Chapter 42
Even More Trouble
XxXxXx
4E 201, 10th Sun's Dusk – Blacklight, Morrowind
Jorun watched as the three Buoyant Armiger scouts, dressed as members of the watch, left his office before turning his attention to the package they had brought with them. Two more tags sat wrapped in cloth, indicating two more spies caught and killed. Nothing that belonged to Nevano or his son, though. Had the Thalmor killed them, they would be wagging the proof in his face. Instead, they were leaving the bodies of his men out in the open for easy retrieval, far from where they were supposed to be. It was maddening. There was a leak somewhere but he was having a hard time pinpointing where exactly. Again, the work of the Mute. Only that one ever gave him such trouble.
His woes with the Mute began many years ago. Initially he had received word that the Thalmor had employed one of their own that could share no secrets due his tongue being cut out. Jorun had disregarded it at first. He had met a few poor souls with their tongues cut out before and the reasons had ranged from them being poor scouts that had gotten caught and tortured by their enemies to someone who had run afoul of the wrong malevolent lord. Either way, none of the reasons spoke of someone who was in any way a threat. How wrong he had been. How foolishly wrong.
Everywhere this pitiful mer had gone, incredible trouble had followed. Jorun remembered the first report he had gotten on the Mute's exploits. A small group of Thalmor had gone to a small fishing village in Valenwood that had tried to hold out from joining the Thalmor Dominion. The Mute had been under the guise of being a scribe for the Thalmor Emissary in the region. It was hard to say exactly what had happened but a few villagers had gone missing and the rest had submitted fully to the Thalmor soon after. It happened far too quickly for mere negotiations and none of the justicars that had accompanied him were the sort that could have carried out a sudden, extreme act of brutality. Jorun had been absolutely befuddled at the time.
The Mute had only gotten better, more subtle, from there. Elsweyr, now Anequina and Pelletine, had received a visit from the Mute, though this time he was reported to be a transcriber. Nothing had happened directly in the city he reported to be in but pockets of resistance had gone silent in nearby areas. Hammerfell, too, had been on the receiving end of the Mute's increasingly trademark administrations of missing rebels and sudden obedience to the Thalmore but Hammerfell had been able to hold the Thalmor off before things got too out of control. The desert had proved to be a wonderful barrier. Jorun hoped for their sake that it continued to prove to be so.
By the time the Mute had left Elsweyr, Jorun had been a little suspicious of him. By the time Hammerfell managed to get themselves into a stalemate, he had been all but assured of his suspicions. Unfortunately, due to the lack of suspicion from every local official, he had exactly zero proof. All he could do was begin to assign more tails to the Mute, keeping close tabs on all his movements. Despite all his cautions, his Armigers kept on getting caught. Some went missing, some turned up dead, others suddenly couldn't find their mark. It was then that Jorun started noticing he was being watched a bit more as well, that the Thalmor were starting to try to infiltrate the ranks of his guards, even succeeding a few times. The day Jorun left the body of such an infiltrator he had found snooping in his office in front of the Thalmor Embassy building, the battle was joined. They had been waging a bloody, yet silent, battle ever since. Jorun had thought he had managed to keep it rather contained. The usual 'I spy on you and you spy on me'. Then the Mute made a decisive move that changed the field of battle for Jorun completely.
It had been his son to take the brunt of the first brazen attack against him and Morrowind. Jorun had been far, far, less than pleased to discover that. The moment Modyn had been dropped into his arms after that fateful flight across Morrowind with that horrendous, festering wound, his world had shattered. That had been easily the worst day of his life, seeing his son on the edge of death. It had left Jorun nigh paralyzed, too afraid to leave his son's side, too angry to trust himself to act and, for the first time in his life, doubting every feeling in his gut. He couldn't prove that it was nothing more than a botched mission. It wasn't until Drelasa had mentioned that the poison coursing through his son's blood wasn't quite like the poison the Argonians usually used that a moment of clarity had broken through the fog. This was all too horribly familiar.
He had been galvanized into action then, furiously sending every available agent at his disposal running off to find answers. The more he learned, the more he realized that the ambush was far too convenient, far too planned for Argonians. The bodies of the refugees, according to Modyn's unit, had been rotted and dead for a long time. Argonians did not linger after massacres such as that. They moved on to fresh ambush sites. Normal attacks came in camps, when the soldiers were unprepared and unaware. This attack had been on soldiers fully armored, angry and ready for a fight. They had known that Modyn was going to be there, they had known movements that were too fresh for any sort of guesses or coincidence.
They had been tipped off.
Considering Jorun had been recently implicated on a few mysterious Thalmor justicar's deaths, the message hadn't been lost on him at all. Stand against us, we take what's precious to you. His son had been targeted, his plans discovered and reported, and had nearly been killed for it. The Mute's tried and true methods of cruel manipulation had very nearly worked. Clever, using a poison that was intended to work far slower than anything the Argonians used to ensure that Modyn would most likely die closer to home. It was intended to work right where it would hurt most. However, they had all underestimated that boy's stubbornness. He had fought back from an almost assured death. Thinking back how close he had come to losing his son made Jorun shudder in a wave of horror and grief. He understood now just how and why those pockets of resistance had folded to quickly. It had only strengthened Jorun's resolve to protect his family though he hadn't quite been sure what to do to keep such a fiery stubbornness off the playing field, especially when Modyn resolutely refused to play the subtle rules of the game.
That was when Relas had made the suggestion to send Modyn to Solstheim. Relas, his first true ally and friend after he had moved to Blacklight, had fully believed him from the start. Relas, too, had run afoul of the Mute during a campaign in Kragenmoor securing trade routes. Both men knew the Mute would try again. It was his way; attack the ones in control directly, take away what was most precious to them, cripple them, take away their fighting spirit and crush them entirely. No one in the council believed Jorun when he told them it was the tongueless Thalmor. They still believed, as Jorun had before, that the Mute was merely a disgraced scribe. They had no idea the danger that was around them. So, to protect his son, Modyn had been sent to Solstheim. Jorun had needed the time to build Blacklight up against the Thalmor, to fully prepare for his plans and the Thalmor heavily resented the roughness of Solstheim. It had been the perfect plan. Modyn deciding, on his own, to exile himself for a few more decades turned out to be a good thing. He had learned the survival skills he would desperately need in the fight ahead. The Thalmor had marked him. He would never not be involved now, no matter what Jorun did to keep him safe.
Nevano turning up had been a wonderful surprise. Jorun knew he would turn up at some point – he would hear about rumbling in Morrowind and would not be able to resist seeing what was going on – but his timing was entirely a surprise. That was pretty typical as even Jorun's gut couldn't guess the obnoxious little mer. Instead of throwing things off, Nevano's arrival only made his plans all the better. Modyn and Nevano made a wonderful team, better than Jorun could have ever hoped for. Modyn was very strong where Nevano was shaky and Nevano was slowly tearing away at the edges that had been holding Modyn back from his true potential.
The relief Jorun had felt upon seeing that had had rivaled that of the day Modyn had woken up from his injuries.
It still didn't solve the problem of the Mute though, the spy that no one but him and Relas believed to be a spy. He knew Relas had been forced into a rotation away from Safepoint Stros in hopes to make them feel cut off. The Thalmor didn't seem to realize that Jorun was in contact with just about every general in the safepoints. Except for Xyr. That one was an ass and Jorun hated dealing with him. Good thing he was almost in Necrom, far out of the way.
Cruivah walked in then, interrupting his musings, her shoulders tense and her face steely. Jorun sighed. That was his lieutenant's annoyed face. That was not something he wanted to see. Quietly he pushed the package out of sight. Though Cruivah knew about his association with the Buoyant Armigers, she had no idea the depth of it and had no part in it herself. She knew just enough to know to protect herself and that was as far as it needed to go.
"Sir, you are not going to like this." Jorun mentally recited her words along with her, totally unsurprised. Cruivah seemed to realize he was doing so for she set her jaw and glared a little. She had more than a little pride in her and next to no sense of humor. Typical Dunmer. Jorun loved messing with her when he could.
"Your face gives you away." Jorun said but waved her on. "Go on. This can't be that bad."
"Famous last words, sir." She handed over a scroll. "We have been requested to attend a meeting."
"A meeting?" Jorun echoed, taking the scroll and scanning it quickly beyond the empty polite nothings for a hint of trouble.
"Councilor Ramoran has requested we meet with him in three days. Along with the Thalmor Emissary Calindil and his guest."
Jorun rarely allowed his emotions to slip from his control. Reactions, especially emotionally charged ones, were dangerous in his line of work. He only ever allowed them to show in moments where he wanted to manipulate those he was speaking to. A fake, pleasant smile here, a well placed lie within a joke there and he could have a room eating out of his hand. Alternatively, if he played it wrong, he could accidentally discredit himself, leading to deadly consequences. As such, he had learned to keep his emotions under an iron heel at all times outside the safety of home. At that moment, seeing the names of those he was supposed to meet with, his tongue shook loose from its chain and he let loose a string of heated curses biting enough to make Cruivah stare in shock.
"My apologies." Jorun sat back in his chair, rubbing at the growing headache pounding in his skull. "You were right, I don't like this. Ramoran alone gives me headaches on a good day but adding in the Thalmor is just going to mess up my day. This isn't a meeting, it's going to be a lecture."
"What are we going to do?"
"Attend. Looks bad to not to." Jorun said, regaining his composure quickly. "Work on your poker face. We cannot have an outburst like that during this meeting and they will try to provoke it. It's not the councilors, Dunmer or Thalmor, that you need to look out for. Dismissed."
It was going to be more than a mere lecture. Actually, the meeting itself was going to be about absolutely nothing. At least in the terms of spoken words, anyway. There was a point to it. The point was going to be for the two ranking officials from Morrowind and Alinor showing off their two best spies. It was a bold and aggressive display, one that Jorun was honestly surprised either party was going to allow.
The whole thing left a very sour taste in Jorun's mouth.
That bad mood that followed him home later that evening. He didn't like doing that and had always made it point to never bring these things home to his little family but all the recent events were starting to weigh heavily on him. He was fairly certain Drelasa would forgive him for this one transgression though. The news was certainly heavy enough for her to realize the gravity of the situation. He desperately needed her words of wisdom.
"Ashes on the horizon?" Drelasa asked as he simply dropped into a seat upon coming home.
"Quite possibly another eruption."
Drelasa said nothing. Instead, she pushed a steaming bowl of something in front of him. At first he wasn't interested but then the warm smell of spices hit him directly in the stomach, reminding him that he had forgone actually eating anything that day in an attempt to keep up with every bit of the complicated web he was weaving. Unabashedly, he fell on it like a starving wolf.
"You do need to remember to eat, oh mighty spymaster." Drelasa admonished lightly, spinning the now-crumpled note around to read it. "A guest, hm? Anything to do with cavalcade of horses that came trotting in through our front gates like they have already conquered us?"
Jorun grunted around a mouthful.
"Manners, darling." She tapped the letter. "This screams out trouble. Wear your other belt. The one you have on has cracks in it. Do not give me that look."
Jorun rolled his eyes.
"Do not forget that even little appearances will make a difference in this, your wardrobe included." Drelasa gave him a stern look. "You do not need me to tell you how dangerous this Mute is. Still, better you meeting him face to face than me. I would have greeted him with a lightning bolt down his rotten throat for what he did to our son, damn the Redoran Council." Her eyes flashed murderously. "Feign dumb as much as possible. Avoid your usual tactics of mentioning the Nerevarine. Let's leave Nevano out of this entirely. They've been nosing around there too much lately. As for the window incident...funny how unsafe some structures around here can be. That's what happens to old buildings that have withstood ash storms and the winter storms off the ocean, I would say."
Jorun smiled, feeling his frustration melt away. As always, his wife knew just what to say.
"There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about." Drelasa switched abruptly, making sure to pin him in his seat with a hard look. "Your little rebellion. It's stalled. You've gotten Blacklight murmuring in dissent for some time now and held it there but it is now starting to spread, this time beyond the sphere of your control. Trade coming in from Skyrim has been a bit sporadic thanks to the civil war but word is coming in that the caravans coming through Kragenmoor from Cyrodiil is becoming unreliable."
"Unreliable?"
"Not as many and not as rich in goods. Makes for lower profits, bad deals and angry merchants. For once, it has nothing to do with beast attacks, bandits or Ashlander raids." Drelasa said. "First our docks are being controlled, then Skyrim is slowly being choked out, that might or might not improve based on who comes out on top in the civil war, and now trade from Cyrodiil is tapering off. We are being cut-off. This is something that must be capitalized on and very soon, lest the wrong people get involved."
As always, Jorun was reminded just how lucky he was to have his wife at his side. She had an insight he didn't have, a viewpoint he wouldn't have thought of right away. There were many instances where he would have never been able to navigate a tricky situation without her. Drelasa was, in truth, the real power behind the growing might of the Buoyant Armigers. Jorun had tried to get her join many times over the decades but she had always steadfastly refused. She preferred to do things her way and helped out when it suited her.
"I know you wish to convince the councilors in favor of breaking away and I admire your rather convoluted plans in going about that, especially since you managed to rope Modyn and Nevano in when they both have expressed an extreme disinterest otherwise." Drelasa said. "However, you almost forgot the other end. Convince our people first. The councilors are few, the people are many. It's rather hard to say no when an angry mob is at your gates screaming for a yes. Not even the Mute can handle an angry mob the size of all of Blacklight."
"You're right. I got a bit short-sighted." Jorun sighed. "I've been allowing months of arguing to get the better of me."
"That's because that's a tighter web to unravel that you couldn't resist." Drelasa smiled. "You love a challenge and you love a good debate. They might not be smart debates, but it's tricky enough to win you over. A murdered emperor and a spy no one realizes is a spy in your midst? Honey for a fly, my darling. After all this time, you are still ready and willing to prove yourself a worthy adversary."
"So much so that I was fool enough to forget my original plan."
"Not a fool and you didn't forget. You were simply riding the wrong horse into this battle." She smiled. "That is why you have me here to set you straight. And keep you fed, since you can't remember to do that on your own."
"Are you joining in Nevano in the animal references now?"
"They amuse me to no end."
"I swear, you two are plotting my mental demise." Jorun shook his head. "I have a bit of a favor to ask of you, now that you have put me back on track."
"Of course, darling."
"I need you to rile up every trader in Blacklight." Jorun slowly re-read the scroll. "I still need to continue what I'm doing but it's time to pick up what I left off. You know how to work the traders better than anyone. Feel free to do whatever you deem necessary to get the attention of every single trader. Have the city ready for when Nevano and Modyn return. It's time for Blacklight to know a little chaos."
"They say after so many years that romance dies but here you are, old and wily, and you still know how to treat your wife to a good time."
"Only the best for my love."
XxXxXx
4E 201, 12th Sun's Dusk – Balmora, Vvardenfell
Unlike the dream Nevano had had what seemed like several lifetimes ago, Balmora wasn't quite in the state of utter destruction Azure had initially shown. The Odai River was not the ash-choked sludge he had seen and the ash was not continually raining down from a burning red sky. It wasn't the scene he had dreamed of where demons dancing on the bones of the dead wouldn't have seemed out of place. Instead, Balmora now lived truly to its name of 'Stone Forest', for the ash had sealed the city away in depressed silence. Nothing moved, even the local wildlife seemed to avoid the city entirely. Most of the flora was dead, many of the trees that had grown proud and strong were petrified, blackened stumps. The massive mushroom trees were completely wiped out, the delicate cycle they relied on for growth was obliterated. They would never come back here. Only toughened kresh weeds and trama roots managed to eek out a living in the ashy soil that had blown in to cover the roads.
Despite nature working on reclaiming the city from the ground, the buildings rising above still resisted, managing to remain standing though they were now caked in ash and all signs of life having ever been in them burned away. They were mere skeletons of their former selves now, too stubborn to blow away in the wind but too far gone to ever be fleshed out again. A few at the very edges of town had been tentatively cleared, the ash swept away, but Nevano suspected that the discovery of bodies of those that had been inside when the volcano erupted had spooked the ones working on clearing to the point of stalling out entirely. Nevano couldn't say he blamed them one bit if that was the case. He wasn't even going to look to see if that was true. That wasn't even Dunmeri superstition at play, that was just plain frightening. All the life in the city had been ended abruptly the day Red Mountain had erupted, many falling where they had stood. He remembered watching Red Mountain's fury racing towards him. Azura hadn't saved Balmora like she had him. The thought made his stomach churn uncomfortably.
Something glinted in the dull winter light from the ashes. Nevano couldn't say what compelled him to brush some of the ash away but both he and Veleth fell over each other scrambling away when it revealed itself to be a set of armor. Neither of them needed to see the remains of the guard who had been wearing it when he had died at his post. They continued on, doing their best to stay in the middle of the roads, lest they disturb the resting place of some unfortunate soul buried in the ash.
Nevano's feet took over, walking the same, familiar path he had done for so many years. He passed the path that led to the Tribunal Temple, which, he noted with a small sense of ferocious glee, had been completely obliterated by a rather large boulder that had been blown all the way from the mountain. He passed the hill where both the Fighter's Guild and the Mage's Guild buildings had stood side-by-side. Even now they still seemed locked in their eternal rivalry, trying to see who would stand the longest. He could pick out where the inn was, the book store, the Eight Plates, the corner club. Rising above the roof tops at the very south end of town was the old silt strider dock, its shadows rivaling that of the guard towers. It was all so distressingly quiet. Nevano could still hear the noise of the inhabited city – children playing in the alleys, the dull roar of people in the trade district, merchants calling out their wares, loud, drunken laughter from the taverns, people calling out to loved ones in greeting or farewell at the strider docks – so well that it made the jarring silence all the more poignant. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around his chest to keep from shivering. Next to him, Veleth looked equally uncomfortable. His lips were pressed tight and his eyes were darting at every small movement.
They crossed the bridge, Nevano almost turning right to go towards the little house that Jorun and Drelasa had called home for several years. Right, left, right, right. Two doors down, on the bottom. There was no way he could ever bring himself to see the place he had associated with so much warmth looking so dead. Instead he went straight. Far northern corner, out of the way, unnoticed by most of the residents. The building still stood solidly, though the door was completely covered in ash. Yes, this was it.
"Why are we stopping?" Veleth asked, his voice unnaturally loud. "This it?"
"Not quite. It's the former home of the Blade's spymaster, way back in the day." Nevano pulled a big hunk of ash off the door, pleased to find it was crumbling away instead of solid plaster. "Caius Cosades had been my handler of sorts. Neither of us liked that arrangement, though I guess he was one of the more decent ones. I still learned how to distrust the Blades here. We had so many lovely arguments that made the neighbor leave for a few hours here. He had been recalled to the Imperial City halfway through that whole mess and left the house."
"He just left the house?"
"I took it over." Nevano shrugged. "No one said anything otherwise and I just used it to store things in. If a house is considered owned then no one is going to mess with it unless the guards suspect illegal activity or you owe someone money. Everyone in town suspected Blade activity here. Can't hide anything from suspicious Vvardenfell residents. No one really wanted to get involved with the Blades though so they left it alone. Then the volcano sealed it up."
"Did you hide Sunder here?"
"I did for a little while but when I came back here the last time I got a bit nervous and moved it. I know I said no one was going to mess with the place but your parents were no longer here to keep an eye on things. I didn't want anyone poking around so I hid Sunder in Fort Moonmoth. We'll check there next. I wanted to see if this place held up. Got a few things here I know you'd like to see. There were no windows so if the door was sealed...ah!"
The last of the seal fell away, covering Nevano in a layer of crusty ash. He brushed at it halfheartedly while he tried the door. Somehow, despite years of neglect and the trauma of a volcanic eruption, the lock still held firm in the door. Unfortunately, the mechanism was so jammed with ash that no pick had a hope of getting to the tumblers.
"Honestly, a lock was the last thing I expected to be beaten by here..." Nevano started to say but Veleth kicked in the door before he could go any further. "But who needs a key? Thanks, Bull."
The air inside the old hovel was stale and dusty, but still had the lingering sweet scent of moon sugar. Despite all Nevano's effort, not even a volcanic eruption could clear that smell out. That or Caius' spirit was haunting the place. Probably due to Nevano getting rid of the moon sugar he had found hidden in corners after Caius' departure. Nevano, for all his vices, didn't like moon sugar. He didn't like the way it stuck to his teeth. The sensation, combined with the effects of moon sugar, made him a jittery mess.
The place was still a mess, Nevano was a bit pleased to discover once he got some light in the single room. Messy but it was his mess. He had long used it as a dumping ground for all the little things he had found in his journey across Vvardenfell that didn't want to fit in his pack or that he didn't feel like selling outright for a few drakes. However, the interior, thanks to the lack of windows and a large hill right next to it, had been largely untouched. It was a welcome relief to see something had survived in comparison to the death outside. Speaking of drakes...Nevano quickly swept a few gold pieces into his pack along with a few other valuables. Those would come in handy later.
Veleth paid him no heed. He was moving around slowly, his hands tucked under his arms as if he were walking through a museum. He rather was, to be honest. Armor and weapons of every material and size covered most of the available surfaces while baskets shoved here and there were filled with random bits and pieces from old empty soul gems to rusted keys. On the table were a few dusty bottles of alcohol that Nevano also shoved into his bag. One bench held a full set of Ordinator armor that Nevano had stolen out of spite. A shelf was crammed full of books, many of which were out of print now. The open lockbox held an assortment of precious gems and a few interesting rocks that had been collected from all over the island. Against the far wall were random assorted Dwemer artifacts and limeware. Nevano had forgotten about that particular collection. Those had been slightly illegal, therefore very fun, to collect. Actually, come to think of it, about half of his treasure trove here was probably illegal in some form or fashion. Maybe that's why he hadn't sold a good portion of this. Unlike Cyrodiil, attention was a bad thing to have in Vvardenfell and most of his hoard would have garnered more than little attention.
While Nevano checked the cache of arrows for soundness, Veleth wandered over to the table that was covered in all sorts of random scrolls and paper. Carefully he picked one up, the paper very brittle from the passage of time. "That's not a very accurate drawing of you. Wait, what is this? 'Well beloved people of Morrowind, take heed, take warning.' " He raised an eyebrow. " 'The outlaw named Nevano, lately called 'Incarnate' and 'Nerevarine', now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates of this distract to be an agent in the pay of Imperial Intelligence Service...'? What in the gods name is this?"
"Oh, that." Nevano tied up a bundle of arrows to the outside of his pack. "My wanted poster. 'In the pay of...' yeah, pay my left arse cheek. I got a few drakes thrown my way here and there but I got stuck doing every odd job between here and Sadrith Mora just so I could eat. Even that was scarce though. Being indentured to the Blades doesn't pay well or endear you to the locals. You know, I should demand a bit more compensation from the Imperial City. Think they'll pony the gold up after two hundred years?"
"You saved this." Veleth waved the wanted poster.
"I had a hard time throwing much away back then, to be honest. Can't you tell?" Nevano shrugged. "I got that little message right before I met your father. It made my life very difficult. The Ordinators wanted my head on a pike but I didn't think they were that serious about it. They were greatly disappointed when that never happened but lesson learned. Ordinators don't put out wanted posters on a whim."
"I should wave this in Andas' face."
"Not a half bad idea." Nevano allowed a smile to creep across his face. "That'll rile the Ordinators up. I do so love seeing them squirm. Maybe don't tell them about that armor over there though. That might tip them over the edge. That used to belong to Jorun, or parts of it at least. They had a cleansing ritual for armor after it was given back when an Ordinator left service. I stole it before they could do it. Lots of yelling over that but they never figured out it was me. Jorun pretended to not notice. Drelasa laughed for weeks."
Veleth put the notice down and continued to poke around with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child in toy shop. His gaze fell to a basket that was partially hidden between the bed and the wall. He pulled it out, careful not to touch the pendants inside that were shaped like pointed eyes with sharp points that dug into the skin of the wearer, the "pupils" of the eyes glittering red like fresh blood. "What are these?"
"Be careful with those. I have no idea if they still have a charge or not. Nasty bite to them." Nevano nudged the basket with his foot. "Those are the pendants that members of House Dagoth wore. I collected them as my own personal bounty trophy. I have another basket or two around here somewhere"
Veleth recoiled a bit, carefully pushing the basket back where he found it with his foot. Then his eyes settled on pendents that Nevano had hung on hooks on the wall. There was more than a little trepidation in his eyes as he took in the dark colored trinkets that still had a red glow still in their hearts. "These?"
"Off actual ash vampires. The big, messed up looking ones with weird names. Yes, they happily told me their names before they tried to kill me. These signified their rank and power. They look scary but won't hurt you like the others will. Kind of backwards but that pretty much describes everything associated with the Sixth House. They augmented the powers of the ash vampire, making an already difficult opponent that much worse." Nevano reached out and, pushing some misgivings aside, pulled a black ring off the hook. "This one...this one Dagoth Ur himself left behind for me. Why, I don't know. It wasn't something he was willing to explain. I was no longer willing to ask. He called it the Heart Ring. Again, I don't know why." He didn't put it back, instead he rolled the ring around in his fingers, feeling the imprint of the symbol of House Dagoth press into his palm, the memories of that hell hole rushing back. "I had forgotten about this." He trailed off, staring at the ring. He could almost smell the sickening scent of sulphur...
"Nevano!" Abruptly, the super heated rooms of Citadel Dagoth vanished, dropping him right back into the tiny former home of Caius Cosades, the ring slipped from his fingers and rolled across the flood. Veleth was watching him, frowning a little in concern. He didn't push, something Nevano was insanely grateful for. He knew that one day, he wouldn't be able to keep to himself what had happened in Red Mountain. Once day, he'd have to tell what happened that dark day. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to start with Veleth. The ring finally rocked to a stop, the symbol of the Sixth House glaring up at him.
Nevano grabbed the ring and shoved it back on its hook. "Maybe...maybe later, after everything, we can bring some of this stuff back to the mainland. Have a piece of history back. Maybe shut people up for a while asking me what happened. Here, stare at a shiny artifact for a bit. Such things often distract people nicely."
"We do need to come back here, though whether we move these to an actual museum or not remains to be seen." Veleth said, still frowning. He wasn't buying into that story at all. "I just want to know the stories behind how you got everything in here. It's one thing being told the stories as a kid but it's another seeing this. I always knew that it all did happen but seeing this just makes it all the more real in my mind. Like that pile of very old armor over there on the bed. What is that from? That style is definitely nothing recent."
"You always were a sucker for a good story." Nevano said, switching topics to safer ground. "Made you one very easy kid to deal with. Start a story and you always shut up and hit the ground to listen. Not much has changed, has it? Oh, and those are from failed incarnates before me."
"Can you honestly blame me? You could write entire books on this." Veleth started to turn back to the hoard but spun back around on him. "Wait, did you really just say failed incarnates? Are you kidding?"
"Aren't there already books on me?"
"Same stories, just told to death." Veleth was quick to wave it off. "There were really others? Actual incarnates like you and not just someone who said they were before the Tribunal shut them up?"
"Quite a few, actually. They all started to become an incarnate like me but failed in one way or another unfortunately. Lead to some rather horrible deaths." Nevano said. "I'm not sure how their bodies ended up in that cavern, given how they all died elsewhere, but Azura watches over them now. Fairly certain Red Mountain sealed that place forever. I'm glad."
"That was never in any story."
"There were a lot of things I didn't tell." Nevano paused, twisting his jaw a bit. "I guess...well, you've seen a lot in this. I guess you'd understand a lot more now. I should start to fill those gaps in. Maybe when everything is over, I can try to tell you a bit more."
"Yes!" Veleth almost tripped over himself in agreement, sealing it in before Nevano could retract it. It made Nevano smile at the brief flash of the over-eager kid that he had known so long ago.
"Let's seal this place and go find Sunder then. Oh, and here." Nevano grabbed a pair of boots and threw them at Veleth. "Still doesn't match that armor, but those will fit better. The former owner was about the same size as you."
"How are these still...new?"
"Magic. The failed incarnates made sure I would still be able to use their things to help along the way. Now they still are." Nevano grinned. "That old Ashkhan can rest easy knowing he's still helping kick outlanders out of Morrowind."
They left the old house in peace, the broken door replaced as best they could, and headed east out of Balmora. East of Balmora had always been a little dusty. The foyada ran behind Fort Moonmoth and beyond it, the desolate volcanic regions of Molag Amur. Back when Nevano had run freely up and down the foyada, massive trama roots thicker than his whole body had twisted up into the sky, thorns that could spear a cliffracer mid flight angling out every which way like claws. All burned down now, leaving an empty landscape of ash with a curtain of smoke rising from the not-so-distant foyada.
"That's a decent sized fort." Veleth said, again interrupting his depressing line of thought. "Not as big as the ruins of Frostmoth."
"Frostmoth was meant to garrison everything needed for Solstheim, this was one was just an outpost." Nevano said, grateful for an excuse to talk. "The biggest on Vvardenfell was Ebonheart, though that's completely destroyed now. It was right next to Vivec City, just a small channel between them. When Baar Dau came crashing down, it took Ebonheart with it. That whole bay is gone. The Scathing Bay, I believe it's called now."
"We don't need to visit that while we are here." Veleth said flatly.
"That wouldn't happen to have anything to do with reports of undead rising from the bay when that floating city passed over it, does it?" Nevano laughed when Veleth pulled a face. "Right, no undead for you."
Fort Moonmoth had always stood out in stark contrast to Balmora. Balmora had fit in with the nature around it, the curve of its streets and buildings matching the fauna and flora so that it looked as if it had grown up rather than built in. Moonmoth, in typical Imperial fashion, was harsh lines, harsh imported stone and deliberate construction, looking as though it was trying to dominant the landscape around it rather than blend in. The residents of Balmora had hated the fort, even more so after it had been emptied of Imperial soldiers following the Oblivion Crisis. Many rude messages had been carved into the walls, still visible through the ever present layer of ash. A few places in the curtain wall had collapsed, the mortar between the stones weakened and turning to dust, but the fort itself still stood strong, protected by the wall.
"Now, I don't know if they've held but I left a few traps, just to frustrate looters." Nevano said, stopping just inside the curtain wall
"Like that would stop them." Veleth said.
"Bandits get lazy. They like easy places. Have something bite them in the arse and they leave it alone. Like a tomb. Those are real nasty. Ghosts and bonewalkers...oh, sorry." Nevano waved off Veleth's pained look. "Of course, the point became completely useless once the eruption happened. There's just one problem..."
"You can't remember where you put them."
"I can't remember where I put them."
Veleth heaved a long suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"We want that door to the left there. I think you are ok stepping here." Nevano pointed to a spot in front of them. "I think I put them a little further in, closer to the door. Get them off their guard and a bit more comfortable."
Veleth narrowed his eyes in suspicion, obviously not believing a word, but stepped out gingerly anyway. As soon as his weight settled, there was a small snap as a trigger mechanism went off somewhere. Before Veleth could jump back, the rope beneath his foot shot out of the ash, snapped taunt around his ankle and yanked him straight up in the air, his sword sliding off and clattering to the ground.
"Found one!" Nevano said. "I am rather impressed that rope survived. I guess I didn't put them further in."
Veleth growled and used one of the sharp spikes on his armor to sever the rope and dropped back to the ground with a grunt. He shot a very nasty look at Nevano as he got to his feet again.
"I said I couldn't remember where they were!"
"How many more of those are there?" Veleth asked moodily, retrieving his sword.
Nevano barely heard him. His attention was fully focused on the severed ends of the rope. The spikes on the Ebony Mail were sharp but not sharp enough for a clean cut. The ends should have been frayed, but they weren't. Instead, a familiar scent hit his nose. Rope did not have that distinctive sour scent. "That's not my rope."
"What?"
"These are young trama roots. I used rope at the time. These roots are still fresh enough to have a scent. Someone reset my traps." Nevano took a step back, looking around. He went over to the curtain wall, brushing a bit of ash off to reveal a symbol, made with familiar white paint that Nevano knew was made from mixing bleached bone powder and the oily substance secreted by a gland in a mudcrab's belly, making the paint virtually waterproof. "Ashlander markings."
"What does that mean?"
Instead of answering, Nevano ran into the fort, noting with consternation that the door easily opened. He barely heard Veleth's yelp as several more traps went off in his wake. The interior of the fort had been cleaned up, all the old, rotted wood furniture cleared out of the way. He rushed past it, old Imperial banners still clinging to the walls fluttering in his wake all the way to the alter that the Imperial Cult had used so long ago. The alter had been beaten to pieces. Someone had come in and taken a hammer to it, utterly obliterating any sign of whatever deity had been worshiped there. Nevano dropped to his knees behind it, digging through the debris. The tile that had marked a hollow in the floor was like-wise shattered, the recess completely empty.
Nevano very nearly wailed, feeling as though the sky had just crashed down on him. He had moved Sunder here, thinking it was safer, locked away beneath a feared and hated place, sealed by a volcanic eruption. He clawed around in the hollow, hoping that maybe the eruption had opened up a hole or something that maybe Sunder had slipped into. He couldn't have failed so horribly. His fingers only scraped against empty stone.
"Nevano, it's..." Veleth came up behind him.
"Don't say it! I can't..." Nevano spun around, looking around the room. More bone paint he hadn't noticed during his flight in marked the walls. "There! There's more symbols in here. The Ald'vel tribe has been here. Look, that symbol was on the Ashkhan's yurt."
"Think they took it?" Veleth murmured. "No, no, they wouldn't have. All that talk about not wanting trouble. This would be nothing but. No, they simply knew it was here."
"They had no love for the Imperials but even they wouldn't go so far as to destroy an alter like this. They simply leave it all alone." Nevano bit his lip as his eyes fell on a rather sinister symbol. It was all harsh angles surrounding a screaming skull. It made him squirm, the discomfort of it adding to his mounting anxiety. "This...this one right here. Look."
"Even I know that sign." Veleth winced a bit. "That's the same symbol families put on shrines that have been tampered with. It's the one they use to not only curse the trespasser but to warn all others that any further attempts will result in death from something particularly nasty. It's a declaration of war almost. We're a bit lucky nothing has materialized to attack us, to be honest."
"They knew." Nevano balled his fists, his emotions flipping instantly, hot bubbles starting to boil in his belly. "The tribe knew it was gone. That explains the marks and the new traps...they knew it was here and they knew it was gone. They knew!"
"I think so."
A thousand emotions rose up like bile in him, first and foremost anger. The entire time they were in that camp, they had known not only where Sunder was, but that it had been stolen and not a single one of them had bothered to mention it. Why though? Why would they not say anything? Why spend their time lecturing him when they knew that the trouble they so desperately wanted to avoid was boiling right under them?
He barely noticed that Veleth had dragged him out, away from the room of a thousand disappointments and out into fresh air. He just gritted his teeth against the rushing rage, trying not to let the underlying fear and despair take over.
"It's not over." Veleth stood a pace away, giving him space but still close enough to offer a solid grounding, presence. "Not yet. We still have time."
"I have no idea where to even begin looking. I doubt even shaking the Ashkhan upside down would produce answers at this point." Nevano swallowed hard against his anger. He spun around and punched the door. The wood was old and weathered and didn't yield but the pain helped him focus just a bit.
"I think I might have a lead." Veleth said.
"What?"
Veleth took him by the shoulder and lead him past the wall, back towards Balmora. Silently, he pointed south, down the river. "I don't think smoke should be rising from that direction."
"No." Nevano's eyes widened as he watched the plume of black smoke rise up. "Isn't that where they are supposed to be rebuilding?"
"If it is, then it's a good bet Sunder went there." Veleth shook Nevano's shoulder lightly. "Come on, let's go."
The smoke was rising several miles down the river. The further away from the foyada they got, the less damage there was from the eruption. This area almost seemed unchanged by time, unnoticed by the turmoil of the world. The scrub of the West Gash gave way to the more lush Bitter Coast. The giant emperor parasol mushroom trees still thrived here, challenging the fungus covered trees in height. Smaller mushrooms, bungler's bane and hypha facia, grew on every available moist surface. They skirted small pools of water that were fully disguised under a layer of draggle-tail plants and pond lilies. All the familiar sights made the past and the present clash horribly in Nevano's mind, the living and the dead, divided by a single strip of water. It made him stagger a bit as they went along. Veleth mercifully didn't ask or comment. He simply gave Nevano a small push back upright if he staggered too much in one direction.
Abruptly, the land rose up from the river as it made one final bend in its race to the coast. The heavy scent of fungus and wet foliage was chased away by the thick smell of the black smoke that curled up towards the sky, almost obscuring the view of the buildings perched on top of the plateau.
"I know this place." Nevano murmured as they made their way around the base of the plateau, staying hidden in the brush. "That's an old Hlaalu stronghold. It's up high off the river to prevent flooding but it's only a few miles from the shore, making it the perfect outpost to help control trade going to and from Hla Oad. This must be where the rebuilding efforts are going on. Look, you can see the roads to the shore."
"I don't see anyone here." Veleth frowned. "I get there isn't as much danger from anything bothering this place since Vvardenfell is pretty much uninhabited but you'd think you'd see at least a guard or two. Unless, of course, something really bad happened up there and everyone is dead."
They waited several long, tense minutes but nothing stirred. Feeling a bit more secure, they carefully left the safety of the trees and walked into the open, towards the smoke. Still, nothing moved and nothing came out to challenge them. They were truly alone in what seemed to be a ghost town. Although no ghost town Nevano had been to had this particular brand of damage to it.
The crater was huge, punching into the ground at least as tall as Veleth, the ground around it cracked like glass. The brand new surrounding buildings leaned in towards the crater, their foundations shaken and cracked. In between the cracks, the ground smoldered angrily, causing the smoke they had seen all the way from Balmora.
Veleth reached down and picked up a few pieces of dirt. "What in all the levels of hell caused this?" He held up his hand for Nevano to see.
A cold buzz rushed from Nevano's ears to his stomach, making his tongue swell and jam into the back of his throat to keep from throwing up in terror. The rubble in Veleth's hands was not in clumps like normal rubble. It was shaped in almost perfect cubes. No natural occurrence would ever cause that. That was magic. Horrifically familiar magic. He knew exactly what had caused such magic. "Sunder..." He choked out, barely able to form the syllables.
"Sunder did this? Is this what that weapon does?" Veleth dropped the handful back into the crater. "I don't think I've ever seen magic that could...Nevano?"
"No...No." With a great deal of difficulty, Nevano pushed his mounting fear back. "No. Sorry, no. They aren't weapons. Sunder and Keening might look it but they are really no more weapons than a blacksmith's hammer. They are tools. Kagrenac's Tools. They are meant to control the power of the Heart."
"This does not look like control, Nevano."
"Because it's not." Nevano watched the square bits of earth roll into the crater. On closer inspection, all the cracks in the ground where in square shaped patterns. Even the crater was square. "Sunder and Keening were meant to be used together. It's why I separated them. Never mind no one could touch them without dying but they are useless apart. I guess someone figured a way around that."
"Or tried to. This doesn't look like it worked very well." Veleth took a step back as the unsteady ground beneath his feet shifted. "I see blood mixed into the dirt. I can smell more of it. Someone got seriously hurt in this. There" He pointed to the side, where a trail of blood lead out of the crater.
Nevano followed it a short ways and found a dead Thalmor laid out off to the side, partially hidden by a cloth. His armor was crushed, pushed into his chest, blood pooling in the divots it created. It wasn't what killed him though. His skull was caved in, his facial features obliterated, blood and gore he really didn't want to identify dripping from the wounds.
"I think this fetcher was the one who caused it, look at his hand." Nevano nudged the Thalmor's hand, which was branded with the perfect imprint of Sunder's familiar and distinctive hilt. "This makes absolutely no sense though. How are they using Sunder? Both it and Keening are about dead. Even if they charged the Heart of Lorkhan with a different magic, it still wouldn't put power back into the tools….would it?"
Both of them jumped when something coughed. Veleth's sword snapped into his hands in an instant and Nevano grabbed both Hopesfire and Trueflame, their hilts warming in his hands. The cough came again. It sounded very wet, rattling in someone's throat. It was the cough of something dying.
On the other side of the crater, obstructed by smoke, was what seemed to be an alter of some sort. Alter, Nevano realized, might have been a bit of a stretch. It was merely a flat rock, though it was streaked with something dark. The cough came again, this time, something on top jerking with the effort. As he and Veleth ran over, Nevano realized that the dark streaks was blood. Lots of blood.
The mer was wearing the clothes of a simple worker but it was difficult to tell due to all the blood that was still leaking from a massive wound in his chest, soaking his entire upper body and turning the dust and soot that covered him into mud. Such a wound did not come from whatever had created the crater but, upon closer inspection, it did not look accidental either. The mer groaned and coughed, blood trickling from his mouth. His hands jerked as if he wanted to swipe at it but he didn't get far. That was, Nevano saw with a start, because he was tied down to the flat rock. This was definitely not accidental, Nevano thought as he quickly put pressure on the gaping hole. It was a futile gesture; the wound was too big. This poor worker did not have long. Perhaps that was merciful.
"Thalmor. They have...Sunder." The Dunmer cracked his eyes open when Veleth cut him free. Nevano couldn't tell if he even realized they were there or not. He was simply saying what he needed to say. "They are trying to...trying to..."
"Don't die on me yet." Nevano leaned his full weight on the wound. "Tell me! What are they trying to do?"
"They want...the power…." The mer coughed, a mouthful of blood splattering over his face. "With that power...keep Morrowind in line. Like Baar Dau."
"The Heart of Lorkhan is dead." Nevano said. "How are they getting this power?"
"They...found a way...to put new magic in. Blood...using blood. My blood! But...old...remains." A wet gasp rattled weakly in his throat. "Angry."
"Angry? What's angry?" Nevano tried to prod him, giving him a little shake. "Don't give up! Talk!"
"Nevano, he's gone."
"DAMMIT!" Nevano pushed away from the now still body and started pacing back and forth. "No, this isn't right. This isn't right at all."
"So...that's interesting." Veleth reached out and shut the dead mer's eyes. "Da's guess was right. Partially, at least. What it sounds like is that they do know you are out and about, but they haven't managed to prove it was you behind everything, especially down in Mournhold. My guess is Garil put a tight hold on the gossip there. If someone can manage that, it'd be him. However, they are aware of Da's plans to get Morrowind to rebel. This isn't to destabilize the rumors about the Nerevarine's return, this is about controlling Morrowind, your presence be damned. Baar Dau was held over Vivec to remind the people to continue to worship the Tribunal, right? Stop worshiping and look what happens. The Red Year. The Thalmor holding the Heart of Lorkhan over their heads? The older generation will be paralyzed. No one wants to go through all that again."
"They will create another Dagoth Ur. Only this time with corrupted artifacts." Nevano stared at the blood on his hands in mounting horror. "Did you hear him? They are using blood. They used his blood. They are using live sacrifices to repower these things!"
"A bit desperate sounding, isn't it?" Veleth stood up. "They must have stumbled across Sunder by accident when they destroyed that alter. Spite led them to a wonderful discovery. Then they made a plan. That mage they took from Blacklight probably came up with enough of a theory for them to figure out how to execute this wondrous plan. Huge risk, using this type of magic against Morrowind. No one would ever stand for this. It smells too much like necromancy. Is it necromancy though? I'm not so sure what this is. Why do we keep running into necromancy?"
"Power too tempting to pass up. That's exactly what it is. No one learning from history and realizing that the Heart has tempted so many in its history." Nevano said, spitting off to the side. "Saying this will end badly is an understatement."
"All the more reason to stop them."
"If they are already powering the artifacts, I'm not so sure how to stop them."
Veleth pulled his sword out and flipped it over his hand. "Like we've been doing. Make it up as we go along." He flashed a small grin. "You've already killed a few mad gods and together we helped stop a zombie army and the lich of an insane king. We can find a way to destroy a rock."
"This is the rock that made those mad gods."
"Still a rock." Veleth shrugged. "Destroy it, problem over. It might still be weak enough that Bonebiter can handle it with one shot. Then claw our way through a small horde of pissed off Thalmor and we can go home and spend the next three weeks getting ash, salt and blood out of our gear while Da gives us the next crazy assignment. If that fails, then I'll have fun killing Thalmor while you destroy the Heart the same you did the first time. No problem."
"I have to say, I'm enjoying your new enthusiasm." Nevano couldn't help but smile a little through the raging storm of emotions. Somewhere in this whirlwind adventure, Bull had picked up a small bit of cockiness. In his frazzled state, Nevano found it rather grounding. "So then, oh positive one, where do you suppose they went?"
"To a place of power."
Far from being surprised hearing Zula come up behind him, it only sparked his anger right back up again, his brief moment of steadiness dashed in an instant. Nevano spun around on her, his swords flaring to mirror his mood. Zula and her band of hunters stopped short, not expecting his anger at all.
"You knew about Sunder all along." Nevano accused. "You and your tribe knew the Thalmor had it all along, didn't you?"
"We..." Zula sputtered a bit. "We did."
"And yet no one said anything. A very obvious threat comes into possession of an obviously dangerous artifact and yet no one thought to say anything?"
"We didn't think..."
"No. No one did." Nevano cut her off, glaring. "You know, your tribe might not care about others dying but this is no small matter. Whether you choose to want to believe it or not, all of Morrowind is involved, from the farmers taking the risk south of the safepoints, to the nobles in Necrom, to the refugees in Skyrim to the Ashlanders in Vvardenfell. We are all Morrowind. The Thalmor, the Altmer, the ones who we broke away from all those years ago, want nothing more than to see all of Tamriel beneath their rule and that includes Morrowind. They have no forgotten that we broke away and they consider us lesser for it. They are scrambling for power to use against us and they will stop at nothing to prove their point. Do you understand now? That if we fail here, you will all die. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when. Now you can choose to fight it and actually help me, or you can choose to hide but in the end, I will not forget who chose to do what."
"We are here because we fight." Zula stood a little straighter and lifted her chin. "We want you to, what's the word...fulfill the destiny."
"Then tell me; where did they go?" Nevano demanded, twisting Moon-and-Star around his finger.
"Kogoruhn."
"Vith."
XxXxXx
A/N: In all honesty, Wraithguard, Sunder and Keening were not created to be arms and armor. They are, as their name suggests, tools. Meant to harness and control the power of the Heart. That they are in the shape of weapons makes me a bit curious. Was that to make them easier to utilize in the game? Was that to make it so that there was a greater reward at the end of the main quest (because, let's be honest, they were the best weapons and armor in the game)? Or was it really intended in lore so they were dual purpose for some other nefarious plan on Kagrenac's part? Once again, Bethesda leaves me with more questions than answers and a blank canvas to play with.
Also, I have the next few chapters well under way but in between moving and a slight medical issue that has left me with some slightly...googly vision (yes, that is my personal technical term for it), things are slowed a bit. Bear with me y'all.
