The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Power, You've Got It, I Want It! Options

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Yestere had been spent bringing some sort of order to my collection of artefacts, as well as dealing with the various issues that had arisen on my estate while I was away. Kallin wished to know if I was willing to send more miners to the Vassir-Didanat Mine since, according to the mine foreman, there were still some sizeable ebony deposits to be mined. Raissu Asserbas reported that a Yokudan blacksmith had requested permission to establish a forge on my estate, a wandering Bard had been arrested stealing from Gorven Menas and was incarcerated in the lower dungeons, and that a young lady in Hlaalu colours had approached the Tel, wondering if there was a vacancy for a cook. Raissu Asserbas also reported that the sale of the Glass from the nearby mine had accrued twelve thousand, five hundred and sixty Septims from a broker in Ebonheart on the Mainland ~ estate expenses were ten thousand, nine hundred Septims.

It’s no wonder I retired to bed early yestere and woke early this morning, I hadn’t realised that running an estate was such hard work. Raissu sympathised, reminding me that, as soon as everything was settled to my satisfaction, running of the estate would become almost invisible to me. I liked that idea. There was a reason I was keen to deal with the accumulated administrative details.

My sojourn to Mournhold had taught me a couple of valuable lessons. I am becoming extremely handy with an axe, so much so that it had become my primary weapon. There were times, as the tunnels in Old Mournhold had shown, when an axe wasn’t a viable weapon. And my sword-fighting skills, while much improved during the time since I’d stepped off the ship in Seyda Neen, were not good enough for me to use a blade efficiently as a secondary weapon. Then there was the magic. I had a small arsenal of utilitarian spells but I desperately needed some more powerful offensive spells as well as other spells that I could use at need.

I had a plan to deal with my lack of fighting prowess. I didn’t like the plan but it was the best I could come up with: I wanted Baladas to hear it before I put it into operation. I had also been asking some discrete questions about Jaron Scorchblot, the dispossessed Telvanni Llunela Hleran had spoken about. Turns out he was quite the legend and, up to eight hundred years ago, he was feared and respected by every Telvanni. I wanted to know how and why.

I translocated to Sadrith Mora and, after depositing some of my funds in my account, I water-walked across the Bay to the small rock where Jaron was currently residing. There, in a small lean-to hut, I met the oddest Telvanni I’ve ever encountered. For a start, he was Orc-Tall ~ much taller than any other Dunmer I’ve ever met. Secondly, he affected a totally bald head, which was covered in strange swirling designs. Thirdly, the Mer virtually hummed with power
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“So,” I said, “you’re Jaron Scorchblot?”

“And you,” he replied with an engaging smile, “are Sudhendra Vahl or, should I say, Sed Telvanni Vahl? Oh yes,” he said in response to my question, “I’ve heard of you and been quite impressed. Now, what brings you to my palatial abode?”

“Power,” I said simply. “You have it, I want it. Or, to put it less bluntly, I want you to teach me how to wield whatever power made your name feared and respected.”

“Ahh,” he sighed, “those were the days, the glory days. Before my… problem. Tell me Sudhendra, do you know what a Theurgist is?” I shook my head and he snickered. “Hardly surprising, there are very few of us left nowadays. A Theurgist is a Mage who manipulates certain elemental powers: very powerful forces indeed. Because of my problem I oft-times find myself bereft of funds. Although it goes against the grain somewhat, I will train you as a Theurgist for five thousand Septims.”

I nodded, handing him two thousand five hundred Septims ~ all I had on my person at that point. The rest, I told him, would be available when he had shown me what he had to teach was worth such a princely sum. “Fair enough I suppose,” he said. “I will teach you a useful spell right now, and then I want you to go and fetch me some reagents. These I will use to create a potion for myself ~ in return I’ll teach you a spell that will prove that what I have to teach is worth the money.

“Now, there is one last thing I need to know, and that is what elemental power do you wish to control?” he asked. “I have knowledge of Fire and Storm, although I can also teach you about the power of Ice or the power of the Earth.”

“Ice,” I responded after a few moment’s thought.

“Hehe, so you prefer the cold and calculating approach eh?” he chuckled. “Personally, I prefer the cleansing power of Fire. Now, I’ll need three exceptionally fine pearls for my potion ~ you should be able to find plenty in the waters hereabouts. I think fifteen should be fine ~ I’ll pick the three finest and you can keep the rest.”

“The spell?” I reminded him. “You were going to teach me a spell before sending me out to collect the reagents.”

“So I was, so I was,” he said, scratching his bald dome. “Very well, attend closely…” For the next hour, Jaron taught me how to breathe water. When we’d finished, I stood on the shore of his small island and carefully spoke the phrase he’d taught me, “Na Awyra? Ad 'u anadl ddyfrha.”

I was delighted with the result of the spell, it allowed me to stay below the water’s surface for great swatches of time without having to surface and take gulps of air. In fact, the only problem with the spell was the tendency of everything to taste as though it had been over-salted for several hours after the spell dissipated. Meanwhile, I was able to swim about underwater and collect pearls from the vast beds of Kollops that existed in Zafirbel Bay. There were a couple of nasty moments ~ a run in with a couple of Slaughter-Fish that fancied salt Dunmer for lunch and a very odd encounter with a Dreugh that swam alongside me for several minutes.

Finally, I resurfaced with a large pile of pearls and, after drying and getting dressed, I took these over to Jaron. “Hehe, these are excellent, just what I need,” he said. “Now, I will teach you the first spell on your road to becoming a Theurgist. This is a little something that’ll make your handshake something to remember.” He took me, step by step, through the technique required to create the spell and allowed me to practice it on various bits of flora so that I could perfect it. “Now,” he said once we were sure I had mastered the powerful spell, “is that worth the balance of my fee?”

It certainly was and I offered to go straight to the bank and bring him the twenty-five hundred Septims immediately. “While you’re doing that,” he said, “I recently sent a courier over to Suran. For some reason, Arin hasn’t returned. I can’t abide sloppy work so I want you to go there and tell him he’s fired. Oh,” he added as I turned to leave, “and remember to get the shoes I lent him back.”

I translocated to Balmora and got the silt-strider to Suran. Even though it was quite late by the time I arrived in the sleepy little town, I decided to have a quick look around. “Hey you,” a voice called from by the dockside. I turned and saw Elvil Vidron standing in the shadows. I tensed, but the Mer seemed genuinely pleased to see me. “I’d like to thank you Ser Vahl,” he said, stepping from the shadows to reveal a brown Temple robe, “for returning me to the ways of the True Faith. If there’s anything I can do for you?”

“Actually,” I replied, “there might be. Do you know of a Mer named Arin? I don’t know his last name I’m afraid.”

“Arin?” Elvil replied. “You mean that Telvanni courier? He’s here quite a bit ~ always stays at Desele’s.” Thanking him, I made my way into the House of Earthly Delights and, after standing at the bar for a while, managed to catch Desele’s eye.

“Don’t get many of your sort in here priest,” she laughed. I slipped back the robe’s hood and she immediately changed her tune. “Well, well. If it isn’t my mysterious benefactor. I’m guessing it’s you I have to thank for getting the Camonna Tong off my back?” I nodded. “What can I do for you? Drink on the house, bed for the night?”

“Some information,” I replied. “I’m looking for a Telvanni courier, name of Arin. I’m told he comes in here…”

“Arin Darethi?” she interrupted. “Old Jaron’s Mer?” When I confirmed that this was most probably the person I was looking for, her face went grave. “He had an accident, if you know what I mean. I’m told he fell in the Nabia River and drowned. Which is odd, ‘cause he was such a good swimmer. Look, much as I’d like to help you, I think you’d better speak to the guards about this.”

Sensing I was making her uncomfortable with this line of questioning, I inclined my head and took my leave of the Inn. Finding a guard wasn’t difficult and, like all Hlaalu everywhere, he proved amenable to the odd bit of extra cash. “Not much to tell really,” he said, pocketing the coins. “Darethi fell in the river and drowned, right over there by the docks. We’re a bit short-handed at the moment so couldn’t spare any men to drag him out. Besides, we figured it was a Telvanni matter and shouldn’t get involved.”

The Tradehouse in Suran proved to have a spare bed I could use for the night and, after a pleasant meal with the proprietor, I retired for the night. There was something odd going on here ~ I didn’t know what, but I hoped the morning light would help me find out.

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Before the guard could start asking awkward questions about why I wanted to speak to the Argonian, I opened the way to Gnisis and stepped through into the bustling Redoran town’s Market Square. Miles wasn’t particularly difficult to find since he was the only Argonian wandering the courtyard by the Temple. “So, Dark Elf newest student Jaron has, yes?” it hissed when I addressed him. “Better last one than, this one hopes. Glove Miles have, yours eight thousand Drakes or glass dagger.”

“You want eight thousand Septims or a glass dagger for some ratty old glove?” I exclaimed. “That’s outrageous!”

“Glove Miles have, glove you want,” it said with a complex movement of the shoulders that I realised was the Argonian equivalent of a shrug. “Price Miles want, you know. Leave, take, all same to Miles.” The aggravating lizard was right, of course. It’s the earliest lesson taught to any Telvanni: what you have that others don’t gives you power over them. It surprised me that House Hlaalu taught a similar thing ~ although with them, inevitably, it had been corrupted to a matter of pure profit.

It just so happened that I knew the whereabouts of a glass dagger and it would be a subtle reminder to House Hlaalu that it doesn’t pay to anger Great House Telvanni, especially not their Arch-Magister. Arvs-Drelen’s lower chambers were, as always, deserted, and I quickly made my way to the storeroom and opened the chest I’d partially plundered when I first visited. With a sigh of relief, I saw that the green-bladed dagger was still there and picked it up with a grin. I hadn’t taken it on my previous visit for two simple reasons. Firstly, I am not skilled with a dagger and, truth be told, I’d had no idea how valuable the thing was. The second reason was slightly more compelling: for those that can see with more than mundane eyes, the dagger bore the unmistakable imprint of Great House Telvanni and, more importantly, the device and name of Baladas Demnevanni.

I could barely suppress my mirth as the Argonian and I completed the deal, swapping the glove for the dagger. I wondered how long it would be before Baladas missed the dagger and whether, by the time he did, he would have heard about the Argonian’s new blade? Miles Durango was in for an interesting time when that happened. I took myself back to Jaron’s hut and presented him with the glove.

“Excellent,” he said, turning the blue garment over in his hands. “Now, wait here while I infuse them with power.” He vanished inside his hut and, shortly after the door closed, there were flashes of light and several loud thuds. There was a silence, then a stream of invectives followed by a much louder thud and a brilliant flash of light. Looking slightly dazed, Jaron wandered out of the hut, several streaks of soot decorating his face. He blinked at me, than seemed to pull himself back together. “Ahem, yes. Hehe, a little problem there my dear, but nothing to worry about. Old Jaron has it under control, oh yes, very much under control.

“Here are your gloves,” he said, extending his hand. I took the blue gloves from Jaron, wincing as I did so ~ partially because of the sheer arcane power they gave off and partially because they were so cold to the touch. A filigree of fine silver wire decorated the back of the gloves and, set in the centre of each wire mesh was a single small blue stone. Not wishing to appear ungrateful, I slipped on the gloves. Once I was wearing them, I felt the harmonics of their magic settle into my bones and the oddest sensation of warmth.

Jaron smiled as I stood there, absorbing the song of the magic he’d woven into the gloves. “Some caveats,” he said, attracting my attention. “The gloves will increase your resistance to cold but, hehe, lower your resistance to fire-based magic. They also enhance your abilities to store magicka and focus it into frost-based spells.

“Now I have a favour to ask of you,” he continued, a sheepish look on his face. “I may have mentioned that I have a little problem…”

“Skooma addiction,” I interrupted, “Neela told me.”

“Ah, yes, well,” he spluttered. “Hehe, just a passing phase, I assure you. I can give it up any time I like. But that time isn’t now. I want you to bring me four bottles of Skooma ~ not the most glamorous of assignments, but I promise to teach you a very powerful spell in return.”

I’d heard rumours of smugglers up in the West Gash region, near Gnisis. That seemed to me to be the best place to start… on the morrow. For today was fast drawing to a close and I had no wish to be wandering around the wilds of West gash in the dark. Fara’s Hole-In-The-Wall had a room available so, for the reasonable price of eight Septims, I took it for the night.