Chapter 40
Revelations
"The Colored Rooms are unlike anything one might see in Tamriel," Pelinal said, pausing in his story to take a slow sip from his golden goblet, before peering conspiratorially over its rim once again at his captive audience. "Nor should any of you wish to see it, for I am certain that that even setting foot in Meridia's cursed realm would drive you mad."
Telepe rolled his eyes as the men gathered around the knight murmured in awe and admiration. It was past dusk, and though the little light remaining in the sky was quickly fading, torches lined the plaza square outside the palace of Vahtache, providing enough light to prolong the feast celebrating Pelinal's triumphant return from Oblivion. The hero of the hour was sitting alone on a bench on one side of a short table, and he had attracted a crowd of roughly a hundred people, all eager to hear tales of his exploits in Oblivion.
"Please, surely there is something you might tell us of Meridia's realm!" one of the Nedes pleaded.
Pelinal took another slow draught of his wine, making a show of considering the request while his audience waited in breathless anticipation. Finally, he lowered the cup and inclined his head. "Well, I am no bard, but… very well," he acquiesced. "Imagine that you are walking through the sky, if the sky was as dark as the Niben River, and laced with streaks of red and gold, green and violet. One walks along paths that have no form, but shimmer as though made of solid light. These paths lead to floating islands of stone, sporting twisted coral trees and standing pools of azure water. The harlot's servants constantly patrol this realm, tirelessly seeking out trespassers in her domain. Some linger on the islands, while others wander the paths, but their vigil never ceases, and one must remain ever alert, lest you draw their gaze."
"Did you fight any of them?" a high, feminine voice asked.
"I was forced to, at times," Pelinal admitted, taking a slow sip from his wine. "In truth, only the Paravant's command stayed my hand, else I would have slaughtered scores of them. As it was, I only fought when necessity demanded it. Whenever I inevitably triumphed over my enemies, I always took a piece of their armor as my trophy, just as Meridia had taken the Thousand-Strong's hands as hers.
"Eventually, I found myself approaching a low, crumbling tower of stone, guarded by yet more of Meridia's silent, golden servants. I carved my way through her minions, sensing that my prize lay within. At the top of the tower, I at last found the hands, nailed to a wall as though they were masterpieces of art. If any of you have seen the gut-gardens of Sercen, or have witnessed the flesh sculptures of our cursed elven foes… well, it is quite plain where the Ayleids learned their craft," he concluded bitterly.
"And how did you return the hands to us?" an accented Nordic voice chimed in. "Where did you obtain that wagon you brought them in?"
Pelinal smirked and paused to drain his goblet before slamming it down on the table. "After I slew the paltry guard assigned to protect the hands, I carved their bodies with my blade, using the very bones of the demons themselves to fashion a great wagon. I then removed the hands from the wall and set them in the cart. From there, I dragged them back to the portal while fending off the servants Meridia sent to harry me. Word of my exploits had already reached her, but though she was furious and demanded that her servants bring her my head, she was too late to prevent me from returning through the portal with my prize," he concluded with a nonchalant shrug.
The men and women assembled around Pelinal whispered and murmured to each other as Telepe shook his head, an amused smile on his lips. Pelinal claimed that he was no bard, but he clearly relished his audience's attention. Telepe was certain that if he continued to retell the story, someone would eventually make it into a song. Of course, even entering Oblivion was a legendary feat on its own, and he doubted any mortal would ever again be courageous or foolish enough to attempt it again. Still, he suspected that the knight was embellishing his tale. It was more likely that while Pelinal did fight his share of skirmishes, he did not rampage across Meridia's domain, carving a bloody swath through it, as he implied. That would have attracted her attention long before he ever reached the hands, and he doubted that even Pelinal would last forever against the full fury of Meridia's servants. More importantly, he would have been disobeying Perrif's command, and for all his other faults, Telepe knew Pelinal would never break an oath that he swore to his lady. Most likely, Pelinal had prudently snuck his way through Meridia's realm and avoided drawing attention as much as possible, only fighting when he needed to, and he had largely succeeded in remaining undetected. After all, it didn't seem as though he was being pursued by any of Meridia's servants when he reemerged from the portal. Of course, simply returning with the hands was awe-inspiring, no matter how the feat had been accomplished, and Pelinal certainly deserved the recognition he was receiving. Besides, he didn't have any proof that Pelinal wasn't being truthful, and he certainly wasn't going to be the one to object and demand a more faithful retelling.
"Make way!" a voice shouted from the left side of the crowd. The assembled men and women reluctantly parted as a balding, middle-aged man dressed in a red skirt sauntered through the crowd, as though he was an important courier sent to deliver a message to a king. In his thick hands, he carried a silver platter laden with steaming meats, which he set before Pelinal with a bow.
"Excellent," Pelinal remarked, pushing his empty goblet aside and pulling an eating knife from his belt.
"Rest assured, my lord, this offering shall more than sate you," the man stated, presenting the plate with a sweeping bow. Pelinal paused with his knife hovering over the meal to stare at the man in as he swept his hand across the steaming meats. "I have personally ensured that only the most succulent cuts have been presented to you this evening – rib, tongue, liver, and loin are yours to enjoy. They have been roasted to perfection, and you shall find them as tender as a kiss and as bloody as a fallen foe. I daresay that you have never enjoyed a finer feast than this."
Telepe groaned and smacked his face into his palm. Pelinal continued to stare silently at the man as he straightened up and folded his hands behind his back, wearing a smug expression. A long, awkward silence followed, and Telepe began to fear that Pelinal was pondering what method of executing the man would be the most entertaining for him. The knight had killed others for far less. After a few moments, however, Pelinal surprised everyone by letting out a snort of laughter and lowering his knife..
"What is your name?" Pelinal asked, folding his arms and leaning on the table, his bright blue eyes fixed on the man.
"Vilius Tharn, my lord," the Nede replied with another bow. "Blade-Serrator and Master of the Abattoir."
"Rather lofty titles for one who simply oversees a herd of cattle," Pelinal remarked, seeming amused.
"I take great pride in my craft, my lord," Vilius replied confidently. "And it would do me no greater honor than to know that the finest hero of Al-Esh's rebellion was pleased by my service."
"So it seems," Pelinal said drily. "Very well, Vilius Tharn. This is a fine offering. Go now, and rest assured that you may tell your children, and their children, that you served Pelinal Whitestrake most admirably."
Vilius' eyes lit up, and he bowed once more before melting back into the crowd, which was finally beginning to disperse. Pelinal watched him depart with a soft chuckle, and then he sliced a large sliver of tenderloin and bit into it.
"Hm. Well, while he certainly overstepped his station, one cannot help but admire his audacity, I suppose," a melodic voice commented from behind Telepe. He looked over his shoulder to see Prince Elindir standing behind him, holding a silver goblet of wine and wearing a pleasant smile.
"Your Highness," Telepe greeted him with a quick bow, which Elindir answered with a wave of his hand. "Yes, and I imagine that is the only reason Whitestrake didn't slay him on the spot," he added, glancing back to where the knight was gorging on meat. "In my experience, he has little patience for foolishness, but he does admire courage. Perhaps he deemed Vilius' performance the latter."
"Perhaps," Elindir chuckled, raising his cup to his lips. "Or perhaps he was simply in a festive mood, and he's had his share of killing since returning from Meridia's realm."
Telepe doubted that Pelinal's bloodlust would ever be sated, but he didn't bother to correct the prince. "I hope you were not offended by his… demonstration when he returned from Oblivion," he said softly.
"When he presented the hands of your comrades?" Prince Elindir asked coolly. "Not at all. Your knight is not the only one who can appreciate audacious displays, after all." There was a momentary pause, and then he added, "Though I am curious what you intend to do with the hands."
"Earlier today, the Paravant claimed that she has received a vision from the Divines," Telepe explained, swirling his wine slowly around in his goblet. "While we were initially considering returning the hands to caves beneath Sedor, she said that the Divines have decreed that sacrificing the hands in their name is enough to appease both them and the restless spirits of the Thousand-Strong. If we burn the hands, they shall find peace at last."
"And do you believe her?" Elindir asked skeptically.
Telepe paused for a moment, then smiled faintly. "I have learned not to question her judgment on such matters," he replied evasively.
Prince Elindir gave him a sidelong look, then let out a soft laugh. "I suppose not, if half the stories that I've heard about your rebellion are true," he admitted. "In truth, I almost want to pray that your Paravant does indeed have the Divines' protection."
Telepe regarded him with a look of surprise. "Do you?" he asked in a discreet tone.
Elindir grinned as he ran his fingers along the rim of his goblet. "Come now, do you believe that every Ayleid who resides in Cyrod worships the Daedra? While the Daedraphiles did an excellent job driving many Aedra-worshippers out of the realm, some of us simply felt it pragmatic not to advertise our beliefs after the Narfinsel Schism. Is that truly so surprising?" he added, when Telepe continued to stare at him skeptically. "Many of those that were chased from Cyrod fled to the black marshes to the east. Is it so difficult to believe that those of us on the border would remain in contact with our exiled brethren and continue to share their beliefs? That many of us have kin who now reside in the swamps? That we've even harbored and aided those that also worship our forbidden gods?"
"I suppose it isn't, come to think of it," Telepe admitted.
"Admittedly, Fanacas is closer to Dwemereth than we are to Argonia," Elindir remarked. "However, there are paths that run through the mountains which we can use to contact the Ayleids in the southeast. Through these links, we remain in contact with those that we consider closer kin than those that claim to be the rulers of this realm."
"Is that why you chose to approach us when word reached you that we had taken Vahtache?" Telepe asked. When Elindir nodded, he continued, "Why not reach out to us sooner?"
"For one, we would have been risking our people's safety if we had approached you with an offer of an alliance before then," Elindir explained. "Fanacas is an isolated kingdom with few allies. While we have publicly renounced Aedra-worship, we have continued to be viewed with suspicion by many other kingdoms who still remember our past allegiances. Until you took Vahtache, communication with you would have been conducted through hostile kingdoms, and if it had been discovered that we had been contacting you, it would have brought the wrath of our enemies down upon us. Why risk that?
"Then there's also the fact that my father wanted assurance that you could in fact defeat our most powerful regional foe," Elindir added. "You have enjoyed remarkable success in your war, but my father felt that unless Vahtache fell, there was no point in aiding you, as if you were defeated, the victors would turn their attention to your allies next. When you sacked Vahtache, he no longer had reason to fear our traditional enemies."
"Prudent," Telepe admitted, smiling slightly as he took a slow sip of his wine.
"If we were fools, we would not have survived this long," Elindir pointed out with a dark chuckle.
"If you don't mind, however, I must know… did you speak with Belda and Nagastani prior to meeting with us?" Telepe asked cautiously.
Elindir took a slow drink from his goblet, his blue eyes lingering on Telepe's, but when he lowered his cup, he shook his head. "No," he said finally. "It was mere serendipity that we happened to arrive at Vahtache at roughly the same time as those two. In truth, I was relieved that they had come to speak with you as well."
"Why is that?" Telepe asked.
"Since they had arrived first, I did not need to provide an excuse as to why we were attempting to negotiate with you," Elindir grinned. "They clearly had their own agenda, and were not interested in ours. As such, it was a simple matter to ask to join their delegation. We could freely seek our own peace treaty with you, without arousing suspicion from two kingdoms that we have historically not been on particularly friendly terms with. They were too distracted by your victory to care about why we had arrived at the same time as them. It was actually quite the relief to find that Fanacas was not their focus."
Telepe couldn't help but chuckle at the prince's reasoning as he raised his glass respectfully. "Shrewd," he praised the Ayleid.
"And fortunate," Elindir added. He glanced towards Perrif, running his hand thoughtfully over his chin. "Quite fortunate indeed. Perhaps the Divines truly are favoring her. If so, all the more reason for us to ally with you, so that we might finally enjoy their favor too, wouldn't you say?"
"That is sound reasoning," Telepe agreed with a chuckle. "Still, while fortune provided you with the opportunity, you were the one who seized it. The gods did not tell you how to turn your circumstances to your advantage. I personally admire that far more than if you had Auriel whispering in your ear," he added with a grin. He then raised his glass. "So, here's to a long and true alliance, Your Highness."
"And we are pleased to join you, especially if you can indeed defeat our Daedra-worshipping kin," Elindir replied with a cordial nod. "So, now we can only pray that we continue to retain the gods' favor."
Telepe didn't have a response to that statement, so he simply smiled.
Moments later, a bell rang through the plaza. He turned to see Perrif standing at the top of the palace steps, dressed once again in her simple brown robes, with her hood over her head. She folded her hands in front of her once she had the crowd's attention, and then she smiled serenely.
"Welcome," she announced, her voice carrying clearly over the silent crowd despite her apparently soft tone. "This evening's festivities are a bittersweet occasion. On the one hand, we celebrate our hard-won victory over Vahtache's army-" She paused as a triumphant cry erupted from the throats of her warriors, waiting patiently for a few moments before holding her hand up to quiet the yelling. "-and our new alliance," she concluded, sweeping her hand towards Karanbel and Sarinen, who were standing at the base of the steps. This was met with a much more subdued, polite applause from a few of the Nedes, though most regarded the elves with cold silence.
"Should you not be with them?" Telepe whispered to Elindir.
"I decided that it would not be wise to draw attention to myself, from either your rebel warriors or my fellow Ayleids," Elindir replied with a shrug. "Judging from your men's rather cold reception, that was the correct decision."
"However," Perrif continued, "Tonight we also remember those that have given their lives in the pursuit of our liberty. Over the long months of this siege, we have lost many friends, and we must honor their sacrifice." There was a low murmur of agreement, and then Perrif continued, "We also have the opportunity to finally honor those that were not part of our rebellion, but who nevertheless stood against the tyranny of the slavemasters. Many years ago, a thousand courageous men and women from the kingdom of Sedor broke their shackles and waged a brief but fierce war against their captors. While they were ultimately unsuccessful, they taught their masters to fear the courage and might of men, and their rebellion was one of the inspirations for our own war. They may not have stood with us, but they share our spirit, and in that, they are our brothers and sisters.
"In our quest to redress the humiliation they suffered in their defeat, Sir Pelinal journeyed alone into the cursed realm of Oblivion, to retrieve the hands of the Thousand-Strong that our enemies stole in the night. Today, he has returned to us, victorious. For this, give him your praise and your thanks."
Another enthusiastic roar swept through the crowd as Pelinal set down a half-gnawed bit of tenderloin to raise his goblet and let out a savage scream of his own. Telepe let out a cheer of his own, echoing the joy of the Nedes. While he personally despised Pelinal, he could at least respect the knight's deeds.
Perrif let the cheers continue for a few moments, and when they died down, she motioned to the side of the palace, where the wagon that Pelinal had brought back through the Oblivion Gate was resting. Six warriors grunted and heaved as they pushed the massive cart, still laden with the tattered hands of the Thousand-Strong, towards a ten-foot-high pyre that had been built in the center of the courtyard. The crowd winced and covered their ears as the wagon's wheels shrieked and groaned as they ground into their axles. When the wagon was close enough to the pyre, the warriors brought it to a halt and opened the front hatch, whereupon the hands tumbled out onto the wood.
As the warriors climbed into the wagon and began gathering up the remaining hands and piling them onto the pyre, Telepe felt someone sidle up beside him. He glanced down to see Tari, wrapping her arms around his and smiling up at him. He winked down at her, then shifted slightly so that she could see through a narrow gap in the crowd. Beside him, Elindir glanced between the two of them, then chuckled to himself and took another slow sip of his wine.
When the hands were all arrayed on the pyre, Perrif took a torch from one of her warriors and approached the structure. She held the torch above her head, then turned to her followers. "Let us pray to the Divines!" she shouted. The Nedes lowered their heads, and while Telepe respectfully did the same, he kept his eyes on Perrif. She raised her hands to the sky and called out, "O mighty Aedra, who watch over us and aid our cause, I beseech you now! Accept these souls into Aetherius and bless them, for they have been denied their rest for too long! Make now for them a place in your halls, and see that they are treated as honored guests as they find their way into your arms! Let them at last know peace for the noble deeds they have performed in your name!"
With that, Perrif tossed the torch onto the fire. The flames slowly crept along the dry logs and began engulfing the hands, and the smell of roasting, rotted meat began permeating the air. Telepe resisted the urge to gag as he turned away from the billowing black smoke, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. As he did, something in the distance caught his eye.
Beyond the crowd, near the walls of the city, he saw a pearlescent figure waving to him, beckoning him to come closer. He glanced down at Tari, who had lowered her head to avoid inhaling the smoke, and he nudged her shoulder to get her attention. She turned in the direction he was pointing, and her eyes widened with surprise. She then glanced back up at him and nodded, and the pair began slipping silently through the crowd together.
Once they were free from the throng, they approached the specter, who immediately turned and walked out of the gates of the city, heading towards the jungle. Telepe and Tari followed him silently, though Telepe kept his free hand on his sword in case they were attacked by any of the nocturnal beasts that prowled the forest at this time of night. The ghostly figure led them just inside the treeline, then turned around and smiled at them. As they drew closer, Telepe could finally make out the face of Varen, the ghost that had first given them the task of retrieving the hands of the Thousand-Strong of Sedor.
"I do not have much time to speak," Varen said as Tari and Telepe came to a halt in front of him. "I can already feel myself being pulled… elsewhere. However, I wished to spare a moment to thank you both for fulfilling your oath."
"There is little to thank us for," Tari said, shaking her head. "We were not the ones who retrieved your hands. You should be thanking Pelinal, not us."
"Indeed. But it was you who swore the oath to aid us, and you who passed along our request to one who could fulfill it," Varen replied. "To that end, we owe you as much thanks as we do to the one who completed the quest." He bowed his head and murmured. "You both have my eternal gratitude."
"Not at all," Telepe replied modestly, inclining his head as well. "Though if you don't mind me asking, though… what shall happen to you now?"
"In truth? I'm as uncertain as you are," Varen admitted, turning his gaze up to the sky. "I can sense that something is calling me, and while it is permitting me a few moments to speak with you, I cannot resist its summons forever. As for what it is… I am uncertain. I feel I shall only truly know once I have already departed, at which point I won't be able to answer your question anyways." He held up his hand to forestall any further questions, then added, "As I said, my time is short, so let me make this brief. Before I depart, I have an oath to fulfill a well. Tell me, do either of you have a map with you?"
Telepe nodded, and he opened a leather pouch on his waist and withdrew a scroll with a map printed on it. Considering how often they had been traveling, he felt it was wise to keep a map of Cyrod with him at all times, especially since he had a nasty habit of losing his way. Varen stepped closer and silently gazed at the papyrus for a few moments, and then he touched a pearlescent finger to a spot southeast of Sedor, near where the foothills of the Jerall Mountains again became jungle.
"There. This is the cave where we sought refuge once we had escaped from our captors, and which we turned into our main camp," Varen explained. "While we were all eventually hunted down and slain, I do not believe our masters ever uncovered its location. Whenever we defeated our enemies, we stripped them of their arms and armor and stored them in this cave. There should be over a thousand spears, shields, and cuirasses there, as we had planned to equip more warriors as our rebellion grew. They should also still be in good condition, as we took care to keep them oiled and wrapped in cloth when they were not in use."
Telepe nodded as he used a piece of charcoal to circle the location that Varen was pointing to. He then rolled up the map and stuffed it back into his pouch before smiling faintly at the ghost. "Thank you for your aid, Varen," he said softly.
Varen shook his head and held up his hand with a slight smile. "This is the very least I can do. You have allowed us to find peace at last, when I feared we would be doomed to linger, consumed by our rage and regrets forever. A few paltry pieces of bronze hardly seem fair recompense for the salvation you have given us." Something seemed to distract him for a moment, and he gazed up at the sky with a distant expression. "I can linger no longer, I'm afraid. However, while I shall demand no further oaths, I have one last request."
"And that is?" Tari asked patiently.
Varen smiled at them faintly and folded his hands behind his back. "Please… succeed where we failed. Ensure that men in Cyrod can walk free, and need no longer fear the slavemaster's whips and whims."
Telepe glanced down at Tari, who inclined her head, a fierce look in her eyes. "There is no need to even ask," she said simply. "We shall succeed."
Varen chuckled softly, an almost wistful look in his eyes. "It's strange… after so many years of rage and sorrow… I had almost forgotten what it was like to have hope," he murmured. He looked down at himself as his outline grew brighter, and a golden nimbus of light began to engulf him. "Farewell, my friends. And thank you," he said, raising his hand in a wave. A moment later, he vanished.
Telepe and Tari stared at the spot where Varen had been standing a moment before, a heavy silence lingering between them, broken only by the sounds of the jungle around them. After a moment, Tari nudged his shoulder. "We should return to the city before we're missed," she said softly.
"Indeed," Telepe sighed, and then he chuckled lightly. "I don't believe we should bother telling anyone about this. Not just to honor Varen's memory, but because no one would believe us anyways."
"Come now, our compatriots have borne witness to stranger events," Tari pointed out, wrapping her arms around his again as they began to trudge back through the jungle. "Let us start with Pelinal stepping through a portal to Oblivion and stealing two thousand hands from the clutches of a Daedric Prince."
"Nor can I believe that you chose to pursue an affair with the Paravant," another voice said to their right.
Tari and Telepe stopped walking and looked at each other, then turned to their right, in the direction that the voice had come from. They were both familiar with the deep, gravelly tone. Through the gaps in a tall bush, they could see a pair of figures standing in a clearing, and though their features were indistinct through the leaves, one was clearly wearing white and silver, and the other was a hulking, inhuman shape. Telepe and Tari leaned slightly to the left, peering around the edge of the bush, until they could clearly see Pelinal and Morihaus, standing a few feet apart from each other and nursing goblets of wine as they spoke.
"Yes, well, I was surprised by her interest as well," Morihaus admitted as he stared into his wine glass, unable to meet the knight's gaze. "I had not realized that she held such… affection for me."
"No?" Pelinal asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
"I am hideous, uncle," Morihaus muttered. "An abominable combination of man and beast. Men look at me and see a dull, savage bull-"
"Yet the Paravant does not," Pelinal interrupted. "She sees what one should see – a warrior who is strong, loyal, and courageous. All very desirable traits to anyone who can look beyond the surface." Pelinal paused to take a sip of his drink, and then he added, "And therein lies the problem."
Morihaus suddenly looked up from his glass and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Forgive me, uncle, but are you truly in any position to criticize my relationship with her? You pursued an affair with Huna, did you not?"
Telepe half-expected Pelinal to strike Morihaus for his impudence, but the knight simply shook his head. He was slightly stunned – not only had he never heard such an insolent tone from Morihaus, he had also never seen Pelinal display such patience. The way they privately spoke to each other was vastly different than how they spoke to anyone else. "I do not object to your affair with a mortal in and of itself," Pelinal said evenly. "It is not wrong for you to love a mortal… certainly not one as wondrous as the Paravant. In my own way, I love her as well. However, the difference lies not in whom you hold affection for, nor the strength of affection itself, but rather what might be born of such a relationship." Pelinal stepped a bit closer and put a hand on the man-bull's brawny shoulder. "We are ada, Mor, and we change things through love. We must take care, lest we beget more monsters on this earth. If you do not desist, she will take to you, and you will transform all of Cyrod if you do this."
Tari tugged on Telepe's sleeve, and she nodded to her right, suggesting silently that they should leave the two be. Telepe, who had been transfixed by the pair and terrified of moving and drawing their attention, swallowed and nodded in reply. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morihaus looking away again, seeming either shy or ashamed as he considered Pelinal's words. However, a moment later, he smiled sadly and shook his head. As he did, he motioned to his nose-ring, gleaming in the pale light of Secunda shining overhead, and replied, "I cannot, uncle. She is part of my very being now. She is like the shine on my nose-hoop here – an accident, perhaps, but no matter where I look, she is always there. Always. And so you know what you ask is impossible."
As Pelinal sighed, Telepe and Tari's feet rustled across the forest floor, catching his attention. The knight suddenly swung towards them, drawing his sword and pointing it into the darkness where they were moving. "Halt! Who goes there?!" he demanded. "Speak quickly before I remove your head from your body!"
Telepe grimaced and glanced down at Tari, then pulled her with him into the light of Pelinal's flaming sword, holding his hand up as he did to show that he didn't have a weapon drawn. "Whitestrake?" he asked in a curious tone, frowning as though he was as surprised as the knight to encounter someone else. "What are you doing out here?"
"I would ask the same of you!" Pelinal barked furiously, though he did lower his sword. "What reason do you have to be in the jungle this late at night?"
"We were speaking with the spirits of the restless dead, if you must know," Telepe answered bluntly – and honestly – as he folded his arms over his chest. It was such a strange answer that Pelinal hesitated, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "The ghost that charged us with the quest to return the hands of the Thousand-Strong just showed us the location of their arms and armor, fulfilling his oath to us. Look," he added, pulling out the map and showing the location that he had circled. When Pelinal continued to stare at him with a doubtful expression, he added, "Tari spoke with him as well."
"What Telepe says is true, Whitestrake," Tari confirmed.
Pelinal stared at them warily for a moment longer, then glanced over his shoulder at Morihaus, who shrugged in reply. The knight growled, but finally withdrew his sword and sheathed it.
"Very well," Pelinal snapped, pinning Telepe with an irritated scowl. "Even so, you should take care when you chase the dead. We all must join them eventually, and I would think that you'd have little desire to walk with them before your appointed time. Of course, should I be mistaken, you are welcome to seek me out so that we may rectify that."
Telepe glared after the knight as he walked away, motioning for Morihaus to follow. Tari put her hand on his shoulder as Telepe muttered, "So long as I needn't suffer the afterlife with you, Whitestrake, I've little fear of what comes after my death."
Tari chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. "And if you must suffer it with me?" she asked, nudging him playfully.
Telepe grinned down at her and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. "Ah… now that is an afterlife I can look forward to," he replied, placing an affectionate kiss on her forehead as they returned to the city.
The rebel army remained in Vahtache for two more days while Perrif decided on a ruler for Vahtache. In the end, she devised a novel solution. She took inspiration from the meeting between herself, Telepe, Dynar, and the three Ayleid delegates, and decided to divide the leadership between three individuals.
The first was a middle-aged Nedic woman that the other slaves called Levia. She had cared for the other slaves throughout her captivity, begging the slavemasters for additional food or medicine when one was starving or ill. Her compassion had made her quite popular among the Nedes, and Perrif decided that she could see to their well-being.
The second she selected was a silver-skinned Kothringi man in his early twenties who went by the name of Xili. He had been particularly rebellious and belligerent throughout his captivity. While the other slaves had shied away from the whip, he had actively antagonized the Ayleid overseers, demanding that he endure the slaves' punishments in their stead. When the rebellion had begun breaching the walls, he had rallied many of the men and armed them with whatever they could find – farming tools, eating utensils, even simple sticks and stones – before waging his own battle in the city streets while the guards were distracted. He was as wild and ferocious as Pelinal, but Perrif hoped that his courage and obvious care for the well-being of the slaves would, in time, make him a good war-leader. To that end, she also selected a centurion to teach Xili how to train warriors and how to use phalanx tactics.
The third man she had chosen was a wiry Nedic man in his thirties, named Catis, who had a talent for numbers. The Ayleids had not taught him to read, but he had nevertheless learned how to perform basic calculations. Eventually, the Ayleids had recognized his talent and allowed him to work with their scribes to keep track of the supplies in their warehouses, though he had still suffered harsh beatings and punishments whenever he failed… or when his overseers had made a mistake and needed a scapegoat. While Telepe would have preferred a fully literate scribe, he was impressed by Catis' talent, and he suspected that he would learn to read rather swiftly if he was taught properly.
The triumvirate was an experimental system, but Perrif hoped that the combined skills of the trio would be enough to provide Vahtache with the leadership it needed, in lieu of a single leader. Reluctantly, Telepe had also suggested that an advisor from Arpenia be sent to educate the new leaders. He hoped that his trepidation about over-assigning Arpenian advisors was little more than baseless anxiety, especially since three separate rulers would be more difficult to influence than one, if a treacherous advisor did indeed have designs on the kingdom. Otherwise, he could only pray that the city would not fall into ruin.
With the issue of leadership settled for the moment, Perrif had decided to order those that had traveled from Sancre Tor to return to the city. Now that the east was almost completely under her control, she wanted to accompany Morihaus in concluding their conquest of eastern Cyrod. Sedor was almost certainly still hostile, and they had yet to receive word about how the kingdoms of Anga and Rielle viewed the rebellion, and if they were open to diplomacy or needed to be subjugated. They also still needed to recover the weapons and armor that the Thousand-Strong had bequeathed to them. As such, she wished to remain in the east with Morihaus, to negotiate if possible, and fight if necessary.
For the same reason, she wanted Pelinal, Tari, and Telepe to return to Sancre Tor. They were still expecting word from the Nords, and she wanted to ensure that Telepe was available to negotiate their alliance when King Vrage contacted them again. In the meantime, it was still possible that Umaril might attack their holdings in the west, and if so, Pelinal was likely the only warrior besides Morihaus who stood a chance of besting him in combat. Thus, while it pained her to send them once again on their separate ways, she felt it was necessary.
Perrif's inner circle of companions enjoyed a final meal together the evening before their departure, and while the food was excellent, the mood was bittersweet. To Telepe's dismay, Dynar was also electing to remain in the east to command Nenalata's forces. He had hoped that the elven prince would accompany them back to Sancre Tor, especially since he had come to consider Dynar his closest friend aside from Tari. However, he knew that the prince could best serve the rebellion by leading his men, especially since he was a symbol to the Nedes, living proof that many of the Ayleids sympathized with their plight and were willing to aid them. There was no reason for him to remain idle in a remote fortress.
"To that end, then, I suppose that I can only bid you good luck," Telepe had said, raising his goblet to the prince.
Dynar laughed at that and shook his head. "Come now, it's not as though this is farewell," he pointed out. "It's likely our paths shall cross again soon. After all, once we've tamed the east and the north, our army shall most likely join you in Sancre Tor once more, yes? So rather than farewell, let's simply say 'until we meet again.'"
Telepe chuckled to himself at the memory as he guided Emero along the highway running along the edge of Belda's territory. They had left the next morning, departing straight from Vahtache and traveling almost due west until they had reached the main highway. Telepe had been anticipating following the main highway with a mixture of trepidation and cautious eagerness. If Belda did not hold true to their word and chose to betray them, it was likely that they could lose a significant portion of their army fighting the kingdom's patrols. He was also wary about traveling so openly, so close to the White-Gold City, as this would be the perfect opportunity for Umaril to ambush them if Belda informed him of their movements.
Fortunately, his fears were entirely unfounded. Two days into their journey, they were approached by Ayleid riders bearing shields with the symbol of Belda emblazoned on them. Most of the rebel warriors had braced for a fight, but to their surprise, once Telepe explained who they were, the patrol had taken it upon themselves to escort them to the edges of their territory. Telepe was wary at first – and he was far from the only one – but the elves held true to their word, and they made excellent time as they journeyed down the highway, with common merchants and travelers stepping aside to let them pass. Privately, Telepe wondered if the guards were trying to show Belda's commitment to their alliance, or if they simply wanted the rebels out of their territory as soon as possible.
Once they reached the bend in the highway where the road stopped running north and turned east, their escort bade them farewell and turned to ride back to their kingdom, while the rebels were left with a dilemma about how they should proceed. The "safer" option was to travel through the foothills of the mountains and seek out a more secluded path that was less likely to be patrolled by hostile Ayleids, though their progress would be slowed significantly, and they would once again be forced to endure the freezing, treacherous paths through the mountains. Alternatively, they could continue following the highway, which would eventually take them past the city of Sercen. Their journey would be swifter, but there was also a significant risk that they might be attacked by Sercen's forces. The caravan debated the merits of both routes for quite some time, until Pelinal reminded them that he had personally seen that Sercen had been sacked, and it was unlikely that they could field even a token force that could harass them, even if they were hostile. Eventually, they decided to continue down the highway, despite the risk.
"…You are certain that Sercen was sacked, yes?" Telepe nervously asked Pelinal a couple of days later, when they saw the city looming in the distance. Telepe's wagon was at the head of the caravan, and he was growing increasingly anxious. After all, if they were going to be attacked, he was likely to bear the brunt of the assault.
Pelinal scowled at Telepe, as though offended that the emissary was daring to question him, and then he scoffed. "The walls were scorched and blackened, the gates were open and ablaze, and many of the inhabitants lay dead. Unless the kingdom was attacked by a dragon, then yes. I am certain that Umaril grew tired of their defiance and laid waste to their city."
Telepe resisted the urge to give Pelinal a ponderous look, as though he was considering whether a dragon actually had attacked the city – the knight was not known for his sense of humor, after all, and had even less patience for impudent half-elves. Instead, he focused his attention on the road, his apprehension growing, until Pasare came running towards them. She had been scouting ahead, and when Telepe noticed her worried expression, his stomach sank.
"We should find another path," she announced as she came to a halt, exhaling slowly as she caught her breath. "Sercen still appears to be in a state of disrepair, but I have little doubt that they would muster their strength to attack us if we were to approach."
"What makes you say that?" Telepe asked, bringing Emero and the other horses pulling the wagon to a halt.
"The gates are flying banners that are unfamiliar, but their emblem is unmistakable," Pasare explained. "The field is golden, and in the center is a white orb radiating rays of every color of the rainbow."
Telepe grimaced, immediately realizing what Pasare was implying. The designs she was describing suggested that the city was now under the control of Ayleids that worshipped Meridia, likely answering to Umaril himself.
"I concur," Telepe sighed. "While it shall slow our progress, we must find another path."
Pelinal growled irritably, but he didn't argue. Instead, he stalked to the head of the column and kept his hand on his sword. "Find another path swiftly, then," he snapped at Telepe. "I shall serve as our vanguard until then."
"You have my thanks," Telepe replied shortly, and then he turned to Pasare. "Any suggestions?"
"Though we shall have to contend with some hills, the ground here is fairly level, and there is no snow, so traveling away from the road for a bit will not be particularly difficult. We can take a circuitous route around the city and rejoin the highway on the western side," Pasare suggested. "Follow me."
Pasare stepped off the road, and as Telepe began directing the horses to follow her, a voice behind him commented, "In truth, I'm uncertain if Sercen falling into Umaril's hands is better or worse for Cyrod as a whole."
Telepe glanced over his shoulder at Tari, who had spoken up from where she was crouching in the wagon. Across from her sat Moralasil, who was holding her hands in his. The Ayleid sage had spent much of the journey attempting to teach Tari how to transmute her flesh into stone. The spell was a more advanced variation of the spell that covered her body in wood. While stone would obviously offer her much greater protection, it was also more difficult to master. As Moralasil had explained, flesh and wood were both living materials, so the process of transforming one into the other was not particularly difficult once one understood the concept. Stone, however, was not an organic material, so the mage had to learn to transmute their skin into a lifeless element without harming themselves. It was a difficult task, and Telepe knew that Tari was growing frustrated with her inability to master the spell. He suspected that her remark was a way to earn a brief respite from her training.
"What do you mean?" Telepe prompted her. Moralasil sighed softly to himself and released her hands, evidently deciding to allow her a momentary rest.
"I doubt that there are many who would mourn the fall of Sercen," Tari remarked, rubbing her wrists. "It was, after all, one of the cruelest kingdoms in Cyrod, which is not an easy title to obtain. You saw the gut-gardens yourself-"
"Please, do not remind me," Telepe shuddered. "I don't disagree with you – it's not as though I would have shed any tears if the city was destroyed altogether. However, while it is a relief that Vaermina's followers apparently no longer hold sway over Sercen, this bodes ill for our war. If Pasare's suspicions are correct, Umaril now controls a wealthy city that stands at the crossroads of one of Cyrod's most vital trade routes. He has not just seized the wealth that flows along this road, however. He also dominates this section of the highway, and can control traffic in three directions. He's effectively divided our eastern and western territories."
"Yes… and what's more, I cannot help but think of that ray of light that Pelinal spotted a few months ago," Tari commented. Telepe glanced back at her again, and she explained, "Do you recall that, the rainbow-colored beam of light that seemed to be connecting Sercen to the White-Gold City? Do you believe Umaril had a hand in that as well?"
"It's possible," Telepe shrugged. "It stands to reason, unless Vaermina is associated with rainbows as well."
"She is not, usually," Moralasil confirmed, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. "Rainbows and prisms are typically symbols of Meridia. It is likely that Umaril could already claim Sercen as his domain when Pelinal witnessed the light connecting the two cities."
"To what end, though?" Tari asked, frowning. "Why conquer Sercen, and not sack it?"
"Is it not enough to suggest that he simply wished to control an important trade route?" When Tari shrugged, he suggested, "Or what if he wanted to subjugate all of the cities surrounding the White-Gold City? Since our territories almost surround him now, perhaps he wished to form a defensive ring of nearby cities to serve as a buffer around his capital."
"A ring…." Tari murmured, her eyes widening with realization. "Telepe! May I borrow your map?" she exclaimed suddenly.
Telepe tilted his head, then shifted his grip on the reins to reach into his belt and withdraw the scroll with the map of Cyrod on it. Tari snatched it from his hands and unfurled it, then began tracing lines between the kingdoms surrounding the White-Gold City and the Temple of the Ancestors. Her eyes suddenly lit up as she whispered, "It's the same."
"What is?" Telepe asked, craning his neck to look behind him. Emero whinnied a warning, and he turned back around in time to yank the reins, narrowly avoiding crashing into a tree. His heart pounded at the near-miss, and he returned his attention to driving the wagon, though he also listened intently to Tari's response.
"The vision that the Elder Scroll granted me," Tari explained as she looked up from the map, her eyes wide. "You recall that I witnessed an irregular wheel with eight spokes? If one takes the eight cities closest to the White-Gold City and draws lines between them while connecting them to the Temple of the Ancestors, it forms the same shape as the wheel that I saw!"
Telepe glanced quickly over his shoulder again, frowning slightly. "Which cities were they?" he asked as he turned back around.
Tari looked down at the map again, running her finger along it to recall the paths that she had traced. "Other than Sercen? Vilverin… Piukanda… Fanacasecul, then Vindasel… Sardavar Leed, Vanua… and…!" She looked up again, chuckling grimly. "And Nagastani."
Telepe sighed as she mentioned the final city, running his hand along his face. "Well… if that kingdom is indeed connected to the White-Gold City in some way, that would explain why they were so insistent upon forging a non-aggression pact with us," he muttered. He then frowned to himself. "Not Belda, though?"
"No," Tari confirmed after a moment of tracing the lines with her finger again. "It does not match my vision, at least."
"Hm," Telepe grunted thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps their purpose was simply to aid in the formation of a buffer territory between Vahtache and the White-Gold City. Or maybe they simply didn't want us to attack them." He sighed, then looked back at her. "Even so… so those eight cities match your vision. What does that mean, exactly?"
"I'm uncertain," Tari admitted, her excitement dimming once again. "I suppose that it relates to Meridia and magic, but other than that…."
"Come now. You have witnessed magic of this sort before, my dear," Moralasil chimed in quietly. Telepe glanced over his shoulder once again as Tari turned towards him. "Quite recently, in fact."
"Have we?" Tari asked uncertainly.
"You claim that these cities were connected to the White-Gold City by a magical light, yes? Tell me, do you recall the last time you saw magic being used to connect one location to another?" Moralasil chuckled.
Telepe thought for a moment, and then a shock of realization ran through him. At almost the same time, Tari let out a sharp gasp. "Those cities… were used to open a portal to Meridia's realm?" she whispered softly.
"Most likely," Moralasil said, his tone unnervingly calm. "You mentioned that you also saw an orb hovering above the White-Gold City, bathed in rainbow light, yes? And you suspected that it was a mark of Meridia's favor? I believe that your conclusion is only partially correct. What if, instead, that orb is a Sigil Stone? Admittedly, it would be far larger and more powerful than the one you used in Vahtache to open a gate to Oblivion."
"Wait… why would he need other cities to open a portal to Oblivion?" Telepe frowned. "And how?"
"Likely due to the sheer scale of the gate he is maintaining," Moralasil replied. "Every Ayleid kingdom has enchantments woven throughout its very foundations. The source of those enchantments is an enormous crystal called a Great Welkynd Stone. Welkynd Stones are fragments of Mundus itself, brimming with the power of the god of magic, Magnus. They are the very hearts of our kingdom, and possess immense amounts of magicka. It is likely that Umaril is using some of the magic of these eight cities' stones to maintain an enormous Oblivion Gate in the White-Gold City, through which he is summoning an army of Meridia's followers. You also witnessed that in your vision, did you not, Tari?"
"I did," Tari murmured. "Is that also the source of the veil surrounding the city? When we opened the Oblivion Gate, it was not surrounded by a veil."
"That is likely as well, yes," Moralasil nodded. "The Sigil Stone also enables Meridia to locally influence our realm to a certain degree, and she likely raised the veil to protect her champion while he marshals his forces. So long as that stone remains in place, there is little we can do to stop him."
A heavy silence filled the air as Moralasil finished his explanation. Then, Tari suddenly looked up, her eyes bright again. "Wait! Suppose your theory is correct. If the Great Welkynd Stones are being used to maintain the Gate and the veil, could we not simply destroy the stones? Would that not close the portal and dispel the veil?"
"Theoretically, yes," Moralasil agreed. Tari began to grin, until he continued, "However, that is not a simple task. For one, you would need to conquer or destroy eight cities, all of which are clearly part of what Umaril considers his domain, and which he shall not surrender easily. Even if my theory is incorrect, he shall not allow the rebellion to inflict so much damage so near to his capital without retribution, especially not when he also has a sizable army of Ayleid warriors at his disposal."
"We've done well against him thus far," Tari pointed out.
"Thus far, the rebellion has waged war in remote lands, far from his reach," Moralasil countered patiently. "I am uncertain if that was the Paravant's intention, but it was either wise or fortuitous of her to begin her rebellion far from her most dangerous adversary's reach. Our rapid expansion is at least in part because we have not provoked Umaril personally. I have little desire to encourage that confrontation before it is necessary." After a brief silence, Moralasil added, "What's more, simply sacking the kingdoms shall not render the Great Welkynd Stones inert. As I said, they are artifacts of immense power, and are not easily destroyed. In truth, I am uncertain if even the Paravant's champion could shatter them with his mightiest blows. Nor is it guaranteed that simply breaking the stones would strip them of their magic."
"Then… how would we sever their power?" Tari asked, struggling to keep her growing frustration out of her voice.
Moralasil shook his head sadly. "Unfortunately, I don't know," he admitted. Tari exhaled sharply through her clenched teeth and pressed her forehead against her hand, and a tense silence followed. After a few moments, the elf's tone brightened, "However, thus far the Elder Scroll has revealed much to us. Perhaps your next reading shall offer a solution."
"Perhaps," Tari sighed, rubbing her temples. "But what if you're correct?" she asked, a touch of despair in her voice. "What if Umaril is summoning an army of Daedra, and we can do nothing to stop him?"
"Then you can only continue to prepare as best you can," Moralasil replied simply. "Which means continuing to gather allies, defeating the enemies you can… and training," he added with a sly smile at Tari.
Tari scowled at him, then sighed and inclined her head. "Very well," she murmured. "Cast the spell again, then?"
"Indeed," Moralasil nodded.
Telepe glanced back in time to see Moralasil's smile fade, and a troubled look settle over his face as Tari looked away to gather magicka in her hand. "Even so," he murmured to himself. "Why use so much power for a simple portal? Eight cities, tied to Mundus and Oblivion both… what if she does not desire conquest alone… a melding, perhaps…?"
"A what?" Telepe asked. Moralasil's head snapped up at Telepe's question, and he seemed almost startled by the interruption. He turned his blank eyes vaguely in Telepe's direction, and then he chuckled and held up his hand.
"Forgive me, my boy," he replied. "I was merely pondering the impossible. Ignore an old mer rambling to himself." He then turned back to Tari, who was also staring at him. "Once more, my dear."
Telepe and Tari traded quick looks with each other, but when the mer motioned for her to give him her hands, she silently complied. Telepe likewise turned back around and drove Emero and the other horses after Pasare. However, he couldn't help but steal one last glance back at the old sage and wonder if there was something more that Moralasil was hiding.
Though spring had yet to truly begin, the air as they approached the foothills of the Jerall Mountains was noticeably warmer than when they had left. While Telepe continued to wear his cloak, he found the cool weather almost comfortable, even as they continued to climb deeper into the northern mountains. By the time Sancre Tor came into view a few days later, he was pleased to see that much of the snow had been cleared from the roads, suggesting that the kingdom at least had not suffered any more winter storms in their absence.
The gates opened quickly for the wagons as they approached, and Telepe was surprised to be greeted by Edanu, who was wearing heavy fur robes over his bronze armor. The portly, balding man grinned and clapped Telepe on the shoulder as he climbed down from the wagon, and Telepe responded by gripping his forearm in greeting.
"Welcome back," the centurion said warmly. "I trust that your task was completed without issue?"
"As well as could be expected, I suppose," Telepe said evenly. He then recalled that Perrif had agreed to his suggestion regarding Edanu's promotion, and a grin spread across his face. "However, I have some excellent news to share with you."
"And I with you," Edanu replied. Telepe's smile faded slightly as the centurion held a scroll out for him. "This arrived a few days ago. I have not read it, but the Nords say that the marking on the seal is the sigil of their High King."
Telepe's eyes widened, and he quickly took the scroll from Edanu and unfurled it. He quickly scanned the contents of the message, and when he finished, he exhaled slowly and began chuckling to himself.
"Well… it seems that we should not grow too comfortable here," Telepe announced, looking back up at Edanu and rolling up the scroll. "We should depart again as soon as possible."
"Indeed?" Edanu asked, frowning. "And what is your destination this time?"
Telepe smiled slightly as he held up the scroll.
"Skyrim."
A/N: For those wondering, the cave that Varen pointed to was what will eventually be known as the Lake Arrius Caverns - a deep, defensible network of caverns, more than suitable for a nascent rebellion. And not the last time the location would play an important part in Cyrodiil's history.