Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 9 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 9

The makeshift carrier I had built for the sword seemed light as a feather compared to my footsteps as I made my way to the Temple and the High Chapel where Almalexia waited. She cast her other-worldly gaze upon me and asked in that cool voice,

“Have you forged the blade of Nerevar? Does it burn with the flame of righteousness?”

It was in my mind that what it burned with was the essence of Dwemer alchemy, but I decided not to say so as I uncased the blade and showed it to the goddess. She levitated upward and spun about in her delight as she proclaimed,

“The blade is reforged! Our time has almost arrived. There is but one obstacle that stands in our way, though it pains me to believe it is so. Sotha Sil. I cannot count the times I have fought by the Magician's side. It was he who stood with me the day I fought in Mournhold and banished Mehrunes Dagon to the depths of Oblivion. It was Sotha Sil who was able to delve the mysteries of Kagrenac's tools, and raise me to my rightful station. Now, though, the Tinkerer has become unstable.”

I found it interesting that she admitted that her “divinity” was actually the result of Sotha Sil’s meddling with these “Tools”- whatever they were. And if the source of his power was the same as Almalexia’s, I was willing to believe that he had become unstable. Of even more significance for my immediate purposes was the fact that this was just the sort of information Helseth had asked me to uncover. Therefore, I pursued the issue, inquiring as to the goddess’ reasons for being concerned about Sotha Sil. Her voice became distant, as if she contemplated things only she could see or recall.

“Once, Sotha Sil was like we are, the Lord Vivec and I. He spent time among these mortals, instructing them, counseling them, protecting them from harm. He may have loved them more than any of us, though I know not why. It has been many years since any have seen the Sorcerer, though. Many more since he took initiates into his service. I believe he grew weary of mortal imperfections, and retired to his Clockwork City, where he reshapes life, and some say the very world, into an image he finds pleasing.”

After a pause, she continued,

“His lair is as puzzling as the mind of the Sorcerer himself. Ever-moving, ever-changing, its levers and gears responding to its master's will alone. It is here he performs his profane experiments, aided by his magic and tainted by his madness. I have suspected for some time that the Lord Sotha Sil had entered Sheogorath's realm. His visits have been more and more infrequent, and punctuated by violent fits of anger. He began to speak of the fall of the Tribunal and the return of the Old Gods. But Sotha Sil is not a Seer; he is a Maker. He shapes the Here and the Now, while only I have been privy to what is to come. I know this...he is no longer the man he once was.”

It was disconcerting to hear Almalexia speak at such length and so frankly, when her pronouncements were normally cryptic. In one way, it was as if I was hearing one side of an argument that had raged for many years; in another way, it was as if she felt compelled to unburden herself of all her fears and suspicions, but had found no one in whom to confide. And yet, even if her words were true, they still seemed carefully crafted to show her in the best light. For example, the phrasing about “violent fits of anger” was such that it could apply to either Sotha Sil or the goddess herself. And Galsa Andrano had told me that Almalexia had changed, had become angry and vengeful. Even as I contemplated the implications and undercurrents, Almalexia seemed to reach a decision. She straightened herself and brought her gaze back from whatever distant sights she had considered. Her voice harsh with emotion, she said,

“He is completely mad. It was his creations, these Fabricants, that attacked my city. This once great man is now a danger to Mournhold and to all of Morrowind. He must be stopped, Trey.”

She looked at me steadily and continued,

“I believe it is your calling to stop Sotha Sil's mad schemings. I do not know that he can be reasoned with, Trey, but it is possible. If he cannot be, you must end his life. Though the idea saddens me, it is best for Morrowind...and it is best for him, as well. You have the power to do this. The Trueflame can kill a god, if wielded by one of noble intent. Steel yourself, Trey, and do what must be done. I will send you to his Clockwork City now, if you are prepared. Good luck, Nerevarine.”

[treydog]

I turned at the sound, wondering what new peril confronted me. What I saw was perilous indeed, but far from new. The goddess Almalexia had teleported into the Dome of Sotha Sil and stood before me. It was Almalexia as I had never seen her before, wearing a Daedric mask that hid her features, but did nothing to conceal the madness in her eyes. The hilt of a sword stuck up over her shoulder, a hilt that looked disturbingly familiar- twin to the one that was strapped to my own back. For several long moments, she simply stared at me, breathing as if she had just run a great distance. At last, she shook her head and began to pace back and forth, casting piercing glances my way. Then she spoke and, as well as I can recall, these were her words:

“Nerevarine. Here it ends. This Clockwork City was to be your death. You were to be my greatest martyr!
The heroic Nerevarine, sacrificing all to protect Morrowind from the mad Sotha Sil. But you live! You live!”

Disbelief crept into her voice then, but she again shook her head, as if to send away an annoying thought.
Her eyes glowed with renewed madness and rage, and she continued:

“Fear not. I will tell the tale myself when this is done. I will tell my people how with your dying breath you proclaimed your devotion to me, the one true god. Your death will end this prophecy and unite my people again under one god, one faith, one rule by my divine law. The puppet king will lay down his arms and bow to my will. Those who do not yield will be destroyed.”

Her voice became shriller and more strident as she paced, driving her fist into the opposite palm to emphasize her words. With a visible effort, she regained control and spoke in a more conversational tone, relating fresh horrors as if describing the weather.

“The Mazed Band has allowed me to travel to this place. Here, I slew Sotha Sil. Here, I summoned the Fabricants to attack Mournhold. I will be the savior of my people! I alone will be their salvation! None may stand in my way. Not you, and certainly not Vivec. He is a poet, a fool. I will deal with him when I have finished with you. And Sotha Sil...he always thought himself our better, shunning us, locking himself in this hole. He spoke not a word as he died. Not a whisper. Even in death, he mocked me with his silence! But I think you will scream, mortal. For now, you face the one true god."

The last was an ear-piercing shriek of rage and she drew her hands back in preparation to casting a maleficent spell.

However, I had not been idle as she wove her plots and revealed the depths of her homicidal madness. Believing that I would be facing the great wizard, Sotha Sil, I had placed those potions that would protect me from hostile magic within easy reach. And as Almalexia paced and ranted, I was able to draw forth a few of those precious vials and ingest the contents. Thus it was that when her first wrathful spell washed over me, I was able to withstand its force. To be sure, I was hurt, but not unto death, as had clearly been her intent. Even as her magical fire licked around me, I downed the restorative I had palmed and recovered from the worst effects. The sight of me still standing, largely unhurt, seemed to push the goddess even further into unreasoning fury. With an inarticulate shriek, she ripped the sword from her back and rushed toward me.

Time seemed to slow, and I was able to take in every detail of that deadly blade, twin to the one Yagak had forged for me. The only difference was that my sword, Trueflame, burned with the yellow light of a thousand suns, while Almalexia’s sword burned the blue of a summer sky. This then, was Hopesfire, the ancient blade the goddess had carried before she had even become a goddess. But the history of the sword was of less significance than the fact that it was being swung at my head, and would be quite capable of finishing the job that Almalexia’s spell had started. Normally, when confronted with an opponent so obviously unhinged, I would have done my best to stay out of the way, letting her wear herself out. But, as I prepared to dodge aside, something peculiar happened.

I felt an alien presence, which seemed to coalesce from the very air around me and to enter my body, slipping it on like a cloak. For a moment, I watched from two sets of eyes- my own- and someone else’s. And I saw two scenes, overlaid one upon the other. I was simultaneously in the Dome of Sotha Sil and somewhere else- somewhere underground, with rough-hewn walls and the glow of molten rock making the shadows dance. In the Dome, I/we faced Almalexia; in the cavern, I/we faced not just the goddess, but two others, both golden-skinned and accoutered for battle. The three shouted, gestured, pleaded…. And then they drew weapons. Hopesfire burned in the Dome and in that place underground. Other weapons were wielded too- a short blade and a great hammer, which looked familiar, though I had never seen them before. Magicka crackled in that distant place, and I recognized that one of the slender figures in the vision was Sotha Sil, young and hale, with muscular limbs despite his dreamer’s face. And then, that place fell away, and I was back in the Dome, facing not three opponents, but one. I thought I saw a ghostly golden hand merge with my own pale flesh, and insistent muscles adjusted my grip on the hilt of Trueflame, taking a surer hold. And then I straightened, and raised my shield, and strode forward to meet Almalexia blade to blade.

An almost negligent twitch of Trueflame sent the goddess’ curved sword to one side, to crash into the metal floor in a shower of sparks. She hissed with rage as the shock went up her arms, but recovered quickly and drew back for another thunderous blow. But whoever controlled me did not wait. Like lightning, Trueflame lashed out- once, twice. At first, it seemed that the strokes had missed the goddess by a hair’s-breadth- but then, two wounds appeared along her ribs and began to bleed. It had been long years since Almalexia had felt the touch of a blade, and she recoiled, more from surprise than pain. Meanwhile, I returned to a guard position and watched her eyes to see when she would launch her next attack. Just as her eyelids flickered behind the mask, I raised my shield, not to block, but to smash into her face! As she reeled backward, Trueflame darted forward again, faster than my eye could follow. It found its mark in the goddess’ heart. She fell back, pulling the sword from my unresisting hands. As she collapsed, the madness left her eyes, to be replace by fear and…recognition? With her fall, that alien other who had inhabited me, guided me, slipped out again, swirling into the stale air of the Dome and away. And with the departure of that presence, I felt a tremendous weight leave my soul. I do not know whether it was the death of the mad goddess or something else, but the exhaustion that had plagued me since I came to Mournhold finally seemed to recede.

Even so, at first I simply stood there, empty-handed, waiting for the cataclysm that must surely follow the death of a deity. But there was nothing- nothing except the endless turning of the gears upon the ceiling. At last, I grew tired of waiting and drew out my amulet of Divine Intervention, planning to return to the Imperial Cult shrine in Mournhold. To my annoyance, the amulet refused to work. As I sent forth my magical senses, I could tell that no standard teleportation magic would work in this place. And yet, Almalexia had teleported me here, had teleported herself here not once, but twice. And then, with a guilty start, I recalled some of her words-

“The Mazed Band has allowed me to travel to this place.”

Yes, the Mazed Band, that I had obtained for Almalexia, that allowed her to travel to the Clockwork City, that allowed her to murder the helpless Sotha Sil. Having witnessed the madness of the goddess firsthand, seeing the marks of her fury upon the body of her one-time comrade, I understood that Sotha Sil had not just isolated himself in order to work on his machines. No- he had been hiding- and with good reason. So it was that I approached Almalexia’s body, and saw the Mazed Band upon her finger. I removed the ring and stared at her, thinking about the madness that seemed to inevitably follow power. She had once been a true leader and comfort to her people, a healer and protector. Let her be remembered so. I turned away from her, leaving Hopesfire and Trueflame burning together, votive candles of a martial cast to light her journey through eternity. And then I put on the Mazed Band and left that place of dead gods behind me for evermore.

This post has been edited by treydog: Feb 4 2007, 10:55 PM