The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Vehk's Path Options

[OverrideB1]

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.

[OverrideB1]

Vivec City was my first stop this morning. Yestere’s bout of introspection had cost me much of the night’s sleep but I was in a much more determined frame of mind today. I may have become closer to being the ‘Sudhendra Vahl the Slayer’ I feared, but I was still firmly in control of my own destiny and, providing that the Powers That Be would stop playing juggling-games with my fate, I would remain so. If that included gaining a reputation for being a little heavy-handed with sword and magic, then so be it.

My first port of call when I arrived was the Brewer’s and Fishmonger’s Hall where I had a very distasteful task to perform. To my surprise, Moroni Uvelas took the news of her husband’s death quite calmly, only blinking back her tears when I presented her with the slender silver band that was all that remained of their time together. Mastering her grief, she shakily thanked me for my help and asked me to accept some curative potions for bringing her the news.

It would have been churlish of me to refuse such a gift so, thanking her politely; I took them and made much of placing them safely in my pack before leaving the Hall. From there, I made my way outside and up various ramps to the plaza that sits atop Saint Olms. The Temple of Saint Olms was, thankfully, deserted at this early hour and I had free rein to search for the Propylon Index Folms Mirel had assured me was here. I finally found it in the gloom of a little visited storeroom, by the simple expedient of kicking the unseen sliver with my foot as I passed. Picking it up, I tucked it safely into my purse.

“Word has reached us of the cleansing of Ihinipalit,” Endryn gushed delightedly as soon as I stepped into his office in the High Fane. “Thanks to you, things are slowly returning to normal in Saint Delyn.”

I wondered if should I speak to this priest about the strange phenomenon I’d experienced in the shrine? How would such a holy Mer respond to the fact that I’d had a visitation from the Mad Prince? Deciding to play things carefully, I broached the subject. “What are the methods of summoning the Daedra Princes?” I asked. “For the cultists were performing some strange ritual and I feared they might be calling the Mad One from Oblivion.”

“There are tales Ser Vahl,” he confided quietly and uneasily, “that the Princes of Chaos are easier to summon here on Vvardenfell than is common on the mainland. It is not something we speak of, do you understand?”

I understood and was extremely glad I’d not just blurted out the words that Sheogorath had spoken to me. “Now,” Endryn continued, obviously glad to be changing the subject, “I have no other suitable duties for you. I do, however, have a little gift for you by way of our thanks for your actions at Ihinipalit.” With that, he presented me with a wooden staff. As soon as I gripped the wooden shaft, I could feel the staff’s power subtly amplifying my own abilities. Most Dunmer have the skill to call forth an ancestral spirit ~ in some the ability is undeveloped; others develop it to a high level of skill. The staff, an Ancestral Staff of Wisdom, augmented that ability in the bearer, allowing them to summon a more powerful spirit for much longer periods of time.

Once more finding myself at a loose end, I removed myself to Balmora and followed the road to Caldera. There I presented the Marandus Propylon Index to Folms Mirel, receiving the promised five hundred Septims in return. “I have,” he said, “managed to track down another of the Indexes. It seems that some ignorant pilgrim presented the Falasmaryon Index to the Temple in Maar Gan. They, not knowing what else to do with it, put it on display in the shrine there.”

I was uneasy at the thought of stealing from the Temple; sure that such an action would undo much of the rapprochement I’d accomplished in the past week. Not to mention the fact that, if caught, I’d probably be expelled from Holy Orders. With that thought in mind, I returned to Tel Vahl.

I stood on the balcony, high atop the Tel, surveying the scene below. The watchtower was now almost complete on the northern edge of my estate and the foundations of another had been laid on the southern border. Meanwhile, the barracks for the House guards was completed, the distinctly Hlaalu architecture looking oddly out of place in the desolate ash-lands. Some excavation work had been begun to the east and, intrigued, I summoned Raissu Asserbas to the lower chambers.

“A mine Sed Vahl,” she explained. “One of the guards found these on the slope of the hill and brought them to me. I authorised the shaft to see if there was a large deposit there. If I’ve overstepped my bounds…”

“No, not at all,” I replied quickly, eager to set her mind at rest. Nestling in her palm were three tiny slivers of brilliant green ‘glass’ ~ the tough volcanic crystal that makes such light and sturdy armour and weapons. “If there is a deposit there, we should know of it before the Empire comes sniffing around,” I commented. She smiled and, bowing deeply, prepared to take her leave. A thought struck me.

“Do we have some miners who can be trusted implicitly?” I asked.

“Everyone here has taken fearsome oaths of loyalty,” she replied.

Taking that as a ‘yes’, I told her what I wanted done. “Equip a small team of the most reliable miners and send them to West Gash,” I said, spreading my annotated map on the table between us. “In this small valley here they will find the Vassir-Didanat mines. Working only at night, and keeping out of sight during the day, they are to extract as much Ebony as they can in, let us say, a ten-day and bring it back here. Each miner may take one percent of the Ebony they mine as payment.”

“It shall be done,” she said, grinning wickedly. She, like me, knew that what we were undertaking was ~ by the lights of the Empire (and probably the Redorans and Hlaalu) ~ the theft of their property. As she left to arrange our little felony, I returned to the upper tower and ventured into the alchemical lab.

I was soon immersed in the business of chopping, measuring, and mixing ingredients together to create various potions. Fortunately, none of my mixtures went bang in any serious way and, with both eyebrows still intact, it was many hours later when I emerged to take a little supper.

I had grown accustomed to the soft tinkling of the Ashland chimes that hung in my bedchamber: it was the sudden cessation of their ‘song’ that probably woke me. I lay very still, concentrating on not disrupting my breathing and straining my senses to the limit. There was a stillness to the room that felt unnatural. Allowing my eyelids to part the tiniest fraction, I stared into the gloom.

There. A patch of darker shadow moving in the darkness. Moving as slowly as I dared, I slipped my hand under the pillow and grasped the handle of the short glass dagger that lay under there. I had had to search very hard, asking questions in dark alleys and disreputable inns, before I’d found the vile toxin that coated the blade. Easing the dagger from its scabbard, I gripped the hilt tightly.

The faintest hiss of steel on leather alerted me and, as the dagger my assailant held plunged down, I rolled out of the bed, simultaneously lashing out with my dagger. The fine glass blade shattered on the black metal of my opponent’s neck-brace, but the force of the blow caused him to stagger back.

“GUARDS!” I roared, scrambling to my feet and throwing myself across the room towards my weapons locker. With a curse, the assassin hurled himself after me. He grabbed my shoulder and threw me aside from my intended course ~ getting himself between my weapons and me. Not that that was a major problem, I’m a Telvanni and we are never unarmed and helpless.

Or perhaps we are. Somehow recognising the peril he was in, the black-clad figure spat out the phrase all Mages dread: “Narro haud veneficus.” Things would have gone ill with me then, but my yelling had attracted the required attention.

The assassin scrabbled at the short steel bolt protruding from his neck before collapsing in a welter of blood. “I wanted him alive!” I yelled in frustration, dropping to my knees beside the stricken Mer. He was beyond help, the bitter-sweet smell of some poison on his lips. Not that I could have helped, my healing spell ~ like any other cantrip ~ beyond my reach until the spell of silence wore off.

“Arch-Magister!” Kallin Basalius skidded to a halt, taking in the scene. “Are you uninjured?”

“Nothing hurt but my pride,” I soothed. Turning to the ashen-faced House guard, I clasped his upper arm. “Thank you,” I said with sincerity.

“I didn’t know you wanted him alive Sed Vahl, I just... I…” he stammered.

“No matter,” I assured him. “Rather he should be dead against my wishes than it be me laying there, eh? No, you did well. Kallin,” I called, distracting her from her examination of the body, “make sure this young Mer gets a promotion.”

Alone at last with the head of my guard, I asked her the most pressing questions on my mind. “How did this assassin get past my defences Kallin? And who paid him?” I had, I have to admit, my suspicions.

“I don’t know how he got in,” she said grimly, holding the mask that had covered the Meric assassin’s face. “Rest assured though, by the light of dawn I will know.

“As to who sent him,” she continued, looking at me, “that’s obvious. Who has had his power curtailed, his backing killed?”

She nodded as I spoke the name on both our minds, “Neloth. It can be no other,” she agreed. “Now, I have doubled the guard and placed guards on the balcony outside your chambers. Orders have been issued that no guard is to be alone and unwatched by at least another of the guards.”

While she stormed out to get answers to the question, I returned to bed. Not that I slept that much, flinching at every sound and shadow. I may have maintained a brave face in front of the others but inside I was terrified.

[b]Thus ends this part of the Tale of Sudhendra Vahl