Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 4 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 4

At last, I had the answer to the question of who had set the Dark Brotherhood upon me. But that answer brought me no peace. In fact, I realized that some truths could be more dangerous than ignorance, a proposition I would never before have believed. When a king wants you dead, you generally die. The only questions are how soon and how painfully you do so. It was one thing for someone to tell me that Emperor had taken an interest in me; after all, the Emperor was far away. But Helseth was the king of the province of Morrowind, a place from which I could find no escape. And if the rumors were correct, he was working hard to consolidate his power and remove any rivals. Whether he was truly responsible for the deaths of some of those other nobles, I could not say. But then, I didn’t particularly care, either. The entire “aristocracy” of Tamriel could throttle, bludgeon, and poison one another to their hearts’ content and I would cheer them on while placing bets on the eventual winner. As far as I was concerned, they were all parasites. Unfortunately, when such folk started wars, it was people like me who did the bleeding and dying. The one answer I had- that Helseth was the “who” that wanted me dead spawned another, more important question- why?

Despite my seething anger, I knew that I could not simply march into the palace and confront Helseth with my knowledge. I had seen the royal guards with their armor the color of dried blood and knew that I could never get past them to the king. And even if I somehow managed to come before him and noise my accusations about, who would listen? He was the king. He could declare me a madman and have me locked up or executed “for the public good.” No one would rush to my aid; no one would defend me. Even if the whole world knew that my words were true, it would change nothing. The king’s word was law. And yet, I could not simply let him get away with the attempts to have me killed. Perhaps I could seek an alliance with Fedris Hler, Almalexia’s steward. I knew that the Temple and Helseth were involved in a power struggle- the priests might be willing to provide substantial assistance in weakening the king. The only trouble with that idea was that I would be putting myself more fully in the power of the Temple. And I did not like or trust them much more than I did the king. Yes, Fedris Hler might help me weaken or even depose Helseth- but I had a feeling my reward would be one last trip to the sewers and a blade in the back. The Temple would gladly use me and then cast me aside or else actively participate in my execution. They could then claim that their hands were clean.

Some may wonder why I did not simply get out of Mournhold and go to ground back on Vvardenfell. After all, I had dealt the Dark Brotherhood serious damage, which they would require some time to repair. And, with the wisdom of years I now possess, that would have been the wise course. It is likely that the internal struggle to replace Dandras Vules would have distracted the assassins sufficiently to buy me all the time I needed. But…I had left Vvardenfell ahead of the wrath of the Camonna Tong as well as to avoid the scrutiny and the schemes of the Blades. I was heartily tired of running away from my enemies. And Helseth was one man, albeit a king. That gave me a convenient target upon whom to focus my rage and my sense of being ill-used. Even if I had wanted to fight the Blades, I had no idea how to do so. As for seeking the destruction of the Camonna Tong, I had discovered that down that road lay the loss of my very soul. But to pit my skills and my desire for revenge against a king- that seemed highly worthwhile to me. Perhaps as much as anything else, I wanted to make Helseth pay for all the wrongs that had been done me, whether they could rightfully be laid at his door or not. It wasn’t wise, it wasn’t rational- but it felt right. It felt like justice, which was what I believed I wanted. Now I know that the worst that can happen to most of us is to get what we deserve.

Thus, I resolved to do something foolish- to seek justice against a king who had a short way with any who crossed him. But, if I was going to do something foolish, I would at least do it in an intelligent way. I needed information; I needed a way to get close to Helseth; I needed a safe haven if all else failed. Information and perhaps even access could be obtained with gold- of that I had a sufficiency. As for a safe haven- much as it roiled my stomach, I would have to depend upon the Temple. Fedris Hler and Almalexia were the only ones in Vvardenfell with the stature and the support to oppose Helseth and get away with it. He dared not confront them directly, knowing that the more traditional Dunmer would riot if he tried. And, now that I thought about it, my foray against the goblins had weakened the king significantly. They had probably been intended as a secret force that he could send against his enemies without appearing to be directly involved. But even a power-mad despot like Helseth knew that a fight between the Royal Guards and Almalexia’s Hands would bring the Imperial Legion into the mix. And the Emperor would most assuredly NOT be happy with a provincial governor who fomented a civil war. I still didn’t trust the Temple, but “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Or at least my co-conspirator….

So- information first; preferably information that I could trade to the Temple for protection. Not everyone who worked around the palace was a Helseth loyalist- with patience and a few coins, I might find someone who was willing to talk. Therefore, I placed a firm hold on my temper and made my way to the palace to seek information. Wanting to ensure that I made the right impression (and to avoid any “accidents”), I put away my sword and donned an ornate robe to cover my armor. All that remained was to devise a plausible reason for hanging around the palace, asking questions. I knew that I could not pretend to be there in any official capacity- besides the fact that I had no credentials, a formal inspection was the surest way to guarantee that no one said anything of interest. It would have to be something that encouraged people to talk- something that put them at ease. The truth was, most people would tell you almost anything if you just approached them in the right way. My love of books and words had already awakened in me the secret desire to be a writer- and that would be my cover. In such guise would I seek the lever that would allow me to topple a king.

[treydog]

It was almost a relief when the only enemies that attacked me were a couple of ancestor ghosts. They fell quickly to my enchanted silver blade and I muttered a silent prayer of thanks that I had not joined them in their disembodied state. I am not sure to whom the prayer was directed- what I had seen of the gods so far in my life rather inclined me to believe that they would have appreciated the symmetry of leaving the spirit of a former stable-boy to haunt the sewers of Mournhold. The more finished section of the sewers soon gave way to a rough side passage that appeared to have been excavated by hand from the collapsed walls of the ancient city. The tunnel took me north I think and contained nothing more than additional undead creatures. Doggedly, I pushed deeper into the terrible maze, being hacked at by skeletons and blasted with magicka by bonelords. Finally, at the end of another roughly crafted tunnel, I came upon a warped wooden door with a crude inscription that read, “Temple Gardens.”

The carvings and faded colors hinted at what must have once been a wonder of all Tamriel, fallen now into ruin. Planters that had once held exotic blooms were now home to the pale, fleshy sorts of plants that thrive in dark places. The water that fell was neither sparkling nor pure, containing as it did all the detritus of the forgetful city overhead. I could not help but consider the contrast between the former glory of the Temple Gardens and the austere construction of the current Temple of Almalexia. The gardens had been open to all, a place to stroll in the sun and enjoy a cooling rain. The Temple now was a fortress- forbidding and closed to all but the select few. My thoughts seemed to echo the words of Galsa Andrano, the healer who had worried that Almalexia was becoming bitter and vengeful. After splashing a short distance through the flooded chamber, I came upon a sight that caused me to wonder even more about the current state of the Temple. What I saw was this: a two-story edifice, perhaps the former entrance to an important Temple building, which had been painstakingly cleaned and restored. The high wall contained five openings or niches surrounding a circular metal doorway. In the most important position, that is on the top tier and in the center arch, stood a larger than life statue of a clearly female figure. Although the features were worn with the passage of time, I had no doubt that the statue represented Almalexia. But the two male statues- Vivec and Sotha Sil, I suppose were equally interesting for their placement. One was in a lower tier arch on the right of the door and the other had been casually leaned up against a pile of rubble as if it was of no importance. Looking at the tableau, I remembered that half-joking remark someone had made regarding the fact that levitation did not work in the new city of Mournhold. The joker had said, “Almalexia does not wish for anyone to stand higher than herself.” It seemed that there was more to that story than Dunmer humor. Whatever the symbolism of the statues did or did not represent, the lettering surrounding the door left no doubt- for it spelled out “Shrine of the Dead.”

As can be imagined, my joy at being so close to my destination was remarkably subdued. By way of celebration, I cast my weak Chameleon spell and conjured a magical bow. If all went well, the liches would never know I was there until my arrows carried them to the death they had cheated. Upon opening the door, I entered a vast, echoing chamber, with four massive black pillars disappearing into the roof. More significant was the skeletal robed figure wandering across the floor. I did not pause to inquire, but loosed half-a-dozen arrows as fast as I could draw, nock, and fire. So far, my plan was working well, a circumstance that should have caused me to immediately run away screaming. The only time my plans seemed to be working was when I had overlooked something of great and painful significance. Unheeding, I crept deeper into the roughly-constructed chamber, with some thought of examining the remains of the creature I had just slain. That particular acolyte of the Profane (as I later discovered the liches were called) was no danger to me. However, the black columns that ringed the room were. Apparently, they had been set up as a magical trap to blast any living being who was unwary enough to step between them. All that saved me from severe injury was my natural resistance to magical attack. For that, I thanked my poor dead mother- the wretched gods had nothing to do with it. Still, it was several minutes before I stopped seeing flashes of color before my eyes and could again concentrate well enough to continue.

When my vision cleared sufficiently, I saw that the room was empty, except for another circular metal door. When I laid a careful hand upon the latch, it was as if I had touched a door on the other side of which burned a great fire. Except instead of heat, what I felt radiating from that door was a sense of wrongness, of corruption, of evil so powerful it was a presence in the room. Knowing that the shrine and its undead guardians had to be close, I made my preparations. First, I drew forth a bundle of specially-made arrows I had been saving for just such an occasion. Next, I conjured my magical bow and opened the door. Three robed figures, closely akin to the one I had already dispatched, shuffled and bowed around the corrupted altar. Hiding in the shadows of the doorway, I knelt and waited until one of the liches separated from the others. I released my first arrow and was gratified to see the undead wizard’s tattered robes burst into flame. Knowing that the lich’s wailing would draw his fellows, I dispelled my bow and sprinted into the chamber. My goal was a pile of debris off to one side of the altar- I knew I would need both hands if I were to have any hope of scrambling up the steep mound of shifting masonry. Fortunately, my opponent chose to summon a bone-walker as his first retaliatory action. That gave me all the time I needed to secure myself out of reach and to speak the words of my own spell- boghu tromhad. I ignored the bone-walker, knowing that killing its master would cause the awful creature to dissipate. However, summoning was not the only power that the undead mage possessed. Even as I sent a second arrow to burst into flame at his feet, the skeletal figure gestured at me and I saw a crackling blue sphere emerge from his bony hands. The sphere expanded as it flew towards me, becoming large enough to completely engulf my body. I felt as if I had been trapped inside a lightning storm as the spell blasted me into a quivering heap. That involuntary spasm was all that saved me, as the next shockball flew harmlessly over my head. Maintaining my precarious hold, I quickly imbibed a healing potion and redoubled my efforts at archery. My only hope was to so distract the lich that it could not cast another spell. The bursts of flame from my arrows had the desired effect and soon I was faced with “only” two of the vile creatures. However, I now had seen their deadliest spell and was able to use my more accurate marksmanship to destroy them at long range.

As my magical bow dissipated, I surveyed the room, breathing in great gasps. The air was foul with the stench of the burning piles that had once been wizards, but I did not care. The way to the Shrine had been opened; all that remained was to fetch Urvel Dulni so that he could do whatever it was that the Temple had in mind. I retraced my route back to Gavas Drin’s office, where Dulni still waited. When the young priest saw me, his already ashen complexion turned even grayer. No doubt I presented a less-than-reassuring sight- covered with blood, soot, and thoroughly beslimed from wading through the sewers. Beyond that, I can only imagine that my demeanor was such that I closely resembled one of the animated corpses I had so recently sent to its final rest. Fixing the priest with a glare, I growled,

“Come with me.”

Urvel Dulni swallowed hard and said, “Are you sure you don’t just want me to wait here? I would be glad to….”

Seeing that I would not be persuaded, he silently fell into step behind me as I made my way back to the Temple basement and the sewers.

I have to say this much for him- he kept up with the pace I set and he did not complain about the smell. More than that, he proved to be an asset instead of a liability. At one point I heard a quiet grunt, followed by a crunch and a loud rattle. Thinking that the poor devil had fallen and broken his leg, I turned to see him holding his mace looking rather surprised. At his feet lay the remains of a skeletal warrior that had clearly been about to skewer me with a spear.

When we reached the corrupted altar, Urvel Dulni… changed. He seemed to grow taller and more powerful and his voice lost its stutter. In a much deeper voice than his former tenor squeak, he spoke the words of an incantation that I could not understand, then bowed his head and stood silently. At last, he looked at me with a piercing gaze and pronounced the shrine cleansed. Our journey back to the surface was conducted in silence and was blessedly uneventful. Gavas Drin was pleased (and surprised, I think) by our success. He thanked me and gave me something he called a “Blessed Spear,” supposedly a gift direct from the hands of Almalexia herself. I did not bother to point out that a spear was of no use to me, but silently resolved to have nothing more to do with the Temple in Mournhold. There was power there, great power. But it was the kind of power that would likely get me killed.

Here ends Chapter 4

This post has been edited by treydog: Apr 11 2006, 02:46 PM