I would never have thought to kill Gothren like THAT!!! Kudos to your imagination, Helena the planner!!!

Chapter 36: Make Love, Not War

By the time I woke up the next morning, the story of Nartise’s kidnap and rescue had spread all over Ald’ruhn. The version that got back to me was a bit exaggerated, I must say: apparently I’d carved up six or seven Telvanni battlemages, fought off a bunch of guards trying to prevent our escape, and burst through the gates of Wolverine Hall with a horde of enraged Telvanni hot on our heels. The Redorans were going to be dining out on this for years. As for the Telvanni… well, I got the feeling I wouldn’t be welcome in their settlements for quite a while.

That was nothing, though, compared to the effect of Archmagister Gothren’s death. People didn’t nod politely any more as I passed, but lowered their eyes and scuttled out of the way, while children stopped playing and hurried inside their houses when they saw me coming. Everywhere I went, I kept hearing the hushed whispers: “Nerevar… Incarnate… the Nerevarine…”

One sweet little girl plucked up courage to approach me as I walked to Skar to buy provisions. “Are you the Nerevarine?” she asked shyly in Dunmeris.

Aww, I thought, aren’t they adorable. “Yes, I am,” I said, smiling kindly at her. (My Dunmeris didn’t quite stretch to “well, technically yes, but it won’t be officially confirmed until I’ve fulfilled the prophecies and been formally acknowledged by the Temple authorities.”)

A gleeful smile spread over her face. “You’re a liar. My mother says you’re a heretic and you should be burned.”

I was trying to think of a suitably snappy comeback – I didn’t have the vocabulary for what I really wanted to say – when the mother herself strode up to drag her kid away. As she left, she snarled something at me which I didn’t quite catch, but no doubt she was telling me to keep my filthy heretical hands off her child.

Everything was getting a bit out of hand, to put it bluntly. Still, there were worse things than getting harassed by eight-year-old girls – at least no one was trying to have me arrested and thrown into the Ministry of Truth. Yet.

Since I seemed to be making Morrowind’s cities too hot to hold me, maybe it was time to start work on my own stronghold again. To do that I had to go and see Percius Mercius about hiring some guards. It was a while since I’d visited the Guild, but so much had happened in that time that I’d almost forgotten about the bloodbath in Balmora and Vivec.

Percius’ eyes lit up when he saw me. “Ah, Ada! I was wondering when you’d show up. Why didn’t you come back here after dealing with Hard-Heart?”

“I was… busy.”

“Ah yes,” he said with a smile. “I’ve heard all about you declaring yourself the Nerevarine. You’ve certainly been causing quite a stir in these parts. Well, are you ready to take your place as Guildmaster?”

“Whaaaa…?” I gasped, clutching wildly at a pillar. “Oh, right… you’re joking. Haha.”

“I’m not joking. The job is yours, if you want it.”

“You want me to be the Guildmaster?”

He nodded. “I was the Master before Sjoring Hard-Heart, but I’m getting on a bit. Time I retired, really. Hrundi’s happy in Sadrith Mora, and you’re the only one left with his rank. So it’s yours by default.”

I gaped at him. “Percius, I can’t possibly be Guildmaster! I’m already head of the Legion, for a start. Not to mention that I’m a bit busy right now trying to defeat an evil god. How am I supposed to find time to run the Guild on top of all that?”

“Delegation?” he said with a wink.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. First the Legion and now the Fighters’ Guild? This was insane. But then everything that had happened to me recently was pretty insane, so perhaps it was best to humour him.

“All right,” I said at last. “I accept your offer. And my first decision as Guildmaster is to appoint you, Percius Mercius, as Assistant… Deputy… Vice-Guildmaster in charge of… well, everything. You can take care of the Guild for me while I’m busy fighting the Sixth House.”

“As you wish, Guildmaster.” He bowed his head, but I saw a twinkle in his eyes. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do for you?”

Suddenly I remembered what I’d come for in the first place. “Actually, yes. I was wondering if you could help me find some guards for my Redoran stronghold.”

Percius thought for a moment. “I do know a few men who can garrison your stronghold,” he said at last, “and I’ll even recommend them to you for free, but first I’ll need a favour. I need you to get my friend, Frelene Acques, out of prison.”

Good grief. There’s always something, isn’t there? “Why? What’s she done?”

“Nothing, as far as I know, but the Hlaalu are holding her for questioning. She’s being held in the prison under their Canton in Vivec.”

Oh, great. Now I was supposed to supervise a prison break? He might say his friend was innocent, but for all I knew she was guilty as sin. “Suppose I were to order you to hire me some guards, Percius?”

“I’m sorry, Guildmaster. I just can’t concentrate on anything else, thinking of my poor, wrongfully-accused friend rotting in a Hlaalu jail.” I could see him struggling to keep a straight face. Bastard.

“Oh, gods, all right,” I hissed. “I’ll try and get her out. But if everything goes pear-shaped, I’m going to tell them it was you who sent me.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said blithely. “You should be a Khajiit, Ada; you always land on your feet. Anyway, didn’t the Hlaalu make you their Hortator? You should be able to pull a few strings, surely.”

The only string I wanted to pull right now was a nice tight knot around Percius Mercius’ neck. I was supposed to be head of the Guild now, and yet somehow I was still taking orders from him? Gods, I really had to start learning to say ‘no’ to people.

I set off for Vivec, wondering if I could somehow disguise myself or cover my face to avoid being jumped by Ordinators. I still had some of the make-up and hair-dye I’d used for the Caldera Mine job, so I ended up putting that on. I’d just have to hope it would be enough.

In the event, I managed to reach the Hlaalu canton without being recognised. Unfortunately that meant I couldn’t do any of the ‘string-pulling’ Percius had talked about, so I ended up using the Amulet of Shadows to sneak into Frelene’s jail.

The place wasn’t exactly what you’d call ‘top-security’. There was only one guard, who’d conveniently left a master key lying on a table in the corner. I grabbed it while he wasn’t looking and slipped it through the bars to Frelene, noticing as I did that she was very pretty – gee, I wonder if that could be why Percius wanted her out of there? Her eyes widened when she realised what was happening, and she gestured silently that she’d make her own way out once I’d left.

She still hadn’t arrived when I got back to Percius, but luckily he believed my story and agreed to hire guards for me. That done, I had nothing to do for the rest of the week but lots and lots of sword-practice. I also went to Ebonheart to pick up Chrysamere and the Lord’s Mail, figuring that they belonged to me now. I didn’t like to be reminded of my duel with Varus Vantinius, but since there was no way I could use the Levitation trick again, I had to find some way to even the odds.

The evening before the duel, I went to the practice rooms under Skar for a final workout. I was beating the heck out of a training dummy when I heard a faint noise behind me, and turned to see Varvur standing by the door.

“Hello, Varvur,” I said in surprise. “I didn’t hear you come in. Have you been here long?”

“Not so long. I didn’t want to interrupt you.” He took a hesitant step forward. “Do you have some time to talk?”

“Of course,” I said, going to sit on one of the benches. “What about?”

“I heard how you rescued Nartise Arobar.” He smiled, and then his smile faded slightly. “I… also heard about Gothren. And Orvas Dren.”

I could see the slight strain in his face. “Are you afraid of me, Varvur?” I asked bluntly.

“Of you? No.” He sat down beside me. “But… I am afraid for you, perhaps. It seems to me that you are making many enemies.”

“I know.” I shrugged rather wearily. “Still, you can’t make an omelette without carving up a few Telvanni. An old Imperial saying.”

He shook his head, though there was a trace of a smile on his lips. “Do you always joke about serious things?”

“Always,” I said with a sigh. “It’s just a way to cope. What else am I supposed to do? Cry?”

“I don’t know. But that is what I came to talk to you about.” He leaned forward slightly. “I just wanted to say that I will always be here to help you if you need it. If you want a… a bodyguard, perhaps, to protect you from assassins. Or if anyone threatens you, come to me – or my father – and we’ll make sure they don’t harm you.”

My heart cracked into little pieces. He was such a sweetheart… and the bodyguard thing wasn’t a bad idea, actually. I might just take him up on it if the Ordinators started getting shirty. Not that I needed much of an excuse to spend more time around Varvur…

“Thank you, Varvur,” I said, as soon as I could speak again. “I’m running out of ways to say this, but… I’m really, really grateful for everything you and your family have done for me. I just hope I don’t end up letting you all down.”

“But you won’t. If what Azura has said is true, you must be the one to defeat Dagoth Ur.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him about all the failed Incarnates. “Anyway, I must go now. I will leave you to practise.”

Well, that settled it: I had to win, or end up taking Varvur and Athyn down with me. That would have been true anyway, of course, but Varvur’s offer really brought it home to me. I wondered how long his father would last on the Council if Bolvyn Venim won the duel. Something told me he’d probably be out within the month – if he even managed to survive that long.

I wondered why it seemed so much easier to fight for their sake than for the sake of all Morrowind. Perhaps it was just that the threat of Dagoth Ur still seemed so far-away and abstract. Okay, so he’d given me a few bad dreams and I’d seen the destruction he’d wreaked on the land, but to me he was still just some shadowy figure hiding inside a cave. Whereas the Sarethis were my friends – heck, almost family – and they’d risked everything to help me.

I slept surprisingly well that night – maybe I’d just tired myself out. When I woke up I felt strong and alert, but also rather nervous. I wasn’t really hungry, but I forced myself to eat some breakfast at the Arena waistworks – no sense in collapsing for lack of energy half-way through the duel.

The fight was scheduled for ten o’clock. When the time came, I strapped myself into my armour and loaded myself up with as much enchanted jewellery as I could carry without falling over. Then I walked out into the lion’s den.

When I stepped through the wooden door that led to the arena, I nearly had a heart attack. The place was absolutely packed with people – half the population of Vvardenfell seemed have squeezed themselves into the stalls, eager to see the fight between the head of House Redoran and the outlander claiming to be the Nerevarine. A huge cheer went up as I entered the ring, and an even bigger one when Venim appeared a few moments later. I wondered if Athyn and Varvur were somewhere in that huge crowd, watching.

Venim stood at the other side of the arena, sword in hand, decked out in his ebony armour. I suppose you could have seen it as symbolic: me in my shining mail with my holy Paladin’s Blade, battling the evil Black Knight for the future of Morrowind. Certainly it sounded a lot better than the reality: an out-of-her-depth young woman facing a deeply unpleasant but hardly evil opponent for the sake of a title she didn’t even want or – let’s face it – deserve.

“Azura?” I prayed silently, as we waited for the signal to begin the duel. “If you’re watching this, I could really use your help right now.” And someone must have been listening, because at that moment my nervousness vanished and I felt a sudden surge of confidence. I was ready to take on anything, even Venim.

The duel began. As Venim rushed towards me with sword drawn, I stayed calm and quickly cast my protective enchantments. They wouldn’t last very long, so I’d have to try and get this over with quickly.

You couldn’t really do any fancy swordplay with those massive blades, so for the most part we just circled each other and took the occasional swing, hoping to catch each other off guard. I could see the scorn in Venim’s eyes as he spotted my magical shields.

“Afraid to face me without enchantments, outlander?” he taunted me.

“Afraid to face me without Daedric weapons, Bolvyn?” I jeered back.

I have to admit, though, he was good. Really good. Even after days of practice, it was still an effort for me to fight with Chrysamere, while Venim swung his own dai-katana like he’d been born to it. I wouldn’t have had the ghost of a chance against him without all my magical gear.

It wasn’t long before I realised this was pointless. All Venim had to do was wait for me to tire myself out, then move in for the kill. If I could just get close enough to cast my Star of the West spell, I might have a chance – but I couldn’t risk taking a hand off my sword, unless I found some way to trick him. Come on, Ada. Imperials are supposed to be good at cheating.

I pretended to stumble, letting Venim’s sword strike me in the arm. While the Shield spell absorbed most of the force of the blow, it was enough to jar the sword out of my left hand. Venim’s eyes gleamed with triumph, he relaxed for just a moment – and before he could recover from the swing, I stepped forward and cast the spell.

What happened next was completely unexpected. Instead of collapsing or even stumbling, Venim lowered his sword and took a step backwards. His eyes were fixed on me as if in a trance. Oh [censored], I’d cast the wrong spell!

Venim stared at me in bewilderment as the powerful Charm spell did its work. It was clear that he’d completely forgotten why he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t afford to waste this chance – any moment now, he’d realise what had happened and get really angry.

“Sorry, Bolvyn,” I whispered, raising Chrysamere in both hands, “but I have to kill you now.” Before he could react, I swung the huge blade straight at his neck, severing his head clean from his body.

The crowd went wild. I turned away as Venim’s body toppled to the ground, feeling a bit sick. Poor guy, even he didn’t deserve such a humiliating death.

By the time I got back to the waistworks, Varvur Sarethi was there to greet me. “What happened?” he gasped, pulling me into a brief, tight hug. “When he struck your arm, I thought… What kind of spell did you cast on him?”

“Uhm… Illusion,” I mumbled, deliberately avoiding the actual question. “Oh look, here come the others.”

The Redoran councillors had entered from the back of the room, along with their wives and families. I noticed that Fathasa Llethri looked pale and tight-lipped, while Garisa’s face held a look of rather grim satisfaction. Walking alongside them was a woman I didn’t recognise, dressed in some of the most exquisite clothes I had ever seen. As they drew closer I realised that she was sobbing bitterly.

“Who’s that?” I whispered to Varvur.

He coughed awkwardly. “That is Dilvene Venim, Bolvyn’s… widow.”

I stared at him in horror. “He had a wife? No one told me he had a wife!”

At that moment, Dilvene’s glance fell on me, and her eyes blazed with sudden fury. “Traitors. Murderers! This is all your fault!”

Miner Arobar laid a hand on her arm, but she brushed him aside. “You plotted against him! All of you! What shall I do, now he is dead? All those years I stood by him, pretending to be blind to all his – his – ” She broke off, and turned streaming eyes towards Fathasa Llethri. “Did you think I didn’t know, Fathasa?”

Fathasa’s face turned deep purple. Her husband looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. For a moment there was total silence, and then suddenly everyone began talking – or rather, yelling – at once.

I stared in disbelief at the bickering group. This was getting out of hand. Any minute now, other people were going to turn up and see the entire Redoran council squabbling like a bunch of ten-year-olds.

“SHUT UP!” I roared. A circle of shocked faces turned towards me. I glared back at them. “If we must discuss who’s been sleeping with who, could we please do it a little more quietly? I think there’s a bunch of Ashlanders out in Dagon Fel somewhere who haven’t heard about it yet.”

There was another silence, broken when Dilvene burst into tears again. Brara Morvayn put an arm around her and began to speak to her in a low voice. As the Councillors clustered around her, Athyn drew me aside to join him and the other Sarethis.

“Will she be all right?” I asked awkwardly.

Athyn nodded. “I believe so. She will grieve for him, of course, but I hope it will not be for too long. Poor Dilvene, he treated her almost as badly as he treated everyone else.”

I said nothing. Varvur gave my hand a quick squeeze. As the four of us began to move towards the exit, he hung back to walk beside me.

“What will you do now?” he asked, after a few moments of silence.

I thought for a while. “I think I need a bath,” I said at last.

“And after that?”

I thought again. “A drink would be nice.”

“Shall I meet you in the Rat in the Pot?”

*****

We spent a long time in the tavern, buying each other drinks and talking about everything except the duel that had just taken place. All I really wanted to drink myself into oblivion – almost literally – but luckily I had the sense to stop before I reached the ‘clinging onto the floor’ stage. Getting falling-down drunk at a time like this probably wasn’t the best idea.

Even so, both of us were rather the worse for wear by the time we left the tavern. Everything seemed incredibly funny all of a sudden. We made our way down the street, leaning against each other and giggling helplessly at each other’s jokes. It was a very cold night, but I hardly even noticed – all I could think was how nice it was to have Varvur’s arm around me.

Near to the Fighters’ Guild, he suddenly stopped walking. “What’s that? Over there, in that alleyway.”

I peered into the gloom, but it was too dark to make anything out. “I can’t see anything.”

“Let’s take a closer look.” He tugged me insistently in the direction of the alley. I followed, vaguely wondering what had come over him.

There was nothing in the alley except a few crates and empty baskets. “ ’S nothing here,” I mumbled. “What did – oh.” Before I realised what was happening, he had pushed me up against the curved wall of a hut, pressing his lips against mine. His red eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.

Finally, I thought. I was just about to slip my arms around him when he suddenly tore his lips away from mine, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was even huskier than usual. “I’m so sorry. I know it is disrespectful, but I couldn’t help it. You are so beautiful...”

I looked at him in confusion. “I’m not beautiful.”

“Well,” he said, “I don’t know what Imperials consider beautiful. But I think you are.”

After that, was it really any surprise that we ended up kissing again? I was drunk, so I don’t really remember all that much about it, but I do know that it felt pretty good. Certainly a hell of a lot nicer than being kissed by Crassius Curio.

After what felt like an age, Varvur pushed back the heavy cloak I was wearing and slid his hands under my shirt. Somewhere inside my head, a little voice was screaming at me that this was a bad idea, but it was drowned out by a whole chorus of voices saying that this felt rather nice, actually.

“Hey, kids! Get a room!” The Nordic-sounding voice came from somewhere near the Fighters’ Guild. We froze, but whoever it was passed by, chuckling.

“Maybe we should, uh, get a room,” I mumbled. “If you want to go on with this, I mean?”

“Yes. Let’s go.” He grasped me by the hand and we hurried back towards the Rat in the Pot.

By the time we reached the tavern, we could hardly keep our hands off each other. The only person left in the taproom was the owner Lirielle Stoine, cleaning up. She looked up in amusemant as Varvur and I stumbled in, locked in each other’s arms. “I take it you two want a room?”

“That would be good,” I agreed, fumbling in my pouch for some coins.

Lirielle took the money and led us down to a small, rather dingy bedroom. Just before she left, she slipped a couple of small potion bottles into my hands. “Thought you might need these,” she said with a wink.

It took me a couple of seconds to realise what they were, but when I did, I was suddenly very grateful to her. In all the excitement I’d forgotten that the last thing I needed right now was a little sweetroll in the oven …

My memory of the rest of that night is very patchy, so I can’t describe it in detail – and even if I could, the Temple would probably ban it. Let’s just say that in our own way, Varvur and I did our bit for improved Imperial-Dunmer relations. Who’d have thought international diplomacy could be so much fun?

*****

I woke up the next morning in Varvur’s arms, half-dressed, with a mild headache. I must admit that my first thought was, “Oh gods, who have I slept with this time?” Then I remembered.

Varvur was still lying half on top of me, sound asleep – well, that explained why I couldn’t feel the right half of my body. “Hello, sleepyhead,” I whispered. When that didn’t wake him up, I poked him gently in the ribs.

Varvur’s eyes flickered open, rested on me for a couple of seconds, and then widened with shock. He sat bolt upright. “Ada!” he gasped, his voice hoarse. “Oh, b’vek! Ada, I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have…”

I felt like I’d been slapped in the face. He could hardly have insulted me more if he’d left money on the bedside table. I wrenched myself out of his grasp, ignoring the fierce pins-and-needles in my right side.

“Oh, I get it,” I snarled. “When you told me all that crap about how beautiful I am, you really meant ‘at two in the morning when I’m totally off my face on mazte’. Well, nice knowing you too, Varvur.”

I flung my cloak around my shoulders and made for the door, but he grabbed hold of me. “Wait! What are you talking about? I do think you’re beautiful, I just thought – ” He broke off. “You mean, you don’t mind that I…? You enjoyed it?”

“What?” My head was starting to throb. Maybe I was just hung over, but this conversation wasn’t making any sense to me. “Of course I enjoyed it. At least – ” I screwed up my eyes for a moment – “I think I did. Didn’t you?”

“I think so too.” His face was slightly flushed. “But… I don’t really remember too well.”

For a moment we just stared at each other, until suddenly the ridiculousness of the situation hit us both and we burst out laughing. Varvur pushed me back onto the bed and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him down on top of me.

“What took you so long?” I mumbled, in between kisses.

“I wanted to do this before, but I was afraid you wouldn’t like it. You told me I was a good friend.” He exhaled slowly. “And you said that you liked… barbarians…”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Were you thinking of dragging me by my hair to a cave somewhere?”

“Not your beautiful hair,” he murmured, running his hands through my tangled braids. “But… yes, something like that.”

I groped for the spare potion Lirielle had given me, swallowed it down, and settled back against the pillows. “So go ahead. Do it now.”

“There’s no cave.”

“Use your imagination.”

It was mid-morning by the time we were finally ready to leave. I waited another hour or so before going to see Athyn, not wanting to raise suspicion by arriving too soon after Varvur. I really wished I’d got him to declare me Hortator last night, before we left for Ald’ruhn. It was supposed to be a solemn occasion, but all I could think about was how he’d react if he found out I’d spent last night in bed with his son.

But I must have done a good job of hiding my embarrassment, because he didn’t seem to notice anything. He simply made a short speech pronouncing me Hortator, and sealed the deal by giving me – you guessed it – another piece of enchanted jewellery. This time it was a ring with health-giving properties.

“I also have a sealed package for you,” he said, handing it to me. “I do not know what it contains, but I received it from a contact in the highest ranks of the Temple. My guess is that it has something to do with their position on your claim to fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. Oh… and here is a copy of a recent public notice issued by the Watch. I believe you should see it.”

I read the note, and my heart almost stopped. It read like this:

WELL-BELOVED PEOPLE OF MORROWIND!
TAKE HEED!
TAKE WARNING!

The outlaw named Ada Ventura, stated trade of Mercenary, lately called ‘Incarnate’ and ‘Nerevarine’, now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates of this district to be an agent in the pay of the Imperial Intelligence Service. This outlaw’s claims are false. The prophecies this outlaw cites are discredited. The dishonest character and base purposes of the outlaw in perpetrating this hoax are now made clear to all observers. Ada Ventura is sought for various crimes by Ordinators and town guards. Report all encounters with this outlaw to the proper authorities. If you see this outlaw in public, give the alarm.

Published by the authority of the Temple, the Order of the Watch, Magistrates of Vvardenfell District, under the signature and authority of Grandmaster Berel Sala, Captain of the Watch. Hear and Heed!

I felt the blood drain from my face as I looked up at Athyn. The game was well and truly up. “Look,” I began desperately, “I can explain – ”

“No need for explanations. I only wish to give you warning.”

“But – ”

He held up a hand. “I am satisfied of your sincerity,” he said quietly, “but I warn you that others may not be so understanding. That is all.”

I stared at him in utter confusion. Did he believe I was a spy, or not? And if so, how could he possibly still trust me? He was either the world’s best judge of character, or the world’s worst.

“Thanks,” I said at last. “So, er… who’s going to be the Archmaster now?”

“We haven’t decided yet. The Councillors will rule the House collectively until a decision is made.”

“I bet I can guess, Athyn,” I said meaningfully. He only smiled.

I was so deep in thought as I left Athyn’s study that I didn’t notice Varvur approaching until I practically bumped into him. “Has he given you the ring?” he asked. “You are our Hortator now?”

I nodded dazedly. “What’s the matter?” he asked, seeing the expression on my face.

Wordlessly I handed him the public notice. As he read it, his face turned pale with anger, and he muttered something in Dunmeris. I watched in disbelief as he ripped the paper to shreds and scattered them over the floor.

“That is how we treat slanders against our House,” he said coolly, and turned back to me. “Don’t listen to them, Ada. I know it must be hard for you, to hear their lies. But no one will dare lay a hand on you now that you are Hortator.”

I managed to force a smile, but I felt more like crying. The sense of guilt was almost physically painful. Gods, I was going to murder bloody Caius Cosades if I ever saw him again. Even hundreds of miles away in Cyrodiil, he was still managing to screw up my life.

“I have to go,” I said at last. “I need to get Master Aryon to declare me Telvanni Hortator, and after that I’ll have to visit a few more Ashlander camps. When I get back, we can… talk about things. OK?”

He nodded reluctantly. I wanted to invite him to come with me, but I think we both realised that would be a really bad idea right now. Instead we had to make do with a quick clasp of hands, which was all we dared to do with Varvur’s family and servants around.

More secrets, I thought with a sigh. More lies.

I didn’t even remember to look at the sealed package until several hours later. It was a hastily scribbled note, signed by ‘Dileno Lloran, assistant to the Archcanon’, and began like this:

To the Outlander lately proclaiming her identity as the Nerevarine, to be delivered with haste –

The assertions made being in direct contradiction of the doctrine of the Tribunal, namely, that you are the Nerevarine, the reincarnation of the Sainted Lord Nerevar, are, in addition to being against Temple teaching, incredible and implausible in the extreme.

The revelations made by the Inquisition, namely, that you yourself are in fact an agent of the Imperial Intelligence Service, otherwise known as the Order of Blades, lately made with substantial evidence by the Lord High Archordinator, Berel Sala, further calls into question the validity of and motivations behind your claims.

However, as incredible as your claims are, as much as they are in direct contradiction of the teachings of the Temple, and tainted as they are by the inferences to be made upon your close association with the covert policies and interests of the Emperor, the interests of the Temple and its leadership, and in particular, the interests of His Immortal Lordship, Vivec, are best served by a close and personal examinations of the claims being made, and close and personal examinations of the motivations and character of the claimant.

It went on like that for nearly two pages. I’ve never seen such a piece of mealy-mouthed tripe in all my life. Basically, what it was saying was this: “You are definitely not the Nerevarine. Absolutely not. But in the incredibly unlikely event that you are the Nerevarine (which you’re not) and you manage to fulfil the prophecies (which you won’t), the Archcanon would like to meet you in person – secretly, of course.” I’m surprised it didn’t finish up with “This message will self-destruct in 60 seconds.”

Well, there’d be time to worry about that once I finished the Fifth Trial. For now I just needed to get Aryon to pronounce me Hortator, then sort out the remaining Ashlander tribes. And try not to think too much about Varvur in the meantime.

Wonderful! Fantastic! Great! Heavenish!

The charm spell was fantastic!

“Uhm… Illusion"
:D
Just fantastic!

Hey, actually I am a little dissapointed that Ada took that drink during that drunk night... It would have been such a nice suprise at the end of the story if she got a "sweetroll in the oven"!

YES!!!!!

Great write, the love scene was my favorite! (I'm such a svcker for these things!)

:goodjob:

Morning sickness all over Dagoth Ur?

First...

“I’m sorry, Guildmaster. I just can’t concentrate on anything else, thinking of my poor, wrongfully-accused friend rotting in a Hlaalu jail.” I could see him struggling to keep a straight face. Bastard.

Well, my face wasn't straight then, too! Helena! Great!

And then we go on to the love scene, played with an eye to reality and balance only Helena could have done - namely that it was unexpected, fumbling, opportunistic, full of false starts and beginner's awkwardnesses, and yet, in the end, all right.

Just as life is, frequently.



Ah, Helena
you know full well
Sometimes life does dwell
on the marred mundane

And fairytales we knew
dripping with honeydew
really don't quite apply
to our fumbling tries -

But when in the end
by roads too strange to tell
it really does come out all right
after the initial frights -

Then laugh and say "O, Blimey
Though I was bit in the Hiney
It's just as they did done tell -
All's well then that ends well!!"

Not to her, I don't think

More screenshots from the last few chapters:

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot019.jpg
http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot016.jpg at the Caldera mines
Ready for the http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot017.jpg http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/MGEScreenshot018.jpg

And a couple more of pre-Morrowind Ada:

http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/ScreenShot84.jpg
Getting in touch with her http://i50.photobucket.com/albums/f332/ecucej/ScreenShot90.jpg

Why didn't you post some actual fight scenes?

Because they're too much of a PITA to set up. (I found that out while doing the last bunch of screenshots.)

Ooh, this fic is as good as I remember. Nice work!

For Ada to have that sweetroll in the oven, men and mer would have to be cross-fertile. Is it stated anywhere in Elder Scrolls lore that this is the case? If so, why are there no half-breed NPCs in either Morrowind or Oblivion?

Men and mer are cross-fertile, as stated in the book http://www.imperial-library.info/mwbooks/notesracial.shtml. Apparently on Nirn the child takes on the race of the mother, though they can have traits of the father.

-coughs- And while I'm crawling out of the woodwork, I'll just say that I've been watching this fanfic with increased interest. Keep up the good work, Helena!

As Mortigan said, half-breeds in the Elder Scrolls universe take on the mother's race (so any kiddies born to Ada and Varvur would be Imperials, not Dunmer or even half-Dunmer). An example of a half-breed character in the games is http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Oblivion:Agronak_gro-Malog from Oblivion (Orc mother, Imperial father).


Thanks. I'm sorry for the delay, but I've been very busy with RL stuff recently. I'll try to finish the next chapter this weekend.

Chapter 37: Here Comes The Bride

Now that I’d been ‘outed’ as a spy and pretender throughout civilised Vvardenfell, I wanted to head out to the Ashlander camps as soon as possible. The only thing I did before leaving was quickly return to Ebonheart, using a Divine Intervention enchantment, to return Chrysamere and the Lord’s Mail.

Duke Vedam Dren had been away when I came for the artifacts on the previous day, but he was back now. I cringed when I saw him, remembering that I’d killed his brother Orvas only a couple of weeks ago. For a moment I was afraid he might try to arrest me – then I remembered that I was head of the Imperial Legion, so all his Legion guards actually reported to me. Phew.

The Duke stood up from his chair as I entered the room. For a moment we just looked at each other. “I’m sorry about your brother, serjo,” I said at last. “I didn’t set out to kill him, but he never gave me a chance.”

He shrugged, his face expressionless. “I am saddened at his death, but perhaps it was necessary.”

Unsure what else to say, I laid down the artifacts in their usual place and turned to leave. Just as I reached the door, I heard the Duke’s voice behind me. “Sera Ventura? Could I offer you a word of advice?”

I turned back towards him, a little surprised. “I’m told you claim to be the Incarnate,” he went on. “Nerevar reborn, according to legend. My father used to say, ‘When you hear something unbelievable, don’t believe it.’ From what I hear, your story is remarkable enough without relying on ancient prophecies. I suggest you stand upon your reputation, and leave superstitions to the prophets and holy men.”

“Thank you for your advice, your Grace,” I said, keeping my expression carefully neutral. He just sighed.

Well, there was one person who obviously wasn’t convinced yet. I guess it could have been worse, though – if he’d been really angry over his brother’s death, he could have made life very difficult for me. Clearly there hadn’t been any love lost between the two of them.

After leaving the Duke’s chambers I cast a Recall spell to take me straight to Tel Vos, not wanting to risk going back to the Vivec Temple. I’d planned to use my Levitation Pants to go up and visit Aryon, but I suddenly remembered that I’d promised his guard captain to ask the Zainab Ashlanders about trade goods. Looking at my map, I saw that the Zainab camp was some way south-west of Tel Vos. I could probably walk there by the next morning, as long as I didn’t get jumped by too many blighted animals along the way.

The walk to the camp was surprisingly pleasant. The Grazelands were nice to look at, even if most of the trees were bare this time of year, and they weren’t quite as cold as the ashy deserts to the west. I found a small cave to spend the night in – miraculously free of bandits for once – and arrived at the camp a short while after dawn the next morning.

From the moment I arrived, I could see that the Zainab were doing a lot better than the other Ashlanders. Their camp was bigger than any of the others, and some of the structures they’d built suggested they’d been there a long time. The people looked well-fed and prosperous – at least, as much as people who live in guar-hide tents can be prosperous. They were friendlier, too – I even got a couple of smiles as I walked through the camp, and some of the children waved and giggled.

As I approached the gulakhans’ tents, a man strode up to me with a broad smile on his face. “Ho, look, an outlander! Are you lost, poor thing? Did the big, bad beasts bite you, so you need a healer? Or do you need our trader, so he can take your gold and give you things we would throw away or give to our guar?”

There was laughter from the other men standing nearby. “None of those things, as it happens,” I said, a bit taken aback. “I may need to speak to your trader at some point, but I really came here to see your ashkhan. It’s about the Nerevarine proph-”

“Ah, so you are the outlander saying she is the Nerevarine!” he exclaimed. Everyone was looking at me curiously now. “Yes, you must talk to Ashkhan Kaushad. The ashkhan is very curious about this outlander who claims to be the Nerevarine.”

He practically dragged me towards the Ashkhan’s yurt. I hadn’t expected it to be this easy, not after the Urshilaku and Ahemmusa. With luck, maybe this guy would name me Nerevarine without making me do some idiotic task for him first.

Ha. As if. I should have guessed how it would be as soon as I met Kaushad, and saw his obvious amusemant when I was introduced as the would-be Nerevarine.

“We have heard the rumours,” he said, nodding slowly. “We know you to be the outlander who claims to fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. But teach us, ‘Ada Ventura’… how could an outlander be the Nerevarine?”

I told him. He sat back and listened as I recited the story which I now knew almost off by heart, showing him all my proofs. And when I’d finished, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“Excuse me,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Do not think me rude. But seriously. Do you believe this story yourself? I mean no offence, but you must admit, you are an outlander, and completely ignorant of our ways. How could you ever be our war leader? What sensible ashkhan would ever choose you to lead the tribes?”

His reaction left me genuinely speechless. I’d got so used to thinking of the Ashlanders as credulous and superstitious that I hadn’t for a moment expected anything like this. But Kaushad had reacted exactly as I would, if anyone came to me with that story – exactly as anyone with a grain of common sense would have done. Annoying as it was, I couldn’t help feeling a whole lot of respect for him.

“Perhaps I could perform some sort of task for you?” I asked. “To prove my worth?”

Kaushad thought for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. A vampire named Calvario has taken refuge in nearby Nerano Ancestral Tomb. If you are as worthy as you say you are, it should be a small matter for you to dispose of this vampire.” He smiled. “There, you have your task. Now perhaps you would leave me in peace for a bit?”

Like Sul-Matuul before him, it was obvious that he didn’t actually expect me to complete the task he’d given me. Well, I’d enjoy proving him wrong.

Outside, I got directions to the cave from the man I’d first spoken to, and asked him if I could speak to the trader. “Our trader Ashur-Dan has his yurt just here,” he said, pointing. “Why do you want to see him, outlander?”

When I told him the Telvanni had sent me to ask about trade goods, he laughed scornfully. “Trade goods we have in plenty. What, does the outlander think we are savages, because we do not have the things the settled people have? Big buildings, heavy furniture? We have no use for this trash. And do we need to dress ourselves in foolish clothes and stand about with fancy weapons to feel like men? Hah.”

I was tempted to ask why they even had a trader if that was how they felt. I refused to believe the guy made a living from ripping off the occasional lost traveller. But when I went to see Ashur-Dan himself, he told me pretty much the same thing, just a bit more politely.

“There are many fine things that might be had from the settled peopled,” he said. “But what use have the Zainab for these things? I am a trader, and would be glad to make a profit. But I can think of nothing wanted that we do not already have.”

None of this was very encouraging, but I decided to ask around a bit more before giving up altogether. Near the edge of the camp, I came across a group of women washing clothes in a stream. I introduced myself and asked whether there was anything they’d be willing to trade for.

One of the women laughed. “You come to us, outlander? You ask us about the trade goods wanted among the Zainab? We are just the women. No one listens to us.”

“Well, I’m listening,” I pointed out.

The women had a quick discussion amongst themselves in their own language. Finally the first woman nodded. “We Zainab make everything we need. We do not need things from outsiders. But….”

“But?”

“Our men get common diseases and blight diseases when they go out hunting or tending the herds,” she said. “They are sometimes gone for long times, and cannot return all the way back to camp to be cured by the wise women. The settled people make the bottled magics that cure common disease and blight disease, but the Zainab are often in short supply of these things. These magics might be the trade goods we would want.”

Magic potions? Well, that ought to be a nice little earner for the Telvanni – if they could think of anything they wanted in return. But how typical of a bunch of men to put up with nasty diseases for days, rather than admit they needed help...

I wrote down the suggestion in my journal and then set off for Nerano Ancestral Tomb. It was so far away from the camp that it was easier just to teleport back to Vos and walk from there. I’d have to make the entire journey back to the camp again when I was finished.

When I reached the tomb, I stopped outside to make sure I had everything I needed. I’d learned a lot from the last vampire I fought, and I didn’t want to get caught out again this time. After checking I had the right scrolls, and loading myself up with magically-protective gear, I cast the Amulet of Shadows enchantment and entered the tomb.

The outer rooms were full of undead creatures and littered with dead bodies, probably other adventurers who’d tangled with Calvario. I found the vampire himself in an inner chamber of the tomb, and quickly cast two scrolls at him in succession: a fire damage spell and a ‘Scroll of Baleful Suffering’, designed to blind him, demoralise him and disintegrate any weapons he might be carrying. Then I hit him with the Sound enchantment from the Ahemmusa Madstone. (I really wasn’t taking any chances this time.)

The spells left Calvario reeling and staggering, and I seized the opportunity to run up and stab him through the heart. I scooped up the vampire dust he left behind, and Recalled to Tel Vos to begin the journey back to the Zainab camp.

I arrived back a short while before sunset, tired and grubby but triumphant. Kaushad’s expression when I strolled into his yurt was priceless. I swept a low bow, trying to keep a straight face, and handed him the bag of vampire dust.

“Your task is complete, great Ashkhan,” I said solemnly. “Calvario is dead.”

Kaushad opened up the bag and eyed the dust suspiciously. “Well,” he said, with a slight cough. “So you killed the vampire? Ahem. Well. I will be happy to acknowledge you as Zainab Nerevarine.” Suddenly his eyes lit up. “But... it is customary for one seeking an honour from the Ashkhan to offer a generous gift as a mark of respect.”

I might have guessed he’d try it on. “That’s funny,” I said innocently. “Neither of the other Ashkhans asked me to give them gifts.”

“No gifts? What are things coming to?” Kaushad shook his head sorrowfully. “No wonder you do not know our customs. But since you are an outlander, I will do you the great favour of naming the gift I wish to receive – a high-born Telvanni bride.”

I nearly choked. “A Telvanni bride? You – you want to marry a Telvanni?”

“Yes, a high-born Telvanni lady. A pretty one, plump, with big hips to bring me many sons.”

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a kind of strangled squeak. “Where will you find a high-born Telvanni bride?” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard me. “That is simple. Visit high-born Telvanni lords and inform them that Ashkhan Kaushad of the Lordly Zainab would do them the honour of making their daughter his bride. Surely many Telvanni lords would be honoured to receive such an offer.”

“B-but –”

“Consider carefully the many daughters offered and choose for me the finest. Take counsel with my wise woman, Sonummu Zabamat – she knows my mind well in such matters.”

Oh, the bastard. His eyes were sparkling; it was obvious he knew perfectly well what an impossible task he’d just sent me. He was just having a bit of fun with me – and the most annoying thing was that somehow, I still couldn’t help liking the guy.

I briefly imagined myself standing in front of each of the Telvanni Councillors, asking them if they’d allow their daughters to marry the Zainab Ashkhan. Then I imagined trying to persuade a young, beautiful, wealthy Telvanni noblewoman that she wanted to marry a middle-aged Ashlander chief. Frankly, I thought I’d rather take my chances with an angry Azura.

“I’m a rich woman,” I said, making a last-ditch save. “Might you be willing to accept some gold instead?”

Kaushad shook his head. “How can you ask this, outlander? A pretty bride to bring me sons and daughters is worth far more than gold.”

I couldn’t help wondering why he wasn’t already married if he was so keen to have kids – he wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. Perhaps he had been, and his first wife had died? I didn’t like to ask.

At a loss for ideas, I went to see the wise woman Sonnammu Zabamat. She was a very old woman, but her eyes were bright and she looked crafty. When I explained why I’d come and what Kaushad had said, she chuckled softly.

“Kaushad wants a Telvanni bride, eh?” she said, shaking her head. “No high-born Telvanni would wed an Ashlander. But…” She considered for a moment. “I have a plan.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” I breathed. “What is it?”

“Go to my friend, Savile Imayn, slavemistress of the Festival Slave Market – ”

“Festival Slave Market?”

“Yes, the Festival Slave Market in Tel Aruhn – and tell her you need a pretty Dunmer slave to pose as a Telvanni lady. She will tell you what clothes to buy, and will dress the slave like a high-born Telvanni. Then escort the pretty slave to Zainab camp and present her to Ashkhan Kaushad – he won’t know the difference.”

I opened my mouth to object, and then hesitated. Surely Kaushad was too smart to fall for a trick like that? But then again… he’d almost certainly never met a high-born Telvanni lady. It might just work.

The only problem was, of course, that it would involve buying a slave. And the idea revolted me. I’d done a lot of things I wasn’t too proud of in my quest to be named Nerevarine, but the line had to be drawn somewhere – and I certainly drew it at buying a slave woman in order to force her into marriage. As far as I was concerned, that was the worst possible form of slavery.

After a lot of thought, I eventually decided to go to the ‘Festival Slave Market’ (gods, what a name) and speak to Savile Imayn. Who knew – I might just find a young, pretty Dunmer slave woman who actually wanted to marry an Ashkhan. Miracles could happen. And if I didn’t… well, I’d just have to think of something else.

I slept over at the Fighter’s Guild in Wolverine Hall, and Water Walked over to Tel Aruhn the next day. I was avoiding Sadrith Mora over what had happened with Neloth, but since he and Archmagister Gothren had been enemies, I figured Gothren’s village ought to be relatively safe… unless some of his friends or family were out for revenge. Well, I’d have to risk it.

The Festival Slave Market was at the edge of the village. Slaves were kept there in open cages carved out of mushrooms, dangling from the roots of the main tower. The sight was disturbing, but not nearly as horrific as it had seemed when I first arrived, and I realised with a jolt of shock that I was starting to get used to it. I really didn’t want that to happen.

The slave trader Savile Imayn had clearly grown wealthy from her ‘business’, and wasn’t interested in hiding it. She looked ridiculously overdressed in the extravagant clothes she wore, but obviously I didn’t say so. I just walked over to her, forcing myself to smile.

“Ah, welcome to the Festival Slave Market!” she said brightly. “The finest slaves in Vvardenfell! I’m Savile Imayn, and – ” Suddenly she broke off. “Wait a moment, aren’t you the outlander who killed Archmagister Gothren? The one who claims to be Nerevar reborn?”

“I am,” I admitted. “Er, is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said, shrugging. “Call yourself the Nerevarine. We don’t care. Anyway, I know we have the slave for you. Are you looking for standard household slaves, sera, or for something special?”

“Something special, I guess,” I said. “I’m looking for a young, beautiful Dunmer woman with, ah, big hips.”

Savile raised her eyebrows. “Not for that!” I protested, feeling my face grow hot. “I need her to pretend to be a high-born Telvanni lady.”

“Really.” Her expression didn’t change. “Strange tastes you Imperials have. Well, it’s all the same to me as long as – ”

“I don’t want to sleep with her!” People nearby were starting to look at us now. “Look,” I said, lowering my voice, “let me try and explain.”

I told her all about Ashkhan Kaushad and his… unusual request, as well as the wise woman’s suggestion. She laughed heartily, shaking her head. “Sweet Alma, that Sonummu Zabamat and her cunning plans! I do have the slave you want – Falura Llervu, a pretty Dunmer girl. But first you must buy some exquisite clothing to dress her in.”

“Where can I get it from?”

“Tel Mora,” she said instantly. “Elegnan the Clothier. See these clothes I’m wearing? I bought them at her shop.”

I couldn’t believe the nearest fine clothier was half-way across Vvardenfell. Thank heavens I’d placed that Mark near Vos, or I’d have had to make the four-day round trip again. As it was, all I had to do was cast the spell, take the boat from Vos to Tel Mora, and then use Divine Intervention to return to Wolverine Hall. I was back in Tel Aruhn before lunch.

“Excellent!” Savile cried when she saw the clothes. “These clothes are perfect… but I need a little more time to coach Falura Llervu to play her part.” She thought for a moment. “I know just the thing we need! Go get a bottle of Telvanni Bug musk perfume. That will make Falura completely irresistible.”

If she made me go back to Tel Mora again, I was going to kill her. “I take it there’s an apothecary here?”

“Bilden Areleth, in the centre of the village.” Well, thank the Gods for that.

I bought the perfume – this Telvanni impersonation lark was getting bloody expensive, I can tell you – and returned once again to Savile. “You have the Telvanni Bug Musk?” she asked. “Good. Now, let me tell you my price. For this superb specimen, skilfully coached to play her part in your little scheme, I am pleased to accept from you the modest sum of 1,200 drakes.”

“I want to see her first,” I said cautiously. Savile nodded and led me to one of the slave pens.

A young, dark-haired Dunmer woman stood inside the cage, her eyes demurely lowered. She was pretty – though perhaps a bit on the thin side – and simply but neatly dressed in a cotton skirt and shirt. It felt very creepy to be examining her as if she were a pack-horse.

“Falura?” I said softly.

The woman raised her eyes. “Yes, sera. Falura Llervu of Velothis Haven, daughter of Andrano Llervu, lord of Tel Llervu, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Suddenly, to my surprise, her face broke into a grin. “See? Savile Imayn has taught me well. I shall be a high-born Telvanni lady, and no one will know the difference.”

“Well, that’s… wonderful.” I turned back to Savile. “Er, how much did you say she was?”

“1,200 drakes.”

I couldn’t bring myself to haggle over the price, especially not in front of the poor girl. I paid Savile with the letter of credit I’d been given by my bank, and for the first time in my life – and hopefully the last – found myself the ‘proud’ owner of a Dunmer slave.

“I also have an Imperial male for sale, if you’re interested,” Savile added hopefully.

“Maybe later,” I said, privately thinking that nothing on Nirn could ever induce me to come back here.

I led Falura out of the market and down to the Tel Aruhn docks. I’d already considered how to get her to the Zainab camp – she didn’t have a Recall spell, of course – and concluded that we’d just have to take the boat to Vos and walk from there. First, though, I needed to check that she was okay with Sonummu’s little scheme.

“So, Falura,” I said awkwardly, unsure of how to talk to someone I’d just bought. “How do you feel about marrying an Ashlander chief?”

Falura hesitated. “I admit, I am a little anxious… but anything is better than being a slave. And I am very tough and smart, and determined to make the best of my chances.” She turned shy, hopeful eyes towards me, and I realised that she was very young – no more than seventeen or eighteen at most. “But Savile Imayn said you wanted to give me something... some presents?”

“Ah, yes.” I held out the clothes to her, and she gasped with delight.

“Oh, sera!” she cried. “These clothes… they are divine!” She seized the clothes from me and held them to her cheek, burying her face into the velvety material, then grabbed the flask of bug musk in her other hand. “And such a perfume! Only the very rich can afford this!”

She sounded like a little kid who’d just been handed her birthday presents. I loathed myself for what I was about to do to her. This wasn’t just another small step down the ladder of morality – more like a massive leap. What would my parents say if they saw me doing this? What would Athyn say – or, gods forbid, Varvur?

“Listen, Falura,” I said urgently. “I won’t force you to marry Kaushad if you don’t want to. I’ll let you go. You won’t have to be a slave any more.”

Falura shook her head vehemently. “No, please! I shall do everything I can to please you and my new master... that is, my gracious lord and husband-to-be. Come, I cannot wait! Let us travel together to Zainab camp and meet this Zainab lord!”

I hardly knew what to say. If she really was happy about it, I guess it was no worse than a typical arranged marriage… but it still didn’t seem right to marry such a young, innocent girl to a man old enough to be her father, or even her grandfather.

What would happen if Kaushad ever realised the truth, I wondered? Would he take it out on poor Falura? I thought back to what I’d seen of the Ashkhan; obviously I didn’t really know anything much about him, but I couldn’t say that he’d struck me as the violent type. Arrogant and cocky, yes, but not a brute or a bully.

I decided to play it by ear and see what happened when Falura actually met Kaushad. She’d have plenty of time for second thoughts over the next few days, anyway, since we’d be spending them on board a ship to Vos.

The long journey was a little less boring with Falura as a companion. She was very talkative, full of questions, and seemed to see the whole thing as a kind of grand adventure. Before long she was asking me about myself and what I was doing in Vvardenfell, so I told her all about my quest to become Nerevarine.

“You are the Nerevarine?” she said in wonderment. “But... you are an outlander. How can that be? Such wonders in the world. Before, I was a slave; now I am a companion of the Nerevarine and the bride of a Zainab chief.”

She told me about her own background, and how she’d ended up as a slave. A fairly typical story, it seemed – apparently her father had got in serious debt to the Camonna Tong, and she’d ended up as payment. What I couldn’t understand was how meekly she accepted her fate. If my father had tried to do that to me, I’d have ripped his guts out – and I do mean that in a very literal sense.

From the docks at Vos, we spent an entire day walking to the Zainab camp. I must say that that was one of the most nerve-wracking journeys I’ve ever experienced. Falura was strong and a good walker, but she was completely helpless in a fight – and on top of protecting her, I had to worry that her beautiful clothes would get wet or torn or muddy. I’ve never been so relieved to finally reach an Ashlander camp.

Falura played her part beautifully, looking and sounding every inch the meek, doe-eyed virgin. It struck me that anyone who’d actually met a Telvanni would instantly realise she couldn’t be one. Still, Ashkhan Kaushad didn’t seem to notice.

“This is my new bride?” he said, looking approvingly at Falura. “I am very pleased with your gift, sera... though she is not so generous in the hips as I would like. I promise to make her a happy bride, and to do her honour as a high-born Telvanni lady. And, as I have said, I will now name you Zainab Nerevarine, War Leader of the Zainab, and Protector of the People.”

He presented me solemnly with an enchanted sandal (yes, just one – another of his little jokes, maybe?) and then took us on a walk round the camp so he could show off his new bride. While he was discussing wedding preparations with Sonummu Zabamat, I quietly asked Falura what she thought of her bridegroom.

“He is very distinguished-looking, isn’t he?” she whispered. “A bit severe, perhaps, but the lines on his face, there, show that he likes to smile. Oh, sera, I think I will be very happy.”

Hmph. All’s well that ends well, I guess, but I couldn’t help thinking I’d been very lucky. What would I have done if I hadn’t managed to find a willing slave to marry Kaushad?

That night, the entire tribe held a massive celebratory dinner – singing, dancing and a hearty meal of scuttle and ash yams, washed down with lots and lots of mazte. I ended up seated next to Falura, and soon realised I didn’t need to worry about her – she seemed to have fallen in love with Kaushad at first sight. I could see her eyes shining whenever she glanced at him.

“Thank you, sera,” she whispered to me, while Kaushad was talking to one of his gulakhans. “I am very pleased with Ashkhan Kaushad. He is good-looking, clever, and rich – although a bit full of himself, like all men.” We shared a sly grin. “Thank you for being my matchmaker and benefactor, and I hope you will visit us when I have brought Kaushad many fine sons and daughters.”

After a few more drinks, she was even promising to name her firstborn child after me. We’d just have to hope it was a girl, I suppose.

It was near midnight when the party finally broke up. I exchanged goodbyes with a tearful Falura, and walked away from the gathering so that they wouldn’t see my clumsy attempts to cast Divine Intervention. Just as I reached the edge of the camp, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.

“Psst! Outlander!” It was Kaushad. “Do not think me such a fool. Of course I realise you have tricked me.”

My heart skipped a beat, but then I realised he was smiling. “I do not mind,” he went on. “In fact, I think you are very clever to hoodwink the chief of the Zainab, and I think that maybe a clever Nerevarine is not such a bad thing at all. Besides, I am much happier with this fine young woman than I would have been with a stuck-up Telvanni lady.”

For a moment I just stood there open-mouthed. “Shake hands with me, Ashkhan,” I said at last.

He hesitated. “It’s a gesture of respect in my culture,” I explained, “but it’s also a sign that you’ve met your match. And I know when I’ve met mine.”

A wide grin spread over Kaushad’s face. He gripped my hand firmly and shook it so hard that he nearly sprained my wrist. “Here is a little gift, he said, handing me a small parcel he’d been carrying under his other arm. “Perhaps when you wear it, you will think of Falura Llervu and me.”

It was too dark to see what he’d given me, so I didn’t open the parcel until I got back to Wolverine Hall. When I saw what was in it, I gasped – it was an incredibly beautiful embroidered shirt, similar to the one I’d given Falura. I wished I could go back to the camp to thank Kaushad properly.

As I laid down to sleep in the Hall that night, I decided I liked the Zainab best out of all the Ashlander tribes. They were smart, and most importantly, self-reliant – no sitting around dreaming and moping and waiting for mystical heroes to save them. And they knew how to have a good time, as I’d seen today. In many ways they were a lot like Imperials – if they’d just get over their knee-jerk hatred of the Empire, I suspected they’d actually get on pretty well with my people.

The next day I got up bright and early to go to Tel Vos. The first thing I did when I arrived was give Aryon’s guard captain, Turedus Talanian, the information about trade goods for the Zainab. He seemed very happy, and rewarded me with 100 drakes and an ‘Amulet of Levitating’ – something that would have been very useful at the start of my quest to be Telvanni Hortator. Still, I guess you can never have enough levitation enchantments.

Now all I had to do was get Aryon to declare me Hortator. I hoped he wouldn’t be angry about the Nartise Arobar business, but from what I’d seen of the Telvanni councillors in general, I suspected there was no love lost between him and Neloth.

I was right. Aryon had heard about the rescue, and he made me tell him the whole story. “So Neloth has lost his bargaining chip?” he said, chuckling. “I congratulate you, Ada. Most amusing.”

“Unless you’re one of the Arobars, I suppose,” I said bluntly.

“Quite. But tell me, have you gathered the votes of the surviving Councillors?” I nodded. “I, too, am willing to vote for you… which means you are now the Hortator of House Telvanni. And I have a little something for you, called the ‘Robe of the Hortator’.”

Ooh, a robe this time? That sounded good. I waited as Aryon went to the bedroom below his chambers and returned carrying the Robe of the Hortator. He shook it out so I could see what it looked like… and I stared in utter horror.

It was pink. Bright pink and yellow. Someone was going to die for this.

I could see the amusemant in Aryon’s face as I gingerly took the robe from him. “It is an ancient artifact,” he said, “and hasn’t been used in centuries. But I thought you would be pleased.” He winked. “I wish you luck, Hortator. I may even pray for you.”

I wondered who he would pray to, knowing the Telvanni weren’t exactly big fans of the Temple. Surely not one of the Imperial gods? Azura, maybe?

Oh well, at least I’d got what I came for. Finally, after all these weeks, I’d passed one of the hardest tests of the Seven Visions. The Fourth Trial was complete.

But how typical of a bunch of men to put up with nasty diseases for days, rather than admit they needed help...


OUCH!!!!

*shoots a dagger look at Helena*


You've characterized the Zainab perfectly....it makes them come to life.


And poor, poor Ada. She does so often get into situations where she is misunderstood, doesn't she? I was howling like a demented babboon as our poor Ada tried desperately to explain she wasn't trying to buy a six slave...not very successful at her explanation, since the Slave Trader offered her a young Imperial Male as she was leaving...I was desperately hoping to see Ada give the Trader a Dirty Look at that, but perhaps better not - he might misinterpret the kind of Dirt...hee hee...

Tss, naughty, Foxy

Hehe.

A new chapter, nice! :celebration:

Once again, many apologies for the long delay in updating - I'm even busier now than I was back in May. Still, you get an extra-extra-long chapter this time, as I couldn't figure out a good place to split it.

--------

Chapter 38: Divine Intervention

The last of the Ashlander tribes was the Erabenimsun, out in Molag Mar. I wasn’t looking forward to this one – I remembered the Erabenimsun from the time I’d rescued that idiot priest from some witch-women, and the people there had seemed as harsh and unpleasant as the landscape they lived in. But it had to be done, so I practiced saying the name a few more times (“E-ra-ben-im-sun! E-ra-ben-im-sun!”) and then set out from Wolverine Hall.

Arriving at the camp was a bit of a shock to the system after the pleasant time I’d spent in the Grazelands. The people there were as cold and unfriendly as I remembered them, and the looks I got from some of them were so hostile that I didn’t dare do much more than skirt around the edges of the camp. Which is why I was delighted when I saw someone I recognised: Assaba-Bentus, the young hunter who’d helped me rescue the priest.

When he saw me, he grinned and waved. I couldn’t help being relieved that he’d managed to escape from the mabrigashes. “So you got away?” I asked, as he walked over to me.

“I told you I would, outlander.” He smiled triumphantly. “If you are looking for that fool of a priest, you come too late. He left many days ago.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said, “but that’s not actually what I came for. I’m here to prove to your Ashkhan that I’m the Nerevarine.”

Assaba-Bentus’ eyes grew wide. “Then you are the one who…? Sun and wind, outlander!” He shook his head. “You are lucky you met me and not one of the war-lovers! Go to our wise woman, Manirai, and tell her I sent you.”

He led me through the camp to the wise woman’s yurt, while I wondered what he meant by ‘war-lovers’. All the people I’d seen in the camp looked to be armed and – well, if not dangerous, at least very ready to defend themselves.

Inside the tent, Manirai soon explained. “I am of the peace-loving Erabenimsun,” she told me. “We only wish to live and hunt as we have in the past, and do not wish to anger our neighbours by raiding and warfare. But Ashkhan Ulath-Pal and his supporters are strong and sure of themselves. They have grown rich by raiding and fighting, and they will not be ruled by the counsel of their wise woman.”

My heart sank. “Then I don’t suppose there’s much chance of them agreeing to declare me the Nerevarine?”

“Never,” she said instantly. “They all hate outlanders, and are proud and haughty, and will never suffer an outlander to rule them.”

Damn it! Why did things always have to be so difficult? “If you would be Nerevarine of the Erabenimsun,” she went on, “you must kill Ulath-Pal and his gulakhans, and help me make peace-loving gulakhan Han-Ammu our ashkhan. He could then name you Nerevarine.”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. ‘War-lovers’ or not, there was no way I was going to just walk into these people’s tents and slaughter them without any provocation. I was getting really fed up with people using me and my Nerevarine quest as an excuse to bump off their political opponents. Why the hell didn’t I just join the Murderers’ Guild, or whatever those ‘honourable’ assassins called themselves?

On the other hand, clearly I had to find some way to deal with Ulath-Pal and his gulakhans. When Manirai told me that one of them, Ashu-Ahhe, was a great warrior and the strongest of the Erabenimsun, it gave me an idea: I would challenge him to a duel.

I persuaded a nervous Assaba-Bentus to show me the way to the Ashkhan’s yurt, and asked him what Ulath-Pal might accept as a gift. “No gift you could give would please him, outlander,” he said, biting his lip. “You will be lucky if he lets you out alive.” I went in anyway.

Since arriving in Morrowind, I’d got pretty used to being looked at like I was something between a maggot and a cockroach. Even so, Ulath-Pal’s attitude really took the cake. He looked at me with such obvious disgust that for a moment I wondered if my Corprus had come back. “What do you want, Imperial?” he asked, somehow making it sound like a swear word.

“Ashkhan Ulath-Pal.” I bowed, ignoring the filthy look he was giving me. “I’d like to challenge your champion Ashu-Ahhe to a duel.”

He snorted. “You are not even worth killing. Get out.”

So much for Ashlander courtesy. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the Nerevarine Prophecies, Ashkhan?” I said, ignoring his rudeness. “This ring here is the Moon-and-Star, the symbol of Nerevar Indoril. I need to be declared Nerevarine of all the Ashlander tribes in order to fulfil the prophecies. Would you be willing to do this if I can defeat your champion?”

Ulath-Pal’s mouth dropped open. For a moment I thought he was either going to spit in my face, or attack me on the spot.

“You want me to name you Erabenimsun Nerevarine? I would rather name you ‘Guar-Dung’.” How mature. “You are a hound. I despise you for a foreign fool, and the only honour I will show you is to kill you with my own hand if you ever trouble me again. Leave my sight, now, while you can.”

“I’ll just have to ask him myself, then,” I said, shrugging. The other man in the tent, who seemed to be Ulath-Pal’s bodyguard, took a threatening step towards me. I bowed again with exaggerated politeness and left the yurt.

When I faced Ashu-Ahhe in his own yurt and I told him what I wanted, he laughed shortly. “Yes, we know about the prophecies. We think they are foolish superstition. But if you want to die by my hand, so be it.”

We arranged the duel for that evening, and I went to tell Manirai what I planned to do. She shook her head doubtfully. “I fear they will not deal honourably with you, outlander. Be prepared.”

I took her advice, and spent the rest of the day making preparations.

As I walked that evening to the duelling ground – a small clearing just at the edge of the camp – I could feel the tension in the air. Even the ‘peace-loving’ Erabenimsun probably wouldn’t be too happy to see their tribe’s champion beaten by an outlander. I got a mild shock when I saw Ashu-Ahhe in his battle armour and realised that it was enchanted with a permanent Shield spell. No wonder this guy was considered so unbeatable…

Manirai had told me that he wasn’t a spellcaster, so I didn’t waste my time casting magical protections. Instead I began the duel by casting a Sound spell with the Ahemmusa Madstone, remembering how well that had worked against Calvario the vampire. I saw him wince momentarily, but it didn’t even slow him down. Quite impressive.

Ashu-Ahhe was a powerful warrior, but unlike Bolvyn Venim, he didn’t have the advantage of ebony armour and a Daedric longsword. His weapon was a simple chitin war axe, and underneath the Shield spell, his armour was standard bonemold. The hardest thing for me was breaking through the magical shield, which dulled the force of my sword strikes. After a long struggle, I managed to stab him in the unprotected area at the top of his thigh. As he gasped and flinched momentarily, I used my Star of the West power to drop him to the ground.

If it had stayed at that I would have let him live, but before I could do or say anything else, Ulath-Pal let out a howl of rage. “Outlander witch! You have cheated!”

I whirled round to face him. “Cheated? So it’s fine for him to use a magical shield, but if I use spells and enchantments, that’s cheating?”

He didn’t even bother to answer me, just snapped his fingers at the two warriors standing beside him. “Kill her.”

I’d been half-expecting something like this after what Manirai had said. As Ulath-Pal’s goons closed in on me, I grasped my Amulet of Divine Intervention and cast the spell. I could see the shock and fury on their faces as I vanished, reappearing less than a second later in Wolverine Hall.

There was no time to waste. I cast a Recall spell, taking me to a secluded area in the hills just above the camp, where I’d set a Mark earlier that day. I edged forward until I could just see the tops of the yurts, and then cast the Chameleon enchantment on my Amulet of Shadows and straightened up to see the camp.

The place was in uproar, with people running around and shouting. By now Ashu-Ahhe was lying in a pool of blood – I must have hit a major blood vessel. No one seemed interested in healing him.

I spotted the Ashkhan along with his bodyguard, who wore nothing but furs. I hadn’t wanted to do this, but there was nothing for it. So much for solving things peacefully, I thought, gritting my teeth as I took down my bow and the enchanted arrows I’d bought that afternoon. Well, at least I’d tried.

My first arrow, enchanted with deadly shock magicka, hit the bodyguard squarely in the chest. The others dived for cover, looking around frantically to see where the shot had come from, but they couldn’t see me. I waited until the other warrior emerged cautiously from his hiding place and then shot another arrow, striking him in the thigh. Three down, one to go.

Ulath-Pal was more difficult, as he was wearing armour. His head was unprotected, but I didn’t trust my aim enough to try and hit him from this distance. Thinking quickly, I cast the Amulet of Levitating that Master Aryon’s guard captain had given me, and floated down until I was just behind the Ashkhan. Hovering slightly above him, I brought the edge of my glass longsword heavily down on his skull.

At that moment the Levitation spell wore off – followed seconds later by the Chameleon spell – and I fell to the ground in a heap. My ankle went crunch.

“Excuse me,” I said faintly to the circle of shocked, frightened faces gathering around me. “I think I’ve broken my ankle. One moment please.” White-hot pain shot through me, and for a moment I nearly passed out. I fumbled around for a potion before Manirai, looking astonishingly calm, stepped forward and cast a healing spell.

“Thanks.” I struggled to my feet. “And now I’d like to speak to… what was his name again? Han-Ammu.”

A lank-haired, rather weedy-looking young man stumbled forward, visibly trembling. “I am Han-Ammu. What do you want with me?”

“I’m told you’re next in line to be Ashkhan.”

“What? No!” His face was filled with horror. “I – I cannot!”

I went over to Han-Ammu and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps you and I should go to your yurt and have a little talk?”

--------

I’d thought persuading Han-Ammu to become Ashkhan would be the easiest part of my task, but boy was I wrong about that. I did my best to explain the Nerevarine situation to him, but it just seemed to make things worse. “So you killed Ulath-Pal and his supporters, just because of these prophecies?” he gasped. “You are mad!”

“I didn’t kill them because of the prophecies,” I said, trying to keep my patience. “I killed them because they were trying to kill me. Anyway, Manirai says that – ”

“I don’t care what Manirai says,” he said flatly. “I don’t want to be Ashkhan. Everyone despises me. I am a weakling, and a coward, and a fool – I hate it, but it is true. I just want to be left alone.”

“Well, we all have to do things we don’t want,” I said. “Do you think I want to be the Nerevarine? You think you’ve got it bad – I’m going to have to march up Red Mountain and face off against a living god. Think yourself lucky.”

He shook his head miserably. “I’m not good at fighting. And no one likes me, anyway. I can’t make anyone do anything.”

“Couldn’t you be Ashkhan just long enough to make me the Nervarine?” I asked, in exasperation. “And then give the job to someone else?”

Han-Ammu sighed. “You don’t understand. You cannot just give up the title of Ashkhan – once you have it, it is yours for life. And I don’t want to be Ashkhan.” His voice rose to a high-pitched whine. “Don’t you understand? I won’t be any good at it. I am going to be a complete failure, and everyone will hate me even more than they do now. Please! I just want to be left alone!”

Well, it wasn’t difficult to see why everyone hated the guy. I was about to drop the softly-softly approach and really let him have it, when I heard a small, faraway voice echoing in my head. “No! I won’t do this! I am NOT the Nerevarine! You can’t make me…”

Sigh. I might have known my own words would come back to haunt me someday. For the first time, I was starting to understand just how I must have looked to Caius Cosades. Stifling a groan, I left the yurt and went back to speak with Manirai.

When I told her about Han-Ammu’s reluctance, she didn’t seem surprised. “Han-Ammu is the son of our former chief, Airan-Ammu, but he is nothing like his father. Of the many virtues required by an ashkhan, he lacks only three things: strength, courage, and wisdom.”

“Just those, eh?” I heaved a sigh. “Surely there must be something he’s good at?”

“I fear not. But – ” here a sly look came over her face – “Ulath-Pal and his gulakhans all bore tokens recognised by the tribe as conferring strength, willpower, and intelligence. If you could recover these, and persuade Han-Ammu to accept them, it might give him the confidence to accept the responsibilities of leadership.”

I didn’t exactly enjoy the thought of stripping my dead enemies’ corpses, but I was too tired to protest. “Okay, I guess it’s worth a try. What should I say to him?”

Manirai frowned. “But you claim to be Nerevar reborn. Surely you don’t need my counsel?”

“Um. Well.” I gave an embarrassed cough. “I’ll be honest with you, Manirai: I’m not quite as good a diplomat as the real Nerevar. Besides, I think even he would have had trouble with Han-Ammu.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And what would Nerevar himself have done, if his powers of persuasion failed him?”

I shrugged. “Well, he sounds like a practical sort of guy. I’m guessing he’d have found someone who was better at it than he was, and asked them for help.”

We stared at each other for several seconds. Manirai cracked first. “Very well, outlander,” she said wearily. “Listen, and I will tell you what to say.”

-------

It was past midnight, and I was still sitting in Han-Ammu’s yurt. “Yes, I see,” he said solemnly, looking down at the enchanted war axe lying in his lap. “It is the axe that gives strength in war, and it is the idea of the axe that gives confidence to the tribe, but it is the ashkhan who bears the axe, who accepts responsibility for the safety of the tribe. Now, with Ulath-Pal dead, I hold the fate of the tribe in my hands, and I must accept that responsibility.”

I’d made this speech three times over now, once with each of the enchanted tokens, and I was close to breaking point. “So you’ll agree to be Ashkhan now? Please?”

There was an unbearably long pause, and then he nodded. “Thank you for your lesson, Ada. I shall be Ashkhan of the Erabinimsun, and I shall name you Nerevarine.”

I could almost have kissed him. “Thank you!”

“Wait one moment.” He scampered out of the tent, and returned carrying a jewelled belt. “This is the Seizing of the Erabenimsun, an enchanted heirloom of the tribe. It shall be a sign to all Dunmer that the Erabenimsun have named you Nerevarine.”

I thanked him again, now so tired that I was practically falling asleep on my feet, and Divine-Interventioned back to Wolverine Hall. I didn’t even have the energy to get undressed before falling into bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt like punching the air in triumph. I’d done it! I was the Nerevarine! The relief was so great, I could almost have forgotten that I’d never really wanted it in the first place. And all I had to do now was kill a God…

Soaking in the two-hour bath I always needed after travelling in the wilds, I mulled over my next move. All I had to go on was the message from Archcanon Saryoni’s assistant asking me to meet him in the High Fane. I guessed that I should take all my proofs with me if I wanted to be taken seriously.

Knowing I’d have to get it over with sometime, I swallowed my pride and forced myself to try on the Robe of the Hortator. It was even worse than I thought – not only did the colour clash horribly with my pale skin and red hair, but the robe itself was clearly designed for someone much larger and wider than me. I looked like something out of a cake shop. I could forget about walking inconspicuously through Vivec in this thing – I’d probably be visible from the top of White Gold Tower.

There was only one thing for it: go that evening under cover of darkness. This being midwinter, it turned out to be under cover of rain as well. The upside was that the Ordinators, busy trying to keep their shiny armour dry, didn’t pay too much attention to me – they probably assumed I was starring in one of Crassius Curio’s plays or something.

I’d been worried about having to take off my armour, but the Hortator’s Robe turned out to have one advantage: it was big and loose enough that I could wear it over my cuirass without any difficulty. It also trailed on the ground about a foot behind me. If Nerevar himself had really worn this thing – which, frankly, I didn’t believe for a second – he must have been a half-giant. (I guess that would explain the terrible fashion sense.)

By the time I reached the Temple canton, dripping and squelching with every step, the only thing I wanted was to get back home and be clean and warm and dry. I was convinced that I was going to catch a cold, until I remembered I couldn’t get colds any more. Blinking raindrops out of my eyes, I looked around for the priestess I was supposed to be meeting – and then realised I didn’t even know what she looked like.

Just as I was starting to panic, I heard a woman’s voice calling urgently from the shadows. “Quickly! Over here!”

I followed the sound into the large arched passageway that ran underneath the High Fane, hoping I wasn’t being led into a trap. Peering into the gloom, I suddenly recognised the woman who’d spoken – it was the priestess who’d sold me all those Rising Force potions to use at Vivec’s shrine. [censored].

“Did you want to – ” she began, and then suddenly broke off. “It’s you!”

“Yes. Me.” Not the wittiest response ever, but I wasn’t exactly on top form right now.

Danso Indules stared at me for several seconds, clearly not quite believing that I was the person she was supposed to meet. “You’re here to meet the Archcanon?”

“If possible, yes.”

She still looked dubious. “Then… you have been declared Hortator and Nerevarine by the Houses and tribes? You have their tokens?”

I pulled off my left gauntlet. “This ring is the Moon-and-Star,” I said, showing it to her. “And this other ring is the Hortator’s token from House Redoran. The belts are from House Hlaalu and the Erabenimsun, and this, uhm, eclectic collection of amulets – plus one fashionable shoe – comes from the other Ashlander tribes. And finally, this stunning robe is the Robe of the Hortator from House Telvanni.”

“Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Archcanon Saryoni is in his private quarters, and he very much wishes to speak with you, but I am to warn you... avoid confrontations with the Ordinators at all costs. Berel Sala has informed them that you may try to assassinate the Archcanon.”

“What? You’re joking!” That lying bastard!

She shook her head. “There is a private back entrance to Saryoni’s quarters, reachable from the Hall of Wisdom. If you manage to sneak past the Ordinators by stealth or magic, and pick the lock, you might reach him that way.”

Swearing under my breath, I made my way to the Hall of Wisdom, following the directions Danso had given me. I could sneak past the Ordinators using the Amulet of Shadows, but it didn’t have much charge left, so I’d have to be careful not to take too long. I had a moment of panic when I took a wrong turning inside the maze of passages, but at last I managed to reach the secret door the priestess had mentioned. Luckily no one was there to see me as I cast an Ondusi’s Unhinging spell to open it.

Archcanon Saryoni, who was pacing up and down by his desk, looked around sharply when he heard the door creak open. His eyes widened when he saw me and he instinctively backed away a couple of steps. I don’t think it occurred to him that this madwoman, dripping water and dressed like something out of a freak show, could be the person he’d arranged to meet.

“Archcanon,” I whispered urgently. “It’s me, Ada Ventura. The Nerevarine.”

“You?” For a moment he looked stunned, then he recovered himself. “I see. Thank you for coming, Sera Ventura. I – ” He broke off, and cleared his throat. “You know the Temple’s doctrine on the Nerevarine?”

“I do,” I said with a sigh. “But serjo, I have to ask you something. If you keep arresting and killing everyone who looks like they might fulfil the prophecies, how will you ever know if they’re true or not?”

There was a pregnant pause. “The Temple must protect the people from false doctrines,” Saryoni said at last. “And your association with Imperial intelligence makes your motivations and integrity suspect. But our situation is desperate. Much as I hate to admit it, you and your prophecies may represent our last hope.”

I waited for him to continue. “I would rather have you hear the details of our situation, and the circumstances leading up to that situation, from Lord Vivec himself. He has asked to see you. Would you agree to a private meeting with him, and hear in person what he has to say?”

Wow. This was unexpected. “A meeting with Vivec himself? Really?”

Saryoni nodded. I hesitated, wondering whether to trust him. This could be a trap, I thought. On the other hand… if he’d wanted to trap me, he could just have waited here with a dozen Ordinators.

“All right,” I said at last. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Hurriedly, Saryoni pressed a small key into my hand. “Here is a key which will open the locked entrance to Lord Vivec’s palace. He is expecting you. His Lordship is remarkably patient, but perhaps it would be better not to keep him waiting.”

I thanked him politely and used my Almsivi Intervention amulet to take me back to the temple entrance. From here it was just a short walk to the palace, and that locked door that I’d once gazed at in awe, never imagining I’d ever have any reason to go through it.

As I turned the key in the lock, I felt a tiny prickle of nervousness and excitement. I was going to meet a god! Okay, so there’d already been Azura… but so far I’d only felt her presence, and heard her voice in my head. I hadn’t really met her as such. My heart was thumping heavily as the door swung open and I stepped inside the room.

The huge domed chamber was almost empty apart from three pillars and a triangular plinth in the centre, surrounded by braziers. Over the plinth, glowing in the light of the braziers, a figure floated several feet above the ground. He was sitting cross-legged and wore nothing but a loincloth and some mismatched pauldrons.

This must be Vivec, I thought. I walked over to the plinth and bowed low, then raised my eyes to the chief god of the Dunmer.

Vivec was about the same size as a normal Dunmer, with a slim, almost delicate build. He had soft, hypnotic golden eyes, and his face had an ageless look to it that reminded me of some of the oldest Telvanni. The strangest thing about him was his skin, which was split down the middle – the left half of his body was ash-grey like an ordinary Dunmer’s, while the right side was gold-coloured, like an Altmer’s.

He wasn’t quite as impressive as I’d hoped, to be honest. After all the build-up to this moment, I’d just been expecting something… more, I guess. I didn’t doubt that Vivec really was a god, but I didn’t sense anything coming from him that resembled the tremendous power I’d felt in Azura’s presence. Apart from his strange skin colouration, he looked pretty much like any other elf.

So this was the guy who was supposedly getting it on with all the Buoyant Armigers? I can’t say he really appealed to me, though I could certainly see how some people – male as well as female – might be attracted to him. It struck me that I’d just met a God for the first time, and all I could think about was whether I’d want to do him. Then I suddenly wondered if he could read minds.

I felt myself blushing heavily, but if Vivec had heard my thoughts, he didn’t show it. He went on looking at me for a few more seconds, a neutral expression on his face, and then finally spoke.

“I expected you. We have business, you and I.” His voice was lighter and softer than I had expected. “When I was young like you, I was very impatient – so I will keep our business short. Then, later, there may be time for… other things.”

Oh [censored], maybe he really had heard what I was thinking about. Or guessed. “What sort of business, Lord Vivec?” I asked, my mouth suddenly very dry.

“First, I propose to remove my curse upon the Nerevarine, end the persecution of the Dissident Priests, and proclaim to all Morrowind that Ada Ventura is the Incarnate and Nerevarine, the prophesied saviour of Morrowind, and the last hope to withstand the menace of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House.” He looked straight at me. “These things I will do, whether you wish or not.”

Was he kidding me? How could I not want that? “Fine by me!” I said weakly. “Go ahead!”

“Next, I propose to surrender to you the power and responsibility of defeating Dagoth Ur.” He uncrossed his legs and floated down to the ground in front of me. “You may choose to refuse; I will not compel you. You will receive the power as a gift, in the form of an artifact called ‘Wraithguard’, and the responsibility as an oath. First, will you accept Wraithguard as a gift?”

“What is Wraithguard?” I asked cautiously.

“Answer me first.”

“All right.” I shrugged. “I accept.”

“Good. Sensible of you.” Seemingly out of nowhere, a heavy, ornate armoured gauntlet appeared in Vivec’s hands. He handed it over to me. “And now, will you give your oath, before all gods and men, before all spirits visible and invisible, before my honour and your honour, to dedicate yourself and Wraithguard to the defeat and destruction of Dagoth Ur, and the preservation of Morrowind and its people?”

Sweet Mara, what was I getting myself into? But I’d known all along that it would eventually come to this. There was no turning back now – I had to defeat Dagoth Ur, and I couldn’t possibly do it without Vivec’s help.

I took a deep breath. “Yes. I swear it.”

“Not very sensible,” he said with a slight smile. “But very good. I was hoping for someone who would have no hesitations about making such an oath. You will now have a brief, momentary sensation of time passing.”

“What?” I took a step backwards. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said calmly. “You are being taken out of time in order to avoid the unpleasant experience of learning how to use Wraithguard. It will be over before...” For a brief moment I felt myself floating, weightless, in total darkness. “...you know it.”

And then I was back in the palace, standing in front of Vivec. I drew another long, shaky breath. “Okay. What now?”

“I will notify the Temple that you are our champion. There shall be no more persecution of the Dissident Priests, and I hope both sides shall swiftly be reconciled.” He stepped back up onto his plinth. “We have time for questions, if you like – or you may leave, as you wish. But I think there are at least two things you ought to know before you leave: how to use Wraithguard, and how to defeat Dagoth Ur.”

“Okay, so let’s start with Wraithguard. What should I do with it?” Then it occurred to me. “It’s one of Kagrenac’s Tools, isn’t it?”

Vivec nodded. “To defeat Dagoth Ur, you must go to Red Mountain to recover the other tools – the artifact hammer Sunder and the blade Keening. Then proceed with all three to the citadel of Dagoth Ur, and find the Heart of Lorkhan. Use the three artifacts to sever Dagoth Ur’s connection to the Heart, and he will be destroyed, and the Blight ended on Morrowind.”

“How do I sever the connection?”

“Strike the Heart once with Sunder, then several times with Keening. You must wear Wraithguard, because you cannot handle either Sunder or Keening without it. That is the short, simple explanation.” Again something materialised in his hand, this time a piece of paper. “Here is the long, detailed explanation, written down for your convenience. Read it, study it, commit it to memory.”

My mind was reeling as I took the paper. “So… what the Dissident Priests said is true. You did get your powers from the Heart.”

“Some of it is true,” he said quietly. “That part, yes. But not all.”

“But you persecuted them.” I knew I was on dangerous ground here, but I couldn’t help myself. “You allowed your followers to have them imprisoned and tortured and murdered, for saying something you knew was true. And you tried to have me killed. Why?”

“Suppression and persecution of dissent is just one of the standard tools of statecraft.” My jaw dropped. “As for you… I thought you were my enemy. A pawn of the subtle Daedra Lord Azura, or of Emperor Uriel Septim, or a simple fraud – perhaps a Hero – but not much of one if my faithful could destroy you. Now, circumstances are altered. Mistakes were made... but no more.”

Mistakes were made? Gods, he sounded just like any other weaselly politician. This was the god-king Vivec, the great leader worshipped by the entire Dunmer nation?

“Why not just tell them the truth?” I demanded. “Did you really think the people who’d worshipped you for centuries would abandon you just for that?”

“Because the Apographa was such an unfortunate mixture of truth, falsehood, and speculation that I couldn’t afford to manage the confused reaction of our faithful. Any doubt whatsoever weakened their faith, and we needed their faith to give us the power to maintain the Ghostfence.” He shrugged. “In retrospect, perhaps we lost the faith of those we most needed while preserving the faith of the meek and indifferent. Who can say?”

I said nothing, but I wasn’t convinced. Yes, his explanations sounded very reasonable, very human – but that was exactly the point. I’d expected better from a God, somehow.

“In my library, I have made available two conflicting accounts of the events of Red Mountain.” He gestured towards the back of the room, where some papers lay on a lectern. “My own true account, and another false account common among the Ashlanders and preserved in the Apographa. Read them. I don’t care whether you believe my account or not; I leave it up to you to judge which is true.”

I walked hesitantly over to the lectern and began to read the papers. One was written by Vivec himself – supposedly a transcript of his own words to a captured Dissident Priest undergoing interrogation. (So Vivec carried out these ‘interrogations’ in person, did he? That certainly didn’t make me feel any more comfortable around him around him.) The other claimed to be an account from a shield-companion of Nerevar, who came to live among the Ashlanders after Nerevar’s death.

The parts concerning the life of Nerevar were roughly the same in both accounts. They told the story of his friendship with Dumac, the king of the Dwarves, and their eventual falling-out which led to war and the Battle of Red Mountain. It was only when they reached the part about Nerevar’s death and Kagrenac’s Tools that they started to diverge. Vivec’s own account was broadly in line with what I’d already heard from the Dissident Priests, but the other version told a very different story.

According to the second account, Nerevar didn’t die of his wounds after the battle. He left Dagoth Ur to guard Kagrenac’s tools, and tried to summon Azura to ask for her counsel. But the Tribunal, who wanted the power of the tools for themselves, used a false summoning ritual with poisoned robes and candles. Nerevar was murdered.

After his death, a furious Azura appeared to the Tribunal. She cursed them and their entire race for what they had done, turning their skins the colour of ash and their eyes as red as fire. The story ended with a dire warning from Azura: “What you have done here today is foul beyond measure, and you will grow to regret it. For the lives of gods are not what mortals think, and matters that weigh only years to mortals weigh on gods forever.”

A chill ran down my spine as I read those words. Was I imagining things, or had the room just got a lot colder? I had a sudden vision of the dying Nerevar, surrounded by his wife and his two most trusted friends, screaming in agony and despair as he realised he’d been betrayed. True or not, the fact that this story even existed made one thing very clear: I couldn’t necessarily trust anything Vivec said to me.

I tucked away the two papers into my pack and slowly left the room, lost in thought. I could feel Vivec’s eyes on me as I left the room, but he didn’t say anything. I’m sure he realised I didn’t trust him, but what could either of us do about it?

I didn’t look at Vivec’s plans to defeat Dagoth Ur until the next day. He talked about scouting campaigns, aggressive raids inside the Ghostfence, assaults on the citadels of Ur’s Ash Vampire kin, and finally a full-scale attack on Dagoth Ur himself. Things you’d expect to do with an entire army as backup. And I’d have to do it all alone.

Well, at least I had a magic glove.

Fantastic chapter

Some of this is a good refresher or completely new information. I never completed the whole Morrowind MQ actually... Not enough time...

Ah, our Ada is back, and with a mind just as humourous and... naughty :hubbahubba: as every, eh?

That's the Ada we all know and love!!!

And, of course, the same to her creator!

Very well written, the humor is of both quality and quantity.

:goodjob:

The story somehow sounds better when I'm not actually in it

Indeed.

Another great chapter Helena! I'm looking forward to the next one, but take all the time you need.

Chapter 39: Ada Vs. The Volcano

I can’t describe what a relief it was to finally be able to walk through the streets in safety, without having to constantly check over my shoulder for Ordinators. I wanted run around Vivec shouting out the good news, but since it was still pouring with rain that would have been a bit impractical (and probably got me arrested for disturbing the peace). Instead I spent the morning in Ebonheart, looking over Vivec’s plans to defeat Dagoth Ur.

Before going back to Ald’ruhn, I went to the Duke’s chambers to collect the Lord’s Mail. Never mind how dishonourably I’d come by it – at this point I needed as much protection as I could get. Another thing I decided to take was the Shadow Shield, the enchanted shield I’d picked up in the stronghold of Kogoruhn. I left Chrysamere, though – it had been useful in the fight against Bolvyn Venim, but I mostly preferred to fight with a one-handed sword and shield rather than a heavy, unwieldy claymore.

When I arrived in Ald’ruhn I found a message waiting for me at the Fighters’ Guild. It was from Varvur, asking me to meet him in the evening at the Rat in the Pot – he must have waited there every evening for several days. Aww, how sweet of him.

I spent the day in Skar receiving congratulations from Athyn Sarethi and the other councillors, but I couldn’t keep my mind off my appointment with Varvur. When I finally arrived at the tavern that night, he was waiting in one of the lower rooms – the same one where we’d spent the night together a week ago.

As soon as the door closed behind me, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me as if we hadn’t met for a year. “I missed you,” he murmured against my cheek.

I felt slightly guilty. I had missed him, of course, but the truth was I’d been so busy that I’d barely had time to think about him. I hugged him back extra-tightly to make up for it.

“I heard the news,” he said at last. “Lord Vivec himself has declared you the Nerevarine. Is it true that you have actually seen him? Spoken to him?”

I nodded, and he heaved an envious sigh. “It must have been an incredible experience. I would give almost anything to have been in your place.”

He looked so awed that I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d found it a bit of a letdown. “What have you been doing in the meantime?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Almost nothing. The weather has been too bad for any Redoran expeditions.” He clenched his fists. “I feel so useless. You are going off to battle Dagoth Ur, while I’m stuck here. If I could only go with you to Red Mountain – ”

“No,” I said firmly. “Either you’d get corprus, or you’d end up with a blight disease or something. The only reason I can go is because I’m immune to those things.”

He sank down onto he bed with a frustrated sigh. I sat down beside him, sliding my arms around him. “Isn’t there anything else you could do? Join the Legion, or – okay, maybe not the Legion. What about the Redorans at Ghostgate?”

“Hmm.” Varvur looked thoughtful. “My cousin Salyn is a Buoyant Armiger at Ghostgate. I suppose I could join the Order, if my parents would agree to it.”

“The Armigers? Aren’t they the ones who all – ” I broke off, but it was too late.

“Who all… what?”

“Er.” I could feel myself blushing. “I heard that they, ah, ‘serve’ Lord Vivec in more ways than one. If you know what I mean.”

For a moment Varvur looked shocked, and then he burst out laughing. “Who told you that?”

“The publican at Ghostgate.” My face was burning.

“Well, she was teasing you.” He shook his head. “I don’t mean to be rude, but… I think it is hard for a Westerner to understand. Your gods are so distant… but imagine if you could actually see and speak with the people you had worshipped all your life. The love we Dunmer have for Vivec is not the same kind that a mortal has for another mortal.”

“But, um, the 36 Lessons – ”

“Those are all metaphor and… what is the word? Allegory.” He paused. “I am not saying that Lord Vivec hasn’t had mortal lovers. But for all the Armigers to be… that is ridiculous. Why would he bother with people like my cousin Salyn when he has the Lady Almalexia?”

My head jerked up. “Hang on. Almalexia? I thought she was Nerevar’s wife?”

“She was, yes, before his death. After that she became the consort of Lord Vivec.”

My mind was starting to race. Vivec and Almalexia were lovers? That certainly put a whole new spin on the story of Nerevar and the Tribunal. Had that really started after Nerevar’s death… or before it?

It didn’t necessarily mean anything, of course. But… if the people involved had been mortals, rather than gods, I wondered if anyone could have avoided drawing the obvious conclusion.

Varvur was looking at me oddly. “Is something wrong?”

“Er… no. Nothing.” I took a deep breath. “Varvur… what’s going to happen about us? We can’t keep meeting in secret like this forever.”

“I know.” He paused. “I’m not sure if… Ada, do you think you would be willing to marry me? Have my children? Not yet,” he added, seeing my expression, “but later, perhaps?”

“I’m… not sure. Maybe. If things work out, I mean.” Both of us were silent for a minute.

“I think perhaps we should wait,” I said at last. “Until I get back from Red Mountain, I mean. After all… I can’t even be sure I ever will come back.”

Varvur’s arms tightened around me. “No! You are the prophesised Incarnate. Even Vivec himself has said so. How can you possibly fail?”

“The prophecies only say that I have to defeat Dagoth Ur,” I reminded him. “Not that I have to survive the battle.”

Neither of us said much else, but we spent a long time lying in each other’s arms. And despite what we’d just agreed, we slept together one last time before I left. After all, it might be the only chance we got.

******

The week that followed was a long, painful, seemingly endless slog. I’d spend all day battling through the raging blight storms of Red Mountain, fighting cliff racers in the air and monsters of all kinds on the ground, until finally I reached one of the ancient Dwemer citadels. Then I’d carve a path through the Sixth House servants inside while hunting around for the rest of Kagnerac’s Tools.

In the notes he’d given me, Vivec had suggested that I challenge each of Dagoth Ur’s ‘ash vampire’ kin before tackling Ur himself. According to him, this might fool Ur into thinking I was trying to make my way up the Sixth House hierarchy. I wouldn’t be able to kill any of them permanently, as the Heart of Lorkhan would eventually bring them back to life, but it would at least buy me time to search for Sunder and Keening.

Most of the Ash Vampires attacked me on sight, but I did have one rather weird encounter in Endusal, the citadel of Dagoth Endus. I’d been using a Chameleon spell to sneak past one of those tentacle-monsters, and ran straight into Endus himself. He spotted me as soon as I got close, but instead of attacking, he smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

“I greet you, Ada Ventura,” he said in a friendly way. “Or Nerevar. Or whoever you are. I’m Dagoth Endus, brother of Dagoth Ur, and lord of Citadel Endusal. Would you like a little ancient Dagoth brandy?”

I was a little taken aback, to say the least. “Dagoth brandy?”

“It is a rare nectar beyond compare, distilled ages before your ancestor’s ancestors, and a fitting toast to our challenge.” He uncorked a small bottle and held it out to me. “Would you like to sample it?”

“Are you joking?” I snapped. “Just how stupid do you think I am?” Talos, I thought this kind of thing only happened in trashy adventure novels. “Ah, Agent Ventura, I’ve been expecting you. Please sit down and enjoy a sumptuous meal while I explain my over-complicated plans for world domination.”

“No? Pity. But then, a pity to waste it on a coward like you.” He tossed the bottle aside. “Still, you are the challenger, so honour demands that you deliver the first blow. Whenever you’re ready.”

After we’d fought, and I’d defeated him – somehow I got the impression he wasn’t really trying – I thought how weird it was for an Ash Vampire to fuss about honour and etiquette. Maybe he was trying to win my sympathy, but in my view it just made him a hypocrite on top of everything else. You couldn’t claim to care about ‘honour’ and then spend all your time skulking under a mountain, sending out hordes of blighted minions to terrorise people who couldn’t fight back, and hypnotising innocent people into doing your bidding. The fact that the Ash Vampires weren’t just mindless monsters made their actions worse, not better.

The other strange thing that happened that week occurred at Ghostgate, in the Tower of Dusk. I’d come back to the Redoran hostel after a long day of battling ash creatures and Corprus beasts, and was surprised to see a grey-haired, balding Imperial in a Legion cuirass sitting at the bar. When he saw me, he smiled and motioned me over to join him.

“Hello,” he said, patting the seat beside him. “They call me Wulf. What brings you to Ghostgate?”

Wulf? Weird name for an Imperial – it sounded more Nordic. “I’m the Nerevarine, believe it or not,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to explain what it meant. “I’m going to confront Dagoth Ur beneath Red Mountain.”

His face lit up. “What a piece of luck! Look. I’m an old Legion veteran – as old as the poor old Emperor, bless his soul. I’m too old for campaigning – I came this far to look at hell, but I can’t go any farther than this.” He scrabbled in his pocket and fished out an old, worn-looking coin. “I’d take it kindly if you’d carry this old lucky coin with you when you go to Dagoth Ur. Sort of a token of the tough young hero I used to be. Would you do that for an old man?”

“Sure,” I said, taking the coin. It felt slightly warm in my hand. I slipped it into my own pocket and turned back to Wulf, remembering that he’d mentioned the Emperor. “Have you heard anything more about the troubles back in Cyrodiil?”

Wulf sighed. “The Emperor is getting old. Don’t know how much longer he’ll hang on. So is the whole Empire, for that matter – getting old, that is.” He took a swig of his drink. “The Emperor and the legions have held the Empire together for hundreds of years. It’s been a good thing, by and large… but maybe it’s time for a change? Time for something young and new.”

His words reminded me of what Caius had said just before he left for Cyrodiil. “What sort of thing?”

“No idea,” he said promptly. “I’m old, and old dog doesn’t get new ideas. But maybe young folks like you should try some. Could be messy... but change is never pretty.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” I found it hard to imagine life without the Empire, and frankly I preferred not to think about it.

“Well, good luck on the mountain,” he said with a smile. “Go with Kynareth – and don’t forget my old lucky coin.”

At that moment the bartender called over to ask what I wanted to drink, and I turned away to speak to her. When I turned back a moment later, Wulf had gone – completely vanished. Odd.

“Do you know that guy?” I asked the bartender.

“What guy?” she asked, looking puzzled.

“The one I was talking to just now. Old Legion veteran. Calls himself Wulf.”

She looked bewildered. “I didn’t see anyone. And I don’t remember any old Legion veterans here at all… at least, not in a very long time. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so.”

I looked back at the seat where Wulf had been sitting only moments ago. How could she not have seen him? Maybe he was a ghost, I thought. Nothing would surprise me any more.

I took out Wulf’s coin to look at it as I sipped my drink. There was something a bit unusual about it, and I suddenly realised what it was – the face on the coin was Tiber Septim, not the current Emperor Uriel VII. Boy, it had to be really old – Tiber had died four hundred years ago.

“Go with Kynareth,” Wulf had said. I laughed rather bitterly. Every one of the Nine Divines would have to be working overtime if they wanted to get me out of this alive.

******

At long last I had gathered everything I needed for the assault on Dagoth Ur’s citadel. I paid one last visit to Vivec’s Shrine in the Temple Canton before flying out to Red Mountain from Ald’ruhn. I’d chosen to go at night in the vague hope that I might be able to catch Ur unawares, though I knew it wasn’t very likely.

I couldn’t take very much with me this time, as I had to carry Sunder, Keening and Wraithguard on top of my normal gear. Unfortunately Wraithguard was made for the right hand, so I had to use it in place of my normal strength-enhancing gauntlet. I’d just have to hope that Wraithguard’s impressive set of defensive enchantments would make up for it.

Flying over Red Mountain at night was an even more nerve-wracking experience than it was during the daytime. The combination of darkness and thick ash-storms made it almost impossible to see anything, especially in a closed helmet, and I had to rely on my sense of direction to guide me towards Dagoth Ur’s citadel. It was pretty much by luck that I finally spotted the bubbling crater of Red Mountain far below.

I’d expected the place to be heavily guarded, but there was nothing around the entrance apart from a few cliff racers. I guess Dagoth Ur never expected anyone to get that far. More fool him, I thought, as I searched for the crank to open the Dwarven door.

The inside of the citadel looked like any other Dwemer ruin. I’d been hoping to somehow sneak in and find the Heart without having to face Ur himself, but I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before I heard a mocking voice calling to me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Come, Nerevar. Friend or traitor, come.” The voice seemed to come from the walls themselves. “Come and look upon the Heart, and Akulakhan. And bring Wraithguard... I have need of it.”

How did he know I was there? And what the hell was ‘Akulakhan’? Oh well, so much for the subtle approach. I was just going to have to face him head on.

Dagoth Ur’s taunts continued as I progressed deeper into the ruin. For the most part I ignored them – in fact, they were quite useful in helping me to find my way through the facility. But it was pretty damn creepy to think that this guy was somehow watching my every move.

The ancient, rust-covered Dwarven corridors were almost empty apart from Sixth House guards and a few dead bodies. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes as I walked past a bunch of randomly-placed lava pits – honestly, this guy was seeming more like the villain of a cheesy adventure story every minute. He even had an underground volcano lair, for crying out loud. All I needed now was for him to kidnap Varvur, dress him up in a skimpy outfit and dangle him over a shark-infested pool.

At the very end of the innermost chamber was a small wooden door, guarded by the last of the Ash Vampires. I could sense that Dagoth Ur was very near now. After defeating the guard, I cast all my protective enchantments before creeping through the door.

“Welcome, Moon-and-Star, to this place where destiny is made!” Dagoth Ur’s voice echoed around the rocky walls of the cave. The place was a lot smaller than I expected, dimly lit and containing only a few braziers and a large ash statue. I couldn’t see any sign of the Heart of Lorkhan.

Dagoth Ur himself stood at the end of the cavern. He appeared much as he had in my dreams: tall and thin, with grey, shrivelled-looking skin stretched over protruding bones, his face covered by a golden mask. Like all the Ash Vampires he had freakishly long hands and fingers, with sharp, claw-like nails.

“Now that you have come to me here, there can be but one result,” he continued. “Many times I have considered offering to accept your oath of service.”

“Hang on.” I narrowed my eyes. “Who said anything about an oath of service?”

“You might try to buy my trust by giving me Wraithguard, Keening, and Sunder. I thought we might once again be friends... comrades... brothers in arms.”

Ah, here it was: the ‘join me and we will rule the world together’ speech. “Nope,” I said. “Sorry. Not going to happen.”

“But I have won this place and power by right of conquest,” he went on, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I will not risk it to cunning and deceit. If you are my enemy, I cannot trust you – and even if you are not my enemy, I cannot let you live.”

I began to draw my sword, but he held up a hand. “I have final questions I would ask you, if you would answer.”

Actually, maybe it would be a good thing to keep him talking while I figured out what to do. “Go on then,” I said with a sigh.

“My first question is: Are you really Nerevar reborn?”

“Well, Azura seems to think so,” I said. “And I guess if anyone ought to know, it’s her. But if you don’t trust her, your guess is as good as mine.”

He sighed. “What a world.... Perhaps we shall never know. But as I have sympathy for you, and the melancholy fate of all mortals, I shall weep for your death.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“My second question is: if you win, what do you plan to do with the power from the Heart? Will you make yourself a god, and establish a thearchy? Dispute control of Tamriel with the Septims? Or will you share the Heart with your followers, as I have, and breed a new race of divine immortals?”

Obviously I couldn’t tell him what I was actually planning, so I just smiled mysteriously. “Maybe I have my own plans for the Heart.”

“Well, perhaps there may be surprises in store for me yet.” He shrugged. “No matter. My final question is: if I had offered to let you join me, would you have surrendered Wraithguard, Sunder, and Keening to me to seal your oath?”

“Are you kidding me?” I shook my head in disbelief. “I’m not a complete idiot. I don’t want to join you, and even if I did, there’s no way I’d hand over the tools. Why the hell should I trust you?”

“Thank you for your forthright response,” he said, sounding a little amused. “And now, if you have any questions, ask them… otherwise, you are the challenger. I await your first blow.”

I paused. There were all sorts of things I could have asked him, of course, but the truth was that I really didn’t care. I didn’t want to hear his excuses, or his justifications, or his promises of how great Morrowind would be when everyone was an Ash Zombie or a walking corpse. What was the point, when I was just going to have to kill him anyway?

“Nah,” I said at last. “Not really. Let’s just get on with this, shall we?”

“As you wish.” He stood back, waiting for me to attack, as he had promised.

Well, I still didn’t really have a plan, but there was nothing for it. I hurled myself through the air towards him, thrusting my glass longsword between his ribs. It didn’t even break the skin.

Dagoth Ur laughed and swatted at me with one of those claw-like hands, and I only just managed to dodge the blow. Gritting my teeth, I tried again, and once again he just shrugged off the blow as if it were a flea-bite. The same thing happened several more times – and then suddenly, without warning, he vanished.

Glancing around, I saw a second door set deep into the rock wall. Could that be the way to the Heart?

Something was glittering on the floor just in front of the door. I moved closer and realised that it was a House Dagoth ring, inset with gems and enchanted with some very powerful resistances. Cautiously I slipped it onto my finger and cast the enchantment, then opened the door – and found myself standing on a narrow platform, half-way up the wall of a vast natural cavern. The place was huge.

Dagoth Ur was standing on the edge of the platform, only a few feet away. When he saw the expression on my face, he threw back his head and laughed.

“What a fool you are. I’m a god. How can you kill a god?” He shook his head. “What a grand and intoxicating innocence. How could you be so naive?”

I was barely listening. Beyond the platform on which we both stood was a massive stone head the size of a house, crowned with a headdress of Dwemer steel. Looking more closely I saw that it was attached to an equally enormous body, fifty feet high, rising out of a huge lava pit at the bottom of a cavern. The sheer scale of the thing was almost beyond belief.

“Numidium,” I whispered, remembering the story of the Brass God. I’d always thought it was just a legend, but now…

I almost forgot Dagoth Ur was there until I heard his soft, mocking laughter. “Admiring my handiwork, ‘Nerevarine’? Akulakhan will be the champion of my armies, liberating first Vvardenfell, then Morrowind and then, perhaps the rest of Tamriel. It will serve as a sower and cultivator of the divine substance derived from the Heart. Then, perhaps, it will be time to consider whether the Dunmer should cultivate ambitions of empire.” He took a step forward. “Now do you see why it is useless to oppose me? There is no escape. No Recall or Intervention can work in this place. Come, lay down your weapons – it is not too late for my mercy.”

Screw that, I thought, and plunged over the edge of the platform. If this lunatic thought I was going to help him with his plans for a Greater Morrowind, he had another think coming. A spell of some kind whizzed past me as I flew, and I realised I’d have to find the Heart pretty damn quickly.

I floated round behind ‘Akulakhan’ to shield myself from Dagoth Ur’s spells, looking around desperately for anything that looked like a Heart. Where the hell was it? At long last I spotted it, resting on a small platform at the base of Akulakhan’s spine. It was pulsating steadily, and seemed to be surrounded by some kind of magical shield.

Quickly recasting the ring’s enchantment, I detached Sunder from my belt and dived downwards. At once I was hit by a blast of magicka – it must have been a curse of some kind – and I felt my strength and energy begin to leech away. My pack slipped off my shoulders, and I could only watch in horror as all my supplies – food, potions, Divine and Almsivi Intervention amulets – disappeared into the lava.

There was no time to lose; I needed to get this done quickly before Ur could hit me with any more spells. As soon as I got within range I swung Sunder at the Heart with all my strength, but too late – a massive bolt of fire magicka exploded around me, and for a few horrible moments it was like being caught in a furnace. If it hadn’t been for the magical resistances, I’d probably have been killed outright.

I grabbed my last healing potion and gulped it down, then seized up Keening and slashed it several times across the Heart. High above me, Dagoth Ur let out a cry of rage and horror.

“What are you doing? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Suddenly he was standing right behind me. “Fool! Stop!”

I ignored him and continued to hack away at the Heart. With a terrible roar he lunged forward, sinking his long, sharp claws into my shoulder. The inch-long fingernails tore through the thick metal of my cuirass as if it were made of butter, sinking deep into my flesh.

I screamed in pain and tried to shake him off, but he only dug in deeper. Frantically I jabbed at the Heart with Keening, willing it to die. All at once it seemed to deflate, shrivelling up like a punctured balloon before vanishing completely.

A howl of anguish echoed around the cavern as Dagoth Ur saw the source of his powers vanish. He tore his hand away from my shoulder, ripping my flesh, and stumbled back onto the narrow wooden bridge leading away from the platform. I turned round to see him standing with one hand raised, ready to cast another of those terrible spells.

There was no time even to think. I dropped Keening and lunged forward, barrelling into Dagoth Ur and knocking him off balance. With a final, despairing wail, he tumbled over the side of the bridge and into the bubbling lava pool below. The last thing I saw was his clawed, bloody hand grasping wildly towards the ceiling as he sank beneath the surface.

All of a sudden there was a loud rumbling sound, and the entire cavern began to shake. What the hell was this, an earthquake? Vivec hadn’t said anything about earthquakes!

The platform where I’d entered the room was twenty feet above me. I looked around frantically, wondering how to get back up there, until I suddenly realised I could still fly. I grabbed Keening and Sunder and launched myself upwards, not a moment too soon – the second my feet touched the upper platform, the rumbling increased and I saw Akulakhan’s massive body crack and fall to pieces. If I’d stayed on the lower platform I’d have been crushed by the falling rocks.

I found the crank to open the door on a nearby Dwemer pipe, and pulled it. The stone covering slid back and I pushed through the door into Dagoth Ur’s cavern, trembling like a leaf. Only moments after the door closed behind me, I realised that the Levitation spell had worn off.

As my eyes adjusted to the faint light, I wondered vaguely why I felt so weak. I put a hand to the back of my neck where Dagoth’s finger had dug into it, and found it soaked in blood. Dimly I realised that I was quite badly injured. When the shock and excitement of battle had worn off, it was going to hurt like hell.

I tried to cast a healing spell, but my mouth was so dry that I choked on the words. The spell fizzled out miserably, leaving me without any magicka for a second attempt.

Taking a few shaky steps forward, I realised that there was someone else there in the cavern with me. A Dunmer woman in a light-blue gown stood by the entrance to the cavern, her arms outstretched as if to welcome me. She was beautiful, shimmering faintly in the torchlight, and somehow I knew she was Azura. I sank to my knees, too exhausted to do anything else.

“You no longer bear the burden of prophecy.” She took a step forward, smiling down at me. “You have achieved your destiny. You are free. The doomed Dwemer’s folly, Lord Dagoth’s temptation, the Tribunal’s seduction, the god’s heart freed, the prophecy fulfilled. All fates sealed and sins redeemed. If you have pity, mourn the loss – but let the weeping cease.”

As she spoke, the cavern seemed to fade and in its place I saw a vision of Red Mountain. The ash-storms died down, the Ghostfence faded away, and the sun emerged from behind white, wispy clouds. The sky was clear and blue above Ghostgate. It was like a beautiful dream.

“The Blight is gone, and the sun’s golden honey gilds the land.” The vision faded, and I was back in the cavern with Azura. “Hail saviour, Hortator, and Nerevarine. Your people look to you for protection. Monster and villains great and small still threaten the people of Vvardenfell; enemies and evils abound, yet indomitable will might rid Morrowind of all its ills.”

“I’ll try,” I said weakly. “But, uh… maybe if you could see your way to…”

Azura nodded. “For you, our thanks and blessings; our gift and token given. Come, take this thing from the hand of God.”

She stretched out her hands, and I saw that they held a small, beautiful ring. As I got to my feet I saw her slowly fade away, leaving only the ring floating in the air where she had stood. As my hand closed around it, I felt my strength flood back as Dagoth Ur’s curse was lifted.

Unfortunately the ring hadn’t actually done anything to heal me. I was still bleeding fairly heavily, and the pain from my wounds was getting worse every minute. If I didn’t find a way to heal myself soon I would probably go into shock. Sighing, I plodded over to the door and began to make my way out of the building.

As I struggled on through the endless corridors, I could feel my breathing grow shallow and my strength ebb away with every step. I still didn’t have enough magicka to cast another healing spell, and there was no way I’d ever manage an Intervention spell in this state. My only hope was to get back to Ghostgate, but that was impossible – even if I managed to fend off the ash-creatures along the way, it was still a walk of several miles. I’d never make it.

At long last I reached the outer door and staggered into the open air, blinking in the early-morning sunlight. It was a beautiful day, without a trace of ash or blight. A new dawn. And I was going to die.

I sank to the ground, wincing at the intense heat rising up from the steaming lava pit. If I had to go, I thought, at least I could take Kagnerac’s tools down with me. Crawling to the cliff edge, I dropped them over one by one – first Sunder, then Keening, and finally Wraithguard – and watched them slowly sink into the lava. Then I lay back, feeling tears beginning to [censored] my eyes.

I’d never get to say goodbye. That was what hurt the most. Uncle and Aunt… Athyn… Varvur… I’m sorry.

Something was digging uncomfortably into my left thigh. Gods, couldn’t I even die in peace? Wincing with every movement, I fumbled around in my pocket and drew out the ‘lucky coin’ that Wulf, the old Legion veteran, had given to me.

Much luck it had brought me, I thought sourly. Maybe I should toss it into the lava and make a wish? Sighing, I rubbed it idly between my fingers – and it abruptly vanished.

Hang on a second…

A vision of Daedric writing flashed through my mind, and I found myself mouthing the words without knowing what they meant. Suddenly I knew that something had changed. I didn’t feel any stronger or healthier, but somehow, for a few precious seconds, I felt that I had hope. If I acted now, I might just have a chance – but I’d have to be quick.

Think, Ada, think... With any luck, I might just have enough magicka left to cast Almsivi Intervention. Clearing my mind as far as possible, I mumbled a prayer to any gods that might be listening, then gritted my teeth and poured every last ounce of energy and concentration into casting the spell.

In the fraction of a second that followed, which felt like an hour, I was sure I had failed. Then I heard the familiar ‘svcking’ sound, and moments later I found myself in the courtyard of the Temple in Ald’ruhn.

There was no one else around. Feeling strangely light-headed, I dragged myself to my feet, stumbled over to the door and banged on it as hard as I could. It swung open suddenly and I practically fell through the doorway, right in front of the priest Tuls Valen. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me and he opened his mouth to speak.

“Can’t talk now. Heal first.” I brushed past him and limped into the inner chamber, where healing shrines to various saints were arranged around the central ashpit, and collapsed to my knees in front of a random shrine. I could use these for free, right? “Oh, Saint Roris – ” I began, and promptly threw up all over the collection plate.

“Oops,” I said faintly, just before everything went black.

I feel I made a mistake reading chapter 39 first, should've begun with numero 1. Well it will be interesting to see how Sarethi and Ada got together!

This is an interesting read, especially the "human" perspective.