Chapter 43

That Went Well

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4E 201, 12th Sun's Dusk – Blacklight, Morrowind

Drelasa was waiting for him the moment he came home. Jorun's mind wasn't fully focused on his wife, he was still mulling over the meeting between Dunmer and Thalmor tomorrow, but when he finally looked up, he saw the look that told him that he needed to listen and listen well.

"My love..." He greeted her, almost feeling like he should be edging around the room away from her. Her face was passive but her eyes were intense. She was up to something.

"There you are. I was hoping you weren't going to be late. I really hate dragging you from your little bat cave of an office."

"Oh?" He didn't comment on her deliberate jab at his messy office. It was an ongoing battle between them, with him thwarting her many attempts to decorate said office. She had resorted, instead, to using it to distract him from a heavy blow she was about to launch at him. It had worked in the past but he wasn't about to let it work this time.

"Yes."

"What do you need?"

"Come, my darling. Let's take the dog for a walk. You might want to leave your armor here, though."

He had no choice but to obey. They were both very stubborn people and he had no doubt that if he chose to defy her instead and wait for an answer, they would both be standing there all night in utter silence. As it was, she had a very pleased look on her face while he shed the most identifying pieces of armor. Most of the time, when that kind of smile appeared on someone's face, it was a calming thing. Not on his wife's face. He knew better. This wasn't even plotting. This was she had fully decided on her course of action and he was going to be going alone with it whether he liked it or not. He just hoped the resulting paperwork would take him less than a week to complete, unlike last time.

She held on to his arm while they strolled aimlessly through the quieting streets, Lady snorting and huffing in front of them. To anyone watching, they appeared to be a couple enjoying the last bit of sunlight with their dog. There was nothing to suggest there was anything afoot. Only Jorun knew better. Finally, Drelasa leaned in slightly to his ear.

"See that cart over there? Next to where the bread stall is."

"The rugs?"

"Yes." Drelasa said. "Vonos Helban owns it. Not his only location. He has a textile shop over by the nobles quarter. Very high end items. Silks from Hammerfell, linen from Highrock, wool from Cyrodiil, that sort of thing. I enjoy looking at his wares. His nephew is the one who runs the cart here. Not as high end here but the wool is still good. Wool from Cyrodiil. His whole family is very loyal to the empire."

Jorun raised an eyebrow.

"The wine seller over there on the corner? You know, the one that imports from most other provinces? This is his store but he also supplies to the inns and taverns around here as well as the winery he has north of town. You know the one that is busily growing the different breeds of comberries and jazbay grapes? Also very loyal to the empire."

" 'Lasa, do you know the loyalty of every merchant and trader in Blacklight?"

"All the ones that will make things easy or difficult, yes."

"Incredible." Jorun smiled. "Well done, beautiful wife of mine."

"There's more."

"More?"

"Yes. See, the ones who are upset with the empire, who hate the Thalmor, have refused to trade with the provinces that are part of the Aldmeri Dominion and that includes Cyrodiil." She motioned to a few stalls and carts that carried wares that were obviously a bit more local. "They are our allies, unaware of it as they are. They are the ones we need to encourage for when it comes time to rebel, they will be the first and the loudest to make noise in the ears of their customers."

"And the ones that are not?"

"This is why I told you to get out of uniform."

Jorun's eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hairline. Now they were coming to the point that was giving his gut the twitches. "You have my attention."

"I didn't before?" Drelasa chided him. "Now, there's many ways to go about changing these traders and merchants minds but I don't want to drive them out or single them out. We are trying unite Morrowind, not turn it against itself. That won't help at all. We will need every body and soul in the province to be convinced, lest we end up like Skyrim. So destroying their livelihood or reputation or any sort of violence won't work in this case. I want to change their minds and make them loyal to Morrowind again."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"We are going to turn their ire against the empire." Drelasa grinned. "I know where all the warehouses are that stores the trade goods while it awaits inspection by both Blacklight officials and Thalmor. I might have borrowed a few of your men and arranged for all guards to be off duty tonight. Also, I rearranged the patrol schedules. No one will bother us tonight."

Once more, and not for the last time, Jorun was struck by how effective his wife was. He did have to wonder just when she had gone behind his back to change the schedule without his noticing but he strongly suspected Cruivah had had a hand in that. He would have a word with her later when he had the time. In the meantime, he had no choice but to go along when Drelasa gripped his arm tighter and steered him away from the main roads.

By the time they reached the first warehouse, it was full dark. With no guards on duty, no one had lit the torches to illuminate the area. Only the dim light from Masser and Secunda gave him the murky outline of the heavy wooden doors and the iron lock that protected them. Drelasa deftly removed a pin from her hair and picked the lock in mere seconds. Leaving her massive dog outside, Drelasa led them inside and shut the door behind them, plunging them into complete darkness.

"Dare I ask who taught you to pick locks like that?" Jorun prudently narrowed his eyes as his wife snapped her fingers and held aloft a handful of fire for light.

"Nevano and I share a curiosity for what is hidden behind locked doors. Don't give me that look, it's coming in handy and even you can admit that. Now, every warehouse has its own form of organization but, by and large, its sorted by seller, buyer, arrival and origin." Drelasa, still holding her handful of fire, confidently walked between the rows of boxes and crates, as if she traversed this maze everyday. "Ah, here's some."

"What would you like me to do?"

"Here." She handed him a small bag he hadn't noticed before. He could hear the delicate clink of glass vials rolling around against each other. He reached in and pulled one out and saw several dark beetles scrabbling against the glass. "Right in this corner. Dump those beetles in here. Try not to damage any of the crates. We don't want any evidence of our tampering."

The rest of the crates went the same way. Just small ways of not destroying the goods but damaging them in such a way that it would look as if the seller had sent along bad goods. Cloth eating beetles in textiles, spills on paper goods in just the corners, something heavy pressed on clay and glass items, cracking them, the list went on. All annoyances that would be enough to send the buyer into fits of ire at the seller. It was brilliant really. Accusations would start flying, along with vehement denials but not once would anyone suspect such blatant destruction of property. Eventually, relations would break down as the merchants would vow to never work with each other again. The Blacklight traders and merchants would start complaining to each other, compare stories and eventually they would realize all the bad goods had a common origin in Cyrodiil. The best part, Jorun realized, was that it would all happen with frightening speed. A very clever plan indeed.

"Come. There's four more warehouses. We'll hit those and let the destruction do its job."

"Will there be those who will ignore the damage?"

"Some might but not if they have to keep buying these items at the same prices while being unable to sell at what they are used to. All comes down to gold. I am attacking their purses, not just their wares. It'll get their attention faster than anything."

"That it will." Jorun agreed. "I was merely curious if you had an idea for the stubborn ones."

She didn't answer him. Just gave him a sweet smile that reassured him that she did indeed have a plan in place. He didn't need to know any more than that, though he had a sneaking suspicion that not only had she already done this sabotage before now without his knowing, but also that she fully intended on continuing it until the whole city was up in arms.

The next three warehouses went much the same way, with Jorun growing even more impressed with his wife's skills at spoiling wines, alchemical ingredients, books, scrolls, household items, clothing, even metal that was destined for a blacksmith. That one made Jorun straighten up a bit, not wanting to see what his wife would do if he made her mad enough to go after his sword in retaliation. He was rather attached to that sword.

"Now...for the final piece." Drelasa took out a much folded and creased scrap of paper. "Here, spymaster. See if you can find see anything in here that would indicate this is a fake."

Several things usually indicated fakes when it came to official documents. Most obvious was a lack of seal, misspellings and, once, Jorun saw a forgery that was in the wrong language, which he had found comical. Smaller mistakes included dates that could not add up, the use of the wrong seal and bad forgeries of signatures. Drelasa had it all covered perfectly.

"How did you get the signature of the provincial trade master in Cyrodiil?"

"I know enough merchants that I've seen his signature enough. Also, I managed to lift the seal from a scrap pile. I imprinted the seal on some clay I dug from the river and made my own seal. I was wondering if it would come in handy and, as it turns out, I was right."

"A letter dictating that only damaged or bad goods are to be delivered to Morrowind and Skyrim due to increasing threat of rebellion, complete with a very credible signature, correct dating and seal. Suitably old and travel-worn and tattered in the right places. The only person who could ever confirm this was a forgery would be the provincial trade master himself, which, following Imperial customs, will go through the Imperial Commerce, through several clerks and finally to complaints, where it will be promptly dropped in the back of a drawer and ignored for several months before someone thinks to look for it again." Jorun was very impressed. "Of course, by the time anyone figures it all out, the damage will have been done."

"Exactly."

Lady started barking, making both mer look up sharply. Drelasa started for the door when Lady yelped sharply and her whine was heard trailing around the side of the building. Jorun grabbed Drelasa's arm as he heard muttered curses. The curses, not all of which were aimed at the dog, were not in Dunmeri but in a language he had long since come to despise. Jorun pushed his wife behind a stack of crates, just as the door flew open and rather disgruntled Thalmor justicar entered, sword drawn. Jorun frowned. He didn't want tonight to end in him trying to hide a body that would undoubtedly be missed. The night just got decidedly more complicated.

Drelasa put her hand on his arm as he reached for his sword. "I got this." She whispered in his ear. Before Jorun could protest, she slipped from his side and silently disappeared into the maze of boxes. All Jorun could do was watch and wait with bated breath, hoping that the Thalmor poking around wouldn't notice. Whatever Drelasa had planned, it would have to fall in line with being unable to trace back to any deliberate sabotage. Killing this Thalmor would not fall in line with that, no matter how well Jorun hid the body. On the other hand, simply sneaking away and letting the Thalmor live ran the risk of him discovering their work and the damaged goods being destroyed before reaching their destination. Granted, that could anger the merchants of Blacklight, but not to the degree needed and not at the correct target. Most of them already hated the Thalmor with a perfect hate. That fire didn't need anymore fuel.

Jorun was so concentrated on the Thalmor that he lost track of his wife. That is, until the heard a horse whinny loudly and glass shatter. He looked up sharply and saw a very faint glow seep through the cracks in the door, the first wisps of smoke reaching his nose. With sudden clarity, he remembered seeing the outline of several stacks of hay inside a large open building and smelled the deep earthy scent of horses. These weren't horses that belonged to the Dunmer, those were housed by Redoran military and by the palace. These were probably owned by the Thalmor.

The justicar cursed loudly and ran out the door. Jorun swiftly followed and watched, aided by the ever growing glow of the fire, as Lady raced from the barn, barking loudly while the Thalmor ran after her, yelling about how a dog had startled a horse and knocked a lantern into the hay.

"Hurry!" Drelasa reappeared, tugging at him. "We need to go!"

Jorun thought she had meant that the area was soon to be swarming with Thalmor and whoever else was nearby to help put out the fire but that was not the case. What she had meant was they needed to run and run now because two dozen horses she had, rather prudently, set free were running from the burning barn and were stomping unhappily around the yard. As they were edging around the uneasy herd towards the alley that would take them home, another stack of hay burst into flames with a loud pop and a hiss. That was too much for the frightened horses. With loud snorts and white ringing their eyes, the flighty beasts spun and bolted every which direction, completely heedless of whatever was in their way.

Jorun didn't have time to utter a curse. He barely even had the time to think 'uh oh'. He grabbed his wife's hand and ran. Several horses chose to thunder down the alley with them. Jorun could feel the vibration from their hooves on the stone roads, could feel the heat of their bodies pressing in close. He couldn't stop or falter or the horses would run them down with no hesitation. Despite feeling his breath burning in his lungs, there was nothing quite like the fear of being trampled to keep old legs running.

Finally, the alley split out into a wider open road and the horses were able to go around the slower Dunmer, stretching out into a faster run down the street. Jorun leaned back against a brick wall, listening as the clatter of hooves was overcome by the sound of his greedy gulps of air. Drelasa slid down to the ground next to him, Lady flopping with her, her tongue lolling out of her mouth on the ground. After a few moments, she began to laugh. It started as a small giggle but grew into hysterical laughter, tears streaming down her face as she braced herself against the dog to keep from falling over.

Jorun shook his head but couldn't stop from laughing himself. He knew they were far too old to run around like this but looking at her wide smile and hearing her wild, excited laughter only made him see the young girl he had met who had thirsted for excitement, who had run away to be with him. It brought a lightness to his heart that he hadn't felt in years, making him feel young again.

"The best part about all this, when someone mentions the fire tomorrow, you won't know a thing because Thalmor owned stables don't fall under your jurisdiction!" Drelasa said between giggles, wiping the tears off her face. "I wonder how long it's going to take them to catch all those horses. I'm willing to bet that quite a few in the slums will be eating well for a while once those worthless, flashy nags wander down there."

"All flash, no substance?" Jorun grinned.

"Much like the Altmer themselves." Drelasa pushed herself up. "Let's go home, dear. We've caused our trouble for the night."

Jorun took her hand and kissed it as they made their way home. He loved his troublesome wife, no matter how many times her ideas threatened to kill him through deed or through paperwork.

"By the way, my dear." He said. "Did you remember to put that letter in a crate?"

"Vith..."

Now it was his turn to laugh hysterically.

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4E 201, 17th Sun's Dusk – Ashlands, Vvardenfell

The ash was choking. It swirled around them without any indication of ever abating. Every step was laborious, almost excruciating. Red Mountain was unhappy and was making sure everything in its path suffered as well. Or at least that was what Zula and her hunters had said. Veleth didn't know how much stock to put in those types of murmurs. However, given how much magic seemed to permeate Vvardenfell, he wasn't going to fully dismiss it all. That damn mountain could very well be part sentient now after all the years of rather evil magic living in its belly.

A little further. That was the encouragement that went down the line that was trudging along. That was what he had been hearing for days. He didn't really believe it anymore. Following their departure from Balmora, they had gone north, following the foyada that stood as a barrier between the more hospitable West Gash and the Ashlands. Due to Red Mountain's continued activity, the foyada was fast, flowing and very dangerous. Too dangerous to even think about trying to jump across. They had to go almost to the coast before it even began to slow down. There, at the coast, where the lava met the ocean, the cold water slowed it down, building enough of a bridge of cooled, hardened lava so they could scramble over the steep rocky hills. Nevano had drawn a crude map in the dust, showing just how far off track they were now. Instead of an easier track straight to Kogoruhn, they were now in extremely harsh terrain, right through the very heart of the destruction of the volcano. Even with Nevano's memory of the area and Zula's ability to navigate such a harsh environment, it was still slow going through dunes of ash, dust and sharp rock. It was even more desolate than Balmora. Instead of silence and death, the Ashlands were in continual torment all the time. Two days in, the ash storm hit, teaching Veleth the true meaning of torment.

The ash storms that had hit Solstheim and, rarely, Blacklight had seemed like a gentle rain in comparison to a typhoon. The ash didn't just get into everything, it forced itself into every tiny crevice and piled on top of itself until it compacted as hard as rock, especially against skin. The wind whipped the feather light ash flecks with enough force that Veleth felt as if sand was being ground against his skin. The good news was that they had plenty of warning before the storm hit, thanks to Veleth's damaged left kidney helpfully sending white-hot pulses of pain through him that about dropped him face-first into the ash. They had been able to cobble together some form of protection.

It still was hardly enough. The ash managed to filter past Veleth's flimsy cloth mask, filling his mouth and nose with ash. He could feel his throat burning with every breath. His lungs seemed to reject deep breaths, instead running just fine on smaller breaths. After the first day, he barely recognized his own voice with how rough it sounded. Nevano had grinned and one of the hunters told him that's what happened to Dunmer around so much ash. They were born for this, where no other race was. It was his body's reaction to protect him from the ash. The hunters fell into stories of old tribes that had lived in the Ashlands that were so acclimated to living in the ash that they didn't even need protection to walk in ash storms, that they almost didn't know how to live in clean air. Nevano told how the first sign of an outlander on Vvardenfell was how smooth their voice sounded. Veleth decided he preferred life outside the ash storms. The others had been inclined to agree with him.

The storm had only gotten worse within the last half a day. It felt as if Red Mountain didn't want them there and was doing everything to get them to turn back. She was doing a handy job at it, Veleth thought. It was so bad that in order to keep Nevano's back in sight, he had to be almost on top of the smaller mer. At arm's length, it was already hard to see. Anything further than that was obscured in a swirling, reddish haze.

"Up ahead!" He could barely hear Nevano yelling above the wind. "We have to get out of this! There's a cave there!"

Veleth looked up to see a wall of darkness looming in front of them. As they got closer, it slowly took the shape of a cliff side. He could barely make out a darker spot that he assumed was the cave Nevano was talking about. Veleth could see spires of rocks rising above the cave entrance. At least he thought it was rocks. Perhaps it was just the rushing ash all around him but they seemed to be dancing, swaying back and forth. One of the hunters behind him gently pushed him, reminding him to get moving. It was easy to get distracted in this ash. Too many stories of people simply wandering off in ash storms, their corpses later found in a casket of hardened ash. It wasn't a pleasant thought. He shoved it aside as they tumbled in through an old, splintered door.

Inside, it was warm and humid. There must be a water source deep within, judging by the distant echo of water dripping. Despite the welcome relief from the wind, Veleth could still feel the ash stinging against his skin. He swiped it off his ears. That was the most bothersome. He hated anything messing with his ears.

"We stop here." Zula said, shaking ash from her hair. "We won't go deep."

Nevano was staring out into the darkness, frowning slightly, his eyes distant. Veleth had been seeing that expression more and more lately and it was starting to worry him more than a little. He had been so preoccupied with Boethia invading his mind that he had failed to notice how Nevano had been struggling. Being back in Vvardenfell had seemed to unearth demons he had buried deep, making him more volatile and reactive than usual. Being in Balmora had only proved how precarious his hold on his emotions was. Veleth just hoped that they could finish what they needed to and get home before there was any lasting consequences. He didn't know what else to do for Nevano other than forcing himself to remain calm while Nevano raged. Only one of them at a time needed to be losing their grip.

"Where is here?" Veleth asked, pulling the cloth from his face, still keeping close watch on Nevano. The cloth was so caked with ash it had solidified in the shape of his face. It reluctantly came off in chunks.

"Hnn, how to explain this to you." Nevano said, his attention turning abruptly back to him. "Bull, we are deep in the Ashlands. Sometimes there's..."

"Urshilaku burial caverns." Zula broke in.

"That's not quite how I wanted to break it to him." Nevano sighed.

Veleth's stomach bucked like a startled horse. "Burial...we are in a tomb?"

"Nothing like what we saw around Mournhold, Bull." Nevano said. "It's quiet in here. Mostly rats in these caverns."

"Not always but they don't come up here." Zula said.

"They?" Veleth had to fight to keep his roughened voice from rising an octave or two. He failed drastically.

"Ok, Zula, kindly shut up, you are not helping." Nevano slapped a hand to his face.

"Oh, you don't like spirits?"

"Spirits are one thing. I'm fine with ancestors nosing in every now and then." Veleth fought back a shudder. "It's the things that are supposed to be dead that don't like to stay dead. They need to stay in the ground where they belong."

"Ohhhh, you don't like undead!" Zula grinned, reminding him for all the world like Nevusa in that moment. By the gods, how did they keeping finding these difficult women? As if they weren't harried enough on this insane journey.

Before Veleth could compose himself enough for a halfway intelligent reply, the constant roar from outside rose in intensity for a brief moment. Everyone froze, staring at the bits of ash trickling in through the cracks of the old door. Was it just a burst of wind? Or was that door shaking on its hinges just a bit more than before? No one dared to breath, watching the door so intently it was a wonder it didn't burst into flames. Ever so slowly they started to settle, one of the hunters carefully poking the door just to be prove to himself that it was still holding.

"Just the wind." Zula said, her knife slowly going back to its sheath.

A loud crack was the only warning they had before the ground shook violently, throwing them off their feet. The boulders that Veleth had seen perched precariously outside came crashing down, the wood door shattering and spraying them with splinters. Rocks violently rolled past through the now open passage, spurred on by the ashy winds. Veleth could barely see as he was blasted by ash and debris. The rock around them groaned as cracks snaked up their sides alarmingly fast.

"RUN!"

They all scrambled to their feet and fled into the darkness further down the tunnel, blindly fumbling into walls and each other as they tried to avoid the rocks that came bouncing behind them. After what felt like a lifetime, the crashing finally seemed to stop chasing them. Veleth slid hard into a rock that wasn't moving as the crashing finally settled into a distant, gentle rumble. Soon, all he could hear was his own hard breathing, slowly calming back to normal. After several long moments in silence, he finally felt safe enough to move. He felt around the rock he was against, trying to feel a bit more solid so he could stand. The rock wasn't very big, only about waist high. He gripped at it as he regained his feet, the Ebony Mail scraping against the rough surface. Then the claws on the armor of his right hand sank into the rock. At first he thought it was merely the rock yielding to the strength of the magical metal but it made a crunching noise, his exposed fingers underneath sinking into something dry and papery. His heart leaped into his throat as he jerked back, snatching his hand away.

There was a dim, green glow in the cave. Some plant or magic gave off just enough light to make out the general features of objects. At first Veleth had no clue what he was eye-level with. It was a black, shapeless mass, mere inches from him. Forcing the jittery energy down, telling himself it was just his nerves on high alert, that it was nothing, he reached out and touched it. It was dry and taunt, like a drum, but there were bumps he couldn't quite identify. He poked at it again and, as his fingers ran over sickeningly familiar bumps, his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

He was touching the ribs of a corpse.

Veleth felt ice race through his veins, freezing his lungs and the breath in his throat, all thought shorting out as his vision narrowed in on the dried out husk of what used to be a mer, the skin stretched taunt over the grin-like features of the skull. His fingers began to tremble and his teeth chattered as terrified electricity began to race up and down his spine. Even the rage beast in his gut was having none of this. Everything in him was telling him to run and run fast, don't look back until he had put as much space between him and this corpse as he possibly could.

Then hands grabbed him and he gave wholly in to the little bubble of pressure that had been building in the back of his throat, screaming like the scared little kid he fully felt like.

The hands slipped from him as Nevano fell full on his ass, laughing so hard he could barely breath.

"Why the hell would you do that?! What is WRONG WITH YOU?!" Veleth spun on him, twitching from the jolts of adrenaline pounding in his veins.

"It's just a mummy." Nevano wheezed, trying to roll over but another bout of giggles sent him rocking back over.

Veleth glanced back over. The ancient, dried out mummy was settled on top of the rock he had slid into, knees tucked to its chest, arms wrapped tightly around its legs. Old offerings were scattered at its feet and trinkets hung from its skeletal fingers. Across the tunnel, another mummy mirrored it on another rock. They seemed to be guarding the rocky hall. Veleth shuddered.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bull." Nevano coughed, finally getting back to his feet. "I needed that laugh. I'm so sorry but that was the funniest thing I have ever seen."

A slow rumble of rage helped bank the fear as he shot Nevano a rather rude gesture. The other hunters tittered behind their hands, making his ears burn. He had forgotten about them. It was one thing for Nevano to witness him lose control of his fear but it was quite another to have an audience. He had faced many things in his life; Argonians, hordes of reavers, bandits, wild animals, spriggans, more rieklings than he cared to count, those stupid ash spawn and one truly pissed off werewolf that had left some lasting scars down his left thigh. He had worked hard to establish a reputation of being utterly fearless in a fight and not one to back down from anything. However, everyone had that one thing they were truly afraid of. Undead and creepy dead things were his. The beast in his gut spun in its corner, grumpily keeping its back turned. He was a bit envious. He couldn't escape the highly uncomfortable squirming quite as easily.

"Ok...ok." Nevano swiped at the tears of laughter that cut stark tracks through the ash on his face. "Now that we've established we are indeed in the Urshilaku burial caverns and we've just met the first residents, we need to figure out how to get out of here. That cave-in was a bit too...ah, never mind. Doesn't matter."

That small bit of hesitation in Nevano's voice echoed the suspicion that had been growing in the back of Veleth's mind since that storm had tossed them on Vvardenfell's shores. That storm had built very quickly and too conveniently. Now, being caved in suddenly in an ancient cavern that had never seen a cave-in before despite surviving a massive eruption and continuous ash storms since then? It was no longer coincidence. Something was watching them and trying to stop them.

"Well...no one has been here since, I think, Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa were interred. They were the last." Zula said, switching between Velothi and Dunmeri for Veleth's benefit. "I don't remember if there was talk of another way out."

"Nevano, please tell me you know how to get out of here." Veleth said. He didn't care about who was buried here. He just wanted to get out.

"I've been in here one time. Once." Nevano held up one finger. "And I didn't exactly stay long. I came in here to retrieve Bonebiter, actually. It was to prove to Sul-Matuul that I was...I dunno, desperate enough to need his help or insane enough to listen. I'm not sure. Either way, I ran through here because it was creepy and there were rats, got to meet Sul-Matuul's lovely father and ran my arse out of here as fast as I ran in. Most places such as this don't have a second entrance. That does not mean there isn't some sort of hole leading out that I simply don't know about. All we can do is look."

It was not what Veleth wanted to hear. He glanced back over his shoulder, back up the tunnel that led towards the entrance, wondering if there was any way they could get through the collapse. His gut grumbled moodily at him from the corner it was still taking refuge in. He sighed. Even with his strength there was no way they could move that much rock. Nevano was right, all they could do was look. He didn't want to think about what they were going to do if they didn't find anything.

Nevano led them deeper into the caverns, towards the green glow that steadily grew stronger. The narrow halls opened into a larger cavern, water pouring from a hole in the rock wall into a small pool below them, a rock bridge leading to the other side. The green light was strongest here, lighting the water strange pale colors. Veleth noticed the mist seem to be coming from two rock pillars that flanked the rock bridge. As he got closer, he could see the pillars had skulls set within them, white-painted symbols covering the shrine. Mist swirled and glowed with an eerie light that reminded Veleth far too much of Mournhold. The longer Veleth stared at it, the more he thought he could hear faint whispers. He quickly looked away, shivering as he felt a sudden wave of cold wash over him. It made his stomach quiver.

The next cavern they came to had more mummies guarding it, making Veleth squirm. These were standing, like sentries. Weapons had been stuck in their hands and trinkets adorned their bodies. They were guarding a flooded room with rocky islands jutting up here and there. More creepy shrines lined the walls, the glowing mists pouring out to hover above the water. They all gingerly jumped across, very careful to not touch the water or disturb the mists. Veleth rubbed at his less armored left arm, wanting to just crawl out of his skin. He felt as if they were being watched but he couldn't tell if it was something to be truly concerned about or if all the skulls and mummies were making him that uncomfortable. The rage beast shared his fear and offered no indication either way.

After crawling through more narrow, dark halls and a stone door, they entered what Veleth supposed might be the central chamber. A massive central spire of rock dominated the tall chamber, a narrow stone walkway barely wider than his foot spiraling around it, branching off in walkways towards doors to what hopefully lead to other caverns with the potential of an exit. The walkway looked natural enough but was shaped just so that he couldn't tell if it really was natural or if some clever mage had somehow managed to convince the stone to shift. Mummies and shrines lined the massive central spire, more mist pouring down the sides much like the waterfalls that splashed into the pools below their feet. Nevano looked upwards, biting his lip.

"I only really remember the one at the very top. That's where the Ashkhans are buried. I poked into a few of them but I don't remember them that clearly. Maybe I will when I see them again." He rested his hands on the hilts of his swords. "I guess just go through them one at a time?"

No one protested. In fact, Veleth noticed that no one but Nevano had seemed willing to talk since they had first seen the mummies. The Ald'vel hunters were shifting uncomfortable, their eyes darting towards the shadows in the corners, hands near their weapons. They were every bit as unnerved as he was, despite being in the tomb of the forebears of their tribe. Veleth wasn't too certain what to make of that but it certainly didn't help quell his anxiety.

Nevano scaled the narrow walkway to the first cavern door but stopped short as he reached for it. "You said no one had been here since Sul-Matuul and Nibani were put here, yes?"

"Yes." Zula's voice was barely above a whisper, almost drowned out by the sound of the waterfalls.

"How long ago was that?"

"The day the moons disappeared in mourning."

"A little over one hundred years ago then." Nevano frowned then pointed to the marking on the door. "These are...not old. Also, have you noticed that the shrines are well maintained? Like something is tending to them? And where are the guardians? When I last came through here, there were skeletons guarding these tombs and rats everywhere. Haven't seen a single one."

"What are you trying to say?" Veleth asked.

"Either there is a lot of magic stirred up in this place or someone has been here."

Veleth swiftly bit his tongue as hard as he could to hold back several sharp remarks. His discomfort was growing, the beast in his belly stirring. He dug the claw-like tips of his gauntlet into the bare skin of his left arm until it stung. The solid, real feel of the unforgiving metal reassuring him a tiny bit.

"We must keep going." Zula said. "If someone is here, we don't want to wait for them to find us."

The next chamber had several tall pillars with mummies perched on top, watching them like owls in a tree, and several tunnels branching off in different directions. Off to the left, he could see the glow of a large shrine. To the right, the tunnel rose up sharply into the darkness. Directly in front and a bit below them was a door that had the worn look of having been underwater for a long time. Veleth didn't get a comfortable feeling from any direction.

"I think this area used to be flooded." Nevano said. "I don't remember seeing that door. Might have been underwater. Like hell I was going swimming when I was here last. That water had to go somewhere though. Maybe there's a hole it drained out of. Let's take a look."

Unfortunately, the door led to a single room with no other tunnel leading out from it but the massive shrine that dominated the room made them stop for a moment. The mummies were lined the room like sentinels and perched on top of the shrine in reverent poses, all were lavishly decorated with jewelry and weapons that flashed with heavy magical enhancements. In between the mummies were frames made of trama roots with ritualistically painted and carved skulls carefully hung on them. Bones that Veleth suspected where from the same bodies as the skulls dangled between the skulls. Mist swirled thickly around them from a draft Veleth didn't feel and the air felt cold in here. Veleth was almost positive he was hearing whispers now, swirling in tandem with the mists. He noticed that two mummies at the entrance were different than the others. They had white markings painted on them, following along their prominent bones. Both were armed with spears that pointed towards elaborate paintings that adorned every inch of the walls.

Curiosity warding off his fear temporarily, he took a closer look. He recognized the style of drawing from old frescos of Veloth and the Tribunal but these weren't of the same holy depictions as the temple drawings. They were painted in the familiar white paint of the Velothi but there was a black paint he didn't recognize in there. They were divided into seven different pictures going around the cavern. One in particular caught his eye. There was a figure eating what looked to be the flesh of a corpse. "What in all levels of oblivion is this?"

Nevano shifted uncomfortably.

Veleth continued around. He saw the symbols for House Redoran, Hlaalu and Telvanni as well as a few others he didn't know underneath the Moon-And-Star. He saw the figure of Azura hovering over what looked to be a cave with several spirits huddled within. There was another of what looked to be an infant by itself under the moons. Finally, he saw four figures laying dead at the feet of someone holding two very familiar swords. The realization of what he was looking at hit him hard enough to make him flinch. "Nevano, that's...that's you! Are these showing the Nerevarine prophecies?"

"A version of it, it seems." Nevano didn't sound quite as excited about the discovery.

"I didn't hear anything about these" Zula muttered.

"What I want to know is why they are in what used to be a flooded tunnel." Veleth said, continuing his inspection. "Looks like there's a few in between. Like it's trying to tell the whole story. Is that a wedding? Did you really get a wedding going in there? You never mentioned that one before."

For his part, Nevano said nothing. He had wandered to one painting and was standing silently in front of it, his eyes hard. Veleth instantly saw why. Even from across the room, he recognized Wraithguard, Keening and Sunder. They were being held by a small figure standing before what Veleth hoped was an exaggerated depiction of Dagoth Ur in a golden mask while towering above the two was a monstrosity of stone and bone, with a twisted heart in the center. Though Veleth knew it probably wasn't accurate as Nevano had never told anyone the story of the events of what happened that day, it probably was still stirring up the memories that had been plaguing Nevano heavily lately. Veleth's excitement at seeing the frescoes died seeing the strained look on Nevano's face. This wasn't helping.

Zula reached her hand out to touch the fallen Almalexia. "These are not very old." Her eyes widened as the painting smeared, her fingers coming away covered in paint. All at once, the mist stopped swirling and the whispers stopped. Veleth felt his stomach seize up as he spun around. It felt as if the whole cavern was suddenly staring at them and not in a friendly way at all. There was something here...and it wasn't happy.

"We need to go." Nevano said, his voice slightly strangled.

"Back out. To the top. If there's an exit, it'll be there." Veleth murmured, his heart picking up in tempo to the warnings coming from the beast that was still hiding in its corner. They needed to go. They needed to go now.

They ran back to the central pillar cavern and scrambled up to the very top, not caring if bits of rock broke under their feet to disturb the waters below. It was all Veleth could do to balance on the walkway that was hardly wider than his foot while fear made his limbs feel jerky. Was it him or were the mummies watching them? He almost bit through his lip when he saw one with its head turned towards him. The eye sockets were glowing.

At the very top of the cavern, there was a door that Nevano threw open, the bang of it hitting the stone walls echoing in the chamber. As soon as they entered, Veleth felt as if he had just jumped into a melt stream in Solstheim, his breath rising in a panicked mist in front of his face. The cold did nothing to settle his nerves. In fact, it only made them rattle worse. They ran along a corridor that had been made into one long shrine with skulls and mummies all along it. Veleth heard the whispers pressing in all around him, like a crowd of people but no one was there. He caught sight of Nevano's face. His face was pale, the glow of the mist bleaching his eyes gold eyes to white. Or perhaps that was fear. His lips were pressed tightly together as if he were trying to keep himself from throwing up. Veleth clenched his jaw as it made him fully aware of his own stomach crawling up his throat. Zula and her hunters all wore stoic faces but Veleth could see the goosebumps rising on their skin in the dim light, giving away their fear.

The whispers grew louder as they ran, making his ears twitch. It felt as if they were right over his shoulder. He could almost make out the words but he didn't want to know what they were. They were herding them, but fear made it impossible for him to think why and to what.

The shrine abruptly ended as they spilled into a large cavern. At least, Veleth thought it was large. He never got a chance to look as all the light in the cave went out, the mist clearing as if on command, plunging them into complete blackness. Veleth's heart screamed in his chest. All he could hear was their small group's terrified panting. The whispers had stopped. He jumped as Trueflame obliged them by lighting, though even the powerful sword's flames couldn't seem to penetrate the heavy darkness. They could only see each others faces. One of Zula's hunters was crying. Veleth didn't blame her one bit.

Before anyone could say or do anything, arms reached out of the darkness, grabbing Nevano around the chest and dragging him into the darkness. Trueflame clattered to the ground, the flames guttering out. This time, it wasn't just Veleth that was screaming.

XxXxXx

A/N: I can finally look at a computer screen without giving myself a migraine after two minutes. I had been trying to get this up for a while but between holidays and getting my farm up and running, it's been a complete nightmare, say nothing of an eye injury compounding issues. 0/10 would recommend that, folks. Don't get so stressed you literally blow a fuse in your head. Or eye.