The Tale Of Sudhendra Vahl: Mad Gods, Being the ninth chapter... Options

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The first things I wanted to do this morning were to put some of my recently acquired funds into the Bank of Vvardenfell; I also wanted to deliver the Amulet of Infectious Charm to Louis Beauchamp. To that end, I opened a portal after breaking my fast and stepped though into the dusty streets of Ald’ruhn.

“The amulet,” Louis gasped when I handed the twinkling charm over to him. He listened with a distracted air as I relayed the fate of the missing airship: somehow I think the loss of the craft and its crew was of secondary importance to him. He did, however, pay me two thousand Septims for recovering the amulet and finding out what had happened to his aircraft.

From there I returned to Tel Vahl where, reluctantly, I donned the uniform of the Legion before opening a portal to Ebonheart. Captain Carius had informed me that Varus Vatinius has issued an instruction that I am to report to him. The Imperial Dragon was easy enough to find, he was the ill-favoured Imperial that I’d seen at the side of the Duke Dren when I applied for my construction contract ~ the one with a low opinion of Telvanni honour.

“So, the Telvanni returns,” he sneered when I crashed to attention in front of him and snapped off a salute. “Finally decided to get on the winning side, eh?”

When I made no response to his barb, he snorted and said, “you’ve turned out to be a decent soldier Telvanni, and several commanders speak quite highly of you. Do right by me and I’ll make sure that you get what you’re due.

“Now then,” he continued, “I have a job for you. Until a day or two ago, the Lord’s Mail was displayed in the Cult Shrine here. Somehow somebody got in and stole it ~ none of the guards saw anything. Take the key to the Shrine and see what you can learn. Bring me the Lord’s Mail and I’ll give you a promotion.”

My first step was to visit the barracks, housed in the lower levels of Fort Hawkmoth. Most of the guards were unwilling to talk to me but one; a Redguard by the name of Sader was disposed to talk. He told me that Furius Acilius had recently been passed over for promotion and had gone AWOL. I hardly thought it coincidental that Furius Acilius had gone missing two days before the Lord’s Mail vanished. I took a look around Acilius’ quarters but, apart from a scribbled comment about Vatinius that make me smirk, there was nothing of any interest.

Both of the Troopers assigned to the Shrine snapped to attention, clenched fists crashing against their cuirasses as they saluted me. Despite my time with the Legion, that was one thing I still hadn’t gotten used to. The door to the Shrine clicked open and I stepped into a fairly typical Imperial Cult Shrine. Multi-denomination tapestries hung from the walls ~ except for behind the altar, where a rich green and gold tapestry depicted Julianos. There were the usual sacred objects on the altar, a small silver platter for collecting donations and a large silver chalice. The green and gold cloth that covered the cold stone block confirmed that this was a Shrine devoted to Julianos.

I understood why the Imperial Cult adopted this multi-denominational style in Morrowind but I missed the majesty of the individual Shrines that I remembered from my travels around the Illiac Bay. Not that I was particularly moved by the idea of the Divines any more ~ the things I had experienced in my time here had seriously undermined my faith in the religion of my childhood. Shaking off the melancholia that my childhood memories always seemed to induce, I returned to the task at hand.

There were no windows in the Shrine, nowhere that somebody could have clambered in and stolen the artefact. The heavily reinforced door couldn’t have been broken down without attracting the attention of people nearby. Nor had I missed the flare of magic when I’d inserted the key into the lock ~ such locks (requiring both mundane and magical means to open them) were extremely rare and notoriously difficult to pick. And, given that Furius Acilius was, by all accounts, a career soldier it was unlikely that he’d have the skill to pick such a lock.

Something had been tugging at my subconscious while I examined the door. Turning I surveyed the small, austere chamber. A close-fitting door and no windows… So, where was the breeze that was fluttering the edge of the tapestry nearest the door coming from? The wall behind the wall hanging looked solid enough but a quick chant of “Ostendo sum” soon revealed the truth.

The flare of reddish-purple light settled along the outlines of the hidden door, a loud click denoting the fact that the unlocking spell I’d just read from the scroll had done its work. The heavy stone door creaked open to reveal a small stone cell barely big enough for me to get into. The floor of the cell was covered with dried mud; the rough reed mat that covered it caked with the stuff. Since there was no obvious other exit, I placed my hand against the back wall of the cell and pushed. There was a click and a large section of stonework moved backwards to reveal a dark opening.

The muddy floor of the cave left me in no doubt that the thief had used this secret way into the Shrine and that it would take someone who knew Ebonheart extremely well to have known of this hidden access ~ someone like, let’s say, a career soldier who’s been stationed at Ebonheart for years and has, for the sake of argument, recently been passed over for promotion.

The dimly illuminated tunnel meandered through the rock coming, at last, to a meeting place where three other passageways met. With a shrug, I turned to my left and pressed on down the rocky passage. I had gone barely a hundred paces down the tunnel when I was confronted by a snarling legionnaire. He wasted no time on words, the Imperial broadsword already sliding from the scabbard at his waist as he rushed towards me.

The crash of steel on steel echoed through the cave as I blocked the scything blow Acilius aimed at my head, the impact making my arm quiver. I retaliated, pushing his sword up and away with the Blodskal and slashing the heavy blade inwards. He danced back a step, bringing in his broadsword to deflect the blow. Now it was my turn to back-pedal in order to avoid his upward cut.

We eyed each other warily for a moment, each taking measure of our opponent. Acilius was strong but lacked finesse ~ like so many in the Legion he relied on his training and had no… style. With a grunt, he proved my point, slashing in a powerhouse blow that would have done serious damage if I hadn’t blocked it. My return blow scored a mark across his cuirass. Gripping the sword tightly, he aimed a series of vicious overhead blows at me, forcing me backwards.

Sensing, rather than seeing, that he’d changed his grip on the hilt, I swung the Blodskal downward, the greater mass of the Nordic blade knocking the broadsword from Acilius’ hand. I had barely registered that I’d disarmed him when a thunderous punch to the face drove me backwards. I blinked, my vision blurred from the blow, and saw him stoop and pick up his sword again. I gave him no time to prepare.

“Never,” my sword crashed into his upraised blade with a force that made my arm shudder.

“Hit,” I blocked his blow, the blades singing as they crashed into each other.

“A,” his steel blade shattered as I smashed the Blodskal down on it as he raised it to block the blow.

“Lady!” I finished, driving the point of the Nordic blade into the Imperial’s throat and slamming him back against the wall.

Rolling Furius Acilius over, I undid the silver clasps that held the glittering cuirass in place. The armour came off after a few minutes struggle and I held the heavy, padded cuirass up to examine it. It was made of some dark metal and appeared to be overlapping scales. The edges of the armour were decorated with fine gold scrollwork. That was not, however, what kept me there holding the heavy armour. Visions of combat danced in my head, snatches of scenery that I almost recognised, the crash of steel on steel and the screams of the dying mingled with the triumphant cries of the victors.

Shaking myself all over, I looked at the armour and licked my lips. The overwhelming urge to put it on and just… well, take charge had faded. With a shaky sigh, I placed the cuirass on a rock and opened my pack. Handling the scaled Lord’s Mail as little as possible, I dropped it into my pack. A careful exploration of the caves revealed the rest of Furius Acilius’ belongings ~ a sack containing a couple of hundred Septims, a pair of pauldrons made of the same dark, scaled metal, and a glass-bladed sword. My exploration also revealed a water-filled passageway that led to a door. This egress opened out onto a small sandy beach at the foot of the cliffs: above me loomed the bulk of the castle and keep. It must have pleased Acilius to have stolen the Lord’s Mail and, quite literally, hidden it under the noses of those he felt had cheated him.

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"I could have sworn I saw something down there…”

“You’re imagining things,” his colleague said, “now hurry up, or we’re going to be late.”

I held my breath as the two guards walked underneath me as I hung up against the ceiling. With a wicked grin, I turned over so I was face-to-face with the dark rock and, feeding a little more power into the levitation spell, I crawled along the roof of the passageway like some invisible insect.

There was another door at the top of the passageway, and I allowed the two spells to dissipate as I stood in front of it. Quickly, I re-established the Shadow-Weave around myself before pulsing magic into the lock and shattering it. Behind it was the massive cavern that formed the heart of this floating rock.

Wooden decking stretched away in front of me, a series of platforms that descended to the lower third of the huge chamber. Around the edges of the chamber, and directly across the middle, ran walkways of the same wooden planking. I didn’t need to test it; I could hear the wood creaking as the Ordinator-Guards strolled around it in their assigned patrol patterns. Any attempt to sneak across the flooring would set up an awful row. It was frustrating, I could see Cell 6 from where I was standing and it would have been but the work of heartbeats to get to it. Well, I reasoned, if you can’t go across, you can always go up…

Sinking slowly towards the ground, I studied the lock on Mehra Milo’s cell. Carefully constructing the spell in my mind, I followed the guards’ patterns as they moved around the gantries. A few minutes later, I energised the spell, shattering the lock, while the guards were in the best positions not to notice. Moving quickly, all attempts at stealth abandoned, I swung the cell door open and stepped inside. A quick magical pulse barred the door ~ although anyone with the slightest skill with a lock pick or the ability to dispel spells would have it open in a heartbeat. Still, it would suffice.

“You!” Mehra Milo gasped as I allowed the Shadow-Weave to dissolve and dissipate.

“Yes, me,” I replied, opening the robe and fetching out the Divine Intervention scroll. “You were looking for one of these?”

“Thank you,” she said. “Listen, Cosades said someone would contact me about the Lost Prophecies. Speak to Blatta Hateria in Ebonheart. Tell her you want to go fishing and that I recommended her.” With that, Mehra unrolled the scroll and recited the words written on it. In a cloud of silvery sparkles she vanished from sight. Which left me standing in a cell in the Ministry of Truth. Not the ideal position for me to be in so I took care of that.

Stepping out of the Void in Ebonheart, I made my way down to the docks. Blatta Hateria was occupying the same spot on the docks as when I’d last seen her and her immediate reaction was, “whatever you want picked up from where-ever, find somebody else to do it, I’m busy.”

“That’s a shame,” I said, “since Mehra Milo said that you do some excellent fishing trips.” The woman looked at me sharply, and then gestured for me to climb aboard her ship. In minutes we were sea-borne and heading to the east along the coast. Hateria wouldn’t say where we were going, but she did say that it was likely to be a long voyage. With a shrug, I settled down in the prow of the skiff and promptly fell asleep.

“Wake up,” a voice said, interrupting my dream. “Wake up, you were dreaming. We’ve arrived…” I jerked awake, staring at Blatta Hateria with a startled look. I had been dreaming about my arrival in Vvardenfell and the eerie coincidence of her using the self-same words that Jiub had used made me shiver. She ushered me ashore, where I was met by a wisp of a Mer named Vevrana Aryon.

“Late,” he wheezed, looking at me myopically. “As in too. The monastery is closing up in a few minutes. Up the path, if you’re quick…” I turned and ran up the path he’d indicated, barely catching the words, “Milo’s in the library, with Master Barelo.” As I sprinted, I could hear a terrible grinding noise from overhead, the sound of stone against stone. Rounding the final bend of the path, I came to a clearing. There was no doorway, no sign of a monastery ~ just three walls of solid black rock rising up towards the sky.

“The portal only opens at dusk and dawn,” Aryon wheezed from behind me, making me jump. “Might as well settle down for the night.” He gave a broad grin, revealing two solitary teeth. “Me, I’m ready for a warm bed…” With that, he made a quick gesture and vanished in a swirl of purple light.

“Fine,” I snapped, addressing the empty air. “I’ll just wait out here shall I?” It was the work of a few moments to erect my tent and crawl inside.