Chapter 38
Gate
Telepe squinted as he held the light in his hand high above his head, trying to pierce the dim gloom of the underground citadel beneath Vahtache. His spell, along with the few torches carried by the warriors around them, were scarcely enough to illuminate the area around them, and the only other lights in the undercity – the gleaming white crystals that were embedded into the marble walls and which hung from ornate chandeliers – were barely enough to light the narrow passageways. However, he certainly wasn't going to complain about being unable to see, especially so long as Tari was clinging tightly to his arm and relying on him to guide her.
Pelinal led the way through the passageways, several feet ahead of a century of hoplites, his blazing sword staving off the darkness surrounding him and apparently providing him with enough light to see clearly. At first, the warriors had tried to keep pace with the knight, but when Pelinal continued to forge ahead, heedless of his companions, they eventually gave up trying to match his pace and instead simply tried to keep him in view.
As the group passed by a low altar, Telepe noticed splotches of blood staining the ground beside it, and a wicked, curved knife resting on its surface. A shiver ran up his spine as he briefly considered what cruel rituals had been performed on the altar before ruthlessly suppressing those thoughts. He also noticed that the blood was old, brown, and hard, so he doubted that it had been used recently, though that was little comfort.
Suddenly, Pelinal stopped short and held up his hand. Telepe nearly collided with the hoplite in front of him as the man came to an abrupt halt, and he briefly scowled before starting to push his way through the formation to better see why Pelinal had stopped. Upon hearing the movement behind him, Pelinal turned and shot Telepe a warning glare, which froze him in his tracks. The knight then tilted his head, apparently listening intently. Telepe remained still and strained his own ears, and he slowly became aware of distant screaming and shouting. Without warning, Pelinal suddenly charged off on his own again, leaving the rest of the century behind. The warriors traded baffled looks with each other, then hurried after their leader.
The group rounded a corner, but were soon forced to stop once more. Their path was blocked by an ornate bronze door, barred with a thick block of wood and bound with a thick length of chain and a heavy lock. A group of slaves was clustered behind the door, screaming and pleading for help through its wire window. When Pelinal stepped forward, holding his flaming sword aloft so that he could see their faces, their screams momentarily ceased as surprise and awe replaced their desperation. Then one of the slaves rushed forward and gripped the thin bronze bars.
"Please! Release us!" the boy cried. "The masters… they've gone below! They intend to summon foul creatures – the denizens of Oblivion and the walking dead! They mean to unleash a profane army upon the surface, claiming that it is better to burn their home than let it fall into the hands of the invaders! They do not care that they barred us in here with them! Once they have finished their summoning rituals, we shall be the first slain! You must set us free!"
"Wait… how do you know what they're summoning?" Telepe piped up.
"Some of us have served down here for many years! Though we cannot cast magic ourselves, we've come to recognize the words," the slave explained quickly, his eyes flitting back and forth with fright. "They also carried daedric orbs, which we know are used to open tears to Oblivion itself. When we warred against Kemen, they occasionally called upon daedric servants to fight in their armies." The slave shuddered again and glanced away. "When they did, the slaves that they brought with them into their summoning chamber were offered as sacrifices to the Daedric Lords! Now they mean to do the same to us! Please… ask us no more! Release us, before the horde descends upon us all!"
Pelinal glanced down at the heavy bronze doors, then nodded. "Very well. I shall free you." He then turned and looked over his shoulder. "Then I shall descend into the bowels of this foul city and slay these infernal mages! Those of you with the courage to join me, step forth!"
Telepe swallowed, his heart pounding. He briefly considered keeping silent, but he found himself moving forward, with Tari joining him. As they did, however, Pelinal held up his hand and shook his head.
"Not you," he said in a low growl.
Telepe's eyes briefly widened, then narrowed indignantly. "Do you feel we're unworthy to fight beside you now?" he asked coldly. "We accompanied you into Atatar and Ninendava, didn't we?" Part of him furiously demanded to know why he was protesting being kept out of danger, but Pelinal had wounded his pride, and he wouldn't back down without an explanation.
Pelinal folded his arms over his chest and lowered his head slightly, simmering with growing fury at Telepe's defiance. "You were able enough in those skirmishes, yes," Pelinal conceded. "However, this time, there is no need for you to put yourself in danger. In Atatar, we had only a few warriors of any skill, and in Ninendava, we intended to parlay, not to fight, so your presence was necessary. Now, however, we have a full century of brave, skilled warriors, and our foes clearly have no intention of treating with us, if they are already summoning a daedric horde. An emissary who cannot speak with his foe is of no use, and a mage who cannot see where she is casting is a hindrance."
Telepe scowled, irritated, but he privately – reluctantly – admitted that Pelinal had a point, harsh as his words were. Telepe could reason with the rational, but Vahtache's rulers had steadfastly refused all attempts at diplomacy, and he had already admitted that there was likely little more he could do to convince them to stand down. What's more, Tari was still half-blind, and would be of little use in these cramped corridors, where she was as likely to harm their own men as the enemy. There was no place for them in this battle.
"…Very well," Telepe sighed, straightening up and inclining his head.
Pelinal let out a soft grunt, then glanced up at the ceiling. "If you wish to be of use, see to it that these slaves are returned safely to the surface. Also, inform the Paravant of my intentions – I would not wish to cause her undue concern about why her champion is slow to return."
"As you say," Telepe agreed.
Pelinal turned around and approached the door, gripping his sword tightly in his hand. "Step away!" he barked at the slaves huddled around the door. The men and women scurried back as he brought the blade up over his head, then slashed downward. The red-hot blade cleaved through the chains as though they were made of straw, and the wooden block barring the door briefly ignited before it fell to the ground in two charred halves. The gate swung open, and the slaves immediately rushed through the narrow opening like a flood, screaming and clawing their way past the hoplites in a mad rush to reach the surface. The boy that had been speaking with Pelinal, however, paused and stepped aside to address the knight directly.
"If… if you wish… we do not lack courage," he stammered. "We are frightened, yes, but we also yearn for our freedom, and we are not afraid to fight for it. If you require more aid, we could arm ourselves and join you…."
Pelinal stiffened for a moment, then reached out and touched the boy's cheek. The boy flinched in surprise as Pelinal stared at him intensely from behind his helmet. "You remind me so much of him…." he murmured sadly. Then he shook his head. "No… your valor is commendable, but this is not the day for you to fight. Seek shelter, and await our return. Rest assured, if you still wish to join us, your time shall come soon enough. For now, go."
Pelinal pushed him towards Telepe, who caught the boy by the arm. The two men briefly stared at each other, and then Telepe turned and began hurrying back up the passageway, half-dragging the boy with him. Behind him, he heard Pelinal let out a furious war-cry before leading the hoplites in the opposite direction, deeper into the undercity.
Telepe and Tari followed the retreating slaves up the stairs to the surface, shepherding them along the way, though the fleeing slaves needed little encouragement to escape the horrors brewing beneath the city. When they emerged into the upper portion of Vahtache, Telepe briefly squinted in the sunlight as his eyes adjusted, and then he surveyed the city. The area around them was still chaotic, but it seemed that most of the Ayleid army had been defeated. A few skirmishes still raged on the walls, but he could also see that many of the elves had surrendered and were being herded into houses, guarded by squads of hoplites. It seemed that the only major resistance remaining was the army lurking beneath the city.
Telepe gazed up into the sky and saw Morihaus and Perrif still circling overhead. The man-bull noticed Telepe when he raised his sword and waved it to catch their attention. He saw Morihaus glance over his shoulder and briefly converse with Perrif, and then the minotaur descended, landing surprisingly lightly on the cobblestones before Telepe.
"What news?" Perrif asked breathlessly as she stepped off of Morihaus. Telepe noticed that her dark hair was matted with sweat and her arms were shaking from repeatedly shooting her bow. To see her so disheveled was such a stark contrast from her usually composed demeanor that Telepe could hardly believe that it was the same woman standing before him.
"Whitestrake has descended into the catacombs with a century of warriors to hunt down the remaining Ayleids," Telepe announced as he sheathed his sword. "A group of prisoners that we encountered claims that they're attempting to summon an army of daedra and undead, and he insisted upon dispatching them himself."
"By the Divines…." Perrif sighed. "I wish he had consulted me…."
"There was no time," Telepe assured her. "Time is of the essence, and if he does not act now, we may have another, far more powerful army to face."
"Mm… very well. Much as it pains me, I shall defer to his judgment," Perrif sighed. "Even so, we should take additional precautions." She then turned to a nearby centurion and called out to him. When the woman approached her, Perrif said, "Assign your men to guard the entrance to Vahtache's lower city, and place at least one runner near the entrance. If anything dangerous escapes, I wish to be notified immediately."
The centurion seemed momentarily baffled by the order, but she dutifully inclined her head and hurried off to carry out the command. Perrif watched her depart, then turned back to Telepe.
"Most of the city has been captured, but we must still take the palace," she announced, folding her arms over her chest. "I suspect that the royal family has retreated with their army beneath the city, so I do not expect to encounter them. However, there may yet be nobles taking refuge there that we might treat with or capture. If so, you would be the one most able to reason with them and convince them to surrender, Telepe." She looked over her shoulder, where a score of warriors led by a decanus were idling nearby, waiting for further orders, and she beckoned them over. She then turned back and added, "Would you be so kind as to take these men and investigate for us?"
Telepe glanced towards the center of the city, where the squat marble complex loomed above the rest of the area on a flat plateau, and then back to the hoplites, who waited silently for his command. "As you say," he confirmed, folding his arms over his chest.
"Very good," Perrif nodded. She then looked up at Morihaus and smiled sweetly at him. The man-bull caught her expression and frowned deeply as she put her hand on his chest. "As for you, general… would you mind taking me aloft for another survey of the city? If there are other areas that still resist, I would like to pacify them as swiftly as possible."
Morihaus stared down at her, then exhaled and bowed his horned head. "As you say, my lady," he murmured. He briefly glanced at Telepe, giving him a pleading look, but Telepe held his hands up helplessly. The minotaur sighed and hung his head in defeat before holding one massive, hairy hand out to her.
"Thank you," Perrif smiled, gently taking his hand. Telepe gazed at her for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. She regarded him with a look of surprise and tilted her head slightly. "What is it?"
"This is a new guise for you," Telepe commented. When she gave him a quizzical stare, he explained, "I have seen you as a prophetess, an orator, and a mother to your people. Now, you wear the guise of a warrior and general." He slowly grinned, then added, "It suits you quite well."
Perrif continued to stare at him, then suddenly giggled, putting her hand over her mouth. "Is that so?" she asked thoughtfully.
"Please, emissary… do not encourage her," Morihaus groaned.
Perrif, Telepe, and Tari burst out laughing at the man-bull's response, but after a moment, their mirth died down and Perrif nodded to the center of the city. "To the palace, then, Telepe." Telepe nodded in affirmation, and then Morihaus took to the air again, his wings beating mightily for a few moments before he once again rose into the air.
Telepe turned and strode quickly towards the palace, with the warriors in tow. Tari continued to cling to his left arm, staring at the ground intently to ensure she didn't stumble. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he once again drew his sword and gripped it tightly in his right hand, with Tari still holding his left. He slowly ascended the stairs, glancing around cautiously for any sign of resistance, but it seemed that the guards had completely abandoned the main doors. They reached the top of the steps without incident and quickly made their way to the main entrance.
Four warriors quickly hurried forward to pry open the doors, while the others stepped forward, flanking Telepe and Tari on either side. Telepe's heart began to pound as the doors swung open, revealing the entry chamber leading into the throne room. To his mild surprise, however, there were no guards inside the palace either, and the throne room seemed empty. The only sounds as they stepped into the eerily still room were their own footsteps echoing off the cold marble floors, and the only movement came from the shadows cast by the brilliant crystals hanging from the ceiling above them.
The decanus motioned for Telepe and Tari to remain behind him as they began creeping through the empty halls of the palace. Telepe complied without complaint, and he kept his sword drawn as he followed the warriors cautiously. They methodically inspected every room in the palace, beginning with the noble apartments. Though they found no one, Telepe noticed that there was no indication that the nobles had taken their belongings with them, as they would if they intended to flee the city. Telepe suspected that they either hadn't had time to once it became apparent that the rebels were about to breach the walls, or that they were so confident of victory that they felt they could leave their possessions where they lay and would retrieve them later once they emerged victorious.
When it became apparent that the apartments were empty, the decanus led the way into the dining hall. As expected, the tables were clear, and the room was empty. As they approached the kitchen, however, Tari's eyes suddenly widened, and she put a finger to her lips before nodding to the door, tapping her ear as she did. The small group crept forward, and Telepe soon heard a faint rustling in the kitchen. The decanus moved ahead and slowly pushed open the door, peering inside.
A small figure was crouched over a sack of apples that were stowed in one corner of the kitchen. Though their back was turned, Telepe could tell from their skin that they were an Ayleid youth, apparently just on the cusp of adolescence. The decanus stepped a little further into the room, and the mer suddenly swung around, revealing a young, male face. With a sharp cry, the boy suddenly charged at the decanus, gripping a bronze knife tightly in both hands, his eyes wide with fear and panic.
Fortunately, the decanus was prepared, and he raised his shield in time to deflect the boy's strike away harmlessly. He then brought his shield around and smacked the boy across the face, sending him sprawling across the ground. As the boy groaned in pain, the decanus stepped forward and raised his spear, his eyes blazing with hatred and fury. Telepe quickly darted forward, interposing himself between the decanus and the child.
"Hold!" he cried. The decanus paused, glancing past him to where the child was still laying on the ground, sobbing and clutching his cheek, and then back to Telepe, who added, "The Paravant said that she would prefer prisoners, especially if they're noble!"
The decanus hesitated, and though he didn't lower his spear, he remained still. "You wish to capture this one, then?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Just allow me a moment," Telepe said soothingly. "I can ensure that he will pose no threat."
The decanus gave him a skeptical look, then reluctantly lowered his spear. Telepe turned to the youth, whose eyes widened with fright as Telepe knelt down. Before he could scramble for his knife, Telepe held his hand out, and a bolt of green light erupted from his palm, striking the boy in his chest. Immediately, the boy's body went slack, and his eyes dulled. Telepe smiled to himself as the charming spell washed over the young mer, and he sat a bit more comfortably on the floor, propping his arm on one knee.
"Be at ease. We don't intend you any harm," Telepe said gently. "Who are you?"
"…My name is Laenorel," the boy muttered in a dazed, monotone voice. "My parents are nobles in the service of our king."
"Very well, Laenorel. What are you doing here?" Telepe pressed.
"Hiding," Laenorel replied dully. "When the savages broke our walls, my parents said we must flee below ground. However, I lost sight of them as they fled. I was scared and hungry, so I came here to eat and hide until they returned."
"I see. Well, rest assured, Laenorel, you shall not be harmed," he said, shooting a pointed look at the decanus, who held his hands up innocently. "I have but one more question for you. Aside from you, is the palace empty?"
"I believe so," Laenorel nodded. "I have seen no one else, and the guards all left with the nobles. I believe I am the only one left."
Telepe nodded, then looked back at the decanus. "This spell should ensure that he'll remain docile for a while longer. Would you have one of your men escort him to one of the cells? And see to it that he's well-treated. The Paravant won't be pleased if a noble hostage is harmed."
"…As you say," the decanus sighed, motioning for one of his warriors to take the boy. Laenorel put up no resistance as he was escorted out of the palace, though he did briefly glance over his shoulder at Telepe for further instruction. Telepe simply nodded at the warrior guiding him, and Laenorel obediently turned back around and resumed following the hoplite. The decanus glared after them, then turned back to Telepe. "Do you believe we should accept that elf's word, then?" he growled.
"He could not lie to us so long as he was under the effect of that charm," Telepe stated confidently, pushing himself up and dusting his trousers off. "Nevertheless, he only told us what he saw. That does not mean that there is no one else in the palace. We should still verify that there are no other Ayleids here."
"Good," the decanus said sharply. He then turned to his men, "We shall split into groups of five. Even if the palace seems empty, do not lower your guard. Take your time and inspect every room thoroughly. Also, do not wander off on your own."
The men quickly organized themselves into groups, then set off to explore the rest of the palace. The decanus insisted on his group personally accompanying Tari and Telepe as they continued their tour through the empty halls. They inspected a couple of small rooms that seemed to be slave quarters, and then they pushed open a heavy wooden door standing alone against an eastern wall.
The door opened into a large room, and a swirl of dust made Telepe cough as they stepped inside. The room was evidently an archive, judging from the large shelves lining the room in neat rows. Heavy clay tablets and papyrus scrolls sealed in wooden cases rested on the shelves, arranged in what Telepe suspected was some sort of logical order, though he couldn't discern it at a glance – most likely, the archivist had his own system of organization that he only taught his apprentices. As with the rest of the palace, the room was lit with glowing crystals, though Telepe noticed that a few were intentionally placed above desks that were pushed against one of the far walls of the room, suggesting that they were used as reading lights.
The warriors briefly swept the room as Telepe idly surveyed the scrolls and tablets, though he didn't remove any of them from their shelves. After only a few moments, the decanus returned and nodded to him. "There doesn't appear to be anyone here," he announced.
"Very good," Telepe nodded. "Then let's con-" He paused mid-sentence when he noticed that Tari was hovering near a shelf, curiously inspecting one of the tablets. "Tari?" he called out, trying to catch her attention.
Tari turned to him, and he could see that she was holding a stone tablet. "Telepe… I have been pondering something," she said.
"And that is…?" Telepe asked hesitantly, glancing towards the door.
"You recall our oath to the Thousand-Strong, yes?" Tari asked. "That we would retrieve their hands for them?"
"Of course," Telepe said shortly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as the decanus glared at them impatiently.
"And Vahtache was one of the other cities that was involved in suppressing the rebellion, correct?" Tari continued. When Telepe nodded again, she swept her arm around at the shelves. "Perhaps, then, there is some record of the uprising here, and what was done with their hands."
Telepe hummed thoughtfully, considering her theory, then glanced back at the decanus, who was openly glaring with his arms folded over his chest. "That's a sound idea," he agreed. "Perhaps we can return here once we've finished with our search of the palace…."
The decanus sighed behind him, then glanced towards the door. "Actually, if it's all the same to you, I personally don't mind if you wish to remain here," he said.
"Indeed?" Telepe asked, raising an eyebrow.
"In truth, I would be more at ease if you stayed here," the decanus said in a firmer tone. "While I've no doubt of your fighting prowess, I've been fearing the Paravant's wrath if she discovered that you had been wounded during our search, much less slain. Here, there is little chance you shall be attacked if any other Ayleids do linger in the palace. We can complete our search without fearing for your lives."
Telepe hesitated, trying to ignore the smug, triumphant smile on Tari's face. "If we accompany you, we might complete the search faster. More eyes-"
"We shall search faster if we don't need to guard you," the decanus insisted. "In fact, I'd like to assign two of my men to protect you while the rest of us resume our search. I insist," he added, fixing Telepe with a pointed stare.
Telepe grimaced and glanced away. Part of him wanted to protest, since the Paravant had assigned them to search the palace together, and he didn't want to seem as though he was shirking her request. However, if there truly was no one in the palace, and the warriors simply needed to confirm Laenorel's statement, then there was little reason for Telepe and Tari to join them.
"Very well," Telepe sighed, inclining his head. The decanus' expression finally relaxed, and he nodded gratefully. "Though I do have one question for you and your men," he added, glancing at the warriors lingering behind him. "Can any of you read?"
The hoplites glanced uneasily at each other while the decanus shook his head. Finally, however, one man stepped forward and held his hand up hesitantly. "I… at least can sound out the letters," he said uncertainly. "I was occasionally asked to deliver messages in Mackamentain, so I learned how to read names."
"That should suffice," Telepe smiled, glancing at the decanus. "If you don't mind."
"Very well. I suppose having one of my men accompany you within the archive isn't a poor decision anyways," the decanus shrugged. "Now, if there's nothing else?"
"No. Thank you," Telepe said quickly. The decanus nodded curtly, then turned to his men and ushered them out of the room, leaving one other woman outside to guard them.
The hoplite that had volunteered to help them uneasily set his spear against the door and followed Telepe as he began pulling scrolls and tablets off of the shelves. "What exactly are we looking for?" the young man asked hesitantly.
"We're searching for any mention of the uprising of the Thousand-Strong of Sedor," Telepe explained, carrying an armload of scrolls over to the desk and setting them on the flat surface.
"What for?" the hoplite asked curiously, pulling out the wooden chair and slowly sinking into the wicker seat.
"It's… something we've promised to investigate for a friend," Telepe said evasively. When the man stared at him, he chuckled and added, "I doubt that you would believe me if I explained it."
"I see," the hoplite said slowly, clearly unconvinced. "What do you expect to find, though? Do you wish to find a full account of the uprising?"
"No. In fact, given what I know of the Ayleids, I doubt they would record the rebellion in full anyways," Telepe admitted. "From all I've heard, it was an utter humiliation for the Ayleid slavemasters, especially in the early days of the uprising when the Thousand-Strong were able to nakedly defy their authority. The Ayleids would have little desire to portray themselves negatively, or to accurately record an event that would inspire future uprisings." He then smiled cynically and added, "However, I would not be surprised to discover that they recorded the end of the rebellion, especially how they brutally suppressed it and emerged victorious once more over a band of rabid savages. In particular, I'm hoping that they state, in great detail, the vengeance and humiliation they exacted upon the defeated rebels."
"I see…." the hoplite said uneasily, seeming slightly disturbed by Telepe's apparently macabre interest in the end of the uprising. "Then… what precisely am I looking for?"
"You said that you can read names and simple words, yes?" Telepe asked. When the hoplite nodded in confirmation, he smiled. "For now, search for a few specific words. Any mention of Sedor, an uprising or rebellion, the Thousand-Strong, or hands. If you find any of those words, alert me and I shall inspect it more closely."
"Hands?" the hoplite repeated with a frown.
"Hands," Telepe confirmed, chuckling. "Do you have any questions?"
"Not… at present," the hoplite said uncertainly. Telepe suspected that he in fact had several, but that he also felt he wouldn't glean any answers. "I shall alert you if I find anything, then."
"Thank you," Telepe smiled, and then he pushed himself up and walked over to Tari, who was hunched over the desk along the opposite wall. "Will you be alright?" he asked.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Tari asked easily, her nose an inch from the scroll she was studying.
"Rather, are your eyes well enough to read?" Telepe asked.
Tari briefly turned to glower at him, but when she noticed that he was simply concerned for her, her expression softened. "I still have difficulty discerning objects that are far away," she admitted. "However, if something is near, I can still see it well enough. Rest assured, I am having no difficulty reading this."
"If… you're certain," Telepe said slowly.
"I am," Tari replied shortly. She then reached up and lightly poked him in the center of the chest. "Now, stop fretting over me and gather some scrolls. You read far faster than either of us, so you shall have no excuse if one of us finds what we seek before you do."
Telepe chuckled sheepishly and nodded, stepping away from her and walking over to one of the shelves to pull the thickest scrolls from the shelves. "Very well," he replied mischievously. "However, if I do find it before you, I'm giving you extra reading material, since clearly you can't read swiftly enough."
Tari answered him with a grin.
As chance would have it, it was the hoplite who found what they were searching for.
"Emissary?" he asked cautiously. Telepe looked up from his passage, groaning as he rubbed his eyes, which were burning from the strain of reading by the harsh light of the crystals. "I believe that this scroll mentions Sedor, though it is difficult for me to tell."
Telepe pushed himself up from his desk, pausing to stretch his cramped shoulder and thigh muscles, and then he walked over to inspect the runes scrawled on the hoplite's scroll. The handwriting was rather poor, so it was little surprise that the hoplite was having difficulty reading it, and at first Telepe didn't even notice what had caught the man's attention. However, as his eyes ran over the document, he eventually realized that the third paragraph did indeed mention a great victory near Sedor.
At first, Telepe tempered his enthusiasm. All of them had found scrolls that mentioned battles fought with Sedor, and a few had been "great victories," but none had referred to the Thousand-Strong's rebellion. As he continued reading, however, he quickly realized that this scroll recounted a slave revolt near Sedor that Vahtache had helped suppress. The writer claimed that they had personally slain two slaves and taken their hands as trophies.
As Telepe continued reading, Tari wandered over to peer over his shoulder. Though she couldn't understand everything, Telepe explained the contents to both her and the warrior. He and Tari then briefly conferred with each other, and they eventually agreed that they needed to speak with Perrif about what to do next.
"Well done," Telepe smiled, briefly putting his hand on the hoplite's thick, bare shoulder. "I'll be certain to ask the decanus to reward you with some extra rations this evening."
"My thanks, emissary," the hoplite grinned. "Will you require anything else?"
Telepe rolled his neck as he considered the question. "I suppose we should ask you to escort us," he suggested. When the hoplite blinked at him, he chuckled and added, "Yes, we've been at this for quite a while, and if the palace wasn't secured by now, we would know. Even so, the decanus would be rather furious if he found you had left us unguarded. Would you mind accompanying us while we search for the Paravant?"
The warrior nodded and pushed himself up, leading the way to the door. When he pushed it open, Telepe was surprised to find that it was shortly after dusk – the sky was now a deep purple, with faint pink streaks. Their escort glanced down at his companion, who was dozing beside the door with her spear hanging limply from her hand. Scowling, he nudged the other guard, who jolted awake and furtively glanced up to see the trio staring at her. She coughed and quickly pushed herself up, falling in step beside her companion with her head hung contritely.
The palace was still eerily quiet as they made their way through the empty halls, though as they passed into the main chamber, they noticed a light shining in the dining hall. The two warriors motioned for Tari and Telepe to remain where they were as they crept forward to inspect the open room, while Telepe waited nervously, his hand resting on his sword. Once they reached the threshold of the room and peered inside, however, they relaxed and beckoned Telepe and Tari forward.
Telepe led Tari to the door and glanced inside the room. To his surprise, Perrif was sitting at one of the tables, opposite Morihaus, and a few guards were scattered at the remaining tables, eating bowls of thick stew. Perrif glanced up and smiled slightly as she spotted Telepe and Tari hovering in the doorway.
"Ah! I was wondering where you two had gotten off to," she chuckled, motioning for them to join her at the table. "I'd feared that you had abandoned my request to secure the palace."
"Not exactly," Telepe said with a sheepish grin. "Rather, we were asked to remain where we were as the warriors secured the palace. And… well, we became engrossed in a rather pressing topic."
"Indeed?" Perrif asked. "You must have been at it for quite some time, then. I imagine you're quite hungry. Come, dine with us and tell us about it."
A pair of warriors approached and served Telepe and Tari bowls of a heavy stew made with beans, carrots, onions, and cabbage, accompanied by a dark, coarse bread and hard white cheese. Telepe suddenly realized how hungry he was as the scent of the stew drifted across his nose. Once the dish was set before him, he quickly swallowed a few bites, then noticed that Perrif was staring at him patiently, an amused smile playing on her lips. Flushing, he quickly swallowed what was in his mouth and set down his spoon, then met her gaze.
"Tari and I have spent the last several hours in this city's archive, searching for any mention of the fate of the Thousand-Strong of Sedor," he explained, leaning forward on his folded arms. "It seems that what Varen told us was true – Sedor formed an alliance with several nearby kingdoms and systematically hunted down the rebel slaves. Whenever they subdued a slave, they took their hands as a trophy."
"Then are the hands scattered among the various city-states that were part of this alliance?" Perrif suggested.
"Not exactly," Telepe explained, pausing to take a sip of wine. "Once the rebellion was suppressed, the allied kingdoms offered the hands of the Thousand-Strong in a mass sacrifice to Meridia, whom they universally recognized as the patron of the Ayleid people. The sacrifice was conducted as a way to thank her for her patronage and to reaffirm the continued dominance of Ayleid rule in Cyrod."
"I see," Perrif sighed, folding her hands in front of her and resting her chin on them. "Then there is no way to fulfill the oath Varen impressed upon you."
"Well… Tari had a thought about that, actually," Telepe said, glancing over at the girl sitting beside him.
Tari paused to swallow the bit of cheese in her mouth, then turned her attention to Perrif. "I know little of the nature of ghosts, but I once heard Lady Arcanalata mention that they linger in our world because something binds them to it – vengeance, or a sense of duty or loss, for instance. As such, if their hands had been destroyed, the spirits of the Thousand-Strong would not linger, as they would have no expectation of having what was taken from them returned."
"Perhaps…." Perrif said slowly.
"So, what if the Thousand-Strong's hands were not destroyed when they were sacrificed?" Tari suggested. "What if they are instead being kept as trophies elsewhere… such as in Meridia's realm?"
Perrif stared at Tari silently for a few long moments, then turned to Morihaus. "What say you?"
Morihaus snorted through his nose-ring and thoughtfully swirled the wine in his goblet. "I know little of the whims of the Daedric Princes," he admitted. "My mother is an Aedra, and their thoughts differ greatly from the whims of the Daedra. Nevertheless, Meridia is known to be prideful and vain, so it would not be unreasonable to assume that she would keep macabre prizes dedicated to her by her most faithful worshippers."
"Interesting," Perrif said slowly. "Even so, suppose that your theory is correct, and they are kept in Meridia's realm. We still have no way of retrieving them."
"On that point, I had another thought," Tari said, leaning forward, her pale green eyes shining deviously. "During this last battle, you recall that the sorcerers here in Vahtache summoned Meridia's servants through gateways connected to her realm, yes?"
"Of course," Perrif stated.
"What if those gates do not simply allow daedra to enter our realm?" Tari suggested. "What if they're actually a doorway that one can step through in either direction? What if we could create one of those gates and use it to invade Meridia's realm?"
Perrif leaned back slightly at Tari's words, seeming stunned by her suggestion. "Would… such a feat even be possible?" she asked softly, glancing over at Morihaus.
Morihaus shook his head. "Forgive me, my lady, but I am not the one you should consult on these matters," he admitted. "You would be better served asking the opinion of the Ayleid sage."
"Is that so?" Perrif murmured. She then turned back to Tari, a grave expression settling on her face. "This should not be proposed lightly," she warned. "Invading a Daedric realm…."
"I am not proposing that we attempt to conquer Meridia's domain," Tari assured her quickly. "I do not believe that would even be possible. However, simply attempting to retrieve the hands of the Thousand-Strong-"
"Would be utter madness," Perrif interrupted. "Not to mention suicidal."
"For any mere mortal, I concur," Tari admitted. "Fortunately, you have the allegiance of more than 'mere mortals.'"
Perrif frowned and settled back in her seat. "I feared you would propose that," she sighed, running her hand over her eyes. "You would suggest that I order Pelinal to invade Meridia's realm alone, merely to retrieve the hands of the Thousand-Strong?"
"I would," Tari said firmly.
Perrif gazed at her silently for several long moments, and then she turned to Telepe. "You have been rather quiet," she remarked. "I would hear your thoughts."
Telepe swallowed as he felt the eyes of the two women piercing him, and he suddenly found himself almost wishing that he was staring down a furious Pelinal instead. "On the one hand, I concur with you, Paravant," he said softly. "The proposal itself is sheer madness. Even if we were to send Pelinal into Meridia's realm, I suspect that he would have to venture into it alone, as I do not know if mortals could even survive in her domain. What's more, he would be left wholly at the mercy of arguably his greatest enemy. Meridia is Umaril's patron, and if she could remove Pelinal from the war entirely, we would be so severely crippled, we may well lose the war outright. She would simply need to capture and hold him in her realm to deny us our most powerful ally."
"Indeed," Perrif said with a note of finality. Tari glared at Telepe, furious at his seeming betrayal.
"However," Telepe continued, carefully avoiding Tari's gaze. Perrif turned back to him, narrowing her own eyes. "I would also advise you to consider how we would benefit in the unlikely event that Pelinal were to succeed. Not only would it be a significant boost to our army's morale – which has been flagging since our conquest of Vahtache has gone so slowly and poorly – it would also terrify our enemies. If word were to spread that Pelinal successfully entered Meridia's realm and returned with some of her most cherished trophies, it may weaken much of the support Umaril enjoys from Meridia's loyalists. It would prove that even their very goddess may be defied by the savages they so despise."
"To say nothing of the fact that the Thousand-Strong also promised to show us where their arms and armor are kept," Tari added. "A thousand suits of armor and a thousand more weapons are not an insignificant prize."
"Yes, but they could never replace Pelinal if he were to fall," Perrif protested.
"Well… then perhaps we should hear Whitestrake's opinion on the matter," Telepe suggested.
Perrif glanced at him, then let out a soft chuckle. "I am surprised to hear you of all people defending him," she remarked, her eyes dancing with amusement.
"I am simply remaining impartial," Telepe insisted. "Though Whitestrake shall follow any command you give him, this is a dangerous task that we are considering, and he is not a mindless slave. He deserves the opportunity to share his thoughts."
A shiver ran down his spine as Perrif stared at him silently. At the same time, Tari gently nudged his knee with hers in a silent gesture of thanks, though he chose not to respond as long as the Paravant was watching him. Finally, she sat back in her chair and said, "First, we should see whether it is even possible to cross the barrier into Oblivion, or the rest of this discussion shall be a moot point." She looked past Telepe at one of the warriors watching them and called out, "Kaios? Would you be so kind as to escort Moralasil here so that he might speak with us?"
The warrior flinched at the sudden attention, then rose to his feet with an abashed look and hurried out of the hall. Those at Perrif's table resumed eating silently, an awkward tension hanging over them as they waited. When the young man returned, Telepe was surprised to see that he was accompanied by two men instead of one.
"Sir Whitestrake has returned, my lady," he announced, then stepped aside. Pelinal strode boldly into the hall, with Moralasil trailing a few paces behind, clutching his wooden staff tightly. The knight's silver armor was still glistening with fresh blood, and his tabard was stained so red that Telepe could hardly make out the scarlet diamond in the center of it. Perrif smiled warmly as Pelinal approached her and bowed his head.
"What news, my champion?" she asked, motioning for him to lift his head.
"All who fled beneath Vahtache have been slain, my lady," Pelinal announced, pausing to pull off his helmet and shake out his sweaty white hair. "They briefly succeeded in opening a doorway to Oblivion, but we successfully slew the mages before more than a score of daedra had passed through."
"And the royal family?" Perrif asked, shooting Telepe a glance.
"None survived," Pelinal repeated pointedly.
Perrif nodded grimly. "Very well. Then we shall need to arrange for new leadership in this city," she muttered. She then looked up again and smiled. "I am pleased that you returned unharmed."
"I did, though there were many casualties," Pelinal growled. "Less than thirty men returned with me."
"I see. I am saddened to hear that," Perrif murmured. "We shall see to it that they are properly honored. Thank you for your work, Pelinal."
"As always, I shall always fulfill my duty and carry out any command you give," Pelinal replied.
"You would, wouldn't you?" Perrif said solemnly. She then looked past him. "Moralasil, I have need of your counsel."
"Of course," Moralasil said, stepping forward and staring in the direction of the Paravant's voice. "What would you ask of me?"
"What do you know of the nature of these gateways to Oblivion?" she asked, sitting back on the bench. "More specifically, could one travel through the gateway into a Daedric realm?"
Moralasil tilted his head back, clearly surprised by the question. "Well… so far as I'm aware, such a thing has never been attempted," he said. "When a conjurer summons a doorway to Oblivion, it is a request for his patron's support, usually in the form of a contract with their servants. To pass through the gateway would be seen as a heinous transgression, akin to violating the sacred hospitality of a host."
"But is it possible?" Perrif repeated.
Moralasil lowered his head and gripped his staff, pondering, while everyone else waited silently. "It may be possible, yes," he said finally. "However, it would be difficult for any mortal to survive in any but the most hospitable of Daedric realms. One might live comfortably for a time in Azura's realm, or perhaps in Hermaeus Mora's. Any fool who tried to cross over into Mehrunes Dagon's domain, or Molag Bal's, though, could expect little more than a swift death."
"I see. And what of Meridia's?" Perrif asked.
"Meridia's?" Moralasil repeated, clearly puzzled. "May I ask what piqued your interest in this?"
Perrif spent the next few minutes recounting their conversation as Moralasil and Pelinal listened silently. When she finished, Moralasil let out a soft chuckle.
"Intriguing, and quite bold," he remarked. "If you intended to send an army through the gate, then I would not expect them to survive. However, a single warrior, or perhaps a small group, might indeed go undetected, as Meridia might not consider them enough of a threat to warrant her attention, no matter how skilled they might be."
Perrif tensed at Moralasil's suggestion, and then she turned to her champion. "Pelinal… what say you?" she asked softly.
"I am yours to command," Pelinal said steadfastly. "If you order me to carry out this task, I shall do so faithfully, and if you decree that I should not, I shall remain by your side."
"I am grateful for your loyalty. But that is not what I asked," Perrif said quietly. "If it was your decision, would you choose to invade Meridia's domain?"
Pelinal folded his arms over his chest and was silent for a moment. "My lady, you ask me if I would seize the opportunity to humiliate our enemy. To shame not only the Ayleid race, but their very goddess, the symbol and enabler of their arrogance. To return the hands of a proud race of men who fought and died to defy the very enemy we now face." A savage grin spread across his face. "I would consider no quest more worthy."
Perrif sighed and put her thumb and index finger over her eyes. "As I feared," she whispered.
Pelinal's grin faded, and he seemed almost distraught at Perrif's reaction. "Nevertheless, as I said, if you ask me to remain-"
"No. Thank you for your honesty," Perrif interrupted and lowering her hand. She bit her lower lip, then continued, "We must tend to the wounded and consider our next objective anyways, so either way, we shall need to remain in Vahtache for a time." She slowly looked around the table. "If all of you support this proposal, then there is no better opportunity to carry it out."
Telepe shot a glance at Tari, who was staring intently at the Paravant, her eyes full of conviction. He didn't understand why she was so certain the Thousand-Strong's hands were in Meridia's realm. What's more, despite the fact that he had played advocate for her, he personally agreed with Perrif – it was a highly risky mission, and the only reward they would receive for completing it was a collection of ancient armor and a tale to be told around the fire. Nevertheless, if Pelinal truly intended to carry out this quest, then he could only fervently hope the knight succeeded.
"Moralasil, do you know the ritual to summon a door to Oblivion?" Perrif asked.
"I do not," Moralasil confessed. "I was a servant of Magnus, so I rarely communed with the Daedric Princes. Nevertheless, you may not require my aid to summon a gate. First, do you possess a Sigil Stone?"
"A what?" Perrif asked.
"An orb of daedric origin, tied to a prince's realm," Moralasil explained patiently.
As Perrif shook her head, Telepe suddenly remembered something. "Morihaus, you collected an orb from one of the mages during the battle, yes?"
"I did," Morihaus nodded. "It is still in my possession."
"Very good. That may indeed be a Sigil Stone," Moralasil smiled. "And you have mages and priests devoted to Meridia who were captured during the battle, correct?"
"We do. However, I doubt that they shall be particularly inclined to aid us," Perrif grimaced. She glanced at Telepe. "Could you perhaps compel them with your charm magic?"
"I… would not rely upon that," Telepe said hesitantly. "While I could put them under my thrall and command them, it would be difficult to control them, especially if this ritual is particularly elaborate. The greater focus one requires to complete a task, the more difficult the charm is to maintain, as the strain of concentrating can often allow the subject to break free of the enchantment."
"I see," Perrif sighed.
"I may be able to assist you in that regard, actually," Moralasil offered. "The mages are in good health, yes?" When Perrif nodded, a slow smile spread across his lips. "Bring them to my chambers this evening. Come morning, you shall find them quite willing to aid you."
Before anyone could ask what he meant by that, the old sage swung around and calmly strode out of the dining hall. The others traded uncomfortable looks with each other, and Telepe felt a cold sweat beading on his skin. He suddenly decided that he had no interest in learning how Moralasil intended to secure the mages' cooperation.
The next morning, a small group was gathered in the courtyard behind the palace, away from the prying eyes of the general populace. Telepe stood next to Tari, who was shivering slightly in the cool, early morning air as she leaned comfortably against his side. They watched as a pair of white-robed mages gathered stones in a circle and muttered under their breath, while Moralasil listened intently nearby. They sported dark circles under their eyes and occasionally shot furtive glances at Moralasil before hurriedly looking away again. When she had first noticed their reactions to the old Ayleid, Tari had asked how he had convinced them to help, but Moralasil had simply replied, "I too was once a priest, Tari. And I did not teach Arcanalata all that I know." Tari had wisely chosen not to press further.
Movement from inside the palace caught Telepe's eye, and he looked up in time to see Perrif striding into the courtyard, with Morihaus on her right and Pelinal on her left. The knight seemed even grimmer than usual, and Telepe noticed that he was not making eye contact with anyone. His gaze was wholly focused upon the circle of stones that the mages were preparing.
"As I've said, if you do not wish to undertake this task, you are still free to refuse," Telepe heard Perrif say. "I am not ordering you to do this, nor even requesting it."
"I must, my lady. This is an oath that must be fulfilled, not for my sake, or even for yours, but for those who had the courage to stand against the Ayleids even without the aid of the gods," Pelinal replied shortly. "They deserve to at least find peace."
Perrif seemed to want to protest further, but Pelinal strode past her and approached Moralasil. At his approach, the old Ayleid mage tilted his head. "Is the ritual ready, mer?" Pelinal demanded.
"Shortly," Moralasil said calmly. "Just a moment longer."
Pelinal let out a growl and began pacing impatiently. Noticing his ire, the mages began moving more quickly, mumbling rapidly under their breath and setting the stones in place as quickly as they could. Once the stones were apparently placed to their satisfaction, one of them walked over to Moralasil, who smiled and surrendered the swirling Daedric stone that Morihaus had taken. The mage took the orb and stared at it, then glanced up at his compatriot. The two hesitated for several moments until Perrif made a swift motion with her hand. Instantly, ten spears were leveled at the mages to deter them from reconsidering aiding the rebels. The mages shied away from the sharp bronze points, then put their hands on the Sigil Stone and began chanting in unison.
The surface of the Sigil Stone began glowing brightly and rotating more rapidly as the mages' chanting grew louder. The swirling rainbow colors blended together in a mesmerizing pattern until a ray of white light erupted from the surface. The thin line of light struck the center of the stone formation that the mages had built, and slowly, a rocky portal rose from the earth. The center of the portal became a hazy mirror of misty, prismatic light, connected to the orb in the mages' hands by the slender beam of light. The two mages glanced at each other uneasily as they stepped aside, while Pelinal grinned with anticipation and pulled his helm back over his head.
"Pelinal!" Perrif said sharply, hurrying over to put her hand on his shoulder. When Pelinal turned to look at her, she continued, "I wish to impress upon you that your task is solely to retrieve the hands of the Thousand-Strong of Sedor. Defend yourself if you must, but please avoid combat if at all possible, and complete your task as swiftly as you can. The longer you are within Meridia's realm, the greater the risk you run of being discovered and overwhelmed. I've no doubt that if you are discovered, Meridia shall send every one of her servants to best you. While I trust in your skill, we cannot afford to lose you. If it is a choice between completing your task and returning to us safely, please choose the latter."
Pelinal inhaled sharply, as though he was taking offense at the implication that he might fail, but then he softened and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. "You needn't fear for me, my lady," he said in a low, gravelly tone. "I shall return triumphant, and as you request, I shall not be away long. Until then, Morihaus," he added, turning to the winged man-bull. "I leave her in your care. Guard her with your life."
"As always, uncle," Morihaus snorted, bowing his head.
Pelinal let out a grunt of approval, and then he turned to face the shimmering light of the Oblivion Gate. For a moment, Telepe thought he saw the knight hesitate, and he briefly wondered if for the first time, a flicker of doubt was running through Pelinal's mind. It lasted only an instant, however, and then Pelinal squared his shoulders and strode confidently towards the portal. As he drew near, his outline blurred and seemed to be drawn into its shining depths. Then, suddenly, there was a flash of bright light, and a moment later, Pelinal was gone, with the gate still shimmering ominously in his wake.
A/N: I'll admit that I'm taking some liberties with this one. There's a short passage in the Song of Pelinal which states that he "entered the Gate at…." and later returned with the hands of the Thousand-Strong of Sedor. It's a single line, but I've chosen to interpret the fact that "Gate" is capitalized as him entering an Oblivion Gate. There's nothing in the lore to confirm this, and something written later may contradict this. That said, I wholeheartedly believe that plunging into Oblivion is not out of character for Pelinal in the slightest.