Chapter 55
The Council of Skiffs
For several days, Telepe's thoughts and memories were fragmented and hazy at best. He found himself drifting in and out of wild, incomprehensible dreams, interspersed with longs periods of darkness. At one point, he was running along the banks of the Bjoulsae River, being chased by a Khajiit wearing Pelinal's armor and screaming at him in Ayleidoon. Another dream saw him imprisoned and immobilized within a dome of pure white light, with Meridia screaming curses at him and swearing eternal vengeance for escaping her curse. Later, he was sitting at a table deep beneath an Ayleid city, gnawing on a Welkynd Stone while listening to Perrif explain how when the war was over, the Divines would remake the world into a paradise where elves would be forced to wear tunics made of live rats. When he asked if he would also be forced to obey her decree due to his elven blood, she assured him that as a Manmer, he would only be required to wear a hat made of mice.
Occasionally, he thought that he might be awake, but his thoughts were so muddled that he was never certain. At one point, he was vaguely aware that he was lying in the back of a wagon, which was rocking uncomfortably under his back as it trundled along a road. Later, after another series of wild dreams, he found himself being lifted into a sitting position, and a bowl of warm broth being held to his lips, which he dutifully drank. Some time after that, his vision began to return after yet another lengthy period of darkness, and he abruptly realized that Tari was sitting beside him. Her head was down, and she was muttering to him in a low, worried voice, with tears streaming down her cheeks. However, he couldn't quite make out what she was saying, and when he tried to respond, to comfort her, his tongue refused to cooperate. It wasn't long before his mind began to swim, and his vision once again went dark.
Then, one night, he gradually became aware of an irritatingly persistent pattering sound. At first, he wondered what it was. Half-remembered dreams flitted through his mind, and he spent a few minutes cycling through the supposedly logical possibilities – perhaps the Niben River was once again falling into the sky, or perhaps Pelinal was planning to torture him by mixing another bowl of jellied beets to force down his throat. Eventually, however, his feverish mind recognized the sound as rainfall. He initially tried to ignore it, figuring that it would eventually fade like all of his other dreams. However, when it didn't, he steadily grew increasingly irritated. Then, abruptly, his eyes opened.
Telepe let out a low groan as his consciousness returned all at once, and he briefly put a hand over his eyes as a throbbing headache assailed him. After a few moments, however, he realized that he couldn't sleep any longer, and as he lowered his hand, he raised his head and took in his surroundings. He was lying on the ground, staring up at the roof of a leather tent. He then felt a faint tickling sensation, and he looked down to see that his body was bare, save for a loose pair of linen trousers, and that he was lying on a bed of warm furs. Telepe hissed to himself and rubbed his eyes again, then pulled his hand back and stared at it. His eyes gradually began to focus, and when he was able to correctly count his fingers, he finally put his hand down. He then wearily pushed himself up into a sitting position and glanced around.
It was dim inside the tent, and through the slit in the tent's flap, he could see bright grey clouds looming in the sky, and sputtering campfire outside fighting for its life in the steady rain. From how dim the sky was, even accounting for the clouds, he surmised that it was either early in the morning or late in the afternoon, though he wasn't certain. As his mind continued to rouse itself from its long sleep, he became aware of a pair of voices chatting with one another, and as he squinted, he could make out a pair of warriors standing guard just outside his tent. He grunted and shook his head to dispel his lingering headache, then crawled across the floor on shaky arms towards them.
"…as powerful as he is, I don't believe Whitestrake is truly immortal," Telepe heard one of the guards say.
"Have you ever even seen him bleed?" the other countered.
"Fifd, his armor is supposedly blessed by the gods," the first guard insisted. "No mortal weapon can pierce it. If you were to wear it, you would be impervious to any injury too."
"Yes, but no one else can wear his armor," Fifd insisted. "I'm certain that anyone who tried would be slain."
The first guard snorted. "Well, yes, Whitestrake would slay you if you stole his armor," he agreed sarcastically. "Or do you believe that it would magically kill you as soon as you donned it? Is that another legend you told to each other while you were living in New Teed? Like that tale of the diamond in his chest?"
"That wasn't a tale!" Fifd snapped indignantly. "I saw it myself! When he was bathing a few nights ago, I glimpsed his chest! He has no heart! There is only a gaping hole, and within that hole is a diamond, as red as rage itself, roaring like a dragon!"
"You're lying," the first guard stated bluntly.
"I tell you, I've seen it, and that is all the proof that I require that he is an ada!" Fifd stated firmly.
"True or not, you shouldn't speak of Pelinal's divinity – or lack thereof – too loudly," Telepe remarked drily. "He's slain others for similar remarks."
The two guards spun around, their eyes wide with surprise. "Emissary! You're awake?" Fifd cried incredulously.
"I seem to be. Unless you two are another dream," Telepe quipped. "If so, I welcome it. This is the mildest dream I've had in quite a while."
"I can assure you that we're quite real!" Fifd grinned. He then glanced at his companion. "I'll go fetch Tari and the Paravant."
"Thank you," the other guard nodded, before turning back to Telepe. "How are you feeling?"
Telepe briefly glanced down at himself as he considered the question. "Light-headed, but otherwise well enough," he replied. He pushed himself to the edge of the tent and tried to climb to his feet, but his legs suddenly gave out from under him.
"Careful!" the guard exclaimed, putting a rough, calloused hand on Telepe's chest and holding him up before he could collapse.
"And… weak, apparently," Telepe gasped. Even trying to stand had left him short of breath. He grimaced as the guard lowered him back into a sitting position in the tent, and as he sat back on his hands, he asked, "How long was I asleep?"
"If I recall correctly, Tari said yesterday that it's been over two weeks," the guard replied. Telepe's eyes widened with shock, and the guard quickly added, "Though, admittedly, I never learned numbers! I could be wrong."
Telepe blinked rapidly and shook his head in disbelief. "What… what has happened since I fell asleep?!" he asked breathlessly.
The guard was about to answer, but when he opened his mouth, he paused and turned to nod at someone approaching. Telepe looked up to see Perrif approaching him with her hands folded in front of her and wearing a warm smile.
"Good afternoon, Telepe," she greeted him as she ducked into the tent, then knelt on the floor in front of him. "I'm pleased to see that you're finally awake." Her smile turned slightly mischievous. "Tari will be overjoyed to see you. She's been tending to you constantly ever since you two successfully retrieved the Staff of Magnus."
"I'm glad to be awake myself," Telepe chuckled ruefully, before tilting his head as she mentioned Tari. "Has she? I suppose that shouldn't surprise me," he remarked with a grin. His smile faded slightly, however, as he added, "But if so, then where is she?"
"At the moment, she's within the bowels of the Kingdom of Piukanda, just over there," Perrif replied. She shifted slightly and held her arm out, and Telepe shifted slightly to look past her. In the distance was an unfamiliar Ayleid city. The nearest wall had collapsed, and Telepe could see tiny bronze figures clambering over the fallen stones like ants. They were far enough away, however, that he couldn't hear the sounds of the distant battle. "Soon, she should be using the Staff of Magnus to drain the magicka of the Great Welkynd Stone of Piukanda."
Telepe tilted his head back slightly. "The Staff can do that, then?" he asked. When Perrif nodded, he continued, "Then the Great Welkynd Stones are indeed what have been sustaining Meridia's barrier?"
"They seem to be, yes," Perrif nodded. "We've already used the Staff on the Great Welkynd Stones of a few other kingdoms, and Meridia's shield seems to be weakening. However, I doubt that it will fall completely until the last Stone is drained."
"A few other kingdoms…." Telepe exhaled, sitting back on his hands. "Might I ask you to recount what's happened while I've been asleep?"
Perrif smiled patiently and nodded. According to Tari, after Telepe had passed out, they had managed to escape the island where she had dueled Arcanalata by retreating through the subaquatic tunnels connecting the island to the mainland. There, they had been found by the knights that had escorted them. Fortunately, the Daedra that Telepe had summoned when he invoked Meridia's curse had not pursued them, though they retreated and returned to the main army as quickly as possible all the same.
Once they returned to camp, Telepe had been brought to one of the tents and examined by Tari, Moralasil, and a few other healers. Eventually, they had determined that he was uninjured, but he clearly needed to rest and recover after weeks without sleep. Telepe's rest had apparently been fitful, and several times, he had sat up and seemed to be in a sort of half-awake trance. The healers eventually came to see these brief periods of semi-wakefulness as a blessing, as in this state he responded to simple commands, and they were able to feed him broth and water, ensuring that he didn't starve.
In the meantime, the rebellion had decided to test Moralasil's theory about whether the Staff of Magnus could dispel the magic of the Great Welkynd Stones. While the Nords continued to besiege Vanua, Perrif, Tari, Moralasil, and Pelinal returned to her homeland of Sard. One of the Great Welkynd Stones connected to Meridia's barrier was within Sard, but despite the citizens' best efforts, they had been unable to even move the Stone from its pedestal, much less destroy it.
At first, Tari had some difficulty invoking the power of the Staff of Magnus, until Moralasil explained that as an extension of the god of magic, and as the manifestation of his will on Nirn, it would likely respond to its bearer channeling magicka through it. Tari had then simply focused upon it, as though she intended to cast a spell. The result was a torrent of magical energy erupting from the head of the staff, which was immediately drawn to the Great Welkynd Stone. Within seconds, the great green crystal had been reduced to a dull, grey stone, completely inert and utterly devoid of magic. Even so, they were uncertain if they had succeeded in weakening Meridia's barrier until they returned to the surface. There, they saw that the ray of light which had once connected Sard to the barrier had disappeared, and the veil enveloping the White-Gold City seemed to have become slightly more transparent.
With that success, the rebellion had immediately set off to destroy the other Great Welkynd Stones that Meridia was using to maintain the barrier. Vanua was already on the verge of falling, so Perrif gave them one last chance to surrender. When they once again refused, she finally allowed her men to storm the city and sack it, though they had at least tried to spare as many humans citizens as possible.
Once the city had fallen and its Great Welkynd Stone destroyed, they continued on to Nagastani. Due to their non-aggression pact with that kingdom, they had been able to enter their lands uncontested, but when they approached the city, they found the gates closed, and all requests to enter had been denied, in direct violation of the treaty. It was clear that the king of Nagastani knew that the rebellion was aware of his dealings with Umaril, and the fragile peace that they had forged was shattered as soon as the army had set foot in his lands. Unfortunately for the citizens of Nagastani, they stood no chance against the rebellion's fury, and the city fell after only two days.
From there, the rebellion proceeded in a slow circle around Lake Rumare, attacking the remaining kingdoms sustaining the veil. The kingdom of Vilverin had put up a stubborn defense after refusing all attempts at diplomacy, and they had stalled the rebellion for a few days until Perrif had suggested that they allow Pelinal to face a champion of their choosing. Surprisingly, Vilverin's nobles agreed, but only on the condition that Pelinal enter the city alone. This was obviously a trap, but when Pelinal entered anyways, he was surprised to find that six of the noble families in Vilverin had captured the other five, and were offering them to the rebellion as hostages.
Apparently, the five families had conspired to ambush Pelinal with their personal armies as soon as he entered the city. The others had caught wind of this and captured the would-be assassins. When Pelinal demanded to know why the other families had not allowed the plot to unfold, one of them – the head of Clan Rulanyil – explained that they had heard tales of Pelinal… and especially of his madness. They feared that, if the assassination plot failed, Pelinal would fall into madness and slaughter the entire city. They hoped that by offering up the assassins, Pelinal might at least spare them and their families. Seemingly amused by this, Pelinal simply repeated his demand to face their city's champion, whereupon he fought and easily slew one of the assassins' finest warriors. He then unceremoniously executed the five treacherous families, but allowed the rest of the citizens to collect their belongings and leave the city unmolested to seek their fortunes outside of Cyrod.
Next, the rebellion marched on the city of Sercen. When they arrived, they found that the city still bore the scars of Umaril's own conquest. The walls were only half rebuilt, with makeshift wooden palisades filling in the gaps. Nevertheless, the kingdom's guards stubbornly insisted on fighting the rebel army. The battle had lasted less than a day, and afterwards, the rebels had razed the city. The infamous gut-gardens were burned and salted, and every Ayleid flesh-sculptor still living in the city was unceremoniously slaughtered by the vengeful rebels.
"We arrived at Piukanda three days ago," Perrif finished, as Telepe sipped at a bowl of water that one of the hoplites had brought him. "Considering how far we are from the heartland, I had hoped that the King of Piukanda, at least, would be open to negotiation, but even he refused to treat with us." She let out an exasperated sigh and sat forward on her crossed legs, resting her hands in her lap. "It would seem that they fear whatever retribution Umaril would inflict upon them far more than anything we can offer to tempt them into surrender."
Telepe set the bowl down with a sigh. "Considering who Umaril's mistress is, I understand their fear," he murmured. He ran his fingers under his eyes and closed them for a long moment, savoring the darkness behind his eyelids, before opening them again. "Even so, it's a shame that so many of their warriors must lose their lives in an ultimately futile struggle."
"Well… in truth, fewer lives have been lost than you might expect," Perrif replied slowly.
Telepe tilted his head slightly. "Is that so? It didn't sound as though any of them wished to surrender," he remarked. "Or have you simply been merciful once you've achieved victory?"
"Well, yes, we've shown a great deal of mercy to our defeated foes," Perrif said. "But the armies we've been fighting have also been… small. Very small, in fact. At times, as few as a hundred warriors."
Telepe's frowned deepened. "Indeed?"
Perrif nodded slowly. "It's perplexing. While Vanua and Nagastani had full garrisons, the other cities that we've taken have been lightly guarded. Far too lightly for a city expecting to face an army that numbers over ten thousand. Vilverin was happy to accept our offer of a duel because they felt it would put them in an advantageous position. We learned afterwards that their walls were manned by a mere two hundred warriors. Sercen is perhaps a bit more understandable, since they also suffered a significant loss to Umaril and have had little time to raise more levies, but even they only had an army of one hundred to oppose us. Even Piukanda, by our estimates, only fielded an army of about five hundred before we breached their walls."
Telepe opened his mouth in confusion, then closed it and frowned deeply, before shaking his head. "I know that we've achieved several victories throughout this war, but have we truly inflicted such heavy losses upon our enemies' armies?" he finally asked.
Perrif shook her head again. "Morihaus doesn't believe so," she replied. "In fact, he's the most suspicious of all of us. He believes that even Sercen should have been able to levy at least five hundred warriors to face us."
"Then why have none of them been able to muster more than a token force to oppose us?" Telepe asked.
Perrif glanced over her shoulder, looking through the tent flap at distant Piukanda. "Morihaus believes that it's because the cities had been mostly evacuated by the time we've arrived," she finished, turning back towards him. "He suspects that Umaril is consolidating his forces somewhere, and until he can amass an army large enough to face us, he's ordered them to retreat and conserve their strength as much as possible."
Telepe bit the inside of his cheek as he leaned forward and folded his hands. "I suppose that makes sense," he said slowly. "It matches the sort of evasive tactics that Umaril has employed thus far. Though that does beg the question: If Umaril is indeed gathering an army, where is it?"
"That's the question that Morihaus has also been unable to answer," Perrif admitted. "Our scouts have found no sign of an enemy army ahead of us, and they are swiftly losing territory. Within a few weeks, we will have completely encircled the White-Gold City. Where, then, is Umaril's army, and if Morihaus is correct, when will they turn to face us?"
Telepe nodded to himself, then sighed as he looked up again and met Perrif's gaze. "So, until then, what do we do?"
"For now? We proceed as we have," Perrif replied with a slight smile. "We continue to encircle the White-Gold City, and as we do, we continue to destroy the Great Welkynd Stones until Meridia's shield is dispelled."
"I see," Telepe replied softly. He paused for a moment as he continued to gaze at Perrif, and then a slow grin spread across his face.
"What is it?" Perrif asked after a few moments, smiling faintly in confusion at his mysterious grin.
"My apologies," Telepe replied with a chuckle. "It's just a relief to be able to look at you once again without Meridia's curse burning me." He closed his eyes for a few long seconds, savoring the darkness behind his eyelids, before opening them again and laughing to himself. "I cannot describe how wonderful it is to no longer fear sleep, to no longer mind where I look."
Perrif's eyes lit up in understanding, and then a slow, warm smile of her own spread across her lips. "Forgive me… I hadn't considered that," she said softly, before lowering her eyes. "I'm sorry that you suffered as you did."
Telepe was about to thank her, but then he thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "There is no need to apologize. It was my own actions that caused me to be cursed. Besides, in truth, nearly every member of this rebellion has suffered at Meridia's hands in some way. If the Ayleids are her people, then she is responsible for all the horrors inflicted upon the slaves of Cyrod. As such, I suppose that I have no more reason to complain about my own trials than any other man who's lived in Cyrod." A wry chuckle escaped his lips as he glanced away. "If anything, I suppose that I could say that now, I've had a taste of the suffering that many of you have endured throughout your entire lives."
Perrif tilted her head at him, then smiled again. "That's an interesting way of looking at it," she remarked. "And I suppose that, seen another way, we could also say that since you've shared our pain, this truly makes you one of us now, doesn't it?"
"Hm! I suppose so," Telepe agreed, chuckling bitterly. "And it also gives me a personal reason to want to see her defeated."
"Indeed," Perrif said, her smile fading. "So, to that end, let's see to her defeat as swiftly as possible, so that no one else in Cyrod must suffer under her tyranny."
"Quite," Telepe agreed firmly.
They enjoyed a few moments of comfortable silence, until it was interrupted by a bright light flaring in the distance behind Perrif. The flash illuminated the walls of the tent and caught Perrif's attention as well, and she turned to look over her shoulder before smiling and motioning for Telepe to come closer.
Telepe shifted forward slightly to peer past her through the opening of the tent. The thin ray of rainbow-colored light connecting Piukanda with the White-Gold City flared for a moment, turning a brilliant ivory, and then it began to dissolve, like a strand of spiderweb falling apart. After a few moments, the ray of light had vanished completely, leaving the air around Piukanda unnervingly still.
"And with that, only two cities remain," Perrif remarked softly, turning back around to smile at him. She gazed him quietly for a moment, then turned and began to crawl out of the tent. "Tari will be overjoyed to hear that you've recovered," she said over her shoulder. "I'll send Sevri to go retrieve her, so please, wait here. Would you like something to eat in the meantime?"
Telepe was about to decline, but at the mention of food, he suddenly felt a deep, gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach. "If… it's not too much trouble," he requested with a wince.
Perrif grinned. "I'm not surprised. We've fed you broth and water alone over the past two weeks," she informed him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I'll see to it that some food is brought to you. I imagine you can't stomach anything too heavy right now, but some porridge will likely go down easily enough."
Telepe nodded gratefully as she crawled out of the tent, then quickly disappeared into the rain. For a short while, he could do nothing but watch the raindrops trickle off the edge of his tent and splatter on the ground in front of him. After a few minutes, however, he saw a figure trudge out of the mist, and as they drew closer, he recognized the figure by their familiar, heavy footsteps.
Pelinal stalked over to a low, sputtering campfire, seemingly paying no attention to the raindrops pelting him. His white tabard was stained with blood, and Telepe could see the soot and grime on his face even from where he was. He took a seat alone on one of the logs, staring pensively into the flames, with his forearm resting on top of his knee.
Telepe watched Pelinal silently for a few long moments before finally looking away. From the grim expression on his face, he suspected that the knight had just returned from the battle for Piukanda, where he'd likely been the vanguard, and that he had little interest in being bothered at the moment. Least of all by Telepe. If the knight caught him staring, it would likely rouse his ire, and Telepe was far too weak to engage in their usual verbal jousting. It was better to simply leave him be.
However, while he felt it wise not to disturb the knight, that sentiment was apparently not shared by everyone in the army. Movement in the distance brought Telepe's attention back to the campfire, and he was stunned to see that Pelinal was being approached a young man dressed only in a loose white skirt. In one hand, he carried a short, bloody spear, and in the other he held two clay tankards by their handles. He stopped short of Pelinal and eyed him cautiously.
"Good day, Whitestrake," he announced. His voice was soft and respectful, but clear. "Would you mind if I joined you?"
Telepe swallowed as Pelinal slowly turned towards the young man and looked him up and down. For a long, tense moment, he wondered if he was going to have to call for a healer – or a burial. To his surprise, however, Pelinal simply shrugged in reply.
"Your face is unfamiliar to me. You fought in the battle just now, yes?" Pelinal asked as the young warrior took a seat on the log next to him and offered him one of the tankards, which Pelinal accepted.
"I did, yes," the young man replied. "This was only my second battle, though, which is likely why you don't recognize me. My name is Garid."
"Well met," Pelinal grunted, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "You aren't one of the native Nedes, are you?"
The young man shook his head. "I'm a man-of-ge," he replied easily. "Though I have spent most of my life here in Cyrod. As you can well imagine, I'm sure," he added with a wry chuckle.
"Quite," Pelinal replied shortly, before taking a slow sip of the drink. Garid watched him out of the corner of his eye as he slowly drank from his own mug. When his gaze began to linger for an uncomfortably long time, however, the knight let out an irritated sigh. "If you have a question, then speak!" he snapped.
Garid flinched at the command and hesitated until he realized that Pelinal's patience was wearing very thin, and that if he wasn't going to take the knight's invitation to speak, he had better leave. Pelinal was being unusually tolerant this evening, Telepe mused. Garid visibly swallowed, then said in a dry voice, "You… were awe-inspiring during that last battle, Whitestrake. I thought that our centurion was mad when she told us to step back and let you fight alone, but when I saw you… I've never seen someone fight like that."
"You're fresh. I doubt you've seen many warriors fight at all," Pelinal retorted drily, taking another slow sip of his drink.
Garid let out a soft chuckle and nodded. "True enough," he admitted. "Even so, the way you fought… it was like you were utterly consumed by the rage of battle. You were less a warrior, and more the personification of fury itself."
Pelinal snorted into his drink. "Perhaps," he replied noncommittally. "You could call it anger, though others refer to it as madness. I suppose that the latter term is more apt."
"Is that so?" Garid asked, his eyes widening with interest. "If I may ask… what is it like?"
Pelinal slowly looked up from his drink and turned to stare intently at Garid. Telepe felt his breath catch in his chest. He feared that Garid had broken Pelinal's most serious taboo – speaking of his supposed divinity. However, Pelinal's hard stare then softened, and he turned to gaze into the fire again as a thoughtful expression replaced his cold glare. After a few long moments, he turned back around to look Garid in the eye.
"Like… when the dream no longer needs its dreamer," he answered in a mysterious tone. He stared silently into his tankard, then nodded to himself, as if satisfied with that cryptic response.
Garid stared at Pelinal with a confused frown as Telepe slowly let out the breath he had been holding. Before he could listen in on any more of their conversation, however, he caught sight of someone sprinting through the rain, and a slow grin broke across his face.
Tari's bare feet splashed across the wet grass as she ran towards him. She was covered in sweat and mud, and she was clutching the shimmering Staff of Magnus in her right hand. Telepe, however, never thought she had looked more beautiful. When she was a few feet from him, she tossed the Staff aside into the wet grass and threw herself into his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
"Agh!" Telepe cried, wincing as he caught her and wrapped his arms around her waist as they fell back onto the floor of the tent. He glanced down at the Staff of Magnus lying on the wet ground and chuckled. "Yes, casually toss aside the divine artifact of unfathomable magical power," he chided her with a grin.
Tari pulled her head back to glare up at him, and then she leaned in and kissed him roughly, with her fingers digging into his shoulder-length hair to keep him in place. When she pulled back, she growled, "Be silent." She sighed with relief and leaned in, resting her head against his collarbone. "I was so worried about you," she whispered. "I feared you would never wake."
Telepe smiled much more gently and ran his fingers softly through her rust-colored hair. "My apologies," he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head. "And thank you for caring for me while I was asleep."
Tari shook her head as she looked up at him and smiled faintly. "Of course I was going to tend to you," she said in a slightly indignant tone. "You would do the same for me, after all, wouldn't you?"
"Of course," Telepe assured her with a wry chuckle.
"Then why would I not?" she asked, pouting up at him. She then sighed and pulled back, framing his face with her hands. "Besides, you made a promise to me that you have yet keep."
"That I did," Telepe agreed, reaching up to gently squeeze her hands. His smile then faded, and he gave her a more serious look. "Perrif told me about how you've been destroying the Welkynd Stones sustaining Meridia's veil." When Tari nodded, he asked, "Have you been straining yourself?"
"Surprisingly, no," Tari replied. When Telepe raised an eyebrow, she added, "In truth, the Staff does not consume any of my magical power when I use it. It's more like an enchanted item, like your sword, than casting a spell. All I need do is focus upon the Staff, and it seems to… respond to my will."
"Truly?" Telepe asked with a frown. "If that's the case, then why is it said to be an artifact that only powerful mages can wield? It sounds as though novices could use the Staff without any difficulty or consequence."
"Perhaps that's why it's so powerful," Tari suggested. "Or perhaps it deems its wielder worthy, but actually using it is not particularly difficult." She shook her head. "The reason why is unimportant. What is important is that it's proven effective thus far. As for me… I've been in no danger. I trust that you've heard that we've taken the last few cities with little trouble?" When Telepe nodded, she glanced towards Piukanda. "Perrif does not want me to be wounded in battle, so she's been keeping me in reserve until Pelinal and the rest of our army have completely vanquished the enemy. From there, it's a simple matter of walking into the pacified city and destroying its Welkynd Stone."
"Truly? It's that simple?" Telepe asked with a frown.
"I assure you, I am in more danger while we're traveling than when we're attacking a city," Tari insisted. "In truth, it's actually been a bit frustrating, as I've been forced to wait patiently while the others fight."
Telepe gazed at her for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "Well… I'm pleased to hear that, at least," he sighed. Then he grinned. "Still, I suppose that now that I'm awake, I can help protect you as well."
Tari smiled slightly at him and took his face in her hands again. "I appreciate the thought," she said gently. "But you must first focus upon recovering." When Telepe was about to protest, she added, "You're not the first man that I've treated who was forced to remain in bed for weeks. You'll find that you're still quite weak, and it'll take some time before you're fit once again."
Telepe grimaced as he remembered his failure to even stand properly when he had first awoken. "Well… what is the next city we must conquer?" he asked hesitantly.
"If I recall? Fanacasecul," Tari replied.
Telepe nodded. "Which is several days away, yes?" he asked. When Tari nodded, a slight grin spread across his lips. "Plenty of time for me to regain my strength, then."
Tari stared at him for a moment, then chuckled and shook her head. "Well, at least your spirit remains strong, even if your body still has withered," she remarked. "And while the latter will take time to fully recover, I shall aid you however I can."
"Thank you," Telepe replied with a gracious bow. Tari rolled her eyes as he looked up and smirked. "Then, as my healer, what do you recommend?"
Tari was about to open her mouth, but when they heard footsteps approaching, they both turned to see Perrif slipping into the tent, carrying a tray of savory porridge mixed with small bits of pheasant meat and vegetables, with some dates on the side, and a goblet of heavily watered red wine. "For now?" Tari replied with a grin as Perrif set the plate in front of him. "Eat as much as you can."
"Well… if you insist," Telepe sighed in a mock-reluctant tone, before grabbing the bowl of porridge and ravenously devouring food as Perrif and Tari smirked at each other.
With Piukanda captured, the army set out once again, traveling south along the highway. Telepe at first wondered if that was wise, traveling in the open so near Umaril's capital, but when he voiced his concerns, Morihaus explained that Umaril had not sent more than a token force of skirmishers to harass them ever since they had retrieved the Staff of Magnus. Naturally, the man-bull found that suspicious, but he was at least grateful that their casualties had been minimal.
Telepe, meanwhile, soon found that traveling was more difficult for him than ever. After over two weeks of rest, his body had decayed. At first, even standing was a trial for him, as his weakened body were barely able to support his weight, and he could hardly walk more than a few steps before his legs gave out. Therefore, he was at first forced to ride in one of the wagons beside Dynar, much to his chagrin. Of course, he was used to riding with the prince, and he enjoyed Dynar's company, but before it had been by choice. He hated being confined to his seat while the rest of the army marched.
Telepe quickly decided that he wasn't going to allow himself to be bound to the wagon forever. As such, whenever they stopped or slowed down, he forced himself to stand and walk for as long as he could. For the first couple of days, he was forced to lean heavily on a cane for balance, and he could only manage a few shaky steps before he was forced to crawl back into the wagon, panting and trembling as though he had just run a few miles. As the days passed, however, his slow, shuffling gait became smoother and steadier, and he was able to walk for longer distances. By the end of the week, he was able to walk without the cane for ten minutes straight, albeit with such a slow, plodding stride that could not even keep pace with the wagon, and Dynar was forced to stop to allow him to catch up and climb back in. However, he was so pleased with his progress that he hardly minded.
When his legs were sufficiently recovered to the point that he could stand without shaking, he next focused on rebuilding the rest of his body, to return it to fighting shape. He began by practicing his swordplay alone, slowly walking himself through the basic stances and forms of his preferred dueling style, until the sword became too heavy for him to hold. As with his walking, his swings gradually became swifter and smoother, and his sword grew lighter as the days passed. He feared that he would never return to his peak condition from just a month and a half prior, but if he could at least recover to the point that he could defend himself against an average warrior, he would be satisfied, at least for now.
By the end of the second week of travel, Dynar was sparring with him to help him regain his form, though their fights were held at a slow pace, and their bouts rarely lasted for more than a few minutes. Even so, by the time the city of Fanacasecul came into view, Telepe was once again walking steadily, and he could even fend off a few flurries from a determined opponent before his stamina failed. He was still not yet at the point where he could freely run about, and he would be hard-pressed to best even a novice in a serious fight, but his condition was improving. He felt that if an opponent drew a blade on him now, he might at least have a chance of fending them off long enough to seek help, provided someone was nearby. However, while he had been working hard to strengthen his body in preparation for their upcoming attack on Fanacasecul, it soon became apparent that his training was unnecessary.
It was around midmorning slightly over two weeks later when they finally approached the gleaming marble walls of Fanacasecul. Naturally, even though the last few cities had fallen relatively easily, the rebels were still cautious. Perrif sent her scouts ahead first to survey the city and ascertain if the inhabitants were willing to negotiate. However, not even a half an hour later, the scouts returned, wearing looks of utter confusion and disbelief.
"My lady, we were not challenged when we approached the city," Pasare announced, with her fellow scouts nodding in agreement, just as baffled as she was.
Perrif cocked her head slightly. "You mean that they offered no resistance?" she asked.
Pasare shook her head. "I mean that the walls were empty. At first we wondered if the garrison simply had not been alerted to our approach. However, it soon became clear that there were no guards in the city at all. Nor anyone, for that matter." She glanced over her shoulder towards Fanacasecul and concluded, "It appears that Fanacasecul has been abandoned."
Telepe's eyes widened with shock upon hearing this, while Perrif looked down, frowning deeply and folding her hands in front of her. "Are you certain?" she asked softly. "This could be a ruse, an attempt to lure us into an ambush."
"We thought so at first as well," Pasare agreed. "However, I scaled one of the vines growing from the walls and climbed over it to see. The kingdom appears completely deserted." She hesitated, then added, "I suppose that it's possible that the entire population has taken refuge underground, or that they saw our approach and hid in their homes, but from what we could see, there is no one left in Fanacsecul."
Perrif exhaled slowly as she turned to stare at the distant city, an almost accusing look in her eye. She then turned back around and nodded. "Very well. Pelinal," she said sharply, turning towards her champion. "Select three centuries of hoplites and a century of knights to accompany you. Enter the city and verify that it is indeed empty." She then turned to Telepe and Tari, who were standing nearby. "Tari, I would like for you to accompany him. As always, find the Great Welkynd Stone and disable it. Telepe, I'd like to ask you to join them as well." When Telepe frowned and tilted his head slightly, she explained, "If there is anyone left in the city, I would rather we negotiate with them, if possible. You have the greatest chance of convincing whoever is left to surrender. If not, Pelinal shall protect you."
"I see. As you say," Telepe said, inclining his head, though he couldn't quite hide his trepidation. He was still rather weak, and he didn't relish having to rely on Pelinal for protection. However, Perrif did have a point, so he wasn't going to refuse.
"Very good," Perrif said with a soft smile. "In the meantime, Morihaus, I would like the rest of the army to besiege the city. If there are any survivors, I do not wish to give them the opportunity to escape, nor do I want those we've sent in the city to be attacked while they're inspecting it."
"Yes, my lady," Morihaus rumbled, sinking into a deep bow. Perrif gave him an affectionate smile and gently patted the space between his horns, eliciting a slight, irritated growl from Pelinal. Perrif glanced at him, then slowly lowered her hand and cleared her throat.
"We shall await your return. Divines protect you," Perrif said, addressing Pelinal, Telepe, and Tari. They nodded, and then Pelinal turned on his heel and motioned for the other two to follow him, before stomping towards the gates, with Telepe and Tari in tow.
A few minutes later, the four hundred warriors that Perrif had selected joined them in front of the walls. As they prepared to enter the city, Morihaus flew over the walls and landed heavily on the other side of the gates. There was a snorting sound, followed by a heavy grunt, and then a loud wooden clatter. The stone gates then slowly swung open as Morihaus pushed against them, with Pelinal assisting as soon as there was a gap large enough for him to help pull.
"From what I could see, the city is indeed quiet," Morihaus huffed to his uncle as he walked out of the city, rubbing his hands together. "Still, stay on guard."
"As ever," Pelinal grinned. Morihaus snorted softly, then clapped Pelinal on the shoulder as the knight led the way into the city.
Telepe fell into step behind Pelinal, keeping his hand on his sword, for all the good it would do him, while Tari crept beside him, brandishing the Staff of Magnus and eyeing the apparently empty buildings warily. Behind them, the warriors seemed equally on edge, as they marched together in a tight formation, with their shields raised and their spears lowered, almost in a phalanx.
As they slowly made their way through the city, Telepe's unease quickly grew into outright paranoia. He began to see shapes moving in the shadows, but when he looked more closely, it became clear that nothing was there. The footsteps of the warriors behind him echoed off the hollow stone walls and cobblestone streets, resounding loudly in his ears. Strangely, he was almost more unsettled by this empty city than he had been witnessing some of the most horrific excesses of the Ayleids.
Slowly, however, as he became more confident that the city was indeed empty, he began to relax a little. He realized that at least part of his unease was due to the fact that when he was last in Fanacasecul, it had been a raucous, radiant city full of music and laughter. To see it so utterly devoid of life was almost tragic… save for the fact that he also knew that it had been one of the most brutal cities in Cyrod. It was difficult to mourn a city that had taken such perverse pleasure in its art-tortures. However, he did at least regret that some of its surface beauty had faded – the brilliant flowers lining the streets and walls had withered from neglect, and there were small piles of rubble and refuse in the streets and alleyways where there had been none before.
"Where did everyone go?" Tari asked aloud. Her question startled Telepe as it echoed off the stark stone walls of the buildings.
"Well, there're only three possible directions they could have fled," Telepe commentd as he walked beside her, straightening up a bit more. "One, they might have departed west before we arrived, perhaps hoping to find refuge in Colovia, Valenwood, or Malabal. Two, they may have headed south, though if they did, they'll soon encounter Teo's men. Or, three…." He trailed off and looked up at the top of the Temple of the Ancients, which could just barely be seen over the walls. "Perhaps they retreated to the White-Gold City."
Tari blinked at him, then frowned and shook her head. "Impossible," she stated bluntly. "Meridia's barrier would have prevented that." A moment later, however, uncertainty began to cloud her expression. "Wouldn't it?"
Telepe shook his head. "I'm uncertain. However, we can at least determine how they evacuated the city."
"And that is?" Tari asked.
Telepe smiled faintly. "Let's inspect the harbor. If there are no ships left, we can conclude that at least some of them fled by sea."
Tari opened her mouth slightly in understanding, then slowly grinned. "True enough!" she agreed.
Pelinal, who had been silently listening to their conversation, abruptly turned and began heading east towards the harbor. The others quickly followed him as he swiftly made his way through the deserted streets towards the docks. When they arrived, they were greeted with the sight of empty piers. Not a single boat was left in the harbor.
"Well then. They likely traveled east or south, in that case," Telepe stated. "Perhaps some did indeed travel west by land, but this makes it clear that a significant number of them escaped onto the lake."
"Yes… but again, to where?" Tari asked. "And more importantly, how many? What concerns me is not that the Ayleids fled, but that they took their slaves with them." Telepe blinked at her as she turned to look up at him. "If they were truly fleeing for their lives, they would have either abandoned their slaves or slaughtered them. We've seen that the Ayleids are more than happy to sacrifice their slaves to save themselves. Yet it appears that they took their slaves with them. Why?"
Telepe's mouth fell open slightly as he struggled for an answer, but none came to mind. He was left helplessly shrugging, while Tari frowned deeply. However, their discussion was interrupted by Pelinal growling loudly behind them.
"Enough!" he snapped, stepping between them. "We are not here to ponder why this city was abandoned. We are here to capture it and destroy the Great Welkynd Stone, yes? Tari," he said, turning to her. "Where do you believe it is?"
Tari bowed her head. "Forgive me, Whitestrake. You're right," she apologized. "Come." She turned and began walking briskly away from the docks, with Telepe and Pelinal following close behind her, and the hoplites tailing them.
"So, do you know where the Welkynd Stone is?" Telepe asked as they headed towards the center of the city.
"I have a suspicion," Tari replied, nodding towards the palace. "Most of the other Welkynd Stones have either been underground or housed in their palaces, where they were well-protected. Now, considering how Fanacasecul is obsessed with beauty and vanity, I doubt that they would want to keep their most beautiful and precious stone hidden from view. It's likely on display somewhere in their palace, and while I've little doubt that it would have once been heavily guarded, it's almost certainly unprotected now, which should make destroying it a simple matter."
The group quickly climbed the stairs of the palace, whereupon Pelinal quickened his pace to hurry in front of them and personally push open the doors. Telepe once again tensed as he warily peered into the throne room, fearing that at least some of the citizens might have taken refuge within, since the palace was quite defensible. However, it quickly became apparent that the palace was deserted as well. As such, Tari once again took the lead, clutching the Staff of Magnus in one hand and letting a ball of flame flicker in the other as she walked.
They hurried over the plush, ornate carpet that rested on the rose-marble floors, quickly making their way past beautiful tapestries, golden pots containing flowering bushes, and glowing magical stones artistically arranged on sculpted display stands. Tari led them through the empty halls of the palace, pushing open each door, until they finally reached a chamber in the rear of the palace.
The room was arranged as a sort of shrine. Frescoes depicting Daedric Princes and Ayleid heroes were painted on the walls, and eight stone benches were arrayed before a magical well, spewing blue-green vapor. In the center of the well sat the Great Welkynd Stone. Behind it, the walls were carved in a semi-circle, with the sun illuminating the Welkynd Stone as it shone through eight windows of sky-blue glass. A thick ray of rainbow-colored light was being emitted from the Stone, reaching through the central window towards the distant White-Gold City.
As he gazed around the room, Telepe felt a pang of regret. The artists of Fanacasecul were clearly talented, and obviously had both passion and an appreciation for beauty in all forms. It was a pity that they also considered pain and torture to be expressions of beauty as well, and had chosen to focus so much of their energy upon the mutilation and murder of slaves. If they had only directed their talents towards less horrific pursuits, and had not chosen to ally with Umaril….
Telepe snapped out of his musings as Tari approached the Welkynd Stone and pointed the Staff at it. She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath, and for a moment, Telepe wondered if there was some incantation she needed to recite. Instead, when she opened her eyes, pure white bolts of magical energy erupted from the end of the Staff. They arced through the air like lightning and struck the Great Welkynd Stone, which began to glow more brightly as the energy coursed over its surface. After a few moments, however, its glow began to dim, and its translucent, cool green color faded to a dark, opaque grey. The prismatic ray of light that was being emitted from its center grew thinner and thinner, before finally dissolving altogether. When the last of the Stone's glow disappeared entirely, Telepe felt the air around him suddenly grow still, and a faint humming that he hadn't noticed until that point abruptly stopped. He frowned to himself as Tari raised the Staff again, and the bolts of energy disappeared. The last wisps of magical energy curling up from beneath the well faded, leaving the Welkynd Stone sitting lifeless in the center of the stone well, seemingly nothing more than a glossy, grey boulder.
Tari exhaled softly as she lowered the Staff. "Now all that remains is Vindasel," she remarked, turning to Pelinal. "Then, hopefully, Meridia's barrier will finally fall."
"Yes, and then we can drag Umaril out of the Temple of the Ancients and force him to fight us properly," Pelinal agreed with a bloodthirsty grin.
Tari nodded, though she didn't smile in return. "I shall return to Perrif to inform her of what's transpired here. I trust you wish to inspect the rest of the city?"
"Indeed. We must still tour the lower levels to be certain that no Ayleids are hiding like rats in their own warrens," Pelinal said. "You needn't accompany us."
"Very good," Tari replied, before turning to Telepe. "Did you have any further business in the city?" she asked.
Telepe cast another look around the room, then shook his head. "No. If there's no one to speak with, then I'm of very little use here," he replied. "If you're leaving the city, I shall join you."
"As you say," Tari agreed, then turned back to Pelinal. "Keep safe, and may the Divines watch over you."
"You needn't fear for me," Pelinal smirked, before motioning for the men to follow him.
Tari watched him depart, then murmured under her breath, "It isn't you that I fear for." Telepe blinked down at her, then noticed that her gaze was lingering on the men following him. When she noticed him staring, however, she smiled faintly. "Come. There's little left here for us to do. Let's return to Perrif and inform her of our success."
Pelinal returned later that evening and announced that after thoroughly searching the city, he had concluded that it was indeed completely abandoned. There was a brief, fierce discussion between the leaders about whether they should sack and loot the city, but Perrif finally decided that it was more valuable intact. She told the men that they were free to destroy any torture devices that they found, but if anyone was found looting the city's treasures, they would be severely punished. Privately, Telepe was pleased with her decision, though when he saw the disappointment on many of the men's faces, he chose not to voice his approval.
Perrif left three hundred men behind to garrison the city, while the rest of the army continued on to Vindasel, the final city from Tari's visions. It took them slightly over a week to arrive, at which point Telepe had recovered enough of his strength that he could run for short distances. He was still far from fully healed, but he at least no longer felt like a complete hindrance to the rest of the rebellion.
There had been some debate amongst Perrif's officers about whether Vindasel would also be deserted. As they approached the city, it quickly became apparent that those who had believed it would were correct. It was said that travelers could hear the city's infamous Wailing Wheels for miles outside its walls, yet when the army drew near, the city was hauntingly silent.
Perrif, however, decided not to presume that the city was safe, and she once again sent Pelinal and a small army with Tari to destroy the kingdom's Great Welkynd Stone. She did not, however, ask Telepe to accompany them this time, as she felt there was little point. Thus, Telepe was left waiting outside the walls with the rest of the army until Tari complete her task.
After about a half an hour of waiting, Telepe finally noticed that the ray of light connecting Vindasel to the distant, rainbow-colored veil was growing thinner. Perrif, who was standing beside him, glanced at him and flashed an eager grin before walking over to Morihaus and wrapping her arms around one of his. Together, they watched intently as the ray of light disappeared completely, and moments later, the barrier surrounding the White-Gold City began to fade. A raucous cheer erupted from the throats of the army… but their elation was short-lived. Telepe felt his blood turn cold as they finally got a clear look at what lay behind Meridia's barrier.
Telepe's could only conclude that the veil had also been projecting an illusion of a serene, unchanging White-Gold City. After all, there was no other way they could have been left unaware of the massive army that occupied the island. Thousands of Ayleid warriors patrolled the shores of the isle, accompanied by hundreds of empty golden suits of armor, red-faced dremora, gold-skinned women with winged helmets, and numerous other Daedra that Telepe didn't recognize. The walls of the White-Gold City were manned on every side, and many of the warriors were carrying polished bronze spears and swords that shimmered with magical energy. Dozens of white-robed mages milled about atop the walls, escorted by honor guards of elite warriors clad from head to toe in heavy, ornate bronze armor inlaid with feathery designs and glowing green Welkynd Stones. It was an army unlike any the rebellion had ever faced, and in truth, the mere sight of it made Telepe shiver with fear. As the barrier protecting them vanished, many of the distant warriors turned to point and stare, but while they were clearly shocked, they did not seem particularly worried – there were no signs of anyone fleeing or panicking. That, more than anything else, made Telepe's stomach turn with dread.
Beside him, Perrif was stock-still, staring unblinkingly at the force that Umaril had gathered. The color had drained from her face, and Telepe could see that her knuckles had gone white from how tightly she was gripping Morihaus' arm. After several long moments, she slowly turned towards Morihaus. "If we have any sailors, tell them to gather what ships we can – anything from skiffs to triremes, I don't care – and have them scout the enemy army. We must determine how large it is, what units comprise it, and if there are any weaknesses in the city's defenses that we can exploit. Now."
"Of course, my lady," Morihaus rumbled. He paused for just a moment to cover her small hand with three of his enormous, hairy fingers, and he gave them a brief squeeze before disentangling himself from her grasp and opening his wings. Perrif watched him as he flew off, then took a slow, shaky breath. As she turned towards Telepe, he was startled to see just how downcast her expression was, a far cry from her normally composed, serene demeanor.
"Please fetch King Vrage, his jarls, and the Ayleid kings," she said softly. "I wish to hold a council with them."
Telepe inclined his head. "As you say," he agreed softly. Before he moved to carry out her request, however, he stole a final glance at the White-Gold City. Beneath his horror, he realized that he felt another emotion – disappointment. He had hoped that dispelling Meridia's barrier would be the most challenging step towards taking the city. Now, however, it seemed that their most difficult battle had only just begun… and that the war was far from over.
"We believe that the enemy garrison numbers at least fifty thousand. Likely more," announced a Nordic sailor by the name of Kjalti.
Telepe sighed to himself at Kjalti's estimation, and he was not the only one to do so. He looked up from where he was sitting on the small bench, between Tari and Dynar. They were just three of the fifty or so people that were aboard the small skiff. The council that Perrif had called included Pelinal, Morihaus, King Vrage and his jarls, and as many of her Ayleid allies and centurions that she could fit aboard the small boat. As Vindasel's harbor had been empty, her men had been forced to travel to nearby fishing villages and requisition fishing skiffs and other small boats to sail out onto Lake Rumare. Fortunately, Umaril had not responded to the small, impromptu navy's probing, and they had returned to shore without incident, whereupon Perrif had climbed aboard one of the skiffs herself to receive the report, while the others drifted along the lake to protect it while she spoke with her council.
"How could Umaril assemble an army of that size without us realizing it?" Perrif asked softly.
"It seemed that many of the warriors came from the nearby cities," Kjalti commented. "Your men recognized shields from Fanacasecul, Vilverin, Sercen…."
"All cities which recently had their garrisons depleted or abandoned," one of the centurions remarked. "If he was gathering them to him over the past several weeks, that would explain why the armies we faced were so small."
"But… what of Meridia's barrier?! How could they even reach the White-Gold City with her shield surrounding the entire island?!" another centurion demanded.
"Well, we were able to avoid it by traveling through an underwater tunnel that ran beneath it," Tari remarked. "There were likely other ways to bypass it as well."
"Or perhaps Meridia herself could choose who passed through freely," the King of Silorn suggested. "Either way, it matters little now."
"Indeed. What's worse, however, is not simply the size of the army, but its quality," Kjalti continued. "It seems that there are elite warriors from several kingdoms, mages, Daedra…."
"The mightiest army ever assembled in Cyrod," the King of Nenyond Twyll remarked drily. When a few of the other kings turned to glare at him, he scowled and added, "You cannot deny the truth of my words. Only Umaril could draw such an army to him."
"And now we must find a way to defeat it," Dynar added shortly. "To that end… does anyone have any thoughts?"
A long silence followed his question. Some seemed deep in thought, while others appeared on the verge of hopelessness. Finally, one of the centurions asked, "Why not rely upon the Tongues? Could we not surround the island and bombard the walls with Shouts?"
Every eye turned towards King Vrage, who stroked his blond beard slowly. "While I'm certain that my warriors would leap at the chance for glory, I doubt we would have much success," he said reluctantly. "We'd need to be close enough to the city for our Shouts to be effective, and the enemy mages and Daedra would find it a simple task to sink any ship that sailed near enough to the shore to Shout at them."
"Then what of our battlemages?" another centurion suggested. "Their magic can be cast more quickly, and at longer range…."
"Which can be countered by the enemy's mages," one of the Ayleid kings replied, though not unkindly.
"And ferrying troops to the island would be suicidal," another of the centurions added. "Even if they successfully landed on the beach without their ships being sunk, they would be at the mercy of the enemy as soon as they set foot on the shore."
Another long silence followed. Then, finally, the King of Nornalhorst asked, "Must we fight?"
Several eyes turned to glare at him. "Elven cowardice. What's the alternative?" the Jarl of Winterhold sneered. "Negotiate?" He glanced at Telepe, who shook his head. "Surrender?"
"No, you fool!" the King snapped. Several men and mer alike tensed, and the king quickly added, "We simply besiege them. Destroy the bridges leading out of the city, set up a blockade, and starve them out. An army that large will quickly deplete their stockpile of supplies. It won't be long before they're crawling to us, begging to surrender."
While some of the Nords scowled at the proposal, most of the council seemed thoughtful. Perrif, who had been listening quietly thus far, turned to Morihaus and asked, "Is that viable?"
"Possibly," he murmured in a low voice. "We do control the entire Niben River now. Shortly after we took Vindasel, a messenger arrived claiming that Centurion Teo had defeated the Ayleids on the western bank of the river, forcing the remaining cities in the northern Niben to surrender. Umaril can no longer receive supplies by sea."
"Indeed?" Perrif asked softly, smiling faintly to herself. "I truly must find a way to reward him. Perhaps a grant of land in that region." Her smile faded, and she continued, "And if we cannot destroy the bridges, we could at least hold them to prevent Umaril's men from foraging for food?"
"Certainly," Morihaus confirmed. "We would also need to remain alert for secret paths to and from the City Isle, like the one Tari and Telepe used, but I believe we could successfully maintain a siege."
Some of the other kings began to murmur to each other, and Telepe could see that many of them had looks of approval on their faces. Personally, he found the prospect of a siege much more appealing than an open battle as well. They already held nearly all of eastern Cyrod, and so long as the western cities like Miscarcand honored their treaty, they had all the time in the world to starve out Umaril's forces. It would be a lengthy process, certainly, but it would be much less costly than storming-
"Fools!" Pelinal barked suddenly. Telepe flinched at his booming voice, and every eye turned towards Pelinal. "Have you forgotten that our enemy is not merely the army on that island, but the one that commands it?! Umaril is no mere king that you can force into surrender! He is immortal! He can outlast any siege that you impose!"
A couple of the centurions glanced at each other, clearly having forgotten that fact, but one of the Nordic jarls countered, "Perhaps he is, but his army is not. If we besiege the White-Gold City, we can weaken his army, and once they have been decimated-"
"You cannot weaken his army so long as he has made a pact with Meridia," Pelinal growled. "Even as his Ayleid warriors die, she will continue to provide him with reinforcements. The White-Gold City will become a den of Aurorans and other foul Daedra."
"Yet you would have us strike now?!" another one of the Ayleids snapped. "When his army is at its strongest?!"
Pelinal rounded on her, his eyes blazing with fury. "Do not speak to me, elf," he snarled, his hand hovering near his blade. "Only my lady's command keeps me from removing your filthy head from your shoulders. It would not surprise me to find that all of your ilk are in league with Umaril-"
"Pelinal!" Perrif said sharply. Pelinal growled and slowly stepped away from the wide-eyed mer, before turning to King Vrage.
"Nordic king," he said in a low voice. "Surely your men are hungry for glory. There is no honor in a mere siege. There waits your enemy! Will you stand idly by, refusing to meet him in battle?!"
Vrage stared down at Pelinal quietly, his arms folded over his chest. After a few moments, he replied slowly, "Yes… there is honor and glory to be had in battle, and my men would gladly die knowing that their reward waits in Sovngarde. However, there is far more glory in victory than in senseless sacrifice. Songs may be sung of a courageous charge into an enemy stronghold, but it is a poor tale that ends with the lines, 'And then they were all slain and nothing was achieved.' There is no shame in improving your chances for victory before a glorious battle."
Pelinal's eyes widened with rage, and then he snarled, "I did not think the mighty warriors of the north were so timid." Vrage scowled as the knight turned away and pointed at the centurions. "And what of you, Nedes?! You, above all others, should be the hungriest for vengeance! Surely you still feel the weight of the chains around your wrists, your ankles, your necks?! Have you already forgotten the tortures that you suffered?! Have your scars already healed?!"
"Of course not!" Orina snapped suddenly, an indignant frown on her face. "Of course we desire revenge! But we won't be lambs to Umaril's slaughter! If we're to take our vengeance, we must win!"
Pelinal's mouth fell open and his face turned red with rage, but before he could continue, Perrif came up behind him and softly laid a hand on his shoulder. "Pelinal," she said quietly. "I know that you are eager to face Umaril. He is the only one who has ever dared challenge you, and I know that you cannot allow that insult to stand. Yes, it is frustrating that your prey is almost in your grasp, with only a few hundred feet of water and stone separating you.. However, even I would prefer that we exercise caution. At least allow us some time to determine if there is a way to take the White-Gold City that does not require a suicidal frontal assault."
Pelinal slowly looked over his shoulder at Perrif, and Telepe was surprised to see that his expression was not one of rage, but of pain and betrayal. It lasted for only a moment, however, and then he shrugged her hand off of him. "Cowards!" he roared, sweeping a finger across everyone present, save Perrif. "All of you are cowards! I would expect this from the treacherous elves, but you, Nords?! Go, then, flee back to Skyrim and die comfortable and forgotten in your beds?! And you, Nedes! Do you think yourselves free?! You are not! You are still enslaved, shackled by your fear!" He shook his head in disgust, before snarling, "Very well! Stay here if you wish! Cower before our enemy. I, however…!"
Pelinal growled, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the small room. He began to pace restlessly back and forth along the bow of the boat, muttering furiously to himself. Perrif watched him for a few moments, then turned to two of her knights. "Watch him, and inform me if he does something foolish," she said softly. She then looked around at the others. "For now, we'll besiege the island. Kjalti, please prepare to attack their docks and burn their ships so that they cannot escape by sea. Morihaus, send your scouts to find any hidden passages off the island. Telepe… it will likely be for nothing, but please draft terms of surrender for Umaril."
Telepe, who had been quietly watching Pelinal mutter to himself as he paced back and forth at the front of the boat, turned back to Perrif and nodded. "As you say," he acknowledged softly, before looking down at the deck of the ship. A thought was beginning to work its way into the back of his mind. Were their only options for defeating Umaril a battle or a siege? When he looked up again, he saw Pelinal staring intently at the White-Gold City, and he bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.
Later that night, Telepe was still awake in his tent, and the only sounds were of his reed pen scratching at a sheet of papyrus. Ever since he was cursed by Meridia, he found it easier to stay up late into the night. Tari had assured him that Umaril wasn't going anywhere and that he could continue in the morning, but he insisted that he at least finish the first draft. However, he had an ulterior motive for staying awake this deep into the night. And when he heard the familiar, heavy clanking of plate boots passing by his tent, his suspicions were confirmed.
Telepe silently pushed himself up and crawled out of his tent, following Pelinal as he stalked out of the camp. The knight didn't seem to notice him as he made his way towards the lake's shore, and as he began to climb aboard a boat, Telepe softly asked, "So… you'd face Umaril alone, then?"
Pelinal whirled around, drawing his sword, but Telepe had been careful to stay fifty feet behind him. Pelinal snarled at him and slowly sheathed his sword, his eyes narrowed with fury. "If I must," he snapped. Then he sneered. "Do you intend to stop me?"
"As if I could," Telepe scoffed.
Pelinal's sneer vanished, replaced with a glare. "If not, then you have no reason to pursue me," he snapped.
"No, I have a reason," Telepe replied simply. "I wish to join you."
Telepe had never seen such a dumbfounded look on Pelinal's face, and he struggled to keep from chuckling at the knight's sheer confusion. "You… wish to join me?" he repeated slowly, as though expecting a trick.
Telepe nodded. "I've been thinking," he explained. "This war ends one of two ways. One, we wage a bloody, vicious battle that costs the lives of tens of thousands of men. Or, two… we arrange a duel between the champion of the Ayleids and the champion of the rebellion, for the fate of the White-Gold City. Of the two, the latter results in far fewer deaths, and has the greatest chance of success. After all, in a battle, Umaril will continue to hide and send his men to die for him, and there is no guarantee that we will slay him even if we take the city." Telepe smiled faintly. "If we propose a duel, however, we can finally force him to fight you personally. And I truly believe that you can defeat him. With that said, if you wish to duel him, you shall need a herald to arrange it. So, if you intend to storm the White-Gold City… then I am coming with you."
Pelinal stared at Telepe in silent disbelief for several long moments. Then he began to chuckle softly as he ran an armor-covered hand down his face. "Astounding," he murmured. "To think that you of all people would be the only one with the courage to join me."
Telepe smirked. "You told me not to allow anyone to call me a coward," he pointed out.
Pelinal suddenly threw his head back and roared with laughter, clasping his hand over his eyes. After a few long moments, he exhaled and nodded. "Very well," he said, motioning to the boat. "Come… Telepe. Let's put an end to this war."
Telepe grinned and nodded, then helped Pelinal push the boat into the water. The two quickly climbed aboard, and while Telepe handled the sail, Pelinal took the oars and began rowing the boat towards the distant White-Gold City.
A/N: So, I'll admit that I'm cheating a little with this one. The Song of Pelinal implies that Pelinal went to storm the White-Gold Tower alone. However, it doesn't explicitly say that he did enter it by himself. I also personally assume that there must have been at least one rebel witness to Pelinal's duel with Umaril. A detailed account of the fight appears in the Song, after all, and the only other way we'd have a record of the duel would be from one of the Ayleid kings that allied with Umaril.
Besides, if I let Pelinal storm the tower alone, Telepe would only be able to hear about the duel with Umaril secondhand, and I'm not going to rob this story of its climax.