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]

When I put on Barilzar’s ring, it was without a thought as to where it might take me- I only hoped it would be somewhere away from the awful stillness of the Clockwork City. However, before I could even begin to probe the possibilities of the artifact, I felt myself being drawn into the void of teleportation magic. Someone clearly had a destination in mind for me, whether I willed it or not. Unfortunately, there was little I could do to prepare for any danger that might await me at the other end- I always required a few seconds to recover from the disorienting effects of teleportation. That period of helplessness would be quite sufficient for any hostile entity to kill me, if that was the intent. In reality, the location at which I arrived was not so deadly as I feared, even if it was not precisely comforting, either. When I regained my senses, I stood in the center of the High Chapel of Mournhold, in the spot from which Almalexia had last departed. Her guards made no move to accost me, only stared with impassive eyes and then turned their minds back to whatever thoughts occupied them. I was somehow able to avoid my usual talent for talking myself into trouble- the key was to say nothing. When no one stopped me, I walked slowly to the door and got out of there. I followed the same plan for leaving the Temple itself, and was congratulating myself on my success when I suddenly found myself unable to move. Apparently, I was not the only one so afflicted- everyone I could see from the Temple steps seemed frozen in mid-stride.

Then there came a shimmering in the air before me, and an ethereal figure appeared. The figure took the form of a woman, draped in a pale blue gown, and crowned with stars. Even with my limited interest in religion, I recognized her as the manifestation of Azura, goddess of dawn and dusk. She stared at me with bottomless eyes, seeming to read every bit of my soul as easily as I might peruse a broadsheet in the market. And then I heard a voice in my head, a voice that clearly came from the figure who stood before me.

“You have done well, mortal. The death of Almalexia is a boon for all of Morrowind, though it may take time for this to be understood. She would have betrayed the Dunmer as surely as she betrayed all those she loved. This was her curse, and this was her undoing.”

She paused, then gave a gentle smile as she seemed to find a source of guilt that lay close to the surface of my mind. In a reassuring tone, she added,

“Weep not for Sotha Sil. He shed his mortality long ago, and I am certain his death was no small relief to him. These gods lived with the burden of a power no mortal was meant to possess.”

Her voice became more forceful as she concluded,

“There is much for you still to do. Vivec lives, and he may yet have a part to play in your future. Continue on your chosen path. The skies of Mournhold are clear once again. Let these people suffer no longer. Now go, mortal. Embrace your destiny, and go with my blessing.”

With a wave of her hand, Azura was gone, and I was again able to move.
Yes, I was able to move, for all the good it might do me. I might go to the farthest reaches of mysterious Akavir and it would not matter. When I discovered that the Emperor had “plans for me,” I was annoyed. When I realized that Helseth was behind the attempts to kill me, I was outraged. But what was I to do with the knowledge that Azura had taken an interest in me? True to my stubborn nature, I determined that I would ignore the goddess and her charge to “embrace my destiny.” I did not even know what that admonition meant. But I did know that I had unfinished business in Mournhold, business that involved a murderous monarch. Therefore, I wrenched the Mazed Band from my finger and tossed it to a ragged Bosmer beggar who loitered nearby.

“Here you go, friend,” I said, “I hope it brings you better luck than it did me.”

I left him gaping like a hooked fish and made my way to the Royal Palace.

Helseth was in his usual place in the Throne Room, and he eyed me with his accustomed mixture of disdain, suspicion, and superiority. He let me stand before him for a while, until he realized that I had no intention of bending my knee to him. Tiring of the silence, he spoke in a bored tone,

“I have been hearing a great many stories about you, Trey. And about the goddess Almalexia. In fact, I’ve been hearing stories about a great many strange happenings in my city. I sent you to investigate the source of the attack on the Plaza. I assume the rumors I have heard relate to that. What have you learned?”

As much because I had to tell someone what had transpired in the Clockwork City as because I wanted to savor Helseth’s reaction, I told the truth, leaving nothing out. He disappointed me, though, showing no sign beyond a slight raising of his brow as I recounted the story of madness and murder. He paused for a time, as if marshalling his thoughts, then spoke quietly:

“The attacks were Almalexia's doing? And now you say that both she and Sotha Sil lie dead in the Clockwork City? She murdered Sotha Sil, and then tried to kill you as well. Astounding! I believe your tale, Trey, but do not expect my people to be so accepting of it. You will find it is not so easy to kill these gods in the hearts and minds of their followers. It will take time, but this will be a new era for Morrowind, and I will lead them into it. You have done well, my friend. You have my gratitude.”

Before I could draw breath to tell him what I thought of his gratitude, he gestured to one of his guards, who stepped forward bearing a bundle which he laid at my feet. When I examined it, it turned out to be a full set of Royal Guard armor. How like Helseth it was to give me such a useless gift, to try and make it seem that I had fought the goddess as a service to him! And how like him it was to try and take ownership of me, whom he had so recently tried to have murdered. I spoke none of those thoughts, simply gathered up the armor with a murmured thanks and departed for the Palace basement. Once there, I wasted no time in mixing some very special potions. The work was tedious and exacting, but I did not notice the passing of time. When I was satisfied with my work, it was late at night, and I was able to make a quiet visit to the now-empty Throne room. And then, I returned to my basement hideaway and gave myself up to healing sleep. I was able to rest without difficulty, knowing that another day or two at the most would see me finished with my long, dark sojourn in Mournhold.