Usually not too long, but sometimes it takes me a while to come up with something appropriate.

helena this is fantastic.


and please could you send me the link to your KOTOR fan fic please?

i love KOTOR and The elder scrolls.

My KotOR parody and updated versions of some of my other stories are http://hawk.kotorfanmedia.com/user/916/track. The rest of my stories can be found at http://www.fanfiction.net/u/592750/Helena_L.

Thank you bliviongate:

A/N: Apologies for my appalling lateness in posting this chapter. To make up for it, this one is extra-long!

------

Chapter 16: A Harrowing Experience

After only a couple of weeks in the Ashlands, I was convinced that the cliff racers had it in for me personally.

It always happened the same way. I would be walking through the countryside, minding my own business, when I'd hear the cry of a racer somewhere in the distance and instantly freeze. My hand would fly to my sword and I'd scan the horizon desperately, hoping to spot the thing before it spotted me. Occasionally I'd manage to catch one unawares and pick it off with an arrow, but most of them would spot me as soon as I got close and come swooping down with a shriek, determined to tear apart the upstart human that dared approach within 200 feet of its nest.

I didn't know what the people of Vvardenfell had done to turn the local wildlife so rabid and vicious, but it must have been something pretty nasty. With all the trouble those birds caused, I wondered why people didn't just band together and hunt the things to extinction. Anyone who could manage it would probably be declared a living saint.

The Urshilaku camp was turning out to be more difficult to reach than I had expected. The village of Khuul to the west was the closest settlement, but in between them was an impassable mountain range. I could have tried to approach from the east, but there were no towns or even villages for miles around. In the end I decided to return to Maar Gan, the town I'd just visited, and head north from there up the Foyada Bani-Dad, another of those dried-up lava channels.

The journey took the best part of two days. I rested overnight in a small cave close to some Dwemer ruins, but first I had to drive out the bandits who had taken refuge there. I soon found out what they were guarding: Khajiit and Argonian slaves, six of them in total.

"Have you seen the Twin Lamps?" one of them asked me, as I removed her slave bracers.

Hang on, I'd heard that before somewhere. "Er? yes?"

"They light the way to freedom," she whispered, then hurried off after the others before I could ask any more questions. Clearly the poor sods were desperate to get out of that place. It wasn't until later that it occurred to me to wonder how, with no armour or weapons, they were going to make it back to safety.

It was around midday when I finally reached the Urshilaku camp, which seemed to be nothing more than a collection of yurts in a small clearing. In the end I'd chosen to wear my Legion cuirass after all, deciding that I'd rather face the wrath of the Ashlanders than the talons of the cliff racers. I don't know whether it was this, or just the fact that I was a human and an outlander, but I could sense the hostility and suspicion in the air as soon as I came within sight of the inhabitants. Several of them instantly disappeared inside their tents, and a few children playing near the edge of the camp were hastily dragged away by their parents.

I noticed that most of the tribespeople were barefoot, and wondered if this was part of their culture, or if they were just too poor to afford shoes. Certainly I found it hard to imagine why else anyone would choose to live like this. Don't get me wrong, I had plenty of admiration for anyone who could survive such harsh conditions; what I couldn't understand was why the heck anyone would want to. Why struggle by on a hand-to-mouth existence when you could be living in a city, with warm, dry houses and hot baths and proper sanitation?

My first few attempts to talk to the Urshilaku didn't go too well. The first person I approached was an elderly woman, who greeted me with a scowl and a shake of her head. "Leave this place, Imperial. You and your people are not welcome here."

"What do you have against Imperials?" I very foolishly asked.

Her scowl deepened. "The Imperials came out of the West and tricked the gods of the settled people, the false gods called the Tribunal. Now the Imperials act like they own Morrowind, and they claim we are ruled by their chief, the one they call Emperor. We think nothing of this foolishness, but they have great armies of soldiers in armour who come and burn our yurts and slay our children." She ground her teeth. "So we hate them. Do you understand, outlander?"

"Well, there's no need to take it out on me," I mumbled, as she stalked off. "I never killed anyone's children." I couldn't imagine the Imperial soldiers I'd met doing anything like that, and I wondered if the things he described had happened before the Armistice. To a human, that was ancient history ? but the Dark Elves had long lives, and long memories.

I tried several other people, male and female, but all of them either just waved me away or snapped at me in a language I didn't recognise. Finally, in desperation, I introduced myself to one slightly younger man by offering to bring him a gift ? any gift he wanted. He looked at me with a faintly mocking smile, obviously recognising me straight away for a soft, city-bred Western type.

"You want to offer me a gift?" he sneered. "Poor outlander. Even these small things are a puzzle to you." His smile grew wider. "Then bring me some trama root for my larder. I am a hunter, and it is beneath my dignity to scrabble about in the dirt ? but you? Perhaps this is a task you can handle."

From the smug expression on his face it was clear that he'd deliberately chosen the most demeaning task he could think of, and was expecting me to refuse outright - but this only made me more determined not to back down. I met his gaze with a defiant stare of my own. "All right," I said coolly, as if grubbing around in the soil for roots was something I did every day. "Where can I find some trama root?"

He shrugged. "There are many patches near to the camp. Go out and find some."

I waited until I was safely out of hearing before venting my feelings. I had plenty of opportunity, since the nearest patch of roots I could find was some way away. Trama root was a tough, spiny plant that was difficult to pull up even with steel gauntlets, and I didn't want to waste water from my canteen to soften the soil. In the end I just hacked a few pieces off with my sword.

The Ashlander man raised his eyebrows when I returned to him clutching handfuls of trama root. "Well, outlander, you are not proud," he said. "But you are courteous, and in an outlander, that is not a thing to be despised."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I had plenty of pride, that I'd only agreed to come here because I'd be executed if I didn't, and that I couldn't give a flying crap about him, his tribe, or his desire for trama root. But all that would have got me was a bollocking from Caius and quite possibly a fight, so I bit back my retort and forced myself to smile. "Very well, I accept your gift," he continued. "And thank you."

"Don't mention it," I said, doing my best to keep any trace of sarcasm out of my voice. "My name is Ada Ventura, by the way."

"Under sun and sky, Ada. I am Shabinbael."

"Good to meet you, Shabinbael." I paused. "Er? now that I've brought you a gift, might you be able to help me? I need to speak to Sul-Matuul or Nibani Maesa."

"And what do you wish to speak to them about?"

"Er? the Nerevarine prophecies."

Shabinbael frowned; clearly this wasn't an answer he'd been expecting. "You are an outlander," he said. "And you wish to talk of the Nerevarine prophecies? You are polite and well-mannered, for an outlander, and I do not think you mean to give offence. But why should you care about these prophecies?"

Okay, here came the really difficult part. "Well, I know this is going to be very hard to believe, but?" I hesitated, steeling myself for the inevitable disbelieving response. "I've been told that I may fulfil the prophecies."

I wasn't sure whether I expected him to laugh, or hit me, or both. Looking back, I'm pretty sure all that stopped him doing one of those things was the fact that I'd just brought him trama root; if I was willing to humiliate myself by scrabbling around in the dirt for him, at least it showed I was serious. His eyes grew very wide, and he stared hard at me for several seconds.

"I do not believe what I am hearing," he murmured. "You think you are the Nerevarine? You do not look like the Nerevarine, but? you do not speak like a fool, or a madman."

Well, frankly, even this was a much better reception than I'd been expecting. "Go speak with Zabamund in his yurt," Shabinbael said at last. "He is a gulakhan, Sul-Matuul's champion, and he will decide what is right. If Zabamund gives you permission, then you may enter the Ashkhan's Yurt and speak with Sul-Matuul." He indicated one of a group of yurts under a canopy, presumably belonging to the leaders of the tribe.

So it was that I found myself facing yet another skeptical Ashlander, this one a warrior in chitin armour. This time I had the sense to introduce myself politely and offer him a gift before asking for anything else.

"I am not proud," he said with a shrug. "I like gold. This is the custom you outlanders call a 'bribe', yes?

My mouth fell open. For a moment I thought he was joking, but there wasn't a trace of amusemant in his face. Wordlessly I took fifty drakes from my pouch and handed them over to him, hoping that would be enough.

Only then did Zabamund's lips curve into a faint smile. "Good," he said, as he pocketed the gold. "You come to talk? Then talk, outlander."

I explained that I needed to speak to Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa, and he shook his head. "You have no standing among us, outlander. But you speak well, and with respect, so I will explain: It is against our customs that an outlander should speak to an ashkhan or wise woman. I'll tell you also that Sul-Matuul has no love for outlanders."

Time to turn on the charm, I thought. If only I'd thought to bring some of that Telvanni bug musk. "I understand this, sera," I said, as humbly as possible. "But I have very important business to discuss with them. It concerns the Nerevarine prophecies."

Zabamund frowned. "The Nerevarine Prophecies are not for outlanders. Why should we speak to you about these things? Who are you, that we should trust you?"

Well, why indeed? All I could think of was to tell him all I'd learned about the prophecies, and hope that he would believe my admittedly ridiculous story. So I told him what had happened so far ? leaving out all the parts about the Blades, of course ? and watched his expression grow increasingly thoughtful.

"Hmm," he said, stroking his chin. "These are not simple matters. You know a great deal more than I would have thought ? and some of what you say is news to me. I believe you should speak to Sul-Matuul. Go to the Ashkhan's Yurt, and tell him I have sent you."

The Urshilaku chief was a tall, middle-aged Dunmer, who carried himself proudly despite his humble surroundings. From the way he looked at me I could tell that he wasn't impressed, and he looked even less impressed when I explained what I was there for. Even so, he found it in himself to speak to me politely ? which made for a nice change, I must admit.

"So. My champion Zabamund has sent you to talk with me about the Nerevarine prophecies," he said, with a manful attempt to feign interest. "Then go ahead, Ada. I am very curious."

By the time I'd finished telling my story yet again I was just about ready to kill myself. Sul-Matuul still looked skeptical ? not that I could blame him ? but, rather to my amazement, he didn't immediately dismiss what I had said. "You think you fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies. You wish to be tested to see if you are the Nerevarine."

"Well, er ? "

"No outlander may join the Nerevarine cult," he continued, before I could finish. "If you were a Clanfriend, an adopted member of the Ashlander tribes, then perhaps. I have an initiation rite in mind, and if you pass this rite, I will adopt you as a Clanfriend of the Ashlanders."

The phrase 'initiation rite' brought back unpleasant memories of my induction into the Fighters' Guild in Chorrol, courtesy of a bunch of loutish Colovians. They'd had great fun with the spoiled princess from the big city, oh yes. "What sort of initiation rite?" I asked, hoping at least that this one wouldn't involve live chickens and a Colovian fur helm.

He looked grave. "To be adopted into the tribe, you must undergo a harrowing."

"A harrowing?" Okay, this sounded bad. Really, really bad.

"In a harrowing, you will be judged by the spirits and ancestors to see if you are worthy," he explained. "Go to the Urshilaku Burial Caverns and fetch me the Bonebiter Bow of my father Sul-Senipul. Return to me with this bow, and I will adopt you into the Ashlander tribes as a Clanfriend."

I had to bite my tongue to suppress my exasperation. All I wanted was to be told I wasn't the Nerevarine, and now I was expected to trudge through someone's burial caverns on yet another sodding fetch quest? Couldn't he just say "no" and be done with it?

"All right," I said at last, with deep reluctance. "Where can I find these burial caverns, and how will I recognise the bow when I see it?"

"The burial caverns lie to the south-southeast of the camp, a north-facing door in a little hill halfway between us and the slopes of Red Mountain. Be cautious, for the spirits of our ancestors guard the caverns ? they will attack and kill you if they can. As for the bow, you will recognise it by the markings."

I wasn't quite so confident of this, but I thought I'd better make a move before it got dark. There was a distinct lack of anything resembling hotels in this place, and even a dank, ancestor-infested cave would be better than sleeping outside in this dustbowl. So, after refreshing myself with a few stamina potions, I set out to look for the Urshilaku burial caverns. It was already growing dark when I finally stumbled across the entrance.

After creeping through several long, dimly-lit passages guarded by rats and skeletons, I found myself in a large chamber that was mostly submerged in water. Several large stepping stones provided the only means of crossing the underground lake. Unfortunately they were quite far apart, and jumping across them in my heavy armour was no easy task. I managed to clear the first few, but on the third stone I mistimed the jump and plunged into the water.

Swearing loudly enough to wake the dead (literally), I struggled to the side of the lake and hauled myself out, coughing and spluttering. A Water Walking spell was definitely going to be first on my list when I next visited a Mages' Guild.

The next cavern I entered was another huge water-filled chamber, this one so tall that I could barely see the ceiling. I must have been further underground than I had realised. A waterfall tumbled down a huge central pillar, which was surrounded by a wet and slippery spiral ramp. Set into the outer walls, at varying heights, were doors to other burial chambers.

As I carefully made my way up the ramp, battered by spray from the waterfall, I noticed several mummified bodies on the central pillar. Each one was clutching what looked like a fantastic treasure ? magically-preserved books, jewelled amulets, enchanted longswords of volcanic glass. Unfortunately they were all well out of reach, and in any case, I would have felt guilty about taking something so obviously valuable from a tomb.

I lost track of time completely while wandering through those caverns. Several times I paused to rest, eat and sleep, but I soon found it impossible to tell what time of day it was or how long I'd been in there. I'd hoped to find the bow fairly quickly and get out, but of course, that would have been too easy. On the plus side, I did manage to pick up some good loot in the form of scrolls and potions left behind by other adventurers ? after all, I reasoned, they weren't much use to someone who was already dead.

Finally, at the very end of the topmost cavern, I came across a powerful-looking ancestor ghost carrying an enchanted chitin bow. Maybe this was Sul-Matuul's father, Sul-Senipul? I'd never know, because it attacked as soon as it spotted me, correctly recognising me for a greedy adventurer here to steal its precious bow.

This time my enchanted weapon made fairly quick work of the ghost, but just before giving up the ? er, ghost, it cast a spell on me that made my muscles seize up painfully. What was more, the spell didn't wear off once the spirit had vanished. With a sinking heart I realised that it had struck me with some kind of curse, one designed to permanently reduce my agility. It could only be cured by a spell or potion, and I didn't have either.

So I slowly limped back to the Urshilaku camp, still somewhat damp, and half-crippled with the pain in my arms and legs. By the light level and the position of the moons and stars, I could tell that it was late evening ? but as to what evening, I had no idea. I was so tired that it felt like I'd been wandering around those caves for weeks.

Sul-Matuul nearly jumped out of his skin when I entered his tent. For a moment he looked as if he'd seen a ghost, and I realised that he hadn't actually been expecting to see me come back. "So, outlander," he said, recovering his cool with impressive speed. "Have you completed the initiation rite?"

"Your bow, sera," I said, handing it over. If he told me it was the wrong one after all I'd been through, I was going to hack him to death with his own battle axe.

Sul-Matuul briefly examined the bow. "This is my father's Bonebiter Bow," he said at last. "You have completed the initiation rite. I name you, Ada Ventura, Clanfriend of the Ashlanders. Keep my father's bow, and bear it with honour."

"Really?" I asked in astonishment. "I can keep it?" It was a nice bow, I had to admit, with a fairly powerful enchantment.

He nodded. "You are a friend of our tribe, and may rest in any Urshilaku bed, but do not harm other tribe members, or take their things. And now I will fulfill my other promise. Go to the wise woman's yurt, and Nibani Maesa shall examine you and test you against the Nerevarine prophecies."

All I really wanted to do was take a Restore Agility potion and go to bed, but I decided it was best to get the Nerevarine business over with first. Just as I was about to leave, I thought of something else to ask him. "I don't suppose you'd be able to tell me what day it is by my calendar?"

"I cannot tell you, but it has been two days since you left for the burial caverns."

Two days? That would make it the twenty-first of? hang on, the twenty-first of Heartfire? That was my birthday. I'd just spent the whole of my twenty-third birthday crawling through a filthy underground tomb, being stabbed and hacked at and gnawed by rats and shot full of arrows, for the sake of a mission I knew to be completely futile and pointless. I suddenly found myself uncomfortably close to tears.

Under the circumstances it would probably have been better to wait until the next morning before visiting Nibani Maesa. The way I was feeling now it was pretty much inevitable that we'd rub each other up the wrong way, and Nibani managed to irritate me from the moment I laid eyes on her. "So. They've told me of you, outlander ? or shall I say, Clanfriend." She nodded slowly. "You are hard-headed. And ignorant."

I was already in a pretty bad mood, and at this point I came very close to losing my temper. Where did she get off calling me 'hard-headed and ignorant' when she'd only met me ten seconds ago? I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could speak she went on: "But perhaps it is not your fault."

"Nice to meet you too," I said through gritted teeth. She wouldn't be getting any 'thoughtful gifts' from me, that was for sure.

"My lord ashkhan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies," she continued. "He also says I will test you against the Nerevarine prophecies. I must do as my lord ashkhan says? so ask your questions, and I will test you."

"Okay, well?" I hesitated, realising that I really didn't have a clue what to ask her about. "How will I know if I fulfill the prophecies?"

Nibani shrugged. "There are many Nerevarine prophecies, and they suggest many things. Aspect and uncertain parents. The moon-and-star. Sleepers. Seven curses. The curses' bane. The prophecy of the Stranger. The prophecy of the Seven Visions. And the lost prophecies."

My head was beginning to spin. Some of those things certainly sounded familiar ?uncertain parents, Sleepers, and the prophecy of the Stranger ? but 'seven curses'? 'Seven visions'? The 'Lost Prophecies'? How many of these dratted prophecies were there, anyway?

"Ask me of these things," she went on, "if you are patient, and would be wise. Or if you are impatient to know, just ask: "Do I pass the test of the Nerevarine prophecies?"

I took a deep breath. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but? I'm cold. I'm wet. I'm incredibly tired." I paused for effect. "I've just spent the best part of two days wandering around underground caverns fighting hordes of undead, and one of them cast a spell on me that makes every step I take hurt like hell. I really, really don't want to waste any more of anyone's time, so? if I don't pass the test, then yes, I'd rather just be told. If you wouldn't mind."

Nibani regarded me silently for several seconds before answering, as if searching for something. Finally she said, "You are not the Nerevarine."

Relief flooded over me. "Thank you," I breathed, unable even to make a pretence of being disappointed. "Well, in that case ? "

"But you are one who may become the Nerevarine."

"What?" My hopes, which had briefly soared, came crashing down again.

"It is a puzzle, and a hard one," she said, nodding. "But you have found some of the pieces, and you may find more. Do you choose to be the Nerevarine?"

No! No, I bloody don't! "I, er?"

"Then seek the lost prophecies among the Dissident priests of the Temple," she told me. "Find the prophecies, bring them to me, and I will be your guide. But first, let me tell you the prophecy of the Seven Visions."

Before I could object, she had begun to recite what sounded like another of those crappy poems. Reluctantly I dug out my journal, and did my best to write it down as she spoke ? none of this rote-learning nonsense for me, thank you very much.

Seven trials
What he puts his hand to, that shall be done.
What is left undone, that shall be done.

First trial
On a certain day to uncertain parents
Incarnate moon and star reborn.

Second trial
Neither blight nor age can harm him.
The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.

Third trial
In caverns dark Azura's eye sees
And makes to shine the moon and star.

Fourth trial
A stranger's voice unites the Houses.
Three Halls call him Hortator.

Fifth trial
A stranger's hand unites the Velothi.
Four Tribes call him Nerevarine.

Sixth trial
He honours blood of the tribe unmourned.
He eats their sin, and is reborn.

Seventh trial
His mercy frees the cursed false gods,
Binds the broken, redeems the mad.

One destiny
He speaks the law for Veloth's people.
He speaks for their land, and names them great.

Apart from the 'certain day to uncertain parents' part, I had no idea what any of this meant. "What's all this about 'moon-and-star' and 'curse-of-flesh'?"

"Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star, and Nerevar's armour and weapons bore this sign. Some say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark, or has a magic ring marked with a moon-and-star, or was born under a moon-and-star." Well, certainly none of those things were true of me. "I'm not sure what the Second Trial means ? will the Nerevarine come as a spirit who is not harmed by blight or age? But I think Curse-of-Flesh means the blight disease Corprus, which causes terrible, distorted growths on its victims. Perhaps the Nerevarine will be able to heal this disease."

So the Nerevarine was supposed to be ageless, immune to disease, and possess miraculous healing powers? I was starting to get the feeling that it would be a long time before this guy showed up. "All right? what are the Lost Prophecies?"

"There are Nerevarine prophecies that have been lost." Well, duh. "Some are forgotten, some hidden, some deliberately lost. But we hear that the Dissident Priests of the Temple study our Nerevarine prophecies, and record them in books. You must go to them and ask for these books, and bring what you find to me."

I heaved a long, exhausted sigh, too tired to argue. "Okay... I'll think about it. But first I'm going to bed. I don't suppose there's anywhere I could get a bath round here?" I added, without much hope.

She looked at me with undisguised scorn. "A bath? Do you think we have water to spare for such luxuries, outlander? If you stay here you may wash with a bucket and a cloth, as we always have done."

This was the moment where I completely lost it. I'd done my level best to be polite to everyone I met here, having been led to believe that the Ashlanders valued courtesy, only to find that being an outlander made me fair game for sneers and carping and barely-concealed insults. It was far from the worst thing anyone here had said to me, but her tone of voice ? combined with the 'gods, what a stupid outlander' expression on her face ? tipped me right over the edge into outright fury.

"Fine, have it your way. I'll just be getting back to civilisation, then," I said, with heavy emphasis on the word 'civilisation'. Just by the tent flap, I paused for a parting shot. "I hope you're a damn sight more polite to the real Nerevarine when he turns up, because frankly I wouldn't blame him if he decides you're not bloody worth saving!"

And with that I stormed out of the yurt ? wishing there was a door to slam behind me ? and out of the camp. The effect was spoiled a little by the fact that I couldn't take a step without wincing, and even more so when I realised that wandering around the Ashlands in pitch darkness was a recipe for certain death. I tried to cast an Almsivi Intervention spell, but I was so exhausted and pissed off that I could barely even remember the words. I had to drink three Restore Magicka potions before I finally got it right.

Back in Gnisis ? which was apparently the closest place with a Temple ? I paid for a room in the tradehouse and went straight to bed. I didn't even have the energy to take a bath first, or buy a potion to cure the stiffness in my limbs. That had to wait for the next day, as did unloading the loot I'd collected on the local shopkeepers. After that I took the morning silt strider back to Ald'ruhn.

I was well aware that I couldn't expect Nibani Maesa to help me any more now, but to be honest, I didn't really care all that much. As far as I was concerned, I had my answer. If Caius honestly thought I was going to voluntarily set out to become the Nerevarine, when I'd already been told I wasn't, he needed his head examined.

Back in Ald'ruhn I went to visit Councillor Athyn Sarethi to see if he'd be willing to sponsor me in House Redoran. A servant showed me into Lord Sarethi's study, where he greeted me with a smile. "Ah yes, Ada. Neminda has been telling me of your service to the House." He paused. "I hear that you come to us from House Hlaalu."

I winced. "Look, we all do crazy things when we're young and stupid, right? Like getting really drunk at a family wedding, or joining House Hlaalu. There's no need to rub it in."

His lips twitched. "Very well. Serve House Redoran faithfully, and we will speak no more of it. But I must warn you of one thing, Ada," he continued. "If I agree to sponsor you, you will be a Kinsman in the House, and family. No other House will take you in if you are expelled from Redoran."

"Okay. I understand."

"I would consider sponsoring an outlander," Sarethi went on. "I have done so before, when the circumstances warranted it. But first, there is one more task I must ask of you."

What, wasn't saving his life enough? I mean, I wasn't expecting a medal or anything, but this did seem just the teensiest bit ungrateful. I nodded silently, trying to look as if I didn't mind, but Sarethi didn't appear to notice; he seemed too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Archmaster Bolvyn Venim holds my son hostage for a crime I know he did not commit," he said at last. "If you want me as your sponsor, you must rescue my son Varvur and return him to me."

I stared at him. "Your son? Archmaster Venim kidnapped your son?" A dreadful realisation began to dawn on me. "When? when did this happen, exactly?"

"I am not sure exactly how or when he was taken, but he has been missing for nearly two weeks."

My heart sank. If I wasn't mistaken, I did know exactly how and when Varvur had been kidnapped ? that evening at the Rat in the Pot when I'd seen him for the first time. No wonder the guards had reacted so badly when I tried to intervene; they'd probably slipped a sleeping potion into his drink while no one was looking. But how could I possibly have known?

Suddenly I felt like the worst person in the world. No wonder Lord Sarethi had asked for another favour; right now he'd probably do anything to get his son back. "Okay, I'll do it," I said instantly. This was my kind of job, after all: righting wrongs, fighting injustice and rescuing damsels in distress (or whatever the male equivalent of a damsel is).

"Why would Venim do something like this?" I asked, and then it hit me. "He's the one who's been sending assassins after you, isn't he?"

Sarethi didn't directly answer the question, but I could tell from his expression that I'd guessed correctly. There was no anger in his face, only sadness.

"He is a strong leader, and has done great things for House Redoran. How can I explain the hold he has over the hearts of the Redoran people? He brought us back from certain defeat. He moved the council here to Vvardenfell and took our share of the frontier lands. He is a natural leader, born to rule." He sighed. "One only wishes he was just and fair as well as strong."

Clearly this was as close as he was willing to get to criticising the Archmaster. "How will I find Varvur?" I asked eventually.

"He is being held in Venim Manor, which is the first manor to your right when you enter Skar. I have heard Venim is keeping him in the right wing of his manor." Sarethi hesitated. "Kill the guards if you must, but you must be careful not to kill Venim himself, or the other councillors will turn against you."

I hoped to be able to rescue Varvur without killing anyone at all. There was no way I could fight an entire houseful of guards, and besides, presumably they were only following Venim's orders. I left Sarethi Manor, deep in thought, and spent the rest of the evening trying to come up with a plan.

Hehe, I remember that.

:goodjob:

Awsome. Ive been waiting for this for a while.

Excellent, Helena - long my Ada stumble and muddle through, and yet win in the end!

Another brilliant one, Helena! Well worth the wait. Keep doing it! :goodjob:

So far im on chapter 11, Helena, I love it!!!!

Chapter 17: I Am The Nerevarine

The next morning, when Skar was crowded enough for me to approach Venim Manor without being noticed, I cast the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows and slipped into the house as a servant entered. I caught my breath as I entered the main hall, which was impressive even by the standards of the other noble manors I'd seen. It was two stories high, sumptuously decorated, and dominated by a huge flower arrangement in the centre, which included several of those giant mushrooms I'd seen in the Ascadian Isles.

Unfortunately I didn't have time to stop and look around. I headed through a doorway into the right wing of the manor, down a corridor, then through another door and down a flight of stairs. The hallway here was guarded only by a lone female Dunmer wearing Dwarven armour, but I couldn't see any doors to rooms where Varvur might be imprisoned.

I knew I didn't have much time ? I could re-cast the amulet's enchantment a few times, but eventually the magical charge would run out. I noticed a scrap of paper and a key lying on a nearby bench, and tiptoed over to see what was written on the paper.

Malsa,

Keep our special guest in the room behind the tapestry. Make sure the door is locked and that he is under guard at all times. If he escapes, I will blame you.

V

Glancing round, I spotted a tapestry hanging at the end of a long passage and realised that this must be the one mentioned in the note. Poor Malsa? still, it was her fault for being stupid enough to leave a note like that lying in plain sight. With no time to lose, I snuck up behind her and used my Star of the West power to silently knock her out. I caught her in my arms as she slid to the ground ? ye gods, she was heavy in all that armour ? and managed to drag her out of sight behind the staircase, before grabbing the key and hurrying down the passageway to open the hidden door.

The miserable little room behind the tapestry reminded me of my own cell in the Imperial City's prison. It was small, windowless and bare, furnished only with a bedroll, a bucket, and a small table in one corner. On the table was a candle and a bowl containing a single kwama egg.

Sitting on the bedroll was the young man I'd seen in the Rat in the Pot tavern a week or so earlier. He wore only pants, and looked tired and depressed, but apart from a few scraqes and bruises ? presumably acquired during a struggle with his captors ? he appeared unhurt. As the door creaked shut behind me, he leapt to his feet in alarm. "Who's there?"

"Sssshh," I hissed, pulling off the Amulet of Shadows.

His eyes widened. "You're an Imperial!"

"Congratulations," I said, and then took pity on him. "Varvur Sarethi, I take it?"

"Yes, I am Varvur. Did my father send you?" he went on anxiously. "Are you here to rescue me?"

I nodded. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. Well? mostly."

"What happened?"

"I am not sure," he said slowly. "The last thing I remember before waking up here is drinking in a tavern with some of Venim's guards nearby. I think they must have drugged my glass with a sleeping potion." He bit his lip in anger and humiliation. "They even took all my clothes while I was unconscious. When I woke I tried to fight my way past them, but?"

I nodded sympathetically. "Do you have any idea why Venim would do this?"

"He and my father are political enemies. I think he planned to use me against my father." Varvur glanced down, noting that I was armed. "Can you take me back to Sarethi Manor?"

"Well, I'll do my best." At this point, far too late, it occurred to me that I really should have brought some Divine or Almsivi Intervention scrolls. After a moment's thought, I handed the Amulet of Shadows to Varvur. "This still has some charge left on it. Cast it when we leave the room, and hopefully it'll last until we get out of the manor."

"And if the enchantment wears off?"

"I'll hold off the guards. You run."

He looked doubtful, but finally nodded. "Very well."

We set off together, going a little more slowly this time so as not to attract attention. Unfortunately I hadn't quite memorised the layout of the manor correctly, and ended up taking a longer and more circuitous route than I had come by. Even so, we were almost at the door to Skar when I heard a loud yell behind me and realised we'd been spotted.

I rushed to the door, flung it open, and shoved Varvur through it. "RUN!" I shouted, then turned around and hurled a fireball spell at the advancing guards. It wasn't enough to seriously harm any of them, but the ensuing chaos gave me time to escape through the door after Varvur, slamming it shut behind me.

We tore across the bridges spanning Skar's central chamber, barrelling past unsuspecting Redoran guards and passers-by, without bothering to check whether anyone was following us. What the astonished onlookers must have thought to see me racing across Skar with a half-naked young Redoran noble in tow, I have no idea. We didn't stop until we reached the safety of Sarethi manor, where Varvur shoved past the guards at the door and headed straight for the main hall. "Father!"

"My son!" Athyn Sarethi practically ran up the hall to greet Varvur, folding him into a tight hug. A well-dressed noblewoman, presumably Varvur's mother, emerged from a back room to see what was causing all the commotion; when she saw Varvur, she let out a squeak of joy and rushed over to embrace her husband and son. I watched the touching scene with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, and was about to slink away quietly when Athyn detached himself from the group and came over to me.

"Muthsera. Words cannot express my gratitude." He grasped my hands tightly. Tears were running down his face, and it was only now that I realised what kind of nightmare the past couple of weeks must have been for him.

"For this I will sponsor you in House Redoran," he continued. "You may come to me now for duties and advancement? Kinsman. Only give me a little time, and I will have more tasks for you."

I thanked him and made a hasty exit, my cheeks burning. It's always nice to be appreciated ? sheesh, it happens rarely enough ? but I never really know what to do or say when people start getting emotional. (Maybe I should have taken a tip from those knights in the fairy-tale books, and asked him for half his fortune and Varvur's hand in marriage.)

The only downside to all this, of course, was that Archmaster Venim was not going to be happy when he discovered what had happened. If he didn't know yet who was responsible for freeing Varvur, no doubt he soon would. Certainly I'd made a friend for life in Athyn Sarethi, but I'd also managed to seriously piss off the head of my House ? a man already known for his hatred of outlanders. That didn't bode well for the future.

I figured Athyn could do with some time alone with his family, so after buying a few new spells ? Water Walking from the Mages' Guild and a magicka resistance spell at the Temple ? I took a trip back to Balmora to see Caius. "Have you spoken with Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa?" he asked as soon as I entered.

"Yep."

"And what did they say?"

"That I'm not the Nerevarine," I said, after only a slight pause.

Caius wasn't so easily fooled, unfortunately. "What else did they say?"

I sighed. "Okay? so Nibani said I was someone who might become the Nerevarine. But I don't believe her," I said quickly. "I mean, either I am this guy's reincarnation or I'm not, right? Anyway, I couldn't go back to her even if I wanted to."

"Why not?"

I explained how I'd quarrelled with Nibani Maesa, uncomfortably aware by this time that Caius was not likely to be impressed. When I'd finished, he shook his head. "Oh, Ada. When will you learn to control that temper of yours?"

"Well, she started it!" I said indignantly. "Would you believe she called me 'hard-headed' and 'ignorant'?"

A smile hovered around his lips. "Well, ah?"

"Don't you dare," I warned him.

Caius snorted with amusemant, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Threatening me now, are you? You're developing a nasty habit of playing with fire, my girl."

"Caius, I told you right from the start that I wasn't suited to this job. Is it my fault if you didn't listen? Look, I'm sorry," I said wearily, as his frown deepened. "I really am, but I'm not going to magically change into a different person just because the Emperor wants it." I threw up my hands. "Couldn't we just ditch this idea of me becoming the Nerevarine? Tell His Majesty I wasn't up to the task. There has to be someone out there who'd do a better job of it than I would."

For several seconds he just stared at me without answering. From the look on his face, I got the impression he was getting as tired of this endless battle as I was. "Tell me what else the Ashlanders said to you," he said at last.

Reluctantly I took him through the notes I'd made in my journal, including the prophecy of the Seven Visions. "Look at this," I begged him. "How does any of this even remotely relate to me? And what's Azura got to do with anything?" I added, noticing the reference for the first time. Azura was one of the Daedric Princes ? the goddess of dusk and dawn, if I remembered correctly. How and why she should be mixed up with this Nerevarine business was beyond me.

"I don't know," he said. "As to what you've said? well, I'll think about it. But in the meantime, I have one more assignment for you ? a very tough one, this time."

I let out a sigh of pure exasperation. "All right, Caius: one more. But after that I'm going back home, with or without your permission. Understood?"

"I recommend you take time to improve your skills," he continued, pretending not to have heard me as usual. "You know the drill ? do a few jobs for the guilds, cash in some loot, and upgrade your equipment. Here're 400 drakes that might come in handy. And when you're ready, come back to me, and I'll give you your next mission."

While I was anxious to get everything over with so that I could go home, I wasn't going to argue with this. Frankly, anything that gave me an excuse not to see Caius for a week or two was a bonus as far as I was concerned. No doubt he had his fellow Blades keeping an eye on me, but I could work out how to deal with that later. I was determined not to let him bully me into staying in Morrowind a day longer than I had to.

Thinking I'd had enough excitement for one day, I went back to Ald'ruhn to rest. The next day I dropped by Sarethi Manor to see how Athyn and his family were doing, and he greeted me so warmly that I almost felt sorry I'd be leaving the country in a few weeks. It was such a refreshing change to come across someone who was actually pleased to see me.

Even so, as I spoke to him, I could sense that he was worried about something. "Is everything okay?" I asked, foolishly adding, "Can I do anything to help?"

Sarethi hesitated. "There is another favour I would ask of you, if you would. You may have heard that my son Varvur has been accused of foul murder."

I nodded, remembering what I'd heard in the tavern the night Varvur was kidnapped. "Bralen Carvaren was one of Varvur's friends," Athyn went on. "I cannot believe that my son would do such a thing, but the evidence is... persuasive."

"Er? what is the evidence?"

"I think you should start by speaking with my son," Athyn said quietly. "He is in his room in the guard quarters."

I couldn't really see why he thought his son would confide in a virtual stranger, even if I had rescued him from Venim, but I followed his directions to the guard quarters and found Varvur's room. The young man was lying on the bed, now richly dressed, but otherwise looking even worse than he had when I'd found him in Venim's manor. His face was a sickly shade of pale grey, and there was a haunted look in his eyes which wrung my heart.

When he saw me, he raised himself up on his elbow and gave me a weak smile. "I am sorry, I am not feeling well. What can I do for you?"

"Your father asked me to speak to you about Bralen Carvaren." He let out a groan and sank back onto the pillows, half-closing his eyes. "Could you tell me what happened?" I asked as gently as possible, sitting down beside him on the bed.

"I didn't kill him. He was my closest friend." He shook his head. "The guards found me near his body, but I don't remember anything that happened that night."

"What, nothing at all?" That sounded a little too convenient.

"No, nothing."

I laid a hand on his arm. "Varvur?" I said softly. "If you won't tell me the truth, I'm not going to be able to help you."

"I tell you that I don't remember anything!" He looked directly up at me for the first time, his eyes blazing with anger. "We had been drinking at the Rat in the Pot. All I know is that we left the tavern together, and then? the next thing I remember is being woken by the guards in the morning, with Bralen's body nearby. I was covered in his blood?" He shut his eyes again, exhausted by the effort of speaking, and I thought I heard him murmur, "Just like in the dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Sometimes I kill Bralen in my dreams," he whispered. "It's... horrible. But that doesn't mean I killed him, does it? I was having bad dreams before he died."

Poor kid, I thought. Clearly he was more ill than I had thought; he sounded almost delirious. What was more, I had a horrible feeling that I'd heard of this before: people going mad and attacking friends or relatives in a frenzied rage, then being unable to remember anything about it afterwards. If this was what had happened to Varvur, it was bad news: even if he was found innocent of murder, he'd probably have to be locked up for his own good.

I glanced around the room, searching for inspiration, and my eye fell on a small and incredibly ugly statue standing on a shelf near the bed. It was painted red and black, and looked as if it was made of ash. I don't usually have strong reactions of any kind towards art, but this thing really was downright hideous ? almost sinister, in fact. As I looked at it I could swear that its three crudely-carved 'eyes' were staring back at me, and for a moment I thought I could hear faint whispers in my head, like the ones I'd heard in the depths of Llevule Andrano's tomb.

"Varvur," I said carefully. "Do you remember where you got this statue?"

"Hmm?" He looked at it through bleary eyes. "Oh? no. I don't remember."

"Would it be alright if I took it for a while?"

He nodded. "Yes, take it. Maybe if you take it away, the dreams will stop?"

I picked up the statue gingerly ? for some reason, I was incredibly reluctant to touch it ? and carried it through to the main hall where Athyn was waiting. "Have you seen anything like this before?" I asked him. "I know it sounds strange, but? there's something about it that really bothers me."

Athyn took the statue from me and examined it carefully. "This ash statue troubles me," he said at last. "I would have you speak with someone at the Temple about this. Perhaps Lloros Sarano would know more of it."

I headed over to the Temple, where I asked the Redoran priest Lloros Sarano to take a look at the statue. He examined it closely for several minutes before setting it down.

"Thank you, Ada," he said. "Yes, I can see there is some kind of conjuration enchantment on this statue. I believe it influenced Varvur Sarethi in some manner, causing him to kill his friend Bralen Carvaren."

"You really think so?" I looked doubtfully at the statue. I'd never heard of an enchantment like that before? but then again, a sufficiently powerful and unscrupulous mage could probably do almost anything with magic.

"Tell Varvur to come and speak with me," Lloros advised me. "When I am sure that he is no longer influenced by the statue, I will have him cleared of Bralen's murder."

I returned to Varvur to find that he was looking better already; he seemed much more alert, and his face had returned to its normal colour. I told him what Lloros Sarano had said, and he nodded. "Maybe he can do something about these bad dreams. I will see him as soon as I can."

"Do you remember who gave you the statue now, by any chance?"

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I got it from Galtis Guvron at the Rat in the Pot. In fact? it was Bralen who persuaded me to buy the statue." He bowed his head, and for a moment I thought I saw tears in his eyes. Poor guy, I could only imagine what he was feeling right now.

After Varvur had left the manor, Athyn Sarethi and I waited anxiously in the entrance hall for his return. About half an hour later he reappeared, looking incredibly relieved, and said something to his father in a low voice, glancing at me as he did so. Athyn patted him on the shoulder, murmured something in response, and waited until he had left the room before turning to me.

"It seems that my son's name will be cleared soon," he said. "Thank you, Ada. I knew he could not be a murderer, but I did not know of the influence of these ash statues."

Something was still preying on my mind. "But why would anyone give your son something like that? Do you think it could be?" My voice trailed off. No, surely that was just too far-fetched.

Athyn shook his head. "I don't know. I assume this Galtis Guvron is one of my son's friends, but I have not heard of him or his family. Perhaps you should speak to Lloros Sarano about this?" I nodded and made to leave, but he held me back. "Before you go, I must thank you again for all you have done for my family. I am forever in your debt."

"Don't mention it. Glad I could help," I said, telling the truth for once. I liked Athyn Sarethi. He wasn't an arrogant snob like many of the nobles I'd met, who seemed to look down contemptuously on anyone who actually had to work for a living. I wondered if he might be willing to help me get out of Morrowind once I'd finished my latest Blades mission ? not that I was one to keep score, but he certainly owed me a favour or two.

Back in the Temple, Lloros Sarano agreed that the ash statue business needed investigating, and suggested that I speak to Galtis Guvron at the Rat in the Pot. I decided to put on my Legion uniform first ? I had a feeling that I might need it, and it turned out I was right.

I found Guvron, a pawnbroker, in a back room of the tavern. There was nothing obviously suspicious about him, and he was entirely polite until I brought up the subject of ash statues, when his eyes grew wide with shock.

"How could you...?!" He broke off. "No, never mind. I'll just have to take care of this right now."

Without a word of warning he pulled out a dagger he had concealed under his shirt. I'd been semi-prepared for some kind of confrontation, but I hadn't expected him to attack me the moment I mentioned ash statues. Luckily the guy wasn't much of a fighter, but though I yelled at him several times to surrender, I was eventually forced to deal him a fatal blow. I'd been hoping to get some information out of him; now I'd have to hope I could find something useful on his corpse or at his house.

Here, again, I was lucky. There a few more ash statues amongst the goods he was selling, and in one of his pockets I found a note from someone called 'Hanarai'. It read as follows:

Here is another crate of statues. These are to be placed here in Ald'ruhn. Place the statues quickly and wisely. Destroy this note. Do not disappoint me again.

Hanarai

Hmm? there was definitely something strange going on here. I had no idea who Hanarai was, so I went back to Lloros Sarano and showed him the note. "Perhaps this 'Hanarai' is Hanarai Assutlanipal," he said. "She claims to be an outcast Ashlander. Her house is the first one on the right down the stairs from the Temple? but she may be as unwilling to talk as Galtis, so take these potions in case you need them." He handed me several Restore Health potions and some others which would cure common and blight diseases.

I approached Hanarai's house with a deep sense of foreboding, and once again it turned out to be justified. Hanarai didn't even blink when I entered her house without warning; she just stood there calmly, as if she had been expecting me. A chill ran through me as I realised that I'd seen her before: she was the crazed 'Sleeper' who'd accosted me in the streets of Ald'ruhn a few weeks back.

The moment she saw me, a terrible smile spread over her face. "It is the Hour of Wakening," she hissed. "Dagoth Ur awakes, and comes forth in his glory, and his people shall rejoice, and his enemies shall scatter like dust." And with that, she drew a dagger and attacked me.

Hanarai was a better fighter than Galtis Guvron, but with no armour and only a chitin dagger, she didn't stand much of a chance. She still fought like a demon, refusing to yield even as her life ebbed away. All I found on her body was a few gold coins and another of those small ash statues.

I searched the house for any more evidence of what Hanarai and Guvron were mixed up in. Down the stairs in the lower part of the house, I found a door that was locked and enchanted with a magical trap. After a few tries I got my 'Ondusi's Unhinging' spell to break the lock, and managed to disarm the trap with one of the probes I carried, allowing me to open the door safely. When I saw what lay in the cellar beyond it, I wished I hadn't.

The underground room was lit only by candles and bathed in an eerie red light. It appeared to be some sort of shrine, dominated by a large red-and-black banner covered in strange symbols. In front of the banner was a bowl containing what looked like hunks of rotting meat. They looked absolutely foul, and smelled even worse.

In a corner of the room, a large ash statue stood on a packing crate. I searched the crate to find that it was full of the horrible things, tightly packed together. So this was what the Sixth House cultists had been smuggling.

Shuddering, I left the house and went back to tell Lloros Sarano what I had found. He listened in horror to my description of the Sixth House 'shrine', and promised me that the remaining ash statues would be dealt with. "At least the source of the statues in Ald'ruhn has been shut down," he said. "I admire your achievement, but we must remain vigilant against anyone else who comes to Ald'ruhn with ash statues."

I agreed. Clearly this Sixth House business was a lot more serious than just a few crazies ranting about their Lord Dagoth Ur and how he would drive out the n'wah. But what could they hope to gain by placing one of those statues in the hands of a Redoran noble?

I wondered if I should tell Athyn Sarethi what I had found, but decided he probably had enough to worry about right now without knowing that the Sixth House was after him as well. What I didn't get was that everyone who knew Athyn seemed to speak of him with respect, or even affection. For someone so seemingly popular, he sure had a lot of people out to get him.

While taking a break to rest and eat at the Ald Skar Inn, I wondered what I should do next. It really was time I did some more work for the Fighters' Guild and the Legion, especially if I wanted to practise my combat skills in preparation for Caius' next mission. Also, I probably ought to carry out some duties for the Mages' Guild as well ? I was starting to feel a bit guilty about taking their free potions and equipment without actually doing any work for them. In the meantime, though, I went to ask the Temple priest Tuls Valen whether he had any tasks for me.

"Indeed I do," he said seriously. "I have just received news of another False Incarnate in Vvardenfell."

Cold fear gripped me. "A f-false Incarnate?" I squeaked, feeling the blood drain from my face. Surely they couldn't already have heard about my dealings with the Ashlanders?

"Elvil Vidron in Suran claims to be the Nerevarine and makes prophecies of doom," he said. Oh. Phew!

"What should I do?" I asked, trying to hide my relief.

"Clearly he is a heretic. Convince him that he is mistaken or, if all else fails, prove it by killing him. If he is the true Nerevarine, he is protected by prophecy and cannot die."

I just hoped to goodness that this Vidron guy wasn't the true Nerevarine. If that was the case then I was pretty screwed, wasn't I?

There was no direct transportation link from Ald'ruhn to Suran, so I'd have to go via the Mages' Guild in Vivec. Before leaving I asked Edwinna Elbert, the Breton woman who headed the Ald'ruhn Guild, if she had any duties for me. "Yes, Associate, there is something you could do for me," she said. "I am looking for a copy of the rare Dwarven book Chronicles of Nchuleft, which is simply essential to my research. Would you be willing to find a copy for me?"

"I guess so. I take it the local bookseller doesn't have a copy?"

She shook her head. "Here's 250 septims to cover your expenses. Time is of the essence."

On arriving in Vivec I went straight to Jobasha's bookstore in the Foreign Quarter, remembering that he sold rare books. Sure enough, he had a copy of Chronicles of Nchuleft for exactly 250 septims, though I managed to haggle the price down slightly. After that I thought I would have to wait until evening and take the silt strider to Suran, but then a better idea occurred to me.

I took a gondola to the Temple canton and bought a cheap Rising Force potion from the priestess there, then donated it to Vivec's Shrine to Stop the Moon. As before, it cast a powerful Levitation spell on me, allowing me to fly through the air almost like a bird. I floated up above the cantons and then set out in the direction of Suran, which I could just see as a faint blur in the distance. Nothing hindered me except a few cliff racers, and I arrived in the town before it got dark, far earlier than I would have done if I'd taken the silt strider.

I vaguely remembered seeing Elvil Vidron the last time I came to Suran ? at least if the barefoot, shirtless guy rambling on about 'the time of the Incarnate' was Vidron, which I assumed was the case. He didn't seem particularly surprised to see a young Imperial woman literally drop out of the sky above him (I guess if you've already convinced yourself that you're the Nerevarine, not much else is likely to faze you either). "Excuse me, Ser Vidron?" I said. "Could I speak to you in private for a moment, please? I'm not going to arrest you or anything," I assured him, as he looked at me suspiciously.

Elvil finally relented, and stopped his ramblings long enough for us to walk into a secluded alleyway. I just hoped I could think of something to say to convince him, because "Look, all this is a bit unlikely, don't you think?" probably wasn't going to do the trick.

"I'm told you claim to be the Nerevarine," I said to him.

He smiled. "You disbelieve? I know my destiny? and you will have a hard time proving otherwise. I have seen the message in the dream. Have you not also experienced the waking dream?"

"Waking dream?" I thought back to the strange dreams I'd been having recently, and suddenly a clever idea struck me. "I have, as it happens. But you weren't the person I saw."

He frowned. "Who then, if not myself? The dreams are unyielding! Every day, every night! I must be the one... I must..."

"You can't be the Nerevarine." I leaned in towards him, lowering my voice almost to a whisper. "Because I am."

"You?" He stared at me in disbelief. "But... how can that be?"

"Did Dagoth Ur appear to you in person?" I asked, flinging out my arms. "Did he address you as 'Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia'? 'Long forgotten, forged anew'?" To my surprise, I found I could remember exactly what 'Dagoth Ur' had said to me in the dream. "Did he invite you to join him beneath Red Mountain and purge the n'wah from Morrowind? Well, that's what he said to me!"

By now Elvil was gazing at me with eyes the size of dinner-plates. "You... The vision..." he stammered. "Then it was you, not I! Forgive me, Nerevar, forgive! I meant only to prepare the way."

Sweet Mara, this guy was gullible. "That's quite all right," I told him. "Just stop telling people you're the Nerevarine, and I'll happily forgive you."

"Yes, Nerevar!" he exclaimed. "I see clearly now. I shall repent at the Temple and preach in your name."

"No, don't do that! I mean? I need more time to prepare the people of Morrowind for my coming," I added hastily. "The, ah? the minds of the ignorant masses are not yet ready to accept this news. When the time is right, I will reveal myself," I continued, improvising wildly. "But in the meantime, you must tell no one about our meeting. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Nerevar," he said meekly. "I will seek penance for my sins, and no longer claim to be the Incarnate."

Whew, that was close. "I'm glad to hear it," I told him, resisting the urge to mop my brow, and then a sudden thought occurred to me. "Do you happen to own an ash statue, by any chance?"

His eyes grew even wider. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch. Er, I think you should get rid of that statue," I said. "I? hear the paint they use to coat it is poisonous. If I were you, I'd take it along to the Temple and hand it in to one of the priests."

He looked doubtful. "Well? if you think it is best, Nerevar."

"Good! Well, it's been wonderful meeting you, Elvil," I said, forcing a smile. I could only hope he'd keep his word about not telling anyone my story; otherwise I was going to be in deep trouble.

Screenshots from the last few chapters:

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot14.jpg
http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot12.jpg
http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot11.jpg

Hehe, nice stuff. I like how you use take pictures of everything, cool addition. It never occured to me before that you may be playing Morrowind whilst you write this fan-fic?

Oh and those are some good graphics mods, I really should download some soon.

Yes, I'm playing through the game as I go so that I can take screenshots.

Ah, I thought so. Out of interest, do you get bored re-doing Morrowind like this? Or is it still great fun?

Another Excellent one as always, Helena.

It's still fun, but since I'm trying (mostly) to limit Ada to what she actually does in the fic - doing quests in the right order, etc. - I don't have a lot of freedom in this playthrough. E.g. I can't break into a restricted area and loot cool weapons and armour, because Ada wouldn't do that. I also can't get too far ahead in the game of where I am in the fic, because I'm using it to help me describe the scenery, characters etc. as I go along.

Heh, see that actually sounds really fun to me! But then again I've always loved RPing in Morrowind and Oblivion. But then again doing it for as long as you have may be a bit tiresome and mundane; so I applaud you for your dedication.

And I give you an ice-cream :icecream:

Chapter 18: The Gods Must Be Crazy

Unfortunately I overslept the next morning and missed the silt strider. As the Levitation spell was still active, I decided I might as well use it to travel back to Balmora, rather than waiting all day for the evening strider. I was still nervous about how long it would last, though, so I restricted myself to hovering just above the ground.

Soon after leaving the town, I got my first sight of one of Vvardenfell's less pleasant features: the slave plantations. I'd seen these from above while flying to Suran, but I'd been too high up to make out any detail. Now, as I drew closer, I could see dozens of Khajiit and Argonians working amongst the rows of ash yams and corkbulb plants, wearing only thin pants to protect them from the drizzling rain. I suppose it could have been worse ? I remembered reading that slaves on the plantations of southern Morrowind were kept in cages and forced to go naked, like animals.

Most of the slaves didn't even look up at me as I passed by within feet of them ? I guessed they'd learned that this would earn them a beating, or worse. For this reason I was a little surprised when a male Argonian sidled up to me and laid a hand on my arm.

"Excuse me, mistress," he hissed. "Can you help me... please? I fear I am lost without your help. Please, can you aid a poor Argonian?"

I paused, looking around nervously. The plantation's Dunmer overseer was standing some way away, looking in the other direction, and didn't seem to have noticed anything. "What do you want me to do? I don't have a key."

"Oh, kind and great one, recently escaped from the Dren Plantation am I." He indicated a large manor that was just visible through the fog in the distance. "Very cruel they were to me there. I have heard there is a place near here that will help those such as me, oh great and kind one ? a kindly Redguard who helps us is what I've heard. Please, great friend, will you not help me?"

Again I hesitated. There was something a bit off about this guy, and not just because he appeared strong and healthy while the other slaves looked thin and under-fed. The other Argonian slaves I'd helped had been grateful, as you'd expect, but I'd never met one quite this sycophantic ? all this 'great and kind one' stuff seemed way over the top. I smelled a rat.

On the other hand? if he was telling the truth, I'd hate to abandon him here to his inevitable fate. And if not? maybe it'd be best if I was there when he finally found this 'kindly Redguard'.

"Okay," I said warily. "I don't know where this place is, but I'll try and help you find it."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," he whispered. "You are too kind to Tul ? not like the guards at the Dren Plantation, and cruel, cruel Orvas Dren, the powerful master there. And the evil brothers Ienith, so cruel, so cruel. Thank you for helping deliver me from them."

Okay, there was definitely something up here. This Tul sounded more like someone play-acting a slave than an actual slave. "Have you seen the Twin Lamps?" I asked him, suddenly remembering what the other slaves had said to me.

"The? Twin Lamps?" For a moment he looked slightly panicked. "They... uh... brighten the way, oh most kind, wonderful and helpful friend. Your eyes are like twin lamps of hope, my gracious saviour! Yes, that is it!" Hmm.

We headed north-west up the path, checking behind us now and again to ensure we weren't being followed. I was pretty nervous, not only of what might happen when we found the Redguard, but also that someone might see us and realise what was going on. I hated the thought of possibly having to kill them when I was the one breaking the law.

At long last we spotted a small farm in the distance, some way off the path. The only person visible was a Redguard man hoeing a small patch of land. "Looks like we've found your Redguard," I said to Tul.

He nodded, but didn't say anything until we were approaching the man, when he suddenly grabbed my arm. "Here our journey ends, Cyrodiil," he said, his expression now far less pleasant. "For bringing me to this place, I thank you. It has been a thorn in the side of the Camonna Tong for too long, too long. Be on your way, outlander, or with this Redguard, you will die."

So Tul was a Camonna Tong agent as well as a bounty-hunter? Well, at least I needn't feel too guilty about killing him. "Stand back," I told him, drawing my sword. "I'm not going to stand here and let you kill this man."

"As you wish. The hand of the Camonna Tong will speed you to your final rest."

Before I could get close enough to hit him, he leapt backwards and blasted me with a spell. I'm not sure what kind it was, but gods, it hurt. Luckily, though Tul seemed to be an excellent spellcaster, he was pretty weak in combat. The Redguard couldn't be much help as he was unarmed, and had the sense to stay out of the way.

"Sorry about that," I told him, when Tul was dead. "I knew there was something fishy about that guy."

He shook his head. "It is not uncommon for them to come looking here. I thank you for your help, and for your intentions. Here, take this as a small token of my gratitude."

I thanked him for his gift, a ring with a Shield spell on it, and retreated to lick my wounds. I would never understand how an Argonian like Tul could betray his own people like that. I liked money as much as anyone else, but no amount on Nirn would persuade me to help someone who enslaved Imperials? or any other race, for that matter. But especially Imperials.

The abolitionist ? whose name was Sterdecan ? offered to let me rest in his hut, but once I was healed I was keen to set off for Balmora as soon as possible. I was glad to have been able to help Sterdecan, but the damage was done. I'd never be able to enjoy the beauty of the Ascadian Isles again without thinking of those slave plantations.

After eating my midday meal in Balmora, I returned to Ald'ruhn, where I delivered Edwinna Elbert's book to her and told the Temple priests that I'd successfully dealt with the False Incarnate. Tuls Valen thanked me for my help and promoted me to the rank of 'Acolyte' ? a title I found a little unnerving. Perhaps I ought to stop doing duties for them before I ended up as Grand Inquisitor or something.

Having sorted everything out, I went to talk with the Fighters' Guild steward Percius Mercius, but he didn't have any jobs for someone of my rank. He suggested I try the Guildhalls in Vivec or Sadrith Mora, the Telvanni capital on the east coast, and reminded me that I could ask him if I had doubts about any of the jobs I was given.

I would actually have loved to see more of those weird Telvanni mushroom towers, but I decided it would be easier to go to Vivec. It was near to Ebonheart as well, so I could ask for Imperial Legion orders while I was at it. I took the Guild Guide to Vivec and located the Fighter's Guild, which was also on the top level of the Foreign Quarter canton. The ranking Guild steward was an Orc named Lorbumol gro-Aglakh; he wasn't particularly friendly, but he did agree to give me duties.

"Nar gro-Shagramph said he'd deliver a ring to Ranes Ienith, but he hasn't delivered," he said, after making a big show of trying to come up with 'suitable' missions. "Go find him in the Hlaalu Canton Plaza and bring the Juicedaw Feather Ring to me."

I really did feel I was a bit beyond these entry-level jobs by now, but I knew that saying this wouldn't get me anywhere. In fact, this turned out to be the easiest job I'd done for the Guild so far ? when I went to the Hlaalu canton and found Nar, he immediately handed over the ring without protest. So much for practising my combat skills ? I seemed to be doing more fighting outside of the Guild missions than in them.

Lorbumol's next order was pretty blunt. "There's an Argonian that can't keep its mouth shut. Go shut Tongue-Toad's mouth."

I frowned. I didn't like being sent to kill people without being given a reason, and his use of the word 'it' didn't escape me. "Er? what has he done, exactly?"

"I told you," he growled. "It can't keep its mouth shut."

Hmph. I decided to ask Percius about this one.

In the meantime, I took a trip to the Hawkmoth Legion Garrison in Ebonheart to ask for Legion jobs. As before, I made the journey by buying a Rising Force potion at the Temple canton and donating it to Vivec's shrine, then using the Levitation spell to fly over the water. The head of the Legion at Hawkmoth was a Nord Knight known as Frald the White ? due to his long mane of white-blond hair, I assumed ? and his jovial attitude made a pleasant contrast to Lorbumol's surliness.

"Ah, a Cyrodiil!" he exclaimed, when I told him my name and rank. "That's good. I have the perfect job for you."

"Yes, sir?"

"The Buoyant Armigers claim we have no courtesy," he said.

And this was a problem because?? "I? don't quite understand, sir."

He shook his head impatiently. "Salyn Sarethi, a Buoyant Armiger at the Tower of Dusk in Ghostgate, claims we have no courtesy. Go best him in a duel of wit and poetry."

A duel of wit and poetry? He had to be kidding me. "Er? sir?" I said, deciding that honesty was the best policy here. "I'm not entirely sure I'm the best person for this."

"Rubbish!" he said briskly. "Imperial, aren't you? This should be right up your alley."

I wasn't sure how to reply. It's true that wit and wordplay are highly valued in Imperial culture, but even I could never have fooled myself that I was a smooth talker. Honestly, it's almost as annoying when people assume we're all silver-tongued charmers as when they think we're all corrupt swindlers.

"Come on, Champion!" Frald boomed, seeing my hesitation. "You're not afraid of some big-mouth Buoyant Armiger, are you?"

"No, sir! It's just that I don't know much about poetry, sir!"

He sighed. "Then you might want to find the Red Book of Riddles first. Try Codus Callonus at the bookstore in Ald'ruhn."

Reluctantly I wrote down the details ? could this Salyn Sarethi be related to Athyn and his family, I wondered? ? and returned to the Foreign Quarter to teleport back to Ald'ruhn. I obtained a copy of the riddle-book from the bookseller and went to the Fighters' Guild for my evening meal, where I spoke to Percius about my latest mission. "What is Tongue-Toad's crime?" he said, frowning. "I don't know that it's right to kill him. Maybe you could convince him to leave instead?"

It was late in the evening when I found Tongue-Toad, alone, in the back room of the Rat in the Pot. He was well-dressed and well-spoken, obviously a gentleman, and I wondered what he was doing in a place like that. "What?" he stammered, when I explained what I was there for. "The Fighters Guild sent you to kill me? Why would they want me dead?"

"I don't know," I told him, hating myself for having to do this. "I don't want to kill you, but if I don't my boss will probably send someone else. Would you be willing to leave Vvardenfell if I let you go?"

He nodded gratefully. "Yes. Thank you, Ada ? I will leave soon. May Stendarr watch over you."

"Will you be okay?" I asked hesitantly, remembering the quarantine.

He shrugged. "Don't worry about me, soft-skin. Report back to the Fighters Guild. If I have to, I'll just swim to the mainland."

I still felt guilty as I left the tavern. I was glad that I'd been able to find a non-violent solution, but even so, I found it deeply worrying that I was being sent on missions like this. I wished Percius would tell me a little more about what was going on in the Guild.

I was too tired to look at the riddle-book that night, so it had to wait until the next morning. While eating breakfast, I opened the book and read the first entry:

The question:
It has a tail, a side and a head
I call it what I call a snake
It has no body and it is dead

The answer:
It must be a drake.

Worst. Riddle. Ever. I turned over the page.

The question:
Poets know the hearts of Men and Mer
But beasts can't know my heart, you see
This book was written by a bear

The answer:
It is not a book of poetry.

Okay, I take it back: I hadn't thought it possible, but that riddle was even worse than the first one. Somehow I doubted that Salyn Sarethi would be impressed by any of these, but I memorised them all even so. That done, I set out to levitate over to Ghostgate, thankful that there wasn't an ashstorm or Blight storm for once.

I found Salyn in the tower's underground barracks, wearing a full suit of glass armour. I found it hard to tell his age, but he was pleasant-looking, and quite handsome (after a month and a half spent among the Dunmer, I was getting so used to their strange skin and eye colour that it didn't really bother me any more). He didn't seem particularly pleased to see me, though.

"Yes, I said that the Legion has no courtesy, wit, poetry, or honour," he said curtly. "I will concede that you have wit and poetry if you can win a contest of riddles."

I was already struggling to keep my patience. What did it bloody matter whether we had wit and poetry or not? We were supposed to be soldiers, not a troupe of wandering entertainers! But pointing this out would hardly have earned me any courtesy-points, so I let it go.

"I will ask of you a riddle and you must give the answer as a rhyme," Salyn continued. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose so."

As it turned out, I was in luck. It seemed that Mr. Courtesy had been making use of a certain Red Book himself when planning the riddle-contest. When I realised that the first riddle he asked me was the one on the first page of the book, it was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

"It must be a drake," I responded when he had finished. "Is it my turn now?" I repeated the second riddle from the book.

"Then it's not a book of poetry," he responded, correctly.

We looked at each other. "Best of three?" I suggested.

Salyn nodded, and recited yet another riddle I recognised from the book:

"I gave you a sock, not unlike a box
With hammers and nails all around it
Two lids open when it knocks?"

"It must have been a great hit," I answered, trying not to wince. Yup, unbelievable as it seemed, the authors of the Red Book had somehow come up with a riddle even more terrible than the first two.

Salyn looked astonished, and rather annoyed, that I'd managed to beat him. "Well. You have proven to me that you have wit and poetry," he said gruffly. "Perhaps the Legion has courtesy after all."

I really didn't see what answering a bunch of stupid riddles had to do with being courteous, but I wasn't about to argue with him. "Glad to hear you say so," I said. "By the way, would you happen to be related to someone called Athyn Sarethi?"

"My uncle," he said, looking surprised. "You know him?"

"He's my sponsor in House Redoran," I said. "Good day to you." The expression on his face was absolutely priceless.

I cast an Almsivi Intervention spell to get back to Ald'ruhn, where I went to Sarethi Manor to see Athyn and ask for duties. The more I could do to convince him that I was a dutiful Redoran, the easier it would be to ask for his help later. Or so I hoped, anyway.

"Ondres Nerano, a Hlaalu noble who lives in Balmora, has slandered our Archmaster Bolvyn Venim," he told me. "I need someone to go there and stop his slanders."

I was surprised he was so concerned about Venim being slandered, given the amount of bad blood between them. "What sort of slanders?" I asked. Athyn hesitated, clearly unwilling to repeat what he'd heard. "Serjo, I can't accuse him of slander if I don't even know what he's meant to have said. What if he calls my bluff and denies it?"

Sarethi sighed. "Nerano claims that Venim is guilty of certain? indiscretions? with the wife of another Councillor. While I do not approve of all the Archmaster does, as a Councilman of House Redoran I cannot let this accusation stand."

"I see." I didn't really see, to be honest. If someone had kidnapped my son and sent assassins to kill me, and I heard a rumour that he was sleeping with someone else's wife, I'd be yelling it from the roof of the giant crab shell. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"You must track him down, and demand that he withdraw his slander," he told me. "If he refuses, challenge him to a duel, but do not shame House Redoran by murdering him."

I blinked. "A duel? Are you serious?"

"Quite serious," he said gravely. "Duelling is permitted by Imperial law, surely?"

I didn't really know how to answer. Sure, duelling is technically legal under Imperial law, but the truth was that I'd never heard of it actually happening during my lifetime. If someone slanders you in Cyrodiil, you take them to the courts (or, if you can't afford that, go round to their house with a few mates and beat the tar out of them). I wasn't even sure of the etiquette for challenging someone to a duel ? was I supposed to slap him in the face with a glove or something?

"Well, I'll do my best," I said uncertainly. I really, really hoped that Ondres Nerano wouldn't force me to fight him. I'd killed enough people recently without adding a totally harmless Hlaalu noble to the list.

I took the Guild Guide to Balmora and asked for directions to the home of Nerano, who turned out to live in one of the manors in the High Town. A servant showed me into the house, and before long Ondres himself appeared to greet me. He was young and rather good-looking ? and, to my surprise, quite friendly.

"Why, a visitor!" he exclaimed. "And an outlander, too! What brings you to Nerano Manor?"

My heart sank. Why couldn't he have been the obnoxious, high-handed type? "This isn't a social call, I'm afraid," I said. "I'm a member of House Redoran. One of the Councillors has accused you of slandering our Archmaster."

His expression hardened. "Slander? I told the truth about Bolvyn Venim!"

"Do you have any proof?" I asked.

"Proof?"

"Yes, proof! You know, the thing you ought to have before you accuse people of advltery?" I took a step towards him. "Either show me some proof, or take back what you said about Bolvyn Venim."

Nerano shook his head, disgust written across his face. "I guess you Redorans are too dumb to know what the truth is. If you want a duel over this, you got one!"

"Fine." I heaved a sigh. "Let's take this outside, shall we? I don't want to be accused of murdering you."

He snorted, but followed me outside into the main square. It was early evening and there were still quite a few people around. "Ondres Nerano, I hereby challenge you to a duel of honour," I said loudly, feeling like a character from a badly-written melodrama. "If you lose, you must promise to withdraw your slanders against the Archmaster of House Redoran."

"As you wish," he said, grinding his teeth. I drew my sword, at exactly the same time as he put up his fists.

I looked at him in disbelief. "Don't you have a sword?"

"Not on me, no."

"Well, I'm not getting into a fist-fight with you!" I said indignantly. "This is supposed to be a duel, not a street brawl!"

By now a small crowd of people had gathered to see what was going on. After some muttered discussions and a lot of coughing, one of them produced a sword and handed it to Nerano, and we began the duel.

I'd learned from long experience that just because someone is obviously rich and privileged, it doesn't mean they're necessarily a pampered weakling who can't handle a weapon to save their lives. As it was, though, Ondres turned out to be? a pampered weakling who couldn't handle a weapon to save his life. After a minute or so of holding back, easily blocking his clumsy thrusts, I got tired of playing around with him and dealt him a heavy blow. A few more of these were sufficient to knock his sword from his hand and send him sprawling to the ground.

He raised a hand in surrender as I walked up to him. "Very well. I take back what I said about Venim," he said, and to my surprise, I saw a humorous glint in his eye. "You fight well? for a Redoran."

I knew I ought to have taken offence, but I couldn't help grinning. "You're smart," I said to him, helping him to his feet. "For a Hlaalu. Buy you a drink?"

He hesitated, and then suddenly nodded. "Why not? But I'll buy the drinks, as you won the fight."

We went to the Eight Plates, where Ondres bought me a drink ? several, in fact ? and introduced me to his friends in House Hlaalu, all young nobles like himself. They all seemed friendly, but I noticed that one of them, Meril Hlaano, was looking at me very strangely.

"They say someone hit the Camonna Tong at the Council Club," he said slowly. "Hard. And the guards say they're very concerned, and they're following all leads... But somehow they don't seem very sincere."

He leaned forward. "And Larrius Varro? Champion at Fort Moonmoth? He's been quoted as saying, 'I swore an oath to stop corruption, but it seems the gods have seen fit to fulfill my oath for me.' And you know what's funny? Someone said they saw you talking to Larrius Varro several times recently?"

There was a long silence. Ondres Nerano's face had gone slightly pale. "That was you? You might have told me that before I agreed to fight a duel with you!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said coolly. "I'm in the Legion myself, so of course I've talked to Varro. Now, does anyone want another drink?"

All in all, it was a very enjoyable evening. By the time we stumbled out of the tavern in the early hours of the morning, Ondres and I were firm friends.

"When will I see you again?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I spend most of my time in Ald'ruhn these days."

"That's a pity," he said, and that wicked glint appeared in his eye again. "I may just have to insult your Archmaster a few more times."

"Don't even think about it," I warned him. "Next time I won't let you off so lightly." I suddenly thought of something. "Whose wife, by the way?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Whose wife has Bolvyn Venim not been sleeping with?"

Ondres stared at me. "You don't know?" I shook my head. "It's Garisa Llethri's wife, Fathasa. And Garisa won't do anything about it, so they say. That is," he added hastily, "so they would say, if he were sleeping with her. Which he isn't."

It was a pity really, I thought, as I made my way back to the Fighters' Guild to get some sleep. Most of the Hlaalu were perfectly decent people. It was just a shame their leaders were so obnoxious.

Athyn Sarethi was pleased to hear the result of the duel when I returned to him next morning (I left out the bit about the drinking session afterwards), and he promoted me to the rank of 'House Cousin', whatever that meant. I promised to come back later for more duties, but first I had business in Vivec.

The first thing I did on arrival was to go to Lorbumol gro-Aglakh at the Fighters' Guild and tell him that Tongue-Toad had been 'dealt with'. After that I set out for Ebonheart to report on my successful mission to Ghostgate. When I returned to the Temple canton yet again to use the Levitation shrine, the priestess there was beginning to get suspicious.

"You seem very devoted to Lord Vivec," she said, eyes narrowed. "That's the third time you've visited this shrine in three days."

"Absolutely," I said. "All praise be to Lord Vivec. Can I have the Rising Force potion now, please?"

Frald the White was delighted to hear about me beating Sarethi in the riddle contest. "What I wouldn't give to be at the Tower of Dusk right now," he chuckled, when I told him what had happened. "Ah, but since you are not just a simple warrior, perhaps you would appreciate this book?"

He gave me a book which seemed to be part of a series ? 2920, The Last Year of the First Era. Only problem was that it was the fifth book in the series, which wasn't exactly helpful, given that I'd never read any of the others.

"Now, then," Frald continued briskly, before I had the chance to thank him. "I need someone to find the traitor Honthjolf."

"What has he done, sir?"

Frald's face darkened. "He was once a member of the Order of Ebonheart, but he turned his back on us. Now works as a guard in Aharnabi, a foul den of sorcerers and Daedra worshippers on the far southeast corner of Azura's coast. I need you to find him and kill him."

He marked the location of Aharnabi on my map. It was on one of the many small islands in the south-east ? near to a shrine of Azura ? and I worked out that the nearest major settlement was the city of Sadrith Mora, which just happened to have a Mages' Guild guide. If I left right now and flew out to Aharnabi, I could probably get there before sunset.

I teleported to Sadrith Mora ? which meant 'mushroom forest', according to the Guild guide ? and found myself in Wolverine Hall, a large and windowless Imperial stone castle. I never thought I'd find anywhere quite as maze-like and confusing than the interior of Vivec's cantons, but I must say that Wolverine Hall gave them a run for their money. I must have explored half the castle before finally realising that there was no way out from the ground floor, and that the exit was just one floor down from the Guild room where I'd arrived to start with. Who designs these places?

I finally caught a glimpse of Sadrith Mora itself as I floated up above the castle, and I must say that it was a pretty amazing sight. I'd been impressed by the mushroom tower of Tel Branora ? well, this place was an entire city of those towers, with the great wizard's 'castle' in the centre surrounded by dozens of smaller dwellings and stores. I could have stayed looking at it for hours if I hadn't been in such a hurry.

It was a cool, misty evening, and I felt a sense of incredible peace and tranquillity steal over me as I flew southwards towards Aharnabi. Up here I didn't need to worry about bandits or wild animals or even cliff racers; below me was only endless ocean, dotted with rocks and small islands. For a while I could even manage to forget about the unpleasant business that lay ahead.

The sun was just beginning to set when I spotted the figure looming out of the mist: a huge stone statue of Azura, Daedra Lord (or rather, Lady) of Twilight. As in most of the pictures and statues I'd seen, she appeared as a beautiful young woman, with a crescent moon in one hand and an eight-pointed star in the other. I presumed this was the shrine Frald had described.

Usually I avoid anything Daedric like the Knahaten Plague, but I felt a sudden curiosity to see the inside of the shrine. A few of the Daedra seem to actively enjoy spreading death and destruction ? such as Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon ? but most of them will generally leave you alone as long as you don't do anything really stupid, like summoning them. I'd heard that Azura was fairly benign by Daedric standards (though admittedly, that's not saying much). It couldn't hurt just to take a quick look, surely?

Furtively I approached the stone door in the hill below the statue, and pushed it open. There was no one inside the shrine, but people clearly did visit now and again, because it was clean and lit by torches. Bowls of incense perfumed the inner chamber, which contained another, smaller statue of Azura. I walked closer, strangely drawn towards it ? and then, something really strange happened.

As I drew close enough to the statue to touch it, I felt a sudden change in the air. I can only describe it as a presence ? somehow, at that moment, I could feel that there was someone there in the room with me. I started to back away, frightened, and that was when the statue began to speak.

"You have come here for a reason, though you may not know what it is."

I leapt backwards as if I'd just been struck with a shock bolt. Not only because a statue had just spoken to me, but because I recognised that voice ? I'd have known it anywhere. It was the voice that had spoken to me in my dreams on that prison ship, the very night I arrived in Morrowind.

"I'm sorry!" I gabbled, falling to my knees before the statue. "I didn't mean to ? I ? " I clamped my mouth shut, finally realising that to tell a Daedra Lord I'd summoned her by accident would not be a good idea.

"Sheogorath and I have made a wager. He contends that solitude causes madness, while I maintain it allows for solace and meditation. To test this, I sent one of my priestesses to live alone on an island north of Dagon Fel. If she can live there for 100 years, continuing her life of prayer, my theory will be proven; if not, Sheogorath wins our wager."

What?! Seriously, what? What the heck was she talking about? My head was spinning.

"The time has almost passed," Azura continued, "and she remains steadfast. But, Sheogorath has tried to sway the decision in his favour."

"Um? sorry to hear that?" My voice came out as a breathy squeak.

She went on as if I hadn't spoken. "Travel there, rid the island of his minions, and bring back proof of his meddling. Do not disturb the wise woman, though, as that would void our wager. Serve me, and I will reward you well." And with that I felt the powerful presence vanish from the chamber, leaving me open-mouthed and trembling like a leaf.

I remained there on my knees for what must have been several minutes. Had I really just spoken with the Daedra Lord Azura? Had she just told me that she brought me here for the sake of a bet? She'd dragged me all the way to Morrowind, thousands of miles away from my own home, to help her win a sodding bet with another of the Princes?

Honestly, I just couldn't believe this. I know the Gods ? and the Daedra especially ? are notorious for playing games with the lives of mortals, but did they have to be quite so blatant about it?

Well, if Azura wanted me to go to ? Dagon Fel, was it? ? then I'd better get going right this minute. When a Daedra Lord asks you to perform a task for them, you don't keep them waiting. Honthjolf and his 'den of sorcerers' would have to wait until later. I used a Divine Intervention scroll to take me back to the Wolverine Hall shrine, and touched down at the Sadrith Mora docks just in time to board the last ship going north.

Oh my God. You have no idea how amazing that last chapter was! Seriously everything is perfect to me; the length, the humour, the dialogue; just anything! Seriously I really like how you linked Azura's quest to why Ada came to the island. Very clever.

So yeah as always, amazing. Keep doing it :goodjob:

Yes! A great chapter! And Dagon Fel, too! Thats my favorite town!

Good chapter! I like this story a lot... will have to remember to watch it for more updates.

Nice.
Hurry writing before Ada is struck down by an angry Azura

Nice to see everyone is still enjoying it.

Not sure if I'm going to be able to fit the whole of this story into one thread, so I may have to shut this one down eventually and create a 'Part II', rather than have one huge thread and another with just a couple of chapters. It won't be an issue for a while yet, though.

Nice to see you're still writing it. Yeah I think this'll make second thread.

Without sounding offensive, this fan-fic really is one of the only good things left over on these RP forums. Definitely the best fan-fic of the year in my book.