Chapter 33
Royal Pain in the Arse
XxXxXx
3E 427 - Mournhold, Morrowind
Nevano watched Bols Indalen put the last few stitches into black leather, his curiosity mounting. He had emerged from the sewers in the Great Bazaar several days ago with an incriminating note, a heavy heart and a bag full of raw glass he had appropriated from the Dark Brotherhood assassins. He had then been pointed towards the Craftsmen Hall, to the master armorer himself, only to find the man in dire need of help after his apprentice had up and abandoned him. Nevano left him with the glass ore and found a suitable replacement within a few hours, prompting the grateful mer to tell him to return in a few days. That had been a bit of a reprieve to Nevano. He had spent the entire time at the Winged Guar, binging on sujamma with the vague contract sitting in front of him. He still had the damned thing crumpled in a pocket, feeling like it was burning a hole through his worn clothing.
The Bearer of this document, under special dispensation of the Night Mother, who has entered in a contract in perpetuity with H, is given special dispensation to execute Nevano, a Dunmer recently residing on the island of Vvardenfell. In accordance with all laws and traditions, the afore-mentioned personage will be executed in the name of H in the most expedient manner possible. All services of the Dark Brotherhood are at the disposal of the Bearer of this binding and non-disputable document.
H. Nevano could only guess who H was. H was a rather common letter to start a name with. Or it could be a codename. Nothing he could really go on. It was a maddening puzzle, but it would be a while before anyone would realize the assassins were dead. It gave him a bit of a reprieve before the next set came after him, just enough time to try to solve this puzzle. As long as the Dark Brotherhood didn't decide to come after him purely for retribution instead of under contract, he was in a strange place of relative safety.
"There." The craftsman help up what he was working on for inspection. Nevano's eyes widened, the Dark Brotherhood and the incriminating note instantly forgotten. Supple black leather decorated with metal and straps and ridges but on closer inspection they proved to be useful places for storing things like lock picks and knives. It was innocuous enough at first glance but a second glance proved to be intimidating enough. It was easily the most beautiful set of armor Nevano had ever seen.
"That glass you brought me? I've been itching for a place to try a new idea out." Bols handed him the armor. "Most mer have a taste for it to be used in giant plates on metal, glaring for all the world to see but it's just not practical using it as plate armor. So I took that glass and fashioned it into smaller platelets and strung them together much like chainmail but I expect it to be even stronger than that. Plus they're hidden under that leather, certainly making your enemies underestimate you. There's also no light to reflect off the glass. Never understood that. Everyone seems to think it's too pretty to hide but armor isn't supposed to be pretty! You seem the more subtle sort anyway."
Nevano could barely say anything. Indalen wasn't kidding, the armor was as light as leather armor but he could feel the glass beneath, shifting like muscle under skin. Indalen was right; armor wasn't supposed to be "pretty" but this armor wasn't pretty. It was like standing a well-bred warhorse next to a child's pony - it was sleek and gorgeous and he couldn't wait to take into a fight. He didn't care if he couldn't eat for a week, he was going to take this armor with him. "How much do I owe you for this?"
"Since it's an experiment..." Indalen rubbed at his chin. "Nothing. You did me a huge favor back there and you did provide me with most of the expensive material. Just let me know how that glass works out. If it's as good as I think it is, I might have something that'll put my mark on the world."
"I think you might have accomplished that, my friend." Nevano pulled the armor on, marveling how it fit him like a glove. "How did you get my...?"
"When you've been smithing as long as I have, you can get a measurement just by looking at someone."
Nevano chose not to comment on that. Instead he settled for continuing to admire his new armor. If this armor really was as strong as Indalen said, then Nevano was going to make sure it would live as long as he did.
"Oh, one more thing." Indalen shuffled his feet, suddenly nervous. "A note came for you. Not sure how they knew you would be here but ah..."
Nevano frowned as the smith handed him a tightly rolled scroll. It was heavy, expensive paper and sealed with...
"That's the royal seal." Indalen said. "You know...the king. Not sure what you did to garner his attention but...be careful kid."
Be careful kid. Those words echoed in Nevano's head as he made his way through the city and to the palace. Be careful kid. Nevano straightened up a bit as guards nodded him through the palace. Be careful kid. Badly concealed whispers and stares followed him as he walked through the ornate halls. Be careful kid. The double doors leading to the throne room were thrown open to admit him and he stepped into the heart of Morrowind's tumultuous politics.
Being a hero, a champion, was a dubious thing. Sure, saving the world was a great thing. Nevano found he had gone from despised Outlander to controversial renegade to beloved champion in a matter of weeks. But being a champion was not all it seemed. The people were certainly grateful but while civilians tended to be warm and grateful, the further up the social ladder he went, the cooler the responses were. It wasn't that they weren't (mostly) appreciative of what he managed to accomplish, it was that they were now interested in seeing what they could manipulate him into doing next for their own personal gain. Apparently killing Dagoth Ur was not the top of everyone's concern.
Looking at King Hlaalu Helseth in the eyes for the first, Nevano instantly knew that the King of Morrowind was going to use him for every ounce of usefulness he could wring out of his body before tossing the ruined husk aside. Nevano was a plaything in his giant game board. His death meant nothing other than a few annoying reports that the people were upset. A few orders of making the fallen champion a saint and a statue or two to pacify the masses later and he wouldn't even lose sleep at night. Nevano saw all that in one hard flash of red eyes. Then the King of Morrowind smiled, one so well practiced that its warmth almost seemed genuine.
"We are pleased to see you, sera." He greeted, the words almost as genuine as his smile. Nevano felt his hackles rise. "Have you come to be of service to your King?"
Nevano glanced around at the guards. None of them were watching him outright, but he could tell that everyone's attention was on him. They were waiting to see what he would do, what he would say. They were intensely curious at this stranger, this outlander, this little street rat who rose to become one of Morrowind's most remarkable heroes. The next words out of Nevano's mouth would dictate how the rest of his journey here in Mournhold, in Morrowind itself under Helseth's rule, would go. The only problem was that Nevano had no idea how to act in front of a king.
"I might as well be, seeing as how everyone else seems to want me to be, Your Highness." Nevano felt rather than heard the sudden intake of astonishment from everyone around him. Apparently that wasn't the most appropriate thing to say. "You are not the first in this city to ask that same question."
"I see you've talked to Almalexia." Helseth said smoothly. "The goddess who surrounds herself with priests and guards and rarely ventures from her chapel. I wouldn't recommend her as someone who truly understands the people anymore."
"You do?" Nevano ignored the glares he was now blatantly getting from the guards all around him. Helseth was apparently allowing him to speak freely...not that Nevano was really going to speak any other way.
"It is no secret that I have no great love for Alamalexia, her Ordinators, or the Tribunal of which she is a part. However, in light of recent events, I believe that we should...take a closer look at them, as it were."
"King Helseth, I have had more than enough dealings with gods and their playthings." Nevano said with all the conviction in his soul. "Whatever is going on between you and Almalexia, I want nothing to do with. That was not what brought me here. That would be being attacked by the Dark Brotherhood. My only intention is to find out who ordered the writ on me, convince them to take it off and be on my way."
"We shall see, we shall see..." Helseth said. "The Dark Brotherhood you said? They are usually an effective group. Not always, though, as we can see."
"You said nearly the exact same thing Fedris Hler said." Nevano said flatly.
"Hler? The leader of the Hands of Almalexia?" Helseth smiled as if Nevano had just divulged incriminating information but for the life of him Nevano couldn't figure out just what that was. This whole conversation felt like it was going in confusing circles. "We will discuss your visit with the temple later but as to the Dark Brotherhood, they, and the Morag Tong, have their purpose here in Morrowind. They are all a difficult lot, the Dark brotherhood more so, but they do have their usefulness. I'm certain they will no longer be a problem for you."
Nevano felt an ominous shiver run down his spine. He had a horrible feeling about what he was about to hear next. He almost didn't want to hear it, but there was no way he could stop Helseth. He could only listen in horrified astonishment.
"So you'll have to forgive the slight inconvenience that dictated your arrival in our glorious city.." Helseth continued on, watching Nevano's face carefully. "It appears we were given a bit of misinformation. You see, we have various sources throughout Vvardenfell that are paid well to provide us with information. Unfortunately, sometimes it proves to be incorrect. One of our informants had suggested that you could pose a threat to our monarchy. That cannot be allowed, as I'm sure you understand."
Nevano, by the grace of some god or daedra or other source he couldn't identify, managed to keep his face blank of all emotion though his heart was pounding and his palms were sweating.
"It is never easy for one to assume the throne, especially after the unfortunate set of circumstances that led to our beloved King Llethan's death. There are those who would seek to profit from such events, to take the opportunity to create unrest among the people. There are those, even, who would wish to see us dead. Surely you have some understanding of this? What better way to achieve one's goals than to have others remove those that would oppose you."
Nevano could feel the balled up note in his pocket burn as if it had caught on fire against his leg. So...it had been Helseth all along. The mysterious H in the letter...it stood for Helseth. Nevano felt like a fool, a bigger fool, even, than when he realized he had been tossed out like an offering to "audition" to be Nerevarine. He was sick unto death of being played as a fool. His anger allowed him to get an edge above his fear, allowing him to think a bit more clearly.
"Now I believe there are a few things we should discuss..."
"You will have to pardon me there, my king." Nevano finally found his courage to interrupt, causing Helseth to raise an eyebrow. Nevano's stomach constricted at that look but forced himself to continue. "While many might think that it was the Emperor who sent me to Morrowind, it was Azura who guided me along the way. Throughout my entire journey on Vvardenfell, she was there. The writ you put out on me might have been the bait to lure me here, but I wouldn't be here were it not for the Prince's will. I don't know what her will is yet, so until she reveals that to me, I cannot help you or Almalexia. Azura is a more powerful thing by far. I wouldn't want to anger her, do you?"
"Of course not!" Helseth said amicably but Nevano could hear the annoyance beneath but it no longer frightened him. "Every Dunmer should be respectful of our daedric ancestors. Take your time and return to me when Our Lady reveals her intentions to you."
Nevano inclined his head and crossed his right fist across his chest. It was a military salute rather than a formal bow but he was not going to bow to this dangerous creature in front of him, especially not after he blatantly admitted to putting a writ out on him. He then left the throne room as fast as he could without appearing to flee. He had used Azura as an excuse. Azura had appeared periodically but she was not so intertwined with this venture as she had been with him defeating Dagoth Ur. She merely provided a means for him to escape before Helseth could begin to use him. She would forgive him for using her so.
Black clouds had billowed up while he was in the palace. The few visitors in the palace courtyard had already left to find shelter. As he fled to Brindisi Dorum, the skies opened up and it started to rain. Nevano wedged himself between the roots of a old tree, its limbs so far up that it didn't offer any shelter from the rain. He barely noticed the water running down his face and neck as he glared at the statue of Almalexia through the mist. This whole city...it was pretty, but it was merely a veneer covering the ugly truth. The city of light and magic was nothing more than a den of cutthroats and corrupt politicians. He hated it. He hated it, he hated that he had been thrust into the middle of this, he hated how no one seemed to want to let him go, he hated this life that had been thrust on him.
Something dropped on his shoulders. He started and looked up to see a women give him a gentle smile before walking away without a word. Before he could gather himself and call out to her, she disappeared into the sheets of rain. He pulled the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. Perhaps...not everything in this city was so bad after all.
No, he couldn't just leave. Not just yet. However he had a lot to think about before he made his next move.
XxXxXx
4E 201, 23rd Hearthfire - Mournhold, Morrowind
Nevano's pack made initial entry into the courtyard through the rubble, followed by Bonebiter, then Hopesfire. Trueflame he kept in hand as he squirmed through, trying not to slice himself on the wickedly sharp points of the blade.. It had been a small tunnel he had squirmed through, almost too small even for him. The gate leading to the palace from Brindisi Dorum had been opened but the archway and the guards quarters had collapsed, making entry rather difficult. Nevano had found the small tunnel instead, allowing him to crawl through instead of trying to climb over the wreckage. It wasn't any easier to crawl than it was to climb over, but it certainly made it easier for him to get through without being caught. He was just lucky that the way through was clear.
Strangely enough the courtyard itself was clean. It wasn't as pristine as he remembered it - the plants were all dead and the intricately tiled floor was shattered - but the debris that so liberally decorated the rest of Mournhold was conspicuously missing here. He scratched at his messy ridge of hair; there wasn't even a bit of broken tile out of place where the mosaic had been shattered. It was perplexing...and a little suspicious. He couldn't stop staring at it...or the lack thereof. Then something hit him on the side of the head.
He jumped like a startled cat, his swords brought up before he landed again, his heart hammering. He hadn't heard anything to indicate something, or someone, creeping up on him. His eyes quickly scanned the darkness around him only to find...nothing. He blinked, feeling incredibly befuddled and more than a little foolish. All his senses said there was nothing creeping around him but the small spot on his head stung a little, insisting otherwise. So what hit him? Was he finally going insane?
A rock flashed by, clipping one of the silver rings dangling from his ear. He jerked out of reflex but watching in amazement as the rock, instead of hitting the wall, curved and continued to lap the courtyard before coming back towards him. This time, Nevano caught it. He rolled it around in his fingers for a moment before he tossed it back into the air. Instead of clattering to the ground, some invisible force caught the rock and sent it back on its orbit around the courtyard. Nevano's eyes tracked it as it spiraled upwards in the air then widened in shock.
The perfectly cleared courtyard made sense right then as Nevano watched all the loose debris circle overhead. He gulped a little as a chunk the size of a horse made a pass over his head, surrounded by bits almost as big as he was like a hen with chicks. He backed away a few steps; whatever was holding those bits up could just as easily cease, sending all the debris raining down on him.
"The veil...it's thinnest here. I can feel it near tearing in front and above you." Nerevar sounded wearier than Nevano had ever heard him before. "Whatever Helseth is up to, whatever his plan is, it can't be good."
Up and above. That would be the throne room. It made perfect sense that that was where all this mess would originate from. A fallen king unable to accept death would not leave his seat of power.
He glanced around, trying to remember how the palace was laid out. To the south, by the gates leading to the plaza, was the legion depot and the guards' barracks. To the north the Imperial Cult and the reception area towers flanked the throne room that sat above the gate leading to the temple courtyard. The door to the reception area was missing and Nevano could see that the second story floor had caved in. That left the Imperial Cult tower.
The door creaked open loudly, making Nevano wince. He might as well have kicked it in for all the noise it made.
The old Imperial Cult room looked like it had been torn apart with a vengeance. Claw marks marred the walls, old rotting arrows stuck in out like quills everywhere and dark stains that was most likely old blood covered the floor. The small alter that had been shoved into a corner of the room had been smashed to bits. It looked as if the Argonians had been particularly offended by the Imperial presense and had made sure to erase it from existence. There were also a few skeletons, still inside their armor, now rusted from old age but Nevano could still see that it was the armor of the Royal Guard. They remained where they had fallen, alone and crumbling to dust. Nevano began to make his way across the room, careful to avoid stepping on the skeletons.
Tendrils of green light, the same green as what swirled above the palace, shot down the stairs. Nevano froze and watched as the light spun above his head for a moment, his hands resting on Trueflame's and Hopesfire's hilts. Then the light shot into the skeletons. Nevano cursed in Velothi as the old bones shuddered and shifted, slowly rising up and holding up rusted swords. He hated fighting skeletons. If the spine wasn't destroyed, the hacked off bits would still creep around and try to grab at their target. What was worse, these skeletons still had armor on, covering their vulnerable parts. Trueflame and Hopesfire were completely useless. He cursed even more vehemently.
All three skeletons charged him at once and he scowled as he rolled out of the way. He really didn't have time for a fight like this. They came at him again and he swiped at the nearest kneecap with Hopesfire, scowling even more when the elegant blade skipped uselessly over the plate armor. It might have been old and rusted, but it was still serving its purpose. He supposed he could hit at it the rest of the day and eventually make progress but it would ruin the edge of the blade and take precious time, time he couldn't spare.
He rolled again out of the way of a charging skeleton, brushing against a pillar. As he did so, something clattered to the ground. Without really thinking about it, Nevano reached out, grabbed it and swung wildly, feeling a satisfying smack as bones gave way. The first skeleton crumpled into a heap, the green magic dissipating like mist.
The other two skeletons hesitated but Nevano doubted it was through any intelligence on their part. More than likely the noise caught their attention. He had a second or two before they lunged again. Quickly he glanced at his weapon. It was a metal rod, a few feet in length. He recognized it as a support from the destroyed alter. It was never meant to be used as a weapon - it was already badly dented from that one hit - but it would hold up for a few more well placed hits.
They came again, the same attack over and over again, and once again Nevano ducked under the clumsy swings and struck out with his new weapon. A kneecap shattering and the second skeleton went down. Before it could take a blind swing at his ankles he kicked out, sending the skull flying across the room. He drove his boot through the skeleton's spine, putting it down for good.
The final skeleton swung its sword at him, aiming for his chest. Nevano jumped back, easily avoiding the blow, and drove forward before the skeleton could move on the backswing. He swung at its head and the skeleton's skull bounced across the room, spinning around inside its helmet like a toy. The rest of its body began to blunder around, arms outstretched as it tried to find its head. Nevano wasn't entirely sure how it could see in the first place as there was an absence of eyeballs in the skull's sockets. He could only chalk it up so some sort of magic. Some mage, somewhere, could explain it, of that he was sure, but there was no way he was going to sit through that lecture. He whacked at its exposed spine as it blundered past, the metal of the rod and bone shattering under the blow. The skeleton crumpled, the magic animating it draining out.
The remains of Nevano's makeshift club slipped from his fingers as he looked at the piles of armor and bones scattered about the room. When he had last been to this court, only a handful of guards wore that distinctive red armor. He had a sneaking suspicion he might have known the skeletons he just disassembled. Poor sods. He hoped that they had finally found peace...in spite him smashing their skeletons across the room.
Nevano carefully made his way up the steps, jumping over the rotting timbers as fast as he could before they could collapse under him. The landing was a bit sturdier but the floor still creaked and bucked worryingly under his feet. Luckily, Nevano was small enough he wasn't worried about the floor collapsing immediately under him. He turned right to go to the throne room but stopped short when he saw a familiar blue shimmer on the door.
"You've got to be kidding me..." he muttered, instantly recognizing a barrier spell. It was a strong one too; he could feel it pushing at him from this distance. He sighed in frustration. He had no idea how to get past the barrier. He was no mage nor did he carry any sort of trinket that could dispel it, not that he ever really owned anything that could have dispelled anything this powerful.
He spun around, intending to go back around to the opposite side to see if he could climb up to the other door to the throne room when he noticed a light coming from under the door opposite him. That door once led to Queen Mother Barenziah's private rooms. There shouldn't be anything in there. Driven by curiosity and a strange compulsion he couldn't quite place, Nevano reached out and pushed open the door.
Nevano blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing. The ghost of Queen Mother Barenziah sat calmly at what used to be a desk or dresser. It was hard to tell now. For a moment he thought she was one of the spirits who ignored the living, instead going on about the same routine they held while alive, but then she turned to look right at him.
"Ah, there you are." She said, giving Nevano that serene look he remembered so well. It was so calm, yet he had no doubt that she was assessing him, reading his every move and word. She never missed anything while alive and it seemed that she still saw everything while on the opposite side of the veil. "The Nerevarine. Savior of Morrowind, God-killer, the Reincarnate. Unsurprising to see you here, though you are little on the late side."
"Queen Mother Barenziah." Nevano smiled. "I would suggest you fire your groundskeepers. Place is a mess."
"Still as witty as ever.." She smiled, one more genuine than anything he had ever seen her do when alive. "I always enjoyed that in our conversations. You were never a boring guest in my court."
"My queen…"
"Please, I am merely Barenziah. In case you haven't noticed, I am dead. Titles matter little in death."
"Why are you here then?" Nevano closed his eyes, almost fearing the answer. Almalexia was one thing, he had already killed her once, but Queen Barenziah...he couldn't stand the thought of having to do anything to her. He had been rather fond of her, had enjoyed her wit and intelligence. She was cunning and ruthless, oh she could flip any situation to her advantage in a heartbeat, but it lacked the bitterness her son had. Helseth had a chip on his shoulder and stood in his mother's shadow; Barenziah had long since proved her point. He made sure to be wary when dealing with her but far from her trying to use him, she had delighted in his caution and they had formed...not quite a friendship but more an understanding. It had been the sole source of comfort to him during those long days in Mournhold.
"Waiting for you, of course."
"Me?" His eyes snapped open.
"Oh yes." She said. "Didn't I already say I was unsurprised to see you? I knew you didn't disappear to Akavir forever. You would return one day. I just wasn't sure if it would be during the happy time or if you would be drawn to tragedy. I could have ordered you back, I suppose, and maybe Mournhold's fall could have been delayed, but you were never one for following direct orders. You would ignore it. Or your loyal friend would find a way to delay those orders interminably. I was most impressed when I found that the Buoyant Armigers had found a new calling. Your friend is running a superb network, though at the time it was weak enough I could easily penetrate its secrets. However I left it be. I see now that I was right to do so."
Nevano gave a small smile. "I never had any idea. I stayed fairly hidden, or at least I thought I did. Turns out no one noticed me because they all thought I was gone. I rather wished he had said something. I could have moved around a little freer."
"Then things would have turned out different. No, everything happened exactly as it should have. Except for a few things." Barenziah looked him straight in the eye, holding him fast with her gaze alone. "And that is exactly why I have waited for you. Something happened that should not have happened. I implore you to take this seriously because this is the...the hardest thing I have ever asked from anyone. As much as it pains me, you must stop my son. You must set the wrongs right again."
"What wrongs?" Nevano asked. "What exactly happened?"
"I do not rightly know." She admitted. "I do know that bad timing, bad information and, ultimately, bad luck led to Mournhold's downfall. I remember orders to try to evacuate those they could but I think by then it was too late. The only warning we had were screams of terror before people began to drop dead. The Argonians were highly efficient. In the midst of the chaos, my son...did something. I could feel a dark magic rip the fabric of reality and warp the very sense of nature. There was nothing I could do to stop it or change it before I was killed. I can tell you that whatever happened here was enough to scare the Argonians away from this place."
"I'm sorry, my queen."
"All things must end one day, even you. I am content that my purpose in life was fulfilled. However, it seems that my son simply cannot grasp this concept. He clings to this world through whatever it was he did. A soul that lingers in the world of the living goes against the laws of nature. It becomes a thing of rage and hate, a corrupted thing, one that destroys everything it comes in contact with. His corruption is spreading. Please, undo whatever it was that he did. Stop him before all of Morrowind is consumed."
"I will." Nevano sighed. "That was my whole reason for coming here."
"Good." Barenziah paused, composing herself. "Now, there is a small jewelry box behind you. In it is my signet ring. It will get you past the barrier into the throne room where I know my son is. Once you put him to rest, the curse upon this land and the Ordinators will be lifted."
"You do realize that once I kill him, actually kill him, Azura will not accept his soul?" Nevano said carefully. "After all he has done, he will end up in the chasm where unwanted souls go."
"Yes, but he made his choice. Perhaps I encouraged too much ambition in him, perhaps I allowed him too much freedom. Still, he was my son and I felt I had to prepare him for the corrupt life that is court. The rest was up to him. It seems it corrupted him in the end." Barenziah rose up. "It's time for me to go. I've lingered far too long here and I do not wish to be away from Symmachus any longer." She rested a palm on his cheek, the veil so thin that he could just about feel her hand beyond the icy touch of the dead. "Goodbye, Champion. We will not meet again."
Nevano felt a curious pang as Barenziah faded into nothingness. She had been an interesting, beautiful piece of his past and now she was gone, truly gone. Nevano hated watching those pieces fall away and crumble into dust at his feet.
"Well, she moved on at least." Nevano murmured to himself as he pulled out the old rotting jewelery box Barenziah had indicated. "To bad her son doesn't want to."
The signet ring was an ornate gold ring, a emerald stone emblazoned with the balance scales of House Hlaalu. It was dusty and a little dull with age but still in perfect condition protected as it was within the box. Nevano could still feel the thrum of magic running through it. The rich and powerful always had access to the best enchantments the magical world had to offer.
He went back across the chamber, towards the shimmering blue barrier. He scratched at his mane of hair, not quite sure what to do to. He held up the ring to inspect it. Maybe there was an inscription or something on the band of the ring.
A tendril of energy shot out of the barrier and wrapped itself around the ring. The ring shook violently in Nevano's hand, making him wonder if it would shatter right then and there. Just as abruptly as it began, the tendril let go of the ring, dropping it inert back into Nevano's palm, and shot back into the barrier. The shimmering blockade faded from existence.
"Enter, little champion. I've been waiting for you." Something called from within the throne room. Trueflame and Hopesfire flared in response.
Nevano slipped the now worthless ring into a pocket and walked into the throne room. The direction he entered from was the so-called back entrance to the throne room. The room was laid out east to west, which made no sense to him as it meant someone could enter from behind. Shouldn't the room face north and south so that no one had the opportunity to sneak in? Nevano shook his head. The room was still laid out as he remembered; the center of the room raised up a step or two, the back of the throne facing the door where he stood, eight pillars around the center area created a shadowy ring around the room where Helseth's personal guard used to stand. It was all completely dark now, save for the green light that illuminated the center of the room with a sickly glow. Something stirred on the throne; it reached out an arm, black in the gloom, and beckoned Nevano forward.
Seeing no more reason to try to sneak given as how he had been invited, Nevano walked around to face the front of the throne. As soon as he faced the throne, his blood ran cold and heart jammed into his throat as it scrambled to leave his chest in terror. They had been wrong, so very wrong. They had thought Helseth was a shade, a spirit - incorporeal, no body - dangerous but his ties to the world of the living limited and could be severed rather easily. What was on that throne was no ghost. Even Nerevar recoiled.
"Gods." Nevano swore out loud. "That's a lich..."
XxXxXx
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, damned gods-rotting stupid mer!
Veleth stormed around on a patrol he invented for himself, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. He had made sure to pick a route that was out into the farthest reaches of the districts, ensuring he wouldn't have to interact with anyone. He wasn't in a mood that was considered publicly acceptable even by a troll's standards.
He hadn't been allowed to go after Nevano. None of them had. General Garil had made that coldly clear. If Nevano was in such a hurry to go off on his own and get killed, then they would grant his wish, he had said. The general wasn't about to send anyone to their deaths dragging the small mer back out. He had been angry, very angry, but Veleth had been angrier by far when even he was forbidden to go in, especially since he had come along with Nevano in the first place! Still the habit of obedience was strong. He had, very reluctantly and very bitterly, stood down. Nevusa had tried to reason with him but he really hadn't been in the mood to humor her.
He slightly regretted that now. Slightly. He also slightly regretting snapping at the soldiers around him. Again only slightly. He more than slightly regretting reducing that one soldier to tears over something so trivial his mind refused to remember it. However it got Nevusa to kick him out on this patrol so he could calm down so his regret was, again, barely more than minimal.
He slowed his pace a little as he wound around the streets in Godsreach, finally allowing himself to actually see the city around him instead of surveying like a soldier. He hadn't been born yet when Mournhold had been sacked by the Argonians, the city long since a ruin by the time he had come along. He had grown up on stories of its grandeur though and the image of it had stayed strong in his mind throughout his entire childhood. If he closed his eyes, he could still see that image. When he opened his eyes again, he could just see the glory of Mournhold over the ruins for a brief moment. When it faded, he felt a pang of sadness. For a moment he could understand why Nevano would stare at something, pain clouding his eyes, or would avoid certain spots entirely.
Thinking about the golden-eyed mer made his gut give another twinge, reminding him of the steady distant thrum of warning he had had ever since he had woken up that morning. Nevano would come out of this alive, Veleth was perfectly positive of that. The little shite was very obviously a survivor, limping back from things no normal man or mer would ever have a hope of surviving. Veleth wasn't sure if it was Azura's favor, incredible skill or sheer dumb luck that kept him alive. In the end it didn't really matter though. Nevano would show up at the best (or worst) possible time with that maddening grin and everything would somehow be worked out. Veleth felt his rage build back up again but he realized that that wasn't what he was mad about.
Nevano had dragged him from Solstheim, pulled him from the Redoran Army entirely and had taken him halfway across Morrowind...only to up and leave without a word in the middle of the night to what would undoubtedly be a difficult, nigh impossible, but invariably interesting fight. Nevano had left him to play guard duty and that irked him beyond reason. He wanted to fight! He didn't care if he was being petty. He didn't care that there might be a perfectly good reason for all this. Being angry about it made the most sense and he didn't feel much like swallowing his pride to see reason like Nevusa had wanted him to.
Stubborn.
The word echoed in Veleth's mind, making one eye twitch in annoyance.
Stubborn, impatient, short-tempered.
If he had a drake for every time he had been called those things he could have retired a very rich mer indeed. Usually it was his own father calling him that but there was never any malice in it. If anything, his father's voice was always laced with amusement and even a bit of pride. Jorun had never done anything to temper it. If anything he encouraged it and taught Veleth how to channel it. Something that he wasn't doing now.
"Gods damn it all." He sighed and tried to focus his mind. It took him more than a few moments but he finally brought his rage to heel. It was hardly as docile as his mother's dog but he could keep it well in hand enough so he could hold a conversation without snapping. His gut was still churning though, almost to the point of physical pain but he ignored it with practiced ease. Nevano was in the palace, looking for an angry ghost so of course his so-called magic instinct would be on fire. It would stay that way until Nevano came back.
His gut, angry at being ignored, flared up, so harsh that this time it elicited a grunt from him and made him stop. This wasn't over Nevano, not at all. This was a sharper kick, not the constant rumble of a distant storm. It made the world around him suddenly seem louder and more in focus as his senses sharpened with alarm. He knew what it meant; this warning was for him. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he looked up with a start.
An Ordinator stood at the end of the street, armed with both a polearm with a rather wicked blade and the scimitar that was favored by the High Ordinators. His helmet was missing and he wore no extra ornaments to denote his rank. Veleth didn't recognize him from the ranks of Ordinators they had freed. This one was an older mer. He didn't remember an older mer. In fact, most of them were his age or even younger.
"What are you doing away from the plaza?" Veleth easily fell into his commander voice, let a hint of a growl creep into his voice. The Ordinators were under strict instructions not to leave the supervision of the Redoran until the curse was completely broken. They didn't want anyone coming back under possession and risk someone get killed. That this one had disobeyed was annoying. That he refused to answer was even more annoying. It made his temper snarl back up again.
Then their eyes met and Veleth's next demand died in his throat. Ruby red eyes were flat behind an unnatural light. No spirit sparked life on his face. He was a walking husk, a puppet. A very possessed puppet. There was only one mer that this one could be: the missing Autarch Andas
Veleth should have been alarmed, he should have felt a jolt of shock, a healthy blip of fear, something. He didn't though. Instead, from the pit of his gut, a curl of something rose up and bared its teeth. The beast shoved aside all doubt, all fear, all hesitations. There was no room for those, no room for anything other than its want to fight. He needed to feed the beast. He had whetted its appetite with goblin blood but it wanted more. It wanted the clashing of weapons, the crack of armor, the splitting of flesh, of man flesh, not that of a beast. This mer in front of him, the leader of the Ordinators, would be a worthy fight. Dimly he could feel his rational mind desperately trying to tell him that he should call out an alarm so they could hold the autarch alive until something could be done, that he should not give in to his rage and frustration, but he could no longer deny this feeling.
He wanted blood.
XxXxXx
A/N: As I've said before, I started writing Ashes several months before I posted it but I caught sight of the post date the other day and I can't believe it's been up for over a year! Happy birthday Rising from the Ashes! I'm so very proud of you. Also, 100 reviews! I can't believe it! Y'all are amazing. This fic would NOT be possible without y'all, my dears.
Also, I hear Helseth's voice as being like Hisoka from Hunter x Hunter or Orochimaru from Naruto.
