Chapter 44
The People of the Dead
XxXxXx
4E 201, 13th Sun's Dusk – Blacklight, Morrowind
Jorun Veleth went to Rootspire early that morning, fully aware that he was not scheduled to meet with Archmaster Ramoran and the Thalmor Emissary for a few hours. It was a deliberate move on his part. He wanted to get a feel for the mood around Rootspire. Tense and angry often led to dangerous confrontations but so, too, could lax and lazy. Also, he strongly suspected the archmaster would want to speak with him privately before the wreck that he knew was going to happen came to pass. He was not wrong. He hadn't been there but a few minutes, casually watching the unexciting comings and goings of nobody particularly important, before an aide showed up to tell him the archmaster wished to see him and led him through the massive structure to its core.
Despite his many trips to Rootspire, Jorun had never actually been inside the council room. He had observed from the many holes and rooms that looked down on it, but never had he set foot in there. He quickly took note of the many nooks where guards could stand hidden from both the floor and the observation rooms above but none of them were occupied. Actually, almost the entire room was vacant and quiet, a rare sight indeed, save for one very disgruntled looking mer at the head table in the center of the room. He inclined his head politely as the aide announced him to the archmaster.
If Jorun considered himself old, Hlaren Ramoran was ancient. He had already been considered old during the time Nevano had been running around wrecking havoc in the ranks of the Great Houses of Vvardenfell but despite living through some of the greatest crises in history, the mer had refused to wither and die. Instead, Jorun thought, he had used contrariness and spite as a preservative and continued his fractious rule far longer than any other councilor in Redoran history. He was very shriveled by now, the prowess of his fighting days long gone, and his eyesight wasn't what it had been but his mind was as sharp as ever. Jorun had dealt with Ramoran many times on various matters and while he couldn't say they had a good relationship, they had a working one. When dealing with one as short and cranky as Ramoran, Jorun considered that to be as valuable as close friendship. If one expected their close friend to bite, that is. He put up with it though. Ramoran might snap like an ill-tempered dog, but he did take his job of running House Redoran, and Morrowind, very seriously. That alone had earned Jorun's respect.
"Believe it or not, this isn't about that s'wit that fell through the window of your office or about that barn that mysteriously caught fire last night." Ramoran groused by way of greeting. "Count that among your good fortunes since I know that it wasn't the wind or bad hay or a loose dog or whatever the hell stupid excuse came to my ears."
"I suppose if I was being fully blamed we would be having this conversation in a far different setting." Jorun said easily. "However, I am just an old man. I am flattered that everyone seems to be getting all flustered that I had a hand in something as trivial as a barn that caught fire. Besides, I don't believe that was something I would have ever have taken notice of. The Thalmor's fancy horses are not in my realm of protection."
"Oh please, all the other councilors might think you are a crazy old man but I know better. The fact that you know it belonged to the Thalmor is telling enough." Ramoran said. "I know you are still dabbling around with the Armigers. I daresay that you have managed to reach into Skyrim by now. You always were a nosy one. You forget I was a councilor when you lost your post as an Ordinator because you couldn't leave damn well enough alone when it came to one lone heretic."
"Blacklight is a large city to guard. Keeps me busy as is." Jorun smiled. He wasn't about to tell Ramoran that he had Armiger spies bringing him information from just about every providence in Tamriel. That was information that was best kept to himself. "And I turned out to be right in the end about that heretic, didn't I?"
"Calindil is on his way. I wanted a few moments to speak with you before he got here." The ancient mer frowned, ignoring Jorun's statement entirely. "Make sure we are on the same page as to what to say. I don't want you going completely off script."
"I never give away anything."
"No, that you do not." Ramoran looked furious at that. "I have to give you that."
"What exactly is this meeting about?"
"Several months ago, that I am sure you are well aware of, we had a council meeting to discuss whether the swords the Thalmor had seized in Skyrim were indeed Trueflame and Hopesfire. That and the ransom for their return was us joining the Aldmeri Dominion." Ramoran waved his hand dismissively. "Since no proof was ever presented, in fact the swords were reported stolen not long after, we naturally declined. Relationships have since been tense."
"I wonder why." Jorun said, half to himself. As if relationships hadn't been tense to begin with.
"Silence. With the recent upheaval in Skyrim, the Thalmor are willing to discuss terms to keep the peace in Morrowind, since there seems to be murmurs of something going on that is causing the people to get increasingly uncomfortable with Thalmor presence."
"Again, I wonder why."
"Dammit, Jorun, we've been over this unto death!" Ramoran slammed his open palm on the table in front of him. "Have you not seen Morrowind lately? We cannot simply push the Thalmor out. We are not strong enough."
Jorun had to work hard to not roll his eyes. Despite having lived through several crises that had effects reaching all across Nirn, Ramoran still had the annoying tendency to want to avoid conflict instead of working through it to a better end. Granted, it was a fallacy found in a good number of people, but it was still annoying to run across it in those that were supposed to take action to protect people from such conflicts.
"As before, I have pointed out that in all the years spent under the empire, we have never again achieved the strength and prosperity that we had when we were an independent nation." Jorun said. "Our loss was through weakness at a political level. Something that still seems to be a weakness among our people."
"Watch yourself, guard." Ramoran growled. "You are here because Relas gave a weak excuse about not being able to guarantee good behavior and all but told me to accept you as a replacement. Your position carries some power around here and I only agreed because I know your ties to the Buoyant Armigers makes you more than a match for these Thalmor fetchers. However I won't hesitate to yank your position out from under you and have you patrolling the docks at night for coppers if you get too uppity."
"You won't." Jorun said. "For the simple reason that you need me. You know perfectly well no one else sees the Thalmor as I do. No one else will give you a completely unbiased report of what is going on, not just one that is what you want to hear. You need me around to tell you what is going on, not someone that will kiss your ass and make you think gold is coming out of the fountains out front."
"Would be so much easier to kill you and be done with it, you annoying fetcher." Ramoran ran a hand over his face. "I can't stand that you are right. However, as much as you love the subject, we cannot argue this now. Calindil wishes to discuss the merits of suing for peace. This is merely a formality, not the actual event itself. I do not have the authority to sign anything on my own."
"Your thoughts?"
"I hate the thought but my hands are tied." Ramoran said. "Unless something is said that makes me think the empire is going to go to hell in the next few days and drag us all with it, I will have to agree to calling all the councilors of the ruling houses together to discuss the terms and, ultimately, pass the declaration. Our protection lies with the empire and, like as not, the Thalmor are in charge of that. With the recent loss of Emperor Titus Mede, it seems that the issue of Morrowind has been given directly to the Thalmor since no Imperial official has stepped forward. Don't think you can say something that will make this go the way you want. I know that tongue of yours is gilded silver when you want it to be."
"Can Morrowind afford the peace?" Jorun asked, suddenly curious. "No matter which way the civil war ends in Skyrim, we will end up paying the costs, seeing as how many provinces left the empire. Between higher tariffs on trade, taxes to pay soldiers with and, if Skyrim is brought back into the empire, the taxes to pay damages there, do we even have such funds? We won't be able to weasel out of paying, seeing as how we are neighbors with Skyrim and the Nords think we owe them after harboring us after the Red Year."
"Considering we have ebony mines, now working again, in Solstheim, glass mines to the south and, perhaps, imports from Vvardenfell soon, we will have something to offset the extra costs imposed on us." Ramoran humored him. "I also implore you to see the opposite side. Say the Stormcloaks beat out the empire. Now there is a restless army of Nords just over those mountains next to us. The Nords, historically, are not our friends. Ulfric Stormcloak has made sure to remind our people of that. As you pointed out, they believe we owe them. What is to stop them from coming to take what they believe they are due? The majority of our forces are very busy in the south, or do I need to remind you what happened to your own son? Argonians in the south, Nords to the west and Thalmor in between with the entire Imperial forces behind them? What possible hope do you think we have?"
Jorun set his jaw at the jab at his son's misfortune in the swamp. It was a low blow and Ramoran knew it. There was nothing he could refute out loud without looking petulant or without giving any information away. As he didn't want to reveal his hand just yet, he chose silence as his answer. Ramoran, misreading his expression, took it as Jorun admitting defeat.
"Exactly. We are cornered, Jorun. For now, they have won." Ramoran didn't seem happy about that at least, giving Jorun hope at convincing him later. "And that's not even touching on what to do after, should all of that actually come to pass."
Jorun allowed the conversation to die. It was better that way, before his exasperation found new depths. Ramoran was so very wrong it was laughable. As if he hadn't thought of anything after they had rebelled. Ridiculous. However, it was an argument best left for another time. Instead, he allowed the mild irritation of the whole conversation sink in. It made it far easier to keep his expression in bored annoyance, making him seem like he had far better things to do than listen to political figures to drone on. He did, actually, but that was why Cruivah was currently cursing in his office, going through the never ending mountain of paperwork in punishment for her and Drelasa changing the guard patrols behind his back. Drelasa merely had to put up with being married to him. Punishment enough.
The Thalmor Emissaries were late. That was telling enough to Jorun right there, as nearly everyone in Morrowind knew that Ramoran detested tardiness even if it was only by a few moments. It wasn't by accident either, though there would be a halfway convincing excuse. By being late, they were working Ramoran into a frothing rage, one that would put him in position to better be manipulated. Also by being late, they were declaring dominance. They cared nothing for Dunmeri rules and etiquette. They would do as they pleased. Jorun noted every minute that ticked by. He wasn't sure if he was impressed or troubled by their show of disdainful arrogance. Perhaps he was a bit of both.
Finally, the same aide who had first fetched him walked in, formally announcing the arrival of First Emissary Calindil and his guest. Jorun took interest in how this 'guest' hadn't been formally named, as was considered polite. Though he was perfectly well aware it was the Mute, he was curious how he had never been able to discover the mer's name. Most spies did their best to blend in and that included giving out names. Of course, those names often were fake but it was still one more thing to have the spy blend in. He had found nothing on this one. Was his past identity, his name included, fully wiped away in order to create the perfect saboteur? Did the Thalmor truly go to that dark level of tearing down a mer so he had no past, no identity, no ties, to create a beast perfect in both espionage and destruction? It made sense, as there would be no family or past events to influence or sway them one way or another. It was highly controversial but he wouldn't put it past the Thalmor. That was something Jorun would have to look into.
Calindil swept in as soon as the introductions were made, his black and gold robes rustling with every brisk step. Unlike the volatile Ocanlil, the younger brother who had met his demise crashing through Jorun's office window, Calindil was a far more crafty creature. Jorun had managed to kill off the last few emissaries through various means but this one had not only escaped such attempts, but seemed to know far beforehand if such an attempt was being planned. Jorun had to admit a certain amount of respect for the slippery mer, but it only made him dislike him even more. However, Jorun wasn't interested in the arrogant Altmer. They were well acquainted enough. His focus was on the figure next to him.
Despite having never actually laying eyes on the mer before, Jorun recognized the Mute immediately. His gut simply knew the adversary he had been plotting against for so long. The Mute himself was rather unremarkable. He could have been any scout in the Thalmor army. Looking at him now, Jorun strongly suspected this one had been a mere soldier until an incident had resulted in the removal of his tongue. There was no mistaking the burning hatred in his eyes. Jorun got a small jolt then. Was he still underestimating this mer?
"You're late." Ramoran snapped.
"The matters of last night delayed me." Calindil took a seat without even being invited. "Destruction of such valuable property warrants thorough investigation."
"I was told a stray dog had startled one of your foolish beasts." Ramoran said. "Knocked over a lantern and set the straw on fire."
"While none of the horses perished in the fire, many are still missing." Calindil narrowed his eyes. "I was told to assume they will never be found."
"I told you that when you first arrived here with a whole train of them. Whether you decide to ride in on a horse or those silly looking deer things, indriks I believe you call them, you are running the risk of them disappearing." Ramoran didn't sound the slightest bit distraught over a few missing horses. "No matter how pretty they look, all of them are a source of meat and no reasonable Dunmer is going to pass on the opportunity for a free dinner, doubly so if the damn things walk up to them."
"I see...well, I did not come here to discuss our missing mounts."
"No, but I daresay I'll hear about this again in some formal complaint or another." Jorun enjoyed the small rush of wicked delight at the barb. Ramoran's crankiness was fun to listen to when it wasn't leveled his way.
"I am here to begin to outline an official and recognized peace with Morrowind." Calindil did his best to put Ramoran back on point.
"Singing a different tune since those mysterious swords you were supposed to have were stolen, I see." Ramoran said. "Have you finally run out of trinkets to blackmail us with? Or do I have some other form of coercion to look forward to?"
"The whole situation with the swords was most unfortunate. I wish I could have fully given you confirmation on their identity. Rest assured that the theft is being thoroughly investigated." Calindil lied smoothly. "Our offer was merely out of wish to see such revered objects back in the hands of the people they belong to."
"I daresay you'll find the swords next to your missing horses." Ramoran said. "In any case, you have gone from wanting Morrowind submitting to your rule to Morrowind declaring peace. What changed?"
"Several events have occurred, some that have raised eyebrows in circles you might not want to cause ripples." Calindil said. "The muddled reports from Mournhold have caused many concerns. This declaration would calm those fears and keep relations calm between our people. However, I do wish to have a clearer report to send back to Alinor, if you would humor me."
"If you want clarification on that, ask my Captain of the Watch." Ramoran gestured at Jorun. "He is standing in for General Relas and has far more understanding of that situation than I do, as they are both a branch of the Redoran Militia."
Jorun inclined his head politely as attention was turned to him. It wasn't pleasant, like white hot pokers jabbing at him. He ignored it as he recited his prepared lie. "Mournhold, as you may know, has been the site of many magical and mechanical constructs. Between sitting on top of an old Dwemer ruin, to Almalexia making the city her home, to many souls violently losing their lives there at several points in history, the ruins above and below ground are a hot bed of several sources of energy. Recently, those energies boiled over, much like a pot on a hot fire. The angry souls trapped there finally gathered enough energy to act out and many improperly buried bodies were roused by such angry spirits. The Ordinators valiantly put themselves on the line to protect everyone in the region by putting up a barrier around the city. General Garil in nearby Safepoint Adrusa mustered up their forces and, with the Ordinators, were able to find ways to dispel the energies."
"To the destruction of the temple and the palace?"
"Ah, yes, unfortunately." Jorun shook his head. "I was told that it took an enormous amount of magic to bring everything to calm again. The resulting clash caused quite a bit of damage. Fortunately, very few were injured and Mournhold is quiet and in control once again."
The Thalmor Emissary nodded, making the appropriate agreement noises but Jorun had noticed his attention had waned. He hadn't been able to poke holes in that story. The Mute's expression did not change but Jorun noticed he seemed more disdainful. Jorun was rather glad the mer couldn't talk.
"While we are discussing strange going-ons, I must inquire about something. I know you have been questioned about this before but my dearly departed brother did not go about it at all politely. I wish now to ask in a more appropriate manner." Calindil said. "I understand that you were once a close acquaintance of the Nerevarine."
"Yes, a long time ago. Back before my wife and I left Vvardenfell for the mainland." Ah, now they were getting to a point the Thalmor desperately wanted. Jorun felt a bit smug. This was a subject he had perfected his lies in decades ago.
"Now, due to recent rumors, have you come into contact with the Nerevarine recently?"
"Recent rumor?" Jorun asked, raising an eyebrow. "I haven't heard anything. The Nerevarine, as it was widely known and published, went to Akavir directly before the events of the Oblivion Crisis. No one has seen or heard from him since. You'd think if someone returned from that land of demons, we would have heard something."
"Yes, of course. I merely ask due to rumor that he appeared in Chorrol some twenty years ago. A mer matching his description had caused some trouble there. Since then, as you probably heard, we recovered swords that were thought to be Trueflame and Hopesfire in Skyrim, the swords last known to be in possession of the Nerevarine. Coupling the two incidents together, you can see how we were suspicious as to his return to Tamriel."
Jorun made sure to keep his breathing perfectly even and his gaze fixed on Calindil. The Mute had leaned forward ever so slightly, his gaze so focused it burned. Something in there meant quite a bit to him. Jorun refused to give him a single crumb of information. "Were those not stolen from your possession recently?"
Calindil narrowed his eyes. "So we have established."
"I doubt those swords were Trueflame and Hopesfire. They would never leave their wielder." Jorun held his hands out in front of him. "If they truly were, then you can safely assume that the Nerevarine is dead. He would never allow those swords to be taken from him."
"You say that despite being well known for saying the Nerevarine is alive?"
"He was a very good friend and, as with any well loved friend, I hope and wish he is alive and well." Jorun said. "I cannot confirm that he is as I have no idea where he is. He was never really good at informing those around him of his intentions." He threw that out in a moment of contempt. Let them keep guessing.
"So you know nothing on any of these encounters, other than the accounts of others." Calindil said. "Both about the Nerevarine and the events in Mournhold."
"My jurisdiction is Blacklight. I am part of the watch, my job lies within these walls." Jorun said. Oh, if only this n'wah knew just how much he knew about those.
"So, going by your answers and your accounts, you haven't sent anyone on any endeavors?" Calindil was watching him far too closely for comfort. He steeled himself, ready for the stone to fall. "Not even to, say, Vvardenfell?"
It was only through a massive amount of effort that Jorun was able to stop any sign of surprise from slipping past. How in oblivion did they know about that? Even breaths, hands still, face perfectly still, quickly thinking of his lovely wife to help keep his heart rate down. One twitch of an eyebrow or lip, the sudden leaping of a vein in his neck, one drop of sweat and he would be completely given away. They absolutely did not need to know they had caught him by surprise. "I have not sent anyone outside the city. Indeed, I do not even have the power to do so, never mind to Vvardenfell. Efforts to rebuild might be Redoran encouraged but those working there were privately hired. My men and I have nothing to do with it. I suppose the farthest my guards have gone is to one of the villages between here and Safepoint Kogo to the south. If they ask for help, we will send it. Kogo does the same to the villages closer to them. No village has requested aid for a few months though."
Once more, he was answered with the appropriate agreement noises that barely bordered on polite. He had passed enough for Calindil to be unable to pick it apart right here and now. However, the Mute didn't have the same look. Something in there had meant something to him. Jorun could not, for the life of him, figure out what. Calindil didn't look over at the Mute. Instead, he turned away from Jorun and back to Ramoran.
"Now, as to a peace agreement..."
"Yes, now that you are done squeezing rumors from the slums out of my Head of Watch..." Ramoran said acidly. "What do you want in that?"
"It's nothing much. I'm sure you would even agree to it now." Calindil said. "It is merely a formal declaration that Morrowind acknowledges and submits to the rule of the empire."
"You left a few key things out entirely." Ramoran frowned. "Mostly in how you left out everything pertaining to the Aldmeri Dominion."
"Well, we are one and the same, according to the White-Gold Concordant." Jorun made note to remember that. That was stretching the contents of it by quite a bit. The worrying part was that no one was going to correct the Thalmor on it, seeing as how the emperor was dead and no one had stepped up yet to replace him. The Thalmor were testing just how far they could go, to a dangerous extent.
"I refuse to agree to anything I'm signing my name to without reading it over and consulting with all councilors present." Ramoran frowned harder. "Any sort of agreement or treaty that involves all of Morrowind will involve all houses."
"Given how I've dealt with many untimely incidents and deaths involving the Aldmeri Dominion and the people of Morrowind, I would say the houses would see that it is in their best interest to agree." Calindil's voice became icy. "Before consequences begin to befall the province."
"Is that a threat I hear?"
"That is a promise." Calindil said. "Skyrim should be your warning in what will happen if Morrowind decides to question its loyalty. You were defeated by the empire and we have defeated the empire. You are merely spoils of war. Such things are easily taken care of."
"I will present the idea to the rest of the council." Ramoran growled. "I promise no more than that. I do not appreciate you coming in here with threats when Morrowind has made no move against either the Thalmor or the empire. Now that you have said your piece, I declare this meeting adjourned. Get out."
Not another word was said as Calindil rose, inclined his head stiffly and swept out, the Mute trailing behind him. Likewise, Jorun said nothing until he heard a distant door slam and the aide slipped in to give the signal that the pair had fully left Rootspire.
"I am not even sure how to think how that went." Ramoran said in a rare moment of vulnerability.
"Oh, councilor, you really have no idea how badly they hate us, do you?" Jorun gave a humorless snort. "It does not matter which way you jump in this, they mean to force our hand."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"This declaration of loyalty, peace, whatever they want to call it, is a front. They can't even fully decide what to call it, it's such a weak lie. All they wanted was to trap you into a sense of false security while gaining information and to remind you who is really in charge. All those questions? They are already convinced of their conclusions, damn what I said." Jorun crossed his arms. "They didn't believe a word we said. Funny, I didn't believe a thing they muttered. Either way, they are suspicious of us. Since they already hate us with a perfect hate, they are merely using this as an excuse to crush us once and for all, declarations of good behavior be damned to oblivion. If you wish to survive this at all, you will use your position to delay the council on making a decision on this...agreement for as long as you possibly can."
"Delay for what? What have you been...you actually sent someone to Vvardenfell, didn't you?" Ramoran sounded less angry and more exasperated. "That's why you want to wait. You are waiting for whatever it is you are looking for there. You've found something."
"Archmaster, I know a lot. The less you know about what I know or am doing, the better it will be for you." Jorun spoke frankly. "The Thalmor are sniffing asses they have no business sniffing. However, rest assured that I'll tell you what's going on. Eventually."
"You fetcher! You've been working on rebellion this whole time." Now Ramoran sounded downright exhausted. "All the nonsense you've spouted over the years...vith! Don't tell me that you were playing the fool all this time and the Nerevarine is actually here."
"I won't tell you that."
"Jorun, I don't want to wake up in the morning to find all of Blacklight on fire."
"You won't."
Just then the aide ran in, out of breath and wide-eyed. "Councilor! The head of the Traders Guild is here. Merchants across the city are calling for a strike against imports from Cyrodiil! There's talk of severing all trade to the empire."
Ramoran glared heatedly at Jorun. Jorun simply shrugged back, struggling mightily to keep his expression neutral.
He needed to bring something pretty home to his darling, devious wife. Something not imported, that is.
XxXxXx
4E 201, 17th Sun's Dusk – Ashlands, Vvardenfell
"What do we have here?" A rough voice whispered, in Velothi, in Nevano's ear. "Trespassers, thieves, desecrators."
Nevano couldn't speak. His tongue refused to unglue itself from the roof of his mouth. His heart was pounding so hard his ribs ached trying to restrain it. His lungs burned against his short, terrified gasps squeezing past a tight throat. Zula, Veleth and the hunters were frozen in front of him, all paralyzed in terror, unable to even fight back as black arms snaked from the darkness to wrap around their bodies as well. Though, if they were feeling even a quarter of what was churning in him, it was hardly necessary at this point. He could barely even think about moving his limbs. He wanted to crawl into a corner, hide his head and pretend none of this was happening.
"What to do with such n'wah?" The voice was horrifyingly close, hot breath making the skin of his ear shrivel. "Such a bounty of meat, especially the big one. We will eat well for a long time."
Zula started crying, the tears flowing freely down her face and her breath coming in short hiccups. Veleth had ceased to breath entirely, his eyes almost totally black.
"And such treasures." A tongue ran up the edge of Nevano's ear. He tried to scream in protest but his throat constricted painfully, only allowing a strangled groan to escape. "Your fear is so delicious. So delicious. I could taste it all day. Oh, what is this…?"
Hands had been pawing all over him, searching out valuables and weapons. Hopesfire and Bonebiter had already been swiftly removed but the hands continued to grope all over, leaving him feeling rather violated, his flesh left itching and twitching. The offending hands finally came to Moon-And-Star on his right hand. He tried to clench his hand shut to protect it but the grip of terror on him was too strong. All he could manage was to weakly twitch his fingers. However, the ring refused to be wiggled off his finger, despite it being loose enough to easily twist it, so his hand was held for inspection. Moon-And-Star, it's magic as strong as ever, took in the barely-there green light and reflected it as brilliantly as if a full summer sun had been shining on it. There was a heavy pause and then the hand holding his clamped down hard like a vice, claw-like nails digging into his skin. Again, he tried to cry out in fear and pain but only a croak escaped.
"THIEF!" The hissing turned into a shriek in his ear. "You think to wear a mockery?! You think you can wear that?! You will not insult the ring of the Queen of Roses! You will not insult her beloved champion!"
Nevano could not respond. His throat had fully constricted, cutting off the desperate pants. His heart rabbited uselessly in his chest. He wanted to scream. He desperately needed to scream. His own body refused to obey. He couldn't even try to jerk away as a knife was pressed to his throat. White throbbed at the edges of his vision and clogged his ears. He felt like he would die of his fear before the knife even ripped his skin.
"You will die for your disrespect! Your flesh will be made to rot! We will crack your bones and throw them into the wastes!"
"Enough."
The iron grip hands released him before the echo of the deep-voiced command had even faded. Nevano dropped to his knees as his legs refused to hold his weight. The crippling fear that had paralyzed him was lessening, allowing him to move and cough as the pressure on his body released. He gagged, his stomach roiling from the intense grip of fear.
"No mockery of that ring has ever been made, for the Queen of the Night Sky has never allowed one to remain whole. Only one was ever made and only one can ever wear it. The ring refusing to leave its master is proof enough." A hand grabbed him by the chin and forced his head up. He could see something moving in the darkness but couldn't pick anything out other than what he thought were the pale gleam of eyes in the dark. "Gold eyes. Like our ancestors. Like the stories we were all told back in those dark days. How a gold-eyed heretic defied every odd against him. We were told the Nerevarine was gone from these shores. We were told the Nerevarine was dead. I wonder...how many grains of truth do those stories truly hold?"
Nevano didn't know what to say to the being in front of him holding him by the jaw. His mind was scrambling desperately but it was like grasping at smoke. His heart was pounding so fast that he was sure it was about to just give out completely. The white hadn't faded from his vision. He wished to just pass out and be free from this torment.
The hand let go of his jaw abruptly. "Release them."
On cue, all of them hit the ground, the strings paralyzing them cut. Zula broke out in full on sobs then, curling into a shaking ball on the ground. Nevano felt like joining her. The intense crushing pressure of fear was gone, leaving him feeling weak and limp. All he could do was gasp greedily for air, trying to get his heart down from its dangerous pounding and keep his stomach from losing what little was in it.
Torches flared up all around them, bathing the entire cavern in a fierce red light, blinding them. Blinded now by tears in his eyes, Nevano could only feel several intense gazes on him, making him squirm as uncomfortably as when hands had been pawing all over him. As his eyes adjusted, his heart gave a tired lurch. It wasn't just a few figures in cave with them, it was a whole gods damned tribe.
They were the wildest looking elves Nevano had ever seen. They had covered their sparsely-clothed bodies in thick layer of paint that Nevano guessed was made with black ash while the more traditional white paint was in deliberate lines on the bony parts of the their bodies to make them seem more like skeletons. Piercings liberally decorated their ears, lips and noses and each of them wore a pendant in the shape of a spider, decorated to the bearer's taste. Yet they were Dunmer, that Nevano could see. Their red eyes watched them in open, slightly wild, curiosity as they crowded in for a better look. Yet there seemed to be no hostility, despite the earlier threats. They had been told to release their prisoners, that was good enough for them to no longer consider their prisoners as threats.
A male was crouched in front of the shrine that Nevano recognized as belonging to Sul-Senipul, the former owner of his beloved Bonebiter bow. His eyes were far less crazed but his expression was difficult to read, especially under the thick ash paint mask. Nevano guessed he was in charge; his lavishly decorated spider pendant covered a good portion of his chest, the legs wrapped around his neck and ribs. Bones and small precious stones dangled from his leather belt. Nevano felt his blood pound hard in his ears for several heartbeats as he realized the bones were not that of an animal.
"So...what brings the Stranger back to this land?" It was the same deep voice that had commanded them to be released. Nevano noted that, after a quick glance at Veleth, he spoke in Dunmeri that was good enough to pass him off as a city mer.
Nevano didn't answer. Mostly because he was still working to shake off the remnants of the intense fear he had experienced. His shaking limbs could have tied themselves into knots as it was without the anxiety of being questioned thrown in. His companions were not much better off than he was. He tried to work his jaw but all he managed was to get his teeth to chatter.
A woman behind him cackled, wiggling her fingers and bouncing on her toes. "You like my powerful magic? I have lots more for those who trespass here."
A fear spell. It had all been from a fear spell. The insane fear had not been his own but it had been so masterfully done that Nevano couldn't tell the difference. Across from him, Veleth regained enough control to violently curse, causing the wild tribe around him to snicker. Nevano had to wonder how long they had been following them, slowly building the spell up to herd them here and use its full effects to capture them with no difficulty at all.
"You are Velothi?" Nevano finally got his tongue back under control but the only question he could shape out was possibly the dumbest, most obvious thing he could have asked. Even though he mentally berated himself for asking that, the mer seemed patient enough to humor him.
"The Ald'vel are not the only ones to have survived on this wretched island, despite what their pride wants them to believe." The mer Nevano had mentally labeled the Ashkahn said. "Other tribes have survived. We do what we can to scratch a life from these unforgiving lands but unlike the others who clawed their way towards the sun like flowers waiting to be shredded by the winds, we looked to the land to shelter us, as any who have any respect for it should do. The Ashlands are filled with caves and catacombs that are filled with life. We might seem different, but, yes, we are Velothi."
"You aren't Urshilaku though."
"There is no such thing as Urshilaku, Zainab, Ahemmsua or Erabenimsun anymore." The Ashkahn shrugged.
Several tribe members had given in to their curiosity and moved in closer to the strangers. A few admired Zula and her hunters, praising their handmade weapons and the tattoos and scars showing their accomplishments but most had flocked to Veleth, touching his face and arms and the Ebony Mail. While they were entranced by what was probably their first encounter with a city mer, Nevano heard more comments over his size. Veleth already towered over a good portion of the Dunmer population but surrounded by small, lithe Velothi and adorned by the Ebony Mail, he seemed even more like a bull penned in with tiny ponies. Veleth, for his part, stayed frozen in place. Nevano couldn't tell if he was still working the last vestiges of fear out or if he was suppressing the urge to lash out at the unwelcome touching. Hopefully, he could hold it together. There wasn't much Nevano could do for him.
"You still have not answered my first question. Why are you, along with a handful of young Ald'vel and a house mer who carries the Ebony Mail, here?" The Ashkahn ignored his people's interference. "Why has the Stranger returned?"
"It's a rather long story." Nevano said.
"We have the time."
"No, we don't. It's a long story and it's not that I don't want to tell you it's because I can't right now." Nevano jumbled out. "We're trying to find Sunder. It was stolen. The Thalmor took it. I think they are using it to rebuild the Heart of Lorkhan."
"You are not wrong. We've been watching them." He flashed a completely unnerving smile, his white teeth contrasting starkly against the black paint. "They've been poking around in the caves and caverns here. They are stringy."
"Stringy?" Nevano remembered the threat that had been hissed in his ear earlier. "Are you...eating them?"
"In the prophecies! Eat their sin and be reborn!" The wild woman behind him broke in, bouncing on her toes excitedly.
Nevano's mind flopped on itself, coherent thought shorting out. "That's not...quite how it was meant...you are taking that a little too literally."
"We eat their sin. The sin of trespassing and the sin of desecration. We make them pure again." An old woman stepped forward, poked him in the chest. "Their bones then help guard the dead and the living, redeeming themselves in the afterlife for what they did while alive."
"Ah, right." Nevano chose to quickly leave that topic. They were taking the prophecies and the ancient magic of ghost gates way too far. His stomach was still too queasy to fully undertake that conversation in detail. "We were trying to get out of the ash storm when the cave entrance collapsed. I'm starting to think that that cave-in wasn't all that natural."
"The Thalmor have been trying to collapse every cave they can find." There was another unnerving grin, this time accompanied by several titters from other tribe members. "They've started to suspect something is watching them from dark places. All they are doing is destroying old city mer tombs and kwama mines. This was the first time they found one of our main entrances. I believe they are using the magic from that corrupted heart they built to watch you. There are other ways out though. We have created many entrances to the world outside."
"They did rebuild it. Damn. Can you show us?" Nevano dared to allow hope that maybe, just maybe, this strange tribe of wild elves would help them out.
"Yes, we can. We will take you to the surface. You need rest first. Ash storms are hard to walk through and you still have Thalmor to face. Come. Rest." He waved his hand and the tribe fell on them, pulling them up and ushering them through a tunnel before any of them could protest. The tribe was excited now, murmuring and touching them, going from ready to kill and eat them to happy to help in the blink of an eye. It made his head swim.
He didn't quite have the chance to settle even after taken to yet another cavern and made to sit. Though the tribe was friendly enough now that they were told they had new friends, Nevano found them rather intense in their actions. They happily offered provisions of ash yams, saltrice bread and marshmerrow porridge though Nevano politely, yet firmly, refused anything he even suspected had meat in it. They had laughed at the refusal but didn't insist further or take offense. Once he had gotten his fill, he was again whisked off, this time separated from Veleth and the others, and taken down to a pool of cold water where the ash was deftly and efficiently cleaned off his body before he fully realized what they were doing. By the time he was taken to a small cubby room that had been carved off the side of the cavern where Sul-Senipul had his shrine, Nevano was thoroughly and completely overwhelmed. However, before he lost all semblance of control over himself, he was finally, mercifully, left alone to crawl into the pallet of blankets. As he dropped down, he noticed his pack and weapons had been placed neatly by the cubby hole's entrance, though they had taken his clothes. He sighed and rolled on his back, pulling a blanket around himself.
As he lay there, he tried to piece together just what in all the levels of oblivion had just happened but his thoughts were racing too fast for him to fully grasp them. Ald'vel, Urshilaku, Thalmor, Sunder, Wraithguard, Keening, creepy underground elves...he wished he had Veleth there to at least unload the worst of it but he had no idea where they had taken him and he didn't have the slightest clue where to start looking. He knew Veleth was ok though. He would have heard by now if that temper had finally snapped.
He rolled on his side. From here, he could see into the cavern where the Ashkahns had been honored. He easily found where Sul-Senipul's shrine was and was happy to see that Sul-Matuul had been given a place of high honor next to his father. Not only that, but it had been impeccably cared for. The one hundred year old shrine looked as though it had been constructed yesterday, with fresh offerings and trinkets laid on it. He didn't see a shrine for Nibani though. He tried to lift his head a bit to see if it was elsewhere in the cavern but a sudden, bone-deep lethargy settled over him. All he could managed to do was flop on his back, existence itself seeming to slow like pine sap in the cold. It felt good, though. His mind and body finally relaxing for the first time since leaving Blacklight.
"I see why you've been in the shadows all this time." Nevano felt too sluggish to even be surprised by the sudden appearance of the Ashkahn in the doorway, his back to him, looking out over the shrines of past Ashkahns. "I long suspected it but finally meeting you, I understand. You still carry much with you."
"Most stories never tell of what happens to the heroes after." Nevano found himself saying. "Most people don't care. Supposed to be this strong thing. Like a statue. No one likes to see cracks in their statues."
"Yet still you are working to save Morrowind once again. This is no small thing you are doing. Certainly nothing that can afford to be undertaken with cracks all over." The Ashkahn's deep voice vibrated nicely in Nevano's ears, putting him even more at ease.
"Just slap plaster and paint on it, I guess." Nevano snorted at his own small joke. "Just look pretty. As long as the cracks don't go out in the middle of a busy street, it's all ok. I didn't want to be here but I couldn't let Veleth do this by himself. This is something I couldn't just move them away from. Not like when Red Mountain erupted. Maybe I don't care about Morrowind. Maybe I only care about a small handful of mer. I don't know why I am telling you all this."
"Would it be easier if you knew me? I can start with my name, since I already know yours. Kaid-Anit is what I am called. Sometimes names mean something to others, sometimes not. It doesn't mean much around here I think knowing a name means a bit to you." The newly named Kaid-Anit said, finally turning to face him. "I also sense that you wish to know a bit more about us. Again, knowing names seems to help you connect to things easier. We don't really call ourselves anything. We simply are. If you must have a name for us...Card'vel would be most appropriate, I suppose."
"The people of the dead." Nevano murmured.
"You see a cave of death, we see a place the shelters the dead in a loving embrace while providing the living with all they need to survive. We take care of such places, ensure the dead continue to have a peaceful sleep, and such places care for us." Kaid-Anit said. "We might take a more extreme approach but the old magics and traditions we follow call for such measures. In that, we have no regrets."
"You are very different from other Velothi." Nevano angled his head so he could see him better. He was a bit surprised to see that Kaid-Anit had washed his black ash paint off, though he had kept the stripes of white. Somehow, it made him seem more intimidating yet, as before, Nevano sensed no maliciousness from him. Either that or it was because he felt more at ease being able to fully see a face. Kaid-Anit wasn't so terribly old, but it was often hard to tell the age of one who lived in the Ashlands based on looks. The harsh living conditions prematurely aged most of the inhabitants. For all Nevano knew, Kaid-Anit was half his age. "None of them would be so forward. Haven't been all that friendly either."
"The world has changed. We were Chimer once, the Changed Ones. Then the Chimer changed to Dunmer. The Dunmer went through much change over the centuries. We, too, changed. We survived." Kaid-Anit walked a few paces closer and sat down so he was not towering over Nevano. Up close, Nevano could see he was right. Kaid-Anit was not old at all, probably closer to Veleth's age than his own. However, his intense eyes spoke of a wisdom that stretched beyond his years. "Even you have changed over the years."
"I..." Nevano struggled to sit up but his body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.
"Have seen the darkness of the world. You, more so than even my tribe, understand death. We see to the dead as they sleep, sometimes we send the deserving to an abrupt end. We see death as peaceful and well-deserved. Something that must happen. Something that could even offer benefit to the living. This does not enable us to understand death as you." He motioned for Nevano to stop trying to move. "You understand the finality of it. The coldness, the emptiness. Like us, you understand death must happen but, unlike us, you see the empty holes it leaves behind. It has allowed you to both treasure and despise life."
Nevano felt a few tears slide down his face as reality was cracked open for him to see. His emotions, much like his tongue currently, were no longer held on a tight leash. "I treasure theirs. I despise mine."
"This is your greatest weakness, but it is also your greatest strength." Kaid-Anit's eyes bored into his. "For you can easily take a life, but you know the price of such actions. You know how your actions can shape the world. One death can mean the good for all, but another can mean the downfall of nations. You have carried every death you have been part of with you, including a few deaths that happened in someone else's life time."
It took every ounce of strength Nevano had to reach up and rub at his face. He desperately wished he could hear Nerevar right now. The silence from his corner of his mind was so cold and lonely.
"As with all the other things you have, it is both a curse and a gift. You can use it for good or for evil." Kaid-Anit shrugged then. "I cannot tell you how to do that though. I merely look after the dead, whose part in shaping the course of destiny has been played."
"You are hardly a simple undertaker." Nevano said.
"True, but in the end, no matter how great our power is, we all end up ash and dust. This includes you, one day. So, for now, I am me. One who looks after a tribe of the living and several tombs of the dead." Kaid-Anit said. "Who are you?"
"I was the Nerevarine, once. Like I was a fighter for hire once and a slave once." Nevano said. "I don't know what I am now. Everyone wants me to keep being the hero. Even..."
"I'm aware of your talk with the wise woman." Kaid-Anit said. "Whether I agree with her or not does not matter. I merely asked who you are."
"I'm too broken to be that anymore. I don't want to be that anymore." Nevano said. "Like you said, I am me. Maybe I have changed. Changed too much to be what I used to be. Maybe I'll change into something else? I don't want it to be bad."
"Change might seem bad from the start. It doesn't have to remain so. You can choose what it will be. You carry the weight of death with you, but don't forget that you can also choose who lives too." Kaid-Anit stood. "Rest now. Your belongings and companions are well looked after and are safe in these halls. You can think on this later. Sleep."
Nevano wanted to stay awake but the heaviness that held his body prone forced his eyes closed. Sleep claimed him a mere heartbeat later.
When he awoke the next morning, or what he assumed was morning, he felt...empty. No, that wasn't the correct description. More like something had been shaken free. It wasn't a bad feeling. He certainly felt clearer than he had in a while and he wasn't sure if it was from that wonderfully deep sleep or if it was from something else. Certainly that strange talk he had had last night with the Ashkahn was something to do with it.
"Finally you woke up. Even Zula shaking you wouldn't wake you." Veleth came in. "She was told to let you sleep. Something about it's not good to wake you up too soon. I'm not sure I want to know."
"I think I was put under a spell to sleep. Nothing too bad though." Nevano grinned when he noticed the stripes of paint on Veleth's face. "I see they liked you though."
Veleth shook his head as he plopped on the ground nearby. "A bit too much. It's a wee bit difficult to get any sort of rest when curious girls keep sneaking in and trying to tear my clothes off. I do understand enough Velothi to know when they are giggling to each other and wondering if all of me is bigger than they are. As much as that fulfills quite a few fantasies, the fact that it's coming from a tribe of insane, cannibalistic, death worshipers is a bit of a turnoff for me. That and the creepy body paint. There's a few disappointed girls wandering around."
Nevano snorted but noted that Veleth seemed a bit pleased at the attention.
"They are an interesting people though." Veleth admitted. "Had a long talk with a few of them. They believe you. Or rather, they believe in you. They don't seem to think you abandoned them to a horrible fate, despite the fact they have it worse off. Or at least it seems that way. They don't think that. They actually seem to look down on the other Ashlander tribes for not living in holes with dead mer, eating anything that walks by be it on four legs or two. Not to mention all the old magic they are working. The more they talk, the more I want to know. They've gone such a different direction from everything that was ever Dunmer, Velothi or otherwise."
"Ashlander tribes being disdainful of each other is nothing new. They are more like city mer than they would ever care to admit." Nevano said, pulling his knees to his chest. "They are riding that fine line of dangerous though. I'm not sure what to think about all this."
"About what? The fact that a bunch of cannibals have so far been our most willing ally or that they so easily and willingly believe in you?"
In a rush, Nevano blurted out his strange encounter with Kaid-Anit.
"He does have a point." Veleth said, rubbing at the stubble along his jaw. "We are not the same people we were when we started this. We probably won't be the same when we end it either."
"What do you think about that?"
"Had you asked me that two months ago? I'd have said hell no. I would have, no, I did resist change." Veleth said bluntly. "Now? I see how stupid I was. Without changing what you are, sometimes even who you are, you can't grow. A lot of people want us to stay who we were. Gods, I can even see how I've not wanted you to change from what I remember as a kid but after seeing how bad off you are around here, I don't want you to be stuck like that. I realized too that I was stuck as well. I got to move on from the swamp, you got to move on from Red Mountain. Guess that means we can't be the same people we were."
"Is it a good thing though?"
"Why wouldn't it be? I could still be on Solstheim, freezing my ass off, training the bottom of the barrel that is sent my way, struggling to make sense of how and why I ended up there. Instead, I'm here, spitting ash, wearing the Ebony Mail of all things, looking to start a rebellion that will maybe see Morrowind standing independent for the first time since the end of the first era, with a clear sense of why I'm doing it." Veleth shrugged. "Guess it's about what you say yes to."
Nevano nodded.
"C'mon. We can discuss this to death but the Thalmor won't wait." Veleth tossed his armor at him. "We got a Heart to destroy."
As Nevano dragged himself up and into his armor, silently thanking whoever had helpfully cleaned the ash out of it, the remaining bits of that heavy lethargy left him. He had to admit, even if wasn't fully welcome, whatever spell Kaid-Anit had done to put him to sleep had been remarkably effective in repairing not just his mind but his spirit as well. Though he still had plenty on his mind, he no longer felt as if an invisible hand was pushing him to the ground. His mood was further lifted when Veleth silently handed him a small loaf of bread, saving him from having to awkwardly inspect whatever food was offered to him.
Zula and her hunters were waiting with them. Like them, they seemed refreshed from yesterday's terror but they seemed to be a bit more exasperated with the tribe around them. Nevano wasn't surprised. The customs of the two tribes were vastly different and Zula wasn't used to being outside her own circle. Her eyes pleaded with Nevano to hurry so they could leave. He gave her a small reassuring smile that she returned. The wild woman from the day before was also waiting with them. She seemed very happy to see them, though she seemed especially enamored with Veleth. She kept touching his arms though not in any way that was fully disrespectful. It was as if she was utterly fascinated by him, despite him being Dunmer just like her. Veleth seemed to have resigned himself to it. Apparently this was something that had been going on since last night.
"This is Uliamu." Veleth said a bit tersely. "I'm sure you remember her from yesterday. She is...what did you call yourself?"
"Bonecaller."
"Right. She is the tribe's bonecaller. I have no idea why she calls herself that when, really, she's just damn good at illusion spells, such as scaring the piss out of those who happen to be walking by." Veleth said flatly while Uliamu giggled, wiggling her fingers rapidly. "From what I gather, she's not the wise woman. Just a crazy woman with magic fingers who has volunteered to lead us out and everyone else has agreed with that."
"Not wise woman, no no." She said, bouncing from foot to foot. "Kaid-Anit has much stronger magic. Oh! He sends his apologies. Couldn't come see you off. Something happened in the northern tunnels. Asked if I would help you instead. Of course I would! We all will help."
"All? What do you mean?" Nevano asked.
"We are not fighters so much. We can fight but we fight from the shadows. Quickly snatching prey. Like spiders." She said, poking at her spider pendant that she had set with red stones. "We will help when we can."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Yes. Come on now. It's a long walk." She whisked them away through the tunnels before any of them could utter a word.
They traveled along extensive tunnels, lit only by the green mist that came from the shrines that lined the way. Somehow, the Card'vel had burrowed along under the Ashlands for the past two hundred years, creating a vast underground network that connected several tombs, both ashlander and city mer alike, that they had tamed and turned into sanctuaries for the living and dead alike. Going through one such tomb, Nevano thought he saw someone petting a bonewalker like a dog. He tried to doubleback to see but Uliamu was apparently in a hurry and quickly shooed him along. Though he tried to dismiss it as a trick of the dim light, he realized he wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if the Card'vel had made pets out of such dangerous monsters. They were, as Veleth had said, insane, cannibalistic, death worshipers but, despite many questionable choices and customs, they were not evil at all. Territorial and zealous in the protection of their home and the dead that resided with them, but not evil. Interesting, Veleth had called them. It was probably the perfect word to sum up the strange tribe.
"Here." They came to a stop. The air seemed much lighter and Nevano could hear the wind howling still. Ash drifted down from around a stone door. "This ash storm is driven by magic. Much like the ones of old. You can still see Kogoruhn from here though. See?" She pushed open the door and pointed out into the storm. "See the old domes? Be careful, strangers. We've been watching them all morning and whatever they are trying to do, it's very dangerous. Several have already died. They've carried the bodies out. They are in the old temple."
Nevano nodded and started to crawl through the narrow door.
"Wait!" Uliamu yanked a bone off her belt and held it tightly between her thumbs, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Several long moments passed. Nevano thought he should say something but before he could open his mouth, the bone glowed briefly and Uliamu swiftly buried it in the ashy soil by the door. "There. Now go."
Unceremoniously, they were shoved out and the door slammed shut behind them, disappearing into the mountainous area as if it had never been there. Once again, they were alone in the howling wind and swirling ash. Up ahead, the dark, foreboding stronghold of Kogoruhn loomed.
XxXxXx
A/N: And. Here. We. Go.
