The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: City of Light, City of Magic Options

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The tower was deeply subdued this morning, people moving around on tiptoe as Kallin spoke to me while I broke my fast. “The assassin came in from the southeast,” she briefed me, adding bitterly, “we found a dead guard. He’d been dragged over the hill out of sight. We also found this, outside.”

She handed me a small silver and glass phial. There were only a few dregs of the potion it had contained left in the bottom, but the thick smell rising from the flask was enough to tell us both what it had contained. “Having levitated to your balcony, he used a pick to unlock the door, greasing the hinges so they’d make no noise. How do you intend to respond, Arch-Magister?”

“By tearing a few strips off Master Neloth’s hide,” I replied. “I want to see how much of that ample paunch I can remove before he dies of blood loss or shock. Yes Raissu,” I said, turning my head to address the fidgeting estate manager, “you have something to add?”

“It may be prudent to stay your wrath until you’ve spoken with Neloth’s Mouth,” she suggested. I indicated that she should explain. “I have little knowledge of the Guild of Assassins,” she continued, “nobody does. And those that do have knowledge keep very, very quiet. However, if Neloth had targeted you for assassination, wouldn’t they have had to issue a Black Writ?”

“Which we would have known about,” an exasperated Kallin said, dropping her head so her forehead banged on the table. “Raissu is right, Arch-Magister. The Morag Tong may be a bunch of murderous cut-throats, but they do stick to their rules.”

Kallin then explained to me what she knew of the workings of the Dunmeri assassins. How a Black Writ has to be issued for the ‘execution’ of a target and how the target is made aware of the existence of the Writ. It seemed an odd system to me but it had been that way, apparently, for hundreds of years.

“Everyone out,” I commanded as I stalked into the Telvanni Council Hall in Sadrith Mora. “Not you Arara Uvulas,” I added as the Mouths started to leave. When she and I were the only ones left in the chamber, I spoke, “Last night there was an attempt on my life. Neloth has declared that he considers himself to be my enemy. Give me a good reason I shouldn’t end his life right now.”

Arara looked stricken, glancing about as though in search of aid. Finally, she swallowed and said, “My Master has not been in contact with me for days. In fact Sed, he hasn’t been out of Tel Naga since you became Arch-Magister. He… regrets certain comments he made to you and wishes he had not been so… hasty. I believe he fears that he may have made… an error of judgement.”

I snorted back laughter. Ignoring it, Arara continued, “As for arranging an assassination attempt? It is not something Neloth would do, for fear of precisely this situation.”

“In other words,” I said, “he’s a bully and a coward. Afraid that he’s made a mortal enemy of the Head of House.”

Arara hesitated, then gave a quick nod of the head ~ about as much confirmation that my words were true as I was likely to get from her. “Then if not Neloth,” I mused out loud, “who sent that assassin to my stronghold? Unlikely to be House Redoran, if they wanted me dead they’d do it themselves. House Hlaalu? They could certainly afford to equip an assassin in the armour…”

“Armour, Arch-Magister?” Arara interrupted my thoughts. “What sort of armour?”

“Black,” I replied. “Light-weight, high-quality black armour.”

“Then it was not the Morag Tong,” she said flatly. “Their assassins eschew armour, preferring simple robes. And if it was not the Morag Tong that tried to kill you, then it was not one of the Dunmeri factions that arranged it. Let me call one of the House Guards, they may be able to shed some light on the matter.”

The nervous looking guard listened to my tale and spoke quickly when I’d finished. “Sounds like the Dark Brotherhood, Sed Vahl. If you have been targeted for assassination by them…” he let his comment trail off. I wondered where I could find this Brotherhood. “I don’t know,” he replied in response to my question, “but there is a new arrival in Ebonheart who may be able to assist you. An Imperial by the name of Apelles Matius.”

Delas Mrania was only too happy to sell me a spell to get me to Ebonheart when I spoke to her and, after learning it; I took myself from Ald’ruhn to the Imperial blandness of Ebonheart’s Fort.

“You’ll forgive me if I am sceptical Dark Elf,” Apelles Matius said, giving me a condescending smile when I’d told him my tale. “If you were truly marked for death by the Dark Brotherhood, we would not be having this conversation.”

“I am not accustomed to being called a liar Matius,” I snapped. “You’d do well to remember your manners. Now, speak to me of the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Well,” he said, quite taken aback. “If you’re telling the truth… which I have no doubt you are,” he added hastily as I smiled blandly at him and dropped my hand to the hilt of my sword, “then you need to travel to Mournhold. That is the only bastion of the Dark Brotherhood in this Province that I am aware of.

“The problem is, Vvardenfell is under quarantine because of the Blight. However, if you speak to Asciene Rane in the Council Hall, I’m sure she would be able to transport you there.”

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I awoke from fitful sleep, feeling much stronger and focused than I had the day before. Obviously my travails of yestere had toned up my muscle and made me fitter, although that couldn’t account for the increased clarity of my mind. It was a sensation I knew well, that feeling of having, somehow, reached a new level of experience. And, I have to say, it was a feeling I was coming to enjoy: each time I experienced it, I felt reinvigorated and renewed, ready to take on the whole of Tamriel.

Before I’d ventured into the sewers, I had taken the time to visit a Mage in Mournhold, purchasing from him a number of cantrips that I thought might be of use to me. It was with the glowing green edifice of one of these spells firmly in mind that I returned to the rocky vantage point I’d discovered the night before. Staring down at the scene below, I visualised what I wanted to do and slowly spoke the words that would trigger the spell’s devastating effect, “'R awyra a anadli, Yn cripio addoed, gwenwyns chusana”.

It was a complex spell, one of the hardest that I’d ever had to master up to that point. The Mage had said that it wasn’t flashy or showy ~ just incredibly deadly. There was no difference that was visible to the mundane eye but, to one magically inclined, the fires dotted below now issued forth a creeping green smoke that wrapped itself around the creatures sitting next to them. As I crouched there, the sweat running down my face from the effort involved in casting and maintaining the spell, it seemed that nothing was happening.

Suddenly, with a harsh bark, one of the assembled foot soldiers stood, clawing at its throat. It coughed, spitting forth thin yellow bile that spattered the face of its nearest companion. Then, with a convulsive jerk, it crashed to the ground. Nor was it alone ~ others were now vomiting and coughing their last few moments away. Still others ran frantically back and forth, their tiny minds unable to comprehend that death, silent and deadly, wrapped its cloak around them no matter where in that chamber they ran.

In minutes it was over, all but the hardiest Goblins no more than slumped corpses. The rest mewled and crawled, desperately seeking aid that would be far to late even if it arrived. With a shaky sigh, I allowed the spell to collapse and slumped, drained, against the rocks. The restorative potion was a blessed relief, and I could feel the magicka ~ crystallised from the very air around me ~ pouring back into my body.

Clambering down the rocky slope into the now silent chamber, I reflected that the place was aptly named ~ a battlefield it had been, albeit a most unequal battle. As I stood on that field of death, I realised that I had accomplished something here, something momentous. For the very first time I had not had to rely on muscle-power to accomplish a task. Oh, I had used magic in combat before but only as a sort of additional ability to be used when sword or axe failed. This was something different: I had changed the world using naught but my mind and the focussing lens of a magic spell. Suddenly I understood the Telvanni drive for power, for this was power on a scale that could topple Empires. I also understood the tight restraints and checks that the Empire kept on Mages, for they too understood that Magic, unchecked and untrammelled, could tear apart the very fabric of reality to bring about changes of a magnitude undreamt of.

Flexing my fingers, I drew in a deep breath. Dismissing the already decaying bodies from my mind, I ventured deeper into the tunnels. And tunnels there were, dozens of them ~ if she didn’t have several pieces of chalk handy, a girl could get very lost down here.

As it was, I had to backtrack several times and once I walked into a series of tunnels only to find my own chalk-marks already scrawled on the walls ~ heading back in the direction I was coming from! So it was something of a surprise when I found myself standing in front of a simple oval door set into the frontage of a long buried building. The cartouche over the door read ‘Teran Hall’ but, scrawled alongside it, was a simple symbol of Goblin origin. This, then, was the heart of the infestation.

The door swung open at the slightest touch, silent and smooth on well-greased hinges. Several foot soldiers and a brutish ‘handler’ were using the halls of this long-forgotten manse but they proved to be susceptible to the kiss of magical death too ~ this time in the form of boiling blood. Once these had been dealt with, I was free to explore a little further: making sure to keep a wary lookout for any more of these brutes.

Of course, it’s all very well concentrating on a possible ambush. A wise and sensible precaution. Sometimes, however, it pays to spare a little awareness to your surroundings. I knew I was in trouble the instant I put my foot on the floor and it creaked alarmingly. As it sagged suddenly, I threw myself backwards but it was too late. With a grinding crash, the floor collapsed in a wide area around me and, accompanied by stone, rock, tiles and shards of wood, I plummeted into the darkness below.