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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Having spent the last couple of days in contemplation and some exciting dabbling in the world of alchemy; I was in a mood for a little excitement. Sometimes I think I should be more careful what I wish for.

The hammering on the door intruded on my solitary daybreak meal and, when I opened it, I found Raissu Asserbas standing outside. Rather breathlessly, she told me she’d received a note from Llunela Hleran and that I should see it immediately. Assuming that she meant the note, I took it from her and read:

CODE

To be delivered to the Arch-Magister, post haste.

Sed, an interesting development. A large flying structure has appeared west of Sadrith Mora. It bears more than a passing resemblance to the Battle-Spire, lost many generations ago. Such a thing certainly bears investigating.

Most people have heard of the Battle-Spire and its strange disappearance in those dark years when Jager Tharn was impersonating the Emperor. If it had made a sudden and unexplained return to the Mundus it certainly was worth investigating. Thanking Raissu Asserbas, I spoke the words of the void-walk spell and soon found myself in the market at Sadrith Mora. From here, the huge piece of earth is plainly visible floating in the sky in an entirely impossible way. There appears to be a citadel built on the flat top of the flying island. Many of the people around me were making comparisons to the Battle-Spire of old and are understandably nervous.

It occurred to me that, if anyone had any knowledge of the strange apparition, it would be Divayth Fyr. With the vast count of his years, he would have seen the original and might be able to tell me if this was it. Summoning every scrap of speed I was capable of, I water-walked to Tel Fyr and made my way inside. Divayth was, as always, engaged in some arcane experimentation but he did put aside some time to speak with me. “I doubt this is the Battle-Spire Arch-Magister,” he said after I’d explained the situation to him. “However, it is a little known fact that there were several prototypes of the ‘Spire built.”

“So this might be one of those?” I asked.

“Indeed,” he replied, stroking his chin. “It is entirely possible. Of course, it’s also possible that it has nothing to do with the Battle-Spire at all. My cousin, Tadas, is recently arrived and was on his way to Sadrith Mora. He may well be able to shed some light on this matter.”

It was pretty obvious that Divayth knew more than he was telling but further questioning earned me only silence or repeated suggestions that I find his cousin. Since I didn’t especially relish the idea of a clash of wills with this ancient and puissant wizard, (mostly because I was pretty sure which of us would be the last Mer standing), I took my leave of him and returned to Sadrith Mora.

The synchronicity between the arrival of Fyr’s cousin and the sudden appearance of the Battle-Spire wasn’t lost on me and, the instant the spell-effect around me had dissolved, I set out to locate the Mer.

“Arch-Magister Sudhendra Vahl,” the Dunmer at the docks said, bowing low before stepping off the odd vessel he was aboard. “I have been looking for you.” Tadas then told me why he was here. Many years ago, he was given the position of caretaker on one of the prototypes for the main Battle-Spire. Since then he had visited each Arch-Magister on their appointment and given them the chance to make the prototype their own. “I have to say,” he finished, “that the last two incumbents of the office failed to seize control of the ‘Spire.”

He offered to transport me to the flying rock. I agreed, and followed him aboard the ship he appeared to be captain of. Since we were at sea level and the lump of rock was several hundred feet in the air, it didn’t come as much surprise to me when the ship took to the air and floated silently up to the promontory of rock protruding from the ‘island’. “Impressive levitation spell,” I called to him over the whistling wind. He just grinned back at me, his long grey hair whipping in the wind. Before more than a few minutes had passed, we were drawing level with the ‘dock’ that stuck out into the air. Tadas threw a rope with expert ease over a stanchion and hauled us alongside.

“I will now tell you what I told Gothren,” Tadas said, holding up a hand as I approached the gangplank. “Once you step off this vessel, you are entirely on your own. You will have to find your way into the Battle-Spire prototype and secure it. I can give you no more help than I have already given. Should you secure the ‘Spire, I will be waiting for you at Tel Fyr. If you decide to leave before the Battle-Spire is fully secured you will not be allowed to enter again. Good luck, Sed Vahl.”

With that he boarded his craft and sailed away from the Battle-Spire down towards Sadrith Mora. Now quite alone, or so I hoped, I turned and surveyed the scene. Off to my right rose a stone cylindrical tower. Affixed to the side by a number of gleaming spikes was a slender column of shining metal ~ the top of which flared and curved so that it looked like the blade of a dagger. The top of the island was covered with softly waving green grass, except for those places where the dark stone path ran. In front of me rose a keep, made of the same darkly gleaming red stone as the path and the tower. A huge arch, over which were inset characters in Daedric script made of the gleaming metal, was the only feature on the front of this edifice. In fact, the only thing missing from the arch was the door ~ featureless stone filled the arch. To either side of the keep stood two towers.

So, the first problem facing me was: how do I get inside? Somehow I didn’t think that standing on the stone plaza in front of the door-arch qualified as ‘securing’ the Battle-Spire prototype. A quick reveal spell on the stone arch revealed precisely nothing, so that wasn’t the way to go. I went part of the way around the keep, but the narrowness of the stone ledge at the rear made me too nervous to go any further. Besides, I could see from my current vantage point that there was no doorway on that side either. So: you can’t get in front or back, underneath isn’t possible because thousands of tons of stone are in the way ~ that just leaves…

A levitation spell lifted me to the top of one of the two towers where I found what I’d expected to find. Namely a trapdoor leading down into the tower. The trapdoor wasn’t locked or warded in any way and opened easily when I grasped the big metal ring set into it. A long metal ladder led down into the interior. At the bottom, I found myself in a corridor that ran across the front of the keep. I tried the huge, arched wooden door that stood in a mirror of the outside arch but wasn’t surprised when it didn’t yield. Ignoring, for the moment, the stairs leading down through the rock, I crossed to the other side of the corridor.

An identical ladder and an identical trapdoor at the top. The only difference here was the gleaming silver and black key hanging on the wall. Mindful of Tadas’ words that ‘if I left the Battle-Spire I wouldn’t be allowed in again’, I didn’t go out through the second trapdoor ~ just confirmed it would open if I needed to get out quickly. Returning to the vast, vaulted central hall, I took a deep breath and descended the stairs.

I found myself in an octagonally-shaped chamber. To my left and right, and directly in front of me, were three etched glass doors, made of a frosted glass in a metal frame. The designs etched into the surface were unfamiliar to me, although I sort of recognised them. It wasn’t the doors or the designs that captured my attention though. In the middle of the chamber stood a tall plinth, also eight-sided. This had been truncated at an angle to create a flat surface: on which a series of runic stones were set. Rising up around the column was a wall of glistening sparks ~ or they might have been descending from the ceiling: their motion was so fast and erratic it was impossible to tell. Moving closer and sensing no magical note from the wall of sparks, I reached out a hand.

“Stupid,” I said to myself as I picked myself up off the floor. My entire right side tingled, the sensation similar to that you get when you’ve kept a limb inactive for a while and then move it quickly. I made myself a mental note not to touch anything else unless I’d tested it first and turned to the doors. It didn’t take me long to realise that the black design etched into the top of the key I’d taken matched the design on the right-hand door. Now all I had to figure out was how to use the key in the complete absence of anything that looked like a key-hole.

I examined the door closely, searching the whole frame and jamb for a key-hole into which I could insert the key. It was while I was doing this that I realised that the ‘glass’ wasn’t glass at all ~ it was some form of crystal. Incredibly tough crystal I quickly discovered as the Last Wish bounced harmlessly of the surface without even leaving a scuff mark. I sat down and metaphorically scratched my head. Okay, door, key, no keyhole. The door cannot be forced (I’d tried), nor can it be shattered. Because there was no key-hole, there was no lock I could pick or magic open. With a grin, I bounded to my feet and approached the door again.

The design etched into the glass glowed briefly as I presented the design on the key to it, and then the doors slid apart with a soft hissing sound, retracting into a slot on either side of the doorjamb. Cautiously I crossed the threshold into the flickering light inside the room. As soon as both feet were across, there was a loud click and the room light came to full brightness while, at the same time, the door slid shut behind me. With a yelp, I presented the key to the design, gasping in relief when the doors slid obediently open. Knowing that I had a way out if I needed it, I went further into the room.

Several things struck me all at once. The first was that this chamber seemed to be some sort of workshop, with a large array of tools hanging on the walls near the forge that dominated the room. The second was the large number of metal kegs that stood in one corner ~ obviously intended as some sort of storage for raw materials. The most pressing thing was the rather sudden appearance of two large and aggressive creatures.

Flames licked and spluttered on their ebony black skin and a flame burned in each eye-socket. Each was armed with a large curved sword made of the same gleaming metal as the Daedric symbols in the main hall and the long lengths of chains they had wrapped around their wrists and ankles. Some sort of fire elemental I decided, ducking under the scything swing of the curved sword. Things got a bit hectic then, I had an axe that would have no effect on them beyond what physical damage it could do and an array of offensive spells ~ most of which were fire-based!