So-called Nerevarine looked around with a faint sence of deja-vu. Surely he has been here before? He idly wondered if he would ever know the truth behind the events at the Red Mountain of thousands of years ago. But, he reminded himself, it's not his business at all, he's sent here to help get rid a province of a very truly undoubtedly insane monster of the present (rendering the local god-rulers powerless and all the province subsequently less dangerous, as he could guess). No use in thinking of the past. The task was not too much of a price for being free and unhung.
May be this faint sence is just his mind playing tricks on him, what with all the island suddenly crazy with him being that ancient hero's reincarnation.
Now, the pause was sufficient for him to regain his breath, and he continued by his best stealth step, with a full Chameleon casted on himself again. But when he silently opened the door to the next room, so scarcely lit that he had to let his eyes adjust for a while, it was not empty, like the previous one had been. On the far end of the small hall near the only source of ligh a lone figure clad in clotted-blood-coloured skirt stood with it's back to Nerevarine, muttering something under it's breath.
"Another representative of the sweet Dagoth family?" – the thought has barely formed in his mind when the figure turned abruptly and fell silent.
Silent, as if shocked.
On it's face was a masque of dull gold that barely glinted in the faint light.
"So what? How can I go past him now?" thought Nerevarine, but then told to himself sternly "Don't panic, he still can't see you". As he found no other ways through the stronghold, obviously he had to get to the door behind the masqued figure – the maniac Dagoth Ur himself, if his sources described him right.
With a silent deep breath Nerevarine went on tiptoe to the opposite door, not taking his eyes off the golden masque and keeping hand tightly on the hilt of his sword.
Dagoth Ur stood quiet and unmoving, like a statue. When Nerevarine was as far as three steps, the statue tentatively raised a hand, as if trying to touch something in the air. Fingers uncurled slowly, as if the thing he expected to touch was something sacred, not supposedly his hidden foe.
But Nerevarine's heart already beated like a smith's hummer, and he wasn't in the mood to think of the monster's strange manners. He carefully went around the figure and turned to the door, when the sudden motion at the edge of vision made him turn his head to Dagoth Ur to see his hand hanging at his side again, and all his figure instead of unmerlike frozen calm somehow radiating utter despair.
Standing almost behind Dagoth's back, Nerevarine could see part of his face under the flat masque, and a drop of water hanging from his sharp chin, lighted by the lamp near him. The drop soundlesly fell to the floor to be replaced by a new one.
At the same time as Nerevarine thought incredulously "As if this moster can cry still after all he has done!" suddenly his mind was encircled, invaded and conquered by a tide of alien – no, not alien, his own! – memories. He remembered who he was, and what he was, and felt as if he had recovered from a fit of amnesia… Except he remembered now his death quite vividly. And what he saw when his soul hadn't still went to Azura but, unseen, followed his body carried to the room near the Heart Chamber – the room he was staying in at the moment actually. The argument between Voryn and his closest advisers including his wife. The pain on Voryn's face when he understood his Lord was betrayed and murdered, the fight of one against three, the desperate plunge to the Heart no one was able to stop, and the sound that filled the Chamber after the hit.
Voryn's body, lifeless, on the floor. Almsivi taking the Tools from his hands in silent agreement.
The mutilation of his own body he didn't remember.
Then darkness, till he acknoledged himself again - near his Lady Azura. Her unusually mild tone when she tried to comfort him and said she'd do she still knows not what, but she'd find the way to help him. "They killed him!" he whispered again, lying on grass at her feet in the Moonshadow gardens and watching the colours change majestically in the sky, but not able to move.
"They betrayed and killed you too, if you remember" – was her exasperated answer, and he said "But it was I who was guilty of trusting them. He tried to warn me and I hadn't listened. Now he's dead because of me".
"He's not dead" – said the Lady of Night Sky at last after a long silence.
Nerevar supposed after that remark she just had to make him sleep all the time before reincarnation and seal his memory, or he would kill himself when still weak trying to get revenge on Almsivi or find path to the Red Mountain.
But now he remembered everything, his head was dangerously clear and his voice was like his own, Nerevar's voice had been so long ago, when he said, cancelling the Chameleon spell
"Will you take off your masque for me, Voryn?"
And Dagoth Ur turned to him instantly, but the heavy golden masque he had taken away from his face slowly, with a visibly shaking hand. Nerevar didn't know was it because of shock or was his old friend ashamed of his own face. But when he saw that face, the same it was on the day of the battle, only ashen-grey and with eyes burning, and bearing the mark of grief unimaginable – he did the first thing he wished to do since – fell on his knees, bowed his head to the dusty floor and said:
"I beg, forgive me, if you can".
"For what, my Lord?" – was the first thing Voryn said to him, dropping the masque and lowering himself to the floor too, and frowning as Nerevar, now looking into his eyes, answered "I hadn't believed you when I should, and I sent you to death".
"I forgive you, and I'm alive," – he replied solemnly, standing up ang gesturing Nerevar to do the same. And feeling suddenly his signature calmness and sense of the ultimate completeness - the mood he hadn't been in in thousands of years - returning to him with one look into these eyes before him.
"Though may be I shouldn't have been" – he added darkly.
"Don't you ever say that," replied Nerevar in a dangerous tone. But Voryn knew him well enough to recognise the fear in his Lord's voice. He shaked only a little, when Nerevar closed three steps between them in an instant and embraced him tightly, so that Voryn's head was caught under his Lord's chin and arms were pressed to his sides with strengh that he could - being half god himself - overcome, but hadn't wished to in the slightest.
When Voryn stopped trembling in his arms, Nerevar asked:
"Why have you done all this, my dear friend?"
Instantly Voryn tried to free himself from embrace, only to be held tighter. So he said somewhere to Nerevar's cuirass, clearly sad beyound measure:
"You were dead. The only reason I still lived was to kill them.
Everything else meant nothing to me, and the people who so readily believed and worshipped the decievers meant even less. I saw no future for this world. So I've experimented on them wildly, without any restraint. On my own House most of all, for I could reach them easier."
After a pause Nerevar asked: "So when you supported me then, you've done it only for my sake?"
The melodic voice at his chest sounded milder - "No, then I was in awe not only of yourself, but of the grandeur of your project, even if I showed distrust and disbelief. I wished it to became reality not only because it was your mind's creation, but for the peace and prosperity of everyone in this land".
Then he continued:
"Azura came to me once, shortly after I regained my strengh. She said she'd reincarnate you no matter what it'd take, and I should wait for you, my Lord, and then help you to avenge your death and decieving of your people.
But I hadn't believed her – shifty as she always seemed to me, she could surely say this just to keep me from trying to get Almsivi myself for whatever reason.
But centuries went and I was still unable to gather enough strengh to attack them, and they were vary too already. So I waited for them to come here and took the Tools, and then waited more, now confident that my wait is coming to the end and I will soon be able to die."
The last words were said in whisper, and the hall fell into silence.
But finally Voryn asked, mastering his voice again:
"So what will you have me to do now, my Hortator, long lost and found again?"
And after a couple of minutes of contemplation Nerevar said "I have the Tools with me. You will use them" – Voryn tried to raise the head to look at his face, clearly shocked, but was held in place by a firm hand, and Nerevar continued "You will use them as many times as you will have to, and having the power of god, you will return the land to it's former state, without ash creatures, storms and diseases. Then we'll destroy the Heart, shatter the Tools and bury the Heart Chamber. Will you do that?"
"Yes. I will, if you still trust me, my Lord" – was the muffled reply, for Voryn fighted tears that came to his eyes as he felt hope filling his heart - for a world to truly stop being a nightmare. Thinking of this incredible mer who always knew how and was strong enough to shape the world into a better place with whatever instruments he had at hand, Voryn, the former mer whose name mothers used to frighten children, was resigned to make his Lord's vision a reality – again.
And everything was done as Lord Nerevar said.
He freed Voryn from embrace, took the Tools and the protecting glove from his belt, and gave it to him without much ceremony, as the understanding like in the years long gone, was reestablished between them. Both went to the Heart Chamber that indeed was beyond the second door in the hall. At the steps he asked Voryn if he needed help, and the other looked into his eyes and replied with grave sincerity "Hold me. I woudn't like to fall like the first time".
Wondering sadly what fall, physical or metaphorical, or both, Voryn had meant, Nerevar went upstairs behind him and as he stopped before the Heart, carefully closed arms around Voryn's torso, ready to support him if he'd faint.
One true-aimed hit was enough, and Voryn, gratefully leaning against Nerevar, closed his eyes, listening to the sound slowly dying in the air and feeling the power to change reality – not in the "inspiration and leadership" Nerevar's way, but simply, directly - rise and sing in his veins.
He almost lost himself in that feeling, when he heard Nerevar ask anxiously if he was alright. Then he remembered his task, nodded and, still feeling the comfort of steadying embrace, widened his mind to include every change he had made to the natural order, to the climate and fauna and everything, and released it from his influence in one sharp movement of his godly will. Even the air in the room has become clearer, as he returned his mind to the place where his body was.
He wondered what would become if he delayed the destruction of the Heart, what would Nerevar say? But the arms on his chest were calm, trusting, not showing any impatience or worry. Only one last thing he allowed himself to do with his immence powers – he tried to look into his Lord's heart, to know what he feels now after all Voryn had done. Does he still trusts him or is he just bluffing wildly and hoping for the best?
What he saw made him shudder and hit the Heart in the wrong, destructive way hurriedly. Having done that, and contendedly listened to the last discordant sound, he said in a trembling voice "I can stand by myself now, thank you very much, my Lord".
But Nerevar used one hand to cast some spell on the Tools (Voryn hadn't even noticed he dropped them to the floor), and then on the Chamber's roof, holding Voryn still with his other hand. Then once-god saw the free hand make the familiar gesture of Recall, and the world around clicked into a simply furnitured bedroom, sunny and stuffed with books on every horisontal surface.
Here Nerevar at last took his arms off him and, turning him to the small door near in the corner, pushed him forward, laughing happily but slightly histerically, saying "Now you should have a bath of centuries".
Voryn, still shocked by what he'd seen, and by the sudden change of place, went slowly where he was pushed, to the small but tidy bathroom. When Nerevar cheerfully promised him to send him the maid, he stumbled and would have fallen, had Nerevar not been ready for something like that.
"No maid then, I'll help you myself. She'd scream like a cliff racer, if you'd faint in her presence".
He quickly made spells for the water pouring from the ceiling above an old bronze bathtube and ushered Voryn under the warm waterfall, while he himself with a speed of habit took off all his armour and leather, pushed the heap back to the bedroom and soon stood only wearing pants and a tunic, oddly embroidered with multiple silver moons and stars of random shapes and placing.
"Don't laugh, that's my maid's doing! I come here not too often, so she at times gets bored. As she's a Breton she's not too much interested in Dunmer sigils and embroiders just as she wishes. I'm glad she uses only one colour at least"
Voryn couldn't help but smile – his friend was still the same.
Nerevar gave him a bast wisp and a piece of bitter-smelling soap, and sat on the floor near the bathtub, watching the sunset clouds through the small window, waiting for Dagoth to scrub himself clean of dirt at least, and thinking of what else to do to keep Voryn busy and when would the shock wear out and the shame crash him with its full weight.
At last he had inspected the result, teasingly asked if Voryn had any intention of clipping his scary nails, and went to get some towels and a comfortable wine-coloured home robe.
"That's not exactly your colour, you'll have to excuse me" he said as he presented the garment to the wrapped in towels mer. "Will you sit with me as I'm taking a shower too?"
"Are you scared of being alone?" Voryn tried to say that jokingly but failed, as he met Nerevar's eyes that spoke, "Yes, I'm frightened as much as I could be".
So he sat there and waited for his Lord, and both thought of one another in silence.
After they went out of the bathroom, refreshed, with their long hair wrapped in towels, Nerevar called for the infamous maid and asked her to do a richest supper she could think of – for two – and bring it to the roof terrace.
They went up to the flat roof to bask in the last rays of the sun, talking pleasantly of trivial things like what's the place was (a lonely little mansion Nerevar bought of House Hlaalu), how the air looked clearer above the mountain, and the summer evening seemed sweet and warm.
After an hour of mostly mindless chatting Nerevar felt tired, and Voryn asked him at last, not able to read the answer in the eyes of his friend.
"What are you so scared of?"
Nerevar turned to look at the first stars above the eastern horizon, and when his eyes met Voryn's at last, they were calm and sad. "I fear you'd leave me. I fear the weight of what you've done could be too great for you. Chimer and Dunmer are built strong and lasting, but no soul ever beared what you had to. And it's no one but I who must keep you alive, and try to let you live a happy life."
"Don't fear for me. Don't be scared that I'll leave you – has I ever done that?" – asked Voryn with a warm smile, stilling Nerevar's hand, nervously tapping on the wooden arm rest.
"Thanks, that's a reincarnate's bad habit… no strict parents. But of course not! You from all the world is the only person I could trust entirely no matter what. Yet you spoke like you were very close to killing yourself there, in the Mountain…"
"Everything changed since then. I have a purpose in live, as I always had. The world has a meaning again."
He sat for a while in silence, aware of Nerevar's questioning gaze on his face and still looking to the far horizon. Then he turned to his friend again and said quitely:
"I've asked the power of the Heart to show me how you see me now – a dangerous psycho? a cruel, immoral monster? a pathetiс weakling?"
Gesturing to the frowning Nerevar to listen for a while more he continued, looking into the eyes before him: "I love you too. As I always had and always will. And if you do forgive me – then I will live for you, again, my Lord. I'm glad that having a heartless monster at your side doesn't frighten you still, you, the only one on the face of Nirn…" – and seeing no reaction from Nerevar, he added in whisper, lowering his eyes – "if the Heart hadn't decieved me…"
"No, the Heart said the truth," – Nerevar answered at last, and feeling the hand that still touched his fingers, keeping them from nervous tapping, he turned his palm up to hold it firmly.
Stars appeared in the sky above them, one by one, silently.
After the celebratory supper was eaten in the candlelight, they returned to Nerevar's bedchamber and without saying a word agreed that guestroom was not required. They were separated for thousands of years, and given the twistedness of their lives, it would be unwise to leave one another even for a night. Who knows what morning could bring.
The first thing Nerevar said after they got into bed and made themselves comfortable, laying facing each other, was: "Here we are, like two little girls at sleepover". Voryn laughed and said quietly "Hold me, will you?"
Half of the night they laid awake, basking in the presence and closeness and reality of each other.
Voryn's clawed hands, caught between their chests, stinged a bit, but Nerevar didn't mind. The pain assured him he was not dreaming yet, and his lost advisor, most trusted friend in his entire life – more than a friend, yes – was truly here, held in his arms, warm, breathing, with a living beating heart. And to oblivion be damned numb limbs after sleeping in such a pose. He wouldn't let Voryn go for the world.
Now finally he felt deeply how lonely he really was for those 73 years of waking forgetfulness, and he knew whom was the person nothing and no one could ever replace.