Part I : Young and Faithful

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Chapter 5 : Temple Dooms ?

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A disembodied voice resonated in the room, without the ghost lips moving :

I don't need to read what my Eyes can clearly See.

The Young one as a strong Gift.

The strongest I have seen, in Life or Death.

I am bound to not say much

But let it be heard that it will be the Temple Doom

If it is not used under ALAMSIVI name.

He needs to take the Vow

Now

The omnious words of the ghost hung heavily in the air.

' The Temple Doom ' thought Esril warrily.

He paled significantly. Was he such a threat, to risk becoming something such as ' The Temple Doom'

His mind went far and back so quickly at the simple thought.

Could he totaly loose control of his gift if he was without the protection of the Temple ? Could his mind be corrupted by dark spirits ? Or worst, the influence of the Sharmat ?

The mere possibility of being a danger to anyone was too much to bear, his brain was spiraling miles in an instant. Maybe the Temple would emprison or execute him for the threat he represented ?

Maybe it was better that way if he could become so dangerous ?

He gazed at the Caretaker anxiously, looking for any reaction.

The other very alive dunmer in the room had visibly paled too. Struggling to keep his composure, he finaly responded to Uvo Brin's ghost :

'' Well if it's so urgent, let's get to it now without delay. With the Vows in place, Acolyte Esril will be safe, and the Temple will be too. I'll leave you both to it now, as I'm not allowed to witness the Rite of the Voice. Call for me when it's done. ''

He then took his leave swiftly, his black robes twirling behind him.

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The room was deadly silent. Esril was left in front of the ghost, who had just said he could be a threat to the Faith that had so gracefully saved his life and provided for him.

As he could sense the turmoil of the young one before him, he probably could, Esril heard again the otherwordly voice in his head :

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'' Have no fear Young One

Your path is not set in stone

For if you stay well under the Light of the Three

You will be no threat

But one of its best assets.

Will you thrive to always stay in the Light and the Truth ? ''

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Esril took a deep breath and assured the ghost that he will do all he can to stay under the benevolent light of the Temple.

Again the immaterial voice rung in Esril mind :

'' That will do

To assure us of it,

You will now partake in

the Rite of the Voice

Wich will make you a Speaker

Hear the words and

Repeat them ''

Esril could feel the ghost presence in his mind, guidind him and the words of the sacred oath came to him, like he always knew them :

" I Esril of No Name nor Clan

Pledge to speak for those who cannot

To see what cannot be.

I vow to serve those who came before us.

To help those who came after them

I do this in your name,

ALAMSIVI

Under your grace

ALAMSIVI

For your glory

ALAMSIVI ''

The words were still hanging in the air when the ghost presented a ornated dagger made of silver to Esril and said :

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'' Esril of No Namme nor Clan

Let the spirits of the dead guide your hand

and carve their pattern into your flesh.

So they can always see

That you are now

A Speaker of the Dead

Under the name

of

ALAMSIVI ''

Esril took the dagger in his right hand, he felt a presure arround his wirst and saw with astonishment that his hand started to move on his own with precise and methodical pace and carved a symbol he could not understand on the back of his left hand. He watched his blood dripping but he felt no pain.

When the dagger stopped moving, he saw the symbol on his hand glow faintly a white ethereal light, the same he had seen surrounding other Speakers of the Dead.

When the glow faded, a strange sensation came. For a start, his head felt lighter, he could not hear the background noises of distant ghostly voices anymore, like he was used to since the last four days.

His mind felt clearer. But at the same time, he felt like something was missing. As part of his mind was kept distant from him. He could not clearly tell what was amiss though.

He didn't dwell on it, the Rite of the Voice was supposed to help him not be a target for unholly spirits, so maybe it was just that : his mind had been closed to those influences.

' It is for the best ' he told himslef with conviction.

The ghost of Uvo Brin made his voice heard again in the young dunmer mind :

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'' All is in Order

Acolyte Esril, Welcome

To the Sacred Order

of

The Speakers of the Dead

Walk the path in virtue

Learn, Listen and Watch

And soon

You'll accomplish your duties

I must now gow,

As my duties with the Livings

Are Done ''

With a gesture of the hand, the ghost made the door open on itself. Taking the cue, the Caretaker who was waiting in the corridor, enterred again the office. He bowed to the ghost, who gave him back a nod .

Then the ghoslty silhouette faded like fog under the sun, and soon the two verry alive dunmer were alone in the office.

The Caretaker had a quick glance to Esril now marked hand. The sight of the symbol carved in the flesh seemed to appease him.

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Visibly more relaxed, the Caretaker smiled to the young dunmer and invited him to follow.

'' Now that the important parts are taken care of, I'll show you your room and give you all the remaining details.

Then you'll be left on your own for the day. I'm sure you must be exhausted, so take some rest !

Tomorow will be the first day of your new life and you will have much to do. ''

Esril uncounsciously straightened himself, readying mentaly to what was to come.

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Esril sat on his bed, sighting heavily. It was late and he could finaly relax afetr another buisy day.

Not that he would complain, mind you. He had melted in the mold of his new existene quite easily.

This new life of his had been going on for a year now, and he was realy content with it. He had learned and done so much more than he could ever have, back in his old life in the Monastery.

He deeply felt that his actions now had meaning and usefulness for the Temple, that he had found his purpose and place amongst the sacred institution. Learning was also a boon, he found in himself a real thirst for all he was taught about.

His mind had soaked up all this new knowledge that his two teachers had passed on him.

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Under the tutelage of Ralis Andolith, the priestess in charge of the Mortuary, he had learn how to properly take care of fellow departed dunmers. All the preparations, all the prayers and chants, all the care and respect to the dead. He had absorbed all of it quickly and dutifuly, and completed all the tasks he was assigned, even those considered the most gruesome, with dedication, never complaining.

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Ranis Andolith, constating his eagerness, had also taken upon herself to teach him about advanced mortuary alchemy. He learned everything she could teach on the delicate arts of potions and preparations used to preserve bodies, or cleansing of any impure energy and lingering tormented spirits.

He even knew now how to make the specials salts to bath the bodies, and all sacred incences for funeral ceremonies. She also taught him how to make sacred oils to get rid of the flesh fast when the family wanted to use the skeleton as a sacred undead guardian, something the priestess kept secret except for a few, because of fear it would be too useful if it come in the unholly hands of evil necromaners.

Habitualy all this knowledge was reserved for her most advanced apprentices of several years. But she couldn't deny that in one year, he had become her most skillful student, always applying himself fully to whatever he was doing. He was also always polite, always gratefuland obedient. She could not have dreamed of a more perfect student.

Most of the time, her apprentices came form rich and noble families. They were never the heirs but the younger of the siblings, so most of them were not thrilled for the position they were in, dreaming of holly wars and military duties instead. They were send to her when the important positions were already covered by their elders. So she had to deal most of the time with less than enthousiastic puppils.

With Esril it was different. He was a low-born, an orphan with no name nor clan. He was just too gratefull to be here to complain. Moreso, he had a brilliant mind, memorizing everything easily, always asking questions to better his understanding of what he was doing. Never seeming to resent when someone wouldn't answer because he had not the porper rank, thriving to show he could be trusted and that he would rise in the ranks, not for glory or personnal gain, but because he wanted to be ever more in service.

Most of it, Ranis had not seen anyone in years taking care of the dead with such respect and devotion.

Esril understood the necessities of his tasks and the sacredness of his role. He even took the time to confort the living that came by mourning their lost loved ones. Most of the other priests of the Morturary were too caught up with the preparations to do so. In their minds, taking time with the living was not part of their duties, other priests were here for the mourning relatives. But Esril took that time when necessary.

Kneeling with the grieving widows and praying with them, conforting fathers about the great deeds of their departed sons, telling them that they were not lost, that their loved ones could still hear and see them from the underworld.

He did all that with compassion while not neglecting the practical tasks of preparing the departed.

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On the other hand, the elder priestess Nidrene Ulvir had nothing but praise to tell either.

She had been right to call favors to not let this rough diamond get lost in the dust. She had been the first to see his talent. He had not disapointed her in the least.

Yes, he was good at taking care of the dead. But he was even better at crafting them into powerful Sacred Undead.

With him at her side, it seems that the dead were more at peace, more compliant, more obedient and docile, even those who had been turned in sentinels against their will as a punishment felt less frantic aout being bound.

The old priestess couldnt hear it, but she was sure Esril always talked to the spirits before the binding ritual. Preparing the body was one thing, but he had the gift for preparing souls, with whatever he was doing. She knew that, while she was chanting the incantations, when he was silent and eyes closed, he was not chanting. He was Speaking with Them, doing the duties of the Speakers of the Dead, without even being asked to.

The only time a rite had failed, another Rite of Servitude, against the will of the Spirit to be bound, he had improvised again and found a solution. This time he had not freed the Spirit.

The elder priestess had told him before that it was not a solution, that the binding was a punition decided by the Temple and the family, it had to be done. So he used soulgems with lesser creatures souls in it, to strenghten the bounding of the ritual, and it had worked. With astonishment she had seen him take the energy of the souls's creatures out of the gems with waving of his hands, without a spell or a prayer and used them as ropes to bind the reluctant spirit that she could not see herself. It had pained him to forcefully bind the spirit, condemning it to a restless eternal service, she saw it on his face, but he had done his duty noneless. She was proud of his dedication and obedience, the Faith in him was strong. It was best for everyone, mind you, as she felt sometimes uneasy by his display of what she started to call '' soul magic ''. His gift was strong, and mostly unprecedented, it could be dangerous because it was hard to point its limits. It needed carefull supervision.

In the depth of her mind, a spark of fear had flared. Such power in the wrong hands could doso much wrong. But then she had seen him go on his knees and pray for the peace of the Spirit he had bound, praying words of hope for the soul, hope that it could find solace and redemption in the the service to its family.

Her fear evaporated at the sight of such devotion, her old heart warming to it.

This incident was during the first month of his apprenticehip. After that it never occured again. He insisted it was better to take more time ' praying for the Soul ' as he said himself, to appease them. In reality he was talking to them, always trying to make them more peacefull. She had not needed much convincing from him to let him do it as long as he felt necessary, as it was reassurance no ritual would fail.

After months of working alongside the young apprentice, old Nidrene had to agree wholeheartedly that Esril was right to take this precious time. Indeed the old priestess had felt the work becoming harder since some times.

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Her binding prayers had become slightly less potent, less effective.

At first she thought it was because of her old age. Maybe her magic was faltering. But despite the anxiety of being potentially responsible, she had to give credit to herself. She knew her magic well and it was not at fault. No, the magic slowly growing weaker was the holly power she was evoking during the prayersin the rite itlef.

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She was warry of this realisation, but even if it was just so slightly, she couldn't deny it.

The Holly Name of the Three Living-gods was losing in strength. And she knew it was why Rituals of Servitude were now often failing without external addition of power or soothing the spirits. She came to the understanding that Esril was making it work only because he was using his own gifts more than the power of the Faith. Something he seemed oblivious of, and the old priestess had no intention to let him realize it.

The youngling's gifts were powerful, scrarily so sometimes. And it needed the Light of the Three to bloom properly, under the gaze of the Temple.

All be damned if someone so talented as him lost his Faith to the Temple. The last thing they needed was losing him and see his talents corrupted by fool sorcerers, evil necromancers, and even worst, becoming a brood of the Sharmat House. No, he was better left in the unknown, better left believing that the Gods were sustaining his craft, when realy it was him who sustained the holly rituals. It was better as it was, until the old priestess knew more.

It was the reason why, at a late hour of the night, the elderly priestess was heading to the Temple High Offices. She was cloaked in rough grey robes, her head covered by a deep hood and with the night well set, her face was kept mostly hidden in the shadows. The Mourning Ordinators in guard this night let her pass easily. She just had to show the credentials with the High Offices seal. Official buisiness between high ranking nobles, no mere guard had the authority to block her path.

Soon enough, after a serie of white-stone corridors and stairs she arrived in front of the most sacred chambers. The reception room of the High Matriarch of the Temple. She paused for a few seconds, the time to take a deep breath, and then passed the guard in front of the door, not without showing the credentials once more.

The spacious room of white sandstone, like all the building, was dimly lit with only candles here and there.

Nidrene let her old eyes aclimate to the shadows arround her for a moment, before gazing arround in search of the resident of the chamber. Naturaly her gaze turned at the end of the room, where an altar was set, with a shrine to the Three Living Gods. Many candles were lit here and gave the most light of the room.

In front of the altar, meditating on her knees, was the High Matriarch of the Tribunal Temple, Alvu Sareleth. She was clad in heavy ceremonial robes of the most precious silk, of deep black and gold colors. Her chest was covered with ceremonial gold plates armor. Her long silver hair were styled in an elaborate chignon held by two gold and jeweled hair-pins. Her gray skin was pale and a miriad of deep wrinkles ran across it.

She looked like a holly queen, but of such an ancient age that it seemed the weight of her regalian outfit could make her crumble at any moment.

Despite her apparent frailness and the heaviness of her holy garbs, she stood and turned to face Nidrene with grace and fluidity, like she was a maiden in her youth, only clad in summer dress.

Her gaze swept across the room, stopping exactly at the old priestess. Instead of the fiery red eyes of all dunmer, her eyes were silver, veiled and unfocused. She was obviously blind, but it was said she was so invested by the holly power of the Tribunal, that she could sense living beings arround her and that nothing could hide from her inner eye. It was also said that she was indeed ancient, more than five centuries, probably more than a milenia old. No one had ever seen her sleeping or eating since two centuries. If not disturbed by a high priest, adivsor or councelor, she spent all her time in meditative contemplation. Priests of all ranks believed that her relatonship with the Three-Gods was so profound that the holy power sustained her wholy, making her something close to the Gods they all served. Her devotion was a revered exemple on how far Faith could carry you, as it was known she spent all her time in meditation and prayers in a trancelike state, probably communing with their beloved Gods-sovereigns.

In front of such perfect picture of sainthood, Nidrene approached the High Matriarch with measured steps, her heart and mind heavy with the weight of the matters she was here to discuss.

The Matriarch sat in her Hight chair, aknowledged her presence with a deep nod, inviting her to sit in front of her.

Her Holyness remained silent, Nidrened took the cue to speak first :

'' Hight Matriarch'' she started while bowing head respectfully '' I come as appointed, with concerns that gnaw at my heart, something that could threaten the very foundaton of our Faith''

The Matriarch, her silver eyes seemingly focused on Nidrene's presence, gestured with a slow and gracefull hand to proceed : '' Speak, Nidrene, may your words be guided by the wisdom of the Three ''

Taking a deep breath, the old priestess delved into the heart of her worries : '' I have witnessed some troubling matters your Holyness. In recent rituals, the binding prayers have shown signs of weakening. It's as if the Sacred Names we invoke doesn't convey as much authority as before. Only so slightly for now, but I'm concerned it will only grow weaker, for if the the sancticity of our rites failed, the bedrock of our Faith will crack.''

The Hight Matriarch remained silent for a moment, her expression unchanged. '' Continue'' she simply said, her voice carrying the weight of responsability and the passing of ages.

Nidrene could feel that Her Hollyness was aware of the specific nature of her concerns, and that she would let her speak all her mind before offer her words in turn, so she continued with the other matter in her mind : '' The other matter that troubles me is linked Your Hollyness, as I wrote you in our correspondance. The young acolyte, Esril Nammu, has shown remarkable gifts. He succesfully performed binding rituals using his unique form of innate power, separate from the divine magic of the Three.

I'm afraid that if he realize this, it might shake is Faith in the Light of the Three''

The Matriarch's gaze seemed to penetrate Nidrene very soul. A subtle furrow appeared on her brow, a flicker of concern crossing her ancient features. '' Yes this is expected to trouble you Nidrene, I am not unaware of the potential danger of the situation. It is one of the reasons I summoned you when your letter was read to me. Speak your mind freely on this matter''

The old priestess nodded, relief mingling with all her respect for Her Holyness :

'' His aptitudes are excpetionnal, nothing I have seen in my life of service, with our benevolent hand, it might be one of our best assets. But, if doubts plants its seeds in his Faith, he could become such a threat that my very soul shivers at the idea. How would you advise me to treat the matter, High Matriarch ? ''

The Matriarch's fingers lightly tapped on the armrest of her Hight chair, like tapping a rythm she would be the only one to hear, before she answered with this almost ethereal voice of her :

'' Encourage him to deepen his connection to our Beloved Three in service and prayers. Make him understand the importance of his duties by giving him more tasks to partake in the sacred work. Let this experiences show him the harshness of life and the Love of the Temple for it's children. He his an orphan, the Temple needs to be a carring Mother for him and a nurturing breast to help our children grow in the Light. If you deem his mind strong enough, we will ask him soon to be more active in the fight against spiritual corruption, he needs to feel his importance as a pillar of the Faith. He is at heart a lone child who wants to please, and we will give him that by showing him the horrors that fester in nests of corrution.

We will be his solace and salvation. ''

The Matriarch's silver eyes, veiled by time and unlighted by ageless wisdom, regarded Nidene with an intensity that pierced the fabric of her mind. The ancient one spoke again in a measured tone :

'' Concerning the matter of the Holly Power, the Three are eternal, Nidrene, but our mortal realm is subject to fluctuations. The ebb and flow of divine magic may be affected by forces we do not fully comprehend. In time of uncertainty, our Faith must become our unyielding anchor that will steady our course ''

Nidrene absorbed the holy Matriarch's words, finding a measure of reassurance, but she said noneless :

'' Your Holyness, should we not investigate the cause of this perceived weakening ? I dread the consequences if such falterings were to be felt by the people in such dire times, even if it is just mere fluctuations for beings like Gods, doubt could shake our fondations at the most inoportune times.

A small smile played on the Matriarch's lips, though her eyes betrayed a subtle flicker of doubt.

'' You possess a fervent heart Nidrene and your troubled mind is waranted. However, some mysteries are not to be unraveled hastily. Patience is Virtue, and as servants of the Three, we must put our trust in our Gods and their guiding hands.''

As if responding to an unspoken thought, the Matriarch's gaze shifted momentarily to the shrine behind her, then she spoke : '' The Tribunal watches over us, but there are shadows that seek to challenge the sancticity of our Faith. The malevolent presence of the Tribunal's eternal Enemy looms, and the Three are vigilant in containing his influence. He is the Darkness who want to swallow their Light. But be steadfast in your faith dear Nidrene, and continue your sacred duties. The answers we seek may reveal themselves in due time.''

Nidrene was taken aback by the mention of the Enemy, she hesitated slightly, cautious, before inquiringfurther : '' So you think it may be due to the Sharmat influence ? Can we the clergy do something about it ? ''

The smile on the Matriarch face was benevolent but her blind silvery eyes conveyed an air of severity, before she answered : '' Nidren, you know the shadows of the Sharmat are treacherous, I wont deny that his awakening brought concern to Lord Vivec's mind. As you know I often commune with His Lordship.

But for the sake of the Faith, you must not bring this matters up with anyone outside of myself, it could disturb devotion and trust in the clergy and the people. Lord Vivec need those as much as our services. He and I need you to keep hold to your sacred work and duties. I feel in your heart the desire to understand and solve what you perceive as a mystery, but be warry, for the Four Corners of the House of Trouble can often lurk in our purest intentions and feed on our natural curiosity and drive it to uncontrolled hunger and lust for knowledge. So does the Sharmat with his false promises and corrupted revelations. ''

The Matirarch stopped and let her words of caution hang in the air, to let the priestress in front of her mesure the risks of stirring concerns in search of ''truth''.

The elder priestress's brows furrowed, she was troubled and concerned to be sure, but she wouldn't want to risk her sanity, or her soul by uncovering some dangerous plot of the Enemy. She was old and better mers than hers had succombed to the tentation of knowledge and power.

The Matriarch choose this moment to add : '' Be sure, Nidrene, that Lord Vivec is doing everything in His power, to counter the Sharmat rise. He needs our support, trust and our service. He is a Divine Being, he has a foresight we simply don't possess. What we may perceive as a weakening, might be a way to expose apparent flaws in our strengths, to entice our enemies to show themselves. What I am sure of, and what you need to trust in, is that Lord Vivec, and the Tribunal at large, is handling what may be the situation.

The Temple throught me, thanks you for your devotion and for bringing up your observations and concerns, this will help Lord Vivec to adjust his plans, if needed.

Focus now on showing the way to young Acolyte Esril, show him the love of the Temple for talented and devoted younglings, and keep your duties at the Sacred Revenants Workshop, who knows if we won't need the help of our Sacred Revenants against our enemies if a crisis arise.

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The priestess, took several minute to take the words in, and then rose from her chair and bowed to the Matriarch before saying '' Thanks you for your time and wisdom your Holyness, I'll keep this conversation at heart. I'll wrote to you if anything of importance emerge, about young Esril or the Sacred Revenants. If you allow it, I'll take my leave and resume my duties ''

The Matriarch rose from the ceremonial High chair in turn, and aknowledged Nidrene's departure with a deep nod.

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When alone, she walked slowly to the altar in the back wall of the spacious room. She closed her eyes and said :

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'' You heard, Lord Vivec. Consequences are already in motion. What will we do if the Tribunal can't replenish its divine powers ? We might lose control of a signifcant portion of sacred undead. Who knows what enemies will take advantage if the Sacred Names of ALAMSIVI is already loosing command of the undead. Necromancers ? The Sixth House ? The Four Corners followers ?

It has only been a year since the loss of the Tools. What if shrine blessings begin to lose potence next ? ''

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A deep otherworldy voice comming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time rung in the Matriarch mind and in the room, unable to be heard by anyone outside the chamber walls.

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'' I forsaw this comming, the weakening of the Tribunal is unavoidable. We had the hubris of mortal youth who think they can shape the world as they see fit when we ascended. We defied Azura, you where here as our faithfull sevant during the Ascent. I can maybe consider that her hand is behind some of what transpire, maybe even a joint effort with Bohetia and Mephala to bring about her revenge. I fail to see in what way for now. All revengefull Azura is, she would not favor Dagoth Ur just to undermine us, it would cost too much to the Dunmer people. But I can feel the old Tribunal shadowing my Sight on some matters. I can't See anything about this Esril for exemple. It may be because he is insignificant to all of this, it would not be the first time my Sight just don't register someone because they would not add anything to the events at play.

But I'm doubtfull of this if his gifts are what your priestess discribed. Remain watchfull. ''

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The Matriarch could feel the voice of her godly patron stop, and his mind wandering in abysses of thoughts as deep as oceans. After a bit of time it started again, with a tone of prophecy:

'' Crisis will lead to the rise of champions.

In balance of the rise of villains

We can only wait

and see

Then we will adujst the course

of our actions.''

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Regaining a semblance of normalcy the voice concluded : '' I have contingency plans, we have other sources of power we can draw upon to lesser Dagoth Ur spreading, as we did for the Ghostfence. It will cost but we have no choice, it's for the greater good of our people. Remain watchfull High Matriarch Sareleth, hard times are upon us, but the Temple and the dunmer people will prevail. ''

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The Matriarch felt the godly presence release its grasps on her mind and vanish.

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She was left alone and silent in her chambers, with a troubled mind and more unanswered questions that she would like.

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