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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There was one other chamber on the lower floor and I knew what it contained even before I shattered the lock and looked inside. Oh, not the specifics ~ the corpses of four dead Redoran House guards ~ but I knew pretty much what to expect. What, I wondered, as I idly crushed the rats that had been using the place as a feeding chamber, had these Mer been doing here? Had they come seeking the bandits, or had rumour of the elementals brought them here?

One of the guards clutched a strange-looking torch. The handle of the torch was made of the same dark wood as any other but, instead of tar-soaked fabric wrapped around the end, there was a small brazier. Intrigued ~ especially since there was no trace of combustible material near where the torch lay ~ I pried it from his fingers. As I held it up, there was a soft sound and pale blue flames appeared in the brazier. I blinked, partially in surprise at the sudden appearance of the flames and partially because I could suddenly feel my magical abilities expanding. (Much later, I learned that this was a Sceptre of Arcane Knowledge: an ancient construct designed to boost the power of Nordic Mages and, with typical Nordic frugality, also provide light by burning the very arcane forces it enhanced for the one carrying it).

The stairs to the second level of Andasreth beckoned, and I ascended them to find myself in a curving hallway very much like the lower level. Turning to my right, I walked the short distance to the corner and started down the gloomy corridor that stretched before me. I had gone not very far ~ three of four dozen paces at most ~ when I became aware of a low buzzing sound. Simultaneously, all the fine hairs on my forearm stood up. Another dozen paces and I became aware that there were flickers of static lightning dancing on the blade of my axe. Hastily I returned it to its place on my pack and drew out the Ebony sword. To my relief, there were no crackling discharges along the black blade.

Litanigier and his two compatriots were as different to Shadowshard as chalk is to cheese. Whereas the ice elemental had appeared vaguely human ~ provided you didn’t look in its eyes ~ the storm elemental had taken the form of an Atronach, as had the two lesser elementals. I had about two heartbeats to wonder if Daedric armour conducted lightning when Litanigier answered the question for me.

The writhing ball of energy exploded against the front of my armour, hurling me backwards to crash against the wall of the passage. Limbs buzzing, hair sticking out in a million different directions, I shook my head to clear it of the ringing bells that seemed to have taken up residence. I rolled aside as another titanic bolt of energy hurled through the open door, narrowly avoiding the explosion. Daedric armour didn’t conduct energy, but too many bolts like that and it wouldn’t matter a damn. Scrambling to my feet I ran a short distance down the corridor to take stock: Fortunately, the elemental was too large to get through the doorway. Which, of course, begged the question: how did it get in there in the first place?

Such philosophical musings were cut short by the sudden appearance of the two lesser elementals. Grasping my sword, I rushed at them. Suicidal? Possibly, but it did have the advantage of me being close enough to them to inflict damage and make it difficult for them to use their ranged spells. The Ebony blade hammered into the side of the nearest elemental, cracking the stone while the shock of the impact made my hands numb. Gripping the hilt firmly, I smashed the blade into the elemental again and again ~ small chunks of material flaking off with every impact. By adopting a frantic hit and dodge approach, I was able to elude the massive grasping hands of the creature and inflict even more damage.

My only salvation lay in the fact that the corridor was far too narrow for two of them to stand side-by-side. As long as I kept them hemmed in between the door and the alcove behind me, I only had to deal with one elemental at a time. Within minutes, my berserker approach paid dividends ~ with a noise like an Alit howling down a hollow tube, the lesser elemental dissipated in a cloud of sparks. The other creature of Litanigier had been waiting for the moment his companion vanished. Extending its arms, it expelled a massive cloud of writhing sparks at me.

Once more I was thrown backwards, sliding along the corridor’s rough floor like a child on an icy lake. Thunderous footfalls broke through my momentary confusion, and I looked up to see the elemental advancing down the hall towards me. Extending a hand, I yelled, “Dywyll chymylau, yn nadu bwrw eira, angheuol brythwch.”

Instantly, the creature slowed: the whirling sphere of energy that surrounded it growing pale and dim. Pushing myself up off the floor, I pressed my advantage. Where the heart of the creature should be was a hollow chamber filled with a sphere of intense light. With a savage thrust (and a silent prayer) I drove the point of the ebon blade into the hollow. There was a thunderous noise, accompanied by a flash of light that almost blinded me. Had my eyes not been narrowed to facilitate my aim, I’m certain that the blinding brilliance would have seared them milky-white. When the flashes and dark spots that obscured my vision cleared, there was nothing left of the elemental but a large blackened smudge on the floor, from which smoke still rose.

“Litanigier,” I yelled, keeping well away from the opening to the room, “will you yield?”

I clapped my hands over my ears as a voice that literally boomed like thunder responded, “[b]Mortal. To Thee And Thy Kind I Shall Never Yield. Come, Face The Might Of Litanigier If Thou Dares.”

Well, it had been worth a try. When the echoes of that thunderous voice died away, I fetched out the small pack that contained my most valuable enchanted rings and amulets. Selecting the one I needed, The Ring Of Surroundings, I slipped it onto my finger and activated the enchantment. Unseen, a wraith, I slipped into the room and crept furtively up to the hulking mass of the elemental. As I’d hoped, there was a similar chamber of Litanigier’s chest. Squinting my eyes shut, I struck.

When the bells of Oblivion had stopped chiming in my head and I was able to pick myself up off the floor, the only trace of the elemental was a pile of rubble. I blinked, there seemed to be a film in front of my eyes ~ the flash had been brighter than the sun, visible even through close eyelids: had it damaged my eyes? With a shaky sigh, I realised that I still wore the ring and that the Shadow-Weave spell was still in effect. Ripping the ring from my finger, I was overjoyed to see my surroundings return to clear, sharp focus.

A search of the room turned up some interesting items, an oddly coloured Ioun stone, a strange hammer, and a bag of steel arrowheads. What made the hammer strange was that it sang a note of pure magic yet I could discern no enchantment on it. Wrapping my hands around the thick wooden shaft, I hefted the hammer and brought it down tentatively on a nearby table. As the head swished through the air, the metal suddenly started to glow, first a brilliant red and then a searing white. The table, poor innocent wooden thing, flashed into flames before the head of the hammer even made contact. I was unable to stop the downward arc of the hammer and, passing through the space where the table had been, it struck the floor. I gasped as a large section of solid rock started to bubble, stepping back from the ferocious heat.

I blinked, the hammer was unchanged, still the same dull grey it had been when I picked it up. Intrigued, I raised the hammer again and brought it down ~ only to have the heavy head smack harmlessly against the floor. I let my mind’s eye examine the hammer again ~ it still sang, but the note was now muted and distant. So, a lethal one-shot weapon that discharged its whole power store at once. I examined the hammer’s physical form, the only thing of interest being the word “ZUL” engraved around the metal post that held the head to the shaft.

The rest of Andasreth proved to be anti-climactic after that. I took the glittering stone that I assumed was the essence of Litanigier and pressed on. There were another couple of rooms on this second level ~ home to various bandits. None of these proved to be anything like a match for me in sword-play or magic and I cut a swath through them. They must have been moderately successful, for I found three more Ioun stones and three interesting charms, which I resolved to investigate at my leisure.

Infritel, the fire elemental on the roof of Andasreth, proved to be incredibly susceptible to the spells Jaron had taught me and, after my second casting, had been vanquished without even making me draw my sword. Collecting the fire-filled bottle that was its essence, I made my way down through the now abandoned Fort and outside to the Propylon Chamber. This, I thought, would make an ideal place to rest and recover.