Chapter 46

Challenge

"First, we must take the kingdoms of Wendir and Narfinsel," Morihaus said, tracing his large finger over the map. "They are the nearest kingdoms to Hrotanda, and defeating them shall ensure that we can continue to march south without fearing for our supply lines from Sancre Tor and Skyrim."

"To say nothing of the part they played in besieging Sancre Tor," Perrif nodded, holding her chin lightly with her thumb and forefinger. "At least it's likely that their armies are still weakened from their recent defeat."

Telepe tilted his head and tapped his fingers against his left bicep as he gazed at the map spread across the table in the center of the room. He, Morihaus, Perrif, Pelinal, Vrage, Edanu, and Dynar were assembled around it, along with a few of Edanu's most trusted centurions. When there was a brief lull in the conversation, Telepe reached down and pointed to the kingdom just south of Narfinsel.

"I believe that while we're besieging those two kingdoms, we should treat with Elenglynn," he suggested. "They played no part in the siege of Sancre Tor, and we don't know where their loyalties lie. If we can convince them to negotiate a truce with us, or even an alliance…."

"A fair idea," Perrif agreed, smiling warmly at him.

"I concur, though I would recommend that we wait until we have defeated Wendir and Narfinsel," Vrage added. Telepe looked up and frowned slightly, so the king explained, "I've little doubt that we can take these two cities without much trouble, and if we approach Elenglynn afterwards, we'll be negotiating from a position of strength. If we do so beforehand, they're in much more of a position to negotiate a pact on their terms rather than ours."

Telepe bit the inside of his cheek. Much as he wanted to disagree, Vrage made an excellent point. "I concur," he murmured. "Though it'll be troublesome if they choose to strike at us while we're engaging Narfinsel and Wendir. With our armies so close to their borders, they might panic and decide it's better to attack us while we're occupied with the sieges, rather than risk fighting us alone should their northern neighbors fall."

"That is a possibility that we must plan for regardless," Vrage countered, though not unkindly. "We've seen the value of an Ayleid's word during their betrayal at Sancre Tor, and we would be fools not to remain on our guard while we're besieging these two kingdoms." He then pointed to a pair of cities further to the west. "In truth, I'm far more worried about these two cities to the west."

"Nonungalo and Talwinque?" Dynar asked. "I wouldn't fear them overmuch. For one, Talwinque is too remote to attempt to wage war upon us. They would have to march their army several miles, leaving their kingdom undefended for days, which simply isn't practical. Nonungalo might pose more of a threat, but if your Tongues can truly destroy a city's walls in just a few days, they won't be able to muster their army swiftly enough to aid Narfinsel and Wenir." A slight, conspiratorial smile spread across his face. "Besides, I suspect that they have more interest in allying with us than fighting us."

"How so?" Perrif asked, tilting her head.

"Rumor has it that they're both home to predominantly Aedra-worshipping populations," Dynar explained, a grin spreading across his face. "While Daedra-worship dominates the Nibenay, one is likely to find larger Aedra-friendly populations in western Cyrod. Though, admittedly, there are exceptions, such as Garlas Malatar in the far west. Furthermore, even the Aedra-worshipping cities are likely to at least honor Meridia in some degree as well, if not outright worship her alongside the Divines. Nevertheless, it would not surprise me to learn that the western cities might prove more sympathetic, or at least tolerant, of the rebellion."

"Intriguing. Something to consider after we've suppressed our first two adversaries," Perrif said thoughtfully.

Morihaus let out a soft snort of agreement, then pointed to Narfinsel. "In the meantime we should focus most of our effort upon defeating Narfinsel," he grunted. "Of the two, it has the greatest chance of receiving reinforcements from the White-Gold City and the other kingdoms in Umaril's alliance. It is imperative that we defeat it before its allies can rally to its side."

"To say nothing of the fact that it would be an important symbolic victory as well," Telepe added. "Remember that Narfinsel is where the schism between Aedra and Daedra-worshipping Ayleids first occurred. If we take the kingdom where the two sides divided…."

"Indeed," Perrif agreed with a slow grin. "Particularly since we are blessed by the Aedra, it would be a humiliating defeat for the Daedra-worshippers."

"Very well," Vrage said, pushing a few small wooden tokens representing his men forward. "Then my army shall lead the attack upon Narfinsel. Nevertheless, that is not to say that we should leave Wendir unoccupied."

"No, I concur. And to that end, I would like to personally see to the siege of Wendir," Perrif added.

Everyone turned towards her, regarding her with a look of surprise. "To what end?" Vrage asked, when no one else spoke up.

"For one, I imagine that both Morihaus and Pelinal would like to have me in the least danger possible. If Umaril does indeed intend to send reinforcements from the east, then it is wiser to have me in the west. Moreover, while we are besieging Wendir, that will give me the opportunity to reach out to Nonungalo and attempt to secure a treaty with them."

"I see," Telepe said slowly, folding his hands behind his back. "Would you like me to accompany you as well? I may be able to assist you in your negotiations."

"I'd rather you participate in the siege of Narfinsel, actually," Perrif replied.

Telepe blinked at her, then glanced away uneasily. "I… do not think that wise. I don't believe I would be of much use there. I'm uncertain if they would even treat with us in the first place. They've made their allegiances quite clear," he said slowly.

"No, and I don't expect you to succeed," Perrif agreed with a soft smile. "But even a token effort at extending an offer of peace is preferable to simply storming their city, yes? You've said so yourself."

"Well… yes, I did…." Telepe admitted with a rueful chuckle.

"Furthermore, while Narfinsel is besieged, you shall have the opportunity to take Tari into the jungle to find the canticle tree, so that she can read the Elder Scroll," Perrif added. "I've little doubt she'll insist that you accompany her, as she has before. What's more, this way, you're much closer to a friendly army once your task is completed. Beyond that, if the siege of Narfinsel indeed progresses as quickly as we expect it to, you'll then be free to turn your diplomatic efforts upon Elenglynn while we're still engaged with Wendir. You may even find time to travel to Ceya-Tar and ensure that it's prepared for an attack from Umaril."

Telepe gazed at Perrif quietly, his eyebrows slightly raised. He was amazed by how well thought-out her plan was. He would have expected it from Morihaus, but Perrif had always seemed to be more focused on interpreting the gods' will and using her natural charisma to sway followers. Of course, he supposed he should have expected this, he realized. Perrif had always made a point to learn every subject she could, whether it was diplomacy, combat, and now military strategy. Morihaus had likely been teaching her while they had campaigned together, he surmised. Even so, it was astounding how skilled she had become in such a short time.

"I… certainly have no objections, then," Telepe murmured. Perrif's smile briefly turned mischievous as she noticed the approval in his voice, though her usual serene expression returned a moment later as she nodded to him.

"Very good. King Vrage," she added, turning to the Nordic king. "I would like to ask you to allow Legate Edanu and his legion to accompany you during the assault on Narfinsel. From what I have heard, you two worked together brilliantly during the siege of Sancre Tor, and I see no reason to separate you now. For your siege, speed shall be paramount. We need Narfinsel to fall as swiftly as possible so that you can come aid our army at Wendir."

"Of course. Though I imagine you also don't mind that my men as near to Umaril as possible, to protect your own flank from an assault, correct?" Vrage asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Perrif blinked at him as he chuckled and held up his hand. "It's a wise move, and I would do the same. I have no objection. It shall place my men near to the thickest of the fighting should Umaril attack from the east, and as they are hungry for glory, they would be begging to be placed there anyways. There is no honor in a warrior avoiding a battle, after all."

"Very good," Perrif said with a smile. She then turned to Pelinal. "Pelinal, I would like for you to accompany me and Morihaus at Wendir."

"Good," Pelinal growled curtly. Telepe bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. That, he felt, was another wise move. If Perrif's army had fewer men and expected to face stiffer resistance, retaining Pelinal gave her the option of challenging the city's champion to a duel, which could force a swift surrender. Of course, even if a battle ensued, Pelinal would still be invaluable. Furthermore, it allowed Perrif to check Pelinal's wild behavior, which Telepe was more than grateful for. The knight had always been nearly impossible to control, of course, but of late, he seemed to be increasingly restless and bloodthirsty. Perrif was the only one who could yank his leash if he needed to be restrained.

"I shall join you as well," Dynar added, inclining his head to Perrif. "Perhaps having an Ayleid prince in your entourage will help convince the western kingdoms to ally with you, especially one who worships Meridia, rather than the Divines."

"Your presence would be invaluable, Prince Dynar. Thank you," Perrif nodded with a warm smile. "Very good. This plan shall suffice. Now-"

"My lady?" a voice came from the doorway. All eyes turned to Sevri, who was peeking into the room, holding up a scroll and wearing a distraught expression. "We've received a message. The courier that delivered it claimed that it was from Umaril."

Telepe shot a glance at Perrif, who caught his eye and nodded. Telepe walked over to Sevri and took the scroll from him, then slowly unfurled it. After skimming it for a moment, he remarked, "Well done. This is indeed from Umaril. When did you receive this?" he added, looking up at Sevri with a raised eyebrow.

"Only moments ago. It was presented by a mer on horseback, who fled as soon as he gave us the scroll," Sevri replied. "I did not look at its contents…."

"Very good. You did well," Telepe said, flashing Sevri a brief smile as he began reading. After a moment, however, his smile faded, and a lump began forming in his throat. He reread the message more slowly, the color draining from his face as he did. When he finished, he swallowed and looked up at Perrif, who was watching him curiously.

"Well?" she asked patiently.

Telepe cleared his throat, then glanced around the room. "Before I relay this message, I'd like to make a few requests," he announced. Perrif blinked, then motioned for him to continue. "Lady Paravant, I wish for you, Whitestrake, and Morihaus to accompany me to an open, deserted field with no one around for at least several hundred feet. I also wish for you and the general to stand beside me, while Whitestrake stands opposite us. Preferably on the other end of the field. I don't mind shouting if I must."

Perrif frowned at him curiously and tilted her head, Morihaus stared at him, and Pelinal scoffed and rolled his eyes. The other members of Perrif's council traded glances as an awkward silence filled the room. After a few moments, Perrif regained her composure and nodded. "Very well," she said slowly, though she was still clearly confused. "Everyone, we shall adjourn for now. It's near enough to noon that I would recommend fetching a meal while you have the opportunity. Telepe, Morihaus, Pelinal? Let's be off."

Telepe noticed both Dynar and Edanu trying to catch his eye, but he simply shook his head at them in response. He refused to say a word until he was well away from Sancre Tor. They both responded with perplexed expressions, but Telepe hurried after Perrif and her champions before they could press him for answers.

Perrif led the way out of the city, guiding them down the road and into the nearby alpine forest. She led them to an open clearing in the middle of the woods, where she finally stopped at one end of it before motioning for Pelinal to stand at the other end. She then sidled up next to Telepe and peered into his face.

"I presume that whatever is in that letter is liable to enrage our champion?" she asked in a low voice. Beside her, Morihaus let out a low snort, his arms folded over his chest as he watched Pelinal stomp to the other end of the clearing.

"Quite," Telepe nodded grimly as he unfurled the scroll. "And I fear that even your command to refrain from harming me may not cool his rage if I were alone. I've seen him when madness takes him – nothing on Nirn can hold him, least of all a half-breed elf that he despises. Thus, when I read this, I'd rather be near the woman he's sworn not to harm, and the only other being who may have a chance of restraining him."

"Very well," Perrif nodded. She then turned back around to face Pelinal, who was standing near the treeline on the opposite end of the clearing, his arms folded over his chest as he shifted his weight impatiently from one foot to the other. "Pelinal, can you hear us?"

"Enough of this farce! Deliver the damned message already, elf!" Pelinal barked, his voice clipping off of the trees.

Telepe winced, then glanced at Perrif uneasily, who nodded to him encouragingly. Telepe swallowed and inhaled deeply, then unfurled the message and shouted to Pelinal:

To the loathsome vermin that Padomay has named Pelinal Whitestrake:

I, Umaril Many-Feathers, Champion and King of the White-Gold City, deliver this challenge to you with full knowledge that you, in your rank cowardice, shall not dare answer it. I have watched you from my rightful throne as you rampage about our beautiful land of Cyrod, despoiling it with not only your treacherous actions, but your odious presence. Know that I challenge you, the slavering dog of that hideous slattern who names herself queen of the slaves, to face us in combat. Know also that when you are vanquished, you shall watch as I claim your woman, re-bind her in the chains to which she belongs, and despoil her. First, I shall dismember-

Telepe paused as he caught sight of Pelinal over the edge of the parchment. The knight was curled in on himself where he stood, and at this distance, he could just barely make out a low wheezing sound. At first, he feared that Pelinal was about to be sick, but then he realized – much to his shock – that he was laughing.

"Elf!" Pelinal called from the other end of the field. "Does the message continue in that manner?"

"It… it does, yes," Telepe replied, taking a moment to look it over once again before giving Perrif an uncomfortable, sidelong glance. "It goes into explicit detail about how he'll sever her limbs, cut out her tongue to quell the screams, strip-"

"Enough!" Pelinal shouted back. "Enough. I need hear no more to understand the rest. In short, Umaril dares challenge me, does he?"

"He does," Telepe confirmed, rolling up the scroll. He hesitated a moment, then added, "Are you… not furious?"

"Livid," Pelinal replied in an eerily calm voice as he began striding across the field towards them. "But I am also amused. Never have I met someone so eager for me to slay them." He continued to laugh to himself as he drew closer to Telepe, who backed away slightly when he saw the rabid look in the knight's eyes. By the time Pelinal was within an arm's length of him, his heart was hammering in his throat, and he flinched when the knight raised his hand. However, he then turned his palm upwards and asked gruffly, "The scroll, if you would?"

Telepe swallowed, feeling as though his stomach was full of lead, as he handed Pelinal the papyrus, then quickly snatched his hand back as though he had been burned. Pelinal lazily unfurled the scroll and read it quickly, then began laughing softly once again.

"How intriguing," Pelinal remarked as he rolled up the scroll again. He then drew his sword, which made Telepe take a half-step back, his heart hammering in his throat. "I daresay this is the first time that anyone has had the gall to challenge me to a duel, much less dare to insult my lady and I."

"Pelinal…." Perrif said slowly.

Pelinal shook his head and held up a hand. "There's no need to be concerned, my lady," he growled. "I have long wished to confront Umaril. I would even say that a duel between us was inevitable. This is simply formalizing what we both knew would eventually come to pass."

Telepe glanced furtively back and forth between Pelinal and Perrif, while Morihaus let out a soft snort of annoyance. Clearing his throat, he tentatively asked, "Then… should we send a reply? Though admittedly, I'm uncertain how we might deliver it when the White-Gold City is still protected by that curtain…."

"There is no need to compose a reply, elf," Pelinal said. He suddenly tossed the scroll into the air, then drew his sword and slashed it in half with one swift cut. The two pieces of papyrus instantly burst into flame, which curled and smoldered into black ash before they hit the ground. "He shall have my reply regardless."

"In… what way?" Telepe asked hesitantly.

Pelinal swung around to face him, his bright blue eyes bloodshot with rage. "Gather the men. We march on the White-Gold City."

News of Umaril's challenge swept through the rebel camp like wildfire. However, despite Pelinal's eagerness to meet Umaril immediately, the rebels' plans remained unchanged. After all, the barrier that Meridia had erected still enveloped the White-Gold City, and marching on it with so many enemy kingdoms still opposing them would have been near-suicidal, even with the aid of their Nordic allies. Thankfully, Perrif managed to convince Pelinal that they should first march south to defeat Narfinsel and Wendir, as if they continued to inflict defeats upon the Ayleids, Umaril would eventually be drawn out to face them directly. Pelinal only reluctantly agreed, and later that day, Telepe heard the distant sounds of metal ringing off of rock, punctuated by furious screams, echoing from somewhere outside of the city.

Three days later, Telepe was sitting beside Dynar in a wagon laden with clay pots filled with rations, with Tari and Moralasil once again crouched in the back, practicing magic. A clay bowl of water rested between them, and Telepe was watching Tari trying to keep her hand magically balanced on the surface of the water.

"This would be much easier if the water wasn't sloshing about everywhere," Tari grumbled as the wagon rolled over a loose stone in the road, almost tipping the bowl over entirely. She bit back a curse as the water splashed over her knees, drenching the lower half of her grey chiton.

"Unless you intend to walk upon a puddle, you cannot expect any body of water to remain still," Moralasil replied unsympathetically from where he was sitting back against the edge of the wagon. "Rivers have flowing currents, lakes carry small waves, and the ocean itself shall pull you under without a care. As such, maintaining your focus despite the water's unsteadiness is paramount. Unless, of course, you would prefer that we train upon the Niben itself?"

Tari shot Telepe an irritated glance when she saw him smirking at her, and then she shook her head. "This shall do," she muttered.

"Then maintain your focus. And quell your laughter, boy," Moralasil added, turning his blank gaze in Telepe's direction. "If driving the wagon require so little of your attention, then I have a spell for you to learn as well."

Telepe's grin dropped instantly, and he turned towards Dynar, who shook his head and gripped the reins a bit more tightly. Telepe scowled as the elven prince gave him the same smug grin that he had been directing at Tari only moments before, and then he turned back to Moralasil with a soft sigh. "Very well," he agreed.

"Indeed? Well then. Rest assured, you shall find this spell quite useful, though I warn you, it shall be the most difficult that you've yet mastered," Moralasil said. He held out his hand and murmured under his breath as he gathered magicka into the palm of his hand, and then released it all at once. There was a brief flash of green light, and then Moralasil vanished. Telepe's eyes widened as he let out a soft gasp. Then, an instant later, Moralasil reappeared, chuckling softly at Telepe's reaction.

"I trust this has piqued your interest?" he asked easily as he lowered his hand, resting it on his lap. "Tari informed me that when you went to speak to the dragon, you approached him openly. She feels you would have been far safer had you at least protected yourself by remaining out of his sight."

Telepe shot Tari a quick glance, who nodded to him, and then he turned back to Moralasil with a shake of his head. "I doubt it would have made much of a difference," he retorted. "I suspect that Nahfahlaar would still be able to hear and smell me. I imagine that had I approached him while invisible, he would have been insulted at best, and felt threatened at worst. He likely would have incinerated me, thinking me an assassin foolish enough to assume a dragon required his eyes to dispatch a foe."

"Hm. An astute observation, and likely true," Moralasil admitted, before waving his hand dismissively. "Nevertheless, it shall prove useful against most foes. Should a negotiation go awry, and my kin decide not to hold to the laws of sacred hospitality, this spell may well save your life. Especially as they seem to be growing less amenable to negotiation."

Telepe hummed softly, unable to disagree with Moralasil's assessment. "Very well. In any case, I won't refuse the opportunity to learn a new spell. What is the technique?"

Moralasil chuckled lightly to himself. "You must forgive me, as it's been quite some time since I've described a visual spell. Let me think… first, you are capable of conjuring light, are you not?"

"I am," Telepe nodded, holding out his hand and focusing for a moment. A ball of light erupted in the palm of his hand before he extinguished it. Of course, Moralasil couldn't see the light, but he assumed that the sage could hear the release of magicka.

"Very good," Moralasil said with a nod. "Naturally, without light, one cannot see. However, this spell is not as simple as removing light, as that would simply create darkness. Instead, I would implore you to consider how you might ensure that light does not touch you at all."

Telepe raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Moralasil sighed, then motioned to the bowl of water Tari was touching. "Perhaps the best way to describe it is to think of yourself as water. Light does not touch it; indeed, it passes through it entirely. Now, yes, one can see water, but how can one see through it? Then, think – how can one be even clearer than water itself? That is my challenge to you."

Telepe stared at Moralasil, then sighed and ran his hand along his face. "Always with the riddles," he muttered to himself.

"The study of magicka is not a simple one," Moralasil replied calmly, sitting back against the wagon and folding his fingers in front of him.

"Quite, though Telepe has always had more difficulty learning magic than most of us," another voice piped up from his left. "I recall that it took you months to conjure a simple flame."

Telepe looked to his left to see his half-sister, Varlalye, striding easily beside the wagon, her shield strapped across her back and her hand resting on the head of the axe hanging off her belt. She flashed Telepe a cheeky grin as he scowled at her.

"I did," he admitted in a low voice, narrowing his eyes at her. "However, just because I had difficulty with that spell did not mean I was a poor student of magic. I simply have difficulty casting elemental spells."

"A trait that thankfully does not seem to be familial," Varlalye added, though her tone was light to assure him that she was teasing him. She held her hand out and whispered to herself, and a moment later, a small flame flickered to life in her palm. "See? Simple."

"Very good," Telepe replied coolly, raising an eyebrow at her. "Now conjure it without speaking aloud."

Varlalye's smile faded slightly, but she quickly recovered and waved him off. "So you mastered a simple trick-"

"And a mere flame?" Telepe added, his own smug grin spreading across his lips. "Come now, let us see you conjure a light without heat. After all, fire is little more than a weaker, corrupt form of pure light, is it not, Moralasil?"

Moralasil hesitated, then smiled serenely. "I do not wish to be involved in this disagreement," he stated placidly.

Telepe and Varlalye traded grins. "My apologies. We're not truly quarreling," Telepe assured the sage with a chuckle. "My sister and I have 'fought' like this for years. She simply has an affinity for elemental magic, whereas my talents are more… subtle. It's part of the reason why she's a war-leader and I became an emissary."

"Yes, and I do acknowledge Telepe's skill with sensory magic," Varlalye added. "You had an excellent teacher, after all. Perhaps that's why you've been struggling. Once this war ends, perhaps you should seek him out once more if you truly wish to master sensory magic. I believe he is still residing in our father's court."

Telepe's smile faded instantly as an icy lump formed in his chest at the mention of his homeland. "I must decline," he murmured. "Moralasil is a magnificent teacher in his own right, for one, and I've learned a great deal from him. As has Tari," he added, and Tari nodded quickly in agreement.

"You flatter me," Moralasil smiled pleasantly.

"Besides… returning to the Bjoulsae is no longer possible for me," he added in a much quieter voice.

Varlalye tilted her head in confusion and folded her arms over her chest. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Telepe sighed deeply, then briefly explained how their father had exiled him for aiding the rebellion. By the time he finished, his sister's eyes were wide with shock and fury.

"This is an outrage!" she exclaimed. "Perhaps you deserved some punishment, but exile?! For aiding oppressed Nedes?!"

"That doesn't matter," Telepe stated flatly, though he was privately warmed by his sister's fury on his behalf.

"Of course it does!" she snapped. "Slavery it outlawed in our homeland, so why would bargain with slavers when we have the opportunity to liberate our kin?! What, does he think the Ayleids are in the right?! Does he believe our mothers to be his slaves as well?!"

"No, of course not. Else we'd never have been allowed to come to Cyrod at all," Telepe pointed out, unable to keep from smiling to himself. "He certainly would have forbidden you from coming, as my treachery would have been all the justification he would need, lest any other Manmer or Nedes develop… seditious ideals."

Varlalye spat on the ground, shaking her head angrily. "Even so, exile is far too harsh of a punishment, particularly since you were doing so out of compassion."

"I believe that's the only reason why he spared me from a harsher punishment, actually," Telepe insisted with a soft chuckle. As Varlalye opened her mouth to protest further, he held up a hand. "I am grateful for your anger on my behalf, sister, but you needn't confront him for my sake. He's passed his sentence, and I shall abide by it. I don't wish for you to suffer by speaking out against his decision."

Varlalye glared for a moment longer, then shook her head and blew out an irritable sigh. "As you wish," she muttered reluctantly. "I do pity you, however. It seems Sheor walks in your shadow for you to be so cursed."

Telepe laughed lightly and shook his head. "I don't-"

"Pardon me. What do you mean by that?" a voice piped up from next to Varlalye, interrupting him. Telepe glanced past her to see one of Vrage's Nord warriors striding beside her, wearing a frown of confusion.

"I'm sorry? Why do I pity him?" Varlalye frowned.

"No… you said that Shor has cursed him?" the Nord asked, tilting his head. "That he walks in his shadow?"

"I did," Varlalye responded hesitantly. "Why?"

The young Nord shook his head. "I'm confused. Why would Shor curse your emissary?"

Varlalye stared at him with an equal look of confusion. "Sheor is the cause of all misfortune in the world. He's known as the Bad Man for a reason. Why would I not think my brother is suffering from his mischief?"

"His mischief?" the Nord repeated, narrowing his eyes furiously. "Shor does not cause mischief. Shor is a proud warrior who stands resolute against the injustices of the world, particularly those caused by the elves. You sound as though you think him a skeever, spreading disease in his wake wherever he travels."

"Is he not?" Varlalye demanded, though she sounded more confused than angry. "Was it not Sheor who tore us from the spirit plane, who forced us to suffer all the ills of mortality?"

"Suffer?!" one of Edanu's Nedic warriors piped up, hurrying over to walk beside the Nord. "The only cause of our suffering is the Ayleids! You would blame Shezzar for the crimes of the elves?! It is he who has given us the spirit necessary to endure the elves' cruelties! You dare slander his name?!"

"Indeed!" the Nord nodded emphatically, clapping the Nede on the shoulder before turning back to Varlalye with a glare. "Without Shor, all of Tamriel would suffer under the tyranny of the elves, as Cyrod does!" A sneer then spread across his face. "Though I suppose that you enjoy the scraps tossed to you by your elven masters, mongrel."

Varlalye's eyes widened with fury, and her grip on her axe tightened. Her Manmeri cohorts began shuffling up behind her, though Telepe noticed that many of the Nedes in her warband were staying back, looking away uncomfortably. "You would dare insult my king?" she growled, lowering her head threateningly.

A dozen more Nords and Nedes began wandering over to the brewing argument, crowding together and glowering back at the Manmeri. "I would insult any who dare speak against the god of men," the Nord replied curtly. "And I would do more than insult them if they persisted."

Over the increasingly angry murmurs, Telepe noticed a familiar, heavy clanking sound that turned his blood cold. As the two sides continued snapping at each other, he shouted, "Enough! Let us speak no more of this!"

"No!" the first Nord cried. "I say that I know Shor better than-!"

Before he could complete his thought, a silvery blade suddenly appeared, protruding through his chest. The young man let out a sharp cry of shock and pain as the blade was forcefully withdrawn from his body, and he crumpled to the ground. The Nede to his left let out a yell of protest a split-second before a heavy mace collided with the side of his head and sent his lifeless body sprawling in the ferns.

Telepe immediately leapt over the edge of the wagon, landing in front of Varlalye and pushing her behind him. Pelinal's silver blade stopped a hairsbreadth from his throat, and he felt his heart stop as Pelinal's furious blue eyes narrowed at him.

"Stand aside, emissary," Pelinal growled. "I am sworn not to harm you, but she-"

"She was not told of your distaste for discussing the gods!" Telepe protested quickly. "Spare her, and she'll not speak of them again!"

Pelinal glared at Telepe for several long moments while he held his breath, not daring to move. Finally, the knight slowly withdrew his blade, then turned to the crowd gathered around him. "This shall be the final warning any of you receive!" he roared, and every head in sight turned towards him. "Do not blaspheme about matters you know nothing of! Any who dare speak of the gods in my presence shall be sent to meet them! Is that clear?!"

The warriors traded uncomfortable looks before quietly muttering their assent. Pelinal slowly gazed around the area to make sure that all had heard him before swinging his sword and mace violently at the ground to clear them of blood. He sheathed his weapons, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Telepe by the tunic, pulling him close enough that he could smell the wine on Pelinal's breath. "If you wish to be my lady's emissary, elf, then it is your duty to keep the peace. Do so, else you wish for me to maintain order as I see fit."

Pelinal shoved Telepe backwards hard enough to send him stumbling into the wagon behind him. The knight then stalked back through the crowd, roughly pushing through anyone who wasn't quick enough to move out of the way. Telepe slowly stood up again and straightened his tunic, his breath coming in short gasps and his heart pounding violently in his chest. Varlalye came up behind him and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"My apologies," she murmured. Telepe glanced over his shoulder at her, but she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I did not mean to…."

"You were unaware. I should have told you," Telepe replied, reaching out and pulling her into a quick one-armed embrace before letting her go. "But yes, refrain from speaking of the gods when Whitestrake is near. Especially now," he added, watching the knight warily as he stalked towards the back of the caravan. "He's been particularly quick-tempered ever since he received Umaril's challenge. Even more so than usual, which I did not think possible."

"Is it because he cannot respond?" Varlalye asked, staring after the knight as well.

"I imagine so," Telepe nodded. "He has never been the one to receive a challenge before, and all who have dared face him have been slain in short order. Now he's like a rabid tiger pacing in his cage."

He trailed off as he noticed a robed figure approaching them, grimacing as Perrif approached. However, Perrif simply shook her head and stared after her knight as well.

"An astute comparison, actually," she remarked, frowning faintly to herself. "Even I have had difficulty calming him these last few days." She paused to give the corpses on the side of the road a sympathetic look, and then she looked back up at Varlalye. "You are unharmed, I hope?"

"Thanks to Telepe, yes," Varlalye replied. There was a tremor in her voice, indicating that she was still shaken, but she managed to meet Perrif's eyes.

"Very good. You have my apologies," Perrif murmured, lowering her head slightly. "It is certainly not my intention to alienate our allies. Pelinal is an invaluable warrior, but he is… mercurial."

"You need not apologize on his behalf, my lady," Varlalye insisted, bowing her head. "I was at fault. Had I not spoken out of turn about the gods…."

"You were unaware. Pelinal is… temperamental about the Divines," Perrif explained. "I would ask that you refrain from discussing them altogether while you are in Cyrod."

"I certainly shall," Varlalye nodded emphatically.

Perrif smiled faintly, still staring after Pelinal. "Though I suppose that is something we should consider," she murmured to herself. When she turned, she noticed Telepe giving her a curious look, and she added, "Telepe, when we next make camp, I would like you to gather Dynar, Moralasil, Edanu, King Vrage, and some of the other centurions. And I would like for you to join us as well."

"Certainly," Telepe acknowledged, though he continued to stare at her querulously. "May I ask why?"

"I seek unity in our alliance, and anything that might cause a division should be addressed," Perrif explained. "It seems that while we all acknowledge the Divines, our beliefs about them vary. To that end, I would like to see if we can reach a compromise about how the Aedra should be worshipped in Cyrod. One that is acceptable to Nedes, Ayleids, Nords, and Manmer alike."

Telepe lifted his chin up slightly, comprehension dawning on him. "I see," he said softly. After a moment's thought, he glanced past her, then added, "Though will that not simply enrage Whitestrake even more?"

Perrif smiled faintly and shook her head. "I shall inform him of my intentions. He would not turn his blade on me, after all. We shall simply ensure that when we meet, he is as far from our discussions as possible."

"You have my eternal thanks for that," Telepe said drily.

Perrif giggled lightly, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder as she moved past him to return to the front of the column. Telepe gave her a light nod, sighing to himself as he watched her depart. After a moment's thought, he turned back to Moralasil.

"Now then," he said conversationally. "You wished to teach me to vanish, Moralasil? Could you explain how to cast the spell, perhaps?"

Moralasil was silent for a long moment, and Telepe wondered if he was pondering whether to continue, considering how heavy the mood still was. Eventually, though, he sat up a bit more and replied, "Very well. Since this spell involves manipulating light, let us begin by conjuring a light to manipulate, shall we?"

As the sage began gathering magicka, Telepe glanced at his sister out of the corner of his eye. He noticed that she was still shaken, but when a light flared in Moralasil's hand, her expression became intrigued. Telepe smiled faintly to himself, relieved that the lesson was distracting her from her encounter with Pelinal.

"Next, imagine that your light is being held within a clear orb," Moralasil continued, drawing Telepe's attention back to him. "Visualize the light dimming within the globe, until all that you hold is the globe itself." As Telepe watched, the light Moralasil was holding faded, until the tips of his fingers and palm of his hand were invisible. "Once you are holding this lightless globe, imagine it flowing across your body, enveloping you." Moralasil's hand disappeared, followed by his wrist, and then his arm. Once his shoulder was no longer visible, he snapped his fingers, cancelling the spell, and his arm reappeared.

"That is the clearest way that I can describe this spell," Moralasil said, motioning for Telepe to try. "Do not dim the light by lessening the amount of magicka that you are pouring into the spell. In fact, this shall require more energy than you have ever put into any of your other spells. If your light is dimming because you are not applying enough magicka, it shall fail. If you are casting this spell properly you should be exhausted after your first few attempts."

"As you say," Telepe replied as he handed the reins over to Dynar. He then held his hand out and summoned a small ball of light, which pulsed gently in his hand. Telepe took a deep, slow breath, then focused on the light, envisioning it contained in a clear orb. Over the next few minutes, he tried to dim the light's bright glow, but each time it began to fade, he noticed that it was only because he was pouring less magicka into the spell, which made him concentrate even harder, and the light to shine even brighter. After several long moments, he dispelled the light and slumped back against the wagon's bench, panting heavily and trembling with exhaustion.

"Unsuccessful, I presume?" Moralasil asked absently, lacing his fingers together. "I am not surprised. I suppose that when you increased the magicka you were pouring into the spell, the light only grew brighter?"

"Y-yes," Telepe stammered. He ran his hand over his face, and when he pulled it away, his palm was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. "This is madness," he remarked. "Why would more magicka darken a light?"

Moralasil chuckled. "That is the nature of the riddle. As I said, this shall be the most difficult spell I've yet taught you. However, I would not have taught you the method if I thought you incapable of mastering it. Continue."

Telepe nodded and exhaled slowly, then held his hand out again. He inhaled once more and summoned another ball of light, which he immediately began pouring most of his energy into. As he'd expected, the light grew brighter, illuminating the trees, the ferns on the ground… and something lurking in the trees.

Telepe's eyes widened as the figure backed away from the light to hide deeper in the forest. He frowned and held the light above his head, intensifying it even more. At first, he thought it was simply a jungle predator stalking the caravan, but as the light washed over it, he could clearly see a towering humanoid figure – its stony face blank, and its upper half floating a few inches above its waist, held aloft by a swirling maelstrom of thunder and wind.

"Daedra!" Telepe cried, pointing at the figure through the trees. Once it realized that it had been spotted, the creature abruptly charged out of the woods towards the wagon, its massive feet crashing along the forest floor. As it emerged from the treeline, it raised its arms, lightning crackling in its misshapen hands. Telepe threw himself to the floor of the wagon as lightning arced over his head, narrowly missing him. The stench of burning ozone filled his nostrils, and adrenaline began to course through his veins as he pushed himself to his knees.

"Ambush! We're under attack!" Dynar roared, pulling his sword from its scabbard with one hand while the other kept hold of the reins. Telepe drew his own sword and crouched by the edge of the wagon, peering over the lip at the atronach stalking them. Behind him, he saw that Tari had covered herself in a layer of stone and summoned a ball of flame, which flickered against her fingers.

All at once, the jungle was alive with activity. Massive, lumbering thundernachs tore out of the trees on either side, electrified wind swirling around their bodies as they descended on the column. The one nearest to Telepe and the others lumbered towards the wagon and brought its enormous hands up to slam them own into the wagon's wooden frame. Before it could, Telepe and Dynar leaned forward and thrusted their blades into its arms. While the bronze points of the swords didn't cut very deep into its rocky hide, their momentum was enough to throw off the atronach's attack, and its fists narrowly missed the wagon. Before it could raise its hands again, Tari threw a ball of flame into its face.

The spell exploded against the monster's rocky hide, sending it reeling. It pawed at its face to clear it the flames lingering on its "skin," and it let out a low groan. By then, Varlalye and three of her Manmeri warriors had descended on it. While two slashed at it with a bronze shortsword and axe, respectively, Varlalye and a male Manmeri muttered to themselves and held up their hands. Spikes of ice sprang from their palms, piercing the thundernach's side.

The monster doubled over for a moment, groaning lowly in pain. Telepe held his breath, wondering if their assault had managed to repel it. After a few moments, however, it managed to straighten up and raise its hands again with a deep moan. Lightning crackled in its hands as it lowered its arms and pointed them at the cart. Telepe gasped and instinctively raised his hands over his face as lightning burst forth from its arms towards the cart. However, the bolts stopped a few feet from the side of the wagon and split harmlessly in multiple directions, as though spreading across the surface of a bubble.

Telepe looked over his shoulder to see Moralasil holding his hand out. His fingers glowed with violet magicka, and his blank eyes were narrowed in concentration. Before Telepe could say anything, the sage shouted, "I shall guard the wagon! Go forth and dispatch our foes!"

Telepe and Dynar glanced at each other, then jumped over the edge of the wagon, both gripping their swords tightly. Tari was on their heels, landing lightly behind them with flames licking at her fingers.

The atronach that had been attacking their wagon loomed above them, its blank head tilted down towards them, lightning sparking along its arms. It raised one hand, but before it could unleash another thunderbolt, Dynar dove in and slashed the monster across its arm. The bronze blade left a shallow gash, but the monster seemed unconcerned by the light wound. Its floating arm pointed directly at Dynar, and before the prince could react, a burst of lightning erupted from its hand.

Dynar was sent flying backwards, and he landed heavily in the grass. A jolt of fear ran through Telepe until he heard the prince inhale sharply, indicating that he was injured, but still alive. The atronach seemed to notice as well, as it raised its hand to attack the fallen Ayleid again. Before it could, however, Telepe raised his own hand and inhaled slowly.

He wasn't certain if his idea would work, and if it didn't, Dynar's life might be forfeit. However, he knew that he wouldn't be able to do enough damage to the atronach to slay it, so he would rather gamble with what could work than waste time with futility. As he exhaled, a bolt of aqua-colored magic flew from his hand. It struck the atronach in the chest and spread across the monster's body, engulfing it in a bright green aura. For a moment, it seemed as though the lightning coursing through its body was dissipating, and the looming beast seemed confused. After a few seconds, however, the electricity swirling around it intensified again, and Telepe's stomach dropped. Nevertheless, the atronach slowly turned its gaze from Dynar towards him. Telepe swallowed as he dropped into a dueling stance and braced himself. He supposed he should be pleased that he was successful in drawing its attention from the prince, at least, he thought drily.

The atronach took two steps towards him and swung its large hand at him in a slow, heavy arc. Telepe easily ducked under the clumsy blow, though he could feel his hair stand on end as the electricity surged above his head. The monster took another step forward, forcing Telepe to roll underneath it, slashing at its leg as he did. His slender blade bounced harmlessly off of its calf as he scrambled away, and the atronach continued to pursue him, undeterred.

As its floating upper half turned towards him, three more spikes of ice slammed into it from the side. It turned its head towards Varlalye and two of her compatriots, then paused to consider whether to focus its attention on them or Telepe. Before it could make its decision, another fireball exploded against the back of its head. Tari crouched near a cluster of ferns, gathering magicka for another attack, as the atronach looked over at her almost curiously.

There was a brief lull in the combat as the atronach hesitated, clearly considering its next action. Before it could decide, both Tari and Varlalye cast another spell. Flame and ice slammed into the monster's frame simultaneously, sending it staggering. For a moment, Telepe's heart leapt as it seemed the daedra might finally fall. However, it quickly regained its balance, then raised its hands to either side. Lightning surged over its body, and before anyone could react, twin bolts tore from the palms of its hands and arced towards the two women surrounding it.

Telepe's heart stopped as the thin bolts of lightning struck Tari and Varlalye in the chest, knocking both women to the ground. His eyes darted from one side to the other, horror gripping him. To his immense relief, Tari gasped and sat up sharply a moment later, then winced and grasped her stomach, while Varlalye groaned as a male Manmer crouched over her, holding up his shield to ward off any further attacks. Telepe's relief was short-lived, however, as the atronach turned to him next.

As the monster lumbered towards him, its hands began to spark again. Telepe exhaled sharply in an attempt to stave off his fear, and then he shifted his weight onto his back foot and gripped his sword tightly in both hands, drawing it back so that the pommel was resting against his hip. He held his breath as the atronach neared him, waiting until it was within two arms-lengths of him. Then, before it could raise its hands, he darted forward.

Telepe let out a short yell as he stepped in and thrusted his sword at the daedra, holding it tightly in both hands. The atronach hesitated, almost seeming startled by the sudden assault, and it tried to step backwards. As it did, however, Telepe shifted his grip slightly and pointed the tip of his sword upwards towards the daedra's floating upper half. He grit his teeth as the slender blade slipped between the gap between its upper and lower halves, piercing deep into its stone ribs.

Telepe grunted as he pushed the sword as deep as he could, and he could hear stone grinding and giving way as the enchanted bronze grated against its body. After only a few moments, however, he lost his momentum, and when he stopped, he realized that he had only managed to pierce a few inches into the atronach's body. The daedra stared down at him as he yanked his blade free, but before he could attack again, the atronach raised its hand and loosed a bolt of lightning into his chest at point-blank range.

Telepe yelled in agony as he was knocked off of his feet and sent sprawling in the grass. Every nerve in his body seemed to seize up, and his limbs twitched as he writhed on the ground helplessly as the electricity coursed through him. The initial shock only lasted an instant, but pain still wracked his body even as the spell dissipated. He coughed and tried to push himself up, but his muscles seized up and shuddered violently, leaving him defenseless as he lay on the wet jungle floor.

Telepe inhaled sharply through his teeth as he forced his eyes open, just in time to see the atronach looming over him. Panic gripped him as the monster's hands began to glow again, and he desperately tried to force his twitching limbs to respond, but to no avail. Before it could unleash its spell, however, another shadow fell over him.

Pelinal let out a furious yell as he swung his mace in a short arc, its flanged head colliding with the side of the atronach's rocky body. The atronach staggered backwards, and Telepe saw a few chips of electrified stone scatter from the force of the impact. Before the atronach could recover, Pelinal pummeled its chest with a second blow, then a third, driving it backwards. The daedra tried to raise its hand to retaliate, but this seemed to enrage Pelinal more, and he brought his mace down in a vicious overhead strike that crashed into its head from above. The monster crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap as the electricity swirling around its body slowly stilled.

Telepe hissed with pain as he managed to push himself up onto his elbows and gaze up at Pelinal, who stared furiously down at the atronach's broken form. His shoulders heaved as he breathed heavily, and his right hand gripped his mace so tightly that it was shaking. "This is your challenge, Umaril?!" he shouted to the trees, violently swinging his head back and forth. "You dare call me out, then harass us with ruin from afar?! You send your harlot's minions to fight in your place?! You coward! Leave the safety of her bosom! Take up your sword! Fight me! Fight me! FIGHT ME!"

Pelinal screamed impotently at the sky, then suddenly jerked his head to his left and charged towards the rear of the caravan, where another atronach was harassing a small group of hoplites. Telepe's arms suddenly gave out from under him, and he collapsed back onto the ground with a soft groan. As he winced at the sound of Pelinal's mace cracking against the atronachs' stony bodies, he began to wonder – was this what the war would be like from now on? Would they have to weather more ambushes from Umaril's daedra as they marched south? Could they even survive any future ambushes? He, Tari, Dynar, and his sister together hadn't even been able to fell one atronach until Pelinal had arrived to dispatch it. Telepe shuddered as more horrifying thoughts crossed his mind. Did that mean they would need to rely on the mad knight even more from now on? Worse, did this mean that there was no chance that they could negotiate peace with Umaril? And… if there was no hope for diplomacy… where did that leave him?

A cold chill settled over Telepe as he numbly listened to Pelinal's maddened screams echoing through the jungle.