the creature was more human or elven in shape, although the face had begun to show the deformation and growth of a tentacle in place of the nose. When the beast became aware of me, it began casting spells in an attempt to drain my health. I used the more mundane and ultimately more effective edge of my blade to end the miserable being's life. Again, I found a Sixth House amulet, this one naming the bearer as "Dagoth Girer."

Normally, I do not collect trophies from those I am forced to kill, but I made an exception with these Sixth House creatures. Although the amulets carried a taint of foul magicka, I nevertheless resolved to keep them as reminders of my quest to rid Vvardenfell of this evil.

Again, I searched the chamber, seeking any clue as to what these creatures were plotting. Again, I found half-literate scrawls and drawings including a parchment with a bit of "poetry" that could only have been conceived by a mind riddled with disease and madness. Of more importance, I found a cup bearing the mark of House Dagoth. This was progress, indeed- my quest was one third complete and I had only been almost killed once. That was a wonderful record of success. Considering the power and ferocity of the creatures that laired in these domes on the surface of Kogoruhn, I was greatly concerned about what I might find in the depths. Still worse, I knew that I had no choice but to find out.